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[dragonnarrative-writes]

Autumn Embers Verse

Omegaverse AU where people who are compatible have complementary scents.

Your friends assure you that the bar they’re dragging you to is nicer than it looks online. You highly doubt that, but you’re willing to go along until the three of them get bored and decide to get a car to the club district. And they will get bored, because you recognize the name and address that they’re trying to go to. You’ve never been, but some of your new coworkers on the base have invited you out for drinks and pool.

When Christie flounces out in a bright pink mini-dress, you can’t help but grin. “You look great. Super cute. But I don’t think that’s the vibe of the bar.”

Admittedly, you’re dressed a bit less conservatively than the bar might call for. But you feel cute in your black skater skirt and white top. Styled with floral lace stockings, boots, and silver jewelry, it’s more dressing up than you’ve been able to do in the last 6 months.

“I’m not dressing for the military bar,” Christie says, checking her makeup in the hall mirror before dropping on the couch next to you. She tosses her brown hair over one shoulder and pulls out her phone to order a car. “I’m dressing for when Mel and Jack decide they’re done shopping for alphas and want to go to the club.”

“Military packs are already cohesive,” Jack sniffs, emerging from the hall in cute jeans, a mesh top, and a sensible jacket. Behind him, Mel is dressed very similarly, though they’ve opted for cargo pants. “It’s not impossible that we might find a couple of someones who might be interesting.”

“If nothing else, they’ll buy you drinks,” you concede. “Pretty sure they have pool tables. If there’s one open, maybe we play a couple of rounds. Give Jack a chance to bend over and show off.”

The car, when it arrives, is a little small, but the four of you pile in gamely. You sit in the front, since your hips need the room. The driver gives a smile and a nod through his cloth mask and starts driving as soon as your seatbelt is secure. You reflexively drop the window a bit, though it’s already open. It makes sense - driving groups around all night definitely lends itself to a lot of conflicting scents.

In the back, Chrissy’s floral omega scent plays well with Jack and Mel’s sweet beta and omega mix. The very subtle floral notes of your own scent don’t clash too badly, but the base note of charcoal does sometimes leave people’s noses a bit confused. You catch the moment the driver catches a hint of your scent and darts a look at you, but he doesn’t say anything. You occupy yourself on your phone for the fifteen minute drive, tuning out Chrissie and Jack’s complaints about work.

When you arrive, the bar is just about what you expected. Run-down in a lived-in kind of way but clean. Dim and quiet. The exact opposite of Jack and Chrissie, but that doesn’t stop them from swanning in through the doors and making their way immediately to the bar. You and Mel follow behind. You make eye contact with a couple of people you kind of recognize, give a quirk of a smile as a greeting.

By the time you’ve decided what to drink, Chrissie and Jack have already charmed a trio of alphas into conversation and a promised game of pool. Mel leans into Jack’s back and introduces themself in their quiet way. You give your name with a wave before ordering a whiskey sour.

“Put their drinks on our tab,” one of the alphas says. He holds his hand out to you to shake. “Daniels. I’ve seen you on base before, yeah?”

“I’ve been working admin for a couple of months,” you confirm as you shake his hand. He’s polite enough not to try to rub wrists on a first meeting, at least. His scent reminds you of the bakery near your house. “It’s not a bad job.”

Once everyone has their drinks and the group makes their way over to one of the open pool tables, you think you could have a pretty good night. Daniels and his friends, Bennet and Bakshi, are actually pretty fun. They’re obviously flirting with Chrissie and Jack (and Mel, by extension), but they’re not ignoring you. Daniels and Bakshi, at least, include you in the conversation and ask questions about your job, how you all know each other, where you’re from.

When Bakshi manages to pull Mel into a conversation about video games and cyber security, you and Chrissie excuse yourselves to the restroom.

“I should have worn jeans,” she sighs. “This is really fun, but kind of a waste of an outfit.”

You’re about to laugh when you pass by a table and make eye contact with a man you’ve only seen in passing before. You recognize Sergent MacTavish by his mohawk, and give him a little half smile. Then you notice Captain Price and Sergent Garrick. The blond in a skull themed cloth mask can only be Lieutenant Riley. You give all four of them a startled little nod of acknowledgment, and then Chrissie is tugging you into the bathroom.

You’ve never met anyone from Task Force 141 before. Any time you’ve heard of them, at least two have been sent off somewhere across the world. You don’t have the clearance to deal with any of their reports, but you know enough to understand that they’re practically rock stars.

“Five quid, Jack and Mel have all three of their numbers by the end of the night,” Chrissie interrupts your musing as she checks her makeup in the mirror. As usual, she’s perfect, and you hear her take a selfie.

“Ten quid, Bennet asks for yours,” you counter from the stall.

“No bet, he’s already asked.” Chrissie answers. “But he’s a tool.”

“You like tools.”

“That’s true. It’s the muscles.” she agrees. “If he asks me on a proper date, I won’t say no.”

“Not a waste of a dress, then,” you point out before flushing and making your way to wash your hands. “Is he wearing scent blockers? I can’t get a bead on him.”

“He’s a subtle bit of tobacco leaf. Bakshi is nutmeg and Daniels-”

“Daniels smells like fresh bread,” you finish.

“Oh, ho, ho,” Chrissie chuckles, leaning her hip on the counter as you wash your hands. “Took notice did you?”

“We shook hands.” You roll your eyes. “Kind of hard not to notice.” When you step out of the bathroom, you’re startled to see Sergent MacTavish leaning against the wall on his phone. His eyes snap up to yours and he stands up to his full height. He’s bigger than you expected, and you find yourself helpless to hold his stare. When he smiles, you feel yourself flush.

“Evenin’, bonnie lass,” he says, after a moment. “C’n I get a moment of your time?”

Chrissie practically skips the couple of steps away to stand at the entrance of the hall leading to the bathrooms. She doesn’t quite abandon you with a strange alpha, but she does turn her back and pull out her phone.

Before you can comment on her absence, or introduce yourself, or even think about what to say, MacTavish has stepped close. His scent, something warm and earthy and somehow also floral, floods your senses. At the same time, he leans down to hover his nose just short of touching your temple. You can’t help but blush harder at how bold he’s being. The way he takes your scent into his lungs is just this side of vulgar.

“So it has been you we’ve been scenting around base,” he chuckles, taking a deliberate step back and leaning back against the wall again. He crosses big arms across his chest and smiles. “Gaz’s been tying himself in knots trying to catch more than faded hints near the caf’.”

What are you supposed to say to that? “…Sorry? I’m new to the base.”

He grins. “Well, I’m glad you’re around. Sergent MacTavish.” He doesn’t offer his hand, but considering the how rude he was before, it’s not like he needs to.

You stammer an introduction and decide to make your retreat. “It was, um, nice to meet you, Sergent. I have to get back to my friends.” “Be seeing you around, hen,” he says, and doesn’t move as you make your retreat.

As soon as you’re clear of the hall, you make the mistake of looking that the 141’s table. All of their eyes snap to your face as soon as you’re visible. You almost freeze under their attention, but Chrissie rescues you. She takes your arm and practically marches you across the bar to rejoin Jack and Mel, who immediately pull you close to drag you into some debate about music.

You can’t contribute much to the conversation. Thank goodness for Chrissie, who gleefully carries the discussion. You’re too distracted to do much more than give vague agreements for a long time.

At the end of the night, when you and your friends leave the bar, you chance a glance toward the 141’s table. Four pairs of eyes stare back.

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #poly 141 #omegaverse #autumn embers verse #named after the fragrance oil i looked up to decide the 141 pack scents

[alphabetatoes]

tennesee whiskey (n. kento x reader)

a.n.: this is basically a drawn out version of the prompt i posted earlier. fic title is in reference to the chris stapleton cover song (felt appropriate for the bar theme) (and and also also lets admire how cute the dividers i made in canva are) does this jump around in characterization? yeah maybe. go ahead, call the whimsy police on me! summary: nanami teaches you how to play pool c.w.: reader referred to using she/her pronouns, alcohol (reader is 21+), suggestive themes, smut if you squint, jealous nanami, and the ever-present risk of writing ooc. barely beta read (though what fic of mine is lmao) w.c.: 1.4k

You and Nanami were sent out to the middle of nowhere to exorcise a curse, in hopes of stopping it before it had the chance to propagate into something worse. Even though it was a Grade 3 curse, the higher ups deemed it safest for the two of you to go as a pair.. It was an in-and-out mission, the two of you making quick work to intervene. Soon enough, you were back in the car and headed back to campus. The simple pitter patter of raindrops hitting the windshield brought a strange sense of comfort. But the calm could only last for so long. A barricade of rain began to drop, bringing a swift end to the peace. He drove until the road was unnavigable, pulling off into an empty parking lot. The two of you were stranded. Your options were to either wait out the storm in the car, or attempt to find solace somewhere nearby. You chose to press your luck with the latter.

“Over there.”, he points out, pulling your attention.

Across the street, there was a dive bar still open despite the storm. The flickering neon lights were your own personal Eden. When you enter the bar, you’re immediately hit with warmth. A concoction of body heat and cigarette smoke fill the room. You can’t seem to mind it though. It draws the attention away from your clothes starting to form a second skin on your body.

“Now don’t you two look wonderful.” The bartender jokes. He bears a giant grin, and you can’t help but to feel unsettled by it. “If you got a change of clothes, restrooms are over that way.” Today was one of the days you were grateful for the spare set of clothes you kept on hand. Missions were unpredictable, and you never knew when you’d be stuck somewhere. You seize the opportunity and head to the restroom, eager to remove the soaked clothes. While you change, Nananmi orders two drinks from the bar.

“For you and your girlfriend?” “Hell, if she’s not spoken for, I’ll have to make her mine!” It’s not like he had a claim over you or anything. But as your partner, and even more so as your friend, he made your protection a top priority. It didn’t matter if they were one off comments. Nanami had lost too many to be careless.

“She’s fine.” Nanami’s tone is dry, unimpressed by the barkeep’s boldness. You return from changing, noticing the blond standing closer to you than before. It’s probably just a safety thing. Better to stay close together than apart, right?

“Drink this.” He hands you the other glass of whiskey. “It’ll help warm you up.” The liquor goes down relatively smooth, and you revel in the warmth of it. “How about a game of pool to pass the time?” You nod over at the table in the corner of the bar. The rain wasn’t letting up any time soon, and you figured it was a good way to pass the time. “You’ve played pool?” 

“I’ve dabbled in it… online.” He rolls his eyes and hands you a stick. A hint of a smile crosses his face. That stoic exterior he fronts at all times slowly starting to chip away. “We could make it fun. Loser has to do something for the winner?” An opportunity for the adult of all adults to let loose. You were curious to know what was behind that rigid exterior. “If I win, you buy me a drink.”  

“And what if I win?” A virtual win does not a professional pool player make, but you weren’t completely oblivious to the game. Even if the odds were stacked against you, you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Given the likelihood of that, I’ll do whatever you want.” He breaks, immediately shooting 3 balls into the pockets. Show-off. “Where’d you learn to play like that?” Of course the man of many secrets would turn out to be a semi-professional. Or he just really wanted a free drink. “Shoko and I used to play all the time when we were younger.”

It’s your time to shine. You step up to the table and ready your shot. “You’re doing it wrong.” Nanami smirks at your rigid form.You’re stiff as a board, awkwardly hovering the stick over the table. “Then show me, Mr. Professional.” Nanami moves from his spot across the table and positions himself right behind you. He places one hand on your stomach, arching your back out to him, and lets the other rest on your waist. “Now place your hands here.” He moves your right hand to grasp the pool stick; your left hand rests on the table forming a hand bridge toward the end of the stick. “Line up the shot and pull back when you’re ready.” He guides you to move, yet never adjusts his position from behind you. Hell, if you moved even an inch back, you’d ram right into him. You couldn’t say you minded though. 

Just as instructed, you line up your shot and pull back. Once you release, the pool stick makes perfect  contact with the cue ball. It spins for a moment, then promptly hits a striped ball into one of the six pockets. “Good shot.” His breath tickles your ear as he speaks. “Now do that about 8 more times and you’ll win.” You line up your second shot and- “Fuck.” The cue ball bounces off the side of the table and right into one of the pockets. “You’re overthinking it. Try not to be so stiff.” His tone is soft, sickly sweet almost.“Relax yourself.” He gives you a simple smirk as you relax, albeit into him. His strong hands hold on to your shoulders, kneading into them gently. Were you not in the middle of a game, you’d melt into his touch. Right here, right now.“

Easy for you to say. You’ve got like 4 balls left!” You whine, and his smirk grows wider. “Anything could happen.” Cocky. Such an easy claim for the blond to make! He was practically prodding a reaction out of you. And you would give it to him. A slap on the arm that he’d hope would linger for a second longer, but you pull away to align your next shot.

It had to be a fluke. The two of you were tied; it could’ve been anyone's game. But Nanami slipped up, knocking the 8 ball right into one of the pockets a turn early. Meaning you had won. Despite his banter with you about playing, he didn’t seem all that upset about the loss. “Alright, winner. Name your prize.”

“Kiss me?” You test the waters, careful not to scare him off. Be it the adrenaline rush from winning or the liquor, something emboldened your choice of prize. Nanami didn’t seem opposed either. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him as you lean in. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, as you lose yourself in the intoxicating taste and feel of him. Nanami is the one to deepen the kiss, pinning you against the table with his thigh. You let your hands fall to his shirt collar, playing with it and pulling him in closer.

As he cast a pointed look towards the bartender across the room, it became clear that Nanami had no intentions of letting anyone encroach on what was rightfully his. His lips trail down your jawline, leaving a trail of wet kisses in their wake, and finally rests against the sweet spot between your neck and shoulders. Nanami nips at the skin, deep enough to leave a mark. You pull away, trying to catch your breath. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you lost on purpose.” You smile, fixing the creases in his shirt collar. Nanami’s bruised lips pull into a cocky grin as he brushes his thumb over your lips. “Don’t doubt your ability. If anything, call it a newfound talent.”

“And what if I wanted to take this celebration somewhere more private?” You raise your brows, desperate to keep going  but without prying eyes. Nanami picks up on your request immediately, releasing you from the pool table. Possessive, his grasp pulls you close. It’s firm but gentle, a simple comfort as he leads you. You both shuffle into the small bathroom and lock the door. And right now, more than ever, you’re grateful for the deep drumming of the thunder and the loud pour of the rain. 

#this is kind of dialogue heavy but i still hope yall enjoy 😭 #x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[unchained-hound-dog]

Request by @princessmermaid1289 : My idea was maybe her and Jack are hanging out with friends like a pool day and she’s feeling insecure but Jack doesn’t notice , or shopping, or maybe she starts a gym routine (like I’m working out 6 days a week with a strict diet) and he gets worried about her

----

TW: for talks about over exercising and insecurities around body.

Jack was woken by your alarm blaring, he felt you move around as you quickly shut the alarm off and got out of bed. He opened one eye and quickly checked the time on his phone, 6am. He tried to rack his brain as to what plans you had that day that would warrant you needing to be up at such an unusal time on a Saturday but before he could think too much, sleep overtook him and he fell asleep.

You quickly threw on your gym clothes you'd laid out the night before and headed down to the home gym, you began following a routine you'd found online.

Once you were done working out, you heading into the kitchen and began making yourself breakfast, something healthy. You were just about done eating when Jack appeared in the doorway, his eyes met yours as you stood up, plate in hand.

'Morning' you smiled as you loaded the dishwasher.

'You got up at 6am to make breakfast?' he stood in his boxers, one hand rubbing at his bare chest and the other holding his phone.

'No, I got up at 6am to work out' you smiled, leaning on the kitchen countertop 'can I make you something to eat?' you smiled at him

'I'm good, why'd you get up so early? We could of done it together y'know'

'Yeah I know but I'm gunna do another workout later so we can do that one together' you smiled as you turned to make yourself a coffee.

Jack's eyebrows furrowed together, he didn't want to comment on the fact you were going to be doing 2 workouts in one day, he just let it go. But he knew there was something off, you weren't the type to excessively excercise.

-

It had been about a week, you'd been working out a lot and eating healthier, but Jack was beginning to get really worried about you. He'd noticed how the early mornings and sometimes multiple workouts a day were making you tired and how most of the food in the kitchen was vegetables and hardly any of the normal stuff you'd buy.

Finishing up in the studio, Jack headed home and entered the house. He could hear music playing from the kitchen and found you cooking, your back to him as you sang along to the music. Vegetables sat on a chopping board beside you and you were wearing workout clothing, leading him to assume you'd not long finished a workout. He set his keys down on the counter, the jingle going unnoticed by you as the music was so loud.

You continued singing, moving your hips to the music when you suddenly felt light headed, your body swayed to one side before you began falling to the floor, however the harsh landing you braced for never came and instead you landed in Jack's arms.

'Y/N are you okay?!' Jack helped you stand straight and took your weight as you regained yourself.

'Y-Yeah I'm f-fine'

'You're not fine. You've been working out way too much and you're not eating enough!' he snapped, his concern for you coming across as anger as his voice was raised, causing tears to well inyour eyes.

'I'm fine Jack!; your voice was firm as you turned but your legs still felt jelly-like and so you fell back against Jack.

'You're not fine and I need to know what's going on so i can help you' he explained, moving so you could sit at the dinner table.

'What's with your working out a lot more, and the healthy eating? Did I say something to make you feel like this is how you should be?' Jack was concerned a passing comment that he didn't even remember making had made you feel like you needed to change for him.

'No! Baby it's nothing you said. Last week when we were at the beach-house, everyone was wearing their bikinis and didn't seem to care about their bodies and I just got a little insecure and felt like I needed to change' your voice shook at the end, a tear falling from your eye.

'Hey, you don't ever need to change. Not for me or for anyone else. You're perfect the way you are baby' he smiled, pressing a kiss to your head as you hugged him.

'I'm sorry if I worried you' you sighed, pressing your cheek against his chest'

'It's fine, just promise me you'll stop doing the most?'

'Promise' you smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine

[bmbsonmondaymornings]

E42!Miles Morales Headcannons sfw and smut

S F W

1. He SPOILSS you ALL THE TIME

2. You seen a dress online you like? it’s coming tomorrow 😻

3. He lets you braid his hair you know how if you don’t he will teach you.

4. Buys a wedding ring priced “promise ring” and claims your wedding ring will be bigger .😦

5. Loves going on morning walks with you especially when it’s nice and quiet.

6. Tells you about his day when he’s tired (but he has to trust you enough).

7. His mom ADORES you she always makes food for you to take home and has “girl days” with you.

8.(If his dad was alive) He would love when you come over to visit! He gives Miles the whole “if you break her heart” lecture too.

9. Midnight ice cream and cuddles while watching scary movies until you fall asleep or he does which is rare.

10. Romantic dates all the time and luxury dated on special occasions like your birthday or holidays.

11. Helping you put up the ornaments on your Christmas tree during the Christmas season and buying you the most huge and beautiful Christmas trees and gold engraved ornaments to go with.

12. The best days out on your birthday like taking you shopping, to the hair salon, nail salon, etc. And having the best dinner afterwards.

N S F W

13. Birthday sex = Best sex

14. Im talking flowers everywhere, the best wine, candles everywhere, and EVERYTHINGGG

15. If he buys you something expensive expect to pay him back ifykm

16. He’s a hair puller idc. Don’t matter if you got braids, weave, ANYTHING he will PULL

17. The cutest pet names to the dirtiest at the snap of a finger

18. hes the type to pick you up during it and press you against a wall

19. whispers sweet nothings into your ear to tease you

20. Stressful day? No worries he always got a cure for it iykwim 😏

21. Does it in the alley, public bathroom, under a table, by the pool, etc

22. Kinda relates to 21. But if you try to flirt with his friends expect to be bend over in front of them and humiliated 😞

23. He def takes pictures of your nakey body for times your not there with him

24. throws you over his shoulder and has his way with you

25. (Not too smutty) he gives the best aftercare like he will make you cry and scream and then you’ll be floating on clouds right after, you will expect cuddles, water, candy and snacks if wanted, and a movie, but if your tired you will be getting cleaned up and fed no matter what 🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tti episode 24

“Last time on Total Takes Island: Yours truly was out for the day, leaving Chef in charge as host. He left the campers to die- or find their way back- in the middle of the woods and forced them to work together. Ass immediately attempted murder on Michael, who survived and ruined their chance at winning immunity. Julia went off on her former ally and McLovin made some new macrame friends. Ultimately, it was Ass who walked the dock of shame, leaving only three campers behind. Who will be going home today, and who will be surviving to the final 2? Find out now- Total! Takes! Island!”

Julia sits at the far end of the remaining table in the mess hall, McLovin occupying the middle and Michael taking the other side. Every so once in a while, the latter will shoot her a glare over her breakfast of burnt toast and beans. 

---

JULIA: “I've been trying to apologize to Michael all week, but every time I talk to her, she leaves. I'm starting to wonder if I should just cut my losses and give up- that chick really knows how to hold a grudge!"

---

Julia sighs and stands, sitting next to Michael. “Listen, I-”

Michael stands immediately, sharply moving across the space and making a point to sit next to McLovin. Julia sighs again and leaves the mess hall. 

“You don’t have to be so hard on her, you know,” McLovin says. “She’s only trying to apologize.”

“Sometimes apologies don’t fix things,” Michael glares. He slumps forward, leaning against the table on his elbows. 

“You know I really am sorry,” he mutters. “Not that apologies mean anything to you. But I do feel bad.”

She grumbles, crossing her arms and turning away from him. McLovin looks dejected for a moment and then turns back. “Max seems… nice,”

“No, he’s not. That’s why I like him,” she stands pushing her tray away and leaving just as Chris’ voice blares over the intercom. 

“Welcome to the semifinals, campers! Usually we’d do something to celebrate making it this far, but it’s Chef’s day off, so I just went ahead and set up the challenge anyway. It's a real doozy! Oh- and we're having some pipe troubles with the communal bathrooms, so I'd steer clear of those for the next few days. Meet you all at the amphitheater in twenty!”

---

MCLOVIN: “I guess I got pretty far, huh? It’s weird being alone with Michael… I guess Julia is here, too, but none of us are really talking to her. I keep trying to apologize about what happened between us but Michael doesn’t want to listen. I don’t want to end up eliminated today and go home knowing she still hates me!”

---

MICHAEL: “What would I do if I won? I guess… I’d help pay for Max’s tuition, since I’m not going anywhere. I’d put the rest of it into savings and then never have to pay rent or get a full-time job,”

---

MCLOVIN: “Well... first, I’d buy something nice for Michael. Next, I’m buying a megamansion in Malibu with my buddy Sha-Mod. Next, we’re getting a double-decker swimming pool- that one was my invention. After that, we’re going to buy one of those mountains with a bunch of caves and turn it into a hotel for vampires- that was Sha-Mod’s idea. Next-”

---

JULIA: “I’d invest in something online and easy to manipulate, like cryptocurrency. I’d start my own kind of coin, scam thousands, and then I’d use my millions to fake my death and move somewhere quiet.

…Or I guess I could use a new laptop."

---

MCLOVIN: “Then I’m going to buy a castle, then a pyramid-”

---

MICHAEL: “What are my odds? Not great. I could probably beat McLovin, but Julia might have the upper hand, especially after she and he bonded last challenge,”

---

JULIA: “When I win, I’m going to finally reenact my fantasy of firebombing this crappy island into smithereens, hopefully with Natalie still on it,”

---

MCLOVIN: “And matching jet skis, and a 24/7 McDonald’s, and-”

---

It feels odd being the only ones left on the island, and that feeling sets in deep as the three remaining competitors walk in silence to the amphitheater. Michael is practically jogging, far ahead of Julia and McLovin, who are avoiding making eye contact.

"Do you think she's okay?" McLovin whispers. "I've been trying to talk to her all week, but-"

"But she's ignoring everyone, I know," Julia sighs, rolling her eyes. "I feel... bad, I guess, but at this point I'm not sure she's making it to the finale anyway."

A menagerie of crates, tables, and other flat surfaces have been lined up on stage with three chairs behind them, beckoning the campers. They all take seats- Michael sitting on the far left, McLovin between her and Julia.

“Welcome to one of my favorite challenges- the semifinal of dares!” Chris says, pacing in front of the campers. “In a break of producer tradition, we had the losers come up with some amazing ideas for TTI’s very own spin the bottle!”

A few interns wheel out a large wheel with a bottle in the center. Around the circle are pictures of all the eliminated contestants so far. 

“An intense combo of luck and dares, sure to knock your socks off!” Chris beams. “Here’s how this works: each player will take turns spinning the bottle. The loser you land on will determine your dare- you can take the dare yourself and win a freebie for later, or inflict the dare on another camper. If you refuse to perform a dare, you lose immediately!”

He points to the dock of shame, where everyone turns and looks nervously. 

“Okay, who’s ready to humiliate themselves first?!”

Everyone looks at each other in dead silence. No one steps forward. McLovin turns to Michael. “If you need any help today, I can step in!”

Julia glares at the two as Michael scoots away from him. 

---

JULIA: “The last thing I need is those two teaming up to take me out. Michael already hates me, but she hates McLovin too- my success in this game totally depends on them not getting too chummy.”

---

After a few moments of silence, Chris shrugs. “Julia, you’re up!”

She stands, rolling her eyes and walking up to the bottle. She gives it a spin and it lands on Mal. She scoffs. “Oh, what, am I going to have to post a note-app apology to Twitter for doxing people?” 

Chris reads from the cue card. “Submerge yourself in a pool of leeches!”

Her smile drops. Two interns wheel out a large plastic kiddie pool on a flatbed cart, brimming with leeches. Julia stares at it and Chris ducks in frame. “Ready to chicken out?”

“No! I can do this!” she says, looking into the pool as the parasites squirm around. She turns to the other campers- Michael is smiling and McLovin is covering his eyes. “Um… maybe not.”

“Do you want to pass the dare to someone else?”

“Yes!” She thinks for a moment before breaking into a grin. “I choose McLovin.”

McLovin goes pale and Michael looks between the two. Julia smirks as he walks down from the stage, staring into the pool. 

---

JULIA: "Well, might as well pick off the easiest player, right? I wouldn't hate being stuck with Michael in the final two- I just hope it's not too physically intensive or gross,"

---

He quivers. “Um…”

“You’re free to chicken out if you want to walk the dock, man!” Chris grins wickedly. “Those leeches have been holed up in the back storage for weeks now, they’re probably starving.”

“No!” he says, looking to Michael before standing up straight. “I can do this!”

He puts one foot into the purple plastic rim, then another, he slowly sits, then lies down, and shovels the leeches over his face. Michael and Julia watch in disgust as Chris’ timer ticks down. 

“And, time!” he says, stopping his watch. Nothing happens. “McLovin, you passed, dude!”

Still nothing. A few interns rush over and drag him out of the leech pool. He’s pale and covered in the pests, which the interns start plucking off as Chris watches with a smile. 

“Alright. Michael, you’re up!”

Michael stares in terror as she walks up to the wheel. She’s shaking as she spins the bottle, and it lands on Patrick. She winces. 

“Nice one! Patrick’s dare is to fight an alligator!”

Julia and McLovin’s eyes widen. Michael, though, seems to relax a little and walks along with Chris to the lake. 

---

MICHAEL: “Better than leeches. Better than leeches!”

---

McLovin and Julia follow the two to the lake and watch as Michael throws off her parka, takes a deep breath, and then dives in. The host and two other campers watch anxiously as she surfaces on the back of a gator. 

“She’s totally dead,” Chris chuckles. Julia and McLovin look at each other. 

“On one hand, if she dies, that makes one less thing on my to-do list to cross off,” She mutters. 

---

JULIA: "I could also deal with a McLovin finale. I mean, look at him- he may have flown under the radar up until now, but he'd be no competition for me in a one-on-one match,"

---

McLovin turns to her. “What? Don’t you want to heal your friendship before she dies?”

“And get rejected again? I don’t think so. At this point, I just need to make sure you two don't try anything!”

The gator and Michael thrash around in the water for a while until they resurface. Michael punches it in the eye and it sinks into the lake, leaving her treading on water. “Run me my freebie!” she shouts. 

“Wow, that girl means business,” Chris says as McLovin and Julia help her out of the water. “And that’s a freebie for Michael!”

---

The dares go on- McLovin wearing deer antlers in front of a bear den, Julia juggling knives, Michael conquering her fear of bees- until finally, Julia approaches the wheel and winces at the result. 

“Staci says- eat a live squid!”

---

JULIA: “Okay, so far, these challenges have sucked, but they're manageable. But I’m not so good with eating things- I have very receptive taste buds!”

---

“You can play, pass, or use a freebie!”

Julia looks down at her remaining freebies- only one purple bottle left. She swallows a lump in her throat. “Um… I’m… I’ll use it,”

Chris grins. “You sure about that?”

“There can’t be anything worse than eating live squid!” she snaps, taking a seat. She looks at Michael, who shoots her a glare back.

McLovin's gaze bounces between the two before landing on Michael. "Here," he says, pushing his remaining freebies over to her side of the table. "I don't need them anyway," his voice deepens. "I'm a man now."

She pushes them back. "I don't want them,"

McLovin suddenly glares, and shoves them. "Too bad!"

Julia and Michael stop and stare at him, both completely take aback. He realizes he raised his voice and laughs nervously. "If-if-if you want,"

“Okay, dude. McLovin, you’re up,”

McLovin stands from his seat and walks over to the wheel, spinning it. It lands on a picture of Austin. 

“Austin says drink fruit punch from the communal toilets!” Chris reads, chuckling. “You can take the dare, or pass.”

McLovin looks at Michael, who frowns back. He takes a deep breath. “Julia!” he says confidently, walking back to his seat. 

Julia’s face goes pale as she realizes she’s fresh out of freebies. Chris grins wickedly. “To the toilets, madame!”

---

Julia sits on her knees, peering into the greenish toilet water as an intern pours powdered fruit punch mix and stirs before handing her a straw. Chris watches from outside the stall, McLovin and Michael behind him. 

She holds the straw in shaky hands, looking down into the depths of the communal toilet. A dead fly in the water twitches. The pipes creak violently. 

Julia scoots back a bit before turning to the two other competitors. “Anyone willing to lend me a freebie?” she laughs nervously. 

Michael crosses her arms. McLovin pretends to be distracted with a roach he found on the floor. Julia’s awkward smile drops and she turns back to the toilet. 

She sighs and looks behind her shoulder one last time. “Before I do this, I want to say- Michael, I’m... sorry. I was selfish, and I meant every word I said when I told you I still wanted to be friends- real friends. I understand if you don’t feel the same,”

Chris and McLovin both turn to Michael, who sighs. “I don’t. I just don’t think I could trust you after what happened. It takes a lot for me to be able to forgive someone like that,”

“Worth a shot,” she shrugs, looking back into the toilet with a frown. 

Chris taps his watch. “It’s now or never, dude, we got a schedule to keep,” 

The pipes groan again. Julia stands, her head hanging. “I can’t-”

The pipes suddenly burst, spraying her with fruit-punch toilet water. She yelps and stumbles backwards, everyone else flying out of her way as she runs outside, covered in sewage. She runs down the docks and jumps into the lake water, everyone else in close pursuit. 

When Julia resurfaces, she’s coughing and sputtering as the boat of losers pulls up behind her. “W-wait! I technically still drank the punch!”

“Yeah, but you refused the dare. Tough luck,” Chris chuckles as the interns inside hoist her on board. 

She writhes and struggles against their grip. “NO! THIS IS NOT HOW I LOSE! YOU CANNOT LET MCLOVIN BE IN THE FINAL TWO!”

“This is Total Takes, dude,” Chris smiles. “Anything can happen!”

The boat engine sputters to life once more as Julia is restrained. Michael bites her lip, thinking for a moment before running to the end of the dock.

“Julia!” she yells as the boat takes off. “Thank you for apologizing!”

The boat disappears, though the sounds of Julia struggling and screaming continue, leaving McLovin and Michael behind. “SHE BIT ME!” one of the interns shouts from afar. 

Chris smiles at the two remaining campers. “I’ll see you two at the finale,” he says before walking off merrily, whistling a joyful tune. 

---

“That was brutal,” Michael murmurs, the two sitting at the campfire (though there’s no ceremony tonight).

“Yeah,” McLovin nods in agreement, warming his hands by the fire they managed to start some time prior. “Did you mean what you said back there, about not forgiving people?”

“I didn’t say I don’t forgive people,” she stares at him. “I just said it’s hard.”

“Huh… do you think you could ever forgive me?”

She scoffs. “You first,”

“I already forgave you a long time ago,”

Michael stops and looks back at him, eyebrow raised. “Really? Um… huh. I.... guess I’ll think about it,” she says, standing and walking back to the cabins.

#tti #total takes island

[moonchildstyles]

this is giving me older!h vibes

like maybe it’s her birthday and they’ve booked a little vacation to italy (because of todays photos 😵‍💫), and he found a private little villa that overlooks the sea and has a pool and maybe their first full day there is her actual birthday and they spend the day walking around the town and he buys her a few little things she asks for even though she’s a little shy doing it but he told her that he’ll buy her whatever she wants because it’s her day and “don’t be afraid to ask me, pretty girl, if you want something, just tell me yeah? m’treating you” and she only asks for two little things because he took her to italy she doesn’t need anything! but he insisted and they have dinner at a fancy little locally owned restaurant and he orders her a fruity drink and charms the waiter because he knows a little Italian even though he never told her and once they’re alone she’s like “h!!! you know italian?” in shock and he says he learned some when he went on holiday a few years ago and it’s so hot to her and h just smiles as he sips he wine bc he can tell she likes it, and after dinner they take a little walk on the coast with their toes in the sand in their fancy outfits and he takes her back to the villa right after the sunsets and he sits her down in the living room and hands her a little gift bag and she’s just 🥺 because she just assumed the trip (and now the things he bought her today) was her gift and she almost feels like it’s too much and he sees her hesitation but he just “this is the last gift apart from the rest of the trip, just open it sweet thing” and she’s chewing on her lip as he settles on the coffee table right in front of her, and she gasps quietly when she removes the tissue paper and sees the little blue set that she had been looking at online a few weeks ago and thank you h 🥺 and he just kisses her softly and tells her to go try it on while he gets something from the kitchen and after a few minutes, he has two glasses of her favourite wine poured and his dress shirt is half unbuttoned and pushed to his elbows and he barely hears her quiet footsteps before “h?” and he turns around and she’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen dressed in the pretty set and she’s already taken her makeup off so she doesn’t have to do it later and he could just fall to his knees because he knew she’d look pretty but she’s like a little angel just nervously fiddling with the bottom of the teddy because she’s not sure if it looks okay but he’s already crowding around her, his hands sliding down her arms and his fingers grazing her thighs while he tells her how gorgeous she looks and “do you like it?” and she’s nodding with her breathing shallowing as he dips his finger into the little waistband on her hip and “yeah? think you look pretty in it?” and she’s just nodding again and he’s guiding her into the bedroom the wine forgotten and he’s asking her if he can love on her a little for her birthday and he’s just giving her gentle little teasing touches when he gets her on the bed until she’s squirming and hes asking how she wants him to touch her and he just ends up playing with her and worshipping her the whole night, even turning her head once to look out at the pretty sea view from the doors to the balcony 😌 - 🍓

BESTIE WAIT:((((((((((((((((( this is sosososo good like hes been working so much recently all so he could take her on this fancy little trip without needing to worry about a workload waiting for him or the place burning down while he was gone and just its sooooo perfect like shes never been treated to something like this before and shes so excited that she gets to experience it with harry:( but omg the lingerie:(((( his crowding around her and giving her those soft little touches until they're in the bedroom and her legs are over his shoulders and im literally feeling so insane:(

#🍓 anon #ask #anon #prosecco inspo #concept

[aces-and-angels]

An It Lives Within Holiday Special: Lincoln Edition 🎁

Title: Handmade 

A/N: Slowly, but surely, we’re keeping the ball rolling lol. This one was inspired by a couple of HC’s I made earlier. Enjoy 🖤🖤🖤 (LPS and @linkysmommy here’s my overdue olive branch lmaoo)

Pairing: Lincoln x MC (M!Rowan)

Summary: A bonus scene for ILW by @itlivesproject; Rowan decides to make something for Lincoln. 

Warnings: minor reference to blood, language, sex

nsfw below, minors dni 

---

“Fuck,” Rowan hissed out in pain. A small pool of blood began to well up where he pricked himself with the needle. Again. Over the past three hours, he injured himself at least once with every tool in front of him; some minor burns from a glue gun, a stinging cut from a utility knife, and now this.

“Maybe I should-” 

“No, Connor,” he huffed, cutting him off. “ I want to do this myself.”

“I understand that, but you’re running out of fingers to cut,” he gestured towards his hands. Rowan glanced down, taking note of the several bandages that covered his skin.  

“I’m almost done,” he mumbled sheepishly, picking up the needle once more to continue to sew. 

“You’re really not, though. You still have to stitch the other side.”

“Oh my God,” he groaned, throwing the piece of leather onto the table. “Why is this so hard?!” 

“You’re a beginner and you chose one of the hardest templates from my shop.” 

Rowan rolled his eyes at him. “That was a rhetorical question, jackass.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes flicked over to the side table. “Hand me that scrap leather over there.”

“I already told you-” 

“I’m not making it for you,” Connor interrupted, “but I can’t keep watching you hurt yourself. I’m gonna show you a better a technique.” He settled into the chair next to him, grabbing his tool kit from the shelf above. “First, let’s take care of that cut. I can’t have you bleeding all over my supplies.”

“Your concern is touching,” Rowan deadpanned, holding out his finger so Connor could apply another band-aid. 

---   

After two botched attempts and one long walk around the cabin to calm himself down, Rowan figured out how to make a wallet. The sky had turned dark by the time he set down his tools. Holding the finished product in his hands, he admired his work. The dye he had applied left a light brown stain to the leather, its color warm with undertones of red. His finger ran along the smooth edges, checking for any bumps he needed to sand down. Finding none, he flipped it over. His eyes scanned the small mark he carved out in the lower right corner. L.M. His thumb stroked along the hollow groove of the letters. “He’s going to love it,” Connor clapped him on the back. 

“You think so?” 

“No doubt. This design is really popular with my customers,” he encouraged further. Rowan bit back a smile. While out on one of their dates, he had noticed how worn out his wallet was. The material was tattered, and the clasp was dangerously close to falling off completely. He originally planned on buying one online for him. Then, he remembered his roommate owned an art store. 

“Thanks again, Connor. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“I know,” he smirked. His boisterous laugh filled the room as Rowan shoved him. “It’s no trouble, really. I love this kind of stuff. When are you going to give it to him?” 

“We’re going to a concert next week, so probably then.”

---

One week later, Lincoln picked him up from the cabin. Together, they rode on his motorcycle to a concert venue just outside Westchester. The drive was quiet, aside from the steady thrum of the engine. Rowan’s arms were wrapped around Lincoln’s waist, his chest flushed against his back. Normally, he loved their rides; the gust of wind that hit his face, the faint, earthy scent of Lincoln’s skin, the rush of adrenaline that flooded his veins as they weaved through traffic. 

But he couldn’t enjoy any of that. Not while he was constantly imagining his gift falling onto the road. There was no way for him to physically check his pockets, so he settled for awkwardly clamping his elbows to his sides.

Once they hit a red light, Rowan’s hand flew to his waist. Relief washed through him as he felt the shape of the wallet over his jeans. “Am I driving too fast?” Lincoln asked over his shoulder.

"No, why?”

“You seem jumpy.”

“I-I’m fine,” he answered shakily. 

“You sure? I can slow down,” he offered, taking one hand off the handle to squeeze his. Lincoln’s thumb ran over his knuckles. The familiar roughness of his skin settled Rowan’s nerves. He exhaled, releasing the breath he was holding. 

“I’m sure.” He squeezed his hand back. That seemed to be enough to ease Lincoln’s worry. 

“Alright. Just let me know if that changes.” 

“Aw, look who cares about me,” he teased, a smirk tugging on his lip. 

“Shut up.” Chuckling, Lincoln playfully swatted his arm. The cars ahead of them slowly started to move as the light switched to green. Rowan quickly tucked the wallet further into his pocket before adjusting his hold on Lincoln’s waist. 

It only took three more stops for them to reach their destination. Rowan got a clear view of the venue as they turned into the parking lot. In the middle of a grassy field was a stage underneath a large, white tent. Their decision to leave early had paid off. The crowd was sparse, leaving them plenty of room to find a spot near the front. Hand in hand, they walked into the field, the weight of Lincoln’s gift hitting his thigh with each step. His free hand anxiously twitched toward his pocket. He wondered how Lincoln would react. Would he like the color? Was it weird to give him something like this? 

“Do you want anything?” Lincoln’s voice snapped him out of his trance. 

“Huh?” He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t realize that they’d reached the front of the barricade. 

Lincoln nodded at a smaller tent to their left. “They’re selling drinks over there. Want one?” 

“Oh, uh- sure. Maybe in a bit,” he replied, chewing on his lip. It was now or never. “There’s something I need to do first.” Confusion marked Lincoln’s features, his brow furrowing as Rowan pulled his hand away.

“Is something wrong?”

“No!” he blurted out. “I just- I have this thing...”

Lincoln’s brows furrowed even more. “A thing? Did you forget to do something?”

“Ugh, no- that didn’t come out right,” he grumbled. Taking a quick breath, he tried again. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?” 

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. Obediently, Lincoln’s eyes slipped shut. Without his gaze on him, Rowan pulled the wallet out of his pocket. He ran his thumb along the carved L.M. once. Then twice. A seed of doubt crept back into his mind. Yesterday’s pride morphed into insecurity over his work. I should’ve just bought one online. It would’ve been nicer. Who makes a wallet for someone?? He’s gonna think I’m-

"Uh- Ro? How long am I supposed to keep my eyes shut?” 

“Sorry, um, keep them closed for a bit more. A-and hold your hand out for me.”

“You’re not pranking me, right?” 

“No pranks, I swear. Just give me your hand.” 

“Alright, I’m trusting you,” he sighed, extending his arm out. “But if it’s something gross, I will not hesitate to throw it at you.” 

Rowan let out a small laugh at his threat, feeling some of the tension leave his body. “Good thing I have fast reflexes,” he quipped back.

“Rowan.”

“I’m kidding,” he reassured. Despite their friendly banter, there was still a tremble in Rowan’s hand. His fingers gripped the wallet tightly, afraid of completing the exchange. He closed his own eyes, attempting to steel his nerves. Connor’s words rang through his head. “He’s going to love it.” 

He’s going to love it, Rowan repeated to himself. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he loosened his grip, letting the wallet fall out of his grasp. 

“Oh,” Lincoln gasped, his eyes snapping open the instant the leather touched his skin. Rowan watched him with bated breath, trying to gauge his reaction. The murmurs of the crowd around them faded, replaced by the deafening pound of his heart. Lincoln stood motionless, his mouth slightly agape as he stared down at his gift. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? Rowan chewed on his bottom lip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The silence between them was unbearable. Tentatively, Lincoln put his other hand over the wallet, covering it completely. Great. He hates it so much he doesn’t even want to look at it. I knew it. I should’ve just gotten the one-

“You... you made this?” Lincoln breathed out.

Rowan’s face burned from embarrassment. “Was it that obvious?” His shame prevented him for picking up on his boyfriend’s tone. Instead, he focused on counting the blades of grass around his feet. “I-it was a stupid idea,” he mumbled, unable to look at him. His fingers nervously twisted his sleeve as he continued to speak. “I just... yours looked so tattered- and Connor had extra leather, s-so I thought-” Lincoln cut off his ramblings, lifting his chin back up to his face. Before he could react, Lincoln kissed him hard. 

His shoulders tensed as his mouth pressed against his. A moment passed, then he was kissing him back with fervor. A low groan rattled in Rowan’s throat as Lincoln’s fingers tangled through his hair. His own hands reached up to clutch the collar of his shirt. Their lips greedily chased each other, becoming more and more heated as they moved as one. It was the type of kiss that would’ve been more appropriate behind closed doors. But Rowan’s need for decorum disappeared in a mesh of teeth and tongue. Only when his lungs were desperate for air did they pull apart, their chests heaving. “So -hah- does this mean you like it?” 

“I love it,” he rasped, the effect of their kiss still evident in his voice. Rowan’s eyes fluttered open, taking in the flush on Lincoln’s cheeks and his swollen lips. His breath hitched at the loving gaze his boyfriend directed at him. Lincoln’s fingers continued to lazily play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “You did all this for me?” 

“There’s actually more,” Rowan hinted, pulling himself out of his hold. He bit back a laugh as Lincoln eagerly flipped the wallet open. His features softened immediately when he saw what was inside.

“It’s us,” he awed. 

“I found that disposable camera you were looking for and developed the film,” he explained softly. “That one was my favorite.”

“I can see why,” he murmured. There was something reverent about the way Lincoln’s fingers traced along his present. Tender, even. It was almost like he couldn’t stop. Rowan found it all endearing, even if he couldn’t figure out why Lincoln seemed so entranced. Maybe he likes the texture, he guessed. Whatever daze he was in lifted, at least long enough for Lincoln to transfer the contents of his old wallet to his new one. “I won’t be needing this anymore,” he announced cheerily, throwing his old wallet in the trash.

“I can’t believe you used that thing for so long.” 

“I would’ve gotten a new one eventually. My incredibly thoughtful boyfriend just beat me to it,” he praised, leaning in to peck his cheek. 

“Sounds like a great guy,” he smirked.

“Oh, he is. That, and so much more.” His sincerity left Rowan flustered. The tips of his ears felt hot. 

“I’ll take that drink now,” he cleared his throat. 

“Sure thing, babe,” Lincoln chuckled, grabbing his hand to walk over to the concession stand.

---

The rest of the concert was a blur. Rowan barely paid attention to the performers on stage, distracted by how openly affectionate Lincoln had gotten. He clung to him throughout the whole set, his arms firmly wrapped around his chest. From the way he nuzzled into the crook of his neck, Rowan wasn’t sure if he actually watched any of the show. But his sweet, gentle kisses felt too good for him to care. The music came second to the blissful hums Lincoln made against his skin. 

His amorous mood lasted well into the night (not that Rowan was complaining). He all but begged him to stay over, claiming that he ‘accidentally’ missed the turn for Connor’s cabin. They fell onto the bed, leaving a pile of clothes forgotten on the floor. Lincoln’s fingers intertwined with his; his breath was hot and heavy against his ear. “Let me take care of you tonight.” Rowan shuddered, his skin tingling wherever Lincoln’s hands roamed, his mouth trailing right behind it. The ache between his legs grew the longer he teased him.

“Lincoln... please-” 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“You,” he panted, rolling his hips against his thigh. “I need you. Now.”

“I’m all yours, love.” Rowan lost himself in the euphoric feeling of their limbs tangling together. Their shared pleasure echoed throughout the room. Quiet moans gradually transformed into loud, strangled cries. Every inch of their bodies was intimately pressed against each other. It was never enough and too much all at once. Rowan’s nails dug into his back, his muscles tensing as Lincoln pounded into that spot inside him over and over. The steady thump of the headboard hitting the wall lost its rhythm as their movements turned frantic.  “Oh shit- baby, I- I’m- I’m gonna-” 

“Me too,” Lincoln choked out, his head dropping to his shoulder. His teeth sunk into his flesh. The sharp pain sent Rowan tumbling over the edge. Writhing beneath him, he gripped the sheets tightly as he continued to fuck him through his orgasm. “Give it to me, baby,” he groaned, wrapping his legs tighter around his waist. “Make me yours.” With that, his lover came with a shattered gasp.

“Oh- Rowan!”

---

The following morning, they went to a nearby coffee shop. As Lincoln ordered their drinks, Rowan observed the soft smile that appeared on his face when he pulled out his new wallet. The way his hand lingered in his pocket for longer than necessary as he tucked it back in also didn’t go unnoticed. His actions puzzled him. Did he really like the material that much? He recalled how instantaneous his reaction was when he first received it, which raised another thought in his mind. “Babe, I have a question.”

“Shoot.” Lincoln set down his mug, giving him his full attention.

“Yesterday, when I gave you your present... How’d you know that I made it?”

A knowing grin spread on his lips, which he hid as he lifted his mug back up to his mouth. “Lucky guess,” he answered simply. Rowan knew him well enough to recognize that he wasn’t telling him the whole truth. But he decided to let it go for now. 

“Alright, just wondering.” 

---

Lincoln McQuoid: “Basically, I can sense things that have been touched by the power. Monsters, artifacts, people...  I can see impressions and feel emotions, but the more disconnected from the Power something is and the more disconnected emotionally I am from it, the vaguer the impressions will be.”

#playchoices #choices #lincoln mcquoid #lincoln x mc #ilw #ilw fic #it lives within #it lives in the woods #it lives beneath #connor green #ilb #ilitw #my fic #the fluff fic that is owed #and deserved #lps- here is your olive branch lmaoo #it lives series #it lives project #it lives anthology #n*fw #nsft

[gabessquishytum]

okay but there's so much potential for the process of the corinthian convincing dream to get a cell phone to be SO funny like??? he brings it up when dream first sends him off to play with hob and dream says no, he's not doing that, the corinthian can contact him through any of the normal methods and he'll answer.

so the corinthian naturally decides to be a little shit about it. dream starts getting requests for audiences, using all the proper old magics, but answers and like. the corinthian has set up a scrying pool on hob's bedside table. they can talk. dream can hear them just fine, he can hear all of the corinthian's dirty talk and all of hob's whines and moans, but he can't see a thing because, you know. scrying pool. the corinthian's other favourite is contacting dream through a mirror, and he sets the mirror up differently every time but it's always showing the very edge of hob's bed so dream might, perhaps, get the occasional glimpse of a hand or foot but not much more than that.

enough of this and dream does, eventually, cave and get a cell phone. and then the three of them wind up with a group chat that's like 95% dream and the corinthian sharing pictures of hob and ideas about what to do to him next and very intentionally ignoring hob completely, because they'd share pictures and ideas anyway but it's so much more fun if hob's there watching the whole exchange without being allowed any actual input.

-🐈‍⬛

Obsessed with the idea of the Bully Hob Groupchat honestly??? Its such a Concept and it's so appealing to the humiliation/objectification kink tbh. I'm imagining the 3 of them hanging out together and just doing their own things, a chill afternoon you know? And the whole time Dream and the Corinthian are messaging back and forth about how they're planning to ruin Hob tonight. The Corinthian is sharing pictures from the custom lingerie store he's found online and he's asking Dream for his opinion on colours - 'would our slut look prettier in white or gold? I just can't decide'. Dream is like 'gold, definitely, only the best for him. if he's a good whore and takes the paddle well tonight I'll buy him a nice watch to match it'. And Hob is sitting there reading along so he KNOWS that Dream is going to use the paddle on his arse tonight. There's nothing he can do about it except get hard and wiggle in his seat while his lovers pretend that they have no idea what could possibly be the matter!

They will also shamelessly send nsfw messages and pictures while Hob is very much at work btw. He should really know better than to look mid class but he can't help himself. He's taught with a boner before and he'll do it again. If he's really gunning for a punishment, he retaliates and sends spicy pics when Dream is supposed to be in an important diplomatic meeting. One time he sends a selfie while riding the Corinthian's dick and Dream actually hauls him into the dreaming and deals with him right there and then <3

#hobrintheus #the sandman #nsft #🐈‍⬛ anon

[ultimate-mancave]

Get the ultimate foosball experience with our best foosball table and soccer at UltimateManCave with afterpay options all over New Zealand. Shop now!

#pool tables new zealand #buy pool table online #pool tables for sale #poker tables for sale #arcade game machines #air hockey table #table tennis table #best foosball table #pool tables nz #New Zealand

[madaboutmunson]

WIP Wednesday

A section of Chapter 7 of my RockstarSteve/PhotographerEddie fic

He'd thought about it. Digging his heels in again, demanding to fly commercial so that he wouldn't end up trapped on there with Harrington and whatever set of groupies he was going to use for in-flight entertainment, but Marney had said he was willing to give the entire flight time to Eddie's project.

Eddie had been collecting candids and quotes and diary entries for years now from bands that only played their local bar to multi-platinum artists. His hypothesis was this. Money can buy luxury, and it can make things easier. It can push people to succeed or keep pushing on, but nothing moves a musician more than the music itself. All he had to do was gather the evidence, lay it out nicely, and boom! Perfect coffee table book. Though he loathed Harrington, he wasn't stupid. His fans would buy Eddie's book simply for the exclusive shots and interviews. And Harrington had just given him a whole hour, no questions asked, apparently. Maybe it was another masked apology for their meeting?

Like his therapist has said to him repeatedly, he didn't have to forgive him, but if he could find a way to let go of all this anger towards a stranger, he could find a little more peace. The world was a tough enough place as it is.

After all, how much should Eddie be allowed to hate the guy if he doesn't even know what he did? And after the last two weeks, Eddie has been wondering how much control Harrington has over the asteroid bombardment that happens to things pulled into his orbit.

A day after their meeting, a grainy picture of himself leaving Harrington's house, hilariously labelled him as a mystery woman, had started making the rounds online. He only found that out because a few days later, he started getting notifications from his old Munson Photography account, thousands of them asking the same thing. Was he finally going to work with Harrington? As the messages started to pour in, the fear that curled around his spine had almost induced waking nightmare recollections of his life falling apart around him. He didn't respond to any of them, but that didn't stop the barrage. If anything, it amplified the situation. Groups of people, girls mainly, positioned around his usual daily haunts. The studio, the coffee shop, the local bar, the laundromat, occasionally surreptitiously, one would snap a photo of him with their phone. He'd just repeat the amount of money he was going to get paid over and over in his head. He'd even had his bins and mailbox rifled through. Soon, they had him tracked all over, and he was extremely glad all his socials were already set to private. Requests appearing on his other social media profiles were all declined. He decided that if this project went well, we'd start up a new public account and dump all the Harrington in dribs and drabs and, hopefully, future stuff there, too.

Eddie wasn't sure if it was because he'd gotten laid last week, if he was excited to get back to doing what he loved, or if it was because he had a golden opportunity, but whatever it was, he wasn't feeling so concerned.

The driver had picked him up from the hotel, which was only a ten-minute walk away, but he supposed someone might have had a few questions if he had just strolled out onto the tarmac here. He'd been ushered to the plane immediately, which was odd because he could still see the pool of photographers waiting in their strategically placed pens. A few snapped at him as he boarded, which was pretty unnerving as he definitely preferred being on the other side of the camera. Luckily, Marney had advised him as such, and he'd taken a little more care of his appearance this morning. He turned down the idea of sunglasses this early in the morning, though they had been recommended.

Once inside, he'd realise Harrington wasn't early because he wasn't on the plane. So Eddie takes the opportunity to unpack his camera and head back down the stairs to the runway. He hides behind the staircase to avoid invading the other photographers' shots. He had access they didn't, but he didn't want to be a complete asshole about it. He said he'd be here on the hour, so Eddie sits on the Tarmac anticipating at least an extra thirty-minute wait, but much to his surprise, Harrington is on time with his team but bereft of groupies.

He steps out of the blacked-out windowed vehicle, again in the typical rockstar clothing you'd expect. Tight leather look pants, a sheer shirt and a knee-length jacket with faux fur trim topped off with swathes of accessories and a black set of wayfarers. Obviously, the specific items are slightly different, but Eddie wonders if it's almost like a uniform.  A dark alter-ego of the all-American blue-collar guy who just happened to be good at playing guitar, he portrayed on stage, on album covers, and inside exclusive magazine articles. Despite the predictability of his outfit, his behaviour is surprising. He opens the door, and someone from another car rushes over to him, then to the photographers and then back to Harrington, who nods, and the rapid shutter sounds ride the breeze around them. 

Harrington shields himself at first, almost like he's trying to make a secret escape to the plane. Then, once at the foot of the stairs, he turns back, gets back into the car, re-emerges with a big smile, slow walk, and waves for the photographers, even stopping to pause and pose for a few shots as they shout his name repeatedly. The man is methodical. It makes Eddie wonder if any of the harassed-looking pictures he'd seen of Harrington were real at all.

Eddie takes a few shots from this angle. It might be cool for a reader to have the photographers in the frame for a change and then quickly rushes back up the stairs to capture him getting on the plane.

Once in position, Eddie feels a little strange, a twinge of guilt. Shouldn't he let the guy get settled on the plane before taking his picture? But on the other hand, he did have Harrington's permission to snap whatever he wanted. A flicker of humanising Harrington almost has him stand up out of his crouched position, but people are already boarding around him by that time. Buckley gives him a nod as she starts going over her extra checks. Harrington spots him in the aisle, and a half-smile pinches at his cheek.

"Hi," he says almost too quietly to be heard over the plane's noise and everyone else bustling around.

Eddie raises his eyes from behind the viewfinder, mirrors his smile, "Morning, Mr. Harrington".

"How do you want me?" He asks, gesturing around.

"Uh, just pretend I'm not here," Eddie replies, not tearing his eyes from the camera this time.

"Sure, I'll try my best." Harrington oddly responds and smiles a little wider.

#eddie munson #eddiemunson #steve harrington #steveharrington #steddie #steddie fanfic #wip wednesday #madaboutmunson #madaboutmunson itichbs #madaboutmunson rockstarsteve photographereddie

[meili-sheep]

If I may bring your attention to the Bully Brigade Modern AU, as they all have their secrets and there seem to be new additions:

You'll Only Find Yelan When She Wants to be Found

Yelan is not a material girl, but someone with a homestead located far away from civilization.

Shenhe stumbled across it once on one of her week-long excursions away from society.

Her heart jumped a little when Yelan came walking out of this decent farmhouse and proceeded to chill out on the front porch.

This homestead has a world-class security system too.

Yelan totally fucking knew when Shenhe first showed up.

"So how did you like the place?"

"How did you know that I was there?"

"I see everything."

Needless to say, the more unsettling fact of this conversation was that Yelan's place is a day's trek away from hers and she only found it on that day.

When Shenhe asked about this, she simply replied: "I wanted you to find it."

Shenhe is now 55% sure that she's some high-tier world-class criminal on the run from international law.

Thoma vs The Whimsical Wishes of One Kamisato Ayato

"Why is there a charge of 10 million dollars on your allowance account?"

"Promise you won't be mad."

"I promise I won't be mad. What did you buy?"

" Just a little treat for myself."

"Ayato, what did you buy?"

" . . . a tank."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to."

"And why did you want to?"

"I wanted to see what would happen if I shot an abandoned apartment complex."

"Well, we're not doing that."

"Aw. But this one's from a really cool era that I read about a few days ago and apparently, it can roll over the barbed wire so-"

"Kamisato Ayato."

"Oh no, not my full name . . ."

"Is this why there's an entire order of things that, quite concerningly, are meant for trench warfare that went through yesterday too?"

". . . maybe?"

"If anything from the mock battle of Shiroyama taught you anything, it's that maybe we shouldn't do stuff like this without the approval of the public institutions?"

"Can't I just pay them off?"

Thoma is holding it together by a thread, but he is trying.

There's Money to be Made in the Business of Betting

There is a betting ring at a cafe where two particular men often get into verbal disputes over a wide array of topics.

Some individuals have managed to successfully pin down their respective schedules, habits, and even their orders to create a 'schedule' for this event.

On the days she has selected for these, there will be a certain influx of people that show up and order their usuals at around that time while also waiting for it to begin.

There's an entire online community that even compiled potential topics that can be debated, 'hosts' that watch it and mediate to decide one or the other, and even a few individuals who have volunteered their patronage for the cafe and some of their suppliers to ensure that there are a minimal amount of delays and mishaps.

The way it works is that two select individuals start talking about something, taking whatever stances on it and the two objects of the betting ring pick up on this and talk amongst themselves about the said subject.

They inevitably fall into an argument and become so absorbed in this that they all but notice the people watching, nodding, and the sounds of cash exchanging hands.

These two haven't caught on yet, but it's only a matter of time.

Pool

Ayato had impulsed bought a pool table and Diluc happened to be over when it arrived.

"Hey, I had something like this when Kaeya and I were younger. Care for a game?"

They both suck. Terribly.

When Ayaka sees the both of them, she's so taken aback that she's like 'okay, let me show you how it's done'.

And she smokes them like grilled fish. Lovingly, as she's teaching them, but regardless.

After that, Ayato makes it his life's mission (or his hyperfixation naturally running its course) to beat his sister because what sibling is gonna sit there and take that?

He will. Because he still sucks. A lot.

Diluc just took a bit of time to relearn the game, Yelan completely beating him isn't even a question, and even Shenhe mustered the patience and self-control to beat him once she understood the game mechanics.

Kaveh would be just as bad as Ayato if not worse, and Al-Haitham would mercilessly call him out on it the whole time.

"Your position is wrong." "The stick isn't even supposed to be held that way." "The pool table isn't there for you to lean on."

And then Kaveh goes 'as if you could do better'

So Al-Haitham completely smokes all of them out of spite and to prove a point as he is right and Kaveh is wrong. All is now correct in the world.

In the end, the pool table was promptly given to Diluc as Ayato 'never wanted to see a pool table again in his existence'.

----

I feel like Al-Haitham would be some sort of high-ranked government contractor/specialist that has connections in the right places and Kaveh is rooming with him as he's in public works and public servants hardly make shit until that pension hits.

Don't gamble with Yelan or Diluc.

Yelan just had insane luck. And Diluc is good with numbers and can count cards. He doesn't even mean to do it to start. Diluc in generally is really good at games especially ones that require technical thinking. So I think he'd be pretty good at pool myself. (I have a friend who actually gets better at pool the drunker they get and I think that would be really funny for Diluc maybe sober he overthinks it and is awful but get him a little drunk and relaxed he's amazing.)

As for Al Haitham, I feel he's some kind of an archeologist who works in the preservation of artifacts, Cause that's kind of what he does now.

And He'd totally meet up with the group Either through being picked up by Yelan or Kaveh getting picked up by Yelan and he gets dragged into it.

If he fits.

We still need confirmation he hates and actively bullies the fatui.

#al haitham #shenhe #Bully the Fatui Brigade #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #kamisato ayato #ayato #yelan #yelan genshin impact

[crimson-calligraphyx]

8: Just Pretend

Noah

It's been a few weeks since I've seen Olivia and the thought of her well-being was constantly on my mind. Sure, I've checked in on her through text here and there, but it was always the same response: she's doing okay, she's just been working longer hours and didn't have time to hang out. I wasn't buying it, but there was no use in trying to get the truth from her through texting.

The boys and I decided to jump online and play Fall Guys, which was helping me get her off my mind for a bit. This game could be frustrating at times, but it was all in good fun. We just shit talked each other and laughed when we would push each other off the edge to make it to the next level. Of course, there were times where I wouldn't time the jumps right and the floor would collapse underneath my character, resulting in me yelling obscenities and the boys laughing at me.

"Yo, you hear from Liv at all lately?" Ruffilo asks. I sighed as the question distracted me, causing me to fall off the edge again. "Yeah, here and there. She's been busy with work I guess, picking up people's slack more so than usual." "Damn, that sucks," he sympathizes. I purse my lips and nod dejectedly, the thoughts of her being unwell infiltrating my thoughts again.

We begin another round of Fall Guys when my phone started to ring on the desk. Olivia's name was displayed on my screen, and my stomach churned with anxiety—she's only ever contacted me by text, never a phone call. I slide my headset off my left ear, holding my phone in place with my shoulder as I accept her call. When I heard the despair in her voice, I knocked the headset completely off my head in panic. "Liv, what's wrong?" She was wailing, fumbling her words. The only thing I could make out was 'I need you' or 'I need someone'—I couldn't tell exactly what was being said. "Shh, shh, Liv," I try to calm her down. "I'm on my way, okay? Leave the door unlocked so I can get in." With that being said, I hung up and put the headset back on briefly. "I gotta go, that was Liv and-and she didn't sound good." I could hear Nick say something as I turned everything off, but I didn't want to waste any time explaining it to the guys.

When I made it to her place, there wasn't a single light on, and that right there freaked me out. Did she end up leaving before I got here? Did I take too long?

As I fumbled around to find a lightswitch, I could hear her sobbing from across the house. I tried my best to follow the sound without stumbling into anything as I still couldn't find a damn lightswitch. After bashing my shin against the coffee table, I finally reached the entryway to the kitchen where her cries were coming from. I ran my hands against the wall, sighing with a hint of relief when I was able to flip the light on.

When I saw her, I felt my heart rate triple with alarm. She was crumpled on the floor, a pool of a dark liquid around her. Her back was against the cupboards, her arms wrapped around her legs as she screamed into her knees. I got down to her level and immediately scooped her into my arms. She clung to me, embracing me tight enough to push the air out of my lungs while sobbing into my chest. "Shh, Olivia, I'm here," I tried my best to console her, running a hand down her back. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head against me, "Wine," she mumbles. I knit my eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what wine had to do with anything. "What—oh," it clicked that she was referring to the puddle around her. The sight of the shattered wine glass behind her calmed my nerves a tad since it confirmed that it wasn't blood around her.

I had to get to the bottom of why she was so distraught. I gently pried her from me, holding her by her shoulders as I looked at her. Her eyes were incredibly puffy, cheeks flushed with mascara running down them. "Olivia, what happened?" "My-my," gasp. "Dad," gasp. "Dad died." Her voice cracked on the last word. My heart shattered for her. My own eyes welled up with tears, knowing the exact pain of losing a parent. I watched her lips tremble and her eyes screw shut as she continued to break down in front of me. I pulled her back into my chest and wrapped my arms around her, hoping she could feel the sympathy I had for her. "I'm so sorry," I whisper in her hair as I ran a hand through it. "I've got you, I'm not going anywhere. Let's get you out of the kitchen and into clean clothes." I feel her nod her head against me.

When I finally got her up off the floor and into her bedroom, I couldn't convince her to change out of her clothes. Instead, she just scrambled into bed, burrowing herself in the covers. I sat at the edge of her bed behind her as I watched her body quake, unsure of what to do. I couldn't bear to see her like this and continue to hear her cry, it was extremely painful for me to witness. Knowing that this was jumping the gun a little, I kicked off my shoes and laid down behind her on top of the covers. I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into my chest, hoping to act as a security blanket.

This was something that I always did for my ex, and I prayed that this would help console Olivia, too.

Olivia

I woke up to the sound of someone snoring softly behind me, their body pressed tight enough against my back that I could feel their chest rise and fall from their breathing. Feeling weight on my side, I looked down, my eyes meeting the familiar ink on Noah's arm that's currently draped over me. Smiling, I relish in the comfort and warmth of his body while I could, knowing that this wouldn't last forever. There was something so alleviating about his presence, and if I could, I would have him around indefinitely. I was so grateful for him; there wasn't enough words in the English dictionary for me to express that.

He begins to stir, breathing in heavily as he removed his arm from me and stretched. I frowned and turned onto my back, even though I was expecting that to happen sooner or later. He then rolls onto his back, putting both his hands behind his head, eyes still shut as he steadily breathed for a moment or two. "Morning," he mumbles without opening his eyes. "How are you feeling?" I smile gently, my heart swelling at the fact that he cared enough to ask. "Better, thank you." He chuckles quietly, "No need to thank me; that's what friends are for." I felt a pang in my chest, my smile shrinking at the word 'friends'—I should've known better. He is so selfless, he would've done this for anyone—and I did admire him for that.

I found myself gazing at his tattoos, taking in how the morning glow accentuated the color in the ink. The shades blended in so well, the details so precise; it really was a true work of art. I don't know how long I stared at his arm, but I could feel his eyes on me as I continued.

"What are you thinking about?" he ponders, turning towards me and props himself up with his elbow. I mirrored his position, watching his mouth curl up at the corners. "Just thankful that I have a friend like you. I mean, I have Victoria, but she didn't answer her phone," I say softly. He hums, nodding his head as he takes in my words. "I'm sorry she didn't answer your call." I shrug, "It's not the first time, honestly." His mouth twists, disappointment in his features. "Then I'm glad you called me. Dealing with the loss of your dad by yourself is gut-wrenching, and I wouldn't want anyone going through that alone." I grinned, "See, that's why you're a great person, Noah. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He flashes me a sheepish smile, hanging his head slightly. "There's another thing I was wondering." He picks his head back up, eyebrows perked up in curiosity.

"I was wondering if your tattoos have any color to them," I say, even though I could clearly see that they do. I was just curious as to what he would tell me. "Yeah," he nods, "mostly red, I think." I tilt my head to the side in questioning, "You think?" He chuckles, "Mhm. I can't see color anymore; it's been years since I could." I sit all the way up and sit cross-legged, still facing him, intrigued. "What do you mean you 'can't see colors anymore'?" He sighs, "It's a long story, but remember that ex I mentioned before?" I nod. "Believe it or not, I was in love with her and I could see color because of it. It was the most amazing thing I've ever witnessed, and it was humbling when the colors started to fade back to grey." "I knew that when you're in love, you're supposed to see color—I didn't know you could lose it." He nods sadly. "Yeah. I got really sick with a rare illness called Hanahaki Disease, and let me tell you, that shit was debilitating."

I gasped and covered my mouth, astonished that Victoria had been telling me the truth that night. I felt a pang of guilt as I recalled my disbelief, laughing in her face.

"I was losing the ability to breathe, and I was always so weak from the lack of oxygen," he continues. "I'd have really bad episodes and would cough for hours, days even, and one time I cracked a rib from coughing so hard. Eventually I figured out the cause of my shortness of breath—there were flowers growing in my lungs." "Oh, my God," I mumbled through my fingers that were still pressed against my mouth. He laughs, "I know, sounds ridiculous, right? You know what caused it?" I shake my head 'no', even though I did know. "She didn't love me anymore. Unrequited love is taxing, and not many people believe it until it happens to them or someone they know." I drop my hands in my lap, wringing them together in anticipation of the story continuing. "So...how did you get better?" He swallows, searching for words. "I had to just pretend that I didn't love her anymore. It was a constant battle, but eventually it worked. The only downfall was losing the ability to see color completely."

I stared into his eyes for a moment, clearly seeing the truth behind them. They were glossed over, signifying that this was a painful story for him to tell. I give his shoulder a reassuring rub, a caring smile on my face. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. You didn't have to go into detail, it seemed like that was hard to tell." He sits up fully, shaking his head. "No, don't apologize. I can't change the past, you know? I lived through it, so I'm gonna tell this story because it's a part of who I am." "That's very brave of you, Noah." He shrugs, "I guess," he laughs. "One more question; what was your favorite color?" He brings his hand to his chin, tapping it with his index finger with a quizzical expression on his face. "You know, at the time it was definitely red, but if I think about it now and can remember the colors accurately... I'd say blue takes the cake."

|Chapter 9|

#noah sebastian #bad omens band #bad omens #hanahaki disease #colorblind #fanfic writing #fanfic #fan fiction #love #romance

[theliterarywolf]

Going anon cause I don’t want a giant target on my back, you ever notice that guys have a harder time in the dating pool? Like they gotta have a certain amount of income, body type, height and mannerisms just to have a chance at a date/relationship with a woman?

See, I keep hearing/reading this take going around.

I myself haven't been in the dating pool for, woof, years (I wanted to start dating this year, but I made the resolution that I have to get my mental health in order first) so I don't have the core experience/evidence to say a definite one way or the other.

However! What I will say, based on what I've observed from people on social media talking about it, is that dating kind of sucks for everyone right now.

Like, you have what you mentioned: a bunch of women/femmes not wanting to look at a profile unless they're some 6-foot-12 Adonis who owns a Fortune 500 company, while not considering what (if anything) they're bringing to the table.

However, you also have men/butches not wanting a woman unless she fits into some bizarre 'barely-legal-but-looks-like-an-OnlyFans-thot-without-the-baggage' image that gets lauded online.

Not to mention (and, I'm sorry to say, my fellow black, African, and brown women, you have to stop doing this): the sheer, mindboggling amount of women going out for first-dates with guys and insisting 'Oh, so you're going to buy food for my kids at home too, right???'

Honey, no... They barely know you, let alone your babies!

Also, going back to the male side of the equation: some guys need to stop trying to play every position of the field at once. What I mean by that is: if you are talking to a girl, you don't need to be talking to two other girls at the same time.

And before anyone tries to say 'Oh, the straights are at it again', my shes, gays, and theys are not innocent in this either.

I think the only insight that I can give is just... looking for connection first rather than going into dating thinking that 'okay, I HAVE TO hit this off in one go so I can get a relationship going'. Rome wasn't built in a day and if you just try to aim for connection first rather than everything thing all at once, I feel like the other facets will start falling more into place.

[peachy-yan]

Ren with a Clumsy Angel/Mysterious Bruises Headcanons

⚠️Warnings: Yandere, suggestive language, suggestions of violence, cuts and scrapes mentions

~~~

💘Of course he already knew you were clumsy. That doesn’t stop him from freaking out everytime you get a new bruise or cut, though.

💘Has definitely considered baby-proofing your house when he breaks in.

💘If you’re dating he’s definitely brought it up and maybe gone as far as putting pool noodles on all the sharp edges in your house. If it really upsets or annoys you he might stop, but he would still try and rearrange furniture stealthily to minimize damage.

💘Buys you bandaids in cute colors and patterns. He found a box of Haruko ones online and stockpiled them for you. He likes it when you use those on more visible cuts/scrapes.

💘Might even go so far as to get custom bandaids of his own face

💘Definitely keeps your used bandaids after you throw them out.

💘If you post a picture online of a huge bruise like “lol look what the table did to me” he will comment things like

“i will kill the table 4 u (ง’̀-‘́)ง (ง’̀-‘́)ง “ “r u ok???” “do u need anything??” “that table is dead >:(“

💘He isn’t totally joking about killing the table.

💘If you bruise yourself in front of him he might actually start crying or at least look like he’s going to.

💘If you wake up with random bruises and no idea where they come from, he’s been trying to solve this mystery longer than you. If he’s able to, he’ll install cameras aimed directly at your bed so instead of just watching through your laptop he can see in HD exactly what happens in your sleep. If this gives him a better vantage point of any “activities” you do before bed… he isn’t going to complain.

💘Should the bruises/cuts not be caused solely by your own clumsiness and inanimate objects… Well, whoever is responsible (even if they accidentally bumped into you) will have more than just bruises and cuts when he’s done.

#ren #14dwy ren #14dwy #headcanons #clumsy angel