#I really like making weird goblins

[turbojawdo]

Thanks to @echollama for drawing my new goblin witch/potion girl Mavie! And her chicken, CAN’T forget the chicken. I need to name the Chicken

[libraryspectre]

I love cryptids so so so much and always have but I engage with them very differently than I did when I was like 7. Back then I was obsessed with evidence and evaluating the existence of each cryptid individually to decide what I did and didn't believe in. If I didn't believe in them, I still liked the folklore, but I took the ones I did believe in very seriously. Now I love the folklore and reading about encounters but if you ask me if I believe in any of them I just wiggle my fingers and say "wHo's To sAy" in a spooky voice

[hear-its-whiskering-there-again]

i loooove having a weird secret gender

[darkloveangel]

okay i thought of it on the spot for a laugh but now i'm thinking about how cool it would actually be to have a Labyrinth masquerade ball scene themed wedding and i really want that now...

[raventroll80]

Something I’d really like to find, get, or make is like a little posable person but those grey art dolls are too life-like for me and they freak me out. I’ve tried to make something but wasn’t having a good time, I’ll try again in the future when I have less projects on the go and less personal things happening.

[probablybadrpgideas]

Number of Goblins, ranked

One Goblin - That's just a goblin. He's probably just getting his groceries or something. Leave him alone, you asshole.

Ten Goblins -- That's a fairly normal amount of goblins. There's generally around ten goblins in any given situations. They're just here for aesthetic, so you know it's a fantasy world. Remember to tip them when you leave.

One Hundred Goblins -- Ok this is too many goblins, but this is a reasonable amount of too many goblins. Like, this is maybe an army of goblins or something? My point is that they're probably here for a good reason. Best not to mess with them, they're likely load-bearing in some way.

One Thousand Goblins -- This is probably a goblin town, in which case this is really more a case of One Human, which is a completely different list only available on goblintube. If not, all these goblins are lost. Return them to the goblin town. The orcs are worried.

One Million Goblins -- A million goblins? I'm not sure I've even seen a million things in my life , and now there's a million goblins? That's, like, all the goblins. Why are you at a convention of all the goblins? Are you a goblin? Actually, no, that would make sense. Yeah, that's probably what's going on here. Sorry you had to find out this way.

One Billion Goblins -- Ok, look, at this point you have clearly been sent to a future time where humanity is extinct and goblins have inherited the earth. I can think of no other explanation for a billion goblins. This sadly means that you're the weirdo, and you have to go be a cryptid now. At least you can find a phone and read the goblin creepypastas about you.

One Trillion Goblins -- How? What is happening? This is more goblins then there are birds, and they'll all in your house? How is your house this big? Wait, forget the goblins, how is your house this big? Are the goblins here to guillotine you? Probably! Move out of your stupid mansion and let the goblins have it, you weird rich bird-hoarding freak.

One Quadrillion Goblins -- One quadrillion? I'm only like 80% sure that's even a real number! Luckily, you won't have to deal with a quadrillion goblins for long, because soon they'll collapse together under their gravity, forming a far more manageable single planet-sized goblin. Picard's not gonna be happy about this one!

More Goblins -- Fuck off, you do not have more then a quadrillion goblins. Why are you lying? Are you worried I won't like you if you don't claim to have an implausible number of goblins? Don't worry. Your worth is not dependent on your goblin numbers. Go back to the actual number of goblins secure in the fact I love you, no matter how few goblins you have <3

[msgexymunson]

Soft Touches

Description: you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.

Warnings: acquaintances to lovers, reader is AFAB, weed smoking (both parties so no real dub con), fem oral receiving, praise kink, p in v unprotected sex.

A/N: It's my birthday! And I'm high, and horny, so happy birthday! If you've read my work you KNOW I'm a sucker for the first time y/n fucks Eddie. When I'm a benevolent dictator it shall be a universal holiday ;)

4k words

Masterlist

“Eddie, what the hell was in that?” 

Floating in a cloud of your high, the entire room seemed to glow in pink and orange, senses tinged in a sunset glow. You were definitely stoned out of your tree if you were comparing Eddie's stuffy, cramped room to a breath-taking sunset. 

“It's a new strain I got from Rick. You feeling it?” 

“Oh, I'm feeling it alright. I can hear colours.” 

Eddie's rich laugh echoed off the walls of his trailer. He laid on the bed casually, one arm slung beneath his head making his tight t-shirt ride up slightly. Just a peek of his happy trail was on display, which you tried, and failed, not to stare at. 

It was proving difficult, especially since you sat criss-cross apple sauce on his floor. His body was eye level, handcuff belt shining softly in the low light. The glint of that drew your eyes even lower, concentrating on the bulge you could see in his jeans.

You thought you were being sneaky. You absolutely were not. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you gonna answer me or just stare at my dick?” 

“Huh?” 

Shaking your head as if to clear it, you finally met his gaze. 

“I said, you can come lay up here if you want.” 

Halfway between getting up and still in a weird little crouch his words finally filtered through your addled brain. 

“I wasn't staring at your dick!” 

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” 

Frozen, mind empty of comebacks, you clambered out of your goblin stance and stood up, when the blood decided to rush to your head. 

“Oh Holy shit.” 

Your knees buckled, and you would have ended up face first on Eddie's carpet if he hadn't caught you. 

“Easy there, I've got you.” 

Eddie's firm hands held your upper arms tightly as he manoeuvred you to sit on his bed. The room was spinning, everything was drifting out of focus. 

“I need to lie down.” 

Eddie pulled you towards his pillows and laid you down gently, picking your legs up and settling them on the bed with you. Staring up at his off white ceiling, things began to drift back in. Once the room finally stopped swooping around in your vision, you started to come to your senses. 

You are on Eddie Munson's bed. You knew him, sure, only in a ‘can I come round so you can smoke us out and listen to music’ kind of way. You'd hardly call him a friend. This though, feeling the heat of his body next to you, him leaning on his side staring at you worriedly seemed entirely outside of your current arrangement. 

Suddenly the air was stifling, Eddie's warmth only exacerbating the matter. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, just really warm. And fucking high.” 

Eddie laughed, relieved.

“Thank fuck, I was scared for a minute.” 

You fumbled at the hem of your oversized sweater, attempting to wriggle it up your body but all motor skills were beyond you right now. 

“Eddie.” You pouted at him, flapping the edge of your sweater with frustrated hands. 

“You want this off?” 

“Please.” 

He flashed you a mischievous grin and pulled up upright, beginning to draw the offensive sweater up and over your form. 

“Didn't think you'd be begging me to undress you sweetheart.” 

Rolling your eyes in response, you held your arms over your head like a petulant toddler. Sweater removed and tossed to the foot of the bed, you risked a glance at Eddie. He was entirely preoccupied, staring at your bare midriff that was now on display. 

“It's a crop top Eddie, get over it.” 

Flinging yourself back down on the pillow, Eddie coughed, looking a little flustered, and settled in next to you. 

“Sorry, I didn't expect it. You always wear baggy shit.” 

“Comfortable shit, thank you. I come here to smoke, it's not New York fashion week.”

Eddie ran a finger across you, just below your belly button. The barely there touch blazed across your skin. 

“I didn't know you had your belly button pierced.” 

Looking down, you watch as his fingers circle it, then flick the little jewel dangling off the end. Thighs clamping together out of sheer necessity, you attempt to ignore it. 

“Yeah, got it done when I was like 15, two towns over. Probably my least painful piercing. Apart from ears, of course.”

Apparently, Rick's new strain also makes you run your mouth, as well as being insanely warm and horny. It seemed you had captured Eddie's attention. He turned further towards you, one hand holding his head up. The other, much to your relief, stayed on your stomach. You're not sure he was even aware he was still stroking your skin. 

“Least painful? What other piercings do you have?” 

You seriously considered dodging the question, but it's difficult to be devious directly to those big wet eyes of his. It's like trying to lie to a baby cow. 

“Well, I got my nose done, but the piercing fell out and I didn't bother to get a new one. That one stung. But the worst had to be my… my nipples.” 

The whole bed lurched as Eddie jumped up and sat cross legged facing you. He practically flew into action, grabbing his cigarettes and a lighter as if you were about to tell him some epic tale. 

“Right, tell me everything.” 

Whilst laughing at his wide eyed expression, you realise he's being completely serious. 

“Well, they er, they like, sanitise the… area, draw a dot where they're going to pierce you and tell you to take a deep breath in and it's done. It's super quick actually. It's more the after part that hurts. Why are you interested?” 

Eddie pushes his hair behind one ear, the tip of it is glowing scarlet, you notice. 

“I was thinking about getting it done my last birthday but I didn't have the cash.” 

He's staring at you, nervously chewing on a hang nail. You can practically see the unasked question dancing on his tongue. You weren't going to offer, hell no. If he wants to see he has to ask. The thing is, the way your tummy is bubbling right now, you don't think you could say no to those eyes of his. 

The question remains unsaid. He merely offers you a drag on his cigarette which you take gratefully, before he's stubbing it out and laying back down next to you. 

“How you feeling now? Bit less baked?” 

“Oh I'm still fucked, but I can see straight and I don't feel sick.” 

His fingers begin their dance again, skating over your exposed flesh, stroking down your side to your hip, across your stomach, and back again. You want to mention it. He's never touched you like this before, but you also don't want him to stop. 

“Good. Not inviting you over again if you hurl on my bed.” 

Giggling, you turn and face him. You're both on your sides now, knees close to knocking. His shirts ridden up again and before you can even register what you're doing you've placed a delicate hand on his hip. His eyes widened briefly, but that's it. Both of you are touching the others bare flesh, whispers of touches. Little, tentative things, like the bursting of soap bubbles on skin. 

“I wouldn't hurl on your bed. I'm sure I'd at least make it to the bathroom. I'm not an animal.” 

Eddie just grins in response, and you look at each other, really look. His dopey smile is the same as yours, and it seems neither of you want to mention how this seems to be rolling into very unfamiliar territory. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why are you touching me?” 

He pushes infinitesimally closer, his knee now slotting between yours. It's a small gesture, but suddenly the situation feels even more intimate than before. 

“Because. Because it feels good. You're soft, and warm. And you keep making little noises.” 

“I do?” 

He smooths his hand higher, thumb dragging along the underside of your breast, and you let out a tiny, quivering whimper.

“See? Like that.” 

Opening your legs slightly wider, Eddie's knee pushes naturally further forward, his thigh now wedged between yours. His breath is fanning your nose; cigarettes, weed, and sweet snacks. 

“So sweetheart, why are you touching me?” 

Your hand presses a little more firmly, snaking underneath the hem of his shirt. With no complaint forthcoming, you reach further up, stroking his side, up over his ribs, and back down again. He responds in kind. Every kiss of fingers is electrifying, filling the room with a soft, dense tension. 

“Because it feels good. Because I saw a bit of skin and I couldn't resist.” 

“Yeah?” He's smirking as he says it, but you're beyond playing games at this point. 

“Yeah.” 

“I didn't know I was irresistible.”

You pinch his skin a little and he stares at you like you just betrayed him. 

“I didn't say that, you're twisting my words.” 

“Pretty sure I heard-” 

Cutting him off with a tickle to the ribs, he grabs your hand to stop you. 

“OK, OK! You were right, I was wrong. Nice touches again please.” 

His hand swiftly makes its way back to your skin and you continue to stroke him. 

“Nice touches?” 

“Yeah, it feels really good.” 

Running your hand up, you graze his nipple, and then bring it back down, down, until you reach the top of his jeans. You graze a finger, just one, under them, sweeping across his tensing abs. Then, you move up to more innocent flesh. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Eddie's chest is heaving, fingers pressing indents into your flesh. 

“Nice enough?” you're the one smirking this time, pleased at the effect you're having on him. 

“Yeah.” 

It's barely a word, more of a breath. You scoot closer toward him, just a couple of inches, but it's close enough to feel his thigh start to press against your heat. Gasping at the pressure, you rub subtly against his thigh to try and relieve your mounting feelings, no matter how slightly. 

Eddie's hand starts making a trembling journey up your form, fingers twisting underneath your top. Feeling the underside of your bare breast, you both gasp. Eddie undoubtedly because you weren't wearing a bra, you because, well, the obvious. The slightest graze had your nipple hardening instantly, hips rocking forward without your control. 

“Is this OK?” 

“Yeah. Please.” 

Fingers stretching further, Eddie finally brushes your nipple. The feeling is magnified by your piercing; they've felt more sensitive since you got them done.

The moan that escapes is louder than you meant but it couldn't be helped. This simple touch is igniting through your nerves and rushing to your high brain. 

“Shit, they are pierced.” 

It seems to be a thought that Eddie said out loud by accident as he rubs his fingers over your ruddy nipple, slowly circling the silver balls of the jewellery. 

Another moan breaks from you, even louder this time.

“Fuuuuck Eddie.” 

“Yeah?” 

His touches become firmer, rubbing your nipple between thumb and forefinger, mapping the way your face scrunches up with his eyes.

“Yeah, jeez. They're really sensitive.” 

Practically panting in each other's mouths, your noses rub together. 

“Can- can I kiss you?” 

His words are so hesitant that it makes you giggle. Pressing your lips in a swift kiss to his full bottom lip, you respond. 

“I'd be mad if you didn't.” 

Eddie wastes no more time, pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to you that you reciprocate in kind. You keep it slow, leisurely traversing new territory with soft, exploring tongues. Naturally your arms encircle him, pulling him closer, closer. His arm snakes around your back as your bodies press together, like puzzle pieces slotting together and finding their perfect match. Eventually you break away to take a gasping breath as Eddie presses kisses to your collarbone.

“I don't know why we waited so long to do that.” 

“We? I thought you just wanted me for free drugs!” 

You giggled loudly at that, so loud it came out as a snort, but it didn't matter. The moment was so honest that being cool had nothing to do with it. You were bare, in a way, and so was he. 

Eddie chuckled with you as he slowly but surely pushed you onto your back, slipping both of his legs between yours. Pushing your hips up, you feel his hardness graze your pubic bone. 

“Eddie?” 

He hums a response, lips and tongue busy loving on your neck. You tug at the hem of your top and pull upwards. Eddie gets the message, moving out of the way briefly so you can strip it off. 

There you are, bare chested in front of him. You'd be nervous, if you hadn't seen the longing in his eyes. He's kneeling, one arm leaning on the mattress whilst the other compulsively strokes your side. 

“Jesus Christ your tits are perfect.” 

The moment stretches just a little too long for comfort; you're a hair's breadth away from crossing your arms over your chest when Eddie leans down and runs his tongue around and around one nipple. Mewling pathetically, you lace your fingers in Eddie's soft waves and tug. In response his teeth graze you as he sucks softly; then he gives the other just as much attention. 

Shuddering and wriggling under him, you can't do anything but whine, your hips undulating upwards to chase some friction, some release, anything. 

“Eddie, please, I need you.” 

“Umph,” He responds, muffled by your chest, “I need you to say that again.” 

“Eddie I swear to God if you don't- ” 

He laughs, cutting off your sentence. 

“Alright baby girl, I got you.” 

Working his way down your front, he takes his time planting soft kisses, making you writhe at each touch of his lips, until he reaches your shorts. 

Flicking the button open, he slowly drags the zip down and finds the little sliver of red panties poking out. 

“Hearts? Cute.” 

Thick fingers plunge into your clothes and pull them away, flinging your shorts and panties across the room into the void that was Eddie's carpet. 

Insecurity finally gripped its claws into you. What if he didn't like what you looked like down there, smelled like, tasted like? 

A moment of unadulterated panic, and then Eddie licked his tongue, slowly yet firmly, between your lips and all the way up. Barging your thighs further apart with his shoulders, he rooted your clit out with his tongue, running dizzying circles and sucking at it desperately. 

Eddie's moans rivalled your own, such neediness etched in you swear his fingerprints will be left on the outside of your thighs like tattoos, simply from the force he held you with. Barely able to shake, you compensated by pulling his hair and guiding his tongue exactly where you needed it. 

He pushed a thick calloused finger into you slowly, looking up at you as he did so. You back arched off the bed. He felt around, staring at you with such intensity you that you were seconds away from telling him to quit staring when-

“Oh God, oh fuck!” 

Eddie smirked, sliding another finger in gently to join the first, and worked your clit between his lips. He incessantly stroked a spot inside that you'd never reach on your own, a firm, beckoning gesture as if he were willing your orgasm to come hither. 

It was working. Your insides tingle, a tightness pulling straight from your gut and shooting out to your fingers and toes. Beyond control by this point, your hand pulls his hair tightly. To your amazement, his other hand reaches out to you, seeking, and you lace your fingers in his own. 

As soon as your digits touched, you were gone. Your release plummets out of you, shaking through every bone you have, leaving you a twitching puddle of a woman. His fingers chase after it, dragging every inch of squelching pleasure out of your insides until you're tugging him away and begging for it to stop. 

As he moved back up your body, licking and sucking as he did so, you tried to think of an answer to the smug grin he was just about to flash at you. 

There was none. Brain unravelled, threads wound into your nerves instead of your thoughts, you laid there, ruminating on how he'd made you come faster than any other man.

Eddie hovered over you, nose nudging your own. He must have wiped his mouth at some point whilst you were in la la land. 

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Eddie, you're really fuckin’ good at that.”

“I know.”

You laugh, tapping his side.

“Cocky.”

“Confident.”

Before you can retort his mouth is back on you, peppering kisses to your jaw, as his solid member presses into your naked heat.

“Fuck Eddie, please, please please-”

“Please what baby girl?” He asks, then sucks a hickey on your neck. 

Pulling him towards you by his shirt collar, you bite down sharply on his earlobe, pulling a little groan from his chest.

“I want you to stuff me full Eddie. I'm- I'm on birth control. Fill me up.” 

You can practically feel Eddie's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck, you can't just say that, I nearly busted in my pants!” 

Pulling himself off you for the shortest time he could, he peels his t-shirt over his head and flops back on top of you. Desperate kisses and urgent gropes spill from you both; grinding, needy things that tore at clothes and grasped at flesh. 

After fiddling and failing with his belt, you huff and tug harshly at his waistband. He chuckles, biting at your bottom lip as he unlatches it with ease and then wriggles his pants and boxers down his legs with urgency. 

More desperate grasps, teeth and tongues clashing violently, your hand reaching down to clutch at his- 

“Holy hell!” 

His eyes widen, hands coming to a halt, waiting for the rest of your sentence. You're too busy trying to glance down his front as he hovers over you, your fist firmly stroking his hardened cock.

“You're huge Eddie!” 

He smirks and thrusts into your hand, the velvet smoothness of his dick massaged  by your palm. 

“Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Er, no, Rick's made some truth serum or some shit because that's the biggest I've ever felt.” 

You guide him firmly towards your entrance, dragging the tip of his enlarged cock through your slickened folds. He quivers over you, arms thick with tension. 

“Baby girl just, just slip it inside, please-” 

“Now who's begging?” 

Grinning mischievously, you wait for him to start forming an answer with his mouth when you slip the head inside your sopping opening. His open mouth turns into a long drawn out moan. 

You would tease him if the feeling of him splitting you open wasn't all consuming. Which it fucking is. He just keeps pushing, and pushing, until his chest is flush with yours and he's mumbling platitudes in your ear. 

“Doing so good for me. Such a naughty, naughty girl. Getting filled up by her drug dealer? Baby girls a little dirty, isn't she?”

You're trying not to let him know how much his words affect you, but the fluttering of your satin like walls tells a different story. 

“You're not my dealer.” 

“Oh really? I'm not?” 

Pulling out nearly all the way and pushing back in, you bite your lip at the drag against your insides.

“Dealer implies I buy shit. You just give it to me, like a little simp.”

Eddie's mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“You want me to give it to you now? I'll fucking give it to you baby.” 

Hooking an arm under your thigh, Eddie thrusts into you hard and devastatingly deep. And again, and again, until you start moaning wantonly right in his face, all bravado forgotten.

“Yeah? Atta girl. That good baby? Wanna feel me right here?” 

His other hand pushes against your lower stomach, the pressure deepening the pleasure he's giving you tenfold. 

“Oh Eddie, oh fuckfuckfuck!!” 

Your release explodes out of your cunt with a gush, liquid spurting out of you so hard you nearly force his impressive length out. It waves drastically, like the sea against the shore, washing and washing over you until it's hard to breathe. 

“Baby, baby! Holy shit, I think you squirted.” 

“Ya think? My God, that was… mind blowing.” 

“Yeah?” 

Looking up at him, you expect that arrogant grin, but he just looks pleased and innocent. Like a kid at Christmas. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.”

Rolling him over with all the power left in your thighs, you pin him down and move firmly into him, ferality taking over your actions. 

“Jesus Christ, you are a dirty girl, aren't you?” 

“Maybe just a little.” 

Smirking, you hump against him, your swollen clit bumping against his pubic bone on each delicious pass. 

“Holy shit, I'm not complaining- fuck, what the- what are you doing? Jesus Christ!” 

You bounce hard on him. Seeing him writhe under you is a special kind of power, one you aren't willing to let go of. Ever.

“Fuck, b-baby girl, you're gonna make me come!” 

His intense moans spur you on further. Unable to bounce so much on shaky knees you snuggle down close to him, arms clutching his shoulders, as you grind into him. It's massaging sensations into your clit, as well as teasing your g spot with his imposing length. 

“I can't, I’m-  baby girl-” 

“I'm gonna come, Eddie please, fill me up, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel your cum inside me, please, fuckin’ breed me Eddie. Oh fuck!” 

Quivering against him uncontrollably, your legs give out, collapsing on his body as he tenses and releases inside of you. It spurs your own orgasm, snaking up your spine and gripping on your system like a fly caught in honey. An open mouthed scream is all you give him, silent but chock full of feeling, as your back arches in its own tension. 

As it curls out of you, your back gives up, and you flop forward, bones turned to pudding. 

“Well.” is all that comes out, a puff of a word, just air escaping from a collapsing chest.

“Well.” Eddie responds, waiting for what you're about to say. 

You're sure he doesn't expect it. A laugh bubbles out; a weird, inside laugh, that you probably should never share with anyone. But it keeps coming. And coming. Laughing uncontrollably, you roll off of him and try to get your stomach muscles in check. 

You'd be worried about his reaction, if he wasn't laughing with you. It was this odd mixture of tension and relief that was bursting in the air, a barrier broken and left crumbling at your feet. 

“Eddie. Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Yeah?”

‘Yeah.”

His heated hand found yours, and squeezed your fingers hard. For some reason, it felt more intimate than all of this combined. 

Giggling again, you lean into his chest, fingers dipping up to weave into his hair. 

“Baby girl, you can't just-” 

“What? Pull your hair? Because you like it?” 

Tugging on his hair dramatically, Eddie tosses his head back and groans. 

“Knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, certified genius. It's like you don't wanna be railed again.” 

Huffing, you pull yourself on top of him again, hardened nipples brushing softly against his flesh. 

“Oh, I think I'll be the one railing you. You wanna make a bet, for next time?” 

Smug grin forgotten, Eddie stares at you in disbelief.

“Next time?” 

“Well, I hope so. Got to be the best I've ever had.” 

Stupid Rick and his stupid strain. 

“Best you've ever had?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Only if you wanna.” 

The teasing stopped. At least for now. It was pretty clear, your need for each other was outranking any goading you'd been sharing. 

At least for now… 

Taglist (Some permanents, some likely candidates, if you want to be added, jus say the word sweetheart)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson

[pseudowho]

Thinking about...

...long-term 'too comfortable' relationships with the JJK guys, when all the weird/gross/silly things creep in.

Pinning Gojo Satoru against a wall, having spotted an enormous pimple on his chin that you just have to get: "there's nothing wrong with m-- how dare you-- ow ow ow get off me--" "don't be such a melt, Satoru, keep still, that absolutely cannot stay on your face--"

Sitting on the toilet and chatting with Nanami Kento while he showers, and he wordlessly hands you a fresh toilet roll from the cabinet while he brushes his teeth; "thank you Kento" "mmmmmhm" and you continue chatting while you pee, leaving the bathroom door open. You forget to get off the toilet, so he brings you your tea there, while you continue to tell him about your day.

Laughing at Geto Suguru as he steps out of the bathroom after a bit of manscaping; "no no no-- go and get your razor, you're all patchy" "ah shit, really?" "yeah, you look like you've got a really bad gardener" "at least I try to trim the hedges..."

Plucking Fushiguro Toji's back hairs out one at a time; "OW-- dammit woman, stop doin' it like you hate me--" "--look, if you keep getting hairier, I'll just wax you instead, you're such a bear--" "--alright alright, I'll get your little witchy chin hair after--" "hey!"

Calling out to Okkotsu Yuuta while you're stuck on the toilet, blood over your hands and panties; "hey, Yuuta! Can you grab me some new underwear, and a pad?" "Sure!" Yuuta shuffles back to you, unfazed, as you hand him your bloodied panties to put in the laundry basket, "that bad, huh? You got enough stuff to last you?" "actually, I might need you to run to the shops..."

Creeping up behind Zenin Maki while she washes her bras in the sink, dropping a few of your own ones in, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek; "hey, hey, I'm not your washer woman" "yeah you are, such a beautiful washer woman" "psh...you're doing them next time"

Takuma Ino smiling as you curl on the sofa beside him in slummy old pyjamas full of holes (an ancient t-shirt of his, joggers you've had for at least ten years...), and you let out a fart; "sorry, sorry..." "don't be, I know you can do better than that" and Takuma lets one rip himself, sighing with relief.

Dropping your toothbrush down the toilet at Higuruma Hiromi's house; "ah, shit!" "oh, damn...just use mine" "eurgh, I'm not doing that!" "darling, be reasonable, I eat your pussy, we share much more--" "that's different--" "well by all means then, my love, enjoy your toilet toothbrush..."

Catching Todo Aoi taking a swig of milk out of the carton; "get a glass, jesus!" "whatever babe, it's just me and you here" "that is disgusting, unsanitary" "oh? I'll show you disgusting and unsanitary...c'mere"

When Kugisaki Nobara steps out of the bedroom, wearing your panties; "hey, they're my favourite!" "well they're my favourite too..." "yeah, on me! Get them off-- get back here--" and you dart after her, Nobara laughing as you try to pull your underwear off her, "help, help, I'm being assaulted!"

Catching Itadori Yuuji giving himself a scratch and sniff; "you absolute goblin-- go wash your hands!" Yuuji darts after you, laughing, his hand outstretched as you screech, ducking and running past him; "what, this hand? Come back baby! Where you goin'?"

Telling Fushiguro Megumi every single time you need to poop; "pause the movie! Gotta go poop," and he absolutely returns the favour, sitting on the toilet while you're taking a bath , "I'd wait...but I can't" "alright alright, just don't stink the place out" "I don't make promises I can't keep"

[whaledenwtf]

Hello! This might be a weird request but what about Gale, Halsin and Astarion with a s/o who's super cute and friendly and overall just a gigantic sweetheart who also happens to canonically be horrifyingly powerful. Like potentially even more destructive than Gale and the orb. Enemies who know their lore turn and run just at the mention of them and their name strikes fear into many hearts but then the camera pans over and it's this short sweetheart of a person. Literally this post basically

Thank you so so much, I really love your writing! Also Happy Holidays sweetie! ☺️

I love this idea!! I made it headcannons so it wasn't too long to read! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! Please ask more, I love writing things for people <3

REQUEST HERE

Headcannons: Astarion, Gale and Halsin with a super cute friendly S/O who's horrifyingly powerful

Warnings: None, this is just indulgent FLUFF, Minor Spoilers for Act 1 and for Gale and Astarion's Lore

Astarion

You were always sweet with Astarion, and only made him feel comfortable and safe.

After he told you he was a vampire, you accepted him despite everyone else telling you not to!

When you told him you could beat Cazador, he didn't believe you at first because of your sweet nature.

The first time he realized you were a legend was when you guys raided the Goblin Camp to save Halsin.

You initially told everyone your name was Tav, so nobody really knew who you were.

Every Goblin met their end with a swing of your weapon, gutting them before they blinked.

It scared your companions, honestly.

When you got to Minthara, you told her your name was (Y/N), and she backed away from you.

Astarion was confused until Karlach, Wyll and Lae'zel spoke of your legendary moniker.

Wyll may be known as the "Blade of Frontiers" but you were known as "The Walking Death" and that was thrilling for Astarion.

Every monster, creature and being met their demise when face to face with you.

Astarion was a slave for 200 years, only knowing the bare minimum from Cazador. But knowing you were on his side, and under his thumb, that thrilled him!

Once you apologized about lying to your companions, they all welcomed you in their arms, especially Astarion.

As he slowly falls in love with you, he realizes that he likes knowing his significant other is not only powerful and showed no mercy, but showed him life through another lens.

You show him that love doesn't make someone weak, but stronger.

You're powerful, and having you by his side makes him feel unstoppable as well.

He is very grateful for you. You will pull him from Cazador's clutches and stay with him through it.

Despite your sweet nature, you kicked ass. You saved everyone you could, which annoyed Astarion. But he loved you despite it, and always will.

After all, why would he run away from the first good thing to happen to him?

Gale

He was also confused about who you were right away. As a scholar he spent most of his time in books, rather than the battlefield.

Honestly, his mind was distracted between the Netherese Orb in his chest and Mystra.

When you pulled him out of the portal, he was struck by your kindness.

Then he was struck by your beauty when you fought valiantly for your companions.

He was excited seeing someone so powerful near him, and honestly fell harder.

After telling you what Mystra did, you told him you'd kill her.

He laughed you off, until he saw what you could do.

Now he's worried he won't have a goddess to worship.

Your battle prowess is astounding, and he can't help but admire you as you shout commands to your companions.

You always were gentle with Gale, soft touches and sweet nothings between you two.

He always finds it difficult to associate you with your title.

"The Slayer of Man and Beast" he's heard Lae'zel and Shadowheart call you.

You always chuckle and tell them "soon you'll have to add gods to that"

Now he's even more worried about his goddess

Over time, he considers you his goddess. After all, you've protected and respected him much more than Mystra ever had.

When he tells you about the Netherese Orb, you shrug him off.

"Nothing will keep me from you, not even a bomb."

Wow

When you two are alone, he caresses your muscles and your hands. He's in love with the idea of his significant other being this battle-worn individual set to protect him

Throughout your adventure, you remind him that you would protect him with your life.

"All for little old me?"

"Nobody will stop me from protecting you. No monster or goddess."

Man you really hate Mystra for hurting Gale so bad.

You dream about smiting her and protecting Gale in your arms.

While adventuring, you always keep Gale by your side. Everyone teases you for it until you shoot them a warning glance.

You're so so good to him. You take hits for him, heal him in battle, and heal him in the privacy of his tent.

"You're too good to me." He muttered once, eyes closed.

"You've never been treated right. It's my personal duty to make sure you never doubt yourself ever again." You replied, kissing his eyelids.

He just fell harder.

Halsin

He actually knew who you were before you saved him.

When you said your name, he bowed his head in respect.

"An honour to put a face to the name" He said to you.

You told him you loved how big and safe he was.

"You're the one who would keep me safe, little one."

He wasn't wrong. You've saved him multiple times throughout your adventure.

You were very sweet with Halsin, always leaning against his arms and closing your eyes when you sit together in camp.

He found it amusing, seeing such a feared individual be so innocent and kind with him.

In his 350 years of existence, he's never been so captivated by someone like you.

When he tasked you with eradicating the Goblin Camp, he enjoyed seeing the fear in Minthara's eyes when you said your name.

Despite being a druid, he knew that with life also came death. He accepted your past.

He found the juxtaposition of your personality endearing.

One day, he was in wildshape lounging around as a bear. You laid on him and spoke about different topics regarding your life.

In that same day, he saw you obliterate 20 goblins on your own.

He never thought he'd be aroused by someone killing goblins, but you did that.

You also knew all the spots to scratch when he was a bear??

Yes that's the spot. Right behind his ears.

He liked seeing the way you treat your companions with such kindness.

You showed respect and compassion to those who you find deserve it. You helped people find safety, and feel safe.

It was beautiful, the way you showed such love to those who were close to you.

He always compared you to the ocean.

"Why the ocean?" You asked him once.

"You can be calm, bring peace. But you are also wild, strong in the most beautiful way." He replied.

He enjoyed the way you blushed.

One time, you asked him to wildshape and you rode him into battle. Nothing is scarier than seeing (Y/N) "The Tempest" riding onto a bear.

Even your companions were scared

Ever since then, you always did it. It was like couple bonding, somehow??

Gods, he loves his little tempest

Hope this is as enjoyable for you guys to read as it was for me to write!!

[dangerbizz]

He’s so weird

Anyway i grew up on the type of ben that the fandom made him out to be (weed smoking adult who doesn’t know how to flirt properly) and I can’t really see him any other way ngl — the canon ben (a kid) ((a child)) ain’t how I see him AT ALL cuz it feels weird knowing him a certain way and then have it completely change like that so I’m gonna draw him as a weird full grown cannabis goblin howeverrrrr I will not be shipping him with anyone because I see him as a loner anyway 💥if u commission me to draw ur oc x ben it WILL be the dangerbizz ben ((an adult))((with two balls and a bong)) and I’ll do a background check to make sure ur not shipping ur oc with canon ben ((ill find you)) and the most ill draw is handholding and maybe a kiss

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

Anti's, Twitter Freaks, and Tumblr crazies seem to have this weird itch where they believe any women under 5'6" is "a literal child". And this shit has annoyed me for forever now. What's more this conversation always comes up in regards to Loli in anime and tall men with short women IRL. So here's a poll. And then more context.

Long story short, or rather as short as I can get it. I'm getting sick and tired of the idea that age somehow doesn't matter but, physical appearance of age does somehow matter instead. Especially when it comes with the context of anime. And even then more so I get frustrated at the fact that I have to talk with anyone about what is appropriate and not appropriate IRL.

The fact of the matter is and will remain that just because a girl looks like an adult does not in any way imply that it is okay to sleep with her unless you are also underage. (And I only make that caveat, because I know I can't stop young people from screwing around with one another.) But, when I see people whining about anime specifically I often end up with people who are fans of Ryoko from Kill La Kill or Kitagawa from My Dress Up Darling. Both of whom are minors. And if you like that, then you do you. Because I understand that with anime as an aesthetic they do have a tendency to look older or younger depending on how the people writing the story wanted them to come out.

However, a lot of people have a frustrating little quirk where if it looks like a character is too short, to flat chested, or has no back-end or thighs to speak of, they assess that that character is supposed to either be or look like a child (Ignoring they treat REAL women like this). Which also ignores this fun issue:

Because let's talk age of consent shall we. Sure, it's not universal across every country but it's pretty close among first world ones. But people make a big deal of characters that short with no bust, seek out people that like that character, and will literally treat that person as if they've harmed kids IRL. Yet are seemingly NEVER angry over the abuse of real kids. What's more they will claim something is pedophilia online, THEN SHARE IT saying something like "OMFG LOOK AT THIS EPSTEIN TIER ABUSER!", and I'm sitting here like, "I don't care how old you are if you're an adult you need to be punched in the throat and if your a minor, you and your parents need to be punches in the throat". (My reasoning here is simple. If you think something is CP why would you then share it to more people rather than just report it)

Epstein abused and trafficked MANY young girls and possibly young boys to a lesser extent. A person that likes this goblin?

Isn't even close to Epstein. Because:

This is a drawing

This drawing is humanoid but doesn't look like an actual human

This character is probably older than you are

This character is a dragon

This character is FICTIONAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My point for asking ladies heights is because I'm really sick of people more or less going, "as long as you look old enough it's fine" while not realizing they literally just made the argument that age is just a number and so long as you look of age you should be allowed to be sexually abused.

[cricket-of-the-hill]

So what's the deal with Fiddleford McGucket? Why's he like that?

Fiddleford as a character is so FUN because he's so complicated and tragic and honestly a little pathetic. On one hand you have this absolutely brilliant scientist with the potential to have been the in universe Steve Jobs who figured out that the universe is a hologram and built an honest to betsy transdimensional portal (with Ford's help, yes, but let's be honest: as mathematically brilliant as Ford was, I think his intelligence laid more in the theoretical side of things, really doubt he could have actually built the portal himself).

On the other hand, we have this man who up and leves his FAMILY to chase after a college friend who calls him one day saying "hey, I'm out in Oregon building a portal to another dimension. Little help?" and he doesn't even think twice before being like "bet" and getting his ass to Oregon. And even if you take in the context clues that things weren't going well with his marriage before he left (as pieced together by the brilliant @divorcedfiddleford in this post), he still had his son and McGucket Computermajigs and he just sets all that aside for this guy, which... 😶

I am gonna write this whole post on the assumption that Fiddleford was in love with Ford, but look, even if that's the case it doesn't make any of his actions less unhinged. Break here, because the post gets kinda long 😶‍🌫️

So here's the thing: in the fandom, it's fun to think that Fidds knew about Bill and they had some sort of taunting rivalry/love triangle thing going on and that's really fun to mess with, but FIDDLEFORD HAD NO IDEA ABOUT BILL. Ford never told him! So even if Fidds leaves California thinking he's gonna have his hot girl summer/queer arthouse romcom where he reconnects with the love of his youth and they spend the summer working in this secluded house in the woods where they can finally live out their romance, what he actually gets is a fucking psychological horror thriller where the guy he loves and is kinda trapped with is either slowly going insane or straight up getting possessed.

Now, all that is 😵‍💫 enough, but it gets worse because instead of doing the normal person thing and getting the hell out of Dodge, Fiddleford stays. He continues to help Ford to build the portal despite how weird the other man is getting, he continues to go cryptid hunting even after the nightmare goblin almost eats him, even if Ford clearly doesn't appreciate the work he does (research assistant? Not even partner? Come on), and never reciprocates the kind of gestures Fidds has towards him (like the infamous double Christmas gift bonanza).

Here's where the duality of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket kicks in: the thing is that he is incredibly brave in some ways and obviously really smart but also kind of a coward and an idiot when it comes to his relationships with others. He'll hit Thee Krampus upside the head with his banjo one day to save his friend and run away to Oregon instead of discussing divorce with this wife the next. He will leave everything he knows to pursue this one guy, but he will never ever ever confess to feeling anything other than friendship towards him. He'll put up with Stanford's creepy as all hell behavior but will never confront him about it even as Ford loses more and more of himself into his project (so no little intervention not even to help this man he's giving so much up for). Like, what was he expecting to get out of all this? If he was never planning to confess to Ford or leave his wife, what was he going to do once the portal was completed? Just keep on bouncing between wherever Ford went next and his family? Did he really think his wife and son wouldn't mind him leaving them behind without so much as a thought?

Operating under the assumption that Fiddleford is a closeted queer guy from rural Deep Down South Hillbilly County Tennessee (said with love, I'm also from the south, but we all know what homophobia looks like here) during the '80s (height of the aids pandemic which would have made everything worse) one can maybe understand why Fiddleford is like that. Why he is so so so afraid and why he ultimately chooses to erase his memories rather than just go back to his family.

So picture this: you are in love with your best friend but you can't tell him 'cause best case scenario he leaves you out to dry and worst case scenario maybe someone finds your boots down by the river and lets your parents know (and we know Ford is sweet and fruity himself and with a thing for outcasts and would never. Fiddleford probably knows that himself, but let me tell you that when you grow up with that fear it goes deep. Because you've most likely seen people who are kind get absolutely bent out of shape when confronted with the mere idea of someone like you existing in their near vicinity). Eventually, you get married and have a son because that is what you were supposed to do all along and even though you love your son and maybe even love your wife everything feels wrong. They expect you to be something you are not, you can never let your guard down, never be yourself, not even in your own home. So then that call comes and it's like a golden thicket: you can leave, give it a rest for a little while, go see your friend, stretch out those inventing muscles.

As much as the fandom clowns him for it, I honestly don't even think he went out there with the intention of cheating (emotionally or otherwise). BUT I do think he was hoping something would happen. It's just that it all depended on Ford taking that first step because Fidds sure as hell wouldn't. And then Ford didn't because he was too busy doing the sin cos tan with his trigonometry homework, but if he had, we could have had a brokenback mountain situation on our hands, lads. Then Fiddleford could have just gone along with it, and done all sorts of mind parkour to convince himself that that's somehow less bad than "outright" cheating on his wife.

So he gets to the cabin, right? And maybe things are good for a little while, like when they were in college. Fiddleford lets loose a little, Ford is happy with the company, they're friends! And I get the sense that they're the kind of friends that mesh really well, like their energies really match. As much as the fandom paints Fiddleford like a sweet cinnamon roll, that man is also a freak. He's out here building psychotic post divorce revenge pterodactyl robots and drinking abducted cow milk just to see what it's like. He's a bit unhinged! He and Ford are the two people in the world that can be like "I think the universe is a hologram." "Cool! Let's prove it mathematically, bro" and "I want to build a portal to another dimension. Just cause." "Catching a ride to your place with my toolbox as we speak, buddy." (My own personal head cannon is that Fiddleford didn't really become such a shaky jelly until the nightmare goblin got him. Like, he was never as adventurous as Ford, but I think before that particular traumatizing event he was all right for it).

Anyways, things are good for a bit, but the real world is still out there. Fiddleford has to make trips home every now and then, and every time he comes back it seems like something is different. A little off. At first it's nothing big, just a smile a little sharper than usual, a coldness in a look, Ford calling him "Specs" where before he was always a variation of his name. Then it's pointed comments that Fidds chalks up to a lack of sleep (is Ford even sleeping at all? Because he could have sworn for the past three nights he he has appeared in the same place Fidds left him when he went to sleep). Then it's a flash of yellow eyes, a maniacal laugh that Ford never used to make before, spells where he seemingly forgets how to use his body (bumps into things, tries to drink soda with his eyes?). As time goes on it starts to become more and more obvious that something is seriously wrong with this friend. And things back home are just getting worse and worse, Emma May isn't happy about Fiddleford skipping town so often, Tate wont stop asking for him, and look, was Fiddleford even making money while he was with Ford? He gettin' paid? Is Emma May back home trying to bring home the bacon while virtually single parenting? (How was Ford even supporting himself while studying anomalies? I can't imagine there's a lot of grants for that.)

But Fiddleford can't leave his friend and he can't really own up to how much messier things are at home because of this whole thing. So he keeps coming back to Gravity Falls, where he also can't really face up to Ford and either demand a clear answer as to what is going on or try to get him some help (an exorcist, maybe). Because if he does say something and Ford decides that he doesn't want Fiddleford around asking questions he's gonna have to go back home where after the Christmas thing he's honestly not sure he's really wanted anymore, not really sure he deserves it if he still was. So he keeps on doing his thing, telling himself "this is fine 🙂," while he sits in a room on fire with a bill-possessed Ford hanging from the ceiling like a spider and an disapproving Emma May looking in through a window.

I think the portal incident was what finally opened his eyes to the reality of his situation, in an ironic way. He destroyed his relationship with his wife and left his son for nothing. Left his own dreams and aspirations aside just to find out that when push comes to shove his opinion and well-being matter so little to this man he was ready to break the laws of physics for. He can't stay with Ford, and he sure as hell can't go back home, because that would mean having to face that he's done burned down all his bridges. So where do you go from there? Let me tell you, if I had the chance to forget the lowest, most selfish, stupid thing I did for a person who didn't even notice it, I'd do it in a second.

[hanihazeljade]

Skill Issue

Jason was away when Tim got de-aged. Now, it his turned to be the victim of the incarnation of Janet, Timothy.

pt.2 of Disgustingly Green

(CW: Manipulation, swearing)

Tim avoided the kid that kept on insulting him. He doesn't even apologise to him! Mr. Wayne is so dumb that he doesn't even reprimand that kid and instead he reprimand Tim instead. It is giving Sephora kids vibe.

Tim was now actively avoidinh the living room where the telly is. He likes watching news but the kid was always there petting his cat. And Tim is allergic to cats, that is what his mom told him when he ask for one, so he is glad to have the huge library of the Waynes to himself.

They have a huge collection of non-fiction books and Tim loves it. He was already in fifth book in his weeks of being here! His house never had this types of books, it's just his textbook and the ancient manuscript that his parents like to bring back to their digs. Having this was really heaven.

He is in the page 86 when someone enter the library. He looked over to see if it's the kid or if it's Mr. Butler. But to his surprise it's neither. It is a tall man with a weird white hair strip. Even though he knows it's rude to stare at someone, he stared at the weird man and the weird man stare back at him. It is not a contest but something in Tim has the feeling of "if you look away, you lose" and Tim hates losing.

The weird man breaks the stare first making Tim proud of himself.

"You are too little for an eight-year old, Replacement." The weird man said.

Replacement? Who? Him? Timothy? The audacity to call him a replacement? If Timothy replace him and he might be not good enough then.

Tim smiled, "And you look a lot like a skunk but you don't hear me complain, right?" he said, then he sniffed the air, "And also you smell like one."

"What the fuck, Replacement?"

"Language, Mr. Butler doesn't like swearing." Tim said as he went back to his book.

"Ah nuh uh, this is my place, Replacement."

"I don't see your name anywhere here, Mr. Weird Man." Tim said but not breaking his eye contact on his book.

"I will count to three and if you don't het your ass out of here, I swear to God, Replacement."

"You kept on calling me "Replacement", maybe if you use your little brain of yours, you might find a conclusion that if an eight-year old can replace your big body, you might have a skill issue, but hey, that might be too much for your little brain." Tim shrugged.

"One."

"Try me."

"Two."

"..."

"Three." and with three, Tim's body got flown across the room. Tim was shocked, he can see the weird man smug face, but he can make it to his favour. He pushed out his tears out of his eyes and loudly wailed. Mr. Butler hate to see him sad, he doesn't know why but he can put it in his advantage.

And within 15 seconds of his wailing, Mr. Butler appeared, looking for the boy that was still laying on the floor, cheeks are red and his arms are a little bit bruised. Mr. Butler look at the weird man with a neautral face.

"Alfred, I swear it doesn't what it looks like." The weird man defended himself but Tim is not gonna give him a chance and shouted, "He threw me!" and he wailed even louder, his knees are even now hurting.

"I thought I raised you better than this, Master Jason." Mr. Butler just shook his head, "Come on, Master Timothy. Let me patch you up."

"Carry me, please?" Timothy looks at Mr. Butler with his wide eyes still filled with tears and his lips are wobbling as he put his hands up. And with no words, Mr. Butler carried him with ease. Timothy snuggled at the old man's neck, he sniffled a little and gave the weird man a middle finger, it's bad but the shocked face of the weird man is satisfying.

++++++++++

"That is a goblin, Bruce." Jason said as he watched Replacement cling to his not so legal adoptive father.

"Kids are just honest, Jason. Dick too said a lot of harsh words back when he was eight." Bruce defended Timothy as Timothy keep on touching Bruce face by gently smacking it then giggling.

"Yeah, sure. Kids are mean, we already established that, I mean have you seen Damian?" Jason snorted, "But that goblin is a lot worse than Damian and that says a lot."

"We know, Little Wing. The first time this Tim meet Damian, he managed to made Damian cry." Dick said as he spawned out of nowhere. "But he was just a cutie little thing, aren't you?" Dick cooed to Timothy and Timothy giggled.

"Okay, first of all, where the hell you come from and second, that kid made the demon cry?" Jason was shocked, the kid did made the impossible. He didn't think Al Ghuls actually can cry and that little shit actually did.

"Yes, with that incident, Damian has become more elusive to Tim. The manor has been the most peace it had since." Bruce said as he keeps Tim stay still to his arms. "And also Jason, Roy's daughter is the same age as Tim right now, right?"

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sharks IV

Meadema x Child!Reader

Summary: You go to Netherlands Camp

"Okay," Mummy says," You be good, okay?"

She adjusts your shark backpack on your back, closing her eyes briefly when she hands you your Goblin and Cookie Cutter. She smiles at you, running a hand over your cheek.

"Are you sure you want to go with Mama? You won't see Peanut if you go with Mama."

You think for a moment. Lucy and Keira's Peanut is your friend and you rarely see her because she lives in Spain with her mummies now. You haven't seen her at camp either because Mummy's had her big knee ouchy and hasn't gone.

But Mama said that you were welcome to come with her to the Netherlands camp so that's what you're doing.

"Can see Peanut later," You tell Mummy and she brushes your hair out of your face and kneels down to lace up your shoes.

"Okay," She says," Do everything Mama tells you. Be nice. Use your manners. We'll have a chat every night before you go to bed. Sound good?"

You nod.

"Hey...I love you."

"Love you too, Mummy!" You give her a nice tight hug before you join Mama at the taxi.

The flight from London to the Netherlands is fairly short and you have to get into another taxi to take you to the training grounds.

You stay in Mama's arms the entire way to your new room but still manage to wave at the social media people when they film you and Mama's arrival.

Netherlands Camp isn't too different to England Camp except Peanut isn't here. That's nice though. Sometimes Peanut is a bit too loud and excitable for you even though she's your bestest friend.

You sit with Mama in her room and play with your sharks. You weren't allowed to bring all of them with you (which is sad because you think a few of them will be lonely all at home by themselves) but you got your most favourite.

Goblin and Cookie Cutter sit up by your pillows as you take your little plastic figures on a trip around Mama's bed.

"It's a...a..." You think for a moment. "An ecosystem!"

"That's a big word," Mama says.

"It's a group of animals working together so they can all live in the same place," You explain as you make your clownfish hide in the sheets to escape one of your sharks.

"You're very smart," Mama replies and your face goes a little red at the praise.

It stays that way until there's a knock at the door. Mama gets up to open it and you distract yourself by making your swordfish eat your squid.

"Well," A familiar voice says," It's nice to see somethings never change."

You whip your head around and drop your toys. "Daan!" You run into her outstretched arms. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too!" Daan says, swinging you up and spinning around.

You giggle hysterically. "Mama! Look! It's Daan!"

Mama's got a bit of a weird look on her face but she puts on a smile for you and nods. "I can see that."

"Daan! Daan! Look! My sharks!" You pull Daan over to the bed to show her all the new toys you've got since she's been away.

Viv watches as you do so, suddenly struck dumb at the familiarity you greet Daan. She knows (of course she does) that Beth and Daan used to date. She knows that you had some form of a relationship with Daan.

She just never really expected to see it.

You knew your way around Daan, sitting on her lap and explaining happily what was happening in your little ecosystem. You lean into her body and let her scratch at your scalp as you introduce her to your Goblin and Cookie Cutter.

"Mama got them for me!" You say to Daan and it jolts Viv out of her thoughts, a small smile appearing on her face as you turn to look back at her.

"Really?" Daan asks," That's so cool! I'm glad that you still like sharks." She pokes at your belly. "I remember the first shark I got you."

The smile drops from Viv's face. In all honesty, she hadn't ever thought about how you got interested in sharks in the first place. She hadn't ever wondered who got you your first shark toy.

But, somehow, it being Daan left a bad taste in her mouth.

Viv knows that she shouldn't feel that way but she can't help it, like how she can't help but feel a little anger bubble in her gut at the way you so easily fall back into Daan like she had never left.

The feeling persists throughout the day as you stick to Daan like glue, peering up at her with big eyes and a wide smile. You go everywhere with her and insist on eating with her at dinner.

When Viv gets you back, she can't help but hold your hand tight. She has you wave goodbye to Daan and, after your bedtime call with Beth, she sits on your bed with you.

"I missed Daan," You say as her fingers stroke through your hair.

The feeling is back in Viv's stomach as you continue to talk about Daan, about what you missed about her, about how she used to play sharks with you in the bath, about how she used to tuck you into bed and give you kisses on your cheek, forehead and nose before you went to sleep.

"You must have missed her a lot, huh?" Viv asks even though the question tastes sour in her mouth.

Her words make you furrow your brow, like you're stumped about what she said. After a few seconds, you speak," Only when I saw her. Don't really miss her when I can't see her." Your frown gets a bit deeper. "'Cause I've got you and Mummy and my sharks. I don't need Daan because I'm not so little anymore."

Viv smothers her vindictive smile as she kisses both of your cheeks and tucks your blankets up all the way to your chin. You move your toys towards her and Viv kisses your Cookie Cutter and then your Goblin.

When you wake up the next day and Mama finishes her Netherlands training, she takes you to the pool with Vic. It's empty apart from the three of you and Mama helps you change into your swimming costume.

"It's like a shark!" You say excitedly as Mama takes a pool float out of her bag. "It's a dorsal fin!" You turn to explain to Vic. "That's the big fin that sticks up like in movies."

You clap as Mama slips your arms through the straps and tightens them.

"I've got a fin!" You tell Vic, in case she hasn't realised as she slips into the pool.

"That's so cool," Vic says as Mama lowers you into her arms before getting in herself.

"Dorsal fins help the sharks not to roll over when they're swimming," You say because Mummy read that in your bedtime book with you before you left for Netherlands Camp," And they help sharks swim straight!"

"Well," Mama says," Let's hope that it does the same for you. Do you remember what we talked about?"

You think for a moment. "Hands like ice cream scoops! And...And kick my legs hard...and! And turn my head to breath!"

"Very good!" Mama praises," Now I'm going to swim behind you and Vic's going to be up front, okay?"

You nod. "Okay!"

You take a big deep breath and start paddling. You like swimming. Mummy takes you to the pool lots but only when you wear your armbands. Mama says that you're a bit too old for little kiddy armbands now so she was going to teach you the proper way.

You were happy to throw away your dolphin armbands because you don't really like dolphins anyway. You think they're a lot meaner than sharks so you had a little dance party with Mummy and Mama when they got thrown into the pin.

Your armbands being thrown away meant that you got your new shark fin floaty.

"Woo!" Vic cheers as you swim the long length with only a little stopping," Look at you!"

"Mama!" You turn in Vic's arms to look at Mama," Did you see? Did you see? I swam without my armbands!"

"You did!" Mama takes you from Vic. "You did so good! You'll have to keep practising though."

"I will!" You promise, giggling a little when Mama presses ticklish kisses to your cheeks. You turn to look at Vic as she paddles around you. "Mama and Mummy say that if I eat my vegetables and learn to swim really good then one day, when I'm older, I can swim with sharks!"

"That's a long way away," Mama reminds you," Now, how about we do a few more laps and then we can tell Mummy all about it on your bedtime call later?"

You beam. "Okay!"

[dailyadventureprompts]

Hello Dapper. I don’t really expect too much about this, but do you have any ideas for Wargs? They have an interesting relationship with goblins and are weird in that they’re essentially sapient wolf monsters, but I don’t think they’re ever really used that creatively.

Monsters Reimagined: Wargs, wolf panics, and the Economics of Lupophobia

While the surface level answer is pretty simple (warg is a conversion of varger, an old Norse way to refer to mythological wolves like Fenrir) there's actually a surprising amount of material to drill into here on the topic of sapient wolf monsters, especially for someone like me who has a interest in moral panics and mass hysteria events. Wolves were effectively a boogyman for pre-industrial societies, a deep seated generational fear that we only recognize today through cultural relics like the big bad wolf or boy who cried wolf.

TLDR: If you want to do something interesting with wargs beyond just "wolves that talk" I'd advise playing to their folk / fairytale roots. They're creatures of embodied dread, drawn from the stuff of the feywild to sow fear among those who would travel off the path or too close to the wilderness. This lets you tell interesting stories about how the party/major characters respond to fear: Does fear of being attacked in the dark drive the party to make risky decisions that might endanger their quest? How do the villagers react when the wolves are very literally at the door, demanding just one of their neighbours as a meal in exchange for safety?

I'd also advise getting weirder with a warg's powers, playing into that fear of the unknown by doing unexpected things. The party can fight off a pack of wolves, sure, but what does it mean when the lead wolf rips off the bard's shadow and takes off into the night?

Background: If you want a window into the headspace of wolf-panic, think about the neigh omnipresent fear of sharks created by the Jaws franchise. Children who have never seen the movie, let alone seen a shark in person can become irrationally afraid of getting into deep water because they've absorbed the pervasive cultural phobia, which goes onto shape environmental policy as sharks are overhunted or killed out of spite for their perceived threat.

So it was for wolves, even after they were largely hunted to near extinction by medieval and postmedieval societies, the fear of them was so ingrained into cultural traditions that wolf and werewolf panics were a thing that went hand in hand with witchtrails. France had a country wide one as late as the 1760s and the movie based on it ended up inspiring Bloodborne. Alternatively look at the anti-wolf efforts during the colonization of the Americas, right up to the opposition to reintroducing wolves back to Yellowstone park.

On that note (and because we can't have a Monsters Reimagined without some kind of class analysis), lets talk about how these fears are propagated: On many levels it makes sense for everyday people to be afraid of wolves, they're a hunting species that can absolutely pose a danger to us, and when you're living or travelling outside the protection of a settlement you really are vulnerable to a coordinated pack of carnivores running you down.

However, the primary threat that wolves pose to humans isn't predation, it's property damage, specifically in how they kill livestock. While we can talk about individual farmsteads beset by beasts, in reality the herds that wolves were most likely to prey upon belonged to the landowning classes, powerful people who had a profit incentive in seeing wolves driven off or exterminated. This is where you get bounties on dead wolves, not just paying for the value of the hide but actively rewarding people for going out and killing as many wolves as possible to the point of it becoming a profession. This practice has existed for MILLENIA and is still active today, primarily in places where big agriculture influences governments.

It seems incidental at first but then you realize that it fits the model of just about every other kind of cultural panic: widespread ignorance and fear that just so happens to mobilize the populace in a way that financially benefits a select few. You can see the same thing happening today in england with badgers of all things, which have been identified with the local dairy industry as a threat to their herds. This is not only led them to petition the government to cull the badger population, but to put out anti-badger propaganda, eventually turning it into a culture war issure to the point where conservative mouthpieces like Jeremy Clarkson openly encourages killing and gassing badgers on sight.

Returning to the land of fantasy for now: I think it's worth taking the idea of the warg and mixing it with a few other "black dog" cultural archetypes, which can also include the creatures like the shuck or church grimm. In this instance the warg is a sort of curse made manifest, the fear of a haunted place given literal teeth. People who transgress into these forbidden spaces find themselves pursued by a manifestation that dogs them till they're exhausted and vulnerable, much like a wolf harrying its prey.

The bhargest is also of special interest here, considering how I like to relate goblins back to the feywild. You could easily see bhargests as agents of fey that feed on human fear, leading a pack of goblins or hobs that occupy the desolate lands they've called to haunt. My version of Maglubiyet would also delight in employing such creatures as his emissaries.

Going back to the vargr/ Norse mythology angle, it's interesting that most of the wolves that show up are destined to devour something, whether it be a god or celestial certanty like the moon and sun. It's like the concept of an inevitable chase is so fundimental to what a wolf IS that it became a theme of ragnarok's inevitable certantly. Consider having certan packs of wargs be offspring of some fenrir style god eater, beasts of forboding doom who's mere presence is an omen of ill times.

Alternatively, if you wanted to play on the big bad wolf angle, give wargs the ability to take on flimsy human disguises, all the better to get close to their pray and sow fear among the townsfolk. Historical wolf panics after all are not all that different than serial killer panics, and it'd be a fun twist on a traditional werewolf adventure to have the party on a creature that didn't play by the usual lycanthropic rules.

Artsource

[hellsburners]

feel the rush

summary: you come home to a needy roommate pairing: peter parker x male reader word count: 1.2k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x pollen, blowj0bs, handj0bs, implied fwb a/n: i got this as a request so i hope anon liked it &lt;3

masterlist | more peter parker

You came home to the sound of grunting. Your roommate, Peter, was hunched on your couch covered in a thick blanket shaking and groaning. He was still wearing his suit, his hair all wet and tousled. “Peter, what’s wrong?’ you inched closer. He shuddered from the sudden touch.

“‘Not feeling well,” he said.

“Are you hurt?” you touched his forehead with the back of your hand. He was having an intense fever, sweat dripping from his temples. “Jesus you’re hot.”

“Was—this pumpkin bomb the goblin used,” he said, his voice shaking and hoarse. “This weird powder came out of it.”

“I’ll make you some tea, let’s get you to the kitchen,” you tried to help him stand up but Peter refused. “What’s wrong?” he shook his head, and you pleaded to him that he needed the tea. You took his arm around your neck and pulled him up. 

Peter’s body was still hunched over as he stood. He groaned from a sudden pain. Shit, he utters. You look down to where his eyes were focused on, his crotch. There was an obvious tent in his center, the fabric of his suit was wet near the tip of his cock. Peter tried to hide it with the blanket but you already saw. The two of you paused for a bit, taking in what just happened.

Oh. 

“It won’t go away,” he cries. 

You let him sit back on the sofa, the tent still erect. “I’ll—go get the tea.” 

You came back a few minutes later with the tea, still steaming from the kettle. He blows on the cup and takes a sip. Peter winces, the tea did nothing, his temperature was still high and the thing was still a problem. 

“Maybe you should get a really cold shower, that helps right?” you said. Peter sinks his head in his palms and screams into the blanket. “You know what, maybe you should undress, you know—since it looks like it's hurting down there.”

Peter stands, the blanket falling on the couch. You help him with the zipper on his nape, quickly pulling it down to expose his scarred back. He pulls on the suit to remove it from his arms, the lean muscles contracting from the movement. He loses balance for a sec, your hands going immediately to his bare shoulders for support. A soft moan leaves his lips. 

“Sorry—,” he groans. You help him pull off the rest of the suit leaving him in his baby blue boxers. The front of the boxers was stained dark blue from his erection. “Can I take it off?” He gestures at the boxers. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked before, there was that one time you two hooked up but it was a long time ago and under different circumstances. Peter takes off his underwear and slumps on the sofa, his leaking cock pointing north. It was throbbing and the head a bright red. 

“It won’t go away,” his words dragged out. 

“Have you tried to, you know, do it?” 

“I tried to rub one out but nothing happened, you need to help me.”

“Help you?” your brows furrowed. He nods like a puppy, his brown eyes shining under the lights. 

“Like old times.”

“That was one night,” you said.

“One amazing night,” he jokingly laughs.

You flipped him off. You braced yourself, wiping your sweaty palms on your legs. “So what should we do?” you asked. 

“We could do a handjob first?” his voice was still shaking. 

You placed your hand on his leaking cock, it was warm and hard under your skin. Peter rests his arm on the back of the couch, his thighs wide apart as you start to jerk him off. He closes his eyes and draws his head back, a sigh of relief leaving his mouth. 

“Is that good?”

“Fuck, so good,” he moans. 

You continue to slide your hand across his length, and a few beads of precum fall in your hand producing lubrication. Peter lets out a loud cry as your wet hand reaches the sensitive head of his cock. 

“You can go faster,” he said. Your pace quickens, he lets out a moan, his lips glistening. You tighten the grip on his erection, especially when you reach his tip. He grips the back of your shirt. His legs tense, his face scrunches as if he were in pain. He let out a loud, fuck. 

“What’s wrong?”

“It didn’t work,” he said. His face went frown. You wanted to help him, he looked like he was in so much discomfort. 

“What if I give you a blow job?” you utter, your brain not even thinking of it before it left your lips.

His eyebrows raised at your suggestion. “You sure you’d want that?”

“Like you said. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before,” he laughs. 

You bent down where the tip of his cock was inches away from your lips. You press your lips to the tip, you taste the saltiness in his precum. His hand on your back snakes towards your nape, to your hair. He guides your head as you engulf his hardness, the girth filling your lips. 

Your saliva coats his cock making it slippery. You jerk his cock off while you suck on the tip. Peter lets out a drawn-out moan, his hands on your hair curling. Your mouth leaves his cock, you stand up. His brows raised in confusion. You knelt in between his legs, your hands kneading his muscular thighs. 

Peter looks at you with amusement as you take his cock back into your mouth, both of his hands guiding your face. “Can I fuck your—” You didn’t let him finish, you assumed the position, your mouth around his cock and your hands on your lap. 

He braced himself as fucked into your mouth. Using you as a means for release. He fucks into your throat with vigor as he lifts his hips from the couch. He bites his lip from the immense pleasure coursing through his body. Whatever the bomb had it amplified his senses tenfold. 

Your eyes start to well from the sheer force, your hands digging into your thighs. You look up to Peter through your lashes, his eyes closed and his face in ecstasy. He lets out a bunch of praises, on how good it feels and how close he was. 

You take the wheel from him, back to sucking on his cock practically worshiping it. Your tongue licking the sensitive frenulum. You hollow your cheeks and it edges Peter on more. Your hand continues to stroke him, another hand fondling his balls. 

“I’m so fucking close,” he whines. 

Peter’s hips started to thrust on your hand as his body started to convulse. He yells out as thick cum shoots at your face and your tongue, the warm liquid was bitter on your taste buds. You gulped, he was still riding his high, his face all red and his chest heaving. 

You two pause for a second, breathing hard from the intense exercise. Peter pulls you in for a kiss, he could taste his pleasure in your mouth. You moan as he takes you into his lap, his hands crawling under your shirt. 

“Your turn.” 

comments/ reblogs/ tags are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>