My name's Sam but feel free to call me 'acorn' i literally do not care.
gender is a scam and i dont subscribe to it (they/them)-queer of some sort
currently 22 years old
while i don't know if this blog warrants an 18+ label, it is not out of my wheelhouse to post Nfst or explicit works, if you are underage, dni with those posts
Disclaimer: nothing i make will ever involve the use of AI, rest assured. Unfortunately i cannot guarantee that my references are to be without it, given that as time goes on it gets harder to tell what was made with a soul and what wasn't
Tags:
#nakedacorn - general posting, anything i have made
#nakedacornart - artwork, digital or otherwise
#nakedacorn speaks - textposts, random thoughts
#nakedacorn fanart - what it says on the box, its fanart
#nakedacorn ocs - original characters
#nakedacorn asks - ask submission responses
…but in my head Lincoln is MASSIVE. Crazy tall, yes, but also SOLID. He has to be, to account for the weight of gravity. He’s just BIG. But he’s also hella shy, and everyone is always watching him, which he has shown to be hyper sensitive to.
Logical conclusion?
Lincoln slouches and tries to make himself as small as possible, which is why he always sits. He always wears hoodies, and hides in the deep hood so he doesn’t have to see all the eyes that follow him.
…yes, I have at least three more fics of Lincoln on the way, why do you ask? 👀 😅
Chapter one of my bloodymary fic set in the Subnautica universe is nearly complete, and chapter two has had some good progress made! I'm super excited about this fic. It's been so nice to feel this inspired to write again!! Here is the summary, ao3 link coming soon!
Summary:
Countless pre-recorded distress calls investigated, and countless dead ends discovered, Ryland Grace had given up on finding any other human survivors on Planet 4546B. But when he and Rocky take a trip into the darkest depths of a nearby trench in search of a cure for the Kharaa Virus, they intercept the radio signal of a man named Simon, and this distress call isn’t just another recording. There’ve been signs of other sentient life on the planet before them, sure, but Ryland didn’t think he and Rocky would actually find someone else—let alone somebody alive! Whoever he is, this Simon guy needs help- and he needs it fast.
I personally LOVE the headcanon that our Sarentu was supposed to be Toruk Makto but because they were locked up in a metal box, Toruk had to settle on Jake
So
When the Western and Eastern Frontiers collide EVERYONE is shocked to find our Sarentu frantically fleeing from Toruk yelling “help help help help help help WHATS HAPPENING, HEEEEELP”
Toruk: I WAS LOOKING FOR YOU EVERYWHERE YOU LITTLE SHIT
Nobody ever showed up for Honey. They’d grown used to getting enthusiastic RSVPs for shows, birthdays, friendsgivings. They were intense, and they knew that.
They’d always been told by their exes that they were too emotional, too… talkative. Talkative about the wrong topics. Trauma, emotions, anything other than pleasantries. They couldn’t help it— it had been a compulsion for years. Someone would listen to them and they’d try to spew their whole life story until the person walked away or shut them down.
So they’d learned to filter themself more and more, until eventually it seemed like they just stopped talking.
After breaking up with their shitty ex, they held onto the few friends they still had. Their warmth had faded, though, and it wasn’t like it used to be. They felt like everyone kept them at an arm’s reach now, close enough to call friend but far enough for plausible deniability.
So, honey started only inviting certain people to events they did or hosted. They stopped reminding people about their birthday, just spent it alone instead.
Honey had become so accustomed to people falling through on their promises that they expected it. They no longer hoped their friends were caught in traffic when a few minutes late and began assuming they weren’t coming anymore.
That was, until, they invited their roommate to something for the first time. Well— invited was a strong word. Guy practically shook them by the shoulders begging for all the details.
Guy showed up— on time, too. Honey’s eyes had caught his across the venue they were performing at and gave a double take in the middle of their performance.
His face looked like the epitome of adoration.
Honey had to hurry back into the dressing room to fight off teary eyes with dabs of tissue on their waterline. After their show, instead of standing alone, they were standing with Guy. Instead of watching longingly as the other performers talked with audience members or friends and family, they were getting their ear talked off by Guy.
Instead of having to stand on the outskirts of someone else’s conversation, they were having their own. Something blossomed in their chest that day— something bittersweet.
They invited him to more after that, loving having him as their personal entourage. It was so nice to have a familiar face in the crowd. So nice to have someone show up for them. They didn’t worry about other friends no-show-ing their events because Guy filled their empty space with more than enough.
Guy cheered so loud that Honey barely noticed the absence of everyone else.
When Honey finally started dating Guy, he showed up for them even more than he already had been. He found ways to weave himself into their life seemingly so effortlessly. They found that he was the safe place not only in crowds during moments of stage fright, but in the home that they came back to after work too.
No matter who disappointed Honey, they could rely on Guy to hold to his word.
Honey didn’t have to be used to nobody showing up for them anymore.
He's not fine. Kyle's paid for them to have a very nice day at the spa, and he's panicking. There's soothing music playing from hidden speakers that may as well be claxons and gunfire, as far as he's concerned.
"Simon. Babes. We don't have to go in if you don't want to."
"I want to." He doesn't.
"We're just starting in the sauna," Kyle reminds him, like they're not gonna be starkers in a room with other people. "Just 10 minutes. Then a rinse and into the thermal pools, yeah?"
Simon nods. He does remember. And he does like the sound of it. The heat on his muscles, seeing his boyfriend getting slick with sweat. The promised relaxation of a nice float in cool water. But after...
"Don't want that little old lady to beat on me," he mumbles.
"Then you have to relax," Kyle reminds him. "Otherwise the only way you'll feel the massage later is if she beats on you. And didn't you feel better afterward, last time?"
He had felt better. Thoroughly cowed and oddly aroused, but better. Still, he says, "I don't want the mud."
"Simon. You love the mud."
Fuckin' 'ell, he does. He always feels so nice afterward. "I don't want the cucumbers."
"Then tell the therapist you don't want them to cover your eyes." Kyle has the patience of a saint. Probably because he is looking forward to the hot stones and pampering instead of approaching it with nothing but dread.
