#Eat sleep shit run around and then one day die

[evilminji]

You know how... world leaders can't just? SAY stuff? Because when they DO it's the Offical Stance(tm) of their Country?

That makes their Fuck Ups(tm) all the more serious. It's WHY they have press teams.

But!!!

WHAT IF?

They said something, PUBLICLY, on LIVE TELEVISION, that? Can not be taken back? Full on "masks off, behold the horrors you have payed for" moment?

Sure, they could SAY "that wasn't me" and "I was brainwashed" etc etc. But? If it's BIG enough? UGLY enough? TRUE??? People WILL find it. Dig and dig and dig like termites in the walls. Hunt like bloodhounds.

Riot in the streets.

Because? All it would TAKE? Is ONE half ghost, a few too many long nights trying to balance college classes and his internship, a bigotry filled call from back home, and staring down that empty fridge with just one box of moldering take out, because he's been too busy and stressed to remember to get GROCERIES AND-

Ah.

So this is what "so stressed you feel calm, I have run out of Fucks too give" feels like. Neat. *picks up phone* Hey, Sam? You still at that protest? Outside the presidential speech? Neat. Don't move.

One Phone Line Express later. SAM is telling him to breathe. Maybe... maybe calm down. Think about this. Others around her can see the same "spark of madness" glint in his almost zen like smile.

It Fiiiiine, Sam.

He's just here to Talk.

He disappears. Sam's freaking out. President stumbles but catches himself on the way to the mike. Up in the watch tower, various Magic users choke on their lunches, because a ghost just possessed the United States President.

ON LIVE TELEVISION.

He taps the Mike, smile, leans in real close like he's gonna Tell You Folks A Secret.... Aaaaand~

"The second you Die, you no longer have human rights. Doesn't matter how brief. Heart stops? You're sub-human scum! Non-sentient by American law. We here in the United Stares PROUDLY desecrate the bodies and graves of the dead. Tear apart the immortal souls of the innocent. And condemn you to oblivion crying, begging, and screaming for mercy! Why, obviously, is an act. Because souls don't have the RIGHT to feel fear or pain!

And YES. We do mean EVERYONE'S. Atlantian, Kryptonian, Martian. Canadian, Mexican, Russian, AND Chinese! I could keep going! Once you die? You belong to the United States to experiment on as we see fit! You're PROPERT now! So turn your nonrights having, nonsentient self in to the nearest GIW! For the good of AMERICA. Ectoplasmic Scum!"

*drops mic*

Jaws are on the floor. This was VETERANS DAY. Dead military Heros and smile for the cameras. A cake walk. Do a patriotism, rah rah. There.... there are DIPLOMATS in the crowd. Sure as SHIT, were more then a few foreign nationals WATCHING. Religious leaders looking on in fury, grief, and horror.

Reporters. Oh sweet Jesus the reporters.

The press secretary faints.

PANDEMONIUM. The president, still dazed and confused from being possessed, gets PUNCHED on live television be his VP, a deeply religious if moderately shady man. Take bribes? VP is cool with that. Bootstraps, peasants, and all that. But how DARE you fuck with the Souls of the dead. How DARE you!

Phones are blowing up, questions are being shouted, the JLA Dark FEEL like they should tell somebody about the ghost kid... but also this feels VERY "Call for help-y" so they might throw their weight around instead and pretend they know nothing. World leader are meaningfully staring at their Dear Beloved Dead Grandmother's photos as they send LIVID assistants to hound the American into answering the DAMN PHONE-!

And Danny?

Danny feels calmer now. He has stolen like....700 bucks from secret security's various wallets. He's going to buy himself BOUGIE groceries. Some...some NICE take out. Maybe a little cake. Yeah~ Cake for Danny~

If anyone needs him? No you don't. He needs to go do some shopping, eat, lie on the floor of his shower and just... vibe for a bit under the spray. In the dark maybe. Sleep for a week. Have his food. Yummy little treats.

Or he's gonna fuckin LOSE IT, man.

(Tucker is actively hacking his college schedule as they speak. He KNEW it. Called it! Too many classes! But does Mr "I can handle it" listen? Noooooooo! Now look what happened! Holy SHIT, Danny!)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

[empresskylo]

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER

SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.

The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.

The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water. 

With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go. 

The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep. 

“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained. 

“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves. 

“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”

Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”

“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”

“It’s too–”

You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”

“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly. 

“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”

Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that. 

“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price. 

“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon. 

“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”

He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting. 

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building. 

You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this. 

“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair. 

You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in. 

The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing. 

Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream. 

He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall. 

Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing. 

Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought. 

He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind. 

He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound. 

He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.

You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone. 

Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you. 

You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic. 

Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering. 

But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack. 

A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell. 

His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him. 

Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat. 

Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan. 

You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body. 

You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.

It was Simon.

Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you. 

“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare. 

A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them . 

You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.

He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came. 

Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise. 

You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in. 

Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before. 

You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction. 

The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself. 

Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.

Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair—felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory. 

He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support. 

You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time. 

Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin. 

His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time. 

You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful. 

When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life. 

You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well. 

But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you. 

You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements. 

You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all. 

He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast. 

You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.

Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever? 

You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him. 

#ghost #simon riley #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #simon riley smut #ghost cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #fluff #angst #ghost angst #cod mw2 #smut #zombie!ghost #modern zombie #cod zombies

[still-a-morosexual-help]

honestly tho om lucifer is such a comfort character

you know mammon's my all time all around favourite no contest but like

lucifer just hits different

he's so tired and he's so overworked and he loves his family so much it makes me sick he's willing to kill and die for them at any chance he made the misfits of the celestial realm his family despite being the perfect example of an angel himself he thinks his brothers are adorable he just wants them to have one quiet day

he's such a bastard he's arrogant and prideful and he'll willingly meow like a little kitty cat because his boybestfriend is sad

he's got daddy issues he's terrified he's traumatised his greatest fear is his father he spent years fighting a pointless war and never questioned his father about whether they ever even tried to find a way to end the war without just mindlessly trying to kill people who really aren't that different from them for a reason no one knows he's willing to be given piggyback rides by another high profile man in a public area

he's a dog person he's weak to puppy dog eyes from everyone he cares about he's constantly done with Mephisto's shit he gets jealous because one of his friends complimented their mutual friend's cookies

he's willing to villainize himself in the eyes of his family to keep them safe he's sadistic his first response to being cornered and scared is to kill anyone who's making him feel that way his love language with his brothers is being a little shit to them he's somehow connected to/the starting point of all the issues/trauma his brothers have he has empty nest syndrome even though all his brothers live at home he hasn't realised the extent to which his actions and words have fucked up his brothers and is constantly surprised and devastated by it when he realises

he has a son he pretends is his brother whom he only ever canonically acknowledged as his son twice which led to huge blowout fights one of his younger brothers bullies him into going to the pub with them once a week his son runs a club with his youngest brother dedicated solely to making his life miserable

he's sadistic he genuinely enjoys seeing people suffer he's so polite he'll allow himself to be poisoned by food he knows is bad he bought dinner for a whole restaurant because it was the owner's birthday he wore a silly outfit and worked at a themed restaurant as a favour for a friend he gets visibly more aroused when he's ordered around he insults his brothers but gets upset whenever an outsider does the same

he loves his human so much and he's so annoyed at them he's so frustrated with them he's so angry at them and he's so worried about them so protective of them so incredibly proud of them he has tried to kill them many many times

he's a borderline alcoholic he's immortal he's greying he gets migraines he forgets to eat and he sleeps at his desk he does the mom thing and orders takeout for his children when he goes out to eat without them he likes dad jokes his greatest wish is to visit a factory he likes good socks he's a grumpy old man

he's over 10 million years old he's an eldritch horror he's the personification of the sin of pride he needs glasses to read his childhood friend? ex-boyfriend? kind-of-brother? old coworker? brother in arms? calls him luci

he's a naggy paranoid perfectionist he removed the entire bathroom because one of his brothers forgot to clean it he had to literally be kidnapped to send him on a vacation he ripped out multiple sets of his own wings he doesn't like being seen shirtless he lectured jason voorhees about him not killing efficiently enough

he's a respected and recognised drag queen he believes love is love he's canonically so beautiful but no one ever makes a move on him because the whole realm thinks he's in a committed long term relationship he refuses to believe his best friend is in love with him despite multiple people saying so

he's the type of person you want to please the type of person you want to make proud the type of person you want on your side because you know no matter what he'll always have your back you're safe that as long as he's there everything will be okay the type of person you want to be held by while everything is falling down around you

he's even queer

#obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me! lucifer #om! lucifer #swd lucifer #shall we date lucifer #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #shall we date? obey me! #swd obey me #swd obey me! #shall we date obey me #obey me nightbringer #om nightbringer #obey me! nightbringer #dialuci #lucifer x mc #mc x lucifer #obey me! shall we date? #nightbringer obey me #swd om #om swd #obey me! swd #om! nightbringer

[livyjh]

Hunger

Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: on a patrol near Jackson with Joel, you run out of food and have to make do with whatever you can find. Eating the wrong thing makes you both feel… different.

A/N: Here’s another one shot unrelated to Temptation :) I really wanted to write a sex pollen thing with Joel and here it is!!

Warnings: sex pollen/sex poison, smut, dub-con based on the nature of the sex pollen/poison trope, talk about being hungry/eating, unprotected p in v (don’t do this), masturbation, rough sex, angry fucking, being mean to each other, Joel calls you a slut, choking, hair pulling, quick mention of blood/taste of blood, nipple play, spanking with object, anal play, creampie.

Joel Miller Masterlist

****************************************************

“I’m fucking starving.” You sigh, walking alongside Joel in the forest.

You were on day two of a three day patrol route, tonight you’d stay in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Tomorrow you’d return to Jackson.

“Drink some water. It’ll hold ya over.” Joel sighs back at you. “Or pick some mushrooms.”

You scoff at him. “Very funny.”

“I thought so.” He chuckles quietly.

You roll your eyes, trudging through the humid spring weather. “Are there any edible flowers out here? Shit, I’d eat tree bark at this point.”

Joel shakes his head. “Don’t know much about the plants out here.”

You frown. Until…

“Oh my god.” You gasp and run to a bush you spotted about 10 yards away.

Joel calls after you, using your name to try and get your attention. But it doesn’t work, you were laser focused.

On a tall bush, almost as tall as you, there were berries. Ones that looked… like a raspberry, or a blackberry, but they were orange. You weren’t a hundred percent sure, but, you feel like you remember maybe eating these before.

“Joel!” You wave him over and he walks faster to get to you.

“What?” He sighs, putting a hand on his hip.

“These are edible.” You smile at him, then look at the bush, then back at Joel. “I think.”

He rolls his eyes and begins to walk past you.

“Joel, I know you’re just as hungry as I am. And I swear I remember eating berries just like this before. They should be fine.” You reasoned with him.

He turns back to face you. “Fine. Eat a couple.” He shrugs.

You gulp and stare at the berries for a few seconds before plucking a few and putting them in your mouth. You start to chew and soon scrunch your nose. They’re tart. Not quite sour, but very tart. You couldn’t give a shit at this point.

“They’re good.” You smile at Joel and pull more berries from the bush.

He walks over and picks a berry, bringing it up to his nose to smell it before finally putting it in his mouth. He starts to chew. “These are not good.”

“Quit complaining. It’s food. If those goddamn squirrels hadn’t gotten into your pack that you just left lying around for an hour…”

“You’re the one who fell asleep while you were s’posed to be watchin’ our shit, I was hunting.” He sneers at you.

“That’s because you talk in your sleep and I barely got two hours last night!” You scoff at him.

“Swear to god, if I die by some fuckin’ berries after all the shit I-“

“You’re not gonna die, Joel. Don’t be such a pussy.” You laugh and keep plucking berries and putting them into your mouth.

He sighs and breaks off a small branch, picking a couple more berries and eating them. “Reminds me of pineapple… except, not good.”

You shake your head and keep eating, ignoring his complaining for the next ten minutes while you both gorge yourself on the fruit.

“Should be getting to that safe house in the next hour.” Joel nods at you as you both continue walking, bellies full and satisfied.

A half hour passes and you feel like your skin is too hot. Your clothes are too hot. It was humid, but… it was only maybe 60° out. You shouldn’t be sweating like this.

Joel was on the same page, having taken his light jacket off only ten minutes into continuing your walk to the cabin.

“Joel…” you speak cautiously.

“I don’t feel good either.” He sighs.

“What should we-“ you start.

“Just gotta let the body process it. Or reject it. Whichever comes first.”

You both let out long sighs and keep walking.

15 more minutes and there’s a dull ache in the pit of your stomach. Lower than that, actually. It feels like where your uterus is.

You notice that Joel is breathing heavy, sounding more and more labored.

“Down… uh,” Joel glances at you and then stares for a second. “Down this trail here.” He points to a spot a few yards up where the main road diverts to a slim trail, barely noticeable if you hadn’t been looking for it. It was overgrown.

You nod at him, feeling warmth bloom in your chest and face. You follow him down the trail for a couple minutes when you come across a large fallen tree.

Joel climbs over it easily with his long legs. You? Not so much.

You struggle for a moment as you try and get your footing on a branch start on the side of the log, but you can’t.

“Jesus, give me a fucking hand, will you?” You snap at Joel.

He rolls his eyes and reaches out a hand to help you over the tree.

The second you grab his hand, you feel a jolt of electricity run up your arm and straight to your core. You couldn’t pinpoint what was going on. You felt irritable… angry… but all you could think about after getting over that log, was how Joel’s skin felt against yours.

You approached the cabin just a couple minutes later. You both walk inside and set down your bags before Joel disappears into the bathroom.

You hear the faucet start to run. You’d forgotten this place was connected to water… just didn’t have a working water heater.

You sat down in a recliner in the living room and involuntarily moaned when a spring under the thin recliner padding pressed against your heat through your jeans.

“Fuck.” You breathe.

You wait only ten to fifteen seconds before you figure Joel is gonna be awhile and you stick your hand down your pants. You start rubbing your clit furiously, hoping for some fucking relief before Joel comes back.

You’d go upstairs to the loft style bedroom so at least there would be a delay in Joel catching you like this, but you think rubbing your thighs together while going up stairs would make you cum anyways.

“Fuck it.” You whisper to yourself, dipping two fingers into your cunt. This is probably the wettest you’ve ever been.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d soaked through both your panties and your jeans by now.

You hear a low grunt come from the bathroom over the sound of the faucet and it only spurs you on. Was it because you were horny out of your mind, or did that sound sexual?

A moment later, the faucet turns off and you quickly pull your hand out of your pants and wipe the wetness on the side of the recliner. Just in time too, as Joel walks out of the bathroom a second later.

He spots you on the recliner, leaned back, eyes hooded, legs spread, and something in his face changes.

He looks furious, but… helpless.

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, the sensation making your whole body tingle. You look Joel up and down, feeling more wetness pool between your legs.

God, you normally didn’t get along great with him, but… you’d kill a hundred men just to have his cock inside you right now.

“Something’s wrong.” Are the first words said in that moment. Spoken by Joel.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You breathe hard, standing up.

“Don’t you fuckin’ mouth off to me.” Joel spits, stepping closer and pointing a finger at you.

You push his finger out of your face, another jolt of electricity moving through you at the skin contact. “What are you gonna do about it, old man?” You seeth.

Joel then grabs you by the throat, pushing you against the nearest wall. You can’t help but whimper at the feeling, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Shut up.” He frowns.

“Make me.” You test him.

His grip on your throat tightens, his other hand moving up to grab the hair on the back of your head. He tilts your face up by pulling down on your hair and you squeeze your thighs together, moaning despite him choking you.

You reach down into your own pants again, needing just a little relief from the searing pain and pleasure coursing through your clit.

Joel whimpers at the sight of you, his face darting down to yours and crushing your lips together.

You growl into his mouth and bite his bottom lip, and then you taste blood. He grunts and pulls back, looking down at the tank top you were in, grabbing the front with both hands and ripping it from top to bottom. You shrug the ripped clothing off, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra as you look up at him.

His eyes are damn near black. Pupils blown as wide as you’ve ever seen. He’s panting and leans down to kiss you again, despite you having bit his lip too hard on the first one.

His hands drift up your hips and over your breasts, quickly stripping you of your bra. He leans down immediately, taking your right nipple into his mouth and biting just enough to get you to squeak out a moan.

“Joel-“ you cry out as his fingers tweak your left nipple.

“What?” He asks harshly.

“Fuck me, goddamnit. Don’t have time for this shit.” You snap back.

“Take your fucking clothes off.” He barks the order as he backs up and starts to unbutton his own shirt.

He watches you with dark eyes as you slip your boots off, then your jeans, then your mostly soaked panties.

By the time he’s got his shirt off, you’re completely naked, staring at the tent in his jeans. You reach down and start to fuck yourself with two of your fingers. Joel undoes his belt and rips it from its loops in one swift motion.

You stare at him with doe eyes as he folds the leather strip in half before grabbing your wrist and pulling your fingers out. He growls and grabs you by the shoulders, moving you to lean over the arm of the couch. Lightning fast, he undoes his zipper and pulls himself out. You don’t even have time to look back when a *crack* fills the room and your ass stings painfully.

“Did I tell you you could do that?” Joel smacks your ass with his belt again.

“I told you to fuck me, already!” You screamed at him, looking back.

“Careful what you wish for.” He growls and lines up, pushing into you in under a second.

“Fuck!” You clench around him involuntarily, hearing his belt buckle hit the ground. This gave you a little relief from having to experience even more pain than you already are; between the whips of the belt and the way Joel is stretching you out.

“You asked for it.” He grunts and starts with fast, rough thrusts.

“Yeah, I know.” You spit the words at him over your shoulder.

“Show me some goddamn respect.” His cock hits the sweet spot inside you as he speaks, making you whimper loudly.

One of his hands is gripping your hip, the other reaching around your front, under your arm, gripping your breast harshly. He was holding onto you for dear life and you couldn’t get enough of it.

You’re hissing through your teeth at almost every thrust as the sound of his hips slapping your ass fills the room.

Joel doesn’t let up, his hands in bruising grips on your body. The hand on your breast moved to the front of your throat, gripping it, slowly cutting off your blood supply. He pulls you up against his chest, the new angle of your hips helping him get deeper as he fucks up into you.

“More!” You shout at him, fingers tapping the back of his hand on your throat.

He tightens his grip on you, you’re starting to see spots when your cunt pulses around him and you squirt your release all over his cock. “Fuck!” You gasp, tears forming in your eyes when Joel finally loosens his grip on your neck and you gasp for air.

You sob a string of curses as your orgasm washes over you, but Joel doesn’t stop. His hips begin to stutter and you know he’s got to be close.

You reach down and fiddle with your clit, wanting to cum again already.

“You’re a freaky thing aren’t you?” Joel asked, replacing your fingers with his own. “Bet you’d let me do anything I wanted. Fuckin’ slut.”

You nod as tears roll down your cheeks.

“Gonna let me cum inside you?? Fill up this tight pussy?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Y- yes!! Fuck, fucking do it!” You grind down against his cock and fingers and suddenly you’re both losing it.

Joel’s fingers and hips stutter as he pumps his load into you, your cunt milking him for all he’s got. He keeps moving until his hips and back start hurting.

His dick is still hard as a rock when he pulls out of you. And there was no end in sight for you, you think you could cum ten more times and not be satisfied. You didn’t know at this point.

Joel moves around you and sits on the couch, cock in hand. His wet strokes are music to your ears as you maneuver yourself into his lap, facing away from him, each of your legs on the outside of his.

You can feel your own slick and his cum mixing together and leaking down to your asshole as you lean back against Joel’s chest.

“Fuck me again.” You pant.

“Shut up.” He spreads his thighs to make yours even further away from each other, reaching around and looking over your shoulder as he pushes two fingers into you.

He collects the wetness and starts rubbing up and down your slit, his thumb repeatedly brushing over your bundle of nerves.

“I told you I don’t have t- time for this, Joel.” You cry as you start to grind up against his hand with each downward movement of it.

“And I told you to shut up.” He growls and bites your earlobe. He can feel you dripping on him and he grabs you by the waist and folds you forward, making you put your hands on the coffee table for balance and support.

He lines himself up and pushes his cock into you, his fingers still covered in your juices moving to the hole that he hasn’t filled yet.

“Oh-“ you breathe, stomach churning with pleasure. “Do it. Fuck, don’t tease me, Joel. I’ll fucking stab you in the leg, I don’t-“ You’re cut off when his middle finger slowly pushes into you, making you gasp.

He starts thrusting himself up into your pussy while his finger worked its way in and out of your tightest hole, your slick and Joel’s cum sufficiently lubing you up.

His finger moved faster as his hips bucked up against yours. You start to roll your hips in rhythm with his and you’re about to cum again.

Joel feels you clench around him and he knows you’re close. He starts fucking you especially hard, loving the way you were bouncing on his cock.

His finger pulls out of you and he grabs your hips with both hands for more force and then you’re screaming his name as you cum hard.

Close behind, Joel groans as he shoots his load into you again. His hands start to loosen on your hips, his dick starting to finally soften inside you. Your anger has faded, your stomach no longer burning with feral need.

Joel pulled you back against his chest again as he came to his senses. “Did I hurt you?” He spoke softly, cock flexing, still in your pussy.

You hum a sigh, tired. “No. I mean… yes. But it didn’t hurt in a way that I didn’t like.”

“Alright.” He wraps his arms around your waist, hands splaying out over your belly.

“This okay?” He asks after a moment, nose tracing circles in the soft spot behind your ear.

“Yeah… I-“ you take a breath. “I think I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile.”

Joel laughs quietly. “You ‘think’? Whaddya mean?”

You shake your head, smacking his arm lightly. “I just didn’t want to admit to myself that I had a crush on you. So I played up the sass a bit.”

“Ahh, okay.” He hums.

“Like you didn’t? You tease me all the fucking time, Joel.”

He nods, breath ghosting over your neck, causing goosebumps to raise there. “And I know you love it.”

————————————————————————

Tag list: @evyiione @chyannealaniz @cesspitoflove @supersingle

Want to be added to the tag list?

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #pedro pascal #imagine #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x plus size reader #sex pollen #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller self insert #reader insert #plus size reader #smutty #pwp #tlou smut #the last of us smut #joel smut

[missbluesunflowersstuff]

Some batfamily headcanon

They all have auditory processing disorder at this point, except for Damian and Duke

Damian is the youngest and Bruce and the others protect him most and Duke uses armor plus his powers makes him a little difficult to get hurt

Dick is partially deaf in his left ear and Tim is partially deaf in his right ear

Bruce and Jason suffer from chronic pain

If Steph or Damian just stopped and went into some blank state for more than two minutes call the most responsible adult near immediately, they are having an anxiety attack (they just freeze and stare at nothing, this is their anxiety attack)

Tim has narcolepsy actually this is why he has the worst sleeping schedule of them all

(Tim's narcolepsy may be undiagnosed, diagnosed but his parents hid the result, Tim refuses to take his medication because he believes he can "handle" it, it's up to you)

Jason, Cass and Damian have PTSD

(all of them have it actually, but these three have the worst attacks)

Dick emergency contact is Donna Troy

and it doesn't matter what the batfamily do or say, Dick is always puts Donna as his emergency contact

Damian emergency contact is Maya Ducard

Damian had a lot of nightmares in him early years, the family takes turns to take care of it

Jason and Damian have intrusive thoughts (hurt the others and hurt themselves, Jason villain era was basically 'I let my intrusive thoughts win' ) - today Damian handled it better than Jason did in the past (Jason I love you, but I will never forgive you for what you did to Mia Dearden)

Bruce created a lot of personas for his work and because of it Dick created the "hamburger theory"

If he accepts the hamburger and eats it with both hands it's Batman; if he starts eating his hamburger with fork and knife it's Bruce Wayne; if he's holding the burger with a napkin and smile it's Brucie; but if he rejected the hamburger just run, it's not safe near him in that moment

Dick made this theory when he still was a Robin and this is some 'don't tell dad' information between all of the kids

They usually share information with Cass in audio to help her understand, Babs still helps her with how to read but she prefers to use emojis or audio messages

Cass may or may not respond to their audio, but she will view it

Bruce and the others have no clue about Dick real health status because the only person who has legal rights to it is Donna and she doesn't share with them

One time Tim tried to steal Damian medical records to put in their data, he found out that Maya already did that and now she is the only person in the world legally allowed to have that information

Both Dick and Damian don't regret their decision because they really trust in their sisters more than the bats

(and yes, Bruce feels breyated because of this)

14!Damian is still a little afraid of sleeping, because he doesn't know what kind of dream he might have (he doesn't have nightmares like he used to, but the anxiety is still there)

Duke and Damian usually hang out more than the others; one time Steph asks why in the common channel and Duke only answers "you know that me and him are basically immortals, right? When everyone leaves, we'll still be here" (Duke is immortal because of his powers and Damian... Do you really think his family would allow him die?)

No one knows exactly the kind of shit Damian was submitted in the league and as Tim falls in get his medical records they'll never knows

The same applicants for Cass trying, what exactly Cain did with her is something she'll never tell

Jason actually has amnesia from his league days or some kinda of weird and very selective amnesia, everything just looks like a blur to him

Jason believes that he was hypnotized to forget everything or some weird magic stuff. But on some nights, in the silence of his room, Jason still seems like a fat baby lying near him, he wonders who is the baby and who they are now...

Some days, because of his chronic pain, Bruce uses a cane to walk around the house, but only inside

#dc comics #batfamily #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #batfam headcanons #batfam

[rawcherrycake]

Right, let's do this one more time...

TMNT: Eden

My own TMNT fan iteration! I had lots of fun designing these guys and i'll admit one big inspo was @kaysdenofchaos Teenage Meddling Mutant Turtles! (i absolutely adore your boys i would kill and die for them,,)

I've tried different styles and dynamics, but so far this is my absolute favorite!

Alright, now let's properly introduce the Eden!turtles

Mikey:

The eldest at 19 years old

Mutant Bog Turtle

Energetic, playful, creative, a bit reckless, literally runs on spite, the most emotionally open, supportive, has incredibly high pain-tolerance, and don't even get me STARTED on his ability to hold his drinks

He was once told he was a boring goodie-two-shoes so he spent the rest of the day swearing like a sailor to prove a point, that's how spiteful he is

Has the most creative insults ever

His brothers know his spitefulness so if he ever forgets about his own well being his brothers are like "Bet you can't sleep 8 good hours" and he'll go "BET" AND DO IT

Not the smartest but has good intentions

Can go on hours ranting about the most random shit

Eats anything and everything, his stomach is probably made out of titanium

A great cook! Though don't ask for any surprise dishes, he can get... creative

An insomniac, his mask hides the eyebags pretty well

Probably has some kind of PTSD, but he doesn't like talking about it

CANNOT stand the smell of metal, it grosses him out

Unironically watches Super Nanny religiously

Donnie:

A couple months younger than Mikey (so they joke they're twins)

Mutant Giant Softshell

Mikey doesn't aprove his younger twin being taller than him >:(

Sort of a jack-of-all-trades, mostly because he's very determined to learn as much as possible and learn how to do it properly

Which leads on him getting incredibly frustrated if he can't grasp something

Can't cook for shit

The responsible one

Very clean... Mostly. If he's tired (which is most of the time) he'll go into "to hell with it" mode and walk around the lair full of motor oil and mud (which then Raph has to clean up xD)

Tries to act cool and collected but he's just too big of a nerd

Terribly near-sighted

Raph:

16 years old

Mutant common snapping turtle

LOVES crazy make-ups and drag races but would never admit it

Surprisingly tidy and responsible

Plays the drums! He'd love to play electric guitar but having three fingers makes it incredibly hard

Great with animals

Homophobic gay (he'll accept himself soon enough xD)

Brash and reckless, anger issues (what a surprise), has severe RBF syndrome, even when he's calm and content he looks like he wants to murder someone

Near-sighted (doesn't wear glasses or contacts, which worsens his RBF)

Leo:

The family's baby at 8 years old

Mutant Musk Turtle

Very quiet but not shy at all, curious, calm, collected, obedient

Has no trouble talking but prefers signs

Loves fashion, knitting and sewing!

Doesn't like being alone or being in the dark

Is always eager to learn from his brothers, to the point where he can throw his well-being aside to try and impress them

Easily influenced, Raph loves playing pranks with him

(Might change/add stuff later!)

#tmnt #art #tmnt fanart #tmnt: eden #tmnt fan iteration

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's family dinner

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 23

Prompt: Uncle Wayne adopts Steve

Rated: M

CW: nudity

Tags: Modern AU; Rockstar Eddie; Royal Steve; Established relationship

Notes: Continued from days 11 and 14. I can't get this AU outta my head, halp!

Eddie can't recall the first time he saw Steve. 

In all likelihood, he was two years old and Steve a tiny, wrinkly baby. His face was all over the news in the days and weeks following his birth, after all. Cradled in his mother's arms, staring bleary-eyed into the world as newborns tend to do - only that in his case, the entire world was staring back. The birth of the King's and Queen's first child had been long-awaited after all, a once-in-a-generation event. 

In the years that followed, Steve was always just … kind of there. A strange-but-familiar boy who kept popping up on TV and the front pages of magazines, living a life so different they may as well have been from different planets. 

Eddie still remembers fixing dinner in the trailer's tiny kitchen one night, news droning in the background. 

"Poor kid," Wayne grumbled. 

Eddie, sixteen and a giant shithead at the time, paused in putting the plates down on the table and glanced up to follow his uncle's gaze to the TV. 

"Oh yeah, woe is him. Must be so fucking hard, living in a palace. Having an army of servants to wipe your ass and shit." 

On the TV, the Prince sat between his parents at some sports event or other, a tiny carbon copy of his father with his Italian suit and carefully styled hair. Clapping at all the right times, face a polite, empty mask of a smile.

Wayne huffed. "Ain't no kid deserve that kinda shit. Always under scrutiny, paraded around like some trained dog." 

Eddie rolled his eyes and changed the topic and they didn't talk about it any further. 

*

Wayne's plates are still the same ones that Eddie was putting on the table all those years ago. Eddie has offered time and again to buy something new, but the stubborn old shit won't have it. Insists that Eddie already bought him a whole-ass house with the money from that first record deal, a car after the second, he won't die of a chipped plate or ten, thank you very much. He'll just have to get him new ones for Christmas, he guesses.

"This is delicious, Mr Munson," Steve is saying. He's sitting next to Eddie, back ramrod straight, elbows at a perfect angle, dissecting the meatloaf with careful precision. 

Like some trained dog. 

"My mom's recipe," Wayne hums, but then he sets down his own cutlery, expression serious. "Now … what are your intentions with my nephew?" 

Eddie flushes about twenty shades of crimson. Incidentally, so does Steve. 

"I …" he sputters, all traces of composure suddenly gone. "Well, I like Eddie a lot." 

"I figured …" Behind Wayne's beard, his mouth twitches. "Seeing how you're wearing his clothes and all." 

Steve blinks down at himself. They make sure to keep it low-profile when they're together. The paparazzi never sleep, after all, and they've both had their fair share of run-ins with the fuckers in the past. Which is why he's wearing a red-and-black flannel he stole from Eddie, faded and soft from too many cycles in the wash. Eddie wants to burn all the Italian suits in the world, wrap him up in soft and comfy clothes always. 

"Um …" Steve says. 

Wayne smiles. 

"Relax, son, I'm pulling your leg." If he notices how Steve tenses at the word son, he graciously ignores it. "Now are ya gonna take my boy's hand, or what?" 

Steve gapes. 

"Might as well," Eddie winks, takes the knife from Steve’s limp fingers and entwines their hands. "He'll just keep nagging until he gets what he wants." 

Their gazes lock and Steve smiles. Not a mask. The real one. The one where his eyes light up and he looks five years younger. The one that Eddie is rapidly becoming addicted to. 

He turns back to eating his dinner one-handed and remembers another boy, a boy from a very different planet, getting coaxed out of his shell over the same plates, the same meatloaf. 

Fuck the plates, he decides. Wayne is getting a whole damn kitchen for Christmas, whether he likes it or not. 

*

"He's a great guy, your uncle," Steve mutters into Eddie’s chest later that night. They're all curled up in Eddie’s bed and he's naked except for the flannel. He claims it's to ward off the cold air seeping in through the open window, and Eddie isn't about to argue. Not when the sight does things to him. 

"Sort of thought he was gonna hate me," Steve continues, and Eddie hums quizzically. 

"Why's that?" 

"Hm, let's see …" Steve's brow crinkles in mock-thought. "He raised the guy who wrote two top-ten songs about how much the monarchy sucks, that could've been a hint." 

"Nah," Eddie chuckles. "Guy would've adopted you as a kid, if he could've. He's always loved you, way-" 

Large hazel eyes blink up at him and the words get stuck in his throat. 

Because he hasn't said it yet, even though he's rapidly coming to accept that it's true. 

Way before I did.

"And apart from that," he says instead, "if you marry me, I'll be a princess. What parent doesn't want that for their kid?" 

"Hold your horses," Steve grumbles, but his eyes are sparkling again. "We can't get married if your uncle adopts me." 

"Shame," Eddie quips and presses him down into the pillows. "Would've loved to wear a tiara on stage, that sounds like a killer look."

Eddie doesn’t recall the first time he saw Steve, but he doesn’t really think it matters. Not when he gets to see the real him now, with no-one else watching. Blushing and naked, lips kissed pink, glowing with happiness.

It's an image he's sure he won't forget.

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Through the Fire

Jason Todd x batmom!reader

Jason’s death broke you almost beyond repair, sending you into a dark pit that you struggled to claw yourself from. But what about your baby boy? What about what happened to him? And could you ever save him like you should have done years ago?

Warnings: ANGST, lots about Jason’s death, kidnapping, Jason needs a hug, references to Damian’s conception, I repeat shit tons of angst, reader wants to die for a while, swearing, descriptions of scars, insults thrown at reader, references to murder

WC: 1.7k

A/N: I realise I took this in a different direction than what the request actually was but I hope you still like it!

Minors DNI

You didn’t think being a mother was ever in your life plan, it wasn’t like you didn’t want children, you just never expected it to happen. Then, a little bird named Dick trotted into your life, bringing along with him a man who you knew was your soulmate. And a few years later, things got even better.

A boy, barely 11 years-old, tried to steal the tires off of the bat-mobile. And less than 24 hours later, he became a Wayne. Life was good, for a while. You did your best to provide your boys with as normal a life as possible given the circumstances and they seemed to flourish. That is until Jason was a month shy of his 14th birthday.

You remember that night in vivid detail like a horrible nightmare you couldn’t escape. Bruce had been silent on the coms after the explosion making a deep sense of unease settle in your gut. You remember little Jason’s bright yellow cape saturated with red, the fabric wrapped tightly around your son’s body, shielding you from the horror.

Bruce made eye-contact with you and you knew, you knew your little jay-bird had been ripped from you before his life could even really begin. The scream that echoed through the cave as you fell to your knees still haunts Alfred and Bruce to this day. The utter despair and rage of a mother who lost their baby rattling their bones.

For a long time, you blamed Bruce. Once Jason had been buried beneath his favourite tree on the grounds, you stopped speaking to your husband. You moved to the other side of the manor, refusing to eat or even sleep. You wanted so badly to be with your boy again and you wished every day that you had been the one who died, not him.

The appearance of Tim saved you. That smart little boy who wouldn’t take no for an answer wormed his way into your heart. He helped gather the pieces of your heart and stick them back together, even if there were a few shards that lay with your Jason.

Bruce welcomed you home with open arms and you both were finally able to grieve together. You became a united front once more, able to face any situation with the knowledge that you weren’t alone.

But nothing could have prepared you for this.

With a pained groan, your mind emerged from the darkness of unconsciousness. Your eyelids felt heavier than normal as you struggled to open them but eventually, you were successful. As far as you could tell from the dim light streaming through the windows, you were in an abandoned apartment. It stank of stale urine and cigarettes.

You huffed and glanced down to find that you had been tied to an old dining chair. Your gaze lifted to the door which was only a few feet in front of you. If you could bounce on the seat with enough force, you might be able to shatter the old wood and make a run for it.

“Don’t even fucking think about it.” The deep voice that spoke from the darkness further into the apartment startled you but you regained your composure quickly, after all this wasn’t your first rodeo.

“What do you want? Money? Leverage?” The man chuckled and you saw the shadow of his figure move. From what you could tell, he was huge.

“No, we just need to have a little conversation without Mr Wayne meddling.” Your stomach dropped. Who the fuck was this guy? But before you could retort, he stepped from the shadows.

The red of his helmet was what struck you first. The metal was smooth save for the white slits for his eyes, even to you who had faced the Joker head on, it was incredibly intimidating. Then emerged the maroon bat on his chest so like the symbol your husband sported. Then the two guns strapped to his thighs.

Anger rushed through your veins before you could stop it. “Red Hood.” You spat. 

“Very good!” He replied sarcastically. “I’m glad I made an impression.” He walked casually over to you, his goliath body towering over you. The old floorboards creaked under his weight as he moved with the grace of a man who had spent his whole life being a soldier.

Your face remained stern as he approached, not showing even a lick of emotion. Your husband’s words echoed through your mind. “Do not show your fear, give them nothing.”

“You’ve already killed more than 20 people in Gotham, I don’t think that’s a great impression to give.” 

“20 people that you know of.” He snarked, a thick Gothomite accent slipping through his carefully crafted facade. “It isn’t like your beloved husband is doing much to clean up the streets.”

He walked casually behind where you were bound and tugged on your restraints. You flinched as the rope dug into your plush stomach. “I mean he couldn’t even kill the son of a bitch that murdered your precious ‘baby bird’.” He hissed, voice full of raw hatred.

Ice ran through your veins. You couldn’t answer him, too shocked that he knew of Bruce’s double life. “I mean what kind of a man replaces his son less than a year after he was beaten to death with a crowbar! And you know what makes it even worse?” His face was now right beside yours, his mask pressed against your ear as he whispered his next words. “You let him.”

“You have no clue what you’re talking about!” You crumbled, you couldn’t help it. The pain of Jason’s death was all-too-present in your lives. “I died the same day he did.” 

“And yet you’re still breathing.” He moved away, turning his back to you. “And I know why, it’s because you weren’t really his mother. You just took him in as a little pet project because you were a bored housewife with no one to nag since your Brucie was out fucking other women. If you were really my mother, you would have killed yourself a long time ago.”

A gloved hand reached up and undid the hidden clasp in his helmet. The metal fell away easily, revealing a mop of pitch black hair that covered the back of his pale neck. “Poor Mrs Wayne, stuck in that big house all alone with so much love to give but no one to give it to. Jesus Christ, no wonder Dick left, you are so stifling.”

He huffed through his nose as if this whole thing was one big cosmic joke before Red Hood finally turned to face you once more. “Well mommy, how does it feel to know that your jay-bird is a murderer?” 

“Oh god.” You whimpered as you took him in. Jason’s face was covered with the silvery lines of old scars, including a large one that curled up from the corner of his lip all the way up his cheek, giving him a snarled smile. His eyes were no longer the soft hazel that they once were but now an almost supernatural green. A slash of white cut through his dark hair.

He was so different but he was still Jason. “My baby.” Tears quickly rolled down your full cheeks. “You’re alive.” You didn’t fight against your bonds anymore, you couldn’t. It felt like your body was shutting down as shock set it. 

Jason scoffed at your tears. “Oh so now you wanna start crying? Fucking pathetic.” He rolled his eyes.

“My boy, my boy.” You cried. He was alive, all this time he was alive and you hadn’t found him. Guilt settled heavily in your gut and suddenly it was like it was 5 years ago. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re just sorry that now you have to face the consequences of your actions.” You shook your head. “Or are you sorry that you weren’t a better mommy?” He asked mockingly. 

“I’m so sorry Jason. I’m sorry. I love you so much.” You were in near hysterics now. “I love you.”

But evidently, that was the wrong thing to say because with an explosive amount of power, Jason threw his helmet at the far wall. The metal dented upon impact, shattering the cheap drywall. “No you don’t! You never did!” He blazed with an anger you had never seen before.

“I do. You were the best thing to happen to me Jason. You’re my baby. I’ll love you forever.” And for a split second, you saw the rage melt away and what was left was that scared little kid who just needed a guiding hand.

“Fuck you! You’re just a fucking trophy wife who can’t even keep her husband in her own bed!” He screamed into your face but you did not flinch.

“I love you.” You repeated, your tone unwavering.

“You aren’t even my real mother!” His face was red with emotion, just the same way it used to when he was upset or frustrated.

“I love you.”

“I don’t love you!” He shouted back but his eyes could no longer meet yours and his hands were shaking.

“I love you.” Your voice was soft now, just barely a whisper but you knew he heard you. He shot forward, slipping a knife from some hidden pocket into his palm. The ropes that held you fell away just as he collapsed into your arms.

You did not hesitate, you wrapped him up as tightly as you could, Jason’s head falling to the crook of your neck as your fingers tangled in his hair. “I love you my Jason.” Tears soaked through your shirt as he sobbed, his huge chest heaving with his pain.

“I was so scared. I just wanted you and you weren’t there. There was so much fire and blood.” Thick arms wound around your waist, squeezing you harshly. “I wanted my mommy.”

“I’m here now. I’m never letting you go again, never.”

He nuzzled further into you and you almost didn’t catch his quiet “I love you momma.” 

“I love you more.”

And that’s where Dick found you hours later, kneeling on the dirty floor of a condemned building, Red Hood asleep in your arms as you sang him a lullaby.

Anon request: 3.The boys did something wrong and she punish them by (whatever you want to do) and one of the replies, “you’re not My Mom!”

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[jinwoosungs]

{ 87 }

his heart's desire.

denji x fem.reader

this had to be a dream, for there was no way any sane person would choose to be with him.

the insatiable pervert denji-

the fucked up denji who's own pops abandoned him-

the denji who wasn't afraid to die simply because he had nothing to lose-

and he was the same man you loved so dearly.

he had no idea how or why he managed to get so lucky, but hey, if he's learned one thing at all, it's to never question your own good fortune.

you were still sleeping soundly while denji basks in the gentle sounds of your breathing. he takes a moment to admire you, never once tearing his gaze away from you. with a gentleness that he didn't know he was even capable of, he allows the back of his hand to run across your cheek, feeling his own heart begin to quicken in its beats.

"there's never an ulterior motive with you, and that is more than i deserve."

unable to help himself, he reaches over to you, pressing a kiss against your cheek before deciding to do something nice for you. feeling optimistic, he starts by taking a quick shower, wanting to feel more awake and refreshed so as to start the day on a high note.

a few minutes later, denji comes out of the shower with a grin. he dresses himself in a favorite pair of his boxers while keeping the plush towel wrapped around the base of his neck. already excited to start his surprise for you, he heads to the kitchen while whistling a gentle tune.

living with you for a few months now, he knew all of your favorite foods and settled on making something that seemed simple and painless enough: waffles.

how hard could it be? denji muses to himself while gathering the ingredients to make your favorite treat for breakfast. the process of making it was simple enough, with denji able to make a considerable portion of batter to fill the waffle maker-

but it was actually making the waffles themselves that ended up being quite tricky for denji.

he either overfilled the waffle maker, or simply waited too long as several pieces became burnt in the process.

"motherfucker, you've got to be shitting me!" he curses for what seemed like the millionth time that morning, starting over yet again as he tosses the failed waffle into the bin before pouring out the next batter.

"honey?" denji physically stiffens upon hearing the sweet sound of your voice calling out to him. "what are you doing? i smell something burning."

he sighs, refusing to meet your concerned gaze as he glares down at the waffle maker. "it's nothin', just trying to make breakfast for you is all."

denji kept praying that you would leave him be, to give him this one chance to try and take care of you; to spoil you with something delicious to eat-

but it seemed that his prayers went unheard and unanswered when he feels you settle your chin against the top of his bare shoulder, watching his attempts at making waffles with a soft amusement.

"you didn't put enough batter this time. it's starting to burn, see how it's beginning to smoke in the maker?"

"goddammit...!"

he was close to ripping his hair out from the sheer frustration he felt, ready to berate himself had it not been for the gentle touch you had placed on his arm. calmly, you place yourself in front of your beloved boyfriend and take out the ruined waffle, trailing your eyes over to the bowl of batter settled just a few inches away.

"perfect, there's enough to make one more to share." you giggle, opening the waffle maker once more as you poured the rest of the batter inside. as you busied yourself with cleaning the mess that denji unintentionally made, you allow him to pout, hanging on to you throughout it all.

he wraps his arms around your middle, resting his chin against your shoulder while softly apologizing to you over and over again. "'m sorry. wanted to do something nice for you and still ended up fucking it all up."

"aw, don't beat yourself up over something so small and trivial, honey." you reach up to gently caress at his cheek, giggling at him all over again once you see his cute little pout. "honest, you're such a big baby!"

"yeah but 'm your big baby."

you hum in agreement, returning your attention back to the waffle maker as you open it to see a perfectly golden waffle perched inside. "ahh, isn't that lovely, denji?"

"geez, you're too perfect. not only are you gorgeous, but you can make perfect waffles too, like it's nothin'!"

you end up kissing denji on his nose for his cute behavior. grabbing a plate while still in your boyfriend's arms, you place the waffle on the delicate dish. your expression seems to brighten when you open yet another cabinet to bring out a jar of his favorite strawberry jam, the sight of it making denji's eyes light up in response.

"itadakimasu! it's time to eat, denji!"

he agrees with you, watching as you grab a fork before settling yourself on the couch. with a grunt, denji picks up your form so that you could sit on his lap instead. your sweet smile was all he could focus on as you lathered the strawberry jam against the entire surface area of the waffle.

denji had to be in heaven, he was sure of it when you cut a piece of your delicious waffle and hand fed it to him. and with you cuddling so closely to denji, sharing your perfectly made waffle slathered in his favorite strawberry jam with him, he could only feel a single thought repeating itself within his mind:

you are always going to be my heart's greatest desire.

a.n. - have you ever met a man you just wanted to treat so gently because his life has been so lonely and tragic-

denji is that character for me 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#denji x reader #denji fluff #denji #csm #denji headcanons #.stories

[nothorses]

So have you ever like. Talked to people that were homeschooled? Or did you just read one story online about a cult homeschooling their kids and went "fuck this is awful public school is so much better"?

I was homeschooled until 5th grade and then sent to public school. I lasted until 7th grade before I had to fucking beg my parents to homeschool me again. I was literally waking up for school in the mornings and immediately having a mental breakdown. I was constantly trying to fake being sick so I didn't have to go.

Homeschooling was SO much fucking better. I didn't have to sleep in jeans and a bra and t-shirt so that I was already dressed when I woke up, just so I had time to eat a small bowl of cereal before being forced to leave.

I didn't have to worry about classmates making fun of me behind my back, or my "friends" insulting me or going out of their way to embarass me in front of my crushes.

I didn't have to worry about having a cold or the flu or my period and being forced to go to school and be miserable all day covered in blood and snot.

I didn't have to worry about being given lunch detention because I forgot one book (probably because I have memory issues from severe ADHD)

I didn't have to worry about being overwhelmed with homework. I didn't have to worry about my teachers or classmates making me feel like a fucking idiot because I couldn't do math (wow turns out I have a severe learning disability that somehow no one noticed).

I didn't have to worry about being forced to run the pacer test in gym and not being allowed to rest, resulting in me throwing up.

You can't tell people "omg just because YOU had a bad time in school doesn't mean you're allowed to dislike it!!! Not all public school is bad!"

and then turn around and go "Homeschooling is awful it's just a bunch of religious bigot cultists teaching their children how to be bigots and children never getting to go out and socialize with their peers!!!"

All I learned from public school was:

Keep my fucking mouth shut, do not speak unless spoken to

Don't do anything "weird" or "different" (AKA show signs of having autism)

If you don't stay in school and go to college (AKA put yourself in thousands of dollars of debt in exchange for a piece of paper that doesn't actually guarantee you a job) then you'll die in a ditch somewhere

Don't even bother trying to make friends, they'll just treat you like shit

I was never taught anything useful that I couldn't have just learned by myself at home. I was never taught how to pay bills or what a mortgage is or how to grow my own food or raise my own animals for meat or how credit cards work or how to take care of myself after my parents die.

Public school is there to terrorize children and destroy them mentally until they conform to what society wants, so that they become the perfect unquestioning unthinking cogs in the machine that will work until they die.

It's there to make money for colleges because kids are never taught about trade jobs or making their own businesses/companies, they're taught that college is the be all end all and if you don't go there (and give them your time and money) then you'll become homeless and die.

It doesn't teach you how to think for yourself, it teaches you to shut the fuck up and obey or be punished.

I'm sorry you had that experience with public school, genuinely- and I know you aren't the only one, and this is honestly something I feel really passionate about. Like, actually; a big motivator for getting my Master's in Ed- and likely my Ph.D in Ed after this- has been that it positions me to get involved in a way that I can make larger changes than most classroom teachers might be able to influence.

I'm also really glad that homeschool was a positive thing for you! And I don't believe in outlawing homeschool or anything either; I do think it needs more regulation and resources, and I think there needs to be a wider array of options overall, but like. Given how education has historically been weaponized against indigenous communities to carry out cultural genocide (in the form of boarding schools), I think any laws against homeschooling would just end up repeating that same history.

But like, you can't ignore that homeschool has absolutely been used as a tool of abuse, too. And you can't ignore that abusive families and home environments exist, and you can't just... refuse to acknowledge the push from the conservative right to de-regulate homeschooling & break down public ed in order to further empower them to isolate and brainwash kids.

Hell, you wanna talk about how kids are taught to stop thinking, stop talking, and follow orders? Take a little day trip to a fundamentalist homeschooling network sometime.

You talk about public ed like it's this homogeneously evil entity designed for, and only capable of, abusing kids. But you wanna know what?

My family is abusive! My upbringing was abusive!

And sure, there's a chance they may have been able to pay for private school or something if public school had not been an option- for a few years, anyway. But that's because my grandparents have money, and because my mom was just neglectful enough to want me out of her hair.

I went to three elementary schools, two middle schools, and four high schools. All of those were public schools. Some of them sucked more than others, but all of them offered me:

An escape from home that I needed so desperately that, for a long time, I extended by hiding out at the public library for an extra 3+ hours.

Reliable lunches, even when my mom wouldn't pay for them.

Adults that I could trust, and did trust.

Adult role models and examples of a better future, especially in the queer adults that taught me.

Social connections, one of which was with a current roommate and my best friend.

Directly applicable knowledge and skills: cooking, online research and internet safety, everything I know about safe sex, finances, how to do my taxes, basic governmental structure, local, national, and world history, basic court proceedings, how to navigate colleges/university, (some) critical literacy & critical thinking skills, social-emotional learning, (some) critical race theory...

An array of options for different paths into an adult career: understanding (some) options like trade schools, community college, university, and the military (gross), and why I might choose one of those options vs. going straight into work.

Examples of and exposure to different & diverse ways of being, from home lives, to cultures, to queerness, to experiences I would never have firsthand.

Like, I have definitely grown up in pretty progressive areas & school districts, and that's a big part of it (though the conservative-leaning school I went to was also the school where my creative writing teacher read us a short story that he wrote about some gay star-crossed truckers).

These schools exist, and these experiences exist, and it's silly to dismiss them out of hand because your one stint into public school once was a nightmare.

And it's worse to dismiss the resource that these places are to so many families & kids. It's free childcare, it's one sure meal every day, it's community, it's exposure to diversity.

The practical alternative to that, for a lot of poor families, is child labor.

You don't have to like public education. I certainly have mixed feelings on it, and understanding & addressing the deep-seated problems in it are, like, the cornerstone of my life's work at this point.

What you should do, imo, is learn to recognize when you might not have all the context and information you need to make a judgement call like "destroy public education forever", look around at the people saying what you're saying & why they might be saying it, and perhaps consider listening to the people who have already been doing the work you've assumed is impossible.

#education #I dont know what yall are trying to do here #this is my full-time WHOLE LIFE dude! #like I love talking about it but why are you approaching this like you know more than anyone else does? #lets talk like adults!!!

[ghcstao3]

Read the other two Sleep Talker!Soap x Burglar!Ghost and need to finish this trilogy or something.

So, three years or so of dating and Ghost finally proposes. He’s cleaned up his act, stop robbing shit, works a full time successful job, and Roach is doing pretty good too!

They’re doing great! Except, as the wedding date gets closer he feels bad that he hid his burglar past and decides to confess before the wedding, giving Soap an out.

He pushes it off for so long it’s nuts. After a long day they settle into their bed in their apartment and try to sleep. Ghost lays awake for 20 mins staring at the ceiling before Soap says something.

“Something in your mind, Si?”

Ghost sighs, he doesn’t want to but knows he should.

“For a long time, including the job before my current one, I wasn’t actually working to make money…”

Soap sits up and looks down at him curiously, “don’t tell me you were an assassin or something.”

“What…”

“Cause that’s super hot and it totally wouldn’t change anything-“

Ghost sat up too, putting a hand over Soap’s mouth, he continued.

“No, I didn’t kill people. I-ugh I was a burglar. Roach was my partner.”

Soap removed the hand from his mouth and held it in his lap.

“Ok, that doesn’t change anything. I still love you and want to marry you.”

Ghost groaned again. That was the EASY part. He knew for a fact Soap would be understanding and kind, but finding out that Ghost was going to rob HIM was questionable. Soap either dies laughing or kills him.

“Si, what’s this leading to? Did you steal something you shouldn’t and now you have this insane price on your head and have to run away with me?”

Simon chuckles to himself, he can always count on Johnny to make him feel better.

“No, just- we didn’t meet how you think we did. No don’t give me that look, let me finish. The first time I met you, you were asleep. I was robbing your place, going through your room when you started talking. Said all this crazy shit about ‘its going to eat you’ and like ‘leave or die’. Then you just shot up from the bed, pointed to a shadow, said something in Gaelic, and collapsed back in bed. I put everything back and left because I was CONVINCED you were possessed. Then you showed up at the hardware store that I get my supplies and I was kinda afraid of you. You asked me out and told me about that dream that wasn’t actually a dream and I thought for sure you knew it was me, but you never said anything so I didn’t say.”

Johnny squeezed Simon’s hand tight, his head was bent down and his shoulders trembled. Simon was sure he was about to be kicked out, making his own fiancé cry! What kinda man was he!

Then Johnny fell backwards, howling with laughter. Tears in his eyes and hands wrapped around himself, side clenching hard with laughter.

Simon just looks at him, stunned. Johnny eventually calms down and beckons Simon to him. Simon lays down on his side next to Johnny.

“Simon, I think that is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. This doesn’t change anything and I still would love to be your husband. Nothing, even being a cool assassin or dumb robber with a price on his head, will change that.”

Simon smiles “I feel like you’re disappointed that I’m not an assassin more than me not telling you about this.”

Johnny laughs and turns onto his side, burying himself into Simon’s chest. “Nah, you’re still pretty cool. This explains a lot actually.”

Simon shifts, “what?”

“Simon, nobody carries around a lockpicking set.”

“Oh yeah, keep talking shit. We’ll see who’s laughing the next time you get locked out and I’m not home.”

Johnny gasped, “I never said it was a bad thing! Besides, that look on your face when you get the door open is super hot. You do this whole smirk to yourself thing and I’ll admit that after the first time, the next three times I lost my keys were on purpose.”

Simon laugh and hugged Johnny right, “Whatever, go to sleep weirdo.”

“Right back at you, hottie.”

Simon snorted and they relaxed. Johnny quickly drifting off to sleep. Yeah, Simon had no idea what he was worried about.

He never had anything to worry about, really.

Johnny’s understanding, always has been, and of course he’d be about this, too. He understands Simon just needed to make ends meet somehow, and given that Simon has since given up robbing, it helps his case just a little more.

It doesn’t stop Johhny from asking a million questions a day after he finds out, though. Or making jokes at Simon’s expense. Or ganging up on Simon with Roach because apparently it’s hilarious, or something.

Oh well. It’s a funny enough story to tell, and now that Simon has long since gotten used to Johnny’s sleep talking tendencies, he supposes a little teasing is better than having ruined what he’s built up with Johnny.

-

what a lovely. Silly conclusion (also!! everyone make sure to say thank you @snootlestheangel for the initial idea!! and go look at her post!!)

#ask #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #ghoap

[raccoonspooky]

Cursed Domestic Bo Sinclair Headcanons: (Slight NSFW, nothing explicit)

He’s really into ham and cheese sandwiches. Which is fine, but he likes an ungodly amount of mayo. It gushes out the side of the damned bread, it gets on his fingers, and watching him eat his lunch is somehow more horrifying than anything else you’ve so far seen in Ambrose. If you dare to question his sandwich habits, he will be completely offended and will also berate you over your apparent desire for dry sandwiches. 

Come to think of it, you’re not sure when was the last time you saw him eat a vegetable? The thought is disturbing as it is worrying. You want to cook him something but you’re also afraid of his picky eating habits. 

One day he’s mid-rant about some bullshit that’s got his panties in a twist and he pauses to open the fridge, grab a jar of pickles, unscrew that shit and take a fucking swig of the juice. He leaves it open on the counter and you seriously consider just how strong your stockholm syndrome is. Maybe if you ran right now you’d get a good ten feet of distance before he caught you?

More stupid under the cut!

Laundry day is entirely too infrequent considering the nasty shit he gets up to. Until you were brave enough to start doing some chores around the house, you once noted that Bo wore the same pair of jeans for two weeks straight. When he took them off they pretty much held their shape as if he was still wearing them. You felt a part of your soul die when realizing that you definitely had been straddling his lap a few days ago, grinding down on him while he was wearing those god-awful nasty ass pants.

You’re sort of mad about having to do his laundry, because all of a sudden you’re doing Vincent’s laundry as well, and it's like you’ve strongarmed your way into being the Sinclairs' goddamned maid because you couldn’t stand the idea of Bo’s filthy clothing stinking up the fucking house. 

You fear the day that Lester starts bringing his laundry to the house as well. 

Maybe running away and taking your chances doesn’t sound that bad. 

Sleeping next to him has its ups and downs. Sometimes he’s a clingy cuddler, and you remember all the reasons you’re so attached to him. He makes you feel special, you love the quiet moments when he lets the whole tough guy act down. Sometimes the way he touches you feels performative, like he’s rough and he’s making a point to go out of his way to behave like jerk because he wants to remind you of your place. He can't showboat in his sleep and the way he holds you when his brain’s turned off always feels more genuine. 

For every night that you’re given the grace of comfort, there’s a frustrating sequence of incoming nights where he’ll roll over, facing away from you while taking up ninety percent of the bed. He takes whatever blankets there are and if you’re lucky you’ll get a flat, horrible pillow with a yellowed pillowcase. It’s gross but it smells like him.

You might have to pilfer a blanket from somewhere else, but he grumbles in his sleep if you move too much.

Whatever god-awful instinct he has to keep you doesn’t turn off in his sleep. If he’s having an anti-cuddle night, he’ll grab your wrist or grab you by the hair if he’s really feeling like a jerk just to keep you from moving around. You’d find the clinginess cute if not for the fact that you feel like you’re going to fall off the bed and the measly half-inch thick slab of fabric at your head barely holds any recollection of the fact that its supposed to be a pillow.

You’ve learned not to bother him when he seems averse to touch. Sometimes you watch him sleep in the early mornings and there’s always a definitive moment where the peace on his face turns hard and it's like he puts on this mask of whatever shitty attitude he feels like wearing for the day.

If you’re lucky he’ll let you kiss him when he’s a little more awake. He’ll be soft with you for approximately ten minutes because god forbid he let you get the dumbass notion that he might love you. No. He’s going to kiss you until your breathless and then he’s going to insinuate you should really do something about his morning wood and it ain't nice to get him all worked up if you’re not planning to do something about it

It’s like he has some kind of supernatural sense of knowing when it comes to your happiness and he has to up his asshole meter to keep you from getting your head too lost in the clouds. It’s like once you’re just about feeling all stupid and full of daisies and butterflies then the hairs at the back of his neck start feeling funny and then he’ll have to behave like a jerk for a few days just to keep your infatuation with him at a low simmer. 

He’s got one of those classic oil-can banjos in the house. It’s a downright statement piece when it comes to his whole hick vibe going on. You’re not sure where it came from. You’re not sure if he gets the irony in the fact that he owns that fucking thing.

Can he play it though? No. Does he plunk away at it at random intervals with some kind of annoying mockery of a song? Yes. All the time. He likes having something to do with his hands. He’ll pull at strings, playing the same notes over and over. If you know some basic fingerpicking or chords he might be enthused with your know-how but he’s not interested in letting you teach him.

There's a guitar in the house. Its neck is a little fucked, but you wonder if you can fix it up for him? Maybe he’s better with it than the damned banjo. 

Once, you found a bunch of old board games in the house. Somehow Bo made shoots and fucking ladders a miserable experience and you weren’t even sure how he managed to cheat but you’ll swear on your life that he goddamned did. It was a struggle and a half to even get him to entertain the idea of playing a board game with you and then he had to go ahead and ruin it.

It’s entirely easy to convince Lester to play a game with you. You play stupid board games in secret because not only is Bo a sore loser, but he’s sort of shit at remembering the rules for more complicated games. He’s no fun to play with. 

Monopoly is now banned entirely from the house.

They have an ancient NES system, likely pilfered from a victim’s car. Maybe some college kid who never made it to their dorm. Bo’s oddly good at duck hunt and he makes you watch him play. You’re almost jealous of the damned game because he’s never looked at you with genuinely excited joy. His juvenile happiness is cute though, but sometimes you worry about him punching the damned tv with his post-game euphoria found in murdering pixelated ducks.

I  could go on but I need to forcibly shut myself up.

I dedicate this nonsense to @ventiswampwater because she mentioned the pickle thing the other day and literally I cannot stop laughing about it. It paints such a fucking picture.

#house of wax #bo sinclair #slasher fandom #this is nonsense #genuine NONSENSE #x reader #x reader fanfic #slashers #sinclair brothers #the others are mentioned but idk i dont wanna clog up theiir tags lol #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader

[remuslupinsdaughter]

Protection

Part two

Summary: just a story I thought of where a young girl of around 12 runs away from her abusive father and goes to the sons for help

Warnings: trigger warnings for this one, abuse, swearing, physical and mental abuse, lots of angst, hints of sexual abuse

Charlie was sat on the benches whilst the bikers were inside the clubhouse, a woman she now knew is called Gemma was sat with her, “we’re gonna take care of you honey, don’t worry” she said kindly whilst another woman handed Charlie a glass of juice, she shivered again, “you cold honey?” Charlie nodded shyly, “you got a coat or anything?” Gemma asked, Charlie shook her head no, Gemma quickly went inside and returned with a samcro blanket, she wrapped it around Charlie.

The guys walked back outside making Charlie straighten up, “what’s your name kid?” The president asked, “Charlie” she replied, “well Charlie, we’re taking you in, you can stay here tonight then you’ll stay with Jax” he said pointing at the long haired blonde man who smiled kindly. Charlie nodded, “thank you”, she says, then looks at the prospect, “can I have my backpack?” She asks, he looks to the president her rolls his eyes, the prospect hands he the backpack, Charlie takes it and hugs it close to her. “Come on honey I’ll get you set up for the night” Gemma says extending an arm, Charlie follows her inside, Gemma leads her into a dorm room, “I’ll change these sheets for you real quick” she says and grabs some sheets from the cabinet, “I can help” Charlie says walking over to help, Gemma smiles, they both change the sheets and Gemma smooths them over, “ok, Jax is on a run early tomorrow so he’s sleeping here tonight, he’s in the next room over so if you need him you go get him” Gemma says, Charlie nodded and Gemma left the room.

Gemma walks down the hall, “poor kid” she says, sitting next to Clay and leaning into him, “we got her, we’ll take care of her” he says and kisses her forehead.

Charlie listens to the conversation die down as everyone goes home, she shuts her eyes and tries her best to get some sleep.

The next morning she was woken by loud chattering, she got changed and was pulling on a sweater when there was a knock on the door, she startled and squeaked out a “come in”, it was Jax, “hey you sleep okay?” He asks, Charlie nods nervously, “come on I’ll introduce you to everyone”.

Charlie followed him out where everyone was sat smoking and drinking coffee, “that’s Clay our president, his old lady Gemma, who’s also my mom” he turns to more of the bikers, “this is Tig, Chibs, Juice, Happy, Bobby, Piney and Opie” the guys all nodded hellos, she smiled shyly at them. “You want anything to eat honey?” Gemma asked, Charlie didn’t realise how hungry she was, she hadn’t eaten for two days, Charlie nodded, “if that’s ok” she said shyly, Gemma smiled kindly, “of course sweetheart let me fix you something” she said a disappeared into the kitchen.

Charlie tucked into the sandwich Gemma made, “we’re gonna pay your pops a visit today” Clay said leaning against the bar, Charlie tensed and stopped eating, she nodded, “you go to school or anything?” Clay asked, Charlie shook her head, “no my dad pulled me out when my teacher noticed bruises , haven’t been for three years”, Jax clenches his jaw angrily and shakes his head, “ok let’s head out”.

The club pulled up to the butchers, they walked into the shop, “clear everyone out” Clay says to Tig who nods then starts telling the few people in the store to leave and turns the sign to closed. “Can I help you gentlemen?” “You Brian Hansley?” Clay asks, Brian nods, “in the flesh” he says with a grin that makes everyone cringe, “little birdy told us you beat on your daughter” Jax says, Brian’s face drops, “I uh, have no idea what you’re talking about” “oh I think you do, get a little drunk, come home, kick the shit out of your twelve year old little girl” Clay says, Brian stutters, Tig rounds the counter and grabs Brian by his hair and drags him round, “your kids with us now, you try file a report, we know about it and we show them all the little bruises you littered her body with you sick fuck” Jax says and punches him straight in jaw.

“Let’s go” Clay says, the guys shake their heads at Brian then walk out, stepping over his groaning form.

#child reader #sons of anarchy #jax teller #clay morrow #gemma teller #opie winston #happy lowman #tig trager

[notmorbid]

demon copperhead, pt. 2.

dialogue prompts from demon copperhead by barbara kingsolver.

i was born to wish for more than i can have.

there's a shoe out there for every foot.

it's important to leave home and take a look around.

i could be very rich if i decide to extort.

i wonder how it would feel to like who you are.

old homecoming queens never die.

who died and left you boss?

sorry to say your secret is out.

i'm gonna see bad spray tans in my nightmares.

nobody rides you like you ride yourself.

i used to think i knew what hurt was.

i don't like owing anybody.

i didn't fully believe you'd come.

i've got a surprise for you later.

does some law say we all turn into our parents?

half of me is sorry. the other half isn't.

don't look for money to buy your life back.

before we were us, we weren't anything.

you look like a plaid pillow.

i thought i knew it all, in those days.

people find more ways to shut up their monsters than a bible has verses.

let's go steal a tree.

the tall weed gets cut.

a kid in my shoes takes what power they can find.

the moon went to bed already, so what's wrong with us?

i'm a horrible person. the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be.

you're too good for me. i don't deserve you.

it wasn't a secret, i just knew you wouldn't like it.

you use what you've got.

my stomach feels like i've been eating rusty nails.

some good's been known to come out of bad luck, if you face it head on.

where is the motherfucking compassion?

this is still your home, if you want to stay.

the adult in my life is me.

you look like you've seen the dead.

we were kids playing house.

come hang out any time. i could stand the company.

you have to quit being so nice to people.

i'm not one to shut any doors.

i cannot get the hang of living alone.

you should be as mad as i am.

do you want to sleep tonight, or do you want the truth?

they did this to us. you understand that, right?

of all the good people i know, you're probably the best one.

everybody needs to dump on somebody.

i've lived long enough to know that shit doesn't really bounce off.

kids aren't the problem. it's parents.

the only person you need to worry about is yourself.

i have my own honor.

part of being a mature person is knowing your skillset.

another week, another shitshow.

feel free to have a look around.

the support has to run both ways.

good people don't give up on the ones they love.

i've stayed alive so far by staying on my own feet.

i need you to wake up. sit up. we have to talk.

i love you. i would never, ever want to hurt you.

i want to draw your hands.

it's sunday. everyone's either in church or sleeping off their sins.

i want to kill you, but i'm not going to let you die.

are you testing me? or do you really not know?

if wishes were horses, we'd all have different shit to shovel.

a fallen hero shatters into more sharp pieces than you'd believe.

i thought i'd be better off without the fear.

there'll be no getting over this.

a selfish heart will keep you alive, at least.

a snake with venom is gonna bite.

going nowhere fast is a kind of juice.

trust the road, because nobody stays.

in the long run you're on the road with your ghosts. you're the ship, they're the bottle.

rehab is like being married to sickness in a lot of ways, really.

a good story doesn't just copy life, it pushes back on it.

you never were one to fall only halfway down the well, were you?

i let you go. it's what i had to do.

#rp meme #sentence starters #ask memes #inbox memes #rp prompt #rp prompts #rp memes #ask meme

[craacked-splatters]

"I know"

"Do u want to see what I added today?"

"Sure buddy"

(insane rambling below!)

Scrapbooks! Scrapbooks! Hell yeah!!

Hello to the 5 ppl seeing this👋 Ima be real Im running on 7 hours of sleep after 5day grind brain mushy rn and I scribbled everything maniacally by memory at 3am after having one of those revelation moments so I have no idea what I'm missing lmao. This is actually the first time drawing them like this 2. Really proud of it

and B4 u ask anything hear me out.

So like tmnt2012 mutant apocalypse am I right?

Yeah it's flawed and pacings off and stuff BUT! The implications it left behind are haunting and it has been stuck in my brain for years. One of the things that stuck with me was the fact that Raph and Don had stuff like April's tessen, Mikey's stuffed bear head, The Creeps containment jar, and Casey's skull(horrifying btw) with them and that it's like :((

I fully believe it was Donnie who collected and carried them everywhere in their car. Not only for Raph(to help with this memory)but also for himself.

Why? Well maybe I'm reading 2 much into it and it's also partly a HC of mine but also bc canonically Donnie has a bit of a hoarding habit collecting trinkets and pictures and stuff. He likes to keep things around that hold a lot of significant value to him.

We see this in The Creeping Doom during the intro

AND I swear he's got a literal wall of family photos in his lab somewhere I can't for the life of me find it but I know he did! He even took some to the farmhouse with him when they escaped during the invasion.

They're memories yk? Reminders..

Ok im having difficulty expressing this shit rn words r failing so like give me ur brain 4 a sec.

Imagine ur donbot.

You're stuck in a cold metal limbo for the rest of ur last remaining family members life. Everything and everyone you knew and cared about is dead and gone. Over thousands of species and ecosystems that made ur world unique wiped out. No more animals no more wild things no more blue clear skys. Death can't come for you. Not in a way that matters anymore.

And no matter where u go you are haunted by shadows of what once was. There are so many echoes and ghosts and cultures and stories and lives that were buried & left to rot by the gaping maws of fear & the desperate need to survive. No one cares for the past and the only other person around you can't remember it. Time will claim its domain again and there will be nothing left except empty metal husks to show sentience even existed in the first place.

Like holy shit he was just a kid bro and he never got the chance to even reach full adulthood!!! I can't possibly imagine the grief and guilt he must've carried with him all those years. He lost EVERYTHING

His family. His home. His world.

Did Donnie even get the chance to mourn??? Do u think his new body allowed it? Do u think he even ALLOWED himself to mourn? He had a hurt amnesiac brother who still needed to eat, who could still starve and bleed and die if they weren't careful enough.

So between his habits and the ✨Angst✨ and human pollution, him hoarding random ass things Wall-E style and making these shitty little scrapbooks or keepsakes didn't seem so far fetched to me. I also highly doubt there was enough time or resources to build shrines or graves in the middle of apocalypse. But yk honoring/preserving the memories of the things and ppl we love is natural for us so like SORRY if its a bit cringe of me wanting him to have SOMETHING to comfort him during the really bad days.

Even if its more bitter than sweet

Bonus doodads cuz I was indecisive:

The 1st was purple tinted cuz of donbot vision get it hehehe

#you bet ur bucks im writing a piece for this. ive got it halfway done in my docs already #also i lied i am cringe #i hoard stuff too it helps me remember #and also bcuz im lil goblin apparently #a lil projecting dont hurt nobody *car crash noises* #first attempt at a comic btw #look at me go! babysteps! #tmnt 2012 #mutant apocalypse #2012 old man raph #donie (donbot) #<-😭 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #splatter scribbles #phone art #(improvement bb!!!) #i copy pasted the newspaper clips im sorry😔 #but evething else was me :3 #and there are reasons why i drew what i did too :33 #2012 tmnt #bghuhh tim e fo sleep now gn

[pup-in-transit]

Fun little update about my gender affirming surgery- I didn't die!

I'm writing this on March 7, one day after my discharge from the recovery house at GRS Montréal. My flight home from Quebec isn't until Saturday so the hubby and i are hanging out in a hotel until then. I'll start by saying that the staff at GRS Montréal are all complete angels 🧡 I won't get into the weeds of the physical sensations of my recovery, but suffice to say I had a very taxing aftercare. I felt very supported and looked after during my time there even with all the setbacks i experienced.

Now, something that i have alluded to before in my write ups is that the trans communities and friends i have were very diligent to remind people not to romanticize the surgery. They're right to! The morning after my surgery the nerves in my genitals started to reactivate, and they were pissed about it. 11/10 pain for at least 15 minutes, which was when the oxycodone kicked in. Before that the worst pain i'd had experienced was scabies. Not anymore it's not! If you take nothing else from this post please do not fuck around if you're gonna do something like this. Listen to your body and ask for help when you need it, because i gaurentee you that you will need it.

I left site with pain meds to last a few days and very strict aftercare instructions, which i have been following to the letter. My surgeon requires four dilations a day for the first month, which if you include the cleaning up and air drying afterward can take upwards of two hours. Essentially i'm working an eight hour day cut up into four split shifts. To be honest i thought it'd be overwhelming, but after two days in a hotel to get used to everything it's not as bad as i was expecting. I feel like i have enough time in between sessions to relax, eat, go for a little walk, all that fun stuff. Not much time for day trips of course, but i can resume those soon enough. Frankly what i want to do more than go out for an evening is sleep on my side again...

The first time i really took stock of my new genitalia was midday after the external packing came off. I was looking in a mirror. I was purple and swollen (still am) but all the shapes i wanted to see were there. My automatic response was "Yeah, this is fine." Nothing euphoric, nothing like coming home again or whatever, just acceptance. And i think that's all i needed it to be? Nothing is hanging down there anymore. No stringy hairs to trim, no weird wrinkly foreskin, no random erection that won't go away. Just my pussy.

I'm not done healing yet. Shit still hurts quite a bit, i gotta sleep on a towel lest my bedsheets get ruined, and when i douche the water still runs a little red with gunk. That ain't gonna end for a while and it suuuuuucks, but the shapes i want to see on my body are still there so to me it is worth the hassle.

I do still go through phases of regret though, usually when my pain gets a little too much to bear or when my mood really dips. "Did i really need this? This wasn't worth all this pain, i hate feeling this way." What i try to remember is that i was in my right mind when i made and committed to this decision, and i'm simply not when overwhelmed with pain. When that pain subsides, so too does the regret.

And then i see my shapes again.

This was profoundly difficult and easily the worst i have ever felt physically, but i have no regrets. I can't wait to see myself once i'm fully healed and ready to go. I'll be the me i've always wanted to be 🧡

#trans #non binary #transition journey #gender affirming care #gender euphoria