#pesky clown face

[fullofsunsetwhispers]

Do you think "pesky clown face" is a new insult or has Chase been calling Wuya that since the days of Dashi?

Naah, it's rather new.

Wuya turned into a ghost in mere seconds so I don't believe good!chase would remember each feature of her mask even if he managed to take a glimpse of her new non-human form.

Besides

Chase was standing next to her while Dashi was sealing her. However, mind you, puzzle box magic relocated Wuya in such a way her back faced Chase! All he could see is her back, a magical hand-cloud picking her up from the ground... Maybe when the cloud was dragging her closer to the puzzle box he could've noticed how her red hair turn into a purple ghost goop, but that's all. Guan was in a better position to take a better look at her transformation.

Unless the origins of that insult aren't related to the pattern on her mask and have nothing to do with how similar is that pattern to the clown's makeup. I hc Chase as the youngest of the trio so who knows? Maybe that was spite talking? Wuya is quite attractive so he could discredit her in such a way?? And that behavior, on other hand, was a result of Chase's resentment toward her because she was Dashi's gf of some sort? (lol Chase was jelly Dashi prefers her over him poor chasey) But this is just a what-if scenario on my part. Actually, even if I'm making some sense, this reasoning of mine is futile.

I'm not an expert but I do believe there was no such a word as 'clown' in ancient Chinese. At least back in Dashi's era. The first records of clowns as unusually dressed performers in China predate 1046. So yeah, Chase would learn the meaning of 'clown' 500+ something years later.

I get the impression either

Show creators run out of good insults, so they thought 'hey Jack keeps calling her that why not make other villains refer to her as such too? yeah Chase should call her like that definitely'

Chase heard Jack and Wuya's quarrels while spying on them (for example!!) and came to a realization he should start using that insult because surprisingly it fits her perfectly.

#ask #wuya #chase young #pesky clown face #tbh i don't get why everyone's so mean. personally i think wuya's mask is extra pretty #simple yet i adore how expressive that mask is

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

Thor, Shiva, Poseidon, and Hades meeting their child, but they are created by humans using splices of their DNA during battle. Would they kill their child, or surrender the fight for their child?

💜 Anon <3

Thank you for the request! I ate this up like a fucking gourmet meal. I had a bit of a hard time on Hades part deciding, and like you asked in pms I didn't add in Shiva. Thank you for requesting!

Warnings: reader death, gn reader swearing, angst, Poseidon being Poseidon, wounds, ooc characters.

Request: Yes.

Words: 3,064.

Thor

Humans were distasteful, obnoxious and utterly shameless creatures. That was known to the gods as soon as they chose to pave their own paths and religions. And destroy the land granted to them by doing so. Ragnarok was a pointless arena full of boisterous clowns who’d assumed they had a chance. Thor was going to shatter those hopes.

The arena was deathly quiet as Thor was introduced as the first God up, Zeus’ plan to crush the hopes and dreams of fellow humans. On the god’s side of the arena, Goddesses, demi-gods, nymphs and others alike cheered at his arrival, despite his silent annoyance. 

Heimdal cleared his throat, speaking into the mic to introduce Thor’s opponent. “And on the human side we have a guest made specifically to mimic the humans creators. Using the DNA of the righteous Thor. A man-made god. Child against Father. Introducing (Y/n)!” 

It was a shushed silence of horror between man and god, a tense silence and a deadly aura. Zeus was shocked, though a look of slight interest was on his face. Aphrodite and Hermes had their hands over their mouths. And as expected Ares was yelling out a string of curses against the humans who dared defile godly presence. 

Brunhilde, ever the calm, had her arms crossed over her chest whilst Goll couldn't even bring herself to speak. A man-made god? It sounded distasteful and shockingly sad. 

The humans all had different reactions as well, Qin was overly interested, Adam was disappointed, Sasaki could only voice his thoughts in bitterness. “Their whole creation.. For a fight? How pitiful.” 

Of course, the norse gods were to be affected the most out of this. The room's atmosphere seemed to darken, Odin’s nails digging into the chair and crumbling it under his strength. Pesky humans, making a child out of Thor’s dna? The thought alone caused his blood to boil, soaking the others in his rage as the aura of the room grew dark. Of course he couldn't leave it to those human pests to play fair, rather to stoop low enough to challenge their pride.

Loki’s smile shaped across his face big enough to threaten to tear the skin at his cheeks, his fingers grasping at his cheeks and dragging them down his face, tongue snaking out as his eyes trend towards that damned Valkyrie. What an interesting specimen indeed. 

Thor had a straight face, though underneath that facade was a brewing storm. How.. Interesting. Facing what would be his child in a battle to the death. A kin he’d never met before, a kin he had no share of memories with. A kin he didn't even know he existed. Mjollnir felt heavier in his grasp for a moment. And he didn't quite understand why. You resemble him quite a bit. But was that something he should be proud of, as a person he’d never known existed. 

Then, why was he so hesitant? Even the birds flying ahead seemed to quiet right down, joining the silence in the stadium. 

“What is your name?”

“(Y/n).”

You had his quiet atmosphere too. How intriguing. Or perhaps you were stripped of those emotions a long while ago? He would have those human heads on a rope after he finished this fight.

“Ready yourself. Show me what a child of thunder can possess.” 

Grabbing his hammer from its place next to him, he readied himself, and the clash between child and father began. You used no weapon, only the condensed electricity you created from fingertips. What an interesting being. No. How interesting his child was. You had complete control of lighting, redirecting his own power and using it back against him. You were quite fast too. Was this a branch of the power you controlled in that tiny body of yours, (Y/n)? 

The insane grin that nabbed at Thor’s face while he fought felt like parental bonding. If only for a fleeting moment. He wondered, did you enjoy fighting as much as he did? The adrenaline, the pain, the excitement? But nothing showed through those unperturbed serious eyes of yours. 

He of course noticed your changes. Your body couldn't handle the surplus of power. You were deteriorating. Such was the curse of a god being produced by a human. Your mortality would be your demise. So why did he want to stop despite all of the emotion of the fight running through his veins like smoldering lava? 

Stopping wasn't a possibility though. In this tournament of power it was kill or be killed, slay or be slain.

Somewhere deep down, Thor knew you knew this was it. The final remnants of battle. Your finishing move skewered the sky apart in a flurry of blinding light, The loud crackle of lightning hitting the ground had everyone but him closing their eyes and turning away as dust blew through the stadium. He felt it though. The pain you felt in your attack. Against your creators, your family, against him. Against the world. The bloodthirsty need for revenge.

As it died down hitched gasps of shock and whispers of sweet ignorance rang through the air. Thor could feel that damned Valkyries eyes cutting through him like razor blades. 

Falling to the ground, You broke apart into gorgeous green crystals that blew through the stadium in a soft wind. Through chill, glazing over eyes you saw Thor standing above you, nodding his head in proud approval. And what a wonderful emotion that was, flooding through your systems. The tears that filled your vision blurred out the world, hand outstretching in a final attempt to reach towards him but falling short. Your body stiffened, deteriorating. 

Maybe in another time, things would have been different. Things would've been happier. Maybe you would've survived. Maybe in a different universe you and him were close, maybe you knew each other. The world was full of unfilled and empty maybes. Like a tapestry of lies. 

“Rest, dear child of mine. I will seek the revenge your soul deserves.” 

Poseidon

This whole thing was an annoyance to Poseidon. A Valkyrie thinks humanity deserves a chance and the gods agreed? What petty foolishness. They should have wiped the floor with those pesky vermin without a second glance. Yet here he stood, with half the stadium full of them and the other half full of slightly smarter idiots.

Only one person here deserved any glaces; and that was his elder brother and Hades alone. 

After giving the obnoxious audience some time to calm down, Heimdal began to speak, “And for our humans side, produced from splices of the sea gods dna himself, I present to you, (Y/n!)”

The stadium went utterly silent. As if everyone was afraid to move a muscle, despite (Y/n) herself, walking up through the water with ease. The aura in the stadium was changing, darkening down in the belly of anger. Loki was ferocious, but amused all the while, hands coming up to cup his face as insane laughter echoed through from his place on one of the other thrones. Were these humans crazy or just stupid? Making a man-made god from one of the most feared to walk the mortal realm and Valhalla itself? Why of course they had to be, no one in their right minds would do such a desperate thing to win. Aphrodite and Shiva were in a silent state of shock and anger, while from a different room, Thor lifted his head in interest.

Brunhilde held a grin that showed her pearly whites, loving the gods' reactions. Did they truly think she wouldn't pull the strings as tight as they could go? “Sis.. That's.. That's terrible!” Goll was in a state of denial shock, looking down at the arena where the two fighters stood. 

 Sasaki’s hand rose to rub his chin in thought. “What matching auras those two have. I wonder, do they have the same mind, or were they carved into indifference differently?” Raiden laughed, one of borderline disbelief. “That poor kid. Made just for the fight huh?” The emotions ranged differently. Tesla wanted to know through what where you produced? How many failures were there before you? Science. 

Zeus’ aura threatened his temper, his muscles bulking up and his hand raising to stroke his beard in interest. Through what thought process did those humans thought they would get away with something like this? Hades was in a silence, deep in thought and emotions indecipherable. Ares was in an uproar and Hermes was sipping tea in amused interest.

Poseidon himself had no thoughts or words despite what he came here to do. It didn’t matter if you were made from his Dna or from his skin alone. Standing in front of him was another being unworthy of his time and his precense. Though, you both did look alike and share the same steely resolve. 

“Insolent pest.” You both shared a mirrored scowl, your head tilting to the side in mocking defiance. 

“Lily-livered snot sniffer.” 

Zeus let out a laugh of pure amusement. eyebrows shooting up, whilst a smirk curled up on Hades face. 

Poseidon faced what seemed to be a mirror image of himself. And that was not something he took kindly to. Especially not your attitude either. With a burst of speed Poseidon was on top of you, Trident already thrusting directly at your face. Although, you weren't his child for no reason at all. 

Poseidon narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as you parried his attack with water. That was his domain. Though it seemed now it ran through the blood relation you both had. How interesting it was, such an inadequate person could control such a sliver of water with a few twitches of fingertips. Blood splattered across the floor or the arena before anyone could muster up a gasp, eyes widening. 

“Th-There seems to have been blood dropped already! (Y/n) has sliced the Great Poseidon straight across the chest!” Heimdal screamed out, much to both of your annoyances. So this, this beast of a man was your father? No wonder you acted like a snob. The both of you disappeared from sight again, after images fleeting across the arena as you both taught toe to toe. Like a dance. Poseidon was almost impressed. But his copy was just a copy and the original was always the better of the options. 

He spun around his Trident, dripping with the blood from your cheek and shot forwards, releasing a barrage of attacks. Amphitrite. Though you weren't so slow not to catch up, even shooting past some of his attacks enough to make him back up. More blood splattered across the floor of the arena. The both of you now suffering wounds. 

You manipulated water with ease, he had picked up on, making weapons out of it and shields. Even waves to try and knock him around. Though you weren't the only one that could control water. Your movements were filled with underlying anger, he'd noted. Anger towards what? He didn't know and he didn't bother to ask either. He didn't come here for a sob story. 

You pierced him through the side with a spear of water, and he did the same to you, the both of you twisting around. You were beginning to get dizzy, blood loss affecting you. He'd noticed the rings on your hands seemed to be your divine weapon. Though you could likely control water just fine without it too. 

The fight ended three minutes after it started, his Trident plowing through your stomach. He let your body slide down towards him, your hands gripping onto the poke of the Trident. “Not bad.” He said bluntly, eyes widening as you raised a hand, severing his arm from his shoulder in a lasting rage before breaking apart into the air in a flurry of green. 

He moved off the arena with silence, leaving you to disperse into the rest of the air. Good enough to be his child, no. But.. A worthy opponent indeed. You'd even managed to take off his arm. 

“Not bad at all..”

Hades

Hades was here for one reason. To avenge his dear brother. He didn't bat an eye at the disputing differences between humans and the other gods, his eyes held a calmness as he was introduced into the arena. The crowd sounded excited to some extent, he'd noted. Yet again, it wasn't everyday you got to see the god of the underworld come up for a fight. He had business to attend to yes, but this was much a more important matter to handle. 

“Created by humans in the image of Hades, I present to you, (Y/n)! Representing humanity for this round of Ragnarok! Don't let them surprise you, made from Hades Dna, they're expected to pack a punch.” Heimdal introduced you to the field, much to his interest and the gods' anger. 

What did they mean, a human made god? What bullshit. Shiva laughed at the thought of it, hiding a bout of anger under it all. How annoying. Those humans really thought they could create a god of all things. Why, it was just laughable. Buddha's eyebrows shot up in keen interest, a smirk taking up on his lips. “Well well.. Looky here. Brunhilde, you sly Valkyrie, using Hades' love of family against him.” Loki and Aphrodite's mouths were slightly slack as they stared down at you. “Well.. Aren't they just gorgeous?” Aphrodite murmured. 

Brunhilde held a wicked grin as her and Hades shared eye contact, her smile only widening in amusement. Ah, the looks on their faces. It was something she could lounge in for days. 

The humans were filled with interest, Adam sitting up a bit against Eve's lap. “A man made god? But how?” Technology wasn't his thing, suffice to say the least. Qin was quite amused, leaning forwards to view the arena better. And Jack hummed. “I sense quite the amount of anger in that young one's veins.” “Anger?” Adam questioned, frowning. “Why of course, good sir.” Jack poured some tea, “Hoe would you like, being created simply for the purpose of war? A shame it would be, yes?” 

Zeus and Adamas stared down into the arena, eyes wide in utter shock. “What do those filthy pests think they're doing!? Using my brother's DNA to make.. Make a pawn!” Adamas bellowed out, making his anger known to the group. “Calm now, dear brother. Humans can stoop quite low when they feel threatened. I expected no less.” Zeus rasped, clearing his throat. “You're just okay with this!?” Ares choked out, “Why no, I'm quite.. Pissed, Ares.” Zeus responded, steam rolling into the air from his small noodle body. 

Hades held an expression nothing less of surprise, though it calmed almost immediately. So, this could be considered his child? Why, they both did look strikingly similar. From the nose to the eyes down to the tips of their toes. How interesting. He took a step towards, though not a threatening one, holding his weapon with a firm hand. “I am here to avenge my brother. My apologies, little one.” 

“I am here.. Because I have to be.” That didn't seem a reason that involved importance. Rather more than force. But could he really do this? Yes, his brother was family but this.. Spawn was as well. Hades wore he would protect his family to the best of his ability, wasn't that going against his words? 

He launched forwards, and you dodged him with ease, slicing your skin open with the iron claw-like ring you wore on your finger. And the blood transformed. How interesting. He dodged the incoming weapon, made from straight blood and twisted around to stab at your side, catching the skin of your shirt only. Well aren't you just a quick one on your feet?

That was something he could respect. You seemed well trained. Despite the blows dealt between the both of you, Hades could tell there was an underlying rage. Towards humans? He'd wondered. Well, that would make sense. You've been used from the day you were born. How much of that could you take though. 

He sent you flying back into the wall with a timed attack, watching you crawl back to your feet. “Not bad, for someone not trained by a god's hand.” 

“Not bad for a dead man.” Your words were blunt as you charged forwards, and Hades' side stepped, at this point just toying with you a bit. This was a hard decision. And Zeus and Adams were on their toes about what his answer would be. 

The fighting lasted for a good long while, the both of you covered in blood. You staggered forwards after a long while. Honestly, he was impressed. Hades never knew someone could withstand blood loss as long as he could. Perhaps it ran in the genes. His opponents' defenses were open. 

The tip of his bidet tore into your skin, and he watched you prepare through the ending blow. Pulling away his bidet with a drawn out hesitant breath, Hades knelt down, and brushed some hair from your eyes, before extending his hand. 

“Come on, (Y/n). Let's go home.” 

The series of words were weird and (Y/n) wasn't used to them. No, you weren't used to them at all. But his eyes held the gentleness of a warm bath after a long tiring day. He supported your weight as you both stood up, surrendering the fight to the humans. 

“I won't let you fall into their hands again, kid. We have a lot to learn about each other. You are angry. And you deserve to be angry. And you deserve to process.” 

Hades wondered what Poseidon would have thought of this? Would he think of him as a coward? That didn't matter now. He had a child to introduce to the family. His head raised, looking into the wide eyes of a stunned audience as the both of you walked on out of the torn apart stadium. 

#x reader #gn reader #record of ragnarok #ror hades #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror headcanons #ror poseidon #ror thor #snv thor #snv poseidon #snv hades

[sleepyone2three]

LA Luffy revealing Buggy's head on The Merry and Buggy saying it's nice to finally put a face to the voice when Reader introduces their self to him. The confusion is clear in Reader's expression and the most devious smirk spreads across his face as he playfully makes his ears wiggle while the others explain how his ear had been in Luffy's hat ever since leaving Orange Town. Realization suddenly hits and Reader gets so embarrassed because their intro arc happened right before finding Sanji and now this clown guy head thing with really pretty eyes knows all about their emotional trauma and childish sounding dreams. And he won't stop teasing them no matter how much they beg him to, their being so cutely flustered only fueling his desire to get a reaction out of them.

And if they're still somehow nice towards him despite all of this? Well, he may be forcibly taking them with him as he hightails it out of Arlong park whether they like it or not. So better hope that everyone else isn't too busy to notice in the moment, or becoming an unwilling addition to Buggy's menagerie is more likely than not. And he'll be sure to keep them extra close to make sure no pesky strawhats try to steal away his newest treasure~

#one piece #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy live action #one piece x reader #Buggy x reader #fanfic idea

[heartfullofleeches]

Head Canon's for heart (the jester, clown?)

Hearts the Clown Hcs [They/It]

• As mentioned briefly Hearts is the head of security at the casino, but also a skilled acrobat. Full of energy and easily excitable, Hearts had an extremely violent streak before and continuing well into their career. They are able to hide their malice well at most times while jumping at the smallest chance to cause chaos.

• The ribbons Hearts uses to get around stage are produced from their own body. There are various ziplines installed around the casino and hotel that allow them to sneak around with relative ease. On top of using them to sneak within your room and follow you about, their ribbons serve many purposes. Hearts weaves you little gifts to leave about such as teddy bears and lace necklaces. They tie one of their strings around your ring finger and warn terrible things will happen if you lose it - such as them crying.

Hearts also uses them to get rid of any pesky guests getting just a little too close to you. As soon as you turn your back they'll scoop the bother up by their neck and tie them up for target practice later if dragging them by the throat hasn't already killed them. They hate when that happens.

• Easily jealous, and a force not to be reconned with. Petty enough to weave up a maid outfit so they can take care of your room instead of letting staff do it. Reckless enough to kill someone directly next to you in the crowd while they're preforming on stage. If they time their shot just right - it's almost like they just fell asleep. It can be stealthily when the moment requires, and ruthless others. Those who die by strangulation can be considered lucky. If anyone tries to steal you away or makes you cry, Hearts will tear them into ribbons almost as pretty as their own.

• Loves the beat of your heart - it's the cutest when its racing. Sneaks up behind you for a good scare or picks you up with their ribbons to drop and grab you right before you hit the ground. Your safety is in good... decent hands. They just can't resist when your heart thunders so strong in their ears. Orders a stuffed animal with a heartbeat that mimics your own and does plan to get it tatted on them eventually - they just have to figure out the right scene to capture

• If you can look past their bloodlust and the whole scaring the daylights out of you thing, Hearts is a surprisingly caring partner. They sneak around to put extra tokens in your pockets, and snacks in your room. Ready to do anything to turn your smile upside down. They are very touchy and make little webs in the corners of the casino to cuddle you in and negate their responsibilities. Can't say hello or wish you a temporary goodbye without an "I love you" and kissing you all over. Gets extremely offended if you ever wipe their lipstick marks off your face and will instead bite you, switch to a smudge proof gloss, or urge you to get a tattoo of their symbol to leave a more permanent marker of their claim

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #♥️ my oc

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Confessing to You (of sorts)

Goo drives a hard bargain

"How about this, Princess: if you win then you have to go on a date with me."

You scoff at the audacity of this pervert. You were playing Poker and had a pretty good hand. It's just another one of his tricks, the sly bastard.

"Sounds like a lose-lose situation for me."

Goo gasps in indignation. He was putting on his usual theatrics, but when you look at his face, you could see the underlying hurt.

What was he playing at?

"You don't want to date me. I can't handle you."

"I don't need you to handle me, I can handle myself," Goo retorts, pouting.

"Since when have you wanted to date me?"

"My dear sweet little fox, now you're just being cruel." He's openly sulking at this point. Goo likes you? "I asked you out yesterday. And the day before! I think that was-" he does some mental calculations, "-the 389th time?"

Goo starts to encroach into your personal space. "Didnt I get you the most beautiful dagger for Christmas? Beat up that pesky crew on your behalf for Valentine's? And promise you the greatest gift, me, for your birthday?"

Well. Now that you consider it, you suppose he has been pretty good to you. So what if he's been persistent though, this idiot only has himself to blame. He's been promising you a good time since the first day you met, how were you supposed to know he was being serious?

Give this clown an inch, he'll take a mile though. You can't make it too easy for him.

"I'm not convinced, Goo. Sell it to me."

He gestures vaguely, "I'm hot, you're hot. I'm fun, you're fun. I'm barbaric, you're brutal. We'll have a great time!" All but completely abandoning his attention on the game, he looks at you, giving his best puppy eyes.

You think about it for a moment. "Hmm, what else you got?"

"I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise, honey bun," he crosses his heart, "and your activity of choice..." You throw him a dirty look but his face is a picture of innocence. "And of course all my treat. I'm a gentleman!"

Goo thinks for a beat longer. "If you don't have a good time, which is impossible by the way, then I won't even mention it again." He taps his chin, backtracking, "Maybe. How about I just give you a cooling off period instead."

This guy's argument is pretty convincing, you gotta admit.

A devious grin creeps over his face. "You won't regret it, babe. I promise to wine, dine and sixty nine-"

"FINE! Fine. Let's do it." You sigh, he's pretty persuasive, and you have to admit you're curious.

"Great. Then I fold." He grins, splaying out his cards.

Huh, he had a royal flush.

#lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #goo kim #lookism hc #lookism fic #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #kim joongoo x reader #lookism fanfics #wannaeatramyeon

[tired-biscuit]

step brother kiba catching you coming back home late and he’s about to give you shit about it but you’re tipsy and bury your face into his chest and ask him if he’ll take care of you

“you’re my big brother, right? you’ll take care of me?”

makes his heart stutter 💕 maybe he thought he just wanted to fuck you — and he does want to — but now he wants to give you some painkillers and wipe your makeup off your face first uwu

18+ fem!reader // cw: stepcest

now i'm just thinking about him sitting you down on top of the washing machine as he tries to take your make up off.

silence fills the small bathroom as he stands before you - everyone is asleep, it's three in the morning, of course, and your father is snoring the house down while his mom snoozes right through it - and he's so close to you that you feel sort of dizzy and light-headed the moment he bends down to get on the same eye level with you.

he's standing right between your legs, forcing you to spread them wide enough so that he can reach you better. you can smell the musk in his scent, the proximity allows you to catch it. the sandalwood notes might be faint, but they're always present whenever you come in close contact with your big brother; they're so pesky because they make you want to lean in further than what would be considered as purely innocent, purely platonic.

and that's not all; you can also smell the aftershave on his skin. the aftershave which he sometimes forgets on the sink, and which you secretly spend a few seconds inhaling whilst you wash your teeth in the morning and while he's knocking on the door, rushing you and cussing you out because you're going to make him run late for work yet again, and he still has to drive you to the bus station so that you can attend your 'nerdy-ass classes' at 'clown college', or whatever he calls it.

and come to think of it, those exact classes are to blame that you're now stuck in this mess - giving your big brother the googly eyes and batting your eyelashes like a bimbo in attempt of convincing him to not tell on you - because they contain your friends, and those friends have an awful habit of convincing you to stay in the city and party until the late hours of the night instead of studying for upcoming exams, which you'd vehemently been assuring your dad are no big deal at all.

but you don't worry yourself with that right now, don't concern yourself with your dad or the exams or your friends. no, as the cotton pad, containing a rather excessive amount of make up remover, abruptly touches your face, all you can think about is your stepbrother's fingers as they dig underneath your chin to keep your head tilted upwards.

he's oddly focused. is glancing at your face repeatedly, short and quick, as he concentrates and keeps wiping off your make up for you. his movements are crude and clumsy; he dabs the cotton pad against your eye without much care and nearly rubs your skin off as he drags it down your cheek, not just the highlighter and foundation.

you protest about it and it makes him slightly irritated; especially when you start to squirm like a little brat in response to him shushing you repeatedly.

"hey-" he starts.

"be gentle!" you whine, the sound low but long. it's the mewlish sort of tone that gets on his nerves the most from how pathetically docile it is. it's like you've turned over and exposed your belly to him; your softest, most vulnerable parts.

"shut it," is all he mutters in response, his jaw tense at the thought. he cups your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks together roughly and making your lips purse. "and keep still, will ya?"

"no."

"i'm trying to help you, dumbass."

he's clearly sleepy and fed up, and to make matters even worse, your fussing makes your legs tighten their hold around him; makes him swallow hard until his adam's apple visibly bobs in his throat. all that moving has got your skirt riding up your thighs way further than what would be considered appropriate in his presence. if he even as much as pulls back, he can see the colour of the pretty panties that you're hiding underneath.

he doesn't do that of course.

but the panties are pink.

and that knowledge makes him start thinking about things he forces himself to dismiss all the time as of late; about dirty, absolutely filthy things he doesn't feel proud of at all for coming up with them. so he furrows his brow and concentrates on taking your stupid make up off again. on taking care of you just like you'd so sweetly asked of him earlier, and certainly on not thinking about fucking his little sister's brains out by slamming her right on top of the goddamn washing machine.

however, the way you look up at him, with those stupid, foolish heart eyes of yours, does not help. at all. especially when you convince him to lean in further under the pretense that you'll tell him a secret and he actually falls for it. even rests his hands on either side of you to push further and everything.

because fuck, now your lips are suddenly pressing against his, and your tongue, that tastes like the sweet liquor which he's never been a fan of and the last remnants of your sticky lip gloss, is stroking his bottom lip, asking for silent entrance; demanding it.

what makes it even worse, he catches himself kissing you right back; catches himself pushing you backwards until your legs are wrapped around his waist and one of your hands is pressing flat on top of the washing machine, while the other is tangled in his chestnut hair, tugging at the roots in such a needy way that it causes heat to pool inside the pit of his stomach.

and sure, you're doing this because you're drunk, but what's his excuse? he's completely sober because he's got work in four hours, and here he is; making out with his little stepsister instead, rocking his hard-on against her soft, but clothed - that's important, cunt in the tiny bathroom you always fight over. swallowing up her little moans and exchanging drool with her like some idiot. and look, there's even a little damp patch forming on those pretty panties of yours...

what would your father think of him?

the thought makes him snap out of it. he pulls back, ends the abrupt kiss with an audible pop! and with multiple strings of saliva breaking until there's distance between you yet again, he's outright glaring at you like you've just committed a crime of sorts.

his face is red, yours is now make up free because he's been a good enough of a brother to wipe it off for you. you're both panting, staring at each other with your chests heaving. hearts stammering. spit thickening. he looks as handsome as ever in the dim lighting coming from the medicine cabinet.

you can still taste him in your mouth, he's shoved his tongue so far inside that it's like he's left his signature there. but when you reach out for him again, those wretched heart eyes locked on the prominent outline in his sweatpants, he's gone. out of the bathroom, and straight down the hall into his room.

at least he makes the effort to not slam the door shut in absolute fury. you gotta give him credit for that.

he's come up with this entire plan to help you out of your party clothes, to lend you his t-shirt, to get you some water and tuck you into bed like the good brother he is, but you just had to ruin it, didn't you? because instead, he'll now be stuck in his bed, overthinking the entire thing; stroking his cock absent-mindedly to the thought of you and your stupid mouth until he either passes out from exhaustion or heads out to work.

so he ignores the texts you send him as he touches himself, besides, nearly every word contains a typo anyway. and despite being wasted, you're smart enough to not come knocking on his door. maybe some small part of you knows it'd be a bad idea. after all, it's insane how good it felt; bucking your hips upwards to meet his. how good it felt to kiss him and whimper his name out in that needy way he's secretly always fantasized about hearing.

but hey, maybe you won't remember a thing in the morning and he'll be able to go back to his little daydreams.

or maybe, you'll just have to start locking your door from tomorrow onwards.

who knows?

#cw stepcest #kiba smut #biscuit drabbles #he's so...... #yeah #mhmm

[hyperfixationherewecome]

Little bit of Thing anyone can adopt

Joker didn't know it yet, but as soon as the contents of the syringe was emptied into Tim's bloodstream, his lifeline was reaching its very end. As the clown cackled in the face of horrified Bats, Tim felt himself detaching from his body, similar to disassociation but not quite. He felt the self imposed limit in his soul snap like silly string.

He sat up and stared at the Joker for a few seconds, tilting his head to the side and doing nothing, wiping the smile off the clown's face as he failed to immediately attack anyone in the warehouse where he'd lured them into by pretending he had Jason. The other Bats were tied up and chained tightly, far away from each other so they couldn't escape with teamwork.

The contents of the syringe was a serum specifically designed to destroy impulse control, and the Joker had assumed that meant Tim would be mindlessly violent.

It's almost funny, how much he doesn't know what he fucked around with until he finds out. Tim's lips pull up into an infuriatingly lopsided smirk. It's time to cut his string.

Tim stood up, body loose and ready to move, and the clown smiled a horribly grotesque grin.

"Finally! So now that I got rid of those pesky inhibitions of yours, why don't you show me whatcha capable of birdie! Surely you've gotta have some pent up rage in there! Show me the violence, show me the blood!" Joker cackled as the other Bats shouted furiously at him.

Tim tilted his head again and nodded once. If it's blood Joker wants it, then it's blood Joker will get.

Tim lifted his right arm up and cupped his fingers, holding the air like he was holding a handful of water, then turned his hand upside down, spreading his fingers and crooking them like he was holding the cross brace of a marionette, and with his left hand, Tim reached forward, made a fist, and pulled.

Joker stiffened, and like a marionette with severed strings, he fell to the ground.

His blood did not.

It coiled in the air like a snake in water, twisting and writhing like a living creature. It slithered through the empty space until it reached Tim, curling around his neck like a particularly gruesome scarf or perhaps a macabre feather boa.

Silence blanketed the bats.

#tim drake #prompt #batfam au

[pearlypairings]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEARLY!!! 🎉🎊🎂 the world is a better place because you’re in it.

Birthday prompt:

For the pairing - Jonathan and Chrissy 😜

Scene - baking a surprise birthday cake… but the two of them together, baking it for Joyce (instead of one surprising the other)

Dialogue - "put the icing DOWN."

jonathan x chrissy || fluff, comfort, group hugs || 704 words

A/N: losty! you're always so creative, thinking out of the box and it gave me one of my favorite photocheer hcs now🥰 hope you like this one! JOYCE BYERS, our beloved<3

yesterday's prompt

Chrissy’s face had three different colors of icing smeared from her cheeks up to her ears like a clown who couldn’t decide on a blush color and went with all of them. She’d been crouched at eye-level with the cake, three piping bags, and four icing spatulas for far too long. A bead of sweat threatened to blend the white, blue and purple icings together. Enough was enough, she was becoming obsessed. “Babe, babe.” Jonathan patted her shoulder gently. “Put the icing DOWN.” “One more minute, one-more-minute. I’m almost done with these peaks on the edge—they have to be perfect.” She pushed aside her frizzy bangs with her forearm, lowering the piping tip back to the top of the cake to finish the third decorative row. He helped her get those pesky hairs out of her vision, making sure to tuck the longer pieces behind her ears and smiling at how cute her forehead looked when she was focusing. Ever since she’d come up with the idea of surprising his mom with homemade birthday cake, Chrissy hadn’t stopped planning. Besides listing out ingredients and supplies to gather, there were at least half a dozen sketches she designed for the decorative top of the round cake. “She’s gonna love it no matter what, because we made it. No need to get stressed out over icing, that’s all. She wouldn’t want you losing your mind over something we’re all gonna be chewing up tonight.” Chrissy set down her tools finally and whirled around to look at him, exasperated. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip while she stretched, straightening her spine from the hunched position she worked under.  “No, I know your mom is so good. Good to you, good to Will…” she trailed off to look at the sink full of bowls and utensils stacked high. “And she’s been so good to me, even though I’m not even family.” Jonathan sighed quietly, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss the sugar-coated, tired knuckles with a certain tenderness. “So that’s what this is about? You think you need to give her something perfect to deserve her affection?” “Well, I don’t know, no—maybe, ugh. I don’t know. I just want her to know I appreciate her and love her too.” Chrissy moved toward him, shaking her head and chewing the inside of her cheek like gum. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?” “Maybe,” he said, taking her hand to pull her in close and wrap his arms over her shoulders and down her back. “Or, maybe, part of you still worries that you have to earn things in our family. But the best thing about the Byers is that once you’re in, you’re in. There’s no escaping us once we care about you, we’re like.... a bottomless pit of endless concern and questions and surprise gifts of your favorite gum from the checkout counter. No strings—or perfectly detailed icing—attached.” “God, how did I get so lucky?” Her chin pressed hard against his chest as she embraced him. He didn’t even care that her flour-ey, sugary apron would wreak havoc all over his Smiths' shirt. He could stay like this forever if she wanted. “How did we get so lucky?” His mom walked into the kitchen from her shift, hearing Chrissy’s last question and answering the same exact way Jonathan would have responded. She shrugged off her dark maroon coat, dropping the bag she brought back and forth to work, and hurried over to squeeze them both, planting loud kisses on the tops of their heads. A sudden grasp nearly pinched his shoulder right off when his mom peeked at the counter from around their group hug. “Don’t even tell me that beautiful cake is for me!” Her voice poured out fast and soaked in joy. “You guys are too cute, baking together and making something so sweet for this grateful, old mom.” “Oh, we have candles for when Will gets home later,” Chrissy gushed, slipping her fingers between Jonathan’s. “And extra sprinkles if you wanted more of those and—” And Jonathan couldn’t hear the rest. He just kept thinking about how amazing the two women in his life were. He was the only lucky one here.

#pearly birthday prompts #second prompt! #losty's imagination astounds me #photocheer #jonathan x chrissy #joyce byers #getting the cake and love she deserves #fluff #comfort #birthday cake! #stranger things ficlet #firefly graphics divider

[verlaines-corner-archive]

Of Morning Warmth

Summary: Mornings with Sigma

Pairing: Sigma x reader

Genre: Domestic fluff.

A/n: This is pure self indulgence. Basically I am a mushy bitch. Also thank you all for 250+ followers! I’ll try and get an event going sometime haha. AO3

Sunlight peaks in through the windows, a pleasant golden hue that fills the room. It finds its way over to you, kissing your skin. A trail of warmth is left in its wake, slowly rousing you from your sleep and after a short moment of contemplation you simply turn around. You won’t have any part of it, at least not yet. A few more hours of sleep will do you good. You’re so certain of that in fact that briefly you consider getting up to close the curtains, shut out the morning and its pesky light completely.

A soft chuckle rings out through the room, something more welcoming than the morning sun but your eyes remain closed, too tired to do otherwise. Another laugh, this time accompanied by a hand to your cheek, fingers delicately stroking the skin. Your face scrunches up at the sensation. Something is muttered into the air in response, though you don’t catch it. 

His fingertips linger for a moment before being replaced by a soft pair of lips. They leave a trail of fleeting kisses from your cheek to your neck, then the bare skin of your shoulder. A pleased hum escapes your throat, a feeling of adoration settling in your chest. Some resistance, then your eyes finally flutter open.

“Sigma.” Your voice is thick with sleep and cut off with a yawn. 

Lazily you roll onto your back, stretching out in the process. He follows, moving to lean over you and gently press your bodies together. His skin is warm and soft to the touch. A contented noise and then upwards, until at last he reaches your lips. You feel Sigma smile into the kiss before pulling away.

“Good morning love.” His voice is laced with a lingering fatigue, but even then it carries an undeniable strength.

Your hand reaches to his cheek, watching as he leans into it. A soft kiss is placed on your palm, then another to your wrist. Your lover looks gorgeous in the morning light, skin painted a delicate gold. His hair shines, creating the illusion of a halo. Soft cream and lilac perfectly frame his face before flowing down his shoulders, pooling onto your chest and the mattress. He looks like an angel.

Sigma’s hand moves to cover yours, holding it in place. It’s large, decorated by tiny scars and patches of calloused skin. A sign of his time in the desert. You frown slightly at the thought of it, heart twisting ever so slightly at the pain he had gone through. And yet despite that, at this very moment he looks to be at peace, and so you feel the sorrow dissipate. 

Sigma’s smile is warm as he leans forward, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“We really ought to get up darling,” he laughs slightly as you pout, hand moving to brush the hair out of your face, “come now, don’t give me that look. I’m certain you can still walk.”

“Just give me a minute or two.”

The look in his eyes is fond, “of course.”

-

The chirp of a cuckoo clock greets you as you enter the main space of the apartment. You look at it with some amount of amusement, watching as the bird returns to its hole for another hour. It had been a gift from Kolya, given to Sigma for no reason other than to serve as a reminder of their “everlasting friendship”. You remember that Sigma had been tempted to throw it out, not wanting anything the clown had to offer.

But there it hung, proudly on the walls.

Maybe that was why he refused to ever have the other over, for fear of him knowing that he had kept it. You can’t say you particularly blame him, the teasing would be relentless. “Little old Sigma’s gotten all sentimental! Isn’t that just the sweetest?” 

The little Gogol in your mind isn’t wrong really, his attachment to the clock was sweet.

The smell of breakfast grabs your attention next, and you turn to see Sigma standing by the stove, hair tied in a low ponytail. He tends to eggs and bacon on a frying pan, humming slightly as he does so. A radio buzzes in the background.

Such domesticality suits him, you decide.

“It’s impolite to stare you know.” He looks over at you, raising his eyebrows slightly.

A small shrug from you, a half-hearted apology. He scoffs in response.

“Your drinks on the table.”

A few steps and then you’re by him, a hand on his shoulder. He leans over slightly so you can kiss his cheek, the hint of a blush creeping up on his face. You’re almost tempted to laugh as you walk away.

The aforementioned table is old (‘Antique!’ You hear Sigma correct in your mind), a deep brown with intricately engraved legs. It’s sat by the window, accompanied by two chairs of a similar style. You had suggested a third one once, in case of guests. Sigma had denied such a thing, wanting it to be reserved for just the two of you. 

A vase sits in the middle, a mix of honeysuckles, daisies, and cornflowers. Your cup is placed next to it, a trail of steam disappearing into the air. Below them lies a tablecloth, embroidered along the edges with tassels on either end. Another gift, this time from Fyodor. “To celebrate your newfound home” was all he had said. You wonder if it was genuine, something tells you it was. For such a sentiment to be false was low, even for him.

It doesn’t take long before Sigma approaches, plates in hand. He places them down, peering out the window as he does so. A moment of contemplation and then he opens it, letting a pleasant breeze in. He’s smiling as he sits down, eyes lingering outside as a flock of birds pass. You thank him and he nods in response.

“Of course my love, enjoy.”

#✧ library shelves ✧ #I don’t know how to write affection but I love him so much and just had to write something </3 #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd fluff #sigma #bsd sigma #sigma x reader

[batmanie]

Leading role

No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the love was all around her, even in such an unlikely place like Arkham Asylum. Whichever direction she turned her head, she could see the signs of romance hanging in the air like a pesky virus.

Mary Louise Dahl – the former main lead in the popular sitcom, who had been deemed criminally insane after that one unfortunate incident, when she had kidnapped her ex-coworkers – not a big deal, really, comparing to some other inmates’ antics – was passing the time in her lonely cell, doing her best not to go totally mad.

It was Valentine’s day again, and Calendar Man was going on and on about this stupid holiday for fools. She hated this time of the year with all her might. Nothing rubbed her the wrong way as much as celebrating romance.

She was sitting on her cot, pressing her small hands to her ears, and trying to block the noises coming from a neighboring cell. It didn’t help much. She could still hear Harleen crying her eyes out over her latest breakup with the Clown, who had tossed her out of a moving car for some minor remark she had made, a day before Valentine’s.

It weren’t mere sounds of sobbing, nor wails of anguish, that bothered Mary this much. No, it was the fact that doctor Quinzel had something Baby Doll could never have – a romantic relationship – as toxic as it was, it was still better than none, at least Mary thought so.

“Poor thing,” the guards who were passing by Harleen’s cell tend to say.

“Poor Harley, used by the Joker yet again, and thrown away like trash.” Even the doctors seemed to pity the clown-girl for some reason.

No one ever felt sorry for Mary for not knowing what was it like – to love and to have a broken heart.

It was not only Harleen’s teary story that made Mary feel bad about herself. Arkham, as unloving as it might be, held quite a few tragic lovers within its cold, brick walls.

Take Jervis Tetch, for example, the ex-neuroscientist waited for Mary to arrive at the Arkham canteen at the dinner time. He greeted her with a toothy grin as she entered the dining area.

He was kind enough to pick her up, and sat her down in a high chair that the staff had prepared for her beforehand. He joined her for the meal as he often did. And all would be nice and well, if not for Jervis rambling on about a single topic – his Alice – the girl he thought he loved.

The blonde man praised Alice’s golden locks, her innocent smile, and her curious mind. While Mary tried to eat her food, he was yapping nonstop – making Baby Doll sick to her stomach.

She quickly decided, she hated that Alice-girl for claiming this man’s stupid heart and mind so completely. The one thing that Mary simply couldn’t do.

After suffering through yet another Alice-related story from the Hatter, Baby Doll sneaked out from the canteen, right under the noses of the Arkham staff. Small, and usually unnoticed, she simply hid under the table, and when everyone else was gone, she walked out the door to find a storage room, where the belongings of the patients were stored.

Mary sorted through the rogues private staff, just to keep herself distracted on this most frustrating day. She dug out a box containing the wooden ventriloquist puppet of Arnold Wesker. She put it on top of a cardboard box and dropped a proper curtsy.

“Good evening Mr. Scarface. May I have this dance?” she asked, outstretching her arm and pretending the dummy was a real man she could have charmed with her smile.

Later on, she found one of Scarecrow’s books about fear of commitment and decided to read it.

She got a little bored soon after, so she got back to sorting through the stuff. It was when she found out that Harvey Dent still had a picture of his blonde fiance in his wallet.

Grace, was it? A kind-looking young lady, a pretty face for sure, most likely tall, long-legged, just like Mary could have been – if not for her condition.

Two-face kept receiving long letters from Grace. Mary didn’t read any of them, of course, but she entertained herself with guessing what could be written inside them.

“I still love you, Harvey.” Was that what Grace would tell him? “I’m waiting for you to get better and to return home. I’m so lonely without you.”

What would some stupid Grace, some good looking blonde bimbo, possibly know about loneliness? She had gotten Dent to put a ring on her, and she could find a new man in no time.

By the evening, Baby Doll was back in her cell, explaining to the guards that she had gotten herself lost, and the idiots actually had believed her.

Resting on her cot, much too large for her tiny body, with her short legs dangling from the edge of the bed, she looked at the evening sky through the bars at her small window. Her blue eyes looking for a sign of little snowflakes falling from the cell above hers.

Trapped in his frozen cell at the top floor of Arkham, there was Viktor Fries, the sad widower, mourning his late wife. Mary had never met him, but she knew his story, and she knew it was love that had made him a villain – because what else?

If anything at all, it had been not love but a lack of it that had made Baby Doll a bad girl. It had been rage and jealousy at everyone that had their families, their lovers to share the joys and sorrows of a daily life with. She had none of that, and it was unfair. She wished she could be someone’s Alice, and Grace, and Nora. But no matter how hard she tried to believe she could be that one day, such a miracle would never happen.

Cruel fate had robbed her of all pleasures of adulthood. She was denied her first kiss, holding hands, and feeling butterflies in her stomach.

Who would love a freak like her? Who would see a woman in this small, child-like body?

“Good evening, Miss Dahl,” the friendly voice of Kyle, the new nurse guy, snapped her out of her sad pondering. “It’s time for your meds.”

The guy must have been a fan of her show back in the days, why else would he be so awfully nice?

She sighed and jumped down from her cot, getting to the door to receive her prescribed medication. It surprised her, she had never noticed it before, but the nurse guy was crippled, missing his left hand. Was he born that way? Strange that she missed that detail about him.

Trying not to stare, she gulped down the pills, and let Kyle take her temperature and pulse, she returned to her cot, climbing on top with an effort. Then she noticed something odd, a brown ball, the size of a human fist, laying on her bedside drawer.

It caught her eyes immediately as she was certain it hadn’t been there before. She reached her hand to inspect the mysterious object.

It was soft and sticky to the touch, just like a chewing gum, and when she poked it with her finger, the ball bubbled, like a dense liquid, and shifted its shape, turning into a little heart, then into a singing bird, and then once more into a flower.

Baby Doll smiled involuntarily, as she recognized what it was.

“Let me tell you something, actor to actor,” she said, holding the flower made of clay in both her hands. The flower changed into an ear, as if ready to listen to her. “That was a damn good performance, Mr. Hagen. Your ‘Kyle’ got me totally convinced there, and I’m quite surprised by this twist.” She giggled softly, and watched the ear transforming into a pair of lips.

The mouth in her hands spoke with a rough male voice. “Why, thank you. I just thought you may want some company, Miss Dahl.”

He was right, she really wanted, but she was not simply going to admit that to Clayface.

“Did you go through all this trouble just to wish me a happy Valentine’s?” She mocked. “Or are you rather going to offer me a supporting role in your newest act?”

Now, it was Clayface’s turn to let out a soft chuckle. “Supporting? No. For you, Dolly, I’ll always keep a leading role open.”

#happy valentine's day #baby doll #Mary Louise Dahl #mary dahl #clayface #matt hagen #claydoll #batman fanfiction #my story #temarcia #batmanie

[badjohnspeakeasy]

Hot Take: People Got Sweet Mask Backwards (Webcomic Spoilers)

People say that Sweet Mask "turned into a monster" to defeat Pesky Clown.

I think that's inaccurate.

Wearing his "human" face, Beauto was gonna let those civilians twist in the wind.

When he was a "monster", he came back for them, even if it meant risking his life, torching his legacy, and losing his human rights forever. :(

So it sorta grinds my gears when people call this form his "monster form". It's anything but that; wearing that ugly face, he performed an act of grace, courage, and love that can only be classified as heroic.

This one's the monster. Being handsome on the outside doesn't make this form human.

He may be uglier, but this guy is the one with the human heart.

And as long as your heart is human, you will always be a fine human.

#opm webcomic #opm spoilers #beauto #the jedi returns :) #It's probably semantics #but this is my tumblr and I can do what I want

[kendrixtermina]

Where is the ISRAELI resistance?

Your country is descending into fascism.

Even if you don't care about the Palestinians, you are losing your free speech. Dissenters who criticize the government are being targeted in the streets. Police are being authorized to GO THROUGH YOUR PHONES.

Your government is picking fights with & looking to take chunks out of neighboring countries... eventually, there WILL be retaliation, and you think the USA or EU will risk being nuked by Russia or China to protect you? Look how cowardly their leaders are. If they bend to you, they'll bend to others.

Your government BOMBED ITS OWN CIVILIANS (they admitted it now!) burning people to death, rather than admit a military defeat.

This is your Reichstag Fire moment, amigos!

You might think that you're fine giving away your rights as long as it gets rid of those pesky palestinians, but as a German lemme tell you, that deal did NOT work out for our grandpas. It ended with ppl working 70 hour weeks, all our cities levelled, all our social institutions disrupted, big territorial losses and for 50 years all the music on the radio was in English.

Believe me, the leopards WILL eat your face, too.

If you don't want to live in a fascist country, i suggest you do something now. Overthrow the government by any means necessary.

German Resistance Fighters tried to assassinate Hitler 42 times. (if it wasn't for that that f**** oakwood desk...)

It's YOUR TURN NOW. DO something. It's YOUR circus and YOUR clowns that the rest of the world is suffering.

#israel #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #watermelon #zionism is fascism #benjamin netanyahu #yoav gallant #ben gavir #zionism #israel palestine war #israel hamas war #israel palestine #am yisrael chai

[ask-hannah-blog]

Are you.... sure about all this Hannah? I mean. If the clients are happy I suppose that's what matters but... is this what they signed up for? I don't know, I'm getting some bad brain fog. Wish I just had someone to tell me what's right... urgh... feel dumb...

Goodness me. I’m gonna have to start punishing you pesky readers who think to question me.

But I’ll show some understanding since you’re obviously a confused little pet. You don’t just feel dumb, you are dumb. Dumb dumb dumb. You already have someone to tell you what’s right. It’s me! Dummy. Your queen. Even if you’re not a clown yet, if you listen to my advice you can already consider yourself one of my servants, my peasants, a dumb little minion.

So my little pea brain, I think now would be a good time to tell you more about what happened with my bimbo couple, just so you can see how dumb you were for second guessing me.

——-

My two pink hair Clownies see me and instantly start fucking, which is such a cute reaction! After he cums in her they both just drop to their knees and start kissing and worshiping me.

“You’re so pretty Hannah!”

“You’re so hot, my dick has been hard for you since Christmas.”

“Bambi is cute like you now isn’t she? Her skin is all white and makeupy.”

“There’s just something about your blue hair, that I can’t get out of my head.”

And I accept it all of course, because I’m a good queen, and they’re just doing what comes naturally to them. You gotta remember that my treatment is all about acceptance.

Then Bambi looks up at me with those big blue eyes. “Can we play with Ms. Kissy Hannah?”

I know exactly what she’s talking about, and who can say no to a bimbo? So I sigh and pull my shirt up to reveal the clown face I have drawn around my bellybutton. That’s permanent now by the way, for any clowns out there feeling like I’m not very freaky, don’t worry the body paint is getting out of hand.

It’s so funny how horrified Bambi was last time I told her to tongue my belly button, and now she’s asking for it, better than asking for it she’s spreading the joy to other clowns! What a good girl.

He looks hesitant though, he’s farther gone than she was when I spring this on her, but he’s still a little confused. He probably still thinks clown sex is about having sex as a clown. The little dummy. He’s giggling nervously eyes locked on the little needy hole in my stomach.

“It’s part of her therapy.” I informed him, quite scholarly. “That’s why you’re here today hubby. You see your wife has an insatiable desire to kiss girls. But you guys want to stay monogamous.”

Bambi was inching closer to my stomach, batting her eyes like she was trying to seduce the drawing.

“So we’re using Ms. Kissy here to let her express these feelings.” I smiled at her. “Go ahead dear.” Shevlet out an excited squeal and buried her tongue right where it belonged.

Goodness girl tongue inside my belly button feels so good! @_@

He’s fascinated, his dick pops up out of his pants immediately. I can tell he’s not trying to jerk it. He’s struggling a little bit. Trying to be the decent normie I’d known, Bambi’s daddy who stuck through her transformation and made it all work. Trying not to masturbate him self raw to his wife tonging her therapist’s belly. “Come on Hubby, this is part of her treatment, we have to be supportive of her.”

I pushed my clowny form of therapy into his mind. I could feel some kind of control over him. I could feel his resistance and I could feel my majestic words, my therapeutic genius navigate him around his resistance.

The gears in his head were spinning as I pet his’s wife’s head. Her pink hair was so soft, way softer than human hair. “Come join her Hubby, it’ll mean a lot to her.”

And that was that. So his tongue was buried just as deep and I was getting eaten out by a married couple, their tongues battling for the taste and texture of my belly.

And there I was basking in the pleasure of it all. Queen of the world. “You know Hubby, there are things you can do that will help satisfy Bambi’s cravings for girls. Have you ever heard of a sissy?”

——-

See how happy they were, how eager both of them were to participate in their treatment? That’s what healing looks like.

It’s not your fault my pet.

Like you said, you’re dumb.

You need some to tell you what’s right.

Actually, no even that’s wrong dummy.

You don’t need to know what’s right, just who’s right.

Right?

And it’s me.

You know it’s true.

You can count on me, you can rely on me, you can wait on me.

Yes you can.

Good pet.

Good pet for nodding along, for smiling, for using that deficient little brain to realize that I’m the one who makes your life make sense.

It’s okay to feel horny at me telling you all this.

It makes sense.

And if there’s something I tell you that doesn’t make sense, then you should discard that part of your life that makes it feel wrong.

For instance:

You’re just a dumb little clown peasant in my wonderfully clowny kingdom.

You have two options.

Either I’m right, and that statement makes sense.

Or I’m right, and that statement doesn’t make sense.

You know what to do then, right?

Surely even my dumbest minion knows how to obey, right?

So obey!

Take that part that doesn’t make sense and make it make sense. Be a clown! Be dumb. Serve me.

Easy as 1…2…3!

You don’t even have to take off your shoes to count that high!

1…2…3

Clown

1…2…3

Dumb

1…2…3

Obey

Good pet, good clown.

Now just as a warning you may start to feel sick, over the next week, but that’s okay. Just know it will help you be happier on the other side! That’s a nice thought huh?

And about the brain fog, have fun with it. It’s only scary if you fight it. Let those though ideas melt into vapor. What color is your brain vapor? It’s pretty isn’t it? Breath it in, touch it, taste it. Mmmmm isn’t that nice? Nice and dumb, nice and foggy. It’s actually a good thing isn’t it? Fuzzing up those worries, those anxieties, those long nasty words.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm.

I hope that answers your question!

Ms. Hannah.

#transformation #mind control #ask blog #hypnosis #clowntf #clown girl #clown

[kooky-dough]

"Lucid dreams, fever dreams, daydreaming

oh my gosh, it's shark moon and lava sun"

This idea has been living rent-free in my head for too long

I know, I'm awful, aren't I

A fic I started working on like a week + ago

I'm not even done with the first chapter

But this is what I got

You're a new hire at this Fazer-Fantasy Worlds - because Freddys Fantasy Word sounds a little too wrong - amusement park

The whole thing is supposed to be about wanting nothing more than to live in a dream world

It is quite literally called "dream lover" in my Google Docs file

I $#!t you not

So here, have at it

Hope you enjoy

☆☆☆

The curtains are closed, blocking the majority of the sun's light that enters your room. Despite their best efforts to do their job, the remaining bit of light that slips through always threatens to pull you from sweet unconsciousness. Occasionally, you even wake up to being slapped in the face by the sun's light, shooting out from the opening between the two pieces of fabric. And so in retaliation to the sun’s gracious wake up call, you flip to face the wall and bury your face in the blankets, hoping to slip into dreamland once more.

Not long after disregarding the sun’s morning kiss, you fall back into sleep’s loving embrace… only to find yourself ripped from your lover’s arms yet again.

Yanked back down to planet Earth, you jolt at the abrasive sound of your alarm and pounce to silence the pesky thing. You always ended up hating the songs you used for it. Too many good songs have died from being used to pull you from your slumber.

But unfortunately it is about time you got up.

Begrudgingly, you slip from your cozy bundle, rise to your feet, and lift your arms as you stretch out your muscles with a groan. Walking over to the window with a grumble, and squinting as you pull back the curtain. As much as you hated disturbed beauty sleep, you couldn't help loving how the sun looked in the morning, and how it painted the sky in gorgeous colors as it woke the world.

But alas, you aren't just up to enjoy the view, for you have responsibilities. You're a new hire at FazBear Entertainment's newest attraction, Fazer-Fantasy Worlds amusement park. You found a page advertising the opening park in your search to find a job that was half as appealing as staying in bed.

You filled out the online application, advertising yourself as someone who can clean, organize, and has a very flexible schedule; you were hoping to score a janitorial job. If emptying trash cans, cleaning bathrooms, and taking stock ment you could avoid dealing with customers and daydream on the job, then you'd do it.

Who knows, maybe you'll even find some free time to just take a nap.

—

The man interviewing looked tired, bored, like he would prefer being elsewhere. Which was understandable. There's not much to do in an office job like his, besides a countless amount of paperwork that really starts to drag on someone after some time, and he looked like he'd been doing it for ages, poor guy.

You carried a professional and polite smile with you as you walk into his office.

During the interview he was looking at his computer, typing away and asking simple and basic questions. He spoke with such a mild tone and expression that it almost made you nervous.

*click-clack

“What previous work experience do you have?”

*tic-clack-click

“Any health issues that may impact your work?”

*clack-tic

“How do you handle stressful situations?”

*clack-click-tac

“Do you get unsettled or scared easily?”

*tic-tac-click

For his next question he paused his typing and looked up at you, still as mild as ever but there was a glint of something in his expression that nearly made your skin crawl.

“Are you afraid of clowns?”

..wait… what?

“Uuh, no sir.” you said, befuddled

It's an amusement park, so you guess it makes sense. But what's so scary? Do they have a haunted mansion? Maybe you should have done more research. As long as you're not being chased by anything, you'll be just fine.

“Hmm, good. Well there's not much left, if you want the job just sign these here papers” He slides a heap of paper in front of you with a pen nicely placed on top like a cherry on top of a cake.

You sniggered “Mmm, how fun, thank you.” There is no way in hell you’re gonna be able to read all of that.

He gave a sardonic, dry laugh “You should not be thanking me.”

Sparing him a glance as he goes back to typing on his computer again, you pull the stack of papers closer to you and skim through it as you sign your name on each dotted line.

He sends you a glance too as he types and asks “So why’d you sign up for this job anyway?”

How he could type and hold a conversation was beyond you.

“Eh, what a better place for a dreamer then the place that’s furthest itself from reality.” You could only hope to be engulfed by your own imagination but it helps to be surrounded by the inspiration of fiction.

The guy hummed something nocumunicationla and paused his typing once more “Hey, just don't forget that dreamers have nightmares too. Being further from something doesn't always mean it's safer, you could wander into an even worse spot then you were before.”

His words felt like a warning and just about sent chills down your spine as you signed your name on the last line.

He, may the devil have your soul now.

He sighed and handed you a shirt “I hope you get what you're looking for. when do you think you'll be ready to start.”

Your smile brightened from the somber one that crep onto your face and happily replied “Tomorrow!“.

—

And that's why you're getting up from your sweet haven and welcoming the morning sky.

The guy who interviewed you -that you never caught the name of- sent you to go to the park the next morning so you could get a tour and a run down on your responsibilities as an employee. Your name tag might not be done yet but they promised to give you all your employee goodies before you started your first true day on site.

The polo shirt the tired fellow gave you was sky blue with yellow and orange stripes lining the sleeves with a red hem and sunny, yellow buttons running a little ways down from the -also red- collar. A FazBear logo was stitched on each sleeve like a small patch. The text circling around it said “Fazer-Fantasy Worlds”. The cool part was that the two little bear heads in the logos were different. The left sleeve had a teddy bear with button eyes, patchwork beneath its right one, and on its left cheek. The right had a kingly crown and a proud smile. Honestly, the shirt felt perfect for a place that promised adventure and wonders beyond the mundane road of life.

You tuck your new shirt into your black jeans and put on a striped rainbow belt. It was most certainly cute and colorful. You tied on your trusty, black, steel toe boots, they were slip resistant and honestly the most comfortable pair of shoes your own. They were a procaution to protect your clumsy ass. You’d be lying if you said they didn’t make you feel a little more confident.

It was late spring, but thanks to the region where you live, it was more like summer with few rainy days to break up the warm and sunny weather. Slideing on your soft and breathable, navy blue jacket, you walk into the bathroom and finish cleaning yourself up. Trying to brush out your cronic case of bed head was futile and only made your hair poof up more. So you throw on a royal blue banadanna that had a white pattern, reminding you of a cloudy sky.

Before you head out to the randevu point, you grab your phone, slid it into you jackets innerpocket, then snag a peice of bread from the fridge and spred some jam on it to nibble on as you walk to your car from your apartment. You have a roomate but you never realy see them due to the fact that

Paper scrap

to help manage the mess of hair on your head and keep it out of your face.

With the magic cards of being available for work just about whenever and overall willing to learn anything they might want from you, you scoured a job.

and in this vary moment you akwardly realized, neather of yall exchanged names. Welp it’s too late now. He probubly already knows your name anyway from your resume. Unfortunetly for you, this guy has no inucations of what his name is. Buuuuut, luckly, he doesnt seem to care in the slightest, and hopfuly he wount mention it.

but that still caught you off guard,

Truth is that the guy giving you the interview looked tired and fed up, only skimming through your resume with a tired expression. Then he proceeded to just hand you an employee t-shirt and asked when you could start.

Like the awesome and cunning fox you are, you slayed the interview and got the job. The FazBear company totally didn't just give the job to the first person who signed up. No, you definitely got the job cus you were just that good.

some cool lost items you could keep. Mmmm, free shit.

with a thin, velvety, navy blue jacket over it and some black jeans. Your shoes were a nice black pair of steel toe work boots. Gotta love a good boot.

They see your creative work and ask why it wasn't in your resume

You didn't think it was important

And walk out the door to your interview

thinking that this place -out of all your other options- would fuel your creative thirst with a side of a living wage, cus gosh darn it, you ain't gonna get that from being an accountant. You shiver at the thought of an office job as you prepare yourself for the awaiting day.

you stir in your sheets and blankets as you lift them to cover your face. The early morning sun always seemed to try and tear you away from the blissful comforts of sleep. You where content in bed with not a care in the world

But the sun... the sun wasn't just a ball of light. No the sun was an antagonist

You're in bed, tossing and turning as a desperate attempt to get comfortable. Your body aches

Cold chills run through your body even as you sweat. Your sinuses are stuffed and your head aches. A nauseating feeling washes over you as you're stomach complains

Trying to fall back down the rabbit hole that was dreamland. Unfortunately for you, dreamland is under reconstruction

Your shirt sticking to you damp skin as you move

whining and trembling as chills run down you

sweat laced body causing The fabric of you usually loss fitting shirt clings to you damp skin. You coil into the sheets, desperately trying to get comfortable as you toss and turn.

The sound of your miserable

The sheets beneath you stick to your heated skin, damp and wholly uncomfortable as you toss and turn.

Your body aches

Your body aches and your mind is fuzzy.

#dream lover #fnaf security breach #concept art #au #y/n #fanfic #shark boy and lava girl #uhggggg #im making more #happy late thanksgiving

[wulfhalls]

Daemon is such a damn clown, every interaction with Rhaenyra is just:

Daemon’s inner monologue (probably): I’m so cunning and tricky! I’m going to SEDUCE Rhaenyra! I’ll kill my pesky wife for her, fk it. I’m going to make Rhaenyra fall in LOVE with me! I’m going to STEAL her away! I’ll have her all for myself! I’m going t–

Rhaenyra, literally out loud, to his face: SO DO IT YOU COWARD!!

Daemon: …??!!!

Daemon: *runs tf away*

the the enormity of my desire disgusts me of it all!!!! insanity!!!!!!!

#daemyra really said inlove insane incest #asks #hotd

[filthyopmusings]

by... surprisingly popular demand (by which I mean more than one person actually told me to write it lol), some short BugHawkCroc smut thanks to that 1056 Cross Guild reveal

(featuring trans!croc because I believe that’s just canon)

“This is an alliance. I don’t work for you.”

“Sure,” Buggy drawled, leaning back in the pompous chair he’d made his underlings carry to the Big Top. “And who’s the Emperor here?”

Crocodile scowled, still unhappy about the way the newspapers had framed what happened. Technically, they weren’t wrong, it had been Buggy who’d disabled the marines’ new marvel of a weapon and turned it on them, but that had been pure, dumb luck. All three of them knew it.

Hoping for support, Crocodile turned his gaze to Hawkeye, who was staring back at him with the same intense gaze he always wore.

Crocodile had always hated it during warlord meetings. Just like the smirk he wore now.

“I don’t see your problem. Everyone knows there’s nothing like an Emperor’s reputation to keep pesky marines away from yourself in the New World.” Truly, he was mostly here because of circumstance, but Shanks would be so mad that after all these years, Mihawk had joined another emperor, and the weak brother who hated him at that. It was worth it just for that. “Besides, these other... benefits he suggested sound like a good deal.”

Buggy cackled like a madman as Crocodile gaped at Mihawk. Poor guy had been kicked out of the warlords before Buggy joined, and therefore had no idea this wasn’t their first encounter of this sort.

The world’s greatest swordsman had a thing for people who wouldn’t simply fall to his attacks, and while Buggy could attribute that to his devil fruit rather than any skill or haki, the result was the same.

And Mihawk made such a pretty picture on his knees, how was Buggy supposed to resist?

He was a pirate, a real one, through and through, and he’d never turn down a treasure laid out so readily for him. “Why don’t we show him what he’s missing out on?”

Crocodile could only watch as Mihawk situated himself in Buggy’s lap, languidly grinding their hips together as a hand trailed down his back until it was groping at his ass. Their lips met, and soon there were tongues involved.

Buggy clearly didn’t know the meaning of holding back or taking things slow, stripping Mihawk without any sense of patience or grace.

There was no finesse, but Mihawk responded in kind, quickly tearing off Buggy’s sash and pulling down his pants. He slid down to kneel between Buggy’s legs without having to be asked, but Buggy keened in pleasure and gripped at Mihawk’s short hair to guide him into taking as much of his dick into his mouth as possible.

Fuck. Why was this hot?

It was just a sloppy blowjob. Crocodile had seen better, without any clown inolved.

But nothing Crocodile had ever watched matched this pure, unadulterated desire. Buggy didn’t know how to hold back, he had no class, but in this moment, when he was looking down at Hawkeyes with all of that lust written right onto his face, Crocodile wanted those eyes to look at him with that same open desire.

He could feel his cheeks heat up at the thought, and worse, his underwear was getting uncomfortably wet.

...Maybe he should see this as a benefit to their alliance.

Seeing as he’d already been invited, Crocodily shrugged off his coat and stepped closer, though he wasn’t quite sure where to fit himself.

A gloved hand carressed his face without either of the two men even looking at him, a thumb tracing over the scar on his face. The touch was gentle, almost sweet, not at all what Crocodile wanted, but he still let it happen for a few torturous seconds until Buggy finally looked at him, pupils blown wide.

Yes. That was the exact look Crocodile wanted on him. A shudder ran down his spine. Now the touches just needed to match.

“See?” Buggy grinned. It was obnoxious, over the top, the smile of a winner who couldn’t help but lord it over everyone he’d won against. “Now you wanna join. Call me your Emperor and I’ll let you have a seat on my lap.”

Seriously? Crocodile grit his teeth, but the hand on his faced trailed lower, thumb now brushing over his lips.

Crocodile had half a mind to bite it off, though with the clown’s weird devil fruit, he might just end up with a floating thumb in his mouth. Possibly not the best idea.

As he stalled, Mihawk only sped up his efforts, and Buggy’s attention turned back to him, moaning out his appreciation with abandon. Mihawk reached down to his own crotch, but his hand was slapped away by the one that had previously been in Mihawk’s hair, and Buggy set to stroking Mihawk’s cock, quick and sloppy, until Mihawk came with a deep groan.

Buggy followed soon after, thrusting into Mihawk’s mouth with abandon, moans reaching an octave no human should be capable of.

As cum slowly dribbled down into Mihawk’s immaculate facial hair, Crocodile had to wonder if he’d missed his chance. Somehow, that felt even more annoying than giving into Buggy’s unreasonable demands.

“So is it my turn now?” Buggy only looked at him, eyebrows raised, as if posing the question back at him. “...My Emperor?”

Buggy practically purred at the words, and suddenly a hand at Crocodile’s back was pushing him forward, right into Buggy’s lap. For how blissed out he looked, Buggy was still quick at tearing off Crocodile’s layers of clothing. For a second, Crocodile tensed when it was his underwear being pulled off - he hadn’t ever seen a need of informing any of his fellow warlords of his genitals - but Buggy didn’t even look surprised, nothing about his appreciative gaze changed as he took in all of Crocodile, from his obvious top surgery scars to the dripping pussy between his legs.

“Now that’s a feast in form of a man if I’ve ever seen one.”

The tension dissipated basically instantly, and Crocodile felt free to grind down on Buggy. He’d gone soft after spilling down Hawkeye’s throat, but his thigh was good enough for the time being, and Crocodile had no doubt he’d get him hard again in no time.

Buggy’s cock would be inside of him soon, pleasurably stretching him out, and hell, maybe Mihawk’s too. For now, he’d made himself comfortable on one of the armrests, leaning against Buggy and fixating Crocodile with those strange eyes of his.

That wasn’t too bad, either. Crocodile didn’t mind an audience, and he knew if Buggy was actually good at anything, it was putting on a show.

This would be fun.

#bughawkcroc #buggy the clown #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #one piece 1056 #one piece spoilers #one piece #fic #am I the first to do this ship after the chapter? am I?