#a little whimsy goes a long way.

[jojo-schmo]

For a while I’ve thought about having a Kirbysona, personally deciding between NESP and Poppy Bro, but I wanted to ask you something

Is it normal to have multiple sonas for a particular fandom?

Lemme ask, What is "normal?" A set of standards made by someone else?

I wonder how many people here were online during like the late 2000s, early 2010s- when I remember seeing "Mary Sue" discourse happening a lot in the Kirby fandom. It was so mean-spirited for no reason. There was a lot of pointing and laughing and gossiping about characters that didn't "conform to a certain standard of canon." What really was the harm of appropriately shipping OCs and canon? Giving them tons of cool powers or being best friends with their favorite characters and saving the universe a bunch? The existence of someone else's story and characters doesn't erase or overwrite anyone else's!

I'm really happy to see that negative attitude has faded over time and there are more positive celebrations of people's characters, like the OC Tournament or Artfight! :)

Anyway, sonas represent YOU! If you feel like an NESP one day, and a Poppy Bro another, I say be BOTH! Be a shapeshifter! Or just have multiple forms! That doesn't need to be logically justified! We are fluid beings, and allowed to change and feel differently as time passes! Don't make chains for yourself by conforming to what is "normal!" Break free! Keep your sense of whimsy! Especially in a universe like Kirby where basically anything is possible! The only rule is that there are no rules!! When it comes to your art and writing, you are your own boss! >:D

Also, I don't think I've seen Poppy Bros or NESP sonas yet. That sounds super duper fun and creative!! Everyone's Kirbysonas can hang out in Dreamland and eat fresh apples and take naps under trees and enjoy each other's company over a picnic. <3

[imwritesometimes]

currently wrestling with 'this looks too childish, having all these little hello kitty figurines all over my pc case and putting any more stuff in my car would be tasteless' and 'WHIMSY BITCH! WHIMSY! IT'S STILL ALL SMALL! IT'S CUTE! WHIMSY!'

[windor-truffle]

"Yup, I'm right here! See, you can touch me and everything!"

--

Richard and Pascal friendship is something I didn't know I needed to write

[stompandhollar]

Honestly the most revolutionary thing about Gravity Falls to me is its commitment to sincerity.

I’ve been listening to Alex’s podcast where he goes into the details of each episode with different storyboard artists and writers who worked on the show, and it just baffles me how… cared for the story is. Right now in media there’s been an uptick in satire, and shows making fun of themselves for existing, or taking the piss at their own content to “win” fans to their side. It’s like whimsy is gone from so many pieces of media. But Gravity Falls just doesn’t… do that. It completely embraces itself. Weirdness and all. And so does the team behind it. I’m not used to something I care about being so cared about by everyone surrounding it.

Here’s this cartoon, written and illustrated by an entire team of people saying, “no, we’re serious. we mean this. we made this on purpose and we made it important.”

Throughout the podcast, Alex discusses little ins and outs of each character, offering so much deep internal struggles and enriching the story even farther. And listening to him unpack it with the utmost sincerity just warms my heart. Each character is so dynamic because they were cared for by people who imbued them with sincerity.

That’s exactly why we get quotes like “Shame is powerful, but it grows in the dark,” as Ford realizes the trauma he’s hidden for so long is being embraced by his family, diminishing it’s weight on him through their immediate support.

It’s why we get Alex describing Stanley with quotes like; “I always in my gut thought of him as somebody with a huge well of sadness, a loss of human connection. And that need to please? That need to get laughs from the crowd, and putting on a big show? He’s trying to get from them the affection he never got from his family, and that he lost with his brother.”

Or detailing how Mabel might be a goof… but half the time she’s doing a bit, because she’s really more mature than her brother and doesn’t want him to grow up too fast. She’s trying to help ground him and bring lightheartedness into his life. Because she knows otherwise, he’ll become too self isolated.

And those two mini character studies he dropped so casually in these podcast episodes just… color the show. It’s why the show survived so well even after ten years. It’s gruff-old Stan always calling his niece “Pumpkin” and “Honey”. It’s the family always holding hands without it behind laced with a joke, and falling asleep on one another in the car. It’s Alex explaining that people toyed with other endings, other plot lines, other twists, but it was always going to end with Stan and Ford mending the family tie they severed thirty years ago. Because that was their story. Messes and family and care.

Ten years ago, watching it for the first time as it came out, I felt all that. But now, as an adult, knowing that all the other adults who made it felt the exact same way? :,) What a special story we all got to grow up with, and get to continue being apart of.

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x reader x wade wilson

rating: E, minors dni, 18+ (mmf threesome; resolved sexual tension; sex pollen; unprotected p in v sex; oral [f receiving]; double penetration)

words: 6.7k

summary: you, logan and wade are on a stakeout after reports of a new drug which only affects mutants. but what happens when you accidentally get a hit of it yourselves…? (the sex pollen fic from the poll! thank you @eupheme for betaing for me, i owe you my life!)

“I spy with my little eye…”

“Wade, I swear to god…” Logan’s voice is a low rumble, a warning.

“Awww c’mon, peanut! What else do we have to do? Indulge me in my childlike whimsy.”

“Let me guess,” you say, shelling a pistachio before throwing it in the air to catch it on your waiting tongue, “you spy something beginning with R-D, which is the rising damp, which is the fourth goddamn time you spied it because there’s nothing else in this fucking place.”

Wade huffs and throws himself back in his chair. 

“Killjoy,” he mutters, and goes back to carving obscene doodles into the side table with baby knife. 

On the first day you were happy to play along, just to ease the boredom and tension which came hand-in-hand with this arrangement. Now it’s been five of them, stacking on top of each other and getting claustrophobic-heavy, the three of you crowded into each other’s space and on the razor’s edge.

Something is going to break, and you’re worried it’ll be Wade’s nose under Logan’s fist.

What a stupid fucking mission. You should never have said yes.

Ever since the whole Void situation was resolved you, Logan and Wade have been X-Men adjacent. Not part of the group exactly but happy to play along if needed. This most recent assignment had been a request from Piotr - there was something going on downtown to do with trafficking drugs which affected mutants, and someone needed to keep an eye on it. Couldn’t be anyone from the mansion, they’re all hands on deck at the moment keeping an influx of kids in check. But the three of you? With no jobs between you and an urge to do good?

It was a problem with an obvious solution.

It’s a stakeout. Which means sitting and waiting and holy fuck is it boring. 

You can tell something is going on in the alley across the street but you’ve had strict instructions not to take action until you see the guy in charge: thickset man with a penchant for misdeeds and built like a brick shithouse. Once you have proof he’s involved, you’ll get the go-ahead to close in and shut the place down in whatever manner you see fit.

But until he comes in, your little trio has no choice but to stay put, watching petty criminals come and go with no idea they’re being monitored.

Life has revolved around watches from the dingy window. Usually two of you will stay up while one of you tries to get some sleep on one of the uncomfortable twin beds that have been provided, but it isn’t easy to drift off when it feels like the mattresses are made of cinder blocks stuffed with broken glass. It isn’t that you’re unused to being in each others’ spaces - if you’re not at their apartment they’re at yours, after all, you are friends - but this is different. You have the luxury of walking away from each other in normal day-to-day life when things gets too much. Here? Here, you’re stuck until you’re done with the job. You’re all tired, irritated, and desperate for entertainment. You’ve even considered chopping off your own hand to watch it grow back, just for something to do.

And the thing is that’s not the worst of it. Ever since the three of you returned from the Void there’s been something there. Something difficult to pin down, exactly.  A niggling little feeling worming its way through your body. Something which thrums every time Wade flexes the muscles in his hand and you see his long, strong fingers; every time Logan grits his jaw and the tendons in his neck throb. 

Oh, right. You sort of really want to fuck them both.

You don’t go through something that traumatic and not have deep-rooted feelings which surpass normal boundaries. You fought for each others’ lives. You’re bonded in a way people rarely are. And the more time you spend with them the blurrier the lines between platonic and fucking soulmate become. You’ve seen both of them stare at you - and each other - when they think you’re not looking, so you’re sure this isn’t something that only you are harbouring. It’s a secret desire harboured by all three of you.

Like you said, something is gonna break. And in this shitty little surveillance room? It’s gonna break soon.

A movement outside. The three of you sit forward to take a look at the evening’s street view, only to fall back into your chairs as it turns out to be a false alarm. Just a pedestrian walking by. You’re going to go insane.

You drum your fingers on your thighs just to keep them busy, then turn to Logan. 

“You got a smoke?”

He cocks a brow at you.

“You want a cigar?”

“Nothing else to fucking do.”

“Whoa, hey!” says Wade, putting his hand on Logan’s arm as he roots around in his jacket pocket, “No no no, you quit last year! Don’t start up bad habits again unless I’m the one convincing you to, pookie.”

“Wade, c’mon. I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t have something to do,” you groan. Plus, really, you’d kinda like something to suck on, just to relieve some of the ache in your belly.

As if Wade can hear your thoughts he pipes up again.

“Well if you’re that desperate to use your mouth, I know what we could play to pass the time…”

You and Logan groan in unison, and he balls his fist in a way which suggests it’s not long until the claws come out. Wade holds up his hands to signify peace.

“Whoa, chill out, honeybadger. No need to get scratchy. You don’t have to join in if you don’t want to… but it’s more fun the more people there are.”

Accepting there’s nothing else to pass the time, Logan lets out a long, exhausted sigh and lets Wade continue.

The mercenary licks his lips as if, for once, considering his phrasing. Then blurts out what he wanted to say anyway.

“We could play blowjob roulette.”

It was a foolish time to take a drink of your soda, because you spurt it out your nose. After a moment of mopping yourself up with your sleeve you manage a, “what?!”

“Well, oral roulette I guess, if we’re being PC about it.”

“Oh my god,” Logan groans, getting to his feet and stomping into the tiny excuse for a kitchenette, grabbing a beer and opening it with such gusto that the cap bounces off an adjacent wall.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything! We just spin the bottle and whoever it ends up pointing out deals out a round of Australian kisses for the other players. Relieves the boredom, and it’s fun to see how long everyone lasts.”

Your mouth is open, you’re sure of it. You’re looking at Wade in abject horror. This has got to just be part of his stupid bravado, right? Making an ill-timed joke?

Because the other option is he’s serious.

Logan drinks. You stare. Wade rabbits on.

“I’m just saying we used to play it at Sister Margaret’s all the time, when we were waiting for new marks to come in and didn’t have anything better to do! It wasn’t gay or anything except for, you know, the rampant homoeroticism of slurping everyone’s gherkin.”

“Did you… did you ever have to do it?” you ask, morbid fascination taking over. He scoffs.

“Did I ever have to… pookie, I’ve taken more loads than my building’s washing machine. Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty fucking great at it.”

He’s staring at you with an intensity which makes you feel like you’re on fire, but from embarrassment or enthusiasm you’re not sure. 

“So?” he asks, quietly, putting a hand on your knee. Your body burns. You swallow. You look to Logan. 

He sighs. Finishes his beer, but in a way which suggests he’s giving in. You see the way Logan’s teeth touch his bottom lip. The start of a fricative. 

He’s going to say fine.

Movement out of the window. You bolt up, knocking Wade’s hand away. He deflates.

“Aww. But I really wanted to - ”

“No, guys - look!”

They quickly crowd you, following where you point. A huge man walks into the alleyway, flanked by underlings, the bulk of him taking up the small space.

“There’s our guy,” you say, “let’s go.”

You descend upon the alleyway in a flash of swords and claws. You tug your cowl up over your nose to protect your face, hand on one of your Brügger & Thomet MP9s as the three of you come face-to-face with the door you’ve been monitoring all week.

“So are we going in sneaky style, or—”

Logan rips the door off its hinges, throwing it down the length of the alley; he is desperate to be done with this. You exchange a look with Wade.

“Okiedokie, asked and answered I guess,” he sighs, grabbing his Desert Eagles from his holsters.

You both follow Logan who’s thrown himself into the middle of the lab claws-first. Two-thirds of the people scream and flee, the others stand their guard and grab their guns.

Fingers on triggers, you take a beat to examine the situation.

Equipment everywhere. Beakers and cylinders you can possibly guess the use for, set up on desks and synthesising something nasty. The boss is standing in the middle of the room, eyebrow cocked and mild annoyance plastered on his face. Bingo. You make a beeline for him, taking a couple of bullets in your flank as you go.

“Cover me!” you shout to Wade. He pulls his katana out of a guy’s head and throws you a bloodied thumbs-up.

“Got your back, pookie! Hate to see you leave, love to watch you spill entrails as you go!”

As if he was predicting your next action, you whip your knife out of your belt and stab it in an assailant’s belly, watching his warm guts slide onto the floor. He releases a strangled noise as he drops to his knees - you make a move to continue on your way to the boss only to feel someone pick you up.

“Shit!” you mutter as you’re hoisted into the air. Wade and Logan stop their onslaught to turn at the sound of your panic, their eyes both going wide as they see you restrained. With a twinned shout of your name they come running to help.

Aww, your boys. It’d be cute if you weren’t bracing yourself for the pain.

Your attacker launches you across the room. A couple of seconds go by as you fly through the air - and then into a table full of test tubes and pipettes.

A great cloud rises into the air. A cloud of spores?

Before you can get a chance to properly read the situation, Wade and Logan are at your side. Sturdy hands grasp around your forearms and you’re dragged to your feet. 

Of course, it goes unnoticed…but all three of you take in a deep breath.

“You okay, baby?” rasps Logan. 

“Yeah, I’m f— move!” you scream, shouldering him out of the way so you can sink your knife into the neck of the man about to spray bullets down his spine. As you rip through the soft skin at his throat something occurs to you. 

‘Baby’? Where did that come from?

Not that it isn’t nice, obviously, but… it’s unlike Logan to show that much tenderness ever. Especially with pet names.

Oh well, no time to dwell.

Picking bits of glass from your biceps you tank a punch from a man closing in on your left, parry his next couple of blows, then shoot him in the dick. Wade has called this a ‘low blow’ before which isn’t incorrect but honestly, there’s no time for fighting fair when it’s 3-versus-30. 

The boss has finally gotten involved. A pair of brass knuckles shines against his fist as he swings at Logan, a meaty crack filling the air in a way which you’re worried might actually have dented one of your friend’s ribs. Wade uses the distraction to stab a katana into the guy’s back, then another one a little further up - using him like a goddamn climbing wall. The boss roars like an animal and attempts to swat him off but there’s no use. His massive bulk is working against him, and Wade can be a fast little motherfucker when he wants to be.

Wade lets out a ‘peekaboo!’ as he pops up over the boss’s shoulder, pressing his pistol into the meat of his neck and firing. Blood sprays across the floor but somehow the guy doesn’t stop, not even when Logan picks himself back up and sinks both his claws into his stomach; it only elicits another snarl.

Okay, time to close.

You sheath your guns and go back to your knife, using Logan as a launchpad as you throw yourself off the arch of his back and into the air - stabbing down into the boss’s skull with a dull thunk.

A line of blood dribbles out of his mouth. He starts to fall.

“Uh oh - call me Ke$ha, because I’m yelling timber!” Wade warns. With a snarl Logan rips his claws free from muscle, snatching you off of the boss’s corpse as he stumbles forward under his own weight. Pulling you free you both lose your footing, and you crash down onto your friend.

You look at Logan.

He looks at you. 

Suddenly, his hands clasp around your hips. Probably you move you off of him…

And then you’re on fire. 

Like gasoline has made a line from his touch to your cunt, everything in you is set ablaze. Your pussy clenches and you’ve never felt so empty before - or at least not so aware of it.

There is a cock-shaped hole and it’s begging to be filled.

You expect Logan to freak out, you’re freaking out - you never thought you had a murder kink but you guess you’re never too old to find out something new about yourself - but he doesn’t.

Instead you just see him furrow his brow as if processing something; then acknowledge the press of his hardening cock rub against your thigh as he bucks up into you.

Oh no. Something is wrong.

When you feel Wade grab your shoulder and haul you back to your feet it’s the same, that delicious burning sensation rocketing through you… and from the way he moans as soon as his hands are on you, the feeling is mutual. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” he breathes. Yeah. You want to, that’s the issue.

You stagger away from him with wide eyes and electric skin, a beat passing between the three of you as the people left in the lab decide to give up the fight now their boss is toast. Hearts racing, hands wanting to reach out and touch.

Logan is the one to break the silence.

“We should call in and let the others know we’re done,” he manages. You nod.

“Yeah. Can we… can we go back across the street? I don’t feel so good.”

“Oh, don’t you go Spider-Man Infinity War Part 1 on me,” Wade chuckles. You don’t have the energy to work out what he’s referencing, especially when a jolt goes through your body to your cunt when you feel his eyes meet yours. 

Damn. This is bad. 

“Yeah. Of course, honey,” Logan manages. He goes to put his hand on the small of your back and then thinks better of it, though you can feel its nearness like a magnetic pull. You almost moan when he retracts his touch instead. Wade whips his phone out and fires off a message to let someone know a cleanup crew is needed as you stagger out of the alleyway and back across the street. 

You didn’t bother closing the door when you ran out, too desperate to monopolise on the chance of getting your mark. The three of you tumble back into the room you’d been dying to get out of just a scant few minutes ago, relieved to be in the privacy of its confines again.

A moment passes as all three of you adjust to the feeling coursing through your bodies.

“What’s happening?” you breathe, bracing your hands on the back of your go-to wooden chair and breaking it with the force of your grip. You wince at the sound of splintering, blood dripping down your palms before you feel it heal over.

“I’ve not felt like this since I first discovered how easy it was to masturbate to Good Housekeeping,” Wade groans, whipping off his mask as he flops down onto the battered-up-couch. Logan has made his way to the fridge again, practically ripping its door off to get to a beer which he downs in one swig. Fuck. It’s so sexy. You want to lick the muscles in his neck.

“It’s a pollen,” he states, voice rocky in a way which goes straight to the burning pit of your stomach. You and Wade exchange a look and then turn to him, waiting for further explanation. “Only has a reaction in mutants. Charles said it was something about putting the id into overdrive, like a fuckin’ adrenaline shot to the libido.”

“It… it makes you aroused?” you manage, attempting not to rock your cunt into the palm of your hand. Logan grunts.

“Was trying to be more tactful, but yeah, honey. That’s the idea.”

Honey. The pet name once again goes down your spine.

“Fucking sorry,” says Wade, “someone was manufacturing this stuff as a drug for what? To make mutants too horny to fight?”

Logan shrugs, still not tearing his gaze from his empty bottle, as if to agree it’s his best guess. Wade’s head falls back against the sofa’s arm.

“I mean, damn, they could have just shown me any frame from Magic Mike XXL and it would have had the same result. Seems like a lot of effort.”

Something about the way Logan talks sticks out to you, you circle back around to it. 

“Logan, you seem to know a lot about this stuff… have you encountered it before?”

Another beer grabbed and chugged down, the forward hunch in his shoulders physical evidence of his walls raising. 

“Once. Back in the day with the other X-Men.”

“How did you get through it? Does it go away?”

Logan doesn’t reply. Drinks.

The unspoken answer sinks in.

“Oh my god, you had to fuck it out, didn’t you?” gasps Wade. Logan doesn’t even growl. Jesus Christ he’s right. “Who was it? Storm? Beast? By the love of all things 100k+ enemies-to-lovers-slowburn, tell me it was Cyclops.”

Logan doesn’t dignify him with an answer, instead putting the empty bottle down with enough force you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter.

“It’ll pass. I just need to sit it out,” he reasons, the grit in his jaw suggesting this isn’t the optimal solution. You feel your eyebrows tug together, a crease of concern settling between them.

“But…”

“I’ll be fine.” The way he says it, he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. With the room in the air practically throbbing he heads to the bedroom, leaving you and Wade alone.

Holy shit. You and Wade are alone.

Your eyes wander over to him, to find his gaze is already resting heavy on you. Your skin lights up.

“So, uh,” he starts, shifting himself awkwardly where his hard-on is trapped in his suit, “you read any good books lately?”

That does help to alleviate the tension and you find yourself chuckling, only for the relief to be ablated when your empty pussy pulses. You whine.

“Wade…”

As soon as you say his name he’s rushing over to you, helping you sit down on the ruined chair. You both moan as hot skin slides against hot skin. 

“Look, it isn’t…” you groan as you slide your hand up his bicep. Fuck, he’s strong. “...it isn’t a crazy idea to help each other out, right? We’re friends. It’s just two friends giving each other a hand…”

Wade dips down to run the bridge of nose along the line of your jaw, letting his lips drop to the pulse in your neck.

“Just friends…” he mutters. You buck up into nothing. Oh, god. You’re going to die here. “Baby?”

Oh shit, oh fuck. You want him to call you that over and over again, stamp it into your fucking mind.

“Yeah?” you reply, the word ripped rawly from your throat.

“I wanted to do this before we even left this goddamn apartment, you think I might have changed my mind after the mutant viagra?”

He pulls back just enough for you to see the seriousness on his face. No, he’s not joking, not saying something dirty just because he thinks it’s funny. 

He’s saying it because it’s true, and it’s both thrilling and terrifying. 

“Can I?”

Oh, it’s so tempting to say yes yes yes… but the more tempting thing is to tease him. Just a little.

You hook your leg over his shoulder and he groans as you dig your heel into the muscle of his back. He groans loud and long.

“Wade?”

“Mmm?”

“Ask me properly.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and you’re pretty sure he’s making a mess in his suit.

“Fuck, can I eat you out, baby? Please?”

You nod so fast you fear you’ll break your neck.

Wade lifts you like you weigh fucking nothing at all, strong arms scooping you up and bringing you to the couch - desperate for more space. His hands move quick and roughly as he goes to the pants on your suit, so wracked with need his fingers shake just from the promise of getting to touch you properly. You help him as much as you can, toeing off your boots and helping him tug your underwear off along with your waistband. His eyes widen as he realises your panties are in his hands. He takes a moment to run his thumb over the cotton of them and he fucking moans. Oh, god damn it, you’re going to be fucking ruined.

“Fuck. Never seen a pussy look this good,” he breathes as he finds himself face-to-face with your dripping cunt. You’re already so wet that it’s embarrassing and, while it would be easy enough to blame on the pollen, you know that you’ve wanted this for months. When he drags his tongue up your puffy, desperate folds, you pretty much combust.

“Oh shit,” you groan, wrapping your other leg round his face to hold him flush against you - not that Wade needs any convincing though, because you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck you with his mouth before. He buries himself in you, scarred hands reaching up to dig into the soft skin of your thighs and keep you steady. He wants you at his own pace, it seems, and is strong enough to make it happen. Fuck, you are not complaining.

Wade’s eyes flit upwards to see how you’re reacting as he moves his whole face side to side to bury himself into your cunt deeper. It’s like he’s trying to find where your scent is the strongest and, honestly? With what you’ve heard about this pollen stuff? Seems right on track. He has no hair for you to bury your fingers in so instead you press your hand to the top of his head and pull him closer, because god knows you don’t have the ability to vocalise it. You sink your fingernails in so he knows, though.

Holy hell you’ve never felt so good. The pollen is heightening everything, each movement he makes into you shooting shockwaves through your nerves. Wade’s tongue is insistent in exploring every inch of you, pressing bluntly into your clit; lapping at the wetness seeping from you like he’ll die if he can’t taste what he’s doing to you; dragging down to your ass and toying with you there, too. Yes, fuck, anything he goddamn wants. When his teeth skim the needy folds of your cunt you jackknife into his mouth, almost breaking them clean out of his gums.

“Holy shit, babe. What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles, pupils so blown wide with lust that his eyes are eclipsed with black. You chase after him with your hips.

“Not you, and that’s the problem,” you harrumph. He grins and you see how covered with your slick he is and fuck you are going to die here. 

“I’ll take care of you. That’s what friends do, right?” he asks, putting emphasis on the word you’re both masquerading behind. When you reach out with a searching hand he threads his finger through yours wordlessly, using the other to grab a pillow so he has something to fuck up against. You feel a tiny bit bad for not offering to help but you know he’ll get his in time - in fact just thinking about sucking his cock your mouth begins to water.

He presses his palm into yours as he goes back to your cunt with his mouth. It takes only moments for him to start up his desperate pace again, tongue sinfully sweet, and you’re chasing and chasing…

Stars explode in your vision and in your blood. The noise you let out is feral, a euphony of pleasure and you don’t care who hears. Wade’s eyes drift close as he tastes your orgasm directly at his lips, drinking you down. You’re certain his hips stutter as he comes just from getting you off. Oh god it’s so hot.

Oh god, you’re not done.

Wade surges up your body and kisses you ferociously, you moan at the taste of yourself he gives back. 

“Fuck, yes, do you taste that, baby? What did I do to you? Holy fuck you are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen…”

“Wade, I need you.”

“Yeah, fuck, okay. Let me get this stupid sexy suit off…”

Hands begin to fumble messily, needily at each other’s zippers in order to strip. You sit up to get a better handle on him—

And freeze when you see you have an audience.

Wade follows your gaze to where Logan is standing in the bedroom doorway. He’s managed to get his suit off and change back into his jeans, though you can’t imagine he’ll want to stay in them for long the way his trapped cock is staining dark blue denim even darker. He’s gripping the doorframe with such force that his claws have popped out, eyes a matching pitch black to Wade’s, chest heaving as he watches the show.

“You okay, honey badger?” Wade drawls, a cocky smile dragging across him. Logan grunts. Swallows hard. You go for a softer tactic.

“Logan, sweetheart, you wanna join in?” your voice is husky as you ask, oh so inviting. Logan squeezes his eyes shut and his fist tight, taking a chunk out of the wall.

“Get into the goddamn bedroom, both of you,” he growls. The two of you absolutely do not need to be told twice. Partially undressed you vault over the back of the dishevelled sofa, letting Logan lead the way. As soon as you’re within arms’ reach he snags you around the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

Logan kisses like he wants to devour you. Rough, commanding, dragging his tongue into your mouth as if trying to claim you. Oh, you’ll let him a hundred times over. You mewl when his hand reaches down you cup your still dripping pussy, immediately swiping a thumb against your clit. It pulses as if Wade didn’t just pull an orgasm out of you.

“Fuckin’ needy little thing,” he snarls, delighted. You reach down to grab the bulge he’s rocking, squeezing hard enough to get him to groan.

“Look who’s talking,” you chuckle. He taps at the top of your suit, an instruction. 

“Off,” he says, but that’s as much as he gets to say, because Wade grabs him by the beard and steers him in for a kiss. You pause for just a second to see what will happen but clearly you needn’t have worried - Logan moans into your friend’s mouth, grabbing a handful of Wade’s pretty decent ass and digging in his fingers. While they’re busy you finish stripping, going for the zipper on the back of the red suit and pulling it down. It’s such a goddamn stupid design having it at the back like a goddamn prom dress - but at the moment you’re kinda thankful for it because it means you get to kiss along the revealed plain of skin. Wade has such beautiful fucking back muscles, you’ve stared at them for long enough to memorise every damned one.

He steps out of the suit when you get to his feet - yeah, he did come just from eating you out earlier and holy fuck are you proud - and lets out a strangled noise when you bite the meat of his asscheek hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck, are you gonna rim me? Because if so I’m a thousand percent down,” he chokes, pulling away from Logan’s mouth and leaving a string of spit between them, evidence of a messy kiss. You shrug.

“You want me to, baby?”

Wade seems to have a crisis of faith as he considers this, letting Logan nibble down the length of his neck; eventually he shakes his head though.

“No, I wanna be inside you, like, yesterday,” he confesses. 

“I’ve got enough room for two,” you state, so absolutely sure the pollen will accommodate that you don’t even need to think about it. Both Wade and Logan suck in a breath at that idea.

“Fuck, baby, aren’t you just perfect,” Logan drawls, grabbing you by the hips as you stand up and pulling you to the pathetic twin bed this apartment was provided with. Not how you wanted this first time to go down but hey, at least it’s going down at all. No longer just a dirty fantasy you bury your fingers into your cunt imagining but a real bonafide liaison (boner-fide liaison, Wade’s voice in your head pipes up).

You paw at his jeans, desperate to have all three of you naked and ready. There’s nothing to hide between you any more. Any boundaries have been not only crossed but decimated, absolutely destroyed beyond repair, and you couldn’t be happier. When his cock falls heavy into your palm you can’t help but suck air in through your teeth at its sheer size. Logan chuckles, gravelly and tempting.

“Oh it’ll fit, baby,” he coos, as if reading your mind. Fuck. Yep, it will. There’s no two ways about it. You’re having both Wade and Logan inside you if it kills you.

He wraps you in his arms before you can have any more thoughts on the matter and pulls you down onto the mattress with him, the pollen in your veins making you feel every touch like the end of a live wire - yet you keep coming back to get shocked. Logan positions himself under you, chest-to-chest, grinning at the way your nipples rub against the coarse and gorgeous hair of his chest. There’s a slapping noise and you realise it’s Wade’s hand on Logan’s thigh, encouraging him to move up the bed.

“Big boy, you know you have to scoot up if this is happening. I’m all for fucking the same pussy together but you have to be realistic…”

Obscured by your body, only you get to see the way Logan rolls his eyes fondly at Wade’s blabbering. He manouveurs you both to allow Wade room to kneel on the mattress behind you and you gasp at the feeling of their cocks bullying at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, body on fire and desperate to be extinguished by them. Logan hums in your ear.

“I know, baby, I know. We’ll take care of you.”

“And each other. I got sex-pollened too, old man,” Wade harrumphs, rubbing his head against the slick lips of your cunt. 

“Nobody’s forgetting you, princess,” he murmurs, “now be good and put me inside.”

Logan probably misses the soft hiss Wade lets out at that, but you feel the way the mercenary’s hand wraps around his cock and presses Logan to your empty cunt. You moan in pleasure as he follows the path Wade has laid out and pushes himself inside of you, no resistance given. It takes you only a couple of seconds to adjust to the pure size of him. Holy shit, if this were any other time you’d be falling apart by now, but the way your body pumps with desperation suggests one dick alone isn’t going to be enough.

“You okay?” Logan rumbles by your ear. You cling onto him for dear life, nodding.

“Yeah. Fuck, Wade, I know you’ll fit, you’ve gotta fuck me too.”

Wade doesn’t even have an answer for that. Instead you feel his thumb tug at your lips, stretching you for him - or just watching the way Logan fills you, getting off on the filthy way you’re plugged. Another cock begins to press at your already stuffed hole and you whine.

“S’okay, I gotcha,” Logan says through gritted teeth as he feels Wade’s length slide along his own, the feeling almost overwhelming for him. You drop your head to his shoulder and choke on your own spit as Wade forces himself inside of you. Your cunt feels like it is about to burst into flames in the most satisfying way possible, flowering open between them both.

“Fuck, never felt anything so goddamn tight in my life…” Wade manages. Eventually he bottoms out alongside Logan, both of them sitting snugly inside of you, sharing you, clutched in your warmth. 

“There we go,” Logan growls. “You okay, baby?”

Not knowing if the question is aimed at you or Wade you both whine a yes. Logan laughs and you feel his chest move beneath you, all muscle and heat.

“I’m gonna move now.”

He drags himself out of you, inch by glorious inch, like a match striking against a box and sparking an ember. A deep ragged breath shudders through you at the feeling of it but it is nothing compared to how he slams back inside. Lights flood your periphery. You are going to fucking die between these two men and that is fine. Heaven, even.

Once Wade feels Logan’s rhythm it is too much of a competition for him not to match it. The mercenary’s arms fall either side of your bodies to support himself as he works himself in and out of you, sliding deep as Logan retreats to the tip. Your cunt makes a lewd noise as they piston inside of you and you have never cared about anything less in your life. You are bathed in light, high off this, euphoric over being fucked. A tiny rivulet of drool falls from the edge of your mouth into Logan’s chest hair and he curses at the glorious rawness of it all.

Above you, Wade has finally found his voice again.

“Look at you taking us so well. Oh, fuck, goddamn. I’ve wanted you like this for so long. Remember when we were neighbours, honey? Those guys who you used to bring home… fuck, baby… I used to give myself the old low-five to the sound of you getting fucked…”

You make a pathetic little noise which spurs him onwards. Wade’s mouth drops to your ear.

“...and I used to get angry because I knew I could do it better myself.”

“Oh my god Wade…” you whisper. Tears are beginning to pool in your eyes at the way you’re starting to get overstimulated, two cocks hitting that sweet spot inside you verges on being too much. Were the pollen not still in full force you’re sure you’d need to tap out.

“And you?” Wade’s hand grips Logan’s bicep, squeezing appreciatively. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up every morning and see you shirtless on my couch, and not be able to fuck you? You do it on purpose, peanut, I swear…”

Logan chuckles again, that deep honey-rich sound eked out in magnitudes. 

“And what if I do, Red?”

Wade pauses in his thrusting, you don’t have to see him to know that his eyes are wide.

“Wait, what? For real?”

“Wade!” you whine, reaching over to slap at his arm, annoyed that he’s stopped moving. “Can we all just agree we’ve gotten off to the thought of each other and we’d have fucked eventually anyway?”

The men either side of you seem to think it’s a good compromise to come to and redouble their efforts. All you can do is to cling onto whatever muscles you’re able to find and ride the wave of pleasure. Fireworks go off in your synapses, brain a messy goo of euphoria, cunt fucked out and thoroughly taken care of. 

They speed up, thrusts getting messy and arrhythmic and yet still somehow matching, and you know that they’re going to come together. What a fucking treat, how divine, oh god. Logan’s hands sink into your ass to keep you anchored as his cock goes faster, skin slapping on skin as his sac moves against Wade’s - causing the merc to let out a string of curses - and you’re suddenly flooded with his warm, sticky cum pumping inside you in jets. Wade whines at the feeling of himself being doused and follows Logan’s lead. The filthy cocktail of them drips around both their lengths and out of your hole, falling onto the pathetic mattress below. One last little nudge of the hips is all it takes to push you over the edge again. Your next orgasm is dragged out of you… but you know your body will demand more.

For now, though, respite. The urge to reach that peak again immediately has at least settled for the moment.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh. Logan hums an affirmative note, fingers playing with the small of your back as Wade peppers kisses across your shoulderblades.

“We should go on stakeouts more often, if this is the nice little bow everything gets tied up in,” Wade sighs, dreamily. You nod against Logan’s chest. His hair rubs your cheek deliciously. Your pussy throbs again, reminding you this dirty escapade needs to continue soon. “So what does this mean? Are we a little mutant charcuterie now?”

Your brow furrows as you try to parse what Wade has just said.

“Oh. Wade, baby, do you mean ‘coterie’?”

Logan bursts out laughing, a noise you’ve never properly heard before, and it has you grinning - and Wade, too, even though he grumbles a little at being corrected. Their cocks jostle inside you and you feel them getting hard again and, as you prepare yourself for round two, it’s nice to know that whatever the three of you face at the end of this will be happy.

Three days later, you’re laid across the couch, head in Wade’s lap and legs in Logan’s, all tangled together as you get the single worst telling-off of your life.

“Non-lethal mission, Wade! How many times did I have to tell you, it was meant to be non-lethal!” Piotr shouts down the line. Wade grimaces.

“Look, there were other things we had to sort out first, okay? We kinda forgot about the no-killing part. Besides the guy can’t traffic drugs if he’s dead,” he confesses. You can picture Piotr’s disappointed face.

“Other things!? WHAT other things, Wade?!”

“Okay so there was this horny pollen, and we all had to—”

Logan grabs Wade’s phone and hurls it across the room. It shatters into pieces against the wall. Wade gawps.

“Hey! That was new! Well, okay, not new, but it wasn’t cracked. Well, it was cracked, but it had all my best dick pics on there!”

“You can take new ones,” Logan states. 

You smile. Yeah. The charcuterie is nice.

[ashe-delta]

Life hack: Calling medicine "potions" can increase joy and whimsy in your life by over 30%.

[002yb]

If you're fine with it, can we have Jason distracted staring at Dick's back dimples while Tim tries to talk to him about a case?

Tim being well aware that Jason isn't listening to him and knowing there's nothing to be done for it. Because for all intents and purposes, Jason is in another plane of existence. That plane being the one just over Tim's head.

That Dick happens to be standing just behind him is irrelevant, surely. Totally coincidental. (눈_눈)

So there's Tim, trying to do his job. The job Jason requested Tim's assistance on, mind. Because it was important. And yet here Jason is now, being very much distracted by someone who is entirely unrelated to aforementioned important case/job.

Tim takes it in stride if only because it's not a surprise. Jason's crush on Dick isn't exactly a secret. As far as Tim's concerned, it's the only endearing thing about his menace of a brother.

There's something decidedly off about the attention Jason gives Dick this time though. There's nothing of the delicate, flustered maiden Tim is used to whenever Jason discreetly oogles and indulges in all that romantic whimsy of his–just a chilling intensity that has a shiver running up Tim's spine and anticipation making him wonder if he's missed something crucial.

So Tim observes as he rattles on about the case. He knows full well that he'll have to repeat everything later, but Jason's behavior is equal parts concerning and curious.

The way Jason goes from intently watching, neutral until his brows start to furrow and his lips pull down into a frown. A scowl. More and more pensive. Almost bristling.

Tim can't not look, so he casts a furtive glance over his shoulder, discreet and fleeting. And it's just Dick there. Dressed down in the usual athleisure, faced away from them as he looks something over at the large projections of the Batcomputer.

There's nothing to it. It's how Dick always looks after patrol, comfortable in a pair of sweats and a compression shirt. Nothing Jason hasn't flustered over plenty of times before.

Tim still remembers the first time Jason saw Dick dressed down post-patrol. How Dick and Jason were walking past each other, but while Jason kept walking, his head turned to trail after Dick. And how Jason ran into a table, tripped over Damian, and nearly overheated when Dick offered him a hand up. The way Jason's gaze lingered on Dick's bicep, his shoulders as he was hefted up. The way he almost went back down from how bad he was blushing.

It's as Tim is contemplating if Dick did something to provoke Jason's ire that Jason finally makes his move. Disregarding everything Tim says to shove past him and storm across the way, hand reaching out--

And Tim knows that Jason isn't brazen enough to turn Dick around and kiss him or anything like that, but with how puffed up Jason is, who's to say?

Tim is. Because he knows Jason and Jason would fluster and abort and see himself right out of Gotham before confessing his undying, decade long crush.

Which is neither here nor there, because instead Jason just jabs Dick right in the dimple of his lower back. A poke that's a little too vicious to be flirtatious, even for Jason

And Dick's inhale is so sharp that everyone in the cave turns to look

And Tim's eyes widen because fuck, if he thought Jason's stare was chilling, the way Dick glares is cold and severe and... grouchy?

'You're hurt.' Jason goes on to say, unperturbed by the storm he's about to weather

Everyone in the family startling because what?? When? How severe? But also just...how could Jason tell?

And Dick scowls, caught out.

'I'm not hurt.'

Only he is, because Jason scowls and bites back, 'I saw it.'

Which has Dick reeling because how?? He's completely covered. He didn't change with anyone around.

And then it's Jason's turn to get all !!! because he seriously noticed just because of how Dick was standing and the way his back looked through his shirt and somehow Jason's exposed himself in such a terrible way that he just - goes offline. Back to that other plane of existence because well, shit.

The most belated and petulant of, 'it doesn't matter.' before Jason starts fretting

Which makes Dick soften up a bit, because Jason being so caring is such a darling thing. ;3;

And then Dick twists and pulls up his shirt enough to show that he's fine, just bruised and a little swollen.

Jason being such a maiden that he has to look away because just that is too much SOS.

Then they get lost in the chitchats and Tim is still just standing there with his report on a very important case, existing entirely outside of Jason's rose-colored bubble and oh, how Tim wants to pop it so bad lol

[bamboobooshark]

yaaaayyy u write 4 him!!!! can we just have some silly Kurt headcanons? they don’t have to be any kind of relationship, i just want fun and whimsy :3

KURT WAGNER • 🌀

Miscellaneous Headcanons || 426 Words || P.G. Rating || Fandom: Marvel (X-Men)

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for requesting some Kurt! I’ve never written him, so I’m very thankful you gave me some mercy by letting me write you my headcanons. I’ll try to write some more for him in the future, this was so fun to make!

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CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

NAME CALLING

In my heart, Kurt is always calling everyone his friend, or “mein Freund.” He thinks everyone technically can be his friend as long as they don’t give him a reason to think otherwise. I’m telling you right now, he is a very social person if he feels comfortable with his surroundings. For example, if he goes to a resturant he goes to every week or so, he talks to the staff as if he’s a family friend. However, that has caused some rather awkward conversations and moments for the mutant. At one point, there was a government organization going undercover trying to collect his D.N.A for research, and Kurt ended up trying to befriend them. Thankfully he got out of that situation safely. He later pouted to a few of his fellow mutants about how he genuinely thought he’d end the day making some new friends but was met by enemies instead.

BATH TIME

I AM A LOUD AND PROUD FURRY KURT TRUTHER!!! And of course, being a very active furball due to being a hero, he’s gotta get a good bath every day so he doesn’t stink. Of course he does what almost everyone else does; wash his hody, shampoo, condition, and dry off with a towel. However, he has the guilty pleasure of drying off a little extra using a blow dryer. He loves the warmth, the way the wind pushes his fur to the side and the air can hit his skin directly, and how it makes his fur so soft and shiny. Bonus: If you’re dating Kurt, he will beg you to blow dry him after his showers and baths. He will return the favor however or with whatever you want, I promise.

NIGHT VISION

His hero name is Nightcrawler. His eyes glow in the dark. He can make shadows. There is NO way this guy doesn’t have night vision. Even though he can see in the dark, his pupils still get huge—akin to a cat’s in low light. Because of his night vision, he’s developed a habit of never turning on lights when he sneaks around at night. It’s a bit of a scare for the others in the mansion and/or his partner though when they come to the kitchen to get a snack and see two very thin, yellow rings in the dark. Kurt will just furrow his brows and question them without the awareness that it’s pitch black besides his eyes. “What? Is there something on my face?” “Kurt, I can’t tell. I can’t see anything.” “Oh. My bad, mein Freund!”

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

A/N: Yes, I know what 'shirt that goes hard' means.😁 But what if the shirt literally went hard? Enjoy this little bit of whimsy courtesy of me getting no sleep for two days straight and thus having time to write. This is just for giggles and not meant to be taken seriously.

Comments, likes and reblogs always appreciated!❤️

Pairing: female reader (You) x Astarion

Day 1 - 🍓, Day 2 - 🌊, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective

You stared at it in horror. Astarion’s favourite shirt. You couldn’t believe that the thing you were holding in your hands was his favourite shirt. Or rather, something that once was his favourite shirt and now resembled a flat, stiff piece of wood.

And how did this happen? Well, it started when Astarion complained that being on the road meant not being able to deal with the annoying wrinkles and creases. And he so hated not looking well put together!

So, what did you do? Oh, just looked up a spell that, apparently, was used by the servants in the city to make sure their masters’ clothes stayed perfect at any time, even fresh after a battle or a quick romp. Or at least until the items got washed and the spell had to be reapplied.

Except something went wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. Halfway through the spell, you sneezed violently. Which apparently affected the incantation. And instead of becoming wrinkle-free, the shirt has become as stiff as a board.

 You tried everything. Getting it wet. Trying to reverse the spell. Setting it on fire. Enlisting Gale’s help. Nothing worked! The damn thing remained rigid.

You felt like crying. Oh, what were you to do? What would Astarion say? Two hundred damn years! Two hundred years he kept the shirt impeccable, mended it lovingly and meticulously. And perhaps the fabric was looking a tiny bit threadbare and worn in some places, but otherwise the state of it was near perfect.

And then your stupid ass came along and ruined it! How long did it take you to destroy it? About five minutes.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” you whispered, putting the shirt down with a dull thump.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Wyll lied with a wince.

No, it wasn’t bad. It was terrible! There was no way to sugarcoat it. Astarion would see it and immediately hate you and he would be right to do so.

“Are you sure that you can’t think of any spell that might reverse… whatever it was that I did?” you asked weakly, looking up at Gale with hope.

“Believe me, my friend, I did everything I could. I may no longer have Mystra’s favour, but my memory would not fail me. I am sorry,” he replied in a grave voice.

You knew that Gale did his best. It was you who was the idiot that started this in the first place. You did screw up rather spectacularly from time to time, which both annoyed and amused others, but this was the first time that you were quite sure that Astarion would genuinely be hurt by it.

You heard Astarion before you saw him. He and Lae’zel were out scouting earlier this afternoon and they seemed to be back with some good news.

“Dearest!” Astarion greeted you from across the camp, “You would not believe the day that I’ve had! And- oh. What’s this?”

You turned around slowly, your back ramrod straight, holding the shirt in front of you.

“Um… So, you see… Wow, this will be real difficult to explain,” you clutched the damn thing so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

“Darling, what is this that you are holding in your hands?” Astarion took a step towards you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Um… I tried a thing and- and this happened.”

“What exactly happened? And what is this?” he motioned to whatever it was that you were holding, realizing that the item in your hands looked vaguely familiar.

“It’s your shirt,” you mumbled in a small voice. “I tried a spell and something went wrong and here we are.”

Astarion took the shirt from your hands with an unreadable expression, fingers clutching at the harder-than-stone fabric.

“I am so sorry!’ you wailed, “I shouldn’t have done it! I wanted to surprise you-”

“You certainly did,” he said, turning the shirt sideways with a frown.

“I mean, you always complained about the fabric creasing and not being able to do anything about it. And I thought I had the solution and- I tried a spell.”

“Well, it will certainly not crease now,” he said, rapping his knuckles against the surface. “Excuse me,” Astarion turned around and made for his tent without another word.

This was a disaster. He hated you. The one reminder of his life before he was turned, the one thing that Cazador did not take from him, the one item that stayed with him and you ruined it.

The only thing that kept you from bawling like a toddler was the need to keep up appearances. Because you were still supposed to be the leader of a formidable group of heroes defending the city from the ultimate evil and- oh hells! You could feel the tears coming and took a deep breath to calm down. And then another, until you felt that you got your errant emotions under control. It seemed to work well enough, although you were now acutely aware that the others were watching the scene with barely concealed interest. One of the downsides of travelling with a group of friends. You could never have a slither of privacy. You were already embarrassed about your screw up, and having so many witnesses really did nothing to improve your foul mood.

You knew you probably should be giving Astarion space right now, but you just couldn’t. So, you squared your shoulders and went after your vampire. Though you were not entirely sure if he would want to be yours after this incident.

“Astarion?” you pulled the tent flap aside a little, “Can I come in?”

“I will not stop you if you do, if that is what you mean,” he said without looking in your direction.

Okay, ouch. But you deserved much worse right now. So silently, you came in and sat on a cushion.

Astarion was looking at his shirt, his face void of any emotion. He didn’t seem to be looking at the disaster of a gift, but rather through it. Lost in thought.

Five minutes passed, then five more. You tried not to fidget, but the silent treatment was making you nervous. Astarion still did not give you any attention and it didn’t seem that he would be in the mood to do so any time soon. So, you decided to speak up. Because sitting like this and waiting for him to say something was torture.

“I-,” you began weakly and cleared your throat, “I will just take my things and won’t disturb you anymore.”

“I’m sorry?” he blinked, finally turning towards you.

“Or, perhaps I could come back for them some other time.”

“Darling, why would you take your things at all?”  Astarion cocked his head to a side, not sure where you were going with this.

“Because I ruined your shirt.”

“And you are afraid that I might retaliate and ruin your clothes, is that it?”

He noticed your hunched shoulders and dejected look and realised that you may have misinterpreted his silence.

“Or is it something even more ridiculous, such as you getting it into your lovely head that I might break up with you over something so trivial?” Astarion leaned closer to you, brushing an errant lock aside to get a better look at your face.

Okay, ouch again. But you supposed that you deserved that too.

“You sweet fool,” he sighed, pulling you down to sit in his lap, “you saved me countless times. Saved me from Cazador, from myself. What is a shirt in a grand scale of things?”

You felt him put his arms around you and finally relaxed into his touch, enjoying the way he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I mean, I understand why you are upset. I did look amazing in it. But then again, I’d look amazing in anything," he went on. "Besides, I am sure that we can pick out something gorgeous when we get to the city. And for now, you will just have to try and resist me in my half-naked glory,” Astarion flicked his curls back and gave you a sultry look.

“I can’t resist you even when you are fully dressed,” you played along, reaching for his ear with your lips and placing a tender, lingering kiss to the tip, making him purr.

“Well, then we have no choice but to take an evening to ourselves, don’t we?” Astarion conceded playfully, submitting to your searching hands as you fumbled for the ties of his armour.

The next day Lae’zel and Karlach tested out Astarion’s shirt in action and found that it made quite a formidable weapon. When thrown, it sliced through opponents like a knife through butter. When used to strike, the bludgeoning damage was off the charts! It was fireproof, waterproof, gave the holder the ability to ignore many offensive spells and was near indestructible!

Gale begged you to remember which syllable you sneezed on so he could try to replicate the spell and try to make another weapon of the type. But no matter what you did, the spell did exactly as advertised. Got clothes to stay wrinkle-free.

“It appears that this shirt is truly one-of-a-kind,” Wyll laughed, balancing it on the palm of his hand. “Weighs so little too!”

“Well, everything about me is extraordinary. Makes perfect sense for my shirt to have unique properties too,” Astarion looked at it in a way that a proud parent would regard an overachieving child. “Shame that you didn’t cast that spell earlier, darling. I would have quite enjoying smashing Cazador’s head in with it. Would have been ironic that he beat being perfect into me, only for me to come back and beat him perfectly with the shirt.”

“Still plenty of bad guys out there, Fangs! I might just borrow this from you to teach Gortash a lesson,” Karlach cracked her knuckles.

“You would have to fight Lae’zel for it first, I’m afraid,” you lifted your shield as you got ready to move out. “She said that such a formidable weapon can only be wielded by the most experienced warrior.”

“I’m experienced enough!”

“Chk! By the standards of this realm, you fight well. But only the githyanki are taught to be experts with any weapon. I will be the one to carry it,” she insisted, ignoring the protests of others. As far as Lae’zel was concerned, the matter was settled.

And so your ragtag group set off on yet another adventure feeling that the odds were decisively in your favour as of late. You and Astarion walked side by side, hands brushing as you listened to Karlach and Lae’zel bicker. Seeing as the others were preoccupied, Astarion snaked his arm round your middle and pulled you flush against him.

“Do warn me next time you want to experiment, my dear. You claim this to be an accident, but I suspect you have an ulterior motive. One might even say that it is your subconsciousness guiding your hand when it comes to destroying my clothes.”

Astarion’s smile widened as you flushed a beautiful shade of red, claiming your lips in a way that communicated quite clearly that he was down for whatever else your delightful brain would come up with.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[archangeldyke-all]

HIIIII ANGELLLL

SEVIKA WITH A PLUSHY I REPEAT SEVIKA WITH A PLUSHY. I know you did a small thing about reader with plushies but I thought it’d be cute for Sevika to be the one with plushies. Maybe reader stays over for the first time and finds her plushie collection hidden somewhere. Sevika would for sure deny and get insecure that it’s hers but READER JUST FINDS IT CUTE. I defo think she has the one she had since she was a baby that she still sleeps with. Perhaps it’s a small collection of those tiny beanie babies which she had a obsession with when she was younger (and still is obsessed with) or those squish mellow stuffies. (She has names for them too)

Thank you pookie 😩

WAHHHHHH

men and minors dni

sevika doesn't have many personal mementos or keepsakes. she's not a sentimental person, and she didn't have a lot growing up to hold onto. but there is one thing that she holds near and dear to her heart.

'stinky bear.'

stinky bear is a tiny little plushy, about the size of a beanie baby, that can fit comfortably in the palm of her large hand now. she's had it since she was a kid, it was the first stuffy her parents got her, and the only one she ever seemed to like.

she took him everywhere when she was a kid, shoving him in her back pocket and toting him all around town.

she only stopped taking him everywhere when, one tragic day at the ripe age of four and a half, sevika dropped stinky bear in the street, and watched in horror as a car ran right over him.

he was rescued, but he was never the same. his fluffy brown fur was matted, his head was separated from his body, one of his eyes missing. her mom tried her best to put him back together, throwing him in the wash and stitching his head back on with a chunky purple yarn, replacing his missing eye with a spare black button.

after that day, sevika started leaving stinky bear in her bed, treating him with gentle, reverent care, only touching him at bedtime, curling him into her arms and holding him tight to her chest.

sevika had to grow up way too fast. by the time she was ten, she was numb to the horrors of the world. she bulked up and taught herself how to fight, how to blend in and go without notice, and when to stand out and speak up. all her toys and childish games losing their whimsy as she became more and more disillusioned.

but she could never find it in her to let go of stinky bear.

not when she's been holding him every night since she was a baby. not when he's been by her side through thick and thin, soaking up her silent tears every single night. not when he's been through so much already.

stinky bear could stay.

stinky bear did stay.

when sevika moved out on her own, leaving her old drunkard of a father and the ashes of her mother on the mantel behind, stinky bear came with her.

he doesn't send the night in bed with her every night, now now that she's grown, but he sits on her bedside table permanently, ready and waiting for whenever sevika might need him.

and when she has nightmares, when she has horrible days at work, when she loses a fight or has a shitty hangover or feels alone, she reaches for stinky bear, curling her giant, grown body around the tiny, run down plushy.

when sevika has people over, stinky bear goes in the closet.

partly because she doesn't want to hear the teases her friends and co-workers and the girls from babette's are likely to throw out, partly because she's horrified of something happening to him while her back's turned.

she doesn't have people over often. in all her time in her apartment, she's had people over less than a dozen times, but still. stinky bear goes in the closet when she does. (sometimes in her fire-proof safe.)

and then she meets you.

the first few times you go over to sevika's place, you're way too preoccupied with her to notice anything else.

but after long enough, sevika and you become comfortable enough to just... hang out.

it's one of those kinds of dates, where you're really just existing in each other's space as one of you works or cleans or reads, when you first meet stinky bear.

sevika's reading and drinking, and you're taking a shower in her bathroom-- her water pressure is so much better than yours.

when you get out of the shower, you realize you forgot to grab a towel for yourself. so, you dart into sevika's bedroom and rifle through her closet looking for a towel.

you don't find any. but you do find stinky bear.

the sweet little plushy is sitting front and center in her closet, on top of a pile of neatly folded sweaters. it's clear that he's old and well loved-- his ears are a little crusty, his fur is stained and matted, he's got mismatched eyes, and he's sewn together with purple yarn across the neck.

your heart melts.

sevika has a stuffed animal.

you don't say anything about it, it's clear she doesn't want to talk about it if she's hidden it away like this. you just gently press a peck to the bear's little head and close the closet door.

when sevika asks you to move in with her, you expect her to finally introduce you to stinky bear.

she doesn't.

you feel almost bad.

sure, she's got you to hold now when she's having nightmares, and you're able to actually hold her back and comfort her with gentle words of affection. but you can tell stinky bear means something to her (especially when you catch her standing in her closet, gently stroking his fur one night.)

so, you decide to do something about it.

one morning as you're making the bed, you pull stinky bear out of the closet and gently place it on sevika's side of the bed, pulling the covers up underneath the tiny bear's chin, and giving it a kiss.

you don't say anything. you just leave it for her to find.

when she does (and she doesn't tell you this until you guys are married) she sobs.

the fact that you knew and you still didn't make her talk about it, knowing how hard words are for her-- the fact that you didn't tease her about it-- the fact that you treated stinky bear with such gentle regard, his head resting gently against her pillow, the his arms out over the blankets-- the fact that you knew she'd been missing him-- it makes her weak in the knees.

there's no conversation about it. but when you get home that night, you find sevika sleeping on top of the covers, stinky bear tucked into the crook of her arm as she snores.

when you crawl in beside her, she blinks awake, and you smile. she smiles shakily back at you.

"his name's stinky bear." she whispers, her voice raspy. you smile and lean forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then a much gentler one to stinky bear's.

and after that, stinky bear resides in you and sevika's bed, back where he belongs.

every morning, you tuck him into bed under the covers for sevika to come home to.

when you guys fuck in bed, you always pause to gently place the old stuffy on the bedside table-- facing away from the two of you, of course.

(and when you're done, you put him right back where he came from.)

each night, sevika sleeps where she always sleeps with you-- right on top of you, her head on one of your tits, her leg hiked up over yours.

but now, instead of her hand groping your free tit, she's gently holding stinky bear.

okay, are you ready to really cry?

when you guys have your daughter, sevika passes stinky bear down to her.

she loves the bear almost as much as she loves her mommas.

(and sometimes, when sevika's particularly upset or sick, you sneak stinky bear out of your daughter's sleeping arms and bring him to your bedroom for sevika to hold for a while.)

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[danieyells]

It's kinda sad that we don't get a yandere character. Like, I mean, some would make great yanderes (or almost all of them), but for now it feels like barely a tease. Like, I expected subaru to be the yandere-ish one (like kylar from dol), but it ended up being bait and switch.

Yes, I know Towa is right there, but his is more like being the big boss around, there's no stalking and unhealthy obsession.

(IT SENT THE FIRST ONE ANON DON'T WORRY 👍🏾 not spammy at all, I've been on tumblr long enough to know how it is.)

It is but since it's a joseimuke it's not really like. . .a romance focused game/story? So a character who's romantically obsessed with the player might be too idk derailing? So I understand why they wouldn't have one--on the other hand, A3! has Masumi who's kinda yandere afair(may have been toned down? It's been years since i was into a3 and my memory isn't good so) so it's not like it's impossible.

(and obvs it works for DoL because 1. Kylar is dismissable and heavily ignorable and doesn't have a ton of impact as far as main story goes atm, 2. There's a ton of other stuff going on in DoL that a character who's obsessed with you is kind of the least of your worries and wouldn't necessarily do much to impact the plot or setting or the character's mission of survival. The story in TDB is linear, so to actually give a yandere any impact they'd have to be present a fair amount more, at least from my perspective. Then again they could be like. A background yandere, obsessing and collecting information from the shadows and it only comes up the rare times they show up at all, but. . .I dunno.)

I definitely agree a yandere would be nice if only because it's one of my favorite character tropes haha but maybe later on in the story? It's still really early, everyone and the dynamics and the worldbuilding and the relationships and such are still getting introduced, so there's still time for things to develop--and for additional characters to be introduced! (The previously missing Dionysia students are still alive for example! We'll probably meet them at some point.) Never hurts to have a little buildup!

I will note that one of Subaru's expressions is labeled "yandere".

(none of his homescreen dialogues use this expression and the way the actual scenes are coded is different so I can't view expressions in scenes to try and remember if this expression was used anywhere in game haha) it doesn't feel very yandere but it's important to consider that yandere characters are characters whose love is unhealthy and obsessive, not necessarily characters who are stalkerish or violent in their behavior. He actually looks a little regretful to me, as if his unhealthy attachment is something he's aware is bad and he feels stressed out by it--which fits his character, if he does turn out to be yandere in some way, that it'd bother him. It'd also fit with his affinity line about not trying to seem like he's testing you and worrying he's being weird. . .because he knows his internal feelings are quite weird. He's always bottling things up, so he restrains all the yandere lol.

And Towa has some yandere energy, but it's more directed towards Haru than the player lol. He does straight up try and poison Ren with flowers after all. As far as we know he's not obsessive towards him though, so it's just a vibe. You're right in that he is, by his own admission, the boss from his own perspective, especially when it comes to anomalies. He's kind of like if the ~domineering ceo~ type was full of whimsy and silliness lolol.

[thecommunityfridge]

infantilism: the musical

All characters are 18+

cw: abdl, messy diapers, diaper change

“Stop, stop, stop.”

Kayleigh obediently stopped, mid-verse, and stepped back, turning to face Ava, the director, who stood at the back of the auditorium. Grace, who was the musical director but also the pianist, and therefore facing in the opposite direction, gave the leading actress a sympathetic grin and pushed her stool away from the keyboard, reaching down for the water bottle that they all knew was a necessity if they wanted to make it through the long hours of rehearsal in this overheated room without gaining blinding headaches along the way.

“Everything OK?”

“It’s missing something,” the director declared, and Kayleigh worked very hard not to roll her eyes. A similar declaration had been made at least three times a day ever since they started rehearsing for this production. Plenty of somethings had been added, and most of them had been taken out again shortly afterwards when the director changed her mind about it after a night’s sleep.

But it was just one of those things that you had to put up with when you did amateur dramatics — you got amateur directors.

“Like what?” Kayleigh inquired, as politely as she could manage, sitting down on the stage with an audible squish and crossing her legs. She’d been standing, walking, and dancing for four hours and counting by now, and if there was an opportunity for an impromptu break then she was absolutely going to take it. “A tap routine? Or a male voice choir? Or a saxophone solo? Or —”

“No, no, none of that. It needs more whimsy. Something like…” The director paused. “Kay, would you stand up and sit down again for me?”

The actress shrugged. “Sure?” She hopped up to her feet and then, somewhat awkwardly, sat down again. Same squish.

“I thought I heard something!”

“Yeah, I need a change.” Kayleigh brushed a hand through her hair. “Sorry, and all that, but —”

“No, no, don’t you see? It’s perfect! That’s what we need!”

Kayleigh and Grace exchanged a series of looks, and at long last, Kayleigh accepted defeat. “What’s what we need?”

“More verisimilitude!”

“Bless you.”

“You’re a baby, right? So why are you standing singing sophisticated stuff with harmonies and counterpoints?”

Grace intervened. “Because that’s what you asked me to write.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Ava waved a dismissive hand. “But it doesn’t fit! And now I know why! It’s too grown-up.”

“Too grown-up?”

“We have a nursery setting, so we need nursery music!”

“Like… The Wheels on the Bus?”

“No, no. This is an original musical.”

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

“What we need,” Ava continued, the light of creation in her eyes, “is a score that feels at home in a nursery. We need rattles. We need banging blocks. We need a kind of… nursery ambience. The authentic sounds of the nursery.”

“I cannot conceivably score a musical for rattle and teething ring, Ava.”

“Sure you can.”

Kayleigh stifled a yawn. “So are you guys going to need me for this? Only like I said, I could kinda use a change.”

“And it’s past her naptime,” Grace added, striking a gentle discord on the piano. “Let her go, Ava. She’ll only get fussy otherwise, and we need to work on this.”

The director sighed. “Fine, whatever. Will you put her down, Grace? I’ll try and brainstorm a bit.”

“I guess.” Grace stood up from the stool and stretched, her shoulders cracking. “Ready, Kay?”

“Sure.” The actress got up, taking her friend’s hand. “See you, Ava.”

“See you, Kay. Have a good nap.”

The two exited stage right, leaving the auditorium through a little-used side door, and began the short walk back to Kayleigh’s nearby accommodation.

“Do you think we’re ever actually gonna finish?”

Grace sighed. “Your guess is as good as mine. She doesn’t seem to get it. I can’t just write whole new songs overnight. Maybe there are people who can, but I’m not one of them, and if it goes on like this much longer, there won’t be anything left of the original concept at all.”

Kayleigh squeezed her shorter friend’s hand tightly. “I know you can do it.”

Grace laughed briefly. “Swap you? You write it, I’ll sing it.”

“I don’t think that would end well.” Kayleigh fumbled in her pocket to find her room key, letting them both into her apartment, and Grace wrinkled her nose as they entered.

“Wow, you really do need a change.”

The actress blushed. “Sorry. It was that curry night at the students’ union.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Get your butt on the mat, girl.”

Meekly, Kayleigh laid down on the changing mat which was the centrepiece of her living space, and there was a rustle of fabric as Grace flipped up the other girl’s skirt.

“You reek. Well, here goes nothing.” As was her wont, Grace began humming something faintly soothing under her breath. Whether she meant to calm herself or Kayleigh, the latter was never entirely sure, but it was nice, and so she didn’t question it. She wriggled a little on the mat as the other girl gave her bum an exploratory squeeze, and then couldn’t help giggling as Grace tore the four tapes, one by one, perfectly in time with the rhythm of her tune.

“What are you humming?”

“It’s, uh…” Grace frowned and hummed a few more bars as she tried to remember. “No idea. Something I made up, I think. I always just think of it as Kayleigh’s Stinky Song.”

The actress attempted to swat her friend’s face, but the other girl pulled back and she missed dramatically. “It’s cool, I like it. Title needs some work, though.”

“It’s nothing special.” Grace peeled back the front of her friend’s nappy and pulled a face. “Girl, we are so totally doing something about your diet. This is gross.”

“I can change myself, you know.”

“Eh, what are friends for?” The humming resumed as Grace pulled the baby wipes towards her and opened the lid of the packet with a click.

Kayleigh lay back and enjoyed the tickle of the wipes against her skin, and the soothing notes of the music. “Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“You know that thing you’re humming?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you say it’s an original soundtrack?”

Halfway across Kayleigh’s bottom, the wipe paused, and so did the tune.

“You know, I guess I would.”

“The authentic sounds of the nursery, right?”

“And nurseries don’t get much more authentic than this.”

“Grace!”

[karamell-sweetz]

you know what guys. after this whole thing goes down, i hope we get the ACTUAL kamiyama school festival and it is a very good comparison to the first one. where we can see clearly how much mizuki has grown since that first event in january 2021, since that first school festival in middle school.

and i hope mizuki gets to have fun with her friends and can hang out with ena. and i hope ena has fun too. i hope she gets to tease akito, forge bonds with her classmates at the fried squid stall, and hopefully get roped into a dumb show with the oddballs 1 2. i hope this is ena’s pandemonium. i hope we all can have a little bit of joy and whimsy while getting to see how much the gang’s lives have changed at this point.

and i hope rui is a little worried for mizuki — i sincerely hope he is somewhere in mizu5, quietly waiting by the rooftop like he always has for her. but by the end of the schoolfes event he can look at mizuki, her whole face bright as all eight students in our little kamikou main cast gang come down from the rooftop (for one last time maybe, but we don’t talk about graduation in front of rui… unless ofc we bring it up this event) and he can say “you’ve come such a long way, haven’t you, mizuki? i’m happy for you.”

[bl3ss3dbyt1amat]

misc bg3 companion hc

this is so much. i have no idea and im also sorry. all of the origin companions included under the cut

astarion:

i feel like he claps funny. like hes clapping but its that specific way thats meant to be like quieter? like clapping on the palm of his hand. this might be projection but i feel like hes also the type of person to do like a little clap or a spin or his trademark ridiculous giggle whenever hes happy.

i think that hes prone to dramatics like. like pretending to fall on the floor and die if you say hes actually not on your mind 24/7. oh whats that? you dont think im the prettiest princess in the entire world? well astarion has dramatically fallen to the floor

in the early game astarion most definitely practiced his lines loudly and publicly (in camp). he cant even see himself in the mirror but hes trying to look all suave and being like "shall i compare thee to a summers night" while lae'zel and shadowheart both shout "NO" from across the camp. (can be interpreted as bloodiedblade/wyllstarion but i think wyll would be amused and even finish the quote).

wyll:

this man is probably good with basic medicines and ill die on this hill. hes got aloe vera type shit on him at all times. sure, hes not a cleric or healer or even a bard, but he'll stay with you and try his damned best to cheer you up when youre hurt or sick.

on a related note i feel like wyll would be absolutely DELIGHTED by a bard tav. he would just be so amused and filled with whimsy. never gonna complain about playing, even if its like 2am. just occasionally putting in song requests. hes so incredibly enthusiastic like spinning tav around like "THAT WAS BRILLIANT!!!"

wyll probably keeps houseplants. (minor blazingblade but i feel like karlach would accidentally kill one of the plants and actually begin weeping. once she gets her engine fixed wyll tries to teach her how to garden. this goes weirdly) furthermore i think he like goes around his house like humming merrily and watering his plants and crap

gale:

i dont think hes coordinated at all. like this man is tripping down the stairs on a daily basis. he is dropping his tea, his book, his body, ect. to the point that hes got a habit of just hugging the railing for dear life every time he has to go down a staircase. this made traversing shit like the underdark actually literally horrible. every time he falls karlach is so overly concerned and probably offers to carry him. astarion, to everyones dismay, dies laughing each and every time

pretty sure wyll and shadowheart have a conversation about weird book porn. i am here to say that gale was holding back his power while that conversation happened. gale has read so much book porn and if you knew the real scale of it you would be concerned. tara is concerned at least.

shadowheart:

especially during early game, i feel like shadowheart was literally clenching so hard to avoid admitting cute things were cute. like "oh.. a stray mutt... charming I MEAN IN LIKE A GROSS WAY". she was trying to hard to be all scary and into shar and shit but she just really likes puppies and other animals and crap

if she were modern i feel like she would really like pixar movies (inside out comes to mind for reasons i cannot explain) and wear long jean skirts. i cant explain any of this but it is fact in my mind. even in the bg3 setting i do feel like she would wear very long boxy type skirts. sort of plays into her whole "dark priestess" sort of vibe

shadowheart was sitting in her tent with scissors fucking losing her shit with anxiety trying to cut her own bangs without a mirror. it is a literal miracle from selune that they dont look like complete and total shit. no wonder halsin was surprised. (minor silverheart/shadow'zel: when she first like actually properly noticed what shaodwheart did with her hair, since the initial joke is she cant tell what changed, i think lae'zel was very impressed. she even likened it to like a sort of war paint against shar. also we KNOW lae'zel likes silver)

(can be interpreted as bladeheart/,,, do wyll and shadowheart have a ship name yet? HM. well anyway i think that in conjunction with the previous headcanon about wyll gardening, he and shadowheart garden together and he specially grew her night orchids)

lae'zel:

ever since i looked at her stupid little mindflayer training dummie in camp ive had the image of her in my head very angrily and intensly carving up a turnip to look like a mindflayer. draws a little mean face on it like the worlds most violent six year old. every time she messes up on her little DIY project shes muttering curses in tir'su.

lae'zel will take any opportunity to infodump about githyanki culture. specifically red dragons. if she met a red dragonborn or even maybe a follower of tiamat or some shit she would be so hype. in her "i hate everyone SVAH" way ofc. but like. trying to casually slide trivia into battle conversation or party banter with all the subtlety of an owlbear. "yes... the battle preparations are proceeding as expected... as expected a red dragons hibernation cycle..." and everyone just has to turn their head and ask what the fuck shes talking abt

(can be thought of as silverweave: lae'zel and gale talk in draconic about dragon history and the celestial plane. hes so tickled to have a mutual interest with lae'zel)

no one hears lae'zel laugh but when they do its so weird. like its some weird like hissing sort of sound and everyone has to do a double take and make sure theyre understanding what the fuck is going on for a second. lae'zel is incredibly defensive when people notice it but theyre not trying to be mean

karlach:

before her engine gets fixed but like early on to where shes not used to it, karlach keeps trying to touch things and keeps breaking them. this fills her with genuine despair and she will start crying (everyone in camp has to go on a group effort to calm her down). she just thinks the world is so beautiful and is so sad she cant interact with it

she likes to dance but in like a boot stompin way. karlach is probably just an absolute party animal when she gets her freedom back because honestly in her situation who wouldnt be. SHE JUST GOT TO NOT BE ON FIRE LET THE GIRL PARTY

once shes been fixed to the point where she can touch people, she just never stops. manhandling everyone in the party constantly. oh whats that? tav is on low health? dont worry karlach is sprinting over to put tav on her shoulder. literally any problem can be solved by karlach hugs and i wont be taking feedback on this

[aclowntiny]

Unstoppable Forces and Immovable Objects- Mingi x Female!Reader

Song Mingi is an incredibly special man & I hope he never forgets it 😤 I love he immensely. Pink Mingi is, frankly, a cornerstone of this year. An icon. A legend. The moment. Also shhhh I took some dorm layout liberties for this 🤫😂

Word Count: 2620 | Idiots to Lovers, Humor | Warnings: only if you're bothered by smooch talk hehe, but one note: 노래방 = noraebang aka what most of us English speakers think of as karaoke 😄

"(y/n)! (y/n)! Watch this!"

"What now?"

Completely ignoring Yeosang's interjection, Mingi continued to call for you, grin of whimsy widening when you made your way over as if he wasn't sure he'd actually see you.

Which he totally would, always, because you had the biggest, fattest crush on him, heart leaping up and hitting a big carnival bell every time Mingi sought your attention. He was the biggest ray of sunshine smiling through just about any cloud in your life.

Shuffling past Hongjoong and Seonghwa's conversation at the sidelines, you made your way back to the bouncy center of the trampoline park you'd gone with the boys to. There stood Mingi with a hand raised, waving as he bounced ever-so-slightly on his heels, the dark netting rippling beneath him.

"Let's see," you tell him with a smile, heart fluttering at his waves and jumps.

"Ok! Get ready!" Steadying himself, Mingi hunkered a bit from his upright stance, run-jumping across three squares of trampoline, hurtling himself up into the air on the fourth toward the giant obstacle pad set a little bit left of center. He did not clear it, sailing right into the side of the firm structure with a small oof.

Smacking his forehead, Yeosang took a few steps away. Yunho joined you in running toward the tall man and his unfortunate collision, asking his friend if he was ok. It looked like he almost nodded, but you met his eyes as he ended up shaking it no instead. Your eyes widened. Had it started hurting?

"Where does it hurt? Do you think you bruised something?"

"Just his ego," Yeosang muttered.

You, of course, did not want to make Mingi feel any worse, choosing not to respond to that. "Do you need help up?"

Mingi nodded, eyes still looking into yours as he held out his hand to you. Face warming, you grabbed it, unable to suppress a smile even as you pulled the big man to his feet again.

"That was really cool, though," you told him, just to see the smile return to his face, "you went really far. I bet the others couldn't get that far."

"No, they couldn't, could they?" Contagious joy indeed came back to Mingi's face. "I'm going to jump so high I finally hit the punching bag they hung! Watch me, (y/n)!"

"I will," you giggle, stepping back and bouncing in place as he goes long for a running start.

~

(POV: Mingi)

"This has to stop before you break anything. Don't you think there's any other way?" Yeosang cajoled, sitting down next to Mingi and handing him a freshly chilled water bottle.

Mingi, for his part, took some of the cool condensation on his hand, running it through his short pink hair to combat the sweat of exertion before frowning in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"These insane attempts to get (y/n)'s attention!"

"Insane attempts?"

"Last week, Mingi, you borrowed my skateboard and proceeded to skin your arm when you fell off the grind rail. You have never skateboarded in your life."

"I wanted her to think I'm cool," the pink-haired man responded with a pout, "she's so beautiful and awesome."

"And notice," Yeosang commented, shaking his head as black hair fell all over, "she has never fallen off a skateboard."

"Well, what do you think I should do?"

"Um, maybe consider confessing to her? Seeing if she likes you too?"

"No way! What if she doesn't even want to be friends anymore?"

"Well, I suppose that's a risk we all take," Yeosang responded, tone softening, "but if you're respectful about it, I'm sure you won't lose her completely."

"That's the last thing I want," Mingi said intensely.

"Yes, of course not, so why don't you just-"

Right then, you happened to saunter by, crossing the sidelines near the center to head to the foam pit, glancing over at the two of them with a faint smile. A gorgeous one. Mingi smiled back, tossing the water bottle his hyung gave him immediately aside and walking after you.

"Hey, (y/n), let's jump in at the same time and see who can climb back out faster!"

That's what you guys did, Mingi diving in facing the side so he could watch with a twinkle in his eye the way you flipped in. Amazing. He managed to get his footing on the way out, scrambling up not too clumsily for once, but when he turned around he saw your hands clutching at the side, floundering a bit.

His heart thudded. "Hey, you helped me earlier. Do you need me to return the favor?"

"Yes, please," you replied with a nod, loosening half your grip to take Mingi's proffered hand.

He yanked you free of the cubic foam menaces in no time, and soon you were standing right in front of him. "Guess you win," you remarked with an amused smirk.

"Yeah, I guess so, but your jump was way cooler."

"I can show you how to do it if you want, but only on one condition."

"What's that, (y/n)?"

"You keep helping me out when I get stuck."

"Of course."

~

(POV: You)

Jump time over, you made your way across the arena to the exit, taking the long way as you, San, and Jongho sprung across every single central trampoline. Giggling, you landed, shuffling over to the locker where the park had you lock up your shoes. When you got there, Yeosang had lowered himself onto the bench by your locker, so you dropped down next to him to lace yourself back up. Out of the peripheries of your vision, you saw him fixing you with a look.

"Really?"

You blinked. "What?"

"Fake falling into the foam pit?" He asked in response, one eyebrow raising.

"You mean the dive?" Pulling your right foot into your shoe, you fixed the dark-haired singer with a look of your own, this one conveying a lack of understanding.

Or so you thought. "No, I mean the way you obviously didn't even try to get out and the little drama performance as you feebly grabbed the sides."

"Hey, I'm not feeble!"

"No, you're just into Mingi, aren't you?"

"Because I had him help me out? In case you haven't noticed, he's pretty tall and strong, and he's so nice I really didn't think he would mind if I-"

"Yeah, you hear yourself, don't you?"

Busted. "Ok, please don't say anything, I mean there's no way he likes me back and I don't want to make things weird, so it's just something I get to live with as you guys' friend."

Yeosang just chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, man."

"What?"

"Nothing," he grabbed his bag, "just...look, I know Mingi very well, and let me just tell you he'd rather get hit by a bus than make the first move. If you're into him, the best thing you could do is tell him. Very, very directly."

Your mouth fell open. "What? Confess?" Heat bloomed across your face. "It's ok, I don't need to hear him reject me, I know we're just friends, it just...he's just...he's just so..." You trail off with a sigh.

Yeosang just elbows you, rolling his eyes lightly. "Handsome? Dreamy?"

"Shut up," you shoot back in a drawn-out giggle as you make your way to the rest of the group at the lobby, where you surreptitiously popped open the doors on one of the little ice cream coolers, sliding a bar out and taking it up to the desk to purchase. Giving people food, after all, was a flirtation method in your mind. Like hey, hello, please like me, I can feed you. You weren't sure if it worked on Mingi or not, but hey, worth a shot.

You strolled up to him, pulling the strawberry cream bar out from behind your back. "Look what I got you! It matches your hair!"

With that big, bright smile you loved, Mingi pulled an ice cream bar out from behind his back, too. "I got you an ice cream!" He exclaimed, though he trailed off as he glanced at his offering. "Though this one doesn't match your hair."

A smack sound at your back had Mingi starting and you turning around, only to see Yeosang with his face in his hand.

~

(POV: Yeosang)

"This is stupid."

"Oh, you think?" Yeosang, frankly, was over the moon to have someone who sympathized with him, that person being his longtime friend Wooyoung.

Wooyoung who stood at Yeosang's side taking in the very same scene that laid out before them: you and Mingi had jointly chosen a very particular 노래방 song, your favorite romantic movie duet to be exact. You two were gripping your microphones like lifelines, both absolutely belting the song at each other for the bit, key and perfect notes be darned. Your eyes never left each other's except to dart ever-so-slightly down every now and again as you grinningly deafened everyone else, whose rolling eyes you were blind to thanks to that focus on each other. Mingi let his jacket slide down his shoulders as he dropped down to really yell a note, revealing the tank top he was wearing underneath, and boy did your eye contact falter then.

"Uh, yeah," Wooyoung's eyes slid upward so hard they practically disappeared under their lids as he crossed his arms, "My God, I feel like a third wheel. Are they-"

"Deeply convinced they have torturous one-sided crushes? Yes, they are," Yeosang replied, mirroring his friend's posture.

The sputtering that followed was very satisfying to what little bit of Yeosang's sanity remained. "Wh- What? How? Can they not see themselves doing..." Wooyoung extended a black-sleeved arm, palm flat out and pointing incriminatingly at you two, who were now giggling over some dumb mic twirling contest. "That?"

"That's what friends do," Yeosang asked facetiously, falling back against the red plush bench the inactive singers sat on, "right?"

"I mean," Wooyoung commented, hands wringing, "I'd do that with you, but just with a drinking song or something, sheesh."

"And even then I'd contemplate slapping you."

"That's why I love you." Wooyoung slid a little closer to his friend with a teasing grin. "See? That's so easy, why don't Mingi and (y/n) do that?"

"Good luck, they're like an unstoppable force and an immovable object." Yeosang quickly motioned to the duo with a sweep of his open hand, directing Wooyoung's eyes off him and back to the antics, which this time consisted of Mingi trying to coolly toss his microphone and catch it, totally missing and sending it flying to the floor, making the two of you laugh.

"Is that why Mingi was practicing juggling in the dorms?"

"He what?"

"Yeah, one of Seonghwa's legos got knocked over...not a pretty afternoon."

Yeosang ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "Yeah, we'd practically need to trick them into getting together to stop the carnage."

Suddenly he felt a slap to his shoulder. Starting, he swiveled his head from the Mingi-(y/n) train wreck to meet the devilish eyes of one Jung "Schemes" Wooyoung.

"Well, I think that can be arranged." Leaning in, he whispered a plan to Yeosang, who nodded and shook his hand in agreement. "Alright then! Celebratory song?"

"Sure, why not?" Yeosang replied, rising from the couch and coaxing the thrice-tossed microphones from (y/n) and Mingi. "Anything to stop the showtunes."

"Hey," you pouted, "that's a classic, you know!"

"Yeah!"

"Mingi, my friend, you've never even seen that movie," Wooyoung chuckled, wrapping an arm around his friend, who flushed.

"I can appreciate lyricism, you know."

~

(POV: You)

Yeosang was not letting you breathe. Ever since you admitted to liking his friend back in the trampoline park, he wouldn't stop wiggling his eyebrows at you after you brushed hands with Mingi, elbowing you and making jokes in the kitchen, and now just straight-up playing devil-on-your-shoulder telling you you needed to practice confessing.

"No, I don't," you griped back, "I've already ruined my life enough by even falling for a friend in the first place, I don't need to creep him out, too."

"Sheesh, what do you think you're going to say, that you've got names for all three of your kids or what?"

"Well for starters, how does Song Minseo sound to you?"

Yeosang looked like he was going to puke. "Oh, God."

"That was a joke!" You waved your hands back and forth wildly as if very inexperienced-ly directing a plan landing. "I was kidding!"

"You came up with that way too fast," he said, shaking his head, "but, see, it's hard to get the white picket fence if you never share how you see him, right?"

You crossed your arms. "I guess."

"You had no problem telling me how tall and strong and nice he was," Yeosang pointed out, leading you further down the dorm hall and shooting a brief look into Wooyoung's room before stopping you in his, "just say all that to him instead of me."

Your hands shot up to cover your reddening face. "That would be so embarrassing."

"I mean, he probably already knows he's tall, strong, and nice, so you should be pretty safe with that one."

"I'm not just going to say that, that's, like, basic stuff! I'd tell him how happy he makes me just by being happy himself, how he's pretty much a ray of pure sunshine and I love the way he calls my name and I can't imagine being half as comfortable with anyone else as I am with him. He has eyes, he can tell he's hot or whatever."

Yeosang got an absolutely catlike smile on his face. "And who are we talking about again?"

Glaring daggers into those pleased-looking eyes, you bit out "Mingi, you idiot! You were the one who made me admit I liked him in the first place, what do you mean who?"

Before your long-haired friend could answer, his silence starkened a not-so-subtle "Really?" from outside the door, through which Wooyoung and Mingi suddenly came barreling, the latter practically shoving the former aside to get next to you. Your eyes widened, heartbeat speeding up multiple times its normal pace.

"Yes!" Those dang sparkly eyes you wanted to stare into forever. That deep voice. Excitement in that deep voice. Mingi's gaze traveling all around your face as he reached clumsily for one of your hands, the other pumping like he'd just won a football game. "Yes!"

You couldn't take it; flushing and grinning a winning expression of your own, you felt your heart burst and soar as you stepped forward, carnival bell ringing over and over again. It rang so loud, in fact, it practically possessed you, Mingi's victorious shouts and even the way he started bouncing started to drain away in the swell of your heart, your eyes and brain only seeing him. More specifically... without a single forethought, as you did most things when you were around Mingi, your hands reached out to grab his collar, yanking him forward until he crashed into your lips, responding as soon as physically possible. Arms sliding around his neck, you picked up the pace, feeling Mingi smile and totally coming undone, knees almost buckling until you felt a hand steady you around your waist. When you pulled away, Mingi tightened his grip, keeping you in place as your foreheads connected, both of you giggling like schoolkids who got caught passing notes as you began whispering all the once-secret feelings you shared for each other.

"Hm, this might get annoying, too," Yeosang commented.

"Yeah, totally," Wooyoung agreed, leaning against the doorframe he'd just been pushed against, "but at least they'll break less stuff now."

[shiny-eyed-corvid]

Hi! Your blog is lovely, and I’m a teenager looking to get into collecting found objects, but I want to know how to feel less insecure/silly doing it. I don’t live near a city, so most of what I find will probably be on hiking trails/beaches. Any tips? Also if you see this I hope you have a good day :}

hi anon! so glad to hear you like my blog + are thinking of getting into collecting as well! As far as feeling silly/insecure goes, many things that are fun can look kind of silly to a passerby. I think as long as you're having a nice time and not getting in anyone's way, there's no need to feel insecure about it, and that insecurity will wear off over time. I feel a little silly whipping out my little crow claw trongs sometimes, but I enjoy my hobby enough that I don't let that get in the way of doing it. (Plus I'm guessing most people that see me stopping on the street think I've found money on the ground or that I'm just picking up some litter or something I dropped!) It also helps that I have irl friends + a little community here that also support my hobby and are excited to hear what I've found! Finding whimsy in your environment/day-to-day life is nothing to be ashamed about! I have some tips here about finding stuff. Mostly it's just about being vigilant and checking places where things tend to get swept off to. Even places like beaches and trails have plenty of interesting stuff that people or nature has left behind. (Beachcombing is one of my favorite things.) Thank you for the kind words and happy crow finding! ✨🐦‍⬛