#Fidget Shrooms

[charliecraftsthings]

Another Fidget Shroom.

This one is based on some pictures of bronze boletes where the cap looks greenish. I liked that for aesthetic reasons, chose to exaggerate it in the fidget shroom.

I'm not sure why--maybe it's my stitch tension--but this one's cap is extremely satisfying to pop up and down becaue I can feel the lip/border roll with the push/pop!

Fidget Shrooms - paid pattern by Elli Mercer ($3 USD).

[eldritch-spouse]

Currently you're sitting at a table with your master, waiting on your meal. You have complicated feelings on Nebul. He doesn't necessarily treat you badly, he takes care of you but that's because you've been cooperative, you've seen him less gentile…..

The chef walks on by dragging a man screaming and wailing. His eyes look searching for someone, until they fall on you.

“Help me!” He looks at you with pleading eyes. “He's going to kill me!”

You are no savior, you have no power here. You look down at your lap, hearing his cries for help become more and more distant. Dread and despair grows in your heart.

[I can write this out from his perspective.]

Nebul enjoys pets like you.

One might glance at him and think that perhaps the trainer would prefer a real brat. Someone who stomps their feet, bitches and whines and spits. The kind that just won't take it lying down and nearly breaks themself in their effort to be free of his controlled dominance.

But they'd be quite mistaken.

Nebul loves a pet who instantly recognizes their place. A darling thing like you, smart enough to realize that you have no chance of ever escaping intact, and thus, become subservient to your rightful master. You know Nebul will protect you, will provide for you, because you're learning to be the perfect pet he's training you into on a daily basis. There's something just insanely satisfying and obscenely arousing about your immediate submission to Nebul, he savors it slowly, preens you, makes sure you'll last him long.

Many were the tests you've been subtly subjected to since your time under his care. Some were elaborated to get a feel for your character, others for the amount of progress in obedience and loyalty you've developed. The undead quickly adjusts his methods depending on your performance, though you've been nothing if not stellar thus far. Very impressive, very good.

This moment is both another test and a reward. You have earned yourself time outside of the shop, time watching others, pretending to be a member of a community. Not that this particular community sees you as anything but a breathing toy, but he knows it's enough to bring a semblance of comfort to a contact-starved psyche like yours.

See, tonight you're having dinner at The Clergy's restaurant. And the place is quite packed, much to Nebul's distaste. His organism, unalive and magic-riddled, may not require food, but yours sure does. Nebul did take the care to make sure you will not be ingesting "human products", as he already ordered your meal a fair bit ago. Now, he's just making idle conversation and attentively mapping your reactions to seeing so many monsters ogling you like a steak. At certain times, it feels as if you want to sit next to him on the ground, where you have correctly learned is safest, and he glows with pride.

Many a client have stopped by and wordlessly pointed at you, every each one receiving a polite and consice explanation that you're not for sale or a free-use treat. He relishes the dread in your eyes, but even more so the relief. Gratitude that you had been picked by the wraith, and not some uncaring, sadistic entity looking to rip you open.

Yes, the sooner you understand how good you have it here, the sooner you'll drop silly ideas of escape and freedom.

Your rhythmic fidgeting with the silver tag of the collar around your neck is harshly interrupted by the sound of the closest elevator parting its doors, and a very angry monster stomping out, dragging a badly injured human man by medium-length hair.

Nebul senses the way your breath catches and a spike of adrenaline makes you pale, eyes wide, so tense you might pop.

He diverts his attention to Morell. The chef looks more than agitated, genuinely irate. It's not likely that the human actually managed to place a dent on that cinderblock of a monster, but it is a possibility that it outsmarted the chef in a moment of stressful workflow. And that, Nebul knows, will have the shroom smashing through furniture.

" Fuckin' pig! Ah was gonna make it smooth for ya, make it fast, ya wouldn' even feel much- "

The chef's apron is smeared with splatters of blood, what Nebul thinks might be some kind of sauce, and a decent chunk of dirt from the messy chase. The man, on the other hand, is bruised on the face and limbs, one hand bent at a bizarre angle and his ankles most definitely crudely twisted to a mockery of a ragdoll.

Even through the immense pain the undead can sense emanating from this human, the resilience commonly associated with this species shines clearly, as he screams and tries ever so hard to claw the mushroom monster's skin. Broken nails fail to so much as scratch the calloused pudge of his executioner's fingers, who are so tense around that mangled arm it might just explode.

He tries still, he tries, and will continue to for as long as his organism can supply a powerful dosage of adrenaline.

The mostly pointless squirming does succeed in one thing however, getting on Morell's nerves. Predictably, the chef turns around just enough to land a powerful steel-toed boot kick right to his middle, making the man wheeze like a dying animal. He seems to zone out for a moment, probably due to the immense pain wracking his body.

He doesn't zone out enough to miss you, the only other human present.

Nebul expected his frantic screaming, and he can't lie, part of the undead was looking forward to seeing how you'd react in a situation like this. Do you have any kind of wit in that cranium? It seems you do, because even when he's dragged by, pleading with all the remaining breath in his lungs for the help of his kin, for salvation only you can provide, you hardly react.

Aside from a light twitch of the limbs, as if you're trying to guiltily swat a mosquito away, you hang your head and focus on your intertwined hands on your lap. Your stare glazes, losing its alarmed quality, and your breathing becomes steady. You're effectively out of the scene.

Good.

Very good.

Morell makes an apology gesture towards the shopkeeper when he realizes that's the table he just walked past, eyes lingering on you with morbid curiosity before he slams the kitchen doors open and drags the drained human inside.

Nebul doesn't let you dissociate for too long. It's not the first time he's seen you do this, but he needs you quite present for this feedback. A grasp upon said clasped hands gets you to inhale sharply, shaking a bit. You glance at him with fear, as getting distracted in certain moments can earn you punishments.

" You've been performing exceptionally well. " He purrs. " With such exemplary behavior, you're on the fast track to perfection. Pets like you deserve rewards for their discipline, and you will get one once we're done eating. "

You nod hastily, fidgeting on your chair while you try hard to ignore the stains of blood on the floor.

Nebul's mist swirls playfully. " Now, what do we say? "

" I'm sorry, Master- Thank you, Master. "

" Very good. "

[beansricejc]

"need him to pull me forcefully onto his lap and ask me where the fuck i think i’m going."

john wick x f!reader ICYMI! note: due to a bit of goofy formatting on my part, this is a reupload from 10/2023. i wasn't able to see any sort of interaction with my one-shot, so if you haven't read it, here it is! pls lmk what you think of my 100 day old baby :') warnings: voyeurism, brief drug use, dubcon(?), exhibitionism, cursing, mean name calling, slut shaming, not proof read!

need him to pull me forcefully onto his lap and ask me where the fuck i think i’m going. - yandere-chan

you don’t ever go to clubs, the only reason why you’re actually here is for a friend’s birthday party. the flashing lights and blaring music were intimidating to begin with, but after popping some sort of chocolate shroom candy, you’re having the time of your life. the way your body is feeling the rhythm of some sort of Billboard Top 100 remix, flowing with the hundreds of other dancers on the floor.

it’s the way your skirt hugs your thighs and ass as you dance is what gets his attention.

john’s here tonight celebrating an old friend’s bachelor party. he’s used to clubs like this. whether it’s for finishing a job or accompanying some sort of high level crime lord for a meeting, he’s quite immune to the vibration of the floor from the huge speakers. he’s unimpressed by the bottle girls that he’s seen come and go over the years, but if someone’s buying, he’ll indulge in a paid blowjob behind a curtain. after helen, he’s given up on romance.

but he’s not exactly known for actually enjoying his night as a regular patron. john’s four whiskeys in, definitely feeling the buzz as his legs are a bit more loose than he’s used to. he’s not on a job. not on duty. fuck it, might as well have fun. this is what he tells himself as he’s nose deep in a line of white powder on a table, his fellow bachelor party members cheering him on in a rowdy manner. the groom himself is getting a lap dance from a bottle girl in their booth behind the curtain, and john takes the opportunity to snap a quick picture of it, just for shits and giggles.

john doesn’t exactly remember how it happened, he just remembers that the woman that he was ogling on the dance floor was now being led behind his group’s curtain. of course this was you, along with a handful of your friends who were also very pretty in their own way. it seemed like the best man of the bachelor party had taken a liking to the birthday girl of your group, and you tagged along for the ride.

he can’t seem to pry his eyes from you. the way you fidget with your soft fingers while your dilated eyes roam across the back room. the way you smile and chat with his buddies as your friends introduce you, john can smell that you’re out of your element. he’s a master at reading body language, it’s part of his job actually. all signs are pointing to that you are quite inebriated, and are clearly not a party girl, despite the fairly convincing front you have on.

you smile politely as you shift your legs. you don’t know why your best friend even followed that guy back here, sometimes you want to smack her for being so stupid. but you’ll smile and bare it for now.

“and this is our buddy, john.” the best man gestures over towards the assassin. of course you don’t know of his profession yet. your shaky eyes drift to his position on the couch. the well dressed middle aged man’s eyes are stuck on you, the way that black skirt looks has him struggling to keep his composure. but he’s a professional, even if he’s not on the job. john has seen and been with his fair share of women.

now he’s picturing in his head of what he’d like to do to you. nothing exactly romantic or gentleman like.

if it weren’t for his own morals, he’d probably stand up and grab you by your pretty little neck. make you gasp for air and tremble under his touch and looming height. john has killed dozens in a single blink of an eye, man handling you and throwing you over the table wouldn’t be an issue. maybe you’d yelp at the feeling of your body being forced down by the dangerous man. maybe you’d even like it. john’s calloused and bruised hands would immediately hike that black skirt up, just to show off your beautifully crafted ass to the entire group of men, and even your friends. maybe you’d plead for him to stop, maybe you’d beg for him to keep going. who knows, perhaps you were a little slut that liked the thought of this happening.

john imagines how the fat of your thighs and ass would feel in his death grip. the strong hold that has strangled the soul’s out of countless adversaries, now grabbing and pawing at your fleshy thighs before giving you a hard and swift smack on your poor rear. he wonders if you’d struggle or if you’d bite your lip and arch your back. he doesn’t know which response he’d like more.

“it’s nice to meet you.” was the sentence that sucked him out of his head, along with a little smile and wave of your manicured fingers. he notices the polish. a deep burgundy, a vampy color that goes well with the season. so you’re fashionable. he could already tell with the cute outfit that you were donning, but this confirms it. john can appreciate a woman who takes care of herself.

but now there’s an image of those pretty fingers gripping his hard cock, wrapping around the width of his shaft and dragging up and down while a glob of saliva from your plump lips dribbles onto the head. the thought of you licking your lips as your small hand jerks him off, your bare knees earning gorgeous blue and purple bruises from scraping on the marble floor as you do your job oh so well. maybe your teeth would dig into your bottom lip as your eyes would blink up at him, giggling as he moaned out your name.

“come here often?” is what john asks you in return. your head turns to him again and tilts to the side, you didn’t expect the silent and brooding one of the group to ask you a question from the comfort of the velvet couch.

you chuckle and shake your head.

“not at all, actually. it’s my first time here.” you admit, shrugging your well defined shoulders while you peer at him from across the vip booth. you’re still standing in those uncomfortable looking heels, john notes that there are no bruises on your knees. maybe he can change that.

john smiles slightly at your honesty. the way his mouth upturns as his strong looking hands run through his slick back dark hair make your stomach church. you internally curse at yourself, you’ve already had your heart broken by so many men before, and you wouldn’t let this one even get close to trying.

or so you thought.

john’s brown eyes look to your uncomfortable looking feet again, and he situated himself so he’s not totally man spreading on the red couch. his hand then taps the space next to him on the cushion.

“those don’t exactly look pleasant to stand in.” john nods his head towards your heels. you blink in surprise, peering down at your own feet that have been killing you this entire time. so you chuckle and shake your head.

“yeah, doctor scholl probably doesn’t approve of these.” you retort, making john laugh at loud at your statement. you join him on the couch as he’s still chuckling at your expression.

“you’re funny.” john comments, silently noticing the way that damn black skirt rides up your thighs so deliciously as your legs cross. he realizes he’s been caught when those fingers of yours snap in his face, reverting his attention back to your face. john’s face goes a bit red when he sees the scowl you’re giving him, along with a little eye roll.

“oh i’m sure you say that to every woman you want to stick yourself into.” you tell him, there’s a silent agreement between you two that he’s been checking you out this entire time.

john’s shocked by your snarky statement though. he didn’t think he was being that obvious, but on second thought maybe he was. dammit, he was trying to be a smooth criminal with you, only to end up looking like a pervert.

“you sure are confident in yourself, huh?” he sarcastically says back to you. “trust me honey, if I wanted you, you’d know.” he’s forcing himself not to bite his lip at the scent of your perfume, some sort of vanilla cookie type of smell that was lingering in the air between you two. it was going to drive him crazy.

while he says this, you’re busy applying another layer of lip gloss in your compact mirror. John’s breath hitched at the sight of your lips rubbing together to make sure the coat is even, the shimmer on them making his pants a bit tighter.

he wonders how that lip gloss would look on his hard cock as your mouth wraps around his head. maybe that color would look good against his shaft from you placing delicate kisses against the veins of his length. the thought of your pink tongue swirling around his throbbing tip before taking his entire cock down your throat, his hand grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing your face down just a little bit deeper than you’re comfortable with just to assert his dominance over you.

it’s all making his toes curl in his leather oxfords.

he soon noticed that your delicate fingernails, the vampy colored tips, were dragging along the bulge in his pants. his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he grips the leather couch cushion, not daring to making a sudden move. apparently you are much bolder than you made yourself out to be.

oh what he would do to put your in your place. to wipe that shit eating grin off your beautiful face. to whip out his cock and think back to when he hypothetically had you bent over the table for all of his and your friends to see. ripping whatever colored panties you had on, off, and tossing them to the side. one hand firmly shoving your head into the table, another lining up the tip of his dick with your entrance, before mercilessly pounding into your cunt. punishing you for even daring to speak to him in such a manner, in front of his buddies no less. maybe his friends would cheer him on, a few taking out their phones to take a video of it. maybe your friends would be slightly turned on by the roughness and lack of decency john is showing to you. even the thought of your cunt squeezing around his length and cumming from his despicable act might make him burst.

“yeah? you like that? fucking whore.” he’d say to you as he would pin your arms behind your back, giving you another hard slap on your ass. you’d let out a moan and a grunt from the roughness of it all. “tell me you fucking love it, be a good girl for me, come on.” john would growl in your ear, the positioning of him reaching that far would force his cock to be all the way inside of your pussy. the sudden feeling would make you gasp and cry, tears rolling down your makeup covered cheeks as you babbled about how much you loved it.

john suddenly feels the lack of touch on his erection, looking up from his daydream.

“come on dude, we’re all getting shots and then going on the dance floor.” the groom of john’s party calls to him, his group laughs at john’s lack of awareness as most of the crowd exits the vip booth from behind the curtains.

you’re the last to stand up, grabbing your purse and smoothing out your skirt before you joined the rest. you believe you’ve won this round of teasing with this complete stranger.

oh how wrong you are.

a surprised squeak escaped your glossy lips as you feel john’s strong hands grip your hips and waist. his nails dug hard through your clothing, using those unstable high heels to his advantage. your balance in those was subpar at best anyways, and now, he could easily snatch you up, even from where he was sitting.

“h-hey!” you squeal, john could fucking care less. your ass falls straight into his lap, with you immediately feeling how hard his cock is, and how wonderful it feels against your throbbing pussy. even if you did have underwear on, it didn’t matter. sitting on him was definitely going to leave a wet spot.

john gives you a dark and satisfied grin, leaning towards your ear with his hands beginning to hike up your skirt. your heart pounded as he was getting ready to have his way with your poor body.

“where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

[pinksugarscrub]

Guts

Hobie Brown x fem! spider! reader

Late octobie submission, prepare to be amazed

Event by @the-kr8tor Banner by @the-shroom-garden

Special thank you to @hyperfix-wip for being my number one pookie and beta reader 💙❤️

word count: 1,707

parts: 1, 2

cw: cursing and general shenanigans

~

F.E.A.S.T. has been a part of your life since you could remember. It’s where you met Peter Parker, your Peter Parker. In his prime with more than a dozen job applications while you were halfway through high school.

Now your roles are reversed with Peter leading the Emily-May foundation alongside Harry Osborn and you finishing your first year of college. Things couldn’t be better. Not that you would say that out loud. Peter is superstitious and now you’re starting to believe him after Doctor Connors turned himself into…well a lizard.

The smell of pumpkin permeates the air. Small candles lit and fixed across all of the plastic tables you helped setup just this morning. It makes your nose twitch and a headache soon appears but you don't have the heart to tell May.

There are artificial leaves hanging from the ceiling along with streamers. A tree trunk made of packing paper and tape in the corner. Notes with something everyone is thankful for along with a few polaroids. All in all the day is shaping up to be great!

Denial is a river in Egypt.

“Hun, don’t you have a paper due tonight?” May asks. Concern etching her face as she catches you mid-errand.

“What? No-” you wheeze. Pretending to struggle with the boxes in your hands when another volunteer walks by. It turns out to only be Peter. Who makes short work of taking the boxes off your hands. Always a gentleman.

“Here, let me help!”

“Your protege is stretching herself thin again Peter.” May tsks.

Peter shifts the boxes of clothing just under his chin. A knowing look on his face that sometimes you wish you could just squash under your shoes. 

“Is it the battle of the bands? You’ll do great junior, it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

“That’s today?” May gasps.

“Would everyone just-” Your voice raises in irritation and it immediately deflates as you catch May and Peter exchange a look. “I’m fine. I just need a break. Sorry.”

Peter’s eyes follow you as you stuff your hands in your pockets and storm up the steps.

“All yours Pete.” May sighs. Patting his back and sending him off with her prayers.

When Peter finds you, your eyes are rimmed with red and your fingers are fidgeting like they always do when you’re anxious. 

He can remember finding you in the same place and predicament when he first started mentoring you. 

Peter has never really thought of himself as this great hero. Even after seeing Spider-Man themed sneakers and branded t-shirts (He hasn’t seen any of the revenue from that by the way).

Peter just happens to be at the right place at the right time. Granted he chose to be someone the neighborhood could rely on but greatness wasn’t something he was used to being described as by anyone other than his close friends and May. 

To have to live in his shadow was something he couldn’t quite comprehend until you voiced your bubbling insecurities to him. You were such a small thing then. Still trying to find your way in the world and become Spider-Woman .

Since then this rooftop,in and out of costume, has become the center of uncomfortable conversations and warm embraces that fill a space in Peter’s heart that he wasn’t even aware he had. You were his family now. With Mary Jane and Harry. It was a weird conjunction of people but a happy one nonetheless.

Peter holds onto the door until it quietly locks back into place. You don’t move but he’s sure you’ve noticed him. He stands until you quietly ask him to sit and for a while it’s silent. Peter knows you like it that way. You’re such an analytical kid.

The city streets are as noisy as ever. It’s New York. But the leaves are a vibrant array of orange, yellow, and red. The air is cold and the sky is gray.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again.

“No sweat.” Peter smiles. Glancing over before squeezing your shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

You snort, “cold.” Wrapping your thin sweater tighter around your body to make a point. “I forgot my jacket.”

“I can see that,” he laughs. Then it’s quiet again except for his shuffling as he sets his jacket over your shoulders. 

“You did a great job with the decorations.” He tries to veer the conversation in a different direction. You aren’t ready to talk yet.

“It’s just colored paper.”

“Ah there’s only room for one self deprecating person on this roof and that’s me. Get your own gig.”

You laugh and finally look up from your scarred hands. Freshly healed from a run in with Rhino. 

Peter smiles wider. That goofy smile that MJ fell in love with when they were just sixteen. You will die before ever admitting you once found him cute. You will also take to your grave the massive crush you had on Spider-Man before getting bit. What? You were fourteen!

“What about depression?” You quip. “Anxiety is a good candidate too.”

“How about something positive for once.”

“Anxiety is positive. It keeps me alive.”

“Alright, something serotonin inducing,” he corrects himself.

“Arson.”

“That isn’t illegal.”

You sigh loudly and slump against the wall. “Fine. Uh…what about being stuck up? That’s free and still mildly annoying.”

“Mildly?” He chokes out a laugh. “I beg to differ. What about being a know it all?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Too basic.”

You stare at one another before bursting into laughter. His arm comes up to bring you into his embrace. 

Peter knows how to give good hugs. You’ve deduced this after watching him console civilians. Just the right ones too and Peter always smelled distinctly of soot and ash. Like he can never quite separate Spider-Man from Peter Parker.

“What is it?” He asks after seeing your expression slowly sink back into sadness.

What was it? Was there a simple answer? Everything felt congealed into one. Gooey and sticky until you were left with a multicolored wad of gum. You suppose that’s the best answer you can give Peter.

“It’s everything.” You exhale. Shoulders slumped as you look back to your clammy palms. “College admissions, the band, today’s dinner.”

You drown further into his much too large jacket. You could stay in it forever if it meant not having to face reality.

“What’s worrying you the most. Let’s start there.”

You scrunch your nose and ponder over the list of things weighing on your mind. One sticks out like a thorn in your side no matter how hard you try to think about graduation or what to wear tonight. The show.

“Remember Hobie?” 

Peter perks up. “Yeah, of course. We’re meeting him today along with…Gwen and Pavitr, am I saying that right?”

If it wasn’t for the fact your stomach was in knots you would have teased him for taking so long to remember.

“Yeah, Pav works too.”

Peter parrots the shortened version of Pavitr’s name under his breath. Mentally storing that information so he can make a good impression on your friends.

A deep breath leaves your chest as you tap on your knee. “I want him, especially him, to think I’m cool. Is that weird?”

Peter shakes his head. “Not at all. I mean, talk to MJ. There is no shortage of embarrassing stories about me trying to impress her.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “Like the time you ate it in the cafeteria when you were trying to catch up to her. Or the time-”

“Ok, ok!” Peter sputters. Face growing hot as he relives the most devastating moment of his life. “Jeez, are you trying to kill me?”

“It would make this process go a lot faster,” you joke.

“Right, feelings stink.”

“Suck Peter. They suck.”

“Same thing,” he argues.

“No it isn’t Mary Poppins- can I finish now?”

Peter raises one hand in surrender while the other remains on your side.

“Thank you,” you huff. Lips twitching as you fight the urge to smile. 

Thinking over your friendship with Hobie—that you’re hoping will evolve into something more—there is one thing he has an adamant distaste for and that’s capitalism. 

And, well, no your band doesn’t make million dollar record deals but the genre of music is so generic not even you can keep from making fun of the four chord pop songs you make.

However after spending more and more time with Hobie you started to see the stark differences in why you both create music. You can’t help but think Hobie might not be able to see past it. You almost feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A poser, a fraud.

But you love music. Your songs are a mix of a little bit of everything in that they aren’t one in the same. Stemming from your background, your bandmates, and what’s popular now. You don’t stick to just one thing. But what if that doesn’t impress him?

Punk is a form of expression against oppression while pop is an innovation of style and skill. Moreover focused on presentation. Hobie plays for freedom while you play for a different kind.

“Well,” Peter began, “I’m no expert but from what I’ve heard-”

You roll your eyes as he fakes an english accent. It’s horrible. Like scratching your nails against a chalkboard.

“-he sounds like a pretty great guy. I almost want to marry him.”

That you can agree with.

“I doubt he’d ever break up a friendship over something so trivial in the grand scheme of things.” Peter considers there’s a slim chance he will. Slim. So he continues. “If he does. You and I can cry over a box of oreos.”

“Cookie dough,” you correct. On the verge of tears as you smile. Not for yourself but for Peter.

You never received ‘you’re being ridiculous’ or ‘you’re overreacting’ from Peter. He never sugar coated anything either. He would make a great dad someday.

“We’re getting through this together. Whether you win or lose. You’ve always got me.” His voice softened. “Ok squirt?”

Air escapes Peter’s lungs as you barrel into his chest. Clutching onto his battered ‘the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell’ shirt until your knuckles turn white. 

“Thanks Pete.”

[foggymvp]

If I played a character in cantripped this would be it

This is long and lots to read

Linardra Starling - Druid - Good Neutral - They/them with a occasional She/her - 23

She is a half Fey half Tiefling, she has slivery-blue skin with long half up and down white hair. With long ears and the starting/smol of Tiefling horns and tail with slightly pointed teeth. She hides her Tiefling parts because she is ashamed of her heritage (but will eventually learn through the party’s help to not hide it and to be proud). Her eyes are a whimsical purple-sliver eyes and blushes purple. Lin is tall for a (mainly) fey, scoring around 5’3 or 5’5ft (I haven’t decided) They have a Tattoo on their upper back near their neck, it’s three hearts a red one, green one, and a clear one. It signifies her, Rin, and Octavius. They are left handed and has a white burn scar on the pointed tip of her left ear. She has sliver circle glasses with dangly chains with a star and a crescent moon. She also wears a teal Anklet with White Sea shells around her right ankle.

She wears the below’s dress with different more blue, purples, and silver accent colors, boots, earrings, with a mainly this hair hair but styled like the other image and the bag

One below’s is Lin’s style hair, leggings, and neck brace.

She was born and raised in the fay kingdom with a fey mother and Tiefling father. until when she was 8 or 9 years old when her parents left her to grandma Shroom’s care. She was ashamed for her heritage. She deeply believes that her parents love her dearly and are still out there. She left the fey kingdom wanting to get away from the mockery they’d been dealing with and wanting to explore the world and to learn of her parents and culture On the way they find Rin and Octavius, they met on separate adventures and come close as a family. They go in adventures for some time before having to stay in the human kingdom to get money/supplies again, Octavius leaves in search of money and doesn’t return. Then Rin leaves in search of Octavius and doesn’t return, leaving Lin alone and giving them abandonment issues. Lin leave and search for Rin and Octavius. She found Rin soon after the day of the coordination. And they have made amends with Rin and made an away of contact with her, Rin wants to stay in the elf city but Lin leaves in search of Octavius. In the story eventually she learns to not be ashamed of her heritage and doesn’t hide it and gets more desire to find out about her parents and races culture. She lives in blissful ignorance of her Octavius’s and her parents’ connection with the forsyndicated. The forsyndicated has tried and failed a few time to catch her, one for her parents, two because Octavius wants to see her again, she find herself some days thinking the attempts are just bandits and such but others she can’t help but feel a tugging on her conscious. Eventually on their adventures they out the party they make a shady deal with a person and instead gets scammed and the party realizes till to late it’s a forsyndicated person wanting to take Lin, and possibly the others idk what Dan’s and Neph’s deal is. In an attempt to escape Lin makes a portal and pushes the others into it before the guy casting sleep on her therefore closing the portal bringing the others to nearby safety, protecting her family.

Tidbits:

- She is a fantastic fucking Chief, she can’t bake but is amazing at cooking.

- She learned to cook from Grandma Shroom

- Is a daydreamer, daydreams a lot

- is bi but prefers ladies

- fidgets with hair and clothes a lot, very nervous or stressed

- Loves psychical touch, struggles with personal space

- Hate being alone, rather be with someone they hate than be alone

- Doesn’t take care of horns or tail

- plays a sliver flute, because she loves music and is a decent singer but prefers to play flute but still enjoys singing time to time.

- Made a song about her past and friends

- She sings the song when she feels down or discouraged to find her friends

- She loves to dance :)

- She is gentle

- Always and forever wants a dragon or mystical creature for a familiar

- braids hair when bored, doesn’t

- when bored or stressed she paces and if she can’t she’ll spin instead

- Very emotional (one of her strengths and weaknesses)

- Gets attached easily to people or items (also a strength and weakness)

- Really likes to tell stories or hear them

- Doesn’t need sleep, meditates instead

- Plays with their magic sometimes

- Always needs to do something

- Makes friendship jewelry

- Can see from another persons perspective of things easily

- Can get distracted easily if she doesn’t find something important or entertaining

- She is bad at lying

- If they have a chat/viewers of her own that look like Fey spirts she uses for spells or musical symphonies whispering in the wind.

- Blepps 😛

- She has a few memories of her father, he taught her how to fight

- She has a sword/bow from her father that she uses when she doesn’t use magic

- The bow has his signature on it

- She created a song about her parents

Rin: she/her, neutral chaotic, rogue, She has long red hair and brown eyes, she is an elf and is a little bit shorter than average. She has freckles and always wears a bright red cloak. Has a leather friendship bracelet from Lin. Rin is in trouble with the law a lot and is wanted, goes by Red sometimes, known as Red in the law. Is the cloaked rogue the party helped escape the guards on their way out of the elf city. She loves for the thrill. Met Lin by chance after meeting Octavius when Rin was caught. Lin ran in to help and pretended to know them and got them out of the trouble. They become like siblings after that. And Currently located in elf city.

Octavius: He/they, barbarian, ??? Chaotic, Orc, he is apart of the forsyndicated. Lin nor Rin knows he is. Tall, has yellow eyes, scruffy brown hair has a golden friendship necklace from Lin. Met Lin at the elf kingdom he had been beat up pretty badly after messing with the some bandits, she helped him and they became friends and closer than family. Closed off usually and has a soft spot for only Rin and Lin. Will protect those he loves, he’s really quiet. Like the scary dog privileges for Lin and Rin from Octavius. Location unknown (probably Macarin)

I’m very proud of dis little gal :3

Lin’s parents: Father is name is Basil and was a Tiefling, Mother’s name is Tula Starling was a Fey, they were forced to leave the fey kingdom Because the forsyndicated were after them. They got in a tight spot when Tula was pregnant and went to them for help, for many years they were loving a fine life. But then Lin’s parents couldn’t pay them back, so to protect Lin they left her with Grandma Shroom and ran to Macarin and was eventually hunted and killed. Lin doesn’t know this and hold hope to met their parents again, but will likely eventual while exploring the forsyndicated files/something and out the truth.

[endofthestaff]

Wow. The Chalk prevails. I don’t know why, I was not expecting that to be this good but it resonated with me, my introverted bookwormish self. Damn.

I hereby name my Mushroom:

“Not as big as Medium sized shroom but bigger than wee shroom shroom”

I love my fidgets

But baby this one deserves

A name from my heart

[a-personiftranslator]

btiwspirit tells (when upset) + the 4 Fs

andolont—tightens her grip on her cane. fight

varholt—none, her mask is either fully up or she’s screaming in a bathroom. fight

kuft-alum—clears her throat or goes mute entirely. flee originally but she’s trained herself to fight

antipoda—digs her fingers into the cracks in her skin. freeze

uusivapaamaa—pinches herself or clenches her teeth. fight

qadoshorea—covers her abdomen with her arms, in whatever way’s most discreet. fawn or fight depending on the situation

hlyttland—none, he has intermittent explosive disorder and can’t hide upset. fight

karathqel—prayer under her breath. fight

fauchaitie—fidgeting with the ends of her clothes. flee

ny norgrimark—running a hand through their hair. freeze

gudridarstrond—you’ll see it on her face, zerzuranists emote more easily than most (the shrooms facilitate hyperempathy). fight

[offier]

@ahsterism shes so 🧍‍♂️

After everything that happened the night prior, one would think what happened with Van and Taissa would barely even register to Abigail. But it was still a big thing for her, even if it wasn't the biggest thing that was bothering her. She hasn't actually kissed many people, and usually, they were girls from out of town, who she wouldn't see again after it. She didn't have that luxury stranded out here, not just with Taissa and Van, but also everyone who saw her last night. There was no brushing it off.

Not to mention, the general fear over what happened. Sure, they had all been...out of it, but something felt wrong last night. She didn't feel like herself. She's so desperate for someone to tell her that it just felt that way because she's never really been high before. No amount of shrooms can make someone know a language they hadn't hours before, though. Besides, trying to get reassurance means having to actually talk about it, which she does not want to do.

Her avoidance of basically everyone and her anxiety is getting pretty obvious, though. She figured it'd only be a matter of time before someone tried to talk to her, she was just really hoping it wouldn't be Tai or Van. But of course, who else would it be? Seeing Van makes her pause for a moment, and she swallows harshly. "Um...hi." Abigail looks down, fidgeting with her hands, "How are you uh...doing?" She's really bad at this!

[angeloconnor]

Status: closed @fox-lennox​; flashback

Location: Pelican Lake; summer 

Angel’s happy. With Fox, it’s kind of hard not to be. But it’s plain and simple and oddly familiar where she thought it might be foreign. It’s nice, happy. Genuinely happy. Maybe for the first time in her life, and whatever she thought it might have been before, she couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s not just the shrooms and the weed talking, though they are mixing together quite nicely. Nice, summer days are for doing drugs out in nature, and there’s no one she’d rather be doing them with than Fox. She doesn’t remember whose idea it was exactly, nor does she care at this point. Angel just knows it was a damn good one. Now, they’re in the back of the delorean, the van’s doors open to a lakefront view as summer heat creeps in. She’s straddling him, painting the solar system across her boyfriend’s bare chest. Between the sounds of Earth itself, being stoned, and physically feeling the steady rhythm of Fox’s breathing underneath her and the waves it sends through her, Angel’s focus is in overdrive. She’s never felt so connected to the universe and to the present and to nature. This is some real hippie shit, the thought floats lazily across her mind, but it’s the fidgeting that breaks her concentration. “Sit still,” Angel’s easy smile brings laughter to her words. “I’m trying to be a serious artist here,” She says, but instead of sitting straighter, she leans down a little closer to him, dropping her paintbrush off to the side. She reaches for the blunt resting between his fingers to take its place. And when she’s settled back in place, her face not so far from his, her eyes dart about his face, taking a moment to take him in and appreciate all that he is. “Do you think you can lean up and give me a kiss without fucking up my hard work?” She asks with a brighter, sweeter smile.

[beansricejc]

don’t even get me started… [john wick x f!reader, cw: voyeurism, dubcon(?), exhibitionism. not proof read!]

you don’t ever go to clubs, the only reason why you’re actually here is for a friend’s birthday party. the flashing lights and blaring music were intimidating to begin with, but after popping some sort of chocolate shroom candy, you’re having the time of your life. the way your body is feeling the rhythm of some sort of Billboard Top 100 remix, flowing with the hundreds of other dancers on the floor.

it’s the way your skirt hugs your thighs and ass as you dance is what gets his attention.

john’s here tonight celebrating an old friend’s bachelor party. he’s used to clubs like this. whether it’s for finishing a job or accompanying some sort of high level crime lord for a meeting, he’s quite immune to the vibration of the floor from the huge speakers. he’s unimpressed by the bottle girls that he’s seen come and go over the years, but if someone’s buying, he’ll indulge in a paid blowjob behind a curtain. after helen, he’s given up on romance.

but he’s not exactly known for actually enjoying his night as a regular patron. john’s four whiskeys in, definitely feeling the buzz as his legs are a bit more loose than he’s used to. he’s not on a job. not on duty. fuck it, might as well have fun. this is what he tells himself as he’s nose deep in a line of white powder on a table, his fellow bachelor party members cheering him on in a rowdy manner. the groom himself is getting a lap dance from a bottle girl in their booth behind the curtain, and john takes the opportunity to snap a quick picture of it, just for shits and giggles.

john doesn’t exactly remember how it happened, he just remembers that the woman that he was ogling on the dance floor was now being led behind his group’s curtain. of course this was you, along with a handful of your friends who were also very pretty in their own way. it seemed like the best man of the bachelor party had taken a liking to the birthday girl of your group, and you tagged along for the ride.

he can’t seem to pry his eyes from you. the way you fidget with your soft fingers while your dilated eyes roam across the back room. the way you smile and chat with his buddies as your friends introduce you, john can smell that you’re out of your element. he’s a master at reading body language, it’s part of his job actually. all signs are pointing to that you are quite inebriated, and are clearly not a party girl, despite the fairly convincing front you have on.

you smile politely as you shift your legs. you don’t know why your best friend even followed that guy back here, sometimes you want to smack her for being so stupid. but you’ll smile and bare it for now.

“and this is our buddy, john.” the best man gestures over towards the assassin. of course you don’t know of his profession yet. your shaky eyes drift to his position on the couch. the well dressed middle aged man’s eyes are stuck on you, the way that black skirt looks has him struggling to keep his composure. but he’s a professional, even if he’s not on the job. john has seen and been with his fair share of women.

now he’s picturing in his head of what he’d like to do to you. nothing exactly romantic or gentleman like.

if it weren’t for his own morals, he’d probably stand up and grab you by your pretty little neck. make you gasp for air and tremble under his touch and looming height. john has killed dozens in a single blink of an eye, man handling you and throwing you over the table wouldn’t be an issue. maybe you’d yelp at the feeling of your body being forced down by the dangerous man. maybe you’d even like it. john’s calloused and bruised hands would immediately hike that black skirt up, just to show off your beautifully crafted ass to the entire group of men, and even your friends. maybe you’d plead for him to stop, maybe you’d beg for him to keep going. who knows, perhaps you were a little slut that liked the thought of this happening.

john imagines how the fat of your thighs and ass would feel in his death grip. the strong hold that has strangled the soul’s out of countless adversaries, now grabbing and pawing at your fleshy things before giving you a hard and swift smack on your poor rear. he wonders if you’d struggle or if you’d bite your lip and arch your back. he doesn’t know which response he’d like more.

“it’s nice to meet you.” was the sentence that sucked him out of his head, along with a little smile and wave of your manicured fingers. he notices the polish. a deep burgundy, a vampy color that goes well with the season. so you’re fashionable. he could already tell with the cute outfit that you were donning, but this confirms it. john can appreciate a woman who takes care of herself.

but now there’s an image of those pretty fingers gripping his hard cock, wrapping around the width of his shaft and dragging up and down while a glob of saliva from your plump lips dribbles onto the head. the thought of you licking your lips as your small hand jerks him off, your bare knees earning gorgeous blue and purple bruises from scraping on the marble floor as you do your job oh so well. maybe your teeth would dig into your bottom lip as your eyes would blink up at him, giggling as he moaned out your name.

“come here often?” is what john asks you in return. your head turns to him again and tilts to the side, you didn’t expect the silent and brooding one of the group to ask you a question from the comfort of the velvet couch.

you chuckle and shake your head.

“not at all, actually. it’s my first time here.” you admit, shrugging your well defined shoulders while you peer at him from across the vip booth. you’re still standing in those uncomfortable looking heels, john notes that there are no bruises on your knees. maybe he can change that.

john smiles slightly at your honesty. the way his mouth upturns as his strong looking hands run through his slick back dark hair make your stomach church. you internally curse at yourself, you’ve already had your heart broken by so many men before, and you wouldn’t let this one even get close to trying.

or so you thought.

john’s brown eyes look to your uncomfortable looking feet again, and he situated himself so he’s not totally man spreading on the red couch. his hand then taps the space next to him on the cushion.

“those don’t exactly look pleasant to stand in.” john nods his head towards your heels. you blink in surprise, peering down at your own feet that have been killing you this entire time. so you chuckle and shake your head.

“yeah, doctor scholl probably doesn’t approve of these.” you retort, making john laugh at loud at your statement. you join him on the couch as he’s still chuckling at your expression.

“you’re funny.” john comments, silently noticing the way that damn black skirt rides up your thighs so deliciously as your legs cross. he realizes he’s been caught when those fingers of yours snap in his face, reverting his attention back to your face. john’s face goes a bit red when he sees the scowl you’re giving him, along with a little eye roll.

“oh i’m sure you say that to every woman you want to stick yourself into.” you tell him, there’s a silent agreement between you two that he’s been checking you out this entire time.

john’s shocked by your snarky statement though. he didn’t think he was being that obvious, but on second thought maybe he was. dammit, he was trying to be a smooth criminal with you, only to end up looking like a pervert.

“you sure are confident in yourself, huh?” he sarcastically says back to you. “trust me honey, if I wanted you, you’d know.” he’s forcing himself not to bite his lip at the scent of your perfume, some sort of vanilla cookie type of smell that was lingering in the air between you two. it was going to drive him crazy.

while he says this, you’re busy applying another layer of lip gloss in your compact mirror. John’s breath hitched at the sight of your lips rubbing together to make sure the coat is even, the shimmer on them making his pants a bit tighter.

he wonders how that lip gloss would look on his hard cock as your mouth wraps around his head. maybe that color would look good against his shaft from you placing delicate kisses against the veins of his length. the thought of your pink tongue swirling around his throbbing tip before taking his entire cock down your throat, his hand grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing your face down just a little bit deeper than you’re comfortable with just to assert his dominance over you.

it’s all making his toes curl in his leather oxfords.

he soon noticed that your delicate fingernails, the vampy colored tips, were dragging along the bulge in his pants. his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he grips the leather couch cushion, not daring to making a sudden move. apparently you are much bolder than you made yourself out to be.

oh what he would do to put your in your place. to wipe that shit eating grin off your beautiful face. to whip out his cock and think back to when he hypothetically had you bent over the table for all of his and your friends to see. ripping whatever colored panties you had on, off, and tossing them to the side. one hand firmly shoving your head into the table, another lining up the tip of his dick with your entrance, before mercilessly pounding into your cunt. punishing you for even daring to speak to him in such a manner, in front of his buddies no less. maybe his friends would cheer him on, a few taking out their phones to take a video of it. maybe your friends would be slightly turned on by the roughness and lack of decency john is showing to you. even the thought of your cunt squeezing around his length and cumming from his despicable act might make him burst.

“yeah? you like that? fucking whore.” he’d say to you as he would pin your arms behind your back, giving you another hard slap on your ass. you’d let out a moan and a grunt from the roughness of it all. “tell me you fucking love it, be a good girl for me, come on.” john would growl in your ear, the positioning of him reaching that far would force his cock to be all the way inside of your pussy. the sudden feeling would make you gasp and cry, tears rolling down your makeup covered cheeks as you babbled about how much you loved it.

john suddenly feels the lack of touch on his erection, looking up from his daydream.

“come on dude, we’re all getting shots and then going on the dance floor.” the groom of john’s party calls to him, his group laughs at john’s lack of awareness as most of the crowd exits the vip booth from behind the curtains.

you’re the last to stand up, grabbing your purse and smoothing out your skirt before you joined the rest. you believe you’ve won this round of teasing with this complete stranger.

oh how wrong you are.

a surprised squeak escaped your glossy lips as you feel john’s strong hands grip your hips and waist. his nails dug hard through your clothing, using those unstable high heels to his advantage. your balance in those was subpar at best anyways, and now, he could easily snatch you up, even from where he was sitting.

“h-hey!” you squeal, john could fucking care less. your ass falls straight into his lap, with you immediately feeling how hard his is, and how wonderful it feels against your throbbing pussy. even if you did have underwear on, it didn’t matter. sitting in him was definitely going to leave a wet spot.

john gives you a dark and satisfied grin, leaning towards your ear with his hands beginning to hike up your skirt. your heart pounded as he was getting ready to have his way with your poor body.

“where the fuck do you think you’re going?” 

if you enjoyed this, please support my blog by liking/reblogging! ty! sorry i haven’t been posting at all, life is wild! wuv you!

need him to pull me forcefully onto his lap and ask me where the fuck i think i’m going.

[badbawz]

Ways I have tried to self medicate as an Undiagnosed person who is 99.9% sure that I kno what I have:

Caffeine: makes me drowsy and fatigued. 👎 Tastes good tho.

Nicotine: used to give me a high that was *really* nice, but only lasted for abt a minute or so. Did Not help at all and now I am addicted to it. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Weed: Bad. Dissociation. short term memory goes bye-bye. Auditory hallucinations. My mind and body become completely disconnected and I end up vigorously stimming for hours while mostly unaware of it. Along w paranoia, feeling of impending doom, having to make a conscious effort to stay in touch w reality, etc. Also feel like shit the next day. Even a mild weed high is not that great of an experience for me. So big no to weed.

Over the counter supplements: work, kinda, but only when I macro dose on the shit. Also most of them taste icky. They might work more if I actually remember to take them daily, tho. *However* most of them are. Expensive. They're ok, overall. I use them when I need em or if I have nothing else.

Melatonin: these shits r supposed to be sleeping aids, but the one time that I took one, it woke my ass tf up. So ig for future reference, if I need something to rlly wake me up, ig I'll take melatonin. Have yet to find anything to help me sleep.

Mushrooms. Tried them last night and tbh I think I made a huge breakthrough. Not only was my head actually Quiet for the first time in my life, but I was able to just. Sit. And relax. Like, no leg shaking, no fidgeting, and no urge to do so. For the first time in my life. When I tell u I almost cried.. the initial high was nice, but I'm not trying drugs for the high. And like most of the things on this list, I did some research regarding shrooms and adhd, as well as just general research on them, so I was hoping this would be it. I've also been told over the years that they are good for anxiety. It's too soon to say for sure, but I'm gonna start microdosing and see how I feel as time goes on.

Wish actual professional healthcare was an option for me atm, but u kno. Shroom gummies are more affordable. However, my goal this year is to finally get assessed. God willing. I can't keep getting lower than this.

[charliecraftsthings]

Another Fidget Shroom!

This one is vagely based on the amethyst deceiver, and I modified the original pattern to make gills under the cap.

Fidget Shrooms - paid pattern by Elli Mercer ($3 USD).

[youngestshadow]

She knew well how he ate, she traveled with him for a while after all. The shadow happily watched him eat the shroom cake, eagerly floating up and down in anticipation for his review of it. That smile was all she needed before she quickly grabbed his hands again and spun them both around with little giggles leaving her lips

"Oh yay! You have no idea how glad I am you enjoyed it!" She starts, her smile never leaving her lips. "I learned how to bake from Zess T a little before you left...She's very grumpy, but she appreciated having someone to pass her knowledge down to!" She let his hands go, her cheeks turning red as she fidgeted with her hands.

"I-I...um...I learned how to cook other things from her, too! If you'd like...I could show you...M-Maybe with a picnic?"

"Then you'll have to-a excuse me Vivian. You might not like-a this side of me too well. When I'm around-a sweets I just-" There was no time for him to even finish explaining properly. He unleashed his hungry fury upon her cake, scarfing it down bit by bit like a rabid animal. Point is he was enjoying what she made for him. After the poor Shroom Cake was obliterated and at one with his gut, flavor savor riddled with crumbs(and icing), Mario wiped his face with his sleeve and flashed a smile to the kind shadow.

"Mumamia, where'd you learn how to cook like-a this?? That was great!"

[sophaeros]

nick’s outfit + fidgeting with blahaj in episode 31 <3

[yourfavehatesautismspeaks]

Stim toys hate Autism Speaks!

Requested by anon!

(Mod Rowlf would like to say these are my Stim toys that served as models. I have more, but these were what I had to hand at the time. Fidget cubes were acquired as gifts. No Gloom Shroom is from @stimtastic)

[dirigibird]

look at her go. im so in love