#few animal things make me gag anymore

[herps-and-noods]

Me: *walks into snake room*

Me: Ugh, it stinks. One of the boas must have taken a huge dump.

Boas: Don’t look at us.

The real culprit:

No regrets.

#he’s lucky he’s cute #few animal things make me gag anymore #but that was awful #I’ve never dropped everything and cleaned so damn fast in my life #bullsnake #snake #colubrid #reptile #my pets #inari

[notjustjavierpena]

The Making of Ellie - Part II

A/N: They won’t leave me alone now. God help DILF!Joel. A follow-up to Baby-Making.

Summary: You're an expert in being difficult during your first pregnancy. Few things help.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel's POV, a bit of arguing, softdom!Joel is a simp and a bit of a brat tamer, pregnancy sex, rough sex, creampie, dirty talk, daddy kink if you squint.

Word count: 2.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Tempers

It turns out that pregnant you is a handful. Joel has been through it with Sarah’s mother, but he doesn’t quite remember that she was as difficult as you are turning out to be in your second trimester. You throw hissy fits, gag at the smell of his cologne, complain about him breathing too loud, make him go on snack patrols at two in the morning, cry at the sight of baby animals, yell at him until you cry for getting the wrong kind of Oreos, make him hold your hair as you throw up said Oreos.

Sarah sends him several grimaces behind your back, practically fleeing the house every time she has the opportunity to seek shelter at her boyfriend’s home to avoid the ticking bomb that you are. Joel is left with you alone, and he hates to admit it, but he absolutely loves it. 

For you, he’ll take the extra trip to the store even if you claim that he is the biggest asshole to have walked the earth. He’ll draw you baths, make dinner how you like it, kiss the top of your head as you puke, and buy you plastic flowers if the smell of real ones makes you nauseous. All this even if it has him confused, even if it bruises him a little. Your mood swings like the sixties and, luckily for you, he absolutely loves the sixties. 

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t you fucking sweetheart me,” you seethe whilst emptying the dishwasher with a good amount of difficulty due to your growing baby bump. Joel has offered to do it several times now, and the problem, why he is getting yelled at, seems to be that you are too stubborn to admit how much strain it is on your body to bend down after the plates. 

Joel stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the frame with his shoulder. He observes the way you have a hand on your belly as you crouch down. He weighs his words, “’m just saying that—“

“I can do it,” you say but it seems mostly to be directed at yourself. Joel doesn’t show but he finds your pouty face and attitude attractive. It’s cute and sexy at the same time when your non-threatening frame yells at him, but he also likes sleeping in his own bed so he won’t tell you.

You try a different position, go after the cutlery instead of the plates. One of the forks falls to the very bottom of the dishwasher, lying between the plate racks, and you let out a frustrated growl. 

Joel cannot help the laugh that comes out of his mouth. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” Your voice breaks, tears coming out of nowhere, “Stop being mean.”

“I’m not. I’m just tryna let ya know I’m right here if ya need me to do it,” he continues, trying to hide the amusement on his face. 

You suck in a frustrated breath, then a deeper one to calm whatever emotional reaction is bubbling up inside your chest, and try one more time. You bend your knees, bump pressing into your thighs and the position puts a strain on your back. Quickly, you put a hand against the lower part of your spine, “Ow.”

Yes, he loves your stubborn attitude, your difficulty, your horrible temper tantrums. Right until now.

Joel straightens immediately at the sound of your painful discomfort. He is on you in mere seconds, not amused anymore, and with a frown on his face when he grabs your shoulders, “Right, that’s it. No more of that.”

“I can—“ 

He is the one to interrupt now, “Absolutely not.”

He guides you towards one of the chairs in the kitchen, sporting an expression of controlled anger. He knows that you value your independence, but seeing you hurt yourself, and therefore his child, in an attempt to maintain it simply won’t fly with him. 

“Sit,” his voice is stern.

Your lips are parted slightly at his command. You look doe-eyed, flushed red, and slightly shaken as you fall down into the dining chair. Joel leaves you there, not ready to have an argument with you about it, and goes to empty the stupid fucking dishwasher.

“Joel,” you squeak. 

“Not now,” he warns, “You’re fuckin’ infuriating.”

“Joel,” you try again, this time a little louder. 

“What?” He whips around, a plate in his hand that his fingers clutch harder at the sight of you; you are pressing your thighs together, breathing through your still-open mouth. You look flustered. Horny.

“Fuck me,” you plead shamelessly. You don’t try to get up. Joel feels pleased with that.

“Jesus, baby,” he tuts in disbelief.

“Please, please, please,” you continue and the tears in your eyes have only increased, holding onto the edges of your seat until your nails dig into the wood and he is sure the paint will come off the furniture.

Joel sets down the few plates in his hands on the kitchen counter. He crosses the room to stand in front of you, breath hitching in his throat as you look up at him through your lashes. Fuck, you are pretty.

“That what my baby needs?” He asks, tilting your head backward by putting a finger under your chin. He then gently cups your face, wipes a tear away with his thumb, and leans down to kiss your lips, “No hissy fits if I fuck ya? No need to run to the grocery store for cookie dough ice cream?”

“Can’t promise that, but not today at least,” you say softly, pushing out your bottom lip to make your irresistible angel face. Joel gives in so easily to you these days, knows that he’d probably do whatever unreasonable demand you asked of him today anyway — and every single day after. 

“You’re unbelievable, momma,” he chuckles, his frustrated anger having completely disappeared from his mind at how cute you are, “C’mere.”

He helps you to stand, “How you wanna do this?” 

You turn your back to him and lean down over the dining table, bump hanging out over the edge and your sensitive tits pressing into the surface. Every single drop of blood in his body rushes to his cock so fast that he feels dizzy, and whilst he is regaining his composure, you are already getting out of your comfortable bottoms and your panties. 

“Fuck, baby,” his stomach swirls at the sight of you. The top you have been wearing is crawling up over your belly as it is no longer held in place by your pants, the dimples on your back showing to him and he wants to press his thumbs into them as he has you right there.

You whine impatiently as you hear the sound of his zipper being pulled down, and it causes you to look back over your shoulder with a frown. He knows what is coming, “Get on with it then.”

“Christ, can’t even fuck you without you bein’ a pain in the ass,” he rolls his eyes and lets out a tch-sound, wants to smack your ass to shut you up. When did you become such a brat that is totally at the mercy of your hormones? He fucks you all the time. This is new. 

“Actually,” you begin and Joel sighs extra loudly at the word for dramatic effect, “There’s no fucking happening.”

“Yet,” he gives in to his urges and lets his palm connect with your ass, relishing in the lewd sound of skin being slapped. It makes you yelp, flesh jiggling as the blow vibrates through your extra pounds, “Think there’s a term called delayed gratification.”

“Just put it in, please, Joel,” you settle for begging instead. He’ll allow it. 

He doesn’t bother stepping out of his jeans, simply shoves his pants and boxers down to his knees. He grabs the swell of your hips, steps closer to the back of your thighs whilst simultaneously pulling you closer too, “Just lemme take care of my pregnant girl. Ain’t gotta be a battle all the time.”

He removes one hand from your hips to stroke himself a few times before teasing your slit, cockhead just dipping shallowly into you. He doesn’t push fully into you just yet despite his body screaming for your wet heat. It earns him a little noise, your head hanging between your shoulders and your legs shaking a little. 

“Do you understand?” He asks, sliding his dick between your damp folds and between your thighs to catch on your clit. You are obscenely wet, coating him in your natural slick as he presses between your legs. You start to rock your hips to feel any kind of friction against your cunt. He holds his cock steady for you to use, “Do you, baby?”

“Yes,” you whine with sensitivity, hips pressing back into him. He has noticed how quickly you come lately, but he isn’t going to give you that satisfaction right now unless he is balls deep inside of you, “Yes, I understand. Please.”

Joel is satisfied with that. He pulls back a little, and with his fist wrapped around his cock, he presses against your opening.

“You don’t have to do a thing, y’know. Just gotta grow my baby, and lemme do all the stupid shit ‘round the house,” he enters you in one go, pushing all the way to the back of your soft and pregnant cunt. You engulf him so easily with how soaked and warm you are, accepting his girth without hesitation. 

He lets go of the base of his cock when he is sheathed inside you and lets his hand come up around your waist to rub your swollen belly. He is gentle when he does that, resting a large palm under the roundness of it to keep the strain at a minimum. 

“That’s what I’m good for?” You egg him on, wanting a reaction; in this case getting fucked stupid, “Just lounging around and getting stuffed with cock?”

“Yeah, whenever you please, I might add,” he groans with you at the first snaps of his hips. He settles a rhythm. Fucks you hard, rushed, and desperately right there against the breakfast table until the vase of flowers on it nearly tumbles to the floor with how much the furniture shakes.

Nobody can blame him, he thinks as he pounds you until you are a crying mess. If anyone had had your delicious cunt for months with a stupid piece of rubber between you, they sure would lose control themselves when they had the chance to fuck you without it. The fact that he gets to as often as he does makes him the luckiest man alive.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you pant weakly, turning your head to rest your cheek against the surface. The hand on your hip slides up to rub between your shoulder blades, soothing you when he notices tears running down your nose.

“Shhh, I got ya, momma,” he reassures. He presses his other hand against your bump to angle your hips slightly and finally gets the opening to glide over your g-spot repeatedly. It makes you shout, eyes screwing shut whilst the sound of your crying reverberates through the tiny kitchen.

He knows your body so well, can sense that you are close after he’s started to reach so deep inside of you. Your moans grow louder, the pitch of them climbing higher with each of his thrusts and it’s downright filthy. He wants your voice to crack, and it so often does with how puffy and hot your cunt always is these days. You come so hard for him.

“Joel— I’m gonna come,” your breathing is so rapid, walls fluttering around his dick and tugging him closer to his own inevitable demise. There’s a moment where your stuttering whimpers come to a halt, breath caught in your throat for less than a second before you exhale sharply. 

The sensation of your cunt spasming around him pulls him in and nearly makes him unable to keep going. Your voice does indeed break, sweat breaks at the small of your back and you sob loudly as your pussy grips him hard enough to send him right to the edge.

“Come in me,” you mewl, can probably feel his cock pulse and grow inside of you. Your voice is weak, legs barely able to hold yourself up after your climax, “Please, Daddy.” 

The nickname has a direct line to his cock. He comes in the next moment, a loud moan slipping from his mouth at the first white rope that shoots out and coats you from the inside. He fucks into you through his orgasm, wet sounds becoming more obscene as his release mixes with your slick. 

Joel holds you steady as he pulls out of you, guiding you to sit down on the chair once more despite being naked on your lower half. He’ll clean up after you, leave the kitchen without evidence of your sinful actions. 

“Okay?” He asks after hurriedly tugging on his clothes again to tend to you. He rubs a hand over your belly, “Didn’t go too hard?”

“Stop fussing,” you say with the most blissed-out smile on your face. He appreciates that there is at least one way of dealing with your horrible temper, “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Wait here,” he orders but you don’t show signs of getting up from your seat anytime soon.

He leaves to get a flannel from the bathroom, soaks it in lukewarm water to not make it feel uncomfortable against your spent pussy. Though before approaching you again, he digs a hand into the back of the kitchen cabinet to fish out a little reward. 

“Oooh, gimme,” you perk up, making grabby hands as he holds out a Double Creme packet of Oreos. You tear the wrappings off, stuffing one into your mouth, and do a happy dance as he cleans you up.

“Was all you needed, huh?” He chuckles, knelt on the floor in front of you.

“Dick or Oreos?” You tease, chewing obnoxiously loud to irritate him. 

“Charmin’,” he shakes his head, “Are ya happy?”

“Happy wife, happy life,” you argue before stuffing another cookie into your mouth.

.

.

.

@elissaaa @queerponcho @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @joeldjarin @queenbrownie18 @scarletsloveletter @ladyburberry @swiftsgirlfriend @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sunnywithachanceofjavi @strang3lov3 @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity

Join my taglist

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #my writing #the last of us #joel x reader #joel x you #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #dilf!joel

[midnight-vixn]

Mammon doesn’t even mind that Lucifer ties him up. He’s been doing that for the past few millennia, it doesn’t even really bother him anymore. What bothers him is you sneaking out to get a glass of water at night in a sleeping shirt that barely covers your ass, bare feet tapping on the cold tiles of the dimly lit corridor. His eyes are pleading you to let him down and follow you as far as they can but you don’t even seem to notice him. His face is growing hotter with every inch the shirt is riding up your bare thighs as you walk past him, and his mouth gets even dryer around the cloth his brother used to shut him up. It’s frustrating, really. He hopes that no one else sees you like this, that Beel isn’t rummaging through the kitchen and that Levi doesn’t leave his room to get another bag of chips for his anime marathon. He’s your man and he should be the only one seeing you in your pajamas, right? If you can call skimpy thing pajamas. Are you even wearing pajama pants? Or maybe only your panties.. or…

He didn’t even notice you coming back from the kitchen, blatantly staring at the obvious tent in his pants.

Reine….REINE!!!! BB I held onto this for so long and I’m so sorry, this boy is everything to me and him being tied up is😵‍💫

Mammon x afab!reader

Cw: voyeurism, masturbation, basically a huge cock tease

You heard Mammon’s muffled cries for help, you always did, but this time you chose to ignore it. You typically were the one to find him strung up late at night, always rescuing him and never receiving punishment from Lucifer yourself; he was too soft on you for that.

During one of your last rescues though you noticed something. As your hands reached to untie the rope bound harshly against his wrists, you caught sight of the tent in his pants, you noticed the way his breathing seemed to quicken as you stood in front of him, how his face seemed to darken. Maybe that was just from the blood rushing to his face, but the bulge between his legs gave you an idea.

So, this time as you made your way to the kitchen for water and Mammon’s muffled groans and grunts called after you, you kept walking.

You took your sweet time before heading back out into the hall. When you made your way back to Mammon he was too busy trying to free himself to notice you standing there, the massive bulge in his pants catching your eye rather quickly. You lean back against the wall directly in front of him, your hands slowly roaming your body.

“Mammon.” You call his name in a sickeningly sweet voice, a borderline whine. His body freezes and head jolts towards you instantly, you can see his eyes go wide as your hands travel over your clothed skin. How fun to have a captive audience.

You reach for the bottom of your shirt and lift it just enough to give him a glimpse of the pretty gold thong you wear underneath, the sharp whine he lets out makes you bite your bottom lip. You turn around and lift your shirt to expose your ass to him, sticking it out and wiggling it just to taunt him. The cloth in his mouth muffles the moan that would otherwise echo down the hall.

You press your back against the wall again and spread your legs, pulling the bottom of your shirt up and holding it in your mouth. You run both your hands down your stomach and hook your thumbs into your panties, slowly pulling them off until they rest around your ankles. Another high pitched whine leaves the second born. Your left hand reaches down to spread your pussy open for him, you run a finger through your wet folds and rub tight circles on your clit, gasping and moaning as you tease yourself.

Your right hand comes up to play with your chest, squeezing at the soft flesh and flicking your nipples. You watch as the bulge in his pants turns to a full on erection, the outline of his cock painfully obvious. His eyes frantically scanning your body, whimpers and moans spilling from him behind his gag.

Your eyes flutter as you sink two fingers into your pussy, your back arching while you moan his name. He thrashes against his restraints, clearly overcome with jealousy of your fingers and wanting to fill you with his cock instead. You finger yourself at a rapid pace, the wet sound of your self pleasure filling the empty hall along with your moans.

“Fuck— oooooooh Mammon, hhaaaa, shit, yeah baby fuck me!” Through half lidded eyes you watch him fixate on your fingers as they thrust in and out of your dripping pussy. You lose yourself in the sensation, feeling your climax rushing toward you. “mammon, oh mammon, s-shit Mammon yes, HAAAAA MAMMON FUCK ME MAMMON YES!” You brace yourself against the wall as you cum around your fingers, Mammon moaning and writhing once more against the ropes that bind him.

You manage to catch your breath and walk over to the poor demon still hanging upside down. You rip the cloth gag off his mouth.

“Fuck treasure that’s not fair you can’t just do that when I ca—” The words fly from his mouth but stop when you shove your cum coated fingers in his mouth. He moans and sucks at your fingers like they’re his last meal.

“Let me untie you baby,” your free hand moves to start at the ropes, a devious smile on your lips. “Then I’ll tie you down to the bed, since you love being restrained so much.”

#obey me smut #midnight thirsts #obey me #obey me mammon smut #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader

[irisintheafterglow]

Just Wanna Keep Calling Your Name (gojo x you)

summary: you check on megumi and yuuji before they begin their mission to find tengen and unseal the honored one.

wc: 1.8k

cw/tags: angst/comfort with hopeful ending, swearing, mentions of eating and food, just sad separated found family things

note: part 3/4 of my "i don't wanna live forever" little series. yeah writing this made me so sad i just wanna tell them it'll be okay and this shit hasn't even been ANIMATED yet

likes/reblogs/feedback is appreciated <3

In any other circumstance, he’d be pushing you away in exaggerated melodrama because of how tightly you’re constricting him. He’d gently wiggle from your grip, saying something about you embarrassing him or that he wasn’t a kid who needed hugs anymore. You’d frown a little bit, staring at him in disappointment until he huffed in surrender and squeezed you even tighter. After a few moments, Satoru would inevitably come over and create a “Megumi-sandwich,” wrapping his lanky arms around both of your bodies and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Sometimes, Yuuji would catch wind of the affection and race over, tackling all three of you to the ground until you were in one familial heap. Satoru would take your hands and help you off the floor just to pull you to his lips. Yuuji would coo fondly at the show of affection while Megumi made a gagging gesture with his finger. In any other circumstance, it would be a perfectly normal hug. 

But, these were not normal circumstances. 

Because they weren’t normal circumstances, you weren’t able to utter a word before Megumi’s arms were shakily wound around your body, hiding his face in your shoulder and trembling. You catch Yuuji’s ashamed gaze from inside Megumi’s dorm and reach out your hand, which he takes and pulls both you and Megs closer to him. As much as you like to remind yourself that they’re capable of holding their own as sorcerers, you couldn’t ignore the reality that the Shibuya incident was not something that seasoned sorcerers should have experienced, much less two teenagers. With Panda, Inumaki, and Nobara in grave condition and Nanami soulless in the morgue downstairs, you were truly the only family the two boys had left. You never allow your mind to drift to Satoru. 

“Eat, Megs. Please.” You set the bowl of ginger chicken in front of him, his favorite ever since he was little. You silently thanked past you for putting frozen containers of ginger chicken and spaghetti in the teacher’s lounge freezer, which you picked up on your way to check on the boys. The picture in front of you was tragically familiar–Megumi on his bed with a bowl of ginger chicken and his stuffed wolf in his lap. You couldn’t guess the last time the two ate, but it must have been quite a long time from how quickly Yuuji scarfed down the first bowl of spaghetti. The second tub of spaghetti is still warm, thankfully, and you slide the bowl over to him in understanding. Megumi, on the other hand, simply stared off into space, the enticing steam of the food unable to pierce his broken exterior. “I’m gonna take the wolf back if you don’t eat.” His eyes are dark and dangerous when they flick up to you, the same look he gave you for the past however many years you’d been using that threat. Despite its age, you’re surprised to find that it still works as he finally takes a bite of food. “Thank you.”

“When’s the last time you ate?” 

“This morning. I had breakfast with Shoko.” You also tried one of her cigarettes again and hated them just as much as the first time. She’d poured a few shots for you before work to make it up to you.

“Coffee doesn’t count as breakfast,” Megumi deadpans and your first impulse is to laugh. But, you can’t stop the memory that breaks loose and it slams into you like a freight train. 

He was giving you that odd look again, something between the lines of skeptical and adoration. You stick your tongue out at him in defiance and his hand finds yours from the driver’s seat of the car. It was an early morning mission and you argued that you deserved a treat after dragging him out of bed. To Ijichi’s annoyance, Satoru stops at a grocery store, running in to grab you a muffin and scolding you for not having enough fuel for the day. He kissed you so fervently when he returned to the car, like you were going to disappear in his absence. He said he could taste the coffee on your lips and that you didn’t make it right; when you looked at him with an offended expression, he shrugged and said he made you the best coffee. You’d never admit it, but he was right. 

“I-I had a muffin, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice still comes out as a choke and Megumi’s face falls guiltily. He knows exactly what his words had accidentally triggered. “I split it with Shoko.” You take his hand while he avoids your eyes, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles reassuringly. “Eat, Megs. It’s okay.” 

“Did the higher-ups really confine you to the school?” Yuuji asks after he’s finished the second tub of spaghetti. “I heard…some things about you and it made me nervous.”

You hum in assent. “Well, I’m still alive. There’s no way I’d let them kill me before checking on you two.” The words are meant to be reassuring but aren't received that way as their heads both snap to look at you in alarm. “Yeah, no point in lying. We talked about it, before everything happened. I know he didn’t say anything about it because he didn’t want to worry you, but we discussed what would happen in his…absence.” 

“Have they sent anyone yet?” Megumi’s voice is low and threatening but you knew the warning wasn’t directed toward you. 

“No, but I also know they haven’t sent anyone after Yuuji either, right?” They nod but still eye you warily. You give them a weak smile in an attempt to ease their worries. “So, that means the brass is still such a shit-show that they can’t dispatch sorcerers to apprehend Satoru’s associates. We have time, but not a lot of it.” 

“We have a plan. Or, at least, the beginnings of one. To get him back,” Yuuji says carefully, each word delicate like you were a grenade on the verge of exploding. Your walls go up immediately, shutting down to prevent the storm of emotions that welled up at the optimistic hope in his words. “We’re going to unseal him.” The sentence goes in one ear and out of the other; you can tell by their expressions that your eyes have gone empty and blank. It wasn’t anything against them. You just couldn’t handle thinking about him too much, lest you truly break down. 

“Okay. Try your best.” Your smile is pained and forced, but you still nod in weak encouragement. Megumi’s eyebrows suddenly furrow in thought, like he’d remembered something important. “What is it, Megs?”

“Who is Toji?”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Satoru, Satoru please. Satoru, please look at me,” your voice cracks into broken cries while your hands frantically shake his shoulders, willing him to wake up. “Baby, I need you to look at me, please. Satoru, please, baby. Please, I can’t–” You can’t breathe. The words are getting caught in your throat and staying there. Every inhale tastes like blood and every exhale emphasizes your boyfriend’s lack of a pulse. “I can’t get to Suguru, Satoru. I can’t get to Suguru and he needs you. I need you. I need you, please. Please, wake up.” The tiniest bit of movement catches your eye and you stare in amazement at his hand, drenched in a pool of his own blood, twitching and violently blazing Cursed Energy. “There you are, baby. Come back to me.” 

“He was a sorcerer from the Zenin clan. Why do you ask?” 

“Was?” Megumi echoes, and it’s your turn to mirror his confused expression. “Like, he’s dead?”

“Yeah, he’s been dead for over a decade. Again, why do you ask?”

“There was a guy that Naobito called ‘Toji’ in Shibuya with us. He had no Cursed Energy but was stronger than the special-grades we were fighting.” Dread drops into your stomach like a dead weight. Fushiguro Toji coming back from the dead was the last fucking thing you needed. 

“Is the man still alive?”

“No, and that’s what I’m curious about. He asked me what my last name was and then killed himself when I said ‘Fushiguro.’ He could have killed me, but he didn’t. I just want to know if I have any kind of connection to that man.” 

“I see.” You felt guilty for lying to the boy’s face, but you also recognized that it was Satoru’s decision alone if he wanted to tell Megumi about his family history. “I’m not sure, then. I’m sorry.” He nods, face taut in suppressed disappointment and you rush to change the subject. You could feel time passing too quickly, the instinctual feeling that they had to keep moving hanging over your head. “I read about your fight with Awasaka in the report. Thank you for taking care of each other and taking care of yourselves.” You didn’t mean to strike a nerve, but your chest aches when they simultaneously dart their faces away, contorting in quiet agony. 

“He killed thousands using my body,” Yuuji hisses, squeezing his eyes closed to shut out the memory. “I don’t deserve gratitude for my survival–”

“Stop. Don’t tell me that I can’t be grateful you survived,” you state firmly and you feel emotions start to well up in your eyes again for the first time in hours. All three of you have tears quietly streaming down your cheeks; you have no more energy for the hiccuping and gasping-type of sobs that wracked your body days earlier. “You’re alive to keep fighting, so please recognize that as important.” 

“Would you ever marry me, Satoru?”

He looks at you like you’d just suggested cliff diving into sharp rocks. “Of course. Once all this shit is sorted out with Sukuna and I reform Jujutsu Society, we’ll have a rager wedding.”

You scoff in disbelief. “You want to have a rager wedding?”

“Was that not what you had in mind?”

“Mmm…no. I was thinking something small, you know, with Yuuji and Megs and Nanami and Shoko and the rest of your students. Save your strobe lights and fog machines for the bachelor party.” You both know damn well Nanami would never set foot in a club with Satoru, but it was still a funny image for the mind. 

“You want to involve my students in our wedding?”

“I thought that was self-explanatory. You care about them, I care about you, so I automatically care about them. Whatever you would do for your students, I would too.”

“I’d pull down the planets for you, you know.”

“Just the planets? You must not love me that much tonight.” His eyes shine in the moonlight as he rubs his nose against yours. “Break up with me now and put me out of my misery.”

“You underestimate my abilities, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. I’d pull down every planet in the entire universe for you if you asked, not just the ones in this solar system.”

“There’s my sappy Satoru.”

“I’m yours forever.”

“Do your best, okay?” You say before Megumi and Yuuji leave to find Master Tengen, leaving you alone in Megumi’s dorm. Reaching over for his stuffed wolf, you summon a portal and store it in your domain for safe-keeping. You’d give it to him when you were all together again, your boys and your boyfriend. 

I’m yours forever.

#jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo jjk #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x y/n #jjk angst #jjk hurt/comfort

[boxfullaturtles]

Donnie + gagged and/or drugged

If he ever gets out of this chair, Donnie's going to cut out Kendra's tongue so he doesn't have to hear her stupid voice anymore.

She's spent the last ten minutes gloating and rubbing it in his face that she has him tied up and at her mercy. He's given up interrupting her because the banter's gotten boring. And his wrists are starting to hurt from the bindings holding him to the chair.

"--which means we obviously need you and your dumb brothers out of the way for a while," Kendra's saying, pacing in front of him as she preaches, "So in a few minutes we're gonna have a visitor. They're gonna give me a shit ton of money...and we're gonna give you to them. Don't worry, they take care of exotic animals, I'm sure you'll be fine."

That makes his temper flair, "Animal!? ANIMAL!? I am not some pet! This is human trafficking!" He snarls, wrenching against his restraints.

"It might be...if you were human," Kendra laughs, cruel and nasty and cold. Jeremy looks smug. Jase is nowhere to be seen.

Donnie snaps his teeth in frustration and decides he doesn't want to stick around to play her game anymore. His markings flicker as he calls his mystic powers to the surface. Constructs are clicking into an array of guns around him when a needle bites into his elbows. It breaks his concentration and he whips his head around to glare at Jase, who'd snuck up behind the chair while Donnie had been preoccupied by Kendra.

Fuck.

There's an empty syringe in his hand. Donnie's heart pounds in his chest as his gaze snags on it. He looks up sharply at Jase, who won't meet his eyes, and then turns to stare at Kendra.

"What did you do? What was in that?"

"You need to be less...bitey for our client," Kendra says with that mean smile of hers, "Rellaaaxxx, it'll make you feel good, Von Ryan. It'll be the best trip you've ever had."

Panic is making his breath come faster. Drugged. She's drugged him. And he swears he can feel it surging through his veins, his frantic heart pumping it through the rest of his body. He's never done hard drugs; he and Leo had the curious bit of weed every now and then but even that was a rare thing, done only in the confines of secrecy and solitude when they knew without a shadow of a doubt that they would not need their wits about them for several hours.

"Kendra--" Donnie chokes on his voice. This is ludicrous. It doesn't feel real. Sure, the Purple Dragons have tried to kill him and his brothers half a dozen times, but they're too stupid and incompetent to actually do it.

But now Donnie's tied to a chair, at their mercy, and he--

His head feels strange.

The room has started tilting like the deck of a ship. (He’s never been on a ship at sea. He's never been to the ocean.) He sways, rocks, his body is loosely connected by sinew and bone, wet meat and hot blood. Inefficient and easily damaged.

He doesn't like this. It's weird. Everything's wrong.

The world groans and vibrates with movements and sound. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. His own breath whistles down his throat and he can feel the creak of his lungs expanding balloons, pushing his plastron, stretching his flesh, muscles flexing and contracting, organs settling, blood racing--

Fingers dig into his face, tilt his head up, and he blinks against the lights. There's someone leaning over him, bigger than Kendra. A stranger. Donnie whines, feels the sound vibrate in his skull (he can count the vertebrae in his spine and so can Leo). His eyes roll. The stranger's touch is poison ivy; it makes his flesh itch and burn. He tries to pull away but they tighten their hold, grinding into his jaw bones. There are voices but he can't remember what sounds words make and he only catches a few things.

"-------old did you------------looks young---------"

"----teen I guess------never asked."

The stranger's thick fingers pry Donnie's mouth open, running a clinical finger over his gums and examining his teeth. He lets out a garbled wretch. He can taste the atoms that make them up, every place they've been sticking to their filthy hands, smearing dirt inside his mouth (stop stop stop stopstopstopstoptstop). But he doesn't have the strength to resist or even spit the horrid flavor out. He's floating a million miles away. There are stars in his bloodstream.

Hands leave heat trails over Donnie's arms and down his plastron. His gear is peeled away, the bindings removed. Some distant part of him screams to run, but his body and mind giggle and remain boneless rubber.

"----like this or------"

"----bites-------dose of some-------"

His body jerks, slumping forward. Someone's trying to pry the battleshell off his back and he lets out a high pitched keen that pops in his own eardrums.

("Don't be afraid, little Hamato...")

No. No no no no nononononono--

("You are not alone.")

Violet neon light erupts around him, blinding and avenging.

The world turns with rapid click click click click click.

A blaze of noise. He's dropped, the stranger's hands are gone. He hits the floor and he can hardly breathe, his head spinning in a million different directions, trickling into electrical outlets and clambering up grounding lines.

He's spread so thin...

...what was his name again? (where are his brothers?)

There's something sticky and warm on his hands. On his chest. It smells like iron. Metal and heat and something grinding to a halt. A dead engine. Ozone.

No one's touching him anymore.

The universe has gone quiet.

#oops this one got longer than i meant it to ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #what's more fun than drugging your character? #drugging your character and letting their powers go haywire in a panic #tmnt angst prompts #rottmnt #donnie #sage writes turtles #tw drugs #tw non consensual drug use

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

Headcanons for Eddie x fem!Reader who is a shy, anxious smol bean

You spend most of your time ignoring the world with your headphones on and your music cranked up, lost in your own thoughts.

Eddie takes off into the woods one day with lunch in hand, and he stumbles on you, grooving to your own music.

You're oblivious to everything else around you and it's adorable and he definitely develops a little crush on the spot.

When you realize you're being watched, you kinda freak out a little.

But Eddie just plops down beside you, offers you some fries from his lunch, and asks what you're listening to.

From that point on, Eddie has pretty much adopted you.

When he takes the Hellfire Club to the drive-in during the summer to see some monster flick, he invites you along.

You didn't realize he had also invited other people. So when you showed up and noticed you weren't alone, you panicked a bit and tried to bail.

Eddie wouldn't let you. He slung an arm around your shoulders.

"There you are! Come on, I've got a few shitheads I want you to meet."

The Hellfire Club is Not Impressed with you. While Eddie is outgoing and animated, you're a quiet little thing who barely says two words together.

Mike has no qualms about making his doubts about you known.

"I don't get it. What does he see in her? She doesn't even talk."

When you try to drift away to be alone, Eddie doesn't let you disappear, bringing snacks with him, ripping into a twizzler and delivering the entire box of jujubees he snagged from the Club before they could eat it all.

You try to wave him off. "Go be with your friends."

But he just settles in beside you, ankles crossed, hands behind his head.

"If you want to get rid of me, you'll have to try harder than that."

He pesters you in a friendly way to put you at ease. Trailing a blade of grass over your arm or tickling your ear. Acting like a total ham bone to get you to laugh.

When you do finally laugh, oh my GOD, Eddie has the biggest heart eyes for you.

"See?" he says, brushing two knuckles playfully against your cheek. "I knew there was a smile in there somewhere."

His touch startles you and leaves a burning sensation against your skin. You touch your cheek and look away.

Eddie hates to see you going back in your shell. He rolls over onto his elbow, two fingers touching your arm very lightly.

"Shit. I didn't mean to make it weird. Sorry."

When you look back at him, Eddie is staring at you with the most earnest, genuine, heartfelt look of apology.

There are vague gagging sounds coming from the direction of the Hellfire Club a few feet away as they watch the two of you.

Eddie chucks jujubees at them.

There's a shift between you and Eddie after that. There's this heavy want hanging over your heads but you're too shy to act on it and Eddie doesn't want to screw things up with you.

When the two of you end up at the arcade on Saturday night, the Hellfire Club is nowhere in sight. You stay out super late and get milkshakes as Eddie walks you home.

He's very animatedly telling you a story that requires full-body-motion and you are IN STITCHES because you're laughing so hard.

When Eddie is finally done, he falls into step beside you again. And his little finger hooks around yours.

You stop dead in your tracks, your milkshake straw caught between your teeth as you stare at him, wide-eyed.

Eddie shifts a little, nervous, scrubbing the back of his neck.

"Jesus, say something. Anything. You're killin' me here."

But your face is flaming hot and your stomach is churning and you're rooted to the spot.

Eddie steps closer, threading his fingers through yours, fully taking your hand.

"Didn't think anyone could take me down," he says. "But every time I see you laugh, or when you listen to music, or you're caught up in your own head...I think I fall a little more in love with you."

Yeah...you're not really breathing anymore.

When Eddie tips your chin up with one finger, his thumb brushing your lower lip, you drop the last of your milkshake and you clutch at his shirt, tugging him closer.

He lets out a surprised little laugh at your boldness but you can tell by the way he can't take his eyes off of you that he LOVES you for it.

By the time the warmth of his mouth meets yours, you gasp against his lips and you can feel him smile with a contented little hum.

Good luck being shy around this boy. Eddie will hype you up to anyone and everyone within hearing range.

Whenever you feel anxious, Eddie holds your hand with a firm grip.

If the anxiety is really bad, he'll guide your arms around him so you can hold onto him.

If you wake up in the middle of the night overwhelmed with anxiety, Eddie will talk you through it over the phone, no matter how long it takes.

If he's there with you, he'll rub your back in soothing circles and talk about the most stupidest shit in an effort to get your mind onto other things.

Because Eddie is busting-his-buttons proud of you, he will want to show you off to everyone. So you will have to explain that you need some time alone occasionally to recharge.

His favorite thing is to call you "my girl."

"Can't have lunch with you guys today, I'm spending time with my girl. Haven't seen her lately because of you needy little warts."

"How's my girl?" murmured against your hair as you snuggle into his chest after a long day.

Eddie makes you a mixtape of his favorite music so you can have something to listen to that reminds you of him when you're not together. You totally wear that thing out because you've played it over and over so many times.

Whenever the doubts creep in - why is he with me? he deserves someone better than me, etc. - Eddie won't register it at first. His brain is somewhere else and you can really be so subtle sometimes.

And then he will see you drowning in your own mind. It baffles him because he's always thought YOU are too good for HIM.

Cupping your face in his hands, looking you in the eye. It's the only time that you've ever seen him so dead serious.

"Whoa, hey, look at me. I love you, okay?"

"But - "

"No. Stop. I love you so fucking much and if you don't feel that, then you tell me and I'll find a way to show you, all right?"

He's not joking this time, you can see it written all over his face.

You touch his lips gently and he curls his fingers around your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm.

"I love you, too," you whisper.

Eddie's lips curl up and his eyes get really bright as he scoops you into a crushing hug, peppering your face with kisses.

"Say it again," he mumbles against your skin, mid-kiss.

"I love you," you reply, laughing.

"Again. Louder."

But you don't get a chance to repeat yourself because he's kissing you and there is no room for doubt anymore that this boy is completely and utterly head over heels for you.

Writing tag

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #stranger things imagines #writing tag

[yanderes-galore]

Bob from spooky month with prompt 9.) From you're list?

Sure! I'll see if I still got some Bob content in my brain. This has a prequel planned I think as the story feel incomplete to me.

Yandere! Bob Velseb Prompt 9

"The wound in your leg serves as a lesson, does it not?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Gore/Disturbing descriptions, Blood, Drooling, Cannibalism, Abduction, Slight sadism, Bob's intentions are vague.

Ever since Bob saw you he had wanted a little taste. Every time he watched you just out of view he drooled at the idea of sinking his teeth into your flesh. That was one of many fantasies Bob had involving you.

The demonic cannibal had his eyes on you for awhile. Ever since he got out of jail he had been stalking you closely. His stomach growled at the need for your flesh... but his chest fluttered at the thought of keeping you to himself.

He had watched you before he went to jail... but you always eluded him. You fled from him whenever he got close. You were Bob's planned victim... that got away from him at the last second.

When he was in jail the thought of you rocked around in his mind. You had teased him with your taste. You had taunted him with your fearful looks and cute noises.

Bob could never tell the difference between hunger and attraction. When it came to you it didn't really matter. He had the two urges intertwined.

Now he was free and on the hunt.

Bob watched you until he couldn't control his urges anymore. He got tired of drooling like an animal over you. He felt it was time to eat.

You had no chance at fighting him when he took you by surprise. The moment he was able to land a blow to your head you were out cold. Bob had stared at you with yearning the entire time he carried you.

He's obsessed with you... hungry for not only your attention but your blood.

Bob had been careful to hide you somewhere the cops wouldn't find you. An aging building he called his home would do. Once your body was restrained he began his handiwork.

Bob's mouth salivated at the smell of your blood. His eyes darted hungrily at the knife that cut into your flesh. The sight of torn muscle made him want to eat you raw.

Upon looking down you wish to gag. When your vision stops blurring you can see a large chunk of fatty flesh cut from your thigh. Blood drips down and pools on the floor and you wonder how recent this was.

By the time you wake up you're lost and afraid. You're restrained to the wall, hanging by your arms like meat on a hook. Your head throbs but your thigh is in much more pain and you feel lightheaded.

Your questions are unfortunately answered quickly. Heavy footsteps make their way to your hanging body before stopping. In the dimly lit room you see a shadow and smell cooked meat.

Your mouth would've salivated if it wasn't for the thought in the back of your mind thinking of what the flesh could be. Your kidnapper soon reveals himself as the cannibalistic serial killer you escaped from last Halloween. Wide eyes stare at you with an impossibly wide smile.

A burger made with your own flesh sits in his hands while he chows down... watching you.

Your blood runs cold both from the dread of what he'll do and the fast approaching blood loss. Bob laughs at your pained grimace before going in for another bite. The scene makes you nauseous.

"It's nice to see you again, darling..." Bob hums, stepping closer. "I hated the idea of you running away the last time we met."

The cannibal's eyes then dart to your bleeding thigh. You swore you saw him drool, taking another bite of the burger... with your meat in it. Bob then looks back up at you with a smug grin.

"The wound in your leg serves as a lesson, does it not?"

He chuckles softly, pulling a knife out from under his sweater. You can no longer feel your arms and your pain is dulling. Which isn't a good thing as most of your blood is draining into the floorboards.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll patch you up once I get a few more cuts..."

He steps closer, you can't run.

"You taste as sweet as candy... did you know that?"

The knife is already dripping with your blood from the previous cut.

"I knew you were something special. Now I have you right where I want you."

He grips your chin to stare into your eyes with an unhinged gaze. You feel the metal of the blade graze your skin for just a moment. Will you die?

"I plan to keep you around for awhile. You look as cute as the day I met you... now..."

He raises the blade, eyes blown wide with insane hunger.

"Where should I taste next, sweetpea?"

#yandere spooky month #yandere bob velseb

[husbandomail]

iN HONor of your trip to Build-A-Bear the other week, may I pls request some HCs for an person who takes either Astral or Number 96 there? And gets them their own friend ;v;?

(no pref on who, just whomever of the floaty boys you think would have funnier reactions lmao)

this turned into a thing of its own so I hope this is okay!!

It’s not uncommon for you to drag the aliens along without explaining yourself; Dark Mist has learned not to ask many questions anymore, so Astral asks enough for the both of them. You would think that he’d be better at narrowing down possible locations by now. “The grocery store?” He floats alongside you, studying your face as you respond to each question; Dark Mist just scoffs and shoots every guess down before you can with an “Obviously that’s wrong!”

Eventually you arrive at the mall, and no matter how many times you bring them both here, they light up like children— even 96 can’t hide the curiosity or excitement on his face as he flies past other people, trying his best to swipe food off tables in the food court and scowling as his hands phase through everything. Astral has given up trying to keep the other one on a metaphorical leash, but you do catch him rolling his eyes as he stays by your side.

And then, finally, you lead them through the entrance to the shop you’ve been looking for— Build-a-Bear. The store’s setup hardly ever changes; the walls by the door are lined with unstuffed plushies, although a few are stuffed and dressed and on display. Immediately, Number 96 crossed his arms, scoffing; he’s deeply out of place, a living shadow floating amidst bright splashes of color. He’ll complain, of course— “what’s the point of so much time and money spent on such dull things?”

Of course, hovering near the plushies, Astral has a long and vaguely complicated answer. “Humans have a propensity to develop attachments for inanimate objects,” he points out, trying to scoop up a toy with fur as blue as he is. “It stands to reason that contributing to the creation of a stuffed toy—”

“Enough,” you sigh. At this point you’re so used to their presence, you almost forget to lower your voice; you’re the only one here who can see them, after all, and more than once you’ve been caught ‘talking to yourself’ in public. You glance over your shoulder and fix them both with a pointed stare. “I just want a nice trip to the mall— you two are going to get along for at least two hours. Now, c’mere and help me pick.”

Astral is more than excited to help put together a stuffed animal; even though he’s not usually capable of touch, it’s thrilling to have something that belongs to him, especially knowing you’re the one putting thought into it for him. The shelves are lined with all sorts of animal options— bears of all colors, naturally; the iconic axolotls you’ve seen online; a handful of Sanrio characters that rotate with the seasons. Unsurprisingly, he’s incredibly indecisive, drawn to practically everything in the store. He eventually decides on one of the alien bears, and you can’t say you’re surprised.

Also unsurprisingly, 96 doesn’t feel like cooperating. He turns his face away every time you hold up one of the plushies for his opinion, and there’s only so much you can do before you start to draw attention— but then you grab what turns out to be a dinosaur, of all things. A pterodactyl. And Dark Mist’s eyes light up in an expression you’ve never seen on his normally-sour face. When you grin at his obvious excitement, he scowls and turns away again. You saw that tiny grin, no matter how much he tries to deny it.

When you bring the two toys over to the big stuffing machine, Dark Mist is absolutely cringing at the little heart-warming ritual. Rub the fabric heart on your forehead, warm it in your hands, hold it to your own heart and make a wish— be grateful nobody else can see or hear him, because he’s gagging. For his part, Astral will have a lot of questions about it later— at the moment, though, he’s busy phasing through the glass of the stuffing machine and watching the fluff tumble around him.

After the two toys are stuffed and sewn shut— you’d made a point to make a loud, goofy wish as you’d warmed the heart for Dark Mist’s dinosaur, and he’d made an ugly face back at you— you start wandering through the displays of clothing for the stuffed animals. Your two boys hover close behind you, although Astral is clearly so excited that you’re almost convinced you can feel him vibrating at a different frequency than usual. Still, he does his best to remain respectful and not let his energy overtake him. “—you can choose whatever you want, y’know,” You keep your voice quiet, but Astral flickers to life anyways, immediately diving towards a bright pair of high-tops for his bear alien. Number 96 stays staunchly at your side, arms crossed, face fixed in a deep scowl. You’ll have to get through to him some other way.

You follow after Astral as he point out clothes; he does have a vague understanding of human money, so you find him debating between three shirts because he doesn’t want to empty your wallet. Wandering away on your own, you pick over the other end of the tiny clothing racks; not many things here are dinosaur-shaped, so you can’t blame Dark Mist for his lack of enthusiasm. You grab something random off the shelf and hold it up for him. “This one buttons up,” you point out, “so you could get it over the lil guy’s big head.”

96’s scowl deepens. “My dinosaur isn’t some kind of dweeb,” he hisses, swatting at the toy shirt in your hands. You just snicker at him. “Show me what you’d rather he wear, then. Or I’m putting him in the worst outfit I can find.”

Dark Mist knows he’s being goaded. Astral knows he’s being goaded. You know he’s being goaded. But you win the stare-down anyways— grumbling under his breath, Number 96 reluctantly waves in the direction of a different shirt, and then maybe a few accessories. You’ll have to take whatever you can get with him.

At the end of the day, once you and your aliens and your empty wallet are home, Astral is very open about enjoying his new stuffed animal. “What’re you gonna name it?” your question is casual, but he takes it seriously, staring into the bearlien’s large eyes. “I shall need time to deliberate,” he admits eventually. “I do not believe I’ve ever had such a large responsibility before.”

“It’s a toy, dimwit,” Dark Mist hisses from his spot above the couch. “It doesn’t even need a name. It doesn’t mean anything.” Despite that, he refuses to move away from where his bright blue pterodactyl is nestled among pillows in front of the television. You fix him with a flat stare. “In that case, I’ll keep yours, since you don’t seem to want him.”

The aura that permanently surrounds Dark Mist flushes an unusual shade of pink for him, but he holds your gaze with just as much determination. “Don’t you dare—!”

#yugioh #zexal #astral #dark mist #headcanons #imagines #thesilverlock

[wmarximoff]

sooo could you give us some dftr headcannons pls?? 👀

omfg i've been waiting so long for someone to ask me this leT'S FUCKING GOOOO

NSFW CONTENT BELOW: MINORS DNI.

R doesn't know how to ride a bike because none of her parents taught her how to (and she was always too proud to ask for help on this);

Wanda is actually a few months older than R;

Once R and Wanda went to watch YOU together, but it only took one episode for a awkward atmosphere to hover around the room. R turned off the television without a word and no one brought up the subject anymore;

Wanda knows what their children's blood type would be;

R suffers from severe sleeping issues and sometimes tends on study until she exhausts herself. Wanda is always making sure she doesn't overdo it;

R is an athletic person (she plays tennis), but she doesn't eat very healthy and has a tiny caffeine addiction. One thing Wanda also takes care of;

When Wanda falls asleep on the couch, R watches her for a few minutes before taking her to bed;

R constantly fantasizes about the idea of ​​Wanda's dead body, but she thinks it would be a waste to ruin something so beautiful;

R takes random pictures of Wanda during the day (you can find them here). At first it was a way to mock Wanda for stalking her and kind of reciprocate the feeling of being constantly watched, but after a while R just kept these photos to herself;

At first, Wanda considered kidnapping and keeping R in her basement. Ironic;

During those six months of stalking, one of Wanda's biggest hobbies was just scrolling through R's Instagram feed. She also ended up collecting a few things R left behind: a pen bitten at the tip, a ring she wears to this day (R already noticed but didn't say anything), a lollipop handle, and a small bloody rag from that time when R accidentally cut herself opening a soda can;

When R is not keeping a victim she goes to the basement with her souvenir box (driver's licenses from the girls she murdered) and watches them, reliving the moments;

R has a special place to bury her victims, and it's not random. She often takes Wanda there for picnics, which always ends with Wanda riding her;

Wanda listens to a lot of grunge, post-punk and nu metal – her favorite band is Deftones;

Wanda has a small oral fixation;

R consumes a lot (a lot) of gothic literature – Dracula, Frankenstein, Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Edgar Allan Poe as a whole, you name it. She started reading them in her pre-teens and it was always a literary genre that fostered her morbid interests;

Wanda likes to cook;

R was raised by nannies. There was a forest behind her childhood home and she used to go there to look for dead animals and cut them open to see the innards;

Wanda is very interested in pagan religions, and despite not being adept at any, she likes the symbols;

Wanda likes to watch R sleeping. R enjoys watching Wanda put on her makeup;

Wanda likes psychological horror movies as much as old sitcoms. She and R often watch movies about serial killers and R points out the mistakes every time just to annoy Wanda;

R has a favorite knife, but her favorite tool is the axe™;

Wanda started smoking cigarettes with R, who started smoking in boarding school;

Wanda often steals R's shirts;

Sometimes Wanda stays outside the stall just watching R take a shower. Something about her likes to watch R from afar as if it were a painting in a museum;

NSFW:

R likes Wanda to pretend to be a scared victim by begging her to stop during sex. Usually this involves knives and some cutting and a lot of degradation. On the most extreme days, R takes Wanda down to the basement and takes her on the mattress she used to keep her victims gagged on. These are Wanda's favorite days;

R likes the fact that Wanda wears a lot of skirts because it means that Wanda is always accessible to her advances;

R likes to write degradations on Wanda's body in blood, either her own or Wanda's;

Wanda has a tremendous daddy kink. As a psychology student she understands where this is coming from in her diagnosis, but she can't help but call R daddy when she's really aroused;

R uses Wanda's chains to tie her up. She'd even left Wanda chained to the bed for a whole day while she just touched herself while watching her;

Wanda likes the times when R chokes her until she almost faints – it makes her feel alive in the arms of the person she loves most in the world;

In some of Wanda's unhealthy jealousy episodes, she likes to interrupt R's process of torturing her victims in the basement just to fuck R in front of the gagged girls. Normally R gets irate when this happens and is especially rough with Wanda, but she likes the other girls to see her like that, to let them know their place and her own place too - only one of them can sit on R's lap, and that will always be Wanda. The fact that the gagged girls are just scared for their lives is just an insignificant detail;

Wanda has a breeding kink;

(my god, that's a lot)

#t asks #noonie <3 #wanda maximoff au #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #(don't fear) the reaper!au #elizabeth olsen

[gwydionae]

Ok, serious question for One Piece fans.

Here's the TL;DR:

I'm at Fishman Island in the anime. I know lots of future spoilers for WCI and Wano. I love pre-time skip Sanji and WCI Sanji. I hate Fishman Island Sanji. The question is, as a Sanji fan, how much disappointment should I prepare for in Punk Hazard/Dressrosa/etc until WCI? Is he going to stay this obnoxious until then?

And here's the rather long explanation rant because sometimes you just gotta vent:

I started reading the manga, like, 20 years ago, but I dropped it during the Fishman Island arc. There were many reasons for this (some unrelated to OP entirely), but a big one was Sanji. He had always been my favorite character, and while there had been moments pre-time skip that I didn't love (see: Clear Clear Fruit and it's improper uses), I found he became downright insufferable after it. I don't have to love everything about a character for them to be my favorite, but FI pushed me past my limit.

I have since skimmed through Whole Cake Island and bits of Wano due to seeing spoilers that made me believe that may have changed over time, and I did really like the parts that I read. Well, most of them, anyway (see: invisibility and it's improper uses, Sanji). So between that and hype over the live action version, I went back and started watching the anime for the first time.

I am once again in the early goings of Fishman Island, and I am STRUGGLING. Every time Sanji is on screen my brain is warring between remembering what I like about his character and what I'm seeing play out currently. He used to be overly fond and protective of woman, to the point that his inability to fight them hindered the crew. Now he's an active pervert drooling in the face of every pretty woman who is hindering the crew simply by bleeding to death at the sight of any woman including his own crewmates. Had this happened, like, once, MAYBE twice, ok, it's a dumb gag, but whatever. But it's not a one off gag. It just keeps going, to the point where it doesn't feel like a gag anymore so much as an actual character trait. It's like his flaws (which can make for interesting character drama, like his inability to physically harm Kalifa) are now his core personality, and everything I liked about him isn't even there anymore. Heck, part of his training was to learn to cook foods to help his crew, and he hasn't even cooked anything yet, and he was separated from his crew for two years!

(Ugh, don't mind me, just unearthing feelings buried real deep a decade ago. ANYWAY)

I know he gets better. He'll never feel quite like his pre-time skip (especially pre-Thriller Bark) self again, but I know that WCI adds in some really interesting layers to his character, and while Wano still has his perviness turned up a bit higher than I'd prefer, there's real depth to his character to keep him from sinking back into the one note gag that is Fishman Island. He will get growth. He will go back to being an enjoyable and rounded character one day.

I just really need to know exactly how long I have to wait for that to happen.

Sanji is (obviously) not the only thing I like about One Piece. I like nearly all of the Straw Hats, I've gotten attached to more than a few side characters over time, and the fact that it's so long and hasn't (to my knowledge) felt like a mad scramble of retcons is highly impressive.

But here on good old tumblr, I expect people to understand about the blorbos. They're different. They're special. And feeling like I wish one of them would finally succumb to death by nosebleed is, to put it mildly, not ideal.

And thus the question at hand. Because if I have to put up with this Sanji all the way until WCI, I might just scream. But at least if I have the warning ahead of time, I'll know to expect it rather than fruitlessly hoping he gets better before then.

Just give it to me straight, doc. How bad is it?

(The one thing I know of him between now and WCI is that his mind/soul/?? gets stuck in Nami's body - not sure for how long or what all he... does... in there, though. So please spoil that for me. I do not want that kind of surprise.)

#one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji is not a vinsmoke #sanji one piece #one piece sanji #help an old fan out guys please #man #i have been wanting to vent about this for ten years now XD #got too distracted by turtles to bother back then though so i'm doing it now lol #old lady yells at cloud

[juminsmysticmc]

RFA + Minor Trio with a Mc who asks them to talk to their son about masturbation/ Sex Education

Mention of Teenager masturbating

I actually forgot how I came up with this scenario but I can imagine it would be kinda…funny? Enjoy!

Jumin

No matter what it was, you never called Jumin while he was at work.

You always tried to solve the problem on your own, no matter if it was that you fell in the shower or the fact that you had contractions.

That’s why - when you personally called him - he got kind of nervous.

To hear your panicked voice shocked him even more.

,,Jumin Han…our son…began to masturbate,’’ you said.

He was at first a bit…puzzled that this was something you simply told him over the phone, but he also thought that it was amusing that his son was already that old…

,,I found a…oh my God, I am going to throw up - a dried sock under his pillow,’’ you whined.

,,Jumin, please tell him…I don’t know what, just talk to him and make sure to make him wash that sock after…it did whatever it had to go through!’’ you hissed.

This wasn’t as funny as it was before anymore, but Jumin was sure that he would get over it somehow.

That’s why, the next day - Jaehee wasn’t that happy about it - Jumin took the day off and brought some books into his son’s room to explain some things and make sure to let him hide the evidence…

Zen

When you first told Zen that you were going to have a son, he was happy.

The first one was going to be a son - big brothers would always make sure to protect little sisters from other boys, right?

He was sure to make his son into a gentleman so that in case he had to take care of you and perhaps other siblings, Zen could die at ease - not that this was something he wished for.

However, Zen didn’t realize how hard it could be to have a son, especially after the other children were all girls.

One day, Zen heard you gasp and gag, making him jump up and go towards you, just to find you in your son’s room.

Your hand was covering your mouth as the blanket, which before was almost on the floor, was now on the bed.

A few magazines with naked women laid around there as well as some used tissues.

You looked over to Zen, who blushed a deep red.

,,This!’’ you hissed ,,will be your job! Make sure that he learns how to handle his body and how to keep this clean!’’ you said, before you went out to wash your hands.

Now Zen was sitting across from his son, explaining to him that he should hide his magazines in a drawer and throw out the tissues.

,,Dad…I also have a few questions about this topic…’’ his son confessed.

This was the proof that men were indeed wolves, but also that his son had a few things he had to handle and needed to know…

Yoosung

For a few days, you kept trying to get your husband Yoosung to talk to your son about different things regarding his body and penis especially.

,,I just think that you, as a man, would do a better job than me - who knows nothing!’’ you argued with Yoosung in bed.

His face was a bit flushed as you talked about a topic he didn’t really enjoy talking about.

,,He will learn it one by one,’’ Yoosung mumbled, trying to get you to think of different ideas.

At first, you decided to let the topic go, but one day you came rather shocked into Yoosung’s study.

On his desk were a few documents about upcoming operations on several animals while his glasses were laying around somewhere.

,,Oh, Mc what are we having for lunch, I am - what’s wrong?���’ Yoosung said as he immediately stopped talking when he saw your expression.

,,Today is the day you need to talk to your son! Now!’’ you hissed.

When Yoosung entered his son’s room, he could only imagine what happened.

,,You really did it now, at this time of the day, with your parents at home, and without locking the door?’’ Yoosung mumbled.

One by one, Yoosung began to explain the most important things to know.

He was embarrassed and his face was red, but it seemed that his son could learn a lot from him and wasn’t really sure about a lot of things.

,,Make sure to always stay clean. You need to wash your hands, yes? And don’t use socks… if you need something to get… into it, don’t go on illegal sites, just try to google safe or so…’’ he said.

,,And don’t let your mum see this sight ever again,’’ he warned before he quickly hurried out of the room to get some fresh air.

He felt better now that his son had more knowledge, but he still couldn’t look into his eyes, even the day afterward…

Saeyoung

The red haired man already knew -  without wanting to know in the first place - that his son was kind of sexually active.

He found various pornos on his computer as his son’s skill of hiding evidence was still trying to improve day by day.

But for him this didn’t matter at all - he was a boy in his teens after all.

Trying various things and self pleasure were the kinds of things that helped him grow.

At least this was his opinion.

He didn’t know that you - his wife - had a totally different opinion on this topic.

,,I..oh my God, you need to talk to your son right now,’’ you said, hurrying into the shared work room of Saeyoung and Saeran.

Saeran didn’t mean to look up, but when he heard your voice, he just had to see what you were crying about.

,,Why? Did he prank the school again?’’ Saeyoung asked, way too relaxed.

,,No, worse. Your son was…I don’t even want to say it - jerking off. In my bathroom.

We have two little girls here. This is a no go.

Explain it to him! Right now!’’ you hissed.

,,I mean, it’s not like they-’’ Saeyoung stopped.

Seeing your angry and serious face made him rethink his words.

,,I don’t know if you’re having fun kidding me or not, but I want you to clear it up with him that if he needs to…do whatever, he needs to do this in his own room.

I don’t want to find any hard socks or tissues.

Make it clear about hygiene, do you understand my words, Saeyoung Choi?’’ you asked.

He understood.

He had chills going down his spine, of course he understood.

And so, he did what you wanted.

His son was rather embarrassed about the fact that his mother noticed and couldn’t look up anymore.

Saeyoung also tried to teach him how not to get a virus on his computer and explained to him - for every situation - that he should keep his pants on with girls.

,,DAD!’’ the boy hissed and blushed.

But at least this topic was now cleared up - for now at least.

Saeran

The young father sat across the two boys who shared his blood, trying to find the right words.

There was an unpleasant silence between both parties.

What did you expect of a boy, who didn’t have a father or even a big brother to explain to him about his own body?

He didn’t even remember how he did it.

One day he woke up and his penis was standing and somehow some urges came up - or he just went to pee.

Something always worked.

And one night when he saw a new member of Rika’s cult, and an older man noticed what happened to him, it was somehow explained in a rush that he should just go to his own room.

Saeran, in fact, didn't really have the urge to masturbate until he saw you, kissed you, and came closer to you.

It wasn’t until the day the two of you had more things to do together.

In fact, he didn’t even know how he managed to know what he was supposed to do with himself after seeing you naked.

You took the lead and he just went with it and somehow it felt good.

It was actually you who taught him what his penis was for. Why did he have to talk about this with his children now?

He sighed again nervously and then finally spoke up.

,,So, your mother wants me to explain a few things to you,’’ Saeran told them.

,,First of all, the hardened tissues next to your beds should disappear. Mom didn’t enjoy touching them.

And the sticky bed sheets…please don’t hide them.

Second, what is happening to your body right now is totally normal,’’ Saeran said.

He tried to recall whatever you told him the first time the two of you tried to sleep together.

,,But there are some unspoken rules for how we should behave for mom’s sake…’’ Saeran scratched his head.

He tried to explain every possible new thing in their body and at the end of the long discussion, he was actually pretty happy with the outcome…

Jihyun

The mint haired man looked at the son he had taken in.

It was a cute child who unfortunately lost his parents as soon as he was born.

You and Jihyun immediately fell in love with him and fought to take him in - and won.

Since then, he and Lucy have lived the best life.

Now, however, Jihyun had to go through the next step.

He tried to remember how he was taught about the topic - getting hard, masturbation.

When he first realized what happened to him, he was with Jumin in Jumin’s room.

The maid - who was just in her same outfit that day - had a different effect on both boys and the butler who back then was in charge somehow, noticed and made sure to explain everything.

Manners were important.

Jihyun wasn’t like the typical man, he thought.

He never seemed to have the urge to masturbate, never eyed any woman on the street and the only experience he had was with Rika and you.

But he knew that not everyone was like him and he knew that it was his job to help his son get things together.

After all, you took care of Lucy when she first had her first period.

You remembered how softly you were speaking with the little girl who was crying in the bathroom.

Of course, he and the little boy stayed in another room, although the boy was too little to realize that his sister just entered the world of being almost an adult.

You also made sure to teach her the so-called basics of self-pleasure - it was a very important topic in your opinion.

And now it was his task. His son came running to you early in the morning, whining about the fact that his pipy was alive. You didn’t laugh, but he knew you were holding yourself back.

,,Your Pipy isn’t alive. Actually, it’s called a penis…and growing older, your penis will grow too,’’ Jihyun began, feeling kind of stupid.

But for his son, this was a big deal and Jihyun promised that he wouldn’t let him down on that.

Vanderwood  

Your husband didn’t believe his ears late at night when he heard his son and his friends talking about…their penis.

You were shocked, your mouth covered by your hands as the two of you listened to what the children were saying.

,,Mine is longer,’’ one said while the other one responded with something you never thought you would hear from a ten years old.

,,But why is it like that?’’ your son said and at that point, you knew that neither of the boys knew what was happening with their bodies.

,,I think you should go in and explain and first of all, let them pack in their…you know what, again,’’ you said, patting him on his arms.

,,I am not going to teach strangers about sex education. I will talk to our son, but not to the other two.

You looked at the clock. ,,I will call their parents and tell them that you are going to because our three boys suddenly are comparing their ,,you know what!’’ in our son’s room!’’ This was indeed a reason, but still odd.

You made sure to call the parents - who took the situation pretty well, but rather wanted to pick up their children to do it themselves.

Suddenly, however, two more dads found themselves in your son’s room and instead of picking them up, the three of you decided to let your husbands talk now.

,,Daddy, is yours always up?’’ your son asked. The other two boys looked at Vanderwood.

Your walls were so thin that you three women had a lot of fun hearing the father’s clueless stammer.

But whatever it was, you all knew that they were doing great…

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

24.06.2022 // 12:59 MEST 

#jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #zen hyun ryu #zen x mc #zen x reader #Yoosung Kim #yoosung x reader #yoosung x mc #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x mc #saeyoung x reader #707 x mc #707 x reader #luciel choi #luciel x reader #luciel x mc #seven x mc #seven x reader #saeran choi #saeran x mc #saeran x reader #jihyun kim #jihyun x reader #jihyun x mc #Vanderwood #vanderwood x reader #vanderwood x mc #Mm headcanons

[zekeyspaceylizard]

Grief is a hell of a drug.

There was a time when I was younger that I didn’t think internet friends were as important as real life ones. Then I met Oliver. Oliver was a fan of mine from the old Newgrounds and AlbinoBlackSheep days. We met on steam and got along well. Very well, in fact. We had similar senses of humor, and many of my favorite jokes and memes and gags came from him. He lived in the UK and I lived in the US and we talked via Steam for years and later, when it was available, Discord.

Oliver was like a brother to me. We talked about frustrations and pain in our lives we didn’t share with anybody else. We’d theorycraft about updates to DOTA2 and other games we liked to play. Discuss stupid crap in pop culture and shoot the shit for hours. Oliver always believed in me and, like many of my other online friends, never quite understood why I’ve become such an unlucky massive disappointment as an adult, potential all squandered. He always told me he wished our lives were better. So we could both be happy.

He’d send me music sometimes for bands I’d never heard of, introducing me to things I’d never experienced. Through him I started to realize that he was just as important to me as any real life friends I’d had. Even more so in many cases as many of them got older and found success and moved on with careers of their own, while I continued to struggle here and make something of myself.

He was there to console me when I had my nervous breakdown in 2009 that lead me into a deep depression. He was there to cheer me up when I turned 30 years old and was depressed again. He never got a chance to turn 30.

A bit over a year ago he was feeling poorly and saw a doctor and learned he had lymphoma. The prognosis was good and he felt confident he’d beat it. He’s show me photos of the giant ghastly lumps on his skin where his lymph nodes used to be. And I hoped and prayed to whatever I could that it would all go well and he’d recover and have a normal life. But I wouldn’t be writing all this if that were the case.

A couple weeks ago he had lost the ability to walk properly due to developing anasarca as well. It made him unable to visit family in Germany which broke him as he wanted to see them one last time. His last couple of big outings was meeting his boyfriend in the US and later attending a Newgrounds meetup where he got to hang out with Luis, another Newgrounds animator he was friends with. He was in bad shape at that point, a bag of fluid around his heart mutating into a giant growth that protruded from his chest. But even that he took lightly and would crack jokes about. He was just that kinda guy.

Over the years I had drawn stuff for him, usually involving his beloved orange tabby cat, whom he had raised from a kitten. The week he had learned he had lymphoma, that cat was hit by a car and killed. He grieved for it a lot. He loved that cat and would send me pics of it all the time. I even painted that cat as a kaiju once, lording over a city. That illustration is lost to time. I wish I’d kept it.

The one bright spot was months later he found an abandoned black kitten and adopted it. It was one of the few positive things in his life anymore.

As his condition grew worse, I asked him a handful of times if he wanted me to draw or paint him anything to cheer him up. As an artist it was all I could really do for the guy. I’d have donated my own lymph nodes or heart to him if I could have, but such things arent possible. About a week ago he finally had a request. He wanted me to paint something from the game Jet Set Radio and Jet Set Radio Future, which were two of his favorites as a kid. He was eager to try out Bomb Rush Cyberfunk since it looked like a spiritual revival of that series.

So I painted like a madman. Painted as hard as I could, sleeping little, hoping to make something he would love. His birthday would have been last Thursday, just a couple days ago. At around 1 am, the night prior, I sent him the painting. He was offline, which struck me as odd. He was one of those guys who was always connected to the web, usually playing Runescape. It was ominous.

Then 24 hours passed, with him neither online on Discord or Steam. I had a bad feeling that he was already gone. And learned hours later, from his other friend Luis, this was indeed the case.

My beloved friend Ollie died the night I finished his birthday gift. He never got a chance to see it. He never got to celebrate one last birthday. I wish I’d sent the unfinished version when I had the chance. I wish I could have made him happy, even for a little bit, in the multitude of ways he often brightened my days.

But it won’t happen now. It’s a very strangling feeling. Like someone has wrapped razor wire around my throat and is winding it tighter and tighter. All we needed was one more day. Not a lot to ask for, in the grand scheme of things.

There’s not much more else to say so I’ll end this with a link to a video he and I used to reference all the time. A cartoon we often chuckled at, and one of his favorites. We Get The Night.

Rest in Peace, Ollie. You absolute lad. You beautiful bastard. I hope if there’s a heaven that you save me a seat, man.

#oliver #jet set radio #gum #graffiti #art

[practically-an-x-man]

I know you're not on tiktok anymore, but there's this one thing/slight trend where people who have pets (and consider themselves basically parents y'know not that seriously but you get it), anyway as a way to get back at the people that are like "You just have pets you can't call them your kids!" Or something, they'll edit an ultrasound picture from like the internet and put their pet in it and be like "What do you mean here's [insert pet's name] ultrasound photo" as a joke, and anyway... I could see Jasper doing that to mess with people because of all the animals they and Kyle eventually have?

Oh absolutely, that would be hilarious!

Jasper would post the initial video I think, but it would be Kyle that keeps the joke going for sure. Like, he'd make a whole running gag about it. Someone comments "Did you make a baby book for Columbia? We were going to do baby books for all our kids but we always forgot to finish them" and the next video is Kyle showing a "baby book" with a pawprint on the handprint page, Columbia's "first word" as "meow", things like that (he didn't buy a whole baby book for the joke, just printed out a few pages and stuck them into a normal book so it looked like he was flipping through a baby book)

Someone else comments "how do you convince your kids to finish their dinner? We can never get ours to eat his veggies" so Kyle posts a video of him dropping baby carrots on the floor and Ruff and Frankie just snapping them up, and behind the camera he's saying something like "Oh, it's pretty easy if you turn it into a game for them. We call this one 'oops! look what I dropped!', they love eating their veggies when they think they're being sneaky about it"

And it just keeps going like this, until Kyle and Jasper's TikTok page is basically just devoted to maintaining this silly joke. He even makes a decent following from it too, since people like his sense of humor

(this made me smile to think about thank you)

#my friends!!! #answered asks #my ocs #jasper wilson #ahs coven #ahs coven fanfiction #kyle spencer #heartstrings fic

[evanthenerd83]

“Holly And The Demon Play House”

CONTENT WARNING: The following story contains harsh language and graphic violence.

1

“Man… this is hard,” Holly said while she shoveled.

The demon glared at her, pupils supernova hot. It growled.

It sounded like a dog. No. More like a hellhound that had just spotted the soul of some unfortunate sinner.

Holly giggled. She reached over, rustling Its black hair.

“Aw, good doggie.”

A claw swiped. She yelped, drawing back.

Her pale flesh had been slit open. The cut stretched across her hand, barely missing the knuckles and wrist.

A bead of crimson was forming.

Crimson.

“B-bad d-d-doggie.”

The demon rolled Its eyes. “Just keep digging.”

They were standing in what was supposed to be a park. A very small, plastic park.

Fake trees. Fake grass. Fake dirt. Everything within this park had been manufactured by the newest geo-capitalist startup company.

Engineered to look natural, but not offend humanity’s delicate selfishness.

Holly hated it. Almost as much as nature. Being outside, being around animals, wasn’t something she found… let’s say… mentally relaxing.

Nor did it strike a particular chord. There was no chord to be struck.

Animals only made things difficult. Snapping twigs ruined months and months of stalking, observing.

It didn’t help that animals felt the same way. Dogs would bark whenever she’d walk past, nearly choking themselves with their own collars and chains.

Cats hissed. Bugs scuttled away from her traps.

Birds shat themselves.

And yet… Holly found this park disgusting. Whoever had designed it ignored the way the world worked.

The natural order.

She believed in the natural order. It was her guide to living, her so-called “moral code”.

The weak would be eaten.

The strong would eat.

The strongest would prevail.

And to Holly, she was the strongest. Humanity could go suck death’s boney, dry dick for all she cared. Which wasn’t much.

Or even a little.

“Do you think… we should leave her… wallet?”

The demon shot another glare. “What?”

Holly kept on digging, blonde curls plastered to her forehead. Sweat glistened beneath a full moon.

The hem of her skirt was covered with dirt and grime. Her uniform clung.

“We need… money… for like… some extra clothes and stuff… and maybe even food… you said so yourself…”

She stabbed her shovel into the ground. Another heap of dirt.

It quickly joined its brethren. There was so much of it, the demon could hardly see the girl anymore.

A memory flashed.

An awful, vivid memory. Graphic and gratuitous.

The demon screwed Its eyes shut. No such luck.

The image had been burned into Its head. The girl, rearing back; hands half-raised as if to stop—

Holly, turning around; face dead as she aims—

The pistol, barrel flashing; bullet—

The red, spewing out; chunks of brain and shattered skull—

The demon gagged.

It scrambled away from the hole, hooves casting dirt. It disappeared into a nearby bush.

Holly simply rolled her eyes. “Drama queen.”

Ding-a-ring-a-long

Sing-a-song-a-dong

She froze, blade mid-stab. Her ears twitched.

A faint diddy. It wasn’t that complex, just a few repetitive notes played on a keyboard. The vocals were heavily synthesized.

The singer could’ve been a male or a female. It was difficult to tell.

What was easier to ascertain, though, was the source.

Holly stared at the impromptu grave.

“#$@& me.”

She dropped her shovel.

The ringtone suddenly ended. Silence fell upon the park.

Aside from the demon’s breakdown, of course. It was still puking Its guts out. As well as crying.

She kneeled.

Pain. And not the good, pleasurable kind.

The kind reserved for physical activity. A deep, hollow ache.

Holly could feel it in her bones. Each muscle burned. Overuse coupled with stress, making a bastard child.

Burying a body proved to be difficult work.

Unlike in movies, the ground refused to yield. It grew harder the deeper one went. The soil became stone.

They had started working hours ago. It took them several just digging the hole.

Holly despised labor. Exercise would leave her feeling used. Both of her armpits were swamps, and an unpleasant scent clung to her skin.

And exhaustion…

She ignored it. Her hands thrust themselves into the mound.

Cold engulfed them. Squishy dirt gave way. Excess rainwater added to the overall sensation.

Holly smiled.

Like exploring a victim’s body.

She searched.

…

“What are you doing,” the demon groaned.

Holly didn’t respond. She was sitting on the ground, legs crossed.

She seemed to be looking at something. The demon ran a single claw across Its face, knocking globs of leftover vomit from both cheeks.

It stumbled forward.

It felt like crap.

Utter crap.

Its throat was burning. Ribs were being beaten up by Its rogue heart, and something sent shockwaves through Its nerves. Shock.

Shock?

Yes.

Shock. Trauma. It couldn’t have been sick. Its immune system acted as a hellfirewall against invaders.

Nothing got through. Lowly creatures, viruses and bacteria, would find themselves in a world of hurt.

Or worse. Absorbed.

It coughed, peering over Holly’s shoulder.

She had both hands in her lap. They were wrapped around something small.

The demon squinted.

It was incredibly dark. Branches formed a canopy that prevented moonlight from reaching them. Whoever had designed the park deserved eternity in such darkness.

“Uh, Holly?”

“…”

“H-Holly,” It whispered. “What is tha—“

Ding-a-ring-a-long

Sing-a-song-a-dong

A song.

Light.

Bright. Blinding. It cut the dark like a butcher knife.

The demon yelped, falling backwards. It crawled away from the source of this light. On all fours.

It quickly scrambled to Its hooves. “H-Holly—“

A slender finger rose.

An angered hiss broke free. It froze in place, mouth snapping closed.

It stared at Holly with wide eyes.

She simply answered the cell phone. “Y’ello?”

The demon winced.

This wouldn’t work. This couldn’t work.

Holly was a lot of things. A mass murderer. A spree killer. An arsonist. A monster. A sexual deviant.

A sniper. A torturer. A perfect singer.

“Uh huh.”

A fugitive. An excellent cook. A sadist.

“I’m sorry, but she can’t. My… Uh, my sister has fallen ill.”

A survivalist. A master planner. An awful writer.

“No. No. No need! You enjoy your night, Ms. Woodhouse! I’ll…”

Holly eyed the demon, face going blank.

It felt her gaze on Its back. It stopped pacing.

“… you know what? We’ll be there! In about… what’s your address?”

The realization hit.

It instantly paled. Horror liquified Its face, and beads of sweat cascaded down Its cheeks.

Holly smiled as It started to shake Its head. She looked away.

“Perfect! That’s not far at all!”

It darted forward, claws outstretched.

Holly simply raised her pistol, and It froze.

“Hm? Oh. Just my brother.”

A pause. Her smile fell, replaced once again by the emptiness. She blinked a few times.

And then—

She threw her head back.

“Ha! Ha! Hahahahahaha! Of course not, Ms. Woodhouse! That’d be inappropriate!”

The demon cringed. Holly was inappropriate.

Her laughter simmered down. Yet another sneer appeared.

“And don’t worry. You can just pay me, and we—my brother and I—will split the money!”

It glanced at the mound. It gulped when It saw the glazed eye staring back.

“Yes ma’am! Just five more minutes! We’ll be there! Thank you! Thank you! Goodbye!”

Holly hung up.

She allowed the cell phone to fall. It landed in the dirt, face down.

“Um…” the demon backed away. “H-H—“

It cringed. The sound of shattering glass and snapping plastic echoed, joined by crunching leaves. She lifted her shoes.

Debris. Wasted technology.

She looked up, then started walking.

“Holly,” It whimpered. “What—“

She grabbed Its collar, pulling It behind her. It didn’t dare to resist. Resistance was futile.

It had seen enough to understand.

#evanthenerd83's storytime #holly and the demon #short story #black comedy #crime fiction #urban fantasy #horror comedy #june 2023 #creative writing #original writing

[shanedoesdoodles]

Day 6-7

21/94 episodes complete

Episode Thoughts: Animation wise I've noticed it seems like they've started to reuse a few frames for recurring things like beetlejuices summoning and gags as well as reusing some audio (though weirdly enough not for repeated segments), which I'm not the biggest fan of in most circumstances but they make it work decently in the show. However, I did notice a bit of drop in quality in the last episode of season 2. The proportions for a few scenes were noticeably off which. Is a little worrying but hopefully won't carry on throughout the rest of the show. (Also there was one or two episodes where that animation had a doubling effect that made it hard to tell what was going on but that's just an effect of old footage that has started to degrade, which is a bit sad. Also Also DO NOT WATCH THIS SHOW IF YOU HAVE SENSITIVITY TO FLASHING LIGHTS AND IMAGES. DONT.)

Plot wise I've noticed that they've started to go to the human world a lot less! (and also they've changed some of the designs in the human world such as Lydias room which I find. An Absolute travesty. Where is her spooky decor??? Why is her room bright pastel now???? What happened to the nice blues and purples and magentas??? Devastating) Along with that they've been introducing a lot more characters and actually keeping them around in future episodes, even bringing back some one-off characters from the first season, which I find really neat!!! Though one of those introduced a bit ago who was really interesting still hasn't been mentioned since, which I hope they change soon. Also, there's now solo Betelgeuse focused episodes!! And they're very fun!!!!

Mental State Notes:

I can barely even think in my own artstyle anymore hELP ME-

#Beetlejuice Bingewatch

[jackalopes-pen]

Dumb Brain Child [ The Eighth ]

Greetings interwebs demons, I'm back with more ponderings. Before we start up, I just wanted to address why MasterPost the First was tragically killed. You see: my links didn't work anymore. It's really as simple as that. My links didn't work, disclaimer was out of date and not mine, just needed a redo. MasterPost II is still kinda under reno so.. bare with me until it's done. Some things may be missing because it's difficult to shift through 167 posts. But, do (seriously, please) let me know if I missed something. Okay, on to the 'theory'

Height in Sanders Sides is a funny thing, no? In theory they're all the same height as c!Thomas [5'10], but it's hard to differentiate sides in silhouettes if they're all the same height so, the fanon made the solution: sike they're all different heights. From this arose some level of discourse as to what their heights would be. I'm here to add to it.

My complaint is the height of Janus Sanders himself. Mainly: In what world is the man based on a Mangrove Snake [ A snake that grows from 6-7 feet/1.8-2.1 meters ] a short king?! When was that the agreement the we all made?! Because if I'm not mistaken, 5'3'' or whatever otherwise puny height is typical of him, is a very concerning height for a snake like that. It would be a distinct medical malady if a Mangrove was that small.

Let me educate you a little on the Mangrove Snake. Mangrove Snakes or Boiga Dendrophilia's are nocturnal and potentially aggressive. They are native to Southeast Asian regions. It is a venomous snake, though it's venom is avian specific and unlikely to kill. It is often confused for a Banded Krait which is extremely venomous and has known fatalities. This confusion is due the similarities in appearance. One of the first documented Mangroves was [ This the point of this ] 7ft 7in or 231cm.

So I restate my question: WHY DO YOU ALL MAKE JANUS SHORT?!

I understand it's a funny visual gag, but a commitment to the bit is not a standing evidence! I researched this snake for 3 hours, within the first 5 minutes I found my answer! Yet, I kept digging. Looking for the healthily length of Mangrove and what to be concerned about. According to the internet, if a mangrove ever was within the 5 ft range they were likely underfed, ill, or generally poorly cared for! So, if your goal to match their animal counter part... WHY IS HE SHORT?

I fully understand the take of "Wouldn't it be a cruel irony if self-preservation didn't take care of himself?" yet, the degree to which mistreatment is required is literally animal abuse. I realise I may fall on deaf ears.. but damn give the man a few inches at least.

If you want a short side... Patton is standing over there somewhere.

#sanders sides #tw swearing #deceit sanders #janus sandes #janus theory #tw snakes #snake mention #i get passionate ok #this just in #make him tall