#His Body The Canvas: Short Story

[magicalmanhattanproject]

man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

[drak3n]

TATTOO ARTIST/PIERCER!CHOSO

CONTENT WARNINGS: unestablished relationship, smut, public sex, mentions of body modifications, cunnilingus, implied blowjob at the end, choso has a prince albert-, tongue- and a vertical eyebrow piercing

sena’s note: i know there’s a lot of tattoo artist choso already but i folded — anywaysss up next is my man gojo 🖤

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who was very well-known for his talent despite being so young; who was always pretty gifted with his hands and used peoples’ skin like a canvas, gracing it with the prettiest designs, simple and small, or detailed and large

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who shared a studio with a few fellow tattoo artists and piercers, but had a goal of having his own studio someday

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who had just finished a 5h back piece on his last client and walked towards the front desk to retrieve his cigarettes and take a break, just for his hooded, brown eyes to set on you

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who saw you standing next to your friend and encouraging her to hand in her data sheet for her tattoo, and who watched as your friend was immediately guided into one of the rooms by a tattoo artist, just to leave you all by yourself

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who came back from smoking minutes later to see you sitting on one of the leather seats, flipping through pages of the shop’s magazine that showed many different designs of tattoos, and also piercings

“you want to get anything done?”

nearly flinching at the cold voice sounding a couple of feet away from you, your eyes met choso’s, who was leaning against the wall, revealing fully tattooed forearms through his loose-fitted t-shirt. he looked very… unique, to say the least.

“oh, no, i’m just waiting for a friend,” you smiled kindly, “she’s getting tattooed right now. think it’ll take some time.” you felt guilty that you stared at the man like he was some kind of alien. his features were just really captivating, the plethora of tattoos peeking out from his short sleeves and from the collar leaving little to the imagination that they continued even beneath that shirt.

his eyebrow tattoo shone under the light, but when he opened his mouth, your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of a tongue piercing.

you suddenly remembered what they said about guys with tongue piercings, and felt deeply ashamed about getting such thoughts about a hot stranger.

“come,” he invited you towards the room he usually worked in, “you’ll get bored here. you’ll get a piercing on the house.” he didn’t know why he offered that. maybe, just maybe it was because he didn’t want the other piercers and tattoo artists to charm you first.

at the end of the day, you left the studio with your freshly tattooed friend and a pierced nose.

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who hoped you’d walk in again, and whose shoulders nearly slumped in disappointment upon seeing your friend coming in by herself a few days later to get her tattoo checked, without your company

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who — totally on accident — saw that the studio had been tagged in multiple stories on instagram, one of which being yours, a spontaneous picture taken of your side profile that showcased the gem he had pierced into your cute nose

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who absolutely didn’t follow you after that, just to see mere minutes later that you did, and before he could stop himself, he followed you back

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who really wasn’t the best texter, which left you wondering if you should even try and talk to him at all; whose eyes went wide in surprise when you waltzed into the studio to get your thigh tattooed weeks later

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who showed you that same day how it felt to get eaten out by someone with a tongue piercing

“c—choso… fuck— what if someone—”

your hand clamped in front of your mouth to stifle a moan threatening to force itself out when the ball of metal on choso’s wet muscle bumped against your bundle of nerves. you were seated on the couch he’d previously tatted on, both of your bare legs thrown over his shoulders as he feasted on your delicious pussy.

“let them,” he spoke gruffly into your cunt as his tattooed hands dug into the underside of your thighs. he didn’t hide the smirk displaying on his lips at the way you drooled from the sensation of his piercing coolly gliding against your wet pussy lips.

“c’mon. use your words. i’ll let you cum if you do.”

“pleasepleaseplease let me cum… please choso.”

“cute. you want to feel what the piercing on my dick feels like?”

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who totally did make you beg on his thick dick adorned with a shiny prince albert piercing, and who couldn’t even be mad at you when you flashed him a tongue piercing you had gotten at another studio to surprise and make him see stars just like he’d done for you

[purplephloxpress]

Another year, another Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day!!!! If you are a writer of fanfic, please know just how appreciated you are!! Fandom would be such a different space without your creativity and labors of love. 💜

Holidays are all about making traditions, and the bookbinding friends with @renegadeguild once again came together to bind copies of fics for their authors as a show of our appreciation. This year I had the absolute joy of binding Emergency Help Wanted by the wonderful @piyo-13 and even got to collaborate with her on some of the design elements! It's a Modern AU Jiang Cheng/Lan Xichen fic that starts with a "help wanted" ad.

EMERGENCY HELP WANTED

I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early from work to pick him up from daycare, take him to doctor's appointments, and occasionally miss a day when he's sick. Long story short, I'm in too deep. I didn't think it through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy ages four to six, longish dark hair, likes soccer. Must also be artistic as the macaroni noodle paintings I made seem a little advanced for his age. Also, I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of husband when dropping him off. He's a prosecuting attorney who often brings his work home. Message me for further details. Serious inquiries only.

Ok. So. I may have gone a little feral with this one. Online "help wanted" ad spiraled into loading wheel scene dividers, spiraled into fake Google search result headers, spiraled into FULLY committing to those authentic looking text messages. In full color. (There are so many. I typeset in MS Word. It was SO worth it, but god what a struggle at some points.) And don't forget the "recent searches" title page! Or the computer cutout on the cover! (It's bluescreening, just like Lan Xichen through this entire fic!) Also that cover/title page image that I just kept adding details to. (It's supposed to be Lan Xichen's desk, so it simply didn't feel right until it had sticky notes on the computer, #1 dad on the mug, scissors and measuring tape, scribbles on the sticky notes) Did I have a ton of fun designing this one? Perhaps. Couldn't say. Maybe just a tad. (This is a lie I had an ABSOLUTE BLAST!)

Historically, I've waited until I finish at least the typeset before reaching out to the author, but not so with this one! I got the idea for the fake google search results from Piyo's authors notes, teasing the contents of the next chapter. But! Those didn't start until about chapter 4! So I reached out and asked if we could collaborate and I'm forever glad I did! Not only does this have teasers for each chapter, I also got to bounce design ideas off of her, including what shade of blue and purple for the text messages. Because my friends, that is a serious matter and changed SEVERAL times throughout the process.

Also shoutout to all my Renegade friends who gave input and encouragement over the past year while I worked on this (what endpages to use? how to make this shade of green perfectly Nie Huaisang? how do we feel about this text message design? or how about this one?) - I love you all dearly and appreciate you so much for putting up with my nonsense at all times.

Binding details below the cut!

Fandom: The Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi

Pairing: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin / Lan Huan | Lan Xichen

Bookcloth: Aqua/Purple Dubletta from Colophon Book Arts

Endpapers: Craft Consortium Ink Drops - Ocean pack

Textblock paper: short grain cream from Church Paper

Titling: We R Memory Keepers foil quill

Endbands: leather cording core, DMC embroidery floss for the bands

Body Font: EB Garamond

Title Font: Berlin Sans FB

Text Messages: Roboto

Additional fonts: Times New Roman, Kunstler Script, Magis Authentic

Title page image from Rawpixel and designed in Canva

Various computer graphics from The Noun Project

Tumblr insists on eating and doubling text in this section at its own whim, so if there's something missing that you're curious about, feel free to DM me an ask!

[pnghoon]

a superhero's sweet reward

SIM JAEYUN [제이크] ── 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

୨୧ pairing : !nonidol spidey!ikeu x fem gf!reader ꒰wc : 1.2k꒱

୨୧ genre + content warnings : fluff, humor, skinship, est. relationship, mentions of injuries, kissing, jake's a little goofster, not proofread

୨୧ synopsis : in which spidey!ikeu appears in your room late at night all bruised and hurt, and you help clean him up.

writer's note ─ yall..i'm gonna be completely honest with you..I did not expect all thatt on one of my first ever fics. like I was completely mind blown coming back from work and seeing that it got like 130+ notes. JAW DROPPED. anyways because of all the love on my hoon short story I wanted to spoil yall and give you a spider-verse jaeyun story ;)) this was heavily inspired by spidey-boy by @luvvsim !! I absolutely loveee there work. (like sm.) if you enjoyed reading this, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

the night in new york city hummed with its usual buzz, but inside your room, there was a sense of peacefulness. despite living in the city that never sleeps, you felt content. lying on your bed, earbuds snugly fit into your ears, lost in the beats of your favorite song—it was the perfect end to your busy nights. little did you know, the real excitement was about to swoop in through your window.

suddenly, as if on cue, a shadow dashed across the room. startled, you pulled out an earbud just as a familiar figure swung in through the window, landing into your comfortable sanctuary with a soft thud. there he was—jake sim: new york's very own spiderman and the graceful title of your boyfriend. you watched as he stood there in all his superhero glory, steadying himself on his feet after a slightly harsh landing.

“hey, cutie. miss me?” he spoke out, wincing a little as he removed his mask, revealing a boyish grin and tousled blonde hair. his face bore a few new bruises, and his suit had seen better days.

“jake, the door is literally unlocked,” you called out, sitting up on your bed as you discarded your earbuds.

“where's the fun in that?” came the muffled reply from your boyfriend as he steadied himself, his suit sporting a few new rips and his face a canvas of small cuts and bruises.

you frowned, scanning the variety of bruises and cuts that painted his face and toned body, gently guiding him to sit on the edge of your bed. “you're hurt.”

“it's just a scratch,” he reassured, trying to sound nonchalant but wincing again as he moved. “besides, i get to see my favorite nurse now.”

you rolled your eyes, fetching the first aid kit from your bathroom cabinet. “very funny, spiderman. now sit still.”

jake obeyed, squirming slightly as he took a seat on your bed and shrugged off his suit. you took in the sight of his bruises and cuts, a mixture of concern filling you. he was always so brave and generous. but right now, he was just your jake, and you were going to make sure he was okay.

“hold still,” you instructed, gently dabbing at a cut on his cheek with antiseptic. he flinched a bit, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“ow! are you trying to finish me off, babe?” he joked, his lips quirking up in a grin as he put on an exaggerated show for you.

you rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “oh, hush. maybe if you'd stop getting into trouble, i wouldn't have to play nurse.”

“but..who would keep you company during your lonely nights?” he retorted rather innocently, though his playful grin spoke otherwise.

you smiled, shaking your head. “you know, most boyfriends just text or call. you on the other hand have to swing in through windows.”

he shrugged. “what can i say? i like to make an entrance.”

as you continued to clean and bandage his wounds, a comfortable silence enveloped your new york apartment. the soft hum of the wind, the muffled sound of your music still playing from your phone. it painted an almost soothing picture. well, besides the bruised up and hurt superhero on your bed. you continued to assist his cuts, watching his face contort into a sour look before he quickly recovered.

“so, what exactly did you do today that got you looking like you went ten rounds with a bulldozer?” you question, your brow raising in curiosity.

jake smiled at your light-hearted joke, clearing his throat before speaking again. “just another day in the life, y’know? i saved a kitten from a tree, stopped a bank robbery, and had a very intense conversation with a pigeon. fascinating stuff.”

you snorted, grabbing the box of bandages from your nightstand. “sounds like a regular tuesday.”

“exactly,” he agreed, leaning in as you dabbed at a cut on his forehead, the white cotton ball tinting a shade of red. “that pigeon was surprisingly chatty.”

you shook your head, trying to suppress a laugh as you focused on cleaning his wounds. jake's eyes followed your every move, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“y’know,” he started off. “i think that pigeon had some good advice. he told me i should kiss my girlfriend more often.”

his comment only earned a snicker from you, the cotton ball moving to clean off a particularly nasty cut on his face, watching him wince at the sudden contact.

“ow, ow! careful, doc, i’m delicate!”

“delicate, my foot,” you teased, giving him a mock glare. “you swing from skyscrapers and fight bad guys, but a little antiseptic is too much for ya?”

he laughed, the sound a comforting balm against the night’s weariness. “hey, i have my limits, okay?”

“do you now?” you retorted, your smile growing at his light-hearted banter. another comfortable silence fell once more before you broke it with another question.

“and what other brilliant advice did this know it all pigeon give you, other than kissing his girlfriend more often?”

jake grinned as you brought the topic back up, clearing his throat like he was about to make the most moving declaration. “he said i should cherish every moment, because you never know when your next battle with a supervillain might be.”

“wise pigeon,” you commented, reaching for a bandage. “you're lucky i’m such a good nurse.”

“luckiest guy in the world,” he agreed, his eyes twinkling. “and not just because of your nursing skills.”

“flattery will get you nowhere, sim,” you retorted, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “but it might earn you a kiss once i’m done.”

jake’s face lit up. “in that case, i think i might have another cut you missed."

you look at jake dumbfounded, pausing your movements entirely as you slowly brought your gaze back towards his face, your expression etched with concern. your worriment soon dissipated into thin air as you watched him point to his lips, leaning closer to you.

“right here.”

you rolled your eyes but reluctantly leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. he sighed contentedly with a smile, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer as he relished in the feeling of your plush lips on his very own.

“much better,” he murmured against your lips, pulling away with a lopsided grin.

finishing up the last of his cuts, you leaned back to admire your handiwork. “there. good as new.”

jake flexed his arm, yawning softly before giving you an approving nod. “you’re the best, you know that?”

“of course i do, someone’s gotta keep you in one piece, right?” you said with a grin, playfully nudging him. “now, are you staying for a while, or do you have to rush off and save more damsels in distress?”

he pretended to ponder your question for a moment before suddenly pulling you into his arms. “i think i’ve done enough saving for one night. besides, this damsel is my favorite.”

you rolled your eyes again but couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across your face. “smooth, spidey. real smooth.”

jake’s laughter was contagious, and soon enough you both found yourselves lying on the bed, tangled up in each other arms. the city outside your window buzzed with its usual chaos, but in that moment, all that mattered was the comfort of each other’s company.

“stay with me tonight?” you asked softly, resting your head on his chest.

jake kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “always.” he murmured, and you knew he meant it.

(why am I giggling and smiling so hard rn...)

𝓢igning off... @penghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni

[trashmouth-richie]

⁂ 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 + 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 || a mini series || eddie x you

“soul ties” based but with a spin — part 1

part 2: i’m your dream, make you real

chapter summary: back story on reader and the history of the ‘souls’, the girl sadly wonders why she suddenly can't stop thinking of eddie munson; eddie spends the night nursing a migraine and trying to remember what that girls name was… the same girl who he can’t seem to get out of his head. oddly enough, both eddie and the girl feel terribly ill— a symptom of rejecting the soul tie. also WAYNE! Yay!

 [series summary: reader and her lover are souls bound to one another for eons and eons, they always find their way back to one another no matter how long it takes or what bodies they might be in, but when reader feels the magnetic pull of her other half and wills the girl’s body she is in to find her lover— the body her lover belongs to is a boy— none other than the meanest boy in hawkins, eddie munson] 

trigger warnings: 18+ smut, bisexual! eddie, mean! eddie, shy! girl, smut. etc eddie the girl are both 18 in this story, drug use, talks of addiction, prison etc.

reader (you) are a “soul” in this story, meaning you are only bound to the body you are inhabiting during this lifetime. The girl will have features mentioned— but again— you (the reader) are a soul, which i imagine to be a flame of all colors. 

You had no control over how, when or where you would appear in a new body. It was never the same timeline. one minute you were floating in a sea of stars on a blackened canvas, the next you were viewing their world from the way they envisioned it. 

The body could be brand new, shiny and soft skinned, no marks of life on its petal-like skin. Sometimes the body was weathered, having seen many moons and decades and you arrived when they needed you most. Years before you had come here, the body you lived in was impaired, seeing nothing but marooned eyelids, navigating the earth with the four other senses. 

Shapes and colors could vary from one body to the next, but inside they all remained the same. The only difference were the souls.

Some of the souls you had encountered weren’t pure. They had a darkness rolling through them that made the bodies they live in do unspeakable, horrific things. 

The malum, as they were known were tainted with vile evilness. Instead of being made with licks of pretty sparkled flame, the malum were created with sharp edges, a singular dark hole in the center showing their emptiness. Compassion was lost from them, all they knew was destruction and how to use the body to their own advantage. 

They could change their appearance, tricking others into loving them.  And although it had been awhile since you’d come across one, you were always weary. Hence, the boy with the fast car from last year.

You were even thankful to come to this girl, the sad lonely girl who just wanted to be loved… her heart tie within reach…but then he rejected her!

That stupid boy and his dumb hair was ruining everything! This was wrong— this was all wrong! It never went this badly before. All it took from the others before this girl and this boy was to feel the “special” pull. The tug of that tiny invisible string that was nearly impossible to ignore. 

Different species, different sex, it didn’t matter! The pull always worked. You sat and stewed in the girl's brain, running laps around her mind, showing her images of the boy, the one she was destined to be with. 

It was deeper than love, stickier than the cotton candies of a carefully woven fate, her heart belonged with his! Plain and simple. You hoped your other half was doing the same with that long haired boy, making his head split and pop like a sunflower seed. 

You could bet that he didn’t know how sad she was. He wouldn’t know that she had cut her tutoring lesson short with Max because the concentration for basic algebra just wasn’t there.  

You could do this, you could make them both see how they belonged together, that they fit like a puzzle and complemented each other like the stars do the moon, despite their differences, or walks of life. 

Time was all you needed, and thankfully they both were guaranteed to be in the same building for almost eight hours a day, five days a week. 

“Are you okay?” 

Eddie had been staring at his mac n cheese for nearly ten minutes. Each tick of the clock squeezed his head like a vice. He had been fixated on something he couldn’t quite grasp. As if he were in a fuzzy dream where punches didn’t land and he coincidentally had the winning lottery ticket. 

A name. 

It’s all he was trying to think of, but he couldn’t for the life or death of him remember it. 

Beth? Kay? Maybe… Yeah.. Kay sounds right—nope Kay was that smokin’ hot foreign exchange student last semester. Jesus Christ, who the hell is that girl?

Wayne watched with his bushy eyebrows raised into the sparse bits of hair left on his head as his nephew drug his spoon counter-clockwise then clockwise through the cheesy valley of noodles, not saying a single word other than the occasional grunt or mumbling a series of consonants and vowels through the entirety of supper. 

His head had spun all day. A loose paper boat down a sewer drain to awaiting clown claws had a better success rate in survival than the absolute collegiate level of  nonsense he was trying to get his brian to spark. No matter what he did he couldn’t get that girl out of his head. 

Maybe if he could put a name to her face—he had thought that would settle it. Then he could finally fucking move on. But alas, it was as if his brain left on vacation… or maybe those drug scare ads were right and his brain cells were actually fried.  

“Something wrong with the food, Ed?” Wayne asked around a mouthful, “thought you loved dogs with mac n cheese.” 

Eddie went class by class in his head imagining the seats of every girl who occupied them. In Geography there was Tiffany, Alice, Wheeler, Robin, Barbara, and Chrissy. 

This is fucking stupid, he thinks. She could be a year or two below him in school, but goddamnit what was her name?

He could memorize DnD manuals, a whiz at math especially percentages for his.. hobbies. But a simple name to a girl he’s seen a dozen times falls short. 

Dropping the metal spoon with a loud clunk, he groans, throwing his head in his hands. “I’m fine, Wayne.” 

He wasn’t, along with his head pounding like the hammering tune of a chainsaw, he had felt nauseous all day. Like a hangover that never seemed to end, or that time he had the stomach flu last year and missed a week of school. 

But this wasn’t the flu, and it wasn’t a hangover. It was a nagging feeling in his head and a rip to his gut. 

“You sure?” Wayne tested cautiously, “Y’ know I don’t have many rules here.. and I don’t care that you smoke in the house, but son if you’re doing something… more than that… I…” Wayne shakes his head, his voice growing earnest, “I just don’t want you to end up like your old man ‘s all.” 

“Jesus, Wayne,” Eddie groaned, scrubbing his hands down his face, he hadn’t touched that shit his dad was caught with, and was currently serving a sentence for, ever. 

“I’m not doin’ anything like that, okay? I just… GOD—” he ran thick ringed fingers through his hair and cursed again when the rings got tangled, huffing through his nose like a bull, “I feel like shit!” 

Wayne relaxed a bit in his chair, a chuckle in his throat at his nephew's theatrics, “eat then, you’ll feel better.” 

Eddie shoved his plate away,  synchronizing the metallic dragging scuff from the chair’s legs across the cheap linoleum floor with a grumble of ‘m not hungry. 

His long legs seemed to tangle under themselves as he stood and he caught his shoulder hard on the wall, the drag of soft cotton down a plywood wall muffling his curses as he headed to bed. 

Face first he landed into the worn and spring heavy mattress, the smell of weed and spiced deodorant engulfing him. Leather scuffed boots still on his feet from when he drove to Rick’s for his weekly supply. The pounding against his skull was dull, twisting like a knife and it just wouldn’t quit.

Nose crushed in the misshapen pillow, Eddie throws his hand out hazardly to the nightstand. His fingers skid around the scattered DnD dice, a crusted half eaten sandwich from the night before and the sharp foiled  edge of a ripped corner from a Trojan from when—yeah, whew…that was a great night.

Finally, his fingers wrap around the cool steel of his zippo lighter. 

Without looking up, he flicks the pad of his thumb against the wheel igniting a flame to be sure there’s enough fluid. Groaning again he slides a hand into his jeans and pulls out the little bag he had gotten from Rick.

Movements that were taken for granted were now causing sweat to pool in the middle of his back, his temples dripped as a tickling bead of sweat wove a path down his chin. 

Whatever illness that was currently plaguing him was one like nothing before, and he only hoped his last vice of getting out of his mind with the sweet burn of a joint into his lungs would help. 

Slotting it between his lips he flicked the lighter and inhaled as much as his lungs could take. 

The girl drove home in silence. A salty drip of steady tears stinging her cheeks from the bite of the breeze that seeped through the cracked open car window. She didn’t understand why on this particular day he had burrowed so far under her skin, and even though he was rude, per usual—she couldn’t let it go. 

A horn honked behind her at the stop sign before she realized she had been staring at the steering column, foot pressed on the brake. Tears dripped onto the apples of her cheeks and she wiped at them with the sleeve of her cream colored cardigan, leaving flecks of mascara behind. 

Blowing out a blubbery sigh she eased her car forward and drove along the wet pavement of Hawkins, vision blinded by traitorous tears for the boy who didn’t deserve them. 

She ate her supper in a sad silence— fork balancing green beans gone cold. The girl sighed with a hand resting into her palm, watching the fall leaves plucking themselves free in the front yard. 

Her mind played that scene at Eddie’s trailer over and over. The way he practically bit her head off, how easy it was for him to dismiss her as a nuisance. She could feel the heat blossoming on her cheeks, how it had practically burned like his eyes did when they looked at her. 

Eddie was like that with everyone at school, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to her. But it was. And tears started again as she thought of why he was so mean.

“…see Mom! She hates green beans so much she’s crying about them!” 

The girl shook her head and blinked back the tears, “‘m not crying you little turkey,” she bites back, shoving her younger brother with her elbow, “just.. had a long day, ‘m tired.” 

“Well,” her mother protested, pressing a cloth napkin to the corners of her mouth, “why don’t you run a bath and go to bed early?” 

Nodding, she excused herself quietly from the table and walked the plush carpeted path to the upstairs bathroom. 

More tears began to roll down her cheeks as she climbed each step, a tingling in the nape of her neck made her skin feel boiling hot. The further up she went the worst she started to feel. 

I’m probably getting the flu. She thought to herself, Hawkins High had more than fifteen students out with it last week, and it would make sense that she too would fall victim to it. But the flu wouldn’t make her cry for no reason, no— a sickness wouldn’t have her feeling like she was nothing. 

But those dark brown eyes could. 

Thinking of her encounter today just made it worse, but she couldn’t turn it off. She welcomed the warmth from the water to seep through her bones after the tub was filled and she slipped gingerly into the water. 

Hoping the steam would will away the awful empty feeling in her stomach,  she let herself fully submerge, her wet brown hair feeling like the bottom of a silky moss covered lake. 

She laid under the water for what felt like hours, no sound, just her racing thoughts to keep her company.

Maybe I’m getting my period? She thought after taking a few winded deep breaths and sitting up in the water. 

It would explain why she was so irrationally upset about all of this. It was plausible. And maybe the burning flames of hell's butterflies in her stomach was because she had barely eaten anything for supper.

It definitely wasn’t the fact that Eddie seemed to radiate like a neon light in space the second he opened that door, and she was like a moth to his flame. One that was quickly swatted away. 

Eddie Munson. 

Standing and wrapping a towel around herself she hit the drain and stepped from the tub onto a peach colored bath mat. 

His face played like a movie in her head. A montage of him and only him. The cocky gait he strutted down the hallways, hollering at the jocks to get the fuck out of his way. The jingling swish of that chain linked wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, a soft black bandana in the other. 

Eddie. 

Wiping condensation from the mirror she shakes her head. What the hell? Never. Not once in her entire life had she thought about Eddie Munson. Even thinking his name made her stomach lurch like she might be sick. 

Wait. No, she was going to be sick. 

She makes it just in time to lift the seat on the toilet before she vomits violently into the bowl, tears leaking from her eyes with every retching heave her body produced. 

She hears her name buzzing in her ear. Once, twice, three times and she knows her mother is behind those calls on the other side of the door.

“‘m okay, Mom,” she gasps, “just the flu, it’s been going around—” 

And normally where her mother would have come in to rub her back, ask if she needed anything— she doesn’t. 

Flushing the toilet she looks over her shoulder, “Mom?”

No answer.

Rising from her knees she walks to the door and opens it, “Mom?” 

Nothing. 

Maybe she was hearing things, but she swore her name was said loud and clear. 

Smoke billowed around Eddie’s room, hanging like dense clouds from an oven fire. Either his tolerance was higher or the bud from Rick was skunked— because after smoking three joints back-to-back-to-back, he still couldn’t feel anything. 

Not even a tiny little buzz or the hazy droop of his eyelids forming into slits. That sickening pounding kept its beat along his chest and into every vein in his body, unrelenting in its ravage upon him. 

He thought of the times he had seen her. Where was he standing? What section of lockers was she shoving books into? 

Sandra? Beth… no he already said that. Fuck. 

It’s not until he laid flat on his back a few minutes later, the short remnants of paper flickering from the last bit of the joint burning close to his fingers. Eddie closed his eyes in complete solitude, and that’s when it clicked. 

Shuffling on what felt like broken legs to his closet, Eddie wedged the door open on its broken track. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, he felt as if he had ran a marathon, backwards. 

His tongue was out between his lips as he concentrated on his task at hand. Rifling through heaps of clothes, old shoes, playboys with dog eared pages. He was elbows deep in the depths of his closet, searching for what he had tossed in here at the end of last year. 

The pads of his fingers feel the textured cover under a halloween mask and he yanks it free stumbling backwards and tripping over his amp, landing hard on the floor. 

He doesn’t wait to be in a more comfortable position on his bed or even sitting up straight before he holds the book over his face and flips open the cover of Hawkins High 1985 Go Tigers!, his yearbook. 

Pages and pages he skimmed through. Freshman class, Sophomore class, pictures of every sport from Fall to Spring, Band, Choir, The school newspaper… he was about to give up after he saw his own picture staring at him from Junior year.

And he would have missed it if his thumb hadn’t suddenly stung. As if a bee or a strike of lightning went through him and he had to adjust his hold on the book. Where his thumb had been pressed into the page, was the girl. 

Just a few down from his own school portrait, she sat smiling shyly at the camera with closed lips, silken voluminous dark hair, a sparkle in each eye. 

Eddie’s stomach plummeted, his pulse speeding up as each letter of her name danced behind his irises, and his lips tingle when he finally says her name. 

Mickey 

thanks for reading💋

taglist: @cinemabean @findmeincorneliastreet @pleuviors @boltonbritreads @nailbatanddungeon

@what-the-jams @aprisher @bbygh0st18 @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joejoequinnquinn

[kanagenwrites]

Hey folks. My name is Kanagen (It's pronounced Ka-na-ngen. Kana is fine.), and I'm a writer. I mostly write sci-fi with a more or less sapphic bent, and I'm not shy about putting lewd content in what I write because fuck petty moralism.

I'm active in the Human Domestication Guide writing community, where apart from being an author (see below), I'm also a Loret, which means I help maintain and update the lore of the setting, help new creators with questions about it or how to fit a story into it, and so on. All of my publicly available fiction at the moment is HDG content, but I plan on working more on my own original settings and concepts in the future.

I have a patreon, where I post my current long-form project's drafts chapter by chapter, once weekly. I also occasionally talk about my writing process. I'm hoping to expand content there in the future as well.

I don't use social media very much because I remember what the internet used to be like before walled gardens and techbros ruined it. (You kids really don't know what you're missing.) Nevertheless, the life of a freelance writer rather demands I put myself out there somehow, so here I am. Ask me questions, behold the weird stuff I reblog, and try not to get too parasocial with me. I'm just a weird lady who puts words in funny shapes.

Bibliography

Long-Form Fiction

No Gods, No Masters - A revolutionary leftist copes with the subtle differences between her own idea of the perfect world and the just-a-little-off version of it the Affini offer. First novel-length work in the Tillandsia Trilogy; highly suggested you read this before The Floret in the Mirror and especially Freedom's Ember.

The Floret in the Mirror - A mystery/thriller about identity, digitization, and impossible simulated lewdness. Content warning for amnesia resulting from traumatic brain injury as part of the setup. Sequel to No Gods, No Masters.

Freedom's Ember (ongoing) - Sixty years after the Affini conquered her world, a woman clings to her independence; sixty years after being frozen for cryogenic flight from the Affini, a woman struggles to discover who she really is when freed from her father's influence. What is freedom, and what does it mean in the context of the Compact? Sequel to No Gods, No Masters and The Floret in the Mirror, conclusion of the Tillandsia Trilogy.

Sui Generis - A martian attorney living on Earth finds adjusting to life with the Affini easier than most; she was already keeping her wife as a pet before they arrived. The real question is, where's that strange jealousy coming from?

Short Fiction

Mainspring - A Terran secret agent is captured by the Affini, trapped by artist for whom his body is a canvas, and she means to make of him her magnum opus. Wind-up doll content, and probably my most commonly cited story for "this rewired my brain"-style reactions.

Reading the Leaves - A tea-obsessed barista, an affini new to humanity, and a sweet (if awkward) romance culminating in a very raunchy ending. Entry for the HDG February Fluff Fic Jam 2024.

The Fifth Fundamental Force - This story is a silly joke. It should not be taken seriously, though many inevitably do.

Aftertaste (stalled) - A former quadrillionaire and epicure who just barely avoided domestication is tracked down by an affini culinary anthropologist who wants to use his brain to reconstruct a lost flavor using his long-buried memory - he was the last human to ever taste bluefin tuna. This fic is only sporadically updated because the stars must precisely align for my brain to be in a state to write boyliker fic. Sorry, I'm just really gay, y'all.

[isthemedia]

Poolerverine-Yoink! (1/2)

Since Ao3 is down for maintenance right now.

Here it is! Part One of two. Ao3 link to come when it's up and running again!

@manicpixxiedreambitch

@leo-i-am

@nickisgirl

(Since ya'll left comments figured to tag ya)

=====================================

Logan thought he had an idea of how Wade’s moods went. Sure they were sporadic and nearly unpredictable. The keyword being ‘nearly’. There were little tells Wade had, probably just natural instincts and habits his body did. Despite the constant dying and regenerating Wade’s body did-a story Logan STILL isn’t sure he was ready for-it seemed that there were just some things that always came back to Wade. 

The way his hands would twitch when he’d be on a short fuse, ready to fight or maim or pull out god knows what kind of weapon from who knows where. Luckily Logan knew how to take a hit. He also knew just WHERE to hit to get Wade somewhat under control. 

How Wade’s leg would bounce from being cooped up for too long-sometimes five minutes would be too long. Logan needed to yank him by the hood of his sweater as he tried to climb out of the window to the fire escape cause he needed out ASA-NOW. 

How some nights, when he’d be jolted awake from his own nightmares and warped memories to see Wade also up on the pull-out. The glow of the tv casting an eerie blue glow over him, as he’d just watch whatever was playing…without a word. At least Logan thought Wade was watching what was ever on during the first few times it happened. However, once he’d get a better look, he could see Wade…well, how did that saying go? Lights are on but nobody’s home? Something like that. Those times, well, those times were the ones he didn’t really have an idea on how to handle. 

Logan figured he learned enough of those cues and habits that nothing could really surprise him with Wade anymore. 

But it was just like the fucker to come up with something new. 

Which is where Logan was now. Staring at the lump in the middle of the pull-out’s mattress. Just what the hell was Wade doing? Sure the man could be lazy, but this was something else entirely. 

“Come on!” He gave a kick to the pull-out, jostling it somewhat. “Get up! This thing takes up enough space as is!” 

Wade refused to move. Hell, he wasn’t even saying anything. It was actually pretty damn quiet, that the familiar snikt sound seemed almost too loud. “Wade, ya know I won’t be afraid ta force yer ass out.” 

No response. 

Not even a snark.

And that was pissing Logan off the most. 

That does it! Raising his claws, ready to--

A knock came on the door. 

The sound was enough to knock some of the fury out of Logan. He couldn’t quite stop the growl that left him as he turned away from Wade, claws sheathing back, and stormed over to the door. He nearly tore it off the hinges when a second round of knocking started up. “WHAT!?” 

“Huh, you do have fangs.” 

Logan faltered some. Embarrassment was quickly quelling most of the boiling rage. “Ah--Vanessa, um…” 

Vanessa smiled sweetly. “It’s fine. I had worse greetings-and most of those came from Wade. Which, by the way, gotta call from Al,” she continued. “Mind if I step in?” 

“Huh? Ah, yeah sure,” Logan stepped aside and let her in. He noticed she had a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. Figured she was out doing errands. Even though it didn’t work out between the two of them, Logan could still feel how much the two loved each other. That both would drop whatever they were doing if the other needed help. 

Vanessa made her way over to the pull out and knelt down. “How long has he been like this?” She asked. 

“Hm? All monrin’.”

“Ahhh,” she sounded like she knew exactly what was going on. Probably did, she was with him long enough. 

“He’s done this before?” 

“He has, but it’s been a while since the last time,” she set the bag down and started digging through it. “He’s not gonna move for a while when he gets like this. Well, at least when somebody can see him.” 

“Gonna fill me in on what’s goin’ on?” Logan asked as he made his way over to her. Peering over he could see the bag was filled with…quite a bit of stuff. And all of it was stuff Wade liked. Snack, drinks, shit he saw a couple of toys in there too. Looked more like something you’d bring for a sick kid.

“Hard to explain,” Vanessa said as she pulled out a small Hello Kitty plush toy. “But you know how some people just, shut down sometimes? Burnout? Crash?” 

“Yeah?” He knew that all too well. “Wait, is that what this is?”

“Kinda?” She said. “It kinda is, but kinda isn’t.” Logan huffed. These answers were getting him nowhere. “You know about his cancer, right?” 

“Y-yeah.” He kinda felt like an asshole when he decided to ask what happened to Wade. He thought all that scarring was from like a fire or a chemical spill-or maybe his mutant gene just made him look like at. It wouldn’t be out of the possibility-hell he knew Beak. He didn’t know that Wade had cancer-STILL has cancer. That his healing factor wasn’t healing that cancer, just kept replacing it. That those scars were from it. That he’s constantly dying and regenerating. 

“Well, some days that pain gets to be too much,” Vanessa continued. “Says that even the voices in his head get too grating to listen too. That everything feels like static cause he’s being watched. Like sticking your tongue to a 9 volt battery, kind of static.” 

Well now he really felt like an asshole now. Dammit. He shoulda realized something was bad when Wade stopped being so damn chatty. “So what do we do when he’s like this?” 

“Not much,” Vanessa said. “Just time, and just making sure he’s alright,” she added with a slight grin. “Watch this.” 

Logan wasn’t sure, but that grin Vanessa had reminded him of Jubilee’s when she managed to steal some snack from Hank’s hidden stash in his lab. She always managed to somehow just pull out the good without knowing. He watched as Vanessa set the plush toy on the edge of the pull-out. She slowly inched it closer to the mound on the bed. She got about three inches away, when--

Logan blinked. 

It happened so fast he wasn’t sure just what he saw. Vanessa was too busy laughing, the plush toy gone from sight. 

So he did see that right. Wade snatched it and took it under the blankets with such speed it was almost cartoonish. 

“That-is what I call the Yoink-Zone,” Vanessa explained. 

“The what?” 

“Yoink-Zone,” she grinned. “It’s hard to get Wade to come out from under the covers like this-cause again static feeling. So I had to find some way to make sure he ate something. Found this out through trial and error,” she explained as she pulled out a small pack of fruit shaped marshmallows. “It’s dumb, but it works.” 

“I guess,” Logan heaved a sigh. 

“Here, your turn,” Vanessa said as she handed him the packet of marshmallows. 

“The fuck you mean, my turn?” 

“Hey, you live with him now, so that means you gotta take care of him.” 

Logan wanted to argue with her. He didn’t need to do shit.

But that wasn’t true. Hell, if this was all it took, it was the least he could do. Wade did more for him and dealt with his nightmares. Taking a set of claws to the gut. Needing to calm him down from his fight-or-flight response. Hell there was one time he bit off two of Wade’s fingers cause he got too close to his face. And the asshole had the gall to tell him it was all alright. 

This was less destructive at least. 

Logan slid the marshmallows towards the lump of blankets, and again, lighting quick they were snatched up. “...yeah this is dumb.” 

Vanessa laughed and smiled warmly, before inching her hand towards the ‘Yoink-zone’. Instead of getting snatched violently, Logan watched as Wade reached out and took her hand. Fingers threading together, and just holding her hand gently. “Things are gonna be alright Wade,” Vanessa said softly. “I’ll stop by later on if this keeps up, but Logan should be able to take it from here then. That's alright?” She felt him squeeze her hand softly before letting go, giving a thumbs up, before disappearing underneath the pile of blankets. 

She got up, one of her knees gave a pop while doing so. “Got a couple of snacks and drinks in that bag,” she gestured. “I’ll take it back next game night.” 

“Alright, ah…thanks Vanessa,” Logan nodded as he walked with her back to the door. 

She took his arm and patted it. “It’s no problem. I know Wade can be…well, Wade…but I know you’ll help him out with this.” 

“Yeah, I got it,” he nodded. They shared their good-byes and Vanessa was on her way. Logan leaned back against the door and heaved a sigh. This was probably going to be a long week. He hoped it wasn’t going to last long, but then again Vanessa made it seem like there was no real time frame for how long this thing lasted. 

He made his way back over to the pull-out. Mary-Puppins was now beside it, whining as she stared up at the edge that seemed to be too far out of her reach. 

Alright, this could be a bit mean, but then again, Wade loved the ugly thing. So maybe it wouldn’t hurt. Logan scooped her up and set her on the bed. Watching as she sniffed and toddled closer to the pile of blankets. When she was near that space-yoink!

Mary yelped as she was pulled under. Logan heard concerned shushing and small mumbling-Wade absolutely trying to appease the dog he probably spooked like that. Logan couldn’t help but laugh at the whole thing. He only proceeded to laugh even harder when one of Wade’s hands snuck out from under the blanket to flip him off. 

--

It was only the second day of this mood of Wade’s. Logan had to go out and restock on things for the merc, since the bag Vanessa brought was emptied before noon. And to be honest, Logan needed that time to be out of the apartment. 

Some thoughts were starting to rear their ugly heads again. The more he tried to push them back. Or cut them off-only to have two more replace them. Fucking hydra analogy, like the actual hydra and not the organization…though isn’t their motto something like that?

Whatever. 

He sighed as he roamed the aisles. Maybe after this he should start thinking about moving out. It’s not like he wants to-well not fully. It’s cramped, three adults and a dog all staying in a one bedroom apartment? Two over six foot men sharing a pull-out? The apartment itself definitely has seen better days-hell seen better years with the upkeep. 

Sure they could probably move-Althea included, he knows Wade wouldn’t want to leave her behind. Despite their sniping back and forth, and that godawful namesake Wade gave her, he did care about her. Shit, Logan did too. There was something about her…she wasn’t Chuck, that’s for sure. But there was just something about her. Something comforting and welcoming. She definitely filled a gap that was missing for him. 

While all moving out together sounded nice-well, alright that was the problem. It was a nice thought. A nice idea for a nice, somewhat domestic, somewhat fucked up future. 

But, if there was one thing Logan learned in his long life was this: Logan Howlett doesn’t get a nice life. 

That’s just how it was. That was why he seriously needed to think about moving out, and away from them. Because he was getting too accustomed to the idea of living with Wade. Too comfortable with the other man laying right by him. Being a constant in his day-to-day life. 

Great so much for escaping those thoughts. 

He wasn’t sure what it was with Wade, but there was something there. Something he’s been missing for years. The lines between companionship and desire were starting to blur. Fuck he’s been alone way too long to think of Wade like that. 

Then again, it isn’t just because he’s been alone for so long. Wade was different. Different then a lot of people-and he wasn’t meaning his looks or that weird quirk of him making comments to someone he couldn’t see. Wade sorta just, accepted him. The good and the bad. Wade didn’t try to change him, or make him more suitable for living with him and Althea. 

He didn’t need to be a ‘good guy’ to bring home. To Wade, Logan was fine just as is. PTSD, anger issues, alcoholism, and all. It was something Logan never even thought possible. There was always SOMETHING about him people needed to change. But not for Wade. 

So when was the other shoe gonna drop? It was gonna happen, he just knew it was. That’s why he had to be far away from Wade when it did. 

He sighed as he made his way back to the apartment, bags in hand. Well, that can be something to go back to worrying after Wade gets over this mood he’s in right now. Couldn’t last that much longer, could it? Maybe he should call Vanessa. Get an idea on how short or long this thing lasted. 

Entering the apartment, he could see the lump on the pull out hadn’t moved, but Mary was laying on the mattress just slightly out of the ‘yoink-zone’. He made his way over and sat on the edge of the bed. Mary whined, and he just gave her a quick little pet before digging out a bag of chips. 

He slid it close to the pile of blankets. It was getting easier to catch it. Wade’s hand shooting out from under the pile to grab whatever there was, and back under again. Logan chuckled softly and shook his head. 

Wade was absolutely ridiculous sometimes…and he was getting used to it. 

Mary made a small sound before she settled onto his lap. Welp, looked like he was stuck there for a bit. Could be worse. He knows he shouldn’t, but to hell with it. He knows he’s gonna need to abandon ship sometime, but for now he could enjoy this for a little bit. 

He absentmindedly pet Mary, his eyes slowly trailing back over to the pile of blankets. With his other hand he slowly slid it across the mattress. He was expecting Wade to just snatch it when it was close enough-but that didn’t happen. 

Like with Vanessa, Wade reached out slowly. Placing his hand over Logan’s. Wade’s hand was cold, despite being tucked under that pile of blankets. It wasn’t bad…it actually felt kinda nice. Logan ran warm anyway. 

“Yer gonna need to let go or I’m gonna need ta stop pettin’ Mary if you need somethin’ else,” Logan said. Wade gave a soft pat to the back of his hand before giving an ‘okay’ gesture, and retreating back under the blankets. Logan laughed and looked down to Mary. “You get so damn spoiled.” 

--

Laura and Vanessa were over. Day four of Wade’s mood. Laura got a first hand experience and witnessed the ‘yoink-zone’. She actually jumped-claws shooting out and everything. 

“Just so you know, he’s not gonna shut up when he’s over this,” Vanessa warned. 

“How is that different from normal?” Logan asked. 

“You’re mean,” Vanessa teased. “I mean that he’s gonna be dumb and talk himself dry,” she explained. “He’s a bit, out of it for like a day after all this. So just keep an eye on him, alright?” 

“Been babysitting him for four days already, shouldn’t be a big deal if another gets tacked on,” Logan shrugged as he leaned back on the bed slightly. 

“You miss him talking, don’t you?” Laura smirked. 

“Dunno what yer talkin’ about,” Logan grumbled. 

“Suuuure you don’t.” 

He huffed and shifted slightly. He was about to say something else when--

“SHIT! I forgot!” Two, scar roughed hands grabbed onto his arm and pulled-HARD. He toppled back and found himself partially under the pile of blankets. It was dark, but he could mostly make out what was in front of him and well…over him. 

Wade had this almost soft, fond looking smile on his face. The same one Logan always saw him give Vanessa-but there was something just slightly different with this one. “Got too close there Peanut,” Wade’s voice was hushed. A bit raspy from not being used for a few days. 

“Yeah, figured,” Logan said softly. “Better?”

“Hmm…a bit,” Wade murmured. “Gonna talk your ear off, cause I had a lotta thoughts goin’ through my head during all this.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” the smile stayed on Wade’s face as he leaned down. 

It was obvious what was going to happen, but still Logan felt his breath hitch. The position was awkward, but not the worst kiss he had. Wade’s lips were chapped and scarred-but felt so right against his. He almost wanted to chase after them when Wade lifted his head. 

“...ready ta come out? Say hi ta Laura and Vanessa?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, ‘m pretty sure I’m good,” Wade nodded. 

Logan shifted and pulled the blankets back and off of himself as he sat up right. Wade pulled them back as well, but still remained cocooned in them. He shifted and shimmied across the mattress till he could comfortably lean against Logan. 

“Hey,” Vanessa greeted softly. 

“Hey,” Wade gave her a soft smile. 

“Missed ya,” she added. “Logan did a good job at taking care of ya.” 

“Hmmm he did…thanks Peanut, I owe ya.” 

“Nah,” Logan shrugged. “ Deal enough with my shit, the least I can do.” Yeah, sure, maybe this was a bad idea. Logan’s all too familiar with bad ideas. He knows that there’s gonna be a consequence for this sooner or later. But that can wait. 

Wade hummed as he felt Logan’s hand slide under the blankets. Feeling around, until he reached Wade’s hand. “yoink,” Wade said softly as he took Logan’s hand, threading their fingers together.

[s1llydr3amscape]

Maybe it was the friends we made along the way!

My security breach cast re-imagined when we first got the posters and merch leaks!!! I changed them into ocs because after seeing their in game designs I fell in love <33333

Another reason why Vanny is my fave is because I don't have to design her clothes /j

Extras and ramblings under the cut :

Zoomed in because I drew them on the same canvas like a goober :

Many reasons why I chose to make the way it is are cause hehehehe

-I didn't like Roxy at first because off that funko leak being a reused model of Foxy. So I made her a hyena recolor using his model because I think they're cool, yet I still kept the fact she's the shortest because of Foxy in fnaf 1 being the shortest!!! And it did sorta happen with her being his replacement 😭She has short hair because I think one of her main appeals would be she would change up her hair every other week.

-Freddy is a moon bear because I miss Lefty. Also cuz I thought Fazbear Ent developed enough technology so that they could change colors during the night/dark like in the posters making them blacklight/neon. Also once again I miss Lefty and Also Nightmare. He had blue eyes freaky like that because I think FazEnt was developing new technologies to recognize guests by having their main stars test them out. And it did happen in the game so yay!!!

-I genuinely didn't think Bonnie would show up because off the leaks but at the time everyone designed their own version off him and so did I!!! I made him white and brown as a homage to Vannys help wanted mask. The blue streaks in his hair also relates to my Vanessa design. Reasons for this is because with how advanced the AI it was to trick them into thinking they were eachother friends. Why because the heartbreak would've been catastrophic.

-Chica didn't change much but I added brown because I love the color brown it is my top 1 color with purple following behind. Also because I love gradients I fucking love gradients you bet your ass if I add gradients I could <333 She has feather hair like that because off Big Bird I saw in a short fnaf sesame street horror yt video and that scared and gave me nightmares because of this one scene of a lady giving birth to his kid??? Idk it scared me alot. She's my favorite tho <3333

-Monty didn't change except he had circular glasses because I wanted him to match with Roxy as the newest additions to the Fazbear brand!!! Also man I wish one of them was a drummer but I couldn't decide between if Roxy or Monty would get it. I also didn't know Roxanne would be racing and gave her rock climbing. Reasons cause imagining her chasing you being able to climb walls would be scary. My only wish Is that I made his snout longer I want you to be able to hold it like a weapon

-They all have eyelashes because I think that is epic!!!

-Freddy is the tallest. Bonnie and Chica are the same height and Roxanne is the shortest

Might redraw them in my oc world version (if anyone would be interested it's basically also a robot story with my old fnaf oc's now turned rivals to Fazbear Entertainment) and not simplified but my other wips need me they are calling for me they are telling me to finish them and I must!!! Probably

And here's my older art after we got to see the game and the designs are wack oughhh :

They would've fought with my pink yellow blue Vanny design!!! Which is the only one I redesigned because I love Vanny to much... You can see her pre-design here and oughh Pink Vanny <3333

-If you look closely Vanny has a Dino looking tail!!! And that's because I thought hey imagine each time we defeated an animatronic she'd sew a piece off their body onto her suit! So when we killed Monty she'd scavenged and get his tail!!! With Chica she got her chicken feet!! And with Roxanne she gets her teeth!!!

-Why because I associate her with Pinkamena cupcakes so much. Also to add onto my previous statement with Bonnie looking like her old mask. She changed her suit in the final act to solidify herself as the bad guy (final boss) who had been using the animatronics for his own gain.

-Man I never draw Chica with her head bow now that I think abt it same with Vanny's whiskers god what was I thinking!!!

Also sorry they're oddly cropped I watermark my stuff to remember what year I made them in and my old username is bad 💀

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ 𝕊𝕂ℤ 𝕄𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕀 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 ℝ𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕫𝕖 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕤 ♡

{A bit ago I received a request to write about Stray Kids romanticizing your stretch marks so I figured it'd be fun to explore which members I feel would be more inclined to do it}

Pairings: jisung x reader, chan x reader, hyunjin x reader, felix x reader, changbin x reader

Genre: fluff

The only ♡ warning ♡ is that for a second you have no pants on, honey & that's all

Changbin is smitten with you, completely head over heels, and he wouldn’t dare pretend that he isn’t. There’s nothing about you that he doesn’t find enchanting and your stretch marks are no exception. A man as in love with functionality as he is with aesthetics, your stretch marks are sweet little reminders of the way the softness of your body curves into his. They adorn the arms that drape across his shoulders and the thighs that wrap around his waist when you pull him into an intoxicating kiss.

Chan has spent countless hours in the studio breaking down parts of himself and stringing them back together to create stories through his music. Years of putting words to feelings have taught him that sometimes there simply aren’t any. So you can trust him when he whispers to you, caressing the areas where stretch marks sprawl along your body like emerald vines, that they tell him stories about you that words never could. Stories so intimate, so precious, he feels closer to you in silence than he ever could in words. 

Hyunjin never knows what he’ll create when he picks up a brush but, with you as his canvas, there’s not a single shred of doubt in his mind that it’ll be anything short of exquisite. He reminds you, as the icy water-activated paint covers your stretch marks, that your body’s a living, breathing, work of art. He assures you that the possibility of them extending their reach over time isn’t a threat to your appearance but an enhancement of your already stunning beauty. 

Felix wakes up before you do on quiet summer mornings. He rolls over to find you sleeping peacefully beside him in your favorite t-shirt and the cutest cotton panties. It mesmerizes him to watch the rising sun kiss your exposed skin, casting a gradient of color that transforms your stretch marks into rays of amber. He grazes them with his fingertips and their warmth radiates through his body. It’s almost as if he’s touching the sun, willingly risking being set ablaze if it means being close to you.

Han wants so desperately to make sure that you’re treated like a princess. It pains him to see you suffer even the slightest discomfort. It’s why, after you’ve had a hard day, your muscles tense and your jaw clenched, he lays you down for a soothing massage. To him, your stretch marks are an intricate map written in lavish ink showing him the perfect path to follow to make you melt. His fingers stroke your stretch marks like the strings of a harp, stirring up noises within you so melodic that he never wants to stop.

[slamsuckingslut]

r6 spetsnaz head canons (SLIGHT NSFW)

my 4 favorite beefy Russian men... Just little head canons i have about how they look (for tachanka and kapkan mainly, but glaz and fuze included anyway)

CREDIT TO ALL ARTISTS WHOS ART I HAVE USED IN THIS !!

TACHANKA / ALEXSANDR SENAVIEV

He most likely has graying hair, being in his 50s I believe?? Late 40s to early 50s, this man is graying, he's been through a divorce and has like 3 kids i think. His hair is a dark brown/black with gray streaks and roots, his eyebrows having already grayed with bits of black in them still. Very salt and peppered. He definitely isn't all muscle anymore in his older age, having a bit of pudge around his stomach, hips, chest and arms. Pretty much a super fucking muscular dad bod but better cause its our lord. He might have a few stretch marks hidden in the scars from battle on his body, but isn't ashamed if you point them out. I don't see him as the type to have a beard, maybe a mustache if you think about it too hard, but I'd guess clean cut just very stubbly. but LAWD he is most definitely hairy as hell everywhere else if we ignore the animation for his elite skin and how oiled up he looks... hnnggg.... BUT he most def has very hairy legs, some chest hair but not much, gotta show off the tats, and a happy trial. He is most def packing a monster and keeps his pubes slightly trimmed, just enough to be bearable, he's getting older, he cant be bothered to be as smooth shaven as when he was young.

10/10 would chew on him like a teething toy.

KAPKAN / MAXIM BUSADA

love of my life, apple of my eye, can do no wrong, babygirl... Okay so, he's in his late 30s, not so much graying yet but def getting there. He's got dark roots and light brown ends, most likely no beard just very long stubble. 5 o'clock shadow king. He's still quite fit, not as much squish as tachanka but most def still a bit squishable. he might have slight stretch marks around his arms or thighs. HE ALSO IS SO HAIRY. Literal Russian bear, okay?? This man is a hunter, he def stays hairy because quote, "A true hunter can be an animal himself." or some mystical quote about being a true hunter like that. But he's got hairy arms and legs, chest hair and a thick happy trail leading down to barely even trimmed pubes and again an absolute monster schlong. he seems like the type to go all natural with his shaving habits, only trimming it a bit if you ask. He most definitely has lots of scars around his body, and isn't afraid to tell you about them whenever you ask.

11/10, would put him in a jar and shake it around like he was a little bug.

GLAZ / TIMUR GLAZKOV

He's 30, and DAYUM does he look good.. his hair is black, you can tell that be looking at the obvious beard thing he's got. He doesn't seem like he'd be very hairy, being i think the youngest of the 4, he stays pretty clean shaven besides the beard. Not much body hair besides legs, arms, and a thin happy trail leading down to a medium monster and very well trimmed pubes. they aren't completely shaven, but are very short. He seems like he is mostly made of lean muscle, so he isn't the squishiest but is still very soft. I don't think he's really started to get stretch marks yet, but definitely has loads of scars, considers his body a canvas and the scars the art on it that tell the story, and of those stories he will only share a few with you if you ask cause most of them he doesn't really remember how he got either. Considering he's an artist, I like to think that he'll just have mystery stains on him. Like dude, why are your fingers lime green today?? He doesn't know either, he was just simply painting.

10/10, would tape a picture of him to my pillow and hump it. (only jk guys i swear...)

FUZE / SHUHRAT KESSIKBAYEV

My favorite partially mute, weirdly closed off, awkward and most likely autistic bbg. Based off the skin where you can see his face, he is clean shaven but is another 5 o'clock shadow KING. I think he'd either have very light brown hair, or black hair, no in between. He's in his early 30s but is most def getting squishy like tachanka already. he is a big boy guys. He doesn't have the dad bod type squish like tachanka does, maybe more like a bit of a tummy and THICCCKKKKK thighs and bulky arms. He has a few stretch marks, hates them, and also hates most of the scars he has. To him, they are only a reminder that his job involves a lot of pain, some of it permanant.. *cough cough* accidentally cluster charging that hostage *cough cough*.. but he wouldn't mind telling you about a few if you were close enough with him and asked nicely (bribed him while he was drunk). Considering his face is pretty clean shaven, he probably doesn't have much body hair but definitely enough. Hairy legs, arms, a little bit of chest hair and a somewhat thick hair but thin shaped happy trail leading down to a medium but THICK LIKE THE REST OF HIM monster and an absolute mess of pubes. He seems like a lonely man, he's got no real reason to shave em, so why should he?

12/10, is autistic like me, we would go nonverbal together and do some wicked shit like have a staring contest.

[the-californicationist]

A Thief in the Night

a Guile & Guilt story…

It had been the longest night. He had started his journey in the dark, and forty hours later, he was still cloaked in darkness. As he climbed off of the train and into his old Jeep, he tossed his bags in the back, staring hard at the velcro label that had MacTavish stitched across it, the white threads steadfast despite the wear and tear that had befallen them over the past six months. Those bags contained his whole life. Everything from his toothbrush to his diary lived inside those canvas casings, and they’d been burned, stolen, stabbed, soaked, and sand-covered as much as he had. He wished, for a moment, that he were made of canvas. He wished he were interwoven, thick and impenetrable, unfeeling, unsensing… just a container. He wouldn’t need to breathe, to fight, to sweat, or to bleed. He would just need to hold and be held. But, he was not canvas. He was made of soft skin and bruised bone. Johnny MacTavish was but a man. The only salve he had to soothe that wound was that he was coming home.

Home meant rest, which was much-needed, but it also meant Pigeon, his fiery sister. He needed a bit of that warmth right now, even if she annoyed the fuck out of him most days. She was always running her mouth about what he should be doing with his life, but he knew she only did it because she cared. So, he took his lashings with a smile.

Her fiance had been the one to call him back. It must be an engagement. Nothing less would be deemed worthy of pulling him from the field. They knew how important his work was with the SAS, but life didn’t stop back home just because he was away. It was good timing, after all. Their recent tour had yielded decent intel, and he was free to take a few days to ruminate on their findings.

The Jeep’s engine cranked over with some complaint. Hamish, the fiance, had been driving it around for him, but he’d parked it about a week ago in anticipation of Johnny’s arrival, and it had definitely gone cold. He pumped the gas, praying that it didn’t flood, and sent up a prayer when it finally roared to life.

Leaving the lights of Glasgow behind was a comfort. He wanted his little cottage and his soft bed. Johnny wondered, fleetingly, if Pidge had been having the girls over lately. Sometimes, when he came home, there’d be a shirt missing from his collection, and his sheets would smell like lavender. That’s how he knew that she had been there.

He’d ruled out the usual suspects. Bekah was never one to sleep over, and Anjali smelled of rum cakes and soap. He thought it might be Cherise, but she’d never be caught dead in one of his shirts. So, it had to be the American. Pidge was over-protective of that one. She wouldn’t even tell him her name, but he knew she liked his old football tees, so she must have good taste. He’d never even seen a picture of the shirt thief, but he slept like a rock when his sheets smelled of lavender, and he needed that tonight.

Johnny took all the corners too fast, rushing to his destination, and when he finally got into the drive, the house was dark. He’d missed supper, so he aimed for the kitchen to steal Pidge’s leftovers. When he rounded the corner, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

There she was: that thief! She was in his blue Rangers’ tee, the one with McCoist’s name on the shoulders, his favorite one. It hung off of her body like a short dress, but as she went to reach for a mug from the top shelf, teetering on those bare toes, it rode up her body, revealing her thick thighs like a peep show. He could see the heart-shaped divot of her arse cheeks, but only barely. If she reached much further, he’d see it all.

So, he had to stop her. He didn’t want her to be ashamed. Letting out a low whistle, he conveyed his approval.

She was startled, and he watched the fear flood into her eyes like tears. It made them gleam in the low light of the kitchen, but she didn’t scream. The American was pretty, but that was to be expected. She was exactly his type as well, which was a damn shame. Pidge would be furious, but he didn’t care. He’d row with Pidge for the rest of his life to have a girl like that looking at him with those big eyes, framed with those wet lashes.

He wanted to get closer to her, so he did. He took a step into the kitchen, walking slowly, careful not to spook her like a wounded deer.

Johnny knew he must have looked like a goddamn terror. He’d brought in all of his personal gear, preferring to make one big trip from the car. He probably still had eye-black on his face. More than anything, he’d wished he’d had a shower.

He glared at her, trying to snap himself out of his daze, and he confronted her about his shirt,

“You’re a pretty little thief, you are. Better gimme back my favorite shirt, hen, if you know what’s good for you.”

A little bit of a threat would make her laugh, he thought. But, he realized quickly that she really didn’t know who he was, so he softened his features and smiled a bit, trying to retrace his steps.

“Johnny?” She said it like she was making a wish, and her voice made his blood run hot.

It was good to hear his name again. He was exhausted being Soap all the time. He’d earned the nickname, and it was fine when he had a gun strapped to him in the field; it reminded him that he was tough enough to be there. But here, in his own kitchen, from a bonnie lass wearing his own shirt? It was nice to be Johnny again.

“Yeah… who are you, lass?” He asked her, hearing her name and tucking it away for later.

“Ah, Pidge won’t shut up about you,” he explained, letting her know that he’d heard of her at least, “What’re you doin’ here a’ this hour? I just got in from my tour. Got a note from Hammie that it was urgent.”

Johnny dropped his bags and ventured a little closer to join her in the kitchen. The soft light from the stove cast delicate shadows over her body, highlighting her curves where the shirt swayed over her gorgeous breasts. She looked like a dream.

All he wanted to do was touch her. She couldn’t be real. She was too perfect. It was as if he was Adam and God had stolen his rib and made her stand in his kitchen.

That kettle behind her was about to scream, so Johnny reached toward her to take it off the heat, but she flinched as if he were going to touch her. He let a low, sarcastic chuckle rumble around in his chest,

“Easy. Just keepin’ the kettle from keenin’.”

He studied her reaction like he studied the schematics of a bomb, and he was desperate to know what made her tick. As he moved the kettle, Johnny was treated to a smile, which was as sweet as could be, and a quip.

“Good to finally meet you, Johnny. I’ve heard… so much about you.”

He grimaced a bit when he heard her comment. Of course they’d been spewing all sorts of shite about him while he was away. Pidge was terrible about spreading his reputation around, and almost none of it was true. If only she knew.

But, despite all the lies about his character, she stuck her hand out for him to shake. He took it in his and shook it once, dropping it and grabbing his own tea bag from the cabinet, plopping hers and his in their respective cups. She was watching him like a hawk, and he could almost hear her thoughts she was thinking them so loudly. He’d have to do some damage control, so he grinned and said,

“It’s all lies. So, what’s the craic? What was so urgent?”

“Hamish proposed,” she said, and even though he’d figured as much, it still shocked him to hear.

“You’re takin’ the piss.”

“No, it’s true. Look,” she pulled out her phone and showed him the video.

With a bubbling, roiling joy in his chest Johnny watched his sister agree to Hamish’s proposal, and he’d never felt happier.

Johnny leaned in closer to see his sister’s reactions, and although he didn’t realize it, he was now standing right over his tee shirt thief’s shoulder. He could smell her. It was lavender, to be sure, but there was something else.

If sunlight was a smell, she had it. It was like every spring day he’d ever had as a boy, rolling around in the heather, being wild, loving the earth and all of its mischief. She smelled just like that. Like something wholly natural. It made him want to put her back there, in the tall flowers, right where she belonged… in the heather… with him.

His mind went back to his sister, and he asked about her,

“Tha’s fuckin’ brilliant. She’s asleep?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. Johnny needed to back off of the wee thief before he stole her away. Treading off down the hall, he knocked on his sister’s door. As she opened it, the wood creaked and popped from age and weight. He made a mental note to oil it tomorrow morning.

Then, there she was. Bridgette had always been pretty, but she looked like she had a glow tonight. He basked in her joy.

“Johnny-boy? Is that you, you fuckin’ numpty!? Brother,” he grabbed her as quick as he could, and as she was crushed to his wide chest, she confessed, “I’m getting married.”

“Let’s see it, then, Pidge.”

She showed him the ring, and he admired it. But, he wasn’t one for diamonds, not when there was something more valuable to be had. He cocked an eyebrow at Pidge and asked,

“You put a fit lassie in my shirt as a part of the occasion, or… what?”

She slapped him across the chest, hard, and then gave him a dark warning,

“You. Will. Not -“

“I dinnae ken what you’re abusin’ me for, Pigeon! I’m a saint!”

He loved giving her a hard time. She rolled her eyes, and fastened them into her signature glare,

“Johnathan Fergus Euan MacTavish, she’s off-limits! You’ll not lay a hand on that girl’s pretty wee head, or I swear on Mother Mary and all the actual fuckin’ saints…”

He couldn’t have that. She was already his in his mind. He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life, and his sister was overreacting again. Johnny pointed a finger at her, threatening,

“No promises, Pidge. If she wasn’t such a smoke show, you might have had a dog in the fight, but a gorgeous wee hen making tea in my kitchen wearing my fuckin’ shirt; it’s enough to make a lad start sinnin’.”

“Start! Tell me when you stopped. Is she out there? Oh, fuckin’ hell, you arsehole.”

Pidge pushed around him and stalked off to the kitchen. The thief was still making tea, and he watched his sister try to run interference, but she was too late.

There’d been enough war for him to last him three lifetimes. Johnny was pretty sure there was still terrorist blood stuck under his nails. Enough was enough. He was good at his job, but he had to admit, he was lonely.

Every tour brought the same darkness to his doorstep. He’d leave Pidge with Hamish, and they’d have each other. They didn’t miss him, not in any real sense. No one did. No one kept him in their mind, missing him and his scent and his voice and his touch. There was no one longing for him to return.

But the thief might.

There was something in her eyes that told him she might. And now, he had to know if he was right. Besides, no one would ever look that good in his shirts. She was his new mission, and he was damn good at running missions.

“Babe! You met Johnny?” Pidge looked red in the face, and Johnny sighed, embarrassed about his sister’s meddling.

“Yeah, just came home. Showed him the video,” you shrugged.

Good. She was covering for him already. She didn’t complain about his bullying, nor did she mention his fearsome choice of dress. She was brushing Pidge off, keeping it casual. Johnny didn’t get lucky often, but he felt like it tonight.

“Great, this is just great,” Pidge forced a smile onto her face, but Johnny didn’t care. This was great, and he wasn’t going to let this chance pass him by.

xxxxxxx

@sadsackssss @lovelythingsinternal @kariggi @cherryofdeath @madstronaut @glitterypirateduck @vampirekilmerfic @sofseee @gemmahale @ofdivinity01

[etheries1015]

hi so I’m curious if I can request the pomfiore trio with a Yuu who loves scars, has like a little under 50, and whenever Yuu gets hurt their super ecstatic is it scars and loves to have people guess how they got all of them. And it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do this it is up to you.

This is very interesting! Not a lot of people like their scars. It for sure took me some time personally to come to terms with the one I have smack dab on my forehead :[ So it's nice to see someone accept them and even find them fascinating! Thank you for the request <3

Pomefiore reacting to MC who has a fascination with scars

TW: Scars! Not self-inflicted in this fic. However, If you struggle with self-harm or know a loved one who does, please reach out to someone you care for and consider receiving assistance through your struggles. You are loved, you matter, and your body does a lot for you, please take care of it! xoxo

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader, more like short little headcannons than anything else of their general thoughts and feelings behind it!

Vil

The first time he saw the different scars on your body, his soul almost left his own. How could someone have so many?! He also admired your confidence, you did not let others teasing you about them get in your way, you never covered them up with makeup, and you basically made a show off of your scars. On one particular day when the two of you sat in the lounge of his dorm, Vil gathered the courage to inquire what exactly is the significance of the scars on your body. He does find it a little disturbing, but if it isn't bothering anyone and you are fully confident in yourself, why bother? It just isn't his cup of tea. BUT he does find your point of view very nice! He starts to see scars in a new light, that includes normal bodily marks.

Epel

"And THIS one-" You spent all of the lunch period going over each and every one of your "battle scars." He was watching you intently, amused and genuinely interested in the stories behind the marks left on your body. You gave him a speech of how scars are like words on a book- there's always a story behind each and every one of them, it's what makes us human. "So cool..." He muttered. Epel probably had more interest in you after that, thinking you're so cool for your scars and how you go into things with full confidence and an adventurous soul! He looks up to you, and sometimes when you're sitting with other people, he will bring it up and you are absolutely ELATED. "Tell them that one story you told me!" You two make quite the pair!

Rook

Rook also has a bunch of scars mainly hidden from the normal person's eyes, so he can relate to you! He is always out hunting, adventuring, and getting himself into a lot of trouble often regarding his physical safety. You spend a good chunk of time sharing stories between each of the scars, and you two soon become pretty close friends because of it! He loves your enthusiasm and the way you remember each of your scars stories, and you even remember HIS stories. You're such an interesting person to Rook, and he is always up for an hour-long conversation about "battle wounds"! Your body is a canvas, and the scars you get from the walk of life are the art! Beautiful, just beautiful!

[sky-kiss]

Doll

A/N: I don’t know how to tag this one. It’s not technically dubcon or noncon. I’d describe it a “fuck around and find out.” Loving doll ending, basically. We’ve had so much soft-Raphael lately. 

I wanted some horrible fiends. 

Raphael x Haarlep x GN! Tav/Reader: Tonight is Consequential 18+

Ah, but what an ignominious end to the tale. The hero finds neither hellfire nor glory, no salvation or damnation; there's nothing at all in the end. Raphael returns to his House of Hope to see the threads of his tapestry severed and the story cut short. The brief wash of pleasure he'd experienced earlier is buried beneath immediate delight and then secondary repulsion. 

You're waiting for him, you see. Pretty as a picture, stretched out amidst a sea of dark silks, sweat-slick and spent. You stare at him, through him. Motionless as Haarlep tracks their fingers across your shoulders, down your sternum, over the soft skin of your belly. 

"We had a visitor, Raphael," Haarlep says, laughing, gesturing with their free arm, fingers spit-slick. They press two into your open mouth, delighting at the way you instinctively move to suck, so pliant to their wishes. "Less…spirited than before, pity, pity. But just as useful!" They hum, pretty features turning downward. Haarlep pulls their fingers free, wiping the saliva across your neck. "Perhaps more, considering their prior showing." 

"What have you done?" 

Haarlep frowns, features turning in genuine confusion. They sit up against the headboard, letting you roll away. "Only what they asked, princeling! I am nothing if not a good sport. 'Body and soul,' requested, and 'body and soul' they gave. And for such a low price." They chuckle, "Mmm. Raphael. Raw and undiluted."

Raphael stares at you: eternally bound to him, to the House, a prize fit for a king, a hero's soul. He sees fool's gold sullying his sheets. 

Haarlep's arms weave around him, nails scratching over his cock. They fold around this human force, nosing his cheek, licking to the corner of his mouth. "Don't you like your gift? Call me generous, little brat." 

Raphael sneers. The comment will cost them later, but it will only satisfy Haarlep, carnal pleasure paling in the face of the inconveniences they've caused. The incubus smiles, eyes hooded and dark. They push, breathing in the words in his ear, plastering themselves against his back. The hard line of their cock presses against him. An artlessness in the little jerks of their hips, betraying genuine pleasure rather than their usual disinterest. 

"So silent. Are we displeased?" 

"No," Raphael flicks his fingers. He is himself again: cambion and king. "A moment of surprise." You've not moved at all—a lump of flesh, a still-warm corpse: all for their pleasure. 

And you do please him. You've cost him a Crown, but he claws some of its price back. Foolish mouse, caught, batted too many times by too many paws. Raphael turns your face into the pillow, fucking you hard. Tight and wet and tedious. 

He reflects on the latter point most frequently in the coming years. The devil sips his wine, watching Haarlep have their way with you. Your mouth slackened with pleasure, eyes glassy and vacant. He's hard, yes, a natural response to the pleasure licking through Haarlep and visual stimuli. 

You are still lovely, mouse, and Haarlep moves with a liquid grace he will never tire of watching. The incubus tosses their head back, fangs barred, jerking you back against them. Splotches of purples and greens, yellows, paint your skin, a mottled canvas he'd admire under less reflective circumstances. 

Raphael is hard but not aroused, and the disparity between those two states sticks like a splinter in his mind. He cannot fathom the…

(Haarlep flips you onto your back, takes and takes, and you are still as eager now as you were then). 

…why of the matter. 

(You manage a shout of dumb pleasure). 

"Keep it quiet, won't you?" Raphael snaps, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Haarlep laughs, one hand covering your mouth. The cambion's eyes drift over the bruises again, and it comes to him: understanding, clarified in Avernus' heat. 

Oh, but you. 

The ruin of you. So many words, so many languages, dozens upon dozens known to him, but Raphael can think of only one word for you. Not love or promise. Not hope or savior. No, darling, you are so simply summarized: 

Disappointment.

[weirdkpopgirl]

To Love | Jaemin Imagine #9

Title: To Love

Genre: Fluff (?)

Warnings: a little suggestive, making out

Word Count: 715

Author's Note: I've never been in love before. But whenever Na Jaemin pops into my head (which is a regular occurrence), I associate him with love. He's so sweet, considerate, and sincere. The list goes on, but I'll stop my fangirling here. I hope you guys like this short story. Thank you for reading ^ ^

𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪

The gentle glow of the lights enhanced the serenity of the room. Seated on the bed, you traced delicate patterns on your boyfriend’s back with your fingertips. Few words were exchanged between the two of you, opting to appreciate the stillness of the moment.

The only discernible sounds were the gentle scratches against the canvas of his exposed back, and occasionally accompanied by sighs of relief from him.

“You’re so tense,” you murmured, as your nails glided over the knots beneath his muscles. Though you couldn’t see his face, the warmth of a small smile resonated in his voice. 

“Thankfully, I have you to take care of me,” he said, earning a chuckle from you.

Despite the lightheartedness in his tone, Jaemin meant what he said. Being a motherly figure in his group, he was accustomed to looking after others. However, only a select few in his life allowed him to be on the receiving end. And you happened to be one of those individuals.

On a day full of long dance practices and recording sessions, your touch was exactly what Jaemin needed. His eyes were closed, and he let out another content sigh, appreciating the luxury of being cared for. In that moment, he could feel the weight of his exhaustion and stress dissipate with each stroke. 

As your nails continued their gentle path along his back, Jaemin found himself swept away by the depth of his emotions for you. As someone who loved passionately, he realized that his fondness for you was immeasurable.

Unable to dwell in his thoughts any longer, Jaemin shifted his focus. You were caught off guard as his warm hand wrapped around your wrist and swiftly pulled you into his lap. His other hand cupped half of your face, and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke volumes.

“I love you,” he whispered in a low, almost husky voice. 

While Jaemin told you those three words daily, tonight they carried a vulnerability that stirred the same swirl of emotions he was feeling within you. You didn’t even need to say it back, the look in your eyes was all he needed for reassurance. The next thing you knew, his lips were meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. The connection between you two was like a magnetic force, drawing you closer to each other. 

Your hands found their way to Jaemin’s shoulders, grasping onto the fabric of his shirt. Simultaneously, he continued to cradle your face, gently lifting your chin at the perfect angle to deepen the kiss. As your lips pressed onto his, a tingling sensation spread through him, the softness of your touch leaving a warmth that permeated every nerve in his body. Emotions surfaced like waves crashing against the shore, adding to the intimacy of the moment.

Every kiss shared with Jaemin held a special place in your heart. Yet, you secretly loved how this particular one seemed to just go on and on. It almost felt as if time had momentarily froze just for the two of you.

If it weren’t for the necessity of breathing, you and Jaemin might never have pulled away. Reluctantly, you placed a hand on his chest, gently breaking the kiss. Both of you were teary-eyed, overwhelmed by the overflowing love you had for one another. The emotion was so intense that it bordered on pain. You hadn't known it was possible to feel this way for a person until now.

Jaemin’s eyes remained locked on yours intently, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek, sending a slight shiver down your spine. He couldn’t resist a playful grin as he joked, “Maybe we should just get married already.”

You would have laughed if you hadn’t caught the hint of sincerity beneath his humor. Moving your arms to wrap around his neck, and softly replied, “Maybe we should.”

Your response caused the smile on his face to widen. Jaemin tightened his embrace, holding you close, as if savoring the moment. Resting his forehead against yours, he pressed another lingering kiss to your lips. The air between you two crackled with a quiet understanding, and a promised future together felt closer than ever. If this is what it meant to love, you fully intended to treasure it forever.

𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — wonder

prev: guilt | masterlist | next: spaces inbetween

he’s a little startled to see her already inside the studio, waiting for him. her attire is a bit more comfortable than what he’s used to seeing her wear in public, but he pays no mind to it. instead, all he can focus on is the task at hand — hauling all of the paintings to a museum thirty minutes away, before their dinner reservation.

her panic is clear on her face. a box of wrapping that’s almost clear and a handful of translucent brown tape sits on the ground beside her, where she stands with her fist to her lips and her hand against her hip, as if deep in thought. he takes a moment to observe, just as he always has. there’s a few more paintings placed against the walls, each of them imprinted with her signature on the side. those weren’t there a few days before. he wonders how much she went through to get it all done.

slowly, he traverses around the room, strings of sunlight spilling through the small windows a few feet above him and illuminating his path. he traces each detail, each line, each hue that’s been embedded on every canvas, and he thinks about what it was like for her to paint them. he thinks of the hours she’s spent in here alone (he hasn’t seen many other students come to this building, after all), and he questions how she puts up with it; how she can bear to sit on a stool for an eternity painting and sketching whatever image comes to mind.

each work tells a different story, ranging from soft and delicate bodies to scenes that are more saddening and gore-y. the girl and her two-headed lamb sits in the center of the line. it remains his favorite of all.

“i’m sorry to call you here on such short notice,” she says once she notices his observations are complete. “i’ll pay you back tremendously. not just for this, but for putting you through so much over these past few days.”

“it’s no problem,” he reassures her. the words spill out instinctively. “you did a lot for me already. you know, with the tutoring and all.”

his remark has her pausing in her tracks. “oh,” she begins, her memory of the exam (that they were supposed to prepare for together) dawning on her. “how did the math exam go for you?” to combat the guilt crawling up her spine, she draws her attention to the packing materials and gets to work while waiting for his response. her hands drift across the surface and trace each line made by her own hands before concealing it all beneath the wrapping. she watches as he copies her movements.

“it went really well,” he exclaims, seemingly proud about his score. “i scored much higher than i thought i would. thanks to you, of course.” the sentiment catches her off guard, and she pretends it doesn’t affect her. it’s sickening, how malleable she is when it comes to him. she swears she was a mess just a few days ago. but now, everything seems fine. it feels like she’s capable of getting better.

he’s much stronger than her, she realizes, and he goes through the wrapping process with ease, contrasting her struggle to fit the material over the entire canvas. eventually, his hands find hers and lift the plastic over the edge she can’t quite reach, and for a moment, she feels his breath on her skin. it’s electrifying. it’s horrifying. she wants more.

but she can’t have more. so, instead, she begins to open the back door of the studio, the afternoon sunlight seeping into the room as the heavy metal creaks open. she did ask tsukishima for permission to borrow his car, thankfully. the vehicle waits outside the backyard, conveniently parked right against the curb. kageyama is already taking the artworks from the studio before she can say a word. she nearly smiles at his eagerness to help, to be there for her.

instead, a small frown finds its way onto her face.

she’s not meant to be attached, she reminds herself. it’s the same words she told herself a few weeks ago. and yet, regardless of how often she repeated it in her head, she managed to fall victim to his generosity.

it feels wrong. she isn’t sure why — maybe some subconscious in the back of her head is telling her that she’s undeserving of his kindness, or maybe it’s the bitter taste on vulnerability on her tongue. she was meant to work, to strive, to succeed independently, but something about him fights against the methodology that’s been ingrained into her since she was young. for a moment, she watches him pace back and forth between the car and the building to bring each canvas into the trunk, and despite his strenuous efforts to ensure each one makes it inside safely, he doesn’t ask her for help once. as if he’s content doing these little things for her.

the guilt comes crawling back, once more. she lifts the last few pieces into the back before he can do it himself and closes the door with a soft thud. kageyama sits at the driver’s seat — another overwhelmingly nice surprise he throws her way.

“why are you driving?” she questions him, as it’s in her nature to oppose what falls against her routine. he only smiles at her, softly, the corners of his chapped lips curling up ever so slightly. he seems to be out of breath, and she feels too bad to let him drive but she doesn’t have the time nor patience to argue. begrudgingly, she finds her way to the passenger seat, and as soon as she buckles herself in, he’s already leaving the campus. the directions are already on his phone, and a soothing playlist is already on the speakers. he already knows her too well. it’s haunting, but she can’t find it in herself to complain.

when they pull into the staff parking lot (as directed by her lovely event coordinator), a handful of people and a person she assumes to be the director stand at the door. they’re already rushing to help her with her items by the time she can even step foot outside the car, and briefly, she feels special. the dreams from her youth once contained in her little heart of fancy dinners and a group of her own servicemen are being showcased before her, just in a more mellow fashion. the remnants of that little heart blossom at the sight.

kageyama sits back as the staff carries the canvases away and watches as she converses with the director. she’s nervous, as told by the fiddling of her fingers against the hem of her shirt and the constant shifting of her posture, but it’s clear that she’s even more excited. he likes seeing this side of her — the one overflowing with love for the arts and an unrivaled passion. it’s refreshing to see hints of a smile on her face as opposed to furrowed brows and baggy eyes (although, the baggy eyes never quite go away), and he longs to see more of it. he yearns for toothy grins and heartfelt expressions and genuine joy out of her, but his heart and mind can’t handle that realization just yet. so he shoves it back down to the pits of his stomach, acts like he isn’t discovering just how much he likes being around her, and observes in silence as she returns to the car, the air around her much lighter.

the drive to the restaurant (which yachi picked out as soon as the plans were made) is silent. it's an hour away from the art center, but with the afternoon traffic, it may as well be two hours. however, she doesn't stress over it, so he doesn't either. there are hints of exhaustion riddled all over her face, and he wonders, again, what it must be like to see the world through her eyes. to live so dangerously within a tango of self-destruction all for the sake of a dream to create. he admits his obsession with volleyball isn't very different, but within her, there's something more than just that. it's something he can't put a name on, and yet, he sees it within her every time — when she's studying, when she's working, when she's conversing about the thing she loves the most — it's always evident.

he thinks, for a moment, that he likes that part of her the most. whatever he had buried deep down within himself resurfaces, this time stronger. in his peripherals, she's fast asleep, her head limp against the window just as it was when they picked her up from the studio a few nights prior. he wonders why she didn't choose to dress up for an occasion celebrating herself. he wonders why she's so drawn to the arts. he wonders why he's so attracted to her passion, unwavering and quiet all the same. he wonders why he can't bring himself to hate her, even if her inability to prioritize herself over her craft hurts both herself and those around her in the process.

he doesn't want to admit his lack of immunity to her. so instead, he continues to drive. his eyes stretch across the horizon of cars before him, and the scenes of the city on his left and right, as if to distract himself from whatever cognizance is coming upon him now. but no matter how hard he tries, he can't escape it. so much so that, when they pull into the parking lot beside all of her friends (if she considers most of them that), he doesn't get out for a while, nor does he bother to wake her up. all he wants to do is bask in her presence. it's terrifying.

it only takes a few minutes for her to stir from her slumber, and when her consciousness slowly slips back into her grasp, she's almost startled to see him still sitting beside her.

"what are we waiting for?" she asks, the remnants of sleep still laced in each syllable.

he doesn't want to look at her, in fear of doing something he definitely shouldn't do. he looks straight ahead into the fancy double doors and replies, "nothing. i just wanted you to rest up first."

she doesn't question him any further, and slowly, she begins to collect herself. she removes the hoodie she's wearing to unveil a slightly more formal top, adorned with a ribbon in the center of the neckline and bits of lace peeking out from the short sleeves. it's the version of her he had grown accustomed to before he bothered to speak to her. before he got to truly know her.

he waits patiently as she straightens herself up, delicate hands smoothing out wrinkles in her pants and the stray strands of hair. they exit the car together, and when their presence is made known to the group (who have been waiting inside the lobby for a little too long), there's an amalgamation of complaints regarding their tardiness and excitement at their appearance.

it's peaceful. he looks to his right and sees her smile, once again, although this time, it's full of warmth. he can’t stop staring. he wonders if she truly feels happy, at this moment in time. he hopes she is.

𝜗𝜚 blue spring is half written half smau atp

𝜗𝜚 yn in her healing era after going thru the worst breakdown of the century thank god !!

𝜗𝜚 btw everyone gets drunk at the party except for yn tsukki and kenma (two of which are designated drivers)

𝜗𝜚 tsukki yachi and yams were struggling on their commute to the restaurant since they’re so used to driving tgt. they kept arguing over which stops to get on and off at

𝜗𝜚 kageyama’s last text to her was genuinely the most impulsive decision he’s made in relation to her so far. he sent it with one hand over his eyes his phone far away and his face turned away

𝜗𝜚 yn almost went on an unprompted rant to the director about her exhibit but remembered the dinner party </3

𝜗𝜚 i’m so sorry for making kags n yn so dense but it had to be done. awkward unable to comprehend own emotions guy x passionate cold-shoulder shoves all her emotions so far down she doesn’t even recognize them anymore girl is the trope for this one

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307 @gumiiiiezzzz

[foschiamara]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤI just want to feel your touch.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ SeonWoo x M!Reader.

Author's Note: I took a break (+ I was so sick for like a week and never touched this again, sorry.) Aside from that, this is the first time I've ever thought about writing things like that.

Summary: You and Sunoo were in your bedrooms after recording for En-o'clock.

Genre: Smut straight, fluff, spy(?

Warnings: This may be a fairly short story :b

His hands gently caressed your nipples while his kisses traveled every centimeter of your stomach, his tongue seemed to be that expert guide that carved a path to your hip, teasing you by separating from it and once again avoiding any contact with your skin. You, on the other hand, decided to open your eyes in surprise and desperation, you longed for the black-haired man to take control again of what seemed like an attempt to have sex as a stress reliever. You could hear his laugh after he looked at you out of the corner of his eye and again his hands now moved to your pants, beginning to slowly lower the zipper. You tried to help him but only received a slap that left the skin of your hand red.

ㅡTurn around.ㅡThe raven exclaimed and you just nodded while you leaned on the bed with both hands and placed your knees on it. Feeling his caresses was like touching the sky without even trying so hard and he knew that, that's why he tried to hold your face whenever he could or run the tips of his fingers all over your body before doing anything else. Your thoughts and comparisons were interrupted after feeling your pants go down and as soon as they slid to your knees, the other boy would begin to gently lick and kiss your entrance, his hands were guided to your member to take it with his right and put caress the tip with your left palm.

That beautiful boy could only smile at the way your moans adorned part of his room and the way your body arched every time he managed to gain access to your entrance with only his tongue, you were a canvas that he always loved to create. "You sound too good, too good for me." Those were the words that were your trigger, you were looking for a better way to be able to resist and be able to endure his constant caresses longer, but it was inevitable for you to cum after he approached your ear and with a light hoarse voice, agitated by his constant licking and his way of holding his breath to avoid letting out some obscene sound that could easily leave the room.

ㅡAll I had to do to make you come... was say that?ㅡ

You felt so embarrassed and it was very noticeable, your ears were quite red from what your boyfriend had commented. A soft but contagious laugh came out of you after he did the same. You somewhat relaxed after you turned around and he could sit you on his lap, you didn't want to leave all the work to him so you looked for more ways to help him, as well as removing his shirt carefully so as not to damage the microphone. Both mouths joined after a few seconds and he would gently remove his penis from his pants, beginning to rub it between your buttocks. You really still didn't mention that after several months where you only spent your time touching each other or simply doing a "favor" for another, this time you would genuinely have him inside you. The mere thought of it made you moan, taking in the flesh that was slowly entering between your buttocks.

Your hands found their way into his hair as he too began to move better, lining up his tip against your entrance. The need to go slowly was immediately lost when he started squeezing your glutes with some force. Luckily, your moans were masked by the sounds of music being generated by the friction of both of your mouths. Sunoo's moans made you harder as his grip on your hips tightened. You can only moan his name and beg him to hold you tighter as you grip his hair. Sun was enjoying the feeling as his thrusting becomes sloppy. His teeth dug into one of your shoulders after he had increased the way he rubbed against you, his bite causing you to come once again, caring very little now if you stained his pants.

Sun's moans became louder as he came without warning between you, continuing to move until you both orgasmed. You were desperately searching for a way to catch your breath while he stopped squeezing you. Your mind is still trying to catch up with your body as Sunoo falls onto the bed next to you. Maybe they didn't have a more direct interaction this time, but without a doubt this is one of the moments that you will never be able to get out of your head, their marks wouldn't leave you so easily either. "I promise I'll make it up to you another time, M/N." You simply nodded with a carefree smile as you stroked some hair that was on his forehead to look at him. His hair is a mess, and stuck to his forehead from sweat, he looks so radiant that you don't want to stop seeing him like that. "Don't worry about it, it's not necessary." You answered him, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed, to arrange your underwear and start looking for your clothes themselves.

You slid the pants over your legs, Sun stood up, keeping up with you and slid his own equally, there came a moment where he stood behind you and wrapped a hand around your waist to make you fall against him on the bed. It was a moment just for you, something intimate that you just enjoyed having with him without the others messing around. He gave you sloppy kisses on your neck while you both laughed, you loved hearing his laugh and seeing him happy, even more so if you were the one who gave him that. He runs one of his hands through his hair as you both lay in bed and Sunoo runs his thumb over your cheek as he gives you the biggest smile you've ever seen.

The only thing that both of you didn't know is that Jake was standing in the hallway, who for half an hour had been recording the two of you while he masturbated watching you rub each other with so much passion and love.