#so that has been a small sensory joy for me

[salemoleander]

Head hurts and throat hurts and I'm like. Body we cannot do this rn. Anytime after this Thursday feel free but you Cannot do this to me rn

[niphredil-14]

EEEEEEEE your writings make me roll around happily!

May I request a Donnie x reader where they communicate via asl during his non-verbal episodes? So we all know that Donnie knows asl and binary code, and it's theorised that his eyebrows are also important to express what he wants to say non-verbally (I heard that your expressions are also important in asl).

So imagine Donnie, during his non-verbal episodes and talking seems more tiring than usual. Unresponsive to reader's words and he'd just nod and his face is more expressive. Noticing this, reader pat Donnie's shoulder and starts to sign, and that's how their conversation went.

Cue Donnie falling hard.

I know that this has taken absolute ages to get out, so thanks for your patience! Also, if the quality of this is less than great, this is the first thing I've written (aside from school writing) in ages.

TSL- Turtle Sign Language

Don never had been very good at acknowledging his own feeling and needs, which, although he would deny it even in the face of torture, did frequently cause him many a problem. Such as the common occurrence of Donnie denying and ignoring his sensory issues, exhaustion and stress, which when all put together, caused him to shut down. That was where they found him, on the floor by the foot of his bed, knees pressed to his plastron, with a weighted blanket replacing his battle shell. The lights were all off, except for the tablet propped up a foot or so away from him, soft sounds of someone whispering, most likely an ASMR video, playing from the device. After a quick knock on the door, they cracked it open and peeked inside, not bothering to wait for an answer. His eyes glanced up from the tablet to meet their gaze.

"Is it okay if I come in?" They said softly. He nodded, and watched as they walked in and closed the door behind them, making their way over to him. They pointed to the open space on the floor next to him, and with their voice low, and just as soft,

"Do you mind if I sit?" Donnie raised his eyebrows and gave them a small smile, giving a small shake of his head before jerking it sideways, to motion for them to sit with him. After getting situated, they asked another question,

"Are you okay, Dee? Leo said you left really suddenly." Donatello gave a light shrug, pulling the weighted blanket more around his shoulders, before finally giving them a small nod. Upon not receiving a response from his companion, he let his eyes wander back to the video. The screen displayed a dim background with fairy lights and a woman holding her index finger up and slowly drawing patterns in the air in front of her, asking after each one what shapes and images she had traced. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, following the woman's directions and answering her questions, until Donnie's attention was grabbed by his friend, who leaned forward and was staring intently at him. He turned his head to gaze at them, and raised the muscle over his browbone, causing the faded, drawn-on eyebrow on his mask to raise almost as drastically. They seemed to take a moment to think before they raised their hands a bit and began to motion, forming signs familiar to Don.

'Is there anything I can do to help you?" Donnie's eyes shot wide open, and he released his grip on the weighted blanket to raise his hands and sign back to them.

'You know sign?' He questioned them, one thick, marker-made eyebrow raised comically higher than the other. His signs looked slightly different, which they assumed was just an adaptation made due to his distinct anatomy, but they could understand him regardless. They smiled wide at him, a proud glint in their eyes, and began to sign their affirmation to him. A smile formed on his face, his bad-boy image being challenged by just how heartwarmingly sweet the look in his eyes was. Their hands began to move again.

'So, is there anything I can do?' His own hands flying in response, his excitement and joy apparent with the speed at which he moved his hands, and the expression shining so brightly on his face.

'Just being here with me is really helpful, thank you.' Their smile grew to match his.

'You don't need to thank me, Don, there's nowhere I'd rather be.'

[gallusrostromegalus]

I've always said that kubota did orihime soooooooo dirty >:( she literally has god powers and they get diminished so harshly... I've always viewed her power as her having the ability to Reject phenomena. In canon she rejects the fact that people are injured. What would happen if she rejected the fact that someone was alive? That someone was in her way? Reject the injustices that led to her and her friends' world being turned upside down. Anyway I love that your hime has the spine she deserves and I'm so excited to be completely normal about aeiwam

Some Important facts about Orihime from canon:

Orihime is the #3 student in her entire (fairly large) high school. Girl Ain't Stupid- if anything, the fact that she's wildly unorthodox in her projects and STILL pulls those kinds of grades and test scores suggests that her teachers are grading her like that because her weird-ass approaches to assignments demonstrate a thorough understanding of the material, so she may actually be smarter than Uryuu, the #1 student who gives me very strong "I'm very good at taking tests and telling teachers what they want to hear, so I can pull good grades even if I have no clue what the subject is" Vibes.

Orihime cooks weird damn food, and enjoys it. She also has strange ideas about what's cute, exceptionally brightly colored clothes relative to everyone else, and does things like get lost following dragonflies for hours on end. Screams sensory processing Weirdness to me. Maybe I'm projecting a bit here, but Sensory processing disorders come with sensory euphoria too- I get to enjoy a huge variety of strange foods and the sound of rain gives me physical joy.

Orihime's best friends* are: -The School's Self-affected "weird boy who might be a delinquent or possibly just insane" guy -A Butch Jock With Anger Issues -The Crafts Club president who has So Much Gender Happening, and also sort-of grew up in a cult -The Giant, scary-looking guy who keeps smuggling small animals into school. -A Genuine sociopath whose family probably has Yakuza Connections -An extremely powerful supernatural being who is like five times her age -Keigo. This is not the friend group of a "Normal"

Taken together, these points form a constellation of THIS GIRL GOT AUTISM. LIKE SO MUCH. LEVEL 999 AUTISM MAGE. She's full of strange joy and magnificently weird and experiencing reality four steps to the left of everyone else AND SHE IS SO, SO SMART.

So in the fic, when she sees Ichigo freaking out because Rukia has been Kidnapped back to Soul Society on Bullshit criminal charges, Orihime does what every autistic person I know does, and immediately begins drafting a Solution.

Namely She begins drafting an extraction plan. She gets slightly in over her head with details about what data they need, how much and what kind of resistance they'd be facing etc. etc. until she realizes she needs some concrete answers and, without regard to social conventions like "time" and "Personal space", more or less kicks in the door to Urahara's shop at 2AM, marches directly into his bedroom and starts interrogating him about the civil services in soul society, yes it's weird you sleep naked with your cat sir but I'm not here to pass judgment I'm here to get answers you can put pants on later.

After the resounding success of their operation in Soul Society, the hardest part when Ulquiorra comes to kidnap her and gives her the completely insane circumstances of "you will be invisible and go through walls for 12 hours, prepare yourself." is not vibrating with the absolute mania of the chance to go to Los Noches and FUCK. SHIT. UP.

[spdrvyn]

7 days until valentines

as compensation for my lack of posts, here's a short blurb of miguel with an autistic reader! i'm projecting really hard though

Miguel didn't know where the transition from his to 'our' workspace had begun. It was the little things, you'd leave a small cup with pens in it at his desk without bothering to pick it up after you leave his office. Eventually, that cup became a real pencil holder now you had journals, notebooks, and basically everything that wasn't work related neatly cornered into one part of his desk home with the scattered papers and unfinished gadgets Miguel has.

You also make home at his desk, efficiency was one of your strengths, but your productivity reached maximum capacity whenever you were with him. No words were spoken while the two of you worked, Miguel greatly appreciated it.

Not that he'd mind a little bit of small talk, but he enjoyed silence without feeling like the loneliness was clawing at his insides.

Though normally you (almost inhumanely) finished your work way earlier than he did, but you didn't leave. No, you didn't.

This habit of maintaining his presence while you're off doing something kept even when you were pursuing your own personal interests, Miguel would catch you on your laptop chatting to your friends whenever he had to check something on one of his monitors.

Other times, you'd have headphones on. Listening to music or catching up on one of your shows, your reactions are as muddled as they can be to not disturb. But one moment, he'll look away with you completely deadpan then look back to see your jaw widely agape and pupils blown wide from devastation.

Tonight was no different, if anything more convenient for you because a new episode of this unnamed media just dropped. Admittedly, your expressions and small noises entertained him as he worked. You did try to be discreet, but that super hearing of his could pick up on your small gasps and 'aww's on opposite sides of a workspace.

His concentration is broken when you practically slam your laptop shut, packing your earbuds into their case with an audible snap. You hop off of your place and solemnly walk over to where Miguel is standing, he quirks a brow at you.

Uncharacteristically, you slump your head against his shoulder with the biggest frown he's ever seen you in. "They're not getting back together, Miguel."

"Oh?" maybe feeding into your theatrics wasn't a smart decisions, but analytics dulled in comparison to whatever was going on inside your head. "Who?" he continued to interrogate.

"My only reason for light and happiness, my true inspiration for spreading love and joy across every corner of the multiverse." Miguel rolls his eyes. "Do not give me sass right now, I am so upset."

He genuinely can't tell if you're joking or not, perhaps a mix of both. "I don't get how I'm supposed to sympathize with this ex-couple when I don't even know the title of their story?"

"It's a cartoon. You'll laugh."

"Cartoon or animated?"

You quirk your eyebrow this time. "Huh?"

"I'm asking you, cartoon or animated? There's a difference, animated features aren't always classified as cartoons. Cartoon is more of a term for animated medias directed towards children. Aren't you the one more adept at this topic?"

He looks at you with an almost-smirk. It's teasing at his lips, full and plump. There are many sensations that you hold resentment for, but one you've always wanted experience is Miguel's lips against yours. The ultimate sensory triumph, all you've been waiting for.

God, you want to kiss him.

"Yeah, I- uh, animated. I mean, animated."

"Tell me about it when I'm not trying to keep the world from ending, please?" he grumbles, and you raise your head off of his shoulder. Damn right you'll tell him about it, and probably kiss him after too.

[turtletaubwrites]

Parted Lips

This SFW oneshot was inspired by This Post by @hufflefluffy about how Sanji would be with someone who struggles with eating such as with sensory issues, eating disorders, etc.

That post made me so happy, so I wrote this fic about Sanji helping his crewmate who has severe chronic TMJ pain.

Pairings: Sanji x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1734

Ao3 Link

Summary: Sanji has made another meal just for you, but it's still too painful to eat. You open up to Sanji about your jaw pain, and he offers to help you work through it

Rating/Warnings: SFW, Fluff, Angst, they aren't together yet but there's tension, and it is mildly suggestive, Mostly just sweet Sanji being a lovely human, Chronic Pain, TMJ Disorder, Difficulties with eating such as chewing and appetite, Grief

A/N: I've been struggling with this, and this past year has been awful. Sometimes I couldn't even eat soft cheese. I'm so lucky that my partner is very much like Sanji, and has learned to cook things for me that I can enjoy, and held my hand through this. I hope we can all find that kind of support for our pain. 💜💜

“Mm, this smells amazing, Sanji.”

The bowl of stew he’d placed before you had your mouth watering the scent of the meat and spices making pleasant chills run over your skin. 

Sanji smiled as he sat across from you, and the sight of his own matching bowl made you frown. 

“Why are you having mine?”

“Oh, ma chérie, are you hungry enough for more tonight, I can make something else.”

With a heavy sigh, you leaned away, your small appetite growing smaller at your sour mood. 

“You know what I mean, Sanji. You don’t have to eat what I eat.”

His soft eyes made you tense up, reaching up to massage your cheeks.

“There’s nothing wrong with what you have to eat, Y/N. At least I hope not. Will you calm this poor chef’s nerves, and let me know how it tastes? 

Swallowing your self pity, you reached for the spoon.

Probably the only utensil I’ll ever be able to use now.

Your hand spasmed around the metal slightly, and you felt Sanji’s eyes on your every move.

“Sanji, can you please not stare at me while I eat?”

“Oh, um. Of course, sweetheart, sorry.”

He turned his face down to his own bowl, and you steeled yourself.

It smells so good.

You filled your spoon, not taking too much, but making sure to have a piece of meat and carrot.

Very small pieces.

The meat was so tender, the flavors overwhelming you. 

It had been so difficult to enjoy food, but Sanji’s cooking was bringing your love back.

But that almost made it worse sometimes.

Even with how small the bites of meat and vegetables were, how wonderfully tender, it was still enough chewing to make you sore. You knew if you ate the whole bowl, you would be hurting. It had been a bad week.

“It’s delicious, Sanji. Thank you so much.”

You couldn’t keep your voice from cracking, and his brows tensed as he set down his spoon. 

“Is it too much, darling?”

You sat back, heat building in your throat as you started massaging your jaw. 

“I don’t want to eat puréed food for the rest of my life.

It was such a dumb sentence. It sounded pathetic. But the weight of it fell down on you, crushing your joy.

Sanji reached out, your skin tingling as his hand touched yours, pulling it away from your face to hold it. He squeezed it gently, and his soft skin was soothing, even through your frustration.

“I know what it is to be hungry, Y/N. I won’t let you suffer like this. No matter what it takes, I will find food that nourishes and satisfies you. Please let me help you.”

Hot tears welled in your eyes, and you swallowed, trying to push them down. 

“What else can I do?”

Looking away from his pleading eyes, you stared into your bowl of stew, the small pieces taunting you. 

Your hands reached up to rub at the sore muscles again. 

“Does massaging your jaw help with the pain? I could… Would you feel comfortable letting me touch your face?”

Breath catching, you felt tingles go over your skin.

Is he just trying to touch me? Does he really care, or is this just him…

The thought felt sour as you looked at his earnest face. Sanji was always flirting with you, but he flirts with all the girls, with every woman he meets. You didn’t think he was serious about being interested in you, so you had tried not to think about him that way. You weren’t always successful.

But he was also one of the kindest people you’d ever met. You set your hesitation aside, and took the cook’s offer.

Sanji came around the table now, facing you as he sat in the chair beside you. Your breath was still too light, and you started pinching your fingers in your lap, fidgeting as he moved close to you.

A small gasp escaped you as his warm fingers touched your cheeks. His skin was so amazingly soft, and your eyes fluttered shut as he started to lightly press in circles along your jaw. 

“Does this feel alright?”

You nodded with a small sigh, then guided his fingers with yours, showing him what you needed.

It felt so much better with his touch than your own, and you let yourself relax into it for a few minutes. 

Sanji kept going as he cleared his throat softly, bringing your attention to his face. 

“What are other things we can do to help you, love?”

You had to breathe, bringing yourself back to the moment. 

“Uh, sometimes icing it can help on bad days. There are exercises too, but it’s hard to remember until it gets bad. Then I can’t do them because it hurts too much.”

“Is there an exercise that isn’t as painful,” Sanji asked, his voice just as soothing as his fingers.

It took you another minute to respond as you melted under his touch.

“Yeah, um. I just always forget. It’s not really an exercise. I need to focus on my posture.”

“You have lovely posture.”

“Thank you,” you said with a laugh, not surprised that he would have noticed that about you. “I know I do. I’ve worked hard on it to help reduce the pain. Seems like it’s really paid off.”

Sanji gave a small frown at the light tone you tried to use with your sarcasm.

“What else, gorgeous?”

His soft hands cupping your face while he used that word made you feel dizzy. How can he make me feel like that with just his voice?

You didn’t want him to stop massaging you, but you moved his hands away. 

“Just this.”

Sanji’s gaze was drawn to your lips as they parted, and he stared for a moment before meeting your eyes again. 

“I’m sorry, dear. What is the next exercise?”

“Not an exercise. More posture. I’m supposed to stay like this as often as I can remember.” 

He stared at your lips again as you gestured to them. 

“My tongue is meant to touch the top of my mouth, and my lips should be slightly parted, as often as I can remember,” you explained, your voice trembling more with each word. 

“I hate it, how am I supposed to remember to do it? And if I do, I just have to live with my mouth open all the time? And what if it doesn’t help? Nothing ever helps-”

Sanji cupped your face again, making you gulp as stinging tears finally started falling. 

He brushed them away with his thumbs, and you felt your lips quivering as his face got closer. His eyes were pouring over your features, and it made you shiver.

“San-”

“You don’t have to carry this alone anymore, Y/N. I’ll help you, whatever you need.”

Your eyes clenched shut, sending a wave of tears down as you tried not to sob. All the pain, all the frustration was wearing you down. 

It seemed so trivial. But not being able to eat Sanji’s amazing food, losing your appetite when you thought of what you could eat, watching the crew laugh together over their meals, it made it all harder. 

You had stopped eating with the crew for a while now, with Sanji joining you after meals. But you felt sick with guilt when you couldn’t finish the food he’d worked so hard on for you. 

“May I hug you, ma belle?” 

Nodding, you let him pull you into his arms. You wanted to stop, to push this aside. It’s not that big of a deal, get over it. 

The biting thoughts that plagued you were finally ignored as you breathed in Sanji’s comforting scent. As you let yourself weep, you sobbed onto his shoulder while he drew comforting shapes along your back. 

He let you cry, and you realized that you were grieving. All the pain you’d bottled up was grief. Grief for all the things you couldn’t do, couldn’t enjoy because your body wouldn’t let you. The pain you ignored everyday until it became so sharp that you couldn’t ignore it. 

The days when you had to stop yourself from laughing with your crew because it hurt too much to open your mouth. 

Feeling it all washing over you, you clung to him, gripping his dress shirt in your fingers. 

Your sobs were loud and painful, but you couldn’t stop them if you tried. You had never let yourself feel all of this, all at once. It was like a dam had been breached, and Sanji was holding you, anchoring you so you wouldn’t be swept away. 

“I’m so sorry you have to carry this, darling. You shouldn't have to.”

He stroked your hair as his soft words started coming through your sobs. Your breathing began to slow, and you felt strange, not quite here. Still hurting, but relieved. 

Sitting back, his hands seemed reluctant to let you slip away. 

You were grateful that he wasn’t smiling. His brows were tensed slightly, and he tilted his head in soft concern. 

“Please come to me with this, Y/N. You don’t need to suffer in silence anymore. I won’t allow it.”

You gave a choked laugh as the corner of his mouth twitched up, and you were surprised that you were ready for the smile so soon. 

“Thank you so much, Sanji.”

You gripped his hands, squeezing his fingers as your breathing kept slowing down. He took one hand away to touch your chin gently. 

“Anytime, my love. I’m going to whip you up something delicious, alright?”

Nodding, your skin was still tingling as his thumb traced along your jaw.

“I’m going to be your reminder from now on, is that okay?”

It took you a second to understand, but you remembered your exercises.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Perfect. Now while I cook, I want you to hold your tongue at the roof of your mouth, and let your lips be slightly parted.”

You smiled at him before you obeyed, and then you watched his eyes seem to burn as they watched your lips part. 

Your breath hitched as Sanji’s thumb traced over your lower lip, delicious heat running through your body at his gentle touch. 

“I’ll help you remember now, ma chérie. Your lips look too beautiful like this for me to forget.”

Thank You for Reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

Tag List: @astheni-a | @fanaticsnail

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope that you have someone like Sanji to support you through your pain 💜

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

[elwenyere]

What are some Cody-related headcanons you have? If you'd like to share 🙏

Hello Anon! Thank you so much for this wonderful ask. Cody is one of my favorite characters to write, and it's a joy to share some of the ideas and inventions that have come out of building stories for him.

I think one thing that's become crucial to the way I imagine Cody is that he's been thrust into this extremely high-responsibility, heavy-emotional-toll position at a super young age, and he's had to learn how to compartmentalize and repress pretty aggressively in order to keep doing his job. There are losses he just can't let himself fully acknowledge if he's going to remain functional (and he's very good at his job, so there will be more losses if he can't function), so I think of there being a distance - both deliberately cultivated and unconsciously formed - between what Cody's feeling and what he's saying, or even what he's thinking about consciously enough for it to surface in the narrative focalization.

That means that I see Cody as a character with an incredible strength of will and power of self-denial, but I also like to think about the small ways he might allow himself to blow off steam, and I imagine a lot of them would be sensory: extra spice in the food, a little flavored creamer in the caff, the ritual of smoking a cigarette, or of having sex - especially with someone with whom he's on the kind of footing that allows for eye rolling and shit-giving.

On that note, I also think of Cody as someone who derives satisfaction from solitude (which he hardly ever gets) and is maybe too good at bearing loneliness (which he gets more and more of as the war goes on). He has a fierce loyalty to his men, and he also has to order them to their deaths all the time. He understands that means he can't share the same kind of camaraderie with them that they share with each other. So he holds himself apart: someone many people respect, some resent, and few really know. But as isolated as that might make him feel, he's also got barely any time that he can truly call his own, so I imagine that maybe in a no-chip/Republic-wins AU he might decide to peace out for a while: go live by himself and do things that are low-stakes and build some habits that are totally his own.

I think he's so used to using anger - a kind of low-simmering, deeply saturating, furious indignation - as a substitute for fulfillment that he barely notices how much of his emotional apparatus is coated in frustration until he's struck by something that reopens the yearning - the curiosity and thirst and restlessness - that not even the brutal grind of being Marshal Commander of the Third Systems Army can crush out of him.

Also he's funny and he's sharp: that's important to me. Cody can absolutely read you for filth while sounding unremarkably polite, and you won't realize he's verbally shivved you until you're on the turbolift leaving the meeting.

Thank you again for this lovely ask, Anon!!! I hope this is close to what you had in mind by headcanon. <3<3<3

[drunkenlionwrites]

People watching

Sorry that I’ve turned the fluffy request into a depressing stream of Vash’s consciousness. Hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless 

After the latest usual brawl and a flee from a small town next to the almost identical neighboring one, their group has ended up stumbling into the small tavern, almost fully packed with patrons. The girls rushed straight to the bar to order water, while Wolfwood had disappeared into the dark street saying he will arrange the hotel booking, since he needs to smoke and ponder about “stuff” as he phrased it. 

That left Vash sitting hunched all alone in the corner. He was weighed by the usual thoughts, that seemed to visit him often these last years since Knives emerged and proceeded with his plans. Vash leaned over the table, the hurt and angry faces of townsfolk of the town which they’ve left in desolation during the shootout with bounty hunters still so vivid in his mind. He did that again. He caused the usual havoc and wreckage to the homes of dozens innocent town dwellers, who were just trying to live their lives. He surely is a humanoid typhoon, isn’t he? 

A cheerful chirping sounds of familiar voice and a small thud of the bourbon bottle accompanied by two glasses being placed in front of him distracted him from his inner voice. He looked up at the intruder and it was you, smiling at him with your oh so warm smile. The same one you’ve usually shown to kids you saw during your travels, to the people you’ve assisted, as well as to people who have helped your group instead. It was broad and a bit crooked at one side, the one who warmed him from the inside just like morning suns would. Not yet scorching hot, but oh so cozily engulfing him after the cold desert night. “Drink with me and let’s go dance!” He heard your exclamation through the noises of clinking glasses, crass conversations, laughter and people dancing to the modest accompaniment of a guitarist and a flute player. He smiled at you reassuringly and then shook his head. “I’m a bit tired, so I’ll just stay here and watch over you, girls. Go and have fun for me okay?” he replied, gently pressing his glass of bourbon to yours in a toast. “I’ll be here drinking for you to have a good night”

He then watched how your small figure deftly maneuvered between tables and sitting people, joining a small crowd gathered on dancing floor. You’ve always been so graceful in your movements, so dexterous yet possessing something soft as well. He observed the way you swayed to the rhythm, soon joined by Millie and Meryl, the three of you sharing laughs and smiles, while engaging in a dance. His eyes darted to the other people dancing beside you. They all were mostly just simple townsfolk having leisure time before returning to their hard jobs the next day. His eyes glided over their faces: drunken, happy, relieved, full of life. 

Vash has always been in awe at how resilient the dwellers of Gunsmoke actually are. He admired the nature of humans, always stiving for happiness and the betterment of their lives, no matter how miniscule and short-lived moments can be. He tried to drown his heavy thoughts in sensory feelings, concentrating on how the tavern was filled with musky smell of sweat, tobacco, cheap booze and hearty vegetable stew some of the patrons were indulging in. The sounds of talking and laughing, the simple melody and people’s rhythmical stomping of feet. The sight of your hair swaying as you danced like there was no bother in your life, Millie’s and Meryl’s drunken uneven steps, even a local boy’s shy smile and neck crooned to face you closer… all this was a nice distraction.

 If you had stayed in this town long enough, he would have gotten to know and remember his name. He would’ve remembered the faces and names of all the people living here. Would’ve known all their little quirks and habits, all the troubles that weigh on their shoulders, everything that makes them laugh and brings them joy. He felt so tired and so disconnected from this world sometimes, yet he knew he still had his mission to accomplish, so he allowed himself to indulge in people watching as it made him feel closer to humanity, closer to something that he might’ve described as a feeling of belonging somewhere. But did he really? Belong somewhere...

He watched as you laughed at something the boy told you, accepting his offer to dance, as you eagerly put your hand in his. Would it have been better if it was his hand instead? Would you have smiled at him with the same smile? Or would it have been more…tender instead? Would he have been able to tug your hair behind your ear neatly instead of this boy?

It doesn’t matter in the end, since he will always walk this planet alone. At least he can watch over you while you walk next to him, no matter how short-lived it is. It better be short. It better be…since all of you cannot stay close to him after all is said and done. But he’ll think about it tomorrow. Tonight is all about people watching, after all.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hello!

I am currently writing a novel that takes place in a traveling circus. Since all the primary characters are performers, their acts are, of course, a very important part of the story/who they are. Therefore, I'm wondering if you have any advice on how to go about describing the performance acts (i.e., contortion, trick-riding, clown acts, etc.) in the book? I fear the descriptions will end up sounding boring, being confusing, or seeming convoluted. I've primarily worked on screenplays for films, so this has been a great struggle for me. Any advice is greatly appreciated! Thank you so much!

Describing Circus Acts

1 - Map Out Your Need - Before you do anything else, it will help to map out the specific moments in the story where these performances will occur. What specific feat, trick, or sketch is being performed and by which character? Is it a performance, audition, or practice? Who else is watching? Who is the POV character? Does anything unusual need to happen with the performance?

2 - Research the Details - Once you have the specific moments mapped out, it will be much easier to research the details, and having a grasp on the details is essential to good description. You can create a much more authentic image if you know the names of different contortion poses or different trick riding moves, for example. Since you mapped out the need in step one, you should have a good idea of how much of the performance will need to be described to the reader, too.

3 - Consider Sensory and Emotional Details - Another part of creating an authentic and impactful description is remembering to consider the sensory and emotional details. What can the POV character see? What can they hear? What can they smell? What can they taste? What can they feel, both physically (touch, internal cues) and emotionally? See: colorful costumes, props, the joyful faces of the audience. Hear: prop noises, music, audience laughter. Smells: popcorn, circus animals, people smells from the crowd. Taste: circus food, bile rising in throat from nervous anticipation. Feel: warmth of the crowd, numb butt from hard seats, butterflies of anticipation, sense of thrill and joy.

4 - Resist the Urge to Overdo it - Even if these performances play a big role in the characters' lives, if the reader wanted eleven hours worth of circus performances, they'd probably just watch eleven hours worth of circus performances on YouTube. The performances themselves should play only a very small role in the actual action... like Katniss Everdeen's bow skills, Luke Skywalker's piloting prowess, and Arya Stark's Faceless Man shapeshifting abilities. They're shown only when they add something to the story, and never just for the sake of showing them.

5 - Some Telling is Just Fine - Obviously in fiction we want to rely on showing as much as possible, but there are certainly times when "telling" makes more sense, and telling is a great way to make sure these performances feel like the important part of the characters' lives they are without feeling every scene has to highlight such a performance. For example, once you've shown a couple of contortionist performances, you might instead have the contortionist doing something else in a scene... helping another performer, making repairs on a costume, or doing whatever they do in their spare time, and maybe have them talk about an earlier performance or something they're going to do in a performance that night. You and even have other characters refer to other characters' performances. For example, "I don't know where Ribena went. She was monkeying around with her horse's saddle while Lian was doing their Double Marinelli bend finale, and I haven't seen her since."

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[rebelspykatie]

Rushin’ through me like a fire Part 7 - NSFW

A Steddie Club AU

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Eddie stays close as they head towards the bed, one hand settling into the small of Steve’s back, as if he can’t bear the thought of letting Steve out of his grasp. Something hot coils in his stomach, that molten lava feeling of being wanted and so possessed with desire that you can’t keep your hands off each other. 

As they reach the edge of the bed, Eddie guides them until he’s pressed against Steve’s back, hands firmly around Steve’s waist. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie practically purrs into his ear, “will you let me take care of you?” 

“I’ll do anything you want,” Steve says, leaning into the touch.

“Dangerous to give me that kind of permission, love. I can think of a lot of things I want you to do to me.” 

Eddie mouths at his neck, fingers flexing on Steve’s hips and tugging him closer. His arousal presses into Steve’s ass as his hands wander, smoothing over the expanse of Steve’s stomach, climbing upwards towards his chest. Palms run flat over Steve’s nipples, a full body tremor takes over before he can stop it. He’s always been sensitive, loves when people focus on something other than his dick. His chest involuntarily pushes into Eddie’s hands. 

Eddie smirks against his neck and a pleased little trill flutters in his chest, like an energy feedback loop sending pleasure ping ponging back and forth between them. This is always his favorite part about being with a new partner, finding all of those little things that set them off, the different ways you can take each other apart and how intimate that exploration can be. 

Eddie tugs at his nipples now, taking them between his thumb and finger, rolling them around. Steve’s head drops back onto Eddie’s shoulder, arousal shooting straight to his cock, now straining against his jeans. Pinching and tugging, Eddie’s working him up slowly, kissing his neck and holding him in place with the grip he has on his chest. 

After what feels like an eternity of foreplay, Steve squirming and writhing in his arms, Eddie finally relents and his hands wander back down to Steve’s hips, fingertips running along the top of his jeans, sliding under the waistband of his underwear.

“Who’s the tease now?” Steve quips, with what feels like his last working brain cell. The rest of his concentration is now solely on his dick, which is leaking into his boxers and so painfully hard that he’s not sure how long he’ll last. 

“Oh,” Eddie tugs him back sharply, pressing into him and grinding their hips together so Steve can feel how aroused he is, “you shouldn’t tempt me, Stevie. I could go on like this for hours. Maybe next time we can see how long you can hold out.” 

Next time. He’s not so far gone that he can’t appreciate the implication. That warmth in his belly grows, expands past desire and carnal want, moves into something wholly different, the kind of joy you get from seeing your favorite person or eating your comfort food. That homey warmth that feels like fresh baked bread or cozy socks on a harsh winter day. 

A whimper escapes him, needy and desperate. He doesn’t think Eddie fully understands why he makes that sound, how it’s like the longing is being pulled straight out of his soul. But it spurs him into action. He’s finally reaching for Steve’s zipper, pulling it down carefully and pushing Steve’s jeans down until he can step out of them, taking his underwear with them. 

It seems a little unfair that Eddie is still fully dressed, but it almost makes it hotter. The sharp contrast between their states of arousal, Steve on full display, cock standing at attention under Eddie’s devouring eyes, Eddie’s outline clearly visible in his tight jeans. Eddie reels him in again, Steve’s back to his front, and the cool air on his skin and the friction of Eddie’s clothes against his bare body like sensory overload.

The teasing isn’t done though, Eddie takes one finger and runs it along the top of his cock, picking up a bead of precum and smoothing over the head. Another whiny sound leaves him, a barely recognizable please. Eddie must understand it, though, as he wraps a hand around him.

Pleasure zings through him as Eddie works a hand up and down his shaft, pausing to toy with the head, collecting the precum that’s oozing out. It’s not quite enough, so Eddie stops and spits into his hand. And if Steve thought he was turned on before, he’s pretty sure his entire body is on fire now. 

It’s been so long since someone has touched him like this, so long since anyone has taken the time to ask what he wants, or wanted to give him what he wants, that he’s lost in the sensation. He’s not used to handing over control like this, and it’s freeing. Eddie’s other hand moves from his hip to his nipples again and he takes turns pinching and twisting them. 

He’s not going to last much longer, a constant whimpering sound coming from the back of his throat, caught between fucking up into Eddie’s hand and grinding his ass on Eddie’s dick, only held upright by the arms wrapped around him. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Eddie coos into his ear, “let go for me. I’ve got you.” 

And that’s all it takes. Steve’s orgasm rips through him, spilling out onto Eddie’s hand and shooting all over his stomach. Eddie works him through it, whispering encouragement, loosening his grip on his cock and wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist to keep him from falling over. 

He’s not sure how they get there, but in the blink of an eye, Eddie has him laid out in his bed. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment and comes back with a damp washcloth, wiping away the evidence from Steve’s stomach, trailing kisses in his wake. 

“What about you?” Eddie’s clearly still turned on. 

“Are you planning on rushing out of here?” Eddie asks, pulling off his shirt and rummaging through his dresser. He trades his jeans for a pair of worn in flannel pajama pants. 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“If I haven’t made it perfectly clear that I want you to stay, I’m saying it now.” He crawls into bed and pulls Steve against him. “We have all the time in the world. There’s no need to rush. I just wanted to take care of you.” 

Eddie might just be exactly what Steve needed, that turning point where his life makes sense like this is the last piece slotting into place. And it’s weird to think that a few hours after they met for the first time, but it feels like he’s known Eddie his whole life. 

“I’ll stay, then,” Steve settles against Eddie, pressing a kiss into his scarred shoulder. “As long as you promise not to make me tea in the morning.” 

Eddie’s laughter settles the last of his nerves. “Promise.”

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Thank you all so much for reading! I've really enjoyed writing this one and seeing everyone's reactions to it 💜

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic: June 21

Here’s what I loved the last couple of weeks!

🪐 = Year of Themed Creations work!

JAVIER PEÑA

Voulez-Vous by @simpingcowboy 🪐 Year of ABBA indeed. The two things I love about this fic are the way it takes the song and puts it into fic form seamlessly...and the sensory details that put me right there in that sweaty, loud Medellin club. Oh. And the way I can almost feeeeeeel Javier’s packed jeans under my fingers. nnnnnnng

.

JOEL MILLER

Year of Small Joys 4 - Breathtaking Sunrise by @keldabe-kriff 🪐 A simple and lovely drabble. What Ellie sees is a real sunrise. What Joel sees is an opportunity to muse on the moment, that in another life, it would be a moment of everyday peace...

.

OBERYN MARTELL

Yes You May by @grogusmum 🪐 Imagine it. Maybe you just go about your Beltane way, all flowers and ribbons and branches and such. Then you get yourself all ready for the Maypole and find yourself dancing with a handsome stranger with a sly smile and a golden robe. A stranger that wants to jump fires for you...or with you.... Yes plz.

.

DIN DJARIN

Return the Favor by @ghostofskywalker 🪐 Just on the friendlier side of enemies to ... allies for now, I love the little things that give the reader some trust in Din. From running a mission for him to being given a place to crash and an offer to tag along on some more adventures, this couple’s off to a rough start, but seem to be fitting together more and more as the story goes on. I bet the adventure’s not gonna stop with these two.

Tidal Force by @the-blind-assassin-12  A mermaid AU, but the reader is the mermaid. Specifically one on Mandalore beneath the glassed-in Sea of Sundari and forever pining for the Concordian moon. There’s a reason for that though, and it all has to do with a fairytale...and I do so love a good fairytale.

.

EZRA

untitled (Bangathon Ezra / Spooning) by @prolix-yuy​  Really, isn’t it every girl’s dream to be yearned for by Ezra? To be lusted after by Ezra? To be woken from sleep in the hot tent you share and taken in a sweet and feral fit of need by Ezra? Kevva’s balls, this gave me the wants and the thots and the hots. Color me glad for asking...

.

MAX PHILLIPS AND DIETER BRAVO

D is for Double Penetration by @butchmandalorian 🪐 You know who’s getting the double D? It’s not you. and it’s not Dieter. There’s so much kink happening here, so much play and trust and Dieter being a flirty bi king and Max being cute because he doesn’t know how to deal with all these new wants and feels... Again. @butchmandalorian‘s dom fics always push my buttons because her characters are always loving and good to each other and the trust is real. I really don’t know who to be jealous of in this fic...I want to be all of them....

.

SPECIAL GUEST CORNER

BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

More Than Just a Pretty Face by @captainsophiestark 🪐 I don’t know much about the Bridgerton world, but I do love the regency period and I thoroughly enjoyed this meet cute with surprise revelation. These two are so cute together and it seems like they really do deserve some fun. What good is courting if you have to be stuffy and proper all the time? What good is being a sassy, talented woman without someone who can really appreciate it? Nice.

.

PIPPIN TOOK

Free Food by @ironmandeficiency  It’s a love story and ahhhhhh you’re seeing Pip + Food and making assumptions. You would only be half right. Because when @ironmandeficiency says Year of Idiots they really chose a perfect one here. Full disclosure: There was a time I would have very much loved to have been Pip’s object of affection....and maybe this fanned a little flame for him....

.

[ezra-returns]

Hey I haven’t rlly interact with you before but I saw your post about the Eurovision boycott and I wanted to point out some things:

Not participating in a boycott just because it brings you joy isn’t a very good excuse. People said that about Starbucks, about Disney, but still boycotted. McDonalds fries were a sensory hyperfixation for me for YEARS, but I still boycotted. If my favorite game show supported Israel, I would boycott them too, even tho they’re like what Eurovision is to you i think

Eurovision banned Russia from participating in 2022, like they should have, because they invaded Ukraine. Eurovision has the ability to ban countries even if it was controversial. The reason they’re not banning Israel is because they know they would lose money if they did.

There’s ways to invest in hyperfixations or special interests without supporting them. Make art/fic for yourself, think about them, etc etc, without sharing or participating online. Generating fandom to Eurovision still promotes them, and that’s money preventable from being earned. That’s what I did when I found out abt JKR, I quietly made headcanons and make my own merch and talked about it irl with my friends without ever buying or promoting the books.

It doesn’t matter how small u are a boycott needs EVERYONE involved.

From what I’ve seen of your posts, you seem pretty young, which is why I’m trying to not be too hard on you. But Palestinian lives are more important than fandom. Boycotting is supposed to suck- It’s been really hard for me too to change my routines. But you just need to do it if you really believe in it, otherwise you’re just preforming activism until it actually hinders you in a meaningful way. Please don’t make excuses not to boycott Eurovision with us ❤️🇵🇸

hold on people other than my like 5 mutuals saw my post?? wtf

thank you for being nice about this, i'm always worried that my words can hurt people without me intending to and so i really appreciate your calm and polite response especially about such controversial subject matter.

this was a really nice and well written reply and i am happy to report that you've changed my stance on the matter a bit as well. this year, even if i make fanart or fan content, i won't be sharing it online. i may still watch the competition, but since my family already has a peacock subscription i don't think it provides more revenue to the ebu.

again i really appreciate this ask, it was polite and helped enlighten me a bit on the matter. sorry to anyone i've upset, and as always, free palestine!

[little-mouse-gardens]

Rottmnt oc headcannons

Part four : Angie

Alright, I officially finished Angie’s head-cannons. Akdjdak sorry it took me so long, I’ve been really busy for the past few months and got kind of distracted. Plus I was trying to add a few more headcannons for her and I couldn’t settle on how many I wanted to add.

Anyways here they are ^W^ also gonna be linking each of my four rise oc’s headcannons in my introduction post as well

- she learned to cook mostly on her own. Kind of observing from afar by watching her mother and sisters work when she was younger at first and then doing it herself as she got older. Slowly learning more and more along the way.

- let’s Mikey paint her nails to match her outfit, mood or just for the randomness of it after she taught him how to paint nails or let’s him paint a few random little shapes on her using her graphic liners for the exact same reasons. He may or may not love adding flowers across her cheeks and nose like freckles.

- her sisters and Mikey’s brothers swear the pair share a brain cell

- they like to give each other piggyback rides. Bought one of those oversized hoodies so they could both wear it at the same time for cuddles on the go

- Angie likes to collect squish-mallows or just plushies in general. Like A LOT of them. Has one of those little hammocks hanging above one side of her room where she keeps them. She will lend them out to Mikey, her sisters, April, the other turtles if they want one. Her favorite is a strawberry frog squish-mallow that she found at a thrift store and likes to hold it to calm down from being overstimulated.

- hates. Hates. Absolutely hates Being sick because she hates being stuck in bed and she’s hates the sensory issues that come with it. Mainly the fact she can barely smell or taste anything when she’s sick.

- always willing to try new foods, baked goods, drinks ect. Her and Mikey like to cook or bake together

- loves cozy games, her favorite would have to be animal crossing or Minecraft, she made an entire candy land themed carnival in Minecraft

- owns a lot of pastel clothing, also a lot of different aesthetics inhabit her closer but a common theme with a lot of her clothes is prints, embroidery or cute patterns.

- is currently learning knitting, and trying to teach raph and sunny how to knit

- a lot of dates she and Mikey go on once they start dating involve going to small bakeries or random places to paint. Picnic dates on the rooftops or at the park are a must with them

- if Mikey is hiding in his shell, Angie will literally just sit down beside him and watch random videos or listen to music together until he comes out. However if he wants to be carried around, she will do that as well

- adores stickers, buying them and making them, collecting them and giving them to her friends and family as a kind gesture. She and Mikey literally somehow give each other a new sticker like three to four times a week

- her favorite bag is a pink Shiba Inu boba bag, puts a punch of pins and charms in the spaces where pins and charms can be put

- Has an entire little office in her room just dedicated to her working on art. Organized drawers of markers, colored pencils, paints ect. A shelf of sketchbooks and canvases, a drawing tablet always charged and ready for hours of drawing

- is absolutely terrified of hippos. (loves the pigmy hippo) she has a phobia of hippos after one nearly bit her arm at a zoo when she tried to feed it watermelon when she was little

- A bad habit of hers is pushing down/setting aside her own feeling of sadness or anger to comfort and tend to others. So much so that sometimes, when she gets to a quiet spot where no one can bother her, after a rough situation she will just sit there and cry and this is something that honestly takes her awhile to officially work on,

- enjoys sitting up on the roof or any spot with a good view of the sunrise or sunset. Something about seeing all the colors fade in together brings her a sense of joy

- has a big fear of anything sharp or anything that could burn her eyes getting near her face after the whole incident with the kraang, where she was nearly splattered in the face by the slightly acidic blood. The only reason she was saved is because she managed to duck down just in the nick of time

- has three pet rats named princess peach, princess Daisy and princess Rosalina

- Her favorite pizza is just plain cheese pizza with some spices and peppers added on

- absolutely loves boba, her fav flavors are usually sweet like cotton candy, chocolate, vanilla, birthday cake ect.

- when the girls go to their grandparents farm, she immediately goes running to her favorite spot to go explore-which is an abandoned cabin she fashioned into a cottage

- Absolutely loves doing her hair, she has a notebook of all the styles she wants to give her curls. She’s got organized drawers for all her cute hair ties, scrunchies and hair clips. Her hair care routine is a something that actually brings her a lot of comfort when she’s stressed

- she loves shopping and visiting farmers markets and art fairs. She has to stop and look at every booth she can and when she’s at the farmers market? Except her to come home with at least one new plant or some homemade goods

- was diagnosed with autism and adhd when she was about fix or six

- After the kraang incident, she has a hard time with people moving their hands near the right side of her face without warning for a long while (a kraang blood almost got in her eyes and damn near blinded her) the only person she trusts to do that is honestly Mikey, because he quite literally was the one to shield her from getting directly hit head on when she lost the shield she’d been holding

- She and mikey confessed to eachother when he invited her over to the lair for a movie marathon and they had their first kiss on their first date, which was a rooftop picnic

- She doesn’t have too many nightmares after the kraang incident….just a specific two nightmares that come every once in awhile that are very very vivid that honestly freak her out. After she has them she usually either stays up for a little while and hangs out with her sisters in the living room for comfort or she goes out on a walk. If Mikey’s awake she’ll just pop over to the lair and talk with him for a while. Especially if they’ve both been having a rough night dealing with nightmares.

- she painted a mural in each of her sisters rooms. A sunny field for her sister sunny, the beach for her sister Skye and a fairy garden for her sister Marcy

- absolutely hates getting sick, like she tries to avoid getting sick when she can. However she doesn’t mind helping others out when they are sick…she just seems a little more cautious than usual

- Has a irrational fear of fire ants due to an incident she had when she was a child

- When the turtles had to defeat the shredder, Angie got a small scar from the incident on her left side when she pushed mikey out of the way of getting hit, which she covers up with some tattoos later on

- Has always wanted to cosplay princess peach. She’s got a whole vision board and everything

- Current champion of Mario party among her sisters (shes just oddly good at Mario party for some reason)

- She likes to bring her friends and family little gifts that remind her of them. Like for example she made April a set of flower charms for her bag or she brought Mikey a new apron after his old one got ruined while he was cooking

- She does talk in her sleep and girl says the most out of context random sentences when that happens

- her biggest goal is to one day open and run her own bakery

[sniffanimal]

.

it's really weird trying to find space for myself in online autism communities that I've basically just stopped trying

I don't really "fit in" with other adult diagnosed/late diagnosed autistics because while I was 26 when I was "officially on my medical record diagnosed" it's been kind of an open secret my whole life? like I've known I was autistic since I was 8 but it wasn't really anything a doctor said or did anything about. I don't even remember how I found out, if I ever did. I've just like, always known I was "on the spectrum" or whatever growing up. so it's not like "ohhhh autism explains so much!" kinda feeling most late diagnosis circles have when they discuss stuff, like everything about me has always been informed by the fact that I'm autistic.

and so surely you'd think I'd fit in with other early diagnosed adult autistica, except those tend to, online, be grouped into either previously-diagnosed-aspergers-people or caretakers of people who are not afforded an online presence. and the former tends to stray into aspie supremacy a lot ("I'm not like eating crayons or whatever I'm just some guy who likes airplanes a lot ok?") and I shouldn't have to explain why the latter can be equally exhausting

and plus in my day job I'm often in a position where I have to advocate for autistic teens who are just learning self advocacy in the first place, so I'm super picky about what kind of autism circles I run in. while I guess I fall into the caretaker category for work, I'm also autistic myself.

and online, god forbid I talk about the fact that I'm medium support needs. the fact I have a degree and live away from family obfuscates that, but I also don't/cant drive and require lots of small interventions through my day to be functional in public (lots of lists and visual reminders, avoiding triggering things, heavy rehearsing and pre planning things that are upcoming, sensory interventions, PT, etc). I may be hyperlexic (I've been speaking in full sentences since I was like 18 months old and can talk circles around anyone I know), but that verbally =/= functionality. someone who is completely nonverbal could get through their days easier than me!

but no one wants to talk about how autism is a spectrum in the broadest of senses. I like the salad bar metaphor, but I think there's even better ones. maybe autism is like getting dressed.

assume everyone wears clothes. some people wear clothes they're most comfortable in at all times. some people can wear formal wear for a little while but will eventually get uncomfortable and put on comfy clothes. some people wear suits or fancy dresses every day because it brings them joy. some people wear under wires and lacy G strings because it makes them feel good regardless of how it sensory feels, and other people can't even fathom wanting to wear them because of the sensory feeling, and in either case no one will see what you're wearing because it's underwear.

okay maybe this metaphor only makes sense to me, but the idea is that everyone is putting on different articles of clothing every day. Some days the clothes are comfortable (sensory needs met, able to participate in social gatherings fully, using AAC, having access to comfort items and preferred topics), and some days the same clothes could be uncomfortable (too quiet today, same social gathering is overwhelming, iPad is dead, no one wants to talk about Pokemon). Or maybe you're wearing the wire bra (loud rock concert, crowds, people smoking, had to take an Uber pool because your car you usually drive broke down so plans changed), but someone else can't fathom that experience being tenable at all. Maybe they wear a sports bra and cotton undies (staying in predictable settings, practicing ordering at restaurants, stinking to self soothe, wearing earplugs, not embracing spontaneity) but other people might find that unsexy (socially inappropriate). Sometimes we might put on costumes like a ball gown (spend weeks preparing for a trip, going over itinerary and lists and watching videos to prepare and ensuring you will have space and time to decompress and calling ahead to the venue to check and double check and making sure your friend is okay driving the whole way and renting a car that's the same model you're used to driving in and wearing the lotion with the smell from home so that the new car won't smell as different and ) because you know you'll look cool as hell while you're wearing it, but that the sweat pants and cotton undies are waiting for you after. And sometimes while you're in the ball gown you carefully constructed, you realize you know what fuck this and have to strip down to your bloomers! and everyone hates when you do that because they expected you to wear the ball gown all night

I was going somewhere with this post. but anyways. I'm autistic and it's exhausting to be one online so I just look at funny images instead of trying to build community

[theloverscardtarot]

Spicy Evan Ovary Destroyer Reading#1

I said fuck it and wanted to do something fun. I used mostly oracle cards and it was, uh, interesting...

Better not keep @shamrock313 waiting 😉

What is Evan's general Energy in the bedroom? Hold onto your panties ladies.

Message in a Bottle: "Spirit hears you and the reply is favorable" Communication. Partner is seen and heard. In a sea of fish you find a bottle with a message in it. A treasure. I feel like he treasures intimacy like it's a sacred thing.

Come to the Edge: Edging, perhaps? Yowza! On the card a feminine figure is spreading rose petals as she walks across a small piece of land and to the edge of a cliff. I feel like he likes women to take the lead and seduce him. To lure him. The card suggests allowing oneself to be truly seen and intimate with their partner. Taking risks and communicating what is wanted.

Yin: Feminine receptivity. This card describes someone that lets others take the lead. This has been said before, but Evan may like his partner to be the dominant one. Is Evan shy and timid about sex? I would not guess that at all! 😉

Exchanging Gifts: This card basically represents taking and receiving. Hello! Need I say more. Use your tongue on him and he'll do the same. 🥵

Peace: This card represents freedom from attachment. A lot of casual sex? Some one nighters? It also represents connecting through sex. Being on the same page. Harmony and balance between two people. Like finely tuned instruments. Screaming in the dark together....ok I need an ice bath...

Blessed: (Yea no shit, Id feel blessed too): Unearned and unexpected gifts. This suggests Evan likes spontaneous sex. Loves his partner to surprise him with an..act. This can also lead to deeper intimacy with his partner.

Regeneration: Rebirth, second chances. Failing but coming back stronger. For me, this makes me think he looks at what may have gone wrong or didn't work out for his partner. And then he works on perfecting it. ✅✅✅

Tick Tock: This one had me shaking my head. Like could it say more? This card is all about timing. Yes, that timing. This man takes his time with you, has stamina, and knows when to time his...finale.

Unfinished Symphony: "Make sure to finish a project before you start/finish another one". 😳 Dare I say he's a pleaser? 😫 (That's my O face)

Happy, Happy: Yep. Desires being fulfilled. Joy and contentment. Or, in other words @shamrock313 's six of wands card. (😘)

New Life: Gonna keep this one short and sweet. The man is fertile.

(I can't make this shit up. The last three cards came out in sequence)

Overall: Death: Meaningful, spiritual transformation. Letting go, release. I fell like sex is a release for him.

Evan POV: Hold on tight to those panties ladies.

Page of Pents: Loyal, ambitious and attentive to needs. 🫠 He watches and learns and is very passionate. Energy is slow and steady. Do not rush. Have patience. He uses strategy and cleverness. Someone who engages with sensorial and tactile sensations. Ow, there goes an ovary.

Partner's POV:

Three of Pents: Craft, talent, collaboration. Hello. Talents and gifts intensify when working together and it, ahem, pays off. Are you allowing someone else to do the work? Again, pleaser.

What turns Evan on the most?

Ace of Pents:(I would like to note that the pathway depicted on my card looks like a squiggly penis. I'm not even kidding you. No, I am not insinuating Evan has a squiggly penis). Possession, physicality. "Flowers burst in a fertile garden. The garden represents safety and security" I honestly think this means he gets turned on feeling safe and secure with someone so he can let himself be submissive.

I asked for some more info and I, uh, got it....

7 of Pents: This card depicts a farmer gazing at his crops. He understands the cycles and growth. He is a hooded figure reflecting extra protection from matters at hand. Know when to move forward or..pull out, I mean back 🤭. Yea, I think this card is trying to say Evan is careful.

5 of Wands Rev.: This card represents avoiding conflict or fighting and making up. Which just means his make up sex is 🔥.

Hope you enjoyed ladies, and that your poor, defenseless ovaries survived 😘

[thewhumpcaretaker]

The Broken Veil: Chapter 3 - Miracle

Image source from Pinterest

Unfortunately, I've had a mental health crisis while writing this story. I'm planning to stop immediately and to post all my existing chapters at once to prevent myself from returning to the project again and again. That's somewhat good for you because it means you get more chapters at once, but it's also a shame because it means we'll only get to chapter seven. It has to be done, though.

To anyone out there dealing with maladaptive daydreaming, limerence, mania, or psychotic symptoms, please know that I'm thinking of you. Take care of yourselves and don't let the fantasy pull you in any deeper than you're comfortable with.

Summary: John Wick has just agreed to kill Gianna D'Antonio, repaying the marker that gave him a life with Helen. However, Helen is trying to contact John from the afterlife, to show him that it is possible to stop the cycle of violence – not by forfeiting his own life, but by creating a fundamental shift in international systems and perhaps even the balance of good and evil in this world. But he doesn’t have to do it alone. She’s coming back.

“Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.” - Catherine Earnshaw, Wuthering Heights

Time is disordered as it touches the border of a timeless land.

He can almost see her, can feel her within reach.

His soul is pressed against the veil, on the brink of crossing. While there is still direction, he pushes towards Helen, single-minded. He is going home to her. They have not been so close since that day in the hospital. His life…she can feel it throb into her as if only the thinnest sheet of fabric divides them.

It’s time for the final stretch. She lets the force of his consciousness guide her towards him. His heartbeat thrumming in terror, his heartbeat soon to be stilled. She can feel the heat of his skin, his yet-unbroken skull, and the sudden pain of breaking. She has skin, she has a skull, she feels the impact of the bullet. The guilt circulating through his veins, falling forever in his stomach, bringing him down. NO.

Inhale. Helen draws back. Exhale. She slams forward into her husband’s body.

Sound, light, sensation. The veil is broken. She has him in her arms.

The floodlights are blinding, the gunshot is deafening, the air against her flesh is a sensory overload. God, it’s so different to be alive. She had almost forgotten.

She has him in her arms, and something has struck her back and fallen harmless to the floor.

Ares stares. On instinct, she fires again and keeps firing. She empties the clip but Helen has died once and cannot die again. It’s not body armor. It can’t be, because Helen is nude. There is only one small blaze of silver on her ring finger.

“John, open your eyes,” she whispers. “We’re not done.”

He looks so innocent, so confused on his knees below her. He looks only upward, respectful of her body, his chin tilted up into her face, his hyperventilating breath shuddering over her naval. “I’ve come home to you.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I’ve come home to you.” For a moment, she can’t bring herself to turn away from him.

Ares’ backup is stepping out of the shadows, guns trained on Helen.

“Identify yourself,” someone says.

Helen turns, her body frontally exposed to their gaze and they don’t know where to look. His head is still shielded behind her abdomen. She fixes her eyes on Ares. Quietly, “My name is Helen Wick. And you…” she begins advancing, slowly, “You tried to shoot my husband.”

Behind her, John’s eyes range over the ground in a daze, caught by some flicker of light. It’s littered with crushed metal like golden coins. The same shapes he’s seen a thousand times, the same shapes that fell from his clothing earlier. Flattened bullets. It finally registers. Ares tried to shoot him, and she shot Helen. She shot Helen.

John picks up his gun.

***

Another wave of gunfire, but this time, it’s answered by a volley from between the two pale legs that frame John Wick like Roman pillars, and there’s three men down beside Ares. Some begin to flee but Ares orders them to advance. He tries to lunge forward and Helen pushes him back, covering his face. Bullets are slamming into his body, and he’d double over if she weren’t holding him upright, shoving him back down the tunnel away from the gunfire. Her hands are touching him. He’s in physical contact with Helen. The rush of it wrings some strangled sound from his chest. Then a different rush hits again: They shot her, they shot her, kill them all.

He's hurtling down the tunnel to where he stowed the M4, hand in hand with her, firing over his shoulder. He swings her smoothly around a corner, out of sight. She’s protesting but he can’t stand it if she gets hit one more time, it doesn’t matter if she’s bulletproof or not. It’s cocked in his hands and he becomes a storm.

***

John is not aware of how many times Helen saves his life. She walks in his wake, stepping over the dead, her arms open, trying to take up the whole space of the tunnel, breaking into a run when anyone gets too close. The rocks do not cut her bare feet and the bullets do not sting but she doesn’t want to be dragged away from John if someone gets their hands on her, so she keeps moving. She picks up a pistol from one of the fallen and struggles with it, but she’s never done this before and it takes her longer than it should to realize it’s empty. She wonders if this would have been easier if she were still incorporeal, ironically. She could have just slammed into the barrier and what she wanted would have…happened. But now her one power is her body, and she places it between John and the enemy over and over again.

At some point, he runs out of bullets and she watches him throw his gun at a man’s head, then sweep another to the ground and strangle him between his legs. He’s a force of nature. It feels almost like a violation to see this, somehow even more intimate than the time they’ve shared in bed. This is not for her eyes. The sweat plasters his hair against his forehead and he makes low, animal grunts. In the silence of precious moments spent reloading, his panting echoes down the tunnel. She’s desperate to hold him – whether to comfort him or to praise him or to hold him back or to join her hand with his on the trigger, she does not know, but she sees the labor of his body and she wants to be as one with him.

Finally, the shots stop ringing. There’s only his breathing as he still spins in paranoia, checking all directions, ragged waves filling the space from wall to wall with overwhelmingly intimate noise, then gradually slowing. “John.” She approaches him carefully. He has still hardly looked at her yet.

“…Helen?” He stares at her as if for the first time.

“Yes. It’s me.”

Her skin glows angelic in the floodlights. He can barely hear himself speak. “This is impossible.”

“A miracle, maybe.”

His hand moves haltingly toward her shoulder and caresses it. Her touch does not feel distant. Her voice does not come from somewhere impossibly far away. He can smell her scent, that little, warm, animalistic scent that doesn’t even come to him in dreams. He’s speechless. “Are you…what…” He struggles for another long moment. “You were dead.”

“I am dead. But I’m also alive. The veil is broken.”

Again, that strangled sound from inside him, and he throws his bulk against her wordlessly, his head buried in her shoulder. She can feel his face twist up against the side of her neck as he breaks down and just sobs. Her arms pull crushingly tight around his back, fists clenching handfuls of his suitcoat, unwilling to let him go. They stand that way for a long, long time.

“I love you. I love you and you’re gone, you’re-gone,” he gasps, fighting against the hope of what cannot be. His chest is heaving against hers. “I…miss you so much.”

“John.” She lifts his face, which is marbled over with a glaze of blood and water. He half turns away, overwhelmed by the sight of her, but she holds him fast. “I love you so much. I am here.”

She sees something finally register. “God. How?”

“I wish I had answers, but there are no answers on the other side. I just kept trying to get back.”

He sinks against the wall, his eyes ranging over the mass of bodies lining the corridor in horror. “You saw…” He hides his face in his hands and chokes out, “I’m so sorry. You were never, ever supposed to see me like this.”

She drops beside him and pulls him back into her arms. “No. No no no no. You don’t understand. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

When he’s calm enough she pulls back and looks at him with fire in her eyes. “You were right to kill them. I’ve wanted to say this to you for so long, ever since I died, but I couldn’t speak. You’re allowed. You’re allowed to be angry with the people who are caging you in, who are trying to take lives like ours and twist them into a wreckage, who are forcing you to do what you know to be wrong. The fact that people have made you kill your own friends, kill just to be with me, kill just to keep breathing...it's an atrocity.” He’s shaking with tears but she doesn’t even pause for a breath. “They've backstabbed you, treated you like a human weapon, took your childhood, took your peace. It's not your fault. They tried to twist you up in every way they could and STILL you never became a monster underneath, STILL you're tender and uphold your ethics and care so much about people that it scares you. I love that about you. And I love you. I love you so much. That is what I meant to tell you with that damn rose. I wasn’t saying you should pay with your life. I want you to fight back even harder. Don’t do a god damn thing they say.” He presses his face into her shoulder again and wails with anguished joy.

At length, gasping, he lifts his head and manages to speak. “I love you too. I need this, I…you have no idea how much I need to hear that from you. I can’t-I can’t live without you. I fall apart.”

She corrects him gently. “You can, but I don’t want you to have to do it alone. I’m here with you.”

“But I don’t know what to do. What choice did I have, other than completing the job or accepting my fate? I’ll die for not fulfilling the marker. I will be HUNTED, Helen, you don’t understand. Santino will take out a hit on me. The only way that stops is when he’s dead. Then I’ve killed the marker holder and it’s High Table jurisdiction. That’s international, and there will be thousands-”

“Not if you take down the entire High Table.”

For a long time, he just stares. “That’s an army. That’s war.” But he’s almost smiling. She IS smiling.

“You want things to be different. I want to help you make them different. I didn’t understand this when I was alive, but there are things you and I are capable of…there are things that need to change…We’ll talk. But for now we need to keep you safe. We can’t stay here. Are you…okay? How bad are you hurt?”

He just looks at her, struggling to speak. He thought the only person who would ever care to ask him that was dead. She waits. It’s like old times. He always seemed to have trouble starting a sentence, let alone finishing one. “…Nothing that won’t heal.”

“And are you okay? How are you feeling? I’ve given you quite a shock.”

“I…” His vision blurs over with tears again. “I…” At first it seems that this is too difficult a sentence to finish altogether. “I will remember this day for the rest of my life.”

She pulls him up, taking the weight of exhausted muscles and he can’t resist embracing her once again when he’s upright. He starts to give her his suitcoat and she stops him. “No, you need that. I can take any clothes, I just need to be decent for the street.” He starts pulling the jacket unceremoniously off of the nearest corpse. It engulfs both her hands and hangs just below her privates, making her look like a smitten teenager wrapped in her boyfriend’s hoodie. She picks up the body’s handgun. John peeks at her sideways and downright blushes, then insists they take the pants and boots too.

He exhales, still trying to steady himself. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

She kisses his cheek lightly. “Believe it.”

He’s laughing, actually laughing. He feels young again. Waves of giddiness keep washing over him. He takes his wife’s hand in his – his wife’s hand! – and they pick their way through the catacombs towards the clear Italian night. He would skip if he weren’t limping, but instead, each time he stumbles, she takes his weight and keeps him walking. He has never been supported by someone after killing. Never, even when she was alive. He would come home two days later, mostly mended, and she would tend to him then, but the exit from battle itself had always been a long, painful march of shame. It is so humbling to see how she steadies him, waits for him, pauses now and then to hold him again, staving off shock with the warmth of her body, even knowing everything he did. This may be a dream, but he doesn’t care to wake up.

Standing at the mouth of the catacombs, there’s a figure, leaning against a car. Helen can feel John go tense as he recognizes Cassian. The figure’s arm stays at his side, but it’s close to his gun. “Who’s with you, John?”

They’re still hidden in shadow. “First, why are you here?”

“I’m curious why you lied to me.”

“…Felt like getting shot.”

“You got over that pretty quick.”

“Yeah.”

Helen steps forward, the light breaking over her features as she does so. She extends her hand to Cassian. “Helen Wick. Pleased to meet you.”

Cassian doesn’t move. He looks straight at John. “The fuck?”

“Shake hands with my wife.” It’s not a request.

He does. “I apologize for the incredulity. I’ve been told you’re dead.”

“It’s quite alright.” She makes no further explanation.

“For what it’s worth…good for you. Both of you. Love is unlikely in our circumstances. I understand that on a personal level.” He steps up to John. “John, you spared my ward. Someone close to me. She and I both want to know how we can repay you.”

“Gianna wants to know what I expect from her.”

He stiffens. “I genuinely am grateful to you. But yes, that is the chief reason I’m here. We appreciate what you’ve done. But I hope you understand that she can’t single handedly make the marker go away.”

“I don’t need to be spared by the High Table. I didn’t do it for a debt.”

“Then why? I get it, you have a death wish, but…this puts both of you in danger.”

“I’m not dying. And sure as hell no one is killing Helen. We live on our own terms now.”

He frowns with pity. John will be executed, that’s unavoidable. “Fair enough. You’d better take your head start then. The hit hasn’t been placed yet. Gianna went underground immediately, and we’re about to tell her brother that she’s dead. I don’t know how long it will take him to learn the truth, but some time is better than none. You still have my thanks. If you need to contact me…” He passes John a slip of paper with a phone number. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to help. But don’t hesitate to call.”

He nods. “Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Wick.”

Cassian steps into his car and he’s gone.

Helen twines her arm through his again. “Point the way, John.”

They start to walk. Rome is gold, gold, gold, even at night. Again he says it, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ll never be able to say it enough. I thought I could never tell you again.”

“But you did, many times. I was listening.”

“You could hear me?”

She pauses. “I’m trying to figure out how to describe it…I couldn’t hear words at first. I could feel what you felt, from the moment I died. That felt…inviolable. I can still feel it now and I know that it will never be broken. Words emerged over time as I started trying to come back. And images. But it isn’t like seeing and it isn’t like hearing…it’s very strange. It takes so much effort to bring them to the surface.”

“You told me to let go. But you didn’t.”

“Neither did you.”

“I tried. But then…” He falters and his footsteps halt. “Helen, I have something to tell you about the…dog you got for me…”

“I know. She appeared to me when she crossed. Probably looking for someone connected with you. That’s when I knew something was wrong and I couldn’t leave you alone. I guess you could say she sent for help.”

For the fourth time that night, John is sobbing into his wife’s chest.

[hallucinateonpaperspines]

ouat

Are koalas still cute at least and platapus and vonbats ?

How big are anacondas now ? Can Snakes and other Wilde animals still be pets ?

Koalas would be cute. Big ears, big eyes, and short silver coats. Their armor has an interesting bristle effect, it makes them very hugable if they don't swipe at you with improved pick-like claws. Their saliva, excrement, and other fluids are now a low-level poison. And by low-level, we mean seizure-causing when exposed to large amounts. Not as bad as the eucalyptus trees that they live in. The bark and leaves are still DO NOT EAT items, with an oily liquid between the layers of the bark identified as a DO NOT TOUCH item. Kola's have actually altered their previously solitary nature and now live in several groups with circulating members. Several small groups (typically maxing out with 10-15 members, ironically now called a Sloth) with exist within Eucalyptus Grooves. Regrettably, it is not recommended to hug a wild Koala, as the group will become agitated if one member becomes distressed. Their bites are not pleasant, as the solid pincher-like teeth at the from of the mouth can pry off armour. Please coo at a distance.

Platapus remains the animal mystery they have always been. The (surprisingly delicate) metal beaks are now lined with small rows of serrated teeth. Their tiny feet have enlarged to support the pointed claws, and fur has melded together to create a respectable armor casing that mimics silicon. There are now spikes along its spine that serve as extra sensory organs, and the tail is made of very thick plating that does hurt when slapped (males still have venom glands and spurs). Honestly, not the weirdest pet. If you know how to handle one, that is. They are still relatively small and fragile, making up for it in their elusive natures, so you're not likely to be killed by one. More stubbed your toe pain.

Wombats are adorable menaces. That said, do not approach an adult, please. We are 85% sure that these things find joy in drawing in humans with their beady eyes, synthetic puffball fur, and loaf-like bodies. Do not fall for it. They will claw off your face and smile. A demented teddy bear that begs for your food and will eat the hand that offers it. They know they are cute, and they know how to use it. The babies remain adorable but you should run in the opposite direction if alone or remain in a group. When threatened, sadistic quirks turn into full-on armageddon aggression. This is increased when offspring are present. This thing will chase you. This thing will claw you. It has a very particular level of skills, the fluff is impact absorbent and these things are very strong. They will corner you and head but your ankles. You will not find this cute when it breaks something.

Anaconda's range from titan boa to us, but forbidden scarf to Neo-humans, all the way to freaking pit-spawn terrestrial sea serpent. They come in an absolutely dazzling area of colors, and as they get larger, the patterning and colors become more striking. The sparkles can have an almost hypnotic effect and, surprisingly, blend in well with the metallic environment. Currently, it may be wise to leave your pet anaconda in its home environment once it reaches about half your, or the smallest member of your household, size. (These things have become very ambitious). However, their growth directly correlates to how well they eat. And meals need to be kept at regular sizes or increase, otherwise, the poor thing will starve (in this the most ambitious specimens usually check themselves when the prey that hunt can no longer support their increasing diet.) So it is possible to prolong the "snakelet" stage by carefully monitoring what your danger noodle ingests.

As for keeping other snakes as pets, it would not surprise me with reptile lovers. Y'all kiss the face of danger and call it "sweetie." It was either death or a mini-zoo filled with well-maintained, happy noodles that could be considered genetically engineered weapons back in the organic days. (*TーT)b

Domestication efforts are ongoing, and some species like dogs, livestock, pigeons, and cats are naturally returning home. Albeit with a bit more of a feral nature.