#my head which makes me all weird and panicky

[moonstruckme]

I’ve been binge reading your emt polymarauders. And I gotta tell you ! It’s like sipping a nice lemonade on a summer day. Oh my…

I’m a medical student so I loooooove this prompt so much. I couldn’t sleep tonight because biochemistry has been rotting my brain. Ugh

Anyways,

I had an idea, could you maybe make a reader who’s in her first year of med school and she’s so stressed. The boys try to ease her a little but she doesn’t listen and itch closer to burnout. Until she starts to feel unwell and comes out of her study to drink water. But before she can react she passes out and the boys rush to help.

(Totally not happened to me once in front of almost 30 3rd years. Nooooo.)

Hope you like the idea ❤️

Thanks babe, I'm glad you enjoy them! And thank you for requesting <3

cw: academic stress, fainting

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“What nerve supplies the posterior arm and forearm?” Remus asks you. 

The words are beginning to sound like gibberish. “The, um…the radial nerve.” 

“Well done.” Remus sets your flash card atop a stack. There are three of them, ones you know well, ones you’re still shaky on, and ones you’ve not got a clue about. This card goes in the first stack. It’s small enough that every addition feels like a victory. 

Your boyfriends have been kind enough to bring you lunch at the library. It was quickly revealed as a plot to try and coax you into taking a break, but when that clearly wasn’t working they decided to stay awhile and keep you company. You have a reading room all to yourself today, so James has made himself comfortable on the couch and Sirius has laid his head down in his lap, content to have his hair played with while James watches you and Remus study.

“And which carpals communicate with the radius?” Remus asks. 

“Um…”

“Think carefully,” Sirius says in his TV host voice. “This one’s for full points.” 

You blink. You feel suddenly odd. Off-kilter. “There’s two,” you say slowly. “Lunate and…um…” 

“Can we do hints?” James asks. 

You’d rather not, but you feel like you need it. “Sure.” 

“Alright.” Remus glances down at your card. “It starts with an s.” 

“I know it.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I had this one yesterday. It’s like sca…sca something. Sorry, I feel like I can’t concentrate.” 

“Do you want me to tell you?” Remus asks gently. 

You sigh. “Yeah, okay.” 

“It’s lunate and scaphoid.” 

You groan, pushing your fingers into your forehead. “I knew that.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus sets the card in the middle stack. He’s watching you carefully. “Do you think it’s time for a break?” 

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath. “I feel weird, I think…” You pick up your water bottle, but it’s light, empty. “I’m going to go get some water.” 

Remus’ eyes are sympathetic. “Good idea, dove.” 

The feeling worsens when you stand, like the change in altitude is making you light-headed. You take two steps. The first wobbles, the second sinks. 

You don’t remember passing out. There’s no darkening of your vision or panicky realization, just one second your knee is bending unbidden and the next the trampled fibers of the library carpet are smushed against your face. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” It takes you a second to recognize the feel of hands under your head and ribcage, but that’s James’ voice. The knees of Remus’ trousers are in front of your face. “What’d you do that for?” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you mumble. 

“Let’s get you on your back,” says Remus. 

He and James work together to rotate you gently, and then you have a better view of the room. Remus and James kneeling above you, Sirius standing behind them with a look of wide-eyed horror. It appears each of your boyfriends has jumped up in a fright. 

“Do you feel warm?” Remus brushes some hair away from your face while James picks up your wrist to get your pulse and Sirius launches into action, kneeling by your feet. 

“Not really…” You startle as your legs pick up off the floor. “Sirius, my skirt!”

“It’s just us here, doll,” Sirius reminds you. “I promise to protect your modesty if anyone comes in, whatever the cost.” 

You frown at what he could mean by that, but Remus thumbs over your cheek placatingly. “Is there anywhere around here that might have sports drinks?” 

“Um, there’s a vending machine downstairs.” 

“Perfect. I’ll be back shortly.” He gives your cheek a quick hold before leaving. 

James kisses your palm once he’s done with your pulse, and then his fingers find the collar of your shirt, popping open the first two buttons with practiced ease. 

Your hand flies up to prevent him going further. “Why does everyone keep trying to undress me?” 

James laughs, and Sirius replies smoothly, “Why, is this not a good time for you?” 

“Take it easy, lovie.” James takes your hand, holding it in his own. “We’re just making sure all the blood that wants to go to your brain can get there.” 

“Oh.” You knew that. Or you should’ve, if your brain was working properly.

“If it’s somewhat risque in practice, I certainly don’t mind as much with you as I do with the old blokes we sometimes get.” Sirius winks at you. 

You offer up a weak smile in return, and he pouts. 

“How’re you feeling, sweetness?” 

“I’m alright.” You take a breath. “Can I sit up now?”

“Let’s give it a bit.” James rubs your shoulder. “How do you really feel?” 

“Just…weird. Shaky. But not too bad.” 

“That’s good,” he says, though he looks like he doesn’t quite believe you. 

“I think I’ll be fine once I get something to drink.” 

“Mm, I think there’s probably a bit more to it than that,” Remus says as he comes back in. He crouches beside you, twisting the top off a bottle of orange juice. “That is a very well-stocked vending machine. Do you feel ready to sit up, dove?” 

“I have been,” you say. “They won’t let me.” 

“Such ingratitude,” Sirius teases as he sets your feet back down. “We were only waiting for your juice.” 

James helps you up with a hand on your back, and it takes a second of wordless wrestling with Remus to get him to let you bring the bottle to your own lips. 

“You could be dehydrated,” he says as you drink, “or you could just be exhausted, or both. And you can faint from too much stress too, you know.” 

“I know,” you grumble, wiping your mouth. 

Remus takes your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. You find your indignance shrinking under his steady gaze. “You hurt yourself when you push yourself this hard, sweet girl.” 

“I know,” you say, softer now. “I thought I could handle it.” 

“You need to take more breaks.” 

You nod slightly. 

“And work on putting less pressure on yourself.” 

“Alright, Rem, lay off her.” Sirius rubs your knee. It breaks you from Remus’ trance, and your dark-haired boyfriend flashes you a smile when you look his way. “She’s got enough going through her head without having to remember all you want her to do. Let’s go home, yeah?” 

James insists on supporting you while you walk out of the library. Sirius and Remus debate what film you should put on once you get back to your flat. 

“Shouldn’t I get to choose?” you ask. 

“Well, look who’s feeling up to asking questions.” Sirius gives your cheek a condescending little pat. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re really ready to be picking out films, my love. Your decision making is probably still impacted from that fainting spell.” 

“Really.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I’ve never heard of that side effect.” 

“Well, you’re only a first year, doll. There’s lots you don’t know.”

[yjdrabbles123]

Hi hi!! If you were interested, I would absolutely love to see a fic of little!tai !! Maybe struggling to sleep and needing lots of reassurance from Van? But whatever you’d like to write! No pressure though <33

For you, always! I'm sorry this wasn't my best but i wanted to give you something!

‘Breathe with me, baby-’

Tai knows she needs to explain to Van that she’s not a baby- not in the whiney way that Mari insist’s she isn’t a baby when anyone dares suggest she might need help tying her shoes but in the way that she isn’t because she can’t be.

She looks after everyone- she keeps things together. Who will keep everything going if she isn’t?

But when she tries to explain this, she just starts sobbing and Van is looking at her so gently, as if she’s not spoiling things, as if she’s not pathetic and stupid for being in such a state over bedtime of all things.

‘Come here, sweetheart.’

Van manouvers Tai gently so that Van’s warm front is pressed against Tai’s back. She can feel her breath, warm on her neck, and Van’s arms around her, warm and sturdy and Van’s chest rising and falling and it’s so stupid that she’s being treated to tenderly when all that Van even did was ask if Tai was coming to bed.

She can’t come to bed. If she comes to bed Van will notice that she’s not sleeping, which is why she’s been on the couch for the past three nights, flicking through fuzzy latenight tv and trying not to cry.

She’s so tired. Her head hurts and her eyes hurt and i’s making her awful, she knows it, but she can’t help it: she’s just somehow so angry with them all.

No not angry, jealous. Jealous that they can fall asleep safely without worrying they’ll wake up half way down the garden or in the road.

Ok, so only the first one has happened, and not since Van had the electronic locks put on the doors….but she still wakes up in the kitchen, the hallway, the utility room, shivering and cold and so scared, even though logically she knows that it’s just their house.

Still, part of her wants to just cry and cry until Van hears her and comes to rescue her….

Maybe that’s what she’s doing now.

Van doesn’t ask her what’s wrong- perhaps Tai starting to hyperventilate when Van mentioned sleeping was kind of a clue, but she’s always been patient like that, even though Tai has been freaking out for ages, even though she should be with the others.

She tries to express that but she’s hicupping over her words.

Van understand though- she always does, she’s always had a sixth sense for knowing how to translate panicky choked noises into plain English- and shakes her head.

‘Baby, they’re fine. I promise. Everyone is fine. The most important thing right now- the ONLY thing I care about is looking after you.’ Van pauses, wiping a tear away with her fingers. ‘I don’t think I’ve been doing a great job of that lately, have I sweetheart? I should have noticed- Anyway-’ Van cuts herself off. ‘Helping you feel better is ALL I care about. The only thing. Ok?’

She can’t nod or agree but she doesn’t disagree either so maybe Van takes that as a win.

‘So here’s the plan-’ It almost makes Tai smile: this is what Van used to say to her when she was stressing out over exams and applications and tournaments, when she used to coax Tai into taking care of herself. ‘We’re going to stay cuddling like this for a little bit longer, ok? And then we’re going to go upstairs and I’m going to bring you some water and a snack- something nice and light, I promise- because don’t think I didn’t notice you skip dinner.’

Tai blushes- she HADN’T realised van had noticed but her stomach was too tight with anxiety to stomach the casserole on her plate.

‘Then we’re going to run you a nice hot bath and help you get all warm and relaxed. And-’ Van lowers her voice conspiratorially. ‘I have it on good authority that Jackie has some new bubble bath that she mighttt be open to letting you borrow…’

It’s weird because Van is talking as if Tai cant take her own bath. And Jackie’s new bubble bath has My Little Pony on the bottle. Why would Tai want that?

Except….well the thought of letting Van take charge over running the bath and being there in case her fingers are too shaky for buttons which they have been all day….well that sounds nice. And a part of her does like the idea of using Jackie’s bubble bath, even if its got ponies on it. Maybe BECAUSE its got ponies on it….?

‘And then we’re going to tuck you up in bed and you’re going to listen to me reading one of your really boring textbooks to you,’ Van goes on. ‘And it’s ok if you can’t fall asleep,’ she adds quickly. ‘We’re just going to work on your feeling relaxed in bed again, ok? No stress.’

She could laugh because there definitely is SOME stress in not sleeping out of anxiety of what you’ll do….but also she’s just so relieved at how good all that sounds that she kind of feels like she’s going to cry again.

Except…

‘V-van….’ How does she feel shy? It’s Van, why does she feel so anxious, why is she blushing?

‘Yeah baby?’ Van’s voice is so soft, so gentle, like she’s wrapping Tai up in her love with words.

‘I- um…’ It’s hard to say.

‘What is it sweetheart?’ Van leans closer, her ear almost at Tai’s mouth. ‘You can whisper if it’s easier-’

That’s almost more embarrassing than what she wanted to ask but still-

‘Um…canImaybe…canIhaveastory? I-instead, I mean…’

Her face is on fire as it takes Van a second to make sense of her words. To her infinity relief, Van doesn’t laugh or even smirk, just nods and draws Tai into her arms, cuddling her close. ‘Oh baby. Of course you can.’

[iamnotceleste]

And when you find everything you've looked for, I hope your love leads you back to my door

Series Masterlist: You know how to ball, I know Aristotle

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x YN Sage

Warning: Menstruation?

A/N: Can you guess what she wants to be when she grows up? I made her familiar with Blanca too. Don't blame me I'm on my period too. This is the longest I've written I think..As always feedback is appreciated!

Your school turned up with a new idea called Career Advice Session. Basically, they brought career experts to your school to have a one-o-one conversation with every student from grade 6 and up.

If you already have something in your mind and why you want to pursue that field then you can just tell them and they'll give out advices on how you can go that way step by step.

If you didn't know what you wanna do then they'll ask about your interests and suggest careers based on it.

You liked your schools initiative. It's a different and good approach for the students' future. And good thing, you also have something planned out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You grew up in Barcelona. You were born there. You went to primary school there. Being an only child, the friends you made were all you knew. If someone asked you, you would've never wanted to move from Barcelona. Ever.

You only moved to Madrid because of your papas job.

Your papa works in the aviation sector. When you were little, he once took you to Josep Tarradellas Barcelona-El Prat Airport, where he worked at that time.

He gave you an exclusive tour of the plane hangers. It was all so cool seeing the planes sleeping in their houses. Some still had work to do. Others probably going to be used as parts for making new aeroplanes.

You watched as the engineers and mechanics ran around. Making sure the plane is perfect to be flown next time.

Wright brothers invented the first aeroplane. It's so amazing to live long enough to see how far machines have evolved.

Not only commercial, you also saw smaller weird shaped planes that made very loud sounds when they flew. And they flew very very fast. Your papa said they're used by the air force.

It was a day that was deeply engraved in your memories.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's currently tiffin break. Your session will be next period. Honestly, you're kinda nervous. All sorts of thoughts are running in your head as you wash your hands in the school washroom.

"Oh no no no. Come on. Not now!" A distressed voice came from one of the stalls. You looked around to find which one.

You debated whether you should knock or not. Well, she did sound panicky. So you did.

Knock knock

"Um, occupied!"

"Yeah, I know. I just heard you panicking and are you okay?"

"Yeah! I'm alright! There's nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure? Do you need any help?"

"Uhh..My period arrived unannounced..And I don't have a pad on me."

"Oh! I have one. You can use it."

"Thank god. Think you can pass it to me under the door?"

It was one of those stalls where doors didn't reach the floor so you slid a pad under it.

You heard a sigh of relief.

After a minute an older girl emerged from the stall.

"Thank you so much! You're such a life saver."

"Don't mention it. Happy to help a girl out."

The girl smiled. "I'm Blanca."

"Nice to meet you. I'm YN."

"Nice to meet you too. You know I was so worried cause I have the career session next period and now the river decides to flow red."

You laughed. "Yeah just one of the perks of being a girl. I have my career session next period too."

Just then the bell rang.

"Oh well, now I guess. I've got to go. Bye."

"Yeah me too. Thanks again! Bye."

You both waved and parted your ways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrived to your designated room and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

"Hola."

"Hola. Come take a seat. You must be YN Sage. I'm Dr. Bernoulli."

"Thank you, Dr. Bernoulli."

"You're welcome. Now, let's start, shall we? First of all...Do you know what you want to be in the future or are you a bit confused?"

You think a little before answering.

"Yes. I think I know what I want to be."

[letsgoletsgetit08]

ink ch.5

summary: Park Seonghwa has been given an ultimatum by his parents: a year to marry a woman of their choosing with the end goal of producing an heir to the family fortune since queer party boy Seonghwa can't be trusted with it. His solution? Get absolutely blasted in tattoos to scare off his possible suitors and their families. But why did his tattoo artist have to be so pretty and kind? It's enough to make him question some things. Possibly, everything.

pairing: park seonghwa x hwang hyunjin

warning: mdni, barebacking, oral sex, public sex

total word count: 30,328 | chapter word count: 3,778

ao3 link: chapter 5

V: head in the clouds

This was probably a mistake. Seeing Hyunjin interact with people at the soup kitchen was doing something to Seonghwa. 

It was so healing to see someone interact as an equal with people who those in Seonghwa's tax bracket would treat as intrinsically other. 

The day went by so fast, no one recognized Seonghwa and therefore no one was weird about him being there. Hyunjin introduced him to some of the frequent flyers he was friendly with as “Hwa” and no one questioned it, just treated him like Hyunjin’s friend. 

It was the best day he had had in a long time. 

He was actually tired in a really fulfilling way, which wasn't a familiar feeling.

When they finished cleaning up, Hyunjin introduced him to the director of the non-profit, his good friend, Felix. Felix not only looked like an angel, but apparently was one as well. Seonghwa could see the genuine passion he had for helping people just based on the look in his eyes when he was talking about his organization. It had started as a charity to help clothe underprivileged children during the winter months and had grown to a full-scale operation. They held the soup kitchen daily, they had renovated a school bus that went around the city to provide haircuts, hand out food, water, and pamphlets explaining their other services, they had a legal team, they had people who mended clothing, a team in charge of their donation closet… it was so much. So needed. 

“And we're pretty much always hiring as we expand!” Felix concluded in his deep voice that pleasantly contradicted his delicate appearance, with a bright smile on his face, “My husband, Changbin, is head of HR, so he's in charge of all that. But I can always put in a good word.” 

Oh! The Changbin from his first tattoo appointment. Hyunjin’s gym buddy. It all made sense. Seonghwa didn't know why he relaxed at the mention of Felix having a husband, but the man was so pretty and so comfortable with Hyunjin that he had been starting to feel the panicky palpitations of jealousy the more he watched them interact, and was glad for those feelings to reside. He also didn't really know why Felix was telling him about job openings, but he made a mental note of it anyway. 

Hyunjin’s shoulder kept brushing his own as they walked out of the building, (it was only a few blocks away from Hyunjin’s shop and apartment, which is where Seonghwa had parked so they could walk together) every touch stirring the butterflies in Seonghwa's stomach. 

“What's the dress code for Twink Dinner?” Hyunjin asked. 

Seonghwa laughed, “Truthfully, whatever is your sluttiest club outfit.”

“Um,” Hyunjin blushed, “I don't really go clubbing.”

“Oh! Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. Why don't you send me pics of some options? And I'll help you out.” He offered. 

“Yeah, okay, sounds good.” Hyunjin smiled a little bashfully. God, he was so cute. It really was unfair. 

“I'd help you out in person, but unfortunately I'm on my way to meet Eleanor Vanderwalt and her, I'm assuming, atrocious family after this.” He sighed, truly dreading it. 

Hyunjin laughed at him, “Jesus, that name is a mouthful, huh? Would you guys hyphenate? Park-Vanderwalt or Vanderwalt-Park?” 

Seonghwa shoved his arm, “Hush. I will not be marrying this woman. Mostly for my sake, but also for hers. I truly wouldn't wish marrying into my family on my worst enemy.”

“Who is your worst enemy?” 

“You, obviously, Hyunne. Who else?”

Hyunjin’s head tipped back in laughter, a very adorable habit of his, “Oh, right! How could I possibly forget! Enemies to lovers though, right?” He poked Seonghwa in the cheek. 

Seonghwa playfully grabbed the hand that was poking his cheek, stopping as they arrived at Hyunjin’s apartment, pulling him in close, “Yeah, something like that.” His eyes looked from one of Hyunjin’s, down to his lips, up to the other eye, his thumb rubbing over the back of the other’s hand. 

“Mmh, something like that.” Hyunjin echoed, leaning in to plant a sweet kiss on Seonghwa’s eagerly awaiting lips. He returned the kiss, dreading the fact that he had to cut it short, wanting nothing more than to follow Hyunjin upstairs and keep kissing him for hours on end. 

He pulled back, “I'll text you the details for tomorrow night, alright?” 

Hyunjin landed another kiss on his cheek, “Okay!” he was beaming. Fucking cute as ever, “Byeee!” He wiggled his fingers as he turned to his apartment door.

Seonghwa was so fond, completely endeared to the man in front of him, “Bye, Jinnie.” 

He was decidedly not fond of Eleanor Vanderwalt. That was, until she asked him to accompany her outside of the stuffy restaurant his parents had chosen for a cigarette, when her demeanor completely changed. He usually only smoked cigarettes when he was out drinking, but desperate times and all that. 

Eleanor had dark bobbed hair and kind eyes, and she was dressed much more edgy than Seonghwa had expected, or at least edgy for the people their families wanted them to be, no seersucker in sight, at the very least. Small blessings. 

She lit his cigarette for him, “I'm a lesbian. And I go by Nellie, by the way. My parents insist on Eleanor.” She said it like it explained everything. And really, it kind of did. 

“Ohh, got it. And your parents are hoping this fact will…?”

“Mysteriously go away and I'll bear them grandchildren. Yeah.” She finished for him. 

“I'm gay as fuck.” Seonghwa offered in solidarity. 

“Oh, Seonghwa,” she laid a hand on his arm, “I know.” 

He gasped, faking his surprise, “How did you possibly figure it out?!” 

“Dude, you literally got tattoos to get out of some wack ass arranged marriage.” 

“And it was working!” He defended himself. 

“I'm sure it worked on-”

“Sloane Greenburg.” He supplied.

“Right, Sloane Greenburg and her family. Mine honestly don't give a fuck about them. Sorry.”

“Well. Fuck.” He sighed. 

“Look, bro. I can make up whatever excuse we can think of, get us out of it for the time being. We can keep letting our parents try to set us up with rich douchebags. Or.”

“Or?”

“Or we can say fuck it. Personally, I am too used to this lifestyle to give up the money, as are you, I assume, otherwise why humor them. We can do IVF, produce an heir. Never have to touch. Date whomever we want in secret. I'm really tired of going on these weird arranged dates. This is year two of them for me… They're determined. And if your parents are anything like mine, they won't give up.”

“So… like a lavender marriage?” He thought he understood. 

“Exactly. Oldest trick in the book.”

“I'm not really sure that's a decision I can make right now.” 

Nellie put her cigarette out on the brick wall they were leaning against, “Well, think about it. I can keep my parents in a holding pattern for a little while.” She handed him her phone, “Here, give me your number.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder on his Uber ride home, if Hyunjin would ever go for something like that. They weren't even dating officially yet but for the first time in a while, he felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. 

When he arrived back at his penthouse, as if on cue, he received five messages back to back from Hyunjin. Pictures of his outfit ideas for tomorrow night. One in particular was beyond what Seonghwa imagined he would have in his closet, black leather pants and a cropped fine mesh mock-neck shirt. 

He had to know how incredibly hot he was. 

Seonghwa took it upon himself to inform him, slightly tipsy still from drinks at dinner. He called rather than sending a text. 

Hyunjin answered on the third ring, “Hello?”

“Jesus Christ, Hwang Hyunjin. You’re ethereal. Seriously. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Hyunjin giggled, “Park Seonghwa! Stop it!” 

“No way,” he put his phone on speaker as he took his clothes off, down to just boxers, eager to climb into bed after the very informative night that had left him weary from bearing the weight of having a serious and impending decision to make, “I mean every word and I need you to know it.” 

“Well,” Hyunjin breathed into the phone, “Thank you.”

“Any time, lovely.” Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile. 

“I'm sending you one more option to look at. Let me know when you get it!” 

“Oh? Okay, will do.” He stared at their message thread eagerly but he was not prepared for the incoming picture in the slightest. 

Hyunjin stood in front of a fogged up bathroom mirror, condensation barely blurring out what was clearly his hard cock held in his hand. Fog wiped away just over the reflection from his lips down to the very end of his happy trail. It was very artfully done for a nude, he had to admit. It was so so hot. His dick agreed with him. 

“Oh, jagi. Look at you.” He was almost breathless. 

“I'd rather look at you,” Hyunjin shot back, voice syrupy sweet. 

“Mmh, magic word?” Seonghwa taunted him for no good reason other than the fact that he could. 

“Please?” Hyunjin simpered, voice slightly strained, and Seonghwa could hear the faint noise of movement on his end of the call. 

“Let me see…” he flipped through his locked folder of nudes on his phone, finding one of his very favorites: soft lighting, kneeling in front of his bedroom mirror, turned just so at the waist, where so you could see his ass but couldn’t fully see his dick, lips parted. He hit send without hesitation, reaching over to his bedside table to retrieve lube and his headphones so he could be hands-free. 

He waited, hand cupping his already intrigued and half hardened dick through his boxers. 

“God fucking damn. Seonghwa.” He whimpered. 

“Are you touching yourself, baby?” Seonghwa whispered, already knowing the answer. 

Hyunjin let out a soft moan, “Yes.”

“Good boy.” 

He heard something vaguely wet sounding on the other line. 

“I've been thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Seonghwa freed his cock, now fully filled out, starting to stroke it slowly. 

“Yeah. Every time I've gotten off since we met, Hwa.”

“Fuck, Hyunjin.” He applied lube, finally. He wasn't going to last long anyways, not at this rate. 

“I've got my biggest dildo inside of me right now,” Hyunjin nearly choked on a moan, “But now that I've seen you,” a shaky breath, “Had you in my mouth… I know nothing will fill me up like your cock would.”

“God, I want that so bad. I've been thinking about you, too.” His pace quickened. 

“Want you to split me in half, Seonghwa.”

“Tell me more.”

“Wanna ride your dick. Want you to cum inside. Wanna feel you leak out of me. Don't wanna walk for days.”

“I'm so close, Hyunne.”

“Me, too. Fuck.” He was panting now. 

“Go ahead, jagi. Be good and cum for me.” 

“Seonghwa!” He called out some approximation of his name. It was all Seonghwa needed to finish as well, making sure to not hold back the noises he was making, so Hyunjin would know it was good for him, too. 

“Excellent job, darling.” He cooed over the line. 

“Mmh, I love when you call me nicknames. You have no idea what it does to my brain.” Hyunjin's fucked out voice was so sexy. 

“Duly noted, my sexy little minx.” Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile as he caught his breath. 

Hyunjin laughed lazily, “Okay, I like most of the nicknames. And thank you. For indulging me. That was… Whew.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he chuckled, “No need to thank me, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at your place at 10?” 

“Sounds perfect to me.” He could picture Hyunjin’s rosy cheeks and how he imagined he was biting his lip at this exchange. 

“Goodnight, Jin.” 

“Goodnight, Hwa.” 

And that it was. A fucking great night. 

The Pink Pony Club used to be a seedy low lit gay bar uptown called The Dive, (somewhere in between Hyunjin’s apartment and his, but a little closer to his own) and was now a fully pink cowboy themed gay bar/karaoke bar/best bathroom in the area to snort coke off the countertops (a review Seonghwa had left personally, prominently featured on their website, with the words “snort coke” half-heartedly crossed out, for legal reasons or something). He would never admit to Wooyoung how much he loved it, but it was probably pretty obvious, regardless. 

He would, however, admit that walking in with Hyunjin on his arm had him on cloud nine. Walking on sunshine. Practically skipping. Heart soaring, full of pride. He looked even better in the outfit they had decided on last night in person than he had in the photo over text, with silver jewelry and a little makeup (smudged eyeliner, lip tint, blush) to pull it all together. Seonghwa had a fleeting thought that he wouldn't mind having to wash his sheets of that makeup if he was lucky enough to fuck Hyunjin senseless into them. 

They were the last to arrive, having taken time to take a hit or two from Hyunjin’s bowl before heading out. Pregaming. He was sure their red eyes and mindless giggling would give it away, but it wasn't like his friends would care.

They picked their way back to their usual booth in the back corner, Hyunjin gripping onto his arm for dear life so as to not get separated. 

Jeongin was the first person to spot them, waving animatedly, “Hyunjin! Seonghwa!” And he felt himself glow as the rest of the table turned to greet them. To his surprise, Hongjoong and Jongho had come alone. Wooyoung was squealing, “Oh my god! Hwa! Who is this poor sucker you've obviously paid to hang off your arm?”

“Ha ha,” he laughed sarcastically, “This is Hyunjin. Hyunjin, that's the head twink in charge, Wooyoung. His boyfriend San-” 

San stood up excitedly to shake Hyunjin’s hand. Hongjoong, Jongho, and Yunho followed suit, introducing themselves, ending with Mingi who immediately pulled him into a bear hug, whispering something Seonghwa couldn’t quite catch in his ear that made Hyunjin burst into laughter. 

They sat down and tequila shots were delivered, all of them taking the shots with varying degrees of ease. 

“A toast!” Jeongin raised his cocktail, “Here's to hell! May our stay there be as much fun as the way there!” 

It was cheesy as fuck, but the way he delivered it so genuinely, with a cheeky grin on his face, it was palatable. He could see what Yeosang liked about him. So far, all of Hyunjin’s friends were very likeable. He could only hope that by the end of the night, Hyunjin would feel the same way about his friends. 

They got caught up on each other's lives, only briefly lingering on Seonghwa’s situation, thankfully. He was pretty vague about it, just said he'd met a couple of women and their families so far and had avoided getting betrothed to one thus far. It wasn't a lie, just not really the full story. He felt his heart bloom with pride as they complimented his tattoos, praised Hyunjin for his work. Hyunjin was also glowing with the praise, Seonghwa reached over and placed a hand on his thigh, giving it a small squeeze and leaning briefly into his shoulder, which the other returned, making quick, knowing eye contact out of the corners of their eyes. 

Soon, they had broken up into smaller groups, carrying on several conversations at once. Hyunjin talking animatedly with Jongho, himself engaging in a debate with Yunho and Mingi, when suddenly Wooyoung announced, “WE’RE GOING TO DANCE NOW!” 

He looked over to Hyunjin, questioning. He knew Jongho wouldn't join them on the dance floor yet. 

“Jongho won't be hitting the dance floor until he's a few drinks deeper.” Seonghwa offered. 

“I think I'll hang back for now, too.” Hyunjin looked a little nervous, “But you go! Don't let me hold you back, Party Boy Park.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes at the stupid nickname the media had crowned him with years ago, “Are you sure? I don't mind staying.”

Hyunjin nodded reassuringly, “Go! I'm not offended, really. I'll join you when I'm ready.” 

“Okay then,” He smiled, turning to Hongjoong, “You coming?” 

Hongjoong shrugged, “Why the hell not!” 

He and Hongjoong had a long history of dancing with each other to attract the attention of others and they fell back into it easily, Seonghwa turning Hongjoong around so he was pressed up against his chest, the other’s hands around his neck as his own wrapped around his waist, moving languidly in time with the music. It felt pretty good to stretch those old muscles, he couldn't lie. 

Time passed quickly, he and Hongjoong having too much fun dancing together to be too cognizant of their surroundings. But soon enough, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye that made his stomach turn. 

Hyunjin was dancing in a different group, grinding on a guy that Seonghwa had briefly dated (casually, of course) a few years ago. He didn't see Jongho anywhere and assumed he was probably off doing karaoke with Mingi and Yunho. 

Hongjoong seemed to follow his gaze and they both said “Chris?” simultaneously, in completely different tones of voices. They looked at each other, confused. 

“That's the guy I've been seeing!” Hongjoong had to practically shout over the music. 

“What! He's kinda my ex!” Seonghwa replied, flabbergasted. 

“How the hell would I know that, Hwa? You never tell us about anyone you're dating!” 

“I'm not worried about that, I'm curious why he's dancing with Hyunjin like that!” He couldn’t help but feel jealous, despite the fact that he had been grinding on someone else half of the night. 

“Let's just go over there, don't jump to conclusions!” 

They pushed their way through, against the current of the waves of sweaty bodies. 

“HEY!” Hyunjin was red-cheeked, far more drunk than Seonghwa, “Look guys, it's my Seonghwa!” 

Oh. His. Seonghwa couldn’t deny how good the claim of ownership made him feel, any feelings of jealousy dissipating as quickly as they had come.

Two other men, who had previously been making out, all but fully having sex on the dance floor, broke apart to introduce themselves: Jisung and Minho. 

“Our other friend Seungmin is here too, he and Jongho are in some weird homoerotic pissing match over karaoke.” Hyunjin slurred as he released his grip on Chris and stumbled into Seonghwa's waiting arms, “This is Chan. Channie hyung. Chris. Whatever you wanna call him!” 

He and Chris made eye contact, immediately understanding that their history was a conversation for another time. Hongjoong blushed as Chris waltzed over to put an arm around his waist, introducing him to his friends, “This is the guy I've been seeing! Everyone, meet Hongjoong.” 

For a big city, it was starting to feel like a small town. 

Hyunjin was swaying on the spot despite half of his body weight being on Seonghwa, “Our friends are like all dating, Hwa, isn't that wild? It's so romantic! Don't you think it's romantic?”

Seonghwa was so insurmountably screwed. Besotted. Infatuated. 

“It's very romantic, baby. Let's get you home, yeah?”

He pouted, “I don't wanna go home!” 

Seonghwa kissed his cheek, “Okay then I'll take you to my place.”

He couldn't help but notice the eyes of Hyunjin’s friends on him, felt himself hope they approved of him. 

“Really?!” Hyunjin’s face lit up, “Can we have sex?” He gave Seonghwa his best puppy dog eyes. 

Seonghwa laughed, amused at the simpering mess Hyunjin had turned into under the influence of alcohol, “No, sweetheart, I'm not going to sleep with you like this.” 

Hyunjin stomped his foot and whined, “No fair! Can we make out?!” 

Seonghwa kissed the crown of his head, pulling him closer to his side as he turned them away from their friends, all of them waving bye, Chris grabbing his arm and mouthing “thank you” as they left. He nodded in response. 

“Yes, sure, angel. We can make out.” 

Seonghwa was sober enough to drive but didn't want to risk it, precious cargo and all, so he called an Uber for them. 

Hyunjin was babbling mindlessly the whole way home, and Seonghwa scooped him up into his arms like he was his blushing bride when they exited the Uber, carrying him into the elevator up to his penthouse. He tried to put him down once in the elevator, but the younger whined a mumbled complaint and curled into his chest, grip tightening around his neck. So Seonghwa held him until he deposited him softly onto his bed. 

His bed, which he had never shared with anyone before. 

Seonghwa made Hyunjin drink some water, refilling the glass for in the morning, placing a couple of Midol (the best thing for a hangover, a little trick Seonghwa had learned back in college) by the glass. Then he started to work on removing Hyunjin’s shoes and clothes, leaving him in his boxers, picking up his legs gingerly so he could tuck him into his fluffy duvet. Dashing off to the bathroom to grab some cotton pads he doused with micellar water to gently wipe away Hyunjin’s makeup.

He was about to go shower but turned around, a sudden stroke of genius, and shot off a text to Hyunjin, whose phone he had just plugged in to charge: 

Me

Baby, don't you dare disappear before I wake up. I owe you brunch.

He planned on sleeping on the couch but after showering and brushing his teeth, when he stooped down to kiss Hyunjin’s forehead (he couldn't help himself, he looked so peaceful), the younger woke up enough to glom onto his arm, muttering through sleepy lips, “Mmh cuddle me, baby. Please?” 

And how could Seonghwa refuse? 

He climbed into bed behind the man whom he was quickly realizing he was probably falling in love with, pulled him tight to his chest, stroking his hair, kissing his shoulder, whispering, “Goodnight, darling.” into his ear. 

“Night night.” Hyunjin mumbled contentedly. 

Every heartbeat in his chest as he drifted off to sleep seemed to percuss Hyunjin Hyunjin Hyunjin in a steady rhythm. He knew his heart was incapable of lying to him. And this was an issue for Tomorrow Seonghwa.

Until then, he remained blissful as his consciousness turned to dreams of rose petal lips, swirling ink, fluffy clouds, melodic laughter.

[caltropspress]

RAPS + CRAFTS #34: Snotnoze Saleem

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

I go by the name Snotnoze Saleem. So far, all projects under this alias have been released on Illuminated Paths, including the mixtape Intifada, the sister EPs Shards I & II, and the most recent EP Samizdat, all self-produced. I don’t want to give too much away as of right now since I prefer to announce music when it is fully complete, but I got a collab tape with an amazing producer coming up, and I’m always working on my own stuff.

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

Any and everywhere. I used to have a routine where I would write on my lunch break at work, and then afterwards after smoking. I don’t particularly like employment, so I always had a source of agitation to pull from, however that routine has recently been shattered due to a layoff. But I’ve been slowly finding a new groove until the next source of daily annoyance gives me more ammo, and even without a job, there’s always something. I discipline myself by sitting down and saying, “I’m going to come up with at least a few bars here,” or, “I will find a pocket in this weird ass beat,” but during that window of discipline I’ll let the words come as they may. I make an effort to jot down interesting thoughts or turn of phrases every day, even as little as just two words that I think sound interesting when put together. I tend to feel panicky if I feel I haven’t written anything for a few days straight, which can happen.

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

It used to be strictly pen and paper because I thought it was more “official,” but as time progressed I found myself thinking in bars all throughout the day, and I found it much more convenient to just pull my phone out and type whatever it is that came to me. I don’t think I’ve ever kept a whole verse strictly in my head; I’d be too afraid of forgetting it.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

Usually disorganized, and then I find a satisfying order and rhythm for recitation. A few times a song will be more focused and will come off as what you could say are logical thoughts, like my one song “A Foreign Army Invaded My Funeral Procession” from Shards II, but that wasn’t even on purpose. It kinda just came out that way.

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

Nah, I don’t trash anything - always keep it. I’ve used lines I’ve written years prior, or recycle entire verses on a new beat if I think it fits better. When I’m in that discipline window I mentioned earlier, I’ll just write whatever, doesn’t have to make sense (not like the finished version has to) or be on any type of beat or rhythm or cadence, just get the juices flowing. It’s usually pretty clunky at first, but once I’ve gotten used to the beat then I can make adjustments. If I’m working on a verse and I haven’t reached that breakthrough beyond, say, a week or two, then it may be time to move on to something else, but that doesn’t mean I’ll never go back to it again.

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

I used to write screenplays when I was younger, and little short stories. I don’t know what happened as I aged, but I find it hard to write organized thoughts and sentences like that nowadays - you know, “proper” sentences. I think the biggest influence it has on me now is just the fact that I’m not a stranger to the act of writing my thoughts down since I’ve been doing it for a while in some shape or form. I would like to read more poetry as well.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

The production plays a big role in this. If I have a beat that really gets a strong reaction from me, like my blood starts boiling as soon as I hear it, I can knock out a big chunk of a verse quickly, or maybe even a whole verse. Other times, it’s just a matter of reciting it either out loud or in my head over and over and over and over and over again until I’m fully satisfied with every word and pocket.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

Always writing to a beat, though I may pull from the random thoughts and feelings I’ve jotted down during my day-to-day. But the beat is usually the biggest factor in helping with writing a verse as opposed to little blurbs. If it’s something crazy, like some clamorous buzzsaw synth with a vocal sample of an elderly woman gasping or something, then the words will match that atmosphere. If it’s something calmer, I will adjust accordingly.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

Man, I will pull from anything. My immediate surroundings, maybe a sign I see on the street; or something someone said earlier that I thought was funny or strange; a memory; a feeling I had at a particular moment; a meme or tweet I saw online; the news; a sentence from a book; whatever. Despite the seeming randomness though, I think there are always a handful of topics in my mind that I tend to dwell on or go back to, and it seems like I attempt to compile those disparate sources to fit within those topics even if I didn’t really set out to do that when I started. 

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

Hmm, those seem like the same thing to me. I would say I do both. Lately I’ve been making a conscious effort of trying not to use “obvious” rhymes, so instead of rhyming, for example, “feature” with “creature,” maybe I’ll go with “people” or even “facetious” or something. See, it doesn’t really rhyme, but it kinda does and you can make it work. I think that makes it more interesting. Nothing wrong with “obvious” rhymes though - more of an exercise to keep my mind sharp. 

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

I mentioned a collab tape with a producer earlier. I got a song on there that I really think I left the planet on. I wrote it when I was bedridden with COVID, and I think the combination of my brain being in such a vulnerable state and the beat really speaking to me helped with my writing. Don’t get COVID, by the way. Of the stuff I have out at the time of this writing, I like the song “Embryonic” from Shards II. It’s a kind of spoken word thing over a noise sample. I like hearing what different people think I was going for on that one.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

That’s a really tough one. It might be recency bias because it just came out, but I like when I said, “Bantustan bandit back on that bolshevik bullshit.” I like the alliteration and I enjoy using political terms in a somewhat irreverent way. “Bantustan” is in reference to the areas in the West Bank that are designated for Palestinians, which have been compared to the Bantustans of Apartheid-era South Africa, which were designated for black Africans; “bandit” in reference to flippant use of samples; and “bolshevik bullshit” because I guess my raps tend to lean pretty left-wing.

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

I don’t think I have any authority to tell people how they should or shouldn’t rap. 99.9% of the time I don’t use them because I just don’t need to, and it makes a song easier to perform. But on my song “Nymphs” off of Samizdat (where the line I highlighted in the last question is from), I actually punched-in most of the lines because I was inspired by people like RXKNephew who I feel do it in a unique way, and I just thought it fit the beat. Just seemed like a fun thing to try out. But I don’t really whittle anything down. I have good breath control and sometimes it could even give it more flavor when it sounds like your lungs are about to burst before you finish a line. 

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Novels of all types, although my favorite authors are ones who can be funny about very serious things - satirical, you know - or know how to play with the English language. The real world. History and politics. Jazz music helps me with finding flows because it is so free and organic. And I really love noise and punk music for the energy.

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

I like what I put out. It’s not lost on me that many people may find my style outlandish and maybe even unlistenable - that’s okay. It sounds like me and whoever it’s meant for will find it and enjoy it. 

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

Well, the flow on “Nymphs” was done on purpose as a direct tribute, but otherwise I think I’m weird enough as a person (in a good way) that I can take influence from my favorites such as DOOM or ELUCID and it would still come out sounding like me, if that makes sense. 

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

I would like to show the listener that rap is a limitless genre and the best genre and the culmination of all genres, where you can say whatever you want, however you want, and that you can really make a beat out of anything. Real-world concerns would focus on eradicating oppression of all people on the basis of who they are (or any basis really) and the use of everyday language in creative and “foreign” ways. 

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: Delaney Nash

[cerberusthenking3]

Inside A Husk

Warning:This story contains soft,safe vore,awkward/uncomfortable pred,child prey,alcohol,accidental vore

Ushi POV.

I sigh as I sit on the stool while eating some cereal while I hear Miss Charlie arguing with Alastor again for the third time this morning.He is responding back to her in a teasing tone to everything she's getting frustrated about.I sigh and hear someone ask"Rough night?"I look up tiredly and see Mr Husk standing in the bar with a bottle of beer already in his hand.I nod and say,"Miss Charlie was singing in her room all night,not much sleep to be had here,I guess"He nods and says"I'd offer you a drink but I feel like Charlie would smack me for that"I give a small laugh and say"Maybe I'll ask Pentious to let me sleep in his stomach for a bit"Mr Husk shivers and says"How in hell do you like being eaten by that guy,it's gross"I take another bite and say"I don't like being eaten but it is very comfortable and able to block noise pretty well"He takes another swig before jumping when we hear a loud explosion and I turn to see a bolt of shadowy magic slams into me and I'm thrown into Mr Husk.Alastor and Miss Charlie run over to make sure I'm okay and I notice Miss Charlie's hand smoking and Alastors hand has a shadowy film over it.Miss Charlie says in a panicky tone"Oh my Satan,I'm so sorry that shrinking spell was meant for Alastor!"Alastor speaks with a clearer voice than usual."My apologies,I only meant to knock it away and not into anybody,or I would have aimed it a Vagatha,"Miss Vaggie yells."HEY!"Before he brushes her off and says,"Charlie,reverse it."She raises her hand as a bolt of red magic hits me, and I feel that instead of growing,my body begins shifting,and I feel something growing out of my head as I shrink more with fur growing all over my body as I yell.........squeak?In confusion I look down and realize that I've become a mouse,panic sets in as I look at Miss Charlie and tears begin welling up in my eyes.

Ushi POV.

Miss Charlie and Miss Vaggie have both been freaking out for almost an hour as she trues different spells to turn me back but just wound up turning my new fur white and changing me from a normal mouse to a creature that Alastor called a Marten,specifically something called a Sable which he felt the need to say taste good which he punctuates by licking me,then I turned back into a mouse again.Miss Charlie smacks him for this but is panicking more and more every failed spell before eventually Miss Vaggie tells her that she should rest which makes me a little more upset but I do understand that the constant magic is straining her body.Mr Husk said he would watch me while Miss Charlie takes a quick nap before trying again and if she can't turn me back before tonight she'll call her father and get him to help.Mr Husk sits me on the bar counter as I sigh and sit down,small droplets of ters fall from my eyes as I start yelling angrily"AHHHHH,I'LL NEVER GET HOME AT THIS RATE"I bang my head on the counter before hearing Mr Husk say"You good kid?"I look up at him as he reaches down and begins petting my back awkwardly and saying,"Don't worry,Charlie will get ya back to normal,and even if she can't her dad will"I sigh,he doesn't even know why I'm so frustated,its not just the being turned into a mouse,so far I've been stuck in the hotel since I got here and all I can do is watch cartoon reruns,clean my room because they won't let me clean anywhere else or help around the hotel because they don't want me to hurt myself or have anyone outside see me,or another guest named"Angel Dust"to talk to me.They said it's not that he'll try to hurt me but he's super inappropriate and I'm not old enough to be around him.Mr Husk keeps petting me and I begin making a weird noise without much of a thought.He laughs and says"I guess you could consider you a baby mouse but I wasn't expecting you to purr"I feel embarrassment shoot over me and I turn away from him while crossing my arms.

Ushi POV.

Mr Husk has me sitting on my shoulder as he serves a white furred demon with a weird black and pinkish/red eye.Mr. Husk says, "Angel,you know you're not supposed to drink this early,Charlie will be on you."The weird demon who I now know as Angel says,"Oh come now,She'll never know sourpuss."He looks up and says,"And why do you have a mouse?"Mr Husk sighs and says,"This is the human Chalie told ya about,she got hit by a rogue spell and shrunken,but when Charlie tried to fix it she accidentally turned her into a mouse"Angel says"Whoa,Charlie can shrink people and turn them into animals?"Mr Husk shrugs and says,"I guess. "Angel reaches up and pets my head.I begin purring again on accident and smack his hand away, so he says,"Ooh,feisty"Mr husk laugh and nods when suddenly something comes bursting through the door.I get knocked back and slam into something warm and soft,like the inside of Pentious's mouth.Whoever's mouth I fell into is forced to swallow and I hear Mr Husk all around me yell"WHAT THE HELL,YOU RADIO HEADED PRICK,YOU MADE ME SWALLOW USHI"I shiver as I slip into a small sack that tightens around me as Mr Husk asks"Are you okay kid?"I squeak nervously, and he says,"Oh yeah,can't talk,well you're safe so uhh,just relax,or don't I can't make you do anything"I chitter unhappily but curl up inside of the pouch.I hear liquid moving down further than where I am and smell the sharp scent of alcohol and scratch at the stomach lining and hear him yelp in pain before saying"Her,what was that for?"I squeak angrily, and he says,"Fine,I won't drink while you're in there,"I lay down satisfied and feel sleep washing over me as I begin purring again.Mr Husk says"Its alright kid,I'll let you out once Charlie wakes up to turn you back"I slowly black out and realize how tired I am.I'll have to try to get more sleep during the day if the only time I can sleep is while I'm in a demons stomach,not that I'm complaining too much because it is comfortable.

[firstsprinces]

Thank you @priincebutt and @anincompletelist for tagging me in the first WIP Wednesday of 2024! I can’t wait for all that’s to come from you both this year!

I managed to write quite a bit of my first smutty one shot featuring Alex as a lumberjack, and because I’m not going to share the next chapter of the alien Alex AU (because it’s a gift and I want every chapter to be a surprise), you’ll be getting posts about this until it’s published. I’m hoping it won’t be for more than two weeks but it all depends on if I become too busy!

This is what stable boy Alex was supposed to be before I had to make them have too many feelings and full on love story.

Here’s Henry attempt to flirt with the handsome woodsman.

He withdraws his hand quickly, which now makes him feel more nervous because the action could have the same obvious effect as him letting his fingertips linger over his. Henry's too much in his head and he doesn't want that to show either. From the time he had gone in to fetch the cold bottle of water, Henry had been thinking of how he was going to introduce himself to him. He had wanted to say something smooth, but not come off as this overly confident flirt — not that he’s ever been an overly confident flirt. He doesn't just want to give him a simple "hi, I'm Henry" because he wants to indicate that's he interested in more than just being someone who hopes the man is staying hydrated while he works. Then there's the chance Henry's read on the lumberjack is wrong and he's straight. It's a short amount of time to have such a jumbled and panicky fight with his thought-processing. “N-nice wood,” is what he comes up with instead and the moment he hears the words, he wishes the axe that’s been struck into the tree stump would magically fly out and chop him in half. Henry watches as the lumberjack's shoulders slump and he can't tell if it's just from relaxing his muscles or if he's put off from what he's said. Surely, if he doesn't want him around he'd be more tense in his broad shoulders, but the tension could also mean he's quite sore from lifting the axe and bring it back down to chop logs repetitively for hours - and if they're sore, he'd need a massage, or maybe take a hot shower to ease his pain. Henry needs to stop having these thoughts because he can easily lose himself in the spiral. To Henry's luck, and surprise, he doesn't seem to be weirded out by his attempt at flirting. In fact, he doesn't miss a beat and flirts back - at least, this is what Henry will tell people if someone asks him how they met. “Thanks. Would you like to give me a hand with it?”

Anyone else is free to take this as an open tag!

[theghostpinesmusic]

McKenzie River Trail (2/2)

I woke up on the second day of my hike down the MRT feeling a bit better about my prospects. The beautiful morning light filtering through the trees didn't hurt.

I'd planned to take on the trail over three days, mostly just because I wanted to spend a second night camping outside under the trees. But now that I'd covered twelve miles and found a place to sleep for the first night, I knew that if it was necessary I could knock out the remaining fourteen miles on the second day, get to the car, and take a long, night drive home instead of going through a second panicky search for a maybe-nonexistent campsite.

(As it turned out, I did find a place to camp for a second night and everything worked out just fine, but because my hike out on the third day was extremely short and uneventful, I'm combining days two and three into this one post because it feels silly to do otherwise.)

Apparently this newfound sense of comfort infiltrated my subconscious, because I slept through my alarm twice and somehow didn't manage to get on the trail on the second "morning" until 11:30.

I did get going eventually, though, and before long I passed Olallie Campground. During the previous day's search for a campsite, I'd had Olallie in my head as my last-ditch option: if I didn't find anything else first, it was thirteen miles down the trail and despite being a campground instead of a backcountry spot, it would have done in a pinch...or so I'd thought. Turns out that Olallie Campground is on the east side of the McKenzie River and the MRT, at this point, is on the west side. There is no way to actually get to the campground from the trail unless you want to hike multiple miles out of your way.

I was both embarrassed at myself for not noticing this on the map earlier, and happy that I'd found the site I'd found the previous night, because camping at Olallie would not have worked for me.

I waved to the car-campers as I walked by on the "wrong" side of the river.

I bit further south, I passed by Bigelow Hot Springs and an extremely fancy bridge spanning Deer Creek.

It was the first of a few cool bridges along the next section of the trail, though some were more bespoke than others.

At one point, the trail turned into a weird double-track, but only for a short stretch, and that short stretch also featured most of the few wildflowers I saw during the trip.

The next few miles of hiking were beautiful in their own way, but the second, southern half of the trail is definitely lacking big, "marquee" scenic spots like waterfalls or the Blue Pool. It's perfectly fine, but I can definitely understand why it's frequented more by bikers than backpackers.

A second, related problem started to make itself clear once I'd covered five or six miles from my first night's campsite: though there are actually many flat, established spots on the southern half of the trail, the MRT is so close to Highway 126 that, for the most part, you are constantly clearly hearing the roar and rattle of semi trucks hurtling down the road anywhere you stop. I'd certainly never expected the MRT to provide a pristine wilderness experience, and even if I originally had, my first day on the trail would have disavowed me of any such notion. But, I knew I'd also rather just finish out the trail on the second day and drive home than lay awake to noisy, clattering traffic all night long.

Complicating things a bit more was the fact that you aren't legally allowed to camp along the final four miles or so of the trail, which meant that I was going to have to either find a not-noisy spot before then, or give up and go home.

So, past the five-mile mark, my second day on the MRT was a...weird day. I spent a bunch of time walking slowly along and eyeing the GaiaGPS map on my phone, making sure I didn't hike too far south and west while keeping an eye open for camp spots. More than once, I found one that looked cozy, then spent ten or fifteen minutes sitting in it, trying to get a sense of whether or not the road noise overpowered the roar of the river in that one particular spot. In each case, the semis won out and I moved on.

Then, just about when I had given up and decided to hike out early and drive home, I came upon an amazing little spot just off the trail, situated on a little island above the river and screened from the main trail by just enough brush to make it feel private. I engaged in my neurotic surveillance ritual to judge the amount of road noise, and while I could occasionally hear some traffic in the distance over the rush of the river, I decided that it was quiet enough that it was worth putting up with to spend a second night on the McKenzie River.

At seven miles (give or take a mile or so), this was probably one of the shortest days I'd ever taken on a backpacking trip, so I had a lot of time to wash up in the river, wander up and down the trail a bit without my pack in search of Whatever, and read. And take a bunch of pictures of how cool my tent looked underneath the giant trees, of course.

I slept surprisingly well, considering my worries about road noise and all, and woke up early the next morning ready to finish out the last five or six miles of the MRT.

First, though, with better light to work with, I took more pictures of my tent.

I took a little bit longer eating breakfast than I usually would, knowing I had both a short hike and a short(ish) drive ahead of me and wanting to stretch out the experience a bit more now that I was nearing the end.

When I finally got on with things, the MRT almost immediately, disorientatingly, led me uphill and directly alongside the highway for a bit.

This certainly wasn't actually as weird as it felt, but it felt really weird.

Shortly after, I passed Belknap Springs and the Belknap Springs Resort. I think if I ever did this trail again, I'd probably stay at this Resort one of the two nights: it came highly recommended by a few dayhikers that I passed and if the southern part of the trail kind of lacks a real wilderness character, I might as well embrace it by staying at a fancy resort, right?

We'll see.

Shortly after the Resort, I crossed Lost Creek via another cool bridge.

The last four miles through the "no camping" zone were really straightforward and featured a bunch more of the silver-barked mallorn trees.

Once I passed through this area, though, I immediately understood why you can't camp there: it's right next to the highway, and there are tons of little side roads and trails intersecting the MRT here. The underbrush is a mess and dotted with human-built slash piles everywhere. None of that is a complaint, as lots of the forest throughout Oregon could be described this way, but you definitely wouldn't want to camp here, even if it was allowed.

The MRT did dip down next to the river a few more times, though, and the last time it did I took an unnecessary but welcome break to watch the water flow by for a few final minutes before heading back uphill to the lower trailhead.

After cleaning up briefly at the car, I drove to the Three-Legged Crane in Oakridge and ate there for the first time ever. I had a tempeh reuben which was ridiculous and I will definitely be stopping there again on my next drive through town.

Overall, I'm glad I hiked the MRT: it was the only thing that really fit into my schedule at that exact point in the summer and I had been ambivalent enough about it for the previous few years that that was just the push I needed to get me to check it out instead of waiting until later to hike something I was more excited about.

I'm damning with faint praise here a little bit: I think I've made clear throughout this report all the things that make the trail less than ideal for backpacking in particular. That said, the northern half of the trail in particular was incredibly beautiful in spots in the way that only the wet side of Central Oregon can be. I'm glad I did the whole thing once, because I'd always wanted to eventually. Finding camping spots was stressful, but the two I found and used were great, and I spent two relaxing nights under the huge trees listening to the roar of the McKenzie, and that's definitely worth something.

I might go back and try this hike again as a March-ish spring break hike some year, because, as I understand it, it's much less busy during that time of year and you can backcountry camp in many of the built-up campgrounds without paying a fee or dealing with cars and RVs.

Except Olallie Campground, unless you can swim like a motherfucker.

[palephilosopherstranger]

Julie & Julia

Since I’m going to start posting my book review stuff on here, might as well start as I’m still reading! Like I’m gonna remember every single thing that happens … (yeah right) keeping a draft open while I read would be the best solution going forward, right?

I’m probably the last person on earth to read this book, but I was specifically saving this one. I wanted to wait for a reading slump because I just knew I was going to love it.

The biggest thing I’m starting to realize is, I should probably be reading memoirs more often. It’s interesting reading about a persons normal life and realizing your life must be pretty normal too. Between parts about the food and her blog, the moments about her marriage and her mental breakdowns and dead bedroom are reassuring and real.

Overall, I’m finding Julie Powell to be quite charming and her writing style took me some time to really get in to, but it’s keeping me glued now. I’m currently 43% into the book. It’s seriously making me consider making braised chuck roast or short ribs for dinner. But do I have the time to do it justice? It would have to wait til Sunday. I’m glad Julie had the will power to cook into the unruly hours of the night, but I’m past thirty to her pushing thirty. I can’t do that anymore lmao

Baked cucumbers? Apparently I’ve got to try it. She also shares my distaste for cucumbers, but baked? Apparently they’re a fuckin banger. UPDATE: not bad, but I bought the wrong cucumbers for the recipe I chose, so that was my bad. But cucumbers smothered in cheese and garlic is a good improvement to the base itself.

My problem with memoirs is that if I can finish it, it must be good, which also must mean that we could’ve been friends if we had managed to skirt along side each other in life. When it’s a real person I’m reading about, I need to know what they look like, what they sound like, etc. and next thing I know, I’m looking at the similarities between our lives. Like how Julie would compare her life to Julia Child’s throughout the book. And I don’t just mean our mutual distaste for cucumbers. There were a few right off the bat, not to totally expose myself or spoil the book though. This notion first brought me to audible, cause of course she would’ve narrated her own memoir, right? Spoiler alert, she does. And she managed to sound just like I thought she would. Great. Weird, maybe? Next, I needed to know what she looked like. Cause all I could picture in my head was Amy Adams, and that just wasn’t fair to her or me.

Going to google simply brought 3 things to my attention: the first being that Amy Adams was a pretty decent cast choice, the second being that Julia Child actually didn’t like Julie’s whole blog thing(wtf?), and third, by the time I’m reading her memoir, Julie Powell was dead(have another wtf for good measure).

At the time I’m typing this, not only was Julie dead, but she also died a little over two years ago on my birthday. Do you call that a coincidence? Or just plain dumb fucking luck somehow?

I’ve also never in my life wanted to try liver, but Julie makes me want to try liver. She literally makes liver sound sexy. I brought it up my SO and he was not so happy about the idea. Maybe Julie will help him see liver as sexy.

I ended up just zooming through the rest of the book and I loved it. There were times that I was laughing, wanting to cry, and join in on her hysterics. I’m not sure how much of it is actually true and not exaggerated, but I still enjoyed it all nonetheless.

5 ⭐️

First one of the year.

Some favorite quotes:

“Eric is a sensitive twenty-first-century sort of guy, but a Texan nevertheless, and the idea of a dinner without animal flesh gets him a little panicky.” (My SO is the same way. I feel the pain)

“Maybe I needed to make like a potato, winnow myself down, be a part of something that was not easy, just simple.”

“She wants you to remember that you are human, and as such are entitled to that most basic of human rights, the right to eat well and enjoy life.”

“But hard-bitten cynicism leaves one feeling peevish, and too much of it can do lasting damage to your heart.”

“Of course the cow I got marrow from had a fairly crappy life—lots of crowds and overmedication and bland food that might or might not have been a relative. But deep in his or her bones, there was the capacity for feral joy. I could taste it.”

“So sometimes I’m irritated by my husband, and sometimes I’m frustrated. But I can think of two times right off the top of my head when it’s particularly good to be married. The first is when you need help with killing the lobsters. The second is when you’ve got an inspirational story to relate regarding a large African American woman who runs an S&M dungeon. I told it to him as we sopped up the last of the buttery lobster juice with some hunks of French bread.”

“If you are not one of us, the culinarily depraved, there is no way to explain what’s so darkly enticing about eviscerating beef marrowbones, chopping up lobster, baking a three-layer pecan cake, and doing it for someone else, offering someone hard-won gustatory delights in order to win pleasures of another sort. Everyone knows there are foods that are sexy to eat.”

“Julia taught me what it takes to find your way in the world. It’s not what I thought it was. I thought it was all about—I don’t know, confidence or will or luck. Those are all some good things to have, no question. But there’s something else, something that these things grow out of. It’s joy.”

This was my first time ever really writing a review, but I think it’s more of just my thought process as I made my way through the book. If you took the time to read this, thanks! I really appreciate it :3

[angrylittlesliceofpizza]

Yersinia !

(photo by Perco! :D )

i don't think i've posted about her here!? not really a surprise, november *and* december were… A Lot. but since she's with her new family now, well…

on november 2nd, i was going to Do Stuff (i forgot what) downtown, and stopped to look at a smol-ish, very fluffy, very Roumd cat (see fig. 1 above :p ) i'd never seen her before, and she seemed a little odd, so i wondered if she was maybe a munchkin? which would be weird, a munchkin just wandering around outside wherever. turned out she wasn't, but ooooh so very fluffy and floppy! then a car went by, she was spooked, and i had to hold onto her tightly so that she wouldn't do something stupid like run away in a Bad Direction… tiny alarm bells rang in my head, and as i caught sight of a neighbour, i asked if this was her cat. she replied all panicky: nope, she's been annoying us, PLEASE just take her if you want! me: o_o i mean, i'd love to, but??? (i found out a few days later that they were having insulation work done on the outside of their house. so she was probably worried that the cat would cause an accident which would hurt it or a human person. understandable.) soooo… a bit at a loss, i kept hold of the cat and walked the 50m or so to the nearest vet. very convenient :3 … she had no tattoo, no chip, and since she was clearly less than 1yo, very probably not fixed either.

long story short, i brought her home "until we could find the owners", but after a couple weeks of looking at lost cat posts (so much that it made my brain melts in about three different ways +_+ )— it became clear that there *was* no owner. lots and lots of lost british shorthair, none with the right caracteristics. i wanted to keep her SO. BADLY.

she was beautiful, cute, fluffly, not triggering excessive allergic reactions in either Fifo or Perco. i'd never had such a stressful november (for reasons unrelated to her) *and yet*, for the first time in years i didn't feel the need to put up my luminotherapy lamp as the month dragged on, managed to get up and go to bed at a reasonable hour most days, AND managed to actually start and make progress on the serious work of tidying up my craftsroom… she helped with that, as a distraction, and also by being dumped onth the bed by Fifo when she Demanded Attention And Play in the morning and he just had to gulp his coffee down and go to work. so, play with her and her fluffy fur i did <3 instead of going back to sleep until too late in the morning…

… but Ninon *could not stand her*. the first couple weeks were difficult, and Yersinia (yes we know what that name is, it's an in-joke about Fifo's taste in baby names :p ) had her own room all along, where we brought her in the evening and she was let out of in the morning. a couple days after realizing she had no owner, understanding it would be impractical to keep her Forever and not wanting to let her go to strangers, i somewhat desperately joked at friends on the group chat, with a pic of yersinia: hey, you're moving to a new home, want a cat to go with that? é_è … and to my surprise, a pm arrived shortly after: funny that you would ask, we were planning to find one… plz tell me moar 👀

so we got to keep her for one month not quite knowing what would happen, and then one more month while her new family prepared their new home and prepared it for her. in spite of some difficulties she caused, it has been the best two months in my recent mental health history. she's a lovely kitten, i'm glad she spent some time here getting used to life inside, and i'm glad we'll get to see her again <3

[buck-yyyy]

sigh. don't you just love being emotionally closed off </3

[l-e-e-woso]

Please 16 with Ale 🥺

Mierda - Alexia Putellas

Italics = Spanish

You were training with the Barca team during a heatwave in Spain, which wasn’t the best idea.

Prompt 16 - “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” 

______________________________

This was officially your 6th week at Barcelona and being from Scotland the weather really did not agree with you, last week you had found out that a heatwave was supposed to hit Spain over the next week or two, to say you were dreading it was an understatement. 

Your accent and slang made it quite hard for a lot of the Barca girls to understand you but luckily for you Lucy and Keira were there so they could help out a little bit, if worse came to worse you would just type out what you wanted to say on your notes.

Currently there was a 5 v 5 match going on and you were on a team with Alexia, Claudia, Keira and Mapi. The other team consisted of Lucy, Ingrid, Patri, Rolfo and Laia.

Alexia crossed a ball over to you as you ran towards the other team's goal and you volley it in. The game quickly continued, it was first to get to 8 points.

Your team was 2 points away from winning.

Keira started doing her thing and doing tons of different skills, even nutmegging Lucy who looked at her girlfriend in disbelief. She got an amazing goal after embarrassing Lucy.

Both you and Alexia were trying to get the ball of Patri so you could finally sit down and have a rest. Alexia managed to get the ball and kicked up, over Patri just to the right height for you to head the ball into the goal.

Your team came running to you and brought you into a huge group hug.

______________________________

Suddenly you could really feel the Spanish heat, you put your hand to your head in pain, you had the biggest headache in the world and this heat definitely did not help one bit.

Alexia came over to you and put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You okay, mi amor?” She asks you as she is concerned because you really did not look very well.

You groaned as you started getting really dizzy which made your eyesight go really weird and you reached out to Alexia who grabbed you immediately, then all you could see was darkness.

The last thing you heard was Alexia shouting “Mierda!” in a panicky tone.

You had fainted from being overheated.

______________________________

When you woke up the first thing you noticed was how dry your mouth felt and then you saw that Alexia was asleep and leaning on the side of your bed while she held your hand really tightly.

“Alexiaaa! Wake up, mi reina!” You shout at her. Her head shoots up and she glares at you.

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Alexia chuckled as she stood up and sat on your lap while looking you in the eyes lovingly.

“Why don’t I do this then?” You say as you put your hand on the back of Alexia’s neck to pull her closer to you, you tease her by going to kiss her before stopping an inch or two away from her lips which makes her whine. You chuckle at her impatience and kiss her passionately.

That kiss was the first of many more kisses.

______________________________

If you wanna be added to the taglist let me know.

Taglist: @sofakingwoso @dutch-gay86 @gt713 @mmmmokdok @xxforeverinadayxx

[peculiar0ne]

pretty boy

.•.•.•.•.

steve walked over to the full-body mirror as he finished styling his hair. he peeked up from the floor, awkwardly looking at the little outfit he had thrown together.

see, robin had taken him shopping with her the other day. they were at the jcpenny in the mall, robin trying on different skirts and asking steve’s opinion. she had a date with nancy and she wanted to look her best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“i don’t know, robs. i like them all! but i think nance would want you to dress in something you’re comfortable wearing, don’t you?” steve questioned. he knew robin hated skirts, dresses, anything of the sort. the girl would much rather dress in her old, busted up jeans than wear a skirt.

“yeah…you’re probably right. i’m sorry i’m all panicky.” robin turns to gather all the skirts she had scattered throughout the small dressing room.

as the pair made their way around, looking for something more comfy for robin to wear on her date, steve stopped robin when he saw something he really liked.

his hand struck out in front of her, preventing the girl from going forward. “what do you want, dingus?” she laughed, used to steve’s ‘mom arm’ by now.

“uh…robs..is it weird for guys to wear skirts?”

“what?”

“just answer the question.”

“depends on who you ask. personally, i think it’s pretty cool….why is this relevant?” robin glances over, seeing the smallest hint of a smile making its way onto her friend’s face.

steve’s smile quickly falters, though, as he tries to find the words he wants to say.

“i wanna wear one….” he’s so quiet, his voice almost a whisper.

“sorry, what? you’re super quiet, i couldn’t hear.”

“i said i…i wanna wear one. for eddie. well, more for me. i don’t just wear things for eddie, because that’s just stupid and-“

“you want to wear a skirt?” robin inquires, her tone soft and understanding.

steve nods, nervously glancing at his shoes.

“alright, awesome. let’s go find one!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ that’s how steve found himself in his current position. robin had bought him a cute, black skirt that had stopped at his lower-thighs. he had been anxiously waiting to wear it, and today was a perfect day.

here he stood, steve harrington, in a skirt that he paired with his boyfriend’s hellfire shirt which he had been wearing since the previous night.

he smiled, spinning a little to make his skirt twirl. steve’s happiness could’ve been seen from the next town over.

“stevie, have you seen my-“

eddie paused in his footsteps, jaw dropped.

steve jumped up at the sound of eddie’s voice, not sure he was ready to show off his skirt. he turned, face redder than the stripes on his old scoops ahoy! uniform.

“s..seen what?”

stupid fucking stutter.

eddie opens and closes his mouth a few times, having completely forgotten everything he wanted to ask.

“eds? you’re, uh, scaring me…”

the taller of the two shakes his head, smiling like an idiot.

“wow, babe. you look….wow”

“r..really?” steve perks up a little, biting his lip to keep from smiling. no, grinning.

“holy fuck, yes stevie. where did this come from?” eddie was smirking now, wrapping his arms around steve’s waist and swaying him gently.

“uh..robs and i were shopping…and i thought it was pretty,” steve hums as he relaxes in the older boy’s arms.

“i think you look pretty, babygirl.” eddie trails kisses over his shoulder blades, before resting his chin on his lover’s shoulder.

steve nods, his way of saying ‘thanks’, and turns around in eddie’s arms. he wraps his own arms around eddie’s shoulders and rests his face in his neck.

“how pretty?” steve jokes, trying to gain some confidence.

“so fucking pretty. my pretty boy”

.•.•.•.•.

LOWERCASE INTENDED

thanks @simpforsauron for requesting the ficlet version!

[two-red-lungs]

I'm telling u rn everytime I stalk look at your acc and just all this eddie content I feel at home, one with my people, I just love the shit I see and everything u post ily and you're doing great but also to add to this -

Imagine Eddie hiding @ Reefer Rick's place yk the boat thing and you're obv there with him to keep him safe and Jason and his goons are hunting Eddie cause of all the alligations and he's yk losing his shit and somethin about him with the broken beer bottle ready to pounce on anyone makes you want to pounce on HIM so you basically tell him to keep quiet while he's whimpering and moaning softly as you suck his dick, and he's like worried to get caught but at the same time he finds it so fucking hot because you're like "Look at me, baby, look at me, pretty boy" and he just whimpers and lets out the pretty boy moans and eventually Jason just leaves and shit and Eddie just goes ballistic and begins to thrust in to your mouth begging you to let him fuck you and how pretty you look with your cheeks filled up with his cock I- AM FERAL 👹👹👹👹

YOU GET IT YOU GET IT YOU GET IT YOU-

How does it feel to be the ONLY PERSON CORRECT ABOUT EDDIE???

NGL you’re 100% on the money seeing Eddie all weird and panicky and ready to defend himself absolutely Did Things to me so I can totally envision this happening (fans myself)

Your take on it is LITERALLY JUST PERFECT so I’m gonna AU a bit

The car door slams out front and there are distant voices: men’s voices.

Eddie hisses out a “shit” and drags you down with him against the wall underneath the boathouse window, free hand clutching the broken bottle.

You can literally hear his heartbeat from inches away, feel his hot breath on your face, how tight and ready his expression is, coiled and prepared to spring at any second.

His fingers are so tight on your forearm, crushing you against him, so you can feel his body heat and jesus, a girl just can’t help herself right? There is only so much temptation one person can be expected to resist.

Really, it’s his fault you feel this way. That sort of thing demands a punishment.

When your hand starts slowly, softly, like whisper-softly palming him through his tight pants he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, opening his mouth to speak. You clap a soft palm over it.

“Shh. Wouldn’t want us to get caught now, hm?”

Physical touch is kind of a chemical overload for Eddie: he gets real stupid, real pliant, and real needy. So crushing him up against the wall, pressed between stacks of tarp-covered boxes, is easy.

He is literally huffing like he’s running a marathon the second you get his cock in your mouth, and every time you swallow around it he squirms: his knee hits a box with a thud so you use both hands to pin him in place (which is absolutely just making him harder)

He has no thoughts. Brain? Gone. His entire world has narrowed down to your tongue on the silky head of his cock, focusing on wanting to thrust up into your wet heat even while your painful grip on his hips stops him.

He’s chanting “fuck, fuck, fuck” in a wheezing whisper, jumping and shivering even harder when one of Jason’s goon’s rattles the boathouse lock, calling to his friends.

And you just stuff a messy bundle of fingers into his mouth, pads pressing down on his tongue. He cums mutely, back arching on the wall, literally while Jason is peering in the window and scanning the empty boathouse/the untarped boat, you two just out of sight.

The dude has no idea that right under his nose Eddie “The Freak” Munson is getting the goddamn soul sucked out of him.

“Pack it up, boys. We got bad information.” You hear Jason say only inches above both of your heads. You’re still holding Eddie’s cock in your mouth, sucking so gently on the end and feeling his entire torso shake in overstimulation under you. Still he keeps quiet. Such a good boy, keeping quiet.

Only when the car engine turns over and drives away again do you give him reprieve, pulling fingers from his mouth and watching his chest heave, pulling yourself up to head height to drag sweaty strands of hair away from his face and croon accolades.

“Good boy, look at you, you did so good for me Eddie, holy shit. Kept so nice and quiet. My pretty, perfect boy. Taking orders like a champ.”

He just looks up at you with wide-blown pupils and cheeks so flushed with arousal they’re splotchy. “You’re fucking insane.” He says with a grin. “God, I love it.”

THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME THIS ASK ILY

[quillpokebiology]

So, I've asked around a lot, and it seems like not a single professor on here is willing to help me make heads or tails of my Marshadow… Which I suspect is due to them not wanting to risk their professional reputation on a pokemon thought to not even exist just a few months ago.

I figured since you're a student, you'd subscribe to no such amounts of caution. (I'm also getting a bit desperate)

Basically, I'd like a bit of an analysis of my Marshadow, if you can manage that. I need to know what makes it tick, and specific needs that go beyond those of normal ghost type Pokemon, as it's far from normal (even though I personally don't consider it an actual Mythical, just rare).

If not, I'll look elsewhere. Again. But thanks for your time.

P.s. I'll send in samples if you need them for testing or something, idk, I'm not a doctor. But the little guy(?) drools, sheds, and isn't potty trained yet so it should be easy to get samples from it.

Hello! I'd love to answer this! I've never cared or seen a marshadow in real life, and I'd love for you to send me samples of its DNA! If you can, just mail it to Uva-Naranja academy! But since I don't know much about its DNA and how it's body works, this will mostly talk about behavior.

(I may or may not have gotten the info from the science part of the black market, but that's not important)

(Also tell those professors to grow up. You can't be right about everything; the whole point of science to is to build on to what you already may or may not know)

Marshadow

(Art by Pixiv)

Marshadow is a "mythical" pokemon native to the Alola region. They're fighting/ghost type, which is a really unique and rare typing!

It's thought that this pokemon was a myth, until a scientist in Alola discovered it in the flesh. The reason it took so long to find these pokemon is because they hid in the shadows for so long. It saw pokemon fighting and practiced their fighting techniques, making them excellent in combat. They also do a lot of shadow boxing, do don't mind it if it starts punching the air for no reason.

They seem to be extremely shy, as they've hid in the shadows for so long. Your marshadow might dissappear for a couple of days because it's hiding somewhere, or it might even be your shadow. Who knows.

Zenith Marshadow

When angered or in, marshadow goes into a Zenith Form. It becomes a lot more powerful and dangerous in this form.

Care

This part is mostly for the asker.

Your marshadow seems young. He isn't potty trained, right? I suggest getting him a litter box, or something similar. Let him no that that's where it's supposed to do it's business, and reward then when they don't have an accident. Imagine it's like raising a child basically.

You could teach it how to use the toilet. I just suggested litterbox since it'll instinctively know that it's supposed to cover it, and it'll be less weird.

I'd suggest keeping it out of overly sunny or bright areas, as well as populated areas. Due to how shy they are, places with a lot of people and pokemon can make them feel overwhelmed and panicky. Too much sun can harm its eyes, and at noon, the shadows will be smaller, and it might not have anywhere good to hide.

They can eat, but not as often as other pokemon. Feeding it once a week should be enough.

I don't know what will tick off your marshadow personally. This is really all the info I have on it right now. But I'd be happy for you to tell me any new things you figure out. Best of luck to caring for it!

[gaitwae]

Could you write a fic where Loki and female reader switch bodies and have to stay like that until someone figures how to turn them back?

Comment/reblog!

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Warnings: A disgusting amount of fluff.

“Oh, for the last time, darling! You shouldn’t be messing with spells you don’t know the first thing of,” Loki scoffed behind you, making you jump and snap his spellbook shut. It was an odd thing to remember that Loki even had a spellbook, but you had to learn new spells somewhere, right? You were just a simple mortal, and you had no use for things like magic on Midgard.

Or so he told you.

“I mean, yeah, but what’s it to you?” you mumbled, turning around to face him. “I wanted to go over a new spell with you, if that was okay.” You put your hands together in front of you and smiled up at your friend. You tried for your best smile, which ultimately caused him to cave.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Alright. But is it within the range we spoke of? What we just went over? I don’t want you to overwhelm yourself so soon in your learning. Some messes just don’t clean as well as the others do.” He put his nose in the air as if he was remembering just how uncleanable past messes had been. He took your hands. “Let’s do the spell. Hurry. I haven’t got all day and I truly don’t want to be stuck in some kind of situation we can’t sort out ourselves.”

“It sounds like you’re noncommittal,” you teased, reciting the spell you had just read out of the spellbook not even seconds before Loki opened the door and walked in on you.

“I can be plenty committed. Just not to your self-destructive need to be a sorcerer,” he said airily, speaking through the incantation; he didn’t even comment on it. 

If he had even heard it.

When you finished the rest of your incantation, the spell started to take hold. You became woozy, and so did Loki. You crashed into his arms, and he collapsed on the floor with you in his embrace. He smelled like mint and some kind of harsh cologne, but it fitted him. It was the last piece of consciousness you could hold onto before you awoke...

+-+--

“Hey, Lokes, are you awake? Hellloooo?” Tony’s voice came. It sounded far away. You stretched, and you could still pick up that cologne from where you laid. It was less intense than you thought it would be from hardly smelling it at all. You opened your eyes.

“Where am I?” you asked, and funnily enough, so did Loki. Odd choice of words.

“Stark!” someone called. You sat up to see who the person was, but your blood ran cold at the sight. “Stark, what happened? What has been done to me!? Where is—?” 

They stopped as well. There you were, your face, your voice, but... not you. You looked down at your hands. They weren’t yours. Your heart dropped significantly.

“How’s this even possible?” you asked, hearing Loki’s voice once again. “Am I—? Did we—?”

“Don’t do anything!” your voice came again, but littered with Loki’s speech pattern. “If you stain that Asgardian leather, I’ll—I’ll—”

“Oh, you’ll what?” you scoffed, standing. “I don’t even know how this happened! I’m surprised you haven’t started running your hands all over me!”

“Oh, please, we’re friends first,” you—Loki—mocked. Tony was staring at the two of you like you were talking about the finest boots to eat. He lifted a finger, but Loki raised a hand to stop him from even trying to speak. “It appears you’ve gotten us into a mess we cannot fix, haven’t you?”

“Will someone else have to change us back?” you asked. You stood, managed to walk over to Loki, and sat down. “I didn’t mean for us to... to...”

“Swapped,” Loki sighed. “We’re swapped. Either it’ll go away on its own or we’ll have to go to Asgard to convince my father to reverse us. How in the Nine did you find such a spell? It shouldn’t even be in the books!”

“Should I leave you two alone, then?” Tony asked. “Since, uh, you’re both acting extremely weird?”

“Yes,” you and Loki chorused. You crossed your arms and Loki mimicked you. Stark left quickly, leaving you two alone in the medical room, where only a blink ago you had been in a completely different room with Loki in his own body and you in yours.

Once he had shut the door, you watched your own body twist with Loki’s mannerisms and expressions. They turned to you and pushed your chest. You scoffed, gasping. “How could you even experiment with such a spell?!” they shouted. “We might be stuck like this forever! You made me mortal!”

“I wanted to swap our perspectives,” you admitted, gulping, “but I didn’t think it would lead to this!”

“What else could it have meant?!” Loki scolded. They put their hands in the air, then dropped them. They began pacing. “I’m stuck in your body! I may have wanted to hold it, but I certainly didn’t want to have it!” 

You bit your lip. “I didn’t want to have your body, either,” you mumbled. “I just wanted you to see how I look at you... I had thought...”

“Thought what? That suddenly I would fall for you? You’re out of luck there, mortal. It wouldn’t have gone the way you wanted it to,” Loki sighed, shaking their head. They sat on the cot where they had awakened from the spell. 

“I didn’t know you knew,” you said meekly. You looked down at your hands. Your heart was racing. It didn’t usually race when you spoke to Loki. The hands that had become yours, hopefully for a short period of time, were long and pale and so different from yours.

“How could I not, little mort—Y/N?” they asked. “It’s almost like watching someone sink into a depression; everyone can see it, but no one talks about it. I know you have feelings for me. I don’t blame you, though.”

“You don’t feel the same, do you?” you asked, sitting down on your cot. Loki shrugged. 

“I didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t fall for you by seeing myself the way you do.” Loki picked at your nails. “Y/N, we shouldn’t be talking about this now, we should be finding a way to get out of each other’s bodies.”

You huffed a sigh. “We should ask Strange. He knows insane magic, and I doubt if I use your powers anything will change. I already botched this spell.” You laughed but stopped when you heard what it was. It wasn’t your laugh. It was odd. Laughter was determined by one’s body, so it made sense that it wouldn’t have been yours... 

“Oh! Brilliant idea!” Loki praised falsely. Clearly, they must have still been upset about the swapping bodies thing. 

You were disappointed in yourself for it, too. “Can we just go and see him? It’ll take no time at all.”

“He isn’t even home," they sighed, wiping their face with your hand. It was hard to watch. "Why must you be so perfect? Being so adorably shy that you cannot even ask me if I love you back?"

Your heart thumped. No, no. Loki's heart thumped for you. "...Don't mock me while you're in my body. I can still hurt you."

Loki narrowed their eyes. "You wouldn't."

"I so would!" you announced, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out.

"Hurting me goes against loving me, doesn't it?" Loki asked, slightly panicky. "You couldn't draw my blood, could you?"

"I won't draw blood," you promised. "I just have your daggers on my person, and I've never really cared for this stupid Asgardian leather..."

"This is going to be a long time waiting for Strange to be back, isn't it?" Loki groaned. You nodded happily. You scooped your own body to his body's chest.

"Oh, yeah. Swapped, for better or for worse."