#wow this got out of hand

[dailyink]

9/1/24

The past stores our memories, the present carries our actions, but the future...oh, the future could hold anything.

[shyshitter]

it’s been discussed before but hear me out. dean confesses before cas. death has already gone for his heart and cas saved him. there’s a chair between them and his hand shakes as he decides to bridge the gap. he stares at cas’s concerned yet resigned profile and realizes death is going to take his heart again. god took his bravery and death will take his love before dean can do anything about it. he’s made up his mind when cas starts talking to him but cas has already interrupted dean’s speech once and this time dean’s gripping his courage by his bloody fingernails. before he can stop himself, before he can chicken out, he interrupts cas. he apologizes profusely, for everything, for getting cas into this mess, for dragging cas down with him, for treating him like shit, for treating jack like shit. he thanks cas endlessly, for helping him, for staying as long as he has, for choosing him, for forgiving him, for saving him, for saving sam, for saving the world. he pauses, the words nearly choking up in his throat, but he sees cas open his mouth to interrupt and that can’t happen so he keeps going almost mindlessly. “I love you,” he says, eyes wide and both hands gripping cas’s shoulders as if he’s keeping cas from flying off. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time but I didn’t know what to do about it, I didn’t want you to feel bad for not reciprocating. I tried to forget about it or drown it with something else but I failed. Just like I failed now. And now we’re both gonna die. I’m sorry I’m dumping this on you now but I needed to say it, I needed it to be real and my choice, not god’s, not death’s not—” something black begins swirling in the corner of his eye and cas is crying. is he that upset by dean’s feelings? cas removes dean’s hands from his shoulders and switches them so it’s cas clinging to dean. “You weren’t supposed to say it,” cas says between sobs. dean frowns and glances behind him at the black ooze. he knows that ooze. He says cas’s name when he turns back around and cas is still crying but solidifies his face. he shoves dean to the side of the room before using his grace to open the door and grant access to death. the ooze is growing and spitting thick black tendrils around the room. cas’s eyes meet deans. they’re both crying now although dean still doesn’t know why. a black tendril grabs death and drags them through the ooze. cas starts saying something urgently that sounds like “Dean, I lo—” before he’s gone too, stolen by the ooze. dean stares at the spot where cas stood and begins to understand. cas is gone and he doesn’t know why exactly but he had something to do with it. once again, dean felt too much and destroyed the one he loved in the process. he should’ve let death take him instead.

[vristrogen]

something about people calling vrisrezi "toxic yuri" always puts me off. i understand the lack of words to really put their dynamic but like you know theyre in a relationship thats largely good for them right. they arent dating because "it sucks but it would be worse without each other" they genuinely really love each other a lot

[eerieechos]

“Are you two DRUNK right now??”

[ghcstao3]

Have you ever done a Vampire!Soap with Human ghost before 👀👀

i don’t believe i have! that has now been changed

-

Let it be known that Ghost is not a coward.

Over the years he’s grown desensitized to so much that hardly anything scares him. He knows only how to incite fear, not feel it, and he certainly has no fear of Soap.

It just happens that the idea of the sergeant being a vampire makes him a little… squeamish.

Most days, Ghost can forget about the fact that his sergeant isn’t human. He can forget about the spare bags of blood stored in the back of the common room fridge just for him, he can forget that his strength is superhuman when Soap still loses their spars.

He can forget, until they’re deployed and Ghost sees Soap sinking his teeth into the enemy, ripping open their throats with fangs instead of any manmade weapon. He can forget, until Soap’s eyes, normally a vivid, lively blue, flash a bloodthirsty red as he feeds, as he has yet to come down from a rampage.

Ghost isn’t afraid of those moments, he’s not. He’s not afraid of Soap. The sergeant just makes Ghost feel all the more human.

But whatever it is he feels, whatever it is that’s making him wary, Ghost never confronts it. He never lets show his discomfort around Soap whenever he’s suddenly too aware of the man’s vampirism. Doesn’t need to.

They work just fine together.

Until it all comes to a head, after a particularly gruelling mission.

They’d underestimated the demand of the mission, landing Ghost and Soap alone, exhausted, after nearly two weeks of nonstop action. Their transport is hours out, Soap has been incessantly scratching his arms, and Ghost may or may not be in need of medical attention.

Overall, things could be better. Significantly.

“Would you quit that?” Ghost snaps. The sound of the scraping of Soap’s nails against his skin is grating.

Soap freezes. Slowly lowers his arms, revealing red, irritated lines left behind. He looks almost sheepish, hunching in on himself in a way that makes him look small, shy, like Ghost has never known him to be.

“Sorry,” the sergeant apologies. “Haven’t fed in a while.”

Ghost frowns, turning to finally give Soap a proper look.

Soap looks paler than usual, cheeks gaunt, under-eyes a deep purple. Ghost’s brows knit together.

“You didn’t bring any spare?”

Soap shrugs helplessly. “Don’t usually need it. Usually there’s hostiles to solve that problem,” he mutters.

“But you have some back on base, yeah?”

Soap nods. Ghost sighs.

“That’ll do, then.”

Ghost has the brief idea to offer help, but it’s disregarded almost as fast as it crosses his mind. He reasons he can’t because he’s already bleeding—and he’s sure Soap can smell it—but Ghost knows it’s not really the why.

When transport finally arrives, Ghost is constantly sending glances over to Soap, who drags his feet as they climb into the Humvee. He throws out concerned looks the entire way back, but eventually loses the chance to continue worrying when they return to base, as Ghost is dragged away to have his wounds checked.

He forgets about it, like everything else to do with the vampire, until Ghost discovers Soap pacing in the common room in front of a refrigerator that had been just about completely torn apart.

“Soap,” Ghost calls.

Soap doesn’t answer.

“Johnny!” Ghost barks.

The sergeant stops mid-step. He pivots on his heel to face Ghost, chewing on nails with fangs that somehow look duller. His eyes are wide, and noticeably crimson, and the wild look on his face almost has Ghost… scared.

“Sit-rep,” Ghost demands weakly.

Soap is trembling. “Someone threw it all out.”

Ghost could very well guess what he’s referring to. Still, he asks, “Threw what out, sergeant?”

“My…” Soap casts an almost forlorn glance toward the fridge and its emptied-out contents. “It’s gone.”

Ghost huffs. “When’s the last time you’ve fed, Johnny?”

Again, that timid expression reappears on Soap’s face. He wraps his arms around himself, though it does nothing to hide the way he shakes.

“A month,” Soap murmurs.

Ghost doesn’t like that he drinks blood. Doesn’t like that it’s another person’s life force that fuels him. But he still feels pity. Sympathy.

Vampire or not—he’s still Soap. And he looks on the brink of a second death.

“Need to be more responsible, sergeant,” Ghost says carefully, slowly. He takes a step toward Soap, and tries to do his best to ignore the ache in his heart when Soap moves backward.

“I know.” Soap’s head dips in an aborted half-nod, refusing to meet Ghost’s gaze. “‘M sorry.”

Ghost takes another step. This time, Soap remains glued in place.

“Don’t apologize,” Ghost scolds. He softens, then, with a quiet sigh. “Can you ask anyone to…?”

Soap shakes his head. “Gaz ‘n’ Price are deployed,” he says. “Don’t trust anyone else.”

It’s a split-second decision that has Ghost blurting out the option he’d hope to never propose. “What about me?”

Soap’s eyes snap up to Ghost’s, startled. Still red, but somehow transformed into the eyes of prey. “You…?”

Ghost swallows thickly. “You’ll… you need it, so—“

“I cannae… cannae ask that of you,” Soap croaks. Though he doesn’t really need oxygen, Soap’s breathing is erratic, almost like some animalistic part of his brain had been unleashed, finally unlocked once the idea of being fed has become real again. The refusal is only to be polite, Ghost is sure of it.

His heartbeat is loud in his own ears. It’s probably louder in Soap’s.

Slowly, never once taking his eyes off Soap, Ghost pushes up a sleeve and offers out his forearm to the sergeant. His jaw ticks, watching Soap carefully.

Soap hesitates. For a long moment, Ghost begins to think Soap would rather hope he’d get blood some other way than taking from Ghost—but then, tentatively, he grabs ahold of Ghost’s wrist and steps closer, before bringing the lieutenant’s arm to his lips.

The initial prick of sharpened fangs has Ghost wincing, but after a moment of adjusting to the strange sensation of Soap’s feeding—it isn’t nearly as horrible as Ghost had imagined it to be. Especially not when Ghost is more focused on the healthy flush of colour that returns to Soap’s cheeks, and the warmth that finds his palms.

But with blood comes a renewed vigour and strength, and Ghost has to attempt to wrench Soap off of him when his knees start to feel weak. But he finds no success—instead suffering from a roaring panic that had always existed under the surface, fearful of something like this ever happening.

Then, mercifully, only a few seconds later Soap seems to sense the change. Seems to recognize he’s taken all he’d be able to without hurting Ghost. He pulls off Ghost’s wrist, licking the wound until the skin knits together without blemish. He swipes his tongue over his owns lips afterward, now stained a deep scarlet.

His pupils are blown wide. What’s visible of his irises are… their usual blue.

Unlike every other time Soap comes off feeding.

Ghost hardly notices that he’s being moved to the common room’s ratty sofa after a moment, a strong, supporting arm snaked around his waist. Soap sits with him, thumb tracing gentle circles into Ghost’s side—a gesture far more intimate than Ghost wants to think about.

“I’m sorry,” Soap is whispering. “I’m sorry, I’m—“

“Why?” Ghost tilts his head, incidentally sending a new wave of dizziness through his system—but he pays it no mind. “Offered t’ help, didn’t I?”

Soap gapes, mouth bobbing open and shut as he tries and fails to find his words.

Ghost shrugs to himself more than anything, slumping further into Soap’s side. A weight suddenly tugs at his eyelids, and they fall sleepily closed. He feels fine, really. Lightheaded at most.

“Jus’ don’t let it happen again, Johnny,” he mumbles.

Ghost doesn’t think Soap notices his hold getting tighter. He’s not certain either of them really care.

“‘Course not, LT,” Soap says.

Ghost falls asleep to the comforting pressure of Soap surrounding him.

He’s not sure if he’ll feel any less afraid when he wakes up.

(part 2)

[formereldestdaughter]

ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....

This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.

I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?

(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)

I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.

Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.

And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery— how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.

I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.

(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)

I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.

We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.

On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??

So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.

It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.

Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).

But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.

Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?

Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?

[crystalpallette]

get you a girl who can give you everything

this started a long long time ago when I made a joke about how sega should put ringo in more dresses, and then my friend reminded me that oh yeah!! I can do that instead!!! and then one thing led to another and we joked about punk ringo and I drew that too. using ringo like a dressup doll is so cathartic it's kinda crazy

some bonuses (original designs, timelapse) under the cut bc I like these designs!! I might do some more with them!! please disregard the band poster in the first second of the timelapse that's something else!!!

[galactic-cumslut]

the other side of paradise

sorry i’ve been kind of m.i.a. with writing i have so many rick ideas but couldn’t flesh them out…my horny brain doesn’t work normally. instead have a repurposed story from my main blog that fits rick so well

✰the usual rick warnings,spitting, wow he’s mean in this one, cheating, afab reader, rick is a perv, knife kink, dubious consent

“you’d never let a man spit in your mouth huh”? rick spoke, gripping her face tight with one of his large hands. “i guess we see how that turned out”. the grin he had spread across his face was down right maniacal.

“open up filthy bitch” .he snarls and she obliged, much too terrified to see what will happen if she were to disobey his command.

rick gathered saliva in his mouth and released it in her awaiting cavity. "you're such a good bitch. keep that mouth open for me slut,i want to see you swallow it".

less than an hour ago she was waving her boyfriend goodbye , eager to see him the next day. maybe she’d be bold enough to make a move on him next time. randy was her boyfriend after all.

but for now she flopped down and dealt with her thoughts on her own. the overwhelming idea of randy touching her in the slightest was enough to make her shiver in excitment.

before she knew it she was softly moaning into her pillows as her fingers abused her swollen nub.

so caught up in the ecstasy of her own doing she failed to notice the person outside her window.

as soon as rick loosened his grip she spoke. “randy..randy and i are dating”.

a maniacal laugh left his throat, scaring you even more. “i am well aware of that fact y/n”. he slams her head back down onto the fabric of your pillow and moves his face so close it’s mere centimeters away. “but tell me this? if randy is your little boyfriend why did i catch you touching yourself like a bitch in heat ? shouldn’t he be the one making you feel good”?

his hand roamed down her stomach , stopping at her lower abdomen. “i asked you a question bitch. answer me”! rick’s fingers were freezing against her skin causing her to shiver at the touch.

“i wanted our first time to be special”. she lied. in reality she wasn’t sure how to initiate something sexual with a boy so she hoped and prayed that randy would make the first move. “i want randy…to take my virginity”.

rick raised a brow. “a virgin huh? i guess i got lucky with you. stu is going to be so pissed when he finds out that i got to you first”. he laughed again , pushing your shirt up revealing your nipples to the cold air of the room.

for a moment he was mesmerized by the sight but it didn’t take long for him to have his hands all over you again.

by the time he got down to her panties it was evident how wet she was.

“god you’re soaking. i barely even touched you ,fucking slut. a guy like randy doesn’t deserve such a filthy whore”.

y/n felt her stomach twist at the words. she knew she belonged to randy. she loved him. but the way rick was making her feel right now clouded her brain.

it was evident how little he cared about her well-being though. she wasn’t sure why she felt so turned on by this.

he slowly teased your entrance with his slender fingers,slowly pushing himself inside. she watched his jaw clench.

“jesus christ you’re tight y/n”.

it hurt at first. the pain almost took over your body before the pleasure hit.

you leaned back against his chest panting heavily. all reason and control went out the window.

“look at the mess you’re making. filthy little whore”he spread your legs wider and forced your neck down so your eyes met the damp stain on the white sheets covering your mattress. “my pretty little slut gonna make a mess for me huh ? gonna cum all over the clean sheets”.

she nodded , whining in his ear “please ..i’m so close please rick”.

hearing her moan his name so prettily practically causes him to bust right then and there. oh how he wanted to be inside her but it all came down to patience in the end.

“i think i’d rather have you cum on my cock. how’s that sound”? he removed his fingers. “my dick is gonna ruin you for randy. he won’t want some ran through whore”.

again she nodded. “please just fuck me. i’ll be good…i’ll do anything please”.

now this , this is what he wanted. to see his neighbors pretty little girlfriend in shambles begging for him.

“that’s my good girl”.

rick was quick to get on top of her , wrapping his hand around her throat watching in glee as she struggled to breath under his grip.

“stop squirming so much bitch”.

she heard the sound of a pocket knife being activated right next to her ear. panic was finally setting in.

“relax. i wont hurt you i just want to mark you as mine..that’s all”. his face didn’t change. that manic look stayed in his eyes.

she didn’t have much time to assess her situation as rick forced himself inside her. a few tears sprang to her eyes.

“holy fuck you are tight huh? don’t you worry your pretty little head , i’ll be changing that”.

y/n wanted to scream for help, she wanted to claw at his skin until he released her but she was weakened by his repeated thrusts. “please rick. be gentle , it hurts”. her words were barely above a whisper.

“shut the fuck up bitch jesus. you were just beggin me to fuck you and now you want me to stop, make up your damn mind”. he did not slow his pace, instead he ran the blunt side of his weapon across her skin and quickened his speed. “you really piss me off”

[sofiaruelle]

So....our Dressmaking Batch 97 got to participate in a pagent, Mr & Ms Technowear 2024 for TIIC (Technical Institute of Iloilo City)'s 30th Foundation day.

✨And we got to do 2 lewks, Streetwear and Technowear.✨

While trying to figure out what we were going to do, we raided the fitting room (stockroom) and found a whole bunch of Retazo (hiliganon for scrapped fabric) from previous projects of batches before us. And it just so happens we were asigned the color 💚Green💚 for our team. Green = Nature = lots of fabric flowers. And to make it easier for us, we raided our closets and a few thrift stores for garments to upcycle and ofc every crafter has a few knickknacks to embellish with!!!!

[kirisclangen]

Larchpaw

She/her, 8 moons, cis molly

[marimayscarlett]

Quick question, have we figured out why Richard is so damn ATTRACTIVE??? Like he was so fine during the Mutter and MiG Era but he's even better now??? Sir I have questions!!!! What is it about you that's so addictive??? And that belly??? A MASTERPIECE!!!! He needs to pay for my rehab I'm dying over him at this point lmao

Hi hello how did you get into my head and write down exactly what I think about daily?? Because I'm still so fascinated regarding how he changed over the years, while remaining so enticing and attractive, always reinventing himself a bit, experimenting with different looks and styles while maintaining his overall vibe and aesthetic 😌 This of course includes his physique and wonderful chunkiness, but I'll shamelessly use this ask to venture out in earlier decades, to appreciate this man in all his glory 😩 (I hope that's alright with you)

Let's take a tiny look at Mr. Richard Z. Kruspe over the years, just to process this delicious evolution of his:

Very early on we had a lean Richard with the dreads, for some a no-go, for others quite a charming look (i know exactly i'm not the only one who's down for dreadlock Richard 👀), picture from ca. 1993:

In the beginning of Rammstein, we have some brown and blond haired, somewhat muscly Richard (ca. 1995/1996):

Then of course the ethereal look of Live aus Berlin (recorded in 1998) and his general style during the Sehnsucht era (Viva interview from 1997):

Moving on to the Mutter era, the first time his iconic spiky black hair was introduced to the world (picture from 2001 in Tallinn, gif from 2001 at the Velodrom Berlin):

He maintained a similar style and physique (very much toned and gym-trained I guess) or a while, for example during Völkerball (recorded in 2005):

or in various music videos, such as "Mein Teil" (2004) and "Benzin" (2005, albeit with some very much 2000s eyebrows):

In 2009 while LIFAD was released and during the LIFAD tour, he shortly ventured into another hair style (I won't comment, it was.. something, picture of 2009), then again back to the spiky style and tried out the mohawk (picture from 2012 I think), while parts of his typical stage outfit were born plus he's rather muscly here too:

During the festival tour 2016/2017 you can slowly see him becoming a bit broader/meatier in his physique, which I find just absolutely wonderful, plus some combacks like his spiky hair (gifs from an interview in 2018):

And slowly but surely we arrive in the current time and Richard's current style and physique: vampire coat, chicken coat, meaty and chunky Richard in all his glory:

All in all I have to say: It's so interesting to see how he changed and still stayed true to himself and his aesthetic, to his enthusiastic and genuine self while continously trying out new styles. And this includes his physique!! His appearance of course changed over the span of 30 years, that's aging for you. Of course he put on some weight - but that doesn't negate the fact that someone can be unbelievably attractive. And yes, I wholeheartedly agree, his belly now is a master piece, forged by the heavens, a gift from god, just perfection 💖

[superat626]

Wanted to draw something of an old crush.

[civilizedlava]

This is the hour of the Forsaken.

[viciousewe]

finished my first colorwork sweater!!!!

( @trashpandacraft was right it probably could do with one more blocking sesh but tbh it's Good Enough and I was excited to wear it and also my blocking set up is in the most inconvenient place possible so.)

[kil9]

everyone agrees that the patriarchy teaches men to hide their emotions, and that this is a bad thing, so why is it that when men actually show an emotion everyone jumps to call him an abuser or manipulator or whatever :\

[petrodragonicapocalypse]

uncle murl. the village underground, london. 5th september 2023