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streamafterlaughter · 3 months ago

Text

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XXVI: So Soft, You Make Me Hard

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summary: it finally starts to feel like a vacation

tags: SMUT minors DO NOT INTERACT! unprotected p in v, vulgar language, adult content, slight angst, mostly fluff, weed and cigarette usage.

a/n: hey........ remember this one? lol. hope y'all still have a little interest bc it's ALMOST OVER! just a few more chapters to go of the Fundamental Differing universe, such as bittersweet feeling. Hope you enjoy!

taglist (closed): @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @lilpotatobean2 @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc

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-- Your POV

It had barely taken a week for the tabloids to run the story: Rockstars can be Softies Too! Corroded Coffin frontman spotted snuggling up to Death Dance Approximately vocalist. Sources close to the star say they’ve been close since the beginning of their joint tour.

You snort as you toss the Newsweek paper on your kitchen table for Eddie to see. The picture, of course, was staged by you and Eddie: Him in Ozzy-esque sunglasses, hair tied back, in regular clothing wrapped around you, an iced coffee in his free hand. You’re in jeans and Corroded Coffin t-shirt, snuggled into Eddie’s embrace as you sip on your own drink, a toothy smile on your face. You’d called Ralphie, a paparazzo in Boston that you’d grown close to, to break the story. He was more than happy to do it, knowing these photos would likely pay his rent for the foreseeable future.

“Think they’ll buy it?” Eddie muses, sipping his coffee.

“What’s to buy? It’s true. Maybe a bit exaggerated, but that’s just Hollywood.” You shrug, flipping the pancake on the griddle. “Chocolate chips?”

Eddie nods, rising from his seat to wrap his arms around your waist. “I need this tour to be over. I prefer waking up in a stationary bed.”

“Mmm,” You make a sound of agreement, resting your head on his as comfortably as you can without leaving the stove. “Only a couple more weeks and we’re home free.”

“Where is home, exactly?”

You don’t miss a beat. “Wherever, as long as it’s with you.”

He snorts. “Such a sap.”

“Huh, wonder who made me this way.” You giggle, poking his cheek. “You think we can put this whole thing to bed now?” You study the magazine article, rolling your eyes at their word choice: scruffy, angsty, disheveled.

“Maybe, but there’s something else I wanna put to bed instead.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. Pretending not to squirm at his flirting, you rise from your seat at the table, clearing his empty plate and your own.

“Though I am absolutely picking up what you’re putting down, I have shit to do today.”

He pouts, batting his big, brown eyes at you. “What could possibly be more important?”

–

“This fuckin’ sucks.” Eddie kicks the gravel from the sidewalk outside the mechanic. “I didn’t even know you still had a car.”

You shrug. “I like to keep my life outside of being a rockstar pretty normal. Unfortunately that includes taking my dad’s car in for routine maintenance.”

“I coulda taken a look for him, yknow?”

“Psh, right. Ask the rockstar to change the oil in my dad’s camaro.” “My life is not too glamorous to do my favorite person a favor.” There’s no humor in his tone, he genuinely wouldn’t mind getting his hands dirty for you.

“While I appreciate that, my dad would never let anyone besides Theo and himself touch that thing. You know how many times I begged him to let me take it out?”

Eddie snorts. “I remember. And the one time he finally let you, it came back with the tiniest scratch and he’d grounded you for a month.”

“Theo was the one to fix it, and the one to talk him out of a harsher punishment.”

“And despite already being eighteen, you didn’t go out at all that entire month.”

You frown, because he’s right. “God, I’m such a fake punk!”

“Yeah. Total poser.” He shoves your shoulder playfully.

“Well, she’s all set, kid.” Theo strolls up to where you and Eddie are talking, wiping his hands on a stained rag.

“Thanks, Theo.” You fork a handful of cash in his direction.

“No biggie. Anything for the biggest Boston rockstah I know. And I know a few, ya know, Steven Tyla…” He definitely doesn’t know Steven Tyler, but you’d seen him at a couple parties.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Before ya go, though. Would yas mind signin’ somethin’ for my kids? They’a huge fans. Daughta can’t get enough o’ya.”

“‘Course, sir!” Eddie beams at the recognition, and your heart skips. He really is still living a dream. You nod in agreement, and Theo pulls out a receipt book that he hands you, along with the pen behind his ear. You sign the top corner,

Thanks for listening, hope to see ya at the gig! and scribble your signature before passing it to Eddie. You peek over his shoulder and watch him scribble,

Keep rock n roll alive! and his big, blocky EDDIE. “How old are your kids?” Eddie looks up, meeting Theo’s eyes.

“Eighteen and twenty.”

“Do they wanna come see us? We have a show here in about a month.”

“Seriously?” Theo’s eyes light up, and you can't help but be awed by Eddie’s gesture.

“You can too, if you want! I dunno if you listen to that type of music, but…”

“You can't tell my kids, but I'm actually a really big fan of both you guys’ stuff.” He lights up as he says it, and it makes you teary. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to this part, the effect you can have on other, real people.

“Your secret’s safe with us, man.” Eddie offers out his hand, which Theo shakes enthusiastically. “We’ll see ya!”

—

Eddie’s POV

“That was a really nice thing to offer.” You nudge him, approaching the door to your parents’ house.

Eddie shrugs off his vest and lays it over the arm of your couch. “Least I could do. We should probably let Steve know to add three to the guest list. You get his kids’ names?”

“Shit. No, but I can ask my dad.”

He nods, still standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room. “Well, uh. What else did you need to do today?” He can’t see what else needs to be done. You’d gone grocery shopping yesterday, and your parents’ place is pretty set for the week. He remembers trailing behind you: dressed in sinfully short shorts and white tank top while he managed to sweat in the freezer section, even if only in a tank top himself.

The house is clean— with the help of your parents, but mostly because you’ve been anxiously cleaning since this morning. He had tried to help, but ultimately had to excuse himself when you bent over the kitchen counter to wipe it down.

He wants to touch you. It’s driving him fucking crazy, he hasn’t been able to. He’s starting to feel like maybe you’re avoiding him, though you’ve given no indication that you’re not interested in having sex with him again. His brain is just telling him that. He hopes.

Even right now, in a sundress and sneakers, he wishes he could bring himself to take you to the alley behind the mechanic’s. But neither of you have made a move. Eddie’s not even sure he’s entitled to. Everything has been on your terms, and he hasn’t had a problem with it. He owes you that, right?

You glance at your watch and shrug. “Dad’s doing an overnight, and my mom’s away on some business trip as of this morning.”

“Are you implying what I think you are?” He focuses on the wall behind you to keep his pants from tightening.

“Horror movie marathon? Like old times?” If it weren’t for the hope in your voice, he’d accuse you of being cruel.

So he meets your eyes again and stretches his smile as wide as it’ll go. “Of course, sweetheart.”

—

You’re trying to kill him. You must be trying to fucking kill him.

“Whipped cream?” You offer out the can with a mouthful, a bit of cream landing on his cheek. Fighting the urge to use your outstretched arm to pull you into him, Eddie opens his mouth without breaking eye contact. Two can play this fuckin’ game, he thinks. Unfortunately the giggle that slips through your lips makes his knees wobble.

“So, I have plenty of movies to choose from. Never brought ‘em when I moved out, guess they kept them all safe for me.” You glide over to the crates of tapes next to your television, neatly organized with their titles facing outward. “You in the mood for something really scary first, or something more along the lines of a horror-comedy?”

He’s in the mood for you, truthfully. The short cotton shorts and camisole you’re wearing aren’t helping that, either. “Ed?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, either one’s fine.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, and through his flushing cheeks he manages to smile back. Through gritted teeth, albeit.

“You’re being weird.”

“Am not. What about Possession?” An attempt to dodge the subject.

You seem to let the subject slide, plucking the tape from its case. “Possession it is.”

The TV yawns to life, and you place the tape into the player, making sure it's been rewound before pressing play.

“You gonna sit with me, or are you gonna keep being weird?” He rolls his eyes, collapsing on the opposite side of where you are. “Got it.”

Half of the movie is spent like that, Eddie resisting the nagging voice in the back of his head, begging him to tug you by your ankle onto his lap. You seem blissfully unaware of his internal crisis, munching on microwave popcorn as the TV illuminates the frightened expression on your pretty face. You retreat under the blanket when the scene before you gets to be too much, and for some reason it springs Eddie into action. He crawls from his side of the couch slowly, doing his best not to spook you, and curls his body into your blanket covered form.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Protecting you from the scary movie.”

“My knight in shining armor.” Your body shakes with laughter, and he joins you. When you stop, you start flailing under the blanket, causing Eddie to release you so you can shove the cloth off your head. You inhale the fresh air deeply before once again descending into a fit of giggles.

“I think we’re safe now.” Eddie looks around dramatically, curly flying on either side of his face.

“Thanks for rescuing me.” You crane your neck up to reach his cheek, placing a tender kiss against his hot skin. “However shall I repay such a noble act?”

Eddie groans under the heat of your breath against his cheek. “You’re killin’ me, doll.”

“Oh?”

“Gonna make me bust in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager.”

–

Your POV

His words propel you into action, quickly moving to straddle his lap, clad only in a pair of gray sweatpants. You can feel his length underneath you, twitching when you make the gentlest of contact. “And here I thought you didn’t wanna fuck me.”

“What?” Eddie halts the beginning of your movement, grasping your hips to keep you in place. “What god awful crime could I have committed in the last week to make you think such a terrible thing?” He looks at you with a pout, his eyes dark with want, or maybe hurt.

“It’s what you didn’t do, actually. I was walkin’ around the house in my underwear, Ed! And don’t even get me started on the shorts I wore to the grocery store.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” His breath is labored, like he’s just run a marathon. You grind your hips forward experimentally, and he whimpers in response. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Jus’ wasn’t sure it was the ri- fuck– right time, y’know?” Your grinding has become more consistent, still slow as the clothed tip of his cock prods teasingly against your throbbing clit.

“Mmm, such a gentleman all of a sudden?” You tease, making sure each word is barely audible, said so closely that each of your breaths tickles the fine hairs of his ear canal. “Where’s the spoiled rockstar that takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants, hm?” You’re being mean, but Eddie squirming and panting underneath you spurs you on. “You just gonna let me tease you like that while you mope because you can't touch me? Because it would be, what? Wrong? You’ve never cared about that shit before.”

“Didn’t wanna ruin anything, didn’t want you gettin’ the idea that I–” He stops short.

“Finish your sentence.” It’s a command. You don’t usually take the dominant role over Eddie in these situations, but you don’t hate the way it’s making you feel.

“Didn’t want you thinkin’ I oh- only wanted sex..” His voice is raspy with want, with need, for you, and you’ve never been good at denying him of it.

“But you do, right? You want sex?”

“I want your trust first.” His eyes bore into you as he says it.

“Eddie,” You sigh, breaking character to caress his sweaty, flushed face. “You have my trust.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I would’ve kicked you out by now if you didn’t.” Eddie throws his head back to laugh, but it comes out strangled when you grind down on his lap again. “So, now that that’s out of the way…” Before you can finish the thought, Eddie lurches forward, one hand to the back of your neck as the other wraps around your waist, bringing your body closer to his as your lips meet. Your tongue slips sweetly into his waiting mouth, coaxing a groan from his throat that you feel between your legs.

The movie playing behind you is long forgotten, now white noise as Eddie slips the strap of your tank top down your arm, calloused fingers gliding over your soft skin. Despite your earlier candidness, he’s being slow. Gentle. Almost cautious. In a way, it feels like revenge for the way you’d been teasing him, and you can’t help but relish the way it works you up.

Eddie finally breaks your kiss, giving you time to breathe while he sloppily mouths your throat, eagerly adding teeth when you roll your hips forward again. His hands have a mind of their own, tugging at the fabric of your tank top until it's bunched at your waist, exposing your chest to the warmth of Eddie’s hot, panting breaths. At this point you’re practically riding his lap, begging for friction as he takes his time with you, like he’s memorizing every inch.

“Ed, please,” Your voice is strained, broken and shameless.

“What do you need, baby?” He coos, sending you into a tizzy.

“Need you to touch me.”

“I am touchin’ you, sweetheart.” He runs his finger down your arm with a feather light touch, barely registering over the way your entire body is vibrating.

“You know what I mean.” You’re pouting, getting desperate. “Thought you wanted to.”

“Hey,” His eyes darken as he stills the rocking of your hips with firm hands. “I want to. But what’s the rush, huh? We’ve got so much time now. All night, even.” His voice holds an air of mischief, and you’re putty in his hands.

“You gonna tease me like this all night? You don’t have the willpower.” You wriggle in his grasp for emphasis, and he muffles his groan with gritted teeth. You cross your arms over your bare chest, huffing smugly. “At least take your shirt off?”

–

Eddie’s POV

He can’t resist the way you ask, pleading with him to give you something. Eagerly he complies, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it lacklusterly aside somewhere in your living room. “Get that later.” He laughs breathily, and you lunge at him. Before he can adjust to your weight, your teeth have sunken into his neck, contrasting with the plush of your lips placing wet kisses along the column of his throat. Your tongue soothes over the sore marks your teeth have left indented in his skin, branding him as yours. He finds himself excited for the next time he’ll go out in public, wearing the hickies you’ve given him like designer accessories.

“You wanna go upstairs?” You mumble the question between placing chaste kisses on his shoulder.

“I dunno, I’m kinda set on the idea of you riding me on the couch.”

“Eddie, this is my parents’ house.”

“I’ll buy them a new couch.” Before you can argue, he pulls you forward by the neck, his lips slotting into your like puzzle pieces. You seem to give in, letting him win the argument. He can get a couch here by tomorrow if he has to.

–

Your POV

You readjust, sliding the tank top and your shorts quickly from your body, tossing them over the arm of the sofa before claiming your former position, this time with less layers between your throbbing clit and the tip of his leaking cock.

Before you can work him up too much more, Eddie’s hands are sliding down your form, stopping to lightly twist and pinch at your nipples, chuckling at the way you whine and mewl for him. Replacing one hand with his mouth, Eddie then slips his free fingers to the waistband of your panties, snapping them once and causing you to jump before dipping lower to gather your slick before rubbing agonizing circles on your clit.

“Jesus, angel, you’re fuckin’ soaked.” His pupils are blown as you’re sure your own are, looking at you with a lovely mixture of lust and love.

“What can I say, you do it f’me.” You aren’t trying to be sexy, it’s the truth. Eddie doesn’t have to do much to turn you on.

“Feeling’s mutual, doll. Gettin’ me all hot ‘n bothered.” His breath is labored as he speaks, and you can feel his heart racing as you press yourself further into his chest. “Need to be inside you, love. Don’t think I can take much more teasing.” You can’t resist his desperation. You move quickly, letting him shove his sweatpants, now with a damp spot staining the crotch, and his boxers to the ground. His cock springs free from the confines and slaps against his stomach, precum dampening the coarse hair of his happy trail. You lick your lips absentmindedly, and before you can drop to your knees in front of him, Eddie grabs your wrist, pulling you back into his lap.

“Wait, Ed I’m still– oh, f-fuck.” Eddie drags the tip of his dick against the damp cloth of your panties, causing a sensation that ripples through your core.

“You gonna say somethin’?” He’s taken control, stroking himself against your hole, fabric doing nothing to cease the waves of pleasure crashing through you. “Use your words, baby.” He’s chiding, condescending as you can only whine in response, the heat between your legs seemingly cutting off the communication between your brain and your tongue. “Tell me what you want, can’t read your mind.”

“Need you to fuck me, baby, please.” The words fall out without decorum, desperate and high pitched like you’re being tortured.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Such a good job.” Relief floods your senses when he pulls your panties to the side, sliding himself easily into your drenched hole. You both moan at the feeling, your walls clenching around his thick cock, his grip a vice on either side of you, not yet ready to let you move. You can only shake your head, too cock drunk to form a coherent sentence. Usually, he’d scold you for not speaking, make it harder for you to get off, but you can tell he’s just as desperate to fuck you, possibly even more than you are. “Need you to move.” He tries to keep his voice even, but you can hear it’s close to breaking, begging. You obey, rocking your hips, rolling forward, each movement accompanied by his own, the head of his dick pressing against the sweet spot inside you each time.

“Feels so good, darlin’, takin’ me s- so well.” He knows you value his praise, regardless of how difficult it is to give it between labored breaths.

“Missed you, Ed.” You sigh the words, brain too fuzzy to muster up the strength to properly speak to him.

“I missed you, baby.” Eddie’s head falls into the crook of your neck, kissing the marks he’d previously left on your throat while you continue to ride him. “Not gonna last much longer. Need you to cum for me. Please, I need you to cum.” His fingers find your clit without struggle, like he’s memorized the map of your body. He makes tight, quick circles on your clit as he continues thrusting inside of you, and your walls clench more tightly around him as you feel your orgasm climbing. Finally, as Eddie has pulled your face into his, crashing your lips together as his hand and hips stay moving, you fall apart on top of him, legs shaking on either side of his lap as he watches you ride it out, mesmerized by the look of you; sweaty, panting, bouncing on top of him. You’re still shuddering when Eddie lets go, head buried in your neck as his thrusts lose rhythm and grow eager, no longer worried about getting you off. His noises are guttural, coming from the deep recesses of his body. He spills his load inside you, his cum painting your walls as he mutters sweet nothings: “Fuck, shit, you’re perfect, missed this pussy so much, like it’s made for me, ‘s all mine, mine, mine…”

When he’s emptied himself, body heaving with each breath, Eddie lifts you off of his lap, both of you wincing as he slowly pulls out. “Shit!” You fall into a fit of giggles as your bare butt falls onto the couch next to him, suddenly shy about being naked in front of him. He joins you, cackling as you wipe the sweat from your brow with an exaggerated “Phew!”

“Why weren’t we doin’ that all week?” He says through laughter, and you shrug.

“Probably because other people live here?”

“Ugh, what a bummer.” He reaches over to the cigarette pack on the side table. “You wanna smoke?”

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d0d0-b0i · 1 month ago

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"Okay, so… I've been tryin' to call because I've written this song and it's releasin' soon. Don't freak out, but… It's about you… And that night. Jamie, whenever I try to talk to you about it, you just… Shut down."

#valorant #phoenix valorant #mary adeyemi #jamie adeyemi #my art #ok so this kinda looks like dog but i wanted to get it out b4 the valorant cinematic drops and wrecks this idea #anyway yippie new song new cinematic new lore!!! pride month delivering already #i hope the idea comes across i feel like i used too much yellow

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puffpawstries · 8 months ago

Note

how does honno feel about the riceballs?

Honno doesn't really have a bad opinion on the Riceballs! Though they don't get to see the Riceballs all that much really with not going out of their apartment all that much and the Riceballs are busy doing pratice skits so its pretty rare for her to run into them! or for those three to run into each other! BUT IF THEY DID...

Honno would actually listen when the two do their comedy bits cause Honno does thinks their jokes are funny in a interesting kind of way? Like Honno taste in humor is very unique broken and some jokes just don't land for them but somehow Honno still gets a laugh out of it Honno just try's to be nice and supportive about their jokes! or wanting to make people laugh and wanting to be comedians! Honno also gets reminded of cats when seeing the riceballs!

One moment where Ichimatsu and Honno bump into the two the Riceballs see Honno likes cats as well and would try asking if they would like help but Ichimatsu turn the offer down.

The only thing that they think is strange about the Riceballs is the vapping?/smoking? Super confused on how can and if they even have lungs cause last time Honno knew robots didn't have lungs but they shouldn't be to surprised with the town she lives in....

They want to know so bad...

#smoredraws #asks #osmt #osomatsu san #osomatsu san oc #honno lore #oc honno #hanichi #riceballs #ichimatsu #osomatsu #so sorry for the wait on this ask...oughh #next ask will be about hanichi first meeting yippie

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sodapopcurtis-dx-asks · 2 months ago

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Police sirens.

There was red and blue flashing against the white of the house, the Curtis brothers all stood outside on the grass, holding onto each other as the police asked questions and checked inside the home.

Just a few moments before, Soda had done a full turn-around and grabbed the things he left at the DX meant for Ponyboy. That poor kitten, nearly abandoned and howling just as loud as Ponyboy was on the phone earlier.

Soda wasn't no snitch, of course he didn't tell the fuzz what had happened to his brother. Ponyboy was sick. That's all they needed to worry about. He really wanted to though. God, if only.

Ponyboy's poor hair. Rebleached, and a mess. Darry and Soda had both looked him over a number of times. The kid was in ruins, looking just as bad at the day he came home from that damn church.

It was a different kind of bad. The type where you could tell he didn't lose someone else, but he lost himself. It tore Soda's heart to shreds seeing him like that all over again.

There wasn't a scratch on him. Not physically, at least. But Soda was being driven crazy over the fact Ponyboy probably just had another traumatic 9 hours added onto his life's story and Soda wasn't even there to do anything.

He should've left work earlier.

The cops finished up around the place, leaving the brothers to clean themselves up. Nothing from the house had been taken. Nothing had been moved. There was minimal signs of someone tampering with the window. A spilled drink on the floor—only water, thankfully.

“We're gonna get you inside and fix you right up, okay Ponyboy?” Darry was holding Ponyboy up, clutching him under his arm like a mother bird using a wing to protect her baby.

Ponyboy was still crying and crying, you would think he'd run out of tears by now. He just blubbered out a real tiny "okay."

Soda had been sobbing too. He hadn't even realized until he felt the tears drop onto his clenched fists.

He didn't notice the pain coming from his fingers digging into his palm either until then. “Christ...” He swore under his breath.

For once, Soda felt stuck. He couldn't run away, he couldn't do anything. He had been talking about running away all day, and this seemed like the one time he couldn't.

He should've punched Mark Jennings. He should've talked to Steve. He should've called Ace and Elisabeth.

But he didn't. He felt so stuck because he was right in the middle of the chaos. Like a wreckless dog in a cage. Snipping one second, whining the next. Begging for some kind of attention.

Soda came back to when he felt the pain in his hands again. He had punched a hole into the wall of the bathroom. He stared hard at his hands.

Darry was yelling something at him, the ringing in his ears making it hard to process anything. He just looked at him.

He felt the tears falling down his cheeks again. Seemed like all he could feel tonight was his own tears and blood.

“Darry...” Soda whispered, his voice warbling as he turned to him. He nearly broke his fucking hand. Both of them, apparently.

“Glory, Soda.” Darry whispered back, grabbing his brother's hands and staring at the blood on his knuckles. Bruises already blooming colors, looking like some kind of sea-sick sunset on the back of his hands.

...How many times had he punched the wall?

In a blink, night time had already passed. He could hardly focus when he was angry, and it left him in a new place again.

Ponyboy was sent to their shared room just a couple hours earlier, he was "off duty" for the rest of the week, Darry named it.

Off duty was just a funny phrase for "being called out sick".

The kitten had made it's way to Ponyboy some way, Soda didn't have any memory of giving it to him. But it was on the bed with both of them.

Soda was hardly able to sleep. He blamed it on the cat, knowing fully well it wasn't. The cat was actually making him more tired, ironically enough.

He had too much stuff on his mind. It was going to drive him crazy trying to sleep after the day he's had. He couldn't be surprised, but he wasn't exactly happy about it either.

“Soda?” Ponyboy interrupted his thoughts with a soft voice, leaning in close to Soda so he could talk easier.

Soda hummed a response, his eyebrows flinching up before relaxing again to let Ponyboy know he was listening. “Yeah, Pone?”

It was real quiet again for a moment, before Ponyboy's voice cracked with an “Are you mad at me?”

He hiccuped, Ponyboy was crying again.

Soda opened his eyes and turned to him. “No. Not one bit, Ponyboy.” He put a hand on Pony's cheek, bumping foreheads with him very delicately. He knew Ponyboy was nauseous, he didn't wanna clunk heads with him and make it worse. “Not at all.”

Ponyboy sniffled. He was still out of it, Soda could see it on his face. God, the poor thing.

“...Is Steve mad at you?” It felt inappropriate to ask, but Ponyboy had better things to worry about than making his brother feel awkward.

Soda stared, head still pressed against Pony's. He kind of shrugged, not really knowing how to reply. “I don't think so.”

“Oh... well. I'm mad at Steve.” Ponyboy nodded, before moving away from being under Soda's hand.

Soda dropped his hand in between their faces, letting it sit there idly. “Oh yeah? Why's that?” He smiled a bit.

Ponyboy rubbed his eyes, immediately regretting the motion and pulling away his own hands from his face with a grimace.

“...Because he's stupid.” He was holding his fists out awkwardly, stretching his fingers and then clasping them again. The feeling of... everything. It was weird to Ponyboy whilst he was high.

Soda giggled. “What? Stevie's real smart. Smarter than me.” He was eyeing Ponyboy's motions, frowning slightly as he recognized the discomfort.

Ponyboy mumbled, sighing. “...Well, maybe in some areas.”

“Oh, c'mon– you ain't supposed to agree with me.” Soda laughed, shoving Ponyboy lightly, before immediately apologizing.

Ponyboy groaned and readjusted again, holding his breath for a second to reduce nausea before he exhaled again. He mumbled something to Soda, his voice was so quiet though, even Soda couldn't hear half of what he said.

Soda just nodded, humming. “I can't stop him from doing whatever he wants. It's not like we're– y'know.”

Ponyboy shook his head. “I know, but...” He placed his hand on the kitten, who had crawled it's way around them both and behind Ponyboy. “I think he kind of wants you to.” He put the kitten between them.

Soda just stared at the kitten, ignoring Ponyboy's eye contact. “...Yeah, I figured.” He sighs. He knew. He just didn't want to admit it himself.

Ponyboy had fallen asleep hours before Soda even got a wink in. Four in the morning, he still had to be up in two hours. His brain was still working up a storm. It was pissing him off at this point.

He did not want to go to work today.

Darry wasn't as merciful to Soda as he was to Ponyboy, unfortunately.

Soda was old enough to make decisions on his own, Darry agreed with that plenty. But he still had to boss Soda around for doing dumb stuff. Even for letting his mind chase itself all night... as if he didn't do the same damn thing.

Darry wrapped up Soda's hands at the kitchen table, tying the bandages around nice and tight before tearing and placing a piece of tape down on the loose end. “Don't go trying to punch nothin' else, you hear me?”

Soda scoffed. “I'm hearin'.” He fidgeted with the bandages, before stopping himself to stare up at Darry.

Darry stared back and smiled. “You gonna be okay today? Or uh, y'gonna be... "tired" again?”

Soda shook his head. “As much as I would love to not be "tired", Darry, I am not in the mood to be...” Soda motioned something awkward, rolling his shoulders and bobbling his head. Myself.

Darry rolled his eyes, he wasn't hearing any of it. “Well. Then, if you can't be—” He pulled the same motion, yourself, “—at least go easy on yourself. Don't tire yourself out more.” He teased, before pulling Soda up out of the chair.

“And, I'll... help keep an eye out for Steve for you, alright? I'll be staying around a little later to help Pony, leavin' around noon. Two-Bit can take over babysittin' by then, if he ain't too drunk that is.”

Soda just nodded, smiling at the nudge at Two-Bit. “Alright...” He stared at the bandages on his hands again as he began to walk around, grabbing up his things.

Soda and Darry both left, Darry dropping off Soda, leaving Soda without a vehicle today. He was alright with it. For now, at least.

Only working on an hour of sleep, if less. This'll be an experience. At least now he didn't have to lie about being sleepy.

Ding ding!

Soda picked up a note left by one of his coworkers, a small complaint about how he left suddenly. Nothing serious. They picked up for him, thank God.

He got himself to work immediately, dragging out some supply boxes and restocking some things. He did some extra work here and there, just to make up for his missed hours.

And then he sat his ass down on that stool. Ready for whatever came at him.

Alright. Let's see how this shit show plays out today.

#a mixture of after-hours and now open!#soda's a bit out of it if you couldn't tell #lack of sleep leads for lack of memory #he doesn't remember shit of last night. he's just left with the aches #ponyboy's resting ; soda's itching for a fight with mark still ; steve's missing again #at least this time steve will be on his way to school instead of bumming around town #this was fun to write — was insanely tired afterwards though ngl 💀#bit of ask blog lore #also peep the links for flashbacks — i kind of wanted to include them just for direction #i realized you kind of need to FOLLOW the blog to understand the after hours stuff... so... yippie? :D #if anyone even caresss... /silly #okay I'm off now

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fluff-e-boy · 5 months ago

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Very good emote ( @demilypyro , @inkie-heart )

#art lore #art #demilypyro #inkie heart #yippie yahoo good stream

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childish-whimsy · 2 months ago

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Show accurate barnacles practice

[Along with an honorary bonnie reference :3]

#art #ibispaint x #ibispaintx #yippie #digital art #artists on tumblr #experimental drawing #captain barnacles #lore accurate #show accurate #octonauts fanart #no colour drawing #drawing practice #octonauts

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brighter-daystoday · 19 days ago

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Pauline C. Smith.

Born in March 18, ####. The daughter of Marie C. Smith and Robin A. Smith.

On Paula's first 3 years, Her father took care of her most of the time while her mother is at work. He'd always watch over the toddler, observing, playing with her. Her mother, however, never really spent much time with Paula due to her "work" that she had never told her father.

At the age of 4,she gained her consciousness and memories. She remembered seeing her father look so worried whenever he looks after her,remembered the way her mother acted quite strangely, remembered seeing her mother cleaning up a bloodstain on the floor,remembered her mother and father arguing with each other for god knows what. The next day, her father dissappeared, and suddenly her mother was now the one giving her attention, but it felt.. Off.

When Paula became 5,She always asked her mother "where is daddy?" or "where is he?", but she'd always reply with "He's at work" or "he's busy somewhere else", but Paula wasn't really convinced but thought that "maybe he's working hard", so she let the question go for another year. On her birthday, her mother decided to do something special instead of the usual cake and candle. He mother decided to teach Paula how to bake, as Paula always had an interest in those topics..however it's actually a cover up for something much darker. Her mother cut the fruits, silently observing Paula as she watched her mix the dry and wet ingredients together, it was the PERFECT opportunity.

"Hey, darling?" She called out to Paula, who turned to look at her. "do you want me to show you something, dear?" Mother Marie questioned, in which, Paula nodded,curiously filled her mind. Mother walked towards the storage room, there an unconscious man lying there,she took him up, setting him on the table. "what's that?" Paula asked, staring at the man with curiosity. "it's a doll, something for your.. Birthday today, dear" Mother lied, watching her daughter's curiousity grow more. "I want to teach you something special, Paula. It's something that I call.. Skinning and gutting. But you must promise me to never say something about this" she warned. "why?" Paula asked innocently.

"let me show you.." Mother picked up a knife, chopping the head off the man to make sure he doesn't wake up. She showed Paula how to cut every limb starting head first, showing her how to skin the man, then to gut him like a fish and take his organs to show Paula what they looked like. They spent the entire day doing so, and in the end, the body was disposed via chopping the man into piece by piece, blend him until it's nothing but blood, then bury the remains in the empty backyard when nobody's watching.

For the past few years, Paula was thought how to kill, get rid of the evidence, then dispose of the body. However, as time went by, Paula felt like this was wrong, why was she being taught this.. What was the reason? At the age of 18, it hit her like a truck, her mother was trying to make her a murderer like her. All these years.. She listened to her mother ever since she was 5. But now, she wants to be free. She felt so disgusted..so vile..

At night, Paula silently called the cops, reporting her own mother about the things she'd done, the things that she tried to do to her. Soon, Marie was arrested and the executed, to be never seen again. And Paula was old enough to take care of herself and own the house. How, Paula didn't want to live in the same house that her mother lived in for years with her. She also found a victim of her mother in the basement and rescued her, Her name was Rosalina and she couldn't really remember much aside for being kidnapped 3 years ago. So after a few months, she moved out of town, moving into a city far away from the neighborhood she never wished to see again.

She moved into an apartment, alone but free. She felt so relieved, yet so guilty, but she tried to ignore it. There, she enrolled into college by herself, got a part-time job of being a photographer, which she was surprisingly good at despite never being trained before, taking care of Rosalina and legally adopting her. There she lived a normal life..or a semi-normal life...for now.

#roblox #wow #Yes it's roblox #Roblox oc #Oc #oc lore #oc backstory #oc info #yippie

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iolite-flames · 6 months ago

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OK FUCKERS ITS TIME: OC LORE TIME BABYYY

…Yikes…

OK LORE TIME OUGH OUGH I AM SO SORRY IF THIS IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE, i have never done this before!!! Ever!!! In my 10 years of oc development!!! So heres a bit about my goofy lil oc story “Ommetaphobia”!

A SMALL DISCLAIMER!

This post in particular is a little niche, as its not really about the story at large but a facet of it: villainy! Or more so the funky little cult the protagonists must deal with throughout. Warning for cult mentions and body horror (sorta).

WHAT TO EXPECT!

OC refs (with notes; without color)

Discussion of cult shenanigans INCLUDING:

Cult hierarchy

Transformation logistics (sorta)

How members transform (sorta)

Discussion/analysis of something called PR1-S4P and what it is!

Ok! With that outta the way… lets tear off the bandaid!

Sorry there’s so much 😭

WTF IS PRI-S4P???

PRI-S4P, otherwise referred to as primordial sap/ichor or "forbidden lifeblood", is a mysterious liquid taken from the fruit of a strange, gnarled persimmon tree in the forest just outside the large town of Ignorsis, location of royalty and a bustling city. It is a dark, viscous liquid that visually looks like molasses. The smell is terrible, but taste wise isn't bad (sweet and robust). Consumption of PRI-S4P can be difficult, as the thick, foul-smelling liquid makes for a poor olfactory experience that can easily be choked on if not careful. Because of this, shots taken by syringe are available but are usually somewhat discouraged due to frequent complications like blood clotting. Successful consumption, however, results in altercations to host and the "awakening" of strange, inhuman abilities. No one know why it happens, but significant concentration brings about physically transformative properties that are even more of an oddity than the existence of "powers". Concentration only increases if more PR1-S4P is consumed by host. It is guarded and controlled by an elusive cult nicknamed SCLERA, only identifiable by their groups symbol: an eye trapped in a double helix.

TRANSFORMATION? HOW?

Transformation mechanics are widely unknown. They seem to "activate" when the host is agitated, scared, and/ or extremely exhausted. Transformation is not permanent, but is incredibly taxing on mind and body, not to mention painful! It takes many days for a host to heal from just the physical stress of transformation.

Intensity and duration of transformation (and by proxy the length of the healing process) seems tied to PRI concentration, though caps at a certain point where healing is no longer possible (and transformation is nearly permanent).

Transformation will not occur in hosts with a concentration less than 30% of their body mass and will be nearly constant at levels above 80%.

ANY WARNINGS A TRANSFORMATION WILL OCCUR?

Yes! Warning signs do occur in hosts before transformations. Such include:

Mood swings

Hunger

Aggression

Increased heart rate (BPM)

Darkening of sclera from white to black

Soreness/physical pain

Restlessness

Heavy breathing

Hot flashes

Chills

Intense headache/migraine

Lack of focus/eye contact

Involuntary shaking/tremors

Drooling

Insomnia

Dizziness

Nausea

Temporary blindness

Increased sensitivity to smells, sounds, bright and/or flashing lights/colors

These signs are also present in the healing process. Intensity varies from person to person and is not inherently associated with PRI concentration.

TELL ME MORE ABOUT CONCENTRATION. WHOS GOT THE MOST?

As previously mentioned, PRI-S4P concentration is dependent on consumption of it either orally by eating the fruit of the gnarled persimmon tree or through supplemental injections. When it comes to whos concentration is the highest, we must look at arous hierarchv: the higher vour "rank", the more PRI-S4P inside you.

OK, THEN TELL ME ABOUT HIERARCHY!

SO SCLERA, the aforementioned cult has a group hierarchy reliant on membership duration and individual effort. There are 3 regular ranks (R) and 2 "special" ones (S). They are as follows, in order of least to most important:

GRUNTS (R): Most common, underlings of leaders and at the bottom of the food chain. Often new and the most easy to replace and most "normal". There's about 10 to 15 grunts for every leader. Concentration of PRI-S4₽ typically lies between 10 and 15%.

LEADERS (R): Underlings of heads, slightly more seasoned members; not very many of them, only 2-5 per head. Concentration of PRI-S4P typically lies between 20 and 30%.

HEADS (R): The big guns, hand picked by the Prophet for their exemplary performance. Typically control particular cities and recruit members. Concentration of PR1-S4P typically lies between 50 and 60%. There are only 3 Major Heads: Evander, Cypress, amd Oraida. Max, while not considered a head, shares the same amount of concentration, but for a different reason.

PROPHET (S): The head honcho himself. Organizes the cult, inacts experiments, and officiates new members. Is the only one to communicate with the medium directly. This is Otmars role, with a PRI-S4P concentration of 70%.

MEDIUM (S): A vessel for means of communicating accurately with the spirit of the gnarled tree. This is Hazels role, with a PRI-S4P concentration of 90%.

There are about 60 active members of SCLERA at the time this story takes place.

Members usually only communicate with people within their own rank or the rank just above/below them.

ANYTHING ELSE ABOUT HIERARCHY? OR SCLERA IN GENERAL?

Sure, heres some miscellaneous stuff:

Both the Medium and the Prophet don't leave the base (only if like, something REALLY bad happened) Max doesn't either but, again, for an entirely different reason.

Each Head is in charge of a different area of the land. Their grunts and leaders run around said area and do various tasks like supply trips, espionage, etc. Heads don't usually do any running around unless its on their own volition. They will if something bad happens that needs their presence though.

The general public didn't know of SCLERA until they made their self known during an event refered to as "The Night of Heretics", where a battalion of members, 5 years into the group's conception, unleashed havoc on the local population on all fronts. The main story takes place a year afterwards and the main characters are all survivors of the rampage (or participated in it).

REFS AND ABILITIES!

EVANDER:

Physical/body distortion:

Full control of limb length, including neck and fingers

PRI enhances this, causing unnecessary duplication of arms, fingers, and hands and less "control of length (causing him to, by default, appear more "stretched out" and uncanny)

Mimicry:

Primarily vocally, can briefly mimic physically but requires more energy, decently accurate and can get better with some practice

PRI diminishes this, causing errors in mimic accuracy, physical distortions are signiticantly worse, appearing uncanny and unhuman (especially coupled with the physical abilities mentioned prior)

CYPRESS:

Flame wielding:

Ability to control flames in a small radius

PRI enhances this, causing greater control and greater control radius

Increased strength:

Just as described, greater physical strength than normal. Can lift and fight with an unnatural vigor

PRI enhances this, causing even greater physical ability

ORAIDA:

Hypnosis:

Ability to cause short term control of individuals through intense eye contact

PRI enhances this, through use of pheromones on secondary appendages (when stimulated)

Plant manipulation:

Ability to control plant growth/generation in a mid-side radius

PRI enhances this, causing greater control and greater control radius

MAX:

Telekinesis:

Ability to move things using mind within a mid-size radius

PRI enhances this, causing greater control and greater control radius

Telepathy:

Ability to read others mind/communicate with others mentallv within a mid-size radius

PRI enhances this, causing greater control and greater control radius

OTMAR:

Possession:

Ability to forfeit control of his body to control another temporarily (if bitten, think a snake bite giving poison damage to affected person, or zombie bites)

PR1 enhances this, causing greater control of victims in a shorter period of time

Necromancy:

Ability to raise dead for a short time in a small radius.

PR1 enhances this, causing greater summoning radius and duration

HAZEL:

Clairvoyance:

Ability to accurately predict events; only applicable if relaxed and typically isn't very strong (visions are almost "out of context" and resemble foreshadowing, think Until Dawn totems)

PRI diminishes this, causing even more difficulty to obtain visions and decreased clarity of said visions

Hallucinations:

Ability to cause false perceptions/sensations through exhalations

PR1 enhances this, causing even greater sensory misinput and stronger sensations

Note: Hazel form shown above is her OFF PR1, this is how she looks normally thanks to long term use… yeesh.

Thats it! If you read the whole thing then woah! Im genuinely amazed! Thank you for your time ☹️❤️‼️

#artists on tumblr #yapping #digital aritst #oc artist #digital drawing #oc artwork #iolites ocs #my ocs #yippie #long post #lore post #lore dump #WOAH

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