#< has weak laptop-carrying arms
Text
my boat (butch goat)
#dripped homie out#羊#she has a kind face..#ive been hauling logs around today and my arms feel like jello#< has weak laptop-carrying arms
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
I've been watching natural disaster documentaries and I'm so down bad for the idea of Platonic Yandere! Batfam during a blizzard.
They obviously have enough supplies to maintain a small village, so no one is pressed when sudden snow picks up. Batman has special cold-resistant suits for all of them but when the windchill drops to the negatives, their patrols are an hour at a time.
When the blizzard finally hits, they escort stranded cars to safety for as long as possible before the white-out makes it impossible to work.
That first night, they're all huddled in the the smallest lounge, fireplace roaring and hot chocolate in hand. You're pulled to the very front of the pile, bundled in blankets and Tim's various school hoodies and up against the rolling heat of the flames.
Despite the temperature breaking record lows, you've never been more toasty. Chocolate on your tongue and cheeks hot from the fire, they only let you unbundle yourself when you complain about sweating.
However much the others bitch and moan, Jason and Bruce are the ones at your side. They're packed full of muscle and do a great job of trapping in heat, so the skinnier Bats have to settle for watching you. Jason and Bruce take great pleasure in draping a big arm around you, pinning you so close to their sides that you have to fold your arms to keep them from getting squeezed.
Bruce insists you sleep in his bed, since this is one of the few times he gets to fall asleep at the same time as you. Damian insists, on account of being the least efficient at maintaining heat (i.e. the smallest), he should join you two. Bruce relents with an amused smile. You fall asleep pulled almost fully across Bruce's chest with Damian wound tightly around you.
The whole situation would almost be reminiscent of a family enjoying the winter holidays, had it not been for the Bat’s palpable longing.
Normally, they're desperate to touch you, to hold onto some part of your person and bask in the closeness. But with their fingertips cold and a slight shake to their limbs—they're ravenous.
Their yearning mixes with the cold and spurs on their dark thoughts more than the heat ever has. They have to hold you or they'll die. They have to feel your warm breath fan their faces. They have to take your body heat and to give you theirs.
Physical intimacy seems so much more personal when they could die from the cold (never mind the fact that they're at a healthy temperature).
Fights break out faster as they get more clingy, and Bruce creates a rigid schedule. The Bats must follow the rotation by the second, no bartering time for favors, and no incapacitating others to extend your time.
The weak sun travels the sky and snow swallows houses whole. Almost two days in, the power cut and everyone was forced to move into the small living room. Using the back-up generators, they powered only a few important rooms in the house and set up space heaters in every corner. Blankets were nailed over windows and Damian and Tim had a mini bitch-session over the unusable internet connection.
Dick and Jason carried down mattresses, while Tim, Cass, and Steph found every blanket and pillow in the house. Damian and Bruce brought up laptops, monitors, and a radio for work. Alfred is forced into the recliner with an instant water heater and a teapot by his side. He hasn't complained once, but everyone knows the cold isn't kind to his joints.
Then there's you, sitting on a pile of blankets and pillows and wrapped in sweaters, throws, hats, and gloves. You almost threw a fit because you were warm enough, but Cass's darkened face silenced you immediately. She backed off when you settled into Steph's side, gloves and all.
The time passes slowly. On the third and worst day, the wind chill reached negative 50. The house rattled and creaked against the cold, and the Bats took turns nestled against you.
Dick flipped through his old high school year book and told you stories about the students, while Steph chimed in with made up-ones to add drama.
You and Damian played a game that involved finishing each other's drawings.
Tim pretended to be stuck on a video game level and let you help. Cass somehow procured a party horn that she honked to celebrate each victory.
Despite how hard Jason tried to avoid Bruce, they always finished their books at the same time and left to get more. They returned with arm-fulls of books and a frozen snack that they shared with you.
At the end of the week, when the sun finally began melting the snow and the were having an increasingly difficult time keeping Bruce from the cowl, they were all sick of each other.
It was slightly satisfying, considering you never caught a break from any of them and this was a taste of their own medicine. The Bats finally returned to duty after a spectacular meltdown from Dick after Bruce asserted his opinion one too many times.
You, however, remained locked in the living room nest for several more days because "it's still too cold for you to sleep alone" and "patrols will be very short until crime picks back up."
It was already safe to return to your room, but there was something so comforting about knowing precisely where you'd be at any given moment. And Bruce, settling into the couch after patrol to thaw his frozen limbs, melted at the sight of his kids all piled up together.
for more yandere batfam, visit my masterlist!
#yandere batfam#platonic yandere batfam#platonic yandere#yandere dc#yandere batman#yandere batfamily#yandere bruce wayne#platonic yandere batfamily#platonic yandere dc#platonic yandere bruce wayne#yandere damian wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere stephanie brown#yandere cassandra cain#yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Hmmm I could get tired over any fandom but.... batfam???? Yall would never see me tired of talking about them.
Like think just how absolutely batshit crazy they'd go if reader fractures her limb or something. Maybe reader like slips off the stairs or falls from a swing or something, and the batfam- they have to watch it all happen in slow motion, and nothing- there's absolutely nothing they can do to help you. It's scarring for Dick to watch the color drain from your face as you drip to the ground. It's scarring for Jason to hear the nasty crack as your bone bends in an ugly handle. It's scarring for Tim to hear you scream in pain. It's scarring for Damian to see the blood pour out of your body. And it's oh so heart wrenching for Bruce to hear you cry into his chest as he carries you to Alfred to get your cast done.... how hopeless he felt, unable to soothe your pain.
But things only seem to go even more downhill from there. As you recover, the family has silently decided to double down on their paranoia and be even more coddling and protective of you. You wanna walk down the stairs? Nope, here comes big bro Jason to hold your hand- or better yet, carry you around in his arms. Why risk you even tripping over air?
Wanna get something from the top shelf? Stand back, dont need the shelf or something heavy falling over your head and cracking your skull open. Let Dick pull the cookie jar down for you- but why are you even eating cookies this late???? You need to get some healthy nutrients in you, lest you should have weak frail bones. Heres your broccoli.
Wanna play video games or go on socials? Well, no more! Dont need you getting influenced by the violent storylines and bad news from around the world- Tim wouldnt your mental health to be affected. If you really want, you can use his laptop... under his supervision.
What the fuck do you think youre doing staying up past your bedtime? What do you mean youre too old to have a bedtime???? Get your ass back in bed before Damian drags you back like a gremlin and REMINDS you of the bedtime he has set for YOU, because he doesnt need you becoming an insomniac and turning insane. He will not be the one to bust you out of Arkham asylum (he absolutely would, but hed be complaining all the way) just because you decided you didnt need your 10 hours of sleep!
Wanna go to your therapist? Well, you cant cause he suddenly moved far away and every other therapist in gotham is a maniac in disguise. Bruce doesnt get why you cant just talk to him about your feelings??? Dont you trust him? Your dear father, the very man whod hold you in his arms and shield you from the scary lightening when you were young? The very man who you would ramble on to about everything and anything, including tattling on Damian locking you in his room and throwing a tantrum when Jason took you away when you were all kids? You can tell him anything sweetie, even if you wanna bitch about the batfam... it'll hurt a bit, but hed be okay (absolutely has big sad eyes when you tell him how everyones just too suffocating for you and you wanna leave them)
#yandere batfam#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batman#yandere batboys#yandere bruce wayne#yandere damian wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake
829 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Playing with Balls are Not For The Weak (Pause on that.)"
15! basketball plyr! chuuya x gn! reader - HIGHSCHOOL AU, HEADCANONS + DRABBLES
a/n: as per request, thank you @sstarshroom my pookie ☺️, sincere apologies for the title its my toilet humor. next week will be dazai content im sorry my dear dazai fans
content: headcanons, drabbles, fluff, slowburn, pre-relationship,"in a world of boys, hes a gentleman", chuuya as them short hoopers, relationship of these two actually sucking at life, cheeky and smug chuuya, idiots in love, dumbass behaviour
as a classmate, chuuya would have a pretty big friendgroup but only really hang out with a few select people;
in class, he's quiet and focuses on school;
he's also naturally smart, a good 80s-90s student without much effort;
chuuya takes academics seriously but since he doesn't really have to work his ass off to study, he wouldn't be competitive in school, so sorry to all the academic rivals to lovers girlys
you know what he would take seriously though, sports.
and it's not even the serious shit, you could play dodgeball and he's sweating his ass off;
so certified hotshot of the school, short king energy, okay.
Your teacher tediously writes away on a few documents of paper, adjusting his glasses with the flick of his hand. "We have a few boxes from the food drive," he announces, catching the attention of your working classroom. "I need a strong person to carry them to the office, pleas-" a loud smack of a laptop closing can be heard, "MEMEME!!" the class goes silent, staring as your classmate, Chuuya Nakahara, happily voluneer to deliver a few boxes.
okay, okay, so as a classmate, people either think he's slightly irritating or alright, it's another story in gym class though, nobody likes him.
"Pass the ball- PASS THE BALL!" Chuuya yells, you couldn't lie; him wrapping a piece of red cloth around his head like some kind of warrior was sorta concerning? No, really concerning. The small boy leeches his arms out as defense, concentration written all over his face. You dribble the basketball a few times, about to pass it to him. "I said pass it!!" he shouts, rude. You furrow your brows in offense before harshly throwing the ball in his direction, aiming for his head.
Unfortunately, throwing basketballs at your own team player's forehead didn't result in an instant win. As you two sat on the bench, watching the current game along sidelines as Chuuya rubs his temple with an icepack, his red headband cloth resting atop of his knee, focussing intentively. When your team has been declared lost, he clenched the icepack in his hand and starts profusely running around the gym, mourning a gym class basketball game.
I mean, it's not like he's a terrible person though, you've seen the guy, he can be nice, he's got it in his system. Like one time in gym class, dodgeball specifcally.
"Ow! The fuck?" yet another dread of gym class was at your service, the heated air of dodgeballs flying left and right through the air overwhelmed you to say the least. And one of those balls just hit you right on the head, you pensively rub your temple, hearing a loud "You're out!!" from the opposing team.
Curse words roll off your tongue in embarrassment, about to do the walk of shame to the bench until a hand rests on your shoulder. "Hey," you twist your head around, seeing Chuuya approach you, as everyone else fights like their damn lives depended on it. "Did the ball hit your head?" he asks, the boy had short copper locks that framed his face pretty nicely, this time there wasn't a red cloth tied around his head.
"Yea," you quip, turning away from him, the hand on your shoulder lifts as you feel soft fingers brush away some of your hair from the side of your face. "Yeah, that's not allowed, you're still in the game, okay?" the redhead assures you as he casually takes a quick look at your temple. You nod releuctantly, as he pats your shoulder again a few times before smugly continuing the game. Since when did Chuuya Nakahara abide the rules?
You know, there seems to be a reaccuring pattern between you two. Everytime you're near each other, someone always get hit in the face with a ball.
But, there seemed to be more casual conversations, ones that didn't include violence with sports equipment.
As a friend, Chuuya was teasing, he always said no to what you asked him to do, but ends up doing it anyway.
"Can you hold my bag?" you ask, "No." the redhead says as he grabs your bag anyway
but as a friend, he came with more benefits. a trustable walking partner.
It's that time of the season, December, where snow engulfed every pathway you walked on. It was one of those days after school, walking home in the freezing cold; but today was unlucky, you were caught in a snow storm. And apparently, your friendgroup is nowhere to be found.
To be honest, walking alone is kind of scary, intimidating, terrifiying. You would run, but ice was everywhere, tripping in public wouldn't be any better than fear.
You saw a black jacket, red scarf, and a backpack with soccer keychains and a massive waterbottle. Most obvious feature, was the black gloves the figure wore. "Chuuya!" you call out, the boy almost immediately spins around, nodding to you as a greeting. "What's up?!" he flashes a cheeky smile, the redhead was pretty far away from you, and you weren't just interested in a simple 'hello'.
"Can you walk with me?" you ask, shoving your hands in your pockets from the cold. The redhead doesn't falter his smile, not hearing you as he had earphones on. "What?" he asks, communicating with you whilst walking backwards; some assholes just don't care about splitting your head open on ice.
"Can you walk with me?!" you repeat, the ginger stops in his tracks, muttering an "ohhh" as he speeds towards you. Again, some assholes just don't care about their life. And so, Chuuya doing a quick slip and drop onto the sidewalk, in a snowstorm, whilst running to you would be the outcome of this story.
...
You immediately start laughing your ass off, watching as any smugness on his face completely disapates. Accepting defeat in every form. "Fuck!" you cackle, slapping your knee. You attempt to skedaddle to him, still laughing before.. Slip. You fall onto him, your elbow piercing his ribs, the boy chokes out a cry of pain before you laid together on the ground in pure defeat. You know what passing by cars thought of when they saw you two? Two teenagers laying on the ground, 'X' style, in the middle of a fucking snowstorm.
You made it home safely, having to make your friend and classmate, Chuuya Nakahara, hot chocolate as an apology.
yeah, having chuuya as your friend can get pretty hefty, and violence is all that seems to be thrown at your friendship;
as a friend, you and chuuya didn't feel like friends sometimes, it was weird;
he constantly asked you to come to his games, in all honesty - you were too busy or just felt like staying home;
there was one day though, you did come to his game, out of pure curiousity
and when he saw your face, accompanied with a wave, the teenager knew; he was inlove.
he was really bad at showing it though
After enough convincing, you finally showed up to another one of Chuuya's games, you've already once; but apparently this one was really important.
You were actually concentrating, it was getting really heated, time was getting thiner, and the scores were relatively even.
The crowd roared as Chuuya took the ball, running through the court with a focussed but cheeky look on his face.
Just as he reached the net, he yelled out the loudest, unexpected sentence.
"[Y/N]! This one's for you!!"
The crowd's jaw drops in shock and anticipation, whoosh, he missed miserably.
damn, you guys really suck.
#Spotify#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd chuuya#15 chuuya#chocsra#chuuya nakahara#bsd x reader#15 light novel bsd#chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#chuuya x y/n#idiots in love
167 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pain | Jaemin Imagine #11
Title: Pain
Genre: Angst, slight fluff
Warnings: description/mention of period cramps -- i'm sorry
Word Count: 791
Author's Note: I mean the title and warning makes it pretty obvious, but I wrote this while I was on that time of month. Although I do have a group post for NCT Dream about periods, I wanted to write a little more about it for awhile now. Especially when my experience has been kinda excruciating lately lol. Anyway, please don't read if this topic makes you uncomfortable.
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
It was 10 a.m. on a Saturday, and you regretted not sleeping in (you didn’t even know how you got out of bed, honestly). Instead, you were hunched over your laptop, typing up the third body paragraph of a research paper that was due next week. However, you found it nearly impossible to concentrate due to the stabbing pain shooting through your abdomen. Lucky for you, your lovely period came knocking at your door the day before. Now you were trying to endure the second day, where the amount of pain only seemed to increase.
A soft groan escaped your lips as you clenched your fists on the desk, willing yourself to push through the agony. But the dull ache in your stomach only seemed to worsen with each passing moment. It was driving you insane, seriously.
Then just when you were on the verge of breaking, Jaemin entered the room carrying a mug of hot chocolate because he knew you preferred it over coffee. His brows furrowed with concern when he noticed your tense figure, and he immediately caught the pained expression on your face.
Crossing the room to carefully place the steaming ceramic mug on a coaster near you. “Hey, you don’t look so good,” he said softly, locking eyes with you. “Are you okay, baby?”
Typically, you liked to keep your emotions guarded. The thought of your boyfriend seeing you in such a vulnerable state was the last thing you wanted, especially at a time like this. Despite your efforts to offer him a reassuring smile, it faltered as a new wave of cramps surged through you.
“It just hurts,” you muttered, firmly pressing your knuckles against your forehead.
Jaemin frowned, realizing this was serious if you weren’t even trying to hide your discomfort from him. He calmly scanned the room in search of anything that might help you.
“Why don’t you take some medicine? I can grab you some painkillers.”
But you quickly shook your head in rejection. “I’ll be fine. I don’t like taking those unless I have to.”
You heard Jaemin sigh before he moved to stand behind you. Then you felt his hands start to gently knead your shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension. On any normal day, your body would’ve stiffened immediately and you might have withdrawn. But right now, you were grateful for his touch and it did help a little.
“Maybe you should put your essay on pause for now,” he suggested, stealing a glance at your screen. “You’ve already done more than enough today. Come lay down with me and rest for a bit?”
Though you hesitated for a moment, your fatigue overridden any inclination to protest. After giving him a weak nod, you allowed Jaemin to lift you from the chair and guide you to the couch. With a deep breath, you sank into the cushion and curled up against your boyfriend’s body. He happily wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.
Yet, the pain persisted, even in Jaemin’s comforting embrace. You had to bite your lip to stifle a whimper, as you felt tears prick your eyes. He picked up on your distress fairly quickly, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead in hopes of bringing you some sort of comfort.
However, the sweetness of his gesture prompted the first tear to stream down your cheek. Perhaps it was a mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and frustration swirling within you. Regardless, Jaemin kept you in his arms and peppered a few more kisses atop your head.
“Shh, it’s okay baby,” he murmured, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “Just let it out, you don’t have to keep it in.”
As if on cue, you closed your eyes and buried your face in Jaemin’s chest. Tears soaked helplessly into the fabric of his white t-shirt, as you clung to him tightly. You weren’t the type to cry in front of others, but the relentless cramps from your stupid period had pushed you to your limit.
Though it stung to hear your sobs and feel your body tremble against his, Jaemin was mostly grateful that you weren’t bottling up your emotions. Holding you close, whispering soothing words of comfort, and his fingers lightly stroking your hair were all things that were second nature to him.
If he could take all your pain away from you, he swore he would in a heartbeat.
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
previous masterlist -> current masterlist
#nct dream#nctzen#kpop#czennie#nct dream imagines#nct#jaemin#nct dream fluff#nct dream scenarios#na jaemin#jaemin imagines#jaemin scenarios#jaemin x reader
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ghost in your arms
Pairing: Sanzu Haruchiyo x f!reader
Genre: Fluff with the tone of angst
Word count: 1.4k
Warnings: Canon divergent, substance abuse, profanity, violence, ooc, implied following
pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4
Sanzu doesn’t think he ever knew softness.
Maybe long, long ago, when he was a boy, but even then, he isn’t sure if his mother ever held him gently, if his father ever spared him a glance more than necessary.
He can’t remember if he felt safe, truly safe in someone’s company, he can’t remember if anyone has ever held him softly and whispered kind words and he was sure they meant it.
Yet here you are, with nothing to gain from him, never asking anything in return, always accepting him into warm, open arms, always offering protection as if he weren’t the thing people need protecting from.
“Tell me what you see in me.” Sanzu whispered, softly, his head laying on your chest as he breathed in the citrus and juniper scent that seemed to linger in your apartment.
He was in your bed, under your covers, pressed against you in nothing but his boxer briefs, yet your touches never turned mean, never anything more or less than he needed.
He thought you’d expect something more from him, yet you never did, you somehow knew what he could bear, and never asked for more.
He always asks you to tell him you love him, to tell him why you keep taking him in, to tell him why your fingers or lips never leave a mark.
He knew you’ll have an answer he never heard before.
“Hm?” You looked up from your book, your fingers halting for just a moment, before starting up again, following the line of his spine, your warmth sending a pleasant shiver through his body.
“What do I see in you, Haru? Hm… That is a long list.” You put your book face down, craning your head to kiss his cheek.
It was such a small, innocent gensture, yet it made Sanzu’s heart play.
“Will you believe anything I say?” You ask, voice gentle, and when he opens his eyes for just a moment, he is met with your gaze, your face bathed in the soft, yellow light of your night lamp.
“I’ll try.”
And you do.
You tell him everything you thought was beautiful about him, you describe what you see in him that he never thought existed before and his breath hitches, a knot forming in his throat as his heart starts to race.
And he believes you.
You are so kind, and he has been pathetic his whole life.
He feels sleep slowly settling behind his eyelids, and he tries to fight it, to bathe in the silence and your softness a little more, but he’s weak, and your fingers still gently follow the line of his spine, lulling him into sleep once again.
Just before he falls asleep, he feels you plant another kiss on his forehead.
On a cold winter day, wrapped in three layers and carrying one bag with your college textbooks, the other containing a thermos filled with tea and Haru’s favourite meal, you slowly make your way to the office building you knew Sanzu was in today.
He often forgets to eat, his appetite almost non-existent most days, making him need gentle reminders and coaxing to remember, but it’s okay.
You never had a problem with going out of your way to bring him something, even if you couldn’t cook for shit, you had no problems trying for him.
He deserved it.
“Hello, I brought Sanzu something to eat, is he in currently?” You ask the lady at the front desk, ignoring her curious looks as you waited for a response.
“I’m afraid they’re all out, besides Mr. Kokonoi. You can leave what you brought for Mr. Akashi with me, or with him.”
Nodding, you didn’t even offer a response, making your way through corridors you already knew well, right to where you knew Kokonoi was most likely to be.
You didn’t give him the benefit of knocking.
He looked up from his laptop when he heard the doors of his office opening, a soft expression on his face when he saw it was just you.
“Hey, y/n, how can I help you?”
“Just brought this for Sanzu, please give it to him.” You curtly said, voice quiet as you put the bag on the edge of Kokonoi’s desk.
“Okay, thank you, I will.” Kokonoi smiled softly, which you refused to offer him back, turning on your heel to walk out of the office.
“Mikey sends his gratitude.” Kokonoi noted just as your hand gripped the door handle, making you stop in your tracks, “For caring for Sanzu.”
You kept your voice even.
“You can tell him to shove it.”
“He is truly grateful. As are the rest of us.”
“I don’t give a shit.”
“You really hate us, huh?”
Your grip on the door handle tightened, as you looked behind you, right into Koko’s eyes.
You knew you shouldn’t have.
These people were all Haruchiyo had.
“I do. I really fucking hate all of you.” You muttered, eyes hard and unforgiving, “But you already know that.”
“It’s okay.” Kokonoi nodded, softness in his smile replaced by sadness, but you didn’t have it in you to care.
They all treated Sanzu as subhuman, more a dog than a person, and you will never have it in you to forgive them.
You hated Sanzu’s friends and his boss and his stupid brother and his fucking parents and you hoped with all your heart they hated you back.
Closing the doors of Kokonoi’s office, you made your way out of the building, offering the secretary a small nod as a goodbye.
You were horribly aware of the presence following you, ducking behind a corner every time you looked behind.
He was subtle, but you weren’t stupid.
“You can come out of the corner, Kakucho, I see you.” Calling out, a face stepped out of the shadows, an apologetic smile playing on his face.
“Sorry missy, boss’ orderers.“
“Your boss can fuck himself.”
“It’s not that we don’t trust you, just the opposite, actually, it’d be too dangerous to lose you. No need to be so offended, little lady.”
You rolled your eyes, continuing on your way to your campus building.
The sound of footsteps crunching on snow followed you until you passed through the gate.
Tonight, Sanzu shows up at your apartment once again, his hair soaking wet, still in his favourite suit, and when he falls into your arms, he mutters that no matter how much he scrubs, he can’t feel clean. He can still feel the blood and sweat sticking to his skin.
“Tell me you love me. Please, I need it.” He almost sobs, and you ignore the sharp pain spreading through your chest cavity as you pull him into the warmth of your apartment.
You sit him down on your couch, and through peppered kisses and soft praises, you tell him you’ll be right back, that you just need to grab a towel and a hair dryer, that you’ll be right back.
He says that a hair dryer will be too loud.
You merely kiss his temple as a response.
Sanzu needed affirmation.
Sanzu needed to know that when someone says they’ll be right back, they mean it, and that when someone says they love him, they don’t mean they’ll leave him.
He needed to know that love doesn’t mean constant expectations, constant needs to be met, constant abandonment and constant words spat at him.
You come right back to your living room with a fluffy towel and a comb, and slowly, you get to work, mumbling something about how he’ll get a cold, and he merely chuckles, humourlessly, and leans into your touch.
You tell him about a movie you saw with a friend yesterday, and he listens, enjoying the sound of your voice, and when you finish drying his hair and combing out the tangles, you sit down, allowing him to curl up into your side.
Your fingers trace the words ‘I love you’ over and over into his ribs, and for once, he believes it.
You love him.
“Thank you for the lunch today. I forgot mine.” He mutters into your neck, placing a kiss there, and as you smile, his fingers gently lay on your cheek.
You return the gesture, and carefully lifting his head to look at you, you leave a soft kiss on his lips, on his scars, mumbling how pretty he is, no matter what.
He feels warm.
Sanzu isn’t sure he ever felt softness, but here you were.
You looked at him as if you adored him, you held him as if he deserved it and if he wasn’t bleeding black and as if his mouth wasn’t filled with salt water and lies.
Your arms waited on him, wide open, no matter what.
And that was enough.
He now knew he deserved touches that don’t hurt too.
🔖Taglist:
@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @levistiddies @sanzucide @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @bontenacious @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @aurel1ia @nahoyas-nymph
a/n: shoutout to @xashiui for causing brainrot again 🤧 this can be read as pt. 4, but also just an additional drabble
#tokyorev#tokyo revengers#bonten#sanzu haruchiyo x y/n#sanzu x reader#haruchiyo sanzu#kakucho hitto#ran haitani#rindou haitani#manjiro sano#kokonoi hajime#sanzu fluff
282 notes
·
View notes
Text
timkon; being sick sucks less when you can bug your best bud.
A knock on the door interrupts Tim's rapid typing. He glances up from his laptop to see one red-nosed, bleary-eyed Superboy, wrapped up in his comforter with only his face peeking out. He must be using his TTK to hold it all closed like that.
"Hi Kon," Tim says. "How are you feeling?"
Sniffling, Kon shuffles into the room. "Less like Bart's attempt at scrambled eggs."
"That's good then, that means you're pretty much out of the woods."
"Hnnnnrgh." The bed dips as Kon climbs onto it, waddling forwards on his knees, hands still refusing to leave the comforter. It has little spaceships on it. "Being sick is the worst. How do you do it, Rob?"
Tim rolls his eyes. "Sorry for my weak human immune system."
He doesn't tease the other boy further though. Being half Super, Kon rarely gets sick, but when he does, it hits him like a truck. Well, maybe forty trucks. With a few carrying Kryptonite. Anyway, he's spent the entire week either passed out or coughing miserably in the Tower, and the entire team is ready for their Superboy to be back in tip top shape. Big head and showing off and all.
"What are you working on?" Kon asks. He's managed to worm his way next to Tim, and he flops against Tim's side. Warmth emanates from him, even through the comforter.
"A report for WE. Putting out fires before they can start."
"Hm. Sounds boring. Tell me about it."
"Well, you know the law of supply and demand, right..." Tim launches into a spiel about economic growth and the delicate balance he has with the Board members and also the HR department.
It's all just logic, moving pieces back and forth, until he finds the result that makes everyone happy. Mostly everyone. Talking it through out loud is surprisingly helpful, though. Tim's always been told his mind works too fast to keep up, and they tells him he likes to lecture too much, but his team has always listened to him even when they groan and draw stick figures over his charts and diagrams. Kon, with his disinterest and downright contempt for the corporate world, has clocked in hours and hours of Tim ranting about work. That's honestly ridiculous, and Tim loves him for it.
He attaches the PDF to the email and hits send. "And that's it! Can't wait to see their faces when they read this, right, Kon?"
The only response he gets is a soft snore.
Tim looks over to find Kon asleep against his knee. His curls are frizzy from being wrapped inside the comforter. His brow is relaxed, his mouth slack. He's drooling a bit. Just looking at him makes Tim yawn.
Sliding his laptop over to the nightstand, Tim spares a moment to stretch his arms. He turns and rolls the Kon-comforter-burrito further up the bed. Kon stirs slightly. Tim runs a hand through his hair, shushing him quietly.
He's tugging at the covers on his side of the bed when he feels the familiar pressure of TTK pushing at his limbs. "Okay, okay," he says, "I'm coming."
Kon unravels slightly from his self-imposed cocoon. "Tiiiim."
Giving up on the covers, Tim lets himself be pulled into Kon's orbit. He shifts until he's comfortable in Kon's arms, nose pressed up against Kon's collarbone. He feels a little like a glorified teddy bear. Kon squeezes him slightly, snuffling at Tim's hair.
"If I get sick," Tim mumbles, yawning, "I'm blaming you."
"Okay," Kon murmurs back. "I'll take care of you."
#timkon#tim drake#kon el kent#conner kent#red robin#beanfics#timkon fanfiction#yes i am back on my bullshit writing blorbos falling asleep on each other
126 notes
·
View notes
Note
congrats on hitting 1.5k!!🥳
💭 may I ask what your everyday is like with your disability? (also if this is badly worded, could you please tell me how I could word myself better?)
again, congrats on your milestone, it is so well deserved!💞💞
Hi, friend!! Thank you!! 🥹 I wouldn’t be where I am without you, so I appreciate you very much.
Your question is perfectly worded! Thank you for double checking on that :) and also thank you for giving me a chance to talk about this/educate!!! Honestly, this question is beautiful. I guess I’ll start by describing what I’ve got going on physically!!
My disability is something that I was born with. It’s called Arthrogryposis (this is the short name lol), and the basic definition is a lack of muscle. But at a more technical sense, when I was in my mother’s womb, the womb didn’t have enough amniotic fluid to let my lil fetus self move around like your “typical” fetus would. So that lack of movement caused the muscles that should’ve formed in the womb to not form at all— which, because they never developed, they don’t have much room for improvement now that I’m out into the world.
Now, as far as functionality, I’m pretty limited. But in places that I’m limited, I fortunately have the privilege of having a certain strength in place of that. For instance, although I can’t use my hands/arms, I can write with my mouth. I do everything with my mouth. I’m answering this ask on my phone right now, and I’m typing it with my lips! Thus, my hands are the weakness, but I luckily have been able to figure out where in my body does have the ability for improvement. Another example would be that I can’t use my legs, but I’m able to use my core and trunk strength to be able to scoot my body over when I need to. This gives me the ability to be able to transfer myself in and out of my bed! I do need people to carry me for other things though (bless the buff motherfuckers in my life🙏). So, although I am 100% dependent on another person for self-care (eating, toileting, showering, etc.), there’s a good chunk of aspects in my life where I can have that independence.
I get around places in my power wheelchair, and I have a wheelchair accessible van that I drive into. I cannot drive it myself, but having this accessible van makes transportation one hundred times easier because all my companion needs to do is buckle my chair in— they don’t have to carry me or anything.
Additionally, this is hard to explain, but I have a stick that I put one end in my mouth, and it’s long enough to where I can hook my fingers to the other end of it and it allows me to use my laptop, hold books open, manipulate papers, etc. I use this stick in tandem with my hand, but again, my hand has zero control. If I’m “using” my hands or legs or anything, it’s purely through momentum (throwing my body in random directions) and me hoping for the best LMAO.
I hope this helps!! I love love love answering questions like this because it teaches people! It teaches different perspectives, different lifestyles, and understanding these things are so so important to our everyday lives as a diverse species (because that’s what we are.. diverse!!).
So much love for all of you. Please feel free to ask me more questions like this🩶
Come celebrate 1.5k followers with me! ->
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don’t go for doing KT tape in complex patterns or w/e but my actual physical therapist recommended that I use it in place of wrist braces & it saved my arthritic ass so much last summer when I was bussing tables 35 hours a week & carrying 30+ lb dish tubs around. I don’t know why people think it’s so crazy, it’s just sturdier athletic tape. even horses use polo wraps & those are basically just athletic tape.
Yes to all of that. And also -- here's the thing.
I'm a very rational person and it annoys me if I find something working that doesn't have a scientifically proven reason for working. But I also can't deny that it's working. I am in less pain with the Kinesio tape.
The best explanation I found as to why the tape helps is that "holding" the skin layer with the tape has a massaging effect on the muscles underneath. As an explanation it may be weak but I take it.
On my hunt for pain relief, I looked around for advice on how to tape my arm. There is, of course, no advice for "I wrote too much fanfic on my laptop"-pain, but there's advice for sections. I found demonstrations for Golf-arm, Carpal-tunnel, shoulder pain, and elbow pain. Looking at those, I decided that those tapes basically follow what I call "pain lines". I can localise exactly where I have pain, like a line running down my arm. And if I take the massaging effect as true, it makes sense to me to tape along the pain, to give those points the massaging effect.
Is it placebo/hope/runes? I don't care. It helps, and I can only take so much Ibuprofen until I develop an ulcer. At the very least I'm getting a little massage on my arm all day long.
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
You have a fever...
i finally translated this short, cause i wanted to publish it. i wrote it because of @arefyculpmis
Fandom: Duskwood
Pairing: Jake x fem!MC
Genre: fluff
Words: 374, short story
none warnings :) but sorry for any grammar errors, im a polish białogłowa, im not a native speaker
MC was sitting at the kitchen table. Her eyes were fixed on the laptop screen as she was trying hard to focus on her work. Unfortunately, the terrible headache and chills that ran down her body prevented her from doing it.
This strange feeling had been tormenting her since this morning, but now it has reached its apogee. Feeling extremely terrible, she pressed a hand to her forehead. It was warm, but she doggedly downplayed it. She was shaking with cold.
"Shit", she muttered, feeling so weak she couldn't focus on what was in front of her, on her laptop screen.
Just then, MC heard someone enter the kitchen. After a moment, she felt strong arms wrap around her chest.
„Everything's all right?”
Jake's caring voice echoed close to her ear. He couldn't ignore even the slightest sign that something was wrong.
He was very worried about her, sometimes even too much.
„Are you feeling sick?” he asked, and as soon as MC turned to face him, the first thing she could see was the tremendous worry in his eyes.
She nodded uncertainly and didn't need to say any more. A terrible feeling was written on her pale face.
Jake cautiously put his hand to her forehead.
"You have a fever", he remarked instantly, feeling how hot her body was. „You should go to bed.”
„Fever?” MC repeated after him, her eyebrows raised.
Despite how badly she felt, she was able to force herself to smile suggestively.
„I felt hot when I saw you.”
Hearing this, Jake's face instantly became a mixture of disbelief and confusion. He shook his head from side to side.
He looks incredibly cute when he is shy.
"You definitely have a fever" he muttered to which MC only giggled softly.
Before she could continue, his arms gripped her tightly. She wrapped her hands around his neck when she was unexpectedly in the air.
„Hey, what are you doing?” she asked with mock anger as he started carrying her towards the bedroom like a princess.
"I'm carrying you to bed" he replied, giving her a lovely smile.
Jake was pretty firm on stuffing MC with cold medications, but luckily she managed to negotiate a couple of kisses in return...
#duskwood#duskwood jake#duskwood jake x player#duskwood jake x mc#duskwood fandom#duskwood fanfiction#duskwood everbyte#fluff#everbyte studios#jake duskwood#jake x mc#duskwood mc
220 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝘿𝙖𝙮 1
𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬-𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠
Husband!Daniel Gillies x Author/Actress!reader
Start reading under cut!
It was around 9 in the morning and Daniel was doing an interview via a zoom call in the victorian office in your shared home. You promised to stay out of his way and not bother him while he's being interviewed about his newest movie Coming Home in the Dark, and about his life recently. You were laying in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, on the couch in the office, writing for a new book you were to publish soon. After a while you, fell bored and felt like being cheeky and mess with your husband in some way.
As he's on zoom with BuzzFeed Celeb, you decide to sneakily make your way where your handsome husband sat. He doesn't see you because of his great concentration to his the person on the other side of the laptop screen which you're thankful for.
You crouch down and quietly crawl under the large table until you're kneeled in front of Daniel's spread legs, his comfort position. His bottom half is only dressed in a short plaid sleeping trouser because the interviewers can only see from his chest up, which was dressed in a tight white t-shirt and also so he could slip onto the couch with you once he was finished.
Deciding to stop stalling, you reach forward and place both of your cold hands on his warm thighs, making Daniel nearly jump out his seat in surprise. And because he's wearing headphones, you can't hear much of what the interviewer asks but you assume he's asking him if he's alright because it looked like he jumped out of fright.
"Yeah, yeah, all good. Just a bit chilly, you know how old victorian homes are and got a chill." you hear Daniel tell the interviewer. You giggle at his silly lie and decide to tease further. You bend your head forward and place gentle kisses up and down his upper legs. This makes him conceal a stutter in his voice as he speaks.
Your soft, warm lips continue their attack on Daniels tan, smooth slightly hairy legs until you carry them up even further, to his bulge. You know this is what's really going to make him go crazy. For more stability, you sit up a tiny bit so you can get closer, looping your arms around his waist, and bend forward to start attacking his gradually hardening cock from the outside of his trouser.
You can feel his body tense up and you can't help but smile at the fact that only you get this part of him. And not just literally speaking because only half his body is shown on camera, but the side of him that is weak and vulnerable and putty in your hands. You were addicted to each other, always wanting to be together intimately or not.
Knowing you must hurry before the interviewer asks to see you, which always happens, you remove one hand from where it was around his lower back and bring it to the waist band of his trouser. Then you dip your hand inside, feeling Daniel's barley there pubes brush against your hand and gently take a hold of his now throbbing shaft.
You didn't want to give him a full blowie because you wanted to tease him. Therefore once his cock is out the clothed confinements and the band of his trousers are tucked under his ball sack, you lick up his silky shaft with the tip of your tongue. Daniel's mood has visibly shifted and you wonder if any of his fans who watch his interview will realize what's happening.
After a few licks, you decide to take his leaking head and suck on it like a lollipop. Without looking, you know Daniel's well taken cared of toes are curled into the hardwood floor beneath you. And instead of using his hands for gesturing as he speaks like he normally does whenever he speaks, his hands are gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles are turn white.
Right before the interviewer asks if you can pop on and say hello, you glide his shaft further in your mouth until your nose is touching the base of his cock. You accidentally let a small gag release from your mouth and hope the audio from his computer doesn't pick that up. Daniel glances down at his lap real quick and feeling like he's doing so, you open your eyes and look up, making eye contact.
Your eyes are watery but you can make out the slight irritation in his facial features as well as lust and need. Quickly looking back up to his screen, Daniel says with a shaky voice, "I am sorry y/n is working on her next big project and I don't want to disturb her, Next time for sure. Thank you for having me, goodbye" Then you hear a click of the mouse, meaning he's finally off air and he lets out a sigh of relief.
"Fuckin' hell, love. What r'yah doing t'me? Almost came in front of the interviewer as well as millions who watch and listen to the interview." Harry mutters while looking at you from your position under the table.
You pop off his dick, inhaling a large breath, and reply innocently, "Was just bored and wanted to mess around."
You squeeze his cock one last time and crawl out from under the table leaving him hard and start walking out the office.
"Love where do you think you are going?" He asks sternly and raising an eyebrow.
"I made plans to go shopping with Candice and Nina in a hour I need to get ready." You reply smirking and blow him a kiss making him growl.
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
My friend keeps encouraging me to apply to school once my gut simmers down and has promised to help me navigate the ableist education system. She's disabled by multiple chronic illnesses but as of yet hasn't decided if she needs a mobility aid, so in one aspect she can't help me with is how to carry school supplies when I need a cane for outside the apartment and also my back is too weak to safely carry a backpack. My (not very good) Cane Buddy obvs can't carry a laptop or books, and I can't balance myself with my old rolly bag and a cane because I need my spare arm free to counterbalance. Chairs are out of the question even if I could afford one (which I can't) because I can't sit up straight for very long without jacking up my lower back. Which also begs the question how am I going to manage sitting at a desk when my back starts to throb after a half hour of sitting at one
Also even if I wanted to apply for Johns Hopkins University (I don't) I have it from her and others' experiences that it's an absolute shitthole for disabled and neurodivergent people so like if you're considering going there just be aware
#if i do go it's going to be at a community College. at least at first#disability#ableism in education#cripplepunk#cane user
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Monthly Fic Recs - February 2024
You may notice that I, uh. Did not keep up with the Fic Feature Friday thing. *sheepish grimace* But! I am determined to share fic recs! So monthly ones it shall be.
Mostly, these are all recent things, and to be honest I've read very little fic at all this year, wrapped up in new job and life stuff. But there's some great stuff here that I did manage to read in the quiet in-between times, I hope you find something to enjoy!
And so, in no particular order except how I bookmarked them,
THE RECS!
STRANGER THINGS
In the Kitchen or the Tulips
by teddywesworl, ~44,000 words, Steve/Eddie
Eddie’s face is way too hot, and the damn heart monitor is gonna give away his secrets if it doesn’t shut the fuck up. Steve Harrington carried me out of Hell, he thinks, deliberately. A prickle of something frantic festers at the base of his skull as he pictures himself limp in Steve’s arms, Steve’s hands clutching at his filthy jacket, his blood-soaked jeans. Did he have to do CPR? Did he peel Eddie’s clothes away from the gore of his midsection to get a look at the damage?
Did he touch me? Did he touch me? Did he touch me?
OR: A touch-activated telepathic soulmates AU.
Renegades (Leave a Light On)
by queerofthedagger, ~67,000 words, Steve/Eddie
Eddie doesn't expect to get into trouble for his recent drug business, although he probably should have. Even less does he expect Steve Harrington of all people to save his sorry ass with a nail bat that looks awfully at home in his hands. Least of all, though, does he expect Harrington to insist on skipping town for a while to avoid the fallout.
The Winter holidays of '84 seem intent on proving him wrong on all fronts. Thrown into a spontaneous road trip-slash-cut-and-run to San Francisco—just until things back home blow over, Munson—Eddie has all the time in the world to confront such questions as: why would Harrington care to help him? Why does he wake up from nightmares more often than not? And, maybe most importantly, why is the former King so ready to leave Hawkins behind on a whim?
Or: idiot boys make impulsive idiot decisions, and along the way—reluctantly but inevitably—they fall in love. A story of endless winter streets, finding family, and leaving home to find a new one.
MERLIN
Albionist
by Galauvant, ~1,700 words, gen Arthur & Merlin (& Aithusa)
The cry sounds again, and Arthur’s feet freeze, a chill sliding down his spine. There’s something hauntingly familiar about the cadence of the sound.
It’s not quite the same, but Arthur just knows. It’s impossible, but he knows.
He draws Excalibur now, quickening his pace, but his feet are light.
Minutes later, there it is:
A white dragon- a living, breathing dragon roughly the size of a stallion, crouched in front of a cave. One of its wings is held at an odd angle, and unlike the giant monstrosity that once terrorized Camelot, this one looks gaunt and weak.
Or: In a handwavey canon divergence where Arthur knows about Merlin's magic and Aithusa escapes captivity, there are two men and a young dragon.
KINGSMAN: THE SECRET SERVICE
Magic Maketh Man
by Brokenpitchpipe, ~17,000 words, Harry/Eggsy
It takes Eggsy three seconds to tear his eyes off the feed, slam the laptop shut, apparate to Harry’s side, and somehow manage to get back to St. Mungo’s with the added weight.
It takes him another two minutes to realize that Harry’s glasses are still on his face, and the tiny little LED atop the brow is still blinking obediently.
Merlin’s goddamn balls. He’s fucked.
TEEN WOLF
(Don't) Stay
by alocalband, ~18,000 words, Derek/Stiles
Stiles goes away to college, and Derek suddenly falls ill. Obviously, the two things are completely unrelated. And, obviously, Stiles doesn't make the drive back to Beacon Hills at every available opportunity, to the detriment of his academic career, because he's secretly in love with the guy. That would be ridiculous.
STAR WARS (original trilogy. yes i am confused by this too.)
Take Care
by spqr, ~12,000 words, Han/Luke
The time dragged, and dragged, and the Falcon didn’t help matters by breaking whenever Han looked away for a second. It was like she didn’t want them to get where they were going, like she was actively sabotaging herself — an insane thought which Han kept to himself, since he didn’t want Chewie to smack him in the head, until the fourth literally brand new part broke in the space of an hour and he said in despair, “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re mad at me too, baby,” and looked up to find Luke watching him thoughtfully, crouched at the edge of the open hatch.
“I can talk to her, if you want,” he offered.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Noot Noot
Book: Perfect Match
Pairing: Sloane Washington & Hazel Park (f!black MC) (platonic), Sloane Washington & Iris Young (f!Asian Hayden) (platonic).
Rating: G
Summary: While recovering from a nasty flu, Sloane revisits a childhood favourite TV show with her friends.
Word count: 1,183 words
A/N: I kinda HC Sloane as growing up on Pingu, a British-Swedish stop motion animated classic. It was a fave of mine as a kid, and I later found out that many autistic kids - esp those who use more nonverbal communication - are fond of it.
Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for Fic of the Week and @choices-february2023 for their February prompt as well as @sloanewashingtonappreciationweek
Using @choices-february2023 prompt for Day 4: Harmony | Homemade Soup | So What (P!nk)
"You two should go home now," Sloane grumbles, her voice almost muffled underneath her Milky Way Galaxy blanket. "I'm fine, really."
And she isn't lying. She hasn't suffered a fever in four days now, and though her throat still feels sore, the sandpaper sensation of using her voice doesn't burn as ferociously as it did a week ago.
Residual throatache and general tiredness. That's all that's left of this awful flu.
Iris ignores her. "Hazel, honey, put on some Pingu," she calls out, frowning over a pot of steaming chicken soup. "'Pingu the Chef' is her favourite."
Hazel's head is buried inside her cupboard of old keepsakes from her mom's home. "Coming!" She yells back to Iris, holding a well-worn penguin in her hand.
She tosses it playfully in the direction of Sloane's bed. "What did you finally name this one?"
Sloane has only enough energy to offer a weak smile. "Katie Bouman." She doesn't remember what she'd named it when Mom gave it to her. "To keep you company at your first ever Space Camp," she'd said, brushing a soft kiss over her forehead. They'd both been so nervous then. Little Trudy had never stayed overnight away from home, away from Mom.
It was one of the few things Sloane took back with her when she'd visited Mom a few years ago, just before Khaan and the group set in motion their plans to defeat Eros. Sloane shivers as she remembers her sense of dread that day, wondering if this would be the last time she'd ever visit this room. How she swallowed the lump in her throat when she saw the worry in Mom's eyes, the questions Sloane couldn't bring herself to answer.
Hazel frowns at Sloane's involuntary shudder, enfolding her in her thick blanket and tucking Katie into her weak arms.
The two settle back on the bed, backs against the bedstand, as the titular little penguin throws corn kernels into a hot pan. His baby sister watches, jumping up and down when the yellow seeds puff up and turn white.
"What?" Hazel mouths when she sees Sloane silently giggling. She covers her mouth, already anticipating one of her favourite parts in the episode; Pingu's sister fooling her brother into looking away before stealing his share of kernels.
Pingu stares for a second at the empty pan, then glares after his baby sister, his beak already stretching to form the shape of a trumpet horn.
"Noot noot!"
Hazel guffaws, slapping her thigh. "He looks so cute when he does that."
Sloane's laughter is significantly fainter, yet carries the same note of joy and amusement. "Mom says when I first started watching Pingu, I wouldn't stop saying 'noot noot' for a whole month."
Iris comes out of the kitchen as she says this, bowl of soup in hand. Sloane breathes in the scent of roasted garlic emanating from it with a sigh of pleasure. On Sloane's laptop screen, Pingu takes out an obscenely large amount of corn kernels and throws them in a far larger pot.
"It's a very versatile word," Hazel says, grinning, "You could say it when you're excessively happy... excessively distressed..."
"... excessively pissed off at annoying younger siblings who steal your food from right under your nose..." Iris adds, winking in Sloane's direction. Hazel is surprisingly quiet in the middle of all the teasing.
Sloane has enough energy to half-heartedly elbow Iris in the ribs. "You damn well deserved a few noot noots for nicking my Ben&Jerry tub on your first day here."
Iris looks all injured innocence. "I didn't do that, Dipper did."
"Very nice, very 'the dog ate my homework', Iris," Hazel mocks gently, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend before looking at Sloane. "Did you always do that?"
"Do what?" Sloane takes slow, lingering sips of her soup, savoring its warmth. Pingu and his sister are now panicking over a mile-long trail of popcorn strewn over their kitchen floor.
"Repeat phrases no matter the context? In some of the childhood stories you've told me so far, you'd done that with other words."
Echolalia, the first therapist they'd met had told Mom. She likes repeating the words, but is yet to grasp their meaning. That last thought is more imagination than memory; all she can truly recall from that visit were the tiny farm animals she had sorted in a row on a playmat, by order of height.
"Yeah," Sloane whispers, her smile a tiny bit wider as she watches Pingu take boxes of freshly made popcorn on his sled, going from house to house, using his overzealous mistake to feed an entire polar neighborhood. "I always thought of words in terms of sounds first. The more I liked the sound of something, the more I'd use it whether I knew the meaning or not. You had to show me a visual, over and over again until I connected the two, if you wanted me to understand what a word meant. It took Mom a little time to realize that."
Sloane smiles at the sight the three of them must make right now, watching a childhood favourite on a bed surrounded by all the interests and all the achievements of her adulthood. The first time she'd watching this show, Mom had been curious. She'd never shown much interest in watching anything for more than a couple minutes, making going to the cinema almost an impossibility.
But this show, with its adorable clay penguin figures who spoke a language she didn't need to understand and who forced her to read their body language instead...this show was different. This show grabbed her attention and wouldn't let go. This show stayed with her long after she stopped binge-watching it, growing into a lifelong interest in real-life penguins.
She looks up at her best friends, both so different in their body language yet so familiar. Hazel's limbs are sprawled over her bed in a sort of casual grace, as if she is owning the space. Iris rests her chin on her right knee, her head tilted as she often does when she's thinking deeply about the media she's watching. Sloane feels a frisson of familiarity as she watches her - in so many ways they're so similar; sometimes Sloane wonders how much of herself she's incorporated into Iris. There are moments when looking at her is like looking at a mirror - the same responses on a drastically different face.
Even now, if Sloane tries hard enough, she knows that some of the ways she reads people's reactions can be vaguely traced to that stressful - yet indescribably exciting - exercise of trying to understand what Pingu was doing, what Pingu was saying, what Pingu was feeling.
"Mm," Iris says, grinning as Sloane finishes off her soup. She's been showing better appetite today than she has the whole week. "looks like they managed to clear out all that excess popcorn, eh?"
Sloane smiles back. Pingu drives his sled through the snow from house to house, his beak morphing into the shape of a trumpet horn as he announces his arrival. In a sound that is no longer annoyance, or anger - but excitement.
Noot noot!
--
* Katie Bouman is a post-doctoral fellow at Harvard who helped develop the code to find the black hole needle in the haystack of data collected from the effort.
** You can watch the episode of Pingu mentioned here.
*** Echolalia is one of the things that some autistic kids grow up with. Some are nonverbal in their communication, and some may not always engage in meaningful communication although they do attempt speech. Echolalia involves a tendency to repeat words or phrases while not understanding the meaning, eg. A child repeating someone's question instead of answering it. I HC Sloane as having speech delays as a child, that initially didn't go noticed because she was echoing words she heard.
#sloane washington#hayden young#perfect match#sloanewashingtonappreciationweek#SWAW#SWAW Day 2: Penguins#lizzybeth1986#content: fanfic
11 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi Rae! I'm sorry if this is a little too last minute but for Nanami monday I'd like you to consider; Nanami coming home late from work to find you fast asleep at the desk of your home office. He carefully picks you up in his arms and shuts off your light before carrying you into your shared bedroom. You stir slightly when he attempts to take off your work clothes, but not enough to wake you up completely. You do feel him kiss you goodnight when he crawls into bed beside you though <3
Hi hello thank you submitting!! And you're good! I'm like... 90% sure I follow your writing blog? So technically you're a moot and you're good! (And if I'm wrong, I'm on my way to fix that right now enjfjskf)
but anyways AAAAAAHHHHH FUCK!!!!! how did you know I'm weak for carrying-you-to-bed scenarios? Did you peek into my brain?? 🥺
more thoughts under the cut (gender neutral reader)
Kento is so proud of you. He never shuts up about you to his friends, he never shuts up about you to his work colleagues. Everyone thinks it's very uncharacteristic of him to be happy and smiley...
But when he's talking about his favorite subject - you - he can't help himself.
It took you such a long time to get your business off the ground and you're doing so well managing it from your little home office, but sometimes there are days that are harder than others.
Like today.
He called and said he would be working late, but that he already had ordered food for you and it was on it's way for dinner. When you got in the zone, you were just absolutely terrible at remembering to eat, so he had to be preemptive about it.
And he technically told you to stop working for the day, but sometimes you lie to him that you're done when really you're filling out more spreadsheets.
So when Kento comes home and finds you not in the living room or the kitchen... he knows you lied to him and that you're still in your home office.
He wishes you wouldn't overwork yourself like this.
He sighs when he enters your office - the room is dimly lit because you focus better when it's darker (he wishes you'd actually use light - your poor eyesight. Why do you do this to yourself?).
A few open take-out containers are strewn across your desk, and your figure is slumped over your desk.
Your cat is asleep on the sofa against one of the walls and she greets Kento with a gentle inquisitive ' mrrrrp ? ' when she opens her eyes and sees it's him.
"You're supposed to look out for them for me when I'm not here..." He chuckles, walking over and giving her a scratch behind her ears.
When he turns his attention back to you, he comes over to you and sees that your laptop is about to die, your water bottle is nowhere in sight, and there are a bunch of empty candy wrappers in the trash can.
Really, what is he going to do with you?
His hard little worker bee who buzzes about.
No wonder you're so tired if you haven't been properly taking care of yourself.
He plugs in your laptop to charge and saves your work before shutting it off, setting it off to the side.
A gentle shake of your shoulder does nothing to rouse you, so he has to touch you a bit firmer.
You shoot up from your desk, panic in your eyes as you realize you've been asleep all this time.
"My stuff!!" You start looking around for your laptop, "I didn't save it!"
You look up and see Kento smiling down at you.
"I saved it for you, darling." He says, trying to repress a chuckle as you blink up at him.
"Oh..." is all you say, sleepiness immediately overtaking you again.
You lay your head back down on your desk and close your eyes, thankful that he looked out for you yet again.
"You wouldn't have panicked if you had stopped working when I told you to, now would you?" He chastises you afffectionately.
You don't answer him though.
You're asleep on your desk again.
He laughs before turning back to your cat.
"They're more sleepy than you. How is that possible?" He muses to her and the cat meows in response.
"Yes, yes. We should get them to bed immediately. I know." He laughs before he begins the careful and gentle weekly ritual of carrying you off to bed.
#🎶: here comes the queue#WEEEEEEE THIS IS SO CUTE 🥺#nanami fluff#kento nanami fluff#🍞: rae's nanami mondays#rae's nanami monday july 25 2022
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Something has been up lately with my left arm. Just…weird tingly feelings, numbness, lots of weakness when I try to carry heavy things. In any event, I have a cool bookish tote that I use as my work bag but it has become much too heavy, especially after mister rebuilt me a laptop to take along. SOOOOOOoooo, I got this awesome new messenger bag today and in true kitty form, I already got these cool patches to sew on as well! I’m excited for this fun and ergonomically correct choice!
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
hbdlina
Untitled
meowkomiko
MeowkoMiko
tydavis811
Comedian Ty Davis
emarie-stone
Sticks And Stones
zimmi2022
Zimmi