#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

[sidemari]

• "The way I love you"•

A short compilation of each character's ways of showing they love you.

Characters included: Aphelios, Hwei, Jayce, Jhin, Jinx, Sett, Silco, Viktor, Yone (separately and in this order) x GN!Reader

Warning: Mentions of Jhin's gun in his text section, since we're talking about a criminal psychopath, lol. Other than that, it's just a silly and cute post.

Aphelios

He must admit that his favorite place in the world is when you're sitting with him on the couch or even in bed, with your back against his torso, his legs wrapped around yours and his head resting on your shoulder as you read the pages of a book out loud.

"Some things are more precious because they don't last long"* You read the sentence, letting it sink in. "Do you agree with that, Phel?"

His eyes widened, he wasn't really paying attention to the story, even though it was a classic of literature. He was just enjoying how pleasant your voice sounded.

"I bet you weren't paying much attention"

He just nodded, his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment.

His hand squeezed yours in apology.

You squeezed it back, letting him know it was okay.

"Aren't you two adorable?" Alune sang in Aphelios's thoughts.

*"The Picture of Dorian Gray" reference.

Hwei

Letting you see his most secret artworks was the way he could show his love for you. Letting you participate in the creation of new pieces was also common, with him patiently guiding you through the process.

"Are you sure about this?" You asked anxiously, trembling when he put the paint-soaked brush in your hands. He just timidly smiled before nodding.

"You inspire not only my art, but my soul as well" His hand covered yours, helping you to put the final brushstrokes on the canvas. "I want you to be part of this"

Jayce

You could say this man likes to be a provider. That being said, he would do anything on his reach to make you happy.

And what usually makes you happy is a whole body massage after a full day of fiddling with trinkets and dealing with daunting equations in the lab.

You sighed in frustration as you laid down on the bed after showering, your aching muscles making you uncomfortable. His hands squeezed your shoulders gently, making you whimper softly.

"You're tense" His hands worked on the right places so you could finally relax. "Let me help you with that"

"You don't have to-" You couldn't finish your line, not when he was so efficiently taking away your pain.

"See?" He teased. "Let me spoil you a little, love"

Jhin

He allows you to play his piano, take off his mask and even hold Whisper - his gun - whenever you pleased. That was his deviant way of showing you were a slightly more important piece in his performance.

"When will you put this to good use, my muse?" He asked, playfully tracing patterns against your thigh with his gun. With the time you’d known him, you knew better than to give in to his distorted ideas.

"Preferably never" You muttered, taking Whisper off his hand and setting it aside. "I learned a new sheet while you were gone, wanna hear it?"

Jinx

She lives for cuddling with you.

It's always the peak of her day.

It feels so intimate and perfect.

Being with you, feeling the softness of your skin, the warmth of your body, the smell of your shampoo and cologne, feeling you melt against her, letting go of your worries as she hums a familiar tune, is the closest thing to heaven she could ever get.

"I could stay like this forever" You whispered, feeling her chuckle against your nape.

"Did you swap your shampoo brand?"

"Jinx…" You deadpanned.

"I'm just teasing you" She kissed your hair. "I could spend eternity with you in my arms"

Sett

This seems so obvious, but not only would he let you freely touch his ears, he would also ask you to give them the attention they need. Also, he would gladly allow you to see through his tough facade, giving you the chance to know how kind and pure he can be.

It was a funny scene, to say the least. A man of almost two meters of height, in his knees, with his head resting on your lap, confessions leaving his lips.

"This feels good…" He sighed, closing his eyes in bliss as you played with his ears. You pulled one of them playfully. "H-Hey!"

"You are really something" You mused.

Silco

Almost every night you can prepare for laying down on the couch, with your head on his lap, his fingers combing through your hair as he tells you stories about his past.

Often you fall asleep like that, with him taking you to your bedroom after he notices you wouldn't wake up so easily.

"We used to meet a lot back then, it was-" He was missing your voice responding to his comments. It was when he noticed you had fallen asleep, looking so vulnerable and precious as he played with your hair. "Guess I'll have to finish this story tomorrow"

Viktor

Brews coffee or makes tea for you every day, appearing by your side on the laboratory to help you unwind in the moments you were feeling exhausted or distressed with your work. It's his way of showing he cares about you.

"Here, have this" he squeezed your shoulders, taking your attention away from the trinkets above your desk.

"Hot chocolate today?" You asked quietly, standing up from your seat and taking the cup in your hands. "What made you change your mind?"

"It releases dopamine, you'll thank me later" He kissed the top of your head, making you sigh in delight.

Yone

Letting you in when his world was nothing but chaos was enough to show you he loved you dearly.

He had faced horrible creatures and devilish days for years straight, still, he let his guard down and allowed you to be part of his life when it was pure hell.

You caressed his hair with delicacy, soothing him after a day of battles.

"Can I hug you?" You asked quietly, your fingers now stroking his cheek.

"Please" He whispered against your lips, sighing heavily when you pulled him impossibly close, "You make me feel like I'm alive again" He muttered against your neck.

[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

[sunnie-angel]

I just can't get the idea of soulmate!jason where you share scars out of my head. Jason is a canvas of scars. We all find them beautiful and wouldn't judge him even if we were held at gun point. But imagine you were getting those scars at the same time he was... it would be hard. Of course you are worried about your soulmate, but when you wake up with a permanent, very purposeful J branded onto your face, can you really tell me you wouldn't be embarrassed to go outside? Afraid of meeting your soulmate who seems to be either a criminal or in a very dangerous victim situation? Would you not be even a little angry that now your face is ruined? (I know there is makeup, but we are ignoring that for a second) Yes, you share these scars with your soulmate and somewhere along the line you'd find peace with them. But in the moment when you look in the mirror and find an autopsy scar... I can only imagine what you would feel. Oh, and poor Jason. He would never be able to forgive himself. He probably wouldn't even realize he has a soulmate because if you get a scar he wouldn't notice it beside all of his. This isn't a request. I just wanted to share my thoughts and hear yours. I'm asking a few different creators as well, but might miss someone because I haven't discovered them yet! Please feel free to ask for someone else's opinion as well

so full disclosure, i did already read rae's (@/heavysighing-dreamyeyes) take on this so i'm going to consciously choose to go in a slightly different direction.

how do you know that they're your soulmate's scars, other than the fact that the injuries that caused them were never yours? are they the same colour as a regular scar? do people look at a person and struggle to tell who earned what scar?

it's fun at first, in middle school to tell people fantastical stories about what your soulmate must have done to earn a scar. fought off a bear, went skydiving without a parachute, invented a new kind of handsaw. the other kids all eat it up. none of them have a soulmate leading such an interesting life after all. you don't notice the worried titters of adults, the lingering eyes that don't look at a new scar that appeared overnight and think wicked but instead go abuse.

at what age do you start carrying around proof of your own medical history so the cops don't get called on your family, your caretakers? when do you realize everyone's started looking at you - at your soulmate - as a victim? is it when your sleeves don't cover the scars anymore, when you stop wearing shorts because of the pitying looks you always get?

there's so many of them - so many of their marks on your body - that even you start to lose track of any marks that you've earned. the scar on your knee from a scrape that didn't heal right, the burn scar on the pad of your thumb from a cooking experiment gone wrong. if even you forget that they're your own, how is jason supposed to tell the difference from the hundreds he's caused? jason not believing he ever had a soulmate because he would have at least one scar by now, right? jason who is so half-mad over the life he could have lived and the lives that weren't saved, who looks at his one-sided existence as further proof that he is unloveable.

puberty is cruel to almost everyone, but to go through it not only dealing with bad acne break outs, a body you still don't know the dimensions of, and intense facial scarring on top of that? it's hard not to look at all the people around you blooming into adults while you feel perpetually doomed to be the ugly duckling. you can tell yourself as many times as you need to that it's not your soulmate's fault, that whatever is happening to them is clearly horrific, but it doesn't soothe the sting of wanting to cut up every photo from your high school prom or the curl of revulsion when you catch sight of a new mark.

jason almost spirals into a panic attack the first time he catches sight of the j carved into his cheek mirrored on yours, a stranger in a crowd. it means that he's not alone, that he's never been alone. it also means that every wound he's ever had inflected on himself has been replicated on you and that sends him into another spiral of shame.

for you and him, loving each other would be a lesson in loving yourselves. the scars that jason can trace so tenderly along your ribs is also the one he refuses to look at on himself. the scars on his face you trace so tenderly are also the ones you work hardest to hide away. both of you have to learn to love these parts of yourself through loving them on each other, because otherwise your love starts to ring hollow.

[lacesoflove]

breaking the bed (reupload) | hamzah x reader

rating | fluffy & slightly suggestive

warning | proofread! mentions of sex. reader has curly hair!

author’s note | this is a reupload. there's a blink and you miss it easter egg that suggests this is set before no sleep for the wicked, but it's absolutely not required to read this, i just like connecting my stories in small ways

w/c: 1.1k words

MOVING INTO A HOUSE WITH YOUR DREAM MAN WAS NOT IN YOUR CARDS.

Falling in love with your dream person wasn’t on your cards either.

Yet here you were, navigating the cluttered chaos of boxes - each one a Pandora's box revealing surprises that felt like the universe’s twisted jokes on your life’s trajectory. If you had told your ten-year-old self about something called a “credit check” just to secure a roof over your head, she would have frowned and asked, “What’s that?” Standing in the skeletal beginnings of your living room felt surreal, like a scene from a half-remembered dream. You and Hamzah had toiled like worked so hard to get yout home, pushing the boulder uphill in an economy designed to turn homeowners into a relic of the past. And here you were, cradling the fruits of your labour, and it was dizzying to think you could finally feast on them.

You took a laid-back approach to moving in, checking occasionally for the arrival of another truck or pacing through the house to affirm that this dream was indeed yours. Red and Blue were tucked away in the guest room, avoiding the tidal wave of change. Meanwhile, Hamzah was knee-deep in the intricate task of assembling your bed, his body hunched over the instruction manual like a treasure hunter deciphering hieroglyphs. This was the only piece of furniture spared from the convenience of Amazon’s next-day delivery—because sleeping on the floor wasn’t an option, and Hamzah had declared it “just not right.” You had no desire to argue that point; after all, you couldn’t imagine what hardwood floors would do to both your curls.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching him wrestle with the instruction sheet, his face a canvas of confusion painted with frustration. “Baby, how’s it going?” you called out, bouncing on your toes, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving him to fend for himself. “Not great,” he grumbled, forehead creased as his eyes darted across an endless loop of instructions that might as well have been written in ancient runes. “I think they shorted us on screws.”

“What? No way. Hand it over,” you insisted, stepping forward to snatch the manual from his hands. “No, there are enough screws; you just put them in the wrong part of the bed.” “But it says head of the bed,” he argued, his stubbornness as inflexible as the wood he was trying to piece together. You sighed, knowing that for all the reasons you adored Hamzah, his reading comprehension skills were not among them. “It says base of the bed. The head is a different section underneath. Your eyes must be skipping the important parts.”

“Probably,” he admitted, pulling himself up from the floor, stretching like a cat, his strong muscles flexing under the strain. “Why don’t you just make the bed?”

“Because I’m the girl,” you shot back, a smug smile creeping onto your face as he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your lower back. "And besides I've been unpacking stuff." "Like what?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. "Like the alarm clock Mandy and Martin got us!"

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Shit like this brings the movement down; everyone’s a feminist until it’s bed-building time.”

You erupted into laughter, unable to contain yourself. “Did you seriously just quote Bo Burnham?”

“Sure did,” he replied, a grin lighting up his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mischief.

“You’re stupid,” you said, your heart swelling with affection.

“You’re hot,” he quipped, leaning in for a kiss that sent a spark through the air between you. It was only then that the creeping shadows caught your eye, the sun dipping behind the trees, casting elongated silhouettes that waltzed across your new room like ghosts of all the moments yet to come. “Shit, we’ll get to the kissing later—we should probably focus on making this bed.”

“Why? Got some plans for us on it?” he teased, tilting his head, curls falling in lazy cascades as he lowered his gaze to yours, his eyes glimmering with playful mischief.

“Yes, and those plans consist of my mandatory eight hours of sleep,” you replied, laughter bubbling up as you nudged him away playfully. “Let’s finish this bed.”

What was supposed to be a straightforward task devolved into a chaotic four-hour odyssey of flipping through the instruction manual and squabbling over every little detail. You found yourself checking on Red and Blue and, perhaps most challengingly, fighting the urge to kiss your boyfriend senseless, especially when he adopted that commanding tone while explaining the simplest of instructions. The way his muscles flexed as he pieced everything together was a distraction you could hardly shake off, like trying to focus while standing in front of a volcano ready to erupt.

But eventually, you triumphed. “Well, we did it,” you declared, surveying the finished bed with a rush of accomplishment, the chaos of the day melting into a sense of belonging.

“I dunno?” he replied, the rhetorical lilt of his voice betraying the playful smirk that danced on his lips. He knew exactly what was simmering beneath the surface; your fidgety energy gave you away, your eyes glued to him as he had assembled the bed like a magician unveiling his greatest trick. “What’d you have in mind earlier?”

“Continuing our kiss, maybe? Something more… I dunno,” you said, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you mimicked his nonchalance, your tone dripping with playful defiance.

His body inched closer, an electric tension crackling in the air, and in one fluid motion, he scooped you up and plopped you onto the bed, laughter bubbling up between you like effervescent champagne. He leaned in, kissing the crook of your neck, and you giggled softly, the warmth of the moment enveloping you. It was sweet, a bubble of intimacy growing as you both leaned into the heat of the moment, getting hot and bothered in that perfect little world of your own.

And then it happened—the moment was ruptured by a creak, followed by a crack. Suddenly, all at once the bed collapsed in on itself, its stilts surrendering to the weight of your laughter and unexpected enthusiasm.

“What the hell?!” Hamzah exclaimed before you both burst of laughter mingling with the chaos as you stared at the tumbled remains of what was supposed to be your bed was underneath you both. “I can’t believe we broke the bed.” He grumbled, his voice a mix of irritation as well as amusement. Any traces of horniness had long dissipated due to the absurdity of the situation. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve done it.” You smirked. “True. But damn this has got to be a bad omen or some shit. Cock-blocking ass bed.” You couldn’t help but let out another laugh at that. “Look Hamzah, nothing is a bad omen with you.” You whispered as you pulled his head towards you as you gave him a deep kiss. “I know, but I should probably leave a review on it or something you know?” “Or maybe, Hamzah, you should actually try to read instructions properly.” 

“Maybe.” “I’m right.”

 “You’re right.” He finally admitted, in defeat.

[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.