#pimple map

[monamipencil]

───── “imperfections?”

               ⋆˚｡ or, in which svt appreciates your beauty.

pairings; hyung line x reader, established relationship. | a/n; this was so lovely to write. pls be kind to yourself and life is too short to worry about shallow things. love yourself, just a bit more today <3 | [check out maknae line ! ]

⋆ SEUNGCHEOL ⏤ hip dips; cheol is someone who does not care for so-called flaws. if anything, he only loves them more. would do a double-take when you say that you hate your hip dips. he rests his hands on your hips, holding you like you'd break and he looks at you softly. “see? they're molded for my hands.” he presses his lips to your forehead and stills for a moment. “you're so beautiful. don't ever doubt it.” he takes you to greek museums, pointing out that even aphrodite has hip dips. “my beautiful aphrodite,” he kisses your hips, worshipping your body.

⋆ JEONGHAN ⏤ scars, birthmarks; he has curious hands, always discovering your body and memorising the map of your skin. his fingers outline any birthmark littered on your skin, and he kisses them. same for scars and stitches. he grazes his nimble fingers along them while asking for the backstory. he listens intently, still brushing his fingers over them. if you got it in a funny way, he chuckles and shakes his head. but if not, he locks his fingers with yours, comforting you silently. jeonghan kisses your scars and birthmarks like a silent prayer against your skin and you won't ever feel inadequate.

⋆ JOSHUA ⏤ stretch marks; he never understood the hate around stretch marks anyway. soft fingers trace the lines scattered on your belly, shoulders, hips and elsewhere. it's a habit he has developed, to slip his hands under the waistband of your pants and feel the lines under his fingerprints. it's calming and it grounds him to earth, a wordless reassurance that he's ok and that you are there. a frown decorates his face as you complain about them. but he cuts you off, telling you how much he loves your marks, and he's not saying it because he has to, but because he genuinely feels that way. because he loves you for you.

⋆ JUN ⏤ smile; more than anything else he loves to make you smile and laugh. and if you try to hide your smile, he'll remove your hands and kiss your lips. if you try to tone down your laughter or laugh in a different way, he'll tickle you. jun loves you in the most authentic form. he frowns when you tell that you've never liked your smile or laughter. how could anyone hate a smile? that too, yours? he'll never understand that. he shakes his head, telling you that you look beautiful always. he loves it when you smile into kisses, to taste your happiness on his tongue, to feel your smile, to be the reason behind your laughter. his love heals your inner child.

⋆ SOONYOUNG ⏤ nose; soonyoung is filled with so much love that it pours out through his finger tips. and he can't help but boop your nose all the time. if you do something he finds adorable, he'd crush you into a hug before showing cute aggression all over your face. he pinches your nose, cradling your face and kisses the tip. but he's overcome with so much love that he doesn't really know how to contain it. he rubs his nose against yours and there's something so intimate about it to him. he will cry if you tell that you don't like your nose. and he's very passionate about proving that it is beautiful. no days pass by without his compliments and kisses.

⋆ WONWOO ⏤ acne; he has eyes for the little details. he notices any small changes too. if you get acne before your periods, he'll notice it and remind you. and it's kind of cute to him, little spots that grow on your face and when they're tinted a bit red or brown. kisses your skin, feeling the texture with his lips. and if he gets any pimples too, he'll introduce it to your pimples. he's goofy like that. stares at you like you're the night sky, connecting your acne like constellations with his fingertips and feeling like he touched the sky with his bare hands. he doesn't allow you to be insecure ever, always appreciating you no matter what. life is too short to care about small pimples anyway.

⋆ JIHOON ⏤ dark circles; whether it's by lack of sleep or genetics, he loves them. eyes are the window to the soul, and sometimes those emotions can seep out, staining the skin around your eyes. or maybe, it's a gift passed down by your ancestors. he's worried that you are not getting enough sleep but if it's normal, he finds them attractive. he caresses it under his thumb, kissing your eyes. he doesn't get why you want to hide them. why would you want to hide your moon-kissed eyes? they're beautiful, you're beautiful and you're his muse. it makes you look serene, your smoky eyes brings a calmness that only the moon could do. he writes about your eyes often, a secret serenade.

tags;

@seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys

(send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

[fafodill]

do you have any headcanons for teenager snape?? :)

He invented Muffliato for many reasons: to not listen to his dorm mates talking while he studied in bed, not hear them with their girlfriends and not be heard when he was masturbating (he was very whimpery).

He had the Maraudeurs class schedule memorized so he could avoid them as much as possible. A good chunk of his days where filled with detours to not see them.

They still found him many many times and since he didn't know about the cloak or the map he thought he was going mad. Lily gaslit told him he was imagining things and he really doubted himself for a while and it was super distressing. He lost sleep over it.

When he got his first pimples he was like 'hell no' and immediately started making a cream by himself (he couldn't afford one) by nicking some ingredients in potion class (Slughorn was oblivious). He nailed it very quickly and applied it every time he got any breakouts. It would disappear almost instantly and he never got teased for it.

He had a few dreams about the Maraudeurs killing him. Sometimes it was James making him trip down the stairs and breaking his neck. Sometimes Sirius strangling him. After the Prank, it was about being chased down through the whole school at night, with every professors looking away. He dreamed of his ghost haunting the hallways and still being bullied endlessly.

Back in Spinner's End during summer, he'd steal tobacco and roll his own fags behind a little brick wall. At first Lily was with him. Then he was just by himself.

There was a ravenclaw girl he often saw in the library that he found really cute. She was a year older than him. She seemed very smart (he overheard her talking to a friend once about a complicated transfiguration spell and the way she talked about magic showed she was really brilliant). He fantasized about talking to her and asking her out on a Hogsmeade date. He never did.

He always had a little snack in his bag (mostly apples). Since he didn't grow up with enough food at home, having one - even if he didn't eat that much - felt comforting.

He stimmed a lot. He was twitchy, always tapping his quill, scratching his head, picking at his fingers skin, etc.

He loved Christmas at Hogwarts. He felt a little bad about leaving his mother alone with his father but the castle was so calm, so empty... it was the only time he really felt safe and welcomed by these walls. The sound of his own footsteps echoing in the hallways was music to his ears (maybe this is why he liked to prowl the castle at night as an adult).

[rpclefairy]

𝐁𝐆𝟑 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬���𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

a selection of lines from the various companions' banter quotes (not cut scene dialogues!) from baldur's gate 3. these are generally spoiler free and non context specific so they can apply to different settings and dynamics! feel free to change names and the like to customize the prompts.

“Death can't have me. Not yet…”

“Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.”

“Realmspace is vast. Countless worlds to be mapped, kingdoms to be conquered.”

“I have missed this. The adventure. The danger. The kicking of butts!

“Let me guess - you need something.”

“Such attention.. I never realised I was so popular.”

“Let's cook with fire, baby.”

“Do you intend to vocalise every thought?. Or just the most obvious ones?”

“Wherever we go, ye gods let there be something green.”

“Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.”

“Watch your elders and learn.”

“Perhaps try attacking the enemy?”

“So much we don't know, lingering in the furthest reaches of existence.”

“All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.”

“The shadows are my friend.”

“Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.”

“Feet planted firmly on Faerûn, please.”

“Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities.”

“Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you?”

“I am ready, whatever may come.”

“My faith protects me.”

“Need a throat slitting?”

“Death greets us all - but not today.”

“You need my expertise?”

“Can you feel death's cold grip?”

“So many stars, so many mysteries yet to be discovered.”

“Death comes quietly.”

“And I thought we were going to be friends.”

“Locked tight, but there must be some way to open it.”

“No, you can't die. Get up, damn you!

“You had my attention, now you have my fury.”

“From silence to suffering.”

“So many worlds out there. You'd need a thousand lifetimes to see them all - more.”

“I hope this is important. For your sake.”

“Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.”

“I ought to just burn this whole thing down.”

“We have slightly more pressing matters to attend to.”

“You have still have time to surrender.”

“Every kicked buttock, another step on the path.”

“Weave save me. I can't take much more…

“You are right to fear me.”

“Let me look around. Might be something that'll help me crack this thing.”

“Incredible, to think how many worlds exist beyond this tiny speck within a speck I call home.”

“I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.”

“I can fawn over my face later.”

“Ready for another round?”

“Keep your blade close.”

“I can't unlock it from here, but there must be a switch or a button somewhere…”

“No, that's not moving. There must be a way to open it somewhere.”

“Battle favours the fearless.”

“Sleep with one eye open, evil. Maybe both.”

“Gotta be something around here to unlock this thing.”

“Why do beautiful people taste better?. It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities.”

“Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too.”

“Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails.”

“Still standing, no matter what you heard.”

“Enough waiting. I crave blood.”

“Hang on - I won't allow this. You aren't dead, go it?”

“GODS, it's HOT in here!”

“No rest for the wicked, I see.”

“Better to hide than fight, sometimes.”

“Would that I could hide from you, too.”

“Are you feeling lonely, perhaps?”

“There is no right or wrong, only truth.”

“Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe.”

“What good all this ethereal eladrin blood if I can still get pimples?”

“I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.”

“I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness.”

“Let's have some fun.”

“War is an old woman's game.”

“No rest, be you wicked or wise.”

“I'm getting too old for this nonsense.”

“I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want.”

“You have my attention - now do something with it.”

“You are insistent, are you not?”

“Do what must be done.”

“Your suffering will be spectacular.”

“Lest I sit down for a rest and not rise again.”

“Better to look evil in the eye. Even if it be very small.”

“I'm not built to crouch.”

“I think I could go another round.”

“Always the same old song.”

“Is perfection too much to ask?”

“Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner.”

“So many places to be.. and I chose Baldur's Gate.”

“I'm not opening that. Not from here, at any rate.”

“What is the point, if not victory?”

“Won't last much longer like this.”

“Let's hope the locals are friendly.”

“Let us show them how it's done.”

“Weapons high. Standards higher.”

“Must everyone be so exhausting?”

“What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb…”

“Which way to the nearest library?”

“Now this is my happy place.”

“Who shall I silence?”

“Stop, or die.”

“Wear your scars proudly.”

[blckbrrybasket]

Nudeness but not in a sexual way.

In the way that you wake up next to him and feel his fingers dancing across your bare skin. Calloused dragging across yours, mapping out the marks that make you uniquely you.

Scars, moles, pimples, bruises, stretch marks, all of your beauty.

All of it is being stored away in his memory like this is the last time he’ll see you and it might be, but the world is far away now. All there is, is you. And when he’s done? He’ll pull you close to him and bury his face to your neck to remember your scent next.

No, the world could wait until he surfaces again.

[ramgirlpaul]

George's moles- a study

My main thought was to map out the moles on George's face as an art reference- I have trouble looking at pictures of him when drawing or painting him mostly because his moles mix in with freckles, acne scars, pimples etc etc. So I thought I'd compare pictures of him throughout his life to see which ones stay there the whole time so as to not confuse them with the more temporary ones ^^ I drew up a little map of the ones I concluded were absolutely moles and not seasonal freckles or age spots- but honestly you can just draw your own conclusions from that little collage. He definetely has some more on his forehead but he's like ALWAYS got bangs on so it's harder to tell. Ok bye now assume I am wrong about everything

[feefivefoe]

I like you sahsrau 👀✨ can we have more of it?

I'll probably go in region order bc if I don't I will forget who I have and haven't done-

But if you want a specific character, just request some in an ask and I won't mind. Max of 5 characters though.

Herta Space Station. Where 2 individuals awoke and b̵̢̛̻̙̗͚̝͚̥̣͕̆̉̊̌͆́ę̵̮̲̺̘͖͖̦̫͗̅̏͌̀̃̀̀͘g̸̰̜̠̰̞̉̽̈́̅͂̄ä̴̧̝͇͇̝̗̩͚́͆͛͝ͅn̵̡̯̙͇̼̣͍̪͂͛̔̀̃́ their journey across the cosmos. A place very recently attacked by the Antimatter Legion, dedicated to the Destruction.

Perhaps this is why you also found yourself awakening there, though already aboard the parked Express. Perhaps THEIR theory had some merit after all.

Asta

The head of the station is a busy woman, constantly juggling the academic and social issues from the researchers, whatever work Herta deems below even her puppets, and even more so after the security breach.

It isn't until a while after your awakening that she manages to actually meet you. There was gossip, sure. That a mortal incarnation of the being that shaped the universe was found on the famed Astral Express, while ported in their station. As if she didn't already have a millions missives directed her way...

That being said, there is something celestial about you that puts any doubts the astronomer might have at ease. There's no fear in your eyes as you wander the station. Whether that's because you believe the threat has been eliminated, or because you don't believe even the Legion would harm you? It isn't clear. Asta isn't even sure you know.

Still, it isn't often she gets the chance to speak with you personally. Expect her to have either Arlan or Peppy trailing you whenever you set foot on the station. Expect welcoming gifts any time you visit, expensive enough to make you sweat a little. She won't even notice.

For a non researcher, she sure does seem to dissect you with her eyes from across the room. Hint, she's mapping out constellations on your skin. Be it freckles, pimples, moles...she doesn't care. Any mark or blemish is just an undiscovered star. And Asta has always wanted to find stars that haven't been discovered and named yet.

Arlan

As the one who feels particularly at fault for the invasion, he's constantly a little paranoid that you may be hurt by some straggler. Just one intruder he or his department missed, one enemy that attacks the first person it sees. After so long, would any follower of Nanook even recognize you before striking?

He can't take that risk.

Meeting you in person gave him the same crushing sense of relief and hope that he had experienced in his younger days. A hungry child that was willing to fight people he didn't know FOR people he didn't know if it meant earning something to eat. Asta and her family took a chance on him, and now he was someone the station trusted to keep them safe.

And he failed at that. Sure, he did everything in his power. He saved people, even was willing to sacrifice his life if it meant protecting what staff he could. But the fact remains that some people died, and even more were hurt in some way. He can't fail like that again.

He had a second chance, his new beginning. And he will die before he loses it. Arlan, the more he sees you as an Aeon and less as a human, will start fusing his perception of you with his gratitude for his place in life. If anything happens to you, he'll die at best, and lose everything at worst.

He cares about you deeply, of course. As much as idolization will allow. You're entirely perfect. Which is why, as someone who has only been able to fight and not learn like the others, he will dedicate every bone in his body to protecting yours.

Herta (puppet)

Really? All that fuss, and the Beginning is just a human? A squishy meatsack like the rest of them? Not even a bizarre size?

For a while she's unimpressed, even seeing your existence as less interesting than the prospect of a person with a Stellaron inside them.

Ah. But what if the two correlate? What if you only made your appearance because of an intact, contained Stellaron? Oh, had the Destruction found a way to place direct essence into a weaponization of matter???

This hypothesis needed confirmed before anything else. But even she doesn't have direct access to the Cancer of All Worlds...

Off you go on the Express now, go on. She's sure you'll come across one eventually. And you make sure to come right back as soon as you do, okay? She'll even let you have top priority when you return. No waiting, no leaving a message. She's even set your specific number to alert her immediately when you text, bypassing the bot that sends messages for her.

It's a very special privilege to be able to contact a genius so readily, so don't abuse it, okay? Though, if you sprinkle in discoveries you make about your existence, she may be willing to chat a bit. Only for you, remember.

The Herta

And just as she predicted, you have a much different aura about you by the time she meets you in the flesh. Perhaps it's the time in Amphoreus, a land filled with 'divinity', but you hold yourself with the presence of an Aeon, now.

Someone who knows their companions would slit someone's stomach open merely because you asked them to, just to see if they would, and feel no guilt.

Droidhead suddenly seems much less impressive. She's wanted the Aeons to ask a question of her for a while now, tired of constantly being the one to seek answers. Herta feels those questions in your gaze, before you even open your mouth. She feels dissected, rearranged, and put back together with a single look.

It's a bit addicting, actually.

Oh, and the way you listen when you ask her something and she answers! It isn't like her to get so excited. It's out of character. It's wrong.

And that is precisely what makes it so fascinating. Just how dangerous will your presence be if this is after only a handful of encounters with a Stelleron? This isn't even a percentage of what you once were.

She tried to recreate you in the Simulated Universe, sending the Trailblazers (as your constant leeches companions) through over and over again, just to see how your AI acts, and growing more and more frustrated when it doesn't live up to the real thing. Maybe she needs more time to study the original in person...

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

ATLA

Waiting on that morning sun by DustOnDaydreams

“To the Generals, Admirals, Officers, Soldiers and Sailors of the Fire Nation, Halt your advance. Pull back to your nearest military stronghold, and await further orders. Do not engage any forces unless absolutely necessary for your own defence. Put out any fires you come across. Sign it only with the full list of the Fire Lord's titles."

“Your Majesty, do you not want to put your name to the missive?” A young pimpled scribe squeaked out to the shocked silence.

“No. I want them to obey the order.”

Or Zuko's transition from child soldier to young monarch in charge of a corrupted nation

Harry Potter

The Cloak by MoonflowerMorningGlory

Harry is not going back to the Dursleys. He has been out of the cupboard for a whole year; he's not going back in. It's tricky - he doesn't really want to have to explain to anyone. But he's magic now! He has an invisibility cloak! And he's had a lot of practice lying still and pretending he doesn't exist. So he can definitely hide out and avoid being put back on the Hogwarts Express, right? Nothing can go wrong with an eleven year old by themselves for 9 weeks in a wild, magical castle, can it?

Nine Worlds

East First by fire_eyes_chica

"East first, then west and home"

Before they can settle into their well-deserved retirement, first Kip and Fitzroy need to return to the Palace of Stars for the Jubilee celebrations. It's harder than it seems.

these unfaithful hands by rattyjol

His feet were moving again, though he did not recall deciding to go anywhere. He crossed the room, past his desk, past the plinth with the asymmetrical vase, past the tapestry map and the golden nightingale in its cage. Past the terrace, where he had been pleased to break his fast with his Radiancy—only this morning? It felt a thousand years away.

He was standing before the ivory door to the inner apartments, which he had passed through only a handful of times before. His hand raised of its own accord, and the door fell open beneath it.

He became aware, with a creeping dread like tendrils up his throat, that something was terribly wrong.

The Goblin Emperor

Falling (Please Catch Me) by mabonwitch

Maia gains a wife, a lover, and a dav.

Or: "He needs affection, and closeness. He is all but starved for it, and we would see him glutted on it instead.” She raised her chin. “However that happens.”

The Imperial Salon by mabonwitch

The Imperial salon is full of marnei. Vazhik gets a firsthand look at why that might be.

Alternate Title: The Emperor's Gay Lover

the first long welcome by wizardcake

Just a few little conversations and scenes on the topic of Maia becoming, and being, a parent. Fluff with a couple shavings of angst on top for flavor and texture.

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬)

aka. becca was inspired by her love for starface patches and wrote this in her sleep deprived state !! hope you enjoy anyway loves <33

breakouts suck.

it’s a universal fact, one you think would be impossible to argue with no matter who you are. nothing can truly make them enjoyable, per-se, but you believe you’ve found a way to bring a hint of amusement to the infuriating spots: colourful pimple patches. more specifically, ones shaped like stars that came in an array of colours for you to choose from.

gone from sight are the unwanted guests on your face, replaced by a smattering of mini yellow, purple, and pink stars that dust your forehead, chin, and nose.

another bonus? your boyfriend seems to be pretty fond of them, too.

jack is currently cuddled up to you, head resting against your chest, when he lifts his head to admire you for a moment. brows furrow, and a finger extends to poke at the star sitting on the bridge of your nose.

“i meant to ask you, baby. what are these?” he asks, voice tinged with mirth. “trying out a new look?”

you snort, swatting gently at his hand that begins to peel at one of the patches in curiosity.

half of you wants to mess with him, come up with some crazy, convoluted reasoning behind the stars gracing your face. the other part of you is far too tired to think of something right now, and to deal with his consequent onslaught of questions and excitement.

“ha ha.” your tone is dry, but your eyes give you away, soft as you look back at him. “they’re pimple patches. supposed to stop you touching them while they heal, or something like that.”

your nose scrunches a little at the explanation you provide, and jack produces an ‘ah’ of understanding.

“i like them. ‘s like your own personal little constellation,” he supplies, toothy grin stretching wider as he makes a point of lightly poking each star, tracing their pattern to map out his own galaxy.

“yeah. my own constellation,” you echo, surprised at just how sweet your voice comes out, the short word thick and syrupy like honey.

as he finally reaches the sticker sat on your chin, you part your lips and playfully nip at his finger, letting out a laugh at his disgruntled look.

“that’s for poking at them,” you declare, pressing a kiss to the pad of his finger to placate his pout. “i put them on to stop myself from messing with them, and look what happens.”

“can you blame me? sitting there looking all pretty with some colourful stars on y’face and you expect me not to touch them?”

before you can respond, jack speaks again.

“and just for the record, i’m so stealing those from you.”

[syofrelief]

Where the Skies are Blue - Fritos

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

content warnings: slow burn, eventual romance (ghostie), violence, canon typical gore and content. this is an exposition chapter, where we meet the crew. I have no idea how long this will be.

informational post for series

wc - 1.5k ish

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Population: 4,800. Nothing. A pimple in the state of Georgia. Barely worth the ink it took to establish itself in the address books.

Perfect.

You’d set out weeks ago, Raina’s hand gripped in yours and a bag slung over your back. Once you’d rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and determined where exactly you were, your next goal was to find someplace to disappear. The little…settlement, really, had caught your eye in the last gas station you’d taken refuge in. It was tiny, miles from the clusters of towns otherwise labeled on the map.

Come on, Raindrop, you’d cooed to her bedhead, time for an adventure.

Adventure. 

An apt name? No, but better than trying to explain ragtag civil riots to your four year old sister. 

Though the country roads and winding hills were unfamiliar to your Brooklyn-born senses, it had taken you less than a week to reach the tiny town of Braxton from your previous post. Just in time - your feet were in danger of falling off and Raina’s raspy cough had turned thick with mucus.

“Any minute now, Raina,” you murmured, tugging her along. “We’ll get you som’thin’ to eat, don’t you worry.”

She grumbled, kicking at your leg.

“Quit.”

“Ow, f- I said quit!”

Safe to say, the sight of a Shell ahead made your irritation melt. A small shred of self preservation held you back from bolting towards the shining oasis and prostrating on the tile floor. It looked clean. No telltale traces of campouts or residents nearby eased your worry, though you kept your sister pressed tight to your side. 

You paused by the nearest tree, motioning for Raina to sit. Quiet fell.

No pops of gunshots in the distance, nor the rumble of militia vehicles. Just the lazy buzzing of hot sun and the melody of crickets. 

Crouching, you leveled your gaze with Raina’s. 

“Okay, Raindrop, this is how it’s gonna go,” you said, keeping your voice to a minimum. “I’m gonna grab some food- yes, I’ll grab Fritos - and you’re gonna stay by the ice cream freezer. Do not move unless someone grabs, stabs, or shoots at you. Scream and run, okay?” She nodded, dark eyes unblinking.

The door didn’t automatically swing open, to your dismay. You shimmied a knife between the dust-sealed doors, jostling them a few inches apart. Then paused, hoping the noise didn’t disrupt any residents. When the coast was clear, you shoved the doors apart and groaned.

The energy source had been gone for a while, so any refrigerated goods were a no go. The air was blessedly cool, though stuffy, and you lavished for a moment in the reprieve. Georgia was hot as fuck in July.

A sharp poke at your thigh made you jump. Insistent brown eyes beamed into your skull.

“Fritos, baby, I know. Now do what I said.” 

You rolled your eyes, meandering to the bare shelves along the walls. Brat. 

Her cough rattled, thick and wet in the oppressive silence. Unsurprisingly, the tiny shelf of medicine was empty. You did grab a pack of tissues. Urgency and panic twisted behind your eyes. You needed to be moving faster. Her eyes were getting glassier, skin getting hotter.

Breathe. Soft sheets. Blue walls. Raina had found a seat on a cooler, playing with the carousel of keychains.

You snagged a few bags of chips, some flat soda, water, and tampons. Raina nearly clawed your arm off as you handed over the coveted corn chips. You smirked, watching her tear into the bag of salty gold. 

While she snacked, you poked behind the cashier. It had been trashed, to nobody’s surprise, the ATM ripped out of the wall in a haze of wires. A few packs of cigarettes and gum remained, as well as a few months’ worth of receipts. Puckered holes let streams of dusty sunlight in, little caves where shotgun shells made their mark. It uneased you, the number of bullet holes. Most of the riots had gone Northern, but the possibility of a second wave still chilled your blood.

“Raina,” you said sharply, nausea suddenly pressing against your tongue, “Onward.”

She slid off the overturned cooler and plodded after your long strides into the dusky air. The heat had lessened under the creeping of night. A thunderous pounding made you pause, before realizing your heart was rabbiting out of your chest. Breathe. Soft sheets. Blue walls. Music. 

A sticky hand crept into yours. 

Onward.

Atlanta. You just needed to get to Atlanta.

If your shoddy geography skills served you, it would take at least three days. Almost there.

Atlanta loomed across the train tracks. The stately buildings and weather neighborhoods were dark, cragging through the streets like rotting teeth. A trickle of relief washed down your back, only to be overcome by a choking sound. You dropped to your knee, bending Raina over your leg.

"Cough, Raina," you demanded, thumping her back. "Cough hard. Come on, cough."

She gagged and coughed. It was a horribly wet, squelching sound. A thick wad of mucus splattered onto the ground, yellow and ugly. As she gasped and fluttered for breath, a stone settled in your stomach. Pink streaks of clots tinged the mucus.

"A-almost there, honey, just hang on."

You needed to be moving faster.

Carefully, you crept into the city center. It was a ghost town, not a breath of breeze. Too quiet. The quiet of anticipation. Raina, still rattled from her fit, dozed on your hip. Blistering heat scalded your right side, and you turned your gaze on a burning pile of trash.

Nice.

Something changed. Imperceptable, almost, but your ears pricked. A whistle, quiet but getting louder. Then.

The explosion rattled the teeth in your jaw, and you stumbled, rolling behind a park bench.

Panicked screams as a dumpster exploded a few yards away. Raina screeched as you lept to safety, covering her ears. Welcome to the Big Town.

Dust and ash billowed from the explosion. A rotten stench of food and feces and death nearly killed you. The dull ringing brought on by the blast made your head spin. Breathe. Soft sheets. A stuffed giraffe. Blue walls. Music. 

Another blast.

Breathe. Soft sheets. A stuffed giraffe. Tiny fingers. Blue walls. Music. 

The broken ground beneath your feet shook. Crying made the skin inside your ears bleed, warm and trickling down your neck. Any more time and you’d be dead for sure. 

Cracking your eyes open, you realized it was not blood, but tears. Raina’s small face, shoved into your neck, and her ribcage quaking with sobs. Gravel poked your thighs as you shuffled to accommodate her. A general ache had swept over you, tugging your fatigued muscles into the ground. It felt good to sit.

Something hot seared by your ear. Dimly, you recognized the smell of gunpowder, but for the life of you, you couldn’t move. Raina was squirming.

Raina.

“Rainie,” you croaked, throat dry, “sit still, baby.”

Shards of glass rained. You slowly laid atop your sister, bringing her beating fists close to her chest. Burning, everything felt like it was burning. Pricks of fire leapt onto your back. Your face was shoved into the earth, the loamy smell of summer plagued with the stench of burning plastic. 

This was not how it was supposed to go. The riots were Northern. This was supposed to be safe.

Your ears had stopped working, an intense rumble the only indication of explosion. Screams in the distance, getting farther. The popopop of shells dimmed, and the oppressive, pulsing scarlet of fire grew closer. 

Fire.

Warm.

Fire.

Oh, fuck.

The odd lapse in energy fizzled, adrenaline shoving any thoughts of rest aside. You crawled to your feet, groaning at the debris embedded in your skin. Raina clung tight, and you began to run. Limp-run.

The streets were a warzone. Graffiti was slathered over every available surface, not a window left unbroken. Glass littered about was thicker than the concrete, and you swore as your feet began to bleed. 

“Raina, don’t put your feet down,” you barked when she tried to run ahead. You stumbled to the middle of the street, where the debris was packed down by tread marks from local militia. Eyes burned at you from inside dark, smashed in cars. You hefted her higher, hoping the obvious injuries to the both of you and the lack of any supplies were an indication that you posed no threat. 

Unlike the scream of an engine behind you. 

A busted Jeep, decked out in camo and DIY flamethrowers nearly toppled in an attempt to clear the row of collided vehicles. You bolted to the sidewalk, nearly slicing your arm on a jagged twist of rebar. Whoever was driving the hell-mobile threw a can of something at you, missing by a wide margin. You blinked.

Coffee.

Coffee?

You gagged at the smell of tar.

No.

Bomb.

Your feet couldn’t carry you away fast enough. There was a corner shop close, but not close enough. A few yards and you’d be there. Every muscle screamed, Raina cried, your head hurt and something was very much lodged in your leg, but you just had to-

Suddenly, you were airborne. Fire and heat licked at you, the blast of hot air sending you both through the front window. Glass, metal, plastic, wood, collapsing on you like a waterfall. What was left of your brain swam in a sea of pain, but you focused on the weight on your chest. Something, gravity or death or something was yanking her, pulling her into the dark. Her shirt knotted in your iron grip as you screamed, fighting the crater’s pull on her tender arms. Mine. She’s mine. You can’t have her, motherfucker, she’s-

x

Something silky and cool curled around your legs. It felt…wet, almost. Brow ticking, you twitched your leg away. Poor choice. The cold thing retreated, and flashing pain replaced it. A broken moan spilled from your cracked lips, shivers rollicking down your body. Hastily, the Thing came back. You didn’t move now, hoping its gentle reprieve would last longer. A strange numbness climbed up your calves.

Slowly, gradually, your limbs returned. Your arms, still fastened solidly to your shoulders. Your left one hurt like a bitch. The prickly flesh felt raw and exposed, like something had taken a bite of it. Your legs were numbed by the Thing, but they were definitely still attached to your hips. Your middle was also sore, but...lighter. Odd, you remembered feeling weighed down by stones. That's why it took you so long to move, right? Something....you had something. Something heavy.

Raina.

That weight, the reassurance of her.

Gone.

“R…” your tongue fought against the cottony roof of your mouth. Something gluey kept your eyes from opening. 

You twitched again, harder this time. The Thing could fuck right off, no matter how good it felt. I need my sister. Anxiety began to rise hot and fast beneath your ribs. The Thing was gone, but you dimly heard the burble of voices. Raina. Raina.

When sound finally slipped past your lips, it was a mangled cry. Someone shook you gently and finally, finally, your eyes slid open. 

Something swam in your vision. Eyes…blue.

“Y’aright, lass?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

this is a slow story because I like slow things, so bear with me. When new parts are posted, I'll link them below. I don't do taglists bc they're a hassle, sorry!

disclaimer bc I know I'll get a comment or two: this is NOT A POLITICAL COMMENTARY. it takes place in America and there's a dystopian level of riots going on. NO, I am not making a political point. NO, I do not want political shit in the comments. all of the events are fabricated and so is the government. leave me alone.

ty and happy reading!

[cabbyang]

inanimate insanity put through google translate a bunch of times

Inanimate Insanity = The Insane Price

Inanimate Insanity Invitational = Insane Price Guests

Characters:

Apple = Call

Baby Shimmer = Baby Lobster

Balloon = Dance

Ballpoint Pen = Ball then Width

Baseball = They Stole.

Baxter = Happiness

Blueberry = With

Bomb = Good

Bookcasey = Garden

Bot = Bonus

Bow = God

Box = See

Cabby = Cabbage

Camera 1 = Room 1

Camera 2 = Room 2

Candle = When

Cheesy = Hello

Cherries = Chair

Clover = Cleave

Dough = Ear

Dr. Fizz = I Learned

Fan = But

Goo = Good Morning

Groscer = Big

Knife = Sending

Lifering = The Life

Lightbulb = Laws

Marshmallow = Warden

Mepad = Map

Mephone1 = I'm Sorry 1

Mephone2G = I'm Sorry 2G

Mephone3GS = I'm Sorry 3GS

Mephone4 = I'm Sorry 4

Mephone4S = I'm Sorry 4S

Mephone5 = I'm Sorry 5

Mephone5C = I'm Sorry 5C

Mephone5S = I'm Sorry 5S

Mephone6 = I'm Sorry 6

Mephone6+ = I'm Sorry 6+

Mephone7 = I'm Sorry 7

Mephone7+ = I'm Sorry 7+

MephoneX = Good Luck

Microphone = Michael

Nickel = Nod

Nick Le = Nick The

OJ = Oogling

Paintbrush = Home

Paper = Tap

Pepper = Very Well

Pickle = Pimple

Prime Shimmer = Prime Lobster

Salt = Shall

Silver Spoon = Forest Spore

Soap = Soup

Springy = Asks

Steve Cobs = Much Stew

Suitcase = Yours Truly

Taco = Person

Tea Kettle = About The Boiler

Test Tube = Text

The Floor = Tea Flower

Tissues = In Tisus

Toilet = Believe

Trophy = Troop

Tyler Bombard = So Much on the Bombard

Walkie-Talkie = Fights-Talc

Yin-Yang = Yes.

Zoetrope = Sweet

[gaybirdnerd]

Bad habits from the 141

Ghost:

Knife tricks, he will be bored and with nothing to do and will just start flipping knives and doing shit with them no one else has seen. This has caused numerous occasions where a dumb recruit decided they could do it better than him and sliced some fingers.

Picky with how his sandwiches are made, the meat has to be on the very top unless there's provolone cheese, will take apart any premade sandwiches to change how it is placed. No one knows why, he just does it and will give no explanation.

Skin picks. If he finds something different on his arms or his hands or his neck or his face, he'll see if he can pick it off. Be it a scab or a chunk of dirt or a pimple, he'll mess with it either until it bleeds or it's gone.

Soap:

Plays with bombs??? He literally just takes explosive putty and turns it into shapes like it's Play-Doh. He's safe about it, but holy shit you can't just pull a bomb out of nowhere and hand it to someone as a joke when they ask for a wrench or something.

Will drink coffee obsessively. It doesn't really affect him all too much, but if he's got free time where he CAN have coffee, he WILL have coffee. He can go to sleep right after coffee and be ok, but he can also "accidentally" drink like 20 cups in a day because he's bored. He has stomach issues very often when he does this ofc but it doesn't stop him.

Bites his nails. Will go at a nail until it bleeds, particularly when he's nervous or bored. He keeps himself occupied drawing or journaling just to avoid going to town on his nails.

Gaz:

Lays in bed all day when he has nothing to do. Literally will wait until the last second to go to the bathroom during these times and won't move except for that and for getting into more comfy positions. He has a snack stash that literally no one can find in his room, so he doesn't even need to leave for food, he just sits and lays there watching stuff and doom scrolling on his phone.

Eats salads one ingredient at a time. Will find every piece of lettuce in the salad and eat it and then go on to the next ingredient. He thinks this is how salads are meant to be eaten. He doesn't even separate the ingredients, he just picks them out around the other stuff, even when it's got dressing on it.

Listens to music obsessively. Will sit in the most serious meetings with one earbud in, somehow hidden, and listen to the music while passively taking in the information unless it's a super serious meeting. If it's a cut-and-dry "get in, get out" or information grab, he gives no shits and simply watches what's being projected for them to see (maps, details, plans, etc.)

Price:

Smoking ofc, but what a lot don't know is that he went from cigarettes to cigars in his early 20s and still slips onto cigarettes sometimes when he's super stressed. It tastes different and wakes him up whereas cigars are heavy smoke and calm him down.

If he's got mashed potatoes of any sort, they HAVE to be mixed with vegetables, he refuses to eat them otherwise. It's not a bad habit perse, but his refusal to even look at mashed potatoes unless there's a vegetable such as peas or corn makes it a stubborn issue no one in the world can change his mind on. If he gets an MRE with mashed potatoes and no vegetables, he'll either negotiate getting someone else's vegetables or simply give them the mashed potatoes.

Picks at his nails. Thinks it's gross to bite at them, but they get chipped and bother him by snagging on things so he'll pick at the inconsistency and make it worse then keep picking. Ghost gets him a small nail file he can put in his phone case to keep with him so he doesn't need to continue getting frustrated at his nails.

Laswell:

Doesn't sleep. Will get maybe 4-5 hours out of a day and will stay up for hours in the middle of the night because she's following a lead or researching something that caught her attention 5 days ago.

Refuses root vegetables and will fight someone if she finds one in her food. Again, not much of a bad habit, but the fighting is. Once threw down at a family gathering because someone (a particularly stubborn aunt who hated this habit) snuck a cut-up carrot in her food and only her food. She was 16.

Reorganizes her desk and office once a week. You wouldn't think this would be a problem or even a bad habit until you realize she puts stuff in such different locations each time that she can't shit. She never learns from this and jokes that it makes her life more fun when she finds the stapler actually under the desk.

[comatosebunny09]

“wanna touch you,” he rasps into the shell of your ear, causing you to shudder in his arms. reach behind to hook a hand around his neck, drawing him closer into the feverishness of your skin.

he ignores the drone of the television in favor of the hitch of your breath—in favor of the goose pimples igniting across your flesh. no point in asking permission, for his hands are already on a mission. mapping out the contours of your waist, big, hot, and heavy. fingertips skating along the rim of your bra. he isn’t sure why you bothered wearing this damn thing. it’ll be off and lost in the abyss below his couch very soon.

you giggle something cute and hoarse as he roots his nose against the sensitive space behind your lobe. and he’s smiling and chuckling alongside you, the air thick with lust and heady things. can’t help himself, the bulk of his palms smoothing over your breasts and squeezing. the lace covering your puckering nips no doubt amplifies the vibration of his nails skating over them. and you arch so pretty for him, your lashes fluttering and your lips parting with a whisper of a whine. he wants to taste you. wants to play with you.

“wanna fuck you,” he adds as he kneads your tits together in purposeful, unhurried arcs. bites his lip, another rumble of laughter leaving his throat. doesn’t miss how your thighs clamp together, how you squirm, and how you drag his mouth closer so he can nip at your neck, all open-mouthed and burning. you’re so fucking cute, it hurts. makes his dick hiccup in his sweats while pre-spend stipples them dark grey.

your body moves like slugging waves crashing along the surf, and his hands move southward. down, down into the elastic lip of your sweats in search of that warmth that lies beneath. and he finds it with laser precision, a thick palm cupping your muff. and it radiates sex, and he can’t help the little appreciative groan he lets out because fuck, he wants to be here so bad.

[your-productivity-girlie]

acne tips...

avoid touching your pimples/blemishes: this irritates the area and causes it to stay longer

find out the cause of your acne, whether it is hormonal or something else: figuring out the cause of your acne is important because then you can treat it better. if your acne is the cause of lack of sleep, you should sleep more. here is a acne face map:

wash your face regularly: this should be a must! wash your face two times a day, morning+night. people with dry skin can skip the morning wash if it irritates their skin, but to keep your skin healthy you need to wash away the gunk. however, be careful not to overwash, which strips away the natural oils and tells your body to create even MORE oils. this results in more acne.

avoid oil-based products: acne is created by oily skin, so adding more excess oil to the skin can clog pores. stick with water-based products instead.

get good sleep: sleep is important to heal your acne, but be careful with pillowcases. make sure to change them regularly to reduce dirty particles sticking to your face. silk pillowcases are really good for your skin and hair, and keeps your skincare actually on your skin. it however, is not something you need; changing your pillowcases will suffice.

have a good weekend~ ✨☁️

⏾⋆lune⋆⏾

[idontknowwhatimdoingheresworld]

Hair as white as snow,

Glowing under the morning sun,

Spread out on blue pillows,

Like it was arranged by god herself.

Silver lashes over closed eyes,

Wrinkles lead the way over her face,

Showing history,

Showing a life well lived.

Pink lips, slightly open.

Warm air escapes them in soft sighs.

Blue fabric over pale skin,

Hiding her body like snow hides a landscape.

A gentle hand - my gentle hand,

Touching her body - worshipping it.

Feeling her skin, its perfect imperfections,

Its wrinkles and pimples.

Drawing soft circles and random patterns

Like a child on a heist.

Her body - my map.

Blue eyes open sleepily,

Pink lips smile gently.

Loving eyes - my loving eyes

Welcome her in this reality.

"Good morning love." - "Good morning dear"

A hand- her hand - caresses warm skin

My warm skin.

Reality threatens to destroy the dream,

But here with her - here with you

They are - we are - living the dream.

[britcision]

Do you ever get the feeling that your pimples are intentionally mapping out the parts of your body where you can’t easily reach to check up on or spot clean them?

Cuz it’s Big Bedtime Congestion Hours and having to sleep every night with the vaporub always causes breakouts all over my chest but they’re being vindictive right now

Like the only place on my body that I can’t easily get both hands to is the back of my shoulders (I’m hyperextensive, it’s bad) and GUESS where I have like six huge and super sore pimples popping up

Right on the fucking shoulder blade

There is NO way I got the vaporub there?? I think???

(Front of shoulders I’ll grant you, there’s some migration but not that much)

[breadboylovin]

4, 8, 17, 32, 38 for the ask game :)

4. what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

my sister (@dwarfplanet-eris follow her shes awesome) once tried to trick me into believing that in every 3d mario game mario has a pimple under his hat because of a modeling error or something. i believed it for like 5 seconds and now every time she tries to trick me again im like 'youre pulling another mario's pimple on me i'm not doing this'

8. any reoccurring dreams?

ummmm idk honestly... the only "reoccurring" dreams i get are stress ones i think. when i was in high school it was always about missing the bus but now i am in college with a car so instead my stress dreams are about randomly being shirtless in public places OR spending an insane amount of money. i will say a really funny one i just had two nights ago was when i was getting freaked out about car maintenance so i had a dream where my car and license were revoked but my dream couldn't come up with a good reason for it so it was like 'yeah you made too many weird tumblr posts about youtubers we gotta take this away from you'

17. name 3 things that make you happy

seeing a cool bird. im near the rocky mountains for the summer after living in flat ass florida for my whole life so seeing mountains. and big ass burritos

32. how many tabs do you have open right now?

4 (this one, the post with these questions on it, website of the state park im probably gonna go to after answering these, and google maps). having too many tabs open makes me feel crazayyyyyy

38. fave song at the moment?

underscores - My guy (Corporate shuffle) THIS SHIT ROCKS!!!!!!!!!! also mad at me from the scrapyard c sides it was stuck in my head all day at work on friday and its crazy that it didnt make it to the final mixtape release...

(from this ask game)