#this is what my sleep deprived brain produces

[muffinsin]

you know what, fuck it we ball. i gave the dani and cass monsterfucker prompts, lemme cook one up for bela real fast in your ask box while i am yet again sleep deprived.

let’s put bela with a lycan (heh). feel like we’ve seen a couple lycan requests, but i’m gonna put a breeding focus on this one. similar to cass’ i guess. sweet, darling bela is gunna have to carry a litter of lycan pups to full term, though.

she’s thinking about that and all the consequences that come with it the whole time she’s getting railed after having been pounced on, and for some reason being unwilling to push the beast off. pheromones? she’s a little loopy on them, it’s clouding her judgement. not to mention this situation, unfortunately, really turns her on, despite the fact that she’s soo anxious about the fat knot smacking against her cunt getting forced inside, and so anxious about being pumped full of so much werewolf cum that makes her look pregnant alone. starts thinking about how many pups she might be given. will it be a whole litter? how many pups come in a lycan litter? how is that going to affect her body? etc. thinks about lactation too. probably gotta produce a whole lot to feed a litter, ya know?

very big on bela mommy issues dimitrescu being a sucker for this kind of stuff deep in the back of her mind. she wants to be a breeding toy, she just doesn’t quite know it. lycan lover will help her out.

picturing them not being able to really speak while transformed. maybe a couple words here and there, but it’s difficult. they’re really mostly a monster right now. not so much of a monster that they won’t give her some sweet aftercare lovin’ while she cockwarms them due to the inflated knot being unlikely to go down for a good while, though. oh, and they’re Hung. “it won’t fit!” kind of hung, but they make it work 🥴

- 🐺

Hell yeah!🙌 My much needed reminder that I write smut? Perhaps XD At last, after months, poor Bela is getting some monsterfucking loving too, hm? XD Let’s get into it, everyone!

Masterlists

In one moment, she feels curiosity. In the next, her body tenses as a loud roar is heard echoing in the dimly lit cave. Bela bites down on her lip harshly, her bright, golden eyes scanning over the stony edges of the walls of the cave.

She feels slightly dizzy, her brain fuzzy, her limbs oddly heavy. A thick scent lingers in the air, one she feels strangely tempted to follow.

She can’t recall why she entered the cave in the first place, not usually one for such curiosity.

And yet..now she can’t seem to leave again. As if in a trance, she keeps on walking, uncaring of her heels scraping against the stone and muddy ground. She feels slightly cold, just enough for her to shiver, yet not quite enough to pose a threat.

She jumps a little when she hears a loud snarl again. What is she doing? She can’t seem to resist the scent clouding her judgement and senses.

Bela’s eyes widen slightly for a moment when- at last- she finds the source of this sound. A creature, curled up, yet monstrous in size. If it were to stand, she is sure it would be towering above her, and only stand slightly shorter than Alcina herself.

She keeps on walking, until she stands, frozen, right in front of the creature. Her eyes widen suddenly, as if only now aware of it. What is she to do?

To slay the beast? Gulping, she gazes around the cave, trying to find anything to use to her advantage. However..nothing. She scans the lycan-like monster again.

Large, muscular, with sharp teeth pointing out from its mouth. She shivers again. No, fighting the beast is not an option.

Still, as she stares the creature down..

Bela’s body tenses again, her eyes flickering over it. She sees the sharp claws, the strong torso…

Her eyes land on the large, still limp cock between the creature’s legs. Suddenly, the scent grows stronger, and without understanding why or standing any chance at resisting it, her body lurches forwards, and suddenly her face is smudged against the warm, oddly comforting thigh.

She sees the massive thing twitch, her eyes wandering over the thick knot wearily.

She can’t quite understand. All she does, is feel.

She feels her body submitting to the monster, her pussy aching and drooling, her heart yearning to be close. She doesn’t understand.

As if in a trance, her hands move across her body. She removes her cape and hood, then her dress. Left only in her underwear, stockings and heels, Bela positions herself along the creature’s large arm.

She doesn’t even notice she has begun rutting her clothed pussy against it.

Then, the creature stirs. Her eyes widen, and for a moment she seems able to rip herself away. She turns halfway to her swarm form fast, making for the way out. She recognizes it, is almost there..

Then, she shrieks, as large paw-like hands push against her back and force her to the ground, and the large creature hovers above her. She’s pinned, struggling against the dirty and wet ground.

Then, she tenses, as a long tongue drags against her neck. She shivers, her nose picking up on the creature’s scent that now sticks to her.

Another lick, and another. She feels dizzy almost, her pussy clenching and aching, yearning for the creature’s large cock. She feels shame; has she always been this easy? Surely not! Have years of neglecting her sexual side and sex with the staff turned her into this? Turned her into a slut easy enough to even get turned on by a lycan of all things?! What would Mother think!

Bela gasps when she is turned roughly, her head throbbing for a moment before she can realise what is happening. She feels and hears her clothing tear, sharp teeth and claws slashing through the skin tight dress and grazing her pale, porcelain skin slightly.

She doesn’t attempt to push the creature off, she can’t, and somehow, doesn’t want to. All she feels is its large cock, limp before and slowly hardening against her thigh. To her horror, the thing grows as it hardens, so the monstrosity turns to an even huger dick. She whimpers momentarily.

How could this fit? What’s going to happen to her? Will it breed her? Somewhere in the back of her mind she realises..summer is breeding season.

She gasps when the sandpaper-like tongue drags down her neck, leaving almost slimy saliva in its path. She shivers underneath the lycan, golden eyes taking in the monster’s form. Then, she jumps, when sharp teeth graze her hip.

Suddenly, her head is filled with the desire to be bitten, to be claimed in the most intimate and primal of ways. She yearns for it, suddenly, her mind foggy, her body yearning, her back arching as though presenting her to her captor.

The lycan snarls and growls, and the blonde yelps when she feels the strong tongue lick across her inner thigh next.

“W-Wait!”, she shrieks as a massive hand wraps around her thick thigh, and gasps when she is spread open. With a single bite her underwear is snatched from her, leaving her shivering as the damp air of the cave hits her privates.

To her embarrassment, she is already soaked, her clit pulsing, her lips glistening with the wetness that drips from her.

The beast straddles her fully, its large clawed hands grabbing onto her petite wrists and pinning them above her head. Bela is a mess of thoughts.

What is happening? How come she is enjoying this so much?!

She feels so wet, she needs this so bad.

Never has she felt this turned on in her life..

She must get back! She must escape! Mother will be furious! Cassandra will never let her live it down! Daniela will never give her a break from the jokes and mockery!

She must feel the massive cock in her..so thick, so strong, already twitching as it is aligned to hang proudly between her legs.

Bela whimpers as she feels the thick, glistening wet tip against her tight pussy. Having neglected her needs in favor of working hard, she’s impossibly tight for the large cock dangling between her thighs. Let alone the huge knot…

The thought strikes fear into her mind. How could she possibly take the massive girth? How could her pussy ever recover from the stretch?

How could she take such a large knot? How could it ever fit into her?! What if..

What if she is bred?

Her eyes widen a little at the thought. So what if she is bred? What if the beast pumps load after load of thick cum into her?

The proud heiress of Alcina Dimitrescu, the noblest of her sisters, reduced to a cum dump, made to become a mate and be bred until she carries a litter of lycans in her womb.

She gasps, then screams and moans, as the thick tip pushes into her. Its soft head goes in easily despite the tightness, and Bela moans when, after years, she finally feels full again.

Yet, upon glancing down, she sees that barely the tip has made it in. There is a lot to go, still, and she already feels it as warm, no- hot, precum drools from the monstrous lycan and right into her.

Her thoughts wander more and more the foggier her brain gets and the higher she seems to get on the pheromones and scent surrounding her.

How many lycans make a litter? Two? Three? Six? Seven? Twelve?! She can’t remember, but by the size of the knot sitting at the base of the cock, she must fear for the worst.

Her hip is grabbed, then a strong arm is wrapped around her. She feels more of the cock push itself inside of her.

Her back arches and she feels the arm around her tighten, then can’t help but giggle when she is lifted off the floor.

“A-AAh! AH! Gnmnn!”

She throws her head back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she feels more and more fill her.

At last, she feels the knot pushed up against her stretched pussy.

“Ple-Please!”, she gasps. How on earth could she fit that knot into her?! As the creature’s hips pull back and the cock begins to slip out of her, she feels her pussy grip it tightly. It’s as though every part of her body tries to keep the monstrosity in her, as though despite what fears plague her mind, her body is eager and relentless to be bred.

For a moment, shame has her cheeks burn up and flush bright pink. She moans as she feels the long tongue explore her neck and grunts in pleasure as her captor’s hips slap back against her own.

“N-Ngnnm, yes! Y-yes! O-Oh god!”

They draw back, then snap to her again, making her jolt. She tugs her arms half heartedly, and unsurprisingly, the lycan’s grip only tightens on her.

She moans with every little drop of hot wetness that leaks into her. She gasps as thick and heavy balls slap against her ass, plap! Plap! Plap! With every thrust.

So thick..Bela’s head is thrown back as she merely thinks of how much cum they must hold inside. How much she will be made to cold inside.

“I-Oh..yes! Yes! A-Ah!”, she screams. She feels herself pushed closer and closer to her orgasm already within moments of this treatment.

But really, she can’t be blamed! Not when poor Bela’s pussy and body is unused to such treatment, when she clenches tightly around the cock and feels it stretch her more with every thrust.

And how can she be blamed, when she feels the thick tip push up against the back of her womb when it is fully nestled inside of her, when she feels the wet head rub up against her pink, spongy and wet insides.

She groans and moans, louder and louder and louder.

And the creature seems painfully aware of her state. She is grabbed hard and yanked about, her petite body used to practically jerk her up and down on the massive cock.

When she cums embarrassingly fast, tears begin to run down her cheek. Yet she yearns for more, fear and arousal filling her mind when she feels the heavy knot push up against her.

Even with a stretched pussy, she can’t imagine a single way such a thing could fit into her!

She gasps and moans loudly with every thrust into her wet and tight cunt. Each causes the thick knot to smack against her and nearly has her flinch each time.

Truly, she can’t grasp how such a thing could ever fit into her!

It seems, too, her monstrous captor couldn’t care less that she came. If anything, Bela feels the talons holding her tightening and the cock within her twitch.

Yes, she can imagine she is quite warm, wet and tight around the beast now. And still she gasps and moans high pitched with every little thrust and move into and out of her.

She is yanked and pulled, the rough treatment accompanied by almost sweet licks against her neck. She feels lightheaded already, little sighs escaping her thick lips here and there.

As she is fucked faster and she feels more and more precum drip into her, her attention is pulled to the fact she is being bred yet again.

And again, it feels her with a strange warmth that has her cheeks heat up, her ass clench and her pussy grip the cock stretching her sore tightly.

She wonders, will she bear a round stomach as she carries a litter of Lycans? The thought has her whimper and arch her back as best as she can.

Yes, she is already reeking of the creature, after all!

Will her breasts grow even larger and ache, so full of milk for her little pups? Bela gasps at the thought alone.

“N-A-AAh! AH! Ah! Yes! YES!”

She screams, loud and passionate, when she suddenly feels the teeth that have been rubbing against her neck push inside.

Warmth spreads throughout her body. She’s shaking, trembling and moaning, gasping and shrieking as she cums again. She knows, deep down, the bite has claimed her as the creature’s.

She groans when she suddenly feels cum be shot into her, massive amounts enough to cover her entire face- head even- if it was shot into it.

She squirms helplessly as she is pumped full of it, her arms held tightly, her neck forced still by sharp teeth, her pussy plugged with the cock as more and more cum floods her insides.

Her eyes widen as she looks down and finds her own stomach, growing more and more the more seed is pumped inside. She whines, her legs attempting to cross, her hips trembling in an attempt to move. But the large cock stays inside, and the beast only snarls angrily at her foolishness.

Soon, her stomach is round and full, large enough for poor Bela to let herself lean fully against the ground and the lycan, too weak and sore to carry the unexpected weight of her cum-filled stomach.

Already, it looks as though the monster impregnated her.

For a moment, the creature only pants. Bela catches her breath at last as she moves her hand to her neck, her bottom lip becoming trapped between her teeth as she feels two large bite marks on there. Blood smears around it, but below the sweet fluid, she feels the puncture wounds.

Then, however, her excitement is cut short and replaced by terror, arousal and fear.

The knot.

She mewls as it presses against her stretched pussy, harder and harder. She feels it throb and its warmth, its sheer size…

“It won’t fit!”, she pleads. The creature seems to think otherwise, as it snarls and growls, its grip tightening on Bela for a moment. She gasps when she is flipped over, so now her bare breasts are pushed up against the hard rock and muddy ground.

Her round stomach aches as it rests on the floor and poor little Bela whimpers in embarrassment as she feels more cum leak from her pussy again with every single breath.

She feels her leg be pulled to the aside and shivers slightly as the warm air of the cave hits her wet privates.

Then, she feels the knot push against her again. The monstrous lycan mounts her easily, its sheer size alone dominating the blonde.

Then, with a scream and a moan of pleasure, she feels it, finally. The knot, impossibly big, forced into her soaked pussy and sealing it like a plug. She whimpers and moans loudly.

She is grabbed tightly, her stomach a shameful, but arousal reminder of her new status as this monster’s mate and breeding puppet.

She gasps when there is even slight movement. More, and more. The creature can’t thrust into her with the knot in the way, but even the smallest of movements and turns give both insane amount of pleasure.

Bela is panting again quickly, her hands cupping her stomach and breast. She feels the blood pour from her neck, down her collarbone and past her breasts.

She feels her last orgasm of the day rising already within a few moments, her body seemingly automatically responding to the large knot inside.

When the creature bends down to lick her swollen stomach, she nearly cums from it alone. Yes…all this seed in her, the knot..she knows, she will be bred and impregnated.

Her cheeks heat up, her nipples harden, her ass clenches and tightens around nothing. Her pussy milks the cock and knot in her.

Bela whimpers and moans, pants even. She can’t bring her mind to think of anything but being what she is made to be now, a breeding toy. A future mother to a litter of lycans.

She thinks of her round belly, her sore and aching breasts leaking milk, a dozen little wolves running around.

She thinks of possessiveness, the one the creature has already showered her in.

A few more movements, and with a scream, the beautiful blonde cums again. She mewls as her mate does the same, the large, hard knot at least shrinking slightly in her.

She is held close as she whimpers and cries, her stretched pussy pumped full to the brink, so much so her own cum and the creature’s heavy, thick one. She feels the cum drip and smear everywhere, even.

Then, it seems over at last. Her eyes are heavy, her stomach even rounder and fuller. The knot rests in her, as if still acting like a plug that traps the creature’s seed in her.

Exhausted, she allows the large thing to shift her. She feels soft fur against her, and a gentle tongue running along her throat and stomach.

It’s almost..lovingly.

With a smile on her lips, she allows her eyes to slip shut

[itssuppertim3]

Random Paladin Danse HC's That Make Me Smile

not that any of my minions know this, but i’m back into fallout and Paladin Danse’ ass is grass which only means one thing

fuckin

HEADCANONS

let the brain rot commence.

——————————

He obviously loves that education, and is always, ALWAYS, searching for an excuse to learn more about dead America. And who better to learn from than a relic of the past? You! On the other hand, my Sole was never a vault dweller, so she knows next to nothing about those broken gizmos other than what scrap they'll produce. So in one scenario you have big bulk man exhausting you with curiosity, and in another he's literally brimming with information to teach you. Both work well in my opinion.

Literal big brother energy. That kind of changes if or when you admit to him that his ass is literally bigger than a star, but throughout your time serving with him it's very clear that he works well with a sibling-like relationship. You may see him as an older brother, or maybe you just hate him. I dunno man. But all-in-all, he's always the first one there. Always at your side ready to defend you from whatever your postapocalyptic world launches at you. He's almost as loyal as Dogmeat. Almost.

This man stands CLOSE. Sometimes he doesn't even realize it; he just feels at ease being near you (especially if you don't use power armor). He's real caught on that savior mentality. Somehow he's only convinced that you're safe if he's just feet from where you're standing. And don't get me started on firefights. This big booty military man will jump in front of you with no shits to give. You even land a couple shots on him by accident, but that's alright. He doesn't really feel it. He really should prioritize his own safety sometimes.

He never drinks if he can help it, but that's only because alcohol makes him giggly. He'll relax with a couple beers, but anything past that is dangerous for him. He simply doesn't like the embarrassment of completely switching personalities in front of his subordinates. Even you, believe it or not. He likes things "clean, by the book," blah blah. So many people are convinced that he lacks personality, but truthfully he just prefers to act tough. It makes him feel 10 ft tall.

He sleeps with a body pillow. 100% I will live by that statement. Think about it: he practically lives within a wall of steel and cushioned padding. He's more touch deprived than a goldfish. He probably can't recall the last time he genuinely felt a person, which isn't something he dislikes. There's moments when even a pat on the shoulder is too overwhelming for him. He wishes he enjoyed having that closeness with someone. There're many occasions where he longs for your arms to be encased around him or vice versa. He wants to love, but he doesn't exactly know how. So instead of touching you, he spams you with uplifting compliments and hugs his pillow in Dansey bliss.

He complains about rain and bodies of water enough to convince everyone he hates it, but what's interesting is when he's in your company. Walking around like a transformer all the time, he's always prepared for stormy weather. You however... ehhh. He doesn't like it when you get drenched (😫) so he'll immediately scan the surrounding area for shelter. If there is none, and depending on the direction of the wind, he'll situate himself to where you get wet (😫) to a minimum. He's like your personal hunky umbrella. Every once in a while, you grow confused over the fuss. You may enjoy rain, or at least tolerate it, but he still wouldn't give a damn. "It would be irresponsible of me, as your mentor, to allow you to catch a cold under these conditions." In other words, he's a big worrywart over your wellbeing. And he's more used to patching up battle wounds. A sickly fever? Not so much.

You'd think he would be better at knowing your whereabouts, but he definitely isn't. With his suit having so many blind spots and you being so low to the ground, he's constantly losing track of you; hence why he chooses to walk behind you. When you stop in Diamond City, you like to prank him a bit by slipping away and making him go in big brother panic mode. You've tried it in Goodneighbor once or twice, but it never works there. Once you're behind those walls, his eyes never leave you. Not once. He scolds you more harshly when you play games in that town.

He loves to feel useful, even with something mundane like reaching something up high for you or even hoisting you up through a broken ceiling or over a wall. He additionally likes to show off strength. He smashes through walls and doors like cardboard, and crushes just about anything under his gauntlets with ease. On the other hand, he loves it when you feel useful as well. Sure, he can count back dozens of times when he could've dislodged a safe door or tore the wires from a terminal to deactivate turrets, but instead he chose to step back and admire your handiwork. And when you succeed, he always boosts you with praise.

The only hack he uses to style his hair is mud, sweat, and grease. And it still looks flawless every damn time.

There's no way in hell he walks around with all that cake and authority and NOT have an aggressive fanbase on the Prydwen. That just ain't so. There's a whole line of women in their baldheaded glory begging for him to notice them, and the hilarious part is he never does. Heroic actions and deeds in honor of the Brotherhood are what yanks his immediate attention. He's also trained enough soldiers to tell the difference between talent, potential, and kissing up. He hates those sorts most of all.

Keep in mind what I said about his awkwardness with physical touch, because when he's actually starting out in a relationship, it is so over for him. At first he almost wishes you'd remain friends just so you wouldn't give him heart murmurs every 5 fucking minutes. He also grows more protective over you than ever before, but that isn't surprising. Give him a few weeks to settle into this new territory and he'll gradually adapt. You do your best to go at his pace, so instead of downright kissing him you peck him sweetly on the cheek. The more you do it the more he realizes just how much he adores it. Even now he still has a hard time expressing his feelings, so you have to study close for any cues he may give you. Somehow if you're just not skilled at reading him, he'll eventually get persistent enough to lean towards your level and sit jagged and redfaced for a while until you deliver.

It's funny to watch him try and squeeze into an elevator. He'll go the extra mile to search for an intact flight of stairs just so he won't look like a Jack in the Box. Watching him squeeze back out is even sillier. He has to position his shoulders and knees just right so that his pauldrons or helm won't get caught in the narrow doorframe. It mostly works, though only because of all the trial and error he's had to endure.

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

alright folks it's 3am which means i have very pressing matters to attend to like sleeping

[elliesflower]

what's love? [ellie williams]

pairing; ellie x gn!reader

cw; angst, ellie and reader in a situationship(kinda), post-golf incident (joel mentioned), slightly au (still set in jackson, ellie never went to seattle), ellie doesn't open up ab her feelings :(

an; hello! first off, rest easy to one of the greatest to ever do it, miss tina herself. while listening to her today i felt like this song was very ellie-coded tbh nd i haven't been great lately nd just wanted to throw something angsty together for my baby girl :( (i know the song's vibe doesn't necessarily match the story's vibe but i'm meaning more the lyrics). also this is more from ellie's pov so reader is gn and has absolutely no physical descriptors!!

no smut, but like all my content please 18+ only, mdni!!!

Three little words. 

One big problem. 

What is it?

“Is this the end?” 

No, not those ones. It was something else, painful, and always dancing at the tip of her tongue, making tiny beads of sweat prick at her palms and a ball of trepidation sink to the pit of her stomach. They were cursed words, seldom given thought, and never spoken aloud. The underlying topic of ninety percent of all songs ever written, and movies produced—it was cruel, really, how there was no escaping it. 

“This can’t be the end…” 

Vision blurred by the thoughts of a thousand demons, Ellie muttered back into the void. 

“It’s not,” and her voice was so quiet, it very well could have been the wind pestering the trees outside her window. 

“It’s not…?”

Oh. Right. 

Movie. 

Your legs shifted under the shared blanket, and Ellie’s eyes refocused onto your folded hands in your lap. 

“Is there a second movie, or something?” Your voice was trembling only slightly, the emotional turmoil of the last twenty minutes of the movie lacing your words. 

Ellie shook her head again, as if it would shake her brain right out. She couldn’t help but to feel bad, having practically abandoned the movie as she stewed in her own emotions. There were so many of them, fighting to get out, clawing her insides every time she looked at your face for too long.

“Sorry,” she could blame her watery eyes on the movie. Push aside her feelings. Again. “No, there’s no second one. I wish there was, though.”

Ellie wasn’t much like an open book. Or, I guess she was a very specific kind of book. That one you fell in love with based on the dust jacket description, with her complex words and inexplicit detail, but every time you’d pull it down to read, something stopped you. Life gets in the way. You’d tried and tried, oh god have you tried, to open her up; to wear her down, pressing on her spine and dog-earing her pages, keeping her infrequent tipsy confessions and three-am sleep deprived rants in the back of your mind like a filing cabinet. Pushing, but never pressuring. Ellie didn’t like pressure. 

“S’okay,” your voice was always soft with her. Couldn’t be loud, couldn’t scare her away, because Ellie Williams could fucking run. Away from her problems, as fast as her legs could carry her and as far as her heart would let her. Despite her alienation, the empty bed permanently rooted in the hardwood of Joel’s house kept her coming back. “Did y’wanna watch anything else? I’m kinda tired.” 

Even the softness of your voice couldn’t conceal your hurt, that she was shutting down. Closing you off. Keeping you at a distance. Her heart twinged, but she couldn’t look at you. She looked down at her outstretched legs, the off-white blanket cascading over them, the piece of dust she could see out of the corner of her eye. Anything. Except you. She felt cold, but your body was warm, radiating and making her shift toward you subconsciously. She hated it. 

Why is hate so much easier to express?

“You have patrol tomorrow?” It was easier to just get technical, sometimes. You nodded, before stretching your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you. “Gotta be up at four. Wesley and Nia have the flu or something, so we have to head out early to swing by their posts, too.” Ellie nodded, absentmindedly picking at her cuticles. Ignoring the sweet smell of vanilla that emanated from your body as your arms went over your head. 

She was so proud of herself when she found you that bar soap out on patrol, neatly tucked away in a dusty white vanity. You were so happy, so grateful, always so grateful that she was thinking of you. That she perceived you in such a way.

And she almost fucking said it, that night. Almost ruined everything. Those three little words. She was high, probably on some weed, but also on how your eyes sparkled when you were happy, the way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and you shifted your body weight side-to-side excitedly. Your emotions were quite obvious, most of the time. It made Ellie want to cry. 

“That sucks,” she mumbled, and she couldn’t help it now. You were like a magnet, she was sliding down against the pillows, watching the credits roll on the small screen past the end of her bed. She could hear you breathing, deep and careful. On edge. Why were you so on edge?

“It does,” you agreed. Ellie didn’t look away from the screen. Sinking, slowly, slowly, slower...her head was resting near your rib cage, now. She could feel you breathing. And she felt you slide down to match her position, turning your body to face her, silently and without explanation. It was better that way. 

“You’ll sleep here tonight?” And it felt strangled, coming out of her throat. She didn’t need to say anything, though. Of course you were sleeping in her bed. Tonight, and the night before that, and before that…but she felt you nod against her side, and her arm slid up to allow you access to her chest. No explanation. Ellie was really bad at explaining. 

“You’re cold,” your voice was muffled against the fabric of her gray hoodie. Ellie almost smiled. Almost. 

“You’re warm,” she retorted, and she feels your heart pulse faster against the skin of your back. The movie’s end credits became the soundtrack to the night. Soft and pensive. Like you. 

Ellie watched as your breathing eventually slowed, your shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as you drifted away into sleep. She was always jealous of that, though of course, like everything else, she’d never admit it—how your tiredness always let you drift into a blissful dreamland, your right hand twitching where it usually sat curled loosely atop her chest as you slept. You moved a lot, she noticed, and talked sometimes, too. Sleep didn’t come easy to people like Ellie. 

And so, she was absolutely, positively, awake and conscious when you let out a breathy sigh in your sleep, legs twitching slightly against her bottom half before settling back into her chest. A whisper escaped your lips, so sweet it may have been laced with vanilla, too. 

“I love you…” 

But this time, Ellie couldn’t stop her tears.

[enam3l]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYHUKpBj/

Three words: Dad! Eddie Munson

Ok well I'm obsessed? I was literally just gonna reply like I love this but no I got too carried away and produced one of the most random and bizarre fics I've ever done. I'm sleep deprived okay!

the munson sandwich (rockstar eddie x reader)

/ hella fluff / taglist and requests open

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

Should kids sleep in their parents bed? It was always going to be a bone of contention. Eddie was to the core, a clinger, he wanted to be in physical contact with you constantly. So you knew from the get go it would be no better (if not worse) with your children. After reading all the parenting books your brain could handle before imploding, you decided you didn't have a strong opinion either way on whether kids slept with you or not. 

However, once you had Sloane, both of you were so besotted, it wasn't even a question. As if meant to be, she fitted perfectly between you and Eddie in bed. Every night you would all get cosy and form the Sloane Sandwich. A perfect recipe with a slice of mom and dad and in between was the filling of Sloaney Bologna (a nickname coined by Eddie that neither you or your daughter were too thrilled about). Both of you were infatuated with the perfect little cherub you made together and just wanted to be near her always. Sloane could happily snuggle against her dad with you being big spoon and still able to keep your arm over her and Eddie's torso. It was ideal. 

Then Iris came along aka Eddie's clone and shadow. Naturally, she inherited her dad's clinginess as well as everything else. Unlike Sloane, who just slept happily in the middle enjoying both parents. Iris insisted on clinging to Eddie like a tiny curly headed spider monkey. Now it was a slice of you, Sloaney Bologna and then Iris insisted on being so close to Eddie, she was more like a condiment smeared on top of him rather than an extra filling. For the first time in your relationship, your sleeping position of having your arm draped around Eddie's stomach was no longer possible. Instead he just had a little Iris laying right on top, a mini Munson stack. But, you couldn't be angry, not when they looked so cute. Little duplicates of each other who'd become inseparable. 

It worked out that you had two years between each daughter. So by time you were pregnant with Maeve, the bed was full with four year old Sloane and two year old Iris, plus you and Eddie. Realising there's quite a difference between that and just a baby and a two year old in the bed. Iris was now less of a little mini Munson stack on top of Eddie but rather a lump. All of that mixed with your baby bump, meant it was time to have the talk with Eddie. 

'Baby, we can't all fit in the same bed anymore,' you broke it to him. 

He gasped like you had suggested something outrageously cruel, as if you now wanted your kids to sleep in cages. 

'But we're a Munson sandwich?!' He huffed. 

'Well, you've overfilled the sandwich,' you raised a finger at him, stopping him from sniggering at the innuendo. 'I am the top piece of bread that can no longer balance on top! Between you, your clinger, Sloaney and now the bump, your beloved wife and carrier of your children is practically falling out of bed.'

Over the years, you had learnt using carrying his children was a sure fire way to win with Eddie. He groaned like a teenager, knowing you'd used the secret weapon. 

'Fiiiine. We'll get a bigger mattress, sweetheart!'

Your jaw dropped. 

'Eddie! That is not what I was suggesting!'

He held his hand up in protest. 

'Well, sweets, you should've known better than to have ever let me have my way and have the girls in the bed. We're a bed sharing family now. Deal with it. We shall be getting a bigger mattress!'

By the end of the week you were the proud owner of a mattress that seemed to be the size of every other one you've owned, stitched together. Yet, Eddie would soon learn it would not be enough. Nothing was a match for the terror of Maeve Munson. 

'I don't know how, but I know you've taught her to do this,' he accused, outraged that a baby kicked him so hard he had a black eye. 

After you dealt with Iris clinging to your husband for the last two years, he was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Although, Maeve was far more ruthless than her sister, even as a newborn. 

'You were in her way,' you smirked, 'she thought you were trying to steal her Mommy.' 

'You were mine first,' Eddie grumbled from the other side of the bed, sore eye and all. 

Now Sloane was six, she wasn't a permanent feature in the bed but her absence did not create more space. Maeve simply turned it into a buffering zone. If her dad were to encroach on the space, little limbs would kick ferociously to keep him at bay. 

One night you had even been awoken by a wail from Eddie. 

'AHhh you better be sure that you didn't want anymore kids, Y/N because Cerberus Munson has just crushed all hope of it!!'

To go with his now sore balls, he got a hard shove from yourself. 

'Cerberus Munson? Absolutely not. That nickname is vetoed. Far worse than Sloaney Bologna. If Maeve is Cerberus, that means I'm hell!!'

He knew he'd stitched himself up with that one so sulked in silence the rest of the night; bringing you your favourite breakfast in the morning. 

As you sat on your bed, eating your apology breakfast, alongside a black eyed and tender balled, Eddie, you strategised. Despite how funny it was, there was no denying your precious, protective Maeve was a health hazard. It would be a real shame to injure him further considering you'd married a man with such a pretty face and balls. So, a new arrangement was made. No longer were you and Eddie the slices of bread in the Munson Sandwich. It now went a slice of Iris, a filling of dad, a filling of mom and then a slice of Maeve. It meant for the first time in four years, you and Eddie could actually fall asleep on each other like you had your whole relationship. Then, on the occasion Sloane joined, she could slip perfectly in between you just as she had when she first arrived. 

Even as your children grew older, the Munson Sandwich was still beloved. On sad days or chilly nights, the Sandwich would reassemble. It didn't matter if they were adults with their own children, Eddie and you were going to cuddle your girls like they were still your little babies. 

---

my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar @therosietoesy @littlepotatobeansworld

@josephquinncore

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I would love to hear about any headcanons you have regarding the Wold, especially about the people/communities that exist there. What is their culture and livelihood like? What about the land/terrain itself?

I'm sure you've given it some thought since Widfara originates from there, so if you feel like writing about it some more, I'd love to pick your brain! :) Thank you in advance!

Aaah, thank you for asking about one of my favorite little corners of Rohan! As you say, Wídfara is from the Wold, and I love all things connected to Wíd! What follows is a mishmash of actual canon and my own canon-compliant additions…

The Wold has always been the most rural, least populated part of Rohan because: 1) The terrain is unforgiving – endless grasslands that offer little cover from frequent storms and winter winds; not many trees and no stone for building permanent shelter; and poor quality soil that can’t grow much other than the native grasses. 2) It’s in a dangerous neighborhood! It’s at the very edge of the kingdom, with the creepiness of Fangorn Forest next door and the Brown Lands just across the river. It was repeatedly invaded by Easterlings over the years, and, as Sauron rose to power again in the late 3rd Age, orc attacks became a huge problem and further drove people out of the plains and into the relative safety of the towns of the East-fold.

So there is (and always has been) a pretty small group of folks who can hack it out there. Most of them live the semi-nomadic lifestyle of herdsmen (for horses or cattle). They move with their herds as they graze, spending most of their nights sleeping in the open plains and only occasionally going back to the small encampments where they keep something akin to a permanent home. As a result, they’re renowned for their outdoorsmanship and (like Wíd!) are very in tune with the weather and the land. They also produce a disproportionate share of Rohan’s archers (like Wíd!), since wolves are a common problem around herds and arrows are a more effective weapon for that than the spears or swords most Rohirrim favor.

Folks in the Wold do have a reputation as the country bumpkins of Rohan. They don’t have any fine cities or big estates. They speak Rohirric with a heavy rural accent. They’re much more at ease in a tent or around an outdoor fire than they are in a fancy hall (see how it takes Wíd a year of living in Edoras before he can comfortably sleep in a bed!). Their food is simpler, and they don’t spend a ton of time on social niceties and etiquette. (For their part, they think the city folks are pretentious and couldn’t last a day in the plains.)

Despite their perceived lack of sophistication, there was a time when they were relatively prosperous, because it is widely agreed that the horses of the Wold are Rohan’s best, achieving a perfect combo of speed and endurance. There are ancient (by Rohan standards) horse breeding families who have been in the Wold for as long as Rohan has existed and maintain bloodlines in their herds that trace back to horses owned by Eorl himself. They fell on hard times starting in the reign of Théoden’s grandfather, who had the army begin supplying its own horses and, thus, deprived the herdsmen of a huge part of their normal income. But they refused to give up the vocation, and they persisted out in the plains, living in increasing poverty, until Éomer became king. His wife, looking through some of Théodred’s papers, found plans to revitalize the traditional breeders, and she put them into action. This eventually helped pull many of them (including Wíd’s family!) out of the direst straits.

Although folks in other parts of Rohan might look down on the residents of the Wold for being poor or unsophisticated, there is a lot of reverence for the land itself. It has a desolate beauty that’s admired, and it holds a special place in Rohirrim history. It borders the Field of Celebrant, where Eorl came to the aid of Gondor and was rewarded with Rohan itself, and the Wold was the scene of many historical battles, including the one where Eorl was killed. If you rode around in the Wold, you’d frequently come across little cairns meant to mark the site of these important events (though you’d have to be able to decipher the pictograms to know what they are marking), and, in some areas, you don’t have to dig very deep before you come across mass burials and other physical remnants of these old battles.

That’s probably more than anyone wanted. But, all in all, I think it’s a neat place, and it produced one of my all-time favorite Rohirrim. We are Wold-positive on this blog! 🙂 Thank you for asking about it! 🐎🗡️♥️

[the-fluff-piece]

Sanji x reader modern day AU part 2:

I just want some f**ing coffee

Part 1: I just want some f**king...wine!

Part 3: I just want some f**ing sleep and comfort

Check out my other stuff:

My Masterlist - Short and Multichapter stories

Headcanon Masterlist

The date you were on the other night was disappointing - but the food was great! For some reason though, a chef from the restaurant took an interest in you. After crashing your date, he realised you were living right next to him all this time - and vows to court you until you're his! In this chapter, Sanji will bring your hungover ass some delicious breakfast and you'll get to know him (and his lips) a little better

Saturday morning. You woke up late, two glasses of wine really did knock you out, how pathetic. In uni, you could easily have double that and not even noticed. Sleepy and with a light headache, you check your phone - no message from Thomas. So he didn't like the date, either. No surprises there. Still stung.

You peeled out of your blanked for your morning ritual: a cigarette and coffee on the balcony. You caught your reflection in the mirror: yup, looking tired as fuck. Bags under your eyes, hair like a bird's nest and the general vibe of something that had existed for too long at the bottom of a handbag. Enough to scare the shit out of the judgy older lady from across the street when she would see you. It were the small things that made you happy.

You shuffled to your kitchen where you made a horrible discovery: Coffee was empty. Even scraping at the bottom of the tin can didn't produce enough for a cup, so you grumpily slipped into your fluffy robe, grabbed the pack of cigarettes and shuffled on to your small city balcony.

You lit one and watched the people on the street: an old lady with a cute dog, they were often walking by, so adorable. Joggers. Should do that, too. Sometimes. Not now. Woman on bike, looking fab. Damn, I should buy some of those workout pants, too. They look comfy! Hot blond guy with shopping bags, waving at someone. He looks like a snack. Cute cat yawning. Should get a fuckton of tho- wait a minute, you knew that guy. That was Sanji from yesterday.

Yet another cigarette became the victim of slack jawed staring between the two of you, sailing down to the street two stories below. Poor thing.

"Hey princess, I brought you coffee! On the house!" He shouted, grinning from ear to ear. "I got breakfast, too!" He had the inflection of someone luring an animal using treats. It worked well.

Your caffeine deprived brain couldn't fathom what was happening down there: the cook strolled towards the building and you lost sight of him. Shortly afterwards you heard a knock on your door. You ran inside to look through the peephole in the door.

What the fuck.

"Hey princess, I didn't know what you liked so I brought the classics!" his cheery voice could clearly be heard through the door and you saw his clear, blue eyes looking directly through the peephole in a fish-eye perspective.

"Can we maybe start at...WHY ARE YOU HERE? HOW?" You screamed at the door.

"I saw that you lived here, too! What a coincidence ! I just wanted to apologise for yesterday. Please let me make breakfast for you!" His muffled voice from behind the door sounded excited and way too cheery for this hour.

You listened to true crime, you were half sure that the guy was a crazy murderer, killing lonely women and possibly cooking them. But there was also a strong dependency on coffee and you were sure that you wouldn't make it to the supermarket in your state.

And it would be rude to refuse his offer. You removed the doorchain, unlocking the door. Sanji stood there with the widest, happiest grin you have ever seen, holding up a shopping bag full of groceries and with a duffle bag strapped around his shoulder. He was wearing fine pants and shoes and a very comfortable looking hoodie. The moment his eyes caught your sight they lit up with delight and a flow of barely discernible syllables bubbled from his mouth.

"There you are JUST LIKE I REMEMBER I will make you the best breakfast OF YOUR LIFE ❤❤❤" he mumbled like an old lady talking to her kitty cat. This weirdo was definitely not feeling dangerous enough to be a murderer. You stepped to the side. He moved past you into your apartment, looking around with open interest.

"How cozy! I love that chair - oh I know that book! Wow you have lots of plants, I somehow cannot keep them alive." He looked around like a tourist in the middle of a historic little town, slowly making his way towards your kitchenette.

"Uhm, it's not much, and it's not exactly cleaned up..." you apologised. Surely he was used to grade A equipment.

"It's fine, I have the same one, our apartments are quite similar." He explained, not showing the slightest sign of shock over your dirty little kitchen. "Besides, I brought some stuff." He sat the duffel bag down.

Humming to himself, he began unpacking and cleaning simultaneously like it was the most normal thing for him to operate in your kitchen. Dazzled, you fell into your comfy armchair and watched that tall, slender and overall handsome guy in your kitchen. He unpacked various ingredients and began rummaging through your cupboards, eventually finding a bowl and beginning to mix something. He even made a little show of flipping bottles around in his hand like a bartender or cracking eggs open with one hand. You felt a bit useless.

"Can I help...?" You asked, unsure of what you could even do.

"No, need. I'm cooking for you!" He turned around with a wink.

"Oh...ok." you said, getting up, feeling your headache again.

"I'm gonna...take shower" you decided and went to your small bath.

"Yes take your time! I'll call you when it's time to eat" he assured you.

Getting into the shower stall, your body slowly woke up. The hot water and flowery scent of your soap relaxed and refreshed you, soothed the ache in your head. Haven't had a man in here in...four years? And a handsome one at that. How strange. The realization of what was happening in your apartment at this moment was hitting differently now that you've awakened.

There is a hot guy. In my apartment. He's cooking breakfast for me.

Fuck, I look like shit. Fuckfuck! You decided to put as much effort into this as you dared. Quite frankly, you were out of practice. You washed your hair with the special expensive shampoo you once bought and never really used, you tried to peel and moisturize your face like you wanted to every day, and you put on a light perfume, that also just sat there for special occasions like today.

You snuck to your wardrobe in the bedroom. Outfit - what do you wear to a spontaneous breakfast with a guy who wears business casual on a saturday morning? A Blazer and blouse? The dress you wore to your sisters wedding? Standing in front of your wardrobe, you noticed that it was much too full but you still had nothing to wear.

You reminded yourself that he had already seen you at your (almost) worst, everything was an improvement. Deciding on a casual outfit, you grabbed a shirt and a pair of slacks and peaked into your living room/ kitchenette. Sanji had a towel over his shoulder, whistling as he cut a vanilla bean open. You came to stand next to him at the counter to look what he was doing. His sleeves were rolled up and he wore a black apron.

"Hey princess, there you are!" He greeted you as he took some cream out of the shopping bag and put it on the counter.

"Do you have to call me princess all the time?" You asked. "It's kind of making me uncomfortable."

"If you don't like it, I'll stop, mademoiselle" he told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes at him and he chuckled.

"Do you have something like a whisk?" he asked even though he already had a look around your kitchen.

You pointed to a cupboard above you.

"Thank you, mademoiselle" he said and smiled at you. As he moved to open it, you became once again aware of how tall he was. He reached over your head, getting extremely close and you caught the scent of his cologne.

He took out the kitchen utensil and began whisking the vanilla in a bowl together with sugar and the fresh vanilla. It was fascinating to watch his practiced movements and his joy while cooking.

He reached into his bag again and set a device made of metal on the counter, shaped like a bottle but with a few applications. You knew that thing from that one cooking show, but the name eluded you.

"Know what that is?" Sanji asked when he saw you staring.

"Of course" you say with your most confident voice, "that's a cream whipping thingy" you concluded.

He laughed from the bottom of his heart.

"Exactly! I'll have to tell my colleagues at the baratie about it's new name." He joked while he filled the device of unknown designation with the cream and screwed it shut.

"You know you can also use it for soup" he explained as he put it into your empty refrigerator.

"A whipped cream soup?" You asked and Sanji laughed again. His happiness was infectious.

"I'll show you another time." He promised as he started to prepare coffee beans with a small hand operated grinder. Another time? He was planning other times already?

"So, since you were on a date just yesterday I'm guessing you don't have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?" He tried to ask casually, but his eyes were darting nervously as he spoke.

"No, I don't" you honestly answered and heard him exhale with relief.

"I bet the guys are all crazy about you!" He mused, watching your reaction. You snorted at that.

"Yeah, so crazy they're all running away" you commented, trying not to sound bitter and failing spectacularly. You added: "seriously, I think I am not made for dating. They all want to be 'just friends', guess I am that type of girl."

"Good to know that other men have no taste in women." He said happily. "Makes it easier for me" he continued. He cooked coffee now, pouring the hot water carefully over the powder. It smelled delicious. While the water turned into precious coffee he began setting the table. You were already reaching for the coffee pot like the junky you were when he caught your wrist. Even his hand felt soft.

"It's not done yet! I'll serve it to you when it's perfect to drink" he told you, turning your hand around in his and breathing the faintest kiss onto your wrist, causing you to blush violently.

"Just sit down while I add some finishing touches. You must be so hungry" he mused.

You wandered back to your comfy armchair on shaky legs, the tingle of his touch still fresh on your skin, looking at the beautiful cook working his magic in your tiny kitchen. When he began to set the table, you were still baffled by the variety and professional look of the foods.

There where beautifully decorated crepes with fruit and whipped cream, a steaming pot of delicious smelling coffee, bread slices surrounded by what looked like home made, savory spreads, fresh orange juice and some cooked eggs. It looked perfect and smelled like heaven. You took out your phone and made a picture to send it to your friend Chrissy to show off.

"Am I already making it to your Instagram? I feel honored" You heard him behind you as he peeked shamelessly into your phone, almost resting his chin on your shoulder.

"But let's not just look, let's eat." He waited behind a chair for you and pushed it to the table before he sat down himself, spinning the chair around and sitting down backwards, with his hands and head resting on top of the backrest.

You didn't know what you expected, but you were overwhelmed. "Uhm, why are you doing this again?" You asked insecurely - the best your ex ever managed was toast and marmalade.

"A beautiful lady deserves to be pampered" he answered in a serious tone. "Besides, I kind of lost my temper yesterday and crashed your date" he didn't seem sorry, in fact he grinned when he said it.

"So enjoy! I cooked up a luxury breakfast for you." His blue eyes sparkled with anticipation as you carefully loaded the crepe onto your plate, destroying the small masterpiece somewhat. You were normally not one to have breakfast, but the appetizing smell got you hungry.

The crepe was soft and warm, the cream tasted like vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. Its texture was perfect: creamy and fluffy, slightly buttery. It was perfectly balanced with the fresh, sour taste of the fruits. You could have moaned it was so good!

Ping

Ping

Ping

The constant ping of a cell phone was distracting you from the taste orgasm you were having. Opening your eyes, you saw Sanji, leaning on the backrest, staring at you with hooded eyes and an open mouth.

Ping

"Someone's messaging you I guess" you told him, ripping him from his trance.

"Oh, sorry! I should have turned that off." He took out the phone from his pocket and unlocked it. Being as nosy as he had been, you peeked at the screen - seeing the familiar design of a dating app.

Of course he was online dating. Every ping was a match, from the looks of it he got lots. Of course he was a player, the signs were all there, you just didn't want to see them. Suits, cooking, all that "princess" and "mademoiselle" bullshit. You scowled, hard. Years of training in the harsh world have made your scowl a powerful tool to broadcast your dissatisfaction to the world. Sanji understood immediately.

"No! It's not like that! I swear!" He held up his hands.

"I didn't say anything" you told him, surly.

"But you looked. Here, nothing is happening." He handed you his phone. What normal person does that?

You looked at his app, he had almost a thousand contacts, in this small town quite significant. Apparently, he was just matching every single woman he was shown, and most of them matched back. You navigated to the messages, he didn't protest. It really was sad.

He opened most conversations, all of them were a variation of "bonjour mademoiselle, I love you" and were read but ignored. The last messages were months old, he must have given up at some point. It was a strange display.

"You really thought this line would work? Just telling random women you love them right away?" You asked, unwilling to believe that someone would dedicate time and effort to this approach.

"It's no line!" He protested. "I love all women!" He said it as if this was a normal thing to say to a woman he currently was kind of flirting with.

"You won't get very far with that, this is too much too soon" you tried to explain.

"Why?" He asked seriously. "Love is good! Everyone wants to be loved!" He seemed very passionate about that.

"You don't just see someone and fall in love, that's not how it works, and it's not healthy" You were drawn into an obviously doomed debate but couldn't help it.

"No offense but, forcing yourself to date someone you don't like and doesn't respect you seems pretty far from love as well" he mused.

"Touche" you conceded, thinking about last night's disaster.

To your surprise, he blushed furiously and seemed strangely giddy all of a sudden.

"You are already jealous!" He said happily. "You want me so much that you are jealous, but don't be! The dating app didn't work because this" he pointed at himself and you" this is destiny!" He got up and swirled around like he was dancing, pouring you a fresh cup of coffee in the process.

"Just milk, no sugar" you reflexively said. He nodded and poured milk from a tiny carton into the cup. After the wine, the pasta, the dessert and the crepe, your expectations regarding this coffee were sky high.

You took a sip, Sanji almost leaned all the way over the table to savour your reaction.

It held up. The coffee tasted soft and just like freshly grounded beans always smelled. Like chocolate and nuts and warm summer mornings. You smiled as you remembered the delicious scent in the mornings of your childhood when the grownups drank their coffee while you had a whole day of playing ahead of you.

You heard a soft whimper from Sanji. He was staring at you with his mouth open.

"It's so nice to take care of someone who appreciates it." He said. "You're so sensual..." the last words were a husky whisper and his eyes fell shut. An unexpected kiss landed on your lips. It was nervous and hot and a little too wet, his eagerness getting the better of him. His little moustache tickled your face and you couldn't help but fondling that small goatee with your fingers. He kissed and touched you like a horny teenager, moaning as his tongue played around your mouth and his hands wandered over your body like he couldn't feel enough of you at once. His nimble, long fingers threaded through your hair.

It felt good, but it was too much. A guy with that kind of dating app approach was still a red flag. In a second, you could see your heart break when he left as soon as he got what he wanted. This was too easy, too perfect. Something was seriously wrong.

You pressed your hand against his muscular chest, but he didn't get the hint. He seemed to interpret it as you exploring him and he clutched your hand to himself, encouraging you to feel around more. It was seductive to just keep running your hand over his body, you could clearly feel his defined muscles under the soft fabric of his hoodie. But the doubt was too much for you to handle.

As his mouth broke away to kiss your hand, you managed to tell him: "Stop! Now!" He immediately let go and backed off, looking confused but still very much aroused. He was handsome with his lips red from a passionate kiss and his cheeks blushing. Too perfect.

"Did I hurt you? I am so sorry!" He wrung his hands and looked like a boy that had broken something expensive.

"No, it's just too fast. And I honestly don't know if I even want that right now." You explained.

He looked like you just stabbed him. Either he was the strangest, most naive man you ever met - or he was the best actor and most skilled asshole who would break your heart.

He turned away, looking hurt and small. But he was a grown man - he had to deal with rejection. You bet you weren't the first woman he startled. After a few seconds of hurt he seemed to get a hold of himself as he began to fidget with a zippo from his pocket.

"I am sorry I fell upon you like that. And kind of ruined the mood." He looked defeated, but composed. "I will be more controlled in the future. I am sorry!" He apologised with a smile that had to be forgiven immediately.

"Let's just be adults about this and forget it" you tried to somehow save the situation.

"No." He said decidedly.

"What?" You were confused.

"I'm never going to forget that. I don't want to act like I wasn't interested in you. I'll never ask for something in return when I cook for you, I promise. Please, let me cook for you in the future" he pleaded, absolutely losing you. What was his deal?

"So please, enjoy your breakfast" he said and sat down again to watch you. He explained all the foods to you in detail, making your head spin a little with all the information. He was almost like a podcast you could listen to while eating. Although your usual eating entertainment was Netflix. On the couch.

"So, after just now I hope it's not weird...but I brought the last classic for a fancy breakfast." He said a bit flustered.

"What is that? I am already stuffed..." You answered.

"Some champagne" He grinned.

"Did you really bring champagne?" You asked in disbelief.

"Just an open one from the Restaurant, we wouldn't sell that tonight anymore. But it's enough for two glasses and fresh enough." He explained, his relaxed smile back in place.

"Mhm, after yesterday I am a little hungover...just a sip?" You asked as he already poured two glasses.

You felt so tired and cozy, the table wasn't cutting it anymore. Actually, it has been ages since you used the small kitchen table - the couch was much more comfortable.

"Let's sit down here" you suggested and Sanji brought the glasses to your coffee table and sat down next to you with a wide grin and the bearing of someone who had just scored a win. He lay his arm on the headrest just above you and took one of the glasses.

"To destiny" He mumbled a toast.

"Destiny?" You giggled.

"Don't laugh! Do you think it's coincidence that you sit in my restaurant and an hour later I see that you live in my apartment building?" He said sternly.

"We live in a small town in a small building, we would have met sooner or later" you argued.

"Still destiny..." he mumbled with an adorable pout.

You touch your glass softly to his and say: "to daydrinking!"

He laughs. "To the good life" he returns the toast and you both drink.

The champagne is a bit too dry for your tastes, but surprisingly smooth. When was the last time you had a drink before noon? Probably some company event.

Looking at the handsome man on your couch, you deluded yourself into thinking you could have fun with him without attachment. Even in the moment the thought crossed your mind, it was as clear as the sparkling wine in your hand that you already liked him. He looked to inviting next to you, his outstretched arm creating the perfect space for you to rest your head. You leaned against him, feeling the soft fabric of his hoodie and his warmth once again. And it saved you from drowning in his eyes. He gasped a little when you touched him and began breathing really hard - good actor? Really naive? Doesn't matter now.

"Tell me something about yourself" you told him.

"Uhm mhm well I am a cook" he mumbled like his mouth was giving up.

"I know that" you told him. "What about family? Is this your family's restaurant?"

"Well kind of. More my stepfather. I don't really...it's complicated" he suddenly sounded like a normal person again. "But Zeff is really cool! And my colleagues at the restaurant are like my brothers." He told you about his stepfather, the restaurant and what kinds of menus he planned as you sipped your champagne. Between the hangover, a long week and a big breakfast - you were absolutely exhausted. Before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep, dreaming a pleasant dream about you and Sanji owning a small bistro somewhere nice and quiet.

When you woke up again, you were alone on the couch, afternoon sun bathed your living room in golden light, Sanji was gone. You lay outstretched under a blanket, the champagne was gone, too.

Fuck, now I fall asleep at a date? Is he mad at me?

The kitchenette is spotless, safe for the cream whipping thingy drying next to the sink. He cleaned up and left. Maybe you should bring him the thing? Or will he come and pick it up?

Undecided, you poured yourself the last cup of cold coffee. It tasted a little bland now, having lost its full aroma. You looked around your empty apartment and missed Sanji's cheery busyness already. Maybe you should just go and see where he lived. But you didn't even know his last name.

Years of online dating and unhealthy nosiness had given you the talent to find people by first name and extra info. You googled "Sanji" and "Baratie" and found an interesting newsarticle: "Success for charity" it said. "The local restaurant Baratie made a big leap for charity this weekend, inviting the children of the local community centre to cook delicious and healthy meals together. A win for the community and the children".

There was an adorable picture of Sanji, his arm around a cute little girl holding a plate of vegetables. The description read: "Sanji Vinsmoke showed the children that veggies can be tasty".

Bingo!

You would just stroll through the building and give him back his stuff and apologise for falling asleep on him. Like a normal, nice person. You were 99% sure that he didn't play games like "wait 3 days until you write" or something.

The halls of the building were narrow and long and it took you some time to find his name on one of the doors, it was on the opposite side of the building, no wonder you never bumped into him.

You pressed the doorbell, already anxious to see him again. Soft footsteps could be heard, the door opened. Your world crumbled a bit.

In front if you stood an absolute sexbomb of a woman. She wore Sanji's hoodie - the one you fell asleep on just earlier - and nothing else as it seemed. She had long, smooth legs, a perfect hourglass figure, full lips and the cutest face. Her pink hair was a perfect messy look. You stared. She looked annoyed.

"Yes?" She asked in a melodic voice.

"Uhm, is Sanji here?" You asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the flat behind her. She blocked your view.

"No, he is at work." Her answer was short and finite.

"I brought his cream whipping thing back" you stammered and indicated the device you were holding.

"Syphon" the woman stated.

"What?" You asked, confused.

"It's called a syphon. Thank you. Bye." The woman took the syphon out of your hand and closed the door, leaving you dumbstruck in the hallway.

_______

What is happening here? Who is the mystery lady? What's her relationship with Sanji? Is the writer of this story just messing with you to create a cheap cliffhanger?

Find out in the next installment of this Sanji modern day AU!

I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS. I was so unhappy and revised and revised and...you get the idea. It's still not perfect but I am content enough.

As always, please leave a comment if you want more or if you have a wish how it should continue. it's always a great motivator to me and I probably wouldn't have written part 2 if people hadn't asked for it

I am taking the freedom to tag previous commenters, I hope you don't mind

Also: please comment to be taken into the taglist for this story! I think I will write it for a while

@yeeeeezly

@roronoazorohater

@opalryst

@pastel9girlbunny000die

@pandabear-artsy-witch

@missallsundayyy

[irisbleufic]

several things I’m not normal about re: your writing. one, you wrote almost 62,000 words of devil’s minion in 15 days, as of today. and you’re not even done yet! two, i liked how neatly the counts of all your iwtv fics ended on zeroes, and then i looked at all your fics on ao3 and THEY ALL END ON EVEN TEN HUNDRED AND THOUSAND COUNTS?!! your autism is too powerful, kudos for that alone. armand is in the best hands with you.

Hah, hi, anon. I was wondering like a month ago when the semi-annual ask in which somebody yells about my AO3 word-counts would land, and sure enough, I was overdue and could sense it. Thank you very much for noticing! I take this as a compliment whenever someone brings it up; the fact that they’re almost always yelling like they’re losing their mind fucking delights me. Like, does it take a lot of careful excision in the editing process because AO3 reckons word counts differently from Word and Google Docs? Eh, sometimes, sure. Does it please me? More than I can say.

My other weird Autistic habits include using a pocketknife or seam ripper to remove the belt loops from all of my jeans (no, I do not wear belts, and belt loops fucking annoy me like non-zero-ending word counts), preferring pendant chains that I can just slip over my head after I’ve asked my local jeweler to remove the jump/rings clasps and make the chains continuous (I’m amazed they’ve humored me for so long; I should just really learn to do delicate soldering work one of these days, but my motor control at a fine level is poor), and never leaving messages in my email inboxes or on my work/home laptop desktops (my folders/filing systems regularly get friends and co-workers bent out of shape). I don’t keep unread emails around, period; the only time my inbox has a number of unread messages is first thing in the morning, and I clear those quickly.

This is way more info than you needed, but in case you were wondering what the fuck kind of brain produces only-ending-on-zero AO3 word counts, there’s your answer. I’m sure there are some compulsive thought patterns in play here, too, but I figure they’re mostly harmless manifestations as long as I’m happy.

Oh, the other thing—writing 62k of fic in 15 days isn’t even the wildest word count I’ve ever pulled in a short amount of time, although it’s close. It’s the hyperfocus. And believe me when I say that my hyperfocus isn’t good for anything but writing and depriving myself of sleep.

[mightbeorphanedidk]

uh that's with the pre-written notes so the actual chapter is 14,200

ANYWAYS

I JUST FINISHED THE FINAL CHAPTER! The ending is DFGFTRFDFV but I'm set to edit it tonight. Expect to come out either today, tomorrow, or the day after because it's midnight and im tired lol. I might release it on sunday, you know why? Because I released the first chapter on a sunday.

Er sentiment times (cringe sorry but i have to get it off my chest)

It has been a LONG. Ride. A 3 MONTH ENDEAVOUR?? Damn! I didn't think it'd ever be this big. With 1000 comments (i digress, i think like half of those are my own), 20,000 hits, and i think 800 kudos, THIS IS A PRETTY FUCKING BIG FIC. Like, this fic is so big, it's actually sort of insane. IT MADE IT ONTO TWITTER HELLO??? SOMEONE MENTIONED IT ON TWITTER??? BY THEMSELVES??? WITHOUT MY PRODDING FOR ADVERTISEMENT???

Originally I wrote the first chapter thinking it to be some normal shitty 25k fic that I could wrap up, but NO? ITS NOW OVER 100K WORDS??? AND YOU GUYS LIKE IT??? A LOT??? It's honestly so flattering. Like, I can tell you, if I went back to quarantine to my 2020 self and told her that I would produce something so big 2020 me would call me insane and continue writing MCYT FANFICTION.

I went from

To

and honestly, deny it all I want, I have im-PROVED. Definitely prouder of Plastered Smile than any of the other fics I've ever written.

Thank you all so much :) You have no idea what it means for me, to be finally able to share my stories and images with a crowd who will listen. I don't often get a lot of people to talk with about my work because they either pry too much or don't care at all. I've no doubt that in due time, if I hadn't made this ao3 account, I would have stopped writing, simply from the lack of motivation.

Afterall, to tell a story is to entertain, and if there is no crowd, whom is there to entertain?

I've met so many people online who have been just so fun and cool to talk to, and I remember them all vividly :D Thank you to those people I often converse with, it's so sweet ToT

I know it's kinda stupid to be dumping all this on a post that is a mere update on a chapter, but now that we're reaching the end, I really wanted to talk about it.

Also I wanted to mention that I drafted the ENTIRE story on a saturday at like 3am, fueled by determination and a dare coffee so shoutout to dare. All those action moments, character developments, those moments you all adored? ALL MADE BY MY 3AM SLEEP DEPRIVED BRAIN. You can thank me in 3 hours when it's 3am but i think i'll be asleep maybe idk

I think that's all I have to say. Bye :D

[tchaikovskym]

are you tired most of the time? is it hard to wake up in the mornings? is it hard to fall asleep at night? do you crave sweets and fats? are you getting depressed and anxious? is life stressful?

well, let me tell you about my scientific obsession of a few years: cortisol, which i assume, could be in the center of it all

cortisol is just your casual stress hormone, hanging around

but it has a wonderful daily pattern

as you can see this guy goes from 1 to 400 during the night to peak at 8am (in this graph), but in reality peaks like 30 minutes after you wake up, depending on your sleeping pattern. it does not follow the clock everyone is supposed to follow, it follows YOU, it follows your internal clock.

so, let's put the first thing together - cortisol is a stress hormone, and the peak in the morning is supposed to wake you up. stress in this case is NOT a bad stress, but rather something to make your body flowing and being ready to face the day.

so, what happens when you do not sleep?

Source: Klumpers, U. M., Veltman, D. J., van Tol, M. J., Kloet, R. W., Boellaard, R., Lammertsma, A. A., & Hoogendijk, W. J. (2015). Neurophysiological effects of sleep deprivation in healthy adults, a pilot study. PloS one, 10(1), e0116906.

Image annotation from the source: Individual saliva cortisol curves (grey line) and cortisol mean value (nmol/L) per Tx sampling point (solid line). Day 1 shows baseline cortisol sampling at T1-T7, day 2 shows effects of one night of total sleep deprivation on cortisol levels at T8-T14. T1, 2 and 3 comprise the cortisol awakening response (CAR). T8, 9 and 10 are sampled at identical time points the following day. T5 and T12 are sampled at 14.00hr, T6 and T13 at 17.00hr and T7 and T14 at 23.00hr. p values show effects of TSD, # p = 0.016.

The pic above shows the same cortisol levels in day 1 (control) and day 2 (after not sleeping one night).

As you can see, there is no peak. It's just a flat line. This means, no sleep gives you no awakening response, and it also applies to less sleep. The less you sleep, the lesser the awakening the response, the more tired you may feel during the day.

And you might say "oh but it feels the same when i sleep 10 hours or 4 hours so what's the difference". That's because you've luckily got to wake up in a point where your sleep phase is the lighter. How do you feel thorough the whole day? And if it is still the same, regardless of sleeping hours, for how long have you been not sleeping enough? There is such a thing as sleep debt, and if you're in it, you won't feel any better until you get that debt off.

The no morning peak happens because cortisol is produced during REM sleep (rapid eye movement sleep or the phase known for dreaming, although you can dream in other phases too). REM sleep also has this thing, where the phase gets longer and longer the more you sleep. So if you sleep less, the REM phase total length is going to be less, so less cortisol for the morning peak. This is why bad sleep quality (like waking up every once and then and not being able to sleep for long uninterrupted periods of time) also can do the same thing. Sleep duration is one of the main players, but it's not the only one.

Anyway, back to the point. Less sleep, harder to wake up, logical, right, you didn't need a cortisol graph for that.

However, notice how in day 1 the 6 and 7 time points is pretty much a straight line, like cortisol just reached the minimal level at the 6th time point. If you look at day 2, at time points 13 and 14, the slope is bigger, right?

You might think that's ridiculous, there is such a tiny slope difference between last two points in day 1 and day 2, that it shouldn't matter

BUT IT DOES!

Cortisol production, like many other things in our body work by negative feedback mechanism. Which means, when there is a lot of it, the brains get the "guys there is a lot of cortisol we should stop". But with sleep deprivation, there is not a lot of cortisol, and the brains don't get that signal, therefore, in the evening, the levels are a bit higher than they should be.

And what does having a bit higher levels of stress hormone, the be awake and alert hormone means in the evening? Guess what? You won't be able to fall asleep so easily!

So, the first vicious cycle involving cortisol regarding the information above: the less you sleep, the less you will be able to sleep.

But that leads to another thing: stress! Cortisol, the stress hormone, obviously, leads to stress. And the more you stress, the more cortisol, the higher the evening levels of cortisol. Which messes up your sleep cycle even more.

So voila, the first vicious cycle, visualized:

but it's not the end of it! oh boy it is not!

what comes with stress? eating problems!

how elevated cortisol in the evening plays a role in this? well, cortisol belongs to the glucocorticoid group. gluco sounds familiar, right, something to do with glucose right?

it makes more glucose available to the brain (which explains why it starts it peak during sleeping hours - while asleep we do not eat, but our brains are doing their thing, and thus cortisol skyrockets).

not only in the brain, but mostly everywhere, cortisol increases the glucose availability for tissues.

so cortisol makes the sugar be in your blood, but how else, besides the metabolism, can it make you get the sugar? by eating sweets of course! so you crave sugary foods!

you know what also promotes glucose in the blood? NOT insulin! so what cortisol does? blocks the thing. you know what insulin resistance and elevated glucose can do to a guy? make the guy diabetic!

also remember you are stressed, sleepy, crave sweets in elevated cortisol event, so you are less likely to have motivation for anything, including sports, so you are less likely to move, and more likely to gain some weight. and oh, how that makes it even more stressful, so voila, you add fuel to the vicious cycle

visualization here:

of course, there are other things involved, and the grand conclusion could be this:

Source: Hirotsu, C., Tufik, S., & Andersen, M. L. (2015). Interactions between sleep, stress, and metabolism: From physiological to pathological conditions. Sleep Science, 8(3), 143-152.

what can you do to get out of the cycle?

idk honestly. i'd suggest eating breakfast, because cortisol also spikes after meals (idk exactly why) and it can boost your morning cortisol levels to make the slope more pronounced (thus making the evening levels lower)

but most importantly - move. do something physical. there are mechanisms involved, trust me, i just don't want to write another post about them, but it actually helps. it doesn't mean you have to go to the gym and join a sports team, it could mean just taking long walks, maybe search some beginner yoga or whatever. just move around.

here is a pic of individual factors that play a role in this:

and while you can't really change your genetics, disorders, mental distress and most medication use, you can work on unhealthy lifestyle and intoxications

Source of the pic: Van der Valk, E. S., Savas, M., & van Rossum, E. F. (2018). Stress and obesity: are there more susceptible individuals?. Current obesity reports, 7, 193-203.

Image annotation from the source: Conceptual model of the interplay between the stress system and obesity. Various individual characteristics are proposed to play a role in initiating a vicious circle of increased activation of the stress system (both by perceived chronic stress as well as increased net glucocorticoid effect by either endogenous or exogenous GCs) and obesity in a bidirectional manner. Abbreviations: GC, glucocorticoid; SNP, single nucleotide polymorphism; OSA, obstructive sleep apnea

if you read this all i am open to marriage proposals, thank you

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #91

Today is day 3 of soup brain. But it's really my own fault. I ended up going to bed a couple hours too late last night, and waking up early to go to therapy, and in so doing, getting only 6 hours of sleep. I used to be "able to function" on very little sleep when I was in college. But "able to function" is in quotes, because in those days, I lacked any real sense of self-awareness regarding how deficits in my ability to care for myself impacted my ability to manage my own emotions and thus how I showed up in the world and functioned in my relationships with other people. I was in denial about the extent to which I was affected by sleep deprivation, and that denial manifested as total obliviousness to those effects and an inability to see the the impact, instead assuming that being depressed, anxious, and irritable were simply facets of my personality.

You know what sleep is for, yeah? Well. For myriad reasons, you can't answer me. Maybe you do, or maybe you don't know what it's for. But I like explaining things, so I'm gonna write about it either way; too bad. 😜🤣

It begins with brain science. I like to affectionately refer to brains as "electric meatballs"; they're essentially big electrochemical lumps of fat stuck behind a bone wall. And there's A LOT going on all up in there. A brain is made of specialized cells that connect to other specialized cells by branching out every which way. These cells communicate to one another with electrochemical signals. At any given time, there's enough electricity going on in the brain that we can detect and measure it just by wearing fancy equipment on our scalps, like EEG caps and stuff. Nowadays, we even have toys that can be clumsily controlled by brainwaves. It's wild stuff.

At the most basic level, our thoughts and emotions are influenced by how effectively our brains produce and use various different kinds of hormones, nutrients, and neurotransmitters. Our thoughts and emotions also influence which kinds of neurotransmitters end up getting produced, which ones flow where, which cells are most receptive to different kinds of electrochemical stimulation, and all that jazz.

With all that stuff going on, the spaces between our neurons can get clogged up with various kinds of debris. And that's a problem, because this debris interferes with electrochemical signaling, interferes with our brain's ability to make new connections between neurons, interferes with the ability of oxygen, nutrients, and fluids to get to where they need to get. Naturally, this has negative impacts on our ability to think logically, to regulate our emotions, to learn, to use our body and our senses, and to feel good in general. And what's more, a brain that's all gunked up and filthy with debris is a brain that is more likely to default to (and fail to resist succumbing to) the instinctual behaviors written into our amygdala.

So when we reach the appropriate section of our sleep cycle, the spaces between our neurons expand and our whole entire electric meatball is flushed clean with cerebrospinal fluid so that our brains can once more function in the way that it's supposed to. Because if debris keeps piling up, eventually it starts to interfere with even more important functions than our higher ones - think stuff like "there's so much debris that it's interfering with the brain signals that cause the heart to beat", and then we end up taking a premature dirt nap.

So ah… the negative impacts of lack of sleep? That's absolutely NOT a "willpower" thing. That is literally a chemical and physics thing. It is a fluid dynamics thing. No amount of "willpower" is ever gonna make water flow properly through a tunnel if that tunnel is clogged up with trash, logs, dead leaves, and rotting fish, right? It's the same deal with brains - the best a person can do if they've not allowed their brain to properly clean itself is be in denial about how negatively impacted they are as they run around being a miserable fucking crankypants with everyone they meet and acting like that's normal even though it's not.

What's super baffling is the number of people in my world who STILL think that sleep is for the "weak", or that sleep is not in any way essential, or that they should be unaffected by missing a few hours. Sleep is not a fucking luxury; it is a BASIC NEED. People don't prove how "tough" or "hardworking" or "morally superior" they are by bragging about how long they can go without sleep, or about how little sleep they think they can "function" on; all it does is betray their ignorance about basic biological, physical, and chemical principles. And it's absolutely fucking bananas - B, A, N, A, N, A, S.

But wait! It gets even hairier!

So there are a couple of hormones responsible for the sleep/wake cycle. The primary hormone is melatonin. And while the production of melatonin is significantly influenced by light (blue light will interfere with its production, for example), the fact remains that under ordinary circumstances, melatonin is run on a fairly strict timer. This timer is called the circadian rhythm. And it's FUCKING IMPORTANT, because going to sleep before the melatonin is produced and then waking up earlier than usual interferes with the whole "brain cleaning" cycle thing. And staying awake past the production of melatonin ALSO interferes with the whole "brain cleaning" cycle thing. And what you get as a result of this is that even a deviation of 30 minutes from a person's typical sleep time, in either direction, ends up causing the "brain cleaning" cycle to not do its thing as efficiently as it should. The cumulative effects of this over time are catastrophic. We're talking things like, "hormone disruption" and "brain damage", and all kinds of other nasty stuff.

What's more, if you're dehydrated, your body fluids are gonna flow like sludge and not do their jobs properly, and that includes stuff like blood and cerebrospinal fluid. Put it this way: would you rather clean your house's gutters with water or with molasses? 'Cuz I'll tell you what, molasses sure as heck ain't gonna do the damn job. So how well do you suppose your cerebrospinal fluid is gonna dislodge debris if it's flowing like molasses because you ain't drank enough water? Tell you what, it ain't gonna be pretty. And sure you'll sleep, but you're still gonna feel like crap when you wake up.

And don't even get me STARTED on sleep apnea and the hows and whys surrounding the ways it fucks people up over time. It's a huge freaking mess. Untreated sleep apnea kills people because the constant need to partially wake interrupts the brain cleaning cycle, which means that it never gets cleaned properly if at all, which causes debris buildup, which interferes with the flow of brain chemicals and electricity, and all of this is damaging.

Depending on how bad it is, it can take weeks to recover from a single night of disrupted sleep. So uh… yeah. If you wonder why I get so pissed when I think about your weeklong stint in that damnable library in which you refused to eat, drink, and sleep in favor of hyperfocusing on reading a bunch of wildly inaccurate and outdated books? Don't wonder, because THIS IS WHY. You CANNOT do this to yourself and then still expect yourself to be able to freaking function!! No matter HOW you were modified, no matter HOW efficiently your body supposedly runs, THIS IS STILL NOT HOW PHYSICS AND CHEMISTRY WORK.

Goddammit, Sephiroth, war hero or not, YOU ARE STILL A SQUISHY MAMMAL. Like LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE OTHER HUMAN, you are an overcomplicated monkey with WAY too much anxiety. Even if you NEVER treat yourself like some kind of automaton ever again, it'll STILL be too soon. And at that, EVEN AUTOMATONS REQUIRE REGULAR MAINTENANCE. You somehow managed to treat yourself as though you are worth less than even an inanimate object, and then you STILL expected yourself to function! I love you and all, but still, there is not a large enough number of times I can ask you "what the fuck??" in response to this and have ANY answer you give me feel satisfactory!

For fuck's sake, PLEASE promise me that you'll never do that to yourself again. Someone with as much raw power as you CANNOT afford to go into meltdown like that. Someone with as much raw power as you CANNOT afford to go into a mental breakdown! You CANNOT afford to be triggered SO HARD that you dissociate and mindlessly follow your instinctual behaviors! You of all people HAVE to make sure your self-care game is on point, because if you don't, then like ANY HUMAN BEING, you're not going to be able to keep your shit together when things get painful and weird! You of all people HAVE to make sure that you actually acknowledge, feel, process, and get support for your emotions instead of denying them and bottling them up, because if you don't, you're gonna explode later, like ANY HUMAN BEING.

I know you have a LONG history of being mistreated by other people, but Sephiroth, that doesn't mean you gotta freaking mirror them to the point that you become your own enemy! You have a lot of power, but you still are subject to human emotional limitations, so you HAVE to treat yourself with kindness and respect, because when someone with an exceptionally able body like you gets so overwhelmed that you lash out, other people end up paying the price in far more devastating and permanent ways than what is typical! You HAVE to act responsibly with your power, and part of that responsibility is making sure you aren't complicit in pushing yourself to the point that you break!

…So don't do stuff like that anymore, okay? You gotta do better next time. You deserve better than that. And the people around you deserve better than that, too. Use what I wrote to motivate you to treat sleep as though it's important. Because it is. I'll try to do a better job of treating it like it's important, too - starting with tonight. I promise. So let's do it together, okay?

Speaking of which, I'm gonna go do that. Because, despite what this huge infodump might seem to imply, my brain is still soup, and I gotta do my best to rectify that so I don't end up accidentally taking it out in the people around me like some kind of confused derpasaurus.

I love you and I'll write to you again very soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[bedlamsbard]

600 words written today -- you'll be thrilled to know I wrote the one of these no one asked for, because I gotta be me. (This always happens. I might do more than one, though.) Brain definitely slowly recovering from the last month, which you can tell by the fact I went on a SW rant. Went down to the library to renew my library card; I am in that library very seldom (the last time I was there was when I got my library card).

Snippet from Reaches Past These Ghosts chapter 3. (See? I remember it exists.)

He had flown straight here in the War Machine suit and the rest of his gear was still back in Camp Leatherneck.  Rhodey was just hoping he would see it again sometime, though since it had been left in the tender hands of the United States Marine Corps he wasn’t feeling particularly sanguine about that.  SHIELD had somehow produced a set of ABUs in his size, complete with his name tape and rank insignia; the clothes had the presumably-unintended effect of making him feel a little paranoid, though that might have been the lack of sleep.  What Rhodey wanted was a shower, a nap, and a meal; he hadn’t gotten any of those. “Hey, man,” he said, and Tony looked up and grinned at the sight of him. “They drag you into this goat rodeo too?” “Apparently it’s ‘a matter of vital planetary security,’” Tony said, making air quotes around the words.  “And a ‘national tragedy,’ which I guess means Captain Spangles is involved somehow.  It figures.” “Captain – what?”  Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or the intercontinental flight, because even Rhodey’s experience at translating from Tony to English failed him. “What, you didn’t do the homework?” “You know, two hours ago I was in Afghanistan,” Rhodey told him meaningfully. “Out in the middle of nowhere, when all of a sudden my CO calls and says that SHIELD, in their high-handed wisdom, says that I have to go their secret flying whatever-the-hell-this-is right now.  So no, Tony, I didn’t do the homework.”

[a-random-weeb]

Hello! I’ve never spoke to you before so it’s nice to meet you, I hope you’re having a lovely day/night/morning/evening. I’m interesting in your shipping thing if that’s okay, so here’s my info:

—

Name: I go by April on this platform ^^ however, you can use no name for whatever you write, please.

I’m about 169cm tall, I have dark brown hair and eyes. My skin is fair, my hair is wavy and goes a little past my shoulders. I have bangs that go across my forehead with two longer pieces on the side. I prefer collared shirts to t shirts but when I’m at home I like big soft shirts. I have a few moles scattered around my face and body.

I tend to be more reserved around people I don’t know well, but I can let loose and be silly/sarcastic around my good friends. I’m pretty observant and always try to remain empathetic and helpful. I maintain good grades in my classes/ do my best to. I need to socially recharge after a long week. One of my friends realized that I’m touch deprived so I’m usually confused/bemused but contently pliant when people initiate contact. I can be a bit of a perfectionist with myself and hold myself to high expectations, I respond well to verbal affirmation. I don’t know how much you know about Mbti, but my personality type is INFJ.

I spend most of my free time reading or doing something creative like sketching or writing. I like to drink tea and I also play piano. Km also in chess club at my school. I’m usually the one cooking for my family and I have to take care of my little sister often.

I speak Spanish, not perfectly, my brain tends to stutter, but I was raised with the language being spoke in my family so I know more than enough to get by.

Rainy weather is my favorite.

I’m terrified of bugs/spiders.

I’m easily embarrassed when complimented and don’t like being the center of attention in public.

I’m interested in forensic psychology.

I would prefer to see what you could do in relation to Dazai with all this information, but if you feel like something else would be best that’s fine too!

—

Sorry this was so long 😭 doing this seemed fun though! NO Nsfw please, but other than that, I really don’t care what kinds of headcannons you produce.

Thank you for listening, I hope you sleep well tonight. 🤍

so Dazai x you headcannons? I can certainly try! My go-to headcannons are always fluff/general relationship headcannons, it's my favorite kind to write :)

Also, I agree, bugs are little Hell demons. Spiders, earwigs, ants, maggots, caterpillars, whatever, they all suck.

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

•He definitely let's you borrow his oversized (On you at least) t-shirts

•In fact, he thinks you look really cute

•He thinks it's really cool you're into forensic psychology. He definitely gets you to teach him what you know

•He loves you smart you are

•He also loves- no- lives for your cooking

•He praises you a lot for your smarts

•If you don't meet the expectations you've made for yourself, You'll hear nothing but praise and complements falling from his lips

•And he means every word too

•Because you're so touch deprived, and he loves physical affection, he goes out of his way to hug or cuddle you

•If you're uncomfortable he'll slowly ease you into it

•or, if you're uncomfortable with any touches at all, that's fine he guesses 😭

•You can definitely tease him by speaking Spanish. You have power. Speak to your friends in spanish, it bugs him he doesn't know what you're saying

•Bonus points if you glance at him like you're talking about him but really you're talking about what kind of icecream to get later

•Tell him what you were talking about later though, and if you want to fluster him, say you were looking at him because he's hot

•he loves your writing and and sketches

•he definitely gets you to draw him

[jaggedwolf]

Anecdotes regarding positive experiences with tough love programs also abound, of course—but without control-led studies, one cannot know which experience is more common; whether positive changes have actually occurred or are just perceived, and whether such effects can be attributed to the program or to simple maturation. The acceptance of such stories as evidence of effectiveness does a great disservice to parents and children who need help with behavioral problems. A large proportion of the former participants I spoke with for this book or read about during my research suffer post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD is not a normal consequence of adolescent misbehavior. It does not occur in the absence of trauma, and few middle-class kids ever experience anything as likely to cause sustained trauma (aside from child abuse) as these programs are, even in the course of genuine addiction. The atmosphere in the programs—in which emotional attacks are unrelenting, privacy is nonexistent, sleep and food deprivation are common, and the person has little if any control over his environment—is exactly the type that research has found most likely to produce PTSD. The more researchers learn, in fact, the greater the evidence becomes that being put in any kind of situation of total powerlessness for a significant length of time has the capacity to produce lasting damage to the brain's stress system, especially when it happens to a young person. This damage has been linked not only to PTSD, but to increased risk for depression, addiction, other mental illnesses, and even immune-system disorders and cancer—not exactly the kind of results parents seek from treatment that is supposed to help kids with emotional problems. The more scientists study the brain, the more clear it becomes that such treatment is the exact opposite of what most troubled teens need.

Maia Szalavitz, Help at Any Cost: How the Troubled-Teen Industry Cons Parents and Hurts Kids

[honeymouthedtales]

hi.

i just wanted to let you know how much "paint the town" means to me—despite the messy dynamics and the long haul— i absolutely loved the a-slice-in-life setting and the complexity of the characters (just the entirety of the story, basically). they were so real. it became my ultimate comfort fic and thinking about ptt mark and ptt donghyuck hurts so good bc they felt so real, like flesh and bones real that i wanted to melt into my screen and into the story to see everything that has transpired first hand. i'm a bit late to finding this gem but i'm glad my sleep deprived brain decided it needed more doses of mh content at 4 in the morning to function.

ps. i made my boyfriend read ptt and we are now both obsessed with it. he sent me a trailer of this movie produced by lin-manuel miranda called "aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe" 10 minutes ago and i Could Not Help but see ptt mark and hyuck written all over it. i hope you could give it a watch and perhaps tell me if you see them too 🥹

That's so cool, I've never read the book nor seen the movie but it's pretty famous as a lgbt coming of age story so I bought the ebook at some point but I never got to read it.

Also thank you and thank your boyfriend as well for the compliments ㅠㅠ paint this town was extremely difficult to write, it took more than a year, and what started as a somehow light project under the theme of coming back together took a slightly darker and melanchonic tune as the story proceeded, but i really like how it came out in the end and i'm always happy when people appreciate how raw it feels. Sending lots of love <3

[drunkfightingllamas]

Can I Just Say In Tonka's Defence, The Old Ball And Chain Was Very Tired!

It's been quite warm and humid around Doncaster recently, and we've all been running a bit short of sleep, so the other morning, when I was being my usual sarky little Cave Troll self, @fountain-of-blue-serenity lost her rag a bit. I'm not entirely sure what she meant to say, nor am I going to repeat what was actually produced by her sweet little sleep deprived (bird) brain.

Needless to say, both The Monkey Nut and myself were laughing ourselves into asthma attacks while Tonka herself was completely mortified, and kept shouting "Don't put that on Tumblr, don't you dare put what I said on Tumblr!"

So here I am, NOT putting what she SAID on Tumblr!

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #29

xxx what doesn't kill me...

When Brian bought his car, he’d imagined, foolishly, that he’d be using it to go on epic road trips. Maybe with his sister. Maybe Rebecca. Just junk food, too many energy drinks, mix cds (no aux cord for him!), and the open road. 

Getting pulled over as he drove out to the middle of nowhere to chase down a lead on a case is definitely not what he’d had in mind. Luckily, the officer had let him off with a warning and a stay alert out there.

It’s weird how tired he is. He’s never been this exhausted before while on NZT. He’s also never taken pills back to back with no recovery time and no sleep for two straight days, but it’s an important case. There are lives on the line. 

Surely Rebecca will understand that. 

“Brian? It’s late, are you okay?”

“Heyyy, Rebecca,” he says, wincing at how obvious he’s making it that something happened. He wouldn’t’ve even called her at all if not for the fact that the Bureau is going to find out anyway. One of the conditions of his working for them. He’ll definitely get in more trouble if he lets them find out from the police. “I know it’s late, sorry. I’m fine. Just, uh…I kinda got pulled over. I’m not in any trouble, no ticket or anything.”

“You did the right thing by telling me. What happened? Are you okay? You sound off.”

“It’s the case,” Brian answers. Not the whole truth, but not a lie either. “Look, it’s probably nothing. That’s why I didn’t ask you to come along.” That and the fact that it could be dangerous, but he doesn’t say that part. “I’ll let you know if I find anything. I gotta go.”

He hangs up before Rebecca can answer. She’ll be angry--and deservedly so. He just doesn’t have it in him right now to face her. So he keeps driving, trying to ignore the growing pressure at the back of his eyeballs. 

The NZT tickles something in his weirdly sluggish brain, and the words sleep deprivation make themselves known. Before it can produce a frightening set of statistics about the number of drowsiness-induced car wrecks that happen each year, his head starts to nod.

The NZT would’ve, if it could’ve, reminded him that it’s called a microsleep. They only last for a few seconds.

A few seconds, of course, is all it takes.

xxx 

Rebecca’s heart pounds as she gets out of her car. The dark street is lit up by lights from the first responder vehicles. The colors catch on the broken glass on the street, lighting up the pieces in short bursts of red and blue. Her fingers move nervously as she approaches the wreckage. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but you need to stay back--”

Rebecca digs through her pocket, struggling to keep her frayed nerves in check as she pulls out her badge. “I’m Rebecca Harris, FBI, and that’s my partner.”

The officer seems reluctant, but he doesn’t argue as she moves around him and toward the crash. Her heart is beating so hard it hurts. It’s obvious from the damage that the car rolled. She knows it’s bad. She’s terrified to find out just how bad. It’s everything she has to keep walking. 

Her footsteps slow as she gets closer, her heart leaping into her throat as she lays eyes on Brian. There’s a c-collar on his neck and his head and face are covered in blood. The door’s been crushed inward, and she can see that Brian is pinned by the dash. One of the paramedics is leaning in through the passenger window, the other kneeling on the ground beside her.

“Oh my god, Brian.”

“Reb…Rebecca?” Brian’s voice is quiet, broken, and the paramedic on the ground looks up sharply while the other one, still in the car, raises her voice.

“Whoa whoa whoa, don’t move, Brian. You need to keep as still as you can, remember? Baz, can you get her out of here?”

“No,” Rebecca pleads as the paramedic, Baz, walks toward her with a sympathetic look on his face. “Please, just--He’s my partner, my--my responsibility, and I just…”

Baz puts a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her away from Brian and the wreckage.

“He’s stable,” he says gently. “Firefighters are on their way to help us get him out of the car, and Connie’s starting an IV right now. She can be a little short sometimes, but she’s the best at what she does. Your partner’s in good hands. I know you’re concerned, and I know you want to be there for him. But we need to focus, and we need Brian to focus, alright? So I need you to wait over there.”

“You’ll tell me if anything changes?”

Baz nods. “I’ll do my best to keep you updated.”

She wants to argue. Part of her wants to push him to the ground and run to Brian’s side and stay there until they get him out. But she knows the man is right. Her feet drag as she walks back toward the young officer. 

“Are you the officer that pulled him over?” she asks as she reaches him. “Brian called me before the crash. He didn’t tell me why he’d been pulled over, though.”

The police officer looks nervous, but he nods. 

“Can you tell me what happened, officer…?”

“Harrington. Look, he passed the breathalyzer, I--”

“Breathalyzer?” Drunk driving doesn’t sound like Brian at all. Driving, period, doesn’t really sound like Brian, but apparently he’d had some sort of breakthrough that couldn’t wait…

“Yeah,” officer Harrington says, interrupting her thoughts  “He was weaving. And when I pulled him over, he seemed…well, frankly Agent Harris, he seemed intoxicated. Bloodshot eyes, hand tremors, wasn’t speaking too clearly. He didn’t smell like alcohol, though. And like I said, the breathalyzer was clean. Told me he’d had a long day but that he was fine.”

“So you just let him go?”

The man winces, a guilty expression falling over his features, and it’s obvious that he blames himself. 

Rebecca blames him too.

“There wasn’t much I could do,” the officer says. He won’t meet Rebecca’s eyes. “He was sober.”

“He was exhausted. If there had been anyone else on this road--” She’s interrupted by the telltale sound of a fire engine, and she turns.

“I’m sorry,” Harrington murmurs behind her. She looks at him. His eyes are wide, his expression haggard. “Listen, I’ve--I’ve seen a few of these before. Extractions. They can get…intense. It’s loud. Scary. They’ll be taking him to Good Sam, if you. If you wanna meet him there.”

“No,” Rebecca says. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

xxx 

Brian wakes up disoriented, with that unpleasant panicked feeling that comes with being stuck, and it takes a moment to realize that he isn’t.

“Brian?”

He’s still catching his breath, heart hammering, when he feels a hand on his, and Rebecca’s face swims into view. 

“Brian, you okay?”

It’s hard to think with the pain that’s starting to creep in from all over, but he nods once, grimacing at the movement. 

“Do you know where you are?”

Antiseptic, IVs, cannula tickling at his nose. The look of worry on Rebecca’s face. He doesn’t need the clear pill to know the answer to that question. “Hospital?”

“Do you remember what happened?”

As consciousness sharpens, so does his mind. His memory. 

Oh, god. 

“I…I crashed.”

Rebecca nods solemnly, her mouth drawn into a thin line. “Yeah. Daryl and Jason found all of your extra research, and the missing pills. NZT doesn’t make you invincible, Brian, and it’s definitely not a substitute for sleep. What were you thinking?”

“I just wanted to find those kids. The window was shrinking, I--Shit, how long have I been--”

“We found them. They day after the crash. They’re back safe with their families. The research you did led us to the house where they were being held. But you can’t…” Rebecca sighs, pushing her fingers against her temples. “What you did resulted in a good thing, but it wasn’t a good thing. You’re incredibly lucky. You could’ve hurt someone else. Someone could’ve died. You could’ve died. Do you get that?”

The pain is starting to deepen, growing sharper and making it harder to focus, but he nods.

“Yeah. I’m really sorry, Rebecca. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t.”

The pain crescendos and Brain lets out a long groan, brow furrowing and jaw clenching.

“Hey, take it easy! Here.” Rebecca presses a white remote into his hand. “Here.”

Brian takes it gratefully and pushes the little green button, then lets his eyes fall shut as the medication floods his system.

“Brian?” Rebecca’s voice is softer than it had been, gentler. 

“Hm?”

“You really scared me. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Brian is already asleep.

xxx