#((Ok sleep I dont mind))

[tubbytarchia]

My friend convinced me of the potential of this very specific trio (especially in a roadtrip context) so I'm spreading the propaganda

Again, oddly specific trio but listen. Look at this graph @liauditore made. This is all you need to know (TLDR these guys make for fun duos between one another, but putting all three of them together would neutralize any cons that would arise otherwise)

We call them sappies because idk it sounds cute and funny. Very vaguely based on the idea of tree sap (not just from how that can be related to "treebark" but also the idea of sap being a thing that helps a tree survive and making for good glue and medicine in some cases. Idk they're sappy. You get it)

The croc meme is based on this. I think Martyn would be too stupid to grasp the concept of gender so I replaced his speech bubble with watcher lore

[pnfc]

i haint watched the dang chibisode and idk if ill actually watch it with sound on sdfjk but i have a hurt feeling about them casually imbuing perry with speech for a one off gag because the idea that he needs to talk to communicate is fake. we had 4 seasons of wacky magic hijinks cartoon where perry never needed verbal speech to communicate. they couldve done this gag at any point in the show but they didn't, and the fact that they didn't felt significant. perry's muteness is such a core part of his character, to me, to the way i conceive of him/write him. i don't wanna overreact to a goofy little side cartoon (even tho i'm doing it anyway) but it's still the characters, and it still upsets me! ok that's it i've said my piece

[writingsbymo-mo]

Break Time

Bonten!Rindou x reader

NSFW 18+ only

Contains: oral, rough oral, slight voyeurism, hair pulling, degradation, pet names (uses doll a lot...)

It's been a long week for Rindou. As his secretary, you want to help him relax for a while. Even he has some ideas for later...

*knock* *knock*

"Rindou, sir, I brought the americano you ordered."

"Come in," you heard him sigh from the other side of the door, opening and shutting it quickly behind you. Rindou sat at his desk, hand resting on his cheek with a bored expression pasted on his face. He grumbled something under his breath, crumpling the papers in his other hand.

Your shoes clacked against the polished floors, setting his drink in front of him. He lifted his head, grabbing the coffee and taking a few gulps, slamming it down with a heavy sigh. "Shit..." He kicks the floor, pushing himself back in his chair as he runs his hands through his dyed hair.

The tension in the room grew heavy. You bit your bottom lip, staring at your boss with worry. He hasn't taken a single break this week. Meeting after meeting, gaining more intel on clients and potential traitors along with mountains of paperwork to sort through has taken a toll on him. Even sleep was nothing more than a short thirty minutes at his desk each night as of late.

He needs a break....

A loooong one.....

Your eyes glanced to the stack left, then back to Rindou. They slowly trailed from his rising chest down to his crotch. Warm heat gathered into your cheeks as a shock went down your spine. "Um, sir?" You gulped, taking a few steps towards him. He shifted an arm, having your attention, "what is it doll?" He sighed, keeping his eye on you. "Well...," you dropped to your knees right in-between his, "it looks like you could take some time to relax for a bit—"

You squeak as he grabbed your cheeks. His bored expression, now amused, smirking at you. He chuckled, "you know what? You're right doll." He paused, rubbing small circles onto your cheeks, "well, are you going to start or–"

You shook out of your daze. "Yes, yes! Sorry sir," you pleaded. Quickly, your hands undid his pants, reaching into his underwear to pull out his cock, hearing his breath hitch under your touch as you began to stroke him. "Fuck..." Rindou gripped his chair with gritted teeth, staring down at you. His cock grows harder and thicker. Beads of precum leak at the tip, giving it a slow swipe of your tongue, savoring the bitter taste as you watched your boss fall apart bit by bit, picking up the pace.

*knock* *knock*

Fuck...

"Quick, hide under here."

"Shouldn't I get the door?"

"Tsk, don't make me repeat myself."

"Sigh...alright..."

You crawl under his desk as he clears his throat while wiping the bits of sweat off his brow. "Come in."

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite baby brother!"

Rindou sighs and grumbles, "what is it, Ran? I still have some papers to go through."

Ran closes his eyes for a moment and hums, "a meeting has been announced in an hour—"

"Fuck...," Rindou curses under his breath, gripping his desk.

Ran's brows furrow, "you good?"

"Ahem...yeah, just mmm...tired..."

"If you say so," he shrugs as he turns to walk out. "Oh, and do take care of my brother doll," he winks, closing the door behind him.

You cried out as Rindou yanked your head back with a fist full of hair. "You little slut. Couldn't wait for my brother to leave, hmm?" He pulled harder, snickering in amusement as your scalp stung. "Don't worry, you'll get what you want." He smacked his engorged cock on your lips, smiling. "Say ahh."

You open your mouth as he shoves himself down your throat, pressing your face into his curls. You sputter and gag around him while trying to pull back, but he kept you firmly pressed against him. He wanted you to know who was in control now.

A yank from your hair and you gasped for air, coughing as strings of drool leaked from your mouth to his cock. "You're doing good doll, think you can keep going?" You nodded, letting him push his cock back down your throat.

More tears spilled from your eyes. Rindou couldn't help himself at the sight of you. His thrusts steadily became faster. "Such a pretty slut for me, yeah? Like it when your boss uses you as a personal toy?" You moaned around him as he threw his head back and groaned. "Better be good and ha— take all my cum, yeah?" His hips began to stutter. He pulled you flush against him, groaning your name. Hot spurts of cum drained into your stomach as his cock twitched in your throat. Rindou pulled himself out with a pop. A few strings of cum landing on your chest and face.

You swallowed as much as you could, panting heavily, looking up at your boss's very tired eyes. "Thank you doll, but..." He shuffles into the drawers in his desk and pulls something out. Your eyes widened at the object. "Now, turn around. Let's see how well you can hold up during the meeting with this in you, yeah?"

[zennyzach]

He's really out here with a choker+harness combo What a freak

[hellishboots]

Gender iz a buffet and im sampling everything on the menu. Fuck staying in the 'right line,' we r commiting gender gluttony 2night boiz

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

heya, i have to wake up in three hours but! here's another lil human au snippet! ft. lightly implied Laughingstock! disclaimer i am so so tired so don't come at me for typos or strangely worded sentences or missing info <3

~

Before heading home, Eddie swings by a charming little store he’s been to once or twice before. He usually goes to the chain store by his house, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the hustle and bustle and the endless aisles. This little store is quiet, nice, and strangely has everything anyone could need. 

The lot is mostly empty at this hour, so Eddie claims a spot right at the front. As with the other times, the windows are littered with displays and stickers - half off on this, sale on that. Eddie enters Howdy’s Place with the chime of the door’s shopkeeper’s bell. He’ll get what he needs and get out, quick and easy and peacefu-

Boisterous laughter slams into Eddie like a hammer, so sudden that he jumps in place. An employee stocking cans nearby glances weirdly at him. Eddie clears his throat and hurries into the nearest aisle as the laughter tapers off. The silence barely lasts a second before loud chatter starts up. It’s too fast and muffled for Eddie to understand, but he can pick out two distinct voices - one deep, one less so but still decidedly masculine. 

Eddie tries to tune it out as he gathers what he needs. Toothpaste, some paper towels, shampoo. For the hell of it, he nabs a box of classic bran muffins from the spacious food section. He lingers for a moment, enjoying how far-away the conversation seems at the other corner of the store. Unfortunately, theft is illegal, so Eddie is forced to move towards the noise.

A strange thing about the store - it’s a combination general store, antique shop, and diner, complete with a miniature gift shop separating the two. One long checkout counter stretches from the open store area, behind the gift shop, and into the diner, where the conversation is coming from. An interesting setup, but an understandable one. It allows anyone behind the counter to move fluidly between customers and sections.

As Eddie approaches, the conversation becomes slightly clearer. 

“-said, no wonder you didn’t get her number!” the deeper voice barks, and the two dissolve into that almost-too-loud laughter again. 

As it tapers off, the other voice says, “Sounds like a real charmer! But really, you oughta be careful, Barn. One of these days someone’s gonna throw a right hook at ya.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. A transatlantic accent? He hasn’t heard that anywhere outside of real old movies and a queen he once knew. It sounds natural too, like the man was born to sound like he belongs on a 1920s radio show. It nudges something in the back of Eddie’s mind. He’s started to get really sick of that nudge.

“Oh, this guy did.”

“No kidding? I don’t see a shiner.”

“Well, yeah. I went left.”

Both of them laugh again, and Eddie feels a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t funny enough to garner an actual laugh in his opinion, but it wasn’t unfunny. 

Eddie steps up to the counter and quietly puts his acquired items on it, not wanting to interrupt. He chances a glance to the side - walking space in front of the counter’s length lets him see right down into the diner.

A large man with dyed-blue hair and an interesting fashion sense is at the bar, talking to an employee leaning against the other side. The employee doesn’t really catch Eddie’s gaze, but the other man… Eddie swears he’s seen him before. He studies him from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be rude but unable to mind his business. 

“Our bouncer didn’t even get a chance at the action - the idiot knocked himself out tryin’ a second swing!” The customer says. His deep voice, wavering with humor, only adds to the sense of familiarity. Metal glints in his right ear. Eddie knows this man from somewhere.

The employee shakes his head, tutting. His busy hands polish a vintage pitcher. “I swear, you get all the crazies.”

“Makes for a good story, though.” The customer takes a sip from his tall milkshake and scoffs. “Though if it wasn’t all well-ending, amusing bull, I doubt I’d be so tolerant.”

Minutes drag by as the two keep talking. Eddie goes from patiently waiting to awkwardly trying to get the employees attention. If only there was someone else behind the counter, but the only other staff member is elsewhere, likely still stocking shelves. 

The two men are too absorbed in their little world, even though both are facing Eddie’s way. The customer has both elbows on the counter, one of them bent to prop up his chin. The employee has his hip leaned against the edge as they chat. They’re obviously very familiar with each other, and clearly deeply enjoy each other's company. 

Still - and Eddie is sorry to say, but it’s bad customer service. He’s not in a rush, but he’d still like to be on his way home. He could be fishing out the complex keys right now. He checks his phone - he’s been here for nearly fifteen minutes. Picking out the items took less than five. 

Eddie sighs, staring at the various cigarette packs displayed behind the counter. He’s never seen the appeal in smoking, but as the laughter starts up again, he almost wishes he did. He’s going to treat himself to a very long shower once he gets home. 

The store’s other employee walks behind the counter, carrying a box. Eddie lights up. Finally - she pointedly clears her throat and heads into the back. 

The constant conversation stalls for the barest moment, and he looks over. The customer grins at him for a second - lord he’s handsome - before turning that grin towards his friend.

“You’re losin’ your touch, Howds,” he teases, bringing his shake straw to his lips.

“I resent that statement. You’re just distracting.”

“Lil’ me? Distracting? C’mon, you can just tell me I’m pretty to my face. I’ll take it like a champ, I swear!”

“Ha, good try.” The employee sets the pitcher down and starts to mosey in Eddie’s direction. “Your ego is big enough for the both of us as is. One more compliment and your head’ll pop like a balloon.”

“Well, given that most balloons don’t really pop, they just kinda deflate slowly-”

“Sorry for the wait!” the employee says loudly in a glaringly obvious customer service tone. He stops in front of Eddie with a cardboard smile. At the other end of the counter, the familiar man snickers and hides his grin behind his drink. “I trust you found everything you did - and didn’t! - need.”

Eddie just stares up at him for a moment. At six-one, Eddie hasn’t felt small in a very long time. He usually stands at least a full inch above other people. This employee - Howdy, his name tag states - has several more on him.

“Uh, y-yes, I uh, I did,” Eddie stammers, glancing at his items. 

“Wonderful! And again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. My friend makes a game out of keeping me from my job.” Howdy shoots his ‘friend’ a glare with enough heat in it to make an ice cube sweat. 

“No worries.”

Howdy scans the items at an almost frightening speed. Beep, into a paper bag. Beep, in. Beep, beep - “Oh, no.”

“What?” Eddie says, dread plucking at his ribs as Howdy holds the bran muffins and shakes his head. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“Indeed there is! You’re making a mistake with these. They’re absolutely horrible, I tell ya - and bad for you, too!” Howdy tuts and puts the box to the side. “No, no, you don’t want those.”

“I… don’t?”

“Not if you knew better! Lucky for you, I’m here to set you straight. What you need is-” he snaps his fingers, “Barnaby, be a pal and-”

“Already on it,” ‘Barnaby’ says, appearing next to Eddie.

If Eddie weren’t already paralyzed, he’d jump right out of his skin from how Barnaby towers over him. He has to be a scant inch or so shorter than Howdy, but he still makes Eddie feel tiny. Unfortunately, Barnaby is even more handsome up close. 

“Here ya go.” Barnaby hands a plastic container to Howdy and taps it, smiling lazily down at Eddie. “I’d take his advice on this one. Those bran-named muffins may sound fancy, but they’re pretty crumby! You want muffins of quality. Real breadwinners!

Eddie can’t help a soft laugh. “Breadwinners, heh, that’s a good one.”

“Are you selling these or am I?” Howdy says, raising a bushy eyebrow. 

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what you asked! I’m bein’ a pal.”

“And I - I’m sorry," Eddie interjects, "but you’re awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Eh, I’ve been around, but uh… you ever been to [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE]?”

Howdy clears his throat. “I’m trying to make a sale here, Barn. You can flirt on your own dime when you’re not costing me mine.”

“Didja know your nose gets redder when you’re jealous?”

Howdy rolls his eyes and shoves Barnaby in the diner’s direction. Barnaby goes with a hearty snicker. Despite the joke, Eddie thinks it has some merit as Howdy scans the final item and rings him up, considerably frostier than before.

Belatedly, Eddie realizes that he didn’t actually agree to the different muffins. Too late now. “Say, what kind of muffins are those?”

“Poppyseed-lemon.”

Eddie relaxes - that is a lot better than boring bran. “Y’know, my mother loved poppyseed-lemon muffins.”

“Did she now,” Howdy drawls.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! If baking was so much as mentioned, she’d jump right on houndin’ us to whip some up for her, or send us to go buy some. We’d never even get a taste! They’d be gone the moment they hit the air, I tell ya.” Eddie chuckles. “Took me a while to understand what all the fuss is about, but man was she right. They are good!”

“Uh-huh. Well, we have a fresh batch delivered every morning. They’re not the same type every time, mind you, but I can promise that they’re all of the highest quality.”

“Breadwinners, right?” Eddie jokes. Howdy doesn’t blink, but Barnaby snorts. He’ll take it. “I might have to come by more often, if that’s the case! Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Mhm, have a good day.” Howdy hands him the bag and strides away without a glance. The dismissal is clear as day. “Say, Barn, did you hear about the racket one of those cult crackpots stirred up at our dear friend’s tearoom?”

Eddie doesn’t catch the tail-end of the sentence as he hurries away, but he frowns. Cult? What cult? There’s a cult? He certainly didn’t hear of one before moving here, and none of his background checks had turned up anything of the sort. He hopes it was just a figure of speech. 

The door chimes again as Eddie leaves. It isn’t until he’s in his car that the embarrassment of that whole exchange catches up with him. If he had a nickel for every time he’d made a fool of himself in front of a gorgeous, strangely familiar man, he’d have three nickels. At the rate he’s going, he’ll either be rich, or he’ll have to move. 

Eddie subtly tries to peek around the store’s window displays from the safety of his car. He catches a scant glimpse of blue hair - come to think of it, it’s a similar shade to Wally’s. But where Wally’s had, to Eddie’s memory, been uniformly dyed right down to his eyebrows, Barnaby’s rich brown roots were obvious. His beard and eyebrows weren’t dyed, either. 

As Eddie relaxes back into his seat, he re-reads at the store’s name. The color drains from his face and he barely restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the steering wheel.

Oh, of course. Of course he made a fool of himself in front of the owner. Eddie can never come back here again. And it was such a nice store…

[princekirijo]

World's most frustrating feeling: having multiple ideas and character designs but despite working on the thing for nearly 5 YEARS still being nowhere close to having a coherent plot 💀

[purpurussy]

i log on to this site. i write essays about dnp and their gay little antics. i save them to my drafts because i am scared of being perceived. i log off again

[reaper-in-reverie]

At some point he'd forgotten why he even killed in the first place, why he felt these chills all the time. It was because he liked seeing people filled with distress, he liked to see the light miserably fade out of their eyes. No—

It was because he fucking hated them.

OR

zack foster's occasional musings. takes place pre-canon. which makes him about a teenager (?) also he's pretty much just as quiet as he was as a kid because i said so. very uncreative i think. warnings. murder, obviously. all things zack. tw for blood. knife. cw swearing (like twice). minor character death mentioned. mainly me yapping lol. character analysis. wc 855.

The city lights shone brightly against the dark night sky.

There air wasn't warm, but it wasn't freezing cold — and Zack treaded the dark, dusty back alleys of the place, spinning the knife in his hand, walking towards nowhere in particular. He waited. And waited. And waited, until there it was again.

A chill.

Like a silent call that took form as shivers up his spine. Zack turned back, a now determined look in his eyes as he moved out of the alley. There was no satisfaction for him until this chill ceased — it beckoned to him, it itched against his wrapped hands and guided his palms to the hilt of his knife. It invited him to plunge it into the chest or the stomach of the nearest person.

Zack found himself in another alley (stepping on something soggy under his boot and letting out a quick "ugh, shit,"), waiting for some drunkard to stumble out and find himself to be a very unlucky man.

Zack could hear the loud bar from where he was hiding in the semi-dark alley. It was bustling with chatter and laughter and music, and the occasional chorus of a group of friends shouting in unison. His hands gripped the handle of his knife tightly. He couldn't wait until this laughter and this noise turned into pained groans or terrified screams. Or better yet, an expression of complete and utter dread in contrast to whatever fun they had in their drinks and in the company of their friends. He couldn't wait for them to die, alone, at his burned hand.

And someone eventually did walk out. A man stumbling out of the bar, hiccupping, babbling nonsense, leaning against the walls of the alley, not even having a sense of direction as he stumbled into the darkness. He bumped into Zack with a drunken "whoops!", one Zack grimaced at in a mix of annoyance and disgust.

There wasn't any greeting, no warning, no threatening call — Zack just lunged at the drunk man, hands gripping the knife tightly as he shoved it into his back. Zack heard a loud groan come from his victim, but that didn't stop him; he kept stabbing him. Again and again. Until he fell to the ground. In the chest, in the stomach, anywhere that made his heart thump in excitement. Blood spilled, then pooled under the corpse, staining the clothes he was wearing. There was a rattle in the dying man's chest — he's choking on his own blood — and Zack knew it was done. He stared at his work, then walked away.

He was used to it at this point.

At some point he'd forgotten why he even killed in the first place, why he felt these chills all the time. It was because he liked seeing people filled with distress, he liked to see the light miserably fade out of their eyes. No—

It was because he fucking hated them.

Them. Them — everyone who looked happy, everyone who could laugh and live satisfied with themselves — them. They all just lied to themselves, cackling as if they weren't evil, as if they weren't monsters to everyone around them, as if they weren't vermin to the very ground they enjoy. They didn't deserve to live, they didn't deserve their glee — that was why Zack was honored to force upon these monsters their ultimate dread; death.

Zack was a monster, too.

A different kind, he always justified. He knew he was evil — he embraced it like he would to a mother he never had, cradled the reality in his hands — he didn't lie to himself. He was the kind that was never truly happy like them unless he killed them. He was the kind born from them.

But still a monster.

That was why he didn't kill that old man — guh, that old man. Zack kicked around a trash can with a frustrated look, finding himself in his previous alleyway. He didn't kill him because it'd be pointless. He wasn't happy in the first place, he was a miserable blind man, he was just a loner. Killing him wouldn't bring Zack any satisfaction.

Or maybe because the old man wasn't a monster. Maybe because he was a kind old blind man — maybe it was his misery that made him good.

And what do you want to do now? The questioned nagged at Zack every so often, and he always answered himself — I want to kill all these laughing bastards so that they fall to anguish and despair.

But he knew that wasn't what he always thought. Not before the old man died, anyway. Maybe it was just for a night, just for a few hours, that Zack was satisfied with himself. Without blood. Without a knife in his hand. Without looking for happiness in the despair of other monsters.

Things would be a lot different if that old man were to still be alive.

But he doubted anything would be normal.

Zack didn't even know his name.

© reapkusho on tumblr. 2024. all rights reserved. refrain from translating, copying, or stealing in any way, etc.

[faaun]

.

[masatos-wig]

like this guy.the star

(based on this post by artwheat)

[virsancte]

he was happy until he started losing

[dfpoeticvent]

Mentally Different

After spending an hour trying to text a helpline, anyone, just to hear me speak and say how I'm feeling, I decided to just create a Tumblr page. Why not? It's not like anyone is gonna read this anyway.

Dealing with my own emotions is so hard, it's like I feel more than other people and it hurts so much. I don't know how to act, how to speak, how to behave so people could like me more, but not even that is working! I lost all my friends, I've been skipping school a lot because I can't find the strenght to go, and I can't see a future for me.

I thought I was getting better, but all the things I said I was over it are coming back to haunt me again. And no matter what I do, how much I try, I can't be a good person, I'm always doing something wrong with good intentions, why everyone know how to be but I don't? People born with the social skills I'm having to learn as a teen.

I don't know what do to, I isolate myself when I really want someone next to me, I push people away but in reality I wish they stayed, I cry when I'm angry amd everything feels so overwhelming, I'm tired of saying I'm fine when in reality I feel like I'm falling apart. I wish I wasn't like this but I am.

I feel lost, I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't know if I'll ever know. I just wish things were different, like if I had a map to guide me through things instead of just trying to cross an unknown path for the first time blindfolded, and failing as expected.

I wish I was different

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[blooming-cecilia]

catboy bard brainrot in my head for DAYS courtesy of @cinnabell2, so i'm feeding all of us

it's no secret he's a clingy lil kitty, but it's more inconvenient when he's shifted... goodluck trying to get out of that one!!

(self indulgent ones utc + a lil smth for u cinna hehe)

[acridblood]

chat do I make a kinda drastic decision and choose to study abroad in germany