#you can rip this out of my cold dead hands

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

congrats on 1k!!! can i have Q and 🥵?

Thank you so much! 🥰

This was ... less angsty and more smutty in my head. 😅

Guiding light

Rated: E

Words: 997

Tags: Post-Vecna; Kas!Eddie Munson; monster!Eddie Munson; rough sex; monsterfucking; angst; hopeful ending

He doesn't know what pulls him in.

He doesn’t know a lot of things, these days.

The portals have closed. Master is dead. So are his siblings. The comforting buzz of their claws and wings and voices in his head, the cold, familiar slither of their minds against his, it's all gone.

It’s dreadfully empty, all alone in his head. His mind flails like a bird the dark, released from the confines of its … house? prison? A thing with bars, he doesn’t know the word. It’s lost somewhere in the void and he can’t grasp it, doesn’t know how to reach for it. Doesn’t remember.

That’s how the golden glow flickering beyond the trees finds him - naked in the night, stumbling around without aim. He doesn’t know why he follows it.

The house is dark, half-destroyed from the ground tremors. The light pulses from a window above him. A … a tiny fire thing. A candle.

A candle to light his way, like something from a … another thing he doesn’t remember the word for, a thing with words on pages that takes you to far-off worlds, a thing that smells of ink, paper, dust. A thing he used to … love.

The distant echo of the feeling makes his head erupt in pain, makes something horribly warm bubble in his chest. He scales the wall, using his tail and wings for support, ready to snuff out the tiny light.

“There you are.”

A whisper, barely more than a breath floating on air. He whips around as if yanked by a leash, fangs bared.

There’s a … sleep thing in the corner of the room. Blankets and pillows that smell of comfort, warmth, rest - but that isn’t what makes his mouth water and his stomach churn with a terrible, primal feeling. A feeling that’s close to hunger but not quite.

It's the figure sitting on top of the thing. A boy with eyes that are bright in the flickering candlelight, eyes brimming with emotions he doesn’t know.

But he knows those eyes.

The warm thing in his chest explodes, like boiling liquid eating at his insides. He roars in pain and confusion and fear and launches himself at the boy. He wants to shred, he wants to maim, he wants the burning to stop, he wants the emptiness to go away, he wants, he wants, he wants-

Something touches his face, something soft and light. A hand. He has the boy pinned, claws digging into his shoulders, ripping through the fabric of his shirt. Fangs inches from his throat, breath hot against his pulse.

There's no fear in those eyes. Instead, those lips - soft and inviting and familiar - curl into a smile.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” says the boy, fingers slipping up to his temples, gently combing aside the tangled curtain of his hair.

He doesn’t know gentle.

Then why does he remember it?

He peels back his lips and hisses, wings flaring out, tail slicing the air like a whip.

“It’s okay,” says the boy. His hand tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, slowly, tenderly and the warm thing coils in his chest, in his abdomen. “I know you're in there, Eddie.”

The pain in his skull turns blinding white. The word … the name ricochets in the empty cavern of his mind and his chest pulls with want, so hard he thinks it might crack open.

The boy's eyes are bright like the candle. Pulling him in. His claws shred through fabric, exposing soft skin, patterns of moles like … sky things. Stars.

“Go ahead,” says the boy. “I'm here. Take what you need.”

He doesn’t know what he needs.

But he thinks he remembers.

*

He doesn't know gentle, but the boy does.

His claws can only leave gashes and cuts, but those hands can tease and caress. His fangs can only bite and tear, but those lips leave kisses and whispered words of endearment. He's death and destruction and cold, but the boy is warmth and kindness and life.

He shouldn’t want that warmth, but he does. And he takes it. Takes it in all the ways he knows and all the ways he remembers.

The boy doesn't stop him once. Not when he pushes inside of him with a brutality that punches the breath from his chest in a hoarse whimper. Not when the force of his thrusts makes the sleep thing … the bed … groan and creak. Not when his claws leave bruises and draw blood, not when his tail wraps around the boy's throat, leaving him gasping for breath underneath him.

By the time he spills inside of that warmth and collapses on top of the boy, spent and exhausted and finally sated, the candle has burnt to a small stub and the sky beyond the window is turning brighter. Birdsong reaches his ears and he snarls reluctantly.

“You need to go?”

The boy's smile is tired and slow, and a little sad. He's beautiful in the waxing light, skin littered in marks. Marks he left there. The warm feeling blooms in his chest again. He thinks he could get used to the pain if means seeing that smile again.

“That’s alright.” Fingers combing through his hair, lips tracing the ruined remains of pictures etched into his skin. “I'll leave the candle burning so you can find me again, now that you know the way.”

He whines, even as he disentangles himself from the boy's embrace. He doesn’t know gentle, but he still presses his lips to the long stretch of that throat one last time, fangs scraping over bruised and bitten skin.

The boy sighs and melts into the touch.

“I'll get you back, Eddie. No matter how long it takes.”

He doesn't know gentle, and he doesn’t know the person that name belongs to.

But the darkness is a little bit thinner now. And he thinks that some day, he might remember.

Steve guiding Eddie back to himself through unhinged monsterfucking? Why not?

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets

[dabisair]

toska

Dabi x gn!reader

Warnings: soft Dabi, reader is a bit rude to Dabi in the beginning, discussions of love and how it's supposed to feel (both explanations are negative), indecisive reader, unambitious reader, talk of body hatred, and oh my god if you feel the way this reader feels I am so so so SO sorry and I hope that one day you and I can heal ; _ ; (I tried to keep Reader's body type unspecified)

toska - (roughly) a dul ache of the soul, a sick pining, a spiritual anguish; also, "Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness".

Unbeta'd I ride at dawn--- this started somewhere and then ended somewhere else entirely and I'm sorry.

A flame-bitten finger traces along imperfect skin - skin that shivers beneath the touch, goosebumps pebbling in the wake.

The sensation worsens when that burning hand plucks petals from a nearby flower, all blues and purples with a splash of white, and traps the supple material between a hot palm and a cool arm.

Blue eyes flicker with interest, a flash of white heat singing the petals and the near invisible hairs on your forearm. A stream of smoke rises up from beneath his palm, long fingers wrapping around your arm when you try to jerk the appendage away on reflex.

Dabi thinks your scowl is funny - he must, given that he chuckles when you narrow your eyes at him. You don’t waste your time trying to pull your arm out of his grasp. You’ve come to know that it is better for you to accept whatever new burn you’re going to have when he finally decides to let you go than fight with him and have him tighten his grasp.

“Just because you have dead pain receptors doesn't mean I do.”

The small smile on his face is whisked away by a neutral line, his grip on your arm loosening enough for you to yank it back to your person. All that meets your gaze when you inspect your skin is a red blotch, earning Dabi a sigh. You brace your hand against the stone beneath where you sit, staring listlessly toward the city below. He’d insisted that you come up to this roof with him nearly an hour ago.

He sets his hand on your thigh, ripped up flower petals fluttering around as he repeats the action, this time with the petals, and the fabric as a barrier between the brutal flash of his quirk and your flesh. You poke gently at the skin between his knuckles, tentatively touching the staples. Your fingers twitch away from the metal, scorching hot just from the small puffs of flame he let out from his palms.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like running through the snow and jumping in a hot tub.”

Dabi snorts, shaking his head while he rubs his hand slowly up and down your thigh, “right.”

“So hot that it feels cold, like leaving my hand in cold water and then putting it in a bowl of hot water. It stings and makes me think my skin is melting off my bones, at the same time as it feels like my skin is freezing and becoming brittle.”

He nods his head, his hand lifting from your thigh to touch your chest, “that’s not what I’m askin’. What does it feel like?”

“What does what feel like, fire boy?”

“Being in love.”

You peer at him closely, trying to gauge why he’s asking - or, furthermore, why he thinks that you’re in love. You’ve always wondered if you say ‘I love you’ to people because you mean it, or because they said it to you first.

But, at the same time, you can’t be sure that you don’t feel love. You don’t know what it really feels like - at least, not in the way that it's been shown in television or movies or described in books and poems.

“It feels empty.”

Dabi’s stare is weighted, resting heavily on your body.

“It feels like a dull ache, like there’s a hole in my chest that nothing will fill. It feels like losing someone important, wishing you could have them back but knowing that it’s not possible. There’s an anguish there, so deep that I can’t do anything about it, so yeah. It feels empty. It doesn’t feel real. It’s painful.”

Part of you is not surprised when Dabi pulls his hand away from you, but it dawns on you, as your heart sinks into your stomach, that he must have been asking because he thought you were in love with him.

“... what does it feel like to you?”

“Like I wanna’ hurt you. I don’t understand it, can’t comprehend it, and I want to hurt you. It’s an itch I can’t get rid of, a disgusting insect in the back of my head gnawing away at my thoughts and I despise it, and I want it to stop,” his hand returns to your thigh, and he scoots closer, one leg dangling over the edge you’re both sitting on, “can I hurt you?”

“No.”

His huff is so incredulous it causes a puff of laughter to escape you.

“That was so fuckin’ instantaneous.”

“I don’t enjoy pain.”

“What if I let you hurt me too?”

“But you can’t really feel pain anymore, D, and that means that I could potentially really hurt you and neither of us would be aware.”

“But it would be fair. I get to hurt you because I loathe how you make me feel, and you get to fill your emptiness with pain.”

“I don’t follow your logic, but I appreciate that you’re trying.”

“Unless you wanna’ fill your emptiness with somethin’ less painful?” he mutters, leaning toward you.

You go rigid, shoulders bunching up. His lips - uneven and unnatural - scrape along your neck, sending a violent shiver down your spine as your body jumps beneath the affection. He sighs through his nose, the rush of warm air eliciting a similar reaction.

“Do you like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” he scoffs, moving closer despite his indignation. You have half a mind to slap his hand off your thigh.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to react,” you turn your head to the side when Dabi decides to bury his face in your neck, tongue and teeth moving over your skin. It makes you uncomfortable. It makes you anxious. You can’t be sure the butterflies are actually a good thing as they flutter their wings throughout your stomach and chest.

It feels foreign and unnatural and you’re not sure why he insists on kissing your neck the way he is.

At the same time, you don’t do anything to stop him. Part of you hopes you can just breathe through it. Maybe…

Your anxiety grows when his strong fingers dig into your thigh, pulling at your flesh.

It takes a moment for you to work up the courage to discourage Dabi from continuing, his curious mouth moving up your neck toward your cheek. He leans back, expression unreadable save for the irritated twitch in his lip.

“You know I’m impatient,” his voice is low. Dejected. His frustration digs bruises into your thigh, and despite the pain, and the fact that you told him you don’t enjoy pain, you let him. It is better than reminding him that he’s a villain and if he’s going to be so impatient, then he should just take what he wants from you.

Dabi has always seemed to want you to be willing, rather than despondent.

“Nothing to say to that?”

You shrug, your leg jerking under his hand when he digs his fingers into it again. Words escape you until Dabi moves his hand off your leg and sighs heavily.

“This is never gonna’ go anywhere, is it?”

“No.”

“And I thought I was the villain.”

“In label only, D. You also deserve someone who knows what they want - both in life and a relationship. I can’t give you either of those things,” you shrug, the lights of the city blurring together, “unlike you, I have no ambitions. I have no purpose. I simply exist. I don’t know what I want, and haven’t known for years.”

He fishes his cigarettes out of the pocket of your sweatshirt and lights one up with a blue flicker, his movements harsh.

“So you used to know.”

“Yeah. I used to think I wanted a relationship. I used to be pretty enough to be in one.”

Dabi grumbles something under his breath, glaring at you. You tilt your head to the side, sighing through your nose, “you’re prettier than me, D.”

“Yeah? Tell me how that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” you mutter, surprised that he’s stayed as close to you as he has. He’s been surprisingly patient with you, “but I’ve stopped trying to make sense of it, y’know? It’s all fine and dandy until I remember I’m part of the equation. Everything about me is ugly, especially my body. I wouldn’t like it even if I was thinner - or bigger. It’s me, so it’s ugly.”

“But you think other people who share your attributes are beautiful, doll,” Dabi leans his forehead against your shoulder, “why can’t you think that about yourself?”

You suck in your cheeks, looking at him sheepishly when he raises his head.

“... you were gonna’ say that phrase, weren’t you?”

“Uh huh.”

“And you didn’t because…?”

“Because I think I’ve said it enough for one night, and you’re probably sick of hearing it. So. Um. Reasons.”

“Mm-hm. Reasons?”

“Yeah. The best. Logical. Make perfect sense reasons - definitely not illogical, or contradictory reasons!”

And to your surprise, Dabi chuckles, shaking his head as he inclines it to your shoulder again. Maybe it is nice for him to hear you try to be funny about something that is objectively not funny - or maybe he appreciates that you are already aware that your reasoning is illogical.

“Next time we should talk about something else.”

“But what if talking to me about how much you hate yourself makes y’feel better?” he counters softly, lifting his head from your shoulder to toss his cigarette away. You glance at his lips only to quickly look away when you realize he caught you.

“Isn’t that too much weight for you?” you ask just as softly. Thankfully, he knows what you mean: by comparison, your body is fine. Your body is normal.

His no longer is.

“But I understand - don’t argue with me.”

“Okay.”

“Saw you lookin’.”

You hum.

“So do it.”

You glance at him again, brows narrowing back, and your stare drifts to his lips, then back up to his eyes. He nods his head a little in encouragement.

All you can muster is to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. You let it linger, let yourself feel it, and then you pull away. Dabi brings your head to his collar, though, making you lean against him

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You laugh airily, closing your eyes.

“It wasn’t.”

#dabi x reader #reader x dabi #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #i have a lot of pretty words saved on Pinterest #And this one slapped me in the face #anyway idk what is really going on here but it's going

[nekioe]

au where c!Dream is a vampire. Because he heals faster none of the torture actually leaves any scares, except for one.

English is not my first languge and I don't write very often. I'm scared, pls be kind

cw/tw: Usual prison stuff, torture, a teeny tiny bit of gore?, mention of vomit but it doesn't actually happen, branding

He keeps no scars from the prison. Except for one. 

One day, Quackity brought one of those irons you use for branding wood. Usually, they're some kind of iron, but not this one. At first, Dream doesn't realize what's happening, Quackity doesn't heat it up in the lava as he’s done before with another iron. Instead he ignores the lava and walks around the chair and stops behind Dream. He tries to keep his breath under control, the anticipation is almost worse then the actual torture, he can’t see what Quackity is doing, he cant prepare himself for whatever pain that’ll come next. 

Then, all of a sudden, the cold metal meets his skin and it burns. Silver. Silver, it’s Silver. He can't stop the scream from escaping his throat as he flinches away, but tight ropes bind him to the chair and Quackity’s hand lashes out and keeps him in place. His skin sizzles as the silver digs into it. It was worse then any torture he’s been through before. the scorching agony as the pure, holy, silver meeting with his twisted flesh, an abomination, a cursed being that should’ve long been dead. He can't think, he burns and he tries to grasp for something, anything to stop it but there's nothing he can do. The ropes bind him too tight. He hears a voice crying, sobbing, begging for the pain to stop. And it sounds a bit like him, but it's hard to concentrate as a thousand knives rip through his back simultaneously as it turns to fire.

Suddenly, Quackity stands right in front of him, silver pole in hand. He didn't notice it get retracted, his back still burns and writhes in pain. Ugly sobs wrack his body as he tries to gasp for air he doesn’t really need, for release that won’t come. He just wants this to be over, he just wants this to stop, please just make it stop. He feels fucking pathetic. 

Before him, Quackity holds up the silver piece and quietly observes it, he flicks away a bit of burned flesh that falls and squishes when it collides with the floor. Dream holds back vomit. Quackity wears no gloves. Why would he? he’s human, the silver doesn’t burn him. It only burns impurities, creatures that shouldn't exist yet still do, creatures like Dream. His expression is indifferent as he handles the material, it feels like mockery. Maybe that's the point. Quackity looks up and smirks when he makes eye contact with Dream. Then, he takes a step closer and disappears behind Dream again, and before Dream can even flinch or open his mouth to beg, his back is on fire again. 

Months after the torture and the prison that burn scar still remains. Everything else healed within a day or two, leaving no trace of what had happened, but the silver mark on his back stayed. It serves as a reminder, a branding.

#c!dream #dreblr #dsmp #cw mention of vomit #cw slight gore #cw torture #cw branding #nekioe writing

[nerdy-frog98]

almost done with my first watch-through of 9-1-1! gonna be completely honest with yall - seasons 5 and 6 were harder to get through. season 5 felt like it was just trauma after trauma, and season 6 has felt very…disjointed? like a lot of the stories come from nowhere only to go nowhere. also, there were a few moments in season 6 that eddie felt out of character to me- moments where he didn’t seem to care about buck? like/ you’re telling me that eddie wrote buck into his will, AND buck had a meltdown when eddie nearly died… but eddie basically disappears when buck almost dies? i don’t even care about the romantic-coded buddie- where did best friends buddie go this season? i mean, they were still there sometimes (and the moments they had in s6 were cute and very domestic, obviously), but…yeah.

don’t get me wrong, i still love the show! i genuinely don’t think you could rip it from my cold dead hands now- i am definitely too far gone. there have been a lottt of banger episodes (i really liked the ep where chimney has to practice his leadership and ends up bringing ravi back to the firehouse! ravi needs to be a main character asap), and i’m a huge fan of each of the characters and their individual stories, but lord. i can actually TELL how much control FOX had over those stories.

main bonus from season 6 though - they tried so hard to make eddie straight that they accidentally made him seem soooo much more gay (or at least that is how it feels to me. the whole episode where he goes hiking and golfing to ‘flirt’ with women was so unserious). also, madney engagement episode(s) were so incredibly sweet 😭

i have one more episode in season 6 before i get to season 7, so i’m almost caught up! i’m already looking forward to it :)

#watch 911 with whitney #911 abc #buddie #911 #madney #911 season 6 #911 s6

[o10-55o]

Doodled a thing :D

#He sleepy #copper cogs rusted through #i love that fic sm aidhwjska #moon is soft #you can rip this out of my cold dead hands #security breach #fnaf #art #fanart

[suckdickforcoin]

#fanart #my art #noelle deltarune #noelle holiday #berdly deltarune #heh.. a true gamer i see! #when aro person thinks wanting to be friends with someone is a crush #(me) #YOU CAN RIP MY AROACE BERDLY HC OUT OF MY COLD DEAD HANDS

[unspecifiedfigure]

steve’s gonna have to spell it out for him…

#eddie is oblivious and steve flirts constantly you can rip this characterization of them out of my dead cold hands #anyways they’re always pink and warm colors to me #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington

[crow-person]

gently puts him in my pocket

#one piece #portgas d ace #my art #you can rip the transgender ace headcanon out of my cold dead hands

[griefpersevering]

hobie brown has 100% punched a tory in the face and all i can say is i love him for it

#across the spiderverse #you can rip my british spider punk out of my cold dead hands #atsv spoilers #spoilers #lina lore #marvel #hobie brown

[artfreaksmeout]

More sketches that go along with my tall Pete and short Vegas au. They like to man handle each other in different ways. Pete is happy to carry Vegas around and Vegas is just glad he can get Pete to do what he wants

#vegaspete #vegas theerapanyakul #pete phongsakorn #you can rip this au out of my cold dead hands #I will be drawing more of these

[harritudur]

the origins of 🇨orroded 🇨offin, february 1980 (based on this post by @starkie-daf)

#you can rip this headcanon out of my cold dead hands #he had a crush on her since the first time he saw her at middle school #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #special guests: #jeff #gareth #eddissy #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy

[aliendragondreaming]

MY TINY HORSE

#you can rip t4t flutterdash out of my cold dead hands #mlp #my little pony #twilight sparkle #pinkie pie #rainbow dash #fluttershy #applejack #rarity #mane 6 #redesign #cause i guess this fits that tag #dragondoodles

[marzst4rz]

I need rosekiller to be obsessed with each other and i need them to be so in love they’d consume one another

#jamie speaks #what is gay romance with cannibalistic themes #rosekiller #you can rip this version of them out of my cold dead hands

[ratstuckinamarble]

This is what's gonna happen in the new episode a rat told me so in my dreams

Yeah so they're all gay actually, Lagoona and Draculaura are going to hold hands and Dracula will have his own bi awakening in a few years.

#what do you mean that's not actually going to happen #idk what you're talking about #btw after this they totally go on a date; mhm #and Draculaura's parents got divorced because her mom is a lesbian. if you couldn't tell #you can rip dracugoona out of my cold; dead hands #tbh I don't really like making rushed things like this #but I don't have the time for something more detailed so crappy sketches are what you're getting #I used no references #whatever #gotta work past my own perfectionism yada yada #well at least I had fun #we amuse ourselves around here. #monster high #monster high g3 #dracugoona #lagoona blue #draculaura #rätposting #rät's art shenanigans

[carcassarkis]

this is the purpose of university. ms paint.

English version under the cut (just because)

#my art #star wars #cad bane #ms paint #i love star wars #aurebesh #you can rip it out of my cold dead hands #but you’ll have to rip a limb off actually #I’ll never let it go #star wars art #star wars fanart

[league-of-blorbos]

My Theories for what each Darkin was as an Ascended

(to preserve my sanity, i'm only gonna talk about the main 5 darkin, which are all the darkin champions and xolaani, and i'll put them in order starting with the one with the most supporting evidence and the going down to the ones that i purely made up)

Xolaani: Bird

We already know this one, we can see her statue in The Call cinematic and you can see feathers on her chest and a bird-like head shape. We can't tell what exact kind of bird she was, but she was definitely avian.

Aatrox: Angel

First off, it's never said that Ascended have to be based on animals. Every fan interpretation I see of Valeeva, a Darkin described in Twilight of the Gods, looks like a humanoid with venomous spines, so Ascended beings could theoretically also be humanoids with extra apendages (like Valeeva's spines or Aatrox's wings) but are just more commonly animals.

Second, we know Aatrox is trying to morph his vessel into looking as close to his former appearance as possible and it's implied he envies Kayle since she resembles himself as an Ascended. Kayle is an angelic human with wings, plus I feel Aatrox would try to reform himself with animal traits if he had them, but instead he looks, again, like a human with wings. Also there's the metaphors with Darkin being fallen gods, and the Darkin (mostly Aatrox and Rhaast) looking like demons, and that fits the trope of the fallen angel, you get the point, Aatrox is basically meant to be Satan so it works for him to be a corrupted angel.

Rhaast: Goat

This is one I've seen a few other people headcanon, and it comes from one of Kayn's taunts as the Shadow Assassin where he calls the enemy a "two-legged goat" which is so oddly specific and I can't find anything it could be referencing, so the theory is he's taunting his opponent by comparing them to Rhaast, who as SA, Kayn has already defeated. I would also like to mention that Kayn's baggy pants paired with Rhaast's hooved feet and horns give him a satyr-like silhouette.

On the more symbolic side, goats are often associated with the devil (again, Darkin are based off demons) and to death and the occult in a similar way a scythe is despite both being common things found on a farm; they both seem innocent until put in the right contexts, which is perfectly ironic for a violent being like Rhaast.

Varus: Lizard

In his short comic, we see a vague fanged head that wasn't shown when just Kai and Valmar walked these same stairs, so some theorized that this is what Varus looked like before being trapped. To me, the head looks most like it's reptilian. He could also be a snake or even a dragon, but in Runeterra we already have a snake Ascended with Naganeka and a humanoid dragon with Shyvana so I went with a lizard since it felt the most unique.

Naafiri: Feline

I remember seeing some people guess she used to be a cat when one of her teasers said that her becoming a hound was "ironic", and felines are seen as the opposite of canines. That's pretty much where the evidence ends, I'm just going based off vibes that maybe she was a big cat like a panther or a tiger.

#can you tell i've been rereading darkin lore lately? #mostly cuz i wonder if we'll see more than just aatrox in the cinematic tomorrow #oh and im flexible on some of these #but you can rip goat rhaast out of my cold dead hands #league of legends #lol #leagueoflegends #riot games #legends of runeterra #darkin #xolaani #aatrox #rhaast #varus #naafiri #shurima