#but did not find the body horror i wanted

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Congratulations on 1.6k WIFEY 🩷🎀💋

🐇 Eddie spaghetti, reader says “I never meant to fall in love with you… I just did.” Ball worship… you know😉😏 😌

Eeee tysm baby girl!! I love you!! IM KISSING U RN!!🖤😚 This low key got away from me and isn’t a blurb but I was possessed by his balls.😩

This is for my 1.6k celebration✨

Warnings: Ball worship, pet names, past enemies to lovers, slight hair pulling, established relationship, fluff. 18+MDNI!1.3k

You’re laying in Eddie’s lap on the couch as random horror reruns flash across the tv screen. He’s very invested in the plot of sleepaway camp, giving you random eddie esc commentary here and there. But you can hardly focus on what he’s saying with the way his large ringed fingers scratch your scalp and run down your arm, the calloused tips finding their way under your shirt to stroke the stoke the skin on your hip. Especially since your cheek rested against his mostly soft cock (he could get hard at a moments notice with you around) and all he’s wearing is those flimsy little plaid pajama pants so you can smell his musk.

All you can think about is pulling his pants down so you can lean over and shove your face directly in his balls. His balls. That feel so fucking perfect when you wrap your lips around them and swirl your tongue. His balls that are just so sensitive and the minute you give them any attention he’s a whiney whimpering mess for you. There was just something about Eddie Munson’s balls that drove you insane. Maybe it was the way they hung perfectly nestled behind his thick cock. Or that cute little peach fuzz that they were covered in. It definitely has something to do with the way they tighten up when he cums, practically emptying before your eyes. Ultimately it probably boils down to just how much you love the man they were attached to, and how badly you want to worship every inch of him.

Which is funny considering all the time you spent hating him growing up. But when you ran into him in the city six years after high school he inevitably charmed his way into your heart. If told your high school self you’d be lying in Eddie Munson’s lap, daydreaming about his balls she would’ve laughed in your face. But alas, here you are, staring down at his crotch with heart eyes.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you… I just did…” You sigh dreamily, bringing your hand up to rest at the crook of his thigh as your nuzzle your cheek against his cock.

“Aw baby, I love you so much I -“ his sentence is cut short when your hand travels from his thigh to cup his balls as you continue to rub your face against him. “Wait… are you talking to my cock right now?”

“Uh-uh, not your cock…” You hum as you start to gently roll his sack in your palm.

“Princess.” He chuckles, cupping your face in his hand to get you to look up at him. It takes everything in you to stop staring at the cloth of his pajamas like you’re suddenly going to gain x-ray vision. “Are you talking to my balls? Did you just profess your love to my nutsack?”

“Mhm.” You hum as you continue to knead his heavy balls through that god forsaken fabric. “They’re just so nice.”

“Yeah?” His gaze softens as he looks down at you. “What’s so great about them, huh?”

“I could tell you… but I think it would be more fun if I just showed you instead.” You flip your body towards him before running your hand across his bare abdomen, making sure to stop to stroke that little thatch of hair under his belly button. You lean forward and place an open mouthed kiss on the tattoo on his chest as your hand travels down into his pants. You take his shaft in your hand, pumping him a few times, you run your thumb along the tip, smearing the precum that gathered there.

“Oh fuuuck, sweetheart.” Eddie groans as he throws his head back. One of his large hands grips onto your hip your while the other finds purchase in his messy mane.

“Mmm wanna make you feel so good, Eddie baby.” You kiss along his chest and down his abdomen as your hand descends lower, cupping his balls again. You massage them in your palm, squeezing them lightly, running the tips of your fingers along the silky sensitive skin. You push yourself up slightly so you can latch your lips onto his, capturing them in a desperate kiss. He moans against your mouth and runs his tongue along your bottom lip, you separate your lips enough for him to slip in and intertwine your tongues.

You continue to make out as you rub him with your hand until you can’t take it anymore, you need to get your mouth on him. You push yourself off the couch onto your knees and grab onto the waistband of those god damn pants, pulling them down and off his ankles. Your eyes hone in on his hard cock and drink in his sack before traveling all over naked his form.

“So pretty, you’re so pretty Eddie.” You run your hands along his muscular thighs, the feeling of the course hairs there sending chills through your body. You kiss up each one of his legs, leaving little nips and flicks of your tongue along the way.

“Fuuuuck, baby doll, that feels so nice.” Eddie groans, one of his hands snaking around to gently cup the back of your head as he looks down at slack jawed and wide eyed like you hung the stars. You hold eye contact with him and you spit on your palm as you take his sack in your now lubed up hand. You fondle him for a moment before leaning down to lightly suck one of his balls into your mouth as you swirl your tongue around the velvety skin. You grab grabs onto his cock with one hand and begin to pump him while the other runs up and down his chest, lightly scratching him with your nails.

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s so fucking good.” Eddie’s moans, the hold on your head tightening slightly as his fingers start to grab onto your hair. You run your tongue along his sack, making sure to give each side equal attention, running your tongue along each and every inch of them.

“Just love your balls so much, love all of you so much. You smell so good. Wanna make you cum.” You’re practically rambling, drunk off the pleasure you’re giving him. You suck his other ball between your lips, giving it the same treatment. Swirling your tongue, varying between gentle and slightly harder sucking motions. Your hand continues to pump his shaft, your thumb coming up to rub along his slit every once in a while.

“Oh god - oh fuck - baby, you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” Eddie’s hips buck slightly as he tugs on your hair, the sexiest moans and whimpers you’ve ever heard leaving his lips.

“Yes, please give it to me.” You practically whine as you pull off of him, looking at him with your mouth and chin covered in drool and he swears he could probably just cum right fucking now. “Wanna feel your balls twitch between my lips when you cum.”

“Holyfuckingshit. Baby, fuck, you’re so hot, oh fuuuuck -“ Eddie throws his head back when you lean down to take his whole sack in your mouth, sucking on him like a god damn succubus. Your strokes on his cock never let up as you continue to practically devour his balls. When your grip on his shaft tightens slightly just as you run your tongue right across the crease of his sack it sends him over the edge.

“Oh shit, I’m fucking cumming, I’m cumming fuck.” Eddie’s thighs tremble as his cock twitches in your hand and you feel his balls tighten against your tongue. You don’t stop until you feel him start to practically go limp under you. You pull off of him, resting your cheek on his thigh as you gaze up at him.

“Shit Teddie, that was so fucking hot, you’re so hot. I wish I did that sooner.” You giggle as you nuzzle into his fuzzy leg.

“Psh! I was hot!? You practically just started a religion in my balls’ name and you’re calling me hot? You’re something else, sweetheart.” He chuckles as he cups your jaw, running his thumb along the apple of your cheek. “You know, ball jokes aside, I never thought I’d fall in love with you… but I’m really fucking glad I did.”

[citruswriter]

Orange Fluff/Angst Ascended Astarion x Reader Imagine Drabble

Major, major, major TW on this one guys

He was... different after he ascended. Sure he was still the loving, adoring, and ever so doting Astarion. But you quickly realized that he became utterly obsessed with you. It was cute at first, but it quickly became suffocating. One evening, you broke the news to him. You two were through. Of course he did everything he could to change your mind, but you stood firm. Leaving him to scowl at you and turn cold. "Fine! But it's very much your loss". He spat out.

You left, found another man, fell in love, married. Life was a dream... until it wasn't. Now, years later, you run through the rainy night as you hear your husbands voice call after you. You ran to the only person you knew. Astarion.

He was quite surprised to hear banging on his door so late at night, imagine how much more surprised he was to find you. Out of breath, soaking wet, begging to be let in. "And why should I? You broke my heart and ran off". He'd argue. It wouldn't be until he heard your husband's voice call out your name, calling you every name in the book, as you stood in front of him trembling in utter fear would he finally let you in.

He'd be dramatic, of course. Telling you how lucky you were that he still had a soft spot for you after you utterly shattered his poor, poor heart. You'd let him have his moment, but you wouldn't look at him until he'd finally decide to ask you what you wanted. He'd stare at you in shock and horror as you'd shed your cloak, purple bruises littering your body. A blow on your cheek, hand shaped ones around your wrists, fist shaped ones on your arms and even your chest. "There's more... elsewhere". You'd mutter, face blank and eyes empty.

He'd step forward, rushing you to a bathroom to start a hot bath for you. He'd offer to do your hair as you'd hold the night robe close to your body. He'd gently prod until you'd spill everything. He'd ask you if he did more than beat you. You'd confess that you told your husband about some of the things Cazador did to him, causing him to wince. "I guess he felt inspired", you squeak out as you'd shove the robe off your body, scarred writing on your back in a similar fashion to his. He'd tremble and skim his fingers across the marks, flashbacks running through his mind.

"I was finally able to make a run for it. So I ran and I ran and I didn't stop." You'd mutter out. "But you left. You said I treated you horribly." He'd gently counter. "But he did all the things you'd never dare do". Slipping the robe back up, you'd turn to look at him, staring into those beautiful eyes of his. His dead heart would skip a beat and he'd hold his breath as he'd notice you reach your hand up to touch his face only to bite back a whine as you'd drop it back to your lap. He'd grab your face as you'd go to turn away from him and kiss you, so filled with emotion that he'd fear he might just burst. You'd burst into tears and kiss him back. You'd mutter some apology and he'd hush you and whisper comforting things back to you. You'd stay like this until before you knew it, you were in his bed again. You'd sink into his silk sheets as he'd make you sigh in pleasure, the map to your body still carved into his mind. He'd kiss every bruise and mutter how beautiful you are, how you're safe, how he won't let anybody hurt you again, how he's so happy that you're utterly his again. His. His forever. His always.

A small voice in the back of your head would warn you, maybe tryta scream at you that this was a red flag. But as you let him puncture your neck like you used to do and let his hands gently caress your battered body, you'd squash that little voice out. Shut up. You'd think. I'm his again. His forever. You'll never leave again. Because last time you did, it was very much your loss.

(Might make a oneshot or two part to this).

[im-not-corrupted]

A short DBD fic about grief and mourning and dealing with loss after Niko's death.

------

He’s never had to grieve, not for anybody other than himself.

Even when it came to himself, he didn’t have much chance to do so. He was alive and then he died and then he was in Hell. There wasn’t much room for grief in Hell; there was only pain and terror that found its roots so deep he sometimes thinks he’ll never rid himself of it. Each time they close a case, aid some other ghost into taking Death’s hand, that fear takes him again.

I don’t want to go back, Edwin thinks each time, desperate to get as far away as he can. Who he pleads to, he doesn’t know. Death herself, perhaps, or some other force of the universe. Don’t send me back.

The fear has been easier to manage these days. Mostly, this is a product of Charles’s presence in his life. He will not go back because he will evade Death’s eyes and Charles will evade her too, and they are together.

They will be together. Will be for the rest of their afterlives, as Charles says to him.

It helps. He still gets that fear, that instinctual reaction that grips him when the air shifts and he can hear the beating of wings, distant but coming steadily closer. But then Charles is there and they are running and it is enough to shake that fear away.

But he has never had to grieve, is the point. When he was alive, his family were wealthy and did not have to deal with the horrors of his day as those who were…less well off had. His family were healthy, and then he was dead and his only friend after spending seventy three years in hell was Charles, and Charles has been dead since they met. (And when he realised he would be unable to return to the life he had after escaping Hell, well, it didn’t matter. He never had the greatest relationship with his family, and he found Charles almost immediately. It soothed whatever grief he felt to know he had somebody, that he was no longer alone.)

It is not the same now. Now, they know people who are alive.

At least, they know Crystal. And they knew Niko, who is no longer alive.

Hence the grief.

Edwin has not had somebody die in defence of him before. He never even considered the idea that somebody would go to such lengths for him; never wanted it. This didn’t matter, for Niko still died attempting to save him from the witch’s torture device, and now she is gone.

And without her, he is left feeling…hollow. There are feelings there, sorrow at the loss and anger at the circumstances, but they seem to be locked away.

He only really feels them when he considers finding Niko so she might expose him to more modern-day pop culture, or so they might simply spend time in one another’s company. Truthfully, he never considered the idea that he might enjoy the company of somebody who is alive—he and Crystal did not get along well initially, though Edwin is wise enough to be able to admit that this was due to no fault of here but rather a product of his aversion to change—but those moments spent with Niko were precious to him.

They remain so now, treasured memories he stores away so he does not have to look at them too closely. Yet they continue to haunt him and sometimes, when his mind drifts, he forgets, and it aches.

This is one of those moments. He stands, triumph making his day just that little bit brighter after solving a particularly difficult case, and he says, “I shall go and find N—“

And then he freezes. Her name is on the tip of his tongue but he holds it back with barely-there self control and thinks that if he had a body capable of sustaining injury then there would be an open wound over his chest and he would bleed out all over the lovely wooden floors of the Dead Boy Detectives Agency.

There is no blood. Of course there is not. He is dead, and ghosts do not bleed. They do not even have bodies, not in the real sense of the world.

As it turns out, being unable to feel the pages of another book between his fingers as he researches for one of their cases, of being unable to feel the warmth of Charles’s palms when he places them upon Edwin’s shoulders, does not make it impossible for him to feel the way the unfinished sentence stabs into his chest. It freezes him in place and his eyes sting with what suspiciously feels like tears, and he clenches his hands into fists in an effort to keep it at bay.

Before him, Charles’s lips draw tight. His eyes shine with sorrow of his own. Edwin wishes suddenly that he had not slipped up and made such an awful, easy mistake, if only because it hurts a part of him to see his friend in such pain.

“I miss her,” Charles says. The words are terribly soft. It buries the knife in his chest only deeper. “It’s okay if you do too.”

Charles has only ever been kind with him, despite Edwin’s own reticence and tendency to take charge, and he appreciates that a great deal more than he believes himself capable of expressing out loud. Here and now, though, he wishes that tenderness was not there. It makes it too easy to notice the absence that seems to follow them around that should fit Niko, to notice the tide rising up inside him, ready to drown him.

He does miss her. He misses being able to walk into her room above Jenny’s butcher shop and having her show him TV shows she enjoyed. It was never about what they did together, he simply…enjoyed being in her company, in a way he cannot recall having with anybody but Charles.

It was different than that, but similar enough. He enjoyed her company. He wishes their friendship was not so brutally cut short.

Edwin has always believed silence speaks for itself and this theory proves true now, for Charles rises from the chair he sits in and places a hand on his shoulder. They are ghosts and cannot feel such touches, but sometimes he fools himself into believing he can feel the warmth of his friend’s hand through his blazer and shirt.

Wishful thinking, always. But it does not hurt, and so he makes no effort to stop himself, not as he does with the other far more dangerous things he tends to imagine when his brain wanders more than he would typically allow. (His feelings for Charles are out in the open now, yet still he fears them sometimes. They have yet to talk about it properly, and the questioning is…driving him a little bit insane, but he won’t push. It is a miracle Charles continues to tolerate him now that he knows.)

“You don’t have to talk about it now,” his oldest, dearest friend tells him. It is honest, and Edwin is glad for it. “But I’m here if you ever want to.”

He nods stiffly, the best he can manage. There’s a tangle of feelings in his chest and they seem far too difficult to make sense of, and talking of them seems impossible, like tearing open barely healed wounds to bleed out all over again.

“I will…keep that in mind,” he says, and hopes his tone conveys his appreciation even if his words do not. “Thank you, Charles.”

“Anytime, mate. I mean that.”

The truth of those words ache. Charles went to Hell for him. There is very little he would not do, and that Edwin believes wholeheartedly. He does not know what to do with it all.

So for now, he does not. There is nothing he can do here and now, anyway.

He steps from Charles’s reach, immediately missing the phantom warmth. “I will find something to read,” he declares, and Charles nods.

He misses Niko. She would know what to say about this, or would help him somehow.

He has not had to miss somebody before, not like this. He hopes, perhaps foolishly, that it will get easier with time.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Hygiene, Health and Hieroglyphs

Welcome, ladies, gents, and genderless horrors, to the 6 month anniversary of my blog! It is time to bore you all, so roll your sleeves up and get ready for the worst world building you've ever heard! (Yes, I had to expand the topic of discussion to these three because I found them to be extremely interlinked. And yes, when I say hieroglyphs, I mean runes. Yes, I just wanted my title to rhyme.)

Now, I will be referring to all diseases/meds in Triworld by relating them to the closest real-world equivalent. This is because you don't have the time to hear me explain the names of each disease and their history, and I don't have the brainpower to come up with names for everything.

With that, we start off on diseases! Because a world with magic is a whole world of additional agony to experience. Water from wells, rivers, or any form of unprocessed water body may be cursed, even if it doesn't seem to be off. Certain kinds of bacteria have evolved to target blossoming young mages, resulting in various unfortunate side effects (After all, we just love watching magic go wild). Don't even get me started on mana-suckers.

So: How do they deal with this? Firstly: Magic. Affinities for healing and warding are rare, but (in pre-modern times) almost every person with a scrap of magic in their veins will have a spell on hand to clear water of any virus or toxin. In every village, there would always be a person to bless any water on hand, especially if they resided near a cursed region.

What exactly are cursed regions, however? Below, you see the map with various areas highlighted.

These are areas where the water itself (be it from wells, rivers, or lakes) holds magical properties. In some regions, like the glade the Ko clan resides in, the water can restore and heal. However, other areas, such as Ceredell, you will find water can bring about hallucinations and psychosis. 

That is why most, if not all, travellers in those times pulled water from the moisture in the air. It was, at the time, one of the greatest drains on travellers, because it meant only those who had the magical capacity to perform that spell regularly could afford to wander, or be forced to risk cursed water. That was also why the great desert, Losaras, was an unexplored haven for species that did not need to drink water, like ghouls and vampires. 

However, that all changed with the invention of runes and enchantment magic by the elves. It meant that any person, even a non-mage, could stock up on water-clearing enchantments and go travel. It meant that a village could stake out a single well and enrune it, to clean it permanently. It saved millions of lives that would have otherwise been lost to cholera, mana-sucking viruses or curses.

Not long after, these runes further revolutionised society by enabling teleportation of resources. A city could build a teleportation rune obelisk beneath a lake, and receive an endless flow of water coming out of the obelisk's twin. It meant that even in the heart of the desert, a determined crew could populate a town. And much to the inhumans' disgust, they did.

Now, runic magic at that time (aka around 2600), was almost entirely controlled by elves. They had invented the technomancy, and they  were the distributors of it. What little human-made runes existed belonged to Ceredell, who had, out of pure necessity, come up with their own simple versions of the cleansing rune. The result was that the populations of Losaras and Ceredell burgeoned. (Of course, as those who have read Lich-Queen will know, this will turn out to be a mistake.)

Understanding of runic magic only truly came to the humans after the Runic wars began in 2800, when the elves were forced to share their enchanted weaponry or be complicit in the genocide of humanity. The origins of almost all modern runes was from war enchantments, but it has been quite a while since they performed such functions.

Now, understand that healing magic is an excruciating and difficult medium. Even in a world proliferated with magic, healers are often only available to the richest of the rich or the lucky few who happen to know a healing mage personally. Anyone without an affinity for it has no hope of learning the simplest of healing spells, and often can only brew up the mildest of ointments. The popularisation of healing runes meant that hedge witches, who previously had no ability to truly cure anything more serious than a wart, could stand a chance at saving a life.

I hear you ask: Why not use technology? Our world has medicine, why doesn't theirs? The thing you must understand about ancient Triworld is that it was almost completely ruled by the gods, many of whom used their incredible amounts of magic to control their subjects. Technology was a threat to them, and so they made an effort to extinguish it. The only species who could and would research magicless technology were the elves, whose goddess, Renise, could not care less for what her people did.

So it was that penicillin was only ever created in the year 5000, long after Ina had murdered the last goddess. So it was that the people of Triworld struggled by, with the not-help of great prayers to their gods, endless half-baked potions, and all the preventative care they could think of. And so it was that the Runic Wars were the first step to the freedom of Triworld from its godly shackles.

Surgeons took the red-hot fireswords and turned them to self-sterilising blades and cauterisers. Doctors fashioned basic microscopes and endoscopes out of reconnaissance enchantments. Nightsoil carriers turned their mass battle-porters into refuse-porters. The gods received less desperate prayers as people turned their futile efforts towards obtaining healing glyphs.

With that, we drag Triworld kicking and screaming into the era of the Godhuntress. Runes are increasingly commonplace, most people have access to potable water, and healing magic is no longer limited to the realm of high nobility. The gods fall, one by one. People, disillusioned, begin to carve out their own futures, abandoning the rites and faiths of their forefathers.

When Ina massacres the elves for not aiding her people, forcing the few living elves to go into hiding, she inadvertently opens up another niche for humanity to carve out: Technology. In the ruins of Sylvandor, humans discover the concept of vaccines, of antibiotics, of magic that needs no magic. Why the elves, whom all possessed some form of mana-using capacity, were working on such things, they did not know. They did not care either, taking it as a windfall. 

Further advances in teleportation runes meant plumbing and heating. Further advances in enchantment meant spellbooks could be made, with each page containing a simple spell to be used at a later date. Further advances in magical theory enabled lesser mages to pick up warding spells and scraps of healing. Magic became commercialised, available in workshops, books, and even encased within houses.

Of course, in some remote areas of the world, people are still relying on the same old cleansing spell they used 4000 years ago. But that's a tiny minority in the great world of sigils, sanitation and sanation.

I could go on further, but I do believe you get the gist of the story. If you want to know anything, anything at all about Triworld, just ask. I have spent embarrassing amounts of time (think every night and at least 3h of my day everyday for 15 years) on this world, and I know it just as well as I know Earth's history.  

Thank you all for reading, and happy worldbuilding!

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Say It With Flowers

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 1, 191

Summary: your relationship with Dieter explained through the language of flowers

My entry for Jett’s Flora and Fauna challenge!

Warnings: hints to abusive past, lots of adorable fluffy stuff, so many flowers!

Check out masterlist here

The applause was triumphant, even from the safety of backstage where you were currently hiding. It was better to stay far away from the wings in case Dieter felt the need to pull you on stage. The relationship was still new, so you didn’t want to be subjected to questions by the interviewer.

You gave a little wave as he almost ran up to you. “Hey, honey cakes.”

He moved to kiss you but then noticed the throng of people. Opening the door to his dressing room, he gestured you inside.

“My girlfriend will take off my makeup,” he shut the door behind him. “And anything else you want.”

You smiled off his flirtations as you were distracted by all the colourful bouquets spread around the room.

“That’s a lot of flowers. Are you going to take them all home?”

“Oh, no, they’ll be sent to old folks’ homes.”

“Really?”

“My abuela always loved getting flowers so I’d like to make some other abuelas happy.”

“The more I learn about you Dieter,” you wrapped your arms around him. “The more I fall in love with you.”

He tried to hide his blush, “Do you want any before they go? I know Valentines is a bad time for flowers, but is flowers in general going to trigger you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never really been given flowers in earnest. It was always this thing which I now know is called love bombing.”

Dieter sighed in sympathy, “Oh yeah, that’s happened to me often. It was always with some trinket and a big fancy bunch of flowers.”

“I only ever got the saddest bunch from the petrol station.”

“He couldn’t even put in the effort? What sort of flowers did he get you?”

“I don’t know the names of flowers,” you looked around and pointed to some that looked familiar. “Those ones I think.”

“Yellow carnations?” he sucked his teeth and shook his head. “Oh, those are a bad sign.”

“They are?”

“Yeah, in floriography they mean disappointment.”

“What-a-what-graphy?”

“Floriography. Have you seen my film As the Petals Fall?” you shook your head. “Me neither. All I remember from the film was the floriography, or the meaning of flowers.”

“Was it a romance?”

“There was a dead body, so I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I may watch that. So you wouldn’t give me those?”

“Fuck no, I’d only give you flowers with a positive message,” he moved over to a bouquet and pulled out some small white flowers. “This is baby’s breath, it’s usually a filler for bouquets but it means everlasting love which I hope we’ll have.”

“Well, if you’re the ones giving me these, I might grow to like flowers.”

*****

And you did.

He would always leave you a single flower but with this singularity came a meaning that was so deep and profound. As your smile reminded him of sunshine he offered you a yellow tulip. After the first time the two of you made love, he gave you blossoms of the sweet pea as it meant blissful pleasure and thanks for a lovely time. He expressed his continued passion for you through a red tulip. Whenever he was away, you knew he was missing you as he’d send a pink camelia meaning he was longing for you, or the red carnation meant his heart was aching for you.

Christmas gave him the excuse to get out the mistletoe, not just because it was a romantically cheesy tradition, but it meant love and friendship.

Once he rediscovered his love for yarn craft, he would crochet anything with flowers so his messages of love could have a more permanent medium. He mostly made granny squares with daisies or roses, the classic expressions of love and now you wore them as a cardigan or carried it as a tote bag.

When you moved in, he gave you a sprig of small holly blossoms as they symbolised domestic happiness, it was hard to find but he found the small white blossoms. He gave you a carnation for your first anniversary and then again for your first wedding anniversary.

“Now, the rose,” he held out the single flower to you. “A red rose is a symbol of love. A single rose means love at first sight, two means love and affection.”

“So the more you add, the more you love me?”

“Well, 15 means sorry, so go with 12 or 24.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “All those flowers you gave me on Valentine’s…”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m sure someone got a better use out of them.”

*****

And he continued to pass on his knowledge.

Clara gasped at the display of colour. “Wow! So much colour!”

“I know, we have a lot of choice. Now,” he kneeled down. “Do you know why I get flowers for mummy?”

“Cause they pretty and she pretty?”

He couldn’t help but smile, “That’s exactly right. But also, every flower has a special meaning to them, like a secret code.”

“A secret code?” he nodded, and she clapped her hands in excitement.

He picked her up and proceeded to point of various flowers. “Red roses mean ‘I love you’, pink carnation means ‘I’ll never forget you’ and yellow pansy means ‘thinking of you’.”

“Audrey two: I eat you!”

“I don’t think they have any of those today,” she pouted so he continued to explain every flower and its meaning.

*****

“Honey cakes, we’re home!”

Dieter took off his crocs and Clara followed taking off her little crocs. You almost couldn’t see her behind the huge bouquet of flowers she was carrying.

“Oh wow pumpkin, look at all those flowers!” you managed to take the petaled gift from her before she fell over from the weight.

“Wait, secret code!”

“Did daddy teach you?”

“Every flower!”

She almost jumped up on the couch as she was eager to tell you what she had learned. She couldn’t remember the names of the flowers, but she remembered their meaning.

Pointing at each one in the bouquet, she recited, “I love you; I love you; I love you!”

“That’s a lot of ‘I love you’s’!”

“I love you lots, mummy.”

“I love you lots, pumpkin!”

“Now cupcake,” Dieter reached into his crocheted tote bag. “I have a flower for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes,” she reached out for the single white flower, wrapped so lovingly. “This pink rose means happiness because you and mummy both make me happy.”

She hugged it close, giggled out a blush and ran off to show her toys.

“She’s going to love getting flowers.” You got out a vase and started filling it with water. Dieter got something else out of his bag and hid it behind his back.

“Dieter, I don’t think I could fit anymore flowers in this vase.”

“Oh, I don’t have a flower for you.”

“You don’t?”

He shook his head. “Is there a secret language for cheese?”

“Cheese? I don’t think so, why?”

“Well,” he held out a small wheel of cheese to you. “I couldn’t find a flower that says ‘I love you to the moon and back’ so I decided to say it with cheese.”

Lovingly tagging @morallyinept @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic @glshmbl @cupcakehp @gswizzsstuff

[dezimaton]

💧 marked by the abyss

[legallybrunettedotcom]

SLEAZE

YOUTUBE LINK

[melatien]

tiny yoichi (unwillingly) lures out soldiers by being his helplessness little self so his brother can strike

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

post apocalypse au where the plot of stranger things doesn't happen but vecna still tears the world open and brings the upside down right side up. and the scattered people who managed to survive the initial earthquakes and power outages and complete breakdown of society have to contend not only with creatures from the upside down trying to eat them, but also with what the bleeding of an alternate dimension into their reality is doing to their bodies

people with prolonged exposure to larger tears seem to be slowly changed into something else, like some radioactivity from the dimension is mutating them. people grow claws, or leathery wings, or their face peels open, or they turn into unrecognisable piles of eldritch goo. there's vampires, were-demogorgons, flayed, weird ghosts, and the number of super powered people like el was in the show skyrockets

other people who manage avoid this fate shun those that fell to it. and to an extent it's reasonable, some people who get changed in this way completely lose their humanity, like the flayed, and while others retain it it probably doesn't seem that way when a vampire-like person needs human blood to survive. but a lot of people are just as terrified of the changes happening to them as other people are, and while they may not be harmless, they'd much rather use their new biological advantages to keep people safe

despite this, people that have been 'corroded' by the upside down are ostracised, feared, sometimes outright hunted by regular humans. so sometimes, they band together. form their own little apocalypse groups

eddie is in one of those groups. he wouldn't say he's the leader, bc they don't really have a hierarchical structure and eddie likes to think he's managed to maintain his anarchic ideals even in the face of the apocalypse. but he is the oldest, and the most scary looking (if not the most actually dangerous), so the combination of everyone being younger and his ability to scare off corroded-hunters that come looking for them means everyone else kind of follows his lead

so no one really questions when he comes back to camp one day holding two passed out humans. a mole-dotted man and a freckled woman, probably about eddie's age, who were injured and had crawled into a ruin building to die. and like. what was eddie supposed to do, leave them there??? no, gareth, it has nothing to do with how pretty the guy is. no, eddie doesn't know how they'll react when they wake up in the middle of a corroded camp, they'll cross that bridge when they get there. el says she senses that they're good people, so clearly everything will be fine actually!!!!!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

:-P

[tibli]

Beloved Husk

Here I stand in her scorched remains.

This is not the first time, nor will it be the last, and her vacant body has acclimated to my presence.

No longer do her damp, wooly tissues squelch beneath my feet-

they have long since dried out, compressed into a single mass of dull, cotton-candy pink.

In some places, her flesh has completely burned away, leaving nothing behind but blackened, splintering bone. There is no ink in the world rich enough to match the soot that clings to her skeleton.

Sun rays filter through her blown, empty eye sockets, and the daylight is no less beautiful for its thoughtless transgression.

How dare you illuminate her suffering so callously! You have made her into a spectacle- a cadaver to be prodded and studied, rather than a soul to be mourned.

My cheeks are wet, but I can't be sure if it's from grief, or the ever-present haze of smoke. The cause doesn't matter- I am weeping all the same.

[jaypgartifacts]

october is coming. which means, of course, that it is time for the horrors. tfw the dream self must confront the Nightmare Self

[timeisacephalopod]

You know as a horror fan "cultural Christianity" is such a useful term because as an atheist as well as a horror fan and a fan of haunted house stuff if it's done well I very, very quickly noticed how many horror movies are Christian propaganda. So few horror movies involving religion (which is a shocking amount of them btw) pick any religion that's not Christianity to center itself around and when they do that religion is bad and evil, not the cause of evil and the savior from it (because the demons may be Christian, but God and the bible are also the solutions in a way other religions aren't granted. Bonus points if it's an indigenous religion being portrayed as Evil and Bad).

Pretty much any exceptions I can think of to that rule use Judaism and the Holocaust as a backdrop and never in like a normal, the Holocaust is horrible way it's always playing on myths of Nazi Germany's experimentation on the Jewish population. Which I find highly troubling and disturbing, but regardless nothing like being a horror fan to convince you of cultural Christianity because no other genre leans on religion as a plot device so much unless it's straight up a Christian movie for a Christian audience using Christianity as it's main theme and through line.

[cakemoney]

thinking about the whole robpat!batman movie’s thesis being “shit. fuck. turns out this whole time the legacy of my rage and vengeance-fueled vigilante justice has been enabling domestic terrorism by entitled white men. all along what this city needed and what i needed was healing and extending our hands to our neighbors instead of continuing the cycle of trauma and violence” like the movie put their whole chest into that. it looked at their audience and said to their face “you guys never actually understood what batman is about. you saw the dark brooding aesthetic and the toxic masculinity and the individualistic lonewolfism and you see that as something to aspire to, when the point of batman was always Corruption And Evil Exists Within Those With Power And Money Not In Mental Illness, and by missing that and making it all about yourself you became the villain of this story.” in theaters right in front of batman stans. no wonder robpat was cast for this like i’ve never seen someone pull off self-loathing white man so naturally

[thetreetopinn]

Sources for Somerton's Plagiarism from Hbomberguy's Video (as much as I could get)

I went back through Harry's video, focused entirely on the sources James Somerton pulled from in the hopes of creating as much of a comprehensive list as I could--though my Google-Fu is not very strong. I did however find something I thought was forever lost and that made me very happy--specifically the magazine Midlands Zone containing the column by Steven Spinks that Harry poignantly used as an illustration of gay erasure... while Somerton uses it to sound like HE is waxing remorseful about the very subject.

This is not a complete list, I'm sure. For one thing, I was only able to attempt to pull sources that Harry himself mentioned in the video. Surely there's so very much more out there. I expect there to be a great deal more internet archeology to unearth just how much writing and culture Somerton has stolen like he's the British Museum of Natural History but for gay people.

- - - - -

Harry's list of mentioned youtubers:

Alexander Avila - https://www.youtube.com/@alexander_avila Matt Baume - https://www.youtube.com/@MattBaume Khadija Mbowe - https://www.youtube.com/@KhadijaMbowe Lady Emily - https://www.youtube.com/@LadyEmilyPresents Shanspeare - https://www.youtube.com/@Shanspeare RickiHirsch - https://www.youtube.com/@RickiHirsch VerilyBitchie - https://www.youtube.com/@verilybitchie

Harry created a convenient playlist of videos by these and other people he wants to bring to everyone's attention.

Please give them your support.

- - - - -

Midlands Zone Magazine - Column by Steven Spinks

After a great deal of searching, I found an archive of the "Midlands Zone" magazine, where you can read through past issues dating all the way back to February 2014. I have also found the issue from which Somerton took Spinks' poignant discussion of gay erasure: Overall archive Specific Issue - Pages 16-17

It will not allow you to download it, but you can read it exactly as it appeared in print form.

- - - - -

My best effort to find the exact book or article Somerton lifted from to be able to get attention to the original writers

Tinker Bells and Evil Queens By Sean Griffin

The Celluloid Closet By Vito Russo Wikipedia article about the book Wikipedia article about the documentary My weak google-fu could not find where you can access the book or documentary. Check your local municipal or university library for book or documentary, or if you know a good source for one or both, please reblog with it added

Camp and the Gay Sensibility By Jack Babuscio

The Groundbreaking Queerness of Disney's Mulan By Jes Tom Personal site with links to social media accounts

Why Rebel Without a Cause was a milestone for gay rights By Peter Howell

Why "The Craft" is still the best Halloween coming out movie By Andrew Park

Opinion: From facehuggers to phallic tails, is 'Alien' one of the queerest films ever? By Dani Leever

Women and Queerness in Horror: Jennifer's Body By Zoe Fortier

[Pride 2019] We Have Such Sights to Show You: Hellraiser and the Spectrum of Queerness By Alejandra Gonzalez

Revealing the Hellbound Heart of Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser' By Colin Arason

Queering James Cameron's Aliens (1986) By Bart Bishop

Demeter and Persephone in space: transformation, femininity, and myth in the 'Alien' films By David Greven

Fears of a millennial masculinity: Scream's queer killers By David Greven (Scholarly site, unable to access original work, offers a way to request a full copy of the text in PDF)

Queer Subtext in Stephen King's It - Part 1: 'Reddie' Character Analysis By Rachel Brands Rachel is the very unfortunate lady who found out she was being stolen from because she supported Somerton through Patreon and saw one of his videos early with her writing--lacking any form of citation or credit

How 'It: Chapter Two' Leaves Richie Tozier Behind By Joelle Monique

When Horror Becomes Strength: Queer Armor in Stephen King's 'IT' By Alex London

Why Queer People Love Witchcraft By Amanda Kohr

'The Favourite' Queers The Past And The Present By Giorgi Plys-Garzotto

(Wuko) Crush (Mako x Wu) By MoonFlower on YouTube

5 Terrible Movies With Awesome Hidden Meanings By J.F. Sargent

The Radicalization of Sexuality: The Queer Casae of Jeffrey Dahmer By Ian Barnard

Netflix's 'Dahmer' backlash highlights ethical issues in the platform's obsession with true crime By Shivani Dubey

The Possible Disturbing Dissonance Between Hajime Isayama's Beliefs and Attack on Titan's Themes Original Article by "Seldom Musings" (Author has made all posts not related to Attack On Titan private and has retired from the blog)

Everyone Loves Attack on Titan. So Why Does Everyone Hate Attack on Titan? By Gita Jackson

- - - - -

The following people are otherwise named in the video. There are no direct citations of articles or books by them in said video. I am unable to guarantee that I have identified the correct individual.

Darren Elliott-Smith Michaela Barton David Church Claire Sisco King Amanda Howell Jessica Roy

- - - - -

Telos announced and cancelled a film likely based on this book: The Final Girl Support Group - By Grady Hendrix

- - - - -

I refrained from including certain sources.

First off only focusing on Somerton's work.

Secondly not including anything that might be visible enough to not require amplifying their voice (I cannot speak for all of those I have found links to, but journalism is frequently a thankless job).

Thirdly any source that is of a nature that is antithetical to the very existence of the queer community, such as the right-leaning source that didn't make it into Somerton's video, but Harry was able to identify as a source he had considered using.

If you feel I have missed a mentioned source--or you know of a source from material that was not covered in Harry's video--please do not hesitate to reblog with added details.

- - - - -

Please share this information far and wide, and please add to it if you find more material that can be positively identified and linked to the creator/writer.

[ozzgin]

Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.