#I can’t stop drawing them lately lmao

[arivsart]

Going a little crazy, insane even.

[benetnvsch]

Hmmm

[moonstruckme]

do you think you could write poly!marauders just having a calm morning with a gn reader plz? like they lie in a bit and go sit on the couch for breakfast or smthn like that? i’m loving your fics btw babes, reading them everyday LMAO.

also do you think i could be the 🌶️ anon plz? i’m peppers_library, but i can’t request with that account!

Absolutely you can, my love! And this is suchhhh a sweet idea. I can't seem to help making Sirius a nuisance lately, so I'm a bit worried I've missed the mark on a calm morning, but I hope you like it <3

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 907 words

You rise to consciousness slowly, roused by a slight movement at your back. You turn in Sirius’ arms with a soft whining sound.

“Sorry,” Remus whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” you murmur, cracking an eyelid. Buttery morning light has infiltrated the cracks in your curtains, illuminating Remus angelically from behind. It turns the rumpled ends of his hair golden, and when you cup the back of his head to give him a kiss, it’s warm as a cat’s fur after laying in the sun. Remus makes a satisfied humming sound, hands snaking around your waist to bring you closer as he kisses lazily at your bottom lip. 

“Oi,” Sirius grumbles, arm tightening around you and halting Remus’ progress, “get your own.” 

“James left to go on a run already,” Remus replies.

“Doesn’t matter. I had them first.” 

“Wait, has he really?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow to see over Remus. Sure enough, there’s only a faint indentation in the sheets where you’d supposed James to be sleeping. “I think I’m going to try and make muffins before he gets back,” you decide, starting to get up, but Sirius keeps you, his arm surprisingly unmovable around your middle. 

“That sounds lovely,” Remus says, watching amusedly as you try to pry Sirius’ fingers from your t-shirt. “Should I make us some tea as well?”

“No,” Sirius protests, reaching around you to clamp his other hand around Remus’ forearm. “Neither of you can leave me, it’ll get cold in here.” 

Remus extricates himself from Sirius’ grip with little effort, standing and leaving you to fend for yourself. “You’re welcome to get up too, Pads.” 

Sirius casts his head forlornly into the juncture of your neck as he moans, “But it’s so early.” 

You make another attempt at escape, and Sirius rolls over you with a vitality that defies his claims of lethargy, pinning you under his weight. “Siri,” you laugh, cupping his face with one hand and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “you can’t keep me here, honey.” 

He all but ignores your tenderness, looking down at you obstinately. “Can’t I?”

“Don’t you want muffins? I’ll let you pick the flavor, so long as we have the ingredients for it.”  

Sirius frowns pensively. “Those blueberries haven’t gone bad yet, have they?”

You grin. “Nope.” 

Time is on your side this morning. James slips in and goes straight to the shower just as you’re setting the timer on the oven, emerging eucalyptus-scented and in his pajama bottoms when the muffins are cooling on the counter. 

“Smells good in here,” he says as he comes into the kitchen, stopping short when he sees you like you’re not in the same disheveled state you were when he left. “Oh, sweetheart, what’re you trying to do to me?”

“James.” You take a tentative step back, all too familiar with the glint in his eyes. “It’s just a t-shirt.” 

It’s no use; he’s hauled you up onto the counter before you can take another breath, pushing between your legs with both hands on your ass. “Don’t play coy with me.” He nips at the underside of your jaw, drawing frenetic giggles out of you. “You put those legs on display on purpose.” 

“Let them go, you neanderthal,” comes Sirius’ hypocritical call. “Bring us the muffins while they’re still warm.”  

James grants you one, sweet kiss to soothe the damage he’s done to your face before giving you a conspiratorial look. “So demanding,” he says lowly, but helps you down from the counter. 

“Finally,” Sirius says as you enter, as though the plate of muffins isn’t still steaming. “What was the point of getting out of bed if I can’t have muffins or cuddles?”

James doesn’t hesitate to indulge him, sidling up to the other boy and holding a muffin under his nose as a temptation. You sit on the floor next to Remus, taking the cup of tea he offers you gratefully. He’s already resumed his work on the puzzle you’d started the night before, which both James and Sirius claim they’re going to “win” despite neither of them having the patience to put much work into it. You pick up an oddly colored piece, studying the picture on the box alongside your pensive boyfriend. 

“Doesn’t look like the same brown as the tree, does it?” he murmurs. 

“No. Maybe the fence, though?”

“Ah.” He takes the piece from you, putting it in its place with a satisfying click. “Nice one, love.” 

“What a couple of nerds,” Sirius drawls, and you look up to find he’s moved into James’ lap, being fed pieces of blueberry muffin like a prince. “How’d we end up dating such losers, Prongs?”

“I don’t know,” James says consideringly. “They make us tea and muffins, so that’s not bad.” 

“I’ll allow that the muffins and tea are perks, definitely.” 

Remus drags his attention from the puzzle to give Sirius a deadpan look. “You seemed alright with us this morning,” he reminds him. “But I suppose Y/N and I could go handle our nerd business elsewhere, if it suits you.”

“No need to leave me, too. I’m not in his camp,” James says, though he breaks off another piece of muffin to give him. 

Sirius rolls his eyes, chewing the muffin before giving you and Remus a benevolent smile. “I suppose we’ll keep you around.” He winks at you. “Thanks for the muffins, darling.”

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 365!

1 year! One whole year of daily doodles!!

Honestly?? Idk how to feel, so much has happened since I first started this blog.

I guess I’ll just write what I’m thinking right now??

(Everything under the cut, this thing is longer than I expected)

A lot of this text probably isn’t going to make sense. I’m writing this at 1 am. If there’s any mistakes or errors that’s why. I’ll fix them in the morning maybe.

So like. This whole thing kinda started as a joke, I wasn’t intending to actually draw for a year straight lmao. Like I even used a completely different art style from my regular one that was simple, quick and intentionally dumb. Not that I’m upset by it, I’m actually quite proud of myself that I managed to stick to something for an entire year. That’s pretty unusual for me believe it or not. My original intention was to stop at maybe 20 days because I really wasn’t expecting for this blog to get as much love as it did.

So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so so much to everyone who has followed and supported this silly little idea I had, you guys are the biggest reason my experience has been so positive and worth it. (Sure it’s not original but I hope it’s at least been interesting!)

I’ve said this a few times now but I’ve mentioned wanting to take a break. I’ll admit that even though it’s been fun it’s still pretty tiring to keep up with this blog sometimes since some recent life events have made it so hard. After some thought, I’ve decided that I’ll likely take a break sometime in the coming months. Maybe toward day 400 or so. As of right now, things are at a lull so I’ve been okay enough mentally and physically to keep up this daily streak I think. Though this could change in an instant for whatever reason.

Overall I think my burnout has kind of gone away I think?? Or at least I’ve been reinvigorated recently after replaying a few runs of hk randomizer and steel soul. No promises it’ll stay away but I silly expect it to come in waves.

Ok but call me crazy or delusional or whatever, but my hopes are up that Silksong will release this year. (which means slowing down/not doing daily doodles yay) I genuinely believe big news is coming since I’ve been getting a lot of dreams lately about something happening with Silksong in March. Idk, I could be wrong but after doing this for a year I’m literally clinging onto anything right now lol

I’d obviously still make the occasional doodle or two when HKSS releases but not daily. This stuff is tough to keep up sometimes, I would never do daily posts like this again once it’s over

Oh yeah also I have an actual big drawing I’m still working on, expect that in sometime in the next few weeks I think!

Anyway, I can’t think of anything else to say right now so I guess that’s it for now!

Thanks so much and here’s to more doodles!

[leclsrc]

hiii! could i request a charles fluff where he and y/n kinda have like some tradition that they do together or something. and its just special to them? like going traveling or even something ordinary like cleaning the house? sorry i'm a total sucker for these lmao

again late, so late, sorry! but i am trying to catch up w these olddd reqs hahshdhs. shoutout again to mack who live messaged me ab a grocery trip and inspired much of this ily. title from this

things lovers do – cl16

“And we’re out of limes, I think.” You say, humming as you review the contents of your fridge.

“Do we even use them that much?” Charles asks from the dinner table. He stares at the list, where he’s written the word limes. He holds a pen to the left of it, prepares to draw it across the word, but your own words of protest stop him. What—of course we use limes, you say.

“I don’t recall us making guacamole, is all.”

You shut the fridge, laughing and walking over to where he sits, wrapping your arms around him from behind. Together, you peruse the crumpled list, of words written and erased in Charles’ messy penmanship. There’s romaine, lemon, pasta, ciabatta. Assorted gum, because Charles likes to chew it while working. Coffee beans, because a day without them renders you half-deceased. 

This is a weekly thing—reviews of the grocery list, on the dinner table with two glasses of wine. Anyone can love, but not everyone can sit and be patient and browse every last item of the fridge and pantry to determine what needs to be added. And through the list you’re provided with a window for the week: Monday night dinner with pasta, Wednesday breakfast with ciabatta, a romaine salad for Thursday brunch.

If you told your six-year-old self that your best memories with your boyfriend would be formulating grocery lists, she would pout in your face. Boyfriend? She’d ask petulantly. Don’t we get to marry a prince, with a horse and a castle? No, you’d say. We get to have a prince, yes, but he has a car and a house in Monaco. Is that good enough? If it isn’t, he makes a mean set of pancakes.

Do we get to dance with him at a ball? It’s still a no, you’d tell her. The dancing happens in the kitchen, lit only by the yellow of the stovetop range while you play Harvest Moon and sway softly to the guitar. It happens by the fridge, when a Bee Gees song comes on and Charles can’t resist holding you by the waist and lifting you up to join his dancing. It happens while you wait for toast in the morning, when both the bread and the weather are in the middle of cool and warm, to Al Green on the radio. 

This love of grocery lists and airplane rides sure doesn’t live up to your six-year-old self’s fairytale standards, or your sixteen-year-old’s hopes of marrying Harry Styles. You think, however, that it far surpasses anything you could ever have wanted. 

His voice draws you out of your reverie. “You okay? You’re a bit quiet.”

“Just thinking,” you reassure, pressing a kiss to his hair and smiling. “Of things.” Of us, of toast and tea, of romance and loving you and making lists and loving you and God, loving you. “Lots of things.”

“…Is this because I added too much junk food?”

“No, God,” you say, fond. “It’s nothing.”

“I love you,” he says back. And if you ever doubted it, there would always be limes, written without erasure on this crumpled list on the dinner table.

[deadbaguette]

Your art is beautiful omg I love your designs so much,,, I love the tenderness in their expressions,,, you are answering lots of requests, maybe do something self indulgent for yourself! Or characters that have zero interactions together but that under different circumstances would get along, or a personal headcanon! Have fun and follow your heart

Waittt this is so sweet of you🥺❤️ Thank you so much, this absolutely made my day <3 Sorry for the wait with answering it! In all honesty it was nice to open my ask box and read this whenever I didn’t know what to do ^^ It’s very kind of you to to consider that I’ve been answering a lot of asks but rest assured I don’t have a problem with reqs! 🙏 I enjoy drawing it just simply helps when people suggest ideas lol :D But truly this what’s been so kind of you, but enough of my yapping dhdgdh

Characters that have never interacted that I think would get along under different circumstances, ohhh you have quite literally spoken straight to my soul! That’s my specialty LMAO😂 Bringing out my found family oriented odypendio AU for this one, have some Telemachus and Diomedes

I’ll have a few ramblings below the cut, but thank you for the ask!

Diomedes came to Ithaca a little late, I imagine Telemachus was around early teens

Athena keeps in touch with Diomedes, but has forbidden him from getting involved with the politics of Ithaca. She says it’s not his fate to get involved

Diomedes acts as some sort of(???) stand in king with Penelope, but it’s not official. They both see officialising it as admitting that Odysseus is dead, and neither of them want that

While Diomedes can’t interfere directly with the suitors, he has gotten into some arguments with them mostly about Telemachus. Athena pulls what she did on Achilles and stops him from murdering the suitors, but he then goes later to tend to the bruises and cuts that Telemachus got from a fight. That’s what this scene is!

Telemachus likes Diomedes, and while thinking of him as his dad is a stretch, he’s definitely some sort of father figure. This is much to Diomedes’ dismay (he doesn’t know how to be a dad, ik he gets kids in the original when he goes to Italy, but with how absent his own dad was he’s not sure how to help Telemachus with his own problem)

“I’m not his dad” he says, while carrying a sleeping 13 yr old Telemachus on his back so he can tuck him into bed. Like Penelope is side eyeing him (not in a bad way lmao).

[floofysmallbob]

Oh yeah this is my redesi- *gets brainwashed*

Yes this is a day late, I know no one keeps schedule of these redesigns, but I like to have an upload schedule to challenge myself, but it has gotten harder to adhere to said schedule lately because I’ve been cleaning my dad’s apartment(he’s still alive and everything it’s just a mess)

I added him in between class A and B because while it has been revealed which class he’s in, I figured it would be a nice transition and either way I’m going to stop talking now here’s the redesign

Compulsion Hero: Mindjack

sorry if the text is hard to read or headache inducing

yes the name is a giveaway of his quirk, but I don’t think his hero name would be public knowledge, he’s likely be an underground hero due to the lack of flashiness

honestly his canon costume is the best one out of all of them

it’s practical and it looks great

vest would have been the same but I sure as hell can’t draw that so it’s just a regular looking vest

thin undershirt covered by a fishnet mesh

which is also in turn covered by the vest

and the sleeves in canon look like a separate garment

i told myself when I did the Kirishima design that I wouldn’t give anyone shirtless sleeves.

i have now given two people shirtless sleeves.

i was supposed to give him cargo pants but I forgot to draw the pockets :|

leg strap pouch

dagger, would be useful if the capture weapon got tangled or for close combat fighting. also it looks sick and I really like swords and tbh this costume is something I would want to wear and at this point I’m not even trying to hide the fact that I am Shinsou Hitoshi

i have very prominent purple hair and eyebags too

also there are a fuck ton of layers because I can’t think of a single person this edgy who doesn’t layer like hell

i would rather burn up than not layer and that’s saying a lot considering my incredibly low heat tolerance

but back on topic

combat boots

steel toed

kneepads, shoulder pads, and forearm guards

gloves are the same as canon

so is his mask but I was not going to draw that

it’s legitimately just his canon costume in my art style

COLD WEATHER VERSION:

darker fabrics

slightly longer gloves on the thumb and index fingers

thicker fabric

capture weapon is temperature regulated

can function as an actual scarf

turtleneck(not visible)

undershirt is thicker

WARM WEATHER

yeah he’s still gonna overheat lmao

undershirt has mesh sleeves

gloves are now completely fingerless

also I forgot to mention earlier yes he has black nail polish, just be glad I didn’t give him a full face of alternative style makeup, too

I don’t care if he canonically just wears jean jackets as his casual wear he’s alt now and there’s nothing you can do about it

hell, Jirou is supposedly ‘punk rock’ and the only vaguely alt outfit she had was the time she was wearing an ‘end of villainy’ tshirt with fishnets and boots in one of the openings

no more shirtless sleeves

slightly thinner, looser fabrics

WITHOUT CAPTURE WEAPON:

not really any notes lmao

COLD WEATHER WITHOUT CAPTURE WEAPON:

you can see the turtleneck now

HOT WEATHER VERSION WITHOUT CAPTURE WEAPON:

neckline is slightly lower

as always, tips and advice are appreciated!

[vorezone-act8]

Inside your mouth I cannot see

safe vore fic. sorry if you realize what these characters are from lmao (owen is an oc stand in for the player but) warnings: emeto, body dysphoria/dysmorphia, mentions of actual cannib.alism/"h.ard vore" but it doesnt actually happen, suicidal ideation somewhat, suggestive implications unrelated to the vore

Owen couldn't keep this up for much longer. 

He'd been running from "Uthman" for twenty minutes at this rate. He couldn't claim to be in good shape, either, even before this happened; he'd barely slept since he got here, and he'd already been walking for ages. This place was awful labyrinthine for a place of work.

He was wont to give out eventually.

And so he did, a momentary falter of his footing resulting in him being tackled to the ground, vision spotting from the impact his head made with the floor.

"Owen," the thing mumbles. No—even like this, Uthman wasn't a thing. He was a person; a person who would feel terrible about this when he woke up. "Need them. Your organs." His breathing is ragged.

Fighting to keep consciousness, Owen writhes in his grasp, but it's no use. Instead, he tries to reason, "You don't want this; you’re going to feel horrible, later. Uthman, wake up, please—"

Uthman's hands, pinning the other man to the ground by his wrists, tremble. His eyes focus again for a moment, practically drawing his own blood by how hard he's biting his lip. "Trying." Tears prick at his eyes, despite the grin his face has contorted into. It's pained. “I’m sorry.”

He's not sure why he wants to tell him that it's okay, to comfort him, as he finally slips into darkness.

Uthman is fighting himself. He's just lucid enough to resist the hunger for a few more moments, but it's impossible. It hurts—and the only thing that will make it stop is if he sates it, or he’s knocked out. But Owen wasn’t able to do the latter. He has to hold off, just for a few more moments. He won’t forgive himself if—

He half-doubles over in pain on the other’s unconscious form, yelping like the animal he is. His stomach feels as though it’s trying to digest itself.

The opposing instincts of the desire to protect him from further harm and to consume him, thus stopping the pain, converge into overwhelming mixed signals that freeze him in place. In inaction. A momentary blessing.

But unfortunately, it results in a bizarre compromise.

The Devil's mouth experimentally opens, and he shoves Owen's head inside. It fits alarmingly well. The clay making up the flesh makes it disgustingly flexible, too. Impossible. It shouldn't be able to fit a man inside. But it can.

Even screaming inside, the hunger is now beginning to cloud his horror. He can taste Owen’s blood, which he can’t stop himself from licking off his chin. The animal in him wants to finish the job. Wants to be full. It's been starving for so long. 

The human is terrified.

But this is the only conclusion The Devil can come to that will satisfy both instincts. Swallowed whole, instead of torn to shreds. No longer hungry, but Owen might survive if Uthman snaps out of this state fast enough.

All it takes is a swallow to bring his shoulders into his throat, then another for his torso, then his legs—

A purr rises in his middle as his poor friend's form settles into it, arms wrapping around him in a lovesick fondness. He curls up on the floor around his stomach, like an animal at rest.

Lucid again for a moment, Uthman is wracked by a sob as his bleary eyes grow heavy against his will. It's too late.

————————————————

Uthman wakes up nauseous, and aching all over—from falling asleep on the floor, apparently. He groans as he sits up, aching back popping. Eyes squinting from residual exhaustion, he scans the room. He doesn't know how he got here, or why.

Confusion quickly turns into alarm.

The last thing he remembers is being with Owen. Where is he? Did they split up? What would cause a lapse in memory like—

He notices a splatter of human blood right beside him.

Panic rises in his core.

"Mr. Webb?" He calls out urgently, fearing the worst. "Owen??" He attempts to stand up—but his stomach lurches unnaturally at the sudden movement, as if bloated.

His blood runs cold. The lingering taste of metal in his mouth—

He retches, but nothing comes up. He buries his face in his hands—both of which he doesn’t want to be his own, especially right now. But they are. This monster is you. You killed and ate that poor man. Didn’t you?

Hot wet tears deface his disgusting visage even further, as they should. He curls in on himself, no, around what was left of the friend he didn’t deserve. “I’m so sorry,” his monotone cracks. “I-I knew I should have stayed away—I’m so selfish. I’m sorry, Owen.” 

He really is selfish. Owen will never get to see his children again, nor will he get to go home. All for what? Because he was just so desperate for human connection that he couldn’t just help from the sidelines, when this man’s family was on the line—when he knows how dangerous he is? Boo fucking hoo.

He shudders violently as he gags. It’s painful.

That man is dead, and

“...Uthman?”

His ringing ears almost don’t catch the sound. Not until it’s repeated, louder: “Uthman! Hello?” It’s Owen’s voice, oddly muffled. Eyes blurry but wide, he once overs the room in disbelief. “Owen?” His voice trembles. He doesn’t see anything. “Where are you?”

“I don’... know,” the man tiredly answers, then poses a question of his own: “It’s too dark to tell. Were you… crying?” 

A shuddering breath is taken in. He scans the room again. “I was worried I… killed you. I’m glad I didn’t. Are you hurt? Do you recall anything? You sound tired, so I’m assuming you were unconscious.” 

There’s a beat of silence.

“...I remember you… knocking me over. Hit my head, must have conked out. I don’t hurt anywhere else, though. Guess you… left me alone?” He seems to be just as confused. 

It’s starting to concern him how clearly he can hear Owen’s voice, despite neither of them knowing where he is.

“I should check you for a concussion,” Uthman thinks aloud. “Can you move?”

Immediately afterwards, a wave of nausea hits him as he feels—something move, inside of what, unmistakably, must be his stomach. Realization hits him like a truck, but as a literal doctor, he finds it hard to accept that this is possible for him to do. They should both be dead. 

Well… if he were human, that is. Right.

“...I’m cramped. Can’t really tell.” Owen’s voice is alarmingly lacking any fear about the situation he’s in. Even without knowing what Uthman has realized, being trapped in a cramped space you can’t see is terrifying. Maybe he does have a concussion. “Wet, also.”

“Owen,” Uthman starts, trying to keep his voice level. He nearly tries to make eye contact with his stomach, but averts his eyes out of shame. “I think I know where you are.” He sucks in a breath. “...For some reason, in that state, I just…” The words are hard to get out of his mouth, because he can hardly believe them. 

“Swallowed you whole. Instead of something more immediately lethal.”

There isn’t a response for a moment. 

Then, wordless, panicked thrashing against his internals. There it is. The fight or flight response kicking in. He grits his teeth in pain, instinctively clutching at his middle, as if to make it stop. He releases his grip near immediately, not wanting to hurt Owen any further. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—and it’s terribly nauseating. 

Maybe that’s a good thing, vomiting would be welcome to this situation. But—

“...Y-you shouldn’t care, but just in case you do, that does hurt,” he clarifies.

It stops quickly. “Sorry,” Owen apologizes. His voice grows quieter. “...I was scared.”

“No, it’s—it’s completely understandable.” Uthman sighs heavily as his muscles relax. “I mean, anyone would be afraid if they were… literally eaten by a monster.” His eyes unfocus, staring into nothing. He really is one, isn’t he?

“...Don’t… call yourself that,” Owen manages, shifting himself around in an attempt to get more comfortable. Uthman cringes at this horrendously invasive feeling. This is, quite possibly, the worst way to have to confront his non-human biology. He almost tuned out what Owen said.

“It’s true, though. A human, and most other animals, physically could not do this.” He grips his wrist as it trembles. “But that’s not important—I need to get you out of there. Our digestive systems aren’t designed to handle this much, so you should be fine for a while, but I’m not going to wait around for you to get hurt, and I’m sure you don’t want to, either.”

There’s a beat, as if Owen were thinking on what to say, for whatever reason. Uthman finds the answer pretty cut and dry, so this strikes him as odd. His passenger settles with a, “...Fair.”

Uthman pinches the bridge of his nose, sucking in another breath through his teeth. “Yes.” He moves to stand up—but hesitates. “...Uh. I’m going to get up. Alright?” There’s a noise of acknowledgement from inside, so he takes that as his go-ahead. Legs trembling slightly, he uses a nearby wall to stand to his feet…. hooves, rather. Right. He hates this.

It shouldn’t be as easy to walk as it is. He hates that Owen is like nothing more than a little added weight to his body. That’s an entire person. You can hardly even notice that he’s there.

…It’s hard for him to calm his spiraling thoughts with this situation. 

Thankfully, Owen breaks the silence: “What are you, uh… going to do? Try to throw up, right?” …Maybe not so thankfully. This is another thought rabbithole to go down. At least it’s a more helpful one to go on.

“Well…” Uthman has to think about the logistics of this. He was able to get Owen down, so he should be able to come back up. But the space is so tight he doesn’t trust he won’t suffocate within, or that he won’t choke on him, this time. Actually, is there even enough oxygen in his stomach for Owen to begin with? Is it not a concussion, but a lack of air?

His head is spinning with concerning questions and possibilities.

“...I think I’m just going to cut you out.”

“HUH?” Owen barks in alarm. “Just throw up! You’re a doctor, you know sometimes you just gotta throw up—”

“I’m not scared to throw up!” He blurts, feeling the skin beneath the fur on his face flush. “I’m worried you’re going to suffocate. It’ll make me feel better if I just… surgically remove you.”

“Have you ever even performed surgery on yourself? What if you mess up? You could cut me.” Owen strategically doesn’t mention that he’s actually more concerned about Uthman hurting himself, because he knows that he doesn’t care about his own wellbeing right now.

It works. Uthman groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “...Okay, good point. Maybe I should just… try. But I’m not sure… where would be an appropriate location. The floors here are all hard.” God, this is embarrassing. “I guess I’ll head back to my office. There’s pillows and stuff…” He sighs. 

Just as he was about to start moving again, he feels some sort of pressure from within. He can’t help but look down, as much as he really doesn’t want to, and thus confront this reality in its entirety. It’s repetitive, it recedes and presses in again a few times.

“It’s really not that bad. Take your time to get there.”

…He realizes it must be Owen’s hand, patting him.

His face grows hot. He doesn’t like that it felt nice, and especially not that his stomach responds with a growl. No, no, no, you don’t like this. “D-don’t tell me that,” he chides, trying to keep himself composed. “It’s not okay, and I don’t want to think that it’s okay. My instincts might kick in again, and then they might not let you go. I won’t forgive myself if I…”

Pat, pat. “You’re more freaked out about this than I am, Uth. Breathe.”

“You SHOULD be freaked out!” He explodes, all of his emotions finally breaking the surface and spilling. “What if I killed you? What if I DO kill you by waiting too long? Your kids need you, and—and I…” I need you. I’m so selfish. God. 

His breath shudders as he continues, “...When I get you out of there, I think you shouldn’t even talk to me from a distance—I’m more of a danger to you than any help, at this rate. I’m not to be trusted. I have selfish intentions. I want this.”

“No!” Owen moves suddenly with his exclamation, causing Uthman to wince. “God damn it, Uthman, you’ve helped me more than anyone else down here! I don’t care that you lose control now and then—honestly, I don’t even mind if you do end up killing me. I’d prefer that over anything else doing it!”

That takes him out of it. His eyes open wide in horror. “...What? Owen, you—you wouldn’t just let me kill you, would you?”

“Of course not! I just—well…” Owen sighs, and Uthman can tell that he’s curling into himself, receding away the farthest he can in the little space he has. He tries not to notice how much he can feel this, implying that the walls of his stomach are squeezing around him. “...You heard Stinger. I’ve… probably already failed my kids. I don’t care what happens to me, I just… want you to be there.”

Now he’s really concerned. He pushes the welling warmth in his chest, much too literal, aside. “...You haven’t given up, have you? Stinger’s full of it. Even if he isn’t, you should still try, you know.”

“I was supposed to be comforting you, stupid.” 

Uthman laughs a little at that. “...It worked, I think.” 

He becomes aware again of the present situation and urgently starts walking, thankfully recognizing a nearby hallway as a reference point for the distance to his office. “I’m such a hypocrite, I said we shouldn’t wait but I drew this out longer by stopping to argue with you,” he hums, allowing himself to find a little amusement in this. 

As he walks, he notices how much the movement jostles Owen’s weight around, as though he were lugging him around in a bag. That can’t be pleasant. Cursing himself internally, he places a hand on his belly to keep it as still as he can. 

Pat, pat. Owen’s hand meets his, seeming to have caught on.

His face screws up in embarrassment, heat returning to his cheeks. ————————————————

Owen is expelled harmlessly out onto Uthman’s makeshift bed. It’s a lot less warm out here, but he prefers having his full range of motion, which he immediately uses to sit up and stretch his back out with a pop.

He looks up to poor Uthman above him, coughing still. “Uuugh,” he groans, wiping at his mouth. “You okay?” Owen asks gently.

The mascot blinks, then narrows his eyes at him. He clears his throat, composing himself. “I should be asking you that. I wasn’t the one that was nearly eaten alive.” He takes off his labcoat, using it to methodically dry off the other man in place of a towel. 

…Oh, yeah, he’d gotten so used to it in the past… 30 minutes? That he forgot he was absolutely drenched in spit and whatever else.

He crosses his arms, just letting it happen.

“If you had a concussion, it seems to have cleared up. I should check you for burns, though,” Uthman comments idly as he works.

“You gonna undress me?” Owen immediately regrets saying that, shutting his mouth from saying anything further at practically mach 5.

Uthman stops. Even with the fur covering his face, Owen can spot that hint of teal to his cheeks underneath. Actually, it was probably long present. “No, but I was going to ask you to remove them. Even besides possible injuries, your clothes are… probably ruined.” He looks away ashamedly. “I have a change of clothes in here.”

Owen chuckles awkwardly. “...Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.” He sort of did. “I appreciate it, but are you sure you don’t need them?”

“...They… don’t fit anymore, anyways,” Uthman bemoans as he continues to dab at any remaining saliva. Owen frowns sympathetically.

————————————————

Uthman finds nothing out of the ordinary after checking his skin, which is a relief, but also puzzling. Is the acid in a Gi.vanium-based digestive system that weak? Thank god for that design flaw.

The both of them find themselves hit with exhaustion after Owen gets changed and everything settles down, and Uthman… frustratingly hungry, with his stomach no longer full.

A distressing element about his body’s cravings is that they’re not supposed to happen at all. He has no biological need for food. But like a phantom limb, he still experiences the ghost of getting hungry from his memories as a human. 

He wishes it was just that, and that it didn’t manifest in animalistic, predatory instincts.

Having nothing else, he settles on a few granola bars, offering some to Owen, as well. He has to look away from him as he eats.

Uthman tries to convince Owen to go sleep somewhere else tonight, but isn’t able to—he’d have to risk running into another dangerous Case, or collapsing from exhaustion. There’s nowhere else to go. Begrudgingly, he allows it.

They settle into their separate makeshift beds. But… neither of them can sleep, despite how tired they are from the scare of the earlier situation.

“...Hey,” Owen pipes up after a while.

“Mmm?” Uthman barely manages to vocalize.

“...Could I sleep with you?” 

His eyes shoot right open, and he sits up. “What?? I’m sorry, I know you probably got used to it, but I could have killed you earlier, and I’m nervous even about this proximity.”

“I’m just cold,” Owen clarifies, embarrassedly. He feels like a little kid asking to get into their parent’s bed, and he’s a 40 year old man. “...And you’re warm. But I’ll deal.”

…Right. The temperature is low in here to kill germs, like a doctor’s office. He has no way of changing it. Naturally, being drenched probably made him chilly, too—

He sighs. “...Fine. I kind of owe this to you after that, I don’t want you to freeze.” He pulls up his blankets and gestures him over. Owen crawls in and settles next to him, unable to help nuzzling into his fur, sighing as he feels the other’s warmth wash over him. “...Thank you,” he mumbles.

Uthman tenses up. There’s those butterflies in his stomach again… oh, no, that’s physical, actually. It’s growling. His face flushes, turning his head away with a distressed grimace. He’s certain that he heard that. “Do you see what I mean? You really shouldn’t trust me.”

“It’s not a big deal—I mean, maybe you’ll just do that instead of trying to, uh, eat my pancreas, next time,” Owen jokes. Uthman really doesn’t find it funny. He wraps his arms around him, though, selfishly pulling him closer. He paradoxically relaxes, despite his heart beating out of his chest. “...Well, if it happens again, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

Owen sticks his tongue out mockingly at him. “Well, it was actually kind of nice, just so you know.” 

Uthman makes a strangled noise at that, hiding his face with his arm. “Please don’t say that.” Owen laughs.

They stop bickering and fall asleep soon after.

[mister-mickey]

Um so I guess this is honey I shrunk the kids au part one lol

So, it all starts with darry 🤭 he’s a scientist, he’s building a machine that can shrink things, but it’s not doing too well.

He gives up for the day, after something blows up in his face (literally)

He locks the room because nobody is allowed in there ofc, it’s dangerous.

HOWEVER

This does not stop curly and pony from going in through the window to get the football they were tossing around.

Pony doesn’t want to, but after curly climbs in (and falls in his ass) he follows 😔

Curly touches the machine, sees that the football landed in it somehow. In an attempt to get something to unlodge the football, he and pony get shrunk

Like, an hour later, tim tells Angela to go pick curly up since it’s late and he knows darry can’t stand to be around curly for more than a few hours.

Angela (begrudgingly) goes to the curtis house, only ti see that Steve, soda, and twobit are looking for pony.

They are four very concerned teenagers

Steve thinks they’re just screwing around, but twobit thinks that they went into Darry’s project room because they always get into trouble when they’re together.

So… they follow twobits suggestion

The machine powers up again when twobit trips over nothing and smashes into it

Curly and pony think they’re being saved, they are not

Anyways I guess part two will be dally and Johnny getting shrunk because I forgot to draw them here lmao

[messrmoonyy]

Tess servopoulos x fem!reader

Wc- 960 | 18+

Navigation | tlou masterlist

A/N- I don’t a/n drabble normally but I somehow lost the request for this and so if you are the anon that had a request for Tess using her bandana as a gag. Hi. This is it. I’m sure there was other specifics in the request but I couldn’t remember them, my brain just latched onto the bandana thing lmao. Anyway. Enjoy!

Happy smutober

She was getting annoyed with you. You could tell. With every muttered instruction to quieten down a little that fell on deaf ears, with every tap to your thigh to somehow try and enforce her words further. The small huffs of annoyance, the sharper tone to her words. You were beginning to piss her off. And was that intentional? Well…

“ you gotta quiet down “ she murmured again, her patience so glaringly wearing thin with you, her lips pressed against the shell of your ear in a way that made you shiver.

“ ‘m trying “ you whined, not sure exactly how she expected you to be quiet when her fingers were performing literal magic. It had been days and you felt like a woman starved. You’d needed her. Desperately. And she was more than happy to oblige. But the situation wasn’t exactly ideal.

A large storm had appeared from no where on your way back from Bill and Franks, cutting you off in your tracks back to the QZ. And you’d been holed up in an abandoned building for the last 4 days. Thankfully the majority of the supplies you were bringing back from Bills was food. And you had enough to last at least another 2 days, even though that would mean retuning back to a very pissed off Joel. He’d already be annoyed that you’d both practically gone missing for days. But also at the lack of supplies. But what else were you supposed to do?

Maybe the current activity of having your back pressed to her chest, legs pressed and held in place by her own looped over your ankles, wasn’t exactly… appropriate for the situation. But you played it off as a way to kill time. And because no matter where in the world you were, you would always have an insatiable appetite when it came to Tess.

But she wasn’t exactly thrilled by the possibilities of anyone wandering around and finding you both there. And that was, granted, a perfectly reasonable fear. And a perfectly reasonable answer as to why you should be more quiet. But it felt near impossible.

“ well try fuckin harder sweetheart “ you genuinely were trying. But how could anyone stay silent when she was touching you like that. Fingers curling inside of you and hitting spots that made your vision blur, her other hand on your throat so she could keep you where she wanted you.

And maybe. Just maybe. You liked seeing how far you could push her. Even if it did harbour the risk of her just stopping and leaving you there.

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes fluttering closed as she nipped at the exposed skin on your neck, trying and failing to hold back another blissful sound.

“ sorry “ you gasped out immediately after, only to succumb to another pathetic whimper of a sound as she moved to circle your clit. Even with how soaked you were and the unbelievable lack of friction she was able to achieve, she still made you shake.

“ I think it’s too late for sorry now “ she sighed “ if we die because you can’t be quiet I swear to fuck- “

“ there’s- fuck. There’s no one. Even out here “

“ infected wander sweetheart “ she mumbled and grazed her teeth against your skin a little harder than necessary. It was almost as if she wanted you to keep making a noise.

“ risk getting ripped apart by a clicker to come on your fingers? I think I can deal with that “ you said with a smile, closing your eyes again to focus on her fingers. So close you could almost taste it.

“ ohh. You need to come yeah? “ you nodded and to your utter dismay, you moved her hand away from you

“ wh- no Tess- “

“ you can’t keep your mouth shut now, you think I’m gonna let you draw every infected in a ten mile radius to us when you come? Not likely sweetheart “ you expected her to gently push you away and leave you hanging. But she didn’t. She was fumbling with something behind you and you tried to turn your head to look at her ”Eyes forward “ she murmured, in that low tone that made butterflies erupt in your stomach. And made you obey her every will and wish.

You froze when you felt cloth against your face, heat pooling in your belly as you realised what she was doing. The bandana she so often wore in her hair was now wrapped firmly across your mouth, tied neatly at the back of your head. It smelt like her. Like the vanilla shampoo from Lincoln. The rain. Just. Her. You couldn’t stop your eyes from fluttering closed again.

“ that’s my good girl, nice and quiet now huh? “ she said lowly, brushing her lips against your neck again as her hand found its way back to the soaked mess between your thighs “ let’s try it out yeah? “ she seemed quite proud of herself when it proved effective. Your moans muffled by the cloth as she worked at bringing you back to the edge again.

You could feel her smile against your skin as your sounds were swallowed up by the material across your mouth, increasing the pressure of her fingers and whispering a never ending string of praise into your ear.

You refused to try hit of back your sounds anymore, happily letting them be swallowed by the bandana. You’d never look at it the same way again. In fact how were you supposed to have a straight face walking around with her wearing it, knowing the filthy purpose it had served?

You barely lasted another minute, throwing your head back against her shoulder as you shuddered through your climax, not a single sound escaping those four walls.

[sharoscylla]

I’ve had a lot of stuff going on lately but I received the urge to draw Tommy… he’s so precious to me. Best gunslinger lmao.

He is technically a canon character, he gets mentioned exactly the once in the gunslinger and then a character CALLED Thomas Whitman exists in the comics, though I admit I stopped reading them before we meet that version so I can’t say how similar they are. All I really noticed or knew about Thomas from the glimpses I got were: 1 close to Jamie and 2 Big Hat. I ended up deciding to characterize him as “Leonard of Quirm accidentally born into the wrong epic fantasy book series” and then ultimately wrote approximately a bajillion words of fanfic about him lmao.

And I never draw him with his hat. Cry pardon. I don’t like drawing hats.

[choccy-milky]

Hi! I started reading your story sometime in the last week and I’m OBSESSED! I normally don’t have much patience and can’t get myself to read anything past like 15k or anything that’s still being worked on, but your story hooked me almost instantly! I really liked the description and decided to give it a try and I’m so glad I did. The detailed descriptions you give pull me into the story and the way you seamlessly switch points of view feels so natural. I just wanted to let you know how much I’m enjoying reading so far and I’m excited for more! ❤️

AW TYSM😭😭 this means a lot, esp since ive been kinda self conscious about the length of my fic lately (and also how long its gonna end up being once im actually done LMFAO) and ik my chapters have gotten ginormous BAHAHA so im glad that even if you don't usually read long stuff you still gave my fic a try and enjoyed it so much + are looking forward to more!!💖💖so ty again😭🙏 AND as usual i'll be using this to answer other asks:

thank you and AA im glad to hear it!! a lot of people have been telling me ive been inspiring them to draw lately and i love it (im just sorry i dont have any concrete tips to give people other than keep practicing LOL) but good luck and i hope you keep at it!!🥰🥰

GIRL IDK, IDEK HOW LONG THE STORY IS GONNA BE, but assuming im still brainrotted even when its done then YEAH u wouldnt be able to stop me if you tried😊 (im glad you like them so much as well, ty!!😭)

thank you!! and yes i usually have at least a vague idea of what i want in the story before i start, though a lot of it didn't become concrete until i started writing/things evolving from there. i made a big (slightly) vague timeline of the entire fic from beginning to (almost) end, and then i keep fleshing it out from there as the ideas keep coming to me/evolving, and for each chapter i make an even more detailed outline, and THEN i get started on the final chapter. so its a bit of a process bahaha, but the brainstorming is really fun!! as for any advice, im not sure. maybe just brainstorm/write down scenes and ideas that you know for a fact that you want to put in your fic, and then try to find a way to connect them to other scenes from there and work backwards. basically WRITE WHAT YOU WANT TO READ, cuz like im my own biggest fan fr, thats the most important part LMAO

LMFAO speaking of outlining future events.....this may or may not happen in the future/in an epilogue when clora is pregnant and she got those pregnant woman hormones that seb is fighting for his LIFE to keep up with HAHAHA

ive been drawing since i was 4 years old so...a while. LOL. and if you even look back to the beginning of my blog, my first drawings of seb were SO UGLY💀💀 so if you just keep drawing you constantly get better naturally (also in response to the other ask you sent as well, i use clip studio paint to draw!)

AW TYYY. AND YES CLORA WILL HAVE ANOTHER MC MOMENT, the ranrok confrontation is still coming, after all...👀👀 and true, idek who would win if clora and seb duelled again with neither of them holding back, but u are so right. even if clora DID win that would do nothing to change sebs mind about how protective he is LMFAO. THANK YOU AGAIN im glad you like my fic + drawings so much!!💖💖

BAHAHAH in my fic (for smut reasons and so that they could be 17 when they did the nasty) i made clora's bday april 3rd and sebs february 12, so clora is an aries and seb is an aquarius (and yes i just checked and apparently they ARE compatible, so seb can rest. also i just read up on aquarius and damn it unintentionally suits seb so well?? LOL "Aquarius is undoubtedly the most innovative, progressive, rebellious, and humanitarian. " and "They have incredible energy, though they may not always use it wisely. They find it easy to get through life on charm and good looks." LMFAO. ok king we love that

[soupandflowers]

Day 2 - Is it possible to die from embarrassment?

Another late entry, however I'd say this one went more smoothly than the other. It only took me about 3 hours to write! Anyways, I could've cut this one short, but I liked this idea too much and decided to pull through with it. So, yay me? Next few days will just be drawings though because writing is not my forte LMAO. This one features the Asian family because I wish we had the boys interacting with the others' families. Poor Hong Kong. Also prolly OOC loooooool. Also tried to write Korea as rather more super outgoing and enjoy meeting new people. He still has his clashes though. Hopefully I did a little bit of justice to him here. No beta we die like HRE. Word count is 2,548. @hongiceweek

Is it possible to die from embarrassment?

As Hong Kong urges Iceland- who has dumpling bits stuck in his hair and shirt- upstairs to his room, he can’t help but apathetically want to pack his things, hitch a ride to the nearest bus stop, take a flight to the middle of South America and formally live out the rest of his life under a brand new identity. Someone else can take over as the personification of Hong Kong, he thinks.

And that is saying something. Among the two boyfriends, Hong Kong is easily the more savvy between the two. He knows all the right moves and words to get his partner to flush and hide his face in embarrassment. Hong Kong is teasing, smooth, and witty, thus it’s not very often or easily to make Hong Kong falter to its knees. The point is the dynamic between them has always been consistent. When it comes to Iceland, Hong Kong rarely ever loses his cool.

That is up until now.

Hong Kong hurries Iceland to his room and slams the door shut behind him. Locking it and pulling a chair from his desk underneath the knob for good measure. As Hong Kong rushes to his drawer to find suitable spare clothes, Iceland stands by and tries his very best to reassure him. Hong Kong says nothing as he finds a suitable shirt and disappears into his personal bathroom, with running water that can be heard shortly afterwards. He walks back out.

“Here. There’s a warm washcloth and some spare clothing that you can use. Feel free to wash your hair and use any of the towels as well.”

“Gotcha. “, nods Iceland. “Thanks.” He disappears into the bathroom and quietly closes the door behind him.

Then, a breaking of glassware and shouting could be heard from downstairs . Of course, the loudest voices belong to Taiwan and Korea, only to be outdone by China’s, only to be outdone by Thailand’s.

Hong Kong sits on the edge of the bed and heaves a frustrated sigh. He places his fingers on the bridge of the nose.

Just what the hell even happened?

— It was another world meeting that was just supposed to be the two of them.

When the meeting called for the noon break, Hong Kong caught up to Iceland wanting to ask if they could get lunch together. As they were exiting the meeting hall, Taiwan just so happened to be in the area and being the only person to know about their relationship so far, she saw them and was teasing her brother in the distance.

Unfortunately, talking to her was South Korea, who followed Taiwan’s gaze and called out to greet the both of them. Not wanting to get Iceland involved with his family, he urges him to hurry out the door.

But one thing leads to another and Korea’s attention draws China’s and also wanting to greet his student, meets them just before they reach the door. Before Hong Kong could take off in the other direction, Taiwan, Korea, and now Japan caught up to them.

While initially wanting to greet the fellow asian, the family took interest in the Icelander as well. Having not many chances or reasons to converse casually with someone outside of Asia, they took the chance to get to know him. In which, while Iceland shyly returned the gesture, Hong Kong was starting to get peeved that Iceland was getting a little bit too involved with his family. When Hong Kong had to break the conversation that they were late for lunch, China brought this up:

“Oh! Well, we would love to get to know you more, Iceland. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight and I’ll treat you to some authentic Chinese cuisine!”

Hong Kong’s heart drops and he tries to pull his boyfriend out of there before he could respond. However, Taiwan and Korea blocked their way and pleaded for Iceland to visit. To Hong Kong’s dismay, his boyfriend agreed. He gazes at horror at his boyfriend as the rest of the Asians cheer and pull Iceland over to plan for tonight. Fast forward to China’s summer home in Beijing. For the past hour, the rest of Hong Kong’s asian siblings have been running around to prepare for Iceland’s arrival. In excitement to share their culture, China has been working on multiple dishes and cuisines all at once, Taiwan putting down homemade decorations around the kitchen and living room, Korea booting up the karaoke machine to put out his favorite songs to sing, and poor Japan just being pulled around by the previous three as they all demand for his help. The house was chaos.

Hong Kong could only stand there and watch in disbelief. He could withstand his family’s shenanigans, hell, he would often be a part of that too. But in the case of Iceland? Really? No way in hell.

Hong Kong palms his forehead as Japan passes by. Japan, sensing his frustration, assures the boy that everything will be alright and that the rest of the family is only doing everything in their power to welcome Iceland. Surely, his own family wouldn’t make a fool of themselves in front of a guest.

When he finishes that sentence, Taiwan calls for his help, grabs him, and pulls him abruptly to the side. This causes Japan to yelp and grasp the tablecloth as he falls with the rest of the tableset going down with him. Shouting ensues.

Hong Kong can only stand in horror. Just then, the doorbell rings.

It was as if a pin dropped. Everyone starts scrambling to fix the kitchen as Hong Kong quietly slips out of the room to greet Iceland.

Calmly, he opens and slips out the front door. Iceland is standing there before him and raises a shy wave.

Hong Kong only returns with a poker face.

He grabs his shoulders.

“DO NOT COME IN.”, he grits through his teeth. Iceland starts to tremble as his boyfriend looms over before him.

The door opens behind them and they both turn to find China standing there. China’s bright smile looks as if he was about to greet Iceland, however his face drops when he processes what he is witnessing.

Unfortunately for the boys, their faces were perhaps a little bit too close to each other.

An angry yell can be heard across the neighborhood.

—

When China finally calmed down and the boys explained what was going on, they made their way to the dining area. To Hong Kong’s surprise, the table was already set with the silverware and dishes set in place. The others come up politely to welcome their guest.

Despite the evening getting off to a rough start, the dinner itself began smoothly. Iceland’s mouth was already watering as everyone took their seats and gave thanks before digging right in.

If there was anything that at least went well today, it was the pride and presentation of the variety of Asian cuisine right before them, with each dish being of origin from each asian personification. And it made for great discussion too, as Iceland asked what each meal was, the asians took turns in explaining and sampling for him to try it.

What a great way to start off the discussion! That is until- China being a little bit too prideful of his homeland’s cooking- started sampling and piling food onto Iceland’s plate more than the others. Iceland, not wanting to be rude, could not bring himself to decline and he nodded nervously at the pile of food building up in front of him. Already annoyed with China’s meddling, Hong Kong stands up and forces his sensei to sit back down, in which he begrudgingly obliged.

Sensing the awkwardness in the air, Taiwan (once again, being the only one aware of the boys' relationship), started playing wingman and began doing icebreakers with Iceland. The topic started off general at first, but gradually, the conversation shifted in trying to frame Hong Kong the best way possible, much to his embarrassment. However, it only grew worse when Taiwan brought up their childhood together and accidentally slips in a story about her brother being so afraid of the dark that he needed China to sleep with him every night. Hong Kong was about to lose it again when Korea interrupted.

Wanting to join in the conversation, Korea opted in. Thankfully with the addition of Korea, the conversation shifts topics before any more embarrassing stories about Hong Kong could be revealed. Korea begins asking about Iceland’s home country, his culture, and the other Nordics, in which the Icelander happily obliged to answer. Unfortunately though, as Korea and Iceland ease into each other’s presence, his boyfriend found great difficulty to slip his presence back into the conversation.

Taiwan takes notice of this. In another attempt to assist her brother, she intervenes in their conversation, claiming that Korea is being inconsiderate to Hong Kong for barging into the discussion, with a tone that may-or-may-not sound a bit condescending.

Then, one thing happens and leads to another and all of a sudden, fighting ensues at the dinner table. Taiwan and Korea are fiercely throwing insults and shouting over Iceland before China intervenes, yelling at the both of them that they have a guest over and they are embarrassing themselves. Of course, this family has a long history of not taking shit from China and only ignored his intervention. Fortunately, the fighting moved on from the subject of Iceland, but unfortunately, the two started arguing about each other and personal matters that a guest definitely should not hear.

Offended by his disciples’ disregards, China calls out to Japan, who has been silently and anxiously watching the whole thing, to try and stop them. Japan stands from his seat and tries to mediate the two, but Taiwan takes advantage of the situation to claim that Japan sides with her. Mouth agape at offense, Korea takes a handful of food and aims it at Taiwan, in which she dodges and it hits Japan square in the face instead.

The tables ensues into chaos. Taiwan returns Korea’s gesture and soon enough, food is flying across the room as China starts screaming in rage as he witnesses his precious hardwork go to waste. In which both respond back by pelting him with rice and noodles, which only amplifies his shouting. Japan tries to crawl away but Taiwan pulls him to stand up, hands him a bowl, and orders him to start throwing.

For Hong Kong and Iceland, they take cover underneath the table. Hong Kong’s face is red in embarrassment and when he looks over to his boyfriend, his eyes widen at the sight of Iceland’s hair and upper shirt being covered in dumpling bits. He feels like he could bury himself alive underneath that table right then and there.

Suddenly, the front door could be heard opening and closing, followed by multiple footsteps growing near.

“Hey all! Philippines gifted us some pastries from his house! Whose down to try so-”, the voice is instantly silenced as a splatter could be heard.

The boys peer from underneath the table. As it turns out, the voice belonged to Thailand’s and he took a dumpling as well to the face. Macau and Vietnam were behind him in shock as they supported his balance from being smacked in the face.

The room went silent. Thailand was the best buddy anyone could ever have.

Unfortunately, he could be the worst enemy anyone could ever have.

Thailand roars and launches forward fiercely, but Vietnam and Macau struggle to strain him back. The shouting and food fighting resumes.

Hong Kong tugs at Iceland’s shirt and without saying a word, they both quietly sneak away from the kitchen. He takes Iceland’s hand and hurries him upstairs to his room.

And that, brings back to now.

As another shattering of glass could be heard downstairs, Hong Kong bends over and rubs his face, feeling absolutely mortified. He starts thinking of ways to get a new visa when Iceland exits the bathroom, his hair damp and wearing his boyfriend’s shirt. As Iceland sits on the edge of the bed beside him, Hong Kong pretends to keep his cool.

A moment passes, before Iceland places a reassuring hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Hong Kong avoids his gaze.

“You know my brothers are the same as yours, right?”

Hong Kong rolls his eyes. “Do your brothers throw food around as well?”

“Pfft, no… they throw dishes.”

“Even then, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t act like lunatics in front of a guest.”

“Maybe not", begins Iceland. He scoots closer. "But have you ever met Sweden? The guy doesn’t even do anything and you already have people throwing their wallets begging him to not mug them.”

Hong Kong tries to shrug it off, however a chuckle escapes.

Iceland grins. “Don’t get me started on Dan as well. One time, we had a diplomat over at Dan’s house and then a mouse ended up scurrying into the meeting room. The woman was freaking out so he pulled out his fucking battle axe from his display case. You know what happened next? He split it into a bloody half. I’m pretty sure she passed out right there.”

That got to Hong Kong and it sent him into a series of giggling. Iceland gently leans into him.

“And then you have Norge, who we keep telling him to stop talking to his trolls or whatever in front of others. But he keeps forgetting to do so everytime and everyone else stares at him like he is crazy.”

“And then you have Fin! You’d think he would at least be the one to know how to host a guest, but that guy is seriously weird on his own.”

Hong Kong‘s giggling turn into full-hearted laughter as Iceland’s grin grows. He leans into his partner’s side to plant a kiss on his cheek. Hong Kong smiles and returns the gesture by wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s waist and planting a kiss on his shoulder and then placing his chin on top of it.

“Maybe I should come over to meet your family instead.”

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t you like to see how that would turn out?”

Just then, they hear Macau calling their names for them to come back downstairs. The boys turn to look at each other before getting up and making their way back down.

When they returned to the kitchen, it became a palette of wasted food staining the walls and the floor alongside with two broken plates scattered by the table. They are immediately greeted with Taiwan, Korea, China, and Japan (who didn’t even do anything), kneeled over on the ground as Vietnam rants away at a lecture frenzy. To her right, Thailand’s smile has returned, but his eyes glare down at them menacingly as he rubs his cheek with a washcloth. To Vietnam’s left, Macau stands there and is the only normal-looking person in the room. He takes notice of the boys’ arrival and greets them.

Vietnam also takes notice as well.

“ALL FOUR OF YOU, APOLOGIZE THIS INSTANT TO THESE BOYS!!”, she demands to the four. They all lift their heads in the boys' direction. Just as when they open their mouths to apologize, it dawns upon them that Iceland is wearing Hong Kong’s shirt.

An uproar fills the house.

[ghost-proofbaby]

GHOOOOST as much as maroon has taken over every single brain cell of mine, i can’t seem to stop thinking about 24 hours!eddie and reader lately! they still got me on a chokehold!

i was just thinking, like in the long run, were they endgame? i know they’re head over heels for each other but like.....are they in it for the long haul? what would happen if like the topic of getting married or having kids was brought up, how are they both going to react? 👀

i’m not asking or forcing you to write a blurb out of this or anything so please don’t feel pressured, i’m genuinely just curious about their lore!!! 😭 and i also miss them so much lmao might end up re-reading the series again while waiting for the next maroon chapter ❤️❤️❤️

anyway i luv u and i hope you’re having a great day!

wanna know a secret? they definitely still live rent free in my mind as well.

they were definitely end game in the long haul of things. in my mind, it's actually funny, because i've thought about them watching their friends constantly getting into relationships and those relationships constantly ending, and yet they're still there and going strong as ever while everyone is just like "...what the fuck?"

nancy and johnathan would probably end up breaking up in the twenty four hours universe. that's actually canon based on a sequel idea i had. like, we're talking not very long after the events of the main fic. nancy would go to reader and probably rant in the midst of her heartbreak "i just don't get it. i thought me and johnathan - we were gonna make it, you know? i thought we had the perfect relationship. and, no offense, but compared to you and eddie, we did." (which she obviously doesn't mean, but she's just hurt and projecting. we all know nancy was a number one reader x eddie shipper). and reader could grow insecure about it and overthink, but when she ends the day getting to gossip all about it to eddie, he just scoffs and said "excuse me? what the hell does that mean? out of spite, we're definitely gonna end up growing old together. gonna mock them from across the retirement home as i kiss all your wrinkles. that'll show them." and she's just reminded that, oh, yeah. it doesn't matter what other people think. this is her idiot for the long haul. and spoiler: it isn't spite keeping them together. it's the way eddie looks at reader like she painted the night sky just for him. it's the way eddie is the first person reader wants to talk to in nearly every scenario, the way he's the first person her eyes draw to in every room no matter how crowded. they bicker endlessly, they aren't always acting the most lovesick and nauseatingly affectionate with each other in front of others, and there's certainly been plenty of fights where the gang holds their breath for the announcement of a breakup, but they always find a way to make it through. always. they're one of those couples, ya know?

and i could also ramble about the whole marriage/kid discussion, but i actually had a short one shot about it i wanted to write! i think i've avoided posting any of the excess content i had planned for them because i don't want to beat a dead horse, you know? it's been over a year now, and even though i love and adore them, i don't want to seem like i'm milking that universe haha. if that's something y'all would like to see now even though it's been so long, i am finally out of my funk with writing them and could probably post some of those one shots! especially because the way they go about conversations like kids/marriage is so fuckin funny to me.

i luv you even more, and hope you have the most wonderful of days, friend <3 thank you for not letting one, but TWO??? of my stories take up residency in your thoughts. it means the world to me and i'm giving you all the hugs and forehead kisses <3

[daemour]

Pairing: Hongjoong x gn!Reader (but not really romantic lol)

Genre: Fluff, non-idol au

Word Count: 745

Warnings: None

Summary: A late night photo inspiration leads to something more.

an a new, long awaited tipsy drabbles!! this is actually my second draft because the fist one would have been far too long and not taken me 2.5 hours lmao

optional pt 2

-

It’s not recommended to walk in Manhattan at night. But when have you ever had safe, good ideas? As a self-proclaimed photographer, some things you must sacrifice for the perfect shot, and safety is one of them. (And not following that advice is also something you should ponder.)

The city's lights were just so brilliant tonight,and paired with the strawberry supermoon, you couldn’t help yourself.

You find yourself in a park, getting a gorgeous shot when a voice interrupts your artistic journey. “I guess we’re after the same thing, huh?”

You spin around, and a young man with grey hair smiles at you. He’s skinny and petite, and yet his smile draws you in and gives you a sense of fire in his heart. It’s only after a moment do you notice the Fujifilm in his hands.

“Maybe we are,” you offer him a small smile, clearly hoping he would leave you and your socially awkward ass alone, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint.

He nods at the camera clutched in your hands. “Mind if I take a look?”

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. You’ve never really shown your work to others outside of your family and friends—you aren’t truly a professional, not like he seems to be.

As if sensing your hesitation, the man whose name you still haen’t got smiles reassuringly. “No pressure of course. Sometimes it really can feel like bearing your soul to someone.”

The complete and utter understanding in his voice does the exact opposite of what it was meant to accomplish, and you get a bust of confidence. “Here,” you say, offering out your old and worn camera. The stranger is surprised but takes it with a warm smile and a small ‘thank you,’ suddenly seeming less intimidating and more…human.

There is a moment of silence as he clicks through some of your pictures. “These are really good,” he says, looking up at you and you avoid eye contact, instead focusing on the streetlamp over his head. “You’re very talented and have an eye for composition.”

“Ah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t draw inspirationg from my–” you start to mutter, but he holds up a hand to stop you in the middle of your sentence.

When he finally is able to meet your eyes, it feels like you’re rooted to the ground and yet sinking into his gaze at the same time. “Don’t say that,” he says quietly but with such intensity that you wince. “Although it’s often said that the best art comes from one’s experiences, that’s not always the case. Even the most casual pieces hold just as much integrity as the more soulful ones. It’s clear you did your best, and that’s what matters.”

There is so much sincerity in his voice that you can’t help but look away. It’s not often you get a thought-out opinion on your work, and hearing it come from a stranger just makes those words mean even more.

“Thank you.” You almost whisper your words of gratitude but the man takes no offence, instead returning your camera with a smile. When you put it back into its bag and sling the strap around your shoulder, he raises an eyebrow.

“Done then?” You nod, and he fumbles in his pocket before pulling out a business card and handing it to you. “I know it may seem like a scam, so feel free to ignore it if you want, but I actually run a studio and I would love for you to come in and chat more. Have a good night.”

And just like that, he walks away and is gone before you can even blink. It’s too dark to look at the card, even under the flickering streetlamp, so you put it in your pocket and it weighs heavily until you reach your modest apartment.

It’s only then you pull it out and look at the name on the sleek, silver card. Kim Hongjoong. A quick google search later and you almost drop the card to the floor. You just had a three am conversation with a world-renowned photographer.

Almost a week passes before you have the courage to dial the number and it rings for such a long time that you think he may have forgotten when a click is finally heard. “H-hello?” you practically whisper out and there is such a long silence that you think he’s hung up when–

“City girl.”

[bougainvilea]

stupid, belated, easy

january @jilychallenge2023 @jilychallenge

partner: @sosohh / prompt: first date - “I want you so bad it hurts” / “Promise you’ll see me again?”

a/n: i am so sorry this is late it took me forever because i just had no time in jan!!!!! but it's here and i'm pretty proud of it hehe <3 btw i couldn't fit "i want you so bad it hurts" in but just know lily is feeling it the whole time lmao. enjoy!

on ao3

Their first date feels stupid.   The flirting, according to Sirius, has become unbearable. Remus is subtler than that, but makes a dry comment about how they hadn’t been seen together in 24 hours (oh, the horror!). Mary makes a couple of puns and James gets the hints but is too uncertain to make the first move.

That’s how Lily ends up asking him to Hogsmeade and everyone breathes a sigh of relief.   It’s awkward but silly and they laugh far too shyly for two people who have been inseparable for months. Lily’s fingers are restless, drawing shapes and tapping against the table, and James’ hair probably won’t calm down for a week, but they’re here, sitting across from each other in the three broomsticks and there is a lull in conversation. James can’t stop tracing her freckles with his eyes and Lily keeps apologising for bumping his feet with hers.   At some point, they hear a song over the radio. It’s by The Weeping Bowtruckles and they had been snickering about it in class just last week. Lily winces and James comments on how the singer ‘really hit that note’ (dry, sardonic, not at all his old self, simply more evidence of Lily’s dry wit rubbing off on him) and she snorts, and suddenly they’re back in the rhythm of things, their conversation coming easily and their bodies moving closer together.   They leave the bar and walk around in the cold, her arm linked in his and his smile warming her from core to chest, and she finds herself flirting consciously. They have, of course, been flirting for months (Sirius was not wrong – it’s scary how well that boy understands her now) but it is new, and bold, in this context. Her free hand is slapping and resting and fiddling with his bicep, and the stars in his eyes are dancing (she knows he likes it).   There’s a moment – where she rests her hands on his arm just a little too long, their eyes meet, and the smiles slip a little to reveal what’s beneath it all. She bites her lip, and he turns to face her, his hand resting on her hip.   “Can I… can I kiss y-” his question is answered with her lips on his, firm and real and oh god this is our first kiss sirens going through her mind as she holds the back of his neck, playing with the hair there with her hand. He responds, but with a sweetness she wasn’t expecting, and she lets up her intention for a passionate snog in favour of his gentle hands on her face as her heart throbs with affection.   They part and he breathes deeply, a small smile on his face. This is a new smile, not one of the usual rotation. It is gentle, it is happy, and it’s charming, but the real kicker is that she can see that it’s not for anyone else. This boy in front of her, this beautiful boy whose heart is so pure, who makes her laugh and think, who always has a smile on his face, has a smile just for her.   “What are you thinking?” she asks, kissing his cheek gently. The smile grows a little, turning almost into her beloved crooked grin, and he strokes her cheek gently, moving his hand back to her waist.   “Promise that won’t be our only one of those,” he quips, but she can tell he means it in that existential, please let us last, kind of way. James is like that – he commits to people, choosing them for his life. It might scare her one day, but now it’s making her heart triple in size. She chooses to answer with another kiss, bringing his head down to hers for a kiss, this time pouring all the sweetness in her heart into it. He smiles against her, and they are lost in the moment.   “You cheeseball,” she murmurs against his lips, and he laughs once before they’re kissing again. They part and smile at each other. His hand plays with a strand of her hair and her eyes are tracing over his face, her hands smoothing over the hair at the back of his neck. He takes her hand and she smiles, and the rest of the afternoon is spent laughing and kissing. Tomorrow they’ll laugh about how stupid it was that they took so long, but today is so earnest that they can’t look away from each other.