#diy feather do

[moe-broey]

Had. An extremely funny vision to revamp Moe's staff.

The design isn't super final, I can never really decide how I want the accents to look... trying to keep them in line with how the Askr trio's weapons look. Especially the signature color magic glow that's present in their special arts!!!

Anna has it too!!!!! You just don't see it bc her art gets cut off in game. Also, additional image bc you don't see the handle v well in her special.

Which is why, here, the green gem is most prominent on Moe's weapon.... geen....... idk if I'm keeping the other ones that look like the summoning circle orbs. It was just something I wanted to try out!

BUT. BUT. The Main Idea here is that Moe added its own touch to the staff. Yeah, the dangly halo was a Neat idea, but this concept is just so much funnier to me..... says SO much about Moe as a character... it is ALWAYS. Making and customizing things. I can also see Moe using the carabiner practically as well! Now, I wonder why it held onto those two feathers in particular... 🤔

[sushis4kalyo]

Boucles d'oreilles DIY 🪶

[mybrainproblems]

I never know what to think about folks who leave 1 star reviews on things and then go on to explain why in depth, and it ends up being some baffling error on their part

Anyway. Today I was reading a reviews for an extended handle sander and there was a 1 star review entirely about how they bought the wrong size sandpaper and therefore it's a bad product

[rae-writes]

An Angel?

om demons x reader (+Simeon, Solomon, Mephi, Raph)

wc : 2.k

warnings : more simping bois, more humor, a lot more sprinkles of suggestive comments

synopsis : a deviltok trend has the boys on their knees for you, part two: electric boogaloo

a/n : for the record, Luke was in the room while Mc was making it, cheering them on, doing his cute little “Waahhh!” // idea brought to me by the lovely [your-next-daydream]​ // AND, as usual, let’s not talk about how ridiculously long this took me to finish ahaha rip me-

demon ver. 

<Simeon> Mc looks rather...heavenly, don’t you agree? 

[attachment sent] 

Intrigued, he wasted no time in clicking on the file, grinning when he realized it was one of your deviltoks. Decked out in your RAD uniform, you sat in a chair with your hands clasped together. 

“Who are you?” 

Smoothly, almost as if you were floating, you stood and took a few steps towards the camera with a rather shy smile. 

“An angel.” 

You bowed ever so slightly, flitting your gaze to the floor. 

“What’s your name?”

You spun suddenly, sending your red accessory swooshing in front of the camera, covering everything from view. 

“Michael.”

As fast as the transition happened, it ended; the view was cleared to reveal you— angelic down to a T and beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe you. 

You were adorned with sheer, white clothing that was loose and flowy, probably swaying due to a fan that was off camera. Light blue accents were scattered here and there- including an extension piece in your hair of the same color. Sparkling gold accessories glinted under the light, but not as much as the halo that hovered above your head. It was a gorgeous molten gold tint, partly transparent with glitter floating around inside (with a few cracks decorating the outside of it). It only brought attention to the snowy wings spanning out behind you, flecks of iridescent scattered amongst the feathers. 

[9 people saved a video attachment]

Lucifer

Ah. Yes. He’s not combusting on the inside, not at all. 

*insert internal screaming*

Ahem. Now that his jaw has been picked up off the floor, he is immediately wondering how the fuck Simeon of all people got access to the video before him

Don’t get him wrong though, he is on the way right now- leave the door open, Mc

He has to put his marks all over your body to get rid of the fact that you looked that pretty while using Michael’s name

Possessive urges aside, please keep the outfit on

Does not care if you’re dressed up like an Angel, he will gladly corrupt you

In fact, he wants to corrupt you- let him see that pact mark of his while you look so angelic, yeah?

might be into role playing it if you’d like

Mammon

Blinks a couple times before looking around slowly; poor boy really thought he’d been yeeted back to the celestial realm for a minute there

It’s all quiet before suddenly everyone in the house (and probably outside) hears “HOLY FUCK WHAT”

You never cease to amaze him, by the devils, is he in love 

The blush on his face- if he was anything other than a demon- would look severely concerning. Like no, it’s not a red beacon of light, it’s just him coming through the halls

Is creepin outside ya door practically on his knees. Please let him in. His greed is flared and you’re the only cure even if you’re also the reason

He is dying to have a diy photo shoot of the two of you in your angel fit

Step on him. Do it- it’s the perfect angle, the shot comes out beautifully and he is putting it right in his wallet once it’s developed 

Will step on you in return if you ask

You’ll let him kiss all over your body, wontcha, Mc? (he’ll even be gentle with his fangs when he nibbles around that golden necklace you’ve got on)

Levi

*cue his very nervous yet giddy laughter*

This is just like that anime he saw last week called ‘Help! My human s/o just turned into an Angel but I’m a demon and actually kind of into this?!” 

Seriously though, you look so beautiful, Levi was immediately down in the floor with his face covered and tail wagging 

Please allow 3-4 business months before he can recover 

Jk lol he’s hovering in your doorway before you you can even click on his contact

Shyly asks if he can touch your halo and wings (and ends up with his tail wrapped around you, knocking you side to side because it’s still attempting to wag) 

Unlike the eldest brother, Levi practically begs you to roleplay this with him and have a cosplay photoshoot 

Will shamelessly keep you to himself for the rest of the day and hiss at everyone who gets too close 

Please sit on him and call him mean names while also holding him sweetly 

Satan

Sign him tf up- he’s got a pen at the ready 

Irony aside, Satan thinks you look absolutely stunning— straight out of a fairy tale 

Irony not aside, Satan is actually so into this and craves to play it out with you

He was never an Angel to begin with, he was born a demon; just thinking about making your ivory wings turn black makes him excited 

Satan understands it’s just a simple spell you’ve casted so he won’t get too out of sorts (but if you like it, then what’s the harm?) 

Wants to read a forbidden love trope book and maybe act out some of the scenes while you’re still dressed like that 

The hopeless romantic in him is front and center the entire time

If you think he’s gonna let you go now, you’re sorely mistaken— let his brothers try and take you away 

He’s got tons of scenarios to act out if you can handle him 

Asmo

That weird high pitched sound you hear from across the house that should be something only dogs can hear? Yeah that’s Asmo squealing

Posting your video EVERYWHERE bc everyone needs to see how fucking gorgeous you look 

You can hear his footsteps from a mile away as he hurries to your room 

He MUST see your outfit in person ASAP

Azzy. Is. So. Fucking. Down. For. This. Shit. He thinks he’s dreamed about this once actually  

Please let him just examine every inch of you, he’s begging

Once again his camera is out and ready for a photoshoot and his demon form is out right alongside it 

He will be keeping you for the next 24-48 hours thanks

Beel

Choked. Again. 

Don’t be alarmed by the loud rumbling sound— it’s not Beel’s stomach for once, but instead a growl

He didn’t mean to make that sound but you just look so— and he just— and you— and and— A a a A A 

Has that cute little blush plastered over his face all. day. 

Might be tempted- or actually try- to take a bite out of your halo or something else ifykyk

Rewatches the video at least ten times because you're just. Wow. Wow. W O W. 

Is now in the mood to eat some celestial realm food with you 

though his appetite is half for food and half for you 

Pls don’t mind his staring or the way he’s probably drooling a bit, he can’t help it :(

Belphie 

“...wait, what?”

Lays there staring at the ceiling for a moment bc PHEW you got him sweating and he hasn’t even moved yet-

Manages a straight face all the way until he enters your room and sees the outfits in person

To which he is, once again, dropping right at your feet with a look of ‘PLEASE’

He needs a whole ass minute or two to catch his breath from how fucking gorgeous you look and then he needs another whole ass minute or two to scan you over again

Please sit on him

Is uncharacteristically stuttering through every sentence— how can he possibly concentrate on stupid words in these [amazing] conditions?!

Gatekeeping you AGAIN

Underneath you the entire. time. 

Barbatos

*windows shutdown* 

*windows restart*

…aaand we’re back ladies and gentlemen and every cool dude in between but Barbatos is still fucking astonished— absolutely flabbergasted at how badly he’s got it for you

He dropped everything he was carrying in that moment and swiftly picked it back up, hoping no one saw

Diavolo saw. He recorded the entire thing and sent it to you, zooming in on Barbatos’ blush

There’s just something primal in him that makes him want to sink his teeth into you and coil his tail around your body so that you won’t be able to go anywhere else until he lets you

Everyone be damned, Barb will be having you to himself for the entire night

Will also run his fingers along the faux wings and halo before he absolutely ruins you until the magic dissipates

He is…totally normal about the entire thing..

Diavolo

His father help him— Diavolo is so incredibly thankful for the exchange program

Is OUT of the castle at mach speed before Barbatos can even say otherwise

And then he’s speeding right back and summoning you to him instead so he can have you to himself

Mans is kneeling at your fucking feet the second he lays eyes on you

And while it isn’t ‘proper’ for someone who wants unity between all three realms to want to corrupt you— 

—he does. So badly. He thinks he might even beg you for it 

Also wants to take a picture of the two of you with him in his demon form (it’s the it picture for weeks after he posts it)

Cannot stop looking at your halo; please let him touch it

(If you slowly begin altering your wings to bleed black, he’s practically foaming at the mouth—) 

bonus: 

Simeon

*sharp inhale* . . . *yeets halo*

He deadass forgets he’s an Angel himself for a few minutes bc he’s too busy simping fawning over you 

God who?? Like get tf outta the way, beep beep, archangel on a mission comin through 

Is begging as soon as he steps foot through your door. Please, please let him touch you and explore— he should be ashamed with how unabashed he is but fuck look at you 

Will let his own wings out just so you can compare your angels forms (melted on the spot when you brushed your wings against his)

Honestly can’t decide if he wants you to corrupt him or if he wants to corrupt you…or both at the same time

He’s not sharing you. Not now. Not like this. 

You may look like an angel, and he may be an angel, but he won’t treat you like one tonight 

If you do the fancy trick of letting your wings turn black, he’s completely bowing down to whatever you wish right then and there 

Solomon

Kinda forgot he was immortal for a split second and wondered if he’d either died or accidentally traveled to the celestial realm

Gains his bearings rather quickly, but the hold you have on him is still very much there

And he’d like you to have a hold around his throat— what? Who said that??

His pretty little blush where he averts his eyes all nervously? YEAH THAT

He’s taken aback for a couple moments before his usual shit eating grin comes back but that blush? Still there. 

Backs you against a wall, in a corner, and let’s his hands roam with a small laugh, quietly asking how you manage to make him lose composure so easily 

Is so soft and sweet for a minute before his eyes darken and that SEXY smirk crawls onto his face

Plucks that halo right from above your head and tosses it behind his shoulder because how could he possibly do what he has planned if you’re an angel?

Makes your wings bloom black himself (and challenges how long you can handle him)

extra little bonus: 

Mephisto 

Simply raises a brow and wonders why the hell his body got so hot all the sudden 

Ignores the video for a couple hours until he realizes he can’t stop fucking thinking about it 

Promptly decides he’s going to go straight to you and demand how dare you invade his thoughts like this 

And then promptly decides he’d rather just revert to using his hands instead when the sight of you makes his mouth dry and water at the same time

Will take it upon himself, right then, to corrupt you

Because there’s no way in the seven rings of hell he’s letting you switch sides and he’ll break the magic you’re using as proof

After though *cough cough* he will bashfully tell you how gorgeous you looked…

Raphael

Let me tell you, mans was not ready 

Like if you’ve seen the video of the person with a stacked ass on the stretcher being carried by and the news reporter’s face afterwards, that’s Raphael. 

Luke takes a picture of his expression and makes a meme

Won’t address it until the very next day, stiffly telling you that your outfit was very pleasing to the eye (he thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous, okay, he’s just struggling)

If you offer to show him in person, he is ascending right back home. Won’t deny, though. Like please do. 

In awe for the whole experience 

And blushes an alluring deep shade if you show him some ‘corruption’ tricks you have up your sleeve

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 04 - leather

soap x f!reader | 2k words cw: established relationship, sub!Soap, dom!Reader, impact play, heavy restraints, handjob, love a/n: everything is consensual, just not explicitly discussed. summary: johnny reaps the benefits of some diy. banner by @/cafekitsune

John spent weeks locked away in his shop, toiling on a project he was adamant about keeping a secret. A surprise.

When it was complete, he fetched you from the house with the eagerness of a dog pulling a lead. Barely in the door from a long day at your hellish job, you were suspect and reluctant.

“Johnny, please make it quick. All I want is a bath, and a bowl of ice cream.”

“I ken, I ken. Just wait ‘til ye see.” 

He shepherds you through the shop door and shuffles toward a bright blue tarp draped over something sizable. You inwardly groan, immediately assuming he’s gone and found another bike to restore.

“Oh, boy…”

“Remember John’s party back in February?”

Heat erupts on your cheeks. Jesus. “Yes…?”

“And remember the basement? Simon?”

Your head whips around, expecting the lug to materialize from the shadows. “He’s not here, is he? We’re supposed to chat before–”

“No, nothing like that. Do ye remember what he was doing?”

How could you forget? It was hard to look away. The whole room had gone quiet when Price and Kyle unveiled Simon. It was a shock seeing the big man rendered helpless. Ankles, wrists, and neck locked in a stockade. It was medieval. You never took him for a man who’d consent to being displayed like that, let alone restrained. But that was one of the joys of visiting Johnny’s friends.

“You didn’t.”

His grin grows. “Aye, I did.” With a dramatic flourish, your husband hoists the crinkling fabric into the air and away.

“Jesus Christ, John.” You giggle nervously at the sight of the gleaming wooden stockade. The light bounces off the lacquer, catching the steel fixtures and rich, black leather. It’s gorgeous, and the sight alone lights a fire in your belly. “This is what you’ve been up to? Turning the shop into an actual dungeon?”

“We'll move it indoors. Got the plans from Price and everything. It’s not an exact copy, but it’s a decent prototype.”

You shoot him a look at that, running your hand along the cushioned beam meant to support someone at their stomach. “Prototype? You betting I’ll like being in there that much?”

He goes quiet, and slowly rounds to the front. His smile now sheepish. “Actually, I was hopin’ you’d put me in it.”

~~

Your husband is not a giant like Simon, but he’s not small, and he’s certainly not someone to underestimate. You’ve had your head locked in his arms before, have had him manhandle you about like a toy. He uses his broad shoulders and muscular thighs to his advantage, and his concentrated bulk lends him quite a bit of speed. Wrestling with him is never strictly playful, at least it never ends that way, and he always fights dirty.

So seeing him bent over, ass perked in the air, and tugging at the restraints is somewhat of a revelation. Knowing he’s trained to avoid capture and resist interrogation, and knowing what he could do with his hands-free? It’s a good thing you’re clothed. Your underwear is soaked.

(So’s his, his leaking cock gradually darkens his cherry red jockstrap.) 

You card your fingers through his hair, feathering it affectionately. “Comfortable?”

He smiles warmly, leaning his cheek into your palm when it slides down his face. “Reasonably.”

“You ready?”

“Aye. Please.”

“That’s a good boy.”

After wrangling the stockade into the basement, a team effort between you and him, he sprang surprise number two on you—a brand new set of a flogger and a crop. Matching. Another apparent recommendation from Price. Your hand hovers between, ultimately selecting the flogger first. A pretty thing, black and dyed red leather, and a decent weight. It’s not your first rodeo, but you're not as seasoned as Price or Kyle. You take the time to roll your wrist with it in hand, letting the quiet flutter of its tassels build anticipation. 

Your Johnny looks so good like this. Legs forced open, muscles straining under his skin. You notice the twinge in his knee, something he swears is alright, but you let your mind mull over options for doting on him tonight and tomorrow in the background.

He gasps when you start. You surprise him with light, twinned strokes over the backs of his thighs. It’s a test for the stability of his work as much as it is for him. Neither of you are accustomed to him being on the receiving end. It’s a rare privilege. But the stockade barely budges when he jolts, and he doesn’t tap out. You escalate accordingly.

His thighs, his back, his shoulders. Everywhere but his ass gets painted in a series of mildly firmer strikes. You’re careful, mindful of his work-related injuries and sore spots, and listen closely to his breathing. It’s heavy and deep, hitching when you drag the flogger slowly over his cheeks. Sweat beads at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck, yes.” he whispers when you let it rest a moment. He tells you he’s green, then wiggles eagerly. “Get on with it.”

You tease him instead. Lashing out, literally or figuratively, is simply rewarding his mouthy behavior. You let the tassels swing without force behind them, and the tips barely skim him. A few minutes of that gets him apologetic, whimpering. It’s a fight to hide the pleasure in your voice.

“What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I-I said please. Please. I’m needin’ it.”

You hum, draw the flogger away, and wait. The second you see his head try to turn, trapped in its leather-lined hole, you lay down a volley of firm hits to the meat off his ass. You don’t let up as his skin grows rosy. You don’t stop even when he’s moaning at the top of his lungs, whole body jerking in the stocks, rattling and testing the hardware. You go until your wrist aches.

After ditching the flogger, you inspect where the gear touches his limbs. While on a knee, listening to his breathing even out and his body settle lax onto the bar, you bite your lip at the sight of him. 

“Making a mess down here, baby. You want this off?” You ask, rising to your feet, toying with a band of his strap. “Not digging in, is it?”

“No. Water?”

You fetch the bottle immediately and watch closely as he drinks. His throat bobs and it’s never looked as good as it does resting on the plush leather of the stockade’s hole. Sweat drips down his temples, his jaw. When his eyes flick up to look at you, glassy and blue, your stomach clenches. His fucking mouth puckered around the straw should be innocuous. Should. You’re going to lose it the next time he has you. This is all you’ll think about until then.

The first few hits with the crop are love taps. Enough to make his muscles spasm, but keep them loose enough. He hisses from a couple of harder hits to where his thighs meet his ass. He twitches, toes curling and uncurling, before he sticks it out marginally further, as much as he can given his limited movement. Neither of you are into dealing serious damage, but it’s as if you can read the thoughts darting through his mind. Hear the gears turning. He wants more. He’s ready for more.

Following a couple of idle swings, you start, similar to how you did with the flogger. Without telegraphing, you lay easy smacks to his thighs, moving up a hair each time until one bounces off a cheek. You soothe over it, admiring the color. Slowly but surely, he’s getting pinker.

You knead one cheek, trailing the flat of the crop up a leg, adjusting your grip and stance to slap the other, and switch after a half dozen. You brush your thumb, petting his stinging skin and coarse hair, and sigh contentedly at a little whimper.

“Doing so good for me, Johnny. Such a strong boy.”

It earns another choked, desperate sound. He gives his color when asked, and you return to an arms-length away. You flick the crop across his skin, glancing blows to revive the bite and burn. You progress to rapid-fire snaps, peppering his skin until he’s squirming again. Peeking over the wooden top beam, you smile at the slack in his jaw and his breathless panting. He meets your gaze with a pleasure-drunk laugh.

“A little more?”

“A little more.”

Since he hasn’t requested that his underwear come off, you swing the crop up slowly and drag it along the underside of his covered cock. It twitches at the contact, testing the fabric. You smirk as he keens and curses, thrusting futilely once again backward in the stock. If you didn’t think he’d come in two seconds flat, you’d call him a slut. Rather, you prod and nudge his balls with the crop’s head, letting the thin leather bend and slip around them until a glint catches your eye. A fine spiderweb-thin string of precum seeps through the cotton. It dangles. Drops. A low, prolonged moan escapes him.

“Fucking hell, John. Look at that…” You drop the tool, eyes drilling into the stain. You dip your thumbs under the waistband. “May I?”

His head barely lifts and drops in a nod.

“Need a yes, baby.”

“Y…Yes. Please.” His voice is jagged, raw. 

“So, so good,” You breathe. You tug the strap down, the two of you groaning when his cock bounces free and sways. More droplets splatter onto the ground with a wet sound. “Christ. I’m…”

“Fuck, please, I’m gonna burst.”

The jockstrap falls down his thighs abandoned, and you press to his back. He hisses when you drape over him and take him in hand, partly from the rough texture of your clothes and the feel of your warm palm. Swiping your thumb over the drooling tip, you spread his prespend over his aching length and firm up your grasp to how he likes it. John starts to stammer out something undoubtedly impatient, but it flattens into a choked-off grunt as you stroke. His feet lift and stomp on the vinyl lining the flooring of the stockade. He bucks, trying to fuck your fist, but the stomach bar keeps him chasing it as feverishly as you reckon he’d like.

“You close?” You tease, lips dusting over a red spot on his sweaty shoulder, and swallow hard.

The pure need in his voice makes your chest tighten. He struggles with a response, nearly slurring his words. “Dinnae stop, fuck, I-I…Oh, fuuuuck—” 

One downside of his little DIY project? Not seeing his face as he comes. He lurches in his holds, and you peel yourself off of his back. As he swears and sputters, hips jerking, you ease your grip and retract your hand. Stepping away, you stare at the mess on your hand, then his quivering thighs, and sigh wistfully.

Licking your fingers, you watch as he slumps bit by bit, coming down from his high with ragged breaths. You free his ankles and take a moment to examine him before unlatching the hinged beam closing in his wrists and neck. You smooth over his mohawk, damp with sweat, and rub a small circle into his scalp. You support his head as it lifts, blinking hazily up at you. His gaze alone takes the edge off. He’s so sweet like this.

You maneuver him to the couch to decompress, using the last of the strength in his legs. A whole assortment of goodies is within reach the second he asks, and you remind him of that as you push a throw pillow under his head. Large swaths of his back are pink and red but already fading. A bolt of guilt passes through as you catch yourself thinking of how much darker you’d like to go next time. He tears up again but settles and nuzzles into the pillow. He’s gone. You’re gone. Seeing him so vulnerable—it’s a head rush. Just like watching Price and Kyle work Simon over. You thought you understood before, but now…? You’ll need to call the good Captain for advice.

“You…” John mumbles with a smile lazily stretching across his face, words elongating with a yawn. “You like my project…?”

You brush over a brow, lowering to lay beside him. Your voice cracks along with your heart. “Yeah, baby. I love it. Love you.”

His eyes flutter closed, and he sighs deeply. Sated. That makes two of you.

[witchygirlgray333]

Some topics + prompts for your grimoire or book of shadows

books you want to read

local folklore / mythology / legends

the wheel of the year

plants you have in your house or garden (their care, properties, uses, draw them etc)

theban alphabet

days of the week and their correspondences

write about a deity you worship / are drawn to

draw art for / of a deity you worship or are drawn to

colour magic

the elements

write about the crystals you own (draw them, write their properties, correspondences, uses, how it makes you feel etc)

how to make your own crystals

your birth chart

your sun, moon and rising sign

natural medicine (as a chronically ill witch I love natural medicine NOT AS A SUBSTITUTE FOR PRESCRIPTIONS! for example I take all my prescription meds and then if I'm having period pain I might drink some raspberry leaf tea)

positive affirmations / mantras that you connect with

how to manifest

history of witches

deities in a certain pantheon you're interested in or drawn to

write about a spell you've done (how you did it, why you did it, how you felt, the results of it, what you would change if you did the spell again etc)

chakras

write about a dream you've had

tarot reading tricks and tips

moon phases

sabbats

zodiac signs

family tree

poetry / songs / quotes you connect to (i like to find ones that make me feel powerful or witchy, or remind me of certain aspects of my practice. a song i like for this is rhiannon by fleetwood mac and i'm going to post more things like this regularly on my page)

feathers and their meanings

simple everyday magic

recipes

some ideas for the next sabbat you plan to celebrate

tarot spreads you like

write about a tarot reading you've done (any prep you did, the deck you used, the cards you pulled, your personal interpretation of the cards based on the art and how you feel, the meaning of the cards, how the cards relate to the questions you asked, final reflection on how you feel the reading went)

interesting mythology

tree of life

glamour magic

money bowls

crystal shapes and their meanings

grounding techniques

cleansing

protection

banishing

cord cutting spells

essential oils

types of divination

planets and their correspondences

angel numbers

witchy wishlist

go to supplies and ingredients (herbs and things that you use regularly)

favourite crystals

working with your inner child

if you've had a really good or particularly insightful meditation session it can be nice to either draw or write what happened and how you felt during it

witchy arts and crafts and diys you want to do

altar ideas

read a witchy book / watch a witchy video and take notes

write about your ancestors

witchy things to incorporate into your daily routine

what is a tower moment

witchy reset / self care days

the history of the area you live in

veiling

how to make your own incense sticks

shadow work

shadow work prompts

ok, that's all the ideas I have for now and I hope that helps someone! I'll be posting some pages from my grimoire and some more prompt / topic ideas in the near future which I'm really excited for.

P.S. please remember that everyone's practice is their own and you should do what feels right to you while respecting that other people have their own beliefs (as long as they're not hateful).

[holy-puckslibrary]

─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜.

pairing(s) — fwb!MATTHEW TKACHUK x reader wc — 3.2k synopsis — best not-boyfriend boyfriend ever! (read the request here) note — bestie, your brain? marvelous! this was an absolute joy to write, and i hope this captures your vision!!! thank you for the request <3

main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — hints of a debut-inspired ensemble; complicated, grossly intimate situationship + emotional constipation; angst (not really) to fluffy fluffy; tswizzle references; suggestive section: "heavy petting" but nothing explicit / fade to black; brief alcohol mention + consumption; brief mention of food (no specifics); and ~emotions~ 

I. it’s getting so much clearer… 

Matthew regrets making you a key. 

Majorly.

If he’d known the can of worms he was opening when he unceremoniously dropped them in your lap one night, he would’ve listened to his brother; you don’t give girlfriend privileges to women who aren’t your girlfriend. It only leads to hurt feelings, broken console controllers, and unnecessary trouble. 

However, it’s highly unlikely this is the “trouble” to which Brady was referring. 

Rooted in the entryway, he surveys the damage. 

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors sit in a sea of jars. Some have spilled out under the coffee table and couch, others have made it all the way into the kitchen. Knotted balls of elastic are sprinkled throughout the chaos, as are multiple pairs of scissors, skeins of embroidery floss, and shards of construction paper. There are markers everywhere, but for some unknown reason, the crayons and sticker sheets are in nice, neat piles. A white feather boa is draped over the entertainment center and there’s a pink one curled by his feet. And, in the eye of the storm, is an anxious lump frantically stringing together DIY jewelry and muttering along to the megamix blaring through the room; he doubts you even heard him come home. 

“Sweetheart, is there a reason it looks like a craft store threw up everywhere?” Matthew shouts as he gingerly braves the hurricane. 

Something crunches under his shoe, and from the sound alone, he knows it would’ve been worse than stepping on a Lego if his feet were bare. 

He also knows that if the music were even a decibel lower, you would be pissed beyond belief. How dare he move freely through his own home without first checking for rogue pieces of plastic? His ears are ringing, but he’s grateful for it. From many years of mistakes and misadventures, he's learned you won’t get on top if you’re mad, regardless of how much groveling he does. And he's got one foot in the doghouse after last weekend as it is. 

“T-minus two days ’til Taylor, Matthew,” you grumble from the floor. “What do you think?” 

You’ve been at this for weeks. It gets worse the closer the concert gets. The mess and your mood. 

Matthew isn’t stupid, and he knows you better than he lets on. You panic under the weight of your own (often unrealistic) expectations. You need everything to be perfect, or the entire world crumbles. This, Night One of the Florida dates of the Eras Tour, is, understandably, no exception. If anything, the pressure’s dialed up to eleven. 

In stressing over every little detail, you’ve made yourself miserable. Watching you unravel makes his chest feel strange. 

You won’t ask for help. You don’t want it, either.

But, he can’t let you flounder. For his own sanity, he can’t do it. And he does care about you. Maybe not in the way everyone assumes or hopes, but he does. He’d do almost anything to lighten your load. 

Yet, Matthew treads lightly. If he’s too forthcoming, you could get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want to spook you, and he can’t have any wires getting crossed. What’s so good about your situation is how markedly uncomplicated it’s been. He refuses to be the one who fucks it up for everyone. 

So, he does what he can, and he does it without making a big deal about it. 

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he sinks down onto the floor beside you. You’re perched on one of the obnoxious throw pillows you insisted he order to “spruce up” the space and make it look less “bachelor pad-y." As if that’s not exactly what it is. He takes this as rare permission to do the same, placing one under his hips and cuddling another to his chest as he stretches out on his stomach, phone in hand. 

Well, as stretched as a person can be in the middle of an obstacle course. 

Between the second play of “cowboy like me” and the third of “Tim McGraw,” his various feeds dry up, and he’s spammed his contacts into oblivion. You're still chugging along, like a Sad Girl automaton locked in an endless glittery assembly line. 

At one point, you murmur, “Give me your wrist." 

And he does. 

Matthew’s taken aback when you loop elastic around it to get a measurement.

He’s confused, but not for the reason one might assume. He’s painfully familiar with the friendship bracelet phenomenon and the giddy exchanges, having been force-fed hours' worth of tour content over the past year, but he never thought you’d rope him into it.

The buzz under his skin is oddly auspicious, watching you clip the appropriate length before reaching for the pile laid out near his head. 

It’s not long before you make the same request again. However, this time, you slide on a custom creation. You fiddle with it for a moment, then turn back to your station to begin the next one on the list. 

“And in which era does she cosplay as a camp counselor?” Matthew teases as he thumbs the letter beads.

They spell out a moniker he’d honestly find offensive if you hadn’t looped the song one too many times. He wonders if you’ve made yourself the matching one. 

You emit a sound that haunts his nightmares and side-eye him in a way that would’ve made a lesser man disintegrate. 

“If you don’t want it, give it back so I can give it to someone who will appreciate my time and effort,” you bite with your hand outstretched, palm up and open expectantly. 

Matthew shoves it away, suddenly defensive. “I never said that.” 

The sun slips behind the fence an hour later, and the sky bathes the house in purple-pink hues. As he gathers ingredients in the kitchen, Matthew watches the slow-moving clouds absentmindedly. He hasn't felt this content in a while.

Arms full, he wades through the arts and crafts on the way to the backyard. 

You’re still in the den, still hunched over in the same place he found you in. He shakes his head when he passes you, knowing he’s got an hour (at least) moonlighting as a masseuse in his future. 

You don’t startle or acknowledge him until the grill set you bought for his birthday clatters to the floor. 

“Why’re there two cowboy hats getting glitter all over my patio?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. And hating it. Vehemently. 

You fix him with an unamused glare. Your brow quirks, and your hands still. Then, you blink at him very slowly. Like he’s an idiot. Like he just asked a stupid question—because he did. 

Matthew’s head wags so intensely that his neck cracks.

“Oh, hell no.” 

II. it’s coming undone…

Matthew scowls at his reflection. 

“—looks so fucking stupid.” 

He can’t tell if he looks worse with or without the fur-trimmed, shimmery cowboy hat. And, honestly, it's a little distressing. After temporarily ditching it, he tugs at his curls. Then, the hem of the jersey. 

Resigned, he reaches across the bed for the homemade accessory. Wearing it will make you smile—and it gives his dignity something to hide behind. 

Twitter’s going to have a fucking field day. 

Your panicked voice spills out from the hotel bathroom, “Really?” 

“Of course, it fucking do—” 

His tirade of vanity grinds to a screeching halt at the sight of you, backlit and wilting. 

“That’s not—ah, fuck.” Matthew digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What I meant was—me, it looks stupid on me. Not you. On you, it looks… It looks…” 

“It looks, what?” 

It looks like he’s glad none of your friends were available because he won’t have to pretend you’re less than you are.

No lectures, no goading, no scrutiny. Just you. 

“Right.” That’s the word he settles for. “It looks right.” 

The emphasis chips away at what little believability the underwhelming affirmation had. That much is evident from the insecurity bleeding through your makeup. 

“Right,” you parrot. Skeptically, you drag out the vowel long enough that it disappears into the bathroom with you. 

Before the door clicks shut, Matthew’s already berating himself for whatever just happened. For acting like a complete doofus with a foot shoved down his throat. 

His mind is as quick as his tongue is sharp. He’s got confidence for days and a cocky demeanor primed and on-call, one that most women find endearing. Yourself included. He’s never had an issue dishing out pretty words or flirting before, especially not with you. 

With you, banter came easy. Sweet or salacious, it didn’t matter. The bob and weave, from platonic chatter to something charged and suggestive, is effortless. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. It's innate. He should be able to uphold his reputation in his sleep. 

What’s gotten into him? 

(You’d say the power of Taylor Swift, or some shit. Which is why he doesn’t open the floor for discussion. Among other reasons.) 

Matthew makes the executive decision to put things right. To redeem himself, to feel more like himself. 

His palms are hot and tingling as he sets off to do what he does best. Something fool-proof. Something that’ll erase the past ten minutes from the collective consciousness. Something to scratch an itch...

He won't make it through three and a half hours without catching a public indecency charge. 

Not with you looking like that.  

“I was thinking,” Matthew trails off as he comes up behind you in the en suite bathroom. His hands land on the counter, one on either side of you. “We should fool around a little bit before we leave.” 

With his chest flush to your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, he blatantly checks you out.

You, albeit begrudgingly, find it flattering. On principle, you roll your eyes. 

You snort. “Funny." 

Sarcasm pinches his face as he unintelligibly mocks you. 

Whatever witty retort he had died on his tongue when you lean forward to put some eyeliner in your waterline, inadvertently pushing the curve of your backside right into his growing bulge. 

Matthew turns you to face him without warning. 

The kohl pencil goes flying, dotting the pristine space as it tumbles to the floor. Its final resting place is unknown; you’ll follow the smudge-crumbs later. 

Later, when he doesn’t have you pressed tight between the harsh edge of the counter and his chest. 

Later, when the dull ache in your arched back dissipates. 

Later, when his attraction isn’t so painfully tangible. 

Later, when he isn’t looking at you the way he is now.  

You’re sinking in a shade of blue you don’t recognize. It’s stormy, vast and disquieting. Like any collision, you’re unable to tear your eyes away even though you know you should. It betrays an aura of foreboding, yet somehow, Matthew’s charged gaze carries a soothing effect. It's hypnotic in an stomach-twisting way. 

“I’m not laughing, sweetheart.” He breathes the words through the slight part in your lips, his voice rich and thick like honey. 

“W-We need to be quick—” 

Matthew buries his face in the sweet-smelling crook of your neck. Intent on shutting you up, he succeeds with infuriating ease once he’s latched onto your throat. He nips and sucks whenever you protest, and soon, you don’t even bother trying anymore.

Why lie and deny when what you want feels this fucking good? 

When your nails dig impatient little half-moons into his forearms, Matthew bares his teeth with a triumphant hiss.  

He grins against your skin, humming atop your erratic pulse. 

“Better hurry up and spread ‘em, then.” 

Matthew’s between your dangling boots as soon as you’ve hoisted yourself onto the counter. Kneading the soft skin of your thighs, inching up and in with eager hands, he doesn’t slow or stop until the white Self-Titled sundress is bunched up in the hinge of your hips.

“That’s my girl.” 

III. it’s delicate…

“All Tequila, No Crime” isn’t as diabolical of a cocktail as it sounds. 

Spending $100+ to taste test it and three other signature mixed drinks is. 

A robbery, if you ask him. 

What's downright criminal, though, is your inability to finish a single one. A “Last Great American G&T” with a few sips missing, a half-finished “Midnight Mule,” and a watered-down “Blue Debut” sit abandoned amongst an assortment of sweet treats and small bites. 

As he waits for what he ordered, Matthew picks at the vibrant fruit salad. He’s about to pluck a honeydew star from the pile stacked high in a bowl fashioned from a watermelon rind when the back of his neck prickles. 

“Knock it off.”

You blink, bemused. 

Matthew, having watched your reaction in a reflection, rolls his eyes. 

Back still to you, he clarifies. “You promised you wouldn’t make this a whole thing.”  

“I'm not.” 

“You've never been a good liar.” 

“Isn't that a good thing?” you deflect. 

You turn your attention back to the lively stadium, watching as it fills with laughter and anticipation. You're hoping he'll take the hint and drop it, that he won't pull the night apart at the seams. 

He abandons the sprawling buffet table in favor of the plush recliner beside yours. Once settled, Matthew slides a plate of your favorites across the small table between you. 

“Don't change the subject.” 

The cement under your boots makes for a captive audience as you sail into dicey weather. “I know—I know what I said, and I'm really trying my best, but can you blame me? I mean, c’mon, Matty. Look where we are.”

“A Taylor Swift concert?” Matthew does what he does best.

You know his tells and his tricks. You indulge neither. 

“My first Taylor Swift concert. Ever. I came out of The Queue From Hell empty-handed and shit out of luck, yet here we are. The Eras Tour. And not way up the nosebleeds or side-stage with an obstructed view. A suite. A private, fifteen-person suite—for just us. You did that.” 

Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He scratches the shadow clinging to his jaw. He looks everywhere, at everything. Everything except you. 

“So?” 

The probe is firm yet reluctant but not inherently dismissive. 

“So,” you heave a labored sigh of unease. “—so, how could I not? This ‘whole thing’ is the kindest, most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. It means the absolute world, and I know you know that.” 

A thick, paralyzing quiet descends on the balcony. 

He does know that, which is what makes it so terrible. He knows, he knows, he knows. Matthew knows; he wishes he didn’t. For years, he successfully kept it at bay because… because you can’t just un-know something like that. Even entertaining the thought felt too big a risk. It jeopardizes the delicate peace only willful ignorance can safeguard. 

“Alright, alright. Jesus, sweetheart. Can't have you emptying the tank before the show even starts,” Matthew teases as he thumbs the tears away. “How d’ya know I didn’t pull some strings just to put an end to your perpetual pity party?” 

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Hoping to inch away from the emotionally dense zone of uncharted territory, hoping you’ll have mercy—or take pity—on him and his plight of avoidance. 

And you do.  

Ever the benevolent people-pleaser. 

You take your foot off the gas. You retreat to the status quo. You yield, but for a good cause.

Good and right aren’t synonymous. And we can’t will them to be. So, instead, we choose our battles and bide our time. 

There’s no reason to rain on tonight’s parade. 

“Thank you,” you acquiesce.  

Mathew smiles. 

This ceasefire, this tacit truce, is as fragile as rice paper. It feels as though, if someone pushed too hard from either side, they'd go right through it unchallenged. But, for now, it's enough. 

He takes your hand and squeezes. “And for the hundredth time, you’re welcome.” 

IV. it’s been a long time coming…

He gets it now. 

Truthfully, he understood after the very first bridge of the night. There’s just something about the intimacy of the spectacle; it's… indescribable. With thousands from all walks of life gathered in a single stadium to celebrate nearly two decades of singing, crying, and growing up together, it wasn't difficult to get swept up in the magic. 

For someone who’d consider themselves fan-adjacent at best, he wasn’t expecting to feel much of anything, let alone goosebumps, misty-eyed. 

He can’t even imagine how extraordinarily special it must’ve been for you, a lifelong fan, to partake in the world’s most cinematic sing-along. To luck out with your opener of choice, to be surprised with your favorite song during the acoustic set—you could probably die happy. Matthew can still feel your tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder and your shakey hand clasped in his. And he’ll remember the warmth of your joy for the rest of his life. 

He, however, doesn't have to imagine how much the experience took out of you. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.” 

You’re one minute into a five-minute Uber ride, and he’s already had to nudge you twice. 

Curled against the cool window like a cat, you groggily protest, “I’m not. My mind is alive, promise.”  

He snorts. “Then why’re your eyes shut?” 

“They aren’t!” 

They absolutely are. 

Matthew tugs you across his lap with a smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Sounds like you need to get yours checked, Matthew Brendan,” you quip into his chest before drowning the backseat in delirious giggles. 

In the golden glow of the streetlamps, his smirk rests against your temple. 

Here is the moment. There have been hundreds like it in the years since you met. Lighthearted banter and late night laughter spill over into the early morning hours, all of it utter nonsense he wouldn’t trade for anything. It should be perfectly ordinary, but it's music to his ears. 

The cowboy boots he swore he wouldn’t carry home rest against his similarly sore calves. The ziplock bag, once bursting at the seams with bracelets, is empty and folded in his back pocket, and his arm is full from elbow to wrist. The glitter he contested clings to him like a second skin, there to stay. 

And he doesn’t hate it. 

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

patrons gained access to this piece on MAY 15, 2024 as part of their early bird perks. learn more HERE!

[wszczebrzyszynie]

Love your siblings Jimmy and Grian so much, does Jimmy do any Avian Things cause of being raised by Grian and/or vice versa, or are they both just little weirdos from their species?

both Jimmy and Grian are a bit weird to other hybrids, but while Grian is still undoublty avian, Jimmy is... a bit more unclear. Hes never really been around other cow hybrids besides his early childhood, his only sort of familiar figure being Grian, who on the other hand wasnt around owl hybrids much, but being more in touch with his instincts than Jimmy. They raised themselves what they would call an avian way, which isnt untrue, as Jimmy learned to behave avian - even without feathers, he knows how to preen and takes an extra effort to clean his fur, changed his sleeping patterns out of necessity (became nocturnal for a while, esentially), and even understands how nesting works, but its all a bit... diy. Again, they raised themselves

[koniknits]

So has anyone spun with pig hair yet

If you don't feel like DIY, you can buy the yarn here:

Translating the description for your pleasure:

OinkyStinky Hungarian Pig this is a VERY VEEEEEEERY rare combo first of all you have to find this breed of pig with long hair and then you need to have the skills to process it we were asked to research the feasibility of producing an "economical" yarn from a difficult fibre (and believe me pig is difficult in many technical regards, spinning and carding) this is the result 55% hungarian pig hair this is the fibre we are talking about and I know many of you wil say what the fuck do I need pig for I already have one here at home well... birds of a feather... 30% raw wool what that means in the industry is all wool thicker than 23 micron here we've got a mix of 23-27 micron so if you want soft this ain't it 15% other animal fibres this is basically a mix of mohair leftovers and rough thick micronage cashmere please never forget that those cashmere goats don't only have cuddly soft hair there's also quite some hard trash to be found on that goat it's still a goat, you know one more thing the hair of the pig has a typical odor a smell you can NEVER get rid of so if you have a sensitive nose STAY AWAY because non-castrated pigs just smell to the high heavens the boar (for those who failed bio that's what we call a male pig) emits this extreme musk and it's in its flesh and its hair not that you will faint or anything it's not the end of the world but let's say it smells like a gym full of teenagers jacked up on hormones

[coven-of-genesis]

Beginner in witchcraft tips? Like where should I start?

Beginner witchcraft tips

Part one : where & how do I start

1. Research and Respect Open Practices

• What Are Open Practices?

Open practices are spiritual or magical systems that do not require initiation, cultural heritage, or permission to engage in. Examples include eclectic witchcraft, kitchen witchcraft, green witchcraft, hedge witchcraft, and secular witchcraft.

• Avoiding Cultural Appropriation:

Practices like smudging (specific to Indigenous cultures), Hoodoo, and Voodoo are closed practices unless you are properly initiated or invited. Instead, use general terms like “smoke cleansing” with herbs like rosemary or lavender.

2. Build a Foundation of Knowledge

• History and Ethics of Witchcraft

Study the historical persecution of witches, modern witchcraft movements like Wicca, and the ethical principles (e.g., Wiccan Rede, the Threefold Law, or personal moral codes).

• Learn the Basics of Magic:

• Correspondences: Study how herbs, crystals, colors, and moon phases align with magical intentions.

• Intentions: Understand that intention is the core of magical practice. Clarity and focus are vital.

3. Start with Simple Tools and Techniques

• Common Tools:

You don’t need expensive or elaborate items to begin. Everyday objects like candles, notebooks, or kitchen herbs work just as well as specialized tools.

• Candles for fire energy (tea lights are excellent for beginners).

• Herbs like rosemary (cleansing and protection), basil (prosperity), and chamomile (calming).

• Salt for purification.

• Crystals like clear quartz (amplification), amethyst (calm), or rose quartz (love).

• DIY Approach:

Craft your own tools or collect items from nature (leaves, stones, feathers) for more personal meaning.

4. Create a Sacred Space

• Physical Space:

Choose a small area for your altar or sacred space. This can be a shelf, a table, or even a portable box. Include items like:

• A candle for focus and light.

• Representations of the elements (e.g., a bowl of water, stones, a feather).

• Personal objects that bring comfort or inspiration.

• Energetic Space:

Use cleansing techniques to clear your space, such as sprinkling salt, using sound (bells or clapping), or wafting incense.

5. Practice Energy Work

• Grounding:

This helps connect you to the earth and stabilize your energy. A simple method:

• Sit or stand barefoot. Imagine roots growing from your feet deep into the ground. Visualize excess energy flowing down these roots into the earth.

• Centering:

Gather scattered energy into your core. Visualize a glowing ball of light in your chest or belly, representing your personal power.

• Shielding:

Protect your energy by visualizing a protective bubble or shield of light around you.

6. Explore Divination

• Tarot or Oracle Cards:

• Start by pulling a single card daily to learn its meaning and connect with your intuition.

• Many decks come with guidebooks to help beginners.

• Pendulums:

Use a pendulum for yes/no questions. Practice by asking simple, clear questions and observing the swing (e.g., clockwise for yes, counterclockwise for no).

• Scrying:

Try gazing into a bowl of water, a mirror, or a candle flame to receive intuitive insights.

7. Learn Magical Timing

• Lunar Phases:

• New Moon: Set intentions and start new projects.

• Waxing Moon: Build energy and take action.

• Full Moon: Amplify power, perform gratitude rituals.

• Waning Moon: Release and banish unwanted energies.

• Days of the Week:

• Example: Thursday is associated with abundance and success.

• Seasons and Sabbats:

Research the Wheel of the Year (e.g., Yule, Beltane) and celebrate the seasons in ways that resonate with you.

8. Work With Nature and the Elements

• Earth: Grow plants, use crystals, or walk barefoot outside.

• Air: Burn incense, write affirmations, or meditate on your breath.

• Fire: Light candles, work with fire-safe herbs, or set intentions during sunsets.

• Water: Take ritual baths, work with moon water, or meditate near a body of water.

9. Keep a Grimoire or Book of Shadows

• Document your spells, rituals, and experiences.

• Include correspondences (e.g., herbs, colors, moon phases), affirmations, and journal entries about your practice.

• This will help you reflect on your progress and refine your methods over time.

10. Develop Your Own Path

• Personalize Your Practice:

Use what resonates with you and leave out what doesn’t. Witchcraft is a flexible and personal journey.

• Be Patient:

Progress takes time. Focus on consistency rather than perfection.

• Stay Open-Minded:

Connect with other practitioners to exchange ideas, but always critically evaluate what you incorporate into your practice.

[salmonight]

Free Title Ideas Pt.2

And here is the second part with more mostly likely less titles but enjoy!

(I still cant categorize so take them with apinch of salt)

Low Mood:

Who Mourns an Adonis?

Sinking Sand (Castles)

I Carve(d) These Letters Across My Chest

Smoking Roses

Whispers of the Forgotten

Perfectly Tainted

I Like Dead Things (They Cannot Hurt Me)

A Melody of Misfortune

Echoes of Loss

Crack:

Fake It ‘till You Make It

Honk if You're Scared

Live Fast Die Hot

I Know What I’m Doing — and Other Lies I Tell Myself

True Tales of Bodies(Mostly Mine)

Pinatas are Jerks

Food: A Love Story

You Are Old: Sobering Affirmations for Your Rapidly Disappearing Life

Paranoid-in-Chief

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to [insert activity]

How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Survival Hacks

Learning to Outlive Your Friends and Other Tales of Immortality

Hey, Coffee

Smoking 101: A Beginner's Guide

From Starbucks to Hell: The Demonic Coffee Cravings of Everyday Joes

When Your Summoning Circle Turns Out to Be a DIY Project Disaster From Hell

From Door-to-Door Sales to Demon Summoning: Unexpected Career Paths for the Ambitious

Demonic DIY: Home Improvement Tips for the Dark Side

Delving into the Depths of Dorkness

The Great Demonic Cacophony: A Symphony of Summoning Shenanigans

A Demon Summoner's Guide to Mayhem: How to Summon Chaos and Confusion

Demonic Diversions: When Summoning Turns into Side-Quests

From Grounds to Gateway: How to Open a Portal to Hell with a Cup of Joe

Starbucks, Satan, and Specters: A Caffeine-Fueled Guide to Demonology

The Dark Side of Caffeine: How to Summon Demons and Make the Perfect Latte

Coffee and Demons: A Match Made in... Purgatory?

A Demonic Grind

Romance:

Words Getting Worthless (Love is Wordless)

Honey Without Time

Heartthrobs With A Cheeky Smile

Cause in a Sky Full of Stars, I Saw You

Out of All the Stars in the Sky, I Choose You to Light My Night

At Peace With Stars, in Love With Fireflies

The Love Triangle of Doom

Death:

Phantoms Of The Undead

Shelter In The Graves

Catacomb Without Flaws

Dancing With Your Ghost

Ecto-static

Death Sucks, but the Afterlife is a Blast!

Gods:

Deranged Divinity

Worshipper's Rue

Mystery:

Failing Of The Fog

Stranger Of The Past

Construction Of Twilight

Tree Of The Lost Ones

Rat In The Mist

Giggling Crypts

A Face By Any Other Name

Speak the Truth in Every Sense, Bury It With Innocence

Fantasy:

Forsaking The Elements

Heroes Of The Void

Song of Ice

Lightning in a Bottle

Adrift in the Realms

Fae-n-tastic

Gathering Magic

Three Lullabies of Extradimensional Guides

The Birthday Wish that Sparkled with Magic

Enchanting Birthday Rituals

The Wishing Star Ritual

Destruction /Unhinged:

Sleep as the World Burns

Life is Just a Game (and I'm Playing for the Win)

Inception Of Infinity

Feathers of Chaos

Wingspan of Terror

Burning Brighter Than Hell

Let This City Burn, Burn, Burn

Good Vibes

Shoot for the Moon

Starry Night Skies

Age of Wonders

Streaks Of Laughter

A Lady's Luck, A Robin's Flight

Pt. 1 |

[wolftsune-of-the-woods]

Wolftsune HRT #2: 0 Months

First / Previous / Next

I already talked to Dr. Erian. He said he “couldn't make me the type of chimera I wanted.” That's probably bullshit considering that I've seen all sorts of hybrids and slimes, an eldritch lady who was intimidating but seemed pretty cool, and Sonic the freakin’ Hedgehog!

Well, I guess I'll go the DIY route. I practice witchcraft, so I already have chalk and amethyst for the circle. I have pills at home for the base, so all I need are samples from the species I want to become.

I spent the day in Hyper City, meeting so many wonderful critters that I could hardly keep track of them all! I met a purple haired wolf named Grace, who told me about her transition so far and gave me some resources to help out when I start mine. Then I met a kitsune named Jen! I asked to pet her fur, which had apparently just started to come in. I had also gotten to pet Grace, and I used those opportunities to get fur samples from them.

I decided to call myself a “Wolftsune” - I like that name. I did some research on where the word kitsune came from, and there's been some debate on the exact origins, but what I found out is that one of the meanings of “tsune” is “forever,” which feels fitting for two big reasons. The first is that spiritually, I've been a wolf for forever, and the second is the permanence of transitioning. I did hear of someone who transitioned to being a human through AHRT, so it's probably not impossible to detransition, but I don't plan on doing so.

I still need to figure out the wings. I want them to sprout from my back rather than replace my arms, and I heard from someone who calls herself a crowgon that a small dosage of dragon HRT can make that happen. But I need to find the right feathers to use. Getting dragon scales was easy, I found some lingering on a picnic bench, most likely recently shed as there was some dried blood on them.

I finally found a white feather! There's plenty of bird therians, but the feather didn't come from any of them. It came from a snowy owl - they're so pretty, I hope my feathers look like theirs.

I'll perform the ritual to make my first batch of Wolftsune HRT once I get home. Goodbye for now, Hyper City.

(more cameos!

@dawning-mars @sonic-spirit @gracewolfing @mothduchess @deadeyedfae @beautifulskye

Be sure to check out their therian/otherkin/animal hrt serieses!)

[katiekatdragon27]

Guuuyyyyyyys? Can we all just agree that this is canon noowwwwwww?

These two have been eating at my brain all night it’s chronic.

Like?? AUGHHHHHH I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I-

Every fandom I'm in has that one straight-passing ship that I make my personality for a couple weeks lol. This is that straight-passing ship for Rayman lol.

A buncha ideas and progress below cut:

Teensy Ray Thoughts:

Teensy Ray (who's name is probably Raymond I haven't decided yet) is the kind and soft-spoken leader of the Rayman Fan-Club. He is the go-to person for all things Rayman, and has basically turned his house into a makeshift shrine museum for the guy.

He DIYed his entire cosplay of Rayman. He cut up his cloak and altered it to look more like a "hoodie", even wrapping his arms with bandages to represent Rayman's "limbless-ness." The thing he struggled with most was the hair.

Speaking of the hair, the "implant" that Polokus talks about in Origins was actually a little bird creature he found one day. Its tail feathers stick up like Rayman's two hair strands and can whirl around in a haircopter style.

The creature is also a kind-of wing man for TR. It can read how he feels and will move its tail accordingly.

The reason why TR started the Rayman Fan-Club and dresses as him a ton was because way back in the day, he was directly saved by Rayman (like Rayman hauled his ass out of danger manually kinda saving). He feels like the club is the least he could do to repay his hero

Also he and Ray are pen-pals lol (but Rayman takes decades to respond)

Teensy Ray is a hopeless romantic. Any sort of romantic gesture, no matter how small, sweeps him off his feet.

He was originally Teensy Queen's "safe date." He was down for it, both because she was incredibly pretty and because she let him go on super long rambles about Rayman.

When she eventually fell for him, he fell for her almost instantly, and things have been going smoothly ever since lol.

The "How Did You Bag A Baddie?" audio.

Teensy Queen Thoughts:

Queen Teensy (honestly might name her Quincy lol) is the bad bitch teensy of the Glade. She has the heart of an adventurer, constantly running away from the boring royal duties to practice her magic and fighting skills.

She will run off, kick ass by halting a nightmare invasion of some rural town, then return just in time for her royal duties.

She loves fighting almost as much as she loves Rayman lol.

Queen had a mega crush on Rayman and was desperate to get with him. However, Rayman (the aroace king he is) took no interest in her whatsoever.

She decided to settle for TR as a sort of "substitute" for Rayman at first. She was constantly heckled by her family for never giving any man a chance, so she retaliated by grabbing the teensy who looked the most like Rayman and basically fake-dating him.

After a couple months or so of just being safe-date buddies, she started to gain actual feelings for TR, to which he reciprocated. She was in a lot of denial about it though for a while.

She be like "I don't date dorks!" then ends up with this mf.

Teensy Queen is Grand Romantic Gestures in teensy form. She will go out of her way to create large displays for the people she loves and cares about.

The "EXCUSE ME, HE ASKED FOR NO PICKLES." kinda person.

That's all I have rn. Expect more art of these guys cuz they're gonna be so everything to me for like two months lol.

Thanks for indulging in my delusion lol. Have a lovely day :)

[legend-of-thyme]

Today is @ikaishere 's birthday (at least in my time zone, and I know I'm barely squeaking it in here) and tomorrow is mine. I borrowed the modern AU boys to write some sibling fluff and GrooZeLink. Hope you had a great birthday!!!

---------

“What do you guys think? The feather earrings or the swords?” Sky turns his head side to side critically eyeing his reflection in the mirror.

“Personally I think you should worry more about finding some pants first,” drawls Wars from where he’s sprawled over bed without even looking up from his phone. “Sun and Groose might not mind your ratty old pajama shorts, but the restaurant will probably have some objections”. 

Sky flops backwards into a pile of laundry with a groan earning himself an indignant squeak from Wind. 

“Sky!” he complains, snatching up one of his hands before he can run it through his hair. “You’re going to ruin my masterpiece” 

“Sorry, sorry,” he replies, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “At least my nails will look nice even if I have to go dressed in a burlap sack”. Wind beams and he can’t help but smile. The kid did a good job on the nails, even forgoing his usual favorite neon oranges for a softer shade of blue coated in white crackle.

Warrior’s eye roll is nearly audible. “Don’t be dramatic. Didn’t you buy a skirt for tonight just last week?”

“That was before I knew we were going indoor skydiving between the escape room and dinner! I have to bring a change of clothes and if I put it in my bag it will get all horrible and wrinkly.”

Wind pokes through one of the discarded piles of shirts, picking things up to examine them before tossing them to the side. “Just wear your date jeans. It’s your birthday. Shouldn’t you just wear what you like?”

Sky pouts. Wind is right of course, but it’s the principle of the thing. He has plenty of clothes that hit the sweet spot of being comfortable while also making him feel confident and attractive, but he’s hoping for more tonight. Something to really wow his partners. There’s a warmth that curls through his chest whenever Groose gives him a slow once over and a low whistle, or when Sun reaches out to trace the pattern of his shirt or play with a bit of lace or tassel that he would bottle and keep forever if he could. And maybe War’s is right and he is being a little dramatic, but that warmth is going to be his birthday present to himself if he has to turn his closet inside out to get it. 

A balled up sock hits him in the head, breaking him from his thoughts. He looks around in time to seek Wars drop his phone on the bedside table and swing to his feet. 

“Do you trust me?,” he asks, smiling.

“A terrifying question,” Wind mutters under his breath and Sky can’t help snorting a laugh into his fist as Warriors sticks his tongue out at their youngest brother, dignity forgotten. 

“I would trust Wild at this point if it gets me to my date on time”.

“All right then,” Wars cracks his knuckles with a grin. “Grab your date jeans. We’ll pair them with Sun’s old band shirt she did that diy fringe on”.

“The ‘without music life would B♭’ one? Are you sure?” Sky frowns as Wind begins searching. 

“Very. The stupid pun makes you smile and it shows a little skin,” Wars nods and circles him slowly as he pulls on the clothes. “The purple silk scarf would make a cute belt and if you promise not to scuff them I’ll lend you my jacquard docs”. He nods, satisfied. “It’s going to get cold tonight so you should top it off with Groose’s old leather jacket you stole when he wanted to get rid of it”. 

Sky spins slowly, getting a feel for the outfit and letting Wars examine his work before turning to the mirror. It’s comfortable and easy to move in and the shoes and belt make it feel special enough for a date outfit. Wind clambers up onto the bed behind him and swiftly does up the clasp to a necklace before jumping down to hug onto his side. He reaches up and smiles softly as he feels the familiar iris brooch.

“There,” Wars returns his smile and ruffles Wind’s hair. “Now you look perfect”.

-------------

“Sky!” Sun calls, rushing across the parking lot to pull him down for a kiss before leaning her head on his shoulder and tangling her fingers in the beaded tassels of his shirt. “We were starting to worry you’d fallen asleep or something.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and hugs her tighter, admiring the way she looks with his old fuzzy green sweater hanging off one shoulder. “And miss my perfect birthday date? Never. I bet Legend we could beat the escape room’s record time”. 

Butterflies erupt in his stomach even as he teases her, reminding him of the early days of his crush.

“Well, well, well,” Groose saunters more slowly across the lot, hands shoved in his pockets. “I never thought I’d see the day, but I think you wear that jacket better than I ever did”. He pulls Sky in to kiss him, once on the lips and once on the forehead, before holding him at arms length and whistling slowly. “I like the different earrings”. 

The different– Sky’s hands fly to his ears and, sure enough, he’s still wearing one feather earring and one sword. “Yeah,” he says, doing his best to sound casual and knowing he’s failing, “I wanted to try something new”.

Groose smiles down at him knowingly as Sun bursts into laughter. He can feel his cheeks reddening and desperately searches for a change in subject. “What about you?” he asks Groose, gesturing at his too tight plaid shirt. “You look like you’re about to burst out of that thing? Where did you even get–”

He cuts himself off and looks at the shirt again. “Wait. That’s my shirt.” He looks between them, baffled as Sun begins to grin and Groose looks sheepish and almost nervous. “Are you both wearing my clothes?”

“We thought it might be fun to match,” Groose admits, embarrassed. “You’re wearing our things”.

“It was Groose’s idea,” Sun nods enthusiastically. “And I told Wars to text us what you picked out. Did you really change your outfit six times?”

Warmth blazes through Sky’s chest as he looks at his partners. It’s such a fun idea and the sort of thing he would normally suggest. The sort of thing other people had teased him for in the past. They put so much effort into today and they did it all for him. His mouth opens and closes and he finds himself at a loss for what to say. What words could possibly be enough?

Sky swallows the lump in his throat and beams at them as hard as he can. “I really love you guys, you know?”.

[teras-art]

Guess who could not bring herself to sit down and edit Halloween pictures for over a week after the fact?

This is my moth costume, the wings are made of red felt that I hand-painted myself, both sides. The design is based on cecropia moths. I kind of lost my mind and watched a ton of Kitchen Nightmares a little while I was painting these, but I do like how they came out.

The headband is a black fabric headband, floral wire, black feathers, black thread, glue, and lots of mumbling to "please stay in one piece!!!"

I like costumes like this because I still get to go a little crazy with the DIY but it's still easy to move around in and I could wear it to the office.

Bonus, here is my dog, helping me take pictues:

[cat-of-starlight]

Heyyyyy pspspspsspspsss Slay the Princess fandom, I need an opinion since I’m conflicted on how to make this work-

Working on an inspired cosplay/Halloween costume of The Long Quiet-

The mask doesn’t have the correct color mesh on the eyes, and I don’t have the means to replace it or easily put lights behind it-

Pic for reference (haven’t added the feathers yet since I’m still doing paint touch ups)

Would white paint around the eye edges vibe with it?? Genuinely trying to figure out if I should touch it up that way, or if it will make it look weird :,D

Thoughts??

I’ll also take other suggestions, since I’ve genuinely never tried to DIY a costume like this before, but I also don’t have a lot of money, so keep that in mind if you do have an alt suggestion

Also yes I will post the whole thing once it’s done

I already have a nice cloak, clawed gloves, and a metric shit ton of black craft feathers for the rest of it, and I’m excited for how it turns out :3