#Cat Spray Stink

[wild-kindentities]

My cat is currently staring at my computer as I'm scrollling on Tumblr and sending texts, and that's kinda creepy.

Like...what got you staring like that ? 😃 What are you seeing that I'm not aware of ? 😃 Why did you spawn here just to purr at my computer ? 😃 Are you alright ? 😃

[theonlythingimfuckingisstupid]

Going to have to wash my sheets a day early >:(

[terrifiedtrinket]

TW. YAPPING!!!!! and i think i say cum once or twice probablie

TGE TROLLS WOULD NOT SMELL GOOD !!!!!

i feel like at most they smell neutral??? or however tf bugs smell

but especially like while and before they play the game?? at the very least they dont smell traditionally nice.

they dont smell like flowrrs and nice things

ESPECIALLY NEPETA!!!! SHE SMELLS LIKE DEAD THINGS MOST OF THE TIME!! SHE STINKS OF ANIMAL AND BLOOD AND SWEAT AND SHE DOESNT SHOWER SHE LIVES IN A CAVE

like no hate to the person who said she would smell like sour candy but like….. why?

i feel like if the troll blood castes were scented, olive blood would have a more natural scent and they wouldn’t be sweet

AND EVEN THEM SHES STILL STINKY!!!!!

the meowrails stink. i love them. but they stink.

equius smells like BO and motor oil and nepeta probably smells like cat piss.

ALSOOOSODOSOSOSO i feel like it’s really weird when people imply or headcanon that the trolls have flavored cum?? like tht feels weird

i feel like even if they did it probably wouldnt be human flavors like chocolate

i dont even wanna think about what i think their cum would taste like tho so im not even gonna try to form an opinion. you do u mann(or do the homestuck trolls ig bc clearly thats ur thing)

UH

i mean clearly not all of their smells are unbearable because clearly the humans dont mind it too much(or at least dont say anything) but also a lot of the biggest offenders are dead so

gamzee smells like drugs. and. dead trolls.

he’s the only i can maybe see smelling sweet because of all the faygo

ik if they were humans they would stink too

like vriska would lie about taking showers i just know it. vriska would drench herself body spray and claim she showered.

trolls wouldn’t smell sweet at the very least

they come from murder land

they don’t smell like vanilla dream

[bonefall]

Hi there! I know you've made posts about warriors who have lost their sight and hearing, but would you have any ideas of how losing their sense of smell could affect a cat? I have to imagine it'd be a pretty big deal for a hunter or medicine cat

You know, you'd think it would primarily affect "tracking" skills, since as humans we tend to think of following scent trails and hunting down wild game, but the truth might shock you a little;

The first thing the other cats would notice is that the warrior is getting lost a lot.

When it comes to scents, the most important use that cats have for their sense of smell is navigating their territory. Through scent, they can tell the direction towards camp, exactly where they are in a territory, and if they're getting close to a border.

Most media (including WC itself) tends to depict scent like a floating, colorful "trail." A direct line leading you to the target, like this;

But this is actually not very accurate. You'd have to be dealing with a VERY stinky animal for this to be the case, like boar or elk.

Scent acts more like this;

It "collects" on solid objects the animal brushes past or intentionally marks, sometimes including the ground if they've lingered there. Newer brushes on the object have more of the scent particles present just as a matter of not having enough time for the odor to disperse. Think of it sort of like liquid; a "stale" scent is like an object that was soaked now simply being damp.

A warrior's "scent marking" is like a big stink bomb. It will make the entire area smell. Anyone who has been unfortunate enough to have an intact cat spray their house knows that it's not a dainty little spritz. It's STINKY.

To a cat though, the marks that are placed down by individuals and patrols give the entire area a sort of comforting "aroma." Because of the smell, they can perceive their home territory as if it's a map.

"Hub" areas have a stronger smell than "limnal" zones, and camp has its own unique scent. Just by combining these two things, you will always know EXACTLY where you are and how to find your way back to safety.

(Note; this is a major reason why I assert that blindness should be one of the least debilitating sensory disabilities for a warrior to have. Cats have a built in scratch-n-sniff RPG map.)

I mentioned in passing, earlier, that this is comforting. That's the second thing that would probably start to affect a warrior losing their sense of smell; it would be very common for them to start developing anxiety.

It's VERY unsettling for a cat to be in an unfamiliar place, and this is usually because nothing smells right! Providing the right pheromones is actually a way to treat anxiety, and this is the reason why you can often find a lost cat by putting one of their blankets outside. Pride aside, an elder might request more escorts outside of the camp simply as a matter of comfort once their nose isn't working so good.

For tracking itself, though-- in comparison to their Clanmates, hunters with a bad sense of smell would be bad at finding prey. Being a solitary hunter would become unfeasible.

The simple solution is that they shouldn't hunt alone. Just having one good tracker in the team to bring the party to big game could work fine. In WindClan in particular, they'd get put on lagomorph hunts very often (since 2 average-sized rabbits feeds a Clan for a day, let alone a hare).

For a Cleric, it would force them towards retirement.

Tracking down herbs is one thing; they could still be good at knowing where things grow, even with the added risk of getting lost. More importantly, MOST of a cat's health information is discerned through smelling their scent-- through their glands, their breath, and most importantly their scent marks. A Cleric who can't smell would start making inaccurate diagnoses.

And all of this doesn't even factor in how much communication is done through scent. When a cat bumps you with their head, "kisses" you with their teeth, or runs their side along you, that's them putting a mark on you. It's saying, "I want you to smell like me and I want to smell like you, because we're part of the same group!"

The important thing about that is that it is happening a dozen times a day with different Clanmates.

Rosetail demonstrates the point with some gossip: "Did you notice that Snowfur smells a lot less like Bluefur, lately? Yeah, she totally reeks like Thistleclaw. Since you smell like Thrushpelt, I feel comfortable sharing this with you; I don't think they're a good match at all... don't tell him I said that, though, even though he's my brother he would get really mad if he found out I thought that."

A warrior who can't scent will feel VERY socially isolated. There's an entire social network behind who you're marking, and being marked by.

In summary;

Scent has a massive role in navigation, for cats.

Cats who can't smell are at risk of getting lost easier.

Try not to think of scent like a "floating trail," but more like a series of odor marks on the objects the target has brushed up against.

Scent marks are STINKY, they make a whole area reek.

However, that's comforting to cats. Not being able to smell this has negative impacts on mental health.

It's the "tracking" part of prey and herb hunting that would become difficult.

Clerics who can't smell are liable to start making bad judgements.

Scent marking is part of the social fabric, and there is an important aspect to Clan dynamics that a cat who can't smell would lose out on.

[revelboo]

True Romance Pt 7

Seeker Trine x Reader

18+ content

• “I can do it myself!” You hiss, flight or fight fully triggered as you try to launch yourself out of Skywarp’s servos and back to the safety of the desk. Knowing full well that’s there’s nowhere to hide and that one of them is just going to catch you again. That you’re probably the equivalent of a talking hamster to them, but still. You can’t make yourself cooperate for community shower time and being gawked at naked by the three of them. What little pride you have left from being a glorified pet, is screaming at you to the tune of death before dishonor.

• Even though the fall isn’t that high, when you launch yourself out of his servos, hit the desk, stumble and fall, then immediately bolt, Skywarp’s spark constricts. “This isn’t negotiable, you stink,” he snarls, shaking off the worry that you might have broken one of those tiny bones. Wings flared out in embarrassment because Star and TC are watching you evade him. Because for being so tiny, you can move when you’re properly motivated.

• “Enough,” Starscream vents tiredly as Thundercracker fidgets beside him, wanting to intervene. He really didn’t think you’d get so distraught about being washed, but Skywarp has a point. “Come here.” Shouldering up beside Skywarp, he lays his palm on the desk and glowers down at you. Watching you raggedly breathe, body tense and those eyes angry. “Now, little one.” And shoulders slumping, you slowly approach him and rock to a stop in front of his servos. Refusing to climb into his palm in one last little act of rebellion.

• Finally. Wings easing as Starscream picks you up and strides past them toward the private wash racks attached to their habsuite. A boon because of Star’s status as SIC that’s especially welcome now since they won’t have to risk you being seen by the other Decepticons. Thundercracker really can’t understand why you’re being so difficult about this as you wrap your arms around yourself and sulk. Eyes almost panicked when Star grips the bottom of your covering and tries to tug it up off your body. And it clicks as he watches your very doomed struggle to not give up your covering. You’re embarrassed. Swearing nonstop as Star finally wins the brief struggle and strips your covering off.

• And they’re all staring at you as you shuffle so your back is to them as best you can and cover yourself with your hands, shoulders hunched in defeat. Honestly, your nakedness is probably as interesting to them as a hairless cat. Because you’re not a person to them, you’re a pet that talks. “All that fuss,” Starscream mutters as he cradles you to him and reaches to touch the controls for the water. And the warm, almost too hot water is wonderful. Almost worth being gaped at. Tipping your head into the spray, you startle at the feel of a servo sliding over the curve of your hip and up along the bottom of your ribs.

• “Soft all over,” Skywarp murmurs, grinning when you swat at his servo. Your little face even redder than it had been. And you’d stopped covering the apex of your thighs to smack him, giving him a glimpse of you. Ignoring Star’s frown as the SIC uses a servo to rub your wet hair and both hands lift to shove at him, a leg shifting for balance. Hears the surprised sound TC makes on Star’s other side.

• You’re outnumbered. Starscream staring down at you, his expression almost surprised as you realize what you’re doing and try to cover yourself again. Only to have Thundercracker stroke along your spine. Giving up and just sitting in Starscream’s palms with your knees drawn up against yourself, though you’re sure you just flashed all three of them trying to stop Starscream from messing with your hair. Trying your best to ignore the three of them as you just wish you this was over already as you scrub at your skin and hair, while trying to keep your bits covered.

• Under the coverings, you’re shaped curiously like a tiny, delicate protoform. And while Starscream had noticed the similarities between you and them, the differences had always snagged him. Watching your mortified attempts to wash, he flares his wings out protectively, using his wingspan to nudge his brothers back so they’ll leave you be, because that embarrassment bothers him. Ignoring it as Skywarp shoots him an annoyed look and drifts into a stall further from him. Optics narrowing as the other Seeker frees his spike and grips himself, Starscream turns more toward Thundercracker in annoyance, but not before he sees your little eyes widen in shock.

• Face hot, there’s no unseeing that. Or forgetting it. Because your giant alien robots have all the equipment and you have no idea why. But you can hear Skywarp growling softly. Not wanting to look, but unable to stop yourself from peeking over your shoulder like a voyeur as he pumps his fist. His head turning to catch you staring and just grinning at you as his hips rock. And then Starscream is flaring his wings again, firmly nudging your head away with a servo against your cheek. Seeing Thundercracker watching you before glancing at Starscream. And his jaw is clenched when you look up at him, clearly unhappy as you all get to listen to Skywarp snarling as he strokes himself.

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[loganlermanstanaccount]

please don't kill me mr ghostface (part 1)

(AO3 Mirror), (Main Masterlist), (Kinktober '23 Masterlist)

(Part 2 - coming soon!)

pairing: stalker!Miguel x f!reader, slight yandere undertones. (he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)

summary: murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?

warnings: 18+ , fingering, anal play (mig eats ass, send tweet!) , rimming, p in v, soft dom mig, some switchy + needy behaviour, mild threat of violence (not by mig), alcohol consumption. Minors DNI

a/n: 5k words of ignoring red flags. girl get a grip!

wc: 5.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You look too good to feel this shitty. 

That's the thought you're left with, picking at flimsy spiderwebs draped on a sofa. Sandwiched between two couples making out like their life depends on it, of course, but that's beside the point. 

“Someone said there's CCTV of a guy walking out the building at 3am… seems a little convenient, if you ask me…”

There's a TV on in the background, barely cutting through the dense chatter. By this point, your eyes have glazed over, trying not to let them rattle around in your skull. Drunken conversation around you, and it's the same thing as always; long, winding tales of a campus killer - the kind out of a cheesy slasher. What the news says, officially, is that there weren't any links between those 3 bodies that turned up out on the playing field, an empty dorm, a supply closet; but it hasn't stopped people from indulging in wild speculation. 

“No, no, she just didn't turn up to my Econ class….I swear–” 

Stay in pairs. Don't walk alone at night. Whilst you think it's all tangential at best, you're not one to tempt fate. The gossip, you could do without. But it doesn't hurt to keep yourself safe, pepper spray nestled in your usual bag. 

Tonight, however, you've left it at home, thinking the friends you came with would be enough. Somewhere, somehow, they're off chugging shit beer and you're milling about the place and sinking into couch cushions. There's something sticky by the seat, and there's a crackle as you're jostled - the sharp edge of a stray elbow almost knocks your drink away. 

Fuck.

For one night only, you're a cheerleader. A short, short skirt and little top; it has you feeling overdressed. Even though you've left the pompoms at home, next to your taser; seemingly, you've read the mood wrong - stupidly assuming people would dress up for a Halloween party. As you make your way to the kitchen, tugging down your skirt here and there, that's all you can see; half-hearted costumes - cat ears, white sheets and flimsy masks. It feels like you stick out in comparison. You've gone all out, with nothing but the threat of a beer sodden lap for your trouble. 

It's a big house. Alpha-delta-phi, kappa-something-or-the-other; a frat with too much money and too much time on their hands. With all the doors you walk past, shallow thuds and thumping ringing out behind them, you're as good as lost. The best ragers this side of campus - as raved about by one of your friends. It feels like bucketfuls of horseshit right now, wandering around packed halls - and oh. Is that the same staircase? 

“ Fuck, watch it!” You clatter into the side of an arm, a t-shirt with a superman symbol emblazoned at the chest. He's pretty, but his features curl into a sudden sneer. 

" Sorry –" You start but he doesn't let you finish, wagging a thick finger in your face. 

There's a girl draped on his arm, merely watching as he shouts; loud over pumping music from the next room over. 

"Hey, dipshit , you gonna keep staring? Mouth open like a fucking fish– do you know how much this shit costs?" Your eyes are wide, as he gets closer - stinking of alcohol and pot and God knows what else. You're not drunk enough to entertain this, shirking away from confrontation. The room is hot, his breath is sticky , and–

He grabs your arm. Immediately you're trying to wrench yourself away, not daring to look into blown pupils. Clammy, his grip tightens on bare skin and your stomach churns. He's solid, bigger than you and unable to keep the anger out of his voice…. and fuck. You're scared. 

Fear, rising like bile at the back of your throat. Bitter and sharp, fear at the fact that there isn't anyone to help; that everyone else looks away and pretends that this isn't happening. Fear at the spittle that sprays from his mouth like poison, stinging skin. You screw your eyes shut, expecting a slap, a blow, or something worse and then… 

Thud. The hand around your wrist is no more, replaced by a gentle pat on your shoulder. Nothing lingering, just a light touch to get you to open your eyes; to see that guy on the floor, clutching at a swollen jaw and split lip. 

"You okay? " 

It's deep, muffled by a mask, and the figure in front of you has to crouch to be heard over incessant chatter. 

You're nodding, sheepishly, not trusting yourself to keep that edge out of your voice. 

Ghostface, the masked man, the only other person at this party properly dressed up; he only cocks his head in a gesture that says a thousand words. His robe pools around his wrists, thick fabric that you grab onto without thinking, grip just as tight as your would-be assailant. You don't even want to think about it, what could've happened if someone hadn't stepped in. It has you biting back tears, more shaken than you'd like to admit. 

"H-Hey, hey, easy…" He's rubbing little circles into your shoulder, hesitant. Your lip wobbles, ever so slightly, but he catches it, gently pulling you aside. 

There isn't a crowd. The stragglers, those that saw the display, barely look at the guy on the floor, scrambling to his feet and far away. In the meantime, you fight off tears and force yourself to flash a shaky smile. 

"Good. " You croak, taking his hands off your shoulders. "F-Fuck , I mean… I'm good. Thank you."

He doesn't quite budge, giving you that strange look again. At least, you think so, rearing up to his full height to cross his arms. Quiet incredulity, almost cartoonish, and it almost makes you laugh. Almost. 

"Let me get you a drink… some water, or something." He says, stretching out a gloved hand. Sensing your hesitance, he quickly adds, "... Please ."

Chewing your lip, you only have to think for a second before taking it, and you're led out through double doors. Your masked man is big; broad shouldered and hulking, cutting through the writhing mass with ease. It's just as well, you think, unable to sort through the tangle of things that rattle around in your head. You hate this fucking school, sometimes. Boys will be boys. Wear more appropriate clothing. Well, wasn't she just asking for it?  A culture of inaction; of hand-wringing and hand-waving… passing on the blame until three dead bodies show up on campus. 

That's one thing you have to thank the so-called serial killer for, at least. At least something might actually change around here. 

Empty, the kitchen is a mess, but nothing you wouldn't expect. Drink long gone; a distant memory spilled on a carpet, somewhere; you perch awkwardly around a counter, not knowing where to put your hands. Rattled, you've resorted to a glassy stare; stewing and festering and thinking so intensely it might frighten off your masked man. 

It doesn't. He merely taps you, a gentle elbow to your side and he offers you a glass of water. Weakly, you give him a smile, gulping up the liquid. 

"You here by yourself ?" He asks, muffled by plastic. 

You can't help it, eyes wide at the implication - a masked man, a killer on campus - and he must realise the way it sounds. 

In no time at all, he clarifies, "I just mean… fuck … is there someone I can call? So you're not alone."

It's a kind gesture. Kinder than you'd expect from a stranger. Slowly, you shake your head. 

"They ditched me about an hour ago." You give a bitter laugh. "Just me and you, Mr Ghostface."

And with that he laughs; deep and sonorous, causing heat to bloom at your chest. Despite yourself, you smile, and you swear you see a glint of something behind the mask. 

It has you itching for a drink. All of a sudden you make your way across the room, swiping at empty beer bottles and cans, rummaging around for some hard liquor. When you find it - a half empty bottle of something that smells like carpet cleaner and acetone - you're taking a swig, and offering it to the man across from you. It's sneaky, but you don't think he clocks your paltry attempt to see what he looks like under that mask. 

He shakes his head, hands up in defeat. 

"You sure?" Your voice is lilting, hazy around the edges. Creeping up closer, you press your body to his, taking another unceremonious gulp. Under that cloak - heavy, somewhat well made - you can feel him, lean and cut muscle that tenses as you get closer. 

Batting your eyelashes, you make full use of the cheerleader get-up, snaking a dainty hand to his side, and then up to the counter. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was ogling you, chest taught and tight at the way you feel against him. 

Or maybe, he's bored as shit. You wouldn't know - with the mask, and all. 

Wobbly, you clamber up onto the counter, helped up by a gentle hand at the small of your back… and oh. You like that: big, thick fingers that press into you, carefully tracing your waist… and why won't they go down a little further? Grab handfuls of the flesh at your thighs, your ass, everything in between? 

He's too conservative for that, you think. Nervous, too. Nevertheless, he slots between your thighs, big palms flat next to your ass. 

"I… I don't mind watching." He says, voice low. 

It makes you giggle as you drink, sweet and soft, and liquid dribbles past your lips, down to collarbone. Mr Ghostface is gentle, tracing a finger across the juncture of your neck, light pressure on the vein that sits nice and pretty at its side. 

It goes to your head. The alcohol, the large man of few words with a hand on your neck. When he finishes swiping at the liquid and pulls his hand away, you curl your hand around his, bringing it to your lips. Pert lips wrap around his finger, tongue swiping over leather, and you swear you can hear his breath hitch - heart clearly skipping a beat. 

"Careful…" You say, leaning forward to press your tits against him, brushing away imaginary fluff from his shoulders. "I really like this costume."

"I like it too." He clears his throat. "You look nice."

"Nice? Is that all I get, Mr Ghostface?" You're teasing, tracing up his broad chest to his neck and then just under his chin. Carefully, you hook a finger under the thin strap of his mask, tugging ever-so gently. 

Quickly, he stops you. 

"Not yet, sweetheart."

You pout, flashing him a frustrated look - and God , does he want to kiss it off of you. 

"But soon?" 

"If you're good." You swear you can hear him smile, hands wrapping around your waist. 

You get a bit bolder, hand tracing up his sleeve, clutching at thick, corded forearm. Watching intently as he keens, pushing you to the edge of the kitchen counter with only one hand at your back. This close, you even like the way he smells, like rust and oil and earth, the way he feels around you; strong arms caging you in, protecting you. You feel safe, for some reason. 

When he sighs into you, exposing a sliver of tan neck, you feel your knees go weak - unable to stop yourself from mouthing at it, pressing little kisses into the skin. He seems so sensitive, rocking into the counter for some pressure already, clutching you closer and closer until there's a hickey blooming just under sharp jawline. 

"Fuck- " He hisses, pawing at your waist a little more desperately. 

Suddenly self conscious, you separate with a wet smack, and inspect your handiwork. 

"Shit." Eyes wide, you press a finger into the flesh. Your masked man winces. "M'sorry. Got carried away."

He heaves, placing his head on your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath. 

"It's fine," He strains. "Don't worry… s'fine."

Admittedly, he doesn't seem too fine, adjusting what feels like a painful hard-on beneath a loose cloak. 

Cradling his head so he can look at you, you whisper something bold, even for someone who's downed more than a couple shots worth of cheap liquor. 

"I know somewhere… I-I think … that we could go if you wanted to…" His head lolls, and you hear him swallow roughly. "Somewhere quiet . We'd be alone. Just us."

A beat passes and you think you might've read this wrong, much too forward for your own good. It’s why he surprises you by nodding - slowly, at first, and then with more conviction. Taking your hand, he snakes it under his mask, and you almost gasp when you feel soft, plump lips at your knuckles and palm, pressing shaky kisses to the skin.

“I need to do something first.” He says it so quietly, you almost miss it under the mask. “Where can I meet you?”

You don’t ask questions. 

“Pool house.” You nod towards the windows, overlooking a sizable pool. People mill about its edges, but you know the little house is off-limits for the night. “Side entrance. They… leave it unlocked, sometimes.”

He doesn’t ask questions. 

Before he goes, he snakes a hand under your skirt, giving your ass a sizable squeeze - leaving you breathless. 

You don’t feel the cold as you slip out, playing with a loose thread at the hem of your skirt. The side entrance is stiff but unlocked, and you duck past a screen, head on a swivel. Like a good girl, you sit on plush cushions, thighs pressed together to relieve a pressure that has been building since you met your masked man. And you want to touch yourself; to circle that little bud with clumsy fingers, imagining it was him.

You wait. And you wait. You settle between the cushions, adjust your skirt, look at your hair through a makeshift mirror - the glossy surface of windows overlooking the pool. Not wanting to risk turning on the lights, you wander past what little streams in from across the pool; flashing and pounding with the heady bass of music. You can't help but wonder where he's gone, if he's even coming, and what he had to do so desperately that he'd leave you wanting more. 

At this point, you don't even care if he takes off his mask. You don't want to know a name, or see the real man underneath the costume. You just want him; writhing underneath as you bounce on his fat cock. 

"Hey." 

That voice makes you jump, swiveling to face him. How did he get in without you noticing? He was so quiet, so–

"Missed you." He says it so soft, it makes you melt, walking slowly towards him. Shrouded in shadow, as you get closer you notice he's shed his cloak, donned in a white t-shirt and straight leg jeans. Big boots, thick with fresh mud, thud onto the tile. When you meet, two figures cut by bright light, you almost gasp. He's taken off the mask. Instead of Mr Ghostface, you're met with a man - and he is so, so beautiful . 

Tan skin. High cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass. His hair is haphazardly slicked back, fluffy and curly in all the right places. But it's his eyes: mischievous and glinting and serious all at the same time - absolutely gorgeous. You could look at him like this forever; chest heaving, messy, out of breath. 

Your hand comes to his chest. He’s hot to the touch, clasping his great big hand atop yours. Squeezing, he pulls you closer, other hand creeping up bare thigh, before hooking under your ass in a move that makes you squeal.

From this close, his lashes look so pretty; wispy and romantic and yearning.

"You look beautiful.”  He doesn’t kiss you, not yet, content with only watching - studying you with sharp eyes. “Always do."

All you hear are the compliments, too tipsy to notice what the stranger implies. You're not usually one for a one night stand, but he is intoxicating - intense in a way that's hard to explain. 

Carding one hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, you press your lips to his in a kiss that starts off sweet and quickly deepens. He is hungry and devouring; licking up your moans with plump lips. 

You lead him to the sofa, only separating for fleeting breaths. Eyes low, illuminated by a flash of light here and there; you force yourself to concentrate on him , shuddering breaths and all. He’s hard, rocking into your lower half splayed out beneath him and arms caged around your head. It’s sly, but you snake a hand past his t-shirt, across his back and then fumble with the belt. It makes him smile, soft laughter spilling into your parted lips; before he sits up above you.

“You want it that bad, huh?” Windswept, he croons, batting away your hands to unbuckle the clasp himself.

You groan, shifting upwards. You don’t notice the way his eyes dart down, eying up the peek of thigh that spills out of little shorts. 

“Say it f’me, sweetheart.” He hikes up your skirt, exposing your covered cunt. He’s gentle, pawing at the flesh, pressing the heel of his palm right above your clit.

“F-Fuck!” The pressure is delicious, and you roll your hips up, up, up; chasing some semblance of relief. When he stops, you whine - clutching at his forearm, frustrated. “Want it, please .”

“Want what?” He prompts, lifting his shirt over his head in one quick movement. You’re met with the wide span of his chest, muscle taut and tight above you.

“Want you in me. I want… I want you to fuck me ‘til I break, pound my fucking hole so hard I can feel it in the morning. I want– ”

You’re babbling, now, spurred on by the way he tugs off black shorts, lifting up your legs to slip them off. He’s too slow, clearly enjoying watching you squirm and writhe. 

“You can have it, sweetheart.” He coos, before capturing you into another kiss. This time, he separates and you follow him up; finally parting with a wet smack. “I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it… but you gotta do something first.”

“ Anything .” You breathe.

“Fuck yourself, for me. I…I–”

“You like to watch.” You finish it for him, breathless.

“Please.” His head dips low; big, red-brown eyes never leaving yours. 

The way he says it leaves you panting, hung off of every word. And you croon, leaning back into couch cushions, already hot at the way he kneads his thumbs to the flesh near your pussy. This close, he can see the way your cunt pulses, eating up a tiny thong between glistening lips. He’s kneeling on the floor, now, snaking his body around to get a perfect view, flashing looks between both your pretty lips. 

More than willing to oblige, you pat at your clit, sending sweet pleasure coursing through your lower half. Even though your legs tremble, he holds you down, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. Slipping your thong to the side, you dip two fingers past your slit, gathering up slick to press carefully into your hole.

“So… so pretty. ” He sighs, not daring to close his eyes despite the pleasure he feels. When you notice how his other hand is buried in his pants; jerking up and down to match your pace. You start slow, for now, pumping two fingers in and out, heel of your palm snug against your clit. The sounds are obscene, the wet schlick-schlick ringing out in the quiet room. 

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever s-seen.” Your stranger moans, slathering over your thighs with sloppy kisses, occasionally swiping at your knuckles. Lower and lower, as you get faster and faster, his tongue makes you feel amazing. You’re close - entranced by your spot in the limelight and the sharp eyes that watch every ministration. 

It’s only when you’re knuckle deep, well and truly fucking yourself ; chasing something just out of reach with his help; when two things happen, catching you by surprise. The first, the one that sends electricity down your spine, that makes you jolt and shiver and almost cum right then and there…

…is a wet kiss pressed to your asshole. He slathers and slobbers and licks large stripes up and down; ripping a great moan out from you. He doesn’t stop there, spreading the globes of your ass to delve deeper, tongue-fucking you as your hand stills - unable to concentrate on anything else. Pornographic, he humps his lower half to the same pace, sealing his mouth over your hole. With the vibrations of his moans sending pleasure straight to your clit, you finally cum - a rolling, bubbling orgasm that ends just as intensely. 

The second thing that happens, just as you fall off the edge, is that you’re plunged into darkness. The lights from across the pool, once bright and flashing; are cut off. The music stops, and chatter dies down. Your stranger holds you through it, licking up cum from your neglected cunt, whispering sweet things into the skin.

“There it is, baby. Nice n’ slow.” He soothes as you whimper, hand tight in his hair. 

In the dark, you’re heaving, feeling him slow down as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty. Shaky, you sit up on your haunches as he follows you up.

“Is everything…? What happened?” You’re a little panicked, shaken up from your orgasm. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay. ” He rubs little circles into bare skin. “Too much?”

You shake your head, nuzzling into him. He gives your forehead a kiss, and you feel warmth bloom across your chest.

He shifts. “Just give it a…”

As if on cue, a generator whirs to life, flooding the little room in red light. Something similar seems to happen across the pool, as you take a quick glance to the window.

Your head is a little fuzzy. It aches as you catch his eye, looking at you intently.  

“Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You say it resolutely, with so much force it even catches you off guard. “I want to.”

“Fuck.” He mutters, brows pressed together imperceptibly. 

For someone you’ve just met, he still looks at you like ice about to melt, like he’s bearing witness to the last breaths of a dying star. He looks at you like he knows you; like he knows how many half-truths and one-night stands you’ve had to endure. It makes you shiver; here, bathed in crimson light, pressed against one another.

He starts with your lips, a gentle thumb pressed flat, and then deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s like before, you realise, the taste of liquor and leather long gone. He keeps his eyes on you, careful as he pops the thumb out, groaning at the length of spit that comes with a flash of your pink tongue. You splay yourself out underneath him, drinking in the sight above; your stranger, your masked man once upon a time, shirtless and breathless and rock hard against your cunt. Now, he tugs down black boxers, its band cut across his torso just so. Thick hair; dark, curly, neatly trimmed; and you reach to trace down his happy trail, to get a hand on his pretty cock.

He just watches , eyes dark, leaning forward to rock into your soft palm and put his mouth on the skin that pillows out from a tight crop top. To give him more access, you tug it down, exposing sensitive nipple. And then that tongue; searching, inquisitive, precise; wraps itself around the flesh. You keen - a pretty moan that has his heart fluttering and eyes clasped shut.

“Inside.” At first, it’s a whisper, said in the throes of deep pleasure. You repeat it, slowing your hand at his cock. 

When he doesn’t answer; still slathering at your tits, pawing the flesh that spills out from your costume; you tug, a sharp thing that has him moaning and sitting up on  his haunches.

“Said I wanted you inside, baby.” You say - and his breaths are deep, his eyes are wild. “Do you want it? Do you want me?”

“A-Always….course I— ” He stops himself, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Finally, he nods and you continue, satisfied.

“Watch.” You titter, reaching down to line him up; carefully gathering slick up at the head of his cock. His tip weeps; shuddering like your stranger does above, getting close and hitching up you up to stay flush against you. His eyes stay trained downward. Inside, he mouths at your neck, groaning once his cock sinks into your fluttering hole.

There’s a tightening grip at your hips, big hands bunching up the skirt to keep you close, with a careful pressure at your clit. That sends heat coursing through your veins, tasting deep crimson in the air. He fucks; up close and humping like he wants to crawl into your skin, with a fervour you’ve never encountered before. It has you hot and sticky, desperate for that biting edge that keeps slipping from dainty fingers. You start to put a hand at your clit, tracing between your bodies when a strong hand pulls it away. Firm.

“No, no, no…” He whispers it, putting your wandering hand to his face, kissing the palm.

“Please. ” You whine. “M’close. So close.”

You feel him twitch inside, hips stuttering at your tone.

“No.” He says it again, resolute. “I’m going to make you cum. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart… just… just be patient. Please. For me .”

You’re reaching up for a kiss, of which he obliges. This time, it stays sweet; pink tongues swiped over lips.

“Look at me.” His hips shift, changing angles to hit that sweet spot like you’ve been moulded to his dick - like he knows just where to touch you to make you fall apart. “Look at me, hermosa. Ohh f-fuck, you take me so well… so pretty. You gonna milk my cock? Feels so good around me, sweetheart, like you were made for me. Like we’re ... L-Like–”

You groan, unable to tear yourself away from his writhing form: strong, lean muscles, tensing in the red light. And oh, isn’t he pretty, mere moments away from release, from spilling thick cum inside you.

“M’gonna–”

“I know, I know, hermosa. ” You like the way he says it, rolling off his tongue like honey; treacled and sweet. “Cum f’me, sweetheart. Want to feel you clamp around my cock. Cum for me. ”

And just like that, you’re gone; nails digging into his back as you careen off a steep cliff’s edge. Your stranger quickly follows, pulling out to wrap a tight hand around the base of his cock, spilling onto your stomach as you clench around nothing.

You’re whining, getting ready to complain; why hasn’t he come inside? why doesn’t he want to stay?; when he stills, settling by your side. Propped up by one arm, he crouches down to stroke at your cheek, to touch your jaw, moving your head this way and that - as if he’s looking for something hidden behind bright eyes.

In the red of the emergency lights, you suppose you’re looking for something too. A beat passes, and then another. The generator splutters, whirring and coughing. The lights turn off; replaced by the noise and white lights from across the pool.

So lost in one another, you hadn’t quite noticed; everything else falling away. 

He clears his throat, clambering off of the sofa and tugging up his trousers. Quickly, he returns, a bundle of towels draped across his bare shoulders, and then he wipes off the cum - gently, separating sweaty limbs. Your costume is more or less intact, but you’re unable to do more than just lay there. He’s diligent and patient, not in any sort of rush. When you sit up, he pulls on a shirt, kneeling by your legs to play with a loose thread at your skirt. Too intimate, you suppose. With his head on your lap, you don’t think you care. 

“We should leave.” You say it first, what’s been left in the air for someone else to pick apart. 

“We should.” 

“Can’t leave together.” You say simply, curling a hand in his hair. 

Humming, he looks up lazily, with a hint of a smile. “You go first.”

Neither of you make a move to get up.

“Mr Ghostface,” You start, giggling. “What happened to your mask?”

“Lost it.” He’s cryptic. Finally, he stands. 

Your stranger stretches out a rough palm, and you take it, getting up on shaky legs. You almost collapse onto his chest, but he’s there; solid, stoic. Looking up, and it catches you off guard: the intensity of his stare, how he watches in a way that makes you feel stripped bare. 

“You first.” He repeats, still holding on.

He’s pretty. Of course he is, but the shadow and light makes his features even more pronounced. In the quiet, you take the opportunity to catch him off guard; standing on tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jaw tight, he doesn’t react the way you want him to: ever-still, passive. Fuck. You’ve read it wrong: not used to the intensity of this kind of foray. After all: a one night stand seems too reductive, doesn’t quite span the depths and furrows of how your stranger has taken you apart. Finally, you leave the strange man still standing in the pool house. You don’t dare to look, but you can feel him; the weight of his stare at your back.

You can feel his hands, too; the ghost of his touch lingering as you make your way back to the house, mingling with the crowd.

~~~

You don’t tell your friends. You make your back home after the party, bundled into a taxi with a hand tight around your own wrist. It doesn’t feel like his hand on yours - not even close.

“I didn’t actually fuck him yesterday!” Your friend tugs on your sleeve, giggling into your shoulder as she recounts her night. A debrief with the girls turns into hungover breakfast-bleeding-into-lunch at your dorm. They’re bundled onto the sheets, some eating greasy takeout and others nursing bludgeoning headaches. 

You’re fine, mostly. A little bit of liquid courage, but your hangover pales in comparison to some - catatonic on your rug and scrolling through their phone in a limbo-like state.

“You didn’t fuck him, but you wanted to.” Someone pipes up, and the conversation devolves into raucous laughter.

You laugh, tucked into yourself. The wonders of a half-dozen sophomores during Halloween - able to grin despite the shit storm that’s been mounting. Campus killers notwithstanding - they make you smile, at least.

“Were you there towards the end?” Someone asks, poking an elbow at your side. “When there was that blackout?”

You nod, simply - not trusting yourself to say more.

“I-I mean…” Her voice is suddenly shaky, thrusting a phone into your unsuspecting hands. “Well… they’re saying it must have happened then, or around that time.”

You squint, confused.

“And it could’ve been anyone, I suppose. There were like, what, a hundred people there? More? ”

“What?” 

“A body. They found a body - by the pool house, or something…”

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

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[marlynnofmany]

One More Earth Animal -- Part Two

(Part One is here)

Fernando Hwan Tengku-Jones was expecting a cat. His friend on the colony world had said they were sending one that somebody’d left behind — poor thing! —and Fern couldn’t wait to give it a good home. He’d already cat-proofed his quarters as best he could. Fragile things were put away, his reading lamp was secured to the bedside table, and he’d grabbed a few cardboard boxes from the recycle stash that would make good hidey-holes. A litter box should be available somewhere in this space station’s commerce sector — he’d been here before. He could check after the drop-off. As much as he would have liked to get that set up first, he wasn’t in charge of the schedule.

His Frillian crewmates were curious about the companion animal that the captain was allowing him to bring onboard. He’d spent the last half of the trip telling them every story about cats he could think of. Each of them rippled their frills in patient disinterest, but he didn’t mind. They’d be won over by the adorable kitty soon enough.

When the ship docked at their usual berth, Fern did his part in helping unload the usual shipment. The specialty maintenance shop here always ordered the same stuff at this time of the rotation. Everything was normal. But then Fern got to dash off to meet another ship, and he was more excited than he’d been in a long time.

He called ahead, and was told to meet at the cargo bay door. When he arrived, he saw that this ship was unloading boxes as well. He didn’t see any logos anywhere, and the boxes weren’t even all the same kind, plus the crew wasn’t wearing uniforms.

Looks like one of those freelance setups, he thought while he patiently waited at a distance. That always sounded like such an unreliable way to make a living. But at least they get to travel to interesting places. Where there are cats!

When the crew finished handing the motley assortment of boxes off to a motley assortment of customers, the one with the tablet waved him over. This was a cute little lizard who probably wouldn’t want to be described that way. As yellow as a very serious banana. She called into the ship for somebody else to come out, and Fern was delighted to see another human carrying a cat-sized cage.

“Hello!” the other human said, waving her free hand. “I have something important to tell you about your new friend here.”

Fern was immediately worried. “Is it injured? Or pregnant?” His captain had approved a single animal, not a litter.

“Thankfully, no!” she replied, setting down the cage with the front turned away from him. “First of all, he’s perfectly healthy and perfectly tame. And he’s been fixed. But most importantly, his stink gland has been removed.”

“His what?” Fern thought of his aunt’s cat who had stunk up the house by scent-marking the walls. Wasn’t that just pee, not a gland?

“Congratulations,” the other human said. “You are the proud owner of a non-spraying skunk.”

“A what?” Fern said on reflex, processing her words.

She lifted the cage and turned it so he could see inside. “This is the friendliest little snuggle buddy, and he likes being brushed.”

Fern stared. A very fluffy skunk stared back. While most of his brain was still circling in shock, the thought surfaced that the animal really did seem tame: not threatening to spray even though its gland had been removed. Theoretically.

He asked, “You’re sure it’s completely de-stinked?”

“Yes.” The other human nodded. “Our medscanner is top-notch. And I spent a lot of time with him on the trip here; I’m certain he was hand-raised as a pet. No idea how the poor guy ended up in the middle of nowhere, but he more than deserves a loving home. Think you can give him that?”

Fern’s heart twinged, and he shook himself. “Yes, absolutely. Did he come with a name?”

The other human smiled. “Nope! That’s up to you. I’ve been calling him Fluffy, but that’s just a placeholder.”

“Seems pretty accurate,” Fern said, gazing through the bars.

The yellow lizard stepped forward with the digital paperwork. Fern signed for the skunk, his thoughts in a whirl.

“If you’re already set up with cat food, good news: skunks will eat that,” the other human told him. “They’re omnivores, so this guy will eat a lot of the same stuff you do, just try to keep it as close to nature as you can out in space: plain and not overly processed. He’ll love peanut butter and chicken eggs if you can get them. Oh, and keep him away from the usual list of Crazy Human Toxic Foods! No chocolate, onions, garlic, or caffeine. Or hot peppers, though that’s more unpleasant than poisonous for him.”

“Right,” Fern said, handing the tablet back. “Good to know; thank you.”

“Sure thing! I hope you guys have a long and happy life together.” She presented him with the cage and gave his uniform a look. “Merchant ship, right?”

“Talented Toolmakers, of Frillian Pride,” Fern recited automatically as he accepted the armload of skunk. “I got hired when the route changed to spend more time in human territory. But then it changed back, and I haven’t seen much from home lately.”

“Well this guy’s glad to have you,” the other human said. The lizard was already walking back into the ship. “We have to rush off to another delivery, but good luck! Skunks can get into places they shouldn’t, and claw things open that a cat wouldn’t be able to, so keep him away from the engine room.”

“Got it!” Fern waved goodbye as the other human trotted back onto her ship. While the bay doors closed, Fern took careful steps back toward his own.

He expected his crewmates to react in alarm at the news that his cat was a skunk … but he’d forgotten that they were unfamiliar with Earth animals.

“If it can’t make that smell, and it isn’t going to bite anyone, then I don’t see a problem,” the captain said. “Just keep it in your quarters while it gets settled in. You can bring it out under supervision later.”

“It really is as fluffy as you said,” remarked the engineer.

“What does it eat?” asked the pilot.

Fern replied, “A lot of the same things I do.”

“That’s convenient!” the pilot said. The others agreed.

And that was that. Fern took the skunk into his quarters, let it waddle around and sniff everything, then fed it a messy plate of cat food. He put a folded hand towel in the cage and gently stuffed the skunk back in so he could run off to buy a litter box without worrying about what it would do while he was gone.

He splurged on a fancy litter box with a covered top and an auto-scooper, designed for ship’s cats. When he set it up and opened the cage, the skunk went right for it, which was a relief.

Probably a relief for him too, Fern thought. He’s been in that cage a while.

The captain announced that they were taking off. Fern settled down to socialize with his new pet, confident that he wouldn’t be needed for a while yet. Their route was predictable, after all, and this next part involved a lot of empty space before they reached the warehouse.

A lot of empty space, and pirates.

Human ones according to the intercom, which just made the whole thing more insulting. This was NOT the taste of home he’d been missing. The captain’s announcement held a lot of profanity, and Fern could see why. It was bad enough to be shaken down when they had cargo they could be reimbursed for, but right now their hold was empty. And the pirates wouldn’t accept that.

They’ll want our own tools, Fern thought, looking around his quarters. And food, and fuel, and… His gaze fell on the skunk nosing about his bookshelf.

And fuck them.

He lunged for the intercom button. “Captain, if you’re sure they’re human, I have an idea.”

Several minutes later, the pirate ship locked onto the merchant vessel, and clamped an adapter over the airlock. Pirates gathered, ready to board, armed with guns and knives and vicious grins.

Those grins evaporated when the first pirate looked through the airlock porthole at what waited for them on the other side.

One lone human, wearing a breather helmet and carrying a fluffy, agitated skunk.

The pirates detached immediately and took off with enough thrust to rock the ship.

The pilot got the merchant vessel back on course, while the captain sang praises over the intercom, and Fern brought Fluffy the Fearsome back to his room for some well-earned brushing.

The next time that particular merchant ship passed through the area, it had a large emblem of a skunk pasted next to the company logo.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[sorrowfulrosebud]

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: 𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 ℌ𝔬𝔟𝔦𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔶𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔶, 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔪𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔶

༺ 𝕱𝖑𝖚𝖋𝖋 ༻

❦ Hobie is 10000% the boyfriend who kisses the insides of your wrist. Imagine smushing his cheeks together to tease him and he turns the tables by pressing gentle kisses to each pulse point

❦ Loves to send you selfies of the villains he beats up with goofy captions and him posing

❦ Introduces you to his friends at the pub, proudly showing you off

❦ Then proceeds to drunkenly ramble to said friends, arm tight around your shoulder with a protective hand over your drink

❦ Is an incredible cook when he wants to make something special for you, but otherwise makes low effort meals

❦ He loves to tickle your sides when he’s behind you. He comes over to you from behind under the guise of wanting a cuddle, but a devilish grin appears as he presses his long fingers into your sides, making you ugly chortle and shove him away

❦ Hobie would 10000% do the spiderman kiss with you

❦ Protective as FUCK but doesn't show it outwardly. Like, you’ll be walking down the street and some guy would cat call you, but Hobie doesn’t say anything. His grip on your shoulder gets tighter, and it’s not till he comes back past midnight with a bloodied lip do you feel pride flush your chest

❦ He lets you sit on his lap in bed as you do his eyeliner for his upcoming show. Gentle fingers rub against your hip as he looks at you with hooded eyes, letting you smudge his eyeliner. He looks at you with a charming grin, “thanks babe,” he’d say as he kisses you deeply

❦ Hobie lets you pick his nail polish colour and watches you delicately apply it to his nails. He thinks it's adorable when your tongue sticks out in concentration or when you nibble on your lip

❦ He invites the rest of the spidey squad to come to his dimension to play cards and other games, having you sat in his lap the entire time. If you’re playing poker or something, he nudges you in an attempt to silently communicate what he should pick. He gives you the occasional discreet kiss as Gwen cackles at Pav winning go fish over Miles

❦ Soft, classical music is NOT his style at all, so don't expect him to start playing Ed Sheeran on a regular guitar. If you struggle to fall asleep, he sets you on his tummy and makes patterns on your back based on the way his fingers would position themselves on his guitar

❦ He loves causing chaos with you, be it spray painting a Winston Churchill poster or statue of another bigot, or blasting his guitar near MPs houses, he loves it when you’re there, smiling happily with him

❦ DEFINITELY THE BF TO SMACK YOUR ASS. I SAID WHAT I SAID

❦ Doesn't have a set nickname for you, usually a play on your name or “luv”

❦ The type of bf who gets really invested in his S/O’s drama. Like you could be sat sipping tea, rambling about how this bitch tried to make you feel like shit and he’s just sat proudly like “oh yah? Then what’d you do babe?” With the dopiest ass look on his face

❦ Really stinking cute when drunk. Full on ambling into his flat, making you take care of him. Loves when you clean his piercings and rub off his eyeliner

❦ “Mf, thanks babe. Eyeliner makin’ it difficult to go to sleep,” he mumbles as you prop him upright on the bed. You roll your eyes fondly as you clean him up and start cleaning his piercings

❦ Thinks it's funny as fuck to make you smell his crust jacket. Punks are known to have jackets and not wash them to make them look as grunge as possible and Hobie is no different (bc fuck consistency)

༺𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖘𝖙༻

ఌ Is really stand-offish at the start of your relationship. His dislike for labels put a strain on your relationship; he would kiss you and make you feel loved, and then rip your heart out by saying you’re just friends to his pub mates

ఌ Struggles to fully take things seriously. You could be arguing over something and Hobie would just smirk, making the anger boil over. He doesn’t do it to emasculate or intimidate you, he just thinks it’s cute when you’re so passionate. This has definitely caused some worse arguments and either of you storming out

ఌ Definitely struggles with time and dates. If you arrange a date and he’s Spider-Punkin’ that day, be prepared to walk home and cry after waiting so long that the owners of the restaurant have to gently nudge you away

ఌ It can be seen as angsty or horny, but if you’re trying to start a fight or fussing over him when he’s tired, he’s not above shooting his web at your mouth to shut you up

ఌ Is low-key petrified every time he can’t get hold of you if you’re apart. He doesn’t want your death to become another canon event for him, so days where his anxiety manifest into something way deeper, he keeps you either at arms length or doesn’t let you out of his sight

ఌ Can actually be really mean in arguments if pushed far enough. Man is all for communication, but days where his mental health is struggling are usually days where his temper is short. He does his best to communicate to you that he’s not doing great but is physically fine and just needs some time, but if you keep pushing then he knows where to hit deep. (This is so so incredibly rare though)

ఌ Unintentionally gives you the silent treatment after an argument. If you had a really bad fight and he is still trying to cool off, he is in no mood to talk to anyone. I may be projecting, but I imagine Hobie is the type of person to need to be completely left alone to cool off and gets really upset again if someone tries to ask. He always wants to answer your text but sometimes forgets

ఌ Doesn’t let on but sometimes he has really bad nightmares from his role as protector of London. Sometimes it’s you getting hurt and sometimes it’s him. Either way, he wakes up in cold sweats and immediately feels for you before sighing in relief.

“Hi sweetheart, are you alright? You kept making noises in your sleep,” you murmur to him. Hobie’s eyes fluttered slightly before sinking back under the duvet with a sigh.

“Ughhhh, yeah. ‘M fine babe, jus’ a stupid bad dream,” he mutters, throwing his arm around your waist and nuzzling into your chest. Your arm wrapped around his lean tummy and rubbed soft circles to the skin.

“D’you wanna talk about it hun? I’m here for you,” you whisper softly into his ear. Hobie thought for a minute before shaking his head.

“No thanks. Not now. Jus’ lemme hold ya,” he grunts sleepily. Your fingers found a steady rhythm against his back as you heard him sigh deeply into your neck.

“I love you so much Hobes. I’m always gonna be right here, waiting for you,” you promise him. Slender fingers intertwined with yours, the slight tremble being the only movement in your dark shared bedroom. Tender but firm kisses were placed along your neck in silent thanks as the two of you slip back into dreamless slumber.

༺𝕾𝖒𝖚𝖙༻

༒ Is SUPER easy to turn on. The softest of praises is enough to turn his cock rock hard, but is also a major horn dog for being degraded 🤭🤭

༒ Gets SUPER horny when he catches you wearing his jewellery and jackets. He WILL fuck you right then and there

༒ He’s more of a grunter than a moaner, unless he’s quite deep in subspace. He’s definitely not above whimpering

༒ Hobie loves to send you videos of him wanking off, angled so you can see every lustful touch and hear every choked gasp

༒ A very versatile man. Doesn’t mind whether he’s domming or subbing, or even if there’s no dynamic

༒ Some of Hobie’s biggest kinks: edging, slight overstim, light impact play, light sensory deprivation and wax play

༒ If you’re female or someone without a peeny weeny, he would definitely take some good old cock up the ass <3 the male G spot is up there for a reason!

༒ He can often get lost in pleasure if he’s penetrating you, making his thighs shake as sweat drops and he’s biting into your shoulder like a man starved

༒ Definitely skilled with his fingers 😝😝 loves to finger you until you’re shaking and crying from overstim

༒ Is such a huge brat you wouldn’t believe 🤭🤭 he doesn’t deliberately say things to rile you up, but rather small displays. Rubbing his hands up your sides, murmuring soft teasings into your ears, lingering kisses right before a mission so you end up beating a villain with fire burning in your crotch

I absolutely adore this man, send asks and thots 🤭

[secretly-from-the80s]

My outsiders head cannons because idk im bored (warning I’ll prolly misspell things!)

Darry:

1: When he was younger he used to play in the mud with Pony and soda and they would go back into the house and their mom would kick them out and would have to spray them down with a hose

2: (after the book) Darry and pony had gotten into a argument like brothers do and Darry Couldng handle it anymore and broke down in tears in front of both his brothers.

3: he has nightmares sometimes and they cause him to wake up in a panic and he would always have to check up on pony and soda to make sure they were okay

4: idk why some people like make him seem like a Facebook mom who likes minion memes and dad jokes. HES BARELY 20 YEARS OLD. He would probably say the most unfiltered ass shit in a group chat 😭

5: he gets those random urges to like kick or playfully hit pony or soda (I do that 😣)

6: ate rotten food once and work and got sick and his boss had to drive the boy home since he was so sick

7: will probably work himself till he makes himself sick like he Wont stop himself till someone stops him

8: hates seeming like a parent more then a older brother sometimes when the boys need reminders that Darry is still their brother Darry will start a game of tag and all the brothers will run around the house. (When they did that when their parents were alive they knocked down a special vase and they all got whooped)

9 : likes cats. He has a stray cat at work that he shares his lunch with he named it “kitty cat” sooooo creative righttt

10: doesn’t like ham (idk that just randomly appeared in my mind)

Extra: used to bite as a child and gags when those chunks of food in the sink hits his hands

Soda

1: stinks like car oil and pony will not allow him to get into the bed till he showers

2: likes grilled cheeses (me too bro)

3: he once caught Darry having a panic attack and didn’t really know what to do since he’s never really saw his brother like Cry like that so he was awkwardly comforting him😭

4: makes Radom sounds like with his mouth and it’s makes the others tweak

5: gets dates mixed up really easily

6: after Darry slapped pony, soda in a fit of like idk rage punched Darry square in the face.

7: WILL forget to clean under his fingernails.

8: Darry ate his food once and soda ignored him for the rest of the night. Anytime Darry Tried to talk to him soda would give him a snooty face and would cross his arms and say “mhmp”

9: cries when he watches dog movies (like all dogs go to heaven or a dogs purpose or a dogs way home)

10: has the most NASTIEST converse and refuses to clean them

Ponyboy

1: can only cook eggs he cannot cook anything else 😭

2: loves chocolate milk (I think that’s in the book)

3: tried Darry’s coffee once and almost threw up since it was so bitter

4: likes to race Darry since they were both in sports that involved a lot of running

5: stole one of Darry’s old sweatshirts and REFUSES to give it back. He loves that sweatshirt it’s like 2 sizes to big for him

6: (after the book) had a huge growth spurt after the book like it wasn’t even funny😭

7: since Darry and soda are such deep sleepers pony once drew like a “rocketship” and all those other things teenage boys draw he drew it on his brothers faces😣

8: chews his nails

9: has/had a crush on a soc girl and got teased by the gang relentlessly

10: (if it was like modern day idk) he would love headphones/airpods

Dallas

1: got chased by a dog and is forever traumatized from

2: would prolly stink like beer and sweat

3: bro can sleep through a tornado

4: bro prolly has the most greasiest hair

5: bro has a laugh that makes everyone else laugh

6: (before the Curtis parents died) dally finally made Darry sneak out with him and they ended up getting pulled up on by Mr Curtis and they both ended up getting in so much trouble 😭

7: made a your mom joke to the Curtis brothers and ended up getting jumped 😣

8: like those bland ass Cheerios

9: favorite fruit is cherries

10: bro will flip his underwear inside out and backwards since his nasty ass don’t wanna waste the time to wash the clothes

Steve

1: gets mad and when Darry doesn’t make chocolate cake 😣

2: bro will make himself at home at the Curtis house that couch practically as a ass imprint from him

3: likes strawberry shortcake (that’s his favorite dessert)

4: has so much beef with ponyboy they diss eachother anytime they get to

5: bro will HOG the bed if you share it with him

(Sorry his is kinda short 😣)

Two-bit

1: lost his Mickey Mouse shirt in the washer and thought he lost it forever

2: has a younger sister (protective brother)

3: knows how to braid hair

4: tried to recreate Darry’s infamous chocolate cake and he failed miserably 😭

5: he was really mad at Darry when pony ran away. When he found out he said straight in Darry’s face “good brother my ass.”

6: favorite Disney princess is belle (idk why I thought of that)

7: when he’s actually like serious the gang like tenses up a bit

8: knows all the drama from his younger sister he had beef with little kids he’s never even met

His lil sister: “yeah and Shelly and David are dating when she knew David was my crush and I told her too”

Two-bit: “I don’t like Shelly or David 🙄”

Johnny

1: (when the Curtis parents were alive) he once ran to the Curtis house after his father hit him super hard and Mrs Curtis took him in for the night giving him a hot meal and a warm shower and some clean clothes.

2: whenever he needs to crash somewhere he has a designated pallet that he sleeps on in the Curtis house

3: likes m&m popcorn

4: chews the side of his nails

5: can go days without eating

6: bro needs to wash that Jean jacket

(SORRY HIS IS SO SHORT)

[crush-itis]

ྀི. ̞. ১ ✿ ㅤ𓈒 crush-itis

ㅤㅤ. ‿‿ ‿‿ ୨ ୧ ‿‿ ‿‿ .

ㅤ. 𓂂 Twisted Wonderland ⊹

🩷 headcanons ꒱ they have a crush on Yuu

ㅤㅤ. ‿‿ ‿‿ ୨ ୧ ‿‿ ‿‿ .

♥︎： My first headcanon post for the fandom TWST! I hope you guys like it, I also apologize if it’s not character accurate! I haven’t played this game in a while, nor have I watched the gameplays… could you guess who my favourite character is? ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

Riddle Rosehearts

♥︎： Gets beet red around you, and is flustered easily. Seems to avoid you most of the time, but always tries to strike up a tentative, nervous smile when your eyes both meet. He’ll make anonymous love letters to you with rose petals as the letter. It’s silly, and cringe, but he thinks it’s pretty romantic. Will collar anyone who you're too intimate with, and close with.

Trey Clover

♥︎： Shameless; will try cheesy pick up lines on you, while laughing it off. He’s cringey when he’s in love, but is confident, and brazen. Bakes you your favourite pastries, and if you’re not into sweets, he’d gladly cook up your favourite meals. He compliments your teeth often.

Cater Diamond

♥︎： Takes selfies with you, and posts them in his Magicam. The type to snap “ugly” pictures of you, and coos at them as if you’re in a Vogue magazine. Makes it obvious he likes you. He literally has a picture album of you in his photo gallery. He calls, and texts you often—even when he’s in the shower.

Ace Trappola

♥︎： Convinces you to go watch his basketball practises, and games. He always does over the top tricks if you are watching—like shooting the ball without looking. Discreetly touches your hands on purpose. Looks at your lips often. Flirts casually as if it’s a joke, but dies in embarrassment internally.

Deuce Spade

♥︎： Invites you to his dorm for silly study groups, but you two end up never finishing any work. Always glances at you in class if “pick a partner” or “group project” is mentioned. Always rushing to you if he has spare time. Will apply for a part time job—McDonalds—and use the money to buy you jewelry that complements your eye colour.

Leona Kingscholar

♥︎： Doesn’t care if you steal a jewel, an earring, or even a brick of gold in his room. Smiles at you often, and sleeps on your lap. Acts like a tamed house cat around you. Likes to pinch you, or scrape a long fingernail into your skin; it’s a stupid way to show you wants you!

Ruggie Bucchi

♥︎： Shares you his favourite foods, and snacks. He likes to watch you eat. Laughs at your jokes like a pick me—even if they’re severely unfunny. Teases you, and likes to play with your hair. He’d help brush, and comb your hair. He loves picking out your outfits, but his taste is so bad, you have to politely refuse.

Jack Howl

♥︎： He doesn’t realize he’s in love with you, he doesn’t even realize the blush on his cheeks when you’re around. Holds your gaze if you happen to meet eyes on accident, always playing the staring contest—he finds it intimate. Likes to hold you close, and squeezes you in a way that makes you almost choke, but he’s not intentionally hurting you.

Blue Ashengrotto

♥︎： He likes to do things for you—he’s reliable for running your errands. Will scold Floyd, and Jade if you happen to not like a dish from Mostro Lounge. Screams in his pillow if he had the slightest physical contact with you. Will stalk your Magicam, and the people you follow. Often questions who the people are in your following list—as if you two were already dating, and he’s suspecting you’re cheating on him.

Jade Leech

♥︎： Thinks he has competition with his older brother because they look the same. Always asking you in a playful way who you like the most. Gives people you often approach a threatening, blank stare—it’s not a stink eye or whatever, but it’s more an intimidating look that makes you look away, and shudder in trepidation. Buys the perfume you use so he can spray it on his pillowcase every sunday; he does it when he has an “everything shower.”

Floyd Leech

♥︎： Also thinks he has competition with his brother, but is slightly confident you like him more. Is crazy for you, will follow you around, and playfully tickle you. Squeezes you from behind, disguising it as a hug. Will bite you as if it’s a funny joke. Stalks you physically. Buys you shoes, and heels. He likes the way heels look on you.

Kalim Al-Asim

♥︎： Showers you with gifts, and shares his wealth with you. Loves to spend time with you, always clinging to you. He’s willing to try out creative hobbies to praise you, like writing odes, and silly poems about you. He’d even go on to buy an expensive camera, and go to photography classes to learn how to take extravagant photos of you. Flirts with you without even realizing it.

Jamil Viper

♥︎： Likes to cook your favourite meals. He’s willing to braid your hair if you want, and loves to stroke your hair. Offers his hoodie to you whenever you’re cold. Doesn’t show his affections much as he’s a bit shy.

Vil Schoenheit

♥︎： Features you in his social media. His bio in magicam is “follow @yuu”. Showers you with gifts, and new clothes. Always affirming you’re the second most beautiful person before him. He always looks at his reflection in your eyes while touching up his hair, and makeup—it’s a flimsy excuse to just admire the way your eyes look. Presses kisses on your cheek, leaving a romantic trail of bright red lipstick stains on your face.

Rook Hunt

♥︎： Buys you a bracelet, or a necklace one day that magicslly tracks down your location. Stalks you occasionally, both online, and in real life. Calls you all sorts of pet names, and shamelessly flirts with you.

Idia Shroud

♥︎： Will invent useless, but surprisingly convenient things for you. He’d even code a robot that hugs you… he’s so nerdy. He avoids you though, he’s really shy, and nervous, but has the balls to not show up to a date with his iPad as a substitute. He texts you more than he talks to you in real life—he prefers to chat on Myspace.

Malleus Draconia

♥︎： He likes to take you out in night walks downtown, and then take you to his dorm after. He’ll plant chaste kisses on your nose, and forehead. He’s not shy, and will flirt with you occasionally. He blabbers to you a lot about such things, and random pieces of knowledge he learned, possibly from Lilia. He trusts you heavily, and shares his secrets with you. He’d even go on to introduce you to his parents right away.

Lilia Vanrouge

♥︎： He loves to sneak up on you, and surprise you. He likes the fearful look on your face, and brazenly kisses your cheek after. He likes to cook things for you, but doesn’t realize it’s poorly made. He flirts, and compliments you often. He likes to cling to you, and show you pictures of the places he travelled to before. He loves to share his wisdom with you.

Silver

♥︎： Uses your lap as a pillow. Gets sleepier around you, and he believes you casted a sleeping spell on him. Dreams about you often, and giggles in his sleep because of it. Your voice is music to his ears.

Sebek Zigvolt

♥︎： Boasts about his friendship with you like it’s a trophy. Blushes, and easily gets flustered with you. Will defend you, and stand up for you if you’re ever bullied. Will accidentally confess his feelings to you by being such a loud mouth.

ㅤㅤ. ‿‿ ‿‿ ୨ ୧ ‿‿ ‿‿ .

ׅ ׅ 𝒯hank 𝒴ou !!

[hazbinshusk]

Can I get a uhh…a Husk? With a side of..uhh…kiss prompt 19? For no other reason than that I think it’ll be a silly goofy time-

I won't lie - this one has been stumping me for a while because why would husk ever consent to being underwater? but I think I came up with a work around. so, here's...

prompt #19: a kiss underwater.

The growl that rips itself from Husk’s throat goes beyond his usual irritation, and your amused smile turns to a sympathetic pout as you set a stack of fresh, fluffy towels on the toilet seat. You turn to see him glowering down at himself, and you hurry forward when he makes move to grab at the fur of his chest.

“Hey, stop!” you urge him gently, catching hold of his wrist before his claws can tangle in the mess of sticky fur at the base of his throat. “Stop. You’re just going to end up ripping it out.”

Husk almost hisses under his breath, but he takes your point when you release his arm and a few tufts of fur come with it, glued to your palm. “Gonna fuckin’ kill Pentious.”

The corner of your lips twitches upward, and you reach up to take the hat from his head, his ears flicking briefly before returning to where he presses them back against his skull apprehensively. You don’t often see him without his hat, and you push back the desire to run your fingers through the hair he hides beneath it and set his hat on the edge of the sink.

“I don’t think anyone would blame you,” you say idly, moving past him and leaning into the shower stall to turn the shower on. It groans for a second before a steaming spray fills the stall. “But Charlie might have a few issues with it.”

“She can kiss my ass, too.” he grumbles, and you smile sympathetically. Pentious’ latest invention had an… explosive side effect, coating those of you who had been patronising the bar in a sticky, foul-smelling goop that was apparently the closest thing Hell had to rubber cement when it came in contact with fur. Angel had been so pissed that his hair was ruined that he’d actually forgone any suggestions of soaping up Husk, storming upstairs and shouting to the ceiling about a bath.

Husk had looked ready to commit murder, but you’d managed to haul him upstairs while Sir Pentious slithered around barking at his eggs about mismeasuring whatever chemicals he’d tossed in that damned thing.

Now, the cat stands fuming in your bathroom – with the reasoning that you have far more in the way of soaps and shampoos at your disposal – and despite his fury, he still manages to blush when you pull your shirt off over your head.

“Doll,” he coughs, casting his eyes to the floor. “I can—”

“Look, this stuff really stinks,” you say, grimacing apologetically. Still, you force yourself to keep your voice casual and matter-of-fact as you unzip your jeans. “And I’m just going to say it – it’s going to take both of us to get all that crap out of your fur. So… keep your pants on, I’ll keep these on—” you gesture down at your bra and underwear, sparing a second to silently thank whoever is listening that you at least wore a nice set today – “And we’ll get… get you out of the shower a hell of a lot quicker. Okay?”

Husk swallows heavily before nodding. “Fine. Jus’… let’s get this shit off’a me.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Between the heat of the water and the flush you can feel burning through your body at being soaking wet and near naked next so close to Husk… it’s a miracle you haven’t passed out. You swear, the only thing keeping your mind on the task at hand is just how miserable the bartender looks.

His fur is soaked and weighed down by the water, leaving him utterly bedraggled. He stands frozen under the spray, soft groans occasionally escaping him as you scrub soap gently over his chest. In an attempt to keep his wings as dry as possible, Husk is standing by the open door of the shower stall, caging you in against the wall. The stench of the goop is receding, replaced by the fragrance of bergamot and rose from your shampoo. His eyes are closed, his lips parted, and you jump, startled, as you feel his claws brush over your hips.

Husk takes hold of them tentatively, and despite the heat, you realize he’s trembling.

“Husk?” you ask gently, stilling your hands. His stomach twitches under your touch, but you feel his hands tighten on your hips when you move to draw away. “You okay?”

He nods, swallowing. “Yeah, baby, I jus’… I hate this.”

“I’m sorry,” you frown, fingers curling against his stomach despite yourself. “But I’m… I’ve almost got it all out, and then I promise, I’ll keep my hands to myself. I- I know you don’t like—”

“’s not it,” Husk shakes his head, water dripping from his muzzle. “Shit, I—that’s not what I meant. It’s the fuckin’… the water. An’ everythin’ smells like you in here and it’s drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy.”

Biting your lip as you take in his words, you slowly flatten your palm against his stomach again experimentally, and Husk exhales a curse under his breath as your fingers card through his fur to graze the skin beneath. His claws squeeze reflexively on your hips, thumbs catching in the waistband of your underwear. It’s brief, but the gesture makes your heart thrum heavily against your ribs.

Still, you try for humour in an attempt to ease the sudden tension you’re feeling. “I know it’s not your… usual scent, but…”

“’s fuckin’ intoxicatin’.” Husk tells you, his voice rough, barely audible over the pounding water. Still, it’s all you find yourself able to hear. “You’re intox… fuck…”

He basically moans, and the sound goes straight between your legs.

“And… and now you’re half-naked and you’re touchin’ me and it feels so…” he groans, letting his head fall back. “And I’m standin’ in front of ya, tryin’ not to fuck it up, an’ all I can think about is that I look like a goddamn drowned rat.”

You smile even while your stomach flips at his words, a soft laugh slipping out between your lips. You reach up to tilt his face back down towards yours, taking the time to carefully push and brush fur away from his face so you can see him properly. He watches you with wide pupils as you do, a kind of guarded surprise burning behind them.

His ear twitches as you tuck his fur away from his eyes, and you dare to let your fingertips ghost along the edge of it. It flicks automatically and your smile widens. Husk lets out a sound something like a quiet ‘mew’ in response, his muzzle stained with pink.

“Not so much a wet rat,” you tell him, smoothing your fingers along his muzzle carefully to cup his cheeks. “But maybe I could take your mind off it?”

Husk swallows, and you can feel the tips of his claws against the small of your back. “How’re –”

You lean up on your toes and bring his mouth down to yours. Husk’s breath catches against your lips as you kiss him, a gasp of surprise that melts into a soft, soft moan that sends a shiver along your spine that has nothing to do with the water cooling on your skin. His hands tighten on your hips, slide up to your waist, his touch tickling against your ribs as you lean into him. His fur sticks uncomfortably to your palms but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything other than that you’re kissing him.

When you pull away, Husk blinks back at you slowly, that surprise still etched on his features. But there’s a soft, warm smile there, too.

You clear your throat, smiling back at him bashfully. “Did it… did it work?”

Husk exhales, the breath both disbelieving and amused.

“Good.” you reach back to tilt the shower head to wash away the bubbles still clinging to some of his fur. “So… what do you say we finish washing up, spend some quality time with my hairdryer and… every towel in this wing of the hotel, and, uh…” you bite your lip, smile widening. “We see just how soft that fur of yours gets now that it’s had some quality time with my conditioner.”

Husk chuckles, his wings fluttering behind him as the last of the soap flows down into the drain. “I think I’d like that.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[guillotine-drop]

Rating POSTAL Dudes by how good they smell:

POSTAL - 9/10: I think his habitual reclusion and distrust of the world would probably mean he’s showering constantly, moreso than any other Dude, especially if he thinks there’s a ‘Hate Plague’ going on. I think he smells basic; very simple routine, just enough to make sure he feels clean, so at most he’ll smell like some generic 3-in-1 body wash and shampoo/conditioner, maybe something slightly nicer just for himself (some decent $15 aftershave for that menthol scent and cooling relief).

POSTAL Redux - 3/10: Exact opposite of his original incarnation, this greasy son of a bitch isn’t scared of shit he just wants to throw explosives at ostriches and parades. Barely showers, constantly stinks of stale sweat, old blood, cheap leather and cheaper cologne, punctuated with the scent of burnt gunpowder. Borderline noxious.

POSTAL 2 - 4/10: Smells just as bad as Redux Dude but gets the edge here because every now and then he goes outside and uses the neighbor’s hose to blast himself. Shockingly uses deodorant, still not enough to be perpetually leather and denim clad in the great state of Arizona. Almost constantly reeks of sweat and has the recognizable yet faint scent of stale piss wafting off of him, accompanied by the scent of even staler crack and pungent fast food. Almost pungent enough to drown the rest out. Almost.

POSTAL 3 - 2/10: If you were to raid the wash cart after a double overtime football game, steal every jockstrap in the place, wring the sweat into a bucket, and then bring it all to a boil, you’d have somewhere in the realm of what a clean P3 Dude smells like. On average, however, this man has managed to combine the overwhelming sensory nightmares of cat piss and cheap spray deodorant into an almost lethal concoction, ONLY made breathable by the strange and overpowering smell of gasoline that seems to seep from his pores. Approach with caution and for the love of god: do not bring bleach or matches near this freak.

POSTAL 4: No Regerts - 5/10: Despite looking like he crawled out of a dumpster after a bad divorce or a fantastic honeymoon, P4 Dude is shockingly passable in terms of being able to stand next to him for a prolonged period without gagging or killing him. Having learned the efficacy of not being encased in leather in the desert, he’s managed to bring his pungency down several notches. Still reeks of sweat most of the time, and the smell of burger grease and pepperoni follows him like a specter of death, but the piss scent stopped clinging on as hard. He’s also upgraded from hose showers with no supplies to sink baths with tiny gas station travel soaps. It’s an improvement, trust me.

Brain Damaged - 2/10: Take a look at his living space in the title screen, then watch the game’s cutscenes. Just soak it all in. Now that you’ve done that, you can understand that his rank ass smells exactly as bad as you might think it does. If it can come out of his body, it’s probably soaking some part of him. If you think any of the clothes on him have been washed, you’re wrong. This man smells like if someone firebombed an outhouse and pissed on it to put it out. The best thing for him would be getting blasted with a firehouse and a box of laundry detergent. Please.

The Other Dude - 1-10/10: Entirely depends on how the BD Dude would imagine he smells depending on the situation.

POOSTALL Dude - 6/10: Despite the name, this one actually smells pretty decent. The clearly larger coat with the rolled sleeves implies some level of understanding about how not to smell like swamp ass and sweat soaked leather, and truthfully, he looks like he bathes semi-regularly, a rarity amongst these guys.

POSTAL Doe - 9/10: I admit fully and entirely to my lack of impartiality to this one, but I’m willing to stand by it even if I lose my Stink Judge License: first of all, sleeveless leather trench coat AND a crop top mean less overheat which means less sweat. Second of all, visually cleaner than pretty much any of the dudes which implies some kind of self care regimen. Third, and most importantly, girlstink counts positive. I will not be turning in my badge or my gun.

Movie Dude - 8/10: This may be controversial, but despite the squalor he lives in and the fact that hems a cuckold and that his life sucks and that he can’t get a job and that he’s a loser- I digress. I think Movie Dude is in the top echelons of Dude Stink solely because I think he’d have a breakdown if he smelled bad. This man uses Dr. Teals. He stinks like a mix of eucalyptus and peppermint. If ever there was a Dude who had a skin routine, he still wouldn’t, but he’d definitely think about it one day. I think by the end he gets an extra point just because he gets a little hotter the more deranged he is. Overall very pleasant but I still wouldn’t give him $4.

John Murray - 2/10: Hasselridge seems to have a very… interesting relationship with what is and isn’t normal, so unsurprisingly, Johnny Boy would probably smell pretty rough. Considering how dingy, run down and shitty everything in that town appears to be, I can’t imagine anyone else is smelling like roses either. Just avoid the entire place, not least of all because of the zombie thing.

Shtopor - 0/10: Bad.

Nottem Portant - 5/10: Despite the misanthropy, dollar store Nathan Explosion thing and the absolutely abysmal gameplay, Mr. Hatred is actually extremely middle of the road on stink. Sure, he doesn’t smell great, but shockingly he washes his ass despite the whole ‘death to humanity’ thing. He does get point deduction for not washing his hair though, grease mop motherfucker.

[life-of-a-rat]

TMA reverse time travel AU masterlist

PAGES:

part one

part two

EXTRA COMICS:

this is definitely what eldritch powers are for, right?

jon's bad at his job

fixing the "family photo"

REQUESTS:

world explanation (still unsure on this one)

tim and jon beat up clowns

"he's so hot"

past martin takes jmart notes

martin escapes

sasha and jon talk, jon fucks up

helen comes over for tea

past martin cant handle sasha's stink eye

you're cringe

martins buys an ungodly amount of anti-fogging spray

very rare angst (+silly mini-comics and speedpaint)

oh no, this isn't a dream

the jmart household is helens sitcom (+sashsa doodle)

tim reads his obituary

how did jon manage to get shorter in the future???

jon knife cat

archive crew self care day

are you crying??!!??

past martin tries to figure out how to enter the lonely

Jon accidently compels s1 Martin

Tim and Jon beat up clowns pt 2

where did you get that scar?

RANDOM:

character reference sheets

my art process

i just keep drawing the same face

also here's the link for an absolutely kickass fic for this AU, made by mageless :]

+my fanart of it, panel detail

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Random Cleaning management

You will need to occasionally run a cleaning cycle for your washing machine. Most shops have some kind of powder for it.

Otherwise your clothes will start smelling musty and the machine itself can get cloggedup and gross.

Also, you will need to use drain cleaner on your kitchen and bathroom sinks, shower drain, laundry sink.

Apparently you also need to do it for dishwashers, if youre lucky to have a robot for that odious little task.

And check the lint catcher in your dryer to avoid fires.

Mirrors, you can use your glass cleaner and s scrunkled newspaper

Wipe the top of fans of dust. And the top of the fridge. And the furniture.

Make peace with the reality that there will always be dust and you one day will also be dust.

Wipe the taps. They can get gunky.

Spray on cleaners for the bathroom are great but you're going to have to actually clean it eventually.

Get a mop if you have tiles or laminate flooring. It makes a difference.

Wipe the cupboards. Esp if you have pets.

Not sure if this works for all walling but like, diluted sugar soap cleans most stuff. Thats the stuff that worked when i was a kid.

You can get leather wipes or a spray and some chux for armchairs and shit.

If you have little demons who take out your table cloths, most cheap stores have these little table weights in a four pack. It can stop them annihilating your table.

Dont auto assume furniture polish needs to go on any wood you got. But it also doesnt hurt to try the test patch thing in a small spot.

Wash your fucking curtains at some point in the year. They collect dust and cat hair. If you cant vacuum it or whatever, shake em outside and wash it.

If your vacuum isnt that strong, nothing wrong with a lint roller or a little brush to get stubborn fluff from carpet or rugs.

Move the furniture once every so often for a clean. So much. Dust and fluff can get under there.

Keep your cleaning shit all together in a closable location. Lockable as needed if you have kids. So they dont chug a potion of uh oh.

Hang shirts on coathangers if you have limited line space. If its long sleeved or thick, you may need to still hang them.

Oh and you save space/pegs if you get one of the specialised holders. Undies, socks, headbands etc. It'll fit and dry quick.

Most shops and camping stores have easily collapsible washing lines and things. Great for if you need extra space, or if its pissing rain and it has to dry inside, or you need to just spread something out weird.

You will never win against a fitted sheet.the gods abandoned us aeons ago.

If you wash thick things like blankets or bath mats, getting some heavier duty metal pegs van be a game changer. Esp if the wind tunnel by your place can blast shit off the line with the most mininmal provocation.

Chair leg protectors... the stick on ones will slide off and they hate you personally.

If you have messy animal eaters in the house,there are like silicone mats and even towel ones although to make your own, you can even cut out of old towels and put a hem or whatevs. Under the bowls? Saves the floor and easily washed.

Flip the mattress. Get a mattress protector too. There will be a day someone spills a drink or jas an accident, or a pet throws up. Just do it. Also wash the mattress protector. Please.

If you have a small bedroom and a big vacuum? For a deep clean, push the mattress off the bed and pick up the slats. Takes extra effort but it gets that deep clean.

Glen20 is a friend but like, you do need to wipe surfaces. Eventually. Wipe the bottom of the bin. Hot water. Bin juice gets sticky and no stink pretty spray fixes it.

Smelly shoes needs to sit in the sun, you can also put newspaper in there to sop up extra.

If clothes or blankets smell off after storage, wash em.

Fabric softner. Not necessary. Can fuck up things like towels and period panties and some delicate items.

Clothes and things have labels on them for a reason. If you love the item, read them.

Cant fit a full ass ironing board? You can get a mini one. I gound mine at an op shop. But you can also get a mat from stores like bunnings and big w.

Litter boxes. Give the thing a wipe over regulalrly. Especially if you dont use the tray bag things. I use a puppy pad under a litter tray liner thing. Only because i have frantic diggers who will try to hide it in china. Wash the litter box and any floor protector mats.

Speaking of the dunny, you can get little cubes to put in the cistern to clean on flush, if you dsilike cage cleaners. But, you still have to scrub the thunderbox in some way, and use the little toilet cleaner and spray up under the rim. It gets evil up there.

Have some containers for your hobbies and crafts, helps to cycle them in and out easier.

Do not. Use cleaners with the abandon of a drunk wizard hurling everything in a cauldron. Be in a ventilated room, door open if you can. Use one product at a time and pay attention to whats in it so you dont gas yourself by accident.

Shopping list magnet on the fridge can help are u gonna forget it on occasion? Sure. Take a photo of it on shopping day.

Wipe out your fridge. Defrost the freezer. Check the brand type and see if theres any instructions for it.

Wash your Toys. Please. Dont give yourself an infection internally or externally. But if you do, remember that your dr is there to help not judge you. Dont delay out of embarrsssment.

Change your loofa. Change your toothbrush. Change your washing up slonge regulalry.

Steel wool is your friend for anti rust mess. Lovely knife sets sometimes get moisture and need a scrub. Also needs to be sharpened. You can get a device for it or see a professional (have never fogotten the post about the knife truck that circled a neighbourhood like an ice cream truck).

Occasionally pull out all your co tainers and lids. Check who is a single, double check for missing pair, and either repurpose or toss.

Any wooden items in your kitchen really look at them at least a few times a year. Moldy? Toss it. Been submerged in water and never quite dried? Sorry, has to go.

Especially a cutting board with sus looking colours in the grooves. Gotta go. And plastic ones that are all hacked up? Repurpose it or toss it.

Wipe the splashback tiles around the sinks. Theres more than you think on there.

Wipe the windows. Promise theyre dirtier than you think.

Clean. Your. Fucking microwave. And. Oven.

For like recyclable items like water bottles and cans, a garden bag in a 60L bin tucked in a corner is a helpful solution. Resdy to go right to containers for change when full.

You do not need 3ven 1/10th of the must haves on tiktok or snap or insta. You just need shit that works for you.

Listen, my house gets messy regularly for like, the fact theres only so much time in a day. But occasionaly remembering one of these things and doing it can help unfuck your head and environment.

Theres probs more, you accumulate adulting and cleaning stuff. Add more as you think of it.

[katblaze]

Richie Lipschitz headcanons because I can and no one is able to restrain me in time.

I might draw some of these in the future, feel free to steal all of these ideas for your own art

More under cut

~~~

He picks his lips and usually has a lot of dead skin on them

He stands up at his desk while taking tests/doing team projects

He wears headphones whenever he doesn't want to put his hair up with gel

He goes to a lot of cons

He has embarrassing dirt on Paul (his uncle/caretaker) that he uses to get him to watch anime

Plays super smash bros with all the nerds (main is falco? ((Emma and Richies shit talking game goes hard))

Has LED lights lining his room which almost exclusively stays blue or red

He wears fingerless gloves he bought from amazon for a cosplay out casually

Has a collection of funko pops (keeps them in the box), legos, and pokemon

Really insecure about his appearance (dysphoria?)

Blue hair and pronouns (trans ftm)

He picks at his skin/pimples

He wore fake glasses as a kid cause he thought it was cool

Halloween is his favorite holiday

Really into minecraft as a kid

Shops at hottopic often (refuses to take Ruth into spencers)

He mostly draws comics of really muscly men, robots, and women with wonky proportions

Big white chocolate enjoyer

He jumps up and down when excited

Music taste is midwest emo and vocaloid

Furry. Secretly? (Ruth knows ((probably Paul too but he doesn't really understand))

He wore a fake cat tail to school as a kid (licked his rist like a cat)

Really into the warrior cats series

Owns a collection of long funky socks (mostly anime related)

Only ever had turtles/fish but wants other pets

He itches himself as a stim/when he's overstimulated

Doesn't like to shower often because it's overstimulating/exhausting

Has to put shoe fresheners in his sneakers cause they stink

Wants piercing(s) pretty badly

Used to bring stim toys to school before almost all of them got lost or broken by Max

Uses axe body spray 💪

Back pain due to the worlds worst slouch

Twitter user and discord mod

Eats ramen religiously

He's the love of my life /hj

[skepsiss]

His People - Eddie Munson

Wrote a small piece for the October 13th prompt "Monster" for Eddie Month! @eddiemonth. This is a short fic about Eddie coming back as some kind of monster after the events of S4. I might explore this idea more if people like it. (If I continue it, I'll probably make it Steddie, lol). Believe it or not, this is fluff. This is extremely soft and a look into Eddie's mind when he himself doesn't know his own mind anymore. He is more like a stray cat than something scary though.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

CW: Descriptions of gore/violence, body horror (minor), discrimination, mention of blood.

For as long as Eddie could remember he had felt like a monster. You were made to feel that way when you grew up poor without parents to rely on. You learned how to shroud yourself in mystery and grow teeth and nails to defend yourself with. How to be a viper and snap at anyone that dared provoke you. They made you feel like a monster, so the only way you could behave was monstrous. The only defense against the venom of humankind was to become something so grotesque they’d leave you alone. 

They’d made him a monster, a creature like from Frankenstein’s lab; just an amalgamation of parts that had never really belonged to him. Animated in the likeness of man, but deemed as cursed and obscene. How he’d been driven from town with pitchforks held high; a monster despite never being asked to be here. Despite never lifting a finger to harm anyone. Despite how little or fragile he really was. 

Eddie had always felt like a monster. It was how you grew up to keep yourself safe. My daddy was a demon and my mother was a mutant and they cursed this planet with a boy so terrible that no one would dare love him. That was how he had lived. That was all Eddie had to assume his future held.

How was it then that when Eddie had become a monster–a real one with fangs and claws, whose heart didn’t beat and skin didn’t bleed–how was it that he had found peace? How was it that he felt more loved now than he ever had when he was simply human?

At his return, his mind was a jumble, and scents and thoughts wafted through the air around him as he tried to recall everything to do with his previous life. He could remember things as if he was looking through a foggy window, grasping at the thoughts, but not always truly remembering. It had been hard not to fall silent in a room of people, to feel included, wanted, and safe. But these people–his people–they had celebrated his return. 

Eddie had come home to Hawkins stinking of death and polluted with tar. The places he had been wounded were marred with obsidian and tacky like dried blood. It didn’t hurt, but it had been disorienting. He hadn’t remembered anything–he hadn’t remembered anything but feeling like a monster. A freak. A bigger threat than he’d ever been… and he had curled up in his tub until he was found. Until warm water was sprayed on him to wash away the filth and a gentle hand had soothed his confusion. 

Scents were the first thing that had helped him remember. 

The way people smelled and the grounding odor of cigarettes. How Dustin, and Robin, Mike and Steve all had such specific scents that helped provoke feelings. The memories attached to those feelings came afterward, but he remembered feeling joy, concern, pride, and love. Good things. Good feelings. But even with the goodness he had shrunk in on himself, fearful that he’d frighten these people away even as they stared at him with glassy eyes and quivering lips. But he hadn’t scared them. He hadn’t scared them at all–he was a real monster and he had never had more people rally around him before in his life. 

With time the obsidian marks faded and his skin looked unmarred by the events of the Upside Down. He couldn’t fully remember what had happened or how he had crawled out of hell, but there were instincts ingrained into him that hadn’t been there before. Food curled his nose and tasted like water or ash in his mouth; the pleasures of sugar and salt felt like torture when he ate them, but meat had never tasted so good. 

Raw, bleeding, hot or cold, muscle and sinew, meat. He had craved it like a starved animal but had cringed away from the idea of killing something to feed his hunger. A fragment of humanity made him shiver and twitch with concern over the prospect. The idea made his mouth water, but it also flooded his guts with anxiety. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even like this. Even as a caged lion.

Eating was what had finally cleared his skin and Eddie had learned that abstaining from food for too long marked his flesh with the black substance once again. It made him look ghastly and Eddie had grimaced at his appearance as his body shifted under his gaze. He ate often and hid his unrest.

Still, the food had not been able to hide the secondary row of teeth that were wedged under his gums. It was as if he was a shark or a leech, but you could only really see the teeth when he curled his lip or smiled wide. They were weapons made for tearing and Eddie tried not to eat around his friends in fear the scene would mark him a beast. It was easy to talk around the fangs so long as he remembered. 

The claws were harder to get used to and Eddie had struggled with picking things up and not accidentally destroying everything he touched. They were sharp and he had refrained from touching any of his people in fear that he would wound them. Nothing seemed strong enough to trim his nails, but they didn’t grow either. It was like he had knives attached to his fingers and when he had remembered what his guitars were he had wept over the idea that he’d never be able to play the instrument again.

Nancy had been the one to come up with the idea and Robin had helped implement the plan. Acrylic nails to cover the tips of his fingers–they wouldn’t apply a full nail but the acrylic could be rolled into a bead and then applied to Eddie’s hand to cover the razer points. Eddie hadn’t known to feel foolish at the time, but he felt self-conscious about it now–even if there didn’t seem to be any way around it. Still, the girls had painted his nails black and he’d be free to touch things unbiasedly for a few weeks until the acrylic chipped off. It worked and he had encouraged the girls to make his claws look jagged or imperfect instead of nice and polished. He’d wear them as a costume, even though eventually he hoped he could figure out how to do the work himself. 

People had rallied to him and Eddie had felt meek in their wake. He had slunk around the party and shrunk into corners quietly like a scared animal, the onslaught of love and care too foreign and overwhelming to him. He didn’t even have his mind to joke and tease, it had just been too much even if he was inexplicably drawn to the attention still. He wanted it, but he didn’t. He needed it, but it felt like he was dying every time he got it. His energy had shifted eventually and he had learned that he liked compliments, so long as he could joke. He’d fain shyness and squirm, obviously touched but hamming up his reaction. 

Before he remembered that it was strange he had warmed up to everyone in quiet, affectionate ways. He had leaned and rested his cheek on Dustin’s head, relishing in the softness of his curls. He had tugged at Nancy’s shirt sleeves and followed her around while she worked, watching everything she did with the utmost interest. He had curled up beside Steve on the couch and slowly stretched across his lap like a cat looking to disrupt their owner, soaking in the warmth his body provided. 

Everyone had tolerated his oddities until slowly aspects of his humanity returned to him. Memories and social norms struck him at inopportune times and then flooded him with shame or nervousness. He felt like a toddler or enfeebled at times and it was difficult to keep up with everyone as they chatted around him. Still, whenever someone noticed him struggling they had softly explained in an aside or given him a reassuring touch. It was more than he could ask for and Eddie had fallen in love with every single one of his friends again and again. His people. 

It felt like he was bursting at the seams with platonic affection for every single one of them. He was taken care of and adored, not just tolerated. People wanted him for the first time, monster and all. 

He had been shamed into submission amongst the horde for his whole life, made to carry the mantle of vandal, plague, and devil whether he wanted it or not. Branded a problem–a defect. Branded a freak. He was everything he had been told he was his whole life but he did not fear it any longer. If being a beast earned him Lucas, and Jeff, Max, and Gareth he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him because he was celebrated for remembering things and he felt safe just lingering close to his friends. 

He was grotesque now; built from spare parts and left for scrap, but his people wanted him anyway and Eddie had never felt more loved in his life.

Chapter 2