#these two are GONE for each other

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Bat Out of Hell

Author: This_Is_Music

Rating/Warning: Explicit

Chapter Count: 13/? (part 1 of The Hellcheer Fanfiction Multiverse of Madness series)

Description: Eddie Munson finally didn't run. And what was his reward, dying in the upside down. Or so he thought. Soon, Vecna seeks to use him as his pawn in his take over of Hawkins. Eddie would never join him...but maybe for true love.

Tags: Alternate universe- canon compliant, sort of?, post-canon, Kas!Eddie, fix-it, Chrissy lives, Eddie lives, ish, fluff, smut, these two are GONE for each other, angst, hurt/comfort, did I already mention smut?. Alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: WIP

[carouselunique]

They had a bit of a chance encounter on a day where Blueblood was dealing with something that was very difficult and was so caught up in his emotions he didn’t even care that he was in the garden getting grass stans on his coat and Ditzy, with her natural impulse to cheer ponies up, didn’t even notice or care that she was flying into the palace gardens when she saw someone sat in the rain.

At first he was definitely going to call the castle guards to come apprehend this strange filly with the odd eyes who was intruding when this was the last moment he’d want to entertain any desperate debutantes, however she surprised him by not fawning or anything, not even caring about his status, just putting one of her fluffy wings up and asking if he needed somepony to lend an ear.

“Don’t let my eyes fool you, my ears work just fine!”

She was incredibly disarming and while he didn’t reveal everything about why he was upset, he found himself talking about his feelings to her. And she made such cheerful remarks, and was very comforting. In the end, he felt better and she came to check on him the next day, even sharing a blueberry muffin with him. He remarked that he’d never seen her around before, and that he wouldn’t mind terribly seeing her more often.

The rest, as they say, is history.

[bleaksqueak]

ooooh well it's not obvious he says like there is a single part of bursting open like a bloated melon oozing clots of petrol worms and eyes with teeth that is not obviously too horrifying to bear thinking about much less interacting with oooh nonono actually i have always longed to join with the terrors and dare i even hope birth a sentient sphincter of my very own a beautiful bouncing bundle of bile god just imagine the special day when the little gupper comes bursting out of my orifices which ones who knows i want to be surprised for its first screaming wet expulsion gosh isn't that just something that’s the real magic in this wondrous world i mean what girl doesn't dream about someday becoming a--

Read today's page.

Read from the start

Support artists and the production of this comic

[hopesallwegotleft]

[esmes]

put me inside flesh that is dying a ghost that wanders without rest buried by desires and weakness i understand please, don't take your love away from me aka incontrovertible proof that they are HAVING SEX, courtesy of @theriddletrades

[welcometogrouchland]

I miss them so bad (Dick and Damian)

[vimbry]

jumping off the back of the post about genres of song lyrics, another thing about tmbg's lyrics in particular is that even when they write about pleasant themes, they still manage to frequently do so through a sinister lens:

the experience of having children and looking after them:

a nice little nightlight protecting a child muses on the shortcomings it would have outside its assigned responsibility:

fantasising about getting high in the park with your crush:

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

I have no idea if I’ll write it, but I started thinking of Springtrap x reader plots, and then I started talking to @ravenmccookies about like... the main idea that I have.

So, imagine: Y/N is one of those people who likes to restore old things. They never worked at the attraction, and never actually knew about it, either—but they heard about something burning down.

While out walking, they end up discovering Springtrap, and they’re like: “Oh, a cool robot bunny. I’ll take it back with me and fix it up. Should be fun.” And they drag him back home.

And they basically start streaming on what they plan on doing—and when they go to the room that they were sure they left the rabbit in... he’s just gone.

Y/N manages to find him, but in a panic, ends up hitting Springtrap with a bat that they happened to have brought with them.

And that’s just how the two actually meet. I have a ton of other ideas involving this potential thing—including ideas for how it could actually end. Something angsty, I’m thinking.

But anyway: shenanigans occur.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

just blokey ways to react to blokey embraces

[serendipitouscontaminant]

Y’know, Jacob’s “annoy Zach into leaving me” campaign apparently only lasted all of two days, but considering the reaction the admission got, I’m wondering if Zach was under the impression that it was longer. Like it was definitely a dick move, but given Zach’s reaction, I’m wondering if it was perceived as a more prolonged and/or malicious dick move than it was.

Which kind of makes me think that maybe Zach just sorta didn’t like Jacob at the end and Jacob admitting that he’d been trying to annoy him into breaking up with him (without giving a timeline or expanding on specifics, which means that Zach’s assumption could be that Jacob was actively waging the annoyance campaign for months and about any number of things when actually Zach was just getting fed up with him) was just the cherry on top to let Zach snap and be like “this guy is intolerable and I wasted my time with him.” (Especially with his “I don’t have to care about this anymore.”)

[best-bug-tournament]

Best Bug Tournament Round 2, side B

Gregor Samsa (The Metamorphosis) VS Sophodra (Humans-B-Gone!)

[rambunctioustoons]

thinking about pre-virus friendships..

dragging each other to parts&service after smacking around intruders a little too good

[eggbertith]

if they're both alive at the end of the show i like to think that, even if they get separated for good, they will find comfort in truly knowing that the other is still out there

[ghouljams]

fae!soap’s darling is one of those crazy makes you throw up poems in her notes app girls

Ding ding ding, here's the threat, the hard darling, the crazy girl

Warnings: Very public sex, themes around addiction/interventions(if you squint)

This is really Gaz's hunting ground. The thumping bass, the technicolor lights, the sea of people. But Soap isn't looking to hunt tonight. He's drained, wasted some of his best magic on a musician that wouldn't pan out. What he needs is thoughtless, what he needs is sex. He catches your arm as you walk past him. The prettiest thing in this hole.

"Can ah buy ya a bev, Bonnie?" He asks, watching your eyes flick approvingly down his body.

You've never been one to pass up an easy catch.

He presses you against the wall, his tongue insistent against yours, hands gripping your hips tight. You get the feeling this guy just got out of a relationship. This sort of intensity only comes from trying to forget someone. Which is good for you, means less talking.

Soap slides a hand from your hip to push between your legs under your skirt. The club is loud, crowded, not very well lit, good for a quickie. You're already wet at the prospect of it. You can feel his smile against your lips when he feels just how soaked you are. He pulls away from kissing you to press closer, speak in your ear where he knows you'll hear.

"All this for me, hen?" He's cocky, you like cocky.

"Could've been for my date if he'd found me first." You tell him, you don't think he's used to being a second choice. Cocky guys never are.

"Just have to make it f'me then," He tells you low and dangerous, fingers rubbing you through your underwear. You smile, tipping your head to suck at his neck as you rock against his fingers.

He's good with his hands, you'll give him that. 

Soap pushes your panties to the side, fingers collecting your slick before pressing into your hole. They’re thick, dextrous, crooking to stroke your walls with practiced precision as the heel of his hand grinds against your clit. You hum, your hips following the stroke of his fingers. He pushes them against the spongy spot near your entrance over and over, stirring need in you like he has a direct line to your orgasm. You press against him, twist your fingers in his shirt desperate to hold onto something while he works you up. You drop your forehead against his shoulder, grind against his hand as you focus on the tight knot in your stomach. 

“Come on sweetheart,” He whispers, lips catching the shell of your ear, “be good for me, yeah?” You nod all too eager to cum when you can feel his hard cock pressing against your leg. That’s what you really want, you can pluck at a few strands and push yourself over the edge if it means you get fucked after. You shake against him, his fingers never stopping as your walls flutter around them. You can feel the slick dripping off of you when he pulls them out. 

Soap opens his belt and fly one handed, pulling his cock free, his slick fingers pumping it, getting rid of some of your wetness before his hands hook under your thighs. He lifts you with that wonderful inhuman strength and pins you between the wall and his body. You wrap your legs around his waist as he thrusts his cock against your slit. The weight, the angle, god when he fills you he fills you. Gorgeous thick cock pushing your gooey walls apart to make room for itself, the length of him hitting you deep enough you feel it in your stomach. You purr, clenching around him as you squeeze your arms around his shoulders. 

“Fuck you’re squeezin’ the life outta me, bonnie.” He groans as you tease your teeth against his pulse. That’s the idea. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, your t-shirt the only thing protecting your back from being scraped against the wall, and you bite him as he bounces you on his cock. 

The drag of his thick length is hot enough to make your head spin. His hips snapping against yours, hitting that deep spot that makes your toes curl, that makes heat knot in your stomach again. You moan into your bite, doing your best to muffle yourself when all you want to do is scream. You’re oversensitive, and he is driving you back to the edge as he chases his own high. You do your best to meet his thrusts, distract him from your fingers threading through the tethers that lead off of him. There’s got to be something in- You pull on a painter’s thread and Soap shudders, pressing hard into you as he cums. 

You feel the trap on your back light up, tugging attempting tethers into the sink like a black hole. Sexual energy fills you as nicely as Soap’s thick seed. Your legs feel a little weak when he pulls out and sets you back on the ground. You lean against the wall, catching your breath as he tucks himself back into his pants. You give him a thumbs up when he reaches to… you don’t know, check on you?

“I’m gonna find my date,” You tell him. A look of confusion crosses his face, you don’t give him time to respond before you disappear into the crowd. No need to stick around and deal with whatever baggage he’s got.

-

You bump into Soap at a shitty underground show your friend dragged you to, promising cheap drinks and hot potential hook ups. Normally you're a one and done sort of person, men are so emotional you really can't spare them more than one no strings attached fuck. You don't think this guy has even heard of feelings the way he holds you against his cock and grinds against you in the dim lights on the outside of the mosh pit. He certainly doesn't seem to feel anything but desperate when he bites your shoulder.

"Too many people," You tell him as he soothes his tongue over his bite.

"Wasn't a problem last time," You roll your eyes, yeah you'll give him that. People are a little more watchful here though, this show is at a bigger risk of getting busted up by the cops. You're not getting cuffed outside the bedroom again.

"Ok well it's a problem this time, so find somewhere private." You gripe, hearing a grumble of protest before Soap pulls away to glance around the venue. "Think there's a loft somewhere, might have a bed." You pick at your top, waiting on Mr. Bitey to come up with something better. His eyes dart around the top edge of the warehouse before nodding.

You half lead, half follow him to the loft space overlooking the party. You test the lock as he tests the bed, or the mattress. What is it with punk guys not having bed frames? Is a bed frame too establishment? Better than nothing you suppose, and the place looks clean. Now that you think about it this might be the band’s place. Funny.

You don’t really want to stick around here too long. You drop to your knees in front of Soap. His hand moves immediately to drag fingers along your jaw, tip your head to look at you. 

“Wouldn’t want anyone else getting this view,” He tells you, you roll your eyes more focused on getting his belt open than whatever charm he’s trying to hit you with. It won’t work anyway, you’re more than protected against his magic. Still, it’s always funny seeing weavers try to work you.

“Your dirty talk could use some work,” You tug his pants down, wrap your fingers around his cock. You hadn’t seen it last time, but it’s just as pretty as the rest of him. You’re careful as you drag your tongue along his length, slicking the pump of your fingers. Soap swears over you, eyes fixed on the movement of your mouth. You put on a good show for him, kissing his thick cock between strokes of your hand, sucking at the head and lapping at the beading pre-cum. Your eyes lock on his, enjoying the way his pupils dilate for you. 

“Fuck you are good at this,” He groans, watching you swallow the length of his cock. You hum affirmative, your hand leaving his cock to cup his balls. You’ve done this enough times, you should be at least competent at it.

You can feel the pentacles on your back starting to turn, the itch of warded magic. So compliments are part of it. Noted. 

Soap’s hand presses against the back of your head, and you’re happy to give him a second just to feel your throat constrict around him as you swallow before you’re bobbing your head. Your tongue drags along the underside of his cock, tracing the veins and circling the head. You never take your eyes off of Soap, too eager to watch him lose a piece of his composure. 

And he does, the cracks in his cocksure mask slipping as he swears and bucks into your mouth. Curling over you with a low moan when he does finally cum. You lick him clean as more hooks get redirected by your ward. More threads worked into your trap. Insurance.

You leave to find your friends before he can get it in his head to ask about the tethers.

-

You're talking to a guy at the bar, half interested too, when someone catches your arm and drags you away. You yank your arm away in protest and round on the guy only to realize you recognize him. Fuck what was his name, you've hooked up a couple times before.

"Oh hey, Mr. Clean, welcome back." You absolutely fumble whatever he's actually called. He barely seems to hear you, already dragging you towards the bathroom. The broken mirror and sticker covers stalls barely register over the way Soap kicks a stall open and pushes you into it. He locks the stall door behind you, and turns the both of you so you're pressed against it, dropping to his knees.

"Why is it every time I see you, you're with someone?" He asks, hardly waiting for the go ahead before he's dragging your shorts down.

"Bad timing?" You joke, he doesn't laugh frustrated with something. Not you, you think, otherwise he wouldn't press his mouth to your cunt with such an eager groan. You thread your fingers through your hair and exhale as you feel one of your hooks grab him. His tongue rolls over your clit, stoking the rapidly igniting heat between your legs, you wonder what’s got him all worked up. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’s an easy meal.

You let out a shuddering breath, his tongue following the movement of your hips as you try to keep quiet in the empty bathroom. His mouth is hot, a furnace befitting a summer fae, just at the edge of too warm for you. His lips close around your clit, fingers digging into your thighs to leave bruises for the rest of the bar to see. The suction makes your hole clench, and you can feel the way slick smears with each drag of his hungry tongue. Eating you like a last meal, fast and aggressive. Like he can’t think of anything but your cunt. 

He might not be able to. You’re never sure about your dosage for repeat customers. Coaxing his energy just a little heavier, feeling the rush of it when he palms himself through his pants.

“Good boy,��� You purr, enjoying the shiver that sends down his spine. The renewed need that has him pressing his tongue into you, tasting you from the source. You press your fingers a little more insistently against the back of his head, hips bucking to follow the stroke of his tongue. He needs this, you think, needs the easy rush as badly as you do. An addict chasing their high.

His tongue twists and you whine, pressing your hand against your mouth. He does it again and you know he wants to hear you. But that won’t happen here, and he sure as shit isn’t coming back to your place. Still, it’s good, electric and wet. The attention to your clit sends sparks up your spine, paying you back for leaving him last time. 

His hand leaves your thigh to push his fingers into your cunt as his tongue flickers against you. His fingers crook, twisting and stroking until the added stimulation makes you push down hard against his mouth, whining loud into your hand as you cum. 

You feel his tethers hit your trap hard as your legs shake. His groans against you, fingers and tongue still working your clenching cunt into overstimulation. You grab a fistful of the tethers leading off of him and yank him back. He stares up at you with glassy eyes as you pull your shorts back up and tumble out of the stall to get the fuck out of dodge.

-

Soap stares daggers across the bar table, his fist tightly pressed against his mouth as his scotch sweats in front of him.

"What's bit your ass?" Gaz asks, barely drawing Soap's attention away from the space over Price's shoulder.

"Ah'm bloody starvin'." Soap snaps, the other three men at the table exchange a look. He's been through more artists in the last three months than ever before.

"What happened to the bird with the violin?" Gaz tries, voice measured and slow to keep the concern at the edges. Ghost's brows twitch together watching Soap drag a hand down his face.

"Only gave me one piece."

"Any good?" Price chimes in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Soap frowns.

"Really good."

"Then what's the problem?" Price presses. Soap doesn't know. It used to be enough. Ages ago one haunting piece could keep him for months, years if it was good enough. He was patient, he wasn't as jaded. What happened?

"Johnny," Ghost starts, Soap turns his glare on him, Ghost glares back switching tactics as the concern leaves his voice, "Find a new meal. There's a reason leanan don't live long." Soap scowls.

"Ah found one, and they don' give two shits about me."

"Sounds like a nice change of pace." Ghost says dryly. Price nudges him. 

“You got any tethers in ‘em?” Price asks, trying to ease the Scot’s tension. Soap stops, thinking. He’s met you three times, he should have something, but as far as he can feel they’ve been empty interactions. So why do you fill his head at every spare moment? Why does he want to see you so badly?

“Not one,” Soap says finally.

“Christ you’re as bad as Ghost,” Gaz groans. Price stays silent, gaze heavy, inspecting. He snuffs his cigar after a moment, and pulls a new one from his pocket.

“I’m only gonna ask this once, so I’d think real hard on it,” Price strike a match to life with his fingernail, lighting his cigar with narrowed eyes like he’s worried Soap might lie, or might not know, “How many hooks they got in you?”

Soap counts zero, nothing, tries to feel for anything new that might have latched onto him. He’d know if a human got a few hooks in him, especially if he hadn’t gotten any in them. But the longer he thinks, the more he feels them.

Intricately latticed gossamer threads dig haphazardly into him, squeezing the other tethers and wrapping around old hooks. They constrict and expand just shy of tight. Just shy of noticeable. Now that they have been noticed, the feeling makes him shudder, it’s unmistakable. Soap drags a finger along one, hissing at the blood it draws, the way the line lights up red before falling away. Gaz leans back away from him, pressing against Ghost’s stiff form. Price exhales smoke across the table, the tendrils latching onto the spider silk threads and snapping them.

[teakoodrawz]

" I'm a Psycho, loving it~ "

[emeraldcitynerdfighter]

Greta Gill and the Bar

I know this scene has been analyzed To Death, and I truly think episode 6 in general is one of the best episodes of television of the last year.

But here's a thing I can't get over.

The night at The Office, Greta kisses Carson. Twice.

You might be thinking, 'Well, yeah, Leah. Greta and Carson kiss a lot in this show. You've reblogged every instance of it. Twice.'

HOWEVER.

The only times in the entire show that she ever initiates a kiss is at the bar on their first night in Rockford.

And the night at The Office.

And everything in between (plus the porch scene)? When they aren’t already in an established moment, Carson takes the lead.

Now, We Know Greta let Carson take the lead on many occassions because 1) Carson is an absolute horndog 2) Greta wants Carson to be able to figure things out and she doesn't want to be the stereotypical predatory queer

(edit: and now I’m curious if she did the same thing with all of the other women she had flings with—teased and ramped up their desire, but never actually made the first move on them…GRETA GILL IS SO FASCINATING, Y’ALL)

But at a certain point, when Greta realized she had Actual, Grown-Up Feelings for Carson, she was Terrified and could not bring herself to make the first move.

Because she remembers what happened the last time.

And then they walk into the bar. And Carson takes her hand. Asks her to dance.

And everything changes.

Look how happy she is in the first gif. She's smiling and her eyes are bright, but she's not looking at Carson. She's looking at everything and everyone around them.

Greta finally felt like she belonged. Her love belonged. She gets to take all of that love in that big, squishy heart of hers and show it the way she's always wanted to.

And what an exhale she was able to let out.

She kisses Carson's hand and holds her close and lifts her chin so their lips meet because she WANTS to.

Because she wants to publicly show love and affection toward this woman in front of her and not have to second-guess if someone dangerous is watching.

And she’s finally able to do what she wants.

(Anyways I'm gonna stop here before I start eating the drywall)