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houseofanticipation · 4 months

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You wake because a shifting balance of weight on your bed has caused your mattress to shake. For a moment you think it must be Christmas morning—that'll be your little brother, jumping on your bed to wake you up—but your room is still dark, and the clock on your bedside table reads 12:00 exactly. You squint at the person sitting on your bed. Definitely too old to be your brother...maybe your dad? But no, this person's frame is too wide, too bulky. The figure leans forward, and it suddenly occurs to you to be afraid, but all he does is pull the chain on your bedside lamp.

The man in your room is Santa Claus.

It doesn't occur to you to think this is a man dressed as Santa. One of your classmates might; you know most people your age don't believe in him, and you've learned to hide your own belief, lest you embarrass yourself, but you've never stopped believing privately. You know this man is Santa Claus in the same way you've always known Santa Claus was real: it's a feeling in your heart, a knowledge that you are loved, no matter what. You get that same feeling from this man.

"Santa?"

"Little Susie Summers," he says, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes. "It's so wonderful to finally see you in person. You know you're one of my favorites?"

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

He nods. "I mean it. You've kept me in your heart all these years, long after most children abandon me. I've so loved watching you grow into this beautiful, confident woman I see before me." His voice deep and warm and smooth, like hot chocolate. His eyes glitter behind half-moon glasses, and his enormous white mustache only accentuates his fatherly smile.

"I always knew you were real," you say, breathlessly, eager to impress. "Even when everyone called me names, I kept believing. I always stayed on my best behavior for you."

"I know you did," he says. "I have your list right here." Seemingly from nowhere, he produces a length of rolled up parchment, which he begins to unfurl as he reads. "All those times you helped young Cristopher with his homework, even when you wanted to go out with your friends...the way you check in on old Mrs. Rasherton every week...you're a real paragon of your community."

Your chest swells with pride. You'd do those things anyway, of course; goodness is its own reward. But it feels so wonderful to have your good deeds recognized by this man you so idolize.

"Of course, you've had some encounters with the naughty list, too. What child doesn't? That time at camp, for instance, when you allowed Trent Lipski to touch you under your underwear?"

You can feel your cheeks flushing. "I'm sorry, Santa. I tried to be extra good to make up for it."

"Or those times in the bathtub, when you put your private parts under the faucet?"

You look away. You can't stand the disappointment in his eyes. "I'm so sorry Santa."

You feel his hand on your cheek, gently pulling your gaze back to meet his. "Don't worry, Susie. No one can be perfectly good all the time, and your good deeds have vastly outweighed the bad. You are a good girl, Susie Summers, and that's why I'm here."

"Really?"

"Yes, my dear girl. You see, you're eighteen now and—"

"Almost eighteen," you say helpfully. Your birthday is January 7th.

"Close enough," he says. "You're growing into a woman, which means this is the last year I'll be able to bring you presents."

This comes as a surprise. You always known Santa Claus brought presents to children, but it never quite occurred to you that that meant he didn't bring presents to adults. "You mean...you'll never come here for me again?"

"I'm afraid so," he says sadly. "This will have to be goodbye. But because you've been such a good girl all these years, I've brought you one final parting gift, in addition to the ones below the tree downstairs."

"Really? What is it?"

His hand is on your thigh, caressing you gently. "You've been so good for me, Susie," he says. "I want to make you feel good. I want you to be extra good for me, one last time." His other hand is on your stomach now, furry white glove slipping under your sleep shirt. You're starting to be unsure if you want this gift, but you know it's rude to act ungrateful. "Can you be good for me, Susie?"

You nod nervously.

Slowly, one finger at a time, Santa slips the gloves off his hands. The skin underneath is like aged leather, wrinkly and soft. You gasp when he lifts up your shirt. "Look at this," he says, fondling your nipples. "Already so hard. I knew you had a naughty side to you."

No. You can't. You push his hands away, gently as you can. "I'm sorry Santa, I'm flattered, really, but I can't—"

Santa makes a clicking sound with his tongue, and all of a sudden your hands are being yanked back, toward the headboard. Some kind of cuffs clamp around your wrists, holding your arms far away from Santa's creeping, explorative hands. You look to your left and right, and see that they're not cuffs at all, but arms; thin, sinewy arms attached to a pair of thin, sinewy people no bigger than your forearm. They stare at you with large, unblinking eyes, and grin with mouths full of pointy teeth. They're strong, in spite of their size. You struggle against them with all your might, but neither seems remotely phased.

"You're a lucky girl, Susie," he says, playfully circling your areola with his thumb. "Most boys and girls never get to see a genuine Christmas elf. Meet Pepper and Ginger, two of my most trusted lieutenants. I could never do my job without their help."

The elf called Ginger—you can tell which is which because they wear name tags reading G. BREAD and P. MINT—pins your hand to the bed and sits on your wrist. She closes her eyes and begins grinding against the nub of your wrist bone.

Santa chuckles. "Of course, I make sure they get to enjoy themselves. I think that's the hallmark of any good boss, don't you?" He bends down and wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking and nibbling and groping at your other breast while he does it. You're afraid, but it feels kind of good, too. And you know Santa has your best interests at heart...doesn't he? When he comes up for air, Santa sees the tears running down your cheeks. "Oh, hush now, my dear, don't cry." He lays a tender hand on your face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "I promise I'll be gentle with you. I'll make you feel good." He gets up on his knees and unbuckles his belt, pulling down his red pants to reveal white thermal underwear. This he unbuttons, and out comes...

You've seen a penis once before. Earlier this year, Daryl Dennis let you touch his at a party. You held it in your hand and stroked it up and down, delighting in the way he moaned and kissed you and told you how good it felt. When he came on your hand it snapped you out of whatever madness had taken you over, and you fled the room to wash it off. You hated yourself for weeks after that, tried to work extra hard to earn your place on the good list.

Suffice it to say, Santa's cock is about three times the size as the only other cock you've ever seen. It stands up so stiff that it actually touches his overhanging belly, and defined veins pulse up and down its length. He smiles when he sees you looking at it. "You came so close to letting Mr. Dennis be the first cock you ever felt inside you. I wish you could stay pure forever, but you're becoming a woman now. You should at least know what a real cock is like, so you have something to compare against."

He hooks his fingers under your waistband and pulls off your pajama bottoms and you panties all in one go. You're too afraid to fight back; those elves' teeth are sharp, and besides, you've spent so long trying to stay off the naughty list. A good girl would lie back and take it. You are a good girl. You are a good girl.

Santa's head is between your legs now. He's kissing your thighs, sniffing deeply, running his tongue along the outside edges of your crotch. One hand strokes his cock, and you can see he speeds up when his nose gets close to your pussy. "You know, Susie, I've found in all my years of life that the sweetest girls have the sweetest cunts. Did you know that?"

You shake your head.

"It's true. And you just might be the sweetest girl I've ever seen. So you can imagine how eager I've been to get a taste of this perfect, beautiful cunt. Let's get your juices flowing, shall we?" You gasp as his leathery fingers pinch the hood of your clitoris and pull it back, and a sound you didn't expect escapes your lips when his wet, warm tongue flicks across your exposed clit. He starts to trace slow, steady circles around it, taking his time, letting the desire build until your clit is throbbing with need. His moustache tickles your pubis as he closes his lips around your clit and begins sucking, first in long, slow pulls, and ramping up into quick, agonizing pulses. You begin to feel that feeling in your groin, the one you felt when you touched Daryl Dennis's cock, or when Trent Lipski put his hand in your pants, or when you hold your privates under the bathtub faucet. It's a tightness, a warmth, a wetness, and Santa must notice it too, because he smiles up at you. "Good girl. Let's find out what you taste like."

Suddenly his tongue is inside you, and you're moaning and arching your back and crying a little bit, because you're so scared but it feels so good. The elves grin and give you little kisses on your arms. Somewhere along the way Ginger has removed her pants, and she moans as her little elf pussy glides across your wrist. On the other side, Pepper's hands are on your pinky, lining it up with her exposed cunt, drooling as she pushes it inside.

When Santa comes up for air his glasses hang crooked on his face. "Hoooh, Susie, you must have the sweetest cunt I've ever tasted. Like caramel apples and candy canes. You really are one of the nicest girls who's ever lived."

You can't help but swell with pride at this praise. You've tried, really tried, and to know that it's paid off...it makes everything worth it. All the work, all the self-sacrifice, it wasn't for nothing. It's left a real, detectable mark on your body, and Santa can taste it in you. "Thank you, Santa," you manage to say.

"You're very welcome, Susie," says Santa. "And now that you're ready for me, I think it's time I made use of you." He straightens up, and flops his cock down on your stomach. It feels even bigger against your skin. You're afraid again. You know what's about to happen, and you're afraid it's going to hurt.

He throws his head back and moans with pleasure as the head of his cock parts your pussy lips. Your teeth grit and your heart pounds as you brace yourself for the pain, but it doesn't come. When he begins to push inside you, it's like he's stretching you out from the inside. There's no pain, only pressure, and increasingly, pleasure. He fills you up an inch at a time, expanding inside you, making you feel full in a way you never knew you could. You never should have doubted Santa. He knows what's best for you. He knows what you need.

"Ooohoho god, Susie," he says, picking up the pace now. "I knew you'd be worth it. I always know which good little girls will have the most delectable cunts. Girls like you, natural whores who make the choice to be nice, deny their nature to be sweet just for me...saving yourself for me...you know, somewhere deep down, that your little cunt is mine for the taking..."

He's right. He's completely right. When you fled the room after Daryl Dennis came in your hand. When you felt so guilty after Trent Lipski. What were you saying, implicitly? My holes are not for him. My holes are for Santa. You're moaning indiscriminately now, arching your back, your eyes rolling back in your head. The elves seem to be enjoying themselves, too; they moan squeakily as they ride your hands, apparently no longer worried about you trying to fight back. Santa's belly rolls across you with each thrust, and the heft of it is like a weighted blanket, comfortingly immobilizing. He grunts and moans with each thrust, the ball on his hat bouncing haphazardly. You feel something growing inside you, something wonderful and intense, something far better than the faucet on your clit, or Trent Lipski's fingers in your cunt. Your body is beginning to tremble, your legs bending and your toes flexing involuntarily. Suddenly you're afraid again; the sensation is too much, you can't handle it, you need to get away. Some animal part of your brain takes over; you're wrenching your hands free of the distracted elves, pulling yourself away from Santa's relentless cock, flailing your legs, kicking Santa in the solar plexus as he tries to grab at you. He doubles over, wheezing, and you know instantly you've done something terrible.

For a long moment the room is stock still. The elves seem just as frozen in fear as you are. Santa coughs, steadies himself against the bed. When he looks up, there's a darkness behind his eyes that wasn't there before. He clicks his tongue again, and the elves spring into action, grabbing you by the hair and turning you around so that your head hangs backward over the edge of the bed.

"I was going to give you a special present," says Santa, upside-down over you. There's a sick mirth in his voice that makes you shiver. "A Christmas present like no one's ever gotten before. But you had to go and be naughty." He says the word like it's the most vulgar epithet he can think of. "I was going to give you a son. My son. My heir. But my seed can't grow in a womb despoiled by filth." You feel a pressure inside you; it feels sort of like Santa's cock did, only harder, rounder, and growing. You lift your head to see what's going on down there, but it's all internal. It's getting painful now; you start straining to push it out. "The only thing your cunt is good for now," says Santa, a merciless twinkle in his eye, "is coal."

With a painful stretching sensation, a black mass crowns out of your cunt, spreading your pussy lips and stretching them wide as it pops out of you. It's a smooth, roughly spherical lump of coal, about the size of a baseball.

A leathery hand cups your chin and pushes your head back down. Santa's cock is inches from your face. "You're not going cocktease me, naughty girl. I'll get mine, one way or another."

Tears well up in your eyes as his cock parts your lips. You've never gotten coal in your stocking before, not once. You've spent your entire life being the nicest you could possibly be, and you had to go and ruin everything. You imagine what it would have been like to have Santa's seed growing inside you, your belly swelling with his son, your breasts inflating with peppermint-flavored milk. Instead you have his wrinkly, low-hanging scrotum slapping your face, and another lump of coal already forming inside your stupid, naughty cunt.

Santa forces his cock past your tongue, down your open throat. You gag, convulse involuntarily, but the elves hold you down, not to be caught slacking again. His belly drags across your face as he pulls back, and you spend a few seconds coughing and sputtering before he forces himself back down your throat again. Again, you gag, and when he pulls out this time you spit out a globule of thick saliva that collects around your nose and runs down your cheek. It goes like this for several more pumps: you gagging, struggling, crying, and him continuing to rape your throat anyway.

No, you think. Enough crying. You did something naughty, and now you pay for it. What do you always do when you catch yourself slipping into naughtiness? You're extra good to make up for it.

You steady yourself. Relax your throat. Santa is your king. Your god. Your everything. Your whole life, everything you do has been to please Santa. Now is no different. You start licking his shaft as it pounds away at your mouth. You can't see his face past his belly, but you can tell he likes it: the veins on his cock bulge under your tongue, and he groans with pleasure. Slowly, making sure the elves know you're not trying to fight, you lift your arms and grab the backs of his thighs, pulling him into you with each thrust. He takes the encouragement, picking up speed and enthusiasm. With one hand you begin to tenderly massage his balls, and with the other you stroke the base of his cock, the part that can't fit all the way down your throat. This is right. This is correct. My holes are for Santa, you think again. It's not for you to choose how he uses them.

You pop out another two lumps of coal, though you find that if you don't let them get too big it can be a somewhat pleasurable experience. You wonder how many nice things you'll have to do to stop them coming. You hope it isn't too easy. You moan as another one presses against your clit on its way out of you. You're desperate to rub yourself, but you can't take any attention away from Santa's beautiful, enormous, swollen, throbbing cock. That is your purpose.

With a long, shuddering groan, Santa presses his cock as deep as it will go. You feel hot cum shooting down your throat, collecting in your esophagus. He holds you there for a long time, your face in his overhanging belly, coal growing in your cunt. When he finally retreats you cough a huge glob of cum into your mouth. It tastes like cinnamon and nutmeg.

"Oh, little Susie," says Santa admiringly. "Even when you're being punished, you try your best to be nice." He sits next to you on the bed and begins gently massaging your throat. "It isn't enough to put you back on the nice list, but it's a start." He seems to think long and hard about something. "I'm a believer in second chances, Susie. I'll have to come back to this house next year for your brother anyway. Maybe I'll check in on you, and if you've been extra good..." he shoots you a twinkling wink. "I just might give you your special present after all."

Your head falls back in relief. You haven't squandered your chance! Santa is a merciful and loving god! The elves lay their heads on your breasts, petting your skin and cooing approvingly. The next thing you know, Santa is pulling up his pants, tucking in his undershirt, buckling his belt. He puts his hand on the knob of your bedroom door, but he turns back over his shoulder before he goes.

"Susie...you were right. Your holes are mine. No other cock, nor finger or tongue or any part of another person may penetrate them. But now that you're a woman...I believe it would be alright if you touched yourself, if you like. And know that I'll be watching." With that he's out the door, Pepper and Ginger in tow.

You get into a comfortable position in bed, head on your pillows, legs spread. You're slowly amassing a small pile of coal on your bedspread, and you're ready to go for another. You let this one grow a little while inside you, expanding until you can't take it anymore, then arch your back and close your eyes and furiously rub your clit as you birth it.

As a ball of coal the size of a small cantaloupe rolls to a stop on your sheets, your bedside clock clicks over to 12:01.

#r@pe fantasy #r@pe kink #cnc free use #cvmdump #cvmslvt #r@petoy #breeding toy #have you ever written a line that made you say 'jesus christ what is wrong with me'#anyway happy holidays to all you lovely filthy people out there

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lunarrolls · 7 months

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i still cannot fucking believe the audacity of ludinus da’leth to see that bells hells has some of his old shit from molaesmyr, realize that this means they must have done some digging on what he did to molaesmyr (aka BLOW UP THE ENTIRE CITY TRYING TO USE IT AS A GOD KILLING BATTERY and fucking up so badly that it CORRUPTS THE SAVALIRWOOD FOR CENTURIES AFTERWARD), and then say, with his full chest, “good you’ve done your homework surely you know i’m based as hell and we can stop fighting :^)” like sir WHAT do you mean. they fought a GIANT WORM WOLF. it was MELTED TOGETHER. like a fucking GUMMY WORM. YOU DID THAT! WHAT DO YOU FUCKING MEAN, MY GUY!

#cr #cr3 #cr spoilers #I WISH THAT BITCH HAD KEPT TALKING SO BAD #I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE HELL HE MEANT BY OLIVE BRANCH. THE FUCK.#i’m well aware it wasn’t actually him and that it was probably just a distraction to try and steal the shard and/or ashton #but jesus fucking christ ludinus what the shit is wrong with you #his head is so far up his ass that he’s genuinely like ah yes seeing molaesmyr would totally make these people sympathetic to me #also your general MURDERED THREE OF THEM MY GUY good fucking lord #ludinus da’leth #roll insight

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piratewinzer · 7 months

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This season is insane. They cat-girled Edward Teach and it's somehow not the only single thing occupying my brain. They put a literal collar and bell on him and I still have other things to think about, somehow.

#That's how bad it is.#I'm mcfuckin dyin over here #don't get me wrong this is still something that I screamed out loud about #and I cannot believe is real #even as I take this screenshot and post it i'm like wait are you sure #the even give him A FISH jesUS CHRIST #whose fanfic is this based off of i just need to know #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death #our flag means death spoilers #ofmd 2 #ofmd 2 spoilers #our flag means death 2 #our flag means death 2 spoilers #edward 'catgirl' teach #DJenks is staring directly into our souls seeing what we want and saying yup me too here you go come feast

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jiiyawns · 2 years

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the annoying blue guy from deltarune. sonic the hedgehog

edit: forgot that rouxls kaard is not universal . here’s the fuckass mcgee himself

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #deltarune #lol. i'm not tagging rouxl karrd but u kno #anyways. what is wrong with me i think this technically is my first animation or whatever. okay.#and i tried shading it? i'm insane <- gave up a Little ways in but clearly not entirely #jesus christ man. what is this hedgehog doing to me.#i literally only did this bc i saw him do the laying pose like :) (thinking) i know another character that does that #fanart #draw

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avisisisis · 5 days

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i cannot stop thinking about anissa and marky though [COMIC SPOILERS]

how did he react when he learned what his mother did? just like mark, he lived a lie. he thought his mother was kind and nice — the only thing that is true is that she loved him, but now, he has no idea if he should believe it

and. you've grown up being conditioned to believe that violence is peace, and that kindness is a lie and a weakness. you hurt people. by hurting a person, by destroying him irreparably, you found the boy you love most: your son. and you don't regret it. you hope one day, once he sees him, he'll get it. but you still don't regret it. you can't say you're sorry

marky will grow up without his biological father, because when mark hugs him he can only remember his mother and what she did to him. your father can't love you the way your mom did. you can't love your mother the way your father loved his

the worst part is, that it she hadn't done it, you wouldn't have existed. you wouldn't be here. your father will grow to love you. you will grow to accept each other. but you tend to wonder — if he never sees you as anything else other than your mother's son, then who will you have when everyone else you know dies?

#i hate anissa but also her character was done so well #like i hate her #fuck her #but jesus christ.#wow #i feel so bad for marky honestly #when anissa said “i don't regret it. tell him. tell him he'll understand when he sees him”#that shit hurt me #that was the WORST time for you to die girl #i was like “idc about anissa thank fuck she died” but then #i put myself in marky's place. and WOWWW #you gotta be strong to deam with that #YOU GOTTA BE STRONG TO BE ANY INVINCIBLE TBH #LIKE WOW.#thinking about mark now #imagine learning that the person who hurt you the most is a better person now #and that means she regrets kt #but then you learn right after her death that she does not regret it at all #you don't even get to hear an “i'm sorry”. not that you'd have listened to it #then you learn she had a son. with you. named AFTER YOU #honestly i can't blame him for allowing things to be THAT awkward w marky #i am so glad the reconciled tho I don't think I'd be able to live if mark's son hated him #tw sa mention #invincible #invincible comic #comic spoilers #marky grayson #anissa invincible #mark grayson #b4 anyone gets this wrong: I DO NOT SUPPORT WHAT ANISSA DID. it's just that marky's relationship w her is smth i would love to see explored

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sanshinexx · 1 year

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Here's part two of drawing my family pictures as the Bad Batch because I can and you can't stop me

#i can tell you right now that drawing their armor was a fucking pain in the ass #and the l e g s jesus fucking christ #why do i have to care about anatomy #don't ask where crosshair and wrecker's legs are btw i wouldn't know #fun fact the original picture is from our summer vacation to Italy back in 2018 #tech is me in this picture actually real and true #another fun fact #omega's eyebrows were blonde until the very last minute because i felt like they looked kinda odd #and she does actually have dark eyebrows in the show so--#i don't know if they look any better now but ehh good enough #hunter looks so wrong for some reason but i can't fix him i'm sorry #also yes they're all in their blacks because a) i couldn't be bothered to draw all the armor again and b) they deserve the comfort #i might do proper shadings if i find the motivation for this but until then this is what you're getting #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #the bad batch fanart #bad batch fanart #tbb fanart #hunter #omega #crosshair #wrecker #echo #tech #the clone wars #star wars #star wars fanart #fan art #art

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introspectivememories · 5 months

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four months into getting to know each other, shouto finds him by touya-nii's shrine. his little brother gently sits down beside him and offers a small prayer.

"yumi-nee-san," natsuo wonders if his little brother will ever drop the second honorific, "said you were the closest to him," shouto says quietly.

after all these years and the use of past tense still makes his heart break. 'you are the closest to him' he wants to correct but that wouldn't make sense anymore. touya-nii hasn't been talked about in the present tense since before middle school. does shouto even remember a time before nii-san's dea-, disappearance?

"yeah, i was," he says, eyes never leaving the photo. it's the one nii-san took for sixth-grade picture day. kaa-san had got him all dressed up and he had hated it. somedays he thinks if he looks close enough, he'll see the displeased pout on nii-san face. "why?"

his little brother says nothing for a long time, back ramrod straight. natsuo has no idea what's going on in that head of his. shouto has so few tells that he's practically a blank slate. natsuo hates his father.

then slowly and so quietly, he has to strain his ears to catch it, shouto stammers out, "do-, do you think he would have liked me?"

natsuo's immediate reaction is to say 'yes'. yes, of course, touya-nii would've loved you. yes, of course, touya-nii would've crossed the heavens for you. yes, of course, he would've loved you shouto; you're his precious younger brother.

but he remembers the way nii-san used to spit out shouto's name when he was a kid. the way his brother's mouth wrapped around it, the face he made, like he had just eaten something disgusting. he remembers the way touya-nii had become almost crazed by the end, hellbent on proving himself the rightful heir to their shitty father's legacy. he remembers the way touya-nii had said, "i just need to prove that i'm better than him,"; the 'him' said with such bitterness and contempt.

he knows instantly that touya-nii would not have liked shouto. that this house and his father would have twisted any ounce of love, nii-san would've held towards shouto, into jealousy and hatred.

(this house may have ruined all of them but it only ever broke two of them.)

natsuo can't say any of that to shouto. his kind little brother who forgave him for not being there. his amazing little brother who falls in love with every cat he sees. his wonderful little brother who has a wickedly dry sense of humor. his soft baby brother who loves him and yumi-nee with a passion. his tender-hearted baby brother who still worries if his long-gone older brother would've liked him.

no, natsuo can't tell shouto that nii-san wouldn't have like him. shouto will internalize it like he does with everything else that hurts him. and there is already so much that hurts shouto, he will not add to that list. his baby brother smiles these days, nothing big like his green-haired friend, but quiet, lovely, ones all the same. shouto talks more these days. they have dinner together when natsuo is home. his baby brother laughs now. it's a miracle like nothing else in this world.

shouto is the best thing to come out of their house and natsuo will die before he ever hurts his little brother. so instead, he curls an arm around shouto's shoulders and pulls him into a loose side-hug.

"of course!" he lies cheerfully, ignoring the ache in his chest, "touya-nii would've loved you. you're his — and our —precious little brother after all. there is no universe in which he wouldn't have loved you."

the tips of his baby brother's ears go red and his pleased little answering smile makes the ache of lie go away. natsuo will tell a thousand more lies if it means shouto never stops smiling like that.

#PLEASE THEY MAKE ME INSANE!!!!#and the thing is natsuo's not wrong. touya really would've loved shouto in literally any other universe #also natsuo who fucking /adores/ his baby brother so much #shouto laughs and natsu's like: the second coming of jesus christ could not compare to this #100% natsu is shouto's overprotective brother #it's the like 15 years of suppressed older sibling instincts coming out #someone fucking looks are shou wrong and natsu's all up in their face like: what's your fuckin issue with my bro dude??#natsuo for once being thankful that he got endeavor's height and build #fuyu: i thought you said you didn't like looking like dad?#natsu: that was before i found out i could use it to intimidate people that looked a shouto wrong #fuyu: natsu you think every1 looks at shou wrong. you tried to fistfight a baby yesterday #natsu: yeah well it shouldn't have cried when shou held it. did you see how sad shou looked????#fuyu: never pegged you for a brocon to be honest #natsu: you take that back rn #todoroki shouto #todoroki natsuo #todoroki touya #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki family #bnha

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dekarios · 14 days

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i’ve been absolutely fucked by the bg3 fandom and whatever when it comes to gale i really have

one of my fav characters of all time and i feel like i can’t ever express it because other people Like Him More TM because they insist they do or talk about him more or whatever. idk

i know i don’t have to Prove i like him that’s not the point. it’s the fact i feel like i can’t ever say i do. i just need to support other peoples like for him.

#fray.txt #i also have this horrible feeling like i can’t like gale because he’s For The Girlies #part of me wishes i never got back on tumblr because i wouldn’t feel this way at all if it wasn’t for this damned webbed site #genuinely got me sitting here thinking the bisexual character is only for women . and i’m not allowed to like him as much as them #and that if someone goes ‘i love gale!’ i genuinely cannot say ‘me too!’ that’s not allowed #jesus christ. what is wrong with my brain #it’s also ONLY gale this has happened to. i never wanna get into a popular fictional character again

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obrother1976 · 6 months

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sorry for being crazy. but somehow two of us (2000) is a literal, actual movie that exists. insane to me. it sounds made up if u even say any part of the plot out loud. like "oh yeah basically it ends with john talking paul into performing on snl, but then paul gets his guitar from the car and when he comes back john's on the phone with yoko, telling her he loves her and that she's the only thing that keeps him from disappearing, so paul leaves again, calls his wife and tells her he loves her. also after he hangs up he stops smiling immediately and just sort of stares into space. also did i mention that this is the only time either of them ever call their wives the entire movie? yeah right at the end when they separate again." like. what.

#everyone pls look away #sorry for posting about the beatles. smthing is severely wrong me fr #its just. like. what. ok a movie that exists i guess.#'are you still carrying that woman across the river?' jesus christ man #the scene of them kissing was somehow the least gay thing that happened... michael lindsay-hog. pls. i just wanna talk.#two of us 2000 #beatles

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familyagrestefanblog · 5 months

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You know, thinking about it. In the Paris special it was a pretty selfish dick-move from Hesperia to show up and ask for Ladybug and Chat Noir's help to redeem ToxiGriffe

And yet he never offered the same thing in return. As if Ladybug and Chat Noir DON'T need help with Monarque. As of Hesperia couldn't have been asked to at least TRY (maybe even with good ToxiGriffe helping out too) to also help his evil version see the light.

It's irrelevant that Hesperia "didn't necessarily know" that his other universe self (our Gabriel) is Monarque, neither did Ladybug and Chat Noir initially for their counterparts and yet they put in the work.

And concidering that this is exactly were Marinette failed so bitterly against Gabriel in the season 5 finale, this is so not a nitpick. Gabriel Agreste could still be alive now and the Butterfly save in the Miracle Box.

Adrien didn't HAD to be an orphan now.

Marinette tried talking Gabriel into redemption the way they did with ToxiGriffe, only massive problem was that Hesperia came into our universe BECAUSE he himself couldn't talk them into it. It had to be their own counterparts.

So the same logic proceeded to apply to Marinette of course. She tried taking a place that wasn't hers so of course it failed spectacularly. But in the end, she only saw herself in the need to try and fill that place because Alt Gabriel fucked off without trying to help first.

He really just showed up in our universe, asked for help for his own problems, and then left Ladynoir to their own evil grown up butterfly, huh?

Jep, that man absolutely was a variation of Gabriel Agreste...

#ml spoilers #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous paris #Gabriel Agreste #Toxinelle and Griffe Noire #Ml season 5 #Don't get me wrong this is how you should write character variations in my opinion #The core of their characters stays the same no matter what #But Jesus fucking Christ GABE

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sageyxbabey · 16 days

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Whiskers & Wishes - Gaz x Reader

jesus christ, i can't believe i'm doing this...

two of the images used are renders done by loneghostwolf88 and BettyBRenders3D

Gaz x F!Reader, eventual smut (final chapter only).

this is: Chapter 1

Summary:

Gaz knows you very well - he's been in love with you for the better part of a year. So when he jilts the wrong woman and ends up being turned into a cat for his troubles, surely the person who knows him best will recognise him, even like this... right?

You know Gaz very well - you've been pining over him for the past year. So when he disappears without a trace and a strange cat appears at your apartment, the little coincidences that remind you of Kyle are just your anxious mind making false connections... right?

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Kyle kept his head down as he made his way to the pub near your apartment, rain slipping down the slope of his nose.

This was his last night of leave, and he had spent the entire day with you, the same way he had for each time off he’d had for the past year of his life. Outside of his task force, you had become his closest friend. To his heart, you had become something more. You were the lightness in his chest, threatening to float away with his heart in tow every time you smiled. You were the warmth that settled over his skin when you hugged him hello and laughed at his quips. You were safety and peace. You were still and mundane compared to his working life. And with a job like his, God only knows how magical the mundane could be.

But he could never tell you this. He couldn’t tell you this because you were his best friend, and you had been for a year now. A year spent spinning in your orbit and eclipsing you in sweet, soft moments. He had flirted, he had touched, he had watched. And now, in this dance of yours, he had spun you out and waited for you to keep the waltz going, but the longer he stood with arms outstretched, the less likely it seemed you would spin back into him. Being with you but not being with you was the sweetest torture. Your blade was carving him up, but all he wanted was to kiss the hand that held it.

Sergeant Garrick was trained to hold up under pressure, but Kyle was about to crack. He knew he had to move on for his and your sakes. For better or for worse, Kyle needed you in his life now, and if the only way he’d get to keep you was as a friend, so be it. So, he pushed open the door of the Crossroads Hotel and bought himself a goddamned drink.

And when he finished that one, he bought another.

And another.

A hand grazed his wrist when he raised the bottle to his full lips for one last swig.

“You’re drinking awfully quickly there, handsome.” Kyle turned to find the owner of the voice. She was nothing like you.

Maybe that would make it easier.

He leaned one hip against the bar and grinned, “Is this you offering to get my next one?”

“Maybe, what are you offering me in return?” The woman purred.

“Hmm… Where to start? I have several talents, you know.” Kyle moved in closer as the stranger laughed. This was why he was here. He needed to try to shift his attention to people who would want him back. This bout of flirting went back and forth like a tennis match, and felt like one, too. It was performative, a hollow game. When she excused herself to the bathroom, Kyle was on his sixth drink and still just as drunk on thoughts of you.

When he turned to scan the bar (hypervigilance was a serious work hazard), he spotted someone else who looked so similar to you… How could he resist? It was a terrible idea, but he was already feeling terrible. He approached this new player and started the same kind of game as he had before. His only prize was frustration at himself.

“Well, you don’t waste time,” a sharp voice groused – the woman from earlier.

In his self-pity and irritation, he said the words that he would both curse and praise himself for later. “No offence, but I don’t exactly owe you anything, do I?”

The woman cocked her head to the side, her smile just on the wrong side of inhuman. When her grey eyes locked onto his, he felt a shiver down his spine. “Fine. Since you’re so concerned with getting pussy, maybe you’d enjoy being one instead.”

Gaz let out a grunt as the woman’s palm smacked into the centre of his chest, an odd sensation spreading out from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes. By the time he collected himself, both women he’d been speaking to were gone.

He was alone. Wonderful…

With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, he closed his tab for the evening.

Shuffling back out into the cold and biting night air, Kyle made his way towards the end of the block. Nausea was setting in. God, how hard did that woman hit him? ‘ Clearly, the alcohol isn’t helping ,’ he thought, as an aching started in his head and joints.

Then, there was nothing but excruciating pain. If Gaz could’ve screamed, he would. But he could not breathe. He could not think. He felt like his bones were being pushed to breaking, like his skin was tightening in on itself.

Snap.

Now he screamed.

Crack, snap.

Holy shit, his bones were breaking. They must be because he knew that sound all too well. What the bloody hell was going on? Gaz moaned out in pain, shaky breaths getting smaller and tighter as he closed his eyes to try and brace through it.

As suddenly as it had started, it was over.

When he opened his eyes, everything looked… wrong. Colours were not what they should be, and things were too clear for this time of night. That streetlamp was also… a lot bigger than it had been a moment ago. Kyle went to stand before freezing when he caught a glimpse of himself.

Was that a fucking paw ? Why was it moving when he tried to move his left arm? Kyle swung his head around to see not his torso and two legs but a cat's body and a full, long-haired tail. A glossy brown-black coat of thick fur.

‘I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink…’ Kyle thought. He was dreaming. He must be dreaming. But he felt very much awake, very much in pain, and he knew he had not made it home yet. Oh God, home. How the fuck was he supposed to get home? His clothes and belongings were not lying around after his… episode? Transformation? The half-an-hour taxi back to his place was now out of the question, and – assuming this was real and he wasn’t just having a fit in the gutter – he was not about to get very far on foot. On paw?

“Shit…” Kyle tried to mutter.

“Meow…” was what he heard.

Oh… you’ve got to be having a fucking laugh.

He was a soldier, a problem-solver. He just needed to think and find a way out of this. He needed help. He needed…

You.

He’d come from your apartment, not two blocks away. Your building was pet-friendly, and he remembered the little dog door leading onto your balcony. Bless you – even when you didn’t know it, you were helping him. If he could get to your apartment, get inside, and figure out how to convince you who he really is, you could help him.

If this were all a dream, he would wake up in his bed tomorrow morning and laugh it off.

If this was real, you were his only shot at getting out of this mess.

Moving was strange. Kyle’s brain was thinking about moving his limbs the same way he usually would, but the sensations he was getting back were all wrong: the strange tingling from the wind moving in his fur and whiskers, the lightness of his body, and his shifted centre of gravity.

He was grateful for how easily he could jump once he reached your block – scaling up the tree to your balcony with sharp claws. In one leap, he landed at the glass door. He ducked his head into the plastic dog door…

It did not budge. Locked. Shit .

‘Hey!’ Kyle called out in his head. A loud ‘mrrow’ came out instead.

– – – – –

You startled at a strange flurry of taps and yowls as you tugged on your sleep shorts. You followed the noise with cautious steps out into your living room and breathed a sigh of relief when you spotted the culprit. The cutest little long-haired cat with wide hazel eyes stood on its hind legs, tail swishing eagerly with front paws pressed into your sliding balcony door.

“Aww! Hi there, kitty!” you cooed. In response, you received a string of pathetic meows.

“Do you live here? Did you get stuck outside, silly?”

Your building was pet-friendly. You had a few neighbours with cats who liked to laze around outside on the warm pavement. The cat batted a paw at the small dog door. “Demanding little thing,” you laughed and reached down to unlock the flap. As soon as you did, your new guest darted through in a chocolate-coloured blur. The cat’s fur was shiny, and it looked well-fed. It was definitely not a street cat. ‘No collar…’ you thought, ‘Odd.’ You sent a quick message to your building tenants' group chat to see whose cat you’d accidentally acquired.

In the meantime, your fluffy friend was mrow -ing up a storm as though you’d personally offended them. You knelt down on the carpet and offered your hand for a sniff. “Hi, baby,” you cooed. The cat stopped meowing and stared at you, blinking. You gently scratched behind their ears, watching how their eyes closed and head tilted in pleasure.

— — —

He knew you didn’t realise it was him, but hearing you call him ‘baby’ in that soft voice had floored him for a moment.

He’d been chatting your ear off, hoping that something vaguely human-sounding would get through, to no avail. He was going to start thinking up Plan B, he swore, but then you’d kept cooing at him and scratching behind his ears – Oh, that feels very good, thank you – and before Kyle knew it, he’d leaned so far into your touch, he was flopped on his back, purring. You giggled sweetly, and Kyle felt his heart melting in his chest.

“Oh, what a sweet baby! You’re such a pretty girl,” you fussed.

Kyle’s eyes opened, and he let out an indignant chirp.

“Hang on, are you a girl?” He watched you lean forward with a surreptitious gaze before realising your intent. Kyle yowled and flailed away, but you had seen enough. “Oh, pretty boy. My mistake.”

You were completely unfazed.

This was the most mortifying moment of Kyle’s life.

In all the ways he’d imagined you seeing him naked for the first time, this was never one of them. Oh, God… was he technically walking around naked the whole time? No… ‘The fur counts as clothing! The fur counts as clothing! ’ he thought. That was the only way to stop himself from curling up into a ball and dying of embarrassment.

You’d gone back to patting him at some point during his existential crisis, complimenting his fluffy tail and chest. “What a handsome little man!” You praised, stroking a gentle finger down his nose.

He was going into cardiac arrest. He just knew it.

“Where do you live, little guy?”

Your question snapped Kyle back into action. With a chirp, he was up and running across your living room.

— — —

You watched the cat bound past your couch to sit in front of your TV console, right next to the framed picture of you and Kyle from the day you’d helped him move into his apartment. The cat just flicked his tail, looking at you almost expectantly.

“What?”

“Meow!”

“What!?”

He sniffed at the picture before turning back to you.

“That still doesn’t answer my question, mister.”

This time, the cat turned to paw at the photo of you and Kyle, and you jolted upright.

“No, no, no, we don’t touch that!” You took him into your arms and carried him back to your couch. He meowed in protest the entire time. “That’s a very special picture, pretty baby, so you leave that alone.” He flopped onto his side, the image of dejection at being denied the chance to cause chaos. You checked your phone to see responses from most of your neighbours; no one recognised the cat. “Well buddy,” you sigh, “Looks like you’re stuck with me for the moment. How do you feel about chicken for dinner?”

“Mrrp!” His tail twitched.

You narrated your cooking process to him, picking him up to show him the pans on the stove. Your little sous chef sniffed the air before giving his approval, but complained the second you put him back down. “What’s the matter?” you whispered. His pleading eyes bore into yours as he pawed at your calf. “You wanna come back up? Okay, you big baby.” You supported his weight with one arm, his front legs resting on your shoulder while he watched you cook, tail swishing lazily. Now and then, you pulled a strip of chicken off the grilled fillets and fed it to him, laughing as he licked your fingers clean. You ate your dinner on the couch as he sat beside you, staring at your face the whole time – strange cat…

You may as well enjoy this little fluffball before sending him on his way.

Your new friend gave a quiet chirp and nudged your hand where you had been absentmindedly scratching his chin. He rolled over to show you his belly when you looked down, blinking up at you expectantly.

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “I see how it is. You’re just using me for cuddles, huh?” You hesitantly ran your hand down his tummy, barely brushing the soft fur. You’ve had one too many cats lure you in with this trick, only to scratch and bite you when you give in and pat the sensitive spot. You pulled your hand away from his belly, not wanting to risk a finger. He wiggled and meowed at you – almost petulant in tone – and you returned your hand to his stomach, feeling a purr vibrate against your fingertips.

This odd fellow was changing your perception of the typical cat. “You are such a weird little guy!” He mrrped back at you and stretched out lazily, presenting more of his belly to you. You couldn't help but laugh. “Cheeky little bugger,” you muttered before pressing your face into the long fur of his chest, dropping obnoxiously loud kisses there whilst you scratched his sides. You reached up to rub behind his ears before sitting up to grab your phone.

“I’ve got to tell Kyle about you; he’s never going to believe this!” You starte dtyping out a message, but soon, a chocolate-coloured tail obscured your vision. Your new friend frantically meowed, demanding your attention.

You hushed him, stroking his back with a soothing hand until his cries ceased. You briefly re-read your texts with Kyle. Normally, he’d have told you he was home by now and maybe sent you a meme or two before heading to sleep. You hope he’s just knocked out after packing his bags to leave tomorrow morning. This deployment wasn’t supposed to be a long one, thank God.

You’d already started missing him before he left your apartment earlier today. You used his goodbye visits as an excuse to hold him tighter, like you could press him into your chest and keep him there if you tried hard enough.

Your eyes flicked to the time. It was getting late.

“Alright, pretty baby, I think it’s time for you to go home.” You picked up the cat and walked towards your balcony door, but he wriggles out of your grasp for the first time tonight, darting back to the couch. You kneeled next to the small cat flap, holding it open.

“Come on,” you coaxed. “You need to go home, little kitty. Your people will miss you!” The cat kept staring, unmoved, even as you pspsps to try and get him closer. You sighed, resigning yourself to leave the little plastic covering unlocked. “Fine, I guess you’ll leave on your own at some point.” You stand and make your way towards your bedroom before freezing in your tracks. You turned back to point a stern finger at your feline friend. “Do not. Shit. In my apartment.” You stared each other down in silence. Satisfied with your quiet agreement, you turned and crawled into bed.

Half an hour later, you were fast asleep when silent paws padded into your room and leapt onto your bed. You didn't feel it when a gentle weight sank into the pillow next to you, one paw stretched out towards your face.

#hoe... the things that you wrote about #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #i can't believe i'm posting this jeSUs cHRiST what is wrong with me #i literally thought “hey what if gaz got turned into a cat”#and then no oNE STOPPED ME??!!?#YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO StOp mE??!!

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