#!m

SO MANY TOKOYAMI X READER IDEAS NOOOOO

LIKE HE GIVES YOU A POEM AND IN IT HE CALLS YOU HIS SHADOW PELAPLSEPDKWPADEW

OR HIS LIGHTREJWOKDL;E’EKW[DQFMKE;WDAL;

OMGMGPOMGOMGOMGOMGOG

OR LIKE HE JUST LETS YOU CHILL IN HIS ROOM WHILE HE LISTENTS TO HIS MUSIC AND DRINKS APPLE JUICE WIHT YOU AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IM GONNA COMBUST PLEAPLEPLEPLPELPALDEWKOEMKWLE

OR OKRO OR HE ONLY REALLY LETS YOU IN HIS ROOM BECAUSE YOU THINK ITS LOOKS COOL AND ODNT JUDGE HIM DDDDDDD: PLEASDEOEDSOKKDMWKS

AND LIKE DARK SHADOW LOVES YOU BECAYSE YOH GVE HIM EADPATS OMG MGMOGMFDSIJANKWSA

xcf 001: “dulce periculum” 

poc-friendly (example)

can be used on gifs

darkens the image so i wouldn’t recommend using it on images that are already super dark

i recommend using GIMP 2.10.6 or above

credit is not required but it is appreciated. 

eek! an indirect kiss!!! <3 I'm honored

randomly generated sentence starter meme // accepting !

🎲 : 7. “If I die, I’m haunting you first.”

“Spencer, can you help with this load-in?”

He’s useless, as always, during the beginning of his shift, doing everything but working, and generally as obnoxiously as possible. There is more reward in flicking day-old sliced fruit at Chansol’s head than there is at wiping down the tables he wiped down three hours ago, especially when there is a trainee and at least two other established wait staff to do it for him.

“No alcohol, remember? One kidney. Doctor’s orders.”

Though the content of his words is serious, perhaps genuinely life-or-death in nature, his tone is still playful, sing-songed, as if even a bullet through his vital organs and too much of his blood outside of his body is some kind of game. It’s how he copes, with how close he came to death, of how the hairline cracks of a heart starting to break hurt almost as much as bleeding out on The Crow’s Nest floor: humor, frivolity, a minimization of Death himself, as if it might take away his glaring powers of inevitability.

“You’re not going to get alcohol poisoning by touching a few bottles.”

She is annoyed with him, like always, he can see it on her perfectly painted face, hear it in her thinly veiled tone. She would probably threaten him with immaculately manicured fingernails if he hadn’t already nearly died in front of her, and if Jihoon weren’t feet away in some back room, counting cash and memorizing inventory. Perhaps he could get used to the collateral perks that came with his near death experience.

“That’s true,” he allows momentarily, a shit-eating grin splitting his face in half in anticipation of annoying her further, “but, if I lift anything too heavy, my wound could open up all over this squeaky clean floor and then you’ll have one less person to mop up my blood, pus, and guts from underneath table twenty-four.”

She makes a face at the vivid description, but shoves a pair of hefty unopened liquor bottles in each of his hands nonetheless.

“I’ll take my chances.”

randomly generated sentence starter meme // accepting !

💗: 9. “Sleep over? Please?”

“Ah,” Spencer smiles, because, as always, he is outwardly warm, kind, nothing but well-intentioned even when faced with what could be considered temptation under any other circumstances.

Perhaps he should have foreseen this. This was his life before The Crow’s Nest, before Jihoon. There was a time he would have stayed over at the drop of a hat, at the smallest, wordless request. There was no denying the objective appeal of the other male, and though Spencer sees only the good in people, there is the ominous threat that he doesn’t see, of something darker and more covetous under Hyuk’s skin, something that might wrap itself around him and try to pull him away from another pair of ferociously possessive hands until he’s torn in half down the middle.

But Spencer is not tempted. The time he spent with Hyuk was friendly, certainly, warm, as he is always, but platonic. Was it a moment of naivety on Spencer’s part? Or perhaps a subconscious test of his will, as if subjecting himself to a masochistic display of putting an obstacle between himself and Jihoon, just to feel how much he aches for what isn’t there, even when he has all the power to remedy the absence. Maybe it’s the relief he craves, the relief he’ll feel when he crawls into a bed at the end of the day with the only person he wants to sleep next to, the relief of no more cold sheets in the morning, of living in the arms he very nearly died in. There is not, it seems, a temptation that exists that could take him away from that, no matter how appealing.

“I can’t,” he admits, almost apologetically, but not because he wants to stay, and not because he is guilty of anything scandalous. He is sorry, however, sorry for the misunderstanding that is undoubtedly his fault, for having to leave Hyuk prematurely, so as not to exacerbate the situation further. 

He stands, puts pointed space between them, smiles a crooked grin and taps the spot on his abdomen where the scar of a sewn up bullet wound is hidden under the fabric of his shirt, managing to find humor, even in this.