#salad fingers flesh boy

[devilish-parrot]

watching rhps with mr plant and flesh boy!!!!

[devilishparrot-art]

my beloved

based on my flesh boy plush. i made him a bikini from paper.

(last year i did my english presentation project on the symbolism of flesh boy and people seemed to like it, though i'm not sure if they were being sarcastic)

[chibimationss]

2021 - 2023 salad fingers art!!

realized recently that i've never actually posted any of this anywhere publicly, i usually would only share it in discord servers (david firth's server) or with small groups. so, without further ado... enjoy mr fingers and his friends!!

and this isn't all of it, so brace yourself for the posts to come >:3

[skelebab]

I want to be friends with stain.

[g3rm01d]

*FALLS, BANGS MY FISTS ON THE GROUND, PULLS OUT MY HAIR*

I WILL NEVER BE COMPLETE WITHOUT THEM I need them. I need my flesh boy.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: HE’S SO F**KING BIG THAT HE COULD CRUSH YOU & YOU LOVE IT (18+) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer’s Note: I came up with this on the fly thinking of getting pounded into my mattress by Zoro & how big n strong he is. He’d probably leave me all bruised & achy but it’d be totally fine with me! This is for the girls who adore the big bois. Enjoy! -Jazz

*******

“You’re…so…big…and…strong!”

Each word was punctuated by a thrust by your boyfriend hovering over you.

Correction: your very big, very strong, very sexy boyfriend hovering over you, his dick filling you to the brim and his big, veiny hands pinning your knees to your chest. You love it when he does this. When he shows you just how strong he is.

You can’t help but tell your man what he already knows, panting and raggedly moaning out this statement as he puts your ass straight into the mattress. A big, prideful smile stretches across his handsome face shining in sweat from constantly, roughly fucking your pretty brains out of your head.

“Yeah?” He teasingly asks. “Does my baby love gettin’ pinned down and fucked by her big, strong man?”

He speeds up, fucking you at a pace that has your pants and heavy breaths increasing. His cock seems to stretch you out every single he plunges back into the velvety, wet walls of your pussy that squelch and clench around him, gripping him and keeping him there inside of you.

“Yes!” You damn near scream out. “Yes, I fucking love it! I love gettin’ fucked by you, Daddy!”

You grip his hard, broad shoulders and pecs you could motorboat forever, digging your nails into his skin as he fucks you harder. Faster. Rougher. He smiles down at you, leaning down to press a passionate, searing hot kiss to your lips. “Good girl,” he whispers against your mouth.

He then tosses one of your legs over the other and begins to fuck you from the side, driving you up against the bed. Thank God the pillows are above you because your head would be knocking against the headboard at this point…but it is knocking against the wall every time he drives himself into you with all the energy and force he can muster.

You love it when he gets this feral. This uncontrollable. This unbound and unbridled with his strength. You can’t get enough of it! The way he can toss your body and limbs around like a salad, rip your clothes off (which he has), and use you as he wants to is everything you want and need.

You love feeling his big body on top of you, feeling his weight pressing down onto your body while your feet dangle from his shoulders and his dick pummels into you.

You love feeling his big arms wrap around you, making you feel oh-so small yet safe, his bulging veins prominent underneath his skin. You can’t resist the urge to run your fingers up them every time he snakes them around you or to tell him to squeeze you more.

He often gets nervous when you tell him to do this, especially during sex, but he does it, squeezing you to your little heart’s content. “Is this okay?” He would ask, concerned. “I’m not hurting you?”

“No!” You’d squeak out, smiling contently and feeling like a boa constrictor was hugging you. “Harder please!”

But you especially love it when he flips you over without even asking (because he knows you want it) and drills your shit from behind. His big body mounts you and his calloused hands grip your hips as he drives his hips into you again and again and again.

Sometimes, he forces you into his favorite position (face down, ass up) and locks your legs in with his powerful thighs while pounding your pussy from behind, sending you reeling like you are now. He has now tossed you onto all fours, ass tooted up and face pressed into the bed. His hands dig into your hips and the flesh of your ass that you can tell you’ll have bruises tomorrow.

But you don’t care. You can’t care. Not when the sex is this fucking amazing. Not when your pussy is squelching and dripping and gushing and singing around his beautiful, thick, fat, veiny cock.

“You’re the only one I do this for,” he pants out, transfixed by the way your ass bounces against him and the way your pretty pussy takes him. “Only you can make me this fuckin’ insane.”

You want to tell him the same thing. That his big body and even bigger muscles make you absolutely unhinged. His ripping abs. His bulging biceps and pectorals. His thighs that look like they could crush watermelons and you. The way his size and height make you feel so small even when standing next to him or lying in your bed with him which he sometimes makes you feel is doll-sized.

He’s just so goddamn big!

But your tongue is too tied and your words a babbling mess to reply. But he don’t give a shit. One of his big hands move to grip your throat while the other smacks your ass, leaving it stinging. “Give me your fuckin’ words, baby,” he huffs. “C’mon, my dick isn’t leavin’ you that speechless, is it? Let me know how you feel.”

And so you say the only words on your mind as your orgasm quickly begins approaching: “I-I-I love you!” You sob, open-mouthed and bawling into the mattress.

He doesn’t answer immediately, but when he does, you can tell he’s smiling: “I love you too, baby. Now make that slutty pussy cum for me.”

And as usual, when you cum, you cum hard all around his dick. And when he finally cums for you, he pins you down underneath his body and fills you to the brim with all of him. “Take it,” he demands. “Fuckin’ take all of me, baby!”

You do. You don’t have a choice. He is right on top of you, forcing you to take all of his cum deep inside of your pussy. By the time he finishes, you are both exhausted and his nut drips down your inner thighs, creating a pool between them that stains the sheets beneath you.

With a sigh, your man gently pulls out of you and flops down beside you onto his back. You turn your head toward him and admire his toned body with muscles carved from steel and stone glistening in sweat and adorned in the afterglow of a good, rough fucking.

Noticing your eyes on him, he turns to you and smiles, love and all the affection all woman could want in his eyes. “Okay?” He asks.

You tilt your head up and press a small, loving kiss to his lips, exhausted, achy, and oh-so satisfied. “Okay,” you sigh.

Dedicated to: Zoro, Bakugou, Geto, Gojo, Grimmjow, Sukuna, Law, Shunsui, Shanks, Toji, Aizawa, Ichigo, Nico, Kirishima, Nanami, Worick, Fatgum, Draken, Choso & any other beautiful, big man I’m missing lol

[https-florals]

daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.” 

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. 

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside. 

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!” 

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three). 

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it. 

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing. 

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that. 

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,” 

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water. 

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line. 

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp. 

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support. 

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds. 

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.  

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it. 

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands. 

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger. 

It’s probably his favorite possession. 

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

“Hey,” you whine, reaching for his hand. 

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue. 

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his. 

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash. 

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand. 

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine. 

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head. 

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[thorfemmes]

yayayay welcome back! could you please write a plus size!reader x eddie fic! maybe where they get together and it’s just a lot of banter and fluff? :) so happy you’re back!

ahh thank you, friend! I hope you don't mind that there's not a ton of dialogue in this one, just mountains of fluff (I'm still trying to find my footing after my small, unintended hiatus). I hope you enjoy!<3

You and Eddie were inseparable, however it hadn't always been like that. When you first got together, there was a lot of nervous fumbling. Trying to figure out the best friends to lovers dynamic was trickier than either of you had expected. Your first date together was almost silent. Were you allowed to talk like you normally did? Was your borderline sexual humor and weirdly specific banter okay now? Had the expectations of your relationship changed? Maybe you both wanted something softer and more tame. Or maybe the exact opposite, craving fire and passion.

Eventually the two of you figured it out. Worked out the kinks and fell into what felt like the most natural relationship. Really it was almost laughable how nervous the two of you were. The stark difference between your first date and your one month anniversary date was proof.

I'll pick you up at 6:00 he had said, but in reality you both knew you'd already be together.

Only the best for my girl he said, pulling up to a fancy Italian restaurant on the outskirts of town. Far too fancy for a one month anniversary, but he loved you and wanted to treat you as such.

"Shit, fuck -" he mumbled, accidentally pulling too hard on a locked door. He reached for the other door and swiftly pulled on that one with a flourish and a dramatic bow. You giggled and curtsied before shuffling into the restaurant.

You were both far too loud for the quiet ambience of the room. Using the wrong utensils and accidentally scraping the larger entrée forks on the smaller salad plates. At one point you had cracked a joke that made Eddie dribble out some of the wine he was drinking, staining the white table cloth with deep maroon splotches.

You ordered a tiramisu to share, but ended up eating the majority of it after Eddie found out about the coffee soaked lady fingers at the bottom (the boy absolutely abhorred coffee, he'd much rather chug down sugary sweet energy drinks).

The drive home was filled with giggles and stolen kisses at stoplights. Despite needing both hands to handle the clutch and grip the steering wheel, Eddie stole small squeezes of your thigh whenever he could. He softly stroked the tender flesh, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

All but dragging him into your apartment, you pulled him into a deep kiss. He tasted of wine and the little peppermint candy he had grabbed from the hostess stand. You both moaned into the kiss before Eddie pulled away for a breath. "Geez baby, at least buy me dinner first".

He could feel the little puff of hot air against his chin as you pouted up at him. "Eddie, if you don't kiss me more I'm kicking you out of the apartment". And kiss you more he did.

[sarandipitywrites]

Word Find Tag

from an open tag from @i-can-even-burn-salad, here.

my words: blood/bleed, scream, impale and shatter.

your words: electric, fire, bury, and spit.

a gentle tag to @innocentlymacabre, @spuddlespud, and an open tag to anyone else who wants to play

these are all from my fanfic WIP, "Dead Roots, Dark Water." under the cut for brief gore and references to past trauma

Blood

They hit the floor and rolled. Daxter gasped, smoke and heat singing his lungs. Cold metal scraped across his forehead, left burning skin in its wake. The weight left him, the air on his back frigid in its absence. He turned his head, cheek pressed to the floor. The room spun, blurry silver on red on yellow. A gray shape moved between Daxter and the red. It stepped forward and let out a roar. Guttural. Inhuman. Daxter’s mouth went dry. “Mar’s blood—” “What is that?” “One of those… things.” “That’s what they told us to—?” “Shoot it, shoot it—” The prisoner coiled and pounced upon the guards. They drove their elbow through the first guard’s faceplate with a crunch. Bright red flecked the floor by Daxter’s face. Acid rose in Daxter’s throat. He groaned and rolled onto his back, pressed his fingers into the corners of his eyes. Screams, snarls, squelches echoed in the darkness behind his eyelids.

Scream

Red metal approached them, helmet fixed straight ahead, staring past. It would pass right by, close enough to touch. Close enough to grab, to bend the arms back until joints popped from sockets, to bury his fingers into the thin cloth connecting helmet to breastplate until they found flesh, to dig deeper until red ran over red, until his fingernails scraped tracheal cartilage and the screams whistled out through punctured— Jak dug his nails into his palm, gnashed his teeth until his jaw screamed. The guard walked past. It didn’t look at him once. But Daxter did.

Impale

—Electric fire burned under his skin, tore through his bones. He arched up, away from the metal table. Straps cut into his wrists and ankles. Through the screaming and the blood and the ozone, a voice. “I was told this one might be different.” A presence beside him. “You will succeed.” A large hand clamped around his jaw, squeezed until the hinge popped. “Or you will die trying.” More pain, more eco, too much, his heart would burst, send it away, away— “—k? Jak.” The brassy, nasal shrill cut through the roar of blood in his ears. His breath rattled in his lungs. A red light. The impaled metal head sigil floating over a steel podium. Daxter. Daxter was there. It wasn’t real. If Daxter was there, then the injector was not. It wasn’t real.

Shatter

Samos chewed his tongue, but he'd already made his decision. "There's no saving it," he declared. "We'll need to amputate." He got out the bone saw and sutures, the poppy tincture and leather strips. He sat Adis at the exam table and turned to Jak. "You'll take this from here, my boy. You know what to do." That pulled Jak from his trance, from the bits of bone poking out of the flesh like splinters of shattered stars. What did Samos mean, he 'knew'? He 'knew' in the sense that he'd read about it in textbooks and lab notes, but he'd never seen it done. The only amputee in Sandover was Gord, and if there'd ever been a Harvest Eve where Gord didn't drink too much ale and tell everyone about the lurker shark that'd gotten his leg, it was too long ago for Jak to remember— "Remember to give him exactly seven drops of tincture, and leave enough skin to cover the stump. Good luck, my boy." Samos clopped away, his cane striking the floor with each step. Zeb and Adis stared at Jak. At the boy in whose care they'd been left.

[charrybom]

OOOHH could i get some salad fingers headcanons if this hasn’t been requested already? any kind!!

OFC!!!! BTW SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO RESPOND!!! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOO ILL DO MY BEST

Salad fingers x gn reader

Enjoy!!!!!!

He's probably super protective over cuz your the most human thing he's seen in awhile he loves touching your skin and is always commenting on how smooth and soft it is you and his finger puppets have little tea party's all the time!!

He's also like super calm like almost all of the time he calls you silly nicknames all of the time such as "darling"dazzling dream boat"his little angels"thunderthi-

I feel like flesh boy is like your guises kid you probably have almost stepped on him more then once he always trys his best to make you good meals but it's always some sort of slop:(

He loves it when you make him something!but make sure it's nothing the will hurt his tummy he's probably rlly emotional at times but cuddling him and giving him kisses on his forehead will always calm him down!

You always have to make sure he's not touching anything that will injure him his spoons are usually fine but he'll touch anything that might be pleasing to his fingers he likes when the red water comes out

He's also a huge cuddle bug he loves feeing you against him he loves touching your hair!!! Rather that be him touching it brushing it or even smelling it also baby Yvonne is laying somewhere outside

AHH SORRY THIS IS KINDA SHORT BUT I SUPER APPRECIATE YOU REQUESTING!!!♡

[darkthingshappen]

Whumptober: No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY

This is a BROTHER'S KEEPER entry. Takes place later in the recapture arc.

I am not dead. Sorry for the long delay. I've been distracted in the main story line by @whumptober prompts. So here we go and we start off with a bang.

Warnings for blood, hand whump, religious imagery (mock crucifixion) and religious talk - this is because Volkov is a bastard, like always. and Ben is just trying to hang on to himself. Also, this one's a bit long, but tomorrow's is pretty short. LOL So let's just say I borrowed some of tomorrow's length and used it today.

Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad @peachy-panic @deluxewhump @arwenadreamer @whumpcereal @melancholy-in-the-morning @dont-touch-my-soup @whumpsday @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @oddsconvert @melennui @susiequaz12 @morning-star-whump @crystalquartzwhump @whump-and-other-things @mylifeisonthebookshelf @reflected-pain @hold-him-down @quietshae @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself @no-terms-and-conditions-apply (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it.)

As ALWAYS, thanks to the AMAZING @whumpcereal for the beta. And to my whumperful crew that always cheers me on: @oddsconvert and @sparrowsage as well as @quietly-by-myself. Y'all are the best!

Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

“Do you remember telling me that I’m not God?” Volkov growled as he dragged Ben towards the far end of the basement torture room.  

“Yes!” Ben spat back at him, “It’s still fucking true!”

Volkov smirked at the boy and threw him towards the wall.  Ben stumbled from the force, and his shoulder with the broken collarbone slammed into the wall. He sank down to his knees with an agonized groan.  Volkov reached down and yanked his hair back.

“See, I think you’re the one with the savior complex, Malyshka.  And you know what so often happens to saviors?”

Ben could only groan.  He grew tired of these games with Volkov.  He just wanted him to get on with it.  

“They get crucified,” Volkov growled with a gleam in his eye.  

Ben’s eyes widened and he felt the blood drain from his face.  “Wha-” He looked carefully at Volkov, trying to suss out what the man was planning.  Something in Volkov’s expression told him he should be very afraid of what was coming this time.  He wouldn’t actually crucify him, would he?  Fuck yes, the sadist would.  Ben was a fraction of a second too late to pull away and it’s not like he could get anywhere anyway on this island prison.  

Volkov dragged Ben to his feet and shoved his back against a beam of wood that Ben hadn’t realized was there.  The cuffs around his wrists were unlocked, and Dmitri stepped forward to help tie his torso to the beam.  

Ben let his weight sag against the ropes.  Why make it easy on these two fuckers? He knew better than to think they’d let him off easy if he didn’t fight.  Volkov actually had to hold him up while Dmitri secured him.  

Ben’s shoulder screamed as Dmitri yanked his arm up and stretched it out to the side.  There was a sound of metal scraping across the table in the center of the basement room just in front of him, and Ben lifted his head.  

He couldn’t believe what he saw.  

“No fucking way!  You can’t be serious!” Ben screamed at them while he started to thrash and struggle against Dmitri’s grasp.  

Volkov had a hammer in his hand and several long, thick, cruel-looking metal nails.  Or were they spikes? Ben didn’t want to know. 

“Let go!  Get off!  No!  You bastard.  No!” Ben screamed as Dmitri pinned his arm in place and pressed  Ben’s fingers open so he couldn’t make a fist.  Ben wailed his agony as Volkov pressed the sharp end of one of the nails against the middle of his palm.  He pushed in hard, twisting it against the soft flesh until blood streamed from the wound.  Only after blood was dripping to the floor did Volkov raise the hammer.  

Ben was being nailed to a fucking beam of wood.  How was this happening?  No one got nailed to crosses any more.  But leave it to fucking Alexsei Volkov to find ways to further insult Ben and his beliefs by torturing him like this.  He wouldn’t die.  Ben knew Volkov wouldn’t let that happen; he needed Ben to suffer.  Ben swiveled his head, even though he knew he shouldn’t and watched in horror.  

Ben screamed even louder as the hammer came down and the nail punched through his hand.  He yanked in reflex, trying to pull his hand away from the white hot torment.  His back arched against the beam but the ropes held him in place as Volkov hit the head of the thick nail again and again and again.  Ben could feel the nail moving through his hand as it was pounded into the wood.  

His hand radiated pain from the center of his impaled palm outward to his fingertips.  A throbbing that felt both burning hot and icy cold at the same time flowed up his arm.  Each strike with the hammer was like the cresting of a new wave that grew more and more unbearable.  In the back of Ben’s mind, he knew Volkov wouldn’t stop here.  He’d do this to both of his hands.  Was this something that would permanently cripple him?  Would he ever be able to use his hands again?

Volkov suddenly changed the angle of the hammer, shifting so that he began bending the nail upwards.  Every single strike of the hammer reverberated through the metal lodged in Ben’s hand.  Volkov slammed the hammer against the nail until the head of the nail was turned back against Ben’s hand, pinning his pierced hand against the wood.  

Ben gagged on the pain that washed through his body, retching up bile from his empty stomach.  He groaned and thrashed as Dmitri turned and pulled his or arm taut out to the opposite side.  

“No!  Please!  Please!  It hurts.  Let go!  Please.”

“You’d think you’d be happy to have the same experiences as your God.”  

Ben felt a sob break in his chest.  Volkov had always been a bastard, but this was next level even for him.  He’d tattooed religious imagery all over Ben’s back and he knew the man had been raised Eastern Orthodox, but clearly nothing had taken root.  Like everything else, Volkov used Ben’s beliefs as a weapon.  And fuck, it was effective.  Ben felt the tears tracking down his cheeks and they weren’t just from the pain.  

Ben squeezed his eyes shut and tried to suck in a breath before Volkov started on his next hand, but Volkov jammed the nail against the small of his palm and started twisting before Ben could finish. Ben’s cry started small and the scream rose in intensity as Volkov worked to push the nail through his skin without the hammer.  He felt the metal grinding against the small bones in his hand, felt them stretching and moving to accommodate the thickness of the nail.  He felt the give of skin as the nail punctured his hand completely.  

Volkov gave a small gasp of satisfied effort before he raised the hammer and repeated the process.  When they were done nailing Ben’s hands and curling the nails up so that he couldn’t pull his hands off the metal, they untied the ropes.  Ben whimpered as his hands took his weight and he realized he’d have to stand there, arms outstretched for as long as Volkov wanted him to.  His broken collarbone throbbed and his shoulder ached, but it was nothing compared to the burning, intense throbbing that emanated from his hands. 

Volkov grabbed his hair and yanked his head back against the rough upright post of the wood.  

“Be glad I don’t fucking feel like nailing your feet right now.  Piss me off again and that may not be the case.  Now, let’s see how much damage we can do over the next say… sixteen hours or so.  Might make it longer.  I’ll just have to see what you sound and look like - whether or not I’m satisfied.”  He quirked a lopsided grin at Ben.  “Tell me, where is your God right now?  Why is he so silent?  Why doesn’t he come down here himself and get you out of this?  If he’s so all powerful, and he cares so much about you, little scholar, then why has he given you to me twice now?  Hmm?  Think about that while you’re down here.”

“God is love.  And you will never understand that.  It’s why you can’t beat him,” Ben whispered through clenched teeth. Volkov’s words ate at Ben because he was right, but Ben still fought.  He knew that Jesus had gone through much more than he had and, if the story was true, he’d done it for everyone.  Ben hoped it was true at that moment.  He really did.  Because, if it was, then he could hold on and not let Volkov beat him.  “All you know is fear and hatred.  He’s so much better than you.”

Volkov looked Ben up and down, expression thoroughly unimpressed, letting his eyes linger on the blood dripping down into little pools on the floor beneath Ben’s hands.  “Yes, clearly he is merciful and loving.  I can see the ringing truth in those words.”  He patted Ben’s cheek and smiled a wicked smile.  “See you in a few hours, little Benjamin.”

*!*!*!*!* 

Ben had no way of deciphering how many hours it had been;  maybe it had been over a day.  His hands and arms burned.  His legs cramped and the muscles spasmed.  There was no relief or comfortable position.  Sweat dripped down his body.  His broken collar bone throbbed mercilessly in his shoulder.  

Hour after hour, the torment dragged on until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore and it hurt to even breathe.  His hands held most of his weight as he fought to keep himself upright, knowing that if his knees truly gave out, the nails would rip through his hands.  

All the long while, the torture room was hot and dark; Ben couldn’t believe that he actually missed Volkov’s frigid compound, but he did.  But just as before, the lights were left off, and Ben could see or hear nothing from the outside world.  He wondered what they were doing to Jake.  Was his brother sleeping, being tortured and abused?  Was he with Dmitri?  Or maybe Volkov?  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he did wish they would let them see each other more often.  It was usually only when one or both of them was being hurt. It was hard to see Jake in pain. Ben knew that Jake thought he deserved it, that he wanted to atone for what had happened to Ben, but Ben would have given anything to keep Jake from suffering the things he already had. 

But Ben had never suffered like this before. 

He couldn’t keep Volkov’s taunts, his cruel and blasphemous words, from worming into his brain.  The words played over and over and he felt not quite doubt, but maybe mistrust of the God he claimed to love creeping in.  

Why?  Why would God allow this to happen?  The question raged in Ben’s mind even though he tried so hard to shove it back down.  Ben wasn’t afraid of doubt.  He’d had it before.  He liked questions.  He wanted to be a scientist after all.  But this level of cruelty, while believing that God is love was a hard contrast.  The only thing that helped it to make sense was that God has allowed his own son to go through this too.  But Ben wasn’t trying to redeem the fucking world.  So why was he having to suffer like this?  What was the point?  Ben couldn’t find a good answer and it made all of his pain so much worse.  

After what seemed like days, there was a commotion at the far end of the room, near where the door was.  Ben heard Volkov’s voice along with several sets of footsteps. 

“I told you I would take you to him.  He’s been meditating… getting closer to his God.  Communing with him, if you will.  What is it the Bible says? ‘To know Him… and the fellowship of his sufferings.’  Well, I’ve just given him the chance to fully understand this.  Go on, he’s at the far end of the room.  I left the hammer there, should you need it.��

It made Ben sick to hear scripture from Volkov’s lips. 

“Hammer… you fucking bastard.  You didn’t.  You couldn’t…”  

Ben closed his eyes, trying to escape a wave of pain. Jake was there. Jake was going to see him like this.  

There was a resounding slap that echoed back to Ben, still hanging in the shadows.  

“I suggest you be a bit more respectful unless you want to join him like the thief on the cross.  We all know you have things you could atone for.”

There was no response from Jake that Ben could hear, but he knew that Volkov’s words would wound Jake deeply.

So did Volkov. “Go on, big brother.  Run along and be the savior we all know you’ll never actually be.”

There was a shuffling of feet and then running.  “Ben?  Benny?  You okay?”

Ben could barely lift his head.  All his energy was focused on breathing, and not letting his legs give out beneath him.  HIs mouth was dry.  His tongue felt hot and thick in his mouth.  He didn’t think he could talk even if he wanted to.  Part of him did want to call out to Jake, but he was just so tired.  And so fucking hurt.  

He didn’t see Jake come into view.  He couldn’t lift his head to face him.  

“Jesus!  Benny!  Fuck!  Hang on, Benny.  Hang on.  I’ll get you down.  Hold on, buddy.  God, please.  Help me.”

Jake reached for Ben’s hand, his fingers exploring the nail and cursing more when he saw that it was curved upward and pounded back into the wood.  

“Fucking bastard!” Jake growled.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I’ll get you down.  I’m sorry.”

Ben could hear the tears in Jake’s voice.  Everything felt sluggish, and he couldn’t make his mouth work to tell Jake it was okay.  Was it okay?  It wasn’t okay.  Everything hurt, and his whole body was shaking.  He was going to lose his battle to stay upright in just a moment.  He could feel it.  The shaking was getting so bad.  The cramps and spasms in his legs, arms, and back were threatening to completely overwhelm him.  Something cold came in contact with the top of his hand.  

“Hold still, Benny.  I’m so fucking sorry if this hurts.  I don’t know what else to do,” Jake said with a sob.  

Ben screamed as the nail was wrenched backward and then up and out of his hand.  He slumped forward, and Jake caught him, but all Ben’s remaining weight went to his left hand and he cried out against Jake’s shoulder.  

“I know.  I know.  I know.  God!  Fuck I’m sorry.  I know.  I’m trying, Benny.  Hold on.  Almost done.”  

There was another loud screeching noise as the nail was bent back and pulled out of the wood through Ben’s other hand.  Jake only just managed to catch Ben and help him slowly sink to the ground.  Jake shifted, pulling them both towards the wall, Jake’s backside and Ben’s feet dragging through the puddle of blood on the floor.  Jake got the wall against his back and draped Ben across his lap, cradling Ben’s curled hands near his chest. 

Jake’s legs shook beneath Ben’s body. He hoped Ben didn’t notice; Jake had to be brave enough for them both just now.  

Ben was crying again.  He cried a lot here.  Especially when it got bad.  And this was one of the worst.  It wasn’t just the torture.  It was all the psychological manipulation.  Jake knew Volkov must have said something to Ben.  Ben lay there sobbing into Jake’s chest.  He kept his ruined hands held loosely in front of him. Jake tried not to stare, but  they shook violently, blood dripping from Ben’s open wounds. 

“Shhh.  Shhh…  It’s okay, Benny.  It’s over.  I got you.  I got you, buddy.  I got you, little bro.”

“Why?” Ben said the one question he truly didn’t have an answer to.  Volkov was right.  Why would God let this happen?  The question had twisted into him like the nails in his hands over the duration of his torment.  

“Why what, Benny?” 

“Why would God let this happen?”

Jake thought for a moment, his hand moving gently through Ben’s hair. “You know why?”

“I don’t think I do.  Not anymore.”

“Come on, Ben.  You know what ma would say.  We live in a fallen world.  People can be evil because of sin.  God is love.”

“D-doesn’t… doesn’t feel like that.”

“Benny, you know ma was right.  Christ died for you.  You’re not dead.  You’re okay.  I know you’re hurt.  But God is still love.  Remember that scripture she used to read to us… the long one… the… the famous one?”

Ben couldn’t think.  He couldn’t remember.  “Can you tell me?”

“Love is patient, love is kind,” Jake recited haltingly.  “Love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.”

Ben’s harsh breathing was starting to calm just a bit, but the tears still flowed.  

“Remember that God also said that all things work together for the good of those who love him.  I know you love God, Benny.  It’s how I know you’re gonna make it out of here.”

“Not going anywhere without you, bro.”  Ben’s eyes were shut, and his dry throat was raspy as he talked into Jake’s chest.  Tremors still ran through his body, but the pain was slowly ebbing.

Jake was at a loss. He thought of home, of what their mother would have done for Ben. He started humming Ode to Joy, his little brother’s favorite hymn.  

“No,” Ben interrupted, “No, not that one.  Not right now.  Not until I’m back in Zoe’s arms, and she can play it for me.”

“Okay, Benny.  What do you want to hear?”

“Whatever you can remember.  But I don’t exactly feel joyful r-right… right now.”  Ben said.  He still felt like he couldn’t catch his breath, and he needed to rest.  God, did he ever need to rest. 

Jake pulled Ben a bit closer to him and kissed the top of his head while he thought.  He remembered a story their dad had told him about his favorite hymn.  It was written by a man whose four daughters drowned at sea.  The man took the same voyage his family had and told the captain to wake him when he reached the spot where his children had drowned.  The captain agreed, and when they reached the spot, he went and woke the man.  The man then wrote the hymn ‘It is well with my soul.’  

That story had always stayed with Jake because he didn’t understand how someone could react to tragedy like that, with so much faith.  Jake cradled his brother against him and started to sing, even though he wasn’t even sure he could remember all the words. He wasn’t Zoe; he wasn’t their mother; but he would do whatever he could for Ben. 

When peace like a river attendeth my soul

When sorrows like sea billows roll.  

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say

It is well, it is well with my soul.  

Jake softly sang the chorus over his brother, and then the next verse.  

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, 

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate, And hath shed his own blood for my soul.

It is well with my soul, 

It is well, it is well with my soul…

Somehow, Jake was able to recall the entire song.  He hadn’t sung that song, especially not every verse, probably since middle school.  He didn’t know where the words had come from, but he was grateful.

When he finished, Ben lay still in his arms, his chest rising and falling softly, evenly.  

Jake rested his cheek gently on Ben’s hair.  And then he did something he hadn’t done in ages: he prayed.  A real prayer, not a half assed quick prayer, but a real, genuine, heart-felt, gut-wrenching prayer that conferred his deepest request to the God of the universe he wasn’t sure he even believed in… but he knew Ben did.  

“Thank you, God, for helping me remember.  I know you and I don’t have the best relationship… or any relationship.  But, if it’s not too much trouble, Ben and I would like to go home soon.  Please.  Please help us get out of here and make it home safely.  I know I’ve screwed up my life a million times over, so if it’s just one of us, could you please let it be Ben?  He loves you, and he never deserved any of this.  Please, God.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  I know you have a plan, or at least that’s what our parents always said.  So, could you just let him live.  Let him get home safely.  I don’t care about me.  Maybe I’m too far gone.  But Benny…”  Jake didn’t know what else to say, there didn’t seem to be anything else to ask.  That was all he wanted.  

Ben stirred slightly in his arms.  “Not going without you,” he whispered again.  “If He’s gonna save me, then He’s gotta save you too.  And no one’s too far gone, Jake… not while… not while… still breathing”  Ben’s speech slurred a bit in his exhaustion. 

Somehow, Jake didn’t think that sentiment applied to Alexei Volkov. But he admired Ben’s faith anyway. He kissed Ben’s hair and sank back against the wall.  

“Okay, Benny.  We go together.  Now, shhhh.  Get some sleep.”  

Jake started to hum the tune he’d just sung and didn’t stop for a long time, until he was sure that Ben was sleeping deeply in his arms. 

[chibimationss]

Hubert's Birthday (dec 23, 2023)

Sickened (february 2, 2024)

[ispypsycho]

Date

“i. every loss was a bullet that retraced an exit wound straight back to his heart. 

ii. the first time i let him take me out to dinner, i got salad and a coffee with stevia. the waiter commented that he was lucky because i was a cheap date, as if it would make up for the fact that he had to invest so much in a relationship with somebody who was sick. he laughed.

iii. every time i saw him, he had a bigger smile on his face as to make up for the fact that there would be less of me. 

iv. he was always so warm keeping me steady through the winters i let my fingers be frostbitten yet denied the fact that it was even cold, let my day be ruined over a hundred calories - 

v. he never tried to make me better. never sat me down and made me drink a milkshake or made me step on a scale in front of him like i was his property. his pleas would come in handwritten messages across the sea between kisses and cuddles, slipping out from beneath the covers, “i wish you believed in yourself.” 

vi. i grew in the quiet spaces between visits hands clenched tightly through growing pains careful fingers caressing skin that became more than flesh and bone over the shell of a teenaged girl smoothing cream in stretch marks as i relaxed into my skin to become more than counted calories and cold, everywhere

vii. i found warmth holding my breath as i stepped into lighter days letting him touch everywhere because i meant it now that i could feel him loving me as i was growing and i wasn’t ashamed - 

viii. i left him when i looked down at my thawing hands and found that all along, they had only been my own. my roots extended beyond the sneakers of the boy who loved me in the dark and gave me all the room i needed to breathe.

ix. i want to tell him, “thank you for your patience and thank you for your love; i wonder how you are lately, and i hope you never have to taste the bitterness of illness on your tongue again and i’m sorry you had to experience the aftertaste - i put real sugar in my coffee now.”

[izzytoons216]

HES FINALLY HERE

[fluffthefloof]

Look at this handsome gentlemen! He’ll give you pudding and share his spoons.

[jotunn-ijuu]