✩˙˖ ꪖ ꪑ꠸ꪶꪶ꠸ꪮꪀ ꪻꫝ꠸ꪀᧁᦓ ˖˙✩

● ˙ ✧ ɪɴᴅɪᴇ. ¦ ꜱᴇᴍɪ-ꜱᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ¦ ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ-ᴍᴜꜱᴇ 「 ʜᴜʙ: dragcns-den 」 ✧ ˙ ● Muses ¦ Rules ¦ Mun ¦ Blogs ¦ Permanent Call

[canon-fcdder]

⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ɪ’ᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴀʏ 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕜𝕖 ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ’ᴍ ᴀꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ

                 ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴜʀꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

「 ​  ​©   」  

[totally-razzical]

i haven’t posted any of my own work, in like, a year. sorry about that. not good at media socializing

ive been told i should put my tt/dg stuff on here. so, here’s a dump of all of the earlier stuff i drew after joining a server for it a while ago. they’re all a couple months old, but i still like them.

[plasticsouled]

@canon-fcdder

[canon-fcdder]

✧   「   @sxnful-freakshow   」   ✧  - Continued from ★  

「 ☆ 」 With the circus in utter shambles— and the residents faring little better —it's no surprise that patience would be running thin. Zooble's is already a frayed string on the best of days. Considering this one involves the collapse of everything around them, both metaphorically and literally, it's no wonder the mismatch of pissed off parts finally decided to DO something about the rabbit's antics.

Jax's stupid, self-destructive, sanity feeling as though it's slipping away by the second antics... In an immature ( and desperate ) bid for something— anything —to distract herself from the crushing confirmation of something she had always suspected but preferred to pretend wasn't true. Not even a person, but a mimicry. A brain scan. Never mind a healthy one. Stuck with all the fucked up memories of whoever she's supposed to be, and no chance of making any of it right. Of ever knowing if she could. Hell... She still can't even find the strength to be honest.

Even now. When what the others think couldn't possibly matter less.

Startled speechless— although that could be the tight grip on her neck —by the abrupt GRAB, gloved appendages instinctively move to hold onto the others hand. Grasping but doing nothing to try and free herself, she eventually forces a laugh through the choked sound. They don't NEED air in the digital space, no matter how fervently their bodies insist otherwise when denied. Jax knows this. Has championed this fact. Still... There does rise a nagging uncertainty, now that Caine is gone.

How much have the rules changed?

❝ H-Heh... What's the matter, Zoob? Can't handle a little prodding now that you know everything you were hoping for isn't gonna happen? ❞ Barked out to disguise the panic creeping up her spine, making her throat push against their palm with a strained swallow. ❝ Can't find it in your digital heart to feel happy for the You that's running around outside... With- no clue that you even exist... ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[canon-fcdder]

✧   「   @wrinkled-sheets-and-sunlight   」   ✧  - Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」 It takes a few tries for Hayden’s distressed shouts to reach Eiland’s ears, the noble far too distracted by confused panic. He’s been through all measures of hardships— from assassination attempts to getting lost in the mines —yet this one grips him in a way he’s unfamiliar with. Betrayed by his own body, to the point of barely being able to think enough to figure out why. What should be a source of potential pleasure only making his stomach hurt from how loudly it makes itself known.

Knotted with an insistence he can’t even begin to help with, he feels as though he’ll be sick should it go on any longer. If only for SOME sort of release to the tension in his body.

❝ H-Huh? Wha— … ❞ Blearily opening his eyes, dazed hues focus on the man abruptly entering the scene. Expression crumpled in a bewilderment that crinkles his button nose, he cocks his head on instinct, fluffy hair falling to the side with a fresh waft of sweetness. ❝ What do you— ❞ Yet even with the fog, Hayden’s question settles into his mind. Perhaps even aided by it, thanks to Eiland losing his usual knack of overanalyzing to a fault.

Able to cut straight to an obvious answer without being sure why it’s a question to begin with, he swallows thickly and says through a weak voice. ❝ A- a lot. ❞ Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean he’ll be helpful. Bare chest heaving as he fights to let air into his lungs, gaze unwittingly trails from Hayden’s concerned face down his chest. Widening slightly as if surprised by the built man before him, even though it’s hardly the first time they’ve seen one another. ❝ I, uh… I had- … a lot. I don’t know exactly how many. ❞

Through the breathy admission, hues the color of orchids continue their unintentional trail. Gliding down Hayden’s chest, across his arms… to his strong, work-worn hands. Such a contrast to the noble’s smaller, carefully-kept ones. Leather gloves adorned to help preserve the softness of his touch. Yet despite the affliction, Eiland’s eyes never seen to dip below Hayden’s waistline.

As if he doesn’t need to in order to lose himself in want admiration for the other man. 「 ☆ 」

[goddamnrpmemes]

Send a Ö and I’ll reveal a character I’d consider rping.

[lookingforroleplayers]

Hope I'm using this shoutout thing right, but i really wanted to share how I think @canon-fcdder is a really awesome rper and I love looking at their writing ! I wish to rp with them on day, but for now I'll settle for admiring them in my little corner lol

[canon-fcdder]

(( I did NOT expect to see this but it made me really happy to. ))

(( Thank you so much for this, Anonymous Friendo! I just wanted to reply— on the chance you'll see it —to say that I am curious as Hell about who it is sitting in their little corner watching my silly little blog lol — I haven't written very consistently lately ( trying to get back on Tunglr ) but I am flattered that you enjoy what I do throw onto dash. I'm not very fast with replies or my messages ( gotta catch up on those too rip ) but if you're ever interested in reaching out ( or re-igniting a conversation if it happened to get lost or forgotten by time/squirrely-notifs ) then please feel free! ))

(( My messages or askbox is open *thumbs up* ))

[tuesdayscanons]

{¤} Being the second newest member of the circus, Zooble isn't entirely certain of the rules. They seem to be free to avoid going on adventures (when Caine isn't in the mood to subject them to one against their will), but it still feels unwise to provoke him. They've seen how unstable Caine can be when his purpose and authority is questioned.

Still, Zooble might as well push the bounds of what they're able to do in the game. Everyone else seems to play it safe, so Zooble wouldn't be able to get any answers out of them, but Jax is different. He tests boundaries like a mad scientist (as well as everyone's patience).

Zooble isn't even entirely sure whether it's safe for them and Gangle to be openly dating. As far as Caine and the others know, they're just "very good friends". Jax is the only one they've shared this confidential information with (though that's because Jax walked in on them cuddling while trying to play a prank on Gangle). Caine never explicitly forbade new relationships forming in the circus, but they doubt he'd encourage it either. Relationships result in feelings...feelings that don't exactly line up with the game's squeaky clean image.

Kinger was lucky to have entered the game already in a relationship. If Queenie hadn't abstracted, he would've been able to go home with her. Zooble doesn't know where to begin finding Gangle outside of the circus. They'll never know the feeling of their skin making contact with hers, their lips pressing together, having Gangle see them for who they truly are...

It might be nice to be able to wear Gangle as a scarf and carry her around with no issue, but something feels missing.

Unfortunately for them, Jax is hesitant to reveal his secrets. Zooble will never be able to give Gangle pleasure. Not they truly expected to—Gangle is a mask attached to a ribbon. There's nothing to stimulate, as far as either of them is aware of. They can't help but be disappointed, even if it was an expected disappointment.

Being called a pervert doesn't really phase Zooble. They've been called much worse (outside of the circus, of course) and it's not like the accusation was completely untrue. They have to be some sort of pervert to still have these desires in this overly sanitized circus.

"Well, this pervert wants to experience some sort of pleasure in this hell hole."

They can say "hell"? Good to know.

Zooble looks down at themselves, their brows furrowing in disgust.

"It's miserable enough being stuck in a body I hate. It's maddening trying to find a combination of parts that feel like me. Is it too much to ask to be able to distract myself from it in a way that allows me to forget that I'm...whatever the hell this is."

It's unlikely Jax would be able to relate. He's been around longer and should be used to being a purple bunny by now. It's certainly preferable to being a cacophony of discordant parts. Everyone else seems to have adjusted to their forms, even Pomni. Why can't Zooble feel right? {¤}

[canon-fcdder]

「 ☆ 」 Zooble's reasoning isn't unfounded, considering that despite Caine's incessant attempts to keep them ❛ happy ❜ and stimulated in their wacky prison, the Ringmaster often misses the mark. His idea of pleasure coming in the form of unending and unpredictable adventures that only serve to break up whatever semblance of normal they try to create. Turning to sex for escape— all things considered —isn't the worst idea. Provided one has a partner willing to help with it... and they can figure it out.

Or in Jax's case, stumble into it.

Unfortunately for Zooble, the rabbit would rather abstract right here and now before admitting to the circumstances that led to his... unique experience. It would be less of a mortifying ordeal.

Arms crossed, hands tighten on his limbs with a sharp instinctive intake of unneeded breath. Gaze flitting to the side while Zooble continues their lament, trying to ignore the uncomfortable prickling beneath his skin fur as the other's words fade into semi-coherent background noise. Merely a couple sentences already enough to put Jax on edge, a finger rapidly tapping in a discreet display of his discomfort. Ears purposely standing straight, body stock-still, feet firmly planted to avoid any embarrassing bunny-isms. The last thing he needs is any more questions aimed his way.

Choosing to blame his unsteadiness on how uncomfortable the conversation was to begin with, Jax swings his gaze to Zooble with a performative smirk. Aiming a lackadaisical finger at them, head cocks to the side with a quirk of his brow, lids lowered halfway to sell the attitude, ❝ You seem pretty confident your girl would even want to use put those silky little ribbons to work if you figured this whole... ❛ pleasure ❜ thing out~ ❞ Truthfully, Jax can't see Gangle taking much initiative in the bedroom as far as leading a scene goes. Whereas Zooble seems more like the giving type. But it's worth a shot just to fluster the other anyway.

Yet once the smart-ass remark has hit the air, Jax's demeanor takes a new turn. It'd be easy to assume his next question is nothing but more mockery, if it weren't for the way his expression crumples into a questioning look. ❝ Have you ever considered giving it a rest already? ❞ A hand on his hip, the other hand motions at the entirety of Zooble's mismatched body. Tone teeters on condescending, yet there's a tinge of impatience in it that is uncharacteristically subdued. Real, for the rabbit. ❝ Maybe the reason you can't find a body that works for ya, is because you never stick with one for more than two minutes before you're moving on to another. ❞

A clear exaggeration, but there is a truth to it.

❝ How are you supposed to feel like you if there's no set THING for that to be? Even if it's the wrong one... At least it's something. ❞ He knows this is hardly a comforting thought, being trapped in a body that doesn't feel as though it's right. He would know, having been in that exact situation before coming to the circus. Even now, one could argue that he only traded one ill-fitting form for another. But he manages to survive them both with one simple and undeniable fact— there was no changing it.

Whether it was because he couldn't afford surgeries, even if he let himself decide if he wanted them— Jax refusing to linger too long on a desire that may never reach fruition —or due to having NO control over his appearance in an inescapable hell, the situations may as well be the same. Helpless as ever. Wrong as ever. Maybe Zooble should finally get with the ( literal ) program. There's less hurt in it.

❝ Just... give up, Zoobs. There's no fixing this. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[canon-fcdder]

People, being human people had been Caine's brilliant choice of an adventure for the day. They didn't even go anywhere new, their bodies simply poofing into what they all could only assume their real ones looked like. Caine had no doubt been busy as each person awoke to his 'surprise', it being a holiday gift since they all were always so caught up on 'being human' and everything. Voodoo themselves had blinked awake assumedly after Jax had already gotten the low-down on the situation, or at least that's what they assumed since he was already up and about. This wasn't the sort of situation he would just let happen, he'd want answers now. "...Jax?" Was their sleepy voice as they sat up on the bed, dual blue and brown eyes curiously taking in their new...old? Whatever this body was. They were still short, though they did seem to have a few inches added onto their height as a toy, leaving them a whopping five feet off the ground. Super. Looking at their hands, their skin was a patchwork of tan and pale white, this assumedly the case in various places across their body. Their...unclothed body. Still covered by a blanket, thankfully, and while still in their room too. Despite their toy body not having a need for clothes (thus such scarcity carrying over to this form, if they had to guess), this made them feel exposed in a way that never has. Turning their attention towards their hair, they sproinged a curly, dark brown lock that had fallen over their face, Voodoo then reaching a hand up to smooth out the rest of the sleep-tangled bob. "Wonder if Zooble and Gangle are having the same problem. Did it really not occur to Caine that some of us would need clothes?" //you know what the fuck this is for dskjfsd -  ✧  ˖  ˙   「  @wrinkled-sheets-and-sunlight   」   ˙  ˖  ✧ 

「 ☆ 」 That son of a BITCH.

As soon as Jax awoke to Caine’s little ❛ surprise ❜ he’d been on the warpath in search of that manipulative ringmaster. Much to the annoyance of those he ran into along the way, Jax in even less of a mood to mince words than usual. But he figures he has a right to this blistering fury. Even if the others had the gall to paint it as an overreaction because HE happened to be the one expressing it. After all, these bodies were definitive proof Caine could manipulate their forms at will. Something Jax suspected but never had confirmed until that tail fiasco ( an appendage he demanded be returned soon as the two spoke again ) , let alone this abuse of power.

Years. Years of forcing himself to grow accustomed to his new body and the unsettling quirks it provided, only for Caine to throw humanity back at him without warning. These bodies even bleed. One of the first things Jax checked was how true to life they were. Struggling to keep quiet when he first became aware of the changes; not wanting to jostle Voodoo into a panic too. The shock of seeing red flow from his arm had nearly ruined that, Jax choking down a cry of pain as the sight briefly brought back the sensation before he could remind himself otherwise.

It’s… a lot different to see yourself bleed than it is to watch stuffing.

Returning to his room after forcing an unsympathetic and woefully NOT understanding explanation from Caine, Jax had shut the door as quietly as he could. Back resting against it as he quietly fought to gather his senses. A spare blanket snuggly wrapped around himself, it's an odd sight considering he's one of the lucky few with clothes. Still, gloved hands grip it for dear life, Jax blinking with surprise when his gaze raises to meet Voodoo's. ❝ Oh... You're awake. ❞ It comes out quieter than most would expect, a monotone acknowledgement that doesn't suit the rapid pattering of his heart.

Eyes are dark, nearly black aside from the odd shifts of honey speckled where the light hit. Daresay doe-like on youthful features, staring back from tanned skin that seem to mimic his eyes, freckles spattered across his face and assumedly interspersed on the rest of him. Hair is a darker shade of brown, like a rich deep chocolate. Unkept and somewhat fluffy with its thick waves, falling across his face and streaked with bits of purple that match his former fur. Ears are heavily pierced, a couple near the bottom and a few dappled at the top. When he speaks, if one was paying attention, they'd notice the shine of a stud on his tongue as well.

❝ Pfft... You look weird. ❞ He awkwardly jokes through a forced grin— a bit of a bunny like overbite to be seen —trying to lighten the mood. A tasteless attempt at normalcy that he regrets it as soon as it's out of his mouth, but it's all he can think of when faced by someone he expected to still be asleep. At least until he could figure out what to do about the impromptu vulnerability-fest they were forced into. 「 ☆ 」

[wrinkled-sheets-and-sunlight]

It really is a miracle Shion hadn't been taken advantage of before, not simply because of how pretty he was (and he was very pretty), but because of how awful people could be. A blessing to Micky, but a tragedy to the athlete, Mick filing away how it was lamanted Shion wasn't treated in such a way as a concern for later, one that hopefully would never need to be mused again now that they had eachother.

But he was getting a bit ahead of himself, Mick bringing himself back to the moment at hand as his shirt was removed, a smirk to settle firmly on his face at the reaction just his chest earned. He knew damn well how good he looked, it hard not to when as strong as he was, Micky having to wheel around almost two hundred pounds of weight between himself and his chair every day for over two decades now. What was a surprise was now nice Shion's touch felt, the careful exploration earning a stuttered breath out of the stuntman as his own hands reflexively squeezed at his partner's thighs. "Feels good, you touchin' me like that..." As much was heard in his voice, words low and lax as he leaned in to press a series of kisses along Shion's throat, fingers easing their way under his skirt with a playful snap of lace after a moment or two. "Turn 'nd face me, easier t' touch that way." An invitation to straddle his lap, his hands eager to manuver Shion into the new position with his touch to grow more bold once settling him into it.

He was happy to simply explore one another for a time, Micky eventually working off Shion's shirt so he could run weathered hands across the pale skin of his torso in turn, lips trailing heated kisses to any inch of his body he could reach as he groped and squeezed and caressed, Mick so busy laving the other man with affection he hadn't realized how quickly he'd gotten hard in his jeans.

[canon-fcdder]

「 ☆ 」 ❝ Oh? ❞ Shion muses at the stuttered admission, his own breath catching as large hands squeeze his thighs. A genuinely curious and relieved response, before he gathers his senses enough to try and take advantage of it. Mouth curling into a mischievous smirk— one he’s practiced many times for just such an occasion —as he gives Mickey’s pecs a purposeful press of his palms. Massaging into the firm spot in what he hopes in a sexy manner ( or at least a physically pleasing one ) . ❝ Then I guess I better keep doing i— ah!~ ❞

Shit.

Attempt at seduction is foiled by lips on his throat, Shion letting out a squeak that’s undeniably NOT a sound he planned on. Head tilting as his eyes shut on their own accord, shaky hands slide downward. Moving on instinct as curious fingers continue to map out the torso laid bare for him. His own body squirms in his spot, thighs pressing into one another as Mick wanders up to toy at his panties. Biting his bottom lip, tiny kitten fang threatens to snag at it.

❝ Hmmgnmn… ❞ A petulant whine choked down, throat bobbing beneath tender kisses with the motion. Shion honestly doesn’t know what he’s complaining about. Only that it feels… natural as it leaves him. Gasps and groans and whines as Micky decorates his neck, hands groping and exploring and TOUCHING in tandem. Wanting more. Wanting exactly this. Somehow wanting both at the same time. The only thing that makes sense is how quickly he listens to Mick’s gentle order to move.

That and the sharp moan that happens when the bastard snaps his lace.

Hurriedly straddling his partner with a pathetic, ❝ O-Okay… ❞ It’s more whimper than word, thighs quick to squeeze around the greaser’s waist, instinctively seeking whatever friction the new position allows. Frankly, he could have kept going like that for hours… So it’s a blessing Mick has the sense to keep the scene from completely stagnating, Shion’s shirt eventually shucked off to reveal his small frame. Delicate appearing yet deceptively strong, Micky’s worn hands would find lean muscles beneath soft skin. Built from years of ill-aimed athletics, Shion honestly lamenting how strength was all he ever gained from his escapades.

Still… At least his endurance is insane now.

Hands having moved past Micky’s neck to slide down his shoulder blades, they shift to claw grab. Painted nails pressing into his skin with a light sting, faint red lines— not bleeding… yet —starting to decorate his upper back. Softly moaning as heated kisses cover his body, music is only broken by quiet breaths of Micky’s name. Shion wanting to hear it. To say it. As if reminding himself of who he’s with. ❝ Mi-Mick… Hgnn— Micky~ ❞

Spine curves, pushing his body into the other’s lips… and inadvertently shifting his lower half with the motion. Rubbing against something VERY easily identified, Shion can’t help the sharp—frankly embarrassing should he be in his usual headspace —sound of surprise. A catch in his chest that funnily enough, only makes him push back harder. Later he’ll blame it on the dizzying sensation of being fondled and kissed stupid by his hot greaser maybe-boyfriend.

Perky ass apparently on a mission all its own, lace covered curves grind into Mick’s erection as if that was always the idea. With a rhythmic rocking of his hips— nails digging in deeper on Micky’s back —breathing grows unsteady, intermingled with huffed mewls, softly stuttered from his chest. Rubbing on Mick’s jeans as if trying to slip the other’s dick between his cheeks despite… all the issues with that plan.

But hey, since when has logic ever stopped Shion from pursuing what he wants before? 「 ☆ 」

[wrinkled-sheets-and-sunlight]

Arms lifting slightly in an invitation to sit on his lap as Shion stepped closer, a large hand settled on a dainty hip where they'd wrapped around the other man as he settled into place, the other to come to rest on his thigh with a thumb and forefinger to fiddle with the end of his skirt in a somewhat nervoud fidget. There was a soft smile on Micky's face as he listened, this being the first time in a long time since he had someone so close, let alone with the promise of more later on. He didn't really care about that though, not really, happy to simply sink into the couch with Shion in his embrace, his weight warm and comforting on otherwise unfeeling legs (save for the occasional phantom pains, that is).

Still, he can't deny the happiness that pops up upon hearing that he would be Shion's first in a number of ways, not because it meant he would be able to stake some sort of claim or something, but because-

"Good, means I can make sure you get treated right." Nevermind that it was technically a first for Mick too, if they got that far, the only thing on his mind was making sure Shion had a good time. "Was afraid that...I mean, it's...hah, I mean this in th' nicest way I can, but it's real obvious how bad you want male attention. 'm sure you already know I've had a few people, 'warn' me 'bout you, say it's kinda a thing with you, bouncing around and the like. I didn't pay them no mind, not my business what you do, was just...I was afraid that meant you might not've been treated like you deserve to be, y'know?" The implications were clear in his awkward tone, Mick giving Shion a slight squeeze of a hug to balm any hurt his words might have brought. "Sorry, I just...I'll do my best for you, you just gotta give me that chance. Even if it takes all night, just wanna do this for you, Shion."

Sentiment conveyed in that soft press of lips, Mick's body shifting to better allow the hand to travel under his shirt as his own inched careful fingertips under the skirt where he'd been fiddling with it. Not too far, just barely slipping under the hem, enough to show the desire to touch and be touched, Mick just waiting for the permission to do so.

"I really like you too, by the way. Only ever been with other people in chairs, never met anyone on two legs that wasn't family that, I dunno, gets it, y'know?" A nervous laugh, it more of a soft puff of breath than anything as teeth sheepishly bit at his bottom lip. "You uh, you pro'lly don't, huh? Just...all that yer doing, keep doing it. You don't gotta be afraid of hurting me, or making me mad, okay? I'll let you know what does and doesn't work fer me, in general and with...with this here, alright?"

"Now..." A shift in demeanor, a smirk to spread across Micky's lips as those careful fingers edged just a bit more under Shion's skirt. "You wanna help me get this shirt off, dollface? Let you finally see what's under it, since I always seem to catch you staring, 'nd all..."

[canon-fcdder]

「 ☆ 」 Hearing that Micky is aware of his… reputation, should be a mortifying blow to his confidence. Which it is, just not for the reasons one would likely expect. Instead of being ashamed for his habit of throwing— or trying to, anyway —himself at any attractive man that so much as breathes near him, Shion’s embarrassed groan stems from the fact that it hasn’t worked. Not until now, anyway.

Hiding his face against Micky’s neck when the greaser pulls him into an apologetic hug, he groans like a petulant child. Overdramatic noise befitting the muffled words that come next, ❝ Ugh, it’s so embarassiiiiiiing… I’ve been making it clear I’m on the market for years— ❞ Even to people he likely shouldn’t have, Shion having set his sights on a teacher or two before Hope’s Peak. ❝ —and no one’s taken a bite at the bait. No guy has given me so much as a nibble! ❞

Indignation only proving Mick’s point, Shion pulls back to look at Micky as he complains, ❝ Don’t get me wrong, as far as first times go— I’m glad I hit the jackpot. But when going through a drought, you start to wonder if the problem is you. I mean— am I not cute? Shouldn’t any guy want to snatch me up and do naughty things to me? ❞ The phrase ❛ snatch ❜ doesn’t offer much confidence, Shion and Mick having VERY different opinions on what he deserves.

Thankfully, he’s stopped before he can elaborate on his troublesome concerns. A soft kiss silencing any words, even if his worries aren’t entirely forgotten. Just because Micky might treat him well doesn’t mean it’s the way he ❛ should ❜ be. Only that he somehow stumbled into it. Sighing into the gesture, breath catches when a hand toys at his leg. Squirming slightly where he sits, thighs rubbing against Mick as he subconsciously tries to ease that hand a bit higher… Head then tilting curiously as Mick voices what a wonderful oddity Shion is.

❝ Huh. I never realized it until now… but you’re actually the first person in a chair I’ve interacted with. Never really crossed my mind, y’know? ❞ Absentmindedly toying with Mick’s hair as he muses, gaze watches the dark strands twist around a small finger, a playful smile on his blushing face. ❝ Probably ‘cause I was too busy thinking about how cool you are~ ❞ Honestly, Shion feels like it’s strange to have gone this long without the experience. Then again, the schools he went to were never the most diverse. His social life outside of that was near non-existent ( aside from a couple girls he finally met in middle school ) as well.

❝ … Alright. ❞ Softly agreed through that glossy-lipped smile, forehead going to rest on Micky’s, expression becoming more playful as his soon-to-be lover graciously moves the scene along. Sputtering a sheepish laugh, he pecks another kiss against Mick’s lips before whining at the nickname, ❝ Stooooop… ❞ The way he purposely wiggles on the others lap making it clear he doesn’t mean a word he says. ❝ You’re the woooooorst~ ❞ Lightly smacking at Micky’s chest, manicured hands are rather quick to take him up on the offer despite his complaints.

Pulling up the other’s shirt, he sticks out his tongue and chirps, ❝ Like you haven’t been doing your fair share of staring too. Should I remind you how this little scene started?~ ❞ Before he can keep poking fun, he’s cut off by his own unintended breath of— ❛ Oh shit ❜ —when Mick’s shirt is tossed to the side, wide eyes fixated on the other’s bared torso. Face AFLAME in a second, the impossible seems to have happened. Shion rendered speechless, hands hesitantly hover over where they had been shamelessly exploring mere moments ago, the action suddenly far different now that he can see what he’s doing.

Clearly nervous, gaze flits from Micky’s pecs to his eyes in a silent and vulnerable request for reassurance. A breath taken as he waits for… something. A look. A smile. Anything to help him feel more grounded in this suddenly scary moment. Once he feels more comfortable, small hands ease down to gingerly place his palms on the other’s chest. One on each pec, thumbs slightly pressing down as if to test the firmness. Mouth slightly agape, eyes brighten at what he discovers, thumbs then rubbing small circles into Mick’s form. ❝ You feel… good. ❞ He awkwardly mutters, still staring down at his hands, cheeks blossomed pink.

Hands then start to trail down… gaze following as they spread to Mick’s sides, feeling the bumps of his ribs and the shift to his abdomen. Fuck. He’s never touched a hot guy before. He’s never touched hot guy abs before. One can practically see the starlight in his eyes, Shion woefully unsubtle as anxiety starts to mix with utter dorky elation. Nibbling his bottom lip, it takes all of his will power to keep from squeeing from how overwhelming it all is. 「 ☆ 」

[canon-fcdder]

“Bitch I would never hit on Jerry. Not only cause he’s your boyfriend but I’m pretty sure he’s physically incapable of cheating on you. I mean have you met the guy? Besides too dorky for my tastes.” @ stocking -  ✧  ˖  ˙   「  @pantydrcpper   」   ˙  ˖  ✧ 

「 ☆ 」 Panty’s reassurances are helpful as they are irritating… While Stocking doesn’t doubt that her sister is genuine— based on the type of guys she normally pursues, Jerry is far from it —there’s a notable bristle to the younger’s demeanor at that fact. Fluffing up like an aggravated kitten, claws dig into her plush with a barely bit back growl, before she reflects and relaxes.

It’s in her best interest that Panty remain unaware of what exactly Jerry is packing. As much as she may trust her boyfriend, or want to… She can’t help the insecurities that arise whenever she thinks of her sister’s promiscuous reputation. Men practically fall over themselves at just a WINK from her. Ravenous and racing to tear off clothes, be it hers or their own. How could she possibly compete with that, were Panty actually trying?

She… really likes Jerry.

She doesn’t want to lose him.

❝ Hmm… You make some good points. For once. ❞ She grumbles, a half-hearted insult thrown her sister’s way to try for some sense of normalcy. Not wanting to betray how worried she had been or still is. Absentmindedly petting her cat plush, she looks down at the patchwork pelt. Rubbing an ear between her thumb and forefinger, she muses, ❝ He really is a strange guy… but- I can understand him. More than I do most people. ❞ Until recently, she hadn’t been sexually active either. Not because of a sense of obligation, but a lack of interest. How quickly that changed after meeting him.

Paired with their appreciation for the sweeter things in life, their healthy appetites, their previously unmet desires for affection and affirmation… Odd as it may be, Stocking finds it easy to exist around him. Enjoyable. So far, it seems like Jerry feels the same. 「 ☆ 」

[the-ultimate-muses]

If Kyle were literally anyone else, he would have most assuredly thought more about that look in Wallace's eyes, one that he'd been met with before, and even seen directed at others from Wallace himself whenever he'd been sent out to the man's home for his dumbass roommate. It wasn't hard to notice just how many different guys he'd seen around the place while tending to Scott, especially not with how often he would get a call to the place, and with how pretty Wallace was, it made sense. What didn't make sense, at least to Kyle, was that interest being directed at him as opposed to another viable guy. Clearly Wallace got a lot of attention, why would he need to go to Kyle for such a thing?

And yet, those eyes heat up his cheeks regardless, it feeling different from the stares he was used to, even if he didn't actually believe there was anything behind it other than it that was just...how Wallace looked at everyone. Or at least, every guy. So, not knowing what to do with said look, Kyle simply moved on, a folded up packet being pulled from the pocket of his battered and worn leather coat and set onto the table in front of him, like he couldn't hope to recount the information within it without actively reading it all over again.

"Give 'r take, yeah." He flips over a page, it easy to see, even when upside-down, that it's a summery of his medical records spanning back to his childhood, with there numerous broken bones and other 'minor' injuries from 'unknown incidents', those being the ones where his father had hurt him, but his mother was too afraid to say just what had happened, but she knew, everyone knew, and no one ever tried to help them until it was too late. Following those are what one would expect; broken noses and hands from fights with his peers, hockey injuries from over the years, dumbass stunts from being a dumbass kid/teenager, and finally the first of his deaths, the paper being turned so he could point it out; it unsurprisingly being the Fire that had scarred him. "That's number one, 's what fucked up my face. Dad got pissy I was learning 'sissy shit', didn't like I wanted t' be a nurse like my mom. He goes to hit me, mom steps in front of it, she hits her head on the fireplace 'nd dies. I tried to go after dad, he hit me in th' head, I played possum since that usually got him t' leave me alone, thinking I was knocked out 'r something, only he must've thought he killed me too 'cause th' next thing I know he's dumping gasoline on me 'nd mom 'nd striking a match."

Talked about casually, like it wasn't the largest trauma of his entire life, like he just...couldn't feel the emotions that were meant to come with it, nor was he able to register that this...wasn't exactly something one casually tells a near stranger like he was. "Dunno how I made it out 'f that fire, 'r well I do, crawled into th' fire place like Indiana Jones." A chuckle as he pulled the paper back to flip to the next page. "Made sure he didn't make it out, though. Wish I didn't pass out so fast, would've loved t' listen to 'im scream 'til he died."

Turning the paper back, he points out Number Two: his overdose in the hospital after the fire, it detailing the negligence and racism he was faced with at the hands of his doctor. "Don't remember that one, though guess that's not really a surprise. Don't remember a lot of stuff anymore, actually. Guess I'm just gonna have to get used to it..." Something that was explained with the next and final page: his accident. It doesn't say exactly what happened, only that he'd crashed his van into a tree, and the injuries he'd gained as a result. The removal of his arm, the physical therepy he'd been going through after the fact and had since stopped going to after learning how to use his arm Enough to get through his day to day, and finally his TBI, something only recently discovered to have been present since the day his father had struck him before the blaze, made all the worse now by the crash as well as the passing of time, unaddressed at that.

"But uh, yeah...not an EMT anymore. Which kinda sucks, was always fun hearing aboot what yer roommate was getting up to." Said with a light laugh, as if this wasn't the perfect moment to work towards keeping up contact with Wallace on a more casual note. "Seein' you was always nice too, didn't think I made that much 'f an impression though."

[canon-fcdder]

「 ☆ 」 Initial reaction is actually rather respectful. Wallace glancing down at the concernedly-large packet, before looking back up at Kyle's face once he realizes the information it holds. Studying the other's expression for a breath, waiting to see if he brings the packet closer ( hides it behind an arm like a child trying to prevent a peer from cheating ) or just offers a look that claims Wallace should keep his eyes where they belong. But when no such reservations come, well...

It'd be more awkward NOT to look at it, right?

Looking back down, eyes scan over the surplus of frankly overwhelming information. Far more injuries than one man should have endured, let alone in the short span of time some of them show. Sipping his drink as Kyle meanders down a morbid memory lane, he emits a long soft whistle. Managing to say ❛ dang ❜ far better than any statement could. Even if the approach may not be quite appropriate for the scene. But it's not as though Kyle's demeanor is either, the other man talking about death in the same manner one would order a coffee.

❝ Yeah, 'cause nothing says ❛ sissy ❜ like saving lives. ❞ Snarky commentary dryly offered from around his straw, eyes then drift up at the mention of what happened to Kyle's mother. Brows lightly knitting at the numbed manner it's shared. At how it's being admitted in general, to someone that Kyle has no real connection with. Frankly, it feels like conversing with a husk of a man. Albeit a cute one who manages to spark something akin to emotions inside when talking about wanting to hear his dad die.

Wallace can't relate... Although, he'd be lying if he said things were exactly great with his own parents. Not to the same extremes as Kyle's lot in life, but he can hardly recall the last time he spoke to either of them. His family was never close to begin with, even before he did the obligatory ❛ coming out ❜ despite most people assuming correctly long before the event was even a blip on his radar. Still, at least there wasn't any arson involved with the event. Just... a lot of shouting and crying.

And— ... Well. Getting struck on one occasion hardly counts as child abuse. Merely a lack of judgement and moment of over-dramatics. Besides, Wallace had stormed out of the house before his dad could decide whether or not he wanted to go for another hit. That had been one uncomfortable breakfast the next morning. As well as an embarrassing day of school, kids naturally curious about the bruise and teachers obviously choosing NOT to ask.

❝ You're kinda an open book, huh? Heh— Usually over coffee, guys tell me stuff like how much they can bench or what zodiac they are. ❞ Wallace never pries for more nor does he offer anything substantial in return. Resting an elbow on the table, cheek is propped up on a fist. A finger lightly taps against the side of his drink in a lazy rhythm, ❝ I like it though. It's interesting... Different, y'know? ❞ After a while, his hookups tend to blur into one. While he's not exactly looking for anything substantial with this one ( assuming Kyle even decides to; Wallace never could tell if the man was attracted to him ) at least he's not a bore leading up to it.

❝ Are you serious? You- not making an impression? ❞ He chuffs incredulously at the comment, tilting his head with a quirked brow. Pulling his straw from his coffee, he uses it to gesture at Kyle. Instead of bringing up any of the identifying traits the other likely expects, he just says, ❝ You're HUGE. Usually one of the biggest guys there, by a long-shot. Plus you never acted weird whenever I flirted with you. I appreciate that, by the way. Very classy of you, Kyle~ ❞ Some men aren't as amicable when another decides to start flirting with them.

Leaning back in his seat with a played-up sigh, he sticks the straw back into his coffee, ❝ Afraid I don't have any fun Scott stories for you, though. Nothing recent, anyway. He moved out to shack up with his girlfriend a couple weeks ago. Sooooo... She's the one making those emergency calls now. ❞ There's a twinge of bitterness in his tone, however much his dry demeanor tries to hide it. ❝ Yep. I am officially living on my own. And I don't get into as many stupid antics as he did. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[canon-fcdder]

“Can you believe those girls? I’m obviously taken.” Todd @ Wallace -  ✧  ˖  ˙   「  @shining-stxrs   」   ˙  ˖  ✧ 

「 ☆ 」 Most people would be thrilled to have a boyfriend as unbelievably HOT as Todd... Evident by how relentless girls are when it comes to flirting with the other man. Normally, Wallace would agree that he'd rather have a desirable partner rather than one who makes people flee the room screaming. BUT, it's difficult to keep that in mind when he's been having to interject between Todd and wannabe man-stealers all night. In a club packed close to bursting, it's inevitable.

He's barely had any time to actually enjoy Todd's company thanks to it.

Grabbing onto Todd's hand, he stalks toward the closest bathroom, practically dragging the larger man behind him. Free hand clenched at his side, Wallace bristles like an angry cat, it feeling as though he ought to have a lashing tail behind him. Pathetic as it makes him feel, he can't quell the nagging worry at the back of his mind. The unsettling nausea in his stomach, an acidic sensation that grows worse with each pretty face and pair of fluttering eyes. Wondering how long Todd could possibly hold out until his eyes start to wander.

Considering how their relationship started— and how adamant Wallace had been at the start, reluctant to let it develop into anything past that impulsive fling —one can't blame him for doubting Todd's loyalty. Infatuated as he may be with Wallace now, how long could that rose-colored obsession truly last?

Which is why the bathroom door is harshly closed behind them, Wallace not bothering to lock it. Let someone walk in on them. Let anyone and everyone see exactly how taken Todd is. As if Wallace doesn't plan on ensuring word spreads thanks to the sounds coming from their place of faux-privacy. Sharply turning to face Todd, hands reach up to YANK the taller man down by his shirt. Smashing their lips together in a feverish kiss, tongue soon joining the fray in a way his boyfriend is intimately familiar with by now.

Not pulling back until his lungs are screaming for him to, hands remain firmly grasping fabric, face mere inches away from Todd's. Fighting to catch his breath, heavy pants cascade over spit-slicked lips. Words rough in Wallace's throat, gaze heated as he stares into his partner's, ❝ Right here. Right now. ❞ Moving a bit closer, lips brush against Todd's, brow raising in question as he huffs, ❝ Feel like proving to those girls just how taken you are? The walls are pretty thin... ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[canon-fcdder]

(( Tag Dump - Cleo Smith ))

[canon-fcdder]

✧   「   @the-ultimate-muses   」   ✧  - Continued from ★  

「 ☆ 」 Softly chuckling around his straw at that dorky little wave, the look Wallace gives Kyle is hardly subtle. Hazel hues studying the other beneath heavy lids, a practiced roam up and down as if fully taking in the others visage. He looks exhausted, even with the horrendous coffee order in front of him partially gone. Like he hasn't slept in days... Or weeks. Which Wallace is pretty sure isn't possible to do without dying. But from Kyle's appearance, he might have been the first.

Pulling off when a soft ❛ pop ❜ noise at the... he's assuming joke— even if the statement leading up to it clearly comes from truth —eyes widen to study Kyle in a different way. Reading his lackadaisical demeanor towards it with a tilt of his head. Not that Wallace can claim to be much better, not reacting in any typical way aside from the uneventful shift of expression. Most would likely be beside themselves with awkwardness, concern, or perhaps an overdramatic show of well-intended pity.

Instead, Wallace starts with a disbelieving, ❝ Three? ❞

An elbow resting on the table, he leans forward a bit and calmly chimes, ❝ I can't tell if that makes you the luckiest man in the world or the exact opposite... Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket. ❞ With a quiet chuff of a laugh, he takes another sip of coffee. Lightly smacking his lips, he continues in a more serious tone. Not overly-dark, despite the topic of conversation, but shifting away from the playfulness of before. ❝ I'm guessing that's why I haven't seen you these past few months, huh? ❞

❝ No offense to your fellow EMTs, but none of the others are nearly as good at dealing with Scott's harebrained antics. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[canon-fcdder]

Wallace how did you and Jerry breakup?

「 ☆ 」 ❝ Ugh. Does it really matter? ❞

Of course it does. Part of the fun of a breakup is in the details. The horrible, heart-wrenching, sometimes hilarious ( were it happening to anyone but him ) details. If it was anyone else who lost what has to be the biggest catch in the history of dating ( in more ways than one ) , then he'd be mercilessly heckling about how badly they fumbled. But since the unflattering spotlight is shining down on his formerly tear-stained face, Wallace opts to huff and flop onto his mattress instead.

Grumbling as he tries to get comfortable, Wallace feels the heaviness of his body relieved by the softness of his bed. After a long day of moping around the house, it's a godsend. Unfortunately it does nothing to aid the crushing weight on his chest. ❝ ... We had an argument over nothing. Happy? ❞

Obviously not. Who would be with such a meager crumb?

Eyes shut and blanket pulled over his shoulder with a harsh yank, Wallace curtly elaborates, ❝ And when I say nothing, I mean nothing. It was stupid and I can't even fully remember WHAT set it off. Something about food? I dunno... I guess I made him mess up whatever he was cooking and he was being so overdramatic about it. ❞ An opinion Wallace hadn't been the most tactful when mentioning.

❝ Anyway, things got heated and before I knew it, we were shouting at each other... Well, okay not shouting. But just— loud. ❞ Louder than they usually were with one another. It had been unsettling. Before Wallace knew it, he was saying things he didn't mean. As per usual whenever a situation became overwhelming. Preparing to sever a bond that he didn't WANT to lose. Angrily voicing a suggestion that made him want to bite his tongue, just to try and keep it choked down in his throat where such a reckless statement belonged.

Breaking up with Jerry before the other could be the one to leave.

❝ ... Like I said, none of it actually matters. Besides, we're both probably better off. ❞ At the very least, Jerry is. 「 ☆ 」

[canon-fcdder]

"So, Wells, I caught wind of the acting career you built up during that miserable attempt of a movie production, and I have to say I'm impressed. Have you ever thought about bringing that talent of yours to the wonderful world of musical theater?" (Teehee ;) ) -  ✧  ˖  ˙   「  @hayleysmuses   」   ˙  ˖  ✧   

「 ☆ 」 Frankly, it's surprising that Matthew Patel of all people would be approaching him. Yet it's also not the strangest thing that's ever happened to Wallace. When one has Scott as a roommate, that's a rather high bar to overcome. Never mind the impromptu ❛ acting career ❜ being mentioned or the influx of wealth that came from it. Despite the... unforeseen turns production had taken. A strike of luck that seems to have benefitted Wallace more than his co-stars.

❝ Well, Patel... ❞ He begins with a light chuckle, coyly copying the others manner of addressing him. ❝ I'd be lying if I said it's been at the forefront of my mind. ❞ Acting in general was never much of a concern for him, until the chance landed on his lap. He would have been a fool to turn down such a lucrative ( and exciting ) opportunity. One that continues to shower him with perks, apparently. ❝ But you're not wrong about my talent transcending screens. ❞

❝ Great eye, by the way. I like a man who recognizes what he's working with. ❞ A little flattery never hurts, along with some self-praise to show he knows his worth. Added with a playful finger gun, hand then moves to rest on a cocked hip. ❝ Anyway, it's an interesting idea and one I would be very open to exploring. Y'know, I actually did some theater in school, so it's not like I'm a complete novice to the scene. ❞ He enjoyed it too. How could he not? All those eyes fixated on him, the praise he got for effortlessly shifting into the roles assigned...

The showmances.

❝ And anything I'm unfamiliar with, I'm sure I'll pick up easily. Not like it was hard during the movie, and lemme tell you... it was a fiasco behind the scenes. Not the well-oiled machine I'm sure your productions are. ❞ 「 ☆ 」