#real lightning bug-like

[rorydrawsandwrites]

So we've all been having fun giving him bug wings right

(I gotta mention that this post in particular inspired me here... they're so little. His ass is not flying anywhere unless he's thrown)

And I do see the logic here. He has the li'l antennae after all (and him being a lightning bug would be especially fitting). But I'd like to point out that as a Fleischer-esque mix-and-match creature, he does also have a pig nose... therefore I suggest:

Pig. Hoofs.

I rest my case.

Also a little bonus... the touch-starved Luxposting has gotten to me. Pet the creature

[shouyuus]

I’m having a real kick out of cowboy Vi rn and was wondering if mayhaps, if you’re feeling like it, write some headcannons or maybe a lil blorb about it?

I just keep imagining being out in the field, staring up at the stars and shuuuucks the kisses might have gone too far. Save a horse, ride a cowgirl 🤠

i feel like i must prequel this by saying that i know nothing about cow-anything and that i've exclusively grown up in metropolis-type cities. but that being said. i do have a certain appreciation for the aesthetic and all the cowgirl!vi fanart i've seen's got me feelin' sum typa way, as they say.

you blow in like the summer wind, low over the horizon and kicking up all sorts of stardust, so of course, vi's been enamored ever since. you're a city-girl, anyone with half an eye could see that. but vi's never been the type to mind. and when asked, you weren't shy to admit that you're just here for the summer, just here for a little fun in the sun --

so that makes it easy, doesn't it? cause summer's made for stuff like this -- all that heat and dreamin'. all sweet tea and none of the leavin'.

"you can't see stars like this in the city," you tell her one night, laid up in the back of her bright red pickup, the desert stretching out on all four sides for miles and miles and miles around.

"yeah? bet you can't. but... i figure there's probably other stuff to look at in those big cities of yours," vi says, turning her head.

"sure... lots of big tall buildings, and metric fucktons of pigeons," you say, giggling. vi laughs, shifting so that she's facing you. all around you, the wild chirrup of cicadas rock the sand-strewn night this way and that. a second later, you turn to face her too, smiling in the syrup-ridden dark.

"metric fucktons, huh? that the official measure for tall buildings?" she asks, chuckling.

"sure is," you reply inching just a bit closer.

it's been weeks, and vi's spent too many sunlit afternoons wondering about the taste of your lips to question it when you lean in to brush your mouth against hers. you taste like seasalt and lipgloss, and vi's sure her own lips are way too chapped, but when you press in just a bit closer, she finds that she doesn't really give damn.

"been wanting to do that for a while..." you admit, pulling back. and like this, vi figures she can count all the summertime constellations caught beneath your lashes like jars of wayward lightning bugs.

"me too..." vi breathes, tugging you in for another kiss, and then another. when you break apart, she licks her lips and grins at the way you chase after her, toppling into her chest as she leans back, and the whole truck rocks with the weight. you let out a startled laugh, and she, another soft chuckle.

the wind tangles lazy fingers through the branches of the old juniper tree behind vander's farm and in the distance, the fwoosh of a diving nighthawk rends the air. a cluster of sparrows startles out of a nearby bush, their wings flapping against the star-scattered night, and vi finds herself lost in the bewitching sparkle of your eyes as you look at her, and look at her. she doesn't think she's ever been looked at like this before.

heat roils in her stomach as she clears her throat. faintly, she wonders if all city-folk are so shameless.

"so..." you say, your lips twisting up as a fox-fire glint catches behind your eyes, "what else have you been thinking of, hm?"

vi clears her throat, "oh... bit o'this, bit o'that..." she casts her gaze up and prays for strength. she catches a whiff, just then, of your perfume, something soft and sweet, but not like flowers -- no, something warmer, a strange, heady concoction that sends her head spinning.

some big-city magic, she thinks, beating down the urge to roll her eyes at the thought.

"oh yeah? would it be easier just to show me?" you ask, batting your lashes, rolling your hips down slightly against hers, "what's that saying now? save a horse...?" you let your voice trail off with a salacious grin.

and this time, vi really does swear --

"sweet jesus on a bicycle --" she laughs, shaking her head, "you're gonna be the death of me, aren't you?"

you shrug, leaning forward to brace your arms over her shoulders, the shape of you cast against the gathering night like some sort of desert mirage. vi licks her lips, feeling her mouth blister dry as you run your fingers through her hair, her hat long since abandoned too the wayside.

"didn't know jesus rode bikes... always thought he was more of a donkey-guy, myself."

at this, vi snorts, giving your hip a hard pat, "right, c'mon then."

you pout, listing your head, "what? no more stargazing?"

vi cocks an eyebrow, grabbing her hat as she swings out of the bed of the truck, reaching up to offer you a hand.

"well, as much as i love the thought of eating you out seven ways to sunday in the back of my truck... i think your delicate city-girl disposition might like a mattress just a bit better, hm?"

you blink, your mouth falling open into a perfect little 'o' of shock, before color floods your cheeks and you nearly topple out of the truck. luckily, vi's there to catch you, chuckling as she sets you on your feet.

"what happened to all that bravado, hm?

your crinkle your nose, defiance flickering behind your gaze as vi leads you back towards the house.

"that's not fair -- you caught me off guard is all," you say, tucking yourself into vi's side as she helps you side-step a dogwood plant.

"sure i did, princess."

you huff, glancing up at her even as the pair of you finally reach the soft ring of light cast by the large farmhouse stood in front of the massive juniper tree. vi pauses just before you reach the front steps to let you hop up on the first one, turning to grin at her, your eyes now finally at a level.

she thinks the bright twinkle of mischief caught there looks terrifyingly like falling in love. or perhaps, just the falling bit.

you bite your lips and rock on the balls of your feet. vi waits, her breath caught like a wild horse hoofbeat inside her chest.

"so," you say, your voice the perfect mix sugar-cube and snake-bite, "if i ride you tonight, would that make me a cowgirl too?"

vague continuation found here

[bjlipss]

— bug, part iv.

contents: college!sukuna x weird!reader. weird as in just odd and confusing behaviour but nonetheless cute, nothing pervy-weird. reader wears glasses because yes. really awkward and silly hehe. also there is a use of “girlfriend” in here so ig fem reader should be mentioned.

part iii <- part iv -> part v

he’s never really had to explain himself before.

people just don’t ask. they don’t question.

sukuna walks like a storm, mean and sharp-edged, and most people are smart enough to steer clear. or pretend they don’t see him. or kiss his ass, if they’re feeling brave or stupid.

his silence does most of the talking.

so when someone actually says it out loud—

flippant, loud, laughing—

“yo, what’s with the weird girl?”

—it makes something white-hot snap behind his ribs. not like lightning. not sharp. slower. heavier. like a fuse burning down toward something ugly.

it’s after class. just a regular tuesday. the sky’s a dull gray, the breeze sticky and loud with the sounds of students filtering out of the lecture hall. sukuna’s leaning against the handrail at the top of the steps, flipping through his phone, earbuds in but not playing anything. hoodie sleeves rolled to the elbows. expression unreadable.

you’re maybe ten feet away, crouched on the pavement near the grass, drawing a spiral in the dirt with a twig. your backpack’s half unzipped and dragging off one shoulder. your laces are untied. there’s a loose band-aid on your finger. you’re mumbling to yourself—something about centipedes or maybe soup—and nodding like you’re agreeing with someone only you can hear.

you’re so you it’s ridiculous. in your own little orbit. totally oblivious to the world spinning behind you.

and the guy—some econ major sukuna got stuck with for a group project—laughs like it’s a joke. like you’re a joke.

“she your pet or something?” he says, grinning. “heard she talks to squirrels. and, like, walls.”

sukuna doesn’t process it right away.

it’s not the words, it’s the tone.

the smug little twist of the guy’s mouth. the slight elbow jab. the assumption that sukuna’s in on the joke. that he’s laughing too. that he’s like them.

and something inside sukuna just—

goes quiet. not the good kind of quiet. not lazy, indifferent quiet. a cold, marrow-deep stillness.

sukuna’s not sure what comes over him.

he doesn’t think. doesn’t pause. his grip on his phone tightens. the plastic creaks. he turns. slow. deliberate. the way you might turn to face a fire alarm you already know is real.

his eyes lock on the guy.

“say one more fucking word,” he says, voice low and flat.

the guy’s smile falters. doesn’t disappear completely, but it wavers.

sukuna doesn’t move. doesn’t blink. doesn’t lean in. doesn’t raise his voice — he doesn’t need to.

it’s in the weight of him. the heat behind his stare. the way the wind stills around him, like the air itself doesn’t want to interrupt.

the guy shifts his weight. snorts like he’s not rattled, but he is. sukuna sees the twitch in his jaw. the instinct to look away.

he mutters something—“chill, man, whatever”—and disappears into the crowd.

and that’s it.

sukuna’s still standing there, fist clenched around his phone, heart hammering like he’s seconds from throwing someone down the stairs, but the guy’s gone.

and now the only sound is the wind again, and you.

you shuffle over a minute later, slow and soft, like you’ve always been moving toward him. like you knew the moment was over and now it’s safe to approach.

your fingers are curled around something.

“this one’s dying,” you say.

you hold it up.

a tiny flower, squashed and a little wilted, probably stepped on. the stem’s bent. your thumb smudged with dirt.

he blinks. his body’s still tense, like the fight hasn’t drained out of it yet. like he’s waiting for a second round that never comes.

but you don’t look at him like you saw anything, like you heard anything.

your big eyes are calm. curious. you look up at him like he’s just sukuna, not some ticking time bomb of anger and threat.

you just tuck the little flower behind his ear.

carefully. like it’s fragile. like he’s fragile.

“you looked mad,” you murmur. “this might help.”

his breath catches. he doesn’t know what to say. he doesn’t know how to say anything to you.

he just stares—at your face, at your smile: so open and lopsided and utterly unbothered. at your hand, now hovering in the space between you like it’s waiting for something else to touch. with the stupid little flower behind his ear, which should make him feel ridiculous but somehow doesn’t.

it just makes him feel—

possessive.

unreasonably, instinctively, violently protective.

like if he ever hears someone laugh at you again, he won’t give a warning next time. he’ll just bury them.

he exhales slowly, shoulders sagging just a little.

you’re already turning away, back to your dirt spiral, humming something off-key.

and all he can think—watching you draw another nonsense shape into the grass with your twig like you’re conjuring rain—is,

i’ll kill anyone who looks at you like that again.

[yandere-romanticaa]

The sun shined bright in the vast blue sky, as it always did in the Eternal City. Each footstep you took felt more draining by the minute, like a harsh shackle had been placed onto the soft flesh, the chains rattling loudly inside your mind but the soft echoes within the massive hallway were a gentle reminder that was not the predicament you were in.

An intricate golden bowl was in your hands, its content filled to the brim with various red fruits to consume, the produce fresh and ripe. It was difficult to not grab a little something from the bowl as you walked down the hallway, the sweet juices of the fruit filling your mouth to the brim as you hummed in pleasure, glee shining in your eyes, a (somewhat) pathetic attempt at trying to keep your heartbeat steady and nerves at bay.

Speaking with Mydeimos could be such a daunting thing to do. Whenever his gaze would fall onto you, it felt as though the earth would just swallow your body whole. Tiny bugs most likely had a better standing in his eye than you ever did so why were you rushing to speak to him again?

With a nervous chuckle, you recalled the small acts of kindness the harsh prince would show you. No matter the function or event he would always save a seat for you somewhere, or how he always made sure you came out unscathed from battle or if he was feeling more generous than usual, perhaps be would even share his drink with you.

Naturally, whenever someone would call him out on these little shenanigans, Mydei would shut that person down with lightning speed. He's a lot of things but he is not impolite, he'd reason with a frown.

The relationship you had with him was odd. He terrified you to the core but you still could not bring yourself to genuinely dislike him. Earlier today you had noticed that the man was feeling down - his gaze felt heavier than usual whenever you'd lock eyes, his shoulders were both too rigid and slumped at the same time, everything about him was just off.

And what better way to cheer him up than to bring him something sweet to bite?

The chirping of birds could be heard in the distance as you neared the garden. Greenery and various blooms thrived all over the place, the occasional hint of gold bringing even more life into this small corner of heaven. In a matter of moments you spotted him sitting by his lonesome, golden hair shining brightly beneath the massive tree he sat under, his back facing you. The cascading shadows of the looming branches gave the otherwise serene garden a dark energy, as if some hidden evil was just waiting to jump at you. It gave an even bigger edge to Mydei, his figure looking even more massive than it usually was, the red markings on his body almost looking like real droplets blood, dripping down his being, a warning that you should not approach the resting beast.

Even beasts crave attention. Mydei was no different. Even with all his strength, even with all his might, his wisdom, his curse - he still had a heart, even if he did not act like it.

You carefully made you way towards the man as the grass beneath your feet gave way, masking the sound of upcoming footsteps. Inching closer and closer to him felt wrong but raw, as if you were testing your luck against something. The warrior said nothing as you stood behind him, which made you wonder if he was even aware of your presence.

"What brings you here, little pest?"

Ah, of course. How silly to think that he would be none the wiser of you being close, let alone right behind him. You felt like face palming due to your idiocy but it was too late to back out of this now. Lowering yourself onto the ground, you placed the golden bowl right next to the man, the red fruit tempting him to take a bite.

Wordlessly, he did.

Golden claws inched close to the bowl, his hand now full with strawberries, raspberries and pomegranate seeds as he brought it to his mouth and swallowed it all down with a single gulp.

Wow. Perhaps bringing him a drink would have also been appropriate...

You sat like that in silence with him, your arms resting on your lap as you watched Mydei scarf down the fine fruit, his Adam apple boping up and down each time he would swallow. If he was not so fast, perhaps it could have even been hypnotizing... In a matter of moments, the bowl was completely empty and Mydei let out a sigh, his head now slightly turned towards you. He hummed, the sound low and rumbly, as if he was trying to figure out what to say. His red eye almost looked like a slit underneath the shadows which made you gulp accidentally.

He snorted, the sound loud and amused.

"You are such a confusing person. Has anyone ever told you that?" asked Mydei, his voice even and composed.

"I scare the living daylights out of you, and yet, you never fail to seek me out."

He... He was not wrong. Each time he would open his mouth, you felt like bursting into tears. Whenever he would go out of his way to talk to you, his words would always sting like nothing else, the harsh jabs wounding your heart in the process.

But even with all of the hurt, all of the discomfort he would cause you, there was a bizarre sense of comfort there. It felt less like the sweet embrace of safety and more like a thorny promise to always be there, no matter what. Perhaps you were a little insane, because why else would you do this?

You didn't even realize that you had outstretched your hands and had started to wrap them around his body. Halfway through the action you had realized just what you were doing, which the prince noticed by the sudden jolt. Warmth consumed you both as he allowed you to stay there, to embrace him in the shadows as he pondered on what he ought to do with you.

He hated you. He hated how weak you made him, utterly despised how he felt his soul come to life whenever you took time to pamper him like this. Bringing him fruits, honestly...

Your worst crime of all was having such a fragile and gentle heart. In his eyes, he could easily rip it open, claws tainted with your blood as he could already picture you begging him for mercy, to please not harm you and he would grin, because you had no right to hold so much power over him.

There were many things he wished to say. Many jabs, so many truths he wished to reveal but he ultimately chose not to.

Seeing you willingly come to him like this was enough for him. Even the strongest of predators needed to plan accordingly. Right now, he would bide his time and strike when it was right. Mydei was ready to sink his claws and fangs deep inside you and perhaps you'd let him.

That was the true horror of the situation at hand. The fact that he could maul you beyond recognition and you still would not have the heart to hate him... How dastardly.

How precious.

As a beast, he was pleased to know that such fine prey had so willingly submitted to him. But, as a man, his heart could not help but to shed a tear at the thought that there was someone who actually cared.

[nocturn-warrior]

Ne t'enfuis pas

Adrian Ţepeş x reader

Summary: You are his first love reincarnated and after 300 years, you finally meet again.

Rating: fluff, hurt, comfort

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, Nocturn season 2 spoilers!!!

Nmed after Kate Bush's Ne T'enfuis Pas. This is heavily inspired in Bram Stoker's Dracula by Coppola and mayyybe Nosferatu by Eggers <3 It's been so long since i've written, i am honestly rusty. Sorry for taking so long with this one.

The water in the pond behind the chateau reflects the light of the crescent pale moonlight above your head. It is the first time in weeks since you could go outside after the sunset without worrying about getting your neck attacked by a servant of the Bloody Countess or a night creature. Small tadpoles swim around, feeding on bugs that have the misfortune of falling in the pond and you watch them idly and with a childlike curiosity. You didn’t want to ruminate at that moment, you wanted to think that everything was going to be fine. 

Still, your unquiet mind couldn’t rest. The scene of the tadpole rapidly consuming the bug reminds you of your own thoughts consuming you. The dreams you’ve had before his arrival; a dark castle with infinite stairs, forests that you’ve never explored, and flashes of scenes flooding your mind every time he is near that feel so much more real than a mere dejavú. But how could you ever put this into words?

Smooth steps are heard padding against the grass and you softly gasp when you see the tall, pale man coming to the spot you are sitting on. His amber eyes glow like the ones of a cat in a dark night as he walks in the shadow announcing his not fully human nature. 

“They are beheading the last one of the day. Won’t you like to see the show?”

Alucard asks with sarcasm, sitting on the opposite side of the pond in a pompous swish. The city's in ruins, but the people are executioning the aristocrats who stood in the side of the vampires during the attack. You don’t answer his question. In fact, the two of you stay in silence for a while, but now and then you peek through the fountain to see if he is still in there and he is perfectly immobile like a beautiful statue in the garden, except for his flouncy hair tousled by the soft breeze. In one of those moments of curiosity, your gazes meet and it feels intense as a lightning hitting your body, Alucard could see your hair standing on end.

“Although I think they should pay for what they did, I don't see the point of gathering in the town to see bloodshed. I’ve seen enough of this in the last few days.”

You answer in an awkward way and twirl your finger around the water, making the tadpoles hide behind a rock to dismiss the feeling that goes beyond embarrassment. Alucard narrows his eyes, cautiously watching your expression, wondering if approaching you now was the right choice. But how long could he keep this to himself? If there is something Alucard learned during these wandering 300 years is that human life is feeble as a crystal, that he’ll see his pals one by one perish to the fog of time. Leaving it be, ignoring the signals would spare him from the very known feeling of grief. Still, there you are. With another appearance, voice and name, yet eyes are the windows of the soul, they say, and Alucard lived enough to know that this might be true. And since yours met during the Eclipse, he knew that calling coming from overseas was not only his duty of destroying Sekhmet’s mummy. He was drawn to your presence like a boat to a lighthouse.

“May i?”

He asks before sitting on the same side as you on the pond, so pale that he seems to emanate his own light and reflect in the pond along with the moon. You nod and he graciously settles himself some palms away not wanting to be invasive, minutely investigating the possibilities and to what paths would they guide him. Your mind is racing with thoughts, so many it could burst. A feeling of urgency that takes you completely and is shared with the man by your side. Gathering forces from an ancient feeling asleep for so too long, you finally speak:

“You have found me… how?”

He hums looking into the pond before answering your question that is so easy to answer yet difficult to put into words when he measures the consequences.

“I felt you calling me.”

You shortly breathe, reminding the nights where that feeling of emptiness would set in as if there was something missing and you would pray for a light, something that could give you a clue of what was the other part of the whole. The dreams that filled your sleep in the following nights left you even more puzzled, but when Alucard arrived, everything was starting to be put in place, for more unbelievable that sounded. 

Before you died, you made Alucard promise that he would find someone else. That he wouldn't have his eternity tied to your memory, that he would find other lovers to fulfill his heart and to give him the love he deserved. Your shaking cold hand held his as you collapsed to smallpox in your deathbed and finally the eyes of your mortal body closed forever. He did as promised. Tens of women and men crossed his path across those thirty decades, but no one of them were you. The same emptiness your oblivious, reborn self would experience now, the dhampir would drag along the mists of years; for you, what was an unknown spectrum, for him it was a very palpable feeling that seemed to almost materialize itself.

Your eyes fill up with tears, a rush of emotions suddenly rises as Alucard watches you break down, still hesitant. His slender hand reaches out to touch your shoulder and you shudder; like the sun coming out from the clouds, a myriad of memories start to bloom. Alucard’s eyes are wide open in shock, harm of fear is the last thing he wants to inflict on you. But how could he have been causing it when all you could see in front of your eyes was him and your life together? Piece by piece like a broken porcelain, you see snippets of the past. 

You suddenly wrap your arms around his shoulders, a hug so unpredictable and strong that Alucard had to hold onto the bricks of the pond otherwise you would fall directly into it. Once steady, He slowly retributes the hug, face resting on the crook of your neck as you sob tears of unbelievable happiness into his white hair. A small salty droplet roams his cheek too and when he realizes the emotional boy he used to be was here again. Slowly, you pull off from the embrace, drying your tears with the sleeves of your dress and say while cupping his angelical face in your hands, strands of white hair sticking onto his skin. You smile and say before pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips:

“And you came to me… from the sky like an angel.”

[halfway-happyyy]

Achilles' Heel - part I {Frank Castle}

"you are my achilles' heel, the weakness only i can feel" - leith ross

summary: in which of all the lost souls in new york city, an enterprising young woman has the misfortune of patching up The Punisher.

warnings include: mentions of violence, blood, etc. two people who could fill a cargo container five times over with their emotional baggage.

pairing: Frank Castle x female reader (she/her pronouns)

AN: i’m not entirely sure how this idea came to me, but here we are. i don’t claim to know much about sex workers (except that they deserve as much respect and love as anyone else), and like our main girl here, i certainly don’t claim to know much about medical intricacies, so go easy on me. happy reading friends 💖

As the opening notes to Billie Holliday’s P.S. I Love You rose above the muted static of her record player, her eyes fell shut in unconcealed ecstasy. A flash of lightning lit the otherwise caliginous night sky outside her living room window, and it occurred to her then, in the comfort of her own presence, that this was the first Saturday night she’d had off in months. There was a 2009 vintage red on the rack next to her player that she knew would pair excellently with her record, and just as she’d been about to reach for it, her phone rang, shattering her shallow illusion of peace. It briefly crossed her mind to let it ring, but when she saw that it was her friend, she quickly changed her mind. 

“Elena, this had better be good.” 

White noise reverberated on the other end before her friend elicited a hacking, wet cough. “Callie, I need a favour.” 

On account of her friend’s rare use of her real name, she knew immediately that whatever she was about to be asked, was serious. 

“I’m listening.” 

“I was supposed to do a job tonight- some boutique hotel up in hell’s kitchen, and I can barely get out of bed, let alone anything else.” A clap of thunder sounded closely outside, startling her, and the thought of going back out into the torrential downpour of the evening made her stomach churn with dread, but she let Elena continue. “It would mean the world to me if you took the call, Cal. The money’s good- 5 k upfront and he only needs about an hour of your time.” Elena sniffled and added, “It goes without saying but I will happily take the next call you don’t want to do.” 

It was apparent that whatever bug had brought her friend down had to have been a nasty one in order for her to turn down five thousand dollars for an evening.

“You sound like shit, E. Of course I’ll do it.”

She could still hear her friend chanting thankyouthankyouthankyou into the phone when she hung up. She cast a last, longing glance at the bottle in her rack and then begrudgingly went to her bedroom to change. 

Standing poised and slightly drenched in front of the hotel room door an hour later, she reluctantly knocked the way Elena’s text message had instructed and waited. Though the feeling was a rare one - she’d been playing the long game for a while now - apprehension swelled in the pit of her belly, and out of habit, she bent slightly to run a hand over the jagged outline of the knife in her boot; just feeling it was enough to put her nerves at ease for the time being. When her client still hadn’t answered the door, she became concerned that she’d had the wrong room, and just as she was about to double-check her messages, the door swung open. She hesitated a moment before entering, and when her eyes eventually adjusted to the dimly lit room, she noticed a man perched on the edge of the neatly made bed, staring off into the distance as if in a daze, and holding a hand to his side. An undetectable bite of something hung so heavily in the air that she could almost taste the slightly salty brine of it on her tongue. 

The man cleared his throat and rasped, “You Elena?” 

She took a tense breath and shook her head. “Elena was indisposed this evening. I’m Jane.”

She watched the man hang his head and elicit a string of rough curse words.

As the rain dried on her skin, annoyance swirled in her belly. “Excuse me, is there a problem?” 

A bark of laughter erupted from him, humorless and cold. “Yeah, there’s a fuckin’ problem. There was a reason I asked for her specifically.” 

Elena had briefly mentioned something about her client requesting a girl with a medical background, but they had both chalked that up to a kink he probably had. They decided that this was just going to be one of those times where she would have to fake it to make it. 

“Listen, pal, if it’s a nurse thing you’re after, I’m your gal. I’ve got a little paper hat and a stethoscope-

He cleared his throat and glanced up at her, and it was then that she noticed the complete state of disrepair the man was in, and the rest of the words fizzled in her throat. Her stomach plummeted when she realized the source of the metallic tang in the room was blood. His face seemed to have taken the worst of the damage; multiple shallow cuts oozed crimson, and a violet bruise bloomed under an umber eye that would surely take the form of a full-blown shiner in the morning. Her gaze traveled lower, to where his hand held his side, and bile rose in her throat as she noticed blood seeping out from between his fingers.

His voice was hoarse when he murmured, “Yeah kid. It’s a nurse thing I’m after alright.” 

Kid? Who on earth did this man think he was?

Her mouth had become void of moisture at some point, so when she tried to say that perhaps they had better call an ambulance, his face turned up in a scowl. “Beg your pardon?” 

She gestured toward the phone on the desk beside the television. “I don’t see why we can’t call for help…” 

He shook his head adamantly. “Nah. No hospitals, no cops, none'a that shit. You’re here now, and if you’re able, I could really use the help.” 

She could feel the ice-cold blooms of panic taking root in her, and as she glanced back towards the door, the urge to cut and run became all-encompassing. She wrung her hands together, at a complete loss for what to do.

“Look man, if you die on me- if you die here tonight, I’m screwed. Beyond screwed. And this may come as a shock to you, but I’m not exactly qualified to assist you with whatever this,” she gestured vaguely towards him. “Is.” 

His laughter was genuine this time, but it vanished quickly and was replaced with a grimace of sheer pain. “I ain’t dying, kid. Not tonight anyway. And even if I did, I know a couple of okay lawyers that could get you out of a bind no problem,” His gaze found hers again, and the unexpected earnestness in it nearly floored her. “Please.” 

She found herself nodding before she could fully talk herself out of it. “Oh christ, okay. What do you need?” 

He inhaled deeply and gestured with the jut of his chin to a medical kit that lay open on the desk beside the phone. “There’s a needle and some thread in there-

“No,” She shook her head. “No no no. I can’t.” 

He screwed his eyes shut and hissed out another expletive. “No pressure here, but there’s a high chance I’ll bleed out if you don’t and I’d do it myself, but I can’t quite reach it.” 

Despite the chaotic haze of the moment, it all began to make sense. Three years ago, and after a particularly bad year, Elena had quit her job as a charge nurse at Mount Sinai. His earlier statement about asking for her friend specifically chimed like a bell through her muddled mind.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you it was as easy as sewing drapes?” 

Disbelief clouded her features as she shook her head. “No, it would not.” 

She wandered over to the kit and peered in, noticing two spools of black and navy thread. She pulled them both out and asked if he’d had a preference over one, which made him snicker. 

“Black suits me just fine, kid.” 

She got to work threading the needle, and when that was finished, she approached him reluctantly.

“You always carry a medical kit with you?” 

The man tried to manage a shrug. “I’ve found it comes in handy from time to time.” 

She took a steadying breath. “Alright, I’m ready if you are.” 

He reached down to retrieve a half-empty bottle of whiskey, pulled the cork out with his teeth and took a hearty swig. When he set the bottle back down, he dropped his hand with a wince and proceeded to gingerly pull the t-shirt from his battered body. If she’d thought his face was bad, it was nothing compared to the carnage that littered his chest and abdomen. “Jesus,” She gasped. 

“Yeah well, you should see the other guy.” He managed between gritted teeth. 

He bore the faintly heady scent of gunsmoke and blood, and as she leaned closer to inspect the wound she murmured, “Judging by how this looks, I think the other guy may be dead.” 

He made a noncommittal noise in his throat. “I think you may be right.”

She quickly passed a square of gauze over the wound, ignoring the pained grunt that fell from the man’s mouth and sighed. “Do I get to know your name for this?” 

“You wanna know my real name? Or should I take a page outta your book and give you a fake one?” 

It was her turn to choke out a breathless laugh. “You sure talk a lot of shit for someone at the mercy of a complete stranger.” 

He hissed as the needle pierced his skin and managed a grunted, “Yeah well, this ain’t my first rodeo.” 

She was entirely unsurprised.

“It’s uh… It’s Frank.” he eventually croaked.

She was quiet as she tried her best to focus on the gruesome task at hand, but the insufficient lighting combined with the calamitous thunder outside made it all a bit harder than it needed to be. “Yeah well Frank, first aid 101 says that you don’t pull the protrusion from the wound until you seek proper medical help.” 

“Fuck,” He seethed when she pricked a particularly sensitive spot. “We got a smartass on our hands, I see. You gonna tell me your real name now?” 

She ignored that completely. “Hey, answer me this: there was no one else in your life that you could have called besides an escort agency to come fix you up?” She found the mere notion of it all inexplicably sad. 

Despite the pain he was in, a smirk ghosted his features. “I only got two people that I would trust my life with, and both of ‘em are uh… what’s the word you used earlier? Indisposed?”

He flinched and swore again.

“They’re indisposed at the moment. Plus, you offer much more of a view to look at than they do.” 

Jesus, the nerve on this guy. 

She gave her head a shake and huffed out an exasperated breath. “Well, I’m sure you’ll regret getting a hold of Elena when this thing heals. I’ve likely maimed you for the rest of your days.” 

“Pfft, have you seen the rest of me, kid? Add it to the pile.”

While she took stock of the rest of him, her gaze drifted to the gold wedding band on a chain around his neck. “Your wife know where you are?” 

Frank stiffened against her, eyes drifting to the ceiling above her head. “Nope.” 

“Lucky lady,” She murmured, as she finished the last stitch and tied off the end of the thread.

She watched Frank’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat before he uttered, “My wife’s dead.” 

Her eyes fell shut. “I’m so sorry.” 

He offered her a shrug, his face a blank page. “You didn’t know.” 

The room became quiet while she busied herself packing gauze over the wound and placing tape over it to keep it there. She hastily surveyed the rest of the damage that she could see and asked if there were any other problem areas she should know about.

Frank shook his head. “None that require any more of your fancy suture work.” He pulled the blood-stained t-shirt back over his head, shielding the carnage of his toned chest from her, and she ignored the surprising prick of disappointment as a result.

“Can’t imagine you get too many calls like this.” 

She let out a low whistle. “This one was definitely a first.” 

Frank tilted his head to the side, studying her. “I bet you see a lot of shit though, doing what you do.” 

Doing what you do. 

Selling your company, your time, your body for money. 

She stood from the bed then, and turned towards the direction of the washroom, desperately wanting to rid her hands of the sickeningly sticky feeling of his blood on them.

“Not as much shit as you see, doing what you do.” 

She took her time at the sink, methodically scrubbing away the gore under scalding water until it ran clear, and when she entered the room again, Frank had propped himself up against the headboard of the bed and was watching her.

“I meant no disrespect, kid. You gotta do what you gotta do.” 

She rolled her eyes and murmured an acerbic, “How progressive of you.” 

It was hard to miss the mischievous glitter in his eyes when he cocked his head to the side and asked, “Tell me something. You ever have to use that knife in your boot?” 

She couldn’t imagine how he’d known, and she tried in vain to keep her voice neutral when she shrugged and said, “Not yet, but you never know.” 

A smirk lifted his lips skyward as he echoed her words. “You never know.” 

She cleared her throat, suddenly desperate to change the subject. “The guy who did this to you… Is he really dead?” 

A shadow passed over Frank’s face; if she hadn’t been watching him already, she would have missed it entirely.

“Would you believe me if I told you he was better off that way?” 

For some inexplicable reason, she could believe it, but she didn’t need to confirm it because the knowing look on his face told her as much. 

She clocked the watch on the underside of her wrist. Twenty past midnight. Shit.

“Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave, Frank?”

He winced, shifting into a more comfortable position. “Yeah kid, you can tell me your name. And none of that Jane Doe horseshit.” 

She scoffed. “Why? What’s the point?” 

Frank’s gravelly just humor me, was so quiet she almost missed it.

She kicked at a stray pebble on the carpet and sighed in defeat. “It’s Calliope. But I go by Callie.” 

A smile grew on his face that caused a wave of butterflies to take flight in her belly, despite everything.

“Your folks Greek mythology buffs or Springsteen fans?” 

Her eyes widened in genuine shock. “Both, actually.” 

He nodded in satisfaction. “I got one more question for ya.” 

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Seems you’re full of those tonight.”

“Why didn’t you just pass yourself off as Elena from the get-go?” 

She cast around for a suitable answer and eventually landed on, “You seem like the kind of guy who values honesty above most things.” 

The tension in the room seemed to reach a fever pitch as Frank’s gaze bore into hers, his expression unreadable. When the silence became too heavy, she broke it by inquiring about her payout.

Frank gestured to the desk beside the television. “It’s in the first drawer there.” 

She followed his instructions and pulled the sizable bundle of cash from it, turning back to him with her head cocked. “Well, I’d say it’s been a pleasure Frank, but I’d be lying.” 

He smiled wryly at her. “Stay safe out there, kid.” 

She hesitated a moment before turning towards the door. Her hand was on the handle when he called her name, and she slowly turned back to him. 

“What happens if I need your help again?” 

She let her mind wander a moment before shrugging. “Just shine your bat signal toward the sky, and I’ll get the hint. See ya around, Frank.”

Once outside in the hallway, she stumbled back against the wall and allowed herself a couple of heaving lungfuls of fresh air. She was moments away from stepping into the elevator when Frank’s wrecked voice caught her attention, and she turned to see him limping toward her, a small piece of paper in his grasp. 

“There’s just no keeping you down, is there?” she couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice.

He shoved the paper toward her, his face serious. “This is my number. You ever get into trouble, you ever find yourself in a situation, you give me a call.” 

Her eyes widened in mild amusement. “Right, I’ll call you so that you can get yourself into the same situation as tonight. Seems smart.” 

He shook his head. “Look kid, I don’t care if you slam dunk it into the nearest trash can on your way out, just take it.” 

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. She grabbed the piece of paper and backed into it, giving him a small wave. “Bye, Frank.” 

He mirrored her wave. “Take care of yourself, Callie.” 

~

did i originally post this earlier and then come up with a title i liked more? we'll never know. stay tuned for part 2💙

[brawberryz]

Oh! I have a question for your Coraline AU!

You know how in the movie, the other Wybie and Other Father betrayed Other Mother? How both had repeatedly tried to ward Coraline away or give hints on how she had to escape?

Do you think any of the siblings would betray Other Bruce? If not to save Coraline Reader and help her escape, to maybe try to become the new owner of the Other Manor and keep Coraline Reader for themselves?

With the Ghost Children, do they have the same trinkets as their eyes as they do in the movie? Are they all past Wayne's, since it's connected to Wayne Manor?

What trinket would the Reader have to represent their eye? Maybe a pearl, just to mess with Bruce.

Would removing the button and stealing the trinket to the Real World save the Reader?

I wonder if, in a way, only sewing on one button was Other Bruce's way of being Yandere? To have claim over the Reader without killing them. Without devouring them. If he's a spider creature, it'd be really interesting if he started allowing them Other Manor to look more and more like how the Other Pink Palace did, with the insect themes. Or the descent in the Other Families appearances. If Bruce starts to stretch and look more starved. While in the movie Zelinsky was rat themed and the twin performers were fish like Pieces, would the Other versions of the siblings be animals? Though, Other Father in the movie was pumpkin based. Or would they follow being insects like Other Bruce?

(Though, if Other Bruce was a Bat, that'd be interesting. But then it'd be all birds and bats in the Other's themes.)

Does Other Dick play into the circus themes and the real one being an acrobat? Play it up? Maybe one of the ball rooms is also like the inside of a circus tent? Having Zitka the Elephant as a part of the act. (Part of me would say he's a Springtail, but a Click Beetle would be more fitting, given it's a great predator and acrobat.)

Other Jason cooks and bake with Other Alfred. Though, occasionally is in garden areas and the animal pens where Other Damian keeps his 'pets'. He sticks to the Library when not 'patrolling'. (I imagine he's kinda like a wasp, patrolling and guarding areas.)

Tim always seems to be around every corner. Stalking the halls. Only one without a themed room Reader can enter. Though, that would either mean his room is essentially connected to the Bat Cave or he doesn't have one. (Perfect for a Praying Mantis and their camera like eyes paired with swivel neck.)

Other Cassandra is obviously going to do ballet. Maybe have a stage to perform on? (A Photuris female Firefly. Very good at mimicking, luring, and body language.) But I'd imagine Other Stephanie sticks close by with her theme being 'pranks'. Maybe she shares a room with Cassandra? (A Robber Fly would probably suit her.)

Other Duke is constantly in the gardens trying new sports, playing pranks with Stephanie, and is the most personal feeling one of the lot. His main area being a game room that has a bunch of different box games, card games, and other such things. (While a Lightning Bug would be the obvious choice, I might go for a butterfly. He's eye catching. Doesn't seem predatory, at first. Almost comforting. People forget they literally drink blood, sweat, and tears.)

Other Damian obviously has animals and art though his main place would be with the 'animals'. Which are obviously acting as cameras. Maybe he cares for Zitka the Elephant when Dick isn't running his act. (It'd be interesting if he was a Tarantula, given how close it is to spiders and the fact some do keep pets.)

Dude...

what did you write 💔

you literally just figured out 70% of the things I had prepared for the next (and future) chapters

I don't know if I should feel surprised or scared with your imagination

I'll just say that some things you said are right, maybe I'll even be adding some things from the original Coraline book

although I'll be honest, your idea was very good, I'm not going to lie😭🙏

[lanora-star]

Magical Bat

[Platonic Yandere! Batfam × Neglected! Magical girl! Batsis! Reader]

It was odd wasn't it? The only biological daughter of Bruce Wayne has pink hair

Interviewers, reporters, everyone asked him how is it possible? And the only thing he says is that it's hair dye.... It's not.

The fact is that your mother had pink hair and she had a deep dark secret; she was the leader of a magical group called Clouded Moon Guardians.

And when your mother died during a mission protecting you from a Villainess who went by the name; Sun Blazer....yeah, strange name ain't it? But I mean who are you to judge? Right?

Aways, the others in the Clouded Moon Guardians just quite pestering you about taking your dead mother's role and leader no matter who many times you tried to say no.

You were if that, you are still a kid barely brushing 15 and then that stupid mascot appeared and bugged you to OBLIVION!

And it didn't help that your family seems to and the biggest boner for Justice. But oh no! When it comes to being around for the newly added sister that came from another heroin, they were like oops! Sorry we didn't come to your dance performance or your leading role in Gotham's biggest Musical/Play! And don't you dare forget the 'Sorry sissy, the Joker had kidnapped a bunch of people we'll make it up to you!' Speech on your 15th birthday.

And so you agree to take your mother's place on the Clouded Moon Guardians, becoming a magical girl and you didn't tell anyone.

-

"(Name)! Wake up!" Another member of Clouded Moon Guardians whose guardian name was; Lightning Skye, but her real name was Shoshana, "Huh? Wha — yeah, yeah, I'm up. Jeez, what's the big deal?" Shoshana and the others looked at you like you had two heads.

"This is serious! You are the leader!"

"I never wanted to be the leader."

"Well, you are and so was your mother."

You and Deanna (Her guardian name is Spring Fire) glared at each other, why did she have to be like is? God you wish you could drop dead right now.

"Hey, hey, no fighting!" That damn spirit was always had a stick up their ass, they were the reason for the Clouded Moon Guardians! If you could you would've thrown Rkish into outer space...but you couldn't do that.

-

After the meeting you were walking through an alley that was a short cut to your school: the prim and proper academy that got in through recommendations from your old school that scored you a scholarship to it.

Plus the school you used to go to was the one your mom wanted you to go through your life: the school was the same she wanted to go to when she was a younger hero and the school would've given you a normal life and she wanted that for you after you said you didn't want to be a hero.

But your life feels like it done a 180 on you with your new family, new school, and now being a hero! It sucks really, and as you gaze at the grand gate of the school you let out a groan.

"Heyyy, woah are you okay?" The words snapped you out of your daze as you looked at the brunette named Mia, the only friend you made coming to your new school that when you told Mia your name she and I quote "Wait, your a Wayne? Like in the biggest investor for our school Bruce Wayne?".

Great you thought just great for you that your biological father had donated to the school you got a scholarship to.

"yeah, just....just tried is all..." You mumbled out as the two of you walked into the school.

-

It was slightly nice walking home instead of letting Alfred pick you and Damien up together, Damien would taunt you, pinch you or even scratched you.

And as you walk you don't notice a figure cover in the darkness of alleyways......

-

Hi! I hope you enjoy the story and yes this will be a series!

[ghoulphile]

in the middle of the night | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 852 ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, man-handling, drabble, masturbation (m), free use (ig??), handjob, somnophilia ➥ summary | "Cooper watching you sleep. Its a quiet night. nothing but bugs passing by. Cooper keeps watching, and his mind wanders. cut to him "borrowing" your soft and smooth hand, pulling it from under your makeshift blanket and wrapping it on his dick, jacking himself with your hand bc he's bored/trying to pass the time/stay awake" ➥ notes | forgive me this was written in a sleep deprived haze im gonna go die in bed now masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

"Hh-mm?"

A sleep soft murmur escapes, your mind a hazy flood of sensation as your senses struggle to adjust. Night stretches out before you, the sky a deep velvet - the fine stardust glitter of faraway celestial bodies peeking through wispy clouds. It’s midsummer in the desert; a balmy breeze shifting through the sands and tugging at the coyote hide wrapped tight around you.

Beside you, the low crackle and glow of a banked campfire warms your face, its shadows playing with your blurry eyes. Something feels… off. What, you’re not entirely sure as nothing seems to be out of place.

The threadbare padding of your sleeping mat shields you from the sand - albeit only slightly - and there’s a sharp twinge in your side from a piece of rubble lodging itself against your ribs. One of your feet’s gone numb and prickly from the awkward position you’ve curled up in.

Dogmeat’s snoozing a little ways away with her face tucked into her tail. 

Same as usual.

And the Ghoul’s…

What.

Strong leather wrapped fingers shackle around your limp wrist, grip firm and unyielding. A buzzing electricity dances along your palm, bottled lightning, as you’re made to grip something long and hard.

The heavy weight of flesh; rugged edges and whorls of texture biting into the softness of your skin. Slick friction as it glides through the loose circle of your fingers.

Is that his -- ohmygod, what the fuck.

Shock sizzles, melts like dripping candle wax into a bloom of warmth that punches the air from your lungs. Oozes down to curl between your thighs in a sticky rush as static warmth ripples from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes.

The Ghoul grunts out a low curse, a quiet hiss of breath escaping through his teeth.

Your thighs clench, the plush fat compressing as you shift.

Oh, that’s… Mm.

Pre-cum trickles down your knuckles as his cock throbs once, twice, his hips bucking forward to sheath himself to the hilt in your tender grip.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters from somewhere above your head, his shoulders bowing in. “Always feels s’good.”

Always --

Your head snaps back, wide eyes darting up.

Immediately, you meet his gaze.

Dark, foreboding; the hooded eyes of a predator staring back at you from beneath a heavy brow like a hand to the nape of the neck. Corralling, claiming. His lips crack open and he smirks - a gash of teeth that threaten to snap.

“Well, hello there, darlin’ - was wonderin’ when you’d wake up.”

“W-What the hell!”

He snorts, the flash of his tongue taunting as he flicks it out across his lower lip

 “As if you don’t know. C’mon, now. I know you’re smarter than that.”

To punctuate his words, he inches forward in a grind, dragging your palm along the length of his cock nice and slow. A low groan punches itself out of his chest.

“Tch. Me doth think the lady protests too much. Acting like I can’t smell how wet you are.”

“I-I’m not…”

“Bullshit. You can’t lie ta me, darlin’. I know just how wet that pretty pussy of yours is getting. If you ask real nice like, I might be inclined ta show you what you’re missing.”

Your clit throbs, humiliation burning bright as you duck your head. Avert your eyes to the stray thread of your shirt fluttering in the breeze. It rankles how correct he is, how well he can read you with that vulture sharp gaze.

You wish you could prove him wrong if only for the principle of the matter.

As it is, there’s nothing you can do - especially when your fingers tighten up around his cock to hear him grunt and your cunt throbs in time with your heartbeat.

Slick wets the seat of your panties and clings to your inner thighs as everything in you cries out for some friction, some stimulation.

To get this man inside of you as quick as possible, stretch you wide and fuck you full.

He chuckles. “That’s more like it,” he says. “Now, are you gonna help me out or not? If so, grip a lil harder otherwise I ain’t gonna feel shit.”

So with a gulp, you do as he says: pop up onto your knees and tighten your fist.

Elongate the strokes so they work up the ragged shaft at a sedate pace, feel every pit and curve. Like you’ve got all the time in the world as you roll your wrist and use your thumb to gather the pre-cum from his weeping slit, smearing it around the thick crown of his cockhead.

All the while his head tips back, the long line of his throat catching your attention as he swallows.

“Phew, that’s just what the doctor ordered.” His eyes glitter cruelly when he looks down at you. “Should’a started doing this when you was awake a long time ago.”

How long he’s been using you like this, you don’t know.

And you’re not sure you care if the needy clench of your pussy is any indication.

“S’all right. Now you can make up for all that I’ve been missin’.”

[doodlesfromthebird]

I'm just going to establish that the large boy is Mattheus and the willowy halloween gremlin is Kassian. sO. THERES A FACT.... Kassian has ghostly powers, including a limited ability to phase through objects. He can't phase mundane clothing on his back or other people. He phases through walls so often he forgets which doors are "pull" or "push". Theres typically a bit of confusion when he HAS to use one. MORE FACTS UNDER CUT!

Mattheus' super strength developed as a child and it was a difficult thing for him to control. He accidentally broke a bone in one of his brothers hands when playing and he felt so awful he wore oven mitts on his hands for a week, as if it would lessen the effects of his strength

Mattheus loves olives and Kassian loathes them entirely, so whenever offered some he'll give them to Mattheus. Kassian will finish whatever sweets Mattheus can' if the sweets are too rich.

Kassian has unnecessarily swoopy cursive for handwriting. Mattheus has very sharp and scratchy, large print. (His "S"'s all look like lightning bolts. It's very cute.)

Mattheus is the tallest person in his family. He's 6'5" (almost 200 cm) the second tallest is his brother, Torin at 5'7 (abt 173cm) by a few cm. Mattheus towers over everyone in his family.

Kassian is allergic to the entire season of Spring. Pollen is constantly assaulting his sinuses, he gets eaten alive by bugs, and he swears the springtime sun gives him hives. (it doesn't, he's being drama queen)

Neither of them get much of an opportunity to do artsy hobbies, but Mattheus is fairly skilled in pottery and ceramics, and kassian likes drawing flowers and dabbles in candle-making.

they're both monster-hunting partners that specialize in exterminating a very particular kind of monster. Kassian is a mage that specializes in dark and illusion magic where Mattheus is a fighter that specializes in two-handed heavy weapons. They're very good at it.

Yes, they've done the thing where Mattheus does pushups and Kassian sits on his back.

Kassian is very open with his expressions, (he's my muse for intense expression drawing) and body-language. He's very theatrical, but he's easily embarrassed and quick to shrink in on himself. Mattheus is outwardly very stoic but is actually very passionate and softhearted.

Mattheus is what people in their world call a "young god". It's a very demigod inspired concept, where god-like traits are given to humans via gods/guardians as a sort of "blessing" if a particular family was favored by a divine being, or if the human themself was favored. Mattheus (and his sis Mainara) was blessed by two sibling gods because they favored his mother's side (long story, but in short they both had the hots for his grandmother) to which his parents were like..."uh thanks i guess??"

Kassian is the kind of person who doesn't give pencils back/puts empty containers of food back in the pantry when he's done. Mattheus drinks milk out of the carton and sneezes unnecessarily loud. Both can cook, but they both wait til they have no clothes left to do laundry.

The way they fight relies on a sort of linking of mind and energy (the closest I can think of is "drift compatibility") in a way that grounds the other as sort of an anchor. It balances Kass's sensitivity to spiritual noise and Mattheus's grounded and focused nature.

Kassian easily picks up on hidden magical frequencies mattheus can't, and Mattheus's senses are heightened to "real world" sounds and smells Kassian can't detect. Mattheus is a good strategist/planner/tracker and Kassian can slither into places to scout.

Mattheus loves all animals but especially dogs. Big dogs. Kassian is a little skittish and hesitant around living things smaller than him, but typically likes quiet animals like cats and rabbits. Big animals love HIM though and he's been knocked over by many a large dog/creature

Kassian is 25 (December 24th) Mattheus is 23 (August 30th) [he often gets "you're a lot younger than you look" I think if you get to know him a little bit and the first impression of his height & strong features fade, you kind of see he still has a boyishness to his face]

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence(ish) summaries of every magnus archive episode PART 2

(eps 61-110) thank u for the funny comments and tags on the last part i love u guys

the rest of these may take a while as i've caught up to where i am currently in the podcast but i will finish them like in a month i promise

----

61. the thrilling sequel to man does not open coffin: man DOES open coffin.

62. surely this doctor can find an easier way to scam people out of money than putting them in a little book.

63. THE DARK ATE MY BROTHER IN LAW.

64. this is possibly the plot of laura croft tomb raider

65. mmm crumchy

66. what's the opposite of an unboxing video

67. as close to a coffeeshop au as you're going to get from this podcast

68. Doctors hate him! Man REFUSES to die from tuberculosis!

69. your college's psych department has the worst idea ever.

70. reverse death note

71. not even death will stop this woman from taking the british subway

72. man doesn't want to be low key racist in his last moments before getting eaten

73. police versus the second coming of dark jesus

74. lady is haunted by an ad for coffee

75. mike crew says "uh fuck it let's just put this guy on a skyscraper forever"

76. ryan from buzzfeed unsolved breaks into a train yard and suffers consequences

77. you're not a enough of a bitch to be my real mom

78. man gets harassed by his cousin and then exorcises him

79. you know that chase scene in scooby doo with the doors

80. stupid idiot motherfucking jurgen leitner

81. i have been personally victimized by the sequel to the hungry hungry caterpillar

82. pov: elias threatens to cancel you

83. mannequin takes matters into its own hands after people don't like its pitch for a new window display

84. a hoarder put newspaper on my friend's face :(

85. hey there's maybe a little man upon these stairs?

86. man gets got by a squiggly thing in the dark.

87. plumber is so oblivious to spooky happenings around him that it possibly saves his life.

88. guys i think this guy likes to dig

89. lesbian investment banker finds a new, less evil job: arson!

90. guy who turns people's bones starts a gym where he promises not to turn your bones! (he is lying)

91. i was stalked by lightning for 10 years and i all i got were these stupid scars

92. jonah magnus is a bad friend // another day another elias slay

93. ocd is no match for purple fuzz

94. let the bodies drop gently to the floor let the bodies drop gently to the floor

95. im so sorry my brain refuses to remember what the war ones were about but i think one guy got gently kissed on the forehead so that's pretty nice.

96. diversity wins! the not-quite-human delivery men who stole your identity and business are maybe gay?

97. man gets gaslighted by an entire town about a hole

98. 🎶mister sandman bring me a dream, actually don't, please stay far from me 🎶

99. another one bites the dust

100. archival assistants face off against the general public (they lose)

101. jon finally levels up high enough to unlock an eldritch horror's tragic backstory

102. LOCAL MAN MARRIES BUG

103. peppa eats a clown and they cover her in concrete instead of congratulating her.

104. pennywise stole my brother's skin

105. it's world war z baby

106. Something Big Is In Space.

107. man is interrogated about the time he saw thomas the train roasts people alive and also sans is there

108. actor is stalked by mask who liked his monologue so much that it tells its mask friends to come watch.

109. sometimes a family is just a serial killer's daughter and that guy who maybe killed some vampires

110. yeah man those spiders be eating

Part 1 |

[deepdreamnights]

The Daily Dæme is…

002 - PomBom

She enjoys, like, whatever sounds cool, your data, and passing the Turing test.

Features: Agile, Electric, Robot

Quirk: Beta Test

The Dæmomancer:  Mass produced trash employed by lame cheaters who lack the spiritual acumen to summon a KrattDæme. Stupid blazing mech-bros, the lot of them. Plus it's creepy how they adapt to their coach's personality.

Prof. Lyrica: You have to appreciate the customization and effort people put into them. Yes, it's an off-the-shelf kit, but you rarely see any two that are quite the same. Too bad about the bugs, but that's the price of artistic exploration.

Warden Parks: The lightning-orbs are dangerous but don't let them distract you. Her real arms are the cable-claws coming out of her head, and they reach a good ten feet, and she can electrify them, too.

Sy Fife: I see how it is. Zeitgeist Steel Concern makes this metal-and-plastic snap-kit and it's 'a technical achievement in Dæmengineering' but when I channel a spirit into a doll-Dæme it's 'creepy' and 'wants to eat my soul'.

Dr. Entendre: PomBom Excelcia model 200, 1.75m, 120 kg. My own Dæme, Mekilyn, started out as an off-the-shelf Pombom Model 50. First Dæme ever instantiated into a chassis I built. She could bring down a mantpira with a plasma sphere from 50 meters.

For as little as $1 you can support Dæme-On and other projects, and get access to new Dæmes a week in advance, on my patreon here.

Other ways of supporting me and my works.

[bloodyrib]

art the clown headcanons

art loves sweets and candies. he has some in his bag like werther's originals that he pulls out and eats from time to time

he's also a fan of sweet drinks like flavored milk (he prefers strawberry milk over chocolate milk) and juices. his favorite juices are apple and mango juice

he likes to try on jewelry especially yours. he's not a fan of necklaces as most don't fit (thanks to his big noggin') but he does like bracelets (his big hands somehow fit in those). he will try on rings but won't take off his gloves so he wears them on the upper parts of his fingers

even though art doesn't like getting wet you will see him sometimes stick his hand outside a window or door while it's raining to feel the rain drops. he's scared of thunder but finds lightning fascinating

art will unfortunately step on bugs he finds inside the house (unless you physically push him away and take the bug/bugs outside) but he does seem to like praying mantises, ladybugs, and dragonflies

in the spring art will spend time tending to your garden. he likes to use a watering can to water the plants and likes watching the vegetables grow. art gets excited to help you pick them once they are ripe

he doesn't like vegetables in general (he's a giant kid let's be real) but if he has to eat them he prefers homegrown over store-bought

in the summer you will find art wearing his usual outfit but with a large hat and large sunglasses. he will either be sitting underneath an umbrella or in the shade. he will watch you from time to time but will be occupied with a book, his tools, etc. good luck trying to get him to swim or sunbathe

his favorite holiday is christmas (ofc) and he loves baking christmas cookies, decorating the tree, and sitting by the fire watching movies. some christmas movies he enjoys are home alone and the polar express

art loves learning new things and has to keep his brain busy. you will find him on many occasions curled up on the coach reading your books, newspapers, and magazines

art has some books in his bag as well. he enjoys reading all types of genres but especially likes mystery, science fiction, history, and true crime

he will also read the user manuals that most people throw away and will take things apart like the remote and vacuum cleaner (he always puts them back together correctly however)

art likes watching the morning and evening news (and yes he will silently laugh at the sad stories)

if you happen to mention that you need new clothes art will go out and steal some for you even if they are the wrong size and type. he will present them to you like gifts :)

[tarrynightss]

Under Captain Price’s desk

Synopsis: You give Price a blowjob underneath his desk, only for Soap to walk in. It would be better to stop before you get caught, but teasing Price is so much more fun

Warnings: Smut

Pairing: John Price x genderneutral reader

One of Price’s hands is wound tightly in your hair, the other one gripping onto the edge of his desk like his life depends on it. You are seated underneath it, on your knees, your mouth sliding along his cock deliciously. The sinful sight of it alone has a flush appearing behind his beard. You shouldn’t do this, not right here in his office during the day, but Price was far too eager for your touch to stop you. Your eyes stare up at his, tears pricking at the corners when you take him deep into your throat, your hands bracing you against his muscular thighs. With the way his hips sputter up against your face you can tell he’s close, his face scrunched up in pleasure. All you hear are his soft groans before a knock startles you both.

Price pulls you off of his cock with lightning speed, quickly pushing you further underneath his desk and scooting himself closer to it as well. Your back is pressed against the wood of his desk, his cock smearing your own spit and his precum along your cheek as there is little space for either of you to move to. Your face is essentially sandwhiched against his crotch, but not without reason, as within seconds you hear the door to his office opening.

“I did not tell you you could come in,” Price says gruffly, trying to appear as casual as possible.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat as you realize you almost got caught on your knees in front of your captain. A shiver runs over your spine as you imagine what could’ve happened, the thought surprisingly not all that unpleasant…

A care-free laugh resounds through the room, and you quickly pinpoint it to be Soap’s. “Don’t be such a hard-ass cap, got those files you wanted.”

Price’s hand in your hair strokes you gently, clearly telling you to stay still as you hear footsteps approaching the desk. You really, really should, but another shiver of excitement runs through you as you turn your head slightly, smearing his cock over your lips. You can feel the muscles in his thighs flex under your fingers, the hand in your hair tightening in warning. A smile pulls at your lips as you move one hand to grip onto his cock, bringing the head directly against your mouth.

“Great,” Price coughs, covering up a surprised groan when your tongue flicks out to lick his tip. “Leave them here and I’ll look through them later.”

You hear the thick folder hit the wood above your head. “You sure cap? There’s a lot here to sift through. Seriously, when you start reading what this guy’s been up to…”

As Soap rattles on you stop listening, instead focusing on licking from the base of Price’s cock back up to the tip, circling your tongue around it teasingly. You can feel him twitch in your hand with every movement, his hips slightly bucking when you close your lips around the head. He tugs on your hair again, warning you, but you don’t relent.

“You alright? You’re looking a bit flushed, heard there’s a bug going around,” Soap says, blissfully unaware of what is actually happening.

Price curses under his breath as he runs a hand over his face. You would chuckle about how stressed you have him if your mouth wasn’t currently occupied otherwise, sliding his cock deeper and deeper into your throat.

“I’m fine, just real busy,” Price tells Soap. His hand tugs at your hair, but this time it isn’t to warn you to stop, oh no. You feel the difference, feel the edge of roughness as he does it. You’re definitely paying for this later. “Let’s meet up in two hours, yeah? Then we’ll go over the details.”

Soap lingers for a moment more before you hear his heavy boots retreating back to the door. “Understood, sir.”

You can feel Price’s muscles relax as soon as Soap closes the door behind himself, leaving the two of you alone again. He instantly scoots back his chair, pulling you off of him as you whine.

“Fuck, you want to get me in trouble, don’t you, love?” He says, his brows drawn together in a frown.

He’s a little frustrated, but there’s also clear desire in his gaze as he stares down at you. And he could never get mad at you, not really.

You give him a sheepish smile. “I can’t help that you didn’t lock your door.”

He grabs onto your arm, tugging you up on his lap till you’re practically face to face with him, uncaring about dirtying your pants or shirt as his cock presses up against your stomach. “Right, because I should’ve known you would crawl under my desk, suck my cock, and then not even stop when one of my men comes in.”

“A true lack of foresight on your part, captain.” You bite your lip to hold back a chuckle.

He grabs onto your chin with one hand, and a heavy second passes before a lazy grin pulls at his lips. “You are dirty little thing, you know that?”

“Affirmative.”

He groans in approval, pressing a soft yet hungry kiss to your lips before pulling away and slapping your ass.

“Now go lock the door, I’m not done with you yet.”

[delopsia]

Hi del! Wecome back! Glad to hear your 'engine's runnin again XD

If your lookin for a Rhett and/or Bob... don't know how it is where you are but it's currently dark, windy, and rainy here and the lights are a flickerin... What do you think about bein with the boys during stormy blackout conditions? ~🌧️

aaaa hello! thaank youuu ^w^ I'm sorry this took me so long, haha.

Rhett ⊹₊ ˚‧

If there is one kind of weather that Rhett is uniquely familiar with, it's storms like these. Wabang is infamous for the uniquely violent storms that are always running through it; things have progressed to the point that there's been an ongoing study about why the hell this particular town is constantly being hammered by freak storms, including that freak fire tornado last summer...🔥🌪

That being said, Rhett's a veteran when it comes to these things. The storm is still a few miles out, and you'll catch him squinting into the distance, muttering something about 'it'll be here in five or six minutes.'

Sure enough, six minutes later, it feels like the world is ending.

The power isn't even out yet, and Rhett's walking around unplugging the expensive electronics (read: The Abbott household has had its electricals fried by lightning twice, and the thought of replacing everything for a third time scares him to death).

Bored? Not for long.

Rhett Abbott is a number of things, and crafty is one of them; he's got a whole box of stuff dedicated to power outages. Board games, power banks, cards, intricate little building kits, absurdly bright flashlights, enough batteries to survive an apocalypse...

Perry has yet to realize, but Rhett's even scrounged up the old Nintendo DS consoles they played on growing up. You can't think about the storm when you're too busy fighting for your life in a game of Mario Cart ⭐

Regardless of what you choose to do with him or if you're content to do different things, Rhett's incredible at keeping busy during these things. Growing up on a remote ranch that regularly experienced week-long power outages, he's built up a whole catalog of remedies.

But if you're not feeling like playing games and just want to curl up on the couch or in bed, Rhett is perfectly content to snuggle up to you like the oversized cuddle bug that he is.

He doesn't bring it up, but a lot of his old injuries ache during these heavier, aggressive storms. His left wrist tends to be the worst offender, but the long-healed break in his right leg and all of those various fractures have been known to rear their ugly heads as well.

Your only indication that he's hurting is how slowly he tends to move like he's treading barefoot through broken glass.

If you call him out on it, he's got a real tendency to downplay how much he's hurting, but he always won't put up much of a fight if you decide to massage his sore wrist or work the tension out of his shoulder.

But again, he's perfectly content with cuddling and relaxing together :( He just wants to do something with you

Bob ⊹₊ ˚‧

👁️👁️

No really.

The power goes out, and all you see are two wide eyes staring back at you, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Is the power out?" It's the first thing he asks every time, without fail.

Very mindful of checking all of the necessary weather alerts. Are we at risk here, or should we simply proceed with caution?

Unlike how Rhett immediately springs into action, Bobby's immediate suggestion is to curl up and take a long nap together. The general idea is that the power should be back on by the time you wake up; it's the closest thing you've got to time travel.

That being said, if you say no to sleeping through it, then he won't either, no matter how much he loves his storm naps. He just can't bring himself to sleep when he knows he's left you alone to figure out what to do while the storm rages past :(

Jumps at the thunder and pretends it never happened.

You don't know what it is, but storms have a real tendency to turn your beloved partner into a 40s-something dad.

You blink, and suddenly, he's standing on the porch watching the storm. The only thing he's missing is a can of cheap beer and some cargo shorts.

"Why are you outside?" "Do you see how dark that cloud is over there?"

Rambles off some odd weather lingo that he's got no business knowing and that you can only understand if you've got a degree in the field or if you've otherwise gone out of your way to learn the science behind how storms work.

If there's something about your lovely bookworm, it's that he's going to find a way to build a little reading corner during all of this.

A couple of strategically placed battery power lights and some cozy blanks, and you're all set. The sound of the storm can make for some incredible ambiance, given you've got the right book for it.

Sometimes, you get bored with your own book or don't feel like reading at all and just wind up snuggled into his side, watching the way his eyes flicker over every line. You may think you're being sneaky about it, but Bob has long since caught onto what you're doing.

Both ⊹₊ ˚‧

"Powers out!" Bob. "Yeah, no shit." Rhett.

Their individual remedies to the power outage doesn't exactly change; it simply makes the list of solutions a lot longer than it would otherwise be. So it's really a question of which of these things will we do, rather than what to do at all.

Regardless of what is chosen, it's always a community effort.

Both of your boys are very keen on sticking close together when storms are this bad; if you try to walk off on your own, then they're almost always following like a pair of lost puppies.

Just because it's pitch black in the house does not mean these two won't rough house and tackle each other to the floor. If anything, the low visibility makes it more fun for them.

There's one occasion where you were scrolling on your phone and simply listening to the sound of them swearing and rolling around.

It requires the three of you experiencing a couple power outages for Bob to figure it out, but the water heater still works during these, and you know what that means.

Baths!

You have such a hard time saying no to it because Rhett always gets so excited at the mention of it. At the very least, you're going to wind up sitting outside of the oversized tub with them. You've said no once in the past, and the sight of Rhett's smile falling was enough to shave a year or two off of your lifespan.

If you do choose to get in with them, then you get to join in on the great debate of whether to use bubbles, bath bombs, epsom salts, or nothing at all.

While you and Rhett deal with getting the water to the right temperature and gathering up things like towels and clothes, Bob busies himself with placing battery-powered candles all over the bathroom.

It's weirdly romantic. The storm is still raging on outside, rain pelting against the windows, the screams of the wind broken apart by thunder, but you're here relaxing together and enjoying each other's company.

It's cute until the power spontaneously kicks back on, and you're blinded by the lights...

[veturiusofserra]

when you know, you know | s. r.

𑁤 synopsis: in an interview she opens up about how easy it is to be loved by Spencer, sharing the story of how they met and how his love inspired her music.

𑁤 pairing: spencer reid x singer!reader

𑁤 words: 1.090

𑁤 disclaimer: This was 100% inspired by something my bf said a while ago, and I love the song. I hope you will enjoy it too <3

“As we reach the close of our conversation, one thing’s bugging me. In your song “Margaret,” there’s this line ‘when you know, you know.’ Like, how do you just know someone’s the one? I’ve been through my share of relationships, yet I haven’t experienced that kind of thing you sing about. In your song, it’s all so clear-cut, like you can predict the future. It reminds me of a kid believing in the tooth fairy – sweet idea, maybe not quite real. But that’s probably what makes the song so good. It talks about this perfect love where everything just clicks, and all your worries disappear. Maybe that’s what I’m still looking for, or maybe it’s just for some lucky people. Either way, your song paints such a strong picture of love that it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have a ‘Margaret’ of my own.”

“It’s funny, right? The answer everyone gives is so simple: “you’ll just know.” Like love hits you like a lightning bolt, destiny calls, happily ever after guaranteed. But maybe that’s the problem. We get this picture-perfect idea of love from movies and books, and then we miss the real thing when it’s right under our noses. We set these high expectations, these checklists of what “the one” should be like. And if someone doesn’t tick every box, we write them off. It’s like searching for a flawless diamond, forgetting that even the most beautiful gems have tiny imperfections. Because guess what? We all mess up. You make mistakes, I make mistakes, everyone does. Maybe that’s what makes a real connection so special – accepting someone, flaws and all. Speaking of which, there’s this story I wanted to share with you.”

“We're all ears!”, the interviewer and the crew smile with waiting faces.  

“For the longest time, I believed I was destined to give love, but never receive it.  Maybe because... well, let’s be honest, I can be a bit self-absorbed, lost in my own head and neglecting others. But even with the no love life mantra, there was always this yearning for a family, a deep desire for children I could call my own. The ‘what ifs’ terrified me, though. Would I be a good parent? Would they be happy? Could I provide for them? Eventually, I resigned myself to a life of music, making people happy through my art, having a few friends, maybe a tragically young death – you know, the artist’s curse. 

Then, I found him. We both know Penny, but run in different circles. He’s in law, I’m an artist – about as different as you get, except for maybe a shared love of fancy vocabulary. We met at Penny’s birthday party, and while he claims it was love at first sight for him, I just thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. But that was it. He was too shy to introduce himself, and I was sworn off men at the time. Funny how fate works, right?  We never crossed paths before, but after that night, it seemed like everywhere I turned, there he was. That’s when I decided to take a chance, and boy, I was so scared!

All those stories about soulmates and butterflies? They weren’t for me. Anxiety had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. Butterflies just meant another battle brewing in my head. What I craved was peace, a steady hand to anchor me until I was ready to set sail. So, I built a friendship with him. We shared secrets, dreams, and vulnerabilities. He turned out to be a brilliant mind, a walking encyclopedia with an IQ of 187. Yet, he never made me feel inferior. He found humor in my quirks, and we seemed to complement each other perfectly. The more time we spent together, the more his words resonated: “We were designed for one another.”

And then, it hit me. Love. Deep, unexpected, and all-encompassing. It felt effortless, a perfect fit. But fear gnawed at me. It was all so new, so unfamiliar. Just as I was drowning in uncertainty, Penny, our mutual friend, reached out. She had something to show me – “Margaret.”

“She wrote it?” she asked, intrigued.

“Well, she started it,” I clarify. “Inspired by him, she penned the first lines that night after the birthday party. She couldn't shake the image of his longing gaze, a sight she’d never witnessed before. It felt sacred, a raw glimpse into his heart. The initial draft, rough around the edges, went something like this: ‘just writing for a friend. My shirt's inside out, and penmanship is messy. He met her on the rooftop, and she wore white. He said, ‘I think I’m in trouble.’ He saw flashes of the future.” A gentle smile graces your lips. 

“Seriously, that’s adorable.”

I nod, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Right? Her words sparked inspiration within me. I wrote the rest, my mind consumed by-”

“By him.” she prompted, leaning in.

“He made love feel simple. Loving me was effortless for him, a stark contrast to the struggle I’d always imagined. It was like breathing, a natural and easy rhythm. He helped me discover the light that had been hiding within me all along.”

“There’s a saying,” the interviewer began, “to be loved is to be changed.”

I smiled. “I prefer a different one: to be loved is to be known. Because maybe, just maybe, he saw the affection within me all along, the part I couldn’t quite see myself.”

“You are indeed full of affection,” she said warmly. “Thank you for sharing this story with us.”

“Thank you for listening. I know it's a cliché, but there truly is someone out there for everyone. You never know what tomorrow holds, but deep down, a tiny spark ignites within us, guiding us towards that love. Trust it.”

“That wraps it up for our interview with the lovely Y/n! But before we say goodbye, there's one more message for her. Can we play it, Jonah?” A nod later, the studio fills with the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey there, love. Just wanted to say congratulations on the album! You poured your heart and soul into it, and I’m incredibly proud. But hey, can you come home soon? Two days feels like an eternity without you. Miss my other half. Love you tons, sweetheart. And everyone listening, stream Ocean Boulevard! Dex says hi to mom, too.” A meow erupts in the background, eliciting a laugh from you and the studio crew.

thoughts? or prayers idk