#fully waterproof

[sun-e-chips]

I’m trying to put together a waterpark au so here is me trying to figure out Suns design

Hoping to have more stuff out soon but I’m having a lot of fun developing this!

[adwox]

rainy days

[tap1rs]

I need to get these shoes resoled and I'm kinda mad because I bought them in like. November.

[miss-floral-thief]

hm, not sure if the 'five minute conditioner' is worth waiting but at least the tingling would sometimes help the itchiness

[foldingfittedsheets]

Getting rubbed down with ice cubes, a thing I would normally scream bloody murder over, has revived me.

My wife asked if I preferred sweating my ass off in layers or putting on sunscreen and I sat there with a blue screen in my brain.

Eventually owned that perhaps sunscreen was preferable.

The more clothes cover me the less sunscreen has to touch my body which is great because I fucking haaaaate sunscreen. Sensory nightmare. Why am I so pale and dependent on the evil grease? A profound curse.

My beloved keeps looking at my overshirt and pants and asking, “Are you… okay?

“Yep.”

“You’re not like. Dying?”

“Nope. Feels fine.”

They look extremely skeptical about my lizard like qualities but they love me all the same.

[mittenkisses]

bathing with them

ft : dorm leaders (riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, malleus)

a/n : i crave nonsexual intimacy

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ 🐚

riddle takes a bit of convincing. he prefers to be independent, and that extends to almost every aspect of his life, including this one. it takes a while for him to give, but he's not resistant to your puppy eyes. his tub is barely big enough to comfortably fit the two of you. there are rose petals and a sweet honeysuckle scented soap, as per the queen's rules. his muscles are still a bit stiff after getting in, but when you begin lathering soap on his back and rubbing it in, he practically melts in your arms.

leona has to be dragged out of bed. he showers when he has to, but he's not a big fan of his fur getting wet—plus, he'd much rather sleep the day away. still, after a bit of convincing he lets you take him to the bath, although he might make you run it again if the water temperature isn't warm enough. he prefers to wash himself, but he doesn't swat you away if you want to help him out a little. you try reaching up to wash behind his ears, but his glare quickly changes your mind.

azul is, frankly, scared of being so vulnerable in front of another person. especially when that vulnerability involves his body. maybe he's not as self-conscious as he once was, but it doesn't simply disappear. still, he caves eventually, though he covers himself as much as he can with his arms. he's worried how you'll react, but when you don't say anything he begins to loosen up, just a little. he shivers when you gently trace his stretch marks. he rushes through it and gets out of the bath fairly quickly, but it's a start.

kalim's bathtub is so big it may as well be a swimming pool, with about every product you can think of. he's happy to share it all with you, filling the water with suds and making the entire room smell wonderful. he insists on washing your hair for you, and when it dries, it's softer than ever before. the two of you stay in until the water is cold and your skin is wrinkled, having spent half the time just talking and playing.

vil has only the best products, and they all have matching lavender scents, too. he narrates as he washes you, telling you what each thing does and how to properly use them. his skin is soft but his touch is a bit rough, although it's all worth it in the end when you come out feeling cleaner than ever. he has fluffy, warm towels and robes waiting for you once you're done, though even after you step out, he has plenty more skincare items to use on you.

idia curses himself for not making his tablet waterproof as he stumbles his way through his words, trying not to look at you. he flusters easily, and there's a faint pink tinge to his hair that doesn't go away. he lets you wash him for a bit before it fully sets in what you're doing and he takes over. in return, he gives you a nice shoulder and back massage, being (un)surprisingly skilled at working with his hands. after he's dressed, he's gone instantly. his dating sims hadn't quite prepared him for this.

malleus finds it amusing how little you fear him; the idea of bathing with him would have anyone else cowering, and yet here you are. he teases you a little to coax you into washing him—he's royalty, he's always had someone else to help him, and you wouldn't make the crown prince bathe himself, would you? it's all bullshit, of course, he's very capable of washing himself, but he loves having all your attention on him.

[phagodyke]

this pain had me so out of it I poured milk on my phone instead of into my cereal -_-

[queuestarter]

bare

(finnick odair x reader)

cw: blood

link to the request → reader's clothes get ruined after the blood rain and finnick helps her rinse them

open to requests !!

You can hardly see as you stumble out from the dense jungle, Johanna mere feet behind you.

“Fuck,” you groan, spitting out a mouthful of thick, hot liquid. “What is this shit?”

“Blood,” Johanna says, coughing behind you. You can’t see her, but you can hear the aggravation in her voice. “We just got covered in blood.”

You feel arms wrap around you and you start to fight back on instinct. “Calm down,” the person holding you says. “It’s just me.”

Finnick.

You turn around in his arms, not caring that you’re spreading the blood from the jungle all over him. You haven’t seen him since you were on the pedestals and all of the emotions that you’ve been forced to hold in since then rush out. “Finn,” you cry, tears clearing a pathway on your red cheeks. “I’m dirty.”

You wipe your eyes in time to barely make out Johanna making her way towards the ocean and you instinctively follow her. The outfit that you’re wearing is waterproof, but the blood has seeped through it somehow, leaving every part of you stained with blood.

Finnick follows you to the water, gently guiding you past the lightly lapping waves.”I’m so dirty, I need to clean off.”

“Let me help you, love,” Finnick says, gently unzipping your suit and exposing your skin. “Let’s get a little deeper, okay?”

You nod and step further into the tide. You don’t like the ocean, and being from District 3 you can’t swim. But the presence of Finnick’s hand on your waist anchors you and makes you feel safe.

You first use the salty water to clear your vision fully and the first thing you see is Finnick staring down at you, worriedly. “None of this is mine,” you assure him. “It just started pouring on us. I thought I was going to choke on it.”

Finnick says nothing, just continues to rinse off the blood from your upper body. “I have to take the rest off, my love.”

You nod and grab onto his shoulders as he takes off the rest of the suit. You’re left in a sports bra and underwear, leaving you a little bit uncomfortable that you’re going to be half naked in front of the entirety of Panem. The abundance of scars from your games are displayed to the cameras, showing off the torture that you’ve had to go through.

Once all of the blood has been washed away, you step out of the ocean. You can’t put the jumpsuit back on because it still has to dry out. You frown and wrap your arms around yourself protectively, knowing there are cameras all over displaying you to the world.

“You’re gorgeous,” Finnick whispers, pulling you close to him. “We’ll be out of here soon enough.”

You press a kiss to his jawline and sigh, making your way over to the rest of the victors that Finnick has collected over the course of the day.

You’ll be out of here soon enough.

-

[clockwayswrites]

Birdrezzzzzzzzzzzz..... Part 31(?)

masterpost I tried to give this a read over, but so exhausted. It's an awkwardly cut little bit anyways, but hopefully you all enjoy the birb.

Bruce cleared his throat and carded his fingers through Danny’s wing after the towel. “If your wings stay around, we’ll have to look into producing an artificial waterproofing substance for them. I can’t imagine that it would do you any good to be walking around Gotham with damp wings.”

The thought made Danny want to hunch in on himself. “I don’t think I want to walk around Gotham with wings at all.”

“If they stay, you can’t just hide away from the world,” Bruce said.

Danny sighed and rubbed at his face. “I’d like to say I can, but I think that might turn into an argument and I don’t really have the energy for that today.”

“Maybe a little bit of an argument, but only for your own sake. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide away like that because of who you are.”

It was more what he was, wasn’t it? But Danny felt that might end up in a bit of an argument also. And maybe it was wrong. Even if he was no longer ‘Phantom’ as a hero, Phantom was still part of his identity. Eventually it would be his only identity.

“Sadly, not everyone is as accepting of oddities as you and your family, even if things are better now with the more public nature of Metas.”

“I know that not everywhere is there yet, but I would hope that at least WE is somewhere accepting.” Bruce’s frown was obvious in his voice. “If it isn’t, then that’s something that I’ll have to work on.”

“I’m sure you could just sick Lucius on them. He’s not the type to put up with it either.”

“He really isn’t—or any sort of intolerance like that. If it comes to you going to work with your wings out, promise that you will at least talk to one of us if someone is any sort of an issue. At that point it isn’t just about you, that’s not the sort of person we would want at WE,” Bruce said.

Danny gave a little hum.

“Danny.”

“I promise, I promise,” Danny said with a little wave of his hand. “I know there are a lot of people who work to make WE a good place, and I wouldn’t do anything to sabotage that. As embarrassing as it would be, I’m old enough I can deal with taking the hit if it makes things safer for someone else.”

“You are hardly old, Danny.”

“Old enough, though. And secure enough in my job there. If Lucius hasn’t fired me yet I’m pretty sure that I’m good,” Danny replied. “Besides you have to know what I mean. There’s a point where a lot of little things that used to mater don’t anymore.”

“No, I know. I think that most of that was less about age and more about my horde of children.”

“It’s not even ten and you’re already besmirching our good name?”

“Good morning, Tim,” Bruce said.

“Good morning, Tim,” Danny echoed. “And no besmirching going on right now. We’re just lamenting being old.”

“Oh, yeah, that must suck,” Tim said around a wide yawn.

Danny didn’t try to hide his laugh. It may have been quite a number of years since he was one himself, but teenagers always would be teenagers.

“I’d apologizes for him,” Bruce said as he folded the towel he had been using. “But, well…”

“Kids,” Danny finished with a little shrug. “Don’t worry, you have a good flock.”

“Are we doing bird puns now?” Duke asked as he came into the kitchen with Damian on his heels and Cass to his side. “Someone will have to tell Dick.”

“Or perhaps we preserve our sanity and not mention it to Grayson,” Damian said. “Good morning, Dr. Fenton. I trust you rested well?”

“Just Danny is fine, Damian, and I did, yes. I actually feel a lot better today than I have recently.”

Damian gave a nod. “Then you must stay for a few days so that you can recover fully.”

“Damian…”

“He is not wrong,” Cass said. She dropped a kiss to the top of Danny’s head and then Bruce’s cheek as she passed.

“They really aren’t,” Bruce agreed after a beat, “and you’re perfectly welcome here.”

Danny resisted the urge to chew on his lip. He had rested incredibly well and it would let him keep an eye on Tim and Damian. There was also just something… nice about sitting there at a table as it filled up with other people and their chatter.

“Just a few days,” Danny agreed.

Just a few days was enough.

It would have to be.

[vaporize-employers]

What kind of tents combat hypothermia?

For the last few months, Gazans have been surviving regular floods of rain, soaking their bodies, clothes, and whatever belongings they have left.

The biggest risk factor in hypothermia isn't temperature itself: it's water. If you're soaked through, you cannot get warmer without dry clothes and shelter. A water temperature of 10 °C (50 °F) can lead to death in as little as one hour.

This is especially lethal to children and infants; starvation and malnutrition compounds these risks. In the last week, six babies have died of hypothermia in Gaza.

There are some kinds of tents that provide some protection for $2,000 to $1,500, but providing a fully waterproof tent costs between $2,500 and $3,000.

Dome fabric tent

✔ Wind resistant

✔ Provides shade

❌ NOT waterproof

❌ Outer lining only

Cost: $2,000

This provides some protection, but the cost in winter clothes and blankets to rewarm after the rain soaks through can reach hundreds in added costs.

Insulated tarp tent

✔ Wind resistant

✔ UV protection

✔ FULLY WATERPROOF

✔ Inner and outer insulation

✔ Privacy area

Cost: $2,500 to $3,000

I hope you found all that interesting!

With that in mind, consider helping one of these families by sharing and donating if you are able: all 3 have young children with high risk medical conditions, no shelter, and are completely dependent on donations.

Maha and her 4 y/o daughter Joan (#163). Joan is high risk due to malnutrition and gastritus.

Ahmed/Safaa and their 1 y/o son Kamal (#47). Kamal is high risk due to 3rd degree burns and missing one lung.

Abeer and her little sister Nour (#157). Nour is high risk due to a severe heart condition; you can read more about her situation at @northgazaupdates.

@safa33 @mahafamily1 @nohaibrahims-blog @abeeribrahimss

[daftpatience]

YEAH YEAY OKAY! here we go! welcome to i get to infodump about pens again, yay yippee!

what's the difference between ballpoints, rollerballs, and gel pens?

ballpoints, rollerballs, and gel pens all use a ball-socket mechanism that continuously coats itsself in ink as it rolls across a page. what makes them all different from each other is in the ink composition!!

ballpoint pens have an oil based ink paste. the ink is very thick & requires more pressure to write with, and can get kinda skippy as the tip gets dirty or clogged, but is able to stick to many more surfaces like receipts, plastic, really shitty paper, etc. it can be hard to wash out of things that you get it on, since it's more waterproof than other inks.

one of the neat things about this type of ink is that you're able to shade with it by varying pressure. lots of artists make great use of this!

hybrid or low viscosity ballpoint ink is often just ballpoint ink with an added lubricant to make it write smoother and flow better.

rollerball pens use water based inks. fountain pens, felt tip pens*, and dip pens all usually use water based inks. because of this, rollerballs are very free flowing and rarely clog, but paper choice is more important and some folks can find them to be leaky or overly wet. the writing experience is not as glidey as a gel/ballpoint since the ink is not thick, but it doesn't need a heavy hand. rollerballs enjoy more colour options than ballpoints and can have very dark blacks, but aren't waterproof unless the ink is pigment based instead of dye based. *felt tip pens feel very different than any of the other pens on this list cause of the soft point, they put out ink in a very even and somewhat dry way, and can also use alcohol inks, like copic markers. alcohol inks soak very deep into the page and dry very fast, and blend very differently. i'm not as familiar with them!

gel pens use inks that are made of pigment suspended in a water based gel. these inks tend to be very thick and put out a wet line that takes a longer time to dry. gel pens are most likely to clog and skip due to this, since the ball is not as evenly coated in a substance so thick. gel pens do have the widest colour options and can be fully opaque (ie. pastels, whites, etc) but are often very frustrating as they clog up and get old and dried out.

as a bonus, true technical pens are a whole different kind of beast and have very specific standardized nib sizes and colours. cad software has largely replaced the need for extremely precise technical drawing, but artists still like pens like the rapidograph! they're made differently everywhere but generally, instead of a ball, there is a small tube of a precise diameter with a little wire inside it that controls the ink flow. they can't be held at a lot of angles and aren't as versatile as other pens, but they put down incredibly crisp lines.

yippee yay pens!! wahoo!!

[neiptune]

is it casual now?

cw: 2.7k wc, NSFT, f!reader, reader wears a dress + makeup, suggestive, vaginal fingering, you're absolutely certain the man you're seeing isn't the jealous type but perhaps his friend knows better...

“Wait, ‘Tsumu, stop moving”, you grumble as you take his face in your hands and gently rub your thumbs over his lower eyelids, “it’s all smudged, why’d you let your teammate do it?”.

“He said I’d look hot”, he pouts, leaning into your hold. You roll your eyes.

“It does suit you but next time please pick a waterproof eyeliner”.

As you keep carefully cleaning the stubborn black blotches, Atsumu’s eyes dart to a spot behind you. Whatever he sees, makes him snicker.

“I said don’t move”, you roughly keep his face in place when he attempts to peek over your shoulder even further.

“Your man’s upset”, he asserts, amusement dripping from every syllabe. You furrow your brows in confusion and follow his gaze for a second. Sure enough, you meet Shoyo’s eyes right away. He simply smiles back but there’s something simmering underneath it, something that makes the corners of his mouth a little tense.

While you’re happy to be at a fun housewarming party, Inunaki’s new apartment is a million degrees and you’ve never been more grateful for your choice of makeup. When he approached the little chatty group as you were being introduced to Alexandre, lips pursed and a desperate plea to fix his face, Atsumu looked like a mess.

“He’s not my man”, you mutter, thumb rubbing a little more hashly to remove the last remaining smudges.

“Does he know?”.

“We’re just seein’ each other. Plus, he’s not the jealous type”.

“Man”, Atsumu chuckles, “you really don’t know Shoyo”. He kinda gets off to the fact that even his friend doesn’t seem to know himself well enough, always far too busy being the nice guy. But that facade can sometimes waver, especially when others start relying a bit too much on how much of a nice dude he is.

You flick Atsumu’s forehead before letting go of his face, the petulant oww! making you laugh. And then you’re far too engrossed in the warmth rising from your neck to your cheeks as the familiar weight of a muscular arm suddenly settles over your shoulders, to notice your friend’s pleased smirk. Oh, Bokuto is so going to lose the bet.

“Hey, what are you guys doin’?”, Shoyo’s tone is light. Neither of you is big on PDA and frankly you’re not even a couple but the heat radiating from his body is so comforting, you can’t help but melt into his side a little. He pulls you closer, calloused fingertips faintly brushing against your neck.

“I needed some help with my eyeliner”, Atsumu flashes his usual million dollar smile.

“That so?”, Hinata’s eyes slightly crinkle at the corners, “I told Kotaro that brand was the wrong choice”.

“Thank god someone was here to fix it. I look good now, right?”, the question is explicitly directed at you and the implication of what he’s trying to do makes you giggle.

“You do, ‘Tsumu”.

“Why, thank you! Although not nearly as good as you, where’d ya even get that dress?”.

“I picked it”, Shoyo is still nonchalant, just a normal answer to a regular question, but his old teammate knows better. “I think Sakusa was looking for you”.

Atsumu tilts his head to the side, tongue in cheek. “Really?”.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was wandering ‘round asking about you. Don’t let us keep you”, Hinata smiles, the hand holding a flute of champagne rises to vaguely indicate the kitchen.

The older Miya hums, reassuring, waves goodbye with the promise of finding you later. You watch him scurry away with a weird skip in his step and can’t help but laugh again: he hasn’t changed at all.

“Having fun?”, Shoyo lifts his arm from your shoulders but keeps a warm hand sprawled on your back.

“Yes”, you smile, “everyone’s really nice, thank you for inviting me”.

“I wouldn’t fully enjoy it without you here”, he beams, “Shion says you’re the only one who can get ‘Tsumu to shut up”.

A timid giggle, for his ears only at last. “You guys simply don’t try hard enough”.

Shoyo moves his hand down until it rests on the small of your back, big and comforting as his touch always is. The warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your dress makes something in your chest flutter with need.

“Come, you didn’t meet Akaashi yet”.

The next hour is a blur of introductions, pleasant conversations, familiar faces and new ones cordially welcoming you in a way that never once made you feel nervous about a setting where everyone already knows each other.

It’s the first time Shoyo’s officially asked if you wanted to hang out with his friends, the first time in a social setting where it’s not just the two of you. Does that mean he’s inclined to take the next step, maybe ask if the dating can become less casual? Something exclusive? Not that you’ve been seeing anyone else ever since meeting him. As if that could’ve been possible, even if you wanted to.

You remember that night out in Osaka, casually running into an old friend in a crowded bar, right by the counter. You couldn’t believe he was still sporting the same ridiculous bottle blond hair. After a few minutes of pleasantries Atsumu wasted no time in diverting his attention, the idea of your cute friend feeling left out a possibility his generous heart simply couldn’t handle. And so, as the two (much to your horror) hit it off, you were left awkwardly standing to the side, eyes scanning the packed tables to keep yourself busy until someone with a deep, kind voice invited you to sit next to him.

Hinata looked nothing short of gorgeous underneath the red-yellow lights, confident smile and charming, hazel eyes inviting as ever. You were lured in right away. You both briefly joked about having been brutally left out but he didn’t seem to mind really, not as he got to buy you a drink and ask questions about how you and Atsumu knew each other. Neither of you noticed when he left with your friend, far too absorbed in a conversation that effortlessly went on and on for what felt like five minutes but was instead an hour. It was like a dream: your thigh pressed to his, fingers closed around cold glasses casually brushing against each other.

When he offered to walk you home, you wouldn’t dream of refusing. You still remember how you’d both melt in giggles when the questions overlapped, your curiosity revolving around his career in a foreign country and interests fiercely rivaled by his eagerness to unravel every mystery you held. Asking if he felt like having another drink at yours was a temptation you couldn’t resist, but Shoyo politely refused right by your apartment, lopsided grin exuding a magnetism you felt desperately attracted to.

I’d like to take you out on a real date first.

You remember the smile stretching your lips, the panic that followed upon realizing that your phone was long forgotten in your friend’s purse. You remember Shoyo’s fingers gently wrapping around your wrist as he jotted down his number on your palm, murmuring something about the traditional way being more fun. It had been forever since a man had given you his number and, with that, the freedom to choose whether to text him or not. Hinata really felt different from the very start.

He’s just the guy you’ve been seeing for the past month and a half. The man you wish to be exclusive with, the mere idea of calling him your boyfriend stirring a storm of butterflies in your core.

Neither of you is big on PDA and yet his hands get increasingly bold, always decent but unable to stay away from your body. Shoyo’s always touching you somehow: a gentle hold on your hip, fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your arm, one hand on your back guiding you across the living room. You decide to get bold too. After he excitedly brings you a plate of puff pastries filled with chocolate cream, while he distractedly details the training program his team is going to have to resume in Brazil, your thumb reaches up to his mouth and gently skims over the corner of his lips, to collect the excess of chocolate cream. Shoyo stops mid sentence, lips parted as he watches you bring that same thumb to your mouth with a coy smile.

“Hey guys”, Atsumu’s voice startles you but not him, still so intently focused on you and nothing else, “Samu has a few questions about the next tournament, Sho, the sponsorship…”.

Hinata offers his friend a smile and his plate of pastries. “Let’s talk about this later, ‘Tsumu”.

The setter blinks, a knowing smile slowly finding its way onto his lips.

“Sure”, he then redirects his attention to you, “having a good time? Man, did I tell ya how pretty ya look tonight? Like, really p—”

For the first time throughout the evening, Shoyo’s hand daringly takes yours, palm warm and solid against your own. “Sorry, kinda busy at the moment. Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure to pass the message”, he grins warmly at his friend, who’s left nearly as dumbfounded as you when Hinata slips his fingers in between yours and pulls you away with him, deaf to whoever calls after him as you trail behind, passing by small groups of guests who look at you funny while you stumble all the way up the stars in a fit of laughter.

“What’s going on?”, although amused, you can barely keep up with his bold strides. He’s so quick you don’t quite understand how it happens when he bursts into the bathroom, rapidly closes the door and presses you up against it with the utmost urgency. Shoyo only relaxes when your noses are finally brushing, his broad hands finding their designated place on your hips, lightly pushing the skirt of your dress up in the process. You feel the relief in his exhale and chuckle, nudge the tip of his nose with yours.

“Hi”, he murmurs, the ghost of a smile teasing plush lips.

“Hi”, you whisper back, amused. Shoyo cocks his head a little, mouth almost touching yours but not quite, the scent of his cologne making your head spin.

“Missed you”.

“I’ve been here the whole time?”.

“Yeah”, he breathes, “but I couldn’t do this”, the kiss is tentative at first, sweet, but Shoyo soon can’t help himself. Not when you wrap your arms around his neck, one hand messily carding through his hair and tugging lightly at the strands. The way he likes it.

With a soft groan, he urges you to further part your lips with a needy skirt of the tongue along their seam and you’re happy to comply, allow him to deepen the kiss even if your lungs pose the risk of collapsing from the lack of oxygen. You can’t bring yourself to care as Shoyo roughly feels the back of your thighs and then squeezes, a silent demand. Once more, you yield easily and jump, a strong arm wraps around your middle as he catches you with close to no effort and a boyish grin, your legs tight around his waist as he shuffles to the marble countertop. You refuse to let him go even after he gently rests you on it, legs still wrapped around his hips as you take his face between your palms and kiss him some more, until Shoyo’s the one who has to pull back with a soft gasp for air.

“To what do I owe the honor?”, you ask, chest heaving, lips swollen and sleek with spit. He smiles, one thumb gently rubbing at the skin underneath your bottom lip, in a useless attempt at clearing up some of the drastically smudged lipstick.

“What? I can’t kiss my girl?”.

My girl. The way he can make those two simple words sound makes your stomach churn.

“Besides”, Shoyo starts sponging kisses over the juncture between your shoulder and neck and a content sigh slips past your lips, “Atsumu was being severely belittling. Pretty”, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, “you look breathtaking tonight”. As if to underline his point, rough palms slide up your exposed thighs and start rubbing comforting circles by your hips, the skirt of your dress pretty much completely lifted now as he starts tracing your neck with lips that are dangerously skilled.

“Shoyo”, it’s meant to be a warning but it comes out weaker. A plea.

“Can I show you? How beautiful I think you are?”, his voice is gravelly now, serious in its reverence. Traitorous desire licks at your core when his knuckles brush against the cotton of your panties, gut already tight in anticipation.

“What if, ah... someone comes in?”, the single ounce of reason left in your brain puts on a good fight but is inevitably flickering like a candle. Hinata disrupts your prudence the same way air flowing around a flame shatters its balance of oxygen supply.

“Then they’ll know too”, he sounds way too pleased with himself and you’re about to protest, you really are, but he’s suddenly mouthing at the spot below the corner of your jaw and it’s harsher than usual. When Shoyo sinks his teeth into your soft skin you gasp and subconsciously roll your hips against him, the twinge of pain soon soothed by the warmth of his tongue.

This is so unlike him. Not the passion, nor the eagerness, but the greed. It feels like he’s trying to consume you whole and you’re too drunk on the sensation to realize that maybe, just maybe, Atsumu had a point. Hinata’s not the jealous type but could it be that he might just be the possessive kind instead?

One of his fingers catches in the waistband of your underwear and you istinctively loosen the hold of your legs around his waist, parting them instead to open yourself up for him. It’s still not enough of an authorization in his book.

“Can I touch you?”, he whispers and his breath fans hot over the wet, sore spot of your neck.

“Please”, you breathe and he kisses you again with a satisfied hum, slow, deliberate. The coldness of a metal ring presses to your heat, already so slick with aching arousal, as two fingers easily slide through. It’s crazy, the effect his touch has on your body, every nerve ending catching fire as soon as he so much as grazes it. Did a man ever make you feel the same way? You don’t remember, you can hardly even think as you produce the softest moans against his mouth, hips rocking to meet the steady motion of his fingers, damp forehead pressing to yours just as desperately. The way he's panting only turns you on more.

When he abruptly removes his hand, way before you have the chance to come undone at the mercy of his skilled touch, the outright obscene wail you let out makes him chuckle.

“See?”, he murmurs, breathless, glossy fingers lifted high and carefully inspected in the brightly illuminated bathroom, much to your embarrassment. “Beautiful”.

Shoyo is not poking fun at you, quite the opposite: he’s dead serious. It’s his pure devotion that does it each time for you, the way he conveys how devastatingly attracted he is to you. Maybe it’s the need burning hot in your abdomen, the treacherous pleasure still pulsating in your limbs, but suddenly you’re eager to let him know too. Your fingers impulsively close around his wrist and stop his hand from reaching his mouth, head inching forward to capture his tanned fingers with your lips instead.

Shoyo’s pupils blow. The way his jaw tenses sends a shudder down your spine. It’s with a disbelieving groan that he presses down onto your tongue, warm and so wet around him as you carefully suck to the knuckle. His other hand catches your cheek, roughly cups it but is attentive in tilting your head back, to get a better view.

“Fuck”, he mutters, “how did I get so lucky?”.

He keeps his eyes on you as he easily slips out of your grip, with a wet pop. You want to tell him that you’re the lucky one, still in disbelief at how or why a man who looks like that, with a heart so big, is choosing to stay by your side. But Shoyo takes your face in his hands with a faint smile, gently angles it to inspect the prominent shadow forming underneath your jaw.

“This”, his thumb fondly strokes the tender skin, “is for them”. He kisses your lips once, then gently unclasps your fingers from his white button down as he gets down on both knees without ever breaking eye contact.

“This”, your breath catches when he further parts your knees, nibbles softly at your inner thigh before kissing it tenderly. The way he deeply breathes your scent in after tugging your panties aside sends a wave of fresh arousal rippling through your veins. “This is for me”.

[tabrakadabra]

My #Dandadan stickers are in the shop!

[spidernuggets]

stole this thought from my friend 🫶

Jason loves taking showers with you. And not only for the times when he takes the opportunity to bend you over as you lean against the wall.

But he loves the bare skin to skin contact. He loves to remember what you feel like, and he likes to remember your touch. He likes the way you trace his scars that he believes tainted his body while you smeared body wash all over him. You always scolded him that the 3 in 1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash weren't as effective as advertised.

But you don't see his body as tarnished or ruined. His scars became a part of him. Just another feature that you love. He liked the way his back was turned. The suds quickly slid down the waves of his muscles. The way your index finger traced along the large, healed gash along his shoulder that stopped at where his spine was located.

He shuddered, and his heart raced when you placed a kiss on it. Like you did with every other scar.

This was your ritual.

You'd wait for him to come home to you, and when he did, he'd stench of gunpowder and iron. So you'd strip away his suit, he can finally breathe, his adrenaline dying down, and you drag him along into the shower.

In some nights where he had some extra energy, the late night showers would end with the water being lukewarm and mixed with both of your milky slicks.

But during most nights like these, he absorbs your soft affection, letting your hands roam and explore his body, loosening up the knots in his upper back, massaging his shoulders.

And when he turns back around to face you, his body towering over you as he blocks the water's path down to you, his arm reaches for your sides, hands following down the shape of your figure. His fingers smooth over the water that makes your skin glisten under the artificial light, calloused palms against your smooth hips, gently squeezing them, pulling you closer.

He rests his chapped lips against your forhead, whispering, 'I love you's as you say it back, the sounds of splashing water muffling your confessions.

You always loved showering with Jason right when he gets home. And it isn't only because you get to see him naked under 5 minutes after he comes through your fire escape. But also because you discover new features around him, sometimes in areas where you wouldn't particularly see when he's fully clothes.

There would be a new wound that you wrapped in waterproof bandages before stepping into the shower. But you'd make a mental note to give the new permanently damaged skin as much love, care and devotion as the rest of Jason's body.

You loved showering with Jason because it was an opportunity for you to appreciate him, his body, and the flaws that come with it. It was an opportunity for you to show your endless love for Jason because you know that he needs the constant reminder that someone truly loves him. And to prove the horrible voices that gnaw the back of his head, telling him that he's not good enough that they're wrong.

Because Jason is more than enough. Because you love him as much as he loves you.

[tomswifty-fr]

Tundra hatchlings leave their eggs with horns and a full coat of fur and are capable of walking and running short distances just hours after birth (though they typically won't choose to for at least a couple of days).

On hatching, the horns are covered with a layer of mostly-hairless skin. The bone here is sturdy enough to serve a similar function as an eggtooth, but is still developing along with the rest of the skull. It will remain soft and somewhat malleable for the few few months to a year of life. The skin covering will die and be replaced with keratin of the same color when the horns are fully developed in late adolescence.

It's easy to affect a horn's development when soft, either accidentally or deliberately. Something as simple as a hatchling spending too much time leaning on one side can train a horn to grow in a "wrong" direction. Some cultures will go to great lengths to correct bent or asymmetrical horns, while others don't consider it a big deal as long as it doesn't affect the hatchling's health. Horns that are severely asymmetrical or curved in a very atypical way (straight forward, for example) can cause neck issues, problems balancing, or even cause stress or injuries to the rest of the skull.

On the other hand, some cultures consider it normal to deliberately sculpt a hatchling's horns. This can be done for purely aesthetic reasons or as a clan/family identifier. The latter is most common in very traditionalist Tundra communities in the Southern Icefield, where it is a very old practice, and is almost never seen in northern flights or mixed-breed communities. Folklore has it that it began as a way to recognize clanmembers in storms strong enough to blow away scent - skeptics say that visibility in a storm like that would be too low to see someone's horns at a distance anyway. The former is highly controversial for being fully elective, so to speak, and Tundras who practice traditional horn modification see it as deeply weird and kind of cruel to saddle your kid with a horn shape that won't be shared with anyone else.

All stances are controversial to someone, and medical opinion is mixed on whether "standard" horn shapes are inherently healthier than just letting them grow, whether deliberate modification is necessarily harmful, when it's justifiable, and how much is too much. Add in the fact that any procedure is irreversible and can only be done when the hatchling is too young to say yes or no - it's a mess.

On the fur front, a hatchling's "baby coat" is waterproof, thin, and extremely soft. Its purpose is to keep the egg liquids away from the skin and protect them from the cold just long enough to crawl under the closest parent. Adult Tundra fur is not waterproof; it keeps them dry by being thick and heavy enough that snow or liquid simply doesn't make it to the skin. A hatchling will start growing their adult coat almost immediately after making it out of the egg, and sheds their baby coat within a couple of days.

Shed baby coats are occasionally collected and woven into fabric in the same way that adult wintercoats are, but it's far less common for several reasons. The first being that the last thing on a new parent's mind is going to be collecting fur from their brand new infant - they have other things to be worrying about! The second being that one baby's worth of fur, or even a whole litter's, isn't enough to really do anything with. At best, you get a little keepsake bandana.

[novella-november]

Just a PSA, Hurricane Helene is going to be passing through my area starting some time tomorrow, so I wanted to take a moment to remind anyone who is in this storm's path to make sure you have:

1) flashlights or other light sources that are not just your cell phone -- cheap solar lights work great in a pinch; to charge them, arrange them around indoor lamps to get the most light exposure, or put them in your sunniest window:

2) you should have food and drink that is stable at room temperature and does not require anything to prep, plus a can opener, in case of prolonged power outages.

3) keep important documents such as birth certificates, passports, etc all in a safe location that is preferably waterproof; a ziplock bag, or a locking food container will work in a pinch.

4) find which area of your house is the sturdiest, without windows, and make sure your household knows to go there in an emergency, which includes Tornadoes; for some, this is a basement, for others it is a bathroom located away from an exterior wall, and for us, its a small hallway in the center of the house. Try to put extra blankets, pillows, and other cushioning in this area in advance both for comfort of everyone crammed into a small area, and also for additional protection, since you can wrap yourself up in pillows and thick blankets in an emergency; if you've got small kids, try to make sure everyone has their favorite stuffed animal to hug.

5) make sure everyone's pajamas are clothes that are comfortable and good for wearing in public, and that everyone has closed toed shoes on hand that can be thrown on at a moments notice and that everyone knows to put them on ASAP when an emergency alert comes through.

6) make sure all phones are fully charged, and preferably that you have backup power banks; if possible, have an emergency handheld radio on hand to listen to broadcasts. If you need to use a phone to watch local news livestreams, have one member of the house use their phone to stream while everyone else preserves their battery.

7) make sure you have any essential medications on hand in a form that is easy to transport, and if you have pets, make sure you have food, pet carriers, and leashes/harnesses, etc!

Stay safe, everyone!