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[killerchickadee]

So the baby is about to shed again, and I wanted to check where we were at on that so I pulled her out of her hide (and her eyes are solid blue so tomorrow or the next day I guess) and she immediately was like, no I'm going back in the house. Which is fine except she got her front half in and then

Just. Stayed like that for a solid minute. Meanwhile I'm standing there like. Do you want your ass back. Or.

We got there eventually.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 [Snippet] 🔞

Jungkook just loves to show you off- because while everyone on his planet might get to look at you, he gets to touch and love you in private.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Bunny Hybrid!Reader, Extremely flirty Jungkook, suggestive, Major Fluff!, Romance, Established Relationship, JK has tentacles oops, smut

Length: It was supposed to be a drabble but I ended up writing ~2.5k words oops

There is no taglist for this fic

A/N: Boo here you go hybrid alien tentacle porn yay 🥳

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"There you are!" Jungkook sighs in relief, finding you in an isle for fresh produce, staring wide eyed at the round plastic containers filled with cubed fruits. "You want those?" He asks, pointing at one with pinkish and pale yellow cubes. You nod.

"Sweet?" You ask, unsure, and he shrugs, pulling the item down to inspect it, before he nods.

"Yeah, those are sweet- but I gotta…" He mumbles the last part, reading the label a bit further while you begin to wander off again- though this time you're pulled back by his hand reaching out during his task of finding out more about the fruits he's about to buy, to hold onto the hood of your light cotton jacket to keep you close this time and not lose you again in the grocery store. "..safe for human consumption. Hm, there's nothing written about hybrids though.." He mumbles to himself before he pulls out his phone to search online if you can eat those fruits native to his home planet, hand now leaving your hood- one of his extra appendages sneaking out from beneath his shirt to hold onto the belt loops of your shorts to keep you close.

Basilisks- that's what they're called here, which confused you for a good while, until you learned that they actually didn't ever have a true name, but that it was simply an earth-term his kind had adopted to use for them, because it sounded like a similar word which means 'Blood-snake' in his native language. You remember how terrified you were of his uniquely inky-purple colored tentacles everyone of his kind has- mostly though because you met them when he'd used them to defend you both, the images still very vivid in your mind. But these days, you've come to love them as just another piece of him- even though you remember Yoongi, a good friend of his and your doctor currently, explaining to you that they do have their own minds.

'It's actually quite surprising they chose you.' He'd told you. 'I've never seen them so interested in their host's mate.'

Mate. It's still odd to think of yourself as that, though it makes sense with how he cares for and about you.

Jungkook is, nowadays, a bit more careful now with your food for example. He'd hate for you to have another situation like a month prior when you had eaten Nacuri- a vegetable he himself actually likes a lot, but that is apparently not very good for hybrids such as yourself, having caused you some major stomach cramps that pained him to simply watch- and ever since then, he's checking everything twice just to make sure. "-but can be eaten as a snack in small quantities." He reads out loud. "Alright, so only the small box then!" He chirps, putting the big container back to exchange it for a smaller one.

The moment his hands are free again, his inky-purple appendage disappears underneath the back of his shirt again, hiding away as to not get in the way, while he holds your hand as he walks through the different isles at the store.

He notices you yawning a lot more now as you stand on the metal parts of the shopping cart while his chest is warm against your back, and he's learned that's not always just a sign for tiredness in humans and hybrids. "We'll be home soon. I didn't think the line for checkout would be this long.." He tells you, hand running over your hybrid ears, while you suppress another yawn, tears stinging in the corners of your eyes from it. Oxygen levels inside buildings like these are fine for him and his kind- but humans and hybrids like you need a lot more than him to thrive properly. It's why he's got a special air filtering system installed in his home to accommodate for that- to make your life with him as comfortable as he possibly can.

It's the least he can do to show gratefulness for what you've done for him in the past, after all. And also, what kind of partner would he be if he didn't provide the absolute best for you?

He doesn't like how your ears droop after a few moments more- so he searches in your shoulder bag for the familiar pale pink plastic inhaler, setting it up with a few clicks for the proper dosage. "Here. It's almost our turn." He reassures again, offering the inhaler to you which you take with a nod. It'll help you with a bit of extra oxygen until you're out in the open again, levels today high for his kind, but perfect for yours. "Do you wanna eat the fruits in the gardens near the Archives?" He wonders, and you seem to think.

"What about.. those?" You ask, pointing at all the groceries.

"We can eat the icecream there too. I've got a spare blanket we can sit on, in the car." He says, leaning in to rest his chin on your shoulder. "I wanna have some.. cozy time with my baby, what do you say?" He purrs, and you shiver a bit, bunny tail wiggling around.

"Hmhm." You nod. You're not sure what entirely he means by 'cozy time'- because with him, that could honestly mean anything.

Later, outside on the blanket he'd laid out in the park in a more secluded space, you're happily filling your stomach with the fruits he'd bought you. He's watching fondly, because moments like these remind him that the past truly is behind the both of you. You no longer seem scared of anything as long as he's around. You speak freely to him, you're not shy at all, and you've even become a little bit daring these days.

You're no longer the empty, confused and almost soulless hybrid he'd met years back at the facility he'd found himself in. You no longer need to be told exactly what to do or otherwise you'll end up having a panic attack. You've become your own person, independent. You've blossomed, vibrantly.

And he loves it.

He loves you.

Especially now, hours later back at home, groceries still in their bags in the kitchen while you whine pitifully against his lips, with his grin satisfied while he watches you cling onto him. Something you've learned fairly quickly is that his kind is one that treats intimacy a little differently than humans back on earth. There's nothing forbidden or to be shy about for his kind- every type of intimacy or romantic displays of affection are normal even in public- no one stares at a couple kissing or hugging. If anything, people will just instantly believe a relationship is bad if there's no PDA ever between mates.

And sex? That's something sacred, it feels like.

Enio people just like himself find pleasure by feeding off of other's pleasure. They thrive when their partners thrive, they're happy when their partner's happy, and they're sad or in pain whenever their mates are. They also have relationships between multiple people- rarely ever having just one partner. Jungkook however had told you numerous times already that he's completely fine with just having you.

'Why would I ever need anybody else-' he'd said into your neck, '-when you're making me lose my mind every single time we're together?'

He's long lost his shirt by now, his dark purple tentacles already eagerly touching you. They're clearly just as excited as he is every single time you're together like this- and it's honestly almost cute.

Almost- if it wasn't for one of them very eagerly sliding right through in between your legs, back and forth, making you cling onto his arms as he watches you with an intense gaze. His eyes have always been something unique- like two pitch black voids, but only ever if the light doesn't hit them just right, making you able to see the deep red-ish brown and slanted pupils, similar to a feline. But in times like these, in the barely lit bedroom of his, they're just two nightsky colored marbles, reflecting anything like a galaxy.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, licking over his silver piercings on one side. His grin is that of a predator, watching his prey struggle. But not for it's life- no, you're struggling for entirely different reasons.

"They're horribly impatient." He chuckles when one of his purple appendages moves to instead play with your pearl, before it prods at your entrance, almost as if to see if Jungkook will allow it.

He doesn't.

And it's clear with the way they retreat from between your legs, instead roaming your hips instead, before two of the four spread your legs open for him. That's how it usually goes- a rule set by him. Only he gets to be inside you- gets to claim you like that.

Your underwear is still hanging from your ankle when he pushes himself inside, hands gripping the soft flesh of your waist. He tends to be impatient like this, can't help himself, as he always tends to say to excuse his eager nature. You're perfectly compatible to him, physically and emotionally as well.

You're his, and he just can't help but want to make sure everyone knows that.

The windows are open, and your sure someone way down can probably hear your faint moans, but you can't bring yourself to care about it. "My baby.." he purrs into your neck, where he kisses and sucks his marks, hands gripping your body wherever he can while his tentacles roam around to offer you their own ways of pleasure.

You don't kind the almost sticky substance they begin to leak onto your skin. You've gotten used to it by now.

You're dizzy with everything going on around you. You're unable to quite move much, but you don't have to- both Jungkook's arms and his extra appendages make sure to keep you in place while his hips snap into yours, skin wet as it stays connected to his with thin strands of both your arousal and the sweet smelling precum of his tentacles.

A year ago, you would've tried to hide in shame of it all- thinking you dont deserve nice feelings like this. You would've never thought you'd be loved like this, touched like this.

But he's made that possible. He makes it happen time and time again, and in every touch he places on your skin you can feel the tenderness he has for you in his very soul. He's not lying when he says he loves you. He's not deceiving you with acts of kindness and care. He means every single affectionate gaze he throws your way.

You love him because of that alone.

"My sweet little bunny baby.." he chuckles out of breath as he rolls his hips in just the way to make you arch your back in pleasure, as he leans over you to kiss your lips bright red.

He likes to bite. Likes to pull a little on your bottom lip and likes to get you into any position he sees fit. Sometimes he'll kiss up your back as he takes you from behind- other times like now, he wants to watch your face as you come undone under his steady pace.

It fuels his ego every single time seeing you all fucked out like this.

Every time it's proof that he's a good lover to you.

The moment you come undone and clench around him in waves of pleasure, he's quick to shoot his shot as well- hips stuttering as he pushes himself inside, one of his tentacles sneaking between you both, running over your pearl just to coax another orgasm out of you, thighs trembling a little. You're somewhat glad his basilisks are keeping your body in place, because at this point you're just absolutely boneless.

He's humming in pleasure as he sighs into your neck, body covering yours now almost protectively. 'Shielding' is what it's called- you've looked up some of his behavior just to figure out things you're too shy to ask him yourself. It's an instinctual thing- a remnant of a time long passed when his kind had to protect their mates whenever they were in a vulnerable state.

And then he moves again, tentacles slick with their own arousal as they wrap around your ankles, adjusting your legs as he moves lower, his hands on your hips cherishing your skin it feels like.

And then his mouth is on you, licking you up, probably tasting both you and him in a sinful mixture- but it's another behavior of his that always repeats. He does this every single time, claims it's nothing special and that for his kind, it's basic care after getting his own fill of you. He's constantly surprised at what things surprise you- but then again, you both grew up on entirely different planets, with entirely different culture surrounding you.

So it's normal that some of the things you do tend to catch him off guard as well.

Such as after you're both done showering and cleaning up- he's always surprised how clingy you get after being so closely together just minutes prior. Normally, with his kind, it's like he's recharged his social batteries- now able to go about his day easily, no need for too much physical affection. But for you it seems to be almost the opposite- you love to cuddle and be close to him afterwards, and maybe that's one of the key points that just make you so endearing to him.

He loves cuddling. He loves being lazy with you, especially like this. "I booked our flight to Doria for the end of this cycle." Jungkook hums into your skin, letting you lay almost on top of him, skin still bare. "It's gonna be a long flight, but I already talked to Yoongi about medication in case you feel sick." he reassures you, and you just nod, way too tired to really comprehend what he's talking about. "You're not even listening at all, are you?" He laughs because he knows as well- though he doesn't mind. He knows your body works a bit differently than his own, and knows by now he can be… quite exhausting.

So he let's you sleep, and decides that maybe a short nap isn't the worst idea either-

especially not if he gets to sleep with you in his arms.

[galacticnova3]

Since she has now flown off I am obligated to post the order of potato fairy extra large that I looked after for several days. Aka a gloriously chumby Polyphemus moth— the second one I’ve seen alive in over a decade— that decided to hang around our porch for most of its adult life. I saw the first live one on the same day, but he flew away when I tried to get close. But still, that’s a great sign that their population in my area is finally starting to recover! Anyways, here’s the wonderful big little creacher where I found her, which should probably make it clear as to why I moved her. Ants don’t mess around and I wasn’t gonna just leave her inches away from danger.

I was pretty glad I did, as even after her wings were fully dried and extended and everything she couldn’t actually take off. See: her first “flight”.

Big fan of the loud impact PLAP sound, really added to the already very good demonstration of gravity. Worry not, she was totally fine afterwards. Here she is that night and the day after! Very cute and fuzzy, 1000/10.

The next day I thought she had flown off, but then the day after that she was back on the porch! I could tell she was the same one because of her damaged antenna. She started laying eggs on the house and I realized that wasn’t going to be good for the caterpillars that might hatch, since it was a relatively long distance to any host plants even without including the vertical climb to reach branches of leaves. Since she clearly felt safe where she was, and I was also worried about ants and birds and possible insecticides, I ended up making a little “baby box” for her out of a thoroughly rinsed plastic container that initially held salted honey-roasted peanuts. I gave her a stick to hold on to which also gave her a route to climb out of the box if she wished, and provided various fresh oak leaves to lay her eggs on. Figured it would be a good setup because I could easily move it to a safe place once she was done, and keep an eye on the eggs until they hatched. I might even try to raise a few caterpillars if the eggs are fertile. However, during the process of me setting that whole deal up, she decided I looked like a good egg laying spot.

You can see the “glue” that sticks the eggs to surfaces! It was cool to see up close: she’d lay an egg, wait for it to dry, and then lay the next right by it. She ended up sticking four on me before I was able to gently nudge her to the egg laying box. The stick was eventually deemed an acceptable substitute, and over night she… made an egg stalactite of sorts on it? Very weird, I think, I dunno; most of what I read online said their eggs would be laid in spread out clusters of two to three on suitable host plants. I know it wasn’t because she couldn’t get out, as when I went to check on her she had already made her way to the top of the stick and was hanging off of it outside the box. I didn’t think to take a picture of that as I needed to drive to college, but source: dude trust me. Here’s a picture of the egg sculpture I took when I got home.

When I was done with that I went to move her off the porch where she had been staying safe for the last 5 or so days to the more wooded area of the yard, but she ended up flying off to the treetops on her own after I brought her into the open. I guess laying a bunch of eggs made her finally light enough to fly. Maybe she was feeling upset at me for not being able to pay child support and making her lay her eggs on a stick instead? Or she was just doing normal moth things or whatever. It was bittersweet to watch her go, but I’m glad she had the chance to soar the skies at least once before her time was up.

@onenicebugperday

[breelandwalker]

Sneak Peek - Spoons In Spades

At a little distance he saw a fire, and beside it there sat three giants, busy with broth and beef. They were so huge that the spoons they used were as large as spades, and their forks as big as hay-forks: with these they lifted whole bucketfuls of broth and great joints of meat out of an enormous pot which was set on the ground between them.

- Niels and the Giants (The Crimson Fairy Book)

[img src]

-----

Intent: To give oneself additional “spoons.”

Ideal Timing: This charm can be made at any time.

Materials:

Spoons

Large Jar

Cotton Balls

Herbs: Hyssop, Rosemary, Thyme, Juniper Berries

When I asked my readers what sort of spells they'd like to see in this second volume of fairytale-inspired spells, one of the most strikingly popular responses was, "Is there a spell to give me more spoons?"

If you're not familiar with the term, "spoons" or spoon theory is a metaphor which describes the reduction in mental and physical energy experienced by people who are disabled or chronically ill, with spoons used as a unit of measurement to represent how energy and motivation must be rationed throughout the day to accomplish necessary tasks. Spoons are only replenished through rest or sleep, so once a person runs out of spoons, that's it for their day. 

The term was coined by Christine Miserandino in her 2003 article "The Spoon Theory," in which she uses dinnerware to demonstrate to a friend how living with invisible chronic illness required careful daily planning and prioritization, and how even with the best intentions and efforts, tasks are often left undone due to a lack of energy or an increase in pain. The term has since been adopted by wide sections of the online community in relation to struggles with disability, chronic illness, or mental health, as a descriptor for daily energy and motivation levels, i.e. "I don't have the spoons for this," or "After a full day at work, I have exactly one spoon left, and I need it for laundry, so going out is off the table."

As someone who regularly battles ADHD, anxiety, executive dysfunction, migraines, and depression, I'm a big fan of spoon theory, largely because it makes those invisible daily struggles, which so many of us have, much easier to visualize and explain. So in honor of all my fellow spoonies, here is a spell to help you gain those critical extra spoons.

For this spell, you'll need a fair-sized jar, some healing herbs, and a bunch of spoons. You can use plastic spoons or metal ones, if you happen to have spare silverware lying around. Use as many or as few spoons as you feel you need. If you need more spoons than can readily be acquired, you might draw or print out pictures or spoons and use those instead.

Place the spoons in the jar with a big handful of cotton balls. Apart from their mundane medical and cosmetic uses, cotton has healing magical properties and also represents the comfort that may feel lacking on low energy or high pain days. If desired, add several pinches of Hyssop, Rosemary, Thyme, and Juniper Berries, or a sachet containing the herbs if you'd rather keep things neat.

Close the jar, give it a big hug, and say:

I bless this jar and spoons And ask for the strength to function; And when I need a helping hand, These extra spoons I'll summon,

Set the jar aside somewhere safe. If desired, you might want to label it. You don't want anyone borrowing your magical spoons for their cereal, after all. When you need an extra boost to help you get through the day, simply open the jar and take out a spoon. You can carry the spoon with you, place it on your altar, or discard it to activate the charm.

Please keep in mind that performing this sort of magic should always be accompanied by appropriate medical and self-care measures. Magic isn't going to cure a chronic illness or permanently alter your brain chemistry. But it can help you cope with the symptoms and give you that all-important push to get yourself through the day. Stay strong, witches!

-from the forthcoming book, The Sisters Grimmoire, Vol. II; © 2021 Bree NicGarran

(If you'd like to check out more fairy-tale spells or any of my other published works, please visit the Willow Wings Witch Shop!)

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.4

The skies are darkening as I walk home from the food stall, carrying what is – despite the time – technically my breakfast. Hot steam is wafting up from the flimsy plastic bags in my hand, warming my cold fingers.

I’m still not used to San Myshuno’s seasons, but Samara told me that it’s unusually cold for being this late in Spring. In a way, it feels like the city has decided to match my mood, as if the dark and dreary weather is being sympathetic to how I feel.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and a robotic voice jarringly interrupts a sad love ballad to flatly announce that dad is calling. I sigh and tap my headphones, he’ll just call again later if I don’t pick up now.

“Hey, honey!”

My father’s voice is warm and comforting like a blanket, and I can hear faint birdsong and the rustling of the trees in the backyard. I briefly wish I could just move back home and be a kid again and leave all the worries to my parents.

“Hi, dad. How are you guys? House still standing?”

“We’re good, Kieran and Liam are busy worrying about prom so it’s been unusually quiet. Oh, and speaking of standing, Grayson can stand by himself now. He can even take a few steps as long as he’s holding on to something.”

He sounds so proud, almost as if he was the one learning to walk.

“Aww, he’s getting so big! Next thing you know, you’ll all be chasing him around the house every time they visit.”

“I’ll make sure to have your mother send you some pictures of him when I get back inside. She’s busy in the kitchen, Griffin and Daria are coming over for dinner. But how are you? We barely hear from you these days.”

“Oh, you know, I’m really busy with work and hanging out with people and such. I’ve just been out shopping for dinner, and then I’m seeing a friend later.”

I hear him hesitate, like he can tell that I’m lying.

“Alright. That sounds good. We’ve been a little worried about you. And especially today…”

“I know, it was really rough in the beginning, but I swear I’m doing fine, I-”

My voice breaks and I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take a deep breath to get it under control.

“Oh, honey. Listen, sometimes relationships don’t work out, no matter how much you love each other. I can see where Paul was coming from, and your mother and I have been worried that you’d feel pressured into something you weren’t ready for. So I want you to know that we’re really impressed that you’re staying true to yourself. It can be… very hard to do the right thing when you love someone, I know that. So I’m proud of you.”

“I just miss him so much, dad.”

“I know. But maybe you don’t really miss Paul. Maybe you just miss a version of him in your head that he failed to live up to. If Paul Romeo was really so perfect, he wouldn’t have made my daughter so sad.”

My father reminds me to take care of myself and I promise to call more often before I end the call and pick up the pace slightly just as the rain starts falling.

I manage to make it home before getting too wet, but it’s still a relief to step inside the warm apartment.

My laptop sits on the dining table, and I eye it warily as if the deluge of messages could somehow escape containment and drown me.

I unpack my food and try to ignore the state of my kitchen. I don’t have the energy to deal with it right now, so I just kick off my shoes and take my food to the couch as usual.

I text Marten and eat a few bites while I wait. He replies almost instantly and within minutes, he’s online. It’s becoming my favourite part of the day.

We play for a few hours, and I almost forget to be sad. Marten never mentions Paul, he just talks about normal things like what the other guys in his fraternity are up to, his studies, new games he’d like to play. Easy topics. He’s also good at carrying the conversation when I’m quiet, like tonight.

Marten probably doesn’t even know what day it is today, and somehow that makes it easier.

Eventually, though, he has to leave. He tends to go to bed early, even on weekends, and I promise him to get some sleep too. My barely touched food has congealed into a solid cube in the box and I leave it on the table and try to decide how to spend the rest of the night. As if I don’t already know.

Finally, I give in.

I open my laptop, ignoring the notifications about the thousands of unread messages. I thought the sudden influx of hate-mail was bad when my relationship with Paul was discovered, but it has been nothing compared to after the news of the breakup.

I know I shouldn’t, know I’m just picking at the wounds, but my fingers move on their own, out of habit, and pure muscle memory is making them type Paul’s name into the search bar. All the links are already purple, of course, there is nothing new here, but I still click the first one. It takes me to his Social Bunny profile. Paul was never that active on social media, and his latest post is several weeks old.

I know it by heart.

“In response to the recent speculation, I want to clarify that Julia and I parted ways a while back. She’s an incredibly gifted and wonderful person, and I truly wish the best for her.”

The best.

“But you were the best,” I whisper.

I feel like crying, but it seems like I’ve finally run out of tears, emptied the reservoirs over the last couple of months, and now all that’s left inside of me is dust.

I go back and click the second link, then the third, cycling through the old articles and interviews as if I’m expecting to find something I haven’t seen a hundred times.

Samara and Miranda are probably having drinks at The Rooftop right now. Samara texted me an hour ago, asking me if I was sure I didn’t want to go out with them instead of stalking my ex for once. I replied with another lame excuse. I’ve been avoiding people for so long that it feels like I’ve forgotten how to function in society, like some sort of feral raccoon who only knows how to hide and eat trash.

I’ve gone through all the links. I refresh the search page. Nothing has changed, obviously, but I refresh it again and again, feeling like I’m desperately knocking on his door and trying to be let in. Then I start over at the first link.

“In response to the recent speculation, I want to clarify that Julia and I parted ways a while back. She’s an incredibly gifted and wonderful person, and I truly wish the best for her.”

Samara is right, I can’t keep doing this. It’s crazy. There’s only one thing to do. I move my cursor over the red button and take a deep breath. Then I block his profile before I can change my mind.

As his picture vanishes, the entire screen blurs. It would seem that I still have some tears left.

beginning / previous / next

[catgirl-kaiju]

had a dream last night that there was this guy who made youtube and tiktok videos where he performed various experiments using a mysterious substance that looked like blue pop rocks that he kept in a big, clear plastic orb.

he always wore an open lab coat, t-shirt, and a big mask over his head that was, like a shiny blue orb that had been squashed vertically. at the end of each video, he would injest the results of his experiments, and the video would end before showing whatever effect this had on him. he did not need to take off the mask to injest it.

no one knew how it is he made this stuff. the leading theory was that it was crystal meth. no one knew who he was or where he was filming these videos.

at some point, he began to sell identical containers of his blue substance online. they came with a label that had "Cooking Instructions" at the bottom in small print that just read: "Harvest from nature. Cook under 700°."

[http-tokki]

~ dabi x reader ~ tags/cw: mha spoilers,canonverse, blood, slight gore maybe, domesticity, dabi dyeing his hair ~ wc: 430

-So it wasn't created out of the love he has for himself but out of necessity and how irritating it is to clean infected wounds (trips to the dr and antibiotics and the itching and bleeding, its too much for that poor boy to already deal with ) ((I also think that he doesn't enjoy pain he isn't in control off. like with the piercings and staples, maybe I'm really letting my mental health show with this one but with piercings he can decide that he wants to feel that sharp sting or when he changes his staples anywayyyy))

-so this boy showers A LOT and cleans his scars regularly. no matter how exhausted he is, he sits in the bathroom and cleans and restaples wounds applying ointment and topical creams, he has a skincare routine.

-his bathroom cupboards look like first aid kits. Antisepctics of all variety, creams, bandaids and bandages, stitches, gauze everything you could think of, it was in his bathroom.

-however one of the downsides of bathing so often, is that his hair fades very very quickly. No matter how many different brands he uses, the black pigment does not want to stick to his hair (even tho you have pointed out that showering in hot water so often is the reason why its fading but Touya doesn't like the cold water and doesn't like not feeling clean) so here you were, squatting down in front of the black hair dye, an array of boxes and packets littering the ground at your feet as you compared wash times and online reviews.

"Babe, why can't you just have your white hair?" you look up at Touya, his looming frame seeming much smaller as he peered at a contained of manic panic, trying to decipher the ingredients.

He doesn't look up from the plastic as he answers "because I want to look scary" placing it back on the shelf, his fingers brush over red dye. "white hair isn't scary but black hair, that screams menace to society"

"Shiggy's got white hair and he's arguably the biggest menace to society I've ever met"

Touya snorts. "Shiggy's...Shiggy. It works on him, I'd just- ohh this one!" changing the subject away from white hair, he picks up a box that has PERMANENT GREY COVERAGE in big yellow letters. "This is the one, I can feel it" he turns to you and extends a hand. Accepting the gesture, he pulls you to your feet giving you a quick kiss on your forehead before turning away muttering something about going to pay and meet you outside.

[supremeplastic]

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[cnnmairoll]

Butterfly Bonds

Pairing : Matsukawa Issei x Reader Note : Another rewrite from one of my old fics, but I add more to it! You can find the old version here. I don't exactly do any major changes but more of the way I write it!

"What's in your hands, sweetheart?" Matsukawa asked as you set down the packages you received from the mailman today. "Oh, just a bunch of stuff I bought online. Care to help me out?" you grinned. Being addicted to online shopping, you couldn't resist buying not only for yourself but also for Issei.

Issei sighed at your little addiction but still walked over to grab a pen knife from the drawer. You settled all your packages on the floor and started organizing which ones to open first.

"You're going for the big ones first?" he asked. "Mhm! Just be careful with this one; it's really fragile." Today's mail contained six packages, and one of them was a gift for Issei.

The first package was a glass water jug dispenser. You wanted to spruce up your apartment by changing some furniture and making it look prettier and cleaner. After Matsukawa managed to open all the cardboards and bubble wrap, he carefully pulled out the dispenser along with a plastic bag containing its accessories.

"There should be a stand for the dispenser… Ah! It's stuck in the box," you said, flipping the box to the other side to try opening it, but it wouldn't budge. As you attempted to open one end, Matsukawa suddenly noticed, "Wait, Y/N—" but it was too late. You cut your finger on the cardboard.

It was a somewhat deep cut, and it started bleeding. "Ah, shit! Hold on, let me get you some bandages," Matsukawa said, rushing to a drawer and returning with a first aid kit. "Here, show me your finger," he said, gently taking your hand and examining the cut.

"Seii, it stings," you whined as Matsukawa carefully wrapped the bandage around your finger. Once it was done, he set aside the first aid kit and the troublesome box. "We'll come back to that later. I'll open the other packages for you."

So you sat there, watching Matsukawa open the packages one by one. There was a mug, a figurine, jewelry, and some books. There was one tiny package left, and you decided to open it yourself.

Meanwhile, Matsukawa cleaned up the mess you both made and disposed of all the packaging supplies. You pulled out two matching silver rings, one with a butterfly on top and the other a ring band with a hole shaped like a butterfly.

"That looks pretty, baby," Issei commented as he returned from cleaning up. "This one's for you, so we can match!" you grinned, holding out one of the rings. Issei smiled back at you and put the ring on his finger. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, kissing your temple.

As you both sat there, admiring the matching rings on your fingers, a mischievous glint appeared in Matsukawa's eyes. He leaned closer to you, whispering, "You know, there's one more surprise I have for you." Curiosity piqued, you tilted your head, urging him to continue.

Matsukawa reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With a playful smile, he opened it, revealing a delicate necklace adorned with a silver butterfly pendant. Your eyes widened in delight, and Issei's grin mirrored yours.

"For the butterfly who brings light and joy to my life," Matsukawa said softly, placing the necklace around your neck. You could feel the weight of the pendant against your chest, and it served as a constant reminder of Matsukawa's love and thoughtfulness.

Touched by his gesture, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love. The two of you shared a moment, basking in the warmth of your connection and the joy that radiated between you.

As the evening continued, you all settled down on the couch, snuggled up together. Matsukawa had brought out a fluffy blanket, and wrapped it around the two of you, creating a cozy nest. With contented smiles on your faces, you began to discuss future plans and dream about the adventures that lay ahead.

The room was filled with laughter, whispers, and the soothing sound of each other's heartbeat. In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges life threw your way, as long as you had each other, you could conquer anything.

And so, in the warmth of that embrace, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, knowing that tomorrow would bring new joys, new surprises, and a love that would continue to blossom like butterflies taking flight in the summer breeze.

[the-hype-on-tv]

okay this is it imma bout to rant about fiction once again

tell me why everyone knows and loves or at least has a strong opinion about the Lego Batman Movie, but i might just be the only human being who grew up IN LOVE with the Lego Batman Videogame(s)???

[THIS THING CONTAINS SPOILERS, I TRIED TO KEEP EM OUT BUT WHATS THE FUN IN THAT]

the first one is CLASSIC, no voice actors so child me could (and also couldn't cuz i was stupid) understand what was going on since I didn't speak english at all, and i remember LOVING the designs (they're not as good as i remember 😭) even tho i had no idea who the characters besides batman, robin and catwoman were. also that was when i fell in love with poison ivy cuz she had like ??? love powers (as i said, child me was a dumdum) cuz there was this one level where she controlled batman with a kiss akjdkakfkakdja

i remember i had a crush on justin bieber a little before the second game came out (it was babybabybabyohh) and then BOOM suddenly my childhood crush was a friggin blocky plastic minifigure wearing goth furry clothes:

(also, young me wouldn't know, but this is where i got most of the superbat vibes from-- when i saw this ship years later i was like "oh yeah, i remember in the videogame clark was head over heels for B and bruce was like 'i am the knight' which is batman code for ilyt", plus dick (who's dressed at tim for whatever reason) is like "oh yeah, why don't we call superman?" I'm telling ya he ships it

...i remember the whole game story like it's a fever dream i had-- there's an award show which bruce wins, joker jokers it up and batman & robin chase him, then i remember robin says something about how "dick grayson couldn't attend the party because they didn't take teenagers" (I didn't know who dick was so this was my introduction to him) and then fire in the elevator, SUPERMAN, [SPOILERS] he and bats visit lexcorp but turns out the other gay couple aka lex and joker did some lexing and jokering around and got a weapon that kills... black???? so batman would die-- but like-- he's not black, he's wearing black clothes-- oh shit, are they racist-- /j

now comes the final one:

wow this one is in space! kinda-- brainiac shows up and i remember this was the first time i saw j'onn and-- wait-- this robin is the same but-- in the scene where [SPOILER] batman is being mind controlled he says his name is.. tim drake?? who tf is tim drake, kid me would say. wow, there's more than one robin, kid me would say.

but then again, I didn't have this game cuz my dad was sick of spending our lunch money on videogames, so he got a gameplay online (just the cutscenes), glued them together and told me IT WAS A MOVIE (actually, i just assumed it) and i kept believing that until i saw my friend GAMEPLAYING said movie on his VIDEOGAME, one more evidence to "i was a dumb child.

and there was superbat shit in this one as well!! there's this scene where [SPOILERS] big blue babyboy is being mind controlled and is giant (tbh idek why he's giant and I'm not sure if they address why-- something to do with brainiac's shrinking kink i think) and brainiac is like "kill him" and bruce goes like "clark, ur my bestie, I don't say it often but i realized i gotta say it more cuz earlier tim almost got his ass eaten by a random alien and i felt fear" and clark is like "🥺🥺🥺" and mind control breaks with yay power of friendship (the whole plot is how in the beginning tim saying he was tim got bruce out of mind control which meant bruce cares about tim but bruce thinks it was cuz the batmobile went shock on him, so in the end he admits he was wrong and everyone hugs wow)

and after that i forgot dc was a thing until like four years later when dc superhero girls came out

anyway, thanks tumblr for listening to this lmao i just dumped my whole childhood in here, I'm glad this thing don't have character limit

[grumpy-beetle]

Hey!! So I’ve come to tumblr for help with preserving/pinning bugs!! I’m a major taxidermy nerd but this feels very different so I’m not sure where to begin.

I found this dragonfly while cleaning my house and would love to preserve them for photography and display. Just have no idea what to do or wear to begin. Any advice would be amazing!!

Hi there!! What a GORGEOUS dragonfly you found! And big one too! I'm jealous

You've come to the right place though! I've done a good bit of hobby taxidermy in the past and can give you some pointers!

Get yourself some insect pins. You can find these on ebay or amazon I assume. Don't get super long ones, most frames are only about 1-2 inches wide. They're special pins that are thin and sharp. Your choice which ones! (I still have to cut mine down lol)

Find a frame! The term you'll be searching for is going to be 'shadowbox' when looking online. You'll want a fabric backing inside it and enough space between it and the glass to fit your bug. There's special bug frames you can get. I usually go to my local store and get a fabric back crafting frame with a magnetic hinge door.

While you wait to get your pins, your bug is already dry so just keep it away from dust and fracturing. You can clean it with isopropyl on q-tips. Until then! Store in a dry place. (Unless it's a bug that freshly died for you- in that case, off they go into the fridge until they can be pinned.)

You got your pins. Great! Get yourself a container big enough to fit it. Paper towel at the bottom soaked in alcohol/isopropyl. Put another layer between that. Put your bug on top. Put the lid on. This will soften your bug so you can manipulate it. Leave for 24 hours or more.

Now your bug is soft. It won't be nearly as easy as it'd be with a fresh one- so you'll have to be careful with that abdomen. One pin goes through the thorax. That's your main holding pin. Manipulate your bug into place with the rest of the pins.

DO NOT PIN THROUGH THE WINGS. You will want to get a few pieces of cardboard or more styrofoam and stack em under the wings until they can lay flat. Clear piece of plastic (from a box or laminating sheet or something clear) over the wings, and you pin through THAT until it holds the wing tightly in place.

Now just to leave it to dry again! Not in the sun, not over a pure radiator, not anywhere humid. It will take a few weeks. Your bug is dry when you can't move their legs, leave longer for Thiccer bugs. I like to put mine near/atop my geckos heatlamp.

That's pretty much it!

Some bugs need different methods- like millipedes, or stickbugs that need to be gutted and stuffed. But a dragonfly should be good with just drying! Most bugs are.

Here's a picture of my current beetle drying.

Hope that helps!

[stupidbeecandle]

Today i had the greatest gardening day yet! A big furry pest killed my cucumber and zuchini plants so I went out to the deluxe nursery to get replacements since its so late in the season I wanted to get starters incase my seeds didnt take

BUT

When i got there I talked to the staff and they let me dumpster dive and I got a ton of giant black plastic hefty (not pretty but useful!) 12 inch nursery planters (these are like 9$ a pop online). I also got a lovely 14 inch decorative pink planter bucket, and a ton of seedling containers

But! But! The holy grail of all dumpster finds! I was delighted by my 80 dollar haul of planters but theyd tossed a really rare (to me) Snowbank blackberry starter that looked to have had the shit beat out of it. But I think I can bring it back! It still has two leaves and its a rhyzome plant anyway.

These things are so cool bc the berries are pure white but taste just like the original blackberries. They have a really cool history too by the guy who invented the most common potato in america and really worked his ass off in the 1900s to address hunger and famine.

Fuckin sick. Im so excited. I tossed my new living babies and this lil blackberry cane in some of my best costco soil and he (blackberry is a he) already looks a lil better. Heres hoping he thrives!

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Worm Day in Feb LOCATION: An appropriate battlefield PARTIES: @kadavernagh & @banisheed SUMMARY: Worms fight for the pride of their banshee. Love is a battlefield. CONTENT: Wormspice

“Lá na bPéist,” Siobhan said, grinning the way an animal sometimes only seems to right before it lunges. “Last worm writhing, yes.”

War would be waged at dawn. Regan marched into the clearing she had designated for Siobhan, a big tin jar in her hands, previously filled with coffee grounds, and now full of writhing worms. She didn’t think her newly-purchased worms truly desired anything – what an enviable, simple life in many ways – and they especially had no interest in fighting Siobhan’s worms. But this was a matter of pride. Siobhan assumed that Regan’s worms were undignified and meek, odorless and scrawny, and Regan was tired of bearing her insults. 

Her skin prickled as a long figure appeared across the clearing, the sun creeping up behind her and casting her face in shadow. She would have her own worms with her. And if they were as girthy as Siobhan claimed, why could Regan not see them from here? Not so impressive.

“Lá na bPéist,” Regan greeted her. It was the customary way. Day of the Worms. There was no ‘happy’ in front of it; it was only a simple and respectful declaration of the day. “My worms challenged you, and I picked the location, so I will be generous and allow you to set reasonable perimeters. Will this be down to the last worm standing – so to speak – or do you have something else in mind?”

--------

Violence was a necessity. Since the first forms of microscopic life, it seemed, violence was a language to claim dominance. Or so Siobhan assumed, banshee literature was often flirtatious with the truth. At least one book claimed that all life was born out of a big bone, contradicted by another book that claimed the big worm in the sky birthed them which was also contradicted by another book that was simply a picture of a skeleton shrugging. Science is an afterthought but violence, still, was an art. What Regan didn’t know, with her skinny worms, was that their little worm war didn’t start here. Their war began the moment Siobhan laid eyes on her unseasonable winter coat. In order for something to be strong, something else has to be weak: a rule of language that Siobhan knew intimately. She wouldn’t be weak. 

Her happy, healthy, girthy worms writhed in the box she brought them in. She was pained to rip them from their happy home inside her compost system, where they had lived for months, lovingly tended to, fertilizing the earth that she used for her garden. For Death to be appreciated, Life needed to be respected as well. But there was no doubt in Siobhan’s mind that this truth escaped Regan. She probably purchased her worms wholesale online. 

“Lá na bPéist,” Siobhan said, grinning the way an animal sometimes only seems to right before it lunges. “Last worm writhing, yes.” She snapped the locks open from her plastic box, upturning her girthy worms upon the ground. The worms, unlike malnourished counterpoints, flourished in Siobhan’s delicate compost. They were indeed larger and thicker, though the girth may have been slightly exaggerated. There was something…odd about them, however. A line from Wurmsten’s Pride and Wormjudice flashed in her mind: it was a truth universally acknowledged, that a single worm in possession of girth must be in want of a mate. 

Siobhan shook her head, surely their passionate wiggles were nothing more than an eagerness to shed worm blood. “Go on, leanbh, or does the sight of my thick worms make you envious?”

--------

The Jade sauce came too late. Regan had done her best with the worms given her tardy start (with preparations, not… to everything else Siobhan surpassed her in), but her worms still looked mangled and pencil-thin. They took only occasional interest in apple slices and they kept squiggling into the sides of the container like they had no sense of place or orientation. But she had come here to win. And Siobhan was a boastful creature, wasn’t she? Her worms couldn’t be so grand as she claimed. They were probably just as grey, just as aimless.

“I agree to your terms. May the best worms win, cailleach.” There were no prizes or trophies in these wars of worms, only bragging rights. Siobhan would like the extra pin in her lapel, and Regan needed something she could surpass Siobhan in. Had the course of her life run smoother, she would have believed that needing something was enough to make it happen, but if anything, it created obstructions at every turn. Right. Confidence. She had Jade in her corner, even if she wasn’t present now. That was enough, right? Regan held onto that as she unceremoniously dumped her worms from their tin home. They collected by her feet, and she shook a little so stragglers could roll off her boots and join the rest of the squadron. “I was advised to read to them. They’re engorged with–” She would not admit she had read them Tana French “– harsh tales of the moors.”

Any fleeting confidence she held deflated when Siobhan dumped her worms on the ground, too. They were at least twice as thick as Regan’s, colored like cherry red lividity, and they squirmed with such vigor in comparison. Were… were her worms depressed? She glanced over to the limp mass at her feet, disappointed. It was the look her 1st grade art teacher used to give her when she handed in a drawing of a dead cow for the tenth time. But Regan would not abandon them; if no one believed in them, all bets of winning were off. She would take a line from Siobhan’s book and lob a competitive insult. That would inspire her worms. “I’ve seen better worms,” Regan said, arms crossed, as her stomach cramped from the lie. “Your worms are too soft. You have coddled them. They may have girth, but they know nothing of resilience.” She clenched a fist, fingernails against scar tissue. “Mine have thrived even under suboptimal conditions.” Her gaze sharpened as she met Siobhan’s eyes. “It’s no surprise. You’ve grown soft in your time away, too, haven’t you?”

The worms were in motion. Kind of. They were slow, groping for each other through the dirt in blindness. Siobhan’s took off first, faster than worms ought to move, but Regan’s were sluggish. She decided they were using their resources to fortify themselves. But as Siobhan’s came closer, her worms began wriggling anxiously, inching closer. They knew who their opponent was now. Good. Good. They tangled into a slimy cluster, two tense banshees casting shadows over them.

There was no blood. Where was the blood? They were entwined, were they not? “Are they…” The worms were wrapping up in each other with bulging clitellae, which was surely just an effort at strangulation. They didn’t have teeth. It was their way. “See how clever mine are, drawing yours in with a false sense of security.” Yes. Her worms might not have been pretty, but they were clever, weren’t they? 

--------

It was the Austen that had done it. Why hadn’t Siobhan read to her worms about harsh moors? Why did she think Austen—and her worm counterpart, Wurmsten—would be good material for the worms? That was how they knew, that was why she was thinking of it; their girth made them in want of a mate. It seemed none of Austen’s—and Wurmsten, who claimed her novels were entirely unrelated to Austen—commentary on class and society were absorbed into their slimy bodies. That was why Siobhan read Austen—and Wurmsten, who might have only been known in one niche banshee community but made a healthy living of decaying flesh anyway—in fact: for the wit! The cunning! Certainly, nothing about the romance; it hardly occurred to her. The worms had taken the wrong message away. If only she had read them harsh tales of the moors.

Siobhan’s cheeks pinked like the worms’. “I was reading them The Art of War,” she lied through clenched teeth, swallowing back a bubble of acid. “This is simply what I’ve taught them: ‘a wise general makes a point of foraging on the enemy’. They are…foraging on the enemy.” Foraging could be one word for it, if the meaning was stretched enough, though the more obvious word burned on her tongue. The worms paired up, sealing wet, throbbing clittella to another’s body. Encasing themselves in mucus, Siobhan turned her head away as a particular white fluid bubbled out of the worms. Something was, in a way, being foraged. 

“There is nothing false about this.” Siobhan leveled her gaze on Regan, careful to keep her eyes away from the foraging worms; her face blazed red. “Our worms have—Our worms are…” If she didn’t give it a name, if she didn’t say it, could she deny the truth? In a way, with a stretched definition and artistic liberties, they were foraging on the enemy. “It’s a new technique of war,” she said, “you wouldn’t know it; it’s not in whatever books about moors you’re reading. It is obviously very complex. The girth on my worms is at least eighty percent knowledge. Perhaps I am not soft. Perhaps you are just…hard.” 

--------

The ground by Regan’s feet swelled with worms. Her worms, as sad and grey as they were (a few more weeks of Jade juice would have done the trick), had perked up to the presence of Siobhan’s vivacious worms, and were wiggling in response with more gusto than they had displayed in the entire time they had been with Regan. Not only did their swarming continue – it expanded – spreading over to Siobhan, a giant, pulsing mat of mucus and wriggling pink bodies. She had more or less abandoned the idea of this being worm cunning… attempting to believe something did not make it true, and all illusions in her life were undergoing a slow crumble as her departure neared.

Regan knew little about the secret mechanics of worm copulation, but that melding and fluid seemed reproductive in nature, and Siobhan, well… Regan didn’t know her cheeks could be that color. This was the woman who wore a turtleneck that was missing half its fabric. She had practically done a strip tease with a winter coat. She could blush? Regan studied the couplings, more certain by the second. “They’re… no, they’re definitely, uh…” She couldn’t quite say it either. But Siobhan was acting strange. For a banshee, hard was right. “Hm. I never thought I would hear you provide me with a compliment,” Regan said, raising a brow (she couldn’t look away from the worms, though; they were hypnotic). Unfortunately, it was not true – she was softer than Siobhan and in all the wrong ways. And it was the whole problem, the reason why she needed to go back. “Careful. You may convince me not to go with you, if I am hard. But then, your judgement is frail, isn’t it? You read your worms classic literature thinking it wouldn’t put… these notions in their small minds. Mine are only going along with it – they were poised for battle, then yours romanced mine.”

The ground sounded moist with worm love, like hands sliding into mayonnaise. And Worm Day was not the time for love. Regan’s fists clenched and she found her face growing hot, too. Fates, this really was happening. Was this really what was meant to occur? Her worms were fornicating with the enemy! What had gotten into them? Did that mean – was it actually love? It was beyond reason, like all love, as far as Regan could tell. Could it be, when they lacked the capacity for such emotion? That question made her belly ache (unclear why). 

“We can’t separate them.” Regan spoke with certainty, but her voice was thick with something. She wasn’t sure where it came from (or the sentiment of not separating lovers). Some worm mucus probably got in there. She finally tore her eyes from the worm orgy and they landed on a very red Siobhan. “Can we agree on this? They remain together.” Was it worth throwing in that she meant the worms also could not be physically separated? Because that also seemed true. They had melded together, holding fast. 

--------

“They are fucking.” Finally, Siobhan said it. “No,” Siobhan corrected herself, “they are making delicate, sensual worm love.” It was obvious to her, and her inability to look the worms directly in their anuses (they did not have eyes), that their passion extended beyond the realms of necessity; love was linking bodies together, stabbing each other with setae so the no new copulation could be committed, and then wiggling away to eat detritus. Worms knew love, of course they had felt a connection to the words of Jane Austen. “You are hard, maybe. Regan, you are very hard. You are erect with hardness. I cannot--I cannot deny the worms. Perhaps that makes me soft.” Siobahn turned around, shutting her eyes to the worms and the world. They possessed something she did not: love. And a slimy, pink, wiggling segmented body (but oh, how she wished for one). 

Where had she gone wrong? From the beginning, it seemed. From loving her worms. From wanting a garden at all, from creating her compost bin. For wanting a life that wasn’t allowed to her. For imagining she might be a worm, writhing with girthy freedom in the dirt free to make love to wormever she pleased and eating as much manure as she wanted. She was a banshee; banshees didn’t do what they pleased. It was all wrong, all along: the war, the worms, the Regan. It was wrong to make innocent creatures act out her fantasies of power. They were worms and worms will do as they want: they will wiggle, they will secrete mucus, they will eat more than their weight each day. They did not have eyes, or legs, or arms, or lungs, but they could make love (they probably did not understand “love” at all, but Siobhan would only realize this after crying about her worms in the privacy of her house). 

Siobhan turned around again, tears pooling around her brown eyes. “You’re right. You—child, baby, newborn infant with no knowledge—are right. We cannot separate these worms.” A war was defined by its binary nature; by winners and losers. The worms had won. Perhaps she had gone soft, perhaps the worms had changed her, perhaps it was the air and the occasion of worm day, but she didn’t care how emotional she came off. “If you love a worm…” She clutched at her slow-beating heart. “...let them go.” And she did, against her better judgment, love these worms. 

“You…” Siobhan furiously wiped her eyes. Sniffling, she pointed at the other banshee. “...Will say nothing of this during our plane trip—and you will be coming with me. You will. But we have let these worms go—we are accepting a truce on this day. Another Worm Day, and there will be another, we will fight our worms again.” Siobhan sighed. “May your worms be less aroused by my girthy worms next time.”

And with that, the worms wiggled into the sunset.