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hier--soir · 7 months

Text

high strung

abby anderson x f!reader

pairing: abby anderson x personal trainer wlf f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: abby has seemed distracted in your sessions as of late. when you discover why, you help to ease some of her tension. warnings/tags: some tight little workout shorts, abby "i'm not gay" anderson has her first experience with a woman, r insert is a trainer but has zero physical descriptions, massage, gay panic, smut, fingering & oral [abby receiving], reference to masturbation [reader], brief mention of other wlf characters from tlou2, brief owen slander lol sorry. word count: 3.5k masterlist a/n: considering abby isn't explicitly queer in tlou2, i wanted to write a short n sharp little bisexual awakening for her. bit of a quick build up but idc i don't know anything about the gym and wanted to get to the gay sex lol, hope you enjoy!

She’s wearing these tight little shorts. Pale blue. So thin they’re almost sheer where they wrap around the bulkiest points of her thighs.

You don’t look, don’t let your eyes roam over the reedy material, don’t glance down when she bends her knees and drops into a squat. Don’t don’t don’t. Don’t even look when she lays out on the bench, flat on her back, and those shorts bunch and pinch in the crevice where her legs meet her hips. No, you’re well-versed in this now. Adept at not looking.

“Show me ten,” you tap the bar once.

Abby grips the barbell. The skin of her knuckles turns a piercing white as her fingers flex and tighten around the metal. Ninety pounds on either end, and yet she lifts it off the rack with a practiced sort of ease. You feel a familiar rush of pride as she moves effortlessly through the first few reps, her breathing calm—relaxed. Your hands hover, useless, in the air over the bar. Ready to step in if you’re needed, but knowing that you won’t be.

The gym at the base is usually crowded. Sweat covered surfaces, muscle tanks in every conceivable direction, and plenty of shirtless assholes that think they own the place. But this morning you hit the jackpot, arriving early in the morning when there’s only a few others milling around.

“That’s it,” you mutter. “Good, good, give me another one.”

You notice it slowly. The same way it happened last week, and the week before that. The gradual progression; a tilting, wavering, descent into mistakes, into heavy breathing, into distraction. From behind her head, you watch her knees raise a little, feet arched until she’s balanced on her tip-toes, the muscles in her thighs straining.

Her fingers loosen a little around the bar. Grip faltering, failing. A muscle in her forearm flexes and spasms beneath the skin.

“Hey,” you warn, hands darting forward to rest on the metal. “Come on, we’re not even halfway done.”

Abby doesn’t offer up a response. Doesn’t meet your eyes. She simply huffs out a breath of exertion and presses the bar upward again. Beads of sweat glisten along her forehead, snatching at wisps of loose blonde hair and pinning them to pale skin.

“Good,” you commend, fingers hovering featherlight. But then it happens again. Her face twitches, lips pursing, and she grunts. A low, frustrated sound.

“Abby,” you sigh. She allows you to grip the bar, and together you lift it back into the groove on the rack. “Are you hungover again?”

“No,” she scowls. She sits up and wipes a reddened hand across her face. There’s a patch of sweat on the back of her shirt, and the darkened material clings to her spine.

“Then what’s the problem?” you arch an eyebrow. When she doesn’t turn to look at you, you walk around to stand directly in front of her. “Manny keeping you up at night? Burnt out? What?”

“No,” she repeats, and this time you think you catch a flash of irritation. Something angry, something heated, rolling beneath the surface of her skin, begging to be expelled.

And you’ve seen the way she can lash out. Seen how people cower and shrink beneath her steely gaze when she’s mad. Quickly, easily, you decide you’d rather not spend your morning getting chewed out for being nosy.

“Listen,” you say. “Why don’t we call it for the day? We ca—”

“I’m fine,” Abby asserts firmly. But the hard set of her jaw and the tension in her shoulders hints otherwise.

You watch her snatch a water bottle off the ground and tilt it against her mouth. Watch the way she drinks in long, hurried gulps. Watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows. Watch a dribble of water snake down her chin, her neck. Don’t.

You look away.

“You’re distracted,” you retort with an eyeroll. “If you hurt yourself in here Isaac will have my ass.”

She shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. A broad hand pushes the hair back off her face, mussing it behind her ears, and then she meets your eye.

“I’m just…” she trails off and glances away. Clears her throat a little. “I’m feeling a little tense, okay? Everyday I’m either in here, or Isaac has me out scouting some fucking Scar hot spot, and I’m exhausted, and my legs are fucking killing me.”

You feel your face soften, mouth tilting down into a sympathetic frown.

“I get it,” you nod. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know I push you pretty hard in here—”

“It’s not—” Abby shakes her head again. “You’re not the problem.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment the two of you rest in a wary silence. Listen to the sounds of people working out around you; muted grunts of exertion, the spouted praise from spotters standing close by. You notice the way she flinches when someone racks a weight a little too aggressively – a little too loud.

“Let’s go in the back,” you suggest easily, already turning away. “We’ll do some physio; I’ll help with the knots in your legs.”

It’s a simple routine once you get her onto the massage table. Tucked away in a back room, door closed, her shoes off, you can set to work without so much distraction.

You start with her calves. Using the palms of your hands, the pads of your thumbs, you rub against the tightly coiled muscles there. Working out any knots that you find, any hidden strains. Moving slowly, purposefully, working your way up until you hit her thighs. And that’s where the tension becomes evident.

It seems like Abby is in pain as you dig your thumbs into her outer thigh. Her face is all screwed up, eyes closed as soft little grunts slip from her mouth. When you find a particularly tight knot and press she spits a low curse, eyes clamping shut and face turning to the side.

“You doin’ okay?” you check in, eyebrows furrowed as you watch the way she squirms and wriggles around on the table – as if she’s shying away from your touch. As if it’s too much for her. “I’m really not pressing that hard, Abby.”

“It’s good,” she chokes out. “Keep going.”

You continue with a sigh, crackling your knuckles before using both hands to work at the muscle in her upper thigh.

“Jesus,” you sigh. Your palm rolls over her quadricep, working to release the built-up rigidity there. “You’re so tense.”

“Sorry,” Abby grits out, voice hoarse and stilted as it sneaks its way out past her teeth. It’s like she’s holding her breath, the way sharp exhales rush from her nose every few seconds.

“It’s fine,” you assure her. Your fingers press against her knee, and you push it up towards her chest until her thigh is pressed against her stomach. Stretch out the muscles there, let her feel the pull, the burn as her knots loosen. “Do you need—oh.”

Because you look down and the words get caught in your throat. Musing caught like a mouse in a trap, your mouth suddenly feels like sandpaper. And you were always so good at not looking, never looking. But now… you’re almost glad you looked. Because there’s a damp splotch on the front of her shorts, shades darker than the rest of the fabric. Right in the crevice between her thighs, where the inseam of those tight fucking shorts rests against her mound.

It must be sweat, you think. It has to be. But when you look at her face you notice how flushed she is. See the blotches of deep red that stain the skin on her neck, her cheeks, and you know it’s not sweat. She’s wet.

Your hands freeze in place, keeping her leg pinned to her chest.

Abby says your name quietly, and there’s something urgent in it – a panicked tone to her voice that makes your stomach tighten.

“Is this why you’ve been so distracted?” you ask. Your mouth is dry, lips chapped as you look between her face and that spot between her thighs. Back and forth, over and over. Your fingers tense against her thigh, and the skin there is so soft. “You’re…”

“I’m not,” she rushes, face almost entirely pink now.

“It’s okay,” you soothe quietly, thumb starting up a slow movement against her flesh. Soft, small circles. And you know you must look calm – but on the inside there’s a hot, wet feeling lashing out against the inside of your stomach. “Is that because of me? S’that why you’ve been so distracted in our sessions lately?”

Abby turns her face, tucking her chin into her shoulder in attempt to hide her blush. You lower her leg back onto the massage bed. “I don—I don’t know why I’m…”

“Abby,” you laugh softly. Your palm is flat against her thigh now, fingers twitching – itching to explore. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not…” she grimaces.

“Not what?” you hum, and you’re playing with the hem of her shorts now. Curling around the thin fabric, rubbing it between your fingertips. “Do you… will you let me help?”

Her eyes widen at the suggestion, and you feel the way her thighs tense beneath your touch. Pressing together, almost squirming at the thought of it. When she doesn’t respond, doesn’t say no, your fingers creep higher. They tuck around the waistband of her shorts and tug once, testing the waters. Again, she says nothing. Those heady blue eyes stare at your face, pink lips parting as her breathing grows heavier.

“Abby?” you urge.

“Yeah,” she breathes, and it sounds almost like a question.

Her eyes turn glassy as she watches you, and then her hips cant ever so slightly upward on the bed. An invitation.

Smiling, you peel the material of her shorts down slowly, but you don’t look. Not yet, not even as you drop the material onto the ground. Don’t look even when there’s so much white in your vision. A field of creamy skin, begging to be seen. Your thighs press together, skin hot, the muscles in your stomach tightening as you notice that she’s sweating again.

“I’m not gay,” Abby says then. So quiet, so cautious.

Your smile only grows, and you nod. Kind. Understanding. “I know,” you whisper. “I get it.” And you do.

You’ve been in her shoes before; confused, unsure. Young and always wondering why you felt so on edge around the pretty girls in those tight uniforms they liked to wear around the base. Always pretending you didn’t think about the way their clothes moulded against their chests, their thighs, as you lay in bed at night, hand stuffed inside your underwear. Never admitting to yourself that you wanted to see underneath – to see their skin; touch it, taste it.

“I get it,” you repeat, hand stilling at her hip. “But I need to hear you say you want it.”

You ruck up her shirt. Just a little, just so it rests above the dip of her belly button, and you can see the rolling hills of her abdomen. You admire the muscles there, the way they rise and fall with each laboured breath. Abs that lead to a hardened v-shape which only encourages wandering eyes to look down down down.

Her skin is pale, and you can see the elaborate network of blue veins that spread out beneath it like spiderwebs. Lifelines, pulsing with desire. For you.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you offer, and she nods slowly, seemingly grateful for the assurance. “I’ll help you out… just have a little taste, okay?”

“Fuck,” she mutters, head tilting back against the bed. “Fuck, I didn’t realise you were—I want you to—yes.”

Finally, you look down at her underwear—heather grey with a tiny hole near the band and a dark wet patch on the front—and ask breathlessly, “When’s the last time you had sex?”

“I don’t know,” she exhales. “A few months maybe.”

“You’re so fucking wet,” you tsk under your breathe, shaking your head a little. You can see a soft thatch of curls peeking out the side of her underwear. Saliva pools in your mouth.

“When did you?” she asks.

“Last week.”

“With who?”

“Lyla,” you admit. Your hand is on her stomach now, tracing the indents of her muscles. Fingering every freckle painted across her skin, feeling the way her belly expands with every shuddering breath. “We’d had a few drinks. It wasn’t the first time.”

“Lyla?” Abby scoffs, eyes darting down to watch your fingers. “From the infirmary? Lyla’s not gay.”

“Sure,” you hum, a teasing lilt to your voice. “And neither are you, right?”

That shuts her up quick.

You climb onto the table slowly, careful not to jostle her legs too much. But they splay easily, spreading open for you to fit between. Murmuring gratefully, you look up to see her watching you.

“You do this with everyone you train?” she asks, voice breaking when your index finger snags against the band of her underwear. “Work them to the bone and then…”

“And then?” you smirk, eyebrows raised.

“And then fuck them?” she gasps. Her hands are tense by her sides, fingers curled around the edge of the table.

You bare your teeth at her and shake your head, slowly lowering until your lips meet the skin at her hip.

“Not all of them,” you breathe against her skin, marvelling at the way her frame trembles beneath you.

Unwilling to waste another second, you lick a stripe up the front of her underwear. Taste cotton and sweat and slick. Your touch is painfully light. So gentle that you wonder if she even felt it. But then she gasps – a sharp, breathy sound that has molten heat pooling between your own thighs, and you smile. Gotcha. Her legs lock up on either side of you.

“Relax,” you whisper, and settle a hand on her thigh. Rub slowly there, pressing your fingers in gently to release the strain in her muscles. “Do you want me to stop? I can stop if you don’t want this.”

“Please,” Abby says quietly. More desperate than you’ve ever heard her sound. “Do it, please.”

“I will,” you tell her. Smile reassuringly and squeeze her thigh.

When you finally get your mouth on her, no more barriers between your tongue and the wet cut of her cunt, you’re a little mean about it. You tease her clit. Tickle your tongue around it, underneath it, never quite touching, just showing that you know exactly where it is, exactly where she wants to be touched. You use your fingers to spread her open, pressing back her folds until you can see the full spread of her; pink and glistening for you.

The taste of her is salty and heady and soon enough you can’t help swiping the flat of your tongue against her clit, and revelling in the stuttered moan that swells out of her.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “Keep doing that.”

You roll your tongue against it in circles, side-to-side, changing up the rhythm whenever you fear she might have gotten used to the feeling. Spell out your name with the tip of your tongue, and then hers. Spell out words in your own language, one that you’re fluent in and want so desperately to teach her. Like this, your tongue on her clit, is a religion, and you’re a modest missionary sent to spread the gospel.

She makes the most gorgeous sounds. High pitched, breathy moans that burst out of her and have you wishing you could touch yourself. Just slip your fingers past the band of your panties, to where you know you'd be dripping-- No. Not yet, not now. This is about her, you remind yourself.

When you take her between your lips and suck, she cries out. A hoarse, rasping shout of your name that only makes you suck harder.

“Oh my god,” Abby mumbles, voice awed, surprised. “Oh—oh fuck, oh my god.”

Lowering your tongue, you press it against her weeping hole. Taste the slick that pools there, waiting for you to drink it down, and feel a moment of sympathy for her. You wonder if Owen ever touched her like this. If he ever made her feel this good. And as the muscles in her thighs tighten and one of her hands falls against the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair, you know he didn’t.

“I think I’m gonna—” she gasps, hips bucking against your face. You can feel her slick on your chin, your cheeks, your nose. You lick her clit again in slow, firm circles. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna come.”

You press a finger inside of her, slowly stretching out her tight hole. Give her something to bear down on when she comes. And when she does come, it’s intense. Her fingers tighten in your hair, winding around the strands and tugging as she presses your face harder against her pussy. Your nose presses into the light curls on her mound and you groan, inhaling her sweet, musky scent.

“Fuuuck,” she gasps, the word catching in her throat. You open your eyes and watch the way her abdomen tightens, every muscle in her body going taut. Watch the way her eyes clamp shut, mouth hanging open as she gasps and moans and mumbles beneath her breath. “Fuck, don’t stop. Your tongue, oh my god don’t—please don’t stop.”

So you don’t stop. Abby’s still riding out the final ebbs of her orgasm when you push another finger inside of her. Her body jolts against the table, shaking and trembling beneath your hands and mouth. And then, tongue still moving gently, you curl your fingers inside of her. Press the tips of your middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grin when she moans your name. You think it might be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard – your name on her lips.

“You like that?” you mumble against her, the corners of your mouth twitching up.

“Yes,” she moans, hips bucking against your face. “God, yes.”

“Taste so fucking good,” you sigh, flattening your tongue to lick a broad stripe up her cunt. You can taste her come everywhere. Coating your chin, your lips, the inside of your nostrils. You groan, tongue moving faster against her clit now, desperate to see it happen again. She twitches into the table, and one of her hands falls to your shoulder. Blunt nails dig into the skin there, hot and piercing as she grinds against your mouth. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Fuck,” she cries out when you add a third finger. You moan, eyes rolling back at the way her walls stretch around you. So fucking tight.

Your fingers dig into her thigh. Silently pleading with her; tell me, tell me, tell me.

“So good,” Abby mumbles. “So—shit—so full, m’so full. Ohhh.”

There’s something hot pooling at the base of your spine. Want – curling against your insides, begging to be satiated.

You murmur that desire into her cunt. Inaudible; the words lost in the mess of her, in the quick glide of your tongue between her folds.

“What?” she gasps.

“Say my name,” you repeat, louder, pleading.

And she does – she’s perfect when she comes for you again. Strong back arching off the table, thighs tensing around your body as she chants your name. Her hands are strong, fingers no doubt leaving bruises where she grips your skin tight, holding your mouth against her pussy as she convulses.

She doesn’t let you pull away for a minute, maybe two. Holding your head between her legs as she grounds herself, chest heaving with heavy breaths. You swear you even feel her stroke the skin at the nape of your neck. Twist the hair there around her finger and tug gently. But then she’s letting you go – strong hands falling back to clasp against her lower stomach, and you’re stumbling off the table.

You hand her those shorts—those tiny fucking shorts—and smile. Can see the way uneasiness flits across her features as she drags them back up her legs, sparing a wary glance towards the door. Probably wondering if anyone heard her; if they heard the way she cried and moaned and gasped your name as she came undone against your face.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, only half-lying. “We weren’t that loud.”

But you can tell by the way she nods that she doesn’t quite believe you. That she’s still confused, still unsure, still wondering what this all means.

So you squeeze her shoulder, thumb pressing into the dip below her collarbone, and promise – “No one has to know.”

thank you for reading! x

maybe ill write another part to this where abby realises she wants to return the favour... idk we'll see

#middle finger and ring finger supremacy idgaf #my writing #fic: high strung #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson smut #abby anderson wlw fanfiction #abby anderson fic

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dreamandback · 1 month

Text

HE'S KINDA HOT THOUGH (huang renjun)

HE WON'T GET OUT OF MY HEAD

synopsis: although your late-night shifts were boring, the alone time was nice. but once renjun starts working them with you... well, that changes things, doesn't it?

genre: fluff, coworkers to lovers, non idol!au

warnings: renjun x gn!reader, coworker/wingman!haechan, mentions manager!taeil, mentions food/drinks, convenience store setting, reader is down bad, brief misunderstandings and insecurity, a kiss, a little sappy lol

word count: 1,797

author's note: this was barely proofread and was written in like 3 hours, pls excuse any typos 🙏 comments and reblogs are heavily appreciated and encouraged!

the corner store you worked at wasn’t well known, it was a hole in the wall that only a few people went to at night. it was mostly people buying snacks for midnight study sessions, or the occasional third shift worker picking up something for the ride home. you were often the only one there. your manager taeil, bless his sweet heart, hated that you were alone.

when your boss said he was holding interviews, you didn’t think much of it. probably just some high schoolers who needed pocket money, or struggling college students. either way, you didn’t think they’d stay long once they realized how empty the store always was. however, you didn’t mind if it was slow. it gave you time to yourself, and you took the time to daydream.

the week after taeil held the interviews was stressful, as you didn’t want to work with anyone new. but with no one new joining the night shifts, you relaxed a little. but the next week, haechan, the shift before yours, was talking to someone as you entered the back. at first, you thought maybe taeil was checking on you both and the store. but as you got to the employee room, and the voices became clearer, you knew that wasn’t the case.

pushing the cracked door open, your eyes were immediately drawn to the owner of the new voice. he was pretty. too pretty to be working in this rundown corner store. his hair was two-toned, the top layer black with the beneath bleached blonde. he had the prettiest boba eyes, his pale pink lips pouted as he asked a question. when he moved his hands to hips, you realized he made the ugly uniform vest look good, somehow.

you let the door close behind you, the sound of the metal frame rattling in the wall made the guy jump. his honey eyes darted to you, soft lips splitting into a grin when he met your gaze. you forced down the heat rising in your cheeks when haechan looked over to you, smiling brightly as he beckoned you over. you did so reluctantly, shrinking in on yourself when the brunette wrapped his arm around your waist.

“this is y/n, they’re the usual night shift worker! y/n, this is renjun, you’ll be working the night shift together from now on.” haechan said warmly, though his eyes held a mischievous glint to them when he caught bashfulness of your own. you ignored the jab of his finger in your side, instead sticking your hand out with a nervous smile. “it’s nice to meet you, renjun.” you said, trying to be pleasant.

renjun’s grin grew wider, smushing his eyes into his cheeks and turning them into crescents. he took your hand, shaking it twice. “it’s nice to meet you too, y/n. i hope you’ll take care of me.” he said back, his voice filling your head like the softest of clouds. when your hands dropped, and haechan took his arm away from your waist to show renjun around, you watched them go.

dumbly, you moved to stare at your hand as their voices faded slightly. you felt that lingering heat rise in your face, again. his hands were so soft.

it had been almost a month since renjun started working late shifts with you, and every night, you felt your heart race a little faster for him. whether it be from the sweet smile he’d send you over crates of snacks he was putting away, or how he’d hold the back room’s door open for you so you didn’t drop what you were carrying.

maybe it was the way he’d hang by the entrance, waiting for you to lock up so he could walk you home. or how he’d bring you coffee, telling you he stopped along the way when you knew for a fact there wasn’t a coffee place on the way there. it could’ve been the way he let his fingers linger a little too long when handing you something, or the way he’d let his hands hover over your waist when you stumbled.

maybe it was everything all at once. but whatever it was, whenever it started, you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you started to fall for huang renjun. the alone time you used to use for daydreaming, planning activities you knew you’d never start, or winning fake arguments in your head slowly evolved into thinking about renjun. they turned into thoughts of what it would be like to hold his hand just once, just for a moment.

they turned into thoughts of what it would be like to get coffee with him on a rainy night after your shifts ended, tucked into a corner booth while you snuck glances at each other. you thought about him while lying in bed at night, the city alive outside your window. you thought about how nice it’d be, to be snuggled up against his chest, listening to his heartbeat while moonlight streamed in through the curtains.

you thought about bringing him to your secret place, the rooftop garden of your building. you thought about how pretty he’d look with the glowing seoul lights against his skin, how pretty he’d look in casual clothes as you basked in each other’s presence. how pretty he’d look while you watched the world turn beneath you, all the people moving below at the speed of light while your lives blended, walking together in slow motion.

you thought about all that could be, whether he was there with you in the store or not. haechan could only watch as you opened your mouth to blurt out your feelings, only to shut down again and close in on yourself. he sighed at the confusion on renjun’s face when you shook your head, saying a halfhearted never mind when he questioned you.

eventually, when you had arrived early for a shift, haechan pulled into the stock room. when you shot him a frazzled look, he sighed. “y/n… you know i love you, right?” haechan said earnestly as he gripped your shoulders and you only nodded, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“do you need me to kill someone with you or something?” you asked seriously, concern increasing on your face. haechan raised a brow at you. “what?” he blinked at you before shaking his head. “no, no. what i do need you to do, is confess to renjun before i do it for you.” the brunette stated, shaking you gently.

you stared at him, blinking once, twice, before your eyes widened. “what?!” you blanched, voice cracking as you gripped his forearms. “what do mean, confess to him?” you hissed, eyes darting between haechan and the door to the front of the store. “i can’t do that! look at me!” haechan frowned at your panicked tone, moving his hands to grip your steadily heating cheeks.

“hey,” he spoke gently, smiling softly when your wide eyes met his. “you’re great. you’re sweet, you’re kind, you have so much to give. you’re my best friend, remember? would i ever lie to you?” haechan soothed you, letting you ponder. when you gave him a pointed look, he rolled his eyes. “okay, that was one time, and it was funny!” the brunette said, moving one of his hands to point at you accusingly.

“my point is,” haechan started. “if he doesn’t like you back, then that’s his loss, alright?” he forced you to meet his gaze. when you pouted at him, he knew he had won. “okay… you win.” you admitted, sighing defeatedly. haechan grinned triumphantly, squeezing your face in his hands. “i always do.” he chirped smugly, laughing when you punched him.

“anyway,” he continued. “if he does reject you, not that he would, we can order takeout. on me.” he grinned, making a show of crossing his heart. you nudged him, a thankful smile pulling at your lips. after hugging him, you walked back into the front together. when you saw renjun manning the register, you froze while haechan continued forward.

he waved to renjun as he walked out the front door, the little bell the only sound in the store beside the refrigerator hum. clearing your throat, you walked behind the counter, grabbing your vest from beneath it. renjun gave you a timid smile when you caught his eye, and you wondered why he was acting differently.

“you okay?” you asked quietly, even though it was only the two of you in the store. he jumped a little, shoulders rising to his ears. he looked at you before darting his eyes away quickly. “yeah, i’m okay. you?” he said, clearing his throat. “i’m good.” you replied, eyeing him suspiciously. renjun cringed at your expression, before turning to you.

he opened his mouth before hesitating, nervously licking his lips. “i, uh, i heard you and haechan talking.” he winced when you raised an eyebrow at him. “i didn’t hear all of it if that’s what you’re worried about!” he rushed out, his cheeks flushing red. “i just wanted to say congratulations… i didn’t know you and haechan were a thing.” renjun said, offering you a weak smile.

you stared blankly at him for a minute or two, oblivious to the fact that he was sweating bullets the longer your silence continued. “renjun.” you finally said, hiding your amusement when he looked at you like he was a child being scolded. “me and haechan aren’t together.” your words were laced with a poorly hidden laugh, watching his face bloom with scarlet.

“you… you’re not?” he asked, scratching the back of his head in confusion. “no, silly.” you said, allowing yourself to let out a chuckle. “we were talking about the guy i like.” you said with an impish smile, watching his eyes sadden. “oh! well, i-i hope it all goes well.” he said, smiling to cover up the way his heart tightened.

“mhm,” you hummed, stepping closer to him. “he’s this guy i work with,” you said, biting back your smile when his head whipped up. “he’s cute, has a sweet voice, always brings me coffee and refuses to let me pay him back.” you rolled your eyes with a smile, watching his eyes brighten as a smile grew on his lips.

“and i was hoping to ask him out today… do you think he’ll say yes?” you teased, taking his hands into yours, and swinging them gently. renjun’s smile was the biggest you’d ever seen it, face rosy with happiness as his grip tightened around your fingers. “i think he’ll definitely say yes. and if he doesn’t, he’s the biggest idiot in the world.” renjun breathed out airily, breath stuttering in his chest when you leaned in to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

dreamandback 2024. do not rewrite, repost, modify, or translate.

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niki-phoria · 1 year

Note

Can i request for Y/N taking care of sick TXT members but in school, idk maybe it's winter and they caught a really bad cold/flu but their mom/dad wanted them to attend school anyway and they're really sleepy and clingy or he's sleeping in class and you have to make everything for them, or maybe the fan makes them sneeze/cough and you have to give him medicine, he's normally really hyper but that day he's really calm and soft, you buy them tissues or water if they need it, but you did a lot of TXT sickfics so idk if this is too much or if you don't really feel comfortable writing this kind of things you don't have to do it, but thank you for reading ^^

⋆｡°✩ txt reaction - they get sick

includes: school au (could be high school or uni), sickfics are so easy to write lol, i adore beomgyu :((

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

gn reader (no pronouns used)

requests open !! read my rules first

⋆｡°✩ soobin

(word count 248)

you startle when soobin sneezes from beside you once again. the noise echoes throughout the otherwise silent library, making a few people glance over in your direction. you ignore them as you slide a box of tissues in his direction instead. “thank you,” he whispers, reaching out to grab one before blowing his nose as quietly as possible.

“are you okay?” you reach over, brushing the back of your hand against his forehead. soobin’s skin feels warm - even in the few seconds it takes for you to check his temperature. “you’ve been sneezing all day.”

“i’m fine,” he sniffles. “i’m sure it’s just the flu or something.”

“well, your flu has been making you sneeze all over our textbooks,” you tease. soobin’s face flushes slightly in response. he glances down at the open books as if he’ll be able to see the germs coating the pages. “come on,” you whisper. “let’s go home. get some rest.”

“y/n, i have a test next week-”

you cut him off by closing your textbook and shoving it into your backpack. “and you won’t be able to study when you’re sick.” you walk around the desk to his side, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “i’ll make you some soup, and we can cuddle, and sleep,” you say, exaggerating the words.

“okay,” soobin lets out a small sigh as he reluctantly follows your lead, packing up his own notes. “but only because you’re so cute when you ask.”

⋆｡°✩ yeonjun

(word count 302)

you startle slightly when your phone begins vibrating violently against the library desk you had been working on. you apologetically shrink back when the librarian glances over the top of his book to momentarily glare at you as you slip outside to answer the call.

“hello?”

you’re met with violent coughing on the other end for a few seconds before yeonjun’s shaky voice comes through the line. “y/n,” he all but whimpers. “can you come over? please?”

“of course,” you lower the volume on your phone as you re-enter the library. you prop your phone against your ear as you shove your things into your backpack. “are you still at home?”

“i’ve been home all day,” he says. “i think i’m sick.”

“i’ll be right there.”

you sling your backpack over your shoulder before running out of the school until you reach yeonjun’s house. the cold chilling your bones and the bewildered looks from strangers you pass along the way are ignored until you reach his house.

you find yeonjun sitting in the bathroom. his back is pressed against the wall; his eyes closed. “jagi,” you whisper. you kneel down beside him, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “are you okay?”

“i’ve been throwing up all day,” he whispers.

“oh, honey,” you murmur, bringing a hand up to press against his forehead. it feels warm against your skin. “can i get you anything?”

“just want you,” yeonjun whispers.

you give him a sympathetic smile, moving to sit beside him. you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers together. “okay. then we can sit here until you feel better.”

yeonjun leans over to rest his head against your shoulder, letting his eyes shut once again. “i love you,” he whispers.

you squeeze his hand. “i love you too.”

⋆｡°✩ beomgyu

(word count 259)

you pull your coat tighter around your body to protect against the winter chill that blows past as you rush up the steps to beomgyu’s door. you shiver as you raise a hand up before knocking on the thick wood separating you from your boyfriend and the warmth inside.

you can hear a light scuffling before the door cracks open to reveal a very tired, sickly beomgyu. “y/n,” he rasps out with a soft smile.

“gyu,” you whisper. he opens the door just enough to let you inside, revealing a mess of tissues on the table beside his couch. you tug the blanket resting just around his shoulders further around his body. “taehyun said you were sick. how are you feeling now?”

“tired,” beomgyu whispers. you let him step forwards to lazily wrap his arms around your waist. he leans against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “wanna cuddle with you.”

“okay,” you rest your hand on his lower back as you slowly guide him back towards the couch. “we can cuddle.”

the couch is uncomfortable and cramped as you shove yourself into the small space between beomgyu and the back cushions, though you don’t complain as he nuzzles further against your chest. you lean down, brushing the hair out of his face and pressing a kiss against his forehead. “get some rest, jagi,” you whisper.

beomgyu simply hums in response. his voice is slurred - likely a mix of the sickness and how tired he is. “love you.”

“i love you too,” you whisper.

⋆｡°✩ taehyun

(word count 236)

taehyun poorly stifles yet another cough with his arm. he turns his arm as he violently heaves for a few seconds before sitting up beside you once again. your teacher barely spares him a glance over her shoulder as she continues her lecture. taehyun sniffles as he lets out a small sigh before turning back to his notes.

you wait for her to turn her back on you before reaching over to gently pat his back. “are you okay?” you whisper.

“‘m fine,” he replies, though you notice his voice is raspier than usual. a thin layer of sweat has started to form against his uncharacteristically pale skin. his hand feels clammy in yours.

“you’ve been coughing all morning.” you let the lecture fall on deaf ears; your attention remaining fully on your boyfriend. taehyun simply sniffles once again in response.

unsatisfied, you reach over to slide his notebook in front of you. you reach up to cup his cheek with your hand before pressing the back of it against his forehead. it feels unusually warm. you sigh, coaxing his head to lean against your shoulder. “i’ll take your notes. just try to get some rest, okay?”

taehyun looks over at you, debating whether or not to protest before he finally sighs. “fine,” he whispers. his eyes flutter shut as he leans against you. “just make sure my notes are good, okay?”

“of course,” you hum.

⋆｡°✩ huening kai

(word count 270)

you rush down the steps of the bus, calling out a ‘thank you’ over your shoulder. you run through the snowy streets as quickly and carefully as you can. in your hurry to get to kai’s house, you had forgotten any sort of coat - a decision you only regret more and more as the cold chills your bones through the thin fabric of your school uniform.

shivers only continue to rack through your body as you run up the steps to kai’s house. you cup your hands over your mouth, breathing against your skin in an attempt to warm yourself up after knocking on the door. you’re quick to rush into the house as soon as the door cracks open, relishing in the warmth from the heaters inside.

“y/n?” kai asks.

“kai,” you smile, rubbing your hands against your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up.

he steps forwards, wrapping his body around you. “what are you doing here?”

“i ran into bahiyyih earlier. she said you weren’t feeling well.” kai tugs you even closer, shifting so the blanket resting around his shoulders is wrapped around yours instead.

“so you thought the best decision was to run through seoul without a jacket to my house in the middle of the school day?” he asks.

you shrug. “thought you could use some company.”

“well, you were right.” kai laughs, pulling you into a hug. he guides you towards the couch before pulling you down to lay back against the cushions beside him. you shift to pull him down into a quick kiss. “i’m glad you came.”

“i am too.”

483 notes · View notes

littleroaes · 8 months

Text

Boys In Cat's Clothing pt.2 (100 note special), l.jy pt.1

— how the season that comes to change, takes his life with it. Strangers that passed him by has now come to effect his own life, paint it in colors and forms outside his own framework. And when his new found friend at the bakery, and a strange girl during the setting sun, asks him about love. He desperately wants to name the sensation in his heart, and hope that Y/n will too.

PAIRING ➤ lee juyeon x fem!reader

GENRE ➤ FLUFF, cat shapeshifter!juyeon, mutual pining(as always), clingy juyeon, juyeon just want to be loved, soft angst?(fight for your love!), Eric feature, cute jealousy, happy ending

WARNINGS ➤ none, proofread once so probably missed something!

WORD COUNT ➤ 8.7 k

AUTHOR'S NOTE ➤ it is here! Part two of boys in cats clothing plus three extra scenes! (The bonus scenes doesn’t have a specific timeline in their relationship) As pt.1, it isn’t much of a complicated story, just fluffy feels! Boys in cat’s clothing was my first story as littleroaes, so I took to the opportunity to celebrate it! Shoutout to @blue-rainydays and @from-izzy for cheering me on lol. I really went through it a couple of times, enjoy!

TAGGING @blue-rainydays for you my blue!!

“YOU'RE NOT TOGETHER” THE DOUGH FALLS BETWEEN THE FINGER GAPS DOWN ONTO THE SILVER COUNTER.

"Together?" Juyeon asks while he watches its color reminiscent of vanilla, fall to the center and spread from its mit.

“Yeah?”

The sunlight reflected in a specific window and the pattern of tiles he steps onto everyday, has become all the more familiar. At the start of his time at the bakery, he refused to go alone. Y/n woke up about an hour earlier than what the time on her squares in row told her to. It was all, just to let Juyeon out of the four walls that, at some point, crossed the line of customary and took his mind and forced it in full circles. So when she stood with him before the pink painted walls and windows from floor to ceiling, Juyeon became determined to come home and tell her everyday about his passionate way of life.

When Juyeon for the first time in his life stepped onto the wooden floor and heard the bell chime from above. He fell another centimeter closer to Earth. Before him, centered without need of a net, a guy similar to himself(Y/n being his reference). At the time, he behind the counter reached out his arm and waved to him from across the room. Another chime goes off before Juyeon forced his arm up in a rigid manner, greeted him in a voice stale, similar to bread in the open air for two weeks.

Y/n stood beside him, with gentle force pushing his side with her elbow. Juyeon looked down at that moment, but refuted back to his habits of scratching his nape and desperately giving Y/n his eyes curved so that every bit of sunlight passed through them.

Though, now, Juyeon has lost focus of the cream-white dot on the desk. Instead he has found interest in the youngest shirt. The highest point where the lines of his arm and shoulder meet. Fabrics and hands covered in flour. Eric’s blue gloves that shine with snow like flour and crystal sugar, reach out for the silk ribbon tied to his neck, allusive to a spring girl in middle school, her name being First Love. Juyeon’s eyes follow Eric’s finger, to the point below his chin, and back to his face.

“No…we’re not.” Juyeon’s lips, luscious as the green sprouts converting to rose petals in spring. To bring to touch the mark on his life. Juyeon, without gradual rendition, let his hands, painted in sugar, fall away from the ribbon without as much of an allude to the others essence.

“Why?” He asks while Eric finds his voice and demeanor to be of the angel on the right side of his shoulder.

”Should we be?” Juyeon, whose back falls a bit curved over the counter, shrinks even lower. All words articulated by him in this moment yearns for the youngest perspective on the world and the correct answers for the obviously wavering nature of his question. Eric abruptly loses focus on the dough again, and right as it comes out of his grip, the edge between his two fingers tear off. And the bell chimes when another colleague comes through the door. Somehow, when the colleague fades behind the door and Eric lets him wander, the bridge between their eyes is fully horizontal, with no diagonals.

“No…?” Eric knits his eyebrows, “you two just looked like it.”

The single corner piece that teared off, melts together with the essence without seems, when Eric starts shaping it once more. To force the cream-white fragile fragment in sphere shape, and all at once let Earth take a bit of the curve when it falls onto the tray. And Juyeon’s vision suddenly changes direction and once again, lands on his own work space. His arms hover over the counter, hands gently shape a crater-mit to watch space fill it up, and his red apron hangs above his knees. Just as Eric's question runs through the secret corners of his mind.

The curtains work as a filter for their screen to the outerworld. And how the TV radiates mellow blue shades throughout the entire room. The screen, with colors he didn’t know existed before, spread its blueprint onto the objects closest to it.

In the beginning, Juyeon couldn’t work out the change in ambience when the curtains were down. But he knows now, the exact position of the not so bright room, and therefore the light would shine through their secluded corner, if it wasn’t for the flimsy fabric separating the two.

On the rectangular screen, it has captured a picture of their own world and built it up with every pixel. But still, the camera shifts over the highly saturated landscape without details. With loss of this reality, their world is built with grain spots and rigid edges. The couple in this saturated world on the TV sits on a dark bench. How the camera stands in a slight high-point to capture crowns of the city beneath their feet. The camera angles itself for the audience to kindly discern the top part of her dress, most of the dull fabric is covered by her brown locks. The single shot drags on without dialog, she simply stares out over the loud space before her. Juyeon takes up his legs on the sofa, he squints his eyes and feels how that world calls him. The horizon reflects the lead's eyes, but somehow, something else, other than the city pours over them.

Finally, the two on TV bring their hands together as the sunlight, through all hills, clouds and man made structures, illuminates them. How the Earth and Sun have fallen into position, makes the two, on the bench seem even more destined.

Juyeon looks over towards Y/n.

Her face has the artificial light cast up on itself. Dialog on the TV fades to whispers of weather on a windy day. The fabric of her shirt makes a stark contrast against the fabric of the couch, and her hands hold her lower legs. As the scenery on the TV passes, the entirety of his attention follows the single details of her pupils intensely dissecting the TV world.

“Y/n?” Juyeon’s voice reaches her ears like the morning sun on a rain-covered leaf. How the smell of petrichor radiate a sense of belonging, his call compel her own existence to get a fragment of his own.

“Hm?” She faces him.

The words tail end somewhere in his throat and tears at the edge of his lips. Passing conversations in his new life crowds his mind. It pulsates deeply and torments the pressing surfaces. Juyeon closes his eyes. How the world becomes non-existent and the thoughts become less vivid, outlined and with colors.

At the same time, Y/n lies her eyes on his fingers. One starts to bother the left and she shifts herself closer to the full moon outside their window. And another star falls when they intertwine hands. Juyeon watches the couch mit, where their hands touch from above it. At the same time, his heart falters and it becomes a rhythm reminiscent of the clock during midnight. Y/n looks at him with immense eyes, how everything outside the four walls carrying them seize to exist.

His eyes look at hers with a fluorescence sort of filter, complete with yearning, “Y/n, what does it mean to be ‘together’?”

When the words leave his lips, it opens her heart as a flower visualizing the world for the first time in spring. But as it does that, Y/n force the petals to compulse, seem itself from the world like it has never existed. His eyes with curiosity refuse to leave her own. And the effect arises as her eyes change direction of the room and legs fall to the floor to touch the rug beneath them.

While her vision casts itself in every direction, it lands on the TV screen, “It’s like them.” Y/n points at it. How the scene before them portrays them in a landscape so dull and devoid of color, but as one has their chin on their palm at the other mirror, the person over the table in their rectangular vision must be vivid of colors.

“Caring and comforting the other and receiving the same love back.” Y/n nods and looks back at Juyeon. To stare at a different world with a tilted head and let it be the answer to its questions. His eyes fall back to Y/n. In moments of understanding his new life, Juyeon wears this demeanor, similar to his true form.

“Like us?”

How his face sparkles in light. Another light that makes the natural shadows, highlights of the world and its fabricate stand as desolate. Juyeon’s essence is in this novel moment and her words, trapped in glass. Even when the spotlights are off and the sun has fallen under Earth, Juyeon still makes out the faint rosy pigments forming under her eyes. Just as she observes the rug beneath them and scratches her head, Juyeon’s back straightens and his arms in his lap become aligned, symmetrical to the other beside it.

Back when he took the first step into her house and he started asking questions that had Y/n inspecting things in her own home. Juyeon genuinely believed she fell in curiosity over the details of her life. That rosy stains, abrupt silence, and eyes diverting towards the corners of the room was a language of interest in daily life. But as one kept passing the other each morning sun and he gently started through the looking glass, into the people like her. Juyeon realized that the pattern in her behavior, that the out-of-world state wasn’t a deep concentration of understanding, rather, his own life’s effect on her.

The moment that euphoria came crashing right through him, his eyes fell and he moved closer to Y/n. Asked her with great eyes and slight forward posture if he keeps making her sick like this. If the rosyness on her face will spread to her inner self and contaminate every part of her body until she can’t breathe. Y/n got even redder by that at the time, and described with overlapping words and unclear hand motions. By somehow, Juyeon understood her colors are not a bad thing, not what they are, but it’s something positive, because of him.

Therefore, he smiles endearingly when she faces the flower vase on the table.

“No-I-not like us.”

His face drops in an instant, and Y/n purse her lips in and forces her eyes closed. It all sets as a desperate and pained expression in the dark complex of the night.

“We love each other a lot right?” She opens up her arms, “And there different types of love.” Y/n sighs before she continues, “All of them are good, and we describe them differently.“ ”‘Together’ is just not ours.”

The atmosphere from before has shifted. The moment Y/n put an end to her sentence, a wind came opening the two windows and a cold, winter season lies over the room. Y/n’s left hand starts scratching the edge of her right nails. The distance between them seems even further, though it’s just 50 centimeters. For a moment, Y/n looks up towards him, his face speaks of someone looking out into the fading distance when the Earth’s collapsing. She bites her lip and looks away. Them on the TV, talk about love and a single sentence runs between the silence in their apartment.

Could I be yours forever?

Y/n coughs before she stands up. The controller lies on the coffee table and reaches out for it.

“We should sleep right, you need to work well tomorrow too.”

Juyeon looks up from his spot on the couch beneath her. Her smile like it always is, making flowers grow in cold seasons or convert light when all the sources of the world withers. When she looks at him like that, all in this moment, an unfamiliar feeling runs through him. Sensations he can’t connect back to either his new or old life. Y/n comes closer and pet his head.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

Juyeon’s hand pushes his own weight off the couch, without words, he takes a step away from the warm spot. As won’t take his hand in hers, Y/n take one step closer and gently lace them. To walk towards the bed and wrap themself in fabrics.

“Good night, Juyeon.” Y/n whispers. The yearning for an answer coats her heart as one second fabricates onto another. And when she opens her mouth to whisper it again, Juyeon returns the sentence in a voice devoid of that serene tulip feeling she gets every time he speaks.

How the room falls in complete silence. Despite the sheet forcing warmth to cling to the abundant parts of her body, a coldness from the window pierce right through it. Y/n looks over towards Juyeon, to face nothing but his hair. As the moon motions over the sky, the right side of the matter becomes lighter. The fabric falls towards the mattress surface and he on the other side is now so small to fit on the pillow instead.

And when the rain starts falling on their windows, Y/n can only feel that it’s her heart making motions over Earth. But despite storms and endless puddles forming on the street corners. Y/n put a bandaid on her inside, meanwhile forcing tape onto her own mouth and tie ropes on her wrist. There is a thought. That has been folded into the deepest part of her consciousness. That Juyeon’s affection, despite the adrenaline it gives her, is compatible with an innocent child confessing to their teacher. It is a part of growing up.

And the sunset stands at the lower end of the sky and spreads its vivid colors over the horizon. Y/n turn away from the painting-like view and stare at Juyeon’s expression when the orange shade leaks from the horizon line and bleeds throughout the ocean. The scenery to their right as they walk past unknown conversations, and couples with knitted hands. In the other end of two directions, are painted signs, booths and hangers of clothes in shades reminiscent of the scene beside them.

“Should we get something to eat?” Y/n looks up at Juyeon who returns the same expression with, in contrast, a lowered head. To stand at the railing over the ocean edge as he nods. She smiles and releases his hand to walk towards the booth with a blue fabric sign and smoke escaping from the open points. Though, one step from his being, and his hands come back to her own. She looks behind her again and sees his immense eyes looking back at her as if watching disarray. Together with how his hand consoles her own like he misses it.

“I need to buy it.” Y/n smiles.

“Can’t I go with you.” He takes a step closer while still holding her hand.

Y/n look at his eyes and slight pout. How the wind braids itself with his hair and takes it, but miserably fails, so it settles before his eyes. Y/n thinks of the near past, and remembers all decisions. How at this time in this space, herself one month ago would have sighed and gripped his hand a bit tighter. To secure him that there is never an empty space beside him. But as another moth went by and the moon changed its patterns, she came to think of his fragile heart and first discovery of the world around him. To let his person grow beautifully, he too should stand before Earth with his own feet. Look at its sides and discover its beauty, not her.

Y/n shakes her head, “Stay here, I’ll be back soon.” She pats his head and runs away. This time, Juyeon lets her hand escape his own.

For a second, Juyeon looked in the opposite directions of his surroundings. Life as complex as his own passes him as if it all is nothing. The faces of the people become stranger and they all merge into one. The very real presence of others makes him shake his head and concentrate on the back of Y/n’s figure and how she stands in the queue. A bit less than a minute and the sun has fallen another centimeter towards the water, in contrast to Juyeon who has stayed in the same space she left him in.

“Hey?” He feels a touch to the shoulder of his shirt. A girl stands beside him at the railing, staring at him with rather dull eyes. Juyeon turns behind him, but none of the people on the forever long railing turn to face her.

“Hey?” She says again and Juyeon points at himself.

“Yeah, you.” She nods and his eyes widens.

“My friend thinks you’re cute.”

The girl five centimeters beneath him wears an expression contrasting to the sun's drowned path. Juyeon watches her, who shows no emotions, therefore he slowly brings his hands closer to his chest. To break eye contact with her, his eyes yearn for the person under the smoke and thin roof. But to his heart that flows continuously and hands that grasp whatever’s familiar, she stands with her back towards him.

“So?” Her voice overpowers the incoming wind and the waves crashing against the edge. How her body stands frozen as they’ve stared at each other, but suddenly she releases her crossed arms and motions her shoulders. His hands tightly knitted together come even closer to his chest under the sweater. When she sighs quietly, Juyeon feels a rush to bring him one meter below where his eyes fall now. To become out of reach towards human emotions and run under the nearest flower pot.

“Yes or no?” She asks again. Juyeon’s eyes grow larger and the ends fall into a sort of curved motion. At this point, a white question mark has drawn itself over his head.

“Are you going out? Taking her number?” She looks over her shoulder and tilts her head towards the friend again, “You think she’s cute too?”

His eyes insist on keeping themselves open. To switch between hers and the girl’s presence underneath one tree. The two scenes start fading into one, colors leak into the other’s surface and the forms of the world become curved. Juyeon finally closes his eyes and feels the water accumulate on its end.

“Forget it.” The girl sighs. Her white shoes hit the wood beneath them. How her hair follows the motions of her heels turning the other direction from his.

A tension suspended to his shoulders, falters as Juyeon watches how her silhouette will falter from his vision. A bicycle passes him to grab his attention, and as it leaves the framed world, his eyes fall back on Y/n who talks with the person in white cloth behind the cart. At that moment, Juyeon’s hands let go of the other one and he takes for the first time one step closer to the other person leaving his sight.

“Can you help me with something?” The girl turns back to Juyeon standing with one hand over his nape.

She stays quiet for a few seconds.

“Sure,” she sighs, “what do you want?”

To search the world for phrases and listen to the conversations behind him, “Is that a good way to ask someone to be your girlfriend?”

Her eyes dissect his life and his inner self. It uncomfortably tickles his shoulders and withers his height.

“I mean…” He scratches his nape again, “what your friend did.” he clarifies.

The silence that comes after his questions is rather painful. Despite constant talking and surrounding them, it can’t save the dying air between them. The sunset is right between tier two silhouettes, but is all but magical.

“Yeah…” she looks at him weirdly, “I guess.”

“Okay.” He smiles brightly, “Thank you.”

“No problem.” The girl walks away with furrowed eyebrows.

Juyeon, paints and sculpts the world in his mind when the friend under the tree eagerly walks towards the other one. He doesn’t see how she waves her hand before her friend’s face and turns her back onto the sea.

When the sun has moved another centimeter down the horizon, Juyeon stands watching it falling towards its death. He hears footsteps become all the clearer from behind, and while smiling, he turns his back on the scene in order to become a background, and fully faces Y/n. In both her hands she holds a rectangular cardboard piece. The plate with its fascinating textures and worldly colors.

“Sorry it took some time.” She hands him one of the plates and Juyeon receives it with both hands.

“Did it go well?”

She watches how his head lifts when he stops staring at the food in his palms. A wind comes right the moment he looks up and catches some of his hair strands. A part of her heart drowns in the sunset when he smiles after her question. Juyeon nods so that his fringe follows his motions and Y/n reach her hand out for it. She forces one strand to the left and Juyeon watches her face as she does. Thereafter, Y/n follows the patterns of his hair and comes to the highest point. Her hand gently brings the strands down to his scalp, and Juyeon closes his eyes and brings his head down to her height.

“Eric?”

The youngest at the table looks up from his phone to see Juyeon with his arms folded over the table. Those eyes, immersive and bright from the sunlight behind the store window. Juyeon is slightly leaned over the white table and Eric, naturally, forces his eyes wider to mirror Juyeon before him.

“I need your help,” He says with seriousness. How Juyeon’s posture lean on the rest of his chair, and his eyes on a single point as if everything else has faded from him. Eric lets go of his phone fully, resting with the screen down against the white painted surface.

“What is it?” To fully reciprocate his question, he too leans forward. Eric’s full attention lands on his friend, even when the bell from the front door chimes, he won’t look away.

“You need to make me Y/n’s boyfriend.”

Juyeon watches how Eric’s posture sinks in the single second those words leave his mouth. That expression, Juyeon thinks. It's all evocative to the girl from the sunset ocean.

“Okay…?” He leans back into the chair, knitted eyebrows and a confused look towards him on the other side of the table. “Why?” Though, the question leaves his lips and his eyes observes Juyeon’s, a view of himself in bird’s eye perspective takes him off the back rest. Instead Eric leans forward again.

“Or I guess that’s obvious,” Eric says as Juyeon looks at him with hands in his laps, “Why can’t you do it on your own?”

Juyeon’s eyes across the table, looking at Eric himself, turned his back on God. At some point, Eric tilts his head and lifts one eyebrow. To live in the same apartment should be enough to find confidence in one's own relationship, he thinks. But as Eric finds no sympathy in Juyeon’s condition, the one with a confused way of looking at the world, earnestly shakes his head. Those eyes alone and the stare that reaches across the table, is enough to make Eric lean back again.

“It’s not the right way.” Juyeon still shakes his head. The palm of his hands land on the plastic surface of the white table.

Eric, once again, knits his brows and brings his arm to cross one under.

“There’s a ‘right’ way to do it?!”

Juyeon nods.

Eric sighs, his head directs itself towards the ceiling. One square of the white patterns sits two centimeters off its white border. His vision falls back to where it was before, and Juyeon once again becomes the center of it. Eric lets his hands drop from the cross over his chest and he asks;

“Okay, tell me then, what should I do?”

His hands in his lap. How his fingers have started to fiddle with the other and Juyeon is enchanted by the motions and fabrics that follow it, “You tell her that your friend thinks she’s cute.”

Eric stares with wide eyes, lost its vigor during the ten steps the minute visor has moved on the wall behind him. Another coworker passes them by, asking them to walk over to the counter to take the next person who chimes the bell. Eric watches how, the second those words leave the person's mouth, Juyeon stands up from his seat to face him, the one that gave them order fully. How the fabric of their aprons lifts when he who has them orders turn back to the colorless door three meters away. Juyeon looks back at Eric who still hasn’t stood up. Juyeon’s arm reaches to his mid tight, and they hang awkwardly there like decorations when he asks;

“Can you do it?”

Eric wonders whether the older guy before him has a dating life more depressing than the rusted bench outside the window, as he sits there. Or hold some sort of romantic power, too strong and creative for his simple mind.

“Sure, I’ll do it.”

Two friends sit in the inner corner of the room, right by the pink letters on the window. How the r&b playlist paints time in this space and to Eric, who stands at the register without current purpose, each word becomes distinct despite its faint presence. Eric watches the clock on the right side of the room. How the second visor completes another round of teh silver frame, and the minute visor lands on a perfect number. Behind him is another one of their workers in white apron, but Juyeon is nowhere to be seen. And before Eric leaves the register, the clear chime of the golden bell goes off and casts itself over the bakery.

He turns away from the backroom and sees Y/n wave at him from the white frame. A bag decorates her left shoulder and her hair in turn falls over the fabric straps. It is a slightly colder season than before, so with time, her clothes have gotten all thicker to protect the skin from the cold. Y/n comes up to the counter and greets him, similar to the birds singing when the first flowers in spring grow. The hands on the counter fall to his sides and he greets her too.

Another second passes and the expression of spring converts into something differently. To look for the sprouts of life in mid-winter, there is nothing for her to find. Eric sees how her chin lifts to see the space behind him.

“Where’s Juyeon?” Her eyes speak of liquid moonlight.

“He’s getting something, outside.” Eric looks around, “He’s here soon.”

She nods. With only the barely one meter register between them, there is a silence created when two desperately try to solve a sentence in desperation to fill time.

“I need to ask you something.” Eric stammer. The counter surface covers the patterns drawn by his white shoes. Y/n opens her eyes a bit wider and grabs the single strap on her shoulder. Juyeon’s question runs circles in his mind. To keep reaching back towards the kitchen.

“My friend thinks you’re cute.” Eric finally says.

Her eyes widen while her arms become rigid.

“I-that’s flattering” Y/n stammer, “but…”

Her voice fades to silence as Eric tilts his head. Y/n continuously blinks as the side of his head desperately leans towards the left. To look at the erratic behavior, until she catches how a silhouette comes out from behind the metal. His hand on the silver side and the strands over lustrous eyes, it all that has carved itself a space in her heart. Y/n see it all, only for a second, but it is enough to understand Eric’s exact language and square demeanor.

“Oh.” Y/n smiles and looks at Eric. He, in contrast, furrows his eyebrows and leans towards her. Seek for another soul in the room to connect over his, what Eric thinks is, love-drowned behavior.

“Tell him to meet me outside then.” Y/n straightens her posture and walks outside. The bell goes off again and Eric is left staring at the empty spot without traces.

The second the chime from the edge reaches the far corner of the kitchen. Juyeon comes out from the metal covering his presence. That the skin of his hands cover a significant part of the outer edge of the metal machine. Eric’s back faces Juyeon and he fully frees himself from the cover and walks up to him.

“What did she say?” Juyeon asks, his eyes drowned in moonlight glitter.

Eric, at the register, finally stops staring at the point Y/n departed from.

“To meet you outside.” Eric says without any sort of surgarcoat lining between his words. As his face watches over Juyeon’s, the bright light from outside becomes uncovered by the clouds just as his lips beam.

How the two last digits on their phones count upwards as they bring the chairs over tables and take the mop to clean off the irregular pattern over the wooden floor. The bell chimes endlessly as the workers leave the room with windows from floor to ceiling. Juyeon and Eric are the last two out of the bakery, and Eric brings the keys to the door and a low sound comes from within the door when he turns his wrist.

Juyeon turns away from the frame and out over the city. As the buildings ascend above the square bakery and between the towers that pierce through the atmosphere, the setting sun beams its last warmth for the day. The two of them take their step down the stairs. Only four steps or two until they reach the sidewalk concrete and wave the other goodbye. And when Juyeon sees Eric’s back face him and his shadow paints itself over the street and reaches the cars on the other side, he turns behind him.

How the tiles of the sidewalk and sunlight lead him straight to the bench where she stands. The shadow beneath her feet follows the motion of her right hand as she waves to him. For a single moment, Juyeon stands on the tiles as if they’ve forced him down onto them. But in reality, that the earth round the sun in a forever circle seems unbearable. Because, when Y/n takes a step closer towards his existence, the entire solar system could circle around her.

“Did work go well?” Her voice is soft and familiar of daily life as she stands before him. When she looks at him attentively, he nods so that the loose fabrics around his body follow it. Soon after, Y/n take the end fabric of his sleeve and gently pull his body towards her own. Sounds of shoe surface scratching against the rough tiles reach his ears, and then, they’re letting the street guide them further down the city.

People become faceless as they enter the immense circle in the middle of the city. Juyeon grabs onto Y/n’s arm and she looks up to see his eyes follow the paths of strangers. How they cross red light and half way through, then color turns on its spectrum and the green light illuminates the concrete. The constant pitched sound pattern grabs onto his mind and torments a part of each senses. Y/n watches how his eyes closes. Without another second between the two cars and two groups of people before them, Y/n brings the left side of his body closer to her right. By nearly running, the two of them get to the end edge of the street.

Juyeon finally opens his eyes when a wind blows past his lids. The maze of skyscrapers, signs and music have opened up before them. And now they stand on the path dividing the capital into two. Once again, they stand by the side of the city river and soon walk where the railing paints the edge of the water. Like the couples, parents with children in neon blue padded jackets and high school friends on bicycles, they follow the railing up towards each bridge that decorates horizontally over the vertical river.

Conversations of people without faces crosses their life and fades before they get to comprehend it. They walk past one bridge, and how the pillars underneath it shows its true massiveness. Though, as they walk there, side by side in the illuminated city center, Juyeon continuously takes glances at her beside him.

To go through the scene in intricate detail. Count the seconds and paint the motions, Juyeon can’t find the strings attaching Eric’s help at the bakery to their moment by the river. Despite receiving his question and answering it, in what he guesses, is a positive manner, she once again is by his side without a mention of his action. Though, he thinks back on the scene during the sunset, when the girl said her friend thought he was cute. She never got beyond that. What is supposed to happen after that? he thinks. Has the universe now, with that acknowledgement at the bakery woven together their existences? Will a sensation from another world visit his dreams?

The thoughts rushes from his mind out towards his fingers and radiate to the deepest corners of his body. Juyeon once again looks at Y/n when they come to the next bridge where three benches stand in a pattern of two meters in between.

“Are we together now?” He asks suddenly.

His voice binds her heart to his own, therefore, her body, with just a small measure shifts closer to his own. Y/n looks up towards him with eyes mirroring the open river and chin a bit higher as if to compare each feature under his fringe. When they walk like this, Y/n waits for his lips to imitate the crescent moon that stands before them. But instead, a midnight streak in his eyes pulsates before her and his lips slightly apart.

“What?” She asks.

Juyeon stops one step before her in the midst of the river path and asks again “Are we together?”

Another wind comes between them when they stand one meter away from the other. How the couples and workers walk past them without lending a lens towards the two of them in the midst of the open path. Y/n’s vision covers when the wind takes one of hair strands, and without looking away from him before her, she forces it back between her ears.

“You need to tell me.” The words fall desperately as his fingers begin fiddling with the other. His eyebrows fall into a sort of outward motion. Another flash before the pupil pulls on her heart and forces her to breathe out.

“I-we’re not…” She stammers.

Juyeon’s shoulders falter even deeper. Tragic weather has taken on the single square where they stand. The continuous motions of her chest is the only part of her that can be seen from outside, as she watches how his eyes fall to her shoes.

“It hurts me, Y/n.” He breathes, “can’t you feel it too?”

Despite standing in the midst of the overcrowded city, a silence only at the edge of the world has fallen over it. Y/n opens her lips as if she’s about to answer him, but the silence draped over the buildings that circle them like walls, spreads like poison through her veins. To voice so much of a vowel, she’s afraid venom will falter.

“But it’s not like that, Juyeon.” She takes a step closer, “You don’t love me.”

The calmness of the sunset evening is gently wrapped between her fingers. And when her hand reaches out to his shoulder, it tears off in one motion and falls to the floor and withers. Juyeon backs away. The evershining in his eyes that she has come to adore, has melted off his pupils, becoming liquid starlight at the end of his eyes.

“What should I do for you to believe me?” He finally breathes, “that I love you.” The transparent wall suffocating them two, shatters in a single flicker as Juyeon walks out of it. Left before her is an empty space and a cold wind. She looks to the left to see his silhouette become smaller and fall in line with the bench. Her hand between sky and floor, desperately calls for someone to take it.

Y/n can feel something gripping at the parts of her lungs as Juyeon walks towards the bench. His silhouette is ever so small against the immense river. When her feet stand in the same position still, and another person brush shoulders against her own to get through. It too, takes onto her skin and forces a deep, cold, metal lining into her heart. Somehow, it turns to the left and Y/n can feel her own knees desperately standing still.

When her heart aches, Y/n looks back over the beautiful scene. How in every preservation, she would want to see him in the center. She sees him like this, and the sunset falls over him as if it is their only purpose. In the midst of her existence, he has become smaller. And when standing still at the edge of the world, Y/n realize this sudden fear. That he’ll walk along the path without her, and at the end another day, he will have faded like summer when it grace to autumn.

Y/n finally leaves the spot behind her without traces. She holds her eyes on his hair as if to make sure that every moment he’ll continue to exist.

Juyeon looks towards her when she takes the spot beside him.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to be together.” he looks down, “Just say no.” He says while looking out over the lights in colors to form a path at midnight for those who wander, “Because, I just…want you to know that I love you.”

When they sit by the river, his profile shows no sign of awareness of her own existence. Memories from before come back to her from every side and force itself into her heart. The scene up on the hill before the same river they’re beside now, plays behind her lens like a film from before. And when he breathes for a second time and the breeze from the water perfectly lies one strand behind the other. Y/n realizes how much he has grown. His emotions were gently wrapped in three sentences, ending in a yellow silk bow. A sort of sincerity in the golden lining threads her broken parts.

She finally smiles, when she looks at his hand that has reached out for hers. His smile that for the first time falters when he’s with her. At last, another conversation behind them fades and the world has fallen silent.

Y/n takes his hand in hers and leans towards him with lowered head. He looks up at her through the hair strands and waits for her words to torment the deepest parts within him.

“I love you too, Juyeon.”

For a second, the line between the two falls in complete silence. It is this pitched sound that vibrates in the ceiling of one's ear, and it lingers there as each second passes. Though, finally Juyeon lifts his chin even a bit higher. His eyes clear as the sky curved over their heads and how the edges of his lips have formed a rose pink cradle.

“You do?”

Y/n nods.

At this moment, Juyeon fully lifts his legs from the grass growing out between the tiles and crosses them over the bench. His front faces hers without a hidden feature and at last, he takes her other hand in his. And as they sit there under the falling sky, Y/n looks down onto her legs drawing circles on the gray concrete. How Juyeon sees his own life paints hers and he feels that sensation in the hidden corner of himself.

The same feeling he recalls from their daily life. A sensation intimate with his new life takes his breath from the lowest parts within him before letting out. And his chest seems to bring him life for an eternity.

“Can you feel it too?” Juyeon asks curiously and Y/n looks back up.

Her eyes fall wider when he, without signs, brings his hand onto her heart protected in layers. Where the sensation mirrors his own. And an empty field without wind, Y/n watch him without motions. She looks at his eyes that concentrate on the pulsating on his palm.

And he gasps with immense eyes, “You feel it too?”

Y/n nods now with a smile reminiscent of his own. How the melted starlight died. But in the corner of his eyes, she sees the small shine of a newborn star. So delicate but enough to reach her own.

And they sit there, legs over the ground and hands intertwined like the bridges beside them. Another pair of people walk past them, and Juyeon looks at her without words. Y/n tilts her head while knitting her eyebrows with her smile.

“What’s happening now?” He asks as he thinks of the movies playing hours on end by the TV screen. Her own mind fills in the blank spaces where two ears would perk up in union.

She smiles even wider and Juyeon can’t seem to understand why she does so. As he tilts his head even lower and eyes grow wider, she finally leans forward.

“This.”

Her knees force the rest of her body up a bit higher. And her hands hold him even tighter when her lips fall on his own. Or, she overestimates the height in between them, and instead kisses the upper part of his lip, right underneath his nose. Y/n comes back down with redness from his own lips. At first, he stares at her without words. Expression the same as before, all until his face lights up like the street lamps in every corner of their city.

“It’s so fun kissing you.” He gasps.

Y/n herself nearly falls onto the rest behind her, when Juyeon leans forward to press his lips against her own. She laughs and pushes him, the part of his chest right beneath the yellow ribbon. His eyes, like the city, shines up the passing darkness of the season, all while he pouts.

“Just once.” She holds up one finger, “Once.”

Cat gets jealous :(

Y/n sees how his eyes move on from her own down to the spot beside her feet. She too looks down, Juyeon is brushing his head over her ankles and walks in circles around her.

“This is Juyeon.” Y/n says.

Her neighbor kneels down and reaches out his hand. The hand becomes all the more larger the closer he gets to Juyeon. The smell of his skin and light in his eyes. Juyeon’s fur stands up, he takes a step forward as the sharp teeth behind the soft fur shows. Juyeon’s eyes are formed like sirens and stare deeply into the man before them.

“Juyeon.” Y/n quickly bends down and takes him in her arms. The stern tone fades into an awkward laugh before she looks down into her arms.

“Sorry.” The man before her has gone back to the door and holds own hand, “He’s not usually like that.” Y/n smiles and looks down in her arms cupped to hold his light fur. His paws curl up under his chin and his eyes close when Juyeon can tilt his head onto her shoulder.

“It’s okay.” He laughs, “Where is the leaking?”

His hoodie falls over his shoulders like a blanket. In securing warmth from the material, he stands against Y/n’s back, watching how she cuts strawberries. The oven glistens in warm tones and it spreads over the four walls. He calls the sweet aroma from sugar and berries.

“What is it, Juyeon?” Y/n turn her head back towards him for a second, then focus back towards the fruit. A familiar spark rushes through him when she talks to him with that high voice. He comes even closer and rests his head on her shoulder.

“Is it something special?” He asks her. Y/n, despite looking at the plastic board and can only hear his whisper-like voice, sees his ears fold up.

She smiles, “The plumber is coming over again.”

The space on her shoulder becomes cold and she barely feels the edges of his shirt brush against her own. As a divider has moved between the two, Y/n looks behind her again and puts down the knife. In oversized fashion, hair strands scattered over his eyes and a small pout, Juyeon watches her attentively. Despite his disheartened demeanor and distance(distance being in juyeon’s world), Y/n laughs.

“I need to thank him, Juyeon.”

His shoulders are still hanging low and the pout on his lips won’t go away. Y/n tilts her head and leans onto the counter.

Juyeon has circled her legs before, held her hand a bit tighter in public or strengthened his posture when someone else exchanged words with her. But when he stands before her right now, there are no walls or filters. With a yearning so transparent and a heart craving for her own, she can’t help but adore him even more. Y/n half a strawberry from behind her and walks up to his figure. Because of her motions, Juyeon’s eyes have formed from dissatisfied ones to asking questions. His own head tilts to the side and Y/n looks up at him before bringing the strawberry up to his lips.

“Don’t sulk, Juyeon.”

He bites down onto the strawberry and nods so that his fringe moves with it. Before bringing her attention back to the counter, Y/n reach her hand out towards the spot where his hair blossoms to all sides.

Cat wants a pet name >:(

How the white curtains lie like a filter over the city during sunday morning. There are no calling responsibilities until another hour has passed them by. Y/n because of that lies with closed eyes, still under the covers. A sort of relief and satisfaction washed over her thirty minutes earlier as she thought she was late for university. But before Y/n could even throw off the sheet, Y/n felt her arm being pulled towards the bed-mit. She fell onto the pillow again and her hair scattered over the fabrics. When she took a glance to her left, she saw Juyeon with closed eyes and his soft skin up against her own.

“It’s Sunday.” He whispered and shifted his head closer to hers, between her neck where Y/n felt him breathing deeply.

Because of his low voice and silk skin, she could close her eyes without thoughts of dilemma grabbing her neck. Though, now the morning sun has struck her once again, and she shifts her head one step closer to the pillow, as to make sure she’s alive. Aside from the sun, there is someone else to bring warmth in the room she is in. Y/n has her face immensely close to Juyeon’s. So much that his breathing appears to move her own strands of hair.

The clock continuously passes them by when time has stopped in the bed. Juyeon’s hair tickles her bare skin and she takes her hand to comb through his silk strands. His head falls backwards with eyes closed. In this angle, the sunlight strikes him perfectly, she thinks.

“Y/n?” He whispers and she hums.

To take notice how his skin shifts in pink and how his eyes open just to close as quickly.

“What is it?” Y/n asks.

He hesitates, “Why did you stop calling me kitten?”

“Why?” He looks through the strands of his fringe.

Y/n shifts away from his person, her face towards the white wall and the fabrics in a familiar shade folds over her. “It’s weird"...", she laughs.

Juyeon won’t say anything more, or make a sound. And she conceives the way his scent intertwines with her own, that he has gone back to dreaming. But as the white paint of her wall fades from sight and her lids closes, the sheets fall a decimeter lower. The mattress shifts in weight and a sort of coldness comes from the empty spot and makes her pull the covers closer to her essence. Soon, Y/n opens her eyes as the left side of her pillow shifts closer to the morning sun and another presence in the same room affects the poi8nt below her collarbone. As it strains her body, Y/n makes a pained expression before opening her eyes and looks up.

“Juyomi?”

He stays on her chest and takes one step after the other. To walk in circles on her upper body and sway his tail in her face. Y/n sneezes and takes her arms from under the covers and tangles within his fur.

“Juyo?” Y/n sighs. Though, her grip around his thin body loosens as he stops turning and takes a seat on her chest. As he sits there, she references all the moments they’ve spent in the same room staring into each otheräs eyes. Juyeon’s head won’t tilt to the left, but behind his small figure waves the tail from left to right in a slow rhythm.

“Juyo?” Y/n says again, this time, in a tone much more playful.

He walks even closer to her face and disappears beneath her vision. Instead, Y/n senses how his soft fur touches her neck. How Juyeon reaches his head between her chin and chest and lets the warmth of her self affect his own life. And when his face comes up to her ear, she hears faint breaths covered in white silk.

“Okay, Juyo,” she says, “I'm tired.”

Y/n wraps her arms around his fragile body and forces him down when she falls to the side. To look slightly down when her hair scatters over the pillow. She sees his eyes up towards hers, how the color spreads large over the white and sparks in the piercing sunlight. A second passes them by and Juyeon lets out a fragile sound before taking his head in her chest.

Y/n smiles how he falls blushy and gif eye contact with her in this state. Therefore, she hugs him a bit tighter before closing her eyes and falling asleep again on Sunday morning.

mischievous cat :)

Y/n sits on one of the chairs at the white table. Her chin hangs over the computer as she stares at the black cursor. Though she has fallen into the digital world and nothing seems to be able to force her out of it. All at once, her shoulder falls backwards and she lets out a pained sound as a weight with cold claws lands on her shoulders. Her hands let go of the keyboard and grab the silk fur of the one higher up.

“Juyeon, go off.” Y/n says, in which she only gets a meow for an answer.

“Juyeon, seriously, we’ve talked about this.”

Her words don't seem to reach him, or he doesn’t want to listen. His paws start to play with her hair and the collar of her shirt.

“I’ll give you attention later, I need to work.”

a/n: def not my best work. I promise to come back with something better! This took way to long than it should have🫠 thanks for reading💗

#deoboyznet #the boyz imagines #tbz imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #juyeon imagines #juyeon scenarios #Lee Juyeon #juyeon the boyz #the boyz #juyeon tbz #tbz #Lee Juyeon the boyz #Lee Juyeon tbz #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #the boyz fanfic #tbz fanfic #juyeon fanfic

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ask-a-vetblr · 7 months

Note

Disclaimer: kitten has already seen a vet, enucleation is planned as soon as she hits their minimum weight. Just asking as a vet student who feels like they have way too many little bits of info floating around in their brain to be sure about anything lol.

Kitten was dropped off at shelter with 0 history (of course), and my knowledge on this case is a little vague. Is this likely just from an infection left too long, that probably sealed the eye shut at some point and worsened? (Like, viral -> bacterial?) It looks it’s proptosed to me, but I’m also not sure if that’s just massive swelling. If it IS proptosed, is that a common sequelae of severe infection? Or do you really only get that with trauma in cats, and then secondary infection?

Not sure if my thinking is way off base, just looking for some general insight into how these eyes end up looking so gnarly. I feel like we’ve had quite a few dropped off this year. Thank you!

Hi, it's Sueanoi here.

I'm glad the kitten is getting some vet attention now. I hope the healing goes as smooth as it can.

As to answer your question, I don't think that's proptosis (eyeball goes out of orbit). I think it is ruptured cornea that has severe inflammation on top.

Anything at all can cause a secondary corneal injury if the eye is irritated, causing the animal to scratch it and worsening the lesion. Over time, superficial ulcers can become perforated.

Over here in SEA, young stray cats are very often infected with feline herpes. It is a very common cause of blindness (as the last consequence of virus-induced ulcer) here.

Your thinking isn't entirely off base, because virus -> bacteria -> catastrophic consequense IS probably correct.

Once it is time to enucleate, I suggest you observe the surgery. I am quite certain that the globe itself is still sitting within the orbit. The things that are coming out of the cat's head is the eyeball's insides that are spilled out of the ruptured cornea.

Keep clean and control infection. There is a chance that the cat won't even need the surgery if the eye shrink down and become enophalmos before it reaches minumum weight (which might take weeks...whichever happen first). Downside of keeping the shrunk eye is having to keep it clean for the rest of its life. So if that is a factor for the cat getting an adoption, removing it anyway for ease of care is still a valid choice.

Best of luck!

#ophthalmology #veterinary #graphic content #vetling

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giggly-squiggily · 10 months

Note

Hey 👋! Can i request lee inumaki and lers yuta, maki and panda?

Heyo! :D Admittedly, I got a little sappy at the end there lols. I've gotcha covered, anon!

CW: Swearing, mild angst

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13

“Hey, Inumaki…is something wrong?” Yuta asked one day, gaining the attention of Maki and Panda. Lately, the curse speaker had seemed…distant. He came to practice as required and worked with everyone when asked, but during free time he’d been especially quiet, keeping a healthy distance between himself and the group. Originally, Maki and Panda told him not to worry about it- “Inumaki has his rainy days. When he’s ready, he’ll come around.”

That was almost a full week ago. Yuta couldn’t hold back the questions any longer.

“.....Bonito flakes.” He offered quietly after a long pause, eyes scrunching some in a hidden smile. The lie was so obvious. Yuta hesitated before going on.

“Inumaki…you’ve been acting off since Monday. I’m worried.” Yuta offered a shaky smile, hoping he came off comforting. “If you ever need someone to talk to..”

Something darkened in Inumaki’s eyes, brief and heavy. Then he was faking a smile again, reaching out and patting Yuta’s head. “Bonito flakes.”

A clear cut but firm denial. Yuta felt himself blink back tears.

“Hey, Inumaki. Yuta’s got a point.” Maki climbed up the steps one after another, tossing her staff aside once she got to his spot. “This strange silence of yours isn’t normal. Talk.”

“Gentle, Maki.” Panda reminded as he came around, squishing his furry butt between Yuta and Inumaki. “But really- you had that mission Monday, did something go wrong?”

“....Bonito flakes.” Inumaki looked away.

“Lying isn’t a good look for you, recipe boy.” Maki elbowed him gently, sitting down. “Panda and I’ve known you forever. Even Yuta knows when you lie- isn’t that right?”

“Oh? Oh, um…yes.” Yuta yelped, shrinking some at the dirty look Inumaki gave him. “Sorry, Toge…”

“Don’t apologize, Yuta. He’s all hiss and no claws.” Panda teased, winking as his large paw stretched. “In fact- check this out.”

“Salmon roe…” Inumaki began, leaning away from the paw stretching towards his belly. He leaned so far back he completely forgot about Maki. “Sal-HEEEEEH!” He arched with a squeal as ten fingers suddenly pressed into his sides. “Ikuruhuhuhuahhaahhhaa!”

“Language, shithead.” Maki chuckled, her voice warm as she carried on prodding and poking at his torso, skittering her fingers along his ribcage. “Talk and we’ll stop, right Panda?”

“Hell yeah!” The animal cried, laughing just as much as his paws attacked Inumaki’s belly, tapping and dragging against the thin fabric of his uniform. “Yuta, get in on this!”

“H-Huh?” He blinked, not expecting the invite. He was more than content just sitting by watching the fiasco go down, figuring he wasn’t quite in the group just yet.

Still…

“Erm, where do I..” He began, hands fluttering as he tried to decide where to tickle. Inumaki was a mess of laughter already, cheeks pink and eyes squeezed shut as he cackled out “Flakes! Flahahahahkes!” His feet kicked against Panda’s belly, bouncing off harmlessly. Any attempts to push away Maki proved useless as she adjusted her grip, pulling some insane move where her legs pinned his arms back, giving her free range to tickle his torso. Despite the cries and fluster, Inumaki looked surprisingly happy.

Maybe he was enjoying himself? It did look kinda fun…

“Go for his pits, he’ll cry.” Maki ordered, pulling her leg back so there was more room to reach. Inumaki made a squeak sound, shaking his head rapidly as Yuta slowly approached, whimpering pleas of “Salmon roe”.

“Are you ready to talk?” Yuta asked. Maki and Panda paused briefly, giving him a moment to decide. After a few gasps of air, Inumaki considered. Then, with a shaky breath, he breathed out a firm “Bohohnito flahakes.”

“Stubborn ass.” Maki shook her head in mock disappointment. Panda wiped away a fake tear. “Alright- Yuta, it’s all you. Straight for the pits.”

“Right! Sorry, Inumaki.” He gave a quick smile before digging his hands into the spot. Inumaki arched with a squeal, practically flying off the ground as loud wheezy laughter boomed from his lips. Maki and Panda were quick to join in, returning to their original spots as the rice ball speaker giggled and flailed beneath him.

It took another minute of flailing, squealing, and the threat of being voice cursed, but finally, Inumaki gave in. Flapping his hands wildly, he managed to tap Yuta’s arm, signaling he was done.

“Ready to give in?” Maki asked as they came to an end, watching the pale boy curl into himself with huffs of laughter. He looked so…exhausted. Yuta felt his heart pinch in guilt- maybe they went too far?

But then Inumaki was pulling himself up and taking a deep breath. He looked at each of them carefully before pulling out his phone.

Soft typing noises could be heard, and within minutes, the group chat notification went off. When Yuta looked, the following message said:

Monday, when we were doing our mission together- I scared you. I used my curse technique on you to prevent you from walking into an enemies trap. The look on your face when you suddenly couldn’t move…I hadn’t been able to get it out of my head since.

“Inumaki…” Yuta breathed, heart sinking in his chest. Another text popped up before he could speak:

Please don’t feel bad, Yuta. I’m not upset by how you reacted. I feel guilty for freaking you out like that. It’s not a fun feeling to suddenly lose control of your own body like that, and usually I can give the other’s a warning that I may have to use my technique on them. I didn't do it for you, and I’m sorry.

“You had to do it though. Like you said- if you didn’t freeze me where I stood, I’d be dead.” Yuta reached out, squeezing Inumaki’s hand within his own. “Sure, I was scared, but not of you. I was scared that I almost threw my life away. If anything- I should be apologizing for forcing your hand like that. So- I’m sorry. I really appreciate what you did for me.”

“Mustard leaf…” Inumaki’s eyes glistened some, and Yuta smiled as he squeezed his hand reassuringly. Maki and Panda nodded to one another, satisfied.

“Aww- isn’t that sweet.” Gojo’s voice shook them from their moment, drawing their attention to him and the bag of treats over his arm. “I’m back! And I got you all souvenirs! Come get them before I change my mind.”

“Is my souvenir the cursed blade I gave you? Cause you still haven’t given it back.” Maki stood, Panda already bouncing to his feet at the various candies in the bag. Inumaki and Yuta shared a warm look before they stood, joining the others for treats. As they went, Inumaki squeezed Yuta’s shoulder, the gesture loud without words.

Thank you.

Thanks for reading!

#jjk #inumaki toge #maki zenin #panda #yuta okkotsu #gojo satoru #tickle #tickle fic #He deserves it #reworked this alittle #the original was too angsty #now it's mildly angst but mostly fluff #tw: swearing

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seasidesandstarscapes · 25 days

Text

Surrender

Summary: Don has to see Bobby

Rating: G

Genre: Modern AU, Post Break-Up, Getting Back Together, Angst with a Happy Ending

Words: 872

A/N: walk the moon invades every ship I become obsessed with lol

AO3

Don can’t sleep.

In fact, it’s been weeks since he’s had a good night’s rest. He’s plagued at night by thoughts of Bobby and all he wants to do is just see him. Except he can’t. They decided this together. It’s for the best. Yet, Don’s heart aches and more often than not he can’t remember why they’re apart.

The clock on his bedside table tells him it’s two in the morning. Don’s been sitting at his desk since the moment he got home, forgetting to eat, staring into nothingness. He can’t do this. He needs to get out of his house.

Grabbing his keys, Don climbs into his car and sits in the silence. Nothing is open, there’s nowhere for him to go, but still he starts the engine. He drives down familiar roads, but takes turns he never has before. He circles the town as his mind drifts, his desperation growing by the second.

This was his plan all along. Don stops his car in front of a house he knows by heart. He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself. The porch light is on, but there’s no other signs of life. He doesn’t care anymore. Getting out of his car, Don approaches the front door in steady, focused steps and knocks on the screen, the rattle echoing in the still night.

He’s not terribly surprised when the door behind it opens within a few seconds and he steels himself. God, Bobby looks awful. It’s clear he hasn’t slept either, bags heavy under his eyes, and his hair is a disheveled mess. His face is gaunt, morose, so unlike what Don knows. Or used to know.

“What are you doing here, Don?” Bobby’s voice isn’t harsh, but Don winces all the same.

None of his answers are the right one, but Bobby deserves something, so Don just shrugs. There is a huff, as if Bobby can’t decide to laugh or yell, but he waits. He doesn’t open the screen door for Don though and this stings the most.

“Why?” Don finally speaks.

“Don,” Bobby sighs. “We agreed it was better this way.”

“But it’s not,” Don almost yells and shrinks back at the sound of his own voice. “Clearly it’s not. Look at you. Look at me.”

Don’s on the verge of tears and he holds his head in his hands. “I miss you. I can’t sleep anymore.”

He thinks he hears Bobby whimper but they remain still, caught in each other’s turmoil. Don lowers his hands, shakes his head before he turns to leave. He tried, as small as it was, he tried.

“Don,” the screen door opens and Don closes his eyes as Bobby’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Come inside. Please.”

Don can’t say no to Bobby even if he wanted to and he stumbles along until they’re in Bobby’s bedroom.

There’s piles on the floor, drawers half open but the bed is made up and Bobby sits down, tugs Don to do the same. Once he’s seated, Bobby goes one step further. He guides Don to lay down, falls in place next to him and their hands clasp between them. The ceiling is blank beyond the fan that doesn’t move and Don blinks. The unfamiliar sensation of sleep tugs at the corner of his mind.

“I haven’t slept either,” Bobby admits. “I know we— we can’t—,”

Bobby stills and Don turns his head to look at him. Bobby’s mouth opens and closes, but his voice is gone, a tear starts to escape from the corner of his eye. Don props himself up, leans over Bobby and places his hand on Bobby’s cheek. Blue, wavering depths stare back at him, Bobby’s lower lip wobbling. Don’s heart breaks again and he wipes away what tears he can with his thumb.

“So fuck it,” Don says, a wave of confidence pushing him forward. “If we can’t be apart, we might as well be together.”

Bobby lets out a choked laugh around a sob, heavy breaths stuttering out of him. He tries to shake his head, tries to speak, but all he can do is pull Don down in a desperate kiss. How Don has missed this. Even with the sobs, Bobby kisses perfectly, tugging Don’s hair just a little, gripping onto his shirt like it’s his last saving grace.

Don eases Bobby into deep inhales, steady exhales, until Bobby is no longer shaking. When their embrace ends, Bobby looks better than ever and Don runs his fingers through Bobby’s hair.

“Fucking love you, Don,” Bobby manages at last. “Can’t believe we even tried being apart.”

Don only smiles at this, kisses Bobby’s cheek with all the love he has. They’re back together now and that’s all that matters.

Shuffling up on the bed, the two discard most of their clothes and tangle under the covers. They hold onto each other as if they’re drowning, but they’re far from it. Don actually wants to sleep tonight, listens as Bobby’s words draw out, his own exhaustion taking over. There’ll be more to sort out in the morning, but for now, they need the rest.

Pulling Bobby ever closer to him, Don breathes him in until at last, he’s at peace.

#bobby moch #don hume #bobby moch x don hume #don hume x bobby moch #salix's sideblog escapades

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sisterofficerlucychen · 21 days

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Hi there, its me again here to vent 👋🏼

I totally agree with you, in spite of some moments, it was super funny. One thing i love about the show is that is like Brooklyn 99 but lasting 45 minutes and a lot more of police stuff. The scene where she invites everyone to the party and its seen by the bodycams? THAT IS FUNNY.

What we asked for is here, those glances of I HATE YOU but I LOVE YOU from Lucyyy omggg or Tim trying to reach her not knowing how? S1 Tim being all I dontgiveafuckmywifeisanaddictidonttalkaboutit but this time dontgiveafuckbrokemygirlsheartdonttalkaboutit? THE PINING 2.0 IS COMING PEOPLE!!!

I see everyone got stuck in London and the face she makes when she close the door and Tim going there afterhours. But what I can't see bad about it. I mean sure this shrink is quite sketchy BUUUT I see a therapist that worked all day in building trust with a potential patience and is proud that got him to open up and say that need help. AND I also see Tim completly broken... the scene where he talks with Lucy you can see him about to cry and doesnt know what to say, aknowledging he can't give her what she wants (and adult talk) while she tells him he needs more help... Is that what pushes him to go and say Dr London this is URGENT.

Also I read other post where someone states that all this drama with Blair is because she is just a young pretty female AND I COULDNT AGREE MORE. If the therapist was a man or and old lady everyone would be 'ohh yes Tim finally'

Also I will die on this hill → the writers are not idiots, they wont make something so dark like hooking them up and screwing chenford being at risk of loosing the fans and for instance loosing the show, its what feeds their families lol

I gonna trust the process, Melissa's and Eric's sneak peaks, and thats all.

Also thinking about the 'OFFICER DOWN' in the promo thats Tim voice and last week here was a bts video where you can hear OFFICER DOWN ITS CHEN so IM PREPARING MY SELF FOR LUCY HURT TIM PANICKING AND BEING THE FIRST STEP FORWARD (or to become a professional clown)

My vent Is over, see you next week haha

hello, friend! pls vent away! ♡

adlkfjsdas omg yes! it definitely gives b99 vibes when it’s leaning into it’s comedic side~~ especially the funny cold opens remind me so much of it lol. THAT WAS BRILLIANT — i think the choice of filming it through the body cams and the security cam added to the chaos and awkwardness. lucy was so real for that but i will forever cry at tim not being there because he was there with lucy when they met and he practically lived with them.

yes! 😭👀 that first scene with them in the hallway was so angsty but what made it hurt that much more (than what we saw in the promo) was how lucy had just caught smitty in the middle of a betting pool about the break up like no wonder she just bolted and shook her head. THE ANGST WAS ANGST-ING. it hurt but i kind of loved it??? because it highlighted once again their struggle to communicate and be on the same page with one another (the “you know me so well” is fake news atm 😭. YAY ♡ so excited for angst and pining 2.0 eras.

i am definitely said people with the look she gave lmao. i swear as she closed the door there was something in her eyes that just felt off? personally for me it’s just how she’s treated aaron at the bar and then ended up with a hidden recording? especially the latter like that’s the only answer i can come up with because it’s clearly important for them to have added it into the scene but to me, when she turned it off, it didn’t struck me as her covering her ass because she had a moment with her client and she needed to put a stop to it - it felt malicious~~ OMG BUT YES. sketchy or no, dr. blair wasn’t lying when she told aaron she knows what she’s doing because she read tim without hesitation and said things he really needed to hear. tim is so broken rn 💔 yeeeees! the way he tried (and epically failed) at making small talk bc he was so off base but i think that was the first time in the day he actually smiled?? that scene was the angst i was expecting for the entire episode and i’m so glad we got it at the end of the episode because it was so important. i definitely agree with you like i think that was the final push he needed to seek immediate help.

oooh~ that’s a good point, i can see that! i mean for me it’s def just the sus vibes she gave with that video recording. like maybe this is one step past delulu but to the point you just made about how it’d be so different if the therapist was a man or an older woman (agreed), it makes me wonder what the casting call for the therapist was because i feel like that could be telling of the purpose/intention of the character?

1000000000% - that theory has me a little confused, ngl. like maybe if it were grey’s anatomy and he was owen hunt? but it’s not and that’s absolutely not who tim is even at his lowest and most vulnerable. nothing about that would absolve him from his guilt, it wouldn’t be a way for him to punish himself, and he didn’t break up with lucy because he stopped loving her. i don’t think he’s hooking up with anyone any time soon because this man has completely lost himself and doesn’t think he’s worthy of anything but even if he did, she’d probably be the last person not the first. for sure on them knowing better like they know, they might be tugging at our heat strings but they aren’t going to do something that far-fetched that would add nothing to anyone’s character growth or progress any storyline.

same ♡ they have yet to give me a reason not to believe them and if they’ve both said this is a needed thing and good things are coming then i’m gonna take their word on that.

YES, YES, YES, YES!!!!!! it’s so interesting that they layered that voiceover in the promo with what’s happening at the hospital because of that bts video eric shared. it’s definitely lucy and celina who get hurt because of how all the bts content lines up (and the synopsis) BUT OOOOH~ THAT’S GONNA HURT SO GOOD. like it’ll be the first time where she’s hurt and he likely can’t comfort her the way she needs?? because dod, he never moved from her bedside; and then with the shooting, he was also by her side reassuring her and ready to help support her. i am curious to see if he full on panics or panics, rushes to her side, and then once he knows she’s alive/okay, retreats? (but i’ll grab the make up and join you if we don’t get hurt lucy and panicked tim lol).

thanks for sharing! appreciated hearing what you had to say! see you next week ♡

#answered #idreamwiththecitythatneversleeps #the rookie #chenford

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7-wonders · 2 years

Note

Had to reread your sith!Anakin stuff to shift back into Star Wars mode (got stuck in stranger things mode for a couple weeks lol) after seeing your post from earlier, and one of the things you wrote mentioned shared dreams between Anakin and rebel reader. What exactly was happening in those dreams 👀 and do you think they’d have a sort of force connection the way k*lo ren and Rey did?

Okay so I wanna answer your question first: in short, I do see Rebel and Anakin having a connection in the Force. I'm not quite sure yet if it's because of the two representing a balance in the Force or if it's simply because Rebel is one of the few non-Sith left in the galaxy. That will become more clear to both me and you as I continue writing this little universe. Also this is just the first dream that's shared. They have other, spicier dreams that I'll write about later.

It's quiet here...peaceful. You're back on your home planet, in the forest that you and your friends played in daily throughout your childhood, and it looks just as pristine and untouched as it did even before the Clone Wars. The sun warms your skin, a change from having to constantly be moving in the dead of night and hiding in cold, damp bunkers that were hastily constructed for the Rebel Alliance. You take it all in for a long moment, enjoying this happiness that comes only from such simplicity, such feelings of belonging.

"C'mon, are you giving up so soon?" a voice from above calls down to you teasingly, and it's then that you remember that you've been running after someone in the forests you once called home.

The difference is that, for the first time in a long time, it's not a run of life-or-death, not a run to try and catch up to someone or to try and escape someone before they kill you. It's meant to be fun and lighthearted.

You grin. "Never!"

"Hmm, sure seemed like it to me!"

You roll your eyes and hike up your dress (when was the last time you wore a dress?) to make running easier. Pausing for a moment, you take a deep breath and call upon the intuition that you've had ever since you can remember, the intuition that you now know as the Force. It leads you to a tree a few hundred feet away. Looking up, you can't see anyone past the foliage, but you know that the person you're looking for is up there.

It's an easy climb, years of muscle memory making it second-nature as you grab branch after branch and hoist yourself up higher off of the ground. When you're about halfway up the tree, a hand appears in your line of vision.

"Clever. I knew you'd find me! Here, let me help you up the rest of the way." They sound proud of you, and it fills your chest with warmth.

You grab onto the hand and allow them to pull you up. You smile, looking up to say thank you, before your heart drops and you gasp.

Darth Vader stares back at you, looking just as surprised and alarmed as you. You don't care about how he feels though, not when he's the kriffing Sith Lord that made it clear when you escaped him that he would not stop until he had you again. You try to wrench your hand out of his, needing to get as far away from him as possible, and eventually succeeding. When he does let go, the motion of you trying to get away propels you off of the branch you're perched on.

It happens too quickly for you to do anything about; you can't even think to grab onto another branch before you're falling backwards towards the ground. A noise of surprise escapes you as the air whistles past your form, and you can do nothing but stare up at Darth Vader's rapidly-shrinking form as you prepare yourself for death.

You come to a stop suddenly mere inches before you smash into the ground. Darth Vader jumps gracefully off of the tree, landing next to you on the ground on his two feet before releasing you from his Force hold. You let out an "oomph!" as you hit the ground, but it's a much lighter impact than if you had hit before your falling was stopped.

"Are you okay?" His hands are on your face as his eyes (a shade of blue that startles you, considering you've only known him with golden eyes) look you over to make sure there are no injuries.

"What—what are you doing in my dream?"

His eyebrows furrow. "Your dream? No, this is my dream."

"We're on my home planet," you argue.

"This is where I liked to train my Padawan when we were off-world," he fires back.

You've shifted from anger to confusion. "So...we're sharing a dream?"

"It appears so."

"And this isn't some elaborate plot to capture me?"

He scowls. "Do you really believe I'd have been so surprised to see you if this had been my plan all along?"

"No," you mumble. "How is this even happening?"

"I'm not sure. It's not something that I've ever come across in my studies, both Jedi and Sith."

"Huh."

You really don't know what else to say, considering Darth Vader's just as lost as you are. And though logic is telling you not to believe him, reminding you that he's a Sith and Sith lie, something in you knows that he's being truthful. Maybe it's the part of the Force that has given you a dream shared with the man you'd consider to be your enemy, but you can feel that he's telling the truth, that he's just as bewildered as you are.

"Your eyes," you say after a long moment and reach a hand up to his cheekbone, not able to stop yourself, "they're blue."

"What?"

"You had blue eyes...before, then?" Instead of leaning away from you or yanking your hand off of him, which you had expected, Vader leans into your touch and allows you to keep your hand on his face.

"I did. They haven't been that color for a long time, though." His hand comes up to yours, but it's simply to hold onto you. He's warmer than you had expected, and you wonder if he feels like this in real life, too. "How is this happening? Why is this happening?"

You shake your head. You're about to answer that you really don't know when you hear someone calling your name. It's muffled, like they're standing outside of a room, and you realize that it's Rip that you hear. Vader must hear it too, from the way that he looks at you. Before either of you can say anything, you feel a hand on your shoulder that pulls you away from the dream and unconsciousness in general.

You wake up with a start, sitting up in the chair that you had fallen asleep in. Rip is looking at you, his hand on your shoulder from where he must have been shaking you to wake you up. You're still in the hangar, you realize, and you must have fell asleep while you were working on tweaking some flight plans.

"Hey," he says softly. "Came lookin' for ya and found ya passed out."

"Sorry," you mutter, stretching your arms until they pop.

"Go get some actual rest, yeah? Maker knows you could use it."

You glower at him and flip him off, but follow him back to the barracks anyways, your mind spinning with questions the entire time. Rip seems to chalk up your lack of talk to you having just woken up, and you appreciate that he leaves you mostly in silence.

When you're in your bed, you're fighting sleep because you know that there's a good chance you'll see him again. Why did you share a dream? Is this the will of the Force, or something darker? Is this a phenomena that happens often?

When you wake up the next morning, no memory of how you actually fell asleep, you're not sure if you're relieved or disappointed that you didn't dream of Darth Vader again.

#AHA how was it??#thoughts??#send me some asks folks!!#sith!anakin skywalker #sith!anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker #star wars #star wars imagine

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thebigshotman · 5 months

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M!A (whenever the admin feels like it) where Spamton is an Addison again...however it's a painful transition, like turning into a werewolf. He'll actually look his age, and experience all the side affects that comes with someone who's pushing 50.

(Sorry this is starting two weeks after you sent me this lol! I hope any ensuing chaos is worth the wait! Let’s give this about 3-4 days; it’ll end on Christmas night!)

The second he hears the words “Addison again”, he is glitching and twitching happily with joy-so much so that the rest of the request, the catch as it were, goes completely unheard.

*4N [All we do is advertise!] AGA1N, RE-E-3ALLY?!?!? I’VE WANTED THIS F0R [*absurdly long number*] MONTHS, F1NALLY I CAN [[mwah!]] [Hazelnut] AND—

That’s when the transformation begins.

It starts with cracks forming all over his skin, and it feels unbearably itchy, like something is trying to burst forth from underneath. His hair is falling out in clumps-not again, it’s just reminding him of when everything started falling apart-his teeth are shrinking and growing back into his mouth. It feels incredibly uncomfortable; it should almost hurt more. But it doesn’t.

He tries to let out any sort of yelp of pain and confusion and panic, but can’t: His voice box is a garbled mess in the middle of transitioning back into a normal throat. He feels bumping in his chest, and that’s what brings him to his knees. The ground only does so much to center him, reassure him that what’s coming after this will be worth it. He pounds it aggressively with a fist, glasses spilling out static as he grits his teeth-

And the plastic falls off, revealing silicone skin underneath. Like a cascade, the rest of his body follows suit, and soon the itchiness stops and he’s back in his old, Addison body again. Natural hair-except this time it’s half-black and half-white, like the hair dye has almost run out-expressive eyes, a heart and a non-glitched throat. His clothing miraculously unaffected by the “painful” caveat of the transformation, instead having transitioned back to normal fabric clothes without a word.

Except…something’s different. He can feel something lagging still. Not in his mind, for once…in his body. He tries to get up, and it takes several moments of stuttering frames to do so. For Heaven’s sake…they didn’t just turn him back into an Addison. They turned him into an out of date Addison who hasn’t had their internal software upgraded in 25 years. What he should be.

*You…had to throw in a twist, didn’t you? Clearly I haven’t had enough deals with catches in my life, have I?!

He spits that out more aggressively than intended, less towards the anon and more for the desperate need for something to go right in his life for once with no strings attached. Looks like it hasn’t caught up to his voice yet.

But he can worry about that later. Right now, minus any catches, he has his old body back…and for how long, he has no idea. He’s making the most of this. The first thing he does, like before, is clip off his glasses and rub his normal, Addison eyes in relief. But now, unlike before, he goes running towards his girlfriend’s house.

*Eileen!! Hazelnut!! Where are you?! Come here, I want to give you a big smooch-l-like an actual kiss!! I’m an Addison again!!!

#(and so it begins!! the longer he’s like this the more side effects will start showing themselves)#(so let’s see what shenanigans happen shall we? non-M!A threads will still continue by the way)#(but asks and threads caused by this M!A (as well as Christmas presents) will take precedence)#(feel free to send stuff in even though I’m logging off for the night lol)#WANNA MAKE A [deal]?-asks and submissions #ONE WEIRD TIP-in character #NOTHING MORE THAN A SIMPLE PUPPET-main verse #m!a: an (out of date) addison again #tw body horror #tw transformation horror #(just in case!)

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quotemenevervore · 1 year

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One exam completed today! Two more to go! I need more Shrunken Manhunt content to fuel my days, do you have any headcanons you are willing to share? Also, expect more feral gremlin energy and stories when exams are over.

-Gremlin Anon

You’re doing good! Keep at it!

As for hcs, I may have a couple but I won’t remember if I’ve said them before or not so we’ll just ignore the repeats lol

Puffy does not understand the whole nomming thing, Eret does not either. But after the events of the Red Banquet, Foolish offers it as a way to help them calm down. It’d be dark, and quiet, and they’d be close to him. (More for Puffy’s sake than Eret’s, but they appreciate the sentiment anyway.) the two find it’s not that bad, and Foolish finds that he actually likes the idea of protecting his friends in such a manner.

(He may or may not ask Quackity a few questions about it, and even ask him if he’d like to be stored a few times by him. He’s been denied every time but once.)

Slime’s had a bad habit of accidentally absorbing his shrunken friends/others. He’s absorbed Wilbur, Tommy, most of the Las Nevadas crew, and he’s almost absorbed Quackity’s fiancés too. Everyone learned not to wander around shrunk in Las Nevadas thanks to their goopy companion.

Sapnap’s stored Bad once, and Skeppy took it as full permission to do it too. The war in the Happy Duo’s household has increased tenfold, Skeppy’s gone full on feral after Bad because he knows how much being stored bothers the demon.

Fundy and Ant happen to be two of the only hybrids who refuse to store people. Their reasonings are simple; it’s just not safe for them to! Their hybrids don’t let them store people safely. Dream can’t store safely either, but it does not stop the admin at all.

Techno’s gone to the nether with people before, and returned alone because (and especially with family) if they get hurt once, his instincts go haywire. Phil, Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur, Ranboo, hell, even Sapnap’s been victim to this.

Speaking of, Sapnap and Techno go to the nether together pretty often! Both being netherborns, sometimes all they wanna do is hang out in their home dimension, explore some biomes, raid some fortresses. Sapnap’s unfortunately not allowed in the bastion, but the piglins of Techno’s bastion have accepted that Sapnap knows better and doesn’t mean harm.

Techno’s also taken Michael to the nether before, but with the same result as the others usually get, he lost permission to take Michael to the nether.

Dream’s taunted Techno into nomming him before, same with Sapnap and anyone else who has extreme instincts/prey drives. He’ll shrink down and then dart around or start jumping around, climbing on shit, anything he can until he inevitably catch their instinctual attention. He’s also worn gold to taunt Techno before, but stopped doing it as Techno just steals it.

Wow those got pretty Techno centric let me try to reel it back lol

Wilbur’s nommed people for the hell of it, but it’s usually close friends. If he’s stored someone he’s not super close with, it’s for safety reasons. (This has happened with Niki before, she was a little wary of Wilbur for weeks afterward.)

Quackity’s done the same, but he doesn’t put himself far from close friends that much anymore. The person he’s had to store that he’s not as close to is Purpled, and he got one hell of a stomachache for it. He also had to sit everyone in Las Nevadas down and tell all of them how avian biology works because he was absolutely terrified that Purpled was gonna fight his way right into his real stomach, and he’d be helpless to stop it.

That’s all the ones I can think up for right now! I hope this helps you de stress a bit!

#asks by gremlin #mcyt g/t #shrunken manhunt #mcyt gt #mcyt vore #vore talk #headcanons my beloved #mostly techno centric but hey that’s okay

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sheliesshattered · 1 year

Photo

now that that bit of complaining is out of the way

I can officially call the pattern for Rhaenyra’s red dress done! Today I managed to squeeze in a bit of time around work stuff to finish truing up all the pattern pieces based on the experimental taking-in I did over the weekend, as detailed in the last post. Once those edits had been made to the paper pattern, I had to move a few of the markings on the curved seams and raise the armscye a bit, and then trim down the width of the skirt so all the panels match again.

Each of the skirt panels will now take up about 10.5″ of width there at the lowest point, so depending on how much the fabric shrinks when I (hand) wash it and (line) dry it, I might even be able to fit four panels side by side in the ~45″ wide red silk, even without staggering them. Because that fabric is a silk brocade I’m going to assume that it has a nap of one sort, color or pattern or both, and arrange all my panels with the same end up. But for the black silk organza for the underdress, I don’t have to worry about nap, and I should be able to get them in there at least four across, maybe even a bit tighter.

The 60/8 microtex machine needles I ordered arrived today, so I officially have everything needed to make the underdress. Even though I’m still at least a few days away from needing those needles, it’s nice to have them on hand and ready to go. I think the red silk should arrive by the end of the week, but I don’t think I’ll get to that until sometime in March.

My plan for the black organza is to trace the panels onto the fabric, then stay-stitch just slightly outside the stitching line, and then cut out all the pieces, just to avoid any sort of warping or unraveling. I don’t know if this silk is going to be nearly that fiddly or not, but better safe than sorry I figure. And I’m almost certainly going to do the same thing with the red brocade, so might as well give it a test run now on fabric that won’t really be seen.

Once I have the panels all traced, stay-stitched, and cut out, I’m going to hand-baste a couple of the curvier seams, particularly the one that runs over the bust, and possibly the one over the shoulderblade as well. That bust curve is so extreme, with no real way to change it, so all I can do is work out the easing issues during the basting phase, rather than trying to wrangle it with dozens of pins under the machine needle.

I think everything besides those curved seams should be really easy, tho. All the notches (well, triangles on the silk) should match up exactly since I measured so carefully, and the majority of the seams are those long straight perfectly matched skirt panels. Hopefully it’ll all go together really smoothly. Fingers crossed, anyway.

I’ve decided I’m going to do a mock-French seam finish for the black organza, since it’ll be easier than trying to adjust my seam allowance just for the underdress like a real French seam would need, but still give a nice clean inside edge and help prevent any fraying. I’ll finish the neck and armscyes by hand, and I have plans for a deep hem based on a picture from the HotD set, but I’ll talk more about that when the time comes.

As with most of my projects, I can see it all so clearly in my head, and I’ve planned several steps ahead of where I am now, but we’ll see if that plan survives once it’s put into action, lol. And my job may get super busy over the next week and a half or so, so it may be awhile before I can really dig into this again, I’m not sure yet. But either way, I’ll post pictures of the underdress as it starts to come together!

#cosplay plans #my cosplay #my sewing #my pattern drafting #2023 mood #RRD cosplay

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virtual-garden · 2 months

Text

today's entry - 2024/03/15 + my weight history

today's thoughts:

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ✧ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. connecting with people is hard. i want to pull my hair out at the cringe stuff i said today. i thought it would get easier to connect with people once you grow up but it doesn't.

at least i have food... today is binge + lax. i ate between 600 and 800 cals a day this week (high res is great!) so i think i deserve a little treat.

diet starts (again) tomorrow.

i'm seeing someone from work tomorrow, i hope we can become friends! she's a lovely person so hopefully we can connect in a meaningful way. i'll do omad & eat with her but tbh if we go to a cafe then i can get some nice chai and not eat and still look normal.

my history: . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ✧ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

i can't wait to get all of that weight off. i gained so much since i started medication for my cptsd & depression & anxiety 4 years ago. i gained between 15 & 20kg and i can't stand my body. especially being an immigrant/expat in eastern asia, ppl around me are thin and i stand out in a bad way.

i was thinking about finding an excuse to ask my shrink to put me on concerta (adhd medication) because it apparently makes you lose your appetite and i wouldn't say no to a bit of help with executive dysfunction too, but i've read that one side effect is loss of sleep...

it took me YEARS of work and experimentation to get a semi "normal" sleep schedule & pattern w/ the help of meds and i don't want to ruin it now, especially since i need good sleep because my workdays are long. cptsd took so many things away from me but i got a little bit of sleep back, i don't want to lose it now...

at the same time, people treated me so much better when i was thinner and i want life on easy mode... idk i wish there was a pill to suppress hunger & comfort/stress eating. now that i can somewhat sleep, i want to be thin again so that i can wear anything i want & ppl would treat me better. after all the shit i went through, i desperately want an easy and comfortable life. this includes being thin. this includes have ppl treat me nicely/compliment me because i'm thin. my fashion style didn't change, only my weight, but now ppl don't ever compliment my outfits anymore.

same outfit, bigger body = less compliments. or ppl associate subconsciously being overweight with neglecting yourself or other bullshit idk (it may be ironic to say this after all i said before, but i don't tolerate fatphobia gtfo. treat everyone with respect, it's not that hard).

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ✧ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. anyways, vent over...

CURRENT PLAN IS!! - get thin so that ppl treat me better because *we live in a society* - keep trying to make new friends - stfu more and say less cringe stuff to keep the friends made in step 2 - try fasting if i can because high res is nice and easy but i'm not loosing the weight fast enough for my liking - connect with ppl on tumblr (please message me it's anonymous <3) & find tips to make fasting/dieting easier & control my hunger & stop emotional/stress eating - just use duolingo more instead of doomscolling instagram. it won't make me fluent in my target languages but i guess it's a more productive use of my time lol

thank you for reading ♡

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ✧ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

#tw ed diet #tw disordered eating #tw vent #ed vent #social anxiety #anxiety disorder #living with cptsd #i want to ⭐️ve

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bugenjoyer · 6 months

Text

11/10/23

I forgot I can just use this place as a personal journal. Whoops. Anyways-

Most of my childhood up until around being 18ish, I was very desperate for attention and validation. This was for a number of reasons that I don't particularly care to unpack right now, but that's just how I was. I spent a good portion of my teenage years being a compulsive liar, doing or saying things to "fit in" or seem cooler (whatever I perceived to be "cool" as a small-town sixteen year old, at least), doing everything possible to shrink myself down and not inconvenience anyone. I just reeeeally wanted people to like me.

And then I started getting better once I fucked off to college. It still wasn't great, but I was getting help via therapy, I had decent friends, life was ehhh better than it had been. I eventually ended up valuing myself a lot more, gained a lot of wisdom, started becoming more masterful at balancing care for myself and care for others, and setting aside more energy for myself.

Unfortunately this mindset didn't ever reach maturity, it didn't last. I don't 100% know what caused me to go downhill again, though I suspect discovering I have DID and autism didn't help (such discoveries rarely go well, or so I'm told). I became really codependent again and was so focused on my social relationships, my friendships and classmates, and any moment I wasn't actively talking to someone I felt useless and worthless, and unloved. Which, that's a me problem.

Anyways the point of all this is that I've JUST FINALLY snapped out of it. As in, like, a week ago. I got really, really low, I hit my equivalent of rock bottom and barely survived but I guess that's what was needed? So here I am, trying to figure out what the hell life is all about other than getting people to like you. I'm back to consuming more Buddhist wisdom, which I've found very helpful and enlightening in the past, and I'm giving myself time to just... think. I don't think I was letting myself think a whole lot before LMAOO

I can at least say I'm a lot happier now, I think I'll continue being happier in the future too as long as I keep a much closer eye on myself and my behaviors and thinking processes. I have hope, and at the end of the day that's really the only thing that's kept me going my whole life, so I'm glad to say I still have that.

I'm not expecting anyone to read all this btw LOL but my therapist keeps cancelling my appointments so I gotta write this shit down SOMEWHERE y'know?

-bug

#dont rb #(in case that wasnt obvious)#bug.txt

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heartate · 7 months

Text

i just need to vent somewhere for a second where ppl unrelated won't see it bc i know they're tired of me lmao. feel free to ignore this i'm just sooooooo. augh. really long vent post tbh. i had a lot to say.

i didn't really talk about it publicly a lot, because it's like, it's not something i could really talk about publicly because it's like... what do you even say, you know. like. you spend so much time having feelings for someone to where you go "wow i'm in love with them" and they say "yeah i'm in love with you too and i'd like to live with you and shit someday" but like, refuse to put a label on it. like, this was a situationship going on from the end of may 2022 up until july 2023 so. lol. and like. it's been over three months now and i still don't know if i'm over the whole thing, but i think about it less and less now. i'm still irritated and annoyed and extremely hurt about the situation, because.

i was given excuse after excuse about why we couldn't just put a label on it and like, be "official" despite the fact that every single day it's "wow i love you SO much, i can't wait to have a life with you" you know. and it's like.

i had a bpd(tm) moment last november that really spiraled badly in december, but like got triggered in september, and when i start spiraling i spiral for months and it does not end, and i drop off the face of the earth (if anyone's reading this at all, i apologize for disappearing lmao). and this is heavily to do with why i just forgot about tumblr for like 2 years, because i busied myself with a man i really love(d?) and like. i don't fault him at all for being scared of committing, because i am too, and i don't fault him not even a LITTLE bit for being unequipped or shocked and scared and not able to deal with the magnitude of how depressed and anxious and paranoid i get when things get really bad for me. i don't mind that. but i spent so long trying to repair that wedge, but it was never the same, even if i got fooled for a few moments into thinking things were normal and okay.

and i'm that person who, if i feel like i'm being annoying or that i'm not wanted, i will shrink back and wait for the other person to reach out to me first for once, because if i feel like i'm the only one making the effort time and time again or if i keep getting plans flaked on or shafted even if i make them like days or a week or more in advance, i just fuck off and wait, because i don't want to be push and i just get so anxious and sad. so when he told me that he "felt the momentum drifting and that the interactions weren't as energetic" i just. i was really hurt. and i told him this, and i expressed that i pulled back because i just. was mirroring what i was getting while just waiting and dying for him to just give me a second of his time.

and he lied to me when he dumped me in july (while i was in japan visiting family and already not having a good time over there, mind you), and told me that he wanted to try "dating someone in town" when i confronted him about something a friend showed me. but, turns out it was just another girl long distance, who is also EST like i am, and his excuse to me for why we weren't working was the distance and that he now lived across the country instead of two states away, but was willing to go chase someone else in the same distance as me? and enough so to actually put a label on their relationship, and seemed so much more torn up over that not working out than he ever was about the prospect of losing me despite him telling me how much he loved and wanted me and wanted to have a life together.

there were a lot of principles that i compromised on and actually changed my mind about because of him, because i loved him enough. like. i never, ever, ever wanted kids in my life. i knew this since i was really young, and he was the same way, but then he mentioned it one day and idk if it was a joke but his answer was so serious so i thought about it and i was like, you know what? if it's with him, i'd want a family, and we'd be so fucking cute. so it's like. how do you do and say all of that to someone and just, throw that away for someone you barely knew in comparison to someone you've known and loved for years. it just. it made me feel so awful and just really? worthless? because i just. i loved him so much, and i still do, i think. i spent like. two months straight just. crying over him and just. he vented to me a few weeks ago about the situation and the things he told me, his gripes with his ex now, i was just sitting there like. the hurt you feel is the same i feel because i had to beg on my hands and knees for some of your time because i felt so ignored.

it's so awful because i was so sure about him. and what i felt was so genuine, and what i felt from him was so genuine and real. at least it was to me. maybe it wasn't. i don't know lmao. i have bpd so i just drink delulu juice and maybe i'm just delulu over all of it. it just really sucks lol. i just. it hurts to feel like i just got discarded like that, or that he'd tell me "you know i want to come see you" or that he "wouldn't be opposed to trying for real in the future" but i don't want to feel like a rebound or like i'm the second choice like i just. for once, would like to matter to someone as much as they matter to me. maybe i just am stupid and have awful fucking taste lmao because i clearly don't choose anyone who's good for me. what makes this hurt too is that he is truly just so amazing of a person and i just. i don't know lmao. and i told myself, i want to continue to make the effort to stay close to him in the event that maybe he does change his mind and realize hey, she's right there and has been all along and i've always loved her, but that's so stupid and pathetic lmao. i haven't spoken to him in nearly 2 weeks now because he just. never replied and i felt annoying and i keep waiting for him to talk to me first because it hurts to be the only one trying every single day but. idk. i think i give up because i really can't do this anymore lmao. i'm so tired and i'm tired of being hurt and sad over a man. idk why i keep ending up in these situations lol but it makes me feel so awful

#vent -#negative -#long post -#ignore meeeeeeeeee #i just needed to get this out and #i didn't wanna go to my close friends about this either bc #i know what they're gonna say and i don't wanna hear it 😭😭#ooc.#tbd.

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