#I’m soggy rn

[faceyourphobia]

How I feel rn

[theloveinc]

I have something mean to say …………………….

[garoujo]

hai emmie! dunno if ur gonna watch the new tokrev movie but i saw the live actor for shin the other day and THE CASTING IS SPOT ON??? hes so handsome i squealed!! (≧◡≦) ♡ - 🥀

omigosh waaaat!!! i have seen a few clips of it on tiktok but i’ve not seen shin’s actor so i’m totes gonna research ໒(ྀི ˊσ̴̶̷̤ 𖥦 σ̴̶̷̤ˋ )ྀིა bonten timeline hanma looks soooo sexy tho from a pic i seen! i wanna see shin eeeeeee i still can’t believe he gets no bitches <333

[overwhelmed-frog]

life really knows how to come in when you’re already at your lowest and flood your entire bathroom, closet, and storage area, huh?

[pigeonperch]

Does anyone know if that weird cheez-it thing at taco bell is any good

[asakamasanobu]

i got it …… couldn’t find vol 19 so i might have to pop by another animate another day but it’s my first time ever buying emerald in the stores itself and reading it in one go and i really am going to cry myself to sleep right now oh my god i love you forever ritsu ………..

[ookaookaooka]

does anybody have any tips on how to get potted plant soil to drain better? i keep killing my salal cuttings with too much water :(

[blorbofrommyshows]

god I wish there was someone arnd to bring me hot milk and cookies

[rowanhoney]

Mixed Day hmmm

[inga-don-studio]

The desire to go hiking is always strongest when it’s the absolute worst time to go hiking

[dathen]

I’m reading The Grapes of Wrath rn and amidst all the pain of the sharecroppers being driven away was the all-important line of “it doesn’t matter what the bank says, this land is ours. Grandpa killed Indians for it” and that just. That context can’t be left behind.

All the grief and mourning over how will they live not knowing the willow tree is outside? How can they know who they are without the stories embedded into every rock and blade of grass around them, how can they leave a soul-deep connection like that behind to be torn up by tractors?

It’s what they already inflicted on others. That connection they despair of anyone else understanding is the heart and soul of the people and culture they took pride in driving away and trying to destroy.

They claim their massacre as a reason they deserve to stay on the land. They don’t understand that they inflicted this on someone else and never looked back, and then the same behemoth of american imperialism and capitalism tramples them underfoot next, just next in line. They thought they’d be safe because they’re american and white but they’re just more fodder for the beast.

We could have saved you, but you cut us down, and soon you will be cut down and there’ll be none of us to save you.

They say this to those they leave behind, but never listened when it was said to them. And here we are in a future where we need those who have been cut down more than ever, but their blood is on our hands, and we yell “save us! the world is dying!”

Idk I’m not saying anything new but it’s just. This book is such a cornerstone of American socialism and understanding of class conflict, but it doesn’t start there.

Me reading literally any book* that takes place on planet earth: I have so many thoughts about this alongside Braiding Sweetgrass—

*also video games bc was feeling this DEEPLY for Pentiment (and a bit for Stardew Valley)

[leighsartworks216]

Yes This Fear's Got A Hold On Me

Zayne x gn!Reader

Literally drabbled this out earlier while cooking dinner bc it hit me so hard. I think I'm just in the mood for putting Zayne through angst rn

Title from "Death" by White Lies

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fear of death, overthinking, domestic moments, established relationship, rain/storms, recklessness, self-sacrificing behavior, cooking/food

Word Count: 1,767

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“I can’t answer the phone right now, I’m too busy kicking Wanderer butt! Leave a message and-”

Zayne sighs and hits the end call button again. Every call goes straight to voicemail. He can’t help but be worried.

The rain is coming down in torrents outside. It hits the windows like angry fists. The wind howls like wolves in the night. The streets are flooded, but even if they weren’t you took your bike into work today and all public transport is closed. He called your coworkers earlier, just on the off chance you actually listened to the shelter in place warnings, but they said you’d left an hour ago.

His pacing is going to eat through to the apartment below if you don’t turn up soon. He tries calling one last time. Not two words into the automated message, he’s ending the call and shoving his phone in his pocket.

He shrugs on his coat, prepared to make the last ditch effort of going out there to find you himself when there’s a knock on the door. One sleeve hangs half off his shoulder as he swings it open. His heart is caught in his throat.

You force a smile through chattering teeth. A puddle forms under your feet on the welcome mat, with smaller puddles trailing down the hall from the elevator. “My hands are too pruny,” you manage, gesturing with a nod at the door handle and its biometric lock.

He doesn’t quite register your words, pulling you inside hurriedly. Your shoulders are soaked with water where he touches them. Your whole body is soaked with water. He helps you take off your coat. It drops to the floor in a wet heap to be dealt with later. “Did you walk all the way here?” he asks. He already knows the answer.

You nod. You tuck your hands in your armpits, desperate to contain what little warmth you have left as he helps tug off your shoes. Your socks are soggy and uncomfortable. A forceful chill wracks your entire body, before settling back into the consistent, exhausting chills they were before. “I was gonna call, but my phone died.”

Well, that explains his last 20 minutes of frustration. “I’ll scold you after you get warmed up.”

“‘Preciate it.”

He shakes his head as he takes his coat off to wrap it around your shoulders. It’s ever so slightly warm from the short amount of time he had it on, enough to provide a smidge of relief.

Your steps slap against the hardwood as you’re led across the floor he was pacing only minutes ago. He leads you straight to the bathroom and abandons you by the sink to start running the water for a shower. You whine at the sight of even more water.

“Aren’t I wet enough?” You know it’s for the best, but you feel oddly reminiscent of a cat being forced to take a bath.

Zayne doesn’t dignify your complaint with more than a stern look. As the water runs, steam starting to billow up overtop the glass doors, he returns to you and steals the dry outer layer you’d only just gotten. You whine again, unbidden. He has the decency to look a little sorry as he continues to strip you down. “You’ll be warm soon. While you heat up, I’ll make you dinner.”

You shiver. Goosebumps raise up all over your body, exposed to the unforgiving air. You rub your arms. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s for my own sanity, if you must know.”

On any normal day, Zayne’s hands usually ran pretty cold. You liked to joke that it was because he’s a doctor, and all doctors seem to have cold hands all the time. Right now, they feel so warm against your skin as he helps you into the shower, under the blessedly hot water. He doesn’t pay attention to the water that gets on his sleeves as you cling to him. You think you see a hint of a smile before you close your eyes and put your face right under the spray, shuddering with the temperature shock.

“Take your time. I’ll leave some clothes out for you.” He shuts the glass door and gets to work gathering the soaking wet clothes left behind. If you didn’t get sick after this, he’d have to write it up in a medical journal as an unexplained phenomena.

“Thank you~” you call out.

He shakes his head, though you can’t see it. You really drive him up the wall, sometimes. Walking for an hour through a monsoon for no justifiable reason is up there in the most stress-inducing things you’ve done on the ever-growing list he has. And yet, here you are, thanking him as he takes care of you, fighting against the possibility of a cold that hangs overhead like an undeniable certainty. God, he loves you so.

He closes the bathroom door behind him and beelines for the laundry room. All your clothes go into the wash. Your coat gets hung up to air dry. He stuffs your shoes with newspaper to draw the water out. Then, to the bedroom, where he pulls out some fresh, dry clothes for you to change into. He sets them on the bathroom counter, listening as you quietly hum to yourself. At last, he gets to work preparing your favorite hot drink as he works on making a batch of soup.

All the while, his body readjusts to the fact that you’re okay. He hones in on your humming while he chops up vegetables, willing himself to relax and release all the thoughts that had plagued him before - terrible images, all made worse with his own medical knowledge putting names to all the conditions and effects that could have destroyed you. The rain knocks on the kitchen window as a cruel reminder of what could have been.

But none of it happened. You’re here. You’re only a couple rooms over, taking a shower. You’re here. You’re going to drink from your special mug and sigh with the first bite of your soup. You’re here. You’re going to be safe in his arms tonight, fast asleep, not face-down under the harsh flood-

The image of your bloated body, drowned and lifeless, jolts through his system like an ice bath.

You’re here. You’re here. You’re here.

He stirs the soup around the pot.

The water of the shower shuts off when it’s just about done. He pulls down two bowls from the overhead cabinet and ladels some into both. Though he doesn’t really have an appetite, he knows he should eat something. Maybe the normalcy of a quiet night in will bring it back. For now, he puts more of the savory concoction in your bowl than in his.

Your socked feet don’t make much sound as you shuffle through the apartment to the kitchen. The sleeves of one of his many cardigans is bunched up at your elbows, as they’re far too long on you otherwise. The sight of you in his clothes - something he didn’t lay out for you to change into, nonetheless - only makes the fear in his chest ache even more.

You smile at him, apologetic and grateful all at once. “I’m ready for your lecture now,” you say. He can see the way you seem to brace for it. The way you avoid looking him directly in the eye, like a child who knows they’ve done something bad and is about to be grounded for it. The way you pick at the threads of the cardigan, restless and anxious. The way your shoulders bunch up toward your ears without you even realizing, preparing for the blow of his scolding.

It’s all too much.

You look up at him with wide-eyed confusion as he crosses the short distance between you and wraps you up in a tight hug. His face is pressed securely into the crook of your neck. His hands rest on your back, drawing you close to his body. The warm air of his sigh graces your skin when you hug him back.

“Zayne?” You gently pet his hair. He doesn’t let you pull back to see his face.

In all your time with him, he’s never hugged you like this before. You can feel the way his fingers curl around the knit of his cardigan, the slight shudder in his breath, the tension in his muscles.

“Please,” he whispers - begs, “don’t do that again.”

Slowly, as the realization begins to sink in, you squeeze him tighter.

It’s easy to throw yourself into danger - you do it every single day at work. If you get hurt, you’re saving someone else the pain. If you get a scratch, a civilian doesn’t. If you break a leg, someone else gets the chance to run away. It’s a commendable trait for a Hunter.

You didn’t realize how painful that would be for someone else.

“I thought… I thought getting back home would… I didn’t want you to be alone.” The explanations all feel hollow, for how true they are.

“What if you didn’t make it?” he questions. His voice is tight with emotion. It’s locked away under a layer of severity. “Nobody had any idea where you were. All I knew was that you weren’t at work. If the storm overpowered you, we wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know.” He holds you tighter. “I’d rather spend one night alone than the rest of my nights alone. Do you understand?”

You nod immediately. “I’m sorry.”

He exhales shakily. “Please, think of your own safety first. Just once.” His fingers slowly release their hold on you. His shoulders fall as he reluctantly lets you go. His eyes stare into yours like a turbulent forest, trees kicked all around by hurricane winds. “Are you still cold?” he changes the subject. You let him.

“A little.”

He takes your hand and leads you to the counter with the bowls of soup and your favorite mug. “We can eat this on the couch. By sitting together, we can conserve our warmth.”

You tug on his shoulder lightly. He leans down without restraint, watching you. You kiss his cheek. “I love you,” you remind him, feeling as though you need to after the hell you must have put him through.

He closes his eyes for a second, taking in those wonderful words. When he opens them again, the hurricane has been reduced to nothing more than a light breeze. He looks at you with all the love of winter giving way to spring. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[z0mb1epuzzy]

hello world i have returned to say that i need to fuck on his big ass nose asap.

literally dropped everything to share this with the world rn. hair is wet. my shower is stained with hair dye. i am soggy on my bedroom floor writing this for y’all 🫵😜

afab reader post i am sorry for the exclusion of my amab babythings i need to talk about fuckin on this man’s snozzle RN. no specific pronouns r used though!!!

kay visualize with me babes.. head from chris would go fucking crazy and i cannot be convinced otherwise. yes he’s a little clumsy and inexperienced but follow me… f follow me…

sitting on his face…him eating you out while you’re laying down… either way imagine that big ahh nose bumping up on ur clit sorry… he doesn’t even put 2 and 2 together at first, like he needs to know what just made you moan like that bc he NEEDS to hear it again. as previously mentioned, he’s a lil clumsy with it, so that nose will be bumping up against you and making your head SPIN… his big ass hands squishing your thighs too OH MY FICKING GOD..

sorey if this is short and lowk ass but i’m a lil rusty with writing.. my proper return is coming and it will go cray.

[wherenymphsroam]

52 :3

And can I also kiss you?? 😭

52: “Can I kiss you?”

prompt game :^)

⟡ cw: mentions of withdrawals, struggles with alcoholism, depression, specifically soggy wet cat vendetta leon but can be read with damnation leon in mind :3

⟡ a/n: YES we are smooching, i am kissin u on the mouf rn 🤍

“Can I kiss you?”

What the hell was he saying.

One minute, he’s trembling over a plate of eggs and pancakes back at the hotel, and now he’s barely holding himself back from slumping against your shoulder like an old dog. You had insisted on dragging his miserable ass out of there, told him to get his shit together. That you were going for a ride, and he should hang on.

(Of course he was too stubborn to let you drive, no matter the fact that he had already put down half a bottle this morning.)

So despite his better judgement, he allowed you pull him away from those four walls that were his hotel room, all under the promise that it’d still be there when he got back.

Sure, he didn’t want to leave. If his hangover had anything to say about it, he’d be tucked back under the covers of that shitty, scratchy duvet in the fetal position. His head was pounding. But sat here on this stoop tucked away into the mountains, overlooking the small town he had sought out to lick his wounds within, the cool breeze sweeps away some of the tension in his facial features. The fresh air has coaxed that stress out of his shoulders, loosened him up in a way alcohol hadn’t managed to in years.

But maybe it was you.

You, tucked against his side, thumbing slow circles into the back of his palm. The scent of your shampoo drifting through the breeze that passes his nose that has his heart rate slowing. Honestly, he didn’t want to pull this apart. Whether it was the fresh air or you by his side that had him relaxing for the first time in months (years?), it didn’t matter. Because he asked a stupid question, and he doesn’t really feel like taking it back.

“Leon, you’re drunk,” you scoff, shaking your head. As if kissing your superior was such a far fetched idea. Or maybe you just didn’t want to kiss him. He couldn’t blame you, he’s not sure he even bothered to pack a toothbrush when he sought out a direct flight to Colorado.

“I’m the most sober I’ve been in weeks, right now.”

In his defense, he was telling the truth. After arriving at that run down mug, he had made it his mission to slug back as much as he could before he had to leave. Because he knew this was coming — whether in the form of a text message detailing his next deployment, or with the arrival of military personnel — and he had stuck it to himself to ignore it for as long as possible. Started digging that hole of sweet silence into his subconscious the second he got his room key.

And yet…. Here he was. Sobered up and wanting. Forced to face the sad reality that he was lonely, damn it.

Alright, universe, you win. He’ll admit it. Why else would you be playing with his head like this? Those eyes, deep as the ocean, bright as the stars. Pretty lips that fill out so delicately, cheeks that look softer than anything he’s felt in months. You were the embodiment of something a man like him didn’t deserve, and no withdrawal could create the guttural rawness of the wound this reality inflicted on him.

You weren’t a daydream, and you weren’t an illusion. You were tangible, distantly so. And after having been dragged back down to earth, he needed something stronger than what was in his flask.

Chancing a glance over at him, it’s clear you’re debating with yourself. Your teeth tucking that sweet bottom lip under them, plush in how it swells ever so slightly under the pressure. Lashes fluttering when you search his features. He was definitely in better shape than you had found him this morning, silverware clinking and wobbling in his unsteady grip.

The sight almost made you want to slip them from his hands, cut his food up for him like a doting mother. Maybe guide a few bites past his lips like some guilt ridden caregiver, anything to bring some color back to his cheeks.

But you’d never say that out loud.

“… I believe you,” you hum, gaze shifting back up from the dip of his cupids bow. A shitty cover to ignore how you had just wondered how that scruff over it would feel against your mouth. “Just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” He dryly laughs, short and null of any real humor. “Just like how joining this god forsaken organization wasn’t either, right?”

Silence. Thick, drawn out.

Few people knew just how Leon ended up in the DSO, landed himself in such a comfortable place with the higher ups. And fewer knew why he stayed. It’s hard to really respond to that when you’re not part of that statistic.

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself muttering softly, turning away again. Shifting your focus back out to gaze over the town below, the traffic flow of patrons returning home, shops turning off lights.

“Don’t be. I’m being a dick right now.”

Leon forgot how snippy he could be during withdrawals nowadays. Made him feel like an overgrown baby, still stuck in his oral phase. That flask in his pocket might as well have become a pacifier, anything to keep him from spinning off the handle.

“You’re acting like one, yeah. Doesn’t make you one.”

Pausing, Leon glances at you, follows the line of your side profile for a moment. Studies the line of your nose, the slope of your top lip. Down and over the jut of your chin, the retreat of your jaw. He wanted to follow that track with the bridge of his nose, maybe press his lips to the hollow of your throat.

Fuck. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as sober as he thought.

Clearing his throat, he shakes his head, glances out in the general direction you’re looking in. Can’t help how he finds similarities between the slopes of the mountains and your face.

“I’m glad you think so.”

[silly-lil-scribbles]

Introduction post!!

FREEEEEEE YEEHAW

status: LISTENING 2 FALL OUT BOY WOOOOOO ‼️‼️‼️‼️💥💥‼️💥‼️

lyrics that fit the current vibe: got postcards from my former selves sayin how you been?

current chance of a response if you dm me*: 90%

* does not apply to mousie cuz its my emotional support friend

- My name is Finn! You can also call me scribbles, soup, or really any dumb nickname will do. it/he <3

woah look at that.. its me.. on another website!! slight flash warning for spacehey btw ^^

if you havent read this in a while, i would suggest reading again cuz i update it a lot <3

- faggy but in the most aroace way possible

- as far as gender, boy-ish

- I MADE A JAIL ACCOUNT SO IF IM JAILED I MIGHT BE OVER THERE ‼️ @soup-has-been-imprisoned-noooooo

- I POST ABOUT BUGS A LOT! if you dont wanna see that …. sorry? i always tag if op didnt but just proceed with caution yk

- i post about the magnus archives/protocol and my chem frequently, though I also just reblog a ton of random shit. may be nsfw. Also I forget to tag for spoilers a lot so just know that there are magpod spoilers in general on my blog.

- music artists I like: mcr, arma angelus, fob, lemon demon, will wood, dazey and the scouts, cavetown, mother mother, nova twins, that handsome devil, noahfinnce, qbomb, gum disease, sparkbird, mischief brew, poppy, be your own pet, pierce the veil, specimen, faetooth, the mechs, rabbitology, scene queen, she/her/hers, femtanyl, leathermouth, baby queen, pansy division, the spook school, the crane wives, the used, and slutever

overall i really enjoy a lot of punk and emo and dark cabaret

- Shows/Podcasts/Other Media i enjoy! DANGER DAYSS, Malevolent, The Magnus Archives, Stranger Things, Welcome to Nightvale (though I haven’t finished it yet), the Osemanverse, Nimona, Adventure Time, Gravity Falls, ATLA, LOK, It, Hilda, Camp Here and There, Radio Rental, warrior cats, the silt verses, dead end: paranormal park, the saw franchise, the thankskilling franchise, invader zim (just now getting into it im only on s1 rn), arcane, happy tree friends, also im a big fan of horror movies so id love suggestions

- my blog is super messy so all of my art is under the tag #scribbles draws a thing and my original text posts (not the short personal ones typically, just the one i actually want people to see) are under #scribbles says shit.

- my body hates me very much (in other words im physically disabled)

- surprise, my brain also hates me very much! And yes this is also undiagnosed!

- tone tags are appreciated <3

- i post a lot! if you left an anon ask please check my #scribbles asks tag if you cant find it, sorry ‘bout that

boundaries n stuff:

- not ok with sexual or romantic comments

- platonic flirting is ok if we’re moots

- feelings on sex fluctuate a lot but im usually pretty indifferent, same for romance but usually averse

continued:

- i have a tmagp fic i just starting writing! If you wanna know more, posts related to that are under #electric desires have unraveled all my wires :(

- I have 4 cats and a dog, also a gecko

- i have a queerplatonic partner!! hes awesome and swaggy and writes so much. so. much writing. wow. not saying wow in a bad way im just genuinely impressed. chou if ur reading this i love you <3

- SURPRISE i have another queerplatonic partner too!!!! its super fun and cool and pathetic /vpos. my favorite excitable soggy cardboard box ilysm <3 (if ur a regular around here im sure ur familiar lol)

- i love them both so much holy shit guys aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

- coyotekin therian !!

- i love bugs!!!!!!!!!!! please show me bugs!!!!!!!!!!!!

- My favorite colors are hot pink, cyan, neon green, and red

- I love interacting with mutuals and getting asks! plspls send me random shit in asks im begging

- I’m creating a cartoon called Catlantis (still in progress)

- I have a love hate relationship with writing but i do it anyways so oh well

- Frogs.

other tags i use a lot are:

#soup poorly draws gay people out of obligation; my series of promised dyhard drawings.

#soup gets pathetic about friendship; me when im a sappy bitch about my friends or partners

#objectives list; save file for when i say im gonna do something so i dont forget about it

#catlantis save; hoarding info for catlantis

#insomnia induced rambles; i cant sleep and im making it your problem

#our lady of sorrows; not the song, my mcr inspired goddess i made up for my dnd character to worship

#scribbles asks; asks

#info save; good to know

#scribbles liveblogging tmagp; exactly what it sounds like

#art save; resources for doing art

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[pisswitch04]

I don’t have pull-ups rn but like, someone giving me a diaper check in the morning and can um, I’m a little bit soggy and they use this to justify forcing me into pull-ups for the day since I can’t seem to make it to the potty 😣

And then checking my overflowing pull-ups to find I really am a little potty pants 💛