#the image in my head is not easily put onto paper

[kindalikechaos]

Spideypool Week! 11/11

Prompt: Daily Bugle

Flash Fiction (500~) + Fanart

"Go away! He says, Come back! He says," Deadpool mimics in a high pitched tone insultingly, "Man really can't make up his mind."

Deadpool was lugging Peter's floppy body across town (3 blocks) from the Daily Bugle (a terrible terrible place) and thought he deserved an ice-cream. Sliding sideways through the bathroom door, he cursed Spidey's tiny ass bathroom and threw, gently, the heap of man into the tub. "Tiny-aah bathroom, as the kids say these days. I believe- oh my god, I think I'm becoming out of place," He laughed at his own joke and Peter groaned, curling up ever so slightly.

"Yeah I can see why you wouldn't find that funny particularly right now. But it is not my fault you have gone all venom-less," He giggled lightly at his own joke again before leaning in and placing a hand on Peter's forehead. He actually couldn't feel anything with the glove on and sat back, "Let me real quick…" He went to leave and grab some supplies from the kitchen, thinking the meat temperature probe would do the trick but Peter's hand snapped out, grabbing onto the velcro for his thigh holster and Deadpool paused.

"Aww~," He intonated softly, sliding down the outside of the bathtub so that his chest held himself up. He clasped Peter's hand in his gently and said, "You want me to stay!" he squealed excitedly under his breath and Peter's pinched brows softened slightly at the proximity. Black streaks still ran down his face and partially fell onto his neck and chest. His shirt was a mess of scratched off parts and dirt and a lot of blood.

With a weary sigh, Deadpool shifted and complained, "You know my bathroom has underfloor heating." Peter cracked his eyes open at that to give a glare, "I hunted this flat down for it's bath," He bit out, voice gravelly and making Deadpool just melt inside. "I know you did," He responded in a baby voice and Peter scoffed, ineffectively shaking off Deadpool's hands and returning them to his chest.

"Here's what's happening," Deadpool began, reassuringly, easing himself off his knees, as they popped Peter's face twitched. "Just something that happens as you hit 30, Pete," He teased, poking his face, "I'm going to get into comfy clothes and then we're going to clean you up, then we're going to hibernate for a couple days." He cooed as Peter's hand came back out of the tub to reach for him.

As always, Deadpool gifts him something to hold before he comes back, this time, it's a screw he picked up off the street a couple hours ago. Peter rolls it between his finger, feeling the divots in his finger, efficiently distracted long enough for Wade to change, and pick up a handful of the rice crispie bars Peter stole from his England box and a flannel. He put the various supplies around the bathroom as he walked back in, sitting on the side of the tub and admiring how fucking amazing Peter was.

"You've tricked me," Peter manages out, having his eyes closed and he slowly brings an arm up to rest on Wade's thigh. "Did it work?"

"Not as good as you."

"Nothing's as good as me."

Peter snorts. He's in safe hands.

link to coinciding ramble and credit

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Crazy Forever || LN4

Summary: The truth always comes out in the end. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, dub/con, dark themes WC: 1.3k F1 Masterlist || Part One (Crazy For you) || Part Two (Crazy For You Too) || Part Three (Crazy For The Three Of Us) || Part Four (Crazy Forever)

“Stay,” Lando begged as he curled an arm around your waist. “I want cuddles.”

“I have to go, I’m going to be late,” you said with a yawn. It had been another bad sleep and you put it down to the lack of sleep tea that used to knock you out cold, but you couldn’t stay in bed all day. “You should get up too, you have to pack for Australia.”

He groaned and he sat up, the blankets fell to his lap as he stretched his arms above his head. “Don’t remind me. You do realise you don’t have to work, love.”

“Don’t, we have been over this, Lan. You already pay for everything and it’s too much. I want to pay for the baby things with my own money.”

“It’s my baby too.”

“It was still my fault,” you mumbled as you left the room. 

You were called into the HR meeting room almost immediately after arriving and you sat down with a frown as your boss avoided all eye contact. 

“What’s going on?” you asked quietly as your palms began to sweat.

Your boss's cheeks turned pink and he slid his phone onto the table, a picture you recognised on the screen. Nausea rolled through you as you slapped your hand over the screen to hide the image but everyone had already seen it. “Where did you get that?”

“You sent it to me.”

“No, I didn’t,” you argued as you covered your mouth. 

“Yes, you did,” he muttered as he took the phone back and showed you the contact number. It was yours, and it was sent while you had been driving to work. “I know you are going through some things but this is unacceptable.”

“No, really, I didn’t send this. I-I don’t know how it happened but it wasn’t me.”

Your boss sighed heavily and looked at the HR manager. “I think it is best if you take the rest of the week off and we will schedule a formal meeting for next Monday. If you decide to hand your notice in before then it will be accepted without this going onto your record.”

You knew what he was saying between the thinly veiled threats and you reached for the small paper bin before retching your breakfast into it. A look of pity came over their faces and a handkerchief floated across the table for you to wipe your lips. “Thank you,” you mumbled as you rose from the table, despite wanting to throw the trash can at them. “I’ll send my resignation through today.”

“It’s for the best this way,” he said as he deleted the nude photo Lando had begged for when he was away testing in Bahrain. He had promised it was just for him, because he missed you so much.

You really shouldn’t have driven home in your state. You could hardly see the road through the humiliating tears that streamed down your face. 

“Lando?” 

You sighed with relief when you found the apartment empty as you weren’t sure you could face him at that moment. You didn’t know how he had done it, or why, but there was no one else who had the picture.

You would have sold your soul for a drink as you changed out of your work clothes and flopped onto the bed feeling miserable. You would have stayed there if it wasn’t for your phone vibrating with a notification, and you noticed an echo coming from Lando’s closet. You climbed over the bed and opened the door, listening for any other sound. It was quiet, but you heard it coming from under his clothes drawers. 

You tugged at the panel of wood and it popped off easily to reveal a mess of power cords, clothes and bags of powders squirrelled away. Shuffling around deeper, you saw a screen light up at the bottom and saw the notification that was mirrored on your phone. You reached for beyond the set of keys that matched your car and old apartment, right down to the cheap Eiffel Tower replica key ring.

“What the fuck…”

“I really wish you didn’t see that.”

You slammed the panel shut but it was too late, Lando was standing in the doorway to the room with his arms crossed over his chest. He had stolen it, the phone you had lost, the one you had replaced, it had been in his possession this whole time. All your social media profiles, iMessages, everything was at his disposal - even your period tracking app.

He had stolen everything you thought you lost. Keys, clothes, chargers. He even stole your perfume. You thought you were going crazy, but he had been orchestrating it all.

Tugging the panel away, you grabbed the clear bag of white powder and sniffed it. It had the same sickly sweet scent as the lemon and ginger tea he made. Grabbing another, you felt ill as it had the same relaxing aroma as the chamomile tea he used to make each night, the one that put you in a deep sleep.

“You roofied me?” You wanted to sound angry and bitter but you only sounded broken as you dropped the bags.

“You’re my girlfriend, why would I drug you?” he snickered as he walked into the room, taking the bags and flushing them down the toilet in the ensuite. “With what drugs?”

“You got me fired…why are you doing this to me?” It felt like déjà-vu and you were sure that you had this conversation before. Smacking the sides of your head you screamed as you tried to remember. Why couldn’t you remember?

“Hey, shhhh,” Lando soothed as he caught your hands and lowered them to your sides. You struggled against his hold as he wrapped you in his arms but he was too strong. “I just wanted you to be free to travel with me. Now we don’t have to be apart, ever.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you growled as you tried to wriggle out of his hold. “This is insane, you’re fucking crazy!”

He released you as abruptly as he had caught you and you held your hands up as you backed away. You needed space, from him and the situation, you needed time to think.

“Where are you going?” he chuckled as he followed you out of the room, each of his strides longer than yours.

“Anywhere you aren’t.” He overtook you in the hall.

“You know I can’t let you go.” He blocked the door and slid the bolt across before facing you. “You’re carrying my child, you’re not leaving. You have no job, no house, no friends. You need me.”

Hopelessness fell over you and you hung your head in shame. “I wish I never met you.”

His laugh tickled your cheek as he embraced you again, his hand spreading wide over the back of your head and guiding your face to the crook of his neck. “No, you don’t,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re just angry, and that’s okay. We’ll get through this rough patch together and you’ll realise what a blessing this is. You and me, our baby, together, forever.”

“Forever?” you echoed in defeat.

“Forever. You’ll never want for anything, baby. Whatever you want you can have, I’ll make sure you are treated like a princess.”

“The kind that gets locked up in a tower?”

He laughed and kissed your forehead sweetly. “Only if you try to leave me. But you’re not going to try something silly like that are you, love?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head. He was right, you needed him. He could provide for you and the child you carried, so you would behave.

“I won’t,” you whispered as your shoulders slumped.

“That’s my girl. I knew I chose right,” he hummed happily. “None of those other women could have been you.”

Cold dread shivered down your spine. “What women?”

“The others that applied to rent my apartment,” he said as pulled back to look into your eyes, a dark smile on his lips. “The one I own next door.”

[upat4amwiththemoon]

amelia shepherd x fem!reader that’s an intern or resident who keeps logging in hours on neuro when they aren’t really interested in it just to see amelia. and eventually amelia noticed and asked why. i don’t really have an idea for an ending but like fluff

girls

Summary: They’re so pretty it hurts.

Pairing: Amelia Shepherd x female!reader

Warnings: my medical knowledge is zero, Scout doesn’t exist

Word count: 911

a/n: Amelia is keeping the whole show together

masterlists | guidelines

“Y/N.” Amelia smiles as she sees the woman she has gotten to know well these past months. “More neuro hours, huh? Should I feel threatened you’ll take my spot as the head of neuro one day?” She grins, holding onto the tablet with all of her patients’ information.

Y/N laughs, following Amelia as they start walking. “No way. I don’t think you should be threatened by anyone.”

“I agree.” Handing the tablet to Y/N, Amelia opens the door to a room full of MRI scan images. They stand there for a moment, watching the images. “What do you see?”

Straightening her posture, she clears her throat and stares at the pictures more closely. “Uhm…a brain tumor?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No.” Y/N shakes her head quickly, turning her gaze to Amelia. “It’s a brain tumor.”

“It is.” Amelia takes down the pictures. “What do we have to do?”

“Do a biopsy to figure out what type of tumor it is.”

Nodding, she puts the pictures aside and gestures for Y/N to follow her. They walk through the hospital hallways, all the way to the patient’s room. “Good morning, Mrs Noceda”. Amelia smiles as they settle into the room. She gives Y/N a look, giving her the moment to present the patient.

“Mrs Noceda, 53 years old, came to the hospital yesterday due to multiple complications, a MRI scan was made and a tumor was found.” Y/N lists, her eyes staying on the patient and Amelia. “Today’s agenda will be biopsy, which will tell us how to proceed.”

“Does that sound good?”

“Of course, you know best, Doctor Shepherd.” Mrs Noceda has a gentle smile on her face despite everything going on.

“Then we will get you into biopsy right away. Y/N will come and prepare you in just a moment.” Amelia takes the tablet from Y/N after they walk out of the room. “Make sure we have an OR ready soon, then prepare Mrs Noceda for the biopsy.” She writes the new information down on Mrs Noceda’s file.

“Yes, Doctor Shepherd.”

“You’ll join me on the biopsy.”

Y/N’s eyes widen momentarily, but she manages to keep herself in check. “If you wish so, Doctor Shepherd.”

“If you wish so?” With furrowed brows and a confused grin, Amelia turns her attention to Y/N. “A little more excitement would be great.”

“Sorry, I truly am very excited to be in this with you.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but there’s no time to dwell on the details. “Alright. Go get everything ready.”

“Yes, Doctor Shepherd.” With that, Y/N is off to book an OR and prepare Mrs Noceda for her biopsy.

After the biopsy, Y/N and Amelia are waiting to hear back from the lab to get the results. The latter is tapping her fingers against a table as she moves back and forth on the chair. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Y/N is sorting through papers. They’re cases from different branches, ortho, peds, general, cardio, and so on.

“Don’t take this as an attack,” now Y/N’s attention moves to Amelia, “why do you keep logging hours in neuro? You don’t seem too interested in it. Which I don’t get, neuro is easily the best and you’re really good at it.”

”Oh.” Y/N avoids eye contact. She didn’t think Amelia would notice her lack of interest to neuro despite the many hours she spends with the doctor. “Well…” she searches for words, though it’s clear she isn’t finding any.

“Are you here because of me?” Amelia has a playful grin on her face, which changes immediately as she notices Y/N somehow becoming even more uncomfortable. “You are?”

She lets out a breath, her cheeks puffing as she nods. “Maybe.” Her voice is a quiet mumble.

Amelia doesn’t know how to answer, not expecting this to be the actual reason for Y/N’s decision to spend time in neuro. She sits up straighter, pulling the chair closer to Y/N with her legs.

“I understand if you wish me to stop doing neuro.” Y/N says quickly.

She shakes her head. “I want you to do neuro if you enjoy it. I don’t want you to be here while wishing to log more hours into something else.” Her voice is gentle and comforting. “You are an intern, and I am in a position of power,” Y/N opens her mouth, but Amelia raises her hand to stop her, “however, I would be lying if I said I haven’t gotten…attached.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Amelia smiles when Y/N’s whole face brightens. “Don’t get too excited. All of this, whatever it is, has to happen slowly and discreetly, preferably out of the hospital.”

“I understand.”

“And you have to start logging hours into the branches you’re actually interested in.”

Y/N’s face falls momentarily, but she smiles quickly. She knows it’s for the better, she won’t become a good doctor by pining after someone while doing something she isn’t interested in. “Okay. I’ll start logging hours on other things too.”

“Good.”

“So…” Y/N fidgets with her fingers. “Does that mean we could go on a date?”

“We’ll go on a date. After we help Mrs Noceda with her tumor.”

She giggles in excitement. “Yes, Doctor Shepherd.” Amelia rolls her eyes with a grin, patting her arm before moving her chair right next to Y/N, curious with the other cases she’s studying.

[pseudocyance]

Foam headwing ear cuff tutorial

i made a couple pairs of headwings for mcyt cosplays and thought I should share a tutorial on how to make then since it's really easy

You can wear these with glasses!!

I'm making Watcher wings for this one but you can use this to pretty easily make wings with just one per ear

What you need:

A couple of sheets of thin craft store foam in the colors you want

Jewelers wire or floral wire (I used floral wire)

Scissors

wire tools(optional)

A few sheets of thin white paper

Hot glue

Pencil

I think I cropped out all of the scisors/wire cutters but a tw for those still

Edit: also a tw for possible trypophobia, the last image has googly eyes and that might be uncomfortable

start out by doodling the design you want and getting the wing shape right

Since my design was pretty complicated I loaded it into procreate(coloring in like i did is optional) on my tablet so I could trade onto a bigger paper

Trace onto a sheet of paper. This is when you can start sizing it up correctly to fit your head. (I'm watching SPN btw)

Cut them out and reshape as needed

Now, very important, draw on the down feathers area. This is what's going to have the wire under it. You can also do three layers like I did with the Grian (red, yellow and blue) wings. I did two for this one because it needed to be lighter due to the three wings.

Lay our your template(s) onto a sheet of foam. I found that taking a mechanical pencil and dragging it across the foam. It creates a really nice groove for you to cut along.

Cut out the top area. I used a slightly darker shade of purple.

This is where you want to cut the feather shapes into the upper area if you want to. Just little angled triangles.

Bend a wire along the top area. Take the bent wire and put it on the lower foam peice. Hot glue at the base of the wing where the wire sticks out. BEFORE IT DRIES STICK THE TOP PART ON TOP. You then go through and hot glue the rest of the wire and top section down after adjusting wire as needed.

If you're doing multiple wings like me then glue them together here and make sure you like the angles. You can also bend your wings using the wire for further adjustment.

Cut the wire that's sticking out

Hot glue another peice of wire on, only attaching it on a small section. Put this behind your ear and bend it around. The sections coming around your ear should almost touch after cutting off excess.

Put a bead of hot glue on the end of the wire. WAIT AT LEAST 30 SECONDS and then lightly squish it in to form a ball. This is just so the wire doesn't stab you. You should do this on both ends.

Here are all of the ones I've made so far

I also gave into my intrusive thoughts and added googly eyes to the Watcher ones a few days later

And yes those are Torchy earrings

WE'RE ALL DONE!!! Send me asks or reply to this if you have any questions and I can also send more pictures if needed. I hope this gets spread around a bit since this is exactly the sort of tutorial I looked for when trying to make these and I think others will find this useful. This can be used for any fandom, cosplay or costume. You don't need to credit me but feel free to share that I was the inspiration

Ty for following along! <3

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil; Chapter 8

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: I need him biblically

let me know your thoughts x

Word Count: 3.289k

You got one lazy day. That was it before you had to throw yourself back into work. You and Roman both stand at your bathroom sink, his head tucked into the crook of your neck. You press a light kiss to his forehead, and surprisingly, he doesn’t run off after the fact. He winces, but he stays.

“Connor’s bank statements should be handed to you when you walk in today,” he murmurs.

“You’re a godsend.”

“I know, right?” He takes you by the chin and presses an obnoxiously sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Kendall and I are looking into that politician thing today. Maybe we can go out to dinner today?”

“You’d better show up today,” you warn. He playfully pinches your hip.

“I promise.” He moves away, pulling his shirt off and disappearing into the closet. “If I don’t, put a bullet through my head.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “Rome?”

“Mm.”

“What’re you gonna do with that… thing with Marcia?”

“We wait until we can use it,” he calls back. “Thank god it’s on your phone and not mine.” You sigh. You both manage to get dressed and feed yourselves breakfast, and Roman hails you a cab and sees you off with a hesitant kiss to your lips.

You steel yourself as you stare up at the building containing your firm. You love your job- just not what you were doing with it now.

Before entering your office, you subtly slip a jewelry box onto your assistant’s desk. You’d gotten her a necklace and set of earrings while abroad as a thank-you for fighting Connor off with a stick. Roman was right, too. You give her the box and she slides you a manila file with a grin on her face, mouthing ‘thank you’.

You settle into your desk chair, leafing through the papers. It’s normal the first ten years, but starting another ten, his spending became erratic, and lo and behold, he stopped paying his taxes. You wonder how Connor has made it this far in life without getting killed by someone.

You can piece together the puzzle pretty easily. Connor thinks he’s too high and mighty to be taxed, he stopped paying them, the interest racked up an outrageous amount, and now he’s committing fraud to get money to pay everything off.

You take a moment to think.

If Logan bailed Connor out before, would he do it again?

You think you want to find out.

You could catch Logan with his pants down. You were closer to a solution to get him out of your- and Roman, and Kendall, and Shiv’s -life. You were lucky that he was the vote that would’ve won him the vote of no confidence- if he’d legally won, he would’ve dropped the guillotine on you and ousted the fact that you’d kept Connor innocent from fraud. Since he hadn’t, and he’d stayed, if he’d tried ruining your image, he’d look like a child throwing a tantrum.

Satisfied with your mental acrobatics, you toss the file into a lockable compartment of your desk. While you wanted nothing more than to serve Connor right that second, you knew taking him and Logan down at the same time would be much more satisfying. So you decide you’ll wait.

You make a small list on a post-it note of what you have so far. Kendall and Roman had begun to investigate Logan’s suspicious activity around the failed politician, Greg and Roman had gotten you the finances, you’d found more than one hard piece of evidence that Connor was lying on the suit. You also have the issue with Marcia, which you don’t really want to think about. Ever.

If you wait long enough, you think you’ll be able to find your way out of this mess.

Having gotten yourself into a good mood, you decide to pick up some pro-bono cases from junior associates in the bullpen to lighten their load. You spend the rest of your day doing paperwork, but you don’t mind.

You’re in your office for so long you eventually need to flick on your desk lamp. You’re not feeling as tired as you usually would at this point, and you’re thankful for it. When your phone rings, and you find Roman on the other end, you pick it up with a smile.

“Asshole. Why do you work so late?”

“Aw, I miss you too, Roman.” You jot something down in the margins of one of your documents. “Besides, it’s only dark out because it’s winter.”

“Are you almost done? I made a reservation for six.”

You glance over at your watch, sitting on the inside of your wrist. Five-thirty.

“Can you come get me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, we have stuff to talk about. Involving my big, happy, functional family.”

“We do,” you muse. “I thought this was a date.”

“It is, swear. I just have to tell you because I’m a good fiance.”

You laugh. “Whatever you say. Call when you’re here.”

“I’m already outside, bitch.”

“You’re so romantic.”

You clean up in your office, bid your assistant goodbye(even though you’d given her permission to leave ages ago), and find him parked in front of the complex.

“You drive? How many people have you hit?” you ask, climbing into the passenger seat. He rolls his eyes at you, waiting until you buckle your seat belt to pull away.

“Only two old ladies and their dog that looked like Kendall.”

You snort. “How was work?”

“Glorious. Felt like a superhero fucking shitting on my dad like that.”

“Go on.”

”We did some digging, found a few paper trails. I didn’t know the old man was stupid. Kendall thinks we’re on track to find people that have the ability to testimony.”

“If you even have an inkling that someone could, send them to me. Like immediately. We can’t have them blab to the wrong people. I can legally keep them safe from Logan if they disclose to the firm.”

“You’re the boss.” He honks at the car that missed the green light in front of you. “Fucking dick.”

“Of course you have road rage.”

“I don’t have road rage.”

You sit in comfortable silence the rest of the way, interrupted by the occasional expletive from Roman at bad drivers. He’s surprisingly level-headed behind the wheel, keeping calm regardless of the ‘idiots around him’.

At the restaurant, you take the inside of his elbow as you walk. He flexes his arm, trying to suppress a grin, setting his hand on his stomach. You can tell, despite his slowly dissipating disdain for your physical affection towards him, he fucking loved showing you off in public.

He’d warm up to you eventually. You didn’t want to force him into anything you didn’t want, so most of the time, you let him initiate physical contact. And even though neither of you ever spoke about it, you got the feeling that he appreciated it immensely.

You both sit in a secluded corner of the restaurant, and his legs press up against yours from his seat across from you.

“You should tell me more about yourself,” you begin, setting your head in your hands, balancing your elbows on the table.

“What is there to say?” Roman mirrors your pose.

“I dunno. What’s your favorite color, Romulus?”

“Green. The color of money. Next.”

“Oh, that’s so bullshit.” You lean back, laughing. He pushes off his elbows, instead crossing his arms over his chest. “Your favorite show?”

“I don’t watch television, Miss Attorney-at-Law. Eat, sleep, corporate fucking, repeat.”

“That’s kind of vile.” You take a sip of the water at your hand. “We should watch garbage reality TV together. You’d enjoy it.”

“Why watch on a screen when it’s my real life?”

“You boring piece of shit.”

Roman takes your hand from across the table, hooking your fingers together. “That I am.”

“What about movies? Or are you allergic to rainbows, fun, and joy?”

“Oh no, my throat’s itching,” he says sarcastically, pouting. “I don’t have time for any of that. And when I do, it feels… weird. I never was into movies or TV shows or video games when I was younger. I was always on eggshells with Dad, so…”

You give his hand an encouraging squeeze. “So… we can do all of that stuff together after we give ourselves a week off of work.”

“We just got back from Norway…”

“Roman. You’re really saying you’re not going to give yourself a week off for shits and gigs?”

He has trouble pushing down his smile. “Of course I will. You know me so well already.”

“We should do it after we serve your dad the papers. So he has to wait even longer to go to court.”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re evil. So perfect for me.”

You both laugh.

You both begin your meals, Roman surprisingly attentive the entire time. You both ask questions, answer them, and giggle like schoolchildren.

By the end of it, his chair is pulled all the way around the table, sitting next to yours as he tries to explain a business venture.

“So if pervs won’t disappear completely,” he says, gesturing with his hands, dead serious, “we appeal to the ones who like feet. Because who’s going to fucking know they’re your feet if they one, haven’t bought them, and two, inspect your toes in real life?”

You can’t help the ugly laugh that rips from your stomach. “Why have you thought about this in so much depth?”

“It’s infallible.”

”I didn’t know you knew what that word meant.”

He taps the side of his temple. “I’m learning. From you, specifically. Kendall’s fucking dumb.”

Back at home, Roman’s reclined into you, his head set lopsidedly on your shoulder. He scrolls through his phone absentmindedly, glancing up at you every so often, as if making sure you’re still there. You catch his eyes, and you both smile at each other.

Without thinking, you give him a peck on the lips. He lets you.

“It was hard,” he says quietly. “But it’s getting easier.”

“And so goes life.” You let your head rest on top of his. “I think you’re doing great.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “Thanks.”

He hums, satisfied, when your nails begin raking through his hair. You stay like that, for a long while. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing regulating as time passes. You think he’s asleep when his phone rings, loud and obnoxious.

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill whoever’s calling,” he mutters, shifting so that his head is in your lap. You see Connor’s name. “I’m putting him on speaker.”

He does, and starts the conversation with, “What is it, asshole?”

“Hey, Rome. I know it’s a little late, but your fiance hasn’t been returning my calls. Or texts.”

“She thinks you’re ugly. Not interested. Stop trying.”

“Roman.”

“Just being honest.”

“Well, be serious. We need to hurry things along. I’m starting to go into the red.”

“What the fuck are you buying? Oh, wait, your gir-”

“Shut the fuck up. That douchebag of an accountant. He’s doing some shady shit, I know it.”

“Or, shocker, you need to stop spending money. Batshit crazy idea, man.”

“You’re giving me financial advice? Remember when you spend twenty grand on a watch in high school and then lost it the day of?”

“At least I had the twenty thousand to spend.”

You have to suppress a laugh.

“This isn’t what I called for. Just forward the word, okay? I don’t want Willa to have to miss anything important at the theater.”

”What’s that have to do with my girl?”

“She can speed up proceedings.”

Roman looks up at you, and you shrug. You could, but you definitely wouldn’t. Not for Connor. “Yeah, come back later.”

“Nice talking to you, too.”

☾𖤓

The next time you’re at Waystar, it’s a ‘family’ meeting in Kendall’s office. You sit on the couch, Shiv sunken into the seat next to you.

“I say you take that nasty-ass video straight to Marcia and get the good shit from her,” Shiv says. “No beating around the bush. Surely she’ll spill.”

“You’re certainly free to do that. I can’t keep it on my phone anymore- I’m prone to vomiting,” you respond.

“Anyone know about that prick from the party? The one balding in all the weird spots?” Roman asks, leaning against the wall.

“What, Peirce? That’s the dick that was sucking the life out of Dad’s bank account. He was taking money pretending to be paying taxes.”

You turn and glance at Roman. “He’s actually not that stupid, is he?” you ask incredulously.

“I feel like we’re saying that a lot,” he mutters back. “You know that that guy is Con’s accountant now? And he has literally no money left?”

“He’s never been the brightest,” Shiv says without hesitation. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“How can he miss that, though?” Kendall asks, dragging a hand over his face.

“Desperate times,” Roman supplies.

“His firm name’s Thompson & Thompson, right?” you ask.

“Fucking banger name,” Shiv says. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“They have a consultation with me tomorrow. I don’t think it’s anything good, given Connor’s recent history.”

“Lock them out,” is all Roman says.

“This is all such a headache,” Kendall mutters. “Has anyone heard from Dad recently?”

“Surprisingly, no. He’s been suspiciously quiet,” Shiv replies. “You think he’s in the hospital again?"

“Wouldn’t he say something?” you ask.

“I guess not,” Shiv says. “Makes him look weak. Someone will notice, anyway. We’re in the States, we’ll know where he is soon enough.”

“He’s scheming,” Kendall states. “He’s trying to find a loophole back into the company.”

“He wishes,” you retort. “Vote of no confidence. Can’t come back on without making a big deal about it.”

“What if he wants that? He could use it to distract us,” Shiv suggests.

“But from what?” Kendall asks, staring at his feet, boring a hole through the floor.

“You’re overthinking it,” Roman clarifies. “What does he have that he can do right now?”

“God, I don’t even want to know.” You push yourself to your feet. “I’d better head out.”

Kendall grunts a goodbye, Shiv gives you a hug. Roman walks you, and as soon as you turn the corner and nobody’s around, he takes your hand in his.

“Is this what having a crush feels like?” he asks as you wait for the elevator.

“What do you mean?”

“I never stop thinking about you. I get all giddy talking to you- just looking at you. I’m always trying to make you laugh, smile. And look at your fucking face. I don’t need to keep telling you how fucking pretty you are.”

“Hm, maybe you do,” you say, grinning.

“But really.” He lets go of your hand in the elevator, instead winding an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Is this how normal people feel? All… sappy and shit?”

“I guess. I don’t think I can be considered normal, either.”

“Why not?”

“I’m into you, aren’t I?”

“Asshole. I take back what I said. You’re repulsive,” he says, lips on your jaw. When you’re in the lobby, he tells you, “Call me when you’re done,” and leaves you with a squeeze of your shoulder.

At your firm, you give your assistant a wave, gather some files, and head to a conference room. Peirce is there, waiting for you.

“Mr. Thompson,” you say politely, ignoring his outstretched hand. You wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole. “Please tell me tax fraud isn’t why you asked to see me and refused to disclose why over the phone.” You both take your seats.

“I’m afraid it is. Rather, not that I committed it, because I wouldn’t be here if I did.” He takes his handkerchief and wipes away a bit of sweat from his chin. He’s a horrible liar. “Rather, some accusations that are being made. I was wondering if anything could be done. And since you’re already handling my client…”

You have to refrain from rolling your eyes at him. “If you can prove it, we can sue for defamation. That’s really it.”

Peirce straightens. “I can prove it, actually. Tax returns, receipts.”

While you don’t take cases you don’t want to(Peirce makes you want to vomit), you know that this could lead to something useful. So you tell him, “Have them faxed by tomorrow,” and he’s on his feet, thanking you profusely as you push past him.

To your surprise, however, he follows you to your office. “Can I help you?” you ask, miffed.

“I just, ah, thought that since I was here, I’d check on how my client’s suit was going.”

“It’s going,” is all you say back. “Last time I checked, I’m the J.D. between the two of us. I can handle my business like a big girl, while it disappoints me to say that you can’t do the same.” You gesture in the direction of the exit. “If you would.”

“Are you sure I can’t just-”

“Quite sure.”

“But-”

“But nothing. Take no for an answer and go before I have you removed.”

Dismayed, Peirce shuffles off.

“And tell Connor to get off my fucking ass,” you say under your breath, heading into your office. You drop your notepad, pickingup your cell and dialing Roman.

He picks up on the first ring. “What’d the weasel do?”

“Was creepy. He said he’s being accused of tax fraud and that he can prove it.”

He scoffs. “He’s going to send you a ‘get out of jail free’ card from a Monopoly game. Does he really expect anybody to buy it?”

“If he’s still in business, people have before.”

He sighs on the other end. “Come home.”

“I have some paperwork to do. Then I’ll hail a cab or something.”

“Boo fucking hoo. I want to see you.”

“You saw me an hour ago.”

“I want to see you again.” Roman pauses. “Pretty please?”

“You can wait another hour. I believe in you.”

“Aw, come on. I’m warming up to you and everything.”

You laugh. “I appreciate that, Rome,” you say sincerely. “But-”

“I’ll do your laundry for a month if you just bring the paperwork home.”

You take a moment to consider it. “You know how to work a laundry machine?”

“I’m going to murder you. Come home so I can stab you.”

☾𖤓

The minute you’re home, he pulls you into bed with him and curls up against you.

“You okay?” you murmur.

“Peachy,” he says into your shoulder. “Shiv talked to Marcia. It worked.”

“At least that bullshit was worth something.” You shudder. “Why are you going to bed so early?” He’s dressed entirely in pajamas, his shirt a soft cotton that clings to every muscle in just the right way.

“Early day. Stockholder drama.”

“I thought Kendall did that.”

“He does. I’m going because I know they’re going to fight.” You feel him smile into your skin. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“Never mind. I’m not so good with words.”

Roman’s hand finds your chin, bringing your mouth to his. When your lips meet, his hand slips up your jaw and buries in your hair. You kiss back fervently, and he matches your vigor. He kisses you like he needs your taste to breathe.

Your hand finds the fabric of his shirt and glides across the panels of his chest, and he groans into your mouth. You feel the soft, oddly satisfying scrape of his stubble against your face. He pulls away only to dot kisses on the corners of your mouth, then unevenly again on your lips.

“I think what I meant was good night,” he says cheekily.

“Jackass,” you murmur giddily into his lips. “Fuck you, Roman.”

[insanelyadd]

The Collector's Hat Sewing Pattern and Tutorial

Image of the pattern I made with measurements:

As a little heads up to people with big/small heads and/or more voluminous hair, this was based on measuring my own head which has a circumference of 22 inches which is dead on the average and my hair is completely straight and relatively flat. You may need to do some adjustments of these measurements because the final fit is very fitted, in that it can be easily put on and taken off but does not fall off on it's own under typical circumstances.*

This pattern is meant for knit or other stretch fabrics, I did not make a completed version with woven or stiffer fabrics, so quality may vary depending on the material you select. I recommend knits.

If you are new to sewing or this is one of your first projects you are doing without a physical pattern, I recommend following the given measurements and drawing it out on some type of paper first and then using that as reference for yourself. I am an outlier when it comes to not making patterns and drawing the shape of what I want out onto the fabric directly, and you shouldn't follow my horrible example. This hat is actually the first time I've even made a muslin prototype.

When you are going to cut out the pieces you need to make sure, like double and triple check, that if you were to lay them pattern/top side up, that they would mirror each other like in the above picture. If you don't then you'll have two lefts or two rights.

The first actual step for sewing is taking the straight lines from the V shaped notch in the top of the hat, and lining them up by folding the piece in half so the patterned/top of the fabric is on the inside of the fold, like in the picture above. You do this on one half at a time. When they are lined up sew them with a straight line stitch a 1/4 inch (1/2 cm) in from the cut, starting at the fold towards the top of the hat.

After that you want to lay them pattern to pattern, and pin them into place to make sure it's aligned properly on both sides. To reduce bulk I recommend making the excess fabric from the darts (the V cut-out) point in opposite directions, as shown in the above picture.

After you've sewn the sides together there is an optional step that I did to make sure the seam lies flat on the top of your head. I opted to sew both sides down onto the blue half of my hat because my machine was being picky and skipping stitches on they grey fabric if there was no blue fabric as well (I got around this on the hem by inserting thin pieces from the blue's selvage into the seam). But if your machine isn't being picky or you are hand sewing this, then you could split the excess and sew them down onto their corresponding half. Example above, as usual.

Optional step that MUST go here. If you are attaching a ribbon, or lace for a trim to edge you have to do it now. I do not recommend this step to beginners. I recommend sewing it down while rolling the edge to create the hem, and then securing the other side of the ribbon/lace further into the piece because this guarantees a better placement and straighter lines. If you are doing this step along solely the bottom or front edges then let the lace/ribbon stick out further than the edge of the fabric, so you can fold it under the hem.

The final required step is to hem it, just fold what remains of the raw edge and sew it down.

Final optional step is for adding little trinkets. I added trinkets to the front corners and the floppy bit in the back like the Archivists are depicted as having. I used embroidery thread and slid the needle to go between the seams and tied it off on the inside. If your trinkets are not detachable, like the little stars on my hat, you need to thread the needle through the ring before putting it back into the hat and tying off the thread. Thinner cord or thin ribbon could work as well.

*I actually just did some tests and I have to be tilted further back than lying flat on my back for it to fall off. I was able to bend over and look through my knees and it didn't fall off. I tested it's wind resistance against my two strongest fans and neither could knock it off my head even when I shook it. So I think it will stay in place just shy of someone pointing a leaf blower at you.

Enjoy these pictures of the finished product, including a glamor shot of me wearing it backwards while I fumble with my phone for a picture.

[darlingsfandom]

Professor Harrington fucking reader as a reward for getting an A on her test after class. And she’s so sensitive and loud

Gif credit : @olliviacooke / google images

You could have bursted with excitement as the big red A hit your eyes. Professor Steve smiled at you as he watched you grip the paper .

"And that will finish our unit on symbolism. And since I'm in a good mood plus it's almost time for holiday break... we won't be taking the next test I had planned." The room sighed and cheered. "I'll see you next week! Enjoy your weekends and other classes." Everyone rushed out of class as fast as they could but not you!

You sat in your seat until the last kid left . You put the test in your backpack before approaching his desk. Steve smiled at you as you leaned on his desk on your elbows. "Good job pretty girl!" You leaned in and poked his nose.

"Well you're the one that gave me an A!"

"Because you earned it , not because you let me eat your pussy." Your cheeks went red at the memory of wrapping your legs around his head last week. "You could've done bad and I'd fail you but you actually did well for once."

"Hey now , I got easily distracted ! Not my fault I got the hottest professor in the whole university." You gave him a kiss that got hot quickly. You pulled away long enough to run around his desk and put yourself on the edge of it before Steve laid you down and started kissing down your body. His hand slid up under your skirt and pulled your panties to the side before putting two fingers inside of you.

"Oooh fuck! That feels good already Steve !" You giggled a little bit as his lips attached to your collar bone. It was sloppy and wet as he fingered you harder.

"God you're fucking wet and I only have my fingers in your pretty little cunt." Steve pulled his fingers in and out of you quickly before finally pulling them out which made you pout only for a second because he waisted no time in pulling out his cock and slamming you down onto his hard cock. Steve gave you a minute to adjust before he started bouncing you up and down hard on his cock making your ass jiggle each time. He spanked you each time while you pulled his hair making him groan. You weren't slowing down! Professor Steve attached his lips to your breasts , what was exposed of them, and sucked the purple marks onto them. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room as you cried out his name.

"God you're perfect! Fuck! Can't wait until you're not my student anymore !! Gonna be able to finally cream pie ya nice and full!"

"Please Steve !! I need you to breed me!" Your lips pouted as your mouth hung open as he started hitting the g spot with the tip of his dick.

"I know honey I know! Soon very soon! But fuck!!" Steve pulled you off his dick as fast as he could before he came on your lips. "I'm sorry honey I couldn't hold back anymore. You know I wanna breed you and I lost it!" You licked your lips clean and got on his desk and spread your legs.

"It's okay Stevie, but you need to make me cum now!" You pulled him in close before his fingers went right for your clit. You were on the edge shaking beneath him. It wasn't long before you were screaming out his name and gushing on his fingers.

"That's my good girl, you can have an A+ for that orgasm."

[talesofesther]

prettiest dream

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Summary: You and Xavier share a special moment by the fireplace of your living room.

Requested by anon

A/N: This story is part of my Christmas Special event. The song I imagined playing here is this one, but you can think of any you'd like. <3

Masterlist

It was nearly magical, the way the soft flames of the fireplace illuminated the cozy living room; along with the Christmas tree blinking its lights right beside it, the atmosphere could easily be picked out of the sweetest dream.

At first, Xavier had been apprehensive about spending Christmas with your parents, however now, after a joyful first meeting and delicious dinner with your family, he figured it wasn't that bad at all.

He had just come back from finishing drying the dishes, and was greeted with the sight of your sitting on your father's big armchair; hot chocolate mug in one hand and a book in the other, with the fire highlighting your profile in a golden glow. Xavier engraved the image in his mind to put it on paper once he had his sketchbook in hand — because he could swear that he's never been more in love than he is now.

You were so purely you, that sometimes he wondered why you still settled for someone like him. In his eyes, you were deserving of the world, and hopefully, he'd be able to give it to you one day.

There was a low, soft violin tune playing from your mother's old radio, it brought a small smile to Xavier's lips as he watched you — talk about a perfect setting.

"I can feel your thinking from here."

It was only once you spoke, that Xavier realized you had placed your mug and book down, and had your gaze fixed on him.

He chuckled, glancing down and feeling warmth coming to his cheeks from being caught staring. Taking careful steps toward you, he mindlessly outstretched a hand; "would you dance with me?"

Your cheeks framed your smirk adorably as you shook your head slightly. Planting your socked feet on the chilly wooden floor, you took his hand in yours and allowed him to pull you up. "And yet you don't believe me when I tell you that you came right out of a rom-com."

Intertwining your fingers, Xavier pulled your body to him, knocking your chests together softly as his free hand came to rest on your lower back.

"I try."

"Lucky me," you whispered, winding your arm around his neck and playing with his long hair.

You two weren't very much in synchrony with the notes coming from the radio, but it didn't matter; the low cracks of the fire could be heard beside you, the snow had started falling heavily outside as a few flakes clung to the window behind you, and Xavier could see the warm reflection of the Christmas lights on your irises. Everything was perfect in this little bubble.

"No, I'm the lucky one," Xavier mumbled back, bringing you closer still so he could rest his cheek on your temple as he swayed you side to side, "you make me the happiest I've ever been."

The words went beyond this one night and you knew that, it only made your heart beat louder for the sweet boy in your arms.

You kiss his neck, feeling the shape of his goosebumps on your lips; then you kiss his collarbone as your fingers disappear on his hair.

Xavier knows what you're saying, you know it by the way he nuzzles further into you. But you go a step further, because he holds your heart in his hands just as you do his.

You pull away just enough to plant a kiss on the corner of his lips, and you don't need to open your eyes to know he's smiling. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. You know that yeah? As long as I'm with you I'm already at my happiest."

The words roll out of your mouth with such delicacy, such ease. Xavier feels the movement of your lips as they graze the corner of his mouth, and he swears that if he wasn't holding onto you right now, he'd be on his knees.

Maybe, just maybe, all it'd take for you to have the world, would be to have him. And you did, since the first ever hello.

Xavier's hair tickled your cheek when he brought his forehead to rest against yours, he bumped your nose with his, knowing it would get you grinning.

"I love you so damn much," he said, just before crashing your lips together to repeat the same words over and over with each kiss.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Xavier’s taglist: @milkiane

[occasionallyprosie]

"Harmless Little Lies"

Warriors was wandering one of Legend's era's towns when a paper on the notice board caught his attention. WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE LINK (OF KAKARIKO) REWARD: 5,000 And the image on the wanted poster was undoubtedly their veteran, followed by a list of extensive crimes… He tore the poster from the notice board and went to find the man whose image it held. He wanted to know exactly why Legend was wanted for serial murder, kidnapping, and several other crimes.

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 6: "You lied to me."

Event Masterlist

Read On AO3 Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence

Warriors put a paper onto the bar beside Legend, a near glare aimed at him while the veteran hardly glanced up.

"What is this?" Warriors demanded.

"I'm a bit busy," Legend said, pulling a needle through fabric, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth.

Warriors shoved the paper in his face and forced him to redirect his attention.

"What is this?"

Legend met his eyes over the waved paper. "A wanted poster."

Warriors glared.

He rolled his eyes. "My wanted poster?"

"Why do you have a wanted poster?"

Legend sighed. "Because we haven't gotten around to taking them all down yet. I was framed and even then, Zelda pardoned me. It's not a big deal and nobody cares anymore."

A few days later, Legend found himself separated from the other heroes and unsurprisingly he was promptly cornered by guards.

He decided a long time ago not to fight his way out of these things, these men's minds were altered, they literally weren't themselves and... he'd already killed far too many technically innocent knights because of this damned irreversible spell.

So he complied, he'd escape overnight easily enough. He usually did, sometimes it was harder than usual for... various reasons.

The moment they relieved him of his items and supplies, he had a feeling it would be harder to escape than usual this time. He was full on thrown into the back wall of a cell, stars filling his vision and losing the air in his lungs. The following kick to his ribs further cemented that feeling as fact. Some guard stations were more violent than others... some beat him within an inch of his life. It made it hard to get up and keep going, but he had defeated Ganon when he was beaten down and within an inch of his life, he had cleared whole dungeons, he could escape a drunken guard station.

When they finally left, he couldn't bring himself to move for a while. It may have been an hour, he wasn't certain, but it took a while before he could force himself to move past the pain and broken bones and blood filling his lungs.

When he finally stood, he mentally amended his internal tracker of "how many days it had been since he had internal bleeding" from 17 weeks, aka since his last encounter with guards and getting caught, to 0. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as blood bubbled up and tinted his skin further red and a bit of black.

Great, he thought blandly. This might not be a one potion fix, and he really didn't need to deal with--

"You lied to me. Not a big deal, vet? Nobody cares anymore?"

--the other heroes finding out. The one knight Legend wasn't expecting to see was Warriors, yet when he looked up and strained to focus his eyes, that's who stood on the other side of the bars.

"Geez, you look awful," he realized, frowning.

Legend glared, letting his vision unfocus and lessening the throbbing in his head. "No, really? Get away from the door."

"Why--I have the keys."

He snorted, ignoring the flash of pain as he slumped against the back wall. "Am I supposed to believe you paid bail?"

"Yes," Warriors said bluntly.

He let out a laugh that quickly descending into a painful, coughing fit that sprayed blood over his hand and the ground in front of him.

"Oh shit!" The door clicked unlocked and when he glanced up, hands were coming toward him. He couldn't help but flinch away.

Warriors froze.

Legend wheezed, wiping his face of blood and likely just smearing it. "Calling me a liar, Captain? They still arrest me even though the Queen pardoned me. Nobody could pay my bail. You..." he swallowed the bubbling blood. "You stole those keys."

Oh this wasn't good. He needed to move and get a potion, now.

He tried to stand.

"Whoa, hey don’t do that. Oh golden three, what did they do to you?" Warriors whispered, Legend still heard him even beyond the cotton in his head, his vision began to tunnel and his attempt to stand was shattered by his legs giving out. "Vet!"

The older hero caught him but not without jostling his ribs into stabbing his lungs further, sparking pain throughout his whole body. A pained cry escaped him.

"Oh goddess--Hey, it's going to be okay, just hold on a moment. I'll get you--"

The cell door suddenly slammed shut, a bark of laughter outside and Legend managed to try and focus enough to see a knight outside.

"Seems the criminal actually has friends, too bad that it's not enough to overcome a Knight of Hyrule," the man taunted.

Warriors snarled. "No knight would do this to anyone, convict or not."

"That brat kidnapped the princess and killed dozens of our men, he deserves any fate he's given so long as it hurts."

The guard left, despite Legend hearing Warriors yell after him.

He needed to move. He had the magic, he wasn't good at controlling it unfocused but he could explode the door if he just got up.

"Hey, hey it's okay. Just breathe, you’re going to be okay," Warriors promised him.

"I--" blood leaked from the edge of his mouth. "I-I can break the door. S-Stay behind me."

"Vet no! I'll figure something out, just save your strength!" Warriors pleaded, but as Legend fought to stand, he helped him.

Legend held a hand out to the door and a blast of pure magic exploded it off the hinges and broke the doorway too, it slammed into the far wall.

Blood trickled from his nose and his headache increased tenfold. Warriors caught him as he nearly collapsed.

"C-Cap'n... I don'..." he wheezed and choked. Oh goddesses he couldn't see anything anymore, just blurred blobs of color.

"No, hey, it's going to be alright. You're going to be perfectly fine, I swear. It's okay."

Warriors picked him up and he whined, his senses overwhelmed with pain and blinding him for a moment.

"Don't--Don't lie to me," he murmured. "I'm... I know what dying feels like."

It felt like acid in his veins, it felt like fire on his skin, it felt like water in his lungs and panic in his mind. Dying was painful and suffocating.

His throat filled with blood. His body stopped registering the pain.

His head dropped against Warriors chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart but not hearing the begs to open his eyes.

"You lied to me," those were the first words Warriors spoke upon finding him in that cell.

Ha, Legend thought, a bit amused, you lied to me, actually...

You promised I'd be alright.

[biancadjarin]

modern!toxic!fuckboy!eddie has completely taken over my brain thanks to @newlips and @carolmunson they’re both so amazing plz go read their stuff first!!

this has been on my mind for a few days so… here we are 🫡 ⌚️

18+ warnings: mentions of drugs, sexual situations, shoplifting, cursing. Reader is needy and delusional. Eddie is manipulative.

You sit on Eddie’s lap as he focuses on rolling a blunt, your thighs straddling either side of his. He sprinkles the sticky green buds so haphazardly you watch as probably a gram’s worth spills out of the cigar paper and onto the couch beneath the two of you. “Occupational hazard.” he mumbles with a shrug as your hands come up to cradle beneath his to prevent more wasted weed. While his eyes focus on finishing up the blunt, he juts his chin up at you, signaling to you wordlessly what he wants you to do. You glance at his long pale neck, the fading pink and purple traces of an old hickey you didn’t give him staring back at you. You know Eddie sees other girls, he never hid that. But you can’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach when you think of another girl’s lips on his skin. Eddie has a way of making you feel wanted, special, singular. And even though the little voice in your head is yelling at you to get a grip, he’s not worth the games he puts you through! You keep coming back for more.

You lean into him and begin to nibble at the warm skin of his neck, leaving lipgloss kisses and kitten licks that you softly blow cold air onto to watch the goosebumps erupt on his skin. A small moan plays deep in his throat, almost too quiet to hear, like he’s holding it in. Not wanting to make it obvious how easily you can make him fall apart. When your acrylic tipped fingers rake down his chest over his faded Corroded Coffin shirt and land on his pecs, you feel his heart thumping faster than it was a few minutes ago. If I could just prove to him how much he wants me, needs me, loves me then maybe it could always be like this. Just us. You think to yourself.

“Do you like that baby?” You ask him sweetly, fingers playing with the chain around his neck. “Uhh yeah.” He mumbles flatly. “Feels so good.” His placating should annoy you but it does the opposite. It just makes you more eager to please him. His fingers bring the blunt to his mouth to lick a stripe and he seals it, holding it between his lips as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. You continue making out with his neck, his unruly hair tickling your cheek. He lets out a snort as he reads his texts, the hand not holding his phone rubbing your back absentmindedly. Your brain tells you not to peek over your shoulder at his phone but your eyes wander to the lit up screen, his thumb typing quickly to reply to a message. The name at the top reads Daisy Hideout and the little circle image looks like lips wrapped around the head of Eddie’s- you look away with a shudder before you can examine the picture too closely. As Eddie answers a few more texts you roll your eyes and bite down a little too hard on the vein you’ve been sucking at, earning a fuck and hissed breath from him. “So are we gonna smoke now or what?” you ask, rolling your hips forward and pressing your crotch into his lap. He drops his phone to the side and smirks watching the way you press into him.

“Remember what I told you about being patient?” He teases you as his hands come up to grab your waist, pulling your torso into his face. “I don’t like being patient. Or sharing.” You reply. He shakes his head, sighing as he nuzzles his nose into the fabric of your shirt. Your hardened nipples poke through and he runs his lips over them, letting his nose bump into them as he switches back and forth. “We’ve gone over this y/n.” He begins, “Don’t start acting like I’m your boyfriend because I’m not.” You let out a soft whine and snatch the blunt from his lips. He rests a hand on your hip while he leans over to grab his lighter and ashtray. You inhale as he flicks the lighter to the end of the blunt, tip burning and sizzling a cherry red. He watches the smoke drift out of your nose while his hands continue to roam your body. His right hand bumps into something bulky in your backpocket. His eyebrows pull together as he looks at you questioningly.

“Well then if you’re not my boyfriend, maybe I shouldn’t give you your gift.” You say swatting his hand away. He narrows his eyes at you, “What gift?” He asks as he takes the blunt and inhales. “The thing you showed me at the pawn shop last week…” His eyes go wide as he readjusts you on his lap, sitting up straighter and reaching for your pocket again. His hand slips in and pulls out the shiny silver watch. Your hearts racing with nerves and excitement just like it was the day you stole it. You’d never admit it but you kind of like stealing things. Especially for Eddie. And especially from greasy pawn shop owners who are so easy to distract with a little cleavage and hair twirling. Fuck it, it was probably a stolen Rolex to begin with.

“Holy shit holy shit.” He says as he drops the blunt into the ashtray. “You actually fucking stole this?” You nod with a small shrug, “You said you really wanted it.. d’ya like it?” “It’s a fucking Daytona Rolex of course I like it. And it has the platinum dials too shit.” Your cheeks warm as you watch him examine it closely. “Put it on.” you tell him as you take his hand in yours and help him latch it closed, perfectly fitting around his tattooed wrist. He turns his wrist in the light, little sparkles and rainbow bursts flickering across the two of your bodies. His impossibly warm brown eyes shimmer more than usual, the reflection of the diamonds in the watch making his irises look like a galaxy full of stars. “You.. you stole this.. for me?” he asks you quietly, voice filled with apprehension. You nod, “Of course. I wanted to show you how loyal I am. I hope this proves that.” you say, fingertips gently scratching underneath his chin, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “I’d do anything for you Eddie.”

Eddie looked at the beautiful girl sitting in his lap, her eyes filled with love and mind clouded with infatuation. He wasn’t thinking about this happening when he mentioned to her the Rolex sitting in the Hawkins Pawn Shop was at the top of his to buy list. But he’s happy at this turn of events. “Anything huh?” He has you exactly where he wants you.

masterlist here

[bodybeyondstories]

Rapid Expansion Mechanism - 1

Amir signs up for an experimental sleep study to make some extra cash, then starts having strange dreams about people around him growing wildly out of control. He's not all that concerned.

maleTF // growth // butt growth // dick growth // nsfw

4340 words

Note: I was really interested in dreams and dreaming, the impacts of the immaterial on material worlds, etc etc. Also thinking about playing around more intentionally with body horror as a theme. This is a little heavy on the exposition, I was having fun with a l'il bit of worldbuilding. We'll all have to see where it goes I guess.

---

[lol I think you were in my dream last night]

Amir stared at his phone for ten minutes, waiting for a reply. Stared at the ceiling for another ten waiting for the telltale double vibration of a text notification. The sunrise dusk began to shift into a muddled overcast morning. He lay in bed waiting for some outside force to begin the day for him as the world progressed on its own.

He’s probably still asleep, he thought. He probably woke up to the notification from me, reluctantly opened it, cringed and went back to bed. Telling someone you dreamt about them after a first date is insane. He began to berate himself with clarity as his sleep-addled thoughts cleared. This guy’s barely been rid of you for twelve hours and you’re sending good morning texts as if he’ll actually respond. You’re supposed to be playing it cool. That’s what people do, right? They play it cool.

He needed coffee. He needed coffee and he needed to stop beating himself up. I’m a perfectly fine focus of someone’s attention. A catch even, sort of, sometimes. I would love to hear about my weird REM sleep adventures. None of this felt reassuring.

The dream! I’m supposed to be recording my dreams, he remembered, one hand flailing around the side table until it landed on a small spiral notebook. He eased deeper under the covers to try and convince his body that it was not actually waking up yet and should let him hold on to the opaque montage of sounds and images slowly flushing out of his brain. He squinted in the gray dawn light, putting pen to paper and letting memories flow without interpretation or context, as instructed.

The date with Dex last night. He’s sitting across the table from me and he’s talking about something, I can’t make out what he’s saying, the sound is garbled and woozy but he’s talking about something and there’s something creeping up under his shirt, bulging and pulsing higher and higher but he’s still just talking and eventually it reaches the top and his brown cockhead pokes out, it’s leaking precum, continues expanding upward and he’s still just talking as it gets girthier and rips his collar and he’s just ignoring it and everyone else seems to be ignoring but I feel more and more anxious, no, terrified, I can see it stretching and lurching higher and bigger and he moves his head to the right to maintain eye contact with me and it’s gushing all over the table and he’s still just talking like having a liter bottle thick schlong arcing past your head is the most normal thing on a date and eventually the rest of his clothes rip and his dick slams onto the table and everything goes flying and I’m staring right into it getting ready to blow and it erupts and…

Amir paused in thought, pen in hand. The memories had slipped out so easily onto the pad in his lap and were now completely gone from his head. All he had was the scribbled description of the strange scene and the still image of Dex and that…thing erupting from his body and the phantom sensation that something was very wrong. His heart was beating fast in anxiety or anticipation, he couldn’t tell. I’m already having sex dreams about this guy? This dry spell is ridiculous, he thought, seeking to convince himself that that’s all it was. Pent up sexual frustration and anxiety leading to one too many drinks.

He looked at the notepad laying in his lap with trepidation. I guess it is good to have a space to think through whatever weird bullshit is bouncing around your unconscious, he thought, sure that somewhere he’d read that it’s good for your mental health to make a practice of writing your dreams. He hoped that that was the only reason they had him doing it.

He’d had an appointment the day before with a sleep study research trial. He'd been referred to a specialist for his insomnia, but lacked the coverage for it until he started a new job. So he ended up signing up as a subject with some place called Phantasy Labs that he had never heard of but apparently had a huge research campus nestled in the woods just outside of town. Some kind of experimental startup with more money than God and not a huge public presence. Not that he thought much of it beyond the pay was decent and he needed the cash. He figured whatever it is, he’d probably get the placebo anyway.

I need to get out more, Amir mused as he cruised through the heavily wooded grounds of Phantasy Lab’s campus, marveling at the fact that he’d apparently never seen this landscape before. He craned his neck back and forth at impossibly tall oaks with great beards of Spanish moss, their tops forming a crown shy cathedral far above that let in just enough dappled light to see the road. The pavement was well manicured, resembling a reddish brown clay, winding its way through the forest with meandering curves, making for a delightful cruise through nature but preventing him from seeing too far ahead or too far behind. Visibility quickly became poor as he gazed into the gloom of the densely wooded landscape, tricks of the light occasionally producing brief glimpses of what looked like figures moving furtively among the trees, too big to be anything he recognized. 

But it was just him ambling in his beat up Civic with mismatched hood, no other hints of this supposed facility beyond the occasional sign inviting him to continue along this path, as if there were anywhere else to go. Eventually, and somewhat reluctantly, the trees parted to release him, revealing the squat structure that he took to be the research facility. The road gentled him to the right and he cruised along, looking for a parking lot but seeing only the great wall of trees on the right and the seamless, continuous curve of the building to his left. He continued on for what felt like ages, convinced he had to have circled the building at least twice if not for the occasional break in the scene of what looked like experimental farm plots with unusually large crops. He’d heard of giant pumpkins but had never seen eggplants that could eclipse his entire leg or peaches the size of his head weighing down the branches of a tree. This was all being tended to by the only human presence he had seen so far, gardeners who looked fit to bursting out of their work coveralls, some of them going so far as to rip the sleeves off or crop the pant legs to free up surprisingly juicy quads. He wondered if they were hiring.

Eventually he saw a car symbol on the smooth wall of the building. As he pulled up to it, an invisible seam unzipped from top to bottom, revealing an interior space just large enough for his car, with no discernible light source yet softly lit nonetheless. He idled in, pulling to a stop as lavender text appeared on the solid wall in front of him: “Welcome to Phantasy Labs. Please put your car in park, turn it completely off, and proceed to the door on your left.” A series of dots of soft light began to appear along the wall, running to the left from the text around to an outline of a doorway. As he approached, the wall unzipped itself, and more lavender text appeared above: “Remember to gather your things. We’re so happy you’re here.” 

He turned around just in time to see his car being soundlessly lowered into the floor, towards what he hoped was some sort of underground garage. He made a mental note to ask someone about that, then stepped through the entryway into a massive foyer. The space was expansive, significantly taller than the building appeared from the outside, the curvature of the walls dominated by rounded hexagonal windows that ran from floor to ceiling, providing a view of the monumental trees outside, and far in the distance, the tops of the city skyline.

A smattering of people who seemed well trained in looking busy were milling about, heading from one unzippering portal to another, none bothering to acknowledge his existence. The only direction was given by the familiar lavender dots of light, now appearing along the floor, and progressing as he followed them along to the wide, swooping reception desk.

“Hi,” he said, walking up to a welcome desk that seemed the manifestation of minimalist efficiency. “I’m–”

“Amir,” the receptionist said, without pausing in their tapping against a keyboard of lavender light embedded in the surface. “Welcome.”

“I’m here for the–”

“4 o clock REM study. Sapp is in the lab now, looks like he’s just about ready for you. Please double check the liability waiver and the NDA,” they said, as two streams of text appeared side by side on the wall behind them, scrolling just fast enough for Amir to keep up before a signature pad appeared directly in front of him on the surface of the desk. He scribbled his name in his usual seal of lukewarm approval and it disappeared into the ether. “Please proceed directly to the lab and nowhere else.” At this, the receptionist finally looked up, locking eyes with Amir just long enough for him to see what looked like circuitry running through their lavender irises. “Just use your fingerprint for security.”

“Oh, do you need my fingerprint?”

“We have it,” they answered, with a practiced smile.

—

Amir followed the dots through the facility, which somehow managed to be both claustrophobic and expansive, like an open air maze. He was convinced he would be meandering through those passageways and elevators for the rest of his life if he lost track of the pattern of light along the floor leading him forward. He couldn’t tell if it was matching his pace or setting it. Finally, he stopped at a door with soft light around the frame glowing in approval before letting him through with the press of his thumb against a small pad on the side.

“Hi, you’re Doctor Sapp?” Amir asked in the general direction of the lab-coated figure puttering around the space, checking monitors, gathering equipment, opening what looked like a highly sophisticated code-locked cooler to pull out a bag of peanut butter cups. He paused, spinning on one heel toward the sound of Amir’s voice.

“I’m a technician,” he corrected, scanning Amir up and down, seeming to look through him. “All the PIs are, uh, indisposed elsewhere, you could say. But hopefully they’ll find their way back soon enough,” he added with that same practiced smile. “Oh you’re interesting,” he said, as if finally noticing Amir’s existence as an actual human being, looking not quite at him but at the air immediately around him.

“I’m…here for the–”

“Study! Yes, we are thrilled to have you. Please take a seat,” he gestured to a stool placed in the center of a ring of what looked like sigils imprinted in a circle on the floor, softly glowing and fading to a rhythm Amir couldn’t quite catch. From the ceiling hung a white cap covered in glowing sensors, a handful of small white circles dangling from the edges. As Technician Sapp walked him over, Amir’s eyes were drawn to his sneakers, which looked disproportionately big for an otherwise average sized man. They seemed large enough to affect his motion around the lab, his peculiar walk drawing Amir’s attention as he explained the procedure.

“There’s still so much we still don’t know about the human brain, it’s like a portal to radical new worlds.” His eyes brightened as he gave the elevator pitch to Amir, who began going in and out of focus as Sapp shifted into granular detail about the neurological ins and outs of the procedure as he finished setting up the apparatus, carefully placing the cap on his skull and sticking the little white sensors to his forehead and temples. It was more than a little out of his wheelhouse to be honest, but once the helmet was on he became fully distracted by the fireflies. Or at least that was the closest approximation. Little bursts of warm light in the space around him, progressing in lazy, chaotic spirals and loops, or flashing across his vision like shooting stars, but never venturing past the circle of sigils on the floor. He had the brief thought that maybe he should mention this.

“...there’s really incredible advancements being made in the research sector out of CSS,” continued Sapp. “Some artifact they’ve been working with that’s pushed transdimensional energetics decades ahead and if our theories are true about quantum tunneling via dream states, and the conditions are just right, we might be able to give you the right nudge–combination of nudges I guess–to activate REM.”

“Oh, like REM sleep!” exclaimed Amir, brought back to Sapp’s words by a term he thankfully recognized. “That’s good, right?”

That middle space stare again, not quite at him or through him, but analyzing something about him that Amir couldn’t quite see.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go with that.” The technician paused in contemplation. “I know this all probably sounds very…woo woo,” he said, as if making that specific sound for the first time, his hands splayed out and rotating left and right with each respective woo, the fireflies dancing in tandem. They locked eyes in prolonged silence until Amir realized his statement was more of an open question.

“I think it’s fine, sounds cool,” Amir responded with a crooked, encouraging smile.

“Good!” the technician clapped. “Then we’re all set.”

Amir looked nervously at the clock, composed of lavender numerals on the far wall, which displayed 16:16.

“Spooling up now,” said Technician Sapp. “Just relax, you shouldn’t feel a thing. You shouldn't not feel anything either.”

The fireflies began to take on a range of multicolored pulses of light, their meandering paths turning into a counterclockwise rotation around the inside of the circle. Am I supposed to close my eyes? thought Amir. Should I have asked? But he was captivated, finding it impossible to look away as they picked up speed and intensity, blending into a vortex of light that stretched the length of his vision, tightening closer and closer until–

They were gone. Amir was sitting perfectly still in the middle of the ring of sigils, still softly glowing and fading.

“All done,” said Sapp, who had positioned himself with a wide stance at one of the monitors. “Really interesting readings on this one. That session lasted 33 minutes and 28 seconds.”

The clock displayed 16:17.

“How do you feel?” asked Sapp. “Any spacetime folds? Prophetic visions? Partial phase shifts?”

“Um, no?” said Amir, who didn’t know what any of that meant but wasn’t sure if maybe he should. 

“Good!” Technician Sapp’s hands clapped in relief, as he began carefully removing the white sensors from Amir’s forehead and lifting the apparatus off his skull. “Please remember to keep a detailed journal of any dreams or dream-like phenomena and let us know about any side effects, real or imagined. Not that you should notice any serious changes whatsoever.”

“Other than my insomnia being cured, right?” asked Amir, with a hopeful smile.

Technician Sapp stared at him blankly, his head tilted at a slight angle, as if analyzing the cartography of pores on his face.

“Right,” he finally said. “Because that is what it does,” bopping his head slightly with the playful cadence, his smile ratcheting in intensity with each word, as if he plucked them at random from the ether and was pleasantly surprised to see them form a coherent thought.

Amir followed the dots of light through the facility, hoping his car was back above ground.

—

“But the clock said 16:17!”

Amir had been a little rattled by his experience as a test subject that afternoon, but had hoped it’d at least make for a cool story on his date with Dex. He managed to get through this tale of seamless walls and fireflies and weird technicians without leaning too hard into the fact that he needed the research study cash because the between in ‘I’m between jobs’ was doing a more than generous amount of work.

Dex was making a valiant effort to look some semblance of interested, hoping something else might emerge to guide the conversation. Eventually, they were chatting about more normal things, like Amir’s newfound interest in neo-futurist architecture, and Dex getting fitted soon for the premier of his musical the next weekend. It was a community theater production of an original sci-fi musical based off of an experimental Progressive House album. He was playing one of the leads, an interstellar vagabond who falls in love with a sentient stellar gas cloud under threat of being harvested to extinction by an expanding intergalactic empire.

“And the whole time I’m wearing like, tights and a glorified jock strap,” he laughed, cheeks blushing. “The stellar gas cloud couldn’t bring the sex appeal, so it had to be me.”

It was neither of their best work, as far as first dates go, but they had both experienced worse. Amir walked Dex home and they exchanged an awkward pseudo kiss-hug goodbye, which ended up with Amir planting his lips on his date’s forehead in a way that was very close to being a headbutt.

He thought it went well. After all, he dreamt about it, right?

—

The next morning, getting over the residual aftershocks of the aforementioned dream, Amir went about his day, bumbling around the kitchen until he produced a single mug of coffee, hoping the caffeine might help him make sense of the strange sequence of events since yesterday afternoon. That day in funemployment he was venturing one floor down in his apartment building to look after his neighbor Kenneth’s cat, Mr. Pibb, recovering from whatever sort of medical procedure is required to keep a nineteen year old feline on this mortal plane. Kenneth called Mr. Pibb distinguished, gently cooing to him as he reposed in his window perch, but Amir preferred ancient, imagining him reminiscing about the Great Depression as he gazed into the overcast morning.

Kenneth’s interior design was intentional, if nothing else, just like his personal aesthetic. Amir liked to think he had just stepped out of a stock photo or had been a menswear mannequin that started speaking and paying taxes. Everything about him was always coiffed, trimmed, tailored, and set just so, from the stately shoulders in his designer v-neck pullover to the cute butt in his light blue tweed slacks. Amir had for years wanted to figure out where he was always heading off to for work, but enjoyed sitting with the mystique.

“Okay so everything’s very carefully arranged in here, and the cleaners just came in yesterday, so don’t go, you know, touching things too much,” said Kenneth. He had a few inches on Amir’s 5’9” form, but had a knack for speaking down to people regardless of height. “Also, there’s a tray on the counter and a drawer in the fridge labeled with your name, those are some snacks for you. Please don’t ruffle around through everything else, I’m on a very particular diet and I’ve already begun prepping for next week.”

Amir gave a lazy salute as he leaned his butt against the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. “I will sit on this couch and stare at this cat.”

“Thank you,” said Kenneth, his face relaxing slightly. “And don’t be offended if Mr. Pibb doesn’t take to you immediately, he gets skittish around strangers.”

Skittish was the furthest thing from the ball of mangy fur sitting in the window like an avant garde art piece. Amir smiled anyway, watching Kenneth stride into the hallway and off to whatever it is he does.

Amir fell into the couch, settling into his usual activity of firing off job applications into the void, letting in just enough existential dread to keep him on his toes, and getting up periodically to make sure Mr. Pibb got his medicine or was still breathing. Maybe Dex’s coffee shop is training new baristas, he thought, picking up his phone and opening the still unanswered text thread. No, no, that’s awkward, you just want an excuse to talk to him. You want to hear from the cute boy who popped up in your dreams. Amir had a flashback to the ghostly image of Dex crammed into the booth across from him, his monstrous member about to unleash a pyroclastic flow of splooge right at his face. Chills went down his spine. 

As afternoon rolled around, he tried a different tack, remembering that Dex had a costume fitting today after his shift. It’s been a busy day, of course he hasn’t texted back, he assured himself.

[Amir: You have the fitting today, right? How are you feeling about opening night?]

Sent into the ether, a bubble of text hanging below the last unanswered attempt.

This can’t be the most interesting thing I have going on, Amir thought, glancing between the dozens of tabs of job ads, the tray of high fiber, high protein snack bars on the counter, and the dozing cat in the window. It was, in fact, the most interesting thing he had going on. Accordingly, he fell asleep in the mid afternoon sun.

Kenneth. Standing in the doorway in his crisp slacks and expensive sweater, petting Mr. Pibb with one hand and gesturing purposefully with the other, the furniture in the room rearranging instantaneously with every swish of his finger, giving a continuous stream of verbal directions that sounded carefully crafted, though I couldn’t decipher what he was saying. The doorframe began to shrink around him, but no it was the same size, his body was growing, expanding to fill the space, his butt inflating cartoonishly behind him until his cheeks pressed against the frame, his hips too wide to fit through, his shoulders approaching the top corners of the doorway as his head surpassed it, cracks forming around the frame and plaster starting to rain down, continuing to gesture casually as the furniture flew and pet Mr. Pibb, who, levitating at elbow height, turned to me with a sentient look in his eyes, a very human concern creasing the edges, saying “You have to remember this. You have to–” his speech became garbled, mixing in with Kenneth’s gibberish, covered by Kenneth’s massive, growing hand–

Amir jolted awake, confused panic releasing adrenaline into his bloodstream until he remembered I’m in Kenneth’s apartment, I’m here to take care of–he turned frantically to see the cat still dozing in the window perch, not levitating and speaking with a human voice, just opening his eyes briefly to give him a look of mild annoyance.

What the fuck was that? he thought. Should I write that down? His notepad was still upstairs, maybe he could do it later, Kenneth should be home soon. He really hoped this dream journal wasn’t some sort of homework assignment. He dreaded the idea of Technician Sapp reading through multiple weird, horny nightmares in a row to try and decode whatever was happening in his brain.

His phone vibrated from where it had become nestled between the couch cushions and his butt. His heart skipped a beat to see the upside down notification from Dex as it hung loosely in his sleep-dulled hand.

[Dex: Hey, sorry, dealing with kind of a weird health issue. Didn’t make it to the fitting.]

[Amir: Oh no! Feel better?]

Why was that a question, Amir scolded himself, making a mental note of the ����🏽 reaction that was quickly attached to his text. 

“One date and he’s driven to illness. Just me and you, Mr. Pibb.”

Mr. Pibb gave a mrow of negation, his ears turning toward the front door. A few seconds later, Amir heard the sound of key entering lock and deadbolt turning, followed by Kenneth and shoulder bag peaking in.

“Amir?” ventured Kenneth as he opened the door.

“Hey, Ken,” said Amir.

“Kenneth.”

“Hey, Kenneth,” his smile matching the ease of late afternoon and a cat sitting job well done. “Mr. Pibb is definitely still alive.”

“You’re my hero,” Kenneth smirked, taking a moment to lean back against the doorframe and catch his breath. “Sorry, I took the stairs getting up here, I needed the workout.”

“Ok stairmaster. I’ve been rotting on this couch and ya look great,” Amir offered.

Kenneth rolled his eyes in reluctant thanks, dropping his bag by the entryway and wiggling his shoulders in apparent discomfort. “It’s warm, are you warm?” He adjusted his pants unconsciously as he strolled over to his cat. “Maybe I’m a little overheated, huh, Mr. Pibb?” The cat was ambivalent.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, before turning back to Amir. “Also, please remember, you have to–”

Amir flashed back to the image of Kenneth filling the doorway, frame cracking, plaster falling, pants and sweater ripped to tatters around him as he grew–

“Amir?”

“Kenneth,” said Amir, snapping back to reality.

“Just…remember Mr. Pibb needs his fifteen minutes of stimulation while I’m gone. He can be very energetic.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that.”

“Also, you need to check the package table more often. This has been sitting downstairs for you.” He thrust an iridescent envelope towards Amir. “It’s from Phantasy Labs.”

“Oh, you know them? Super bougie lab in that weird forest?”

“If you mean this municipality’s primary employer and the ecologically delicate nature preserve, then yes.”

“Thanks dude,” Amir gingerly lifted the envelope out of Kenneth’s hand, gathering it up with his laptop and mug as he turned to leave. “Keep hittin’ those squats, bro. See ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see ya,” answered Kenneth, a look of mild confusion on his face as his hands settled self-consciously on his hips.

[hungryyheart]

on august 2nd 2024, after nearly ten months of writing, i completed the first draft of conrad's novel🦷

this is the most i have ever put onto digital paper for one piece since i started getting Serious™ about this hobby. needless to say its current state is shambolic... as it should be!! it's a no-frills skeleton, but all the right pieces are in all the right places. i can't begin to tell you how euphoric it feels to have all of the visions and images in my head -- some of which i've been carrying around for over a decade -- OUT of there. it's freed up so much room. i think i'll become an astronaut now!!

what more could you want from a first novel: not-vampire children murdering the dregs of society and sometimes each other, slow burn lesbianism, 20s-something protag who genuinely does not know what the fuck she's doing (and is really uncool), ghosts, time-sensitive missions, the 90s...

i'm not looking at this document again until next year lmao AT THE EARLIEST. another 10k (and hopefully not much more) will easily be added in rewrites.

honestly it hasn't sunk in yet that i've actually managed to do this. i've written a novel???

(also -- it's what has been keeping me away from writing conrad here, so i think i'll be returning to this blog shortly!!)

[bitingyoubitingyoubi]

Rambling Steddie banter and fluff :) first fanfic blurb I've ever posted djdjsjd.

"Eddie, somehow – !" Steve raises his eyebrows at the other, lowering this weeks copy of the Hawkins Post to rest on his chest. "– you're both incredibly high strung and incredibly mellow. And I can't figure out how those two match up."

Eddie looks up from his spot, squatting on the kitchen counter. "What?"

Steve tosses his paper to the side of the sofa and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I mean, man. In front of an audience – not even, like, a real audience, just anyone other than us – "

"Us?"

Steve tries to level a bitchy glare at his boyfriend, but the image of him perched on the counter, about to knock the mail on the floor, knocks it loose.

"Shut up. Us like – me. The Party. Hellfire. Corroded."

"Hey!" Eddie shoots up, knocking his head into an ajar cabinet. "Ow. Hey. Full name my band, please."

"Whatever. Okay. Corroded Coffin. Around us you're a . . . I don't know . . . a mouse on caffeine. I mean, how has your heart not gone out from – from the straight stress of always being at such a high speed."

"You think I'm a mouse?"

"I think you're hyper. Please, Jesus, let me finish my thought."

Eddie laughs warmly, mouth relaxing into a smile. Steve can't help but mirror him, but in what world would he resist smiling at his boyfriend? He watches fondly as Eddie lowers himself from his squat, clumsily falling on his ass on the fake-granite countertop before slinging his legs down to dangle.

"Okay. I'll listen. High strung mouse who's also cool, suave, and mysterious. Go on."

Steve laughs. Gets up from the sofa and wanders over to Eddie to stand between his dangling legs. With easy movements, he reaches over his boyfriend's head and eases the cupboard doors over him all the way closed. All the while, Eddie grins up at him – giddy.

"I never said cool, or suave, or mysterious."

"It's true though."

Steve's hands find Eddie's waist, thumb nudging under the hem of his shirt. "It's true," he concedes easily.

And Eddie's smile is so big, so warm, so solar, that Steve has to drop a haphazard kiss onto his face, narrowly missing his mouth.

"You're fast and fidgety and mouthy and witty and sharp. You yell, your reflexes are incredible, you flail through life like – like a propeller."

"A mouse and a propeller."

"Mmhmm." And Steve falls into his boyfriend when Eddie hooks his foot behind Steve's knee. "But you're also so very, unexplainably confident. Cool. Like you know how you're hot shit."

"Mouse, propeller, hot shit."

"Eddie."

"Stevie."

"I can't figure out how they work together. Because it's not like you're swinging wildly back and forth between the two all the time. Sometimes you do, I guess. But mostly they're just layered on top of each other. And you're scattered and collected and –

"And I really love it."

Eddie coos up at Steve, tilting his head up more, giving better access for Steve to spill kisses across his face some more.

"So you're not curious why this caffeinated mouse was on the counter?"

Steve pauses, nudging their noses together. "You were looking for something? I assume?"

"A couple hours ago Claudia gave me a plate of cookies and I ate half and put the other half on top of the cabinets so I'd forget about them and be excited when I found them later and it'd be a nice gift to future me."

"Oh I saw her right afterwards and she mentioned the cookies to me. I ate the rest of them."

"You what – !"

[immakuronaakuma]

Random thought, but I remembered a dream I had about Riddle actually being a trans icon, and then the rest of the dream was me and him eating McDonald’s pancakes and the pancakes turned him into a tiny dormouse. Out of boredom and because I was dicking around with the chat bots on the character ai website, I decided to write a drabble about Riddle being stuck as a little dorm mouse and my Yuu-sona (who I’m calling Shrimpy-kun) takes care of him, but then I got a bit too emotional bout it… well shit. This thing probably sucks, but it was living in my head rent free.

————————————————————————

The little Riddle mouse huffed angrily and burrowed under the blanket with embarrassment. If anyone were to know about this incident, the damage done to his image would be drastic, ESPECIALLY if any of his dorm members knew. How could they ever look at him the same way if they saw him not as their strict housewarden of perfect reputation, but a cute little mouse who could barely lift a fork!? He knew they’d never let him live it down, especially if Ace came in or if Cater posted a picture on Magicam.

“Riddle-senpai~ I brought back a tart~” That instantly made his ears shoot out of the blanket, catching the other boy’s attention. He felt himself being pulled out by a hand, and was met with the familiar bundle of fluffy blue hair that covered Shrimpy’s eyes.

He wasn’t thrilled on the idea of running to him for help, he rarely talked to anyone except Grim, his social skills were that of a wet paper bag, and he was usually seen either playing his favorite JRPG on his phone or drawing in one of the million sketchbooks he’d be seen with, if anything, Shrimpy seemed more like someone who’d easily break and reveal his secret to everyone. Luckily, he didn’t tell anyone, because he thought Riddle was an actual dormouse.

The way his eyes lit up when he spotted the mouse skittering was something he wouldn’t forget, Shrimpy practically ran at him, screaming “KAWAII!!!!” at the top of his lungs, and talking about how he looked just like a tiny, fuzzy Riddle. When he got his hands on him, he assumed it probably came from Heartslabyul judging by the odd fur color, and Riddle hoped that he could be safely transported back to his dorm, perhaps given back to Trey… but instead Shrimpy decided that he’d “look after” the little dormouse until he was well enough to go back.

Despite his angry squeaks (which Shrimpy only saw as cute), he was carried back to Ramshackle all while Shrimpy talked his ear off about his day and all the things he liked. He squirmed, he squeaked, he attempted to bite, and he was only ever really scolded.

“OW! No biting!” Shrimpy quickly pulled him off his finger and pulled out a small cleaning rag from his satchel full of art supplies, in a few seconds, Riddle was all wrapped up and reduced to an angry blanket burrito. “You’re just as irritable as Riddle-senpai!”

And so, he placed the wiggling mouse on his bed and decided on naming him “Riddle-senpai”. After a few minutes, Riddle got tired and Shrimpy decided it’d be best to release him now that he had “behaved” a little. Some skittering around the bed under Shrimpy’s supervision later, and Riddle quickly felt himself getting hungry. He tried to eat some fruits that Shrimpy gave him, but it was the quick glance out the window of Trey carrying some tarts back to Heartslabyul that caught his full hunger, and Shrimpy quickly caught on and ran out the door.

So here they were now, the drawer was cleaned off to make way for the tart slice and Shrimpy’s tiny friend.

“Riddle-senpai, there you were!” He put him down on the dresser, next to the strawberry tart. Riddle jumped onto the tart and tried to take a bite out of a strawberry. He slipped in and fell into the tart.

“Riddle!” Shrimpy grabbed a spoon and dug in to free Riddle. He managed to push his head back up, covered in pieces of tart, and climbed onto the spoon, coughing and trying to wipe off the mess. Shrimpy quickly wetted a rag and helped him in removing the messy pieces.

“Are you okay, senpai?” Riddle would’ve answered if he could still talk, but his response ended up coming out in the form of a small sneeze. A moment of silence fell…

“Awwwww, so KAWAIIIII! Riddle-senpai jr., you’re just as cute as normal Riddle-senpai!” If there was one thing Riddle could be thankful for in this new form, it was that his already red fur could cover up the blush that would’ve spread across his cheek at that point.

“Want me to give you a quick wash, senpai?” Shrimpy felt the fur around his body, noticing how sticky it got from the mess. Riddle quickly shook his head and ran back to what was left of the tart, stuffing his cheeks full.

Shrimpy went to remove his school uniform, stepping out in an oversized sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants and stockings. He collapsed back down on the bed, exhausted, it took a long day of having to keep Grim out of trouble with a bribe of four cans of higher quality (and more expensive) tuna, putting up with Ace and Deuce’s constant squabbling, and having to do odd jobs around Mostro Lounge and Sam’s shop to get back all the thaumarks he spent on the tuna, but now he could just rest with his new mouse friend, who had finished the rest of the tart in record time.

He cupped a hand around his tiny body and pulled him onto his chest, Riddle squeaked in surprise.

“This is probably the closest I’ll get to ever touching the real Riddle, huh?” The dormouse just looked up at him, this was the first time he heard Shrimpy refer to him as his regular name.

“I could never be able to have this with him… straight A’s, straight hair, makes it a point to be at the top of his game, always well-groomed, almost close to Malleus-san’s level, little Mr. Perfect…” He rubbed his finger against Riddle’s head, he could make out the black color of his eyes and the dark circles that blended in on his cinnamon colored skin, it was the first time he ever actually saw his eyes under all of his curls, they looked rather nice.

“He has big things just waiting for him, he pushes himself to achieve everything… I can’t be like that…. My future is nothing…” He gripped the blanket and pulled it over Riddle’s small body.

“Come on, you can hide inside, I’ve been working on not moving around too much while I sleep, and Grim might think you’re a midnight snack if he catches you.” Riddle stared for a moment, and when he looked back, Shrimpy had made himself comfortable, out like a light.

He peeked his head down the bed, noticing a drawing hidden underneath. He climbed down and peaked. He saw pictures of different drawings stuffed inside an old, near colorless backpack. They ranged from kindergarten scribbles to middle school comics and they ended off in High school. A few small pictures were littered within the backpack, showing a young girl, two boys, and a mom and dad.

The pictures escalated, showing them growing older… and the last one held Shrimpy in the background, the once little girl now gone from the picture, almost erased complete. He noticed a container of pills hidden away in the bag, and a binder. He stared once more at the drawings, a note catching his eye. He read it, it was an apology to someone, a mother, it almost looked like Shrimpy’s handwriting

Riddle skittered back out, staring up at Shrimpy. Silence passed, and then he finally decided to run back up the bed, situating himself on Shrimpy’s cheek. He rubbed his head against his eye bags, and Shrimpy slowly smiled. Riddle smiled, if this situation blew over, he wouldn’t mind inviting him over to have tea, just to talk.

———

A few hours later, the sun blinded Riddle’s eyes, and he groaned as he rubbed his eyes open. He looked down at his hand, opening and closing it for a few seconds, and he was instantly shot awake when he realized he was human again… and completely naked.

He nearly screamed, had it not been for the sleeping boy that snored against his chest, curly hair completely askew. He turned and saw Grim was also sleeping soundly at the foot of the bed. If he could just sneak his way back out… no, no, he was pretty far from Heartslabyul, someone would end up seeing him… but the sun was just coming up, not a lot of students were active during this time of the day, not a lot of people would be there… but maybe he could use a cloaking spell just in case… wait, his pen wasn’t there, IT GOT LEFT IN HIS OTHER CLOTHES-

He froze up, feeling Shrimpy turn and pull him closer, shifting Grim around, his face turned bright red as he felt his face rubbing up against his chest.

“Mmmmngh, minion, could you stop moving around like that…? You’re gonna kick me off the be-“ His eyes were wide seeing Riddle laying right there, completely shirtless.

“… Listen, I don’t know how you got in here or why you’re naked, but I’m trying to decide between laughing at how ridiculous you look or frying you to bits for intruding…” Grim looked like he was trying to hold back his snickering.

“Don’t you even dare! I WILL collar you.” Riddle felt a little pleased seeing Grim’s frightened expression, instantly shutting up.

“Riddle-senpai… you’re so warm…” Shrimpy’s eyes cracked open and he hissed softly, instinctively burying his face into the closet object he could find.

“The light… the LIGHT… it BURNS!” He wailed dramatically. His eyes opened, realizing he didn’t remember ever having another person in his dorm room. He looked up, and saw Riddle’s rose red face.

“RIDDLE-SENPAI!” He shot back, falling off the bed and hitting the floor, the wind knocked out of him.

“Shrimpy!” Riddle grabbed onto the blanket and pulled it over himself, looking over at his fallen over caretaker. Riddle helped him back onto the bed, noticing him trying to keep his sweatshirt down at all times. They just stared at each other.

“You were the mouse, weren’t you?” He stuttered at Shrimpy’s blatant question, failing to come up with an answer.

“Did a witch curse you? Could you just do that the whole time and nobody knew? Are you a warlock who also has some kinda secret house that moves a lot on its own?” Riddle’s soul felt as though it was leaving his body at his constant questioning and staring.

“No…? I was trying to perform a transfiguration spell, and I slipped up in pronouncing it.” Shrimpy looked kinda disappointed at his simple answer.

“Oh… sorry, Riddle, I wasn’t really thinking all too much about it being you, I just thought that was my head being back up in the cloud’s again…” Shrimpy gripped his sweatshirt and looked down at his hands. He flinched feeling Riddle’s hands holding his.

“It’s okay, I suppose there’s a way for you to make it up to me.” He was put off by how calmly Riddle seemed to be taking the whole thing.

“There is…?” Shrimpy knew Riddle wasn’t all too gentle when it came to punishing those who he felt did something wrong, be it not following the rules, attempting to pick a fight with him, and… probably situations like this where someone thinks you’re cute enough to kidnap… whoops.

“In fact, you could make up for your transgressions by maybe asking one of my card soldiers for my spare uniform and joining me after school for tea?” It was Shrimpy’s turn to go completely red in the face.

“H-HUH?!” He stared at him, mouth gaping wide.

“After school, meet me at Heartslabyul’s entrance and we’ll have tea in the rose garden. Or I could have you write and read out a ten page essay on why it’s wrong to kidnap a housewarden, especially in a time of serious crisis.” Riddle’s little smirk left Shrimpy speechless.

“I think I-I’d rather take t-the tea party option.” He nervously smiled, Riddle chuckled at his little shaky smile.

“You better hurry then. I can’t prepare the party like this.” He smiled.

“O-OH, YEAH-“ Shrimpy ran quickly out of the room. ‘Riddle-senpai wants to hang out with me… Riddle-senpai wants to have a party just with ME! It’s like that one anime with the girl who goes to the fancy lady school and falls in love with some mean girl’s cousin but without the mean girl who also has an undertone of incestous behavior.’

Did Riddle like watching ‘Mahou Meow Meow’? Did he wanna see some drawings? Would he want a drawing? Does he play ‘Topsy-Turvey Wonderworld’? He almost tripped over himself and bumped into a few students, but he didn’t care anymore, this was gonna be the best day of his life, as soon as he got someone from Heartslabyul to give him Riddle’s spare clothes.

[mrfunnyinthebank]

first draft of something that i'm not sure what kind of medium i want to work with

my process described under read more

there's likely a few more direct ways that i could go about this but the way that i actually am doing it is kind of convoluted in a way that i find interesting

first i had to take 2 pictures of myself: one with my phone in my left hand and another with my phone in my right hand. the hand not holding the phone is giving the finger

well there was one step before that - the shirt isn't actually cropped so i had to roll it up before taking the pictures

then i emailed the photos to myself to move them from my phone to my desktop

then i put both pictures onto a MS Paint 3D canvas. i messed around with it and eventually combined them to make a picture where there is no phone and both hands are up. i printed this out

cut out the picture, cut a rectangle of carbon paper, tape the carbon paper and picture to a page in my art book to trace and transfer the image to the paper

this was mostly straightforward, except for a few details being too small/thin for the tool that came with the carbon paper. i used this tool for most of it

for the smaller details - the lettering on the shirt and some of the body/facial hair - i used a head pin from my jewelry supplies. this was very difficult, not only because of how small the head of the pin is but also because of how easily it bends

i'd like to make this into a lino print, but the fine lines would be very troublesome for that. i might instead use this tracing and the edited picture as reference images and do a pen or colored pencil drawing. if i print out a larger version of the picture (that's reflected over the y axis) i might be able to do it as a lino print

i'll probably have to take an additional reference picture so i can see the shirt with no wrinkles obscuring the text of the shirt

[freya-development]

Stop-Motion Animation

For our fourth assignment of the semester, we were tasked with making a stop-motion puppet from scratch and then animating it into a walk cycle.

I started out with some concept work in my sketchbook. I knew that I wanted my model to have large feet as we'd discussed in class how stop-motion models need to be able to balance and I didn't want mine to be top-heavy. My solution to this was to base it off of an animal with large feet, and the first that came to mind was an elephant, so I started drawing the idea after some initial doodles of other possibilities such as a two-headed witch (which I decided against due to the proportions of the body). I quickly decided that I was very happy with it and proceeded to move forward with the design, drawing out the plan for the wire frame to scale.

I then set out to make the armature for the model, basing the measurements off of the drawing I'd done for reference. To make the wire frame sturdier, we were shown how to use a drill to twist two pieces of wire together so that they would hold more easily. I used wire cutters to cut the wire to the length that I wanted and then started twisting them together to form the frame. Once I was happy with this, I used tape to hold it together while mixing milliput together, which I then used to solidify some of the places where separate pieces joined, such as the hips. I also used this to fashion the feet, as we needed to put slots in for bolts that would help secure the model to a specific table when filming a walk cycle. I then left it to dry.

After the milliput had properly hardened, I started making the overall shape of the model using sponge that I cut to shape with scissors. I also used hot glue to help secure pieces into place. One adjustment I had to make was to the feet - while in the original drawing they were essentially a flat stump at the end as part of the leg, the way I made the armature meant that this would be far more difficult to line up properly and risked causing problems with the legs bending, so I modified it slightly to have more typically shaped feet.

With the shape down, I then started to paper mache over the model so that it would be easier to paint. I did this by painting a water and glue mixture onto the newspaper, which allowed it to stick together and form a solid, smoother surface. It struggled to stick to the sponge, however, which is something I'd keep in mind were I to do this project again. The newspaper indeed served its purpose and made the model far easier to paint. I started by painting a layer of white paint to block out the newspaper print, then covered the several parts in grey paint meant to imitate an elephant. I also sponged on some lighter and darker patches just for some variation in skin tone. I also painted some white toenails onto the feet and some eyes onto the head.

The last parts of the model were the clothes and the ears. The ears were simple as I cut out some card and painted it, then hot glued them onto the head of the model. The clothes were far more difficult. To make them, I took one of my dad's old t-shirts that he no longer wore and cut pieces out in order to make pieces for a shirt and trousers, which I then stitched together to the best of my ability. I also realised I hadn't made any hands and wasn't sure how to so I covered the ends of the arms with gloves, which were bits of fabric tied on with string. The headband in the original design was scrappped because I tried and failed to make it work, as was the more complex version of the outfit as I have little to no textiles experience and therefore reframed it to be something more realistically attainable.

With the model made, the last thing to do was make a walk cycle. I used reference images of people walking online to get a general idea of how I wanted it to look before doing so, using Dragonframe to get the images for the video.

Were I to do this again, I would definitely try to include more personality into the walk, potentially making a 2D animation as reference beforehand. I would also try to remake the clothes sp that they look more robust and potentially more complex as well.