#squishy my beloved ^^

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Little bird hybrid Tommy and cat hybrid Wilbur but Wilbur loves his little son :)

(don't worry lol it's fine)

hi sorry this took years and years and years and years something in the air made me want to write so i finally did :D

also wilbur is a catshifter cause it fit better mmmgfmds

but they say it came out of a small thing

cw: panic ?

wc: 874

—–—

His brain is working, it's letting him shift and letting him pounce to the forest floor, it’s letting him pick sticks up, but he doesn't think that anything about what his brain is telling him to do is logical nor sustainable. In short: Wilbur doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

One rule set in place, no attachments, (Perhaps a common one amongst his kind), and the only thing to have ever gone wrong. Tommy hadn't been anywhere near him when he had gotten the urge to drift to the scent of a bobcat, which he had been eager to avoid at the time. He had managed to save Tommy, a tiny avian nearly tangled in the grasp of the feline. He himself had been a cat at the rescue of the tiny, one that conjured up a fight from the little bird. 

Days later, (And many more intentional meetings), Wilbur had a strange string in his chest pulling at his feline body, not the one that controls his shifts but another one, just as personal yet undefined. 

It made him feel strangely inclined to collect twigs. 

Tommy had no problem with such a thing, instead welcoming at the offering of help from his newfound friend. Wilbur just had to get used to the feeling of being a cat for longer than an hour. He never used the form for much other than exploration, the rest of his time he assumed the profile of Wilbur Soot, a local musician in the bustling city he lived in. 

His cat form offered much more adventure, albeit ones that ended in enforcement of the things he preferred to not participate in. 

Like Tommy. Especially making Tommy a nest. 

Perhaps Wilbur had been a little too caught up in his debate to notice as the avian steps closer to the edge of the branch, murmuring about every other thing that comes to his mind. Wilbur had been half-listening, chirping smally in response but mainly occupied with the precision of his nest job. 

With each satisfying twine of said nest, he’d leap from the branch and land on his paws, then pad off to colllect more sticks and scale the trunk of the tree, adjusting the positions of the twines and repeating the process, leaving Tommy to his own devices.

In what world would (wary) Wilbur have ever considered doing that? It only results in the same outcome:

Tommy’s rambles are cut off with a loud yelp which draws out into a scream, a sound of terror that makes the fur on Wilbur’s neck stand. He turns his head back, carefully balancing his way over to the branch in search of Tommy, eyes as wide as they could be and an unsure whine in the back of his throat. Below him, a miniature splash spills into his ears and suddenly his paws are walking for him, right off the edge of the branch and into open air, panic rising in him that causes a shift mid-air, his form lengthening and causing more of a splash than his cat-self would have. 

Through kicking his feet in a panic, he quickly— while still submerged in the river— shifts back and paddles back up to the top. The feeling of water soaking into his fur makes him internally cringe, the extra weight nearly dragging him down. 

He spots Tommy easily, (Giant red wings couldn't have made it hard),  the tiny looking around for what Wilbur could only assume to be either Wilbur or the culprit of the splash, (Also Wilbur). His wings flutter wildly the longer Tommy fights to stay above the surface. Wilbur paddles closer to the avian, meowing in concern, (And irritation), at the way he flails. 

“Oh—fuck, come here, uh, cat, I completely think there's a human here and I don't think I'm the most skilled swimmer,” Tommy pleads, swirling his fingers together to attract Wilbur as if he wasn't swimming directly Tommy’s way. 

He approached, ducking his head so he can get a grip of the back of Tommy’s shirt, picking him up gently and continuing to paddle his way to shore. 

“Thanks big man,” Tommy applauds, out of breath. Suddenly, he’s reaching back to stroke Wilbur’s nose. He purrs at the action. 

Finally, the depths of the water seem to disperse and he finds his footing on the river bed, then up onto the grassy forest floor. Tommy murmurs something about being let down, but Wilbur promptly ignores it and scouts out their tree, an easy find considering the bark of it had claw marks from Wilbur’s failed attempts at agility. 

Wilbur pounces, latching onto the trunk and carefully climbing up it, tail out for balance and his ears pulled back as he concentrates. He strays to the side as a familiar branch catches his attention, a bundle of twines and leaves settled midway along the branch. 

The avian struggles out of his bite and falls into the cushioned nest. Wilbur sits beside the boy and considers doing something, but only stares at Tommy as he situates himself. 

Wilbur jumps from the branch and lands on his paws. and without a glance back he finds his way back to his home. He has got to stop seeing this tiny. 

—–—

[critter-covenant]

tiny doodles before i eep eep

[stevethehairington]

Steve loves Eddie's tummy.

It is one of the absolute best parts of Eddie — the softness of his hips, the little pudge of his belly, the squish of his abdomen. It's Steve's favorite place to nuzzle into, to kiss, to touch, to bite.

Most evenings end with the two of them curled together on the couch, watching whatever movie or television show catches their interest that night. They usually start out side by side on the cushions, but over the course of that first hour they slowly but surely shift around so that Steve ends up with his head in Eddie's lap. Eddie's fingers always find a home in Steve's hair, absentmindedly carding through the soft strands.

It's cozy, it's comfortable, and at some point, Steve will sigh softly and turn to bury his face into Eddie's stomach. Whatever's on tv becomes nothing more than background noise as he rubs his cheek against Eddie's tummy, as he nuzzles into the softness, arms loosely wound around Eddie's waist to hold him there. He'll leave a sweet kiss over Eddie's t-shirt, then squish his nose against his belly button and just lie there, face pressed into Eddie's stomach, just breathing.

Just enjoying the closeness.

Eddie will laugh softly and tell Steve that he's missing the movie, and Steve will just shake his head briefly and mumble back that he doesn't care. (It makes Eddie laugh again and squirm a little, because Steve's so close that the movement of his head, of his mouth — it tickles a little.)

But Eddie won't question it again, will just let Steve nuzzle against him and continue to pet his hair until he eventually falls asleep like that.

Steve also loves to shower Eddie's tummy with all the attention when they're in the bedroom (or wherever they make it to before they get too carried away) and are getting hot and heavy.

He loves to press Eddie back into the mattress, bare chested and breathing harder already. Steve will kiss him deeply, once, twice, three times, before he starts his descent. It starts with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, to the scar along his cheek, to the sharp of his jaw. Then Steve will press soft, sweet kisses to the hollow of Eddie's throat, the edge of his collar, one over his heart and another over the scar tissue where his left nipple would be. He'll trail those kisses down Eddie's ribcage, taking his time with it, showing each patch of scarred skin the love and attention it deserves. He'll leave a kiss right above his belly button, will sometimes dip his tongue in if he wants to make Eddie laugh.

And when he finally makes it to the soft pouch of Eddie's tummy, he'll kiss it. Gently, affectionately, tenderly. And then — he'll bare his teeth and he'll bite. Nothing too hard (unless Eddie asks for it), but he'll sink his teeth into the pudge, he'll nibble at the softness, he'll start to suck bruises into the skin until Eddie's squirming below him and straining in his boxers. Sometimes Steve will tease a little more, will kiss the parts of his tummy that are close to the waistband, his nose or cheek brushing over where Eddie wants him to touch the most. Other times he'll show Eddie some mercy, will leave one last kiss to his stomach before turning his attention even lower.

But he never forgets to show Eddie just how sexy he finds his tummy.

The touching isn't always sexual, though. There's something comforting to Steve about just touching for the sake of touch. And Eddie's tummy is one of his favorite places to do just that. He'll take any and every opportunity he gets to get his hands all over the softness of his stomach.

When Eddie's in the kitchen, standing at the stove to cook their breakfast Steve will sleepily trudge up to him and drape himself over his back. He'll tuck his chin over Eddie's shoulder, and he'll curl his arms around Eddie's middle, hugging onto him. Steve's hands will sneak their way beneath the hem of Eddie's shirt (or, his shirt, because Eddie has a habit of stealing Steve's clothes, especially in the mornings), and he'll just press the flat of his whole palm to Eddie's belly. Just to cover the warm skin. Just to touch.

Or whenever they're in a crowded room together — whether it be the bustling kitchen of the Hopper-Byers clan on Thanksgiving, or the middle of the thriving dancefloor of their favorite club in Indy, or squished together in the audience at a show, Steve will always find a way to touch Eddie there.

He'll hold onto Eddie's hips, curling his fingers around the love handles. Using his touch to shift Eddie out of the way when Mike barrels through with the kitchen without warning, hoisting the pie above his head. Staking his claim with his grip and the reassuring thumb he sweeps across the soft skin, dipping beneath the waistband of Eddie's jeans when he's feeling cheeky as a promise for more later. Squeezing gently when the crowd surges and jostles them both to say "hey, it's just me, I'm right here".

Steve just loves Eddie's lil tum, and he'll do anything and everything in his power to show him that. To shower him and his soft stomach with all the love in the world.

[starry-kittens]

He’s such a funny little goober how could people ever be scared of him!!

[sydneighsays]

Happy(?) Fullmetal alchemist day!!

[murmuringbug]

I saw a shirt and it made me think of squishy

[pebbleyoufindonthestreet]

I just think crossbones is neat.. an alright dude you know?

Obsession? Whattt nooo…

[omuricebreakfast]

Drew @jukoduko's silly mans in whiteboard w/ em HEHEHEHE I had so much fun!!! GO CHECK EM OUT!!!

We wanted to see how we would draw each others sillies so this is how I would draw Jukenito!!

[roboticchibitan]

I am thinking of using these sun and moon Granny squares but use this fingering weight yarn I already have instead of buying worsted weight yarn to make a celestial themed Granny square Cardigan.

I dyed the blue yarn myself using Jacquard acid dyes colorway sapphire blue and I have approximately 1,470 yards of it but I don't think that's enough for a crochet Cardigan that's big enough to fit me. Crochet takes more yarn than knitting and I'm not even sure I could knit a Cardigan big enough for me out of it either. Unfooooortunately, this was one of my first dye experiments and I'm not 100% sure I took notes. I will have to check.

The yellow all I have is this half a skein of what I think is Madelinetosh Merino light in colorway Candlewick. Idk i've had it for literally a decade. But I think it'll be enough because I don't plan on having moons or suns on every square. I'm planning on alternating between four small squares sewn together where two are plain blue and two are patterned, and one big Granny square. I would draw what I mean but I am too tired to do that right now.

It took all of my self control to not buy the pattern today. It's only $5.25 CAD which is like $3.97USD/€3.65. But my gf got fired so I'm trying to keep frivolous spending to a minimum. I considered asking if a fiber arts mutual would buy it for me but honestly what they all SHOULD be doing is spraying me like a naughty cat whenever I talk about starting a new project before winter holiday gifts are done.

[brick-a-doodle-do]

BRICK HAVE YOU SEEN RISE OF YHE GUARDIANS

NEIN I HAVE NOT!

[sorbeau]

FIGGGGGG she means so much to me <3

[applejongho]

a saga in four parts, meet boo bear (act scared so he knows he's fearful and terrifying!)

(free :D) pattern

[officialdaydreamer00]

Do I hear..

SQUISHY EEL FORM JADE???

Here ya go, simps!! :D

(I am simps 👉👈)

[bnesszai]

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SQUISHIEST SQUISH @squidsandthings!!!!! in 1.5 hours

ilysm. please enjoy. you are a gift in my life so i gift you this.

lay my curses out to rest

Chuuya remembers the realization.

There was not much shock, mostly annoyance. At themself for taking so damn long to catch up, but especially at Dazai for being such a menace. There wasn’t much to it. One day Chuuya was going about their life in ignorance, and the next they were sitting at home, reading from a poetry book, and had the fleeting thought of oh, Dazai would like this one. The fleeting thought led to a pause, which led to a consideration, which led to Chuuya throwing the book on the ground and opening up a bottle of wine.  How long? It asked itself. Five years, the bottom of his glass answered.  To this day, Chuuya wonders if books and movies oversell the entire thing for publicity or if its situation is just fucked up.

skk

4.5k

hanahaki disease

angst with happy ending

teen&up

[s0ckh3adstudios]

I NEED THIS VERY BADLY. LIKE. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASEEEEEEEEE

[squishykitty825]

Dick and Jason being held for ransom after going out drinking.

Dick, after making another snarky comment and getting punched in the gut, again: Look man, we’re not piñatas, and we’re a little drunk. Can’t you just… take it easy.

Jason: I don’t think they like the sound of your voice as much as you do, Dickface.

Dick, nodding to Batman standing behind the kidnappers: Probably not, but I’m sure they’ll like it a lot more than his