#affordable skeleton watch

[philophobic-paracosm]

ok i cant draw dhmis good so like

but i thought of a dhmis oc for myself

"skeleton" (anatomically incorrect skull atop an anatomically incorrect skeleton suit like the halloween ones) teacher who teaches stuff about bones but its like...pretty much all wrong

she brutally murders the gang at the end of her episode by spitting acid at them and melting them to "show off their bones" (which i just now realize is similar to tony because he also murdered them by melting but its different because acid okay)

her name is uhhhhhhhh idk but for now im calling her stupid fuck

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-spooktober day 7: skeleton | G | wc: 641

“You said it’s in your closet?”

“Yeah!” Eddie calls back from the living room. “It should be on the…left? Side?”

“‘Kay!” Steve yells back.

He’s been over helping Eddie pack up his things from the trailer. It’s October already and the fall semester has started for Robin up in Chicago; now that Steve knows the shitheads are set for the new school year, Mike being the first of the group to get his licence (AND was willing to be taught by Steve so he at least knows Mike will be (somewhat) safe) to cart them all around in the Wheelers’ station wagon… he’s following her there officially.

Eddie is too, decided to tag along and “Get out of what’s left of Wayne’s hair.” as he put it. 

So here they are, packing up Eddie’s things and shuttling some of Wayne’s back into the single bedroom of the trailer.

“Green suitcase, green suitcase,” Steve mutters to himself, a reminder of what he needs to be looking for in the bedroom closet.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom door, he hears the front one creak open, Eddie greeting Wayne with a “Careful old man, I can’t afford a hip replacement if you trip over my crap.”

Wayne’s soft snort of laughter is drowned out by the squeal of the metal-on-metal of Eddie’s closet door, and the loud “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Steve let out at the sight before him.

Clutching his chest where his heart is hammering him to death from within, Steve looks up at the, what he can now tell is completely fake, skeleton hanging from the bar inside the closet.

“Steve! What the hell are you screaming abou— Ha! Wayne~!” he calls over his shoulder, “You got Steve!”

“Damn..” Steve hears Wayne mutter before yelling back, “Well if you’re gonna keep datin’ him, he better start learning our traditions.”

Steve freezes. 

Eddie freezes (halfway back out of the closet with the skeleton dangling from his hand).

‘Am I that obvious?’ they each think to themselves.

Another beat passes, and Steve is the one to reply, “Not fair Wayne, The next time you get a scare like that, we’ll be putting you in an early grave!”

Wayne barks out a laugh, and goes back to whatever clinking around with his mug he was doing before.

Steve watches Eddie’s face fill with color. His heart is still beating a little too fast. “Listen, Eddie–”

“Good one Steve-o,” Eddie says, hurriedly, tossing the plastic skeleton back onto the now bare mattress before going back in for the suitcase, “Old man jokes will always land in this house.”

“Eddie, listen,”

“No need, Harrington, It was just an old man joke. Ha! See? Still funny.” Eddie’s face is almost purple.

“I’d love to date you, Eddie.” Steve says to the back of Eddie’s head, plain and simple. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to break the news to you that I did but uh.. Yeah.”

Eddie finally turns back around, confusion almost dripping off his face. “You, Steve Harrington, want to date me. As in me, Eddie Munson, flunkie dealer trailer trash?”

“No, I want to date Eddie Munson, hot piece of ass metalhead with a big heart.”

Eddie drops the suitcase and pinches the exposed skin of his other arm. Hard.

“That… had to hurt.”

“It did, yeah.”

He drops his arm, continuing to stare at Steve like he was some sort of creature in a tank.

“You gonna say anything or am I gonna have to guess? ‘Cause let me tell you, man, I don’t have that great of a track record with things like th—”

Eddie finally puts Steve out of his misery and cuts off his rambling. “Don’t call me ‘man’ when I’m about to kiss you stupid.” 

Steve blinks, “Okay.”

That plastic skeleton is known as Wingman from then on.

skull/skeleton lace dividers by @saradika HERE

[llamagoddessofficial]

Le gasp..

Mafia Bad Sanses’ HCs

Mafia Bad Sanses’ HCs?

Horror likes bashing in heads. He likes that his job means he gets paid to bash in a lot of heads. He doesn't really care that he's considered one of Nightmare's top enforcers, that even the hardest criminals tremble in fear at the mention of his name, that he's called things like the beast and the monster... he just likes that he gets to take out all his worst frustrations on whichever face Nightmare points him to. As a nice bonus, the money he makes means his brother and surviving friends live in safety and comfort.

... But he also likes pretty things. Pretty, soft things, that make him feel fuzzy and warm. You're all three. You find out pretty quick that his frightening face hides a softspoken, sensitive creature, who keeps appearing at your door with flowers (when did you give him your address?) and homemade food. It's bizarre, how such a violent man can equally be so gentle, getting flustered just from you looking at him too long. He wants to do to you what he does with everyone he cares about - use his money to make it so that you never have to worry about anything in life again.

Probably for the best that you let him. He famously doesn't have great control over his temper.

Dust doesn't appear too happy about working for Nightmare. It's clear to anyone watching that Nightmare has something over him; whatever it is, it must be pretty bad, because Dust never questions Nightmare's orders - no matter how terrible or violent. He does exactly what's asked of him, no more, no less. And it's obvious why Nightmare might want to force someone like Dust to work for him... there's no job this silent demon can't do.

Dust, with you, is a different man. He almost becomes his old self again. When you're alone together, he actually smiles. He desperately wants to keep you away from the world he's become trapped in, and he'll probably spend the first few weeks of knowing you trying as hard as he can to separate you from him and the other skeletons. But... he's in love. He can't help it. He's always drawn back to you again, no matter how many times he tells himself he has to let go.

You're his escape. You make him forget the things he's done, and the things he has to keep doing. He's addicted to that feeling.

Killer is Nightmare's right hand. The moniker 'Nightmare's dog' is often used, mostly in an attempt to offend him, but it just makes him laugh. Much like Horror, he very much enjoys his job... he enjoys the power, indulging in his violent desires and getting paid for it. Killer is just about the closest thing Nightmare has to someone he trusts; Killer is privy to many of their 'family's deepest secrets, partly because of his position, but also partly because Nightmare knows Killer genuinely has absolutely zero interest in these massively important secrets. Killer just wants to stab things.

For some reason he seems intent that you trust him. It's really hard to tell what he wants, behind that smile... you're cautious with him, given his clear loyalty to Nightmare. But maybe that loyalty isn't as unshakeable as it seems. It starts with little things... casually lying through his teeth and fully taking the blame for something you did. Conveniently 'forgetting' to mention you around Nightmare. Failing a mission you expressed horror at. Lying about the nature of your personal information, pretending (in front of the guys) that he doesn't know stuff he very much knows.

It's impossible to tell what he wants. But it seems like, whatever it is, he wants it more than all the power he's got now.

Nightmare will obviously want to learn the identity of the person who's somehow managed to completely disarm his three most valuable and violent soldiers. Despite all of them doing their damnedest to keep you out of Nightmare's crosshairs, you can't be hidden forever.

Nightmare is supposed to have everything - there's no luxury he can't afford. But he's always had this... void inside him. It's the very void that pushes him to keep expanding his territory, to keep killing and taking, maybe if he has just that little bit more he'll feel complete. Maybe if he just has that one last shiny thing, he'll be happy. But it's never been enough.

Then he finally meets you. And something clicks.

Dust, Killer and Horror tried so hard to keep you away from Nightmare, because they were terrified of what would happen to you if Nightmare decided he didn't like you. Instead, something much, much worse happened.

Nightmare likes you.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

can you write relationship headcanons for hyugo please? he's so underrated oh my god- btw love your blog, i'm so happy there's more people in the tkatb fandom <33 thank you for your service!!

My Exaltation (Hyugo x MC/Reader - Relationship HCs)

Thank you for the ask, Anon! And especially thank you for the kind words! :D

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer Exaltation: a feeling or state of extreme happiness. Trigger Warnings: NSFW and sexual mentions (nothing too crazy though).

A/N: (Check down the bottom for more info: but here's the server skeleton I've made: Link: TKATB Server).

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SFW

I see Hyugo as somebody very affectionate, like a puppy. (He literally gives puppy-dog eyes like c’mon). Also is capable of becoming as feral as one.

Definitely will be the type to walk up to you randomly and beg on his knees request to do something, considering I feel like part of the reason he has so much on his plate is due to the fact he can't stand having the same routine day after day. He needs spice. And you'll happily oblige.

Also very protective. Hell, this guy killed someone(s), so he’d be more than willing to defend you if it comes to that. Owns weapons 110%. Is also very capable at using them.

Hides all his suspicious activity from you. Not because he doesn't trust you, but mostly due to the fact he doesn't want you to get involved.

When If you move in together, he will make sure to enroll you in self-defense/weapon training classes (or he'll teach you himself, who cares about the law he's committed about 56 crimes in the span of a month /jkjk).

Is alarmingly strong, for someone of his stature and build, he often ensures to work out, because, well, he never knows when someone will come after him now does he?

Is paranoid about your safety 25/8, he's alert and vigil every waking moment. Ever since the cinema incident, he's been freaking out internally. (What if they find out about you? What if you go missing too?). Will hide it though, he can't afford you to be scared of him, now can he?

Crime hustles aside, Hyugo is genuinely a very loving and #goldenretriever boyfriend. Will use petnames as much as humanely possible, usually the flirty ones like 'darling'.

If you are a clothesnapper, expect him to start stealing back, eventually both your wardrobes will be swapped. You both don't care though, because both your horny asses will be relishing in the smell of each other in secret teehee.

Will be pulling the biggest 'Aww you look so adorable!!!!!' face known to man the first time you stole his clothes (probs a sweater or overshirt). Will tease you about it.

Makes puns 24/7, actually a master at them, it's kind of unnerving.

If you're ticklish, do not, under ANY circumstance, let him find out. You will be on the verge of dying each time he tickles you.

Hyugo's heart melts if you wanna watch his favourite movies with him: "Uh...Oh my God! MC! The new *insert movie title* came out...wanna watch it together this Sunday?" *insert massive puppy dog eyes, a cutesy little pout and two slender hands clasped together in a praying motion*

You agree, because...of fucking course you will.

Doesn't care enough to cook most of the time, but will try for you. :]

If you're cooking (or baking desserts), he'll spawn right behind you and hug you.

Will make you game with him, you don't have a choice, this guy needs action in his life (totally not like he doesn't already have any right-)

He's the little spoon, loves being smushed into your tits/pecs pressed against your torso, it means he can hear your heartbeat. It means he can fall asleep knowing you're safe.

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NSFW (I am aware these may seem short. But. uh. I'm rusty cut me some slack).

I see Hyugo as a power bottom, or even a switch. (Emphasis on the 'power' part, this guy is strong).

Is capable of serving cunt/cock scarily well. Like you have no clue how he got this good.

Don't pull his hair too hard, a bit'll make him whine groan, but he doesn't seem the type to be into hair pulling unlike Sol and Crowe teehee

More funny during sex imo, depending on how intimate it is. If it's a sudden need then he'll be silent as the grave and going all out on dishing his horniness out, but if you're both chill and happy then he's much more jovial.

Masterful at aftercare, will murmur praises for how good you were, how much he loves you, etc. into your collarbone.

You are everything to him, his lover, his vehement source of peace, and his exaltation.

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A/N: So, @hayooni mentioned that we should probably have a Discord server or something, so I made one. It's pretty mid so far, and I'm definitely going to hand off admins to other people who're superior when it comes to Discord server making, but hell, how about we make sure this community is as nontoxic and interconnected as possible. We're the OGs and veterans of this fandom; we might as well make it a fucking good one.

Link: TKATB Server

[ltwilliammowett]

Life on board a 17th century warship

The sailing crew was divided into two watches under the two lieutenants, each working for four hours while the other rested. While off duty, they were expected to stay below decks and out of the way, but could be called to work at any time if all hands were required, such as when anchoring or making a major sail change. When below, they probably tried to sleep as much as they could, since the four-hour schedule is not natural and quickly leads to fatigue. When not sleeping, they probably used much of the time off watch to mend their clothes and shoes, but they might relax with games, music or a popular new pastime, smoking, although this was only allowed in the cookroom.

War Ships 17th Century, by Jefferys, Charles W. 1942 in: The Picture Gallery of Canadian History Volume 1, p.99

Food was also prepared in the cookroom, a brick-lined hearth in front of the mainmast in the hold, and carried up to the gundecks in buckets, where it was doled out into big wooden bowls. Depending on the ship, food could also be prepared in the galley, which was located in the forecastle or midships.

Each man had his own wooden spoon, and some had wooden plates, but most ate from the bowl shared by a mess, a group of six or seven men who ate and lived together. They drank weak beer, "ship's ale," from a shared wooden tankard. The base of the diet was salted meat for protein and dried peas and bread for carbohydrates. Barrels full of bones found in the hold show that the meat was mostly beef, with a little pork and mutton, as well as fish and poultry. Interessting fact was that some of the crew were prepared to supplement this, as fishing equipment and hunting weapons were found in shipwrecks like the Vasa, as well as the bones of roe deer, moose, and grouse. The skeletons of chickens suggest that a few fresh eggs were available.

As in other navies, they did not issue uniforms in that time, the men had to buy or make their own clothes. In some cases cloth was provided as part of their salary, but the typical sailor's clothing was the same as the clothing they arrived in from the farm or town: a linen shirt, a short, skirted woollen doublet (jacket), wool trousers that ended below the knee, woollen socks, and leather shoes. Many had broad-brimmed hats or conical caps. The cloth varied from coarse homespun to imported dyed fabrics, but almost all sailors sewed strips of contrasting cloth or even lace down the outside seams of their trousers in imitation of the clothing worn by the well-to-do. Clothes had to be hard-wearing, since most people could not afford more than one set.

The senior officers lived aft in the cabins of the sterncastle, where they had more space, glass windows, proper furniture, and ate their meals from pewter or earthenware table service. They had finer clothes, but as more than one visitor to Sweden from the continent remarked, it was difficult to tell the nobles from the peasants, since they dressed alike. The officers also had to share their accommodation, sleeping in pairs in narrow double beds, but the cabins were built to resemble the interior of houses ashore. The great cabin, where the king or an admiral would stay, was fitted out like a room in the royal palace, with fine panelling and carved sculptures that emphasised the power of the people who lived there.

The 17th century was a violent period, and both on shore and at sea brutal punishments were prescribed for even minor crimes. Conscripts often came from rough backgrounds, but discipline was essential for the smooth and safe functioning of a ship. In crowded conditions, small disagreements could easily blow up into fights, grumbling could turn to mutiny. Officers had to earn the trust of the men they commanded, but needed the option of punishment for the intractable. The articles of war specified that a person causing a fire was to be cast into the same fire, a person starting a fight was to be stabbed through the hand with a knife, blasphemers and those speaking ill of the king or his officers were to be keelhauled, murderers should be tied to their victims and thrown in the sea. In practice, a captain who had to use these punishments too often risked losing the respect of his men and his fellow captains and could not rule for long.

[whereserpentswalk]

There is a cryptid in your house. You got warnings about this type of thing when you moved into this neighborhood, but your girlfriend wanted to live somewhere where you could have a single family home but that's still close to the subway lines, and this was your best option that you could afford.

You start seeing the cryptid in the boiler room and basement, but it's brash enough to go into your kitchen when it wants to. It's horrifying, with razor sharp teeth, glowing red eyes, claws of rusted silver, and a shape just human enough and just animal enough to be recognized as both and neither to your mind. You think it sleeps in the communal driveway out back, it makes you thankful your house isn't big enough to have a backyard to see it out there.

When you first saw it you thought you would die. But it stays away from you. It's scared of you of anything. East Coast cryptids are used to urbanized humans, they've adapted to be afraid of them most of the time, especially here in the city. It's only in here because it wants the food in your kitchen, it spends more time in your walls then it even does in your house. But if it sees you, it'll run.

Eventually you learn to live with the cryptid. You know when it tends to come around, what it likes to do. It'll keep eating food out of your kitchen, so you have to buy a surplus, eventually out of convenience you just start leaving out meals for it rather then letting your refrigerator take abuse.

It starts fearing you less. Both of you know eachother exist. You don't understand what power allows it to get into your house, and it doesn't understand the social structures that makes the house yourse. You just live with eachother. Eventually it becomes normal. When you invite your girlfriend's freinds over you forget to even tell them you have a cryptid, which leads to a lot of apologizing that night.

Eventually, you find out what species of cryptid it is. On a weekend visit to the American Unnatural History Museum uptown, you find a metal skeleton, in a display filled with the skeletons of countless varities of extant cryptids, that looks exactly like your cryptid. It's something called the Mid Atlantic Rushwaurt, quite common in coastal cities. It's rated as sentient, it can't talk due to its face shape, but this creature is theoretically as smart as you.

You decide to start interacting with your cryptid more. Your girlfriend has an office job while you work from home, so you're alone a lot. And it's a small enough house so that you can't avoid him anyway. When you see your cryptid you'll talk to him, tell him about what you're dealing with, though it's still weird to see that razor toothed mouth smile back to you, it's clear he enjoys the company.

You start watching TV with him more, letting his pale wraithlike body sit on your couch in a way you've never expected you'd allow. You'll even pet the flowing black hair ontop of his head if he let's you, or let his twin tails rest upon your legs as you watch.

He isn't a pet though. You know he would bite your head off if you threatened him. And when he leaves you don't ask why, and can't tell him no. Nobody can tell a cryptid no.

You'll show him illustrations you're working on now, he has a good eye for that sort of thing, and you communicate well enough so you can tell what he likes. You're part of a small game studio, and you find that he's a good playtester, especially for things that normal playtesters aren't good at showing because they know too much about games. The cryptid will show you his own art too, sculptures made out of bone and glass, things beautiful in a a way no human could ever create, but so clearly from an intelligent mind.

Eventually you get a visit. It's from the HOA, with a very well dressed woman who you've seen driving an obnoxiously large car telling you that she's here about the cryptid situation. Your house is attached on both sides, people can hear your cryptid on either side of you, and with the communal driveway they can see him sometimes. She tells you to get rid of him or else there will be legal grounds to reposses your house, she sounds serious.

You tell your cryptid that he has to be more quite, that he can't go out in the driveway as much. He doesn't seem to understand. You tell him it isn't your choice.

People keep asking you about your cryptid. You've never really spoken to the neighbors before. You tell them you're doing everything you can. That excuse buys you a few months at least.

Eventually you get another visit. A man in a green uniform is at your door. He's from the New York City Cryptid Protection Agency. You've seen him around the neighborhood, he's a veteran of the Third World War, he takes cryptid control more seriously then anyone else you've met, and he always carries a crossbow. He tells you that you have eight days to deal with the cryptid, you understand how urgent it is with him.

You tell your cryptid that he has to leave. That it's deadly for him to stay here. He doesn't understand what you mean by that. You beg him, explain that you don't have a choice. He doesn't leave, he doesn't understand why you would ever want him to leave.

You take a fire axe in your hands, and tell him in a seriously voice "leave". He hisses at you, but you can see fear in his eyes. You swing the axe at him, not to hurt him, just to make him afraid. He runs, you're not sure if he spared you or if he was afraid of you. You'll never see him again.

You still leave food out for him at first. It's weird thinking he isn't there. It's lonely being at home without him, and you don't have anyone you can show illustrations you're working on to.

The neighborhood thinks you're a hero, you chased away a cryptid with an axe. You can't explain to anyone how you aren't.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

The Escape

@ghouljams x OC Dove (can be read as female reader since no description is given)

When given the opportunity you run at the first chance at freedom. What you didn't expect was to be stalked by someone other than Soap. And on Halloween Night out of all days.

Words: 3.4k

Non canon event set in my Slasher!Soap Au.

Warnings: MDNI, mention of past trauma, mention of past relationship abuse, PTSD, guilt and shame in regards to involuntary arousal. Fluff at the end. Hugs and kisses, Ghoul chasing Dove but being sweet to her afterwards.

With the railing holding you upright you watch as the doors to the train shut tightly only a second after you ran onboard. Your heart pounds against your rib cage, unsettling your skeleton. But you placate it with deep breaths for the time being. A huff of disbelief comes out of your mouth as the train begins moving.

You made it! You actually made it!

A generic female voice rings out over the intercoms breaking you out of your short lived celebration. The digital clock on the train door showed 22:45. The last train out of the city. Your first and final chance at escaping him. A cold sweat runs down your spine while you contemplate if you made the right decision. What if he finds you? You shake your head to dispel the negative thoughts. You didn't want to focus on what ifs. Right now you're far away from him and safe. And that was all you wanted to focus on.

…Go over the Checklist…Your mind rattles at you but you ignore it in favour of finding a seat before you collapse. Your heel clad feet wobble from the pain of running in them, but thankfully you managed to steady yourself with a handrail as bodies bump into you. It was Halloween so this kind of behaviour was to be expected. At least it made it somewhat easier to hide among the crowds.

…Go over the Checklist…It felt like worms were digging into your brain. It made you want to claw at your hair but you refrained yourself. And all the running you did recently wasn't helping your predicament either. Exhaustion was settling into your bones. So you find yourself slouching in your chair from fatigue.

Worse yet more drunk adults stumble from another carriage as the train picks up speed. The smell of alcohol was prevalent in the air. It made your nose scrunch up in disgust. You didn't bother looking. Your head stayed down as you continued to ignore your pestering thoughts. Too afraid to be reminded of him. That plastic mask was haunting you even now. Even when you're so far away from him.

You wanted to go to a place where you'd never have to encounter it ever again. This was the start of a new beginning for you and you didn't want those memories haunting you anymore.

…GO OVER THE CHECKLIST…The throbbing in your head continued. Anxiety was eating up at your sanity. Your stomach churned every time you caught glimpses of the mask. It was such a generic costume but the memories it brought back were less than pleasant.

What made you feel worse was that you felt out of place. Everyone was dressed up for Halloween while you were clad in your office clothes, your bag clutched tightly to your chest.

This was all you could afford to bring. Personal documents, some sentimental items and money. Everything else was left behind. Not that you had much to begin with.

You didn't have anyone you could go to for help. On the plus side that meant there was no one Soap could hurt to get to you. You were alone, like you've always have been. And that made leaving all the more simple. It wasn't like you had an attachment to your apartment, or to your university, or even to your job. You were just going through the motions rather than living. Maybe meeting Soap was the key to you finally taking the leap to start your life all over again. Though you did have to suffer a lot to get to this stage. But you were glad to be finally here.

…Go over the checklist…*Sigh* You've gone over the checklist possibly over hundreds of times in the last 8 hours. Yet your mind was still uneasy. So much so that it was causing you severe headaches. Eventually you relent and go over it one more time just to pacify your anxiety.

1. Empty bank account.

Your mind recalls the first time you ever took out a large sum of your savings.

“What’s the money for Dove?”, his inquisitive eyes bore into yours as you watch him go through your work bag for something.

“Just a down payment on tuition…”, your voice shook but he didn't question you further after fishing out the keys to your apartment. You had a feeling that he was going to make a copy for himself sooner or later.

Hiding the money wasn't easy but you got better at it as time went on. The bank cards have long been discarded. You weren't going to risk using them just in case he could track them.

2. Gather documents

“Ah holiday would be noice right Dove? How about somewhere warm, like Italy?”, you look at him wearily. His forest ‘dates’ were bad enough you didn't want to think about what he could do to you in another country.

“... I don't have a passport…and I can't afford to get one right now.. maybe next year?”, you lie through the skin of your teeth. In actuality you had hidden your documents somewhere safe.

“Well ah can pay for it”, you shook your head even after seeing the disappointment in his eyes. You didn't want him spending money on you constantly. It would just make it harder to leave in the future.

He took you to a cabin instead. Which ended in you taking an extended ‘sick’ leave when he had brought you back home…It wasn't a good experience.

3. Leave no trace behind. No electronics, no phone.

This day was meticulously planned. Well… as much as it could be. You've been wanting to leave for a while now but you never had everything in place to just up and leave. He had told you earlier this morning that he had a tradition with his teammates that they do every Halloween. He didn't go into detail but you could only imagine what horrors he was committing right now with them.

“Ah’ll make it up tae ye Dove, promise. But ah can't miss out today. Ah’ve left some money for food so ye can order something nice when ye get back from work. Love ye. I'll be back in a couple days.”

And just like that he had left you with a kiss.

But you hadn't gone home after work. Nor did you ever plan to. You know he had cameras installed in certain places. Though you've gotten better at hiding from them.

The first thing you did was change into your spare work clothes that you keep at your work desk and you felt from the back entrance where there were no cameras. With your phone left behind and nothing else on your body to trace you with, you try to calm your mind about the ‘what ifs’ circling around in your tumultuous mind.

There's been a nagging itch in your ear making you want to look over your shoulder every other second. But you force yourself to remain still. You force yourself to remain deceptively calm. You preferred not to draw attention to yourself. It was too critical in a moment like this. The worst thing you could do is draw attention to yourself right now. You needed to blend in, you needed to disappear into the background.

Staring out the window gave you some solace. But it was short lived as the train had already reached its first stop. You watch as more costume clad people pile in from your peripheral vision. Yet your eyes stay firmly fixed on a spot outside as you refuse to trigger yourself by accidently looking at the masked people. You couldn't handle them anymore. Too many unresolved feelings were associated with the masks. You could already feel slick coating your underwear as flashes from your ‘dates’ reenter your mind.

You shut your eyes briefly. Prioritising getting your breathing under control rather than focusing on your body's reaction to things you clearly shouldn't find arousing. You felt disconnected from your body, disjointed from your emotions and sexuality. Almost as if it wasn't you in the body you possessed. Or it was just the shame of getting off on your own abuse.

With a final exhale you open your eyes again only to be met with that awful white mask you despised with every fibre of your being. But also the same mask you have learned to fear so much.

Your body freezes, it shuts down completely. Your movement becomes impaired. You stare at the reflection in the glass of the window in horror and utter devastation. Tears obstruct your vision as the masked person just stares back at you through the reflection, not uttering a single word.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! There was nowhere to run…

The initial shock wears off quickly when the smell of faint flowers enters your nose. It's such a unique smell.

That wasn't Soaps cologne.

Your mind takes a minute to catch up but when it finally calms down enough, you look closely at the reflection, still too afraid to face the person directly. Minor details become more apparent. Like the physique of the person. They were too skinny to be Soap. Soaps shoulders were broad. Very broad. They would bulge in everything he wore.

More details emerge the longer you look. A gold chain dangles from the person's neck. A distinct tarot pendant hung from the delicate chain. Soap would never wear something like that. It was in direct opposition to his signature silver cross. One that you have become too acquainted with over time.

This person wasn't him.

When the realisation finally hits you, you breathe out a sigh of relief. You quickly wipe away any fallen tears as you muster up as much courage as you can before standing up and excusing yourself as quickly as possible. You clutch your bag to your chest like a shield. Not that it would do much to protect you when needed. But you were using it as a security blanket regardless. The person doesn't say anything but does give you room to leave your seat.

You don't look back while hastily making your escape to another carriage.

It was a shame you didn't look behind you one last time. Because if you had you would have seen the person cock their head to the side as if entertained by your odd reactions.

-

Some time goes by and you spend most of the journey with your head down low and your eyes averted. Luckily no one bothered you. They were too busy in their own little worlds.

You just needed to get to the last stop and everything would be fine. You'll figure things out from there.

As time went on the carriages became less and less populated. By the last three stops there were only a handful of people left. And as another stop arrives. The last few remaining people in your carriage get off, leaving you by your lonesome.

It was eerily quiet, only the rattling of the train could be heard. But you pushed your anxiety down along with your unreasonable emotions.

You were fine…you were safe. You repeat those words until you start believing them yourself.

With time to kill you take out a bus pamphlet just a double check when the next bus is coming. You know there'll be a long wait until it arrives but you just have to make do with the situation you found yourself in. The first bus would arrive at 5:30am and all you had on you was a thin coat. Which wasn't even that warm. But hopefully the train station would shelter you from some of the cold in the night air.

An announcement goes over the intercom indicating the next stop arriving in ten minutes. Surprisingly time was moving quickly. You didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. But the quicker you left this place. The quicker you would be to safety.

A minute goes by and you pick at the skin of your nails just to keep yourself busy. Your nails scrape against your delicate flesh, creating a tear that stings. But you continue picking at it despite the pain.

Another couple minutes goes by and you hear the carriage door open. You keep your head down not interested in who has walked in or why. It isn't until you smell a very familiar floral scent that you realise maybe this isn't a stranger you should ignore.

They stop and take the seat across from you. You see this all in your peripheral vision still unable to make eye contact with them. You stay quiet as your nails dig deeper into your palms while your anxiety spikes.

The best thing you could do was to wait it out and get off at the next stop if the person didn't leave but the glint of sharp silver reflected off the glossy train table instantly had your mind plummet into a frenzy. Your body begins to shake from fear but you're unable to control it.

Your hands become clammy, anxiety makes its way up your throat causing a lump to form. Air became harder to breathe but you didn't know what to make of the situation. Your thighs rubbed together as slick dampens your sheer tights. It was an involuntary reaction to the possibility of a weapon.

You didn't have control over your body when you got like this. Your face heats with guilt and shame but you keep your head down, nails digging in further into your palm as you draw blood.

A mellow voice rings out, very different to Soaps. Much more calming, and possibly a lot more deceptive. You couldn't manage to hear what they're saying though. The words wouldn't register in your brain. It was too busy trying to find the quickest exit. All you wanted to do now was run.

With everything going on today you felt so inundated that tears brimmed in your eyes all over again. There was a minute left before the train arrived at its next destination. But those couple seconds were like Hell on earth. You heard their voice but nothing was registering. Your head felt like it was submerged underwater.

The announcement from the intercom cuts through your thoughts as you finally look up to face the person sitting across from you yet you're still unable to say anything. Your lip trembles as tears stream down your face. You wanted to ask so many questions. But most of all you want to ask, why did it have to be you?

When the doors to the train finally open your legs move on their own even though this wasn't your stop. You run. You run like your life depends on it ignoring the calls from the stranger following you.

Since you were on the last carriage you were dropped off at the end of the platform. The station comes into view but it's dark and the platform is empty apart from you. You run towards it hoping the person behind you decided you were too much trouble to chase.

As you get closer you realise this station was abandoned. The doors and window were boarded up. It was just a drop off point rather than a train station anymore.

There was nothing nearby. All that surrounded the station was trees and a road across the parking lot. There's no ticket booth, no toilets, no workers. Everything was closed off. All you can see is a passage to an empty parking lot save for a lone car. You didn't even know if there were any bus stops nearby.

You realise too late you've made a mistake by getting off. This was possibly the worst location you could have gotten off on. Looking back you race to see if you can get back on the train in time. But the train has long gone and all that is left is a dark silhouette watching you from the platform you ran from…

-

This wasn't how you envisioned your great escape to be like. The night shrouded the forest in darkness. Even with the moon shining you couldn't see anything. But you had to run, you had no other choice. Just like how Soap tormented you, you yet again find yourself being chased by God knows who. At least with Soap you knew why he was chasing you. With this person you had absolutely no information on what they wanted from you.

Was this how you were going to die? Was this the end? And worse yet on the night of your escape? The night you were supposed to gain freedom…

Tears obstruct your vision as frustration bleeds through your emotions. You just wanted a good life. In the end all you got was this. You run left hoping to find some shelter or an assemblance of civilization. But what you're met with is a steep incline one that you wouldn't be able to climb even if you tried, especially not in the darkness. You lay your head against the rock in defeat. Tears flow freely as you cry your heart out against the stones. Maybe some forest spirit would take mercy on you if you pleaded with them to take you away before your untimely demise.

You hear leaves and twigs crunch and snap behind you, indicating your chaser's arrival. You cry harder hiccuping out your pleas. Yet you don't know if that would spurs them on or deter them from killing you. Soap certainly liked you begging. You didn't know if crying was working in your favour or spurring on your passing.

“P-please *hiccup* please…no no..no please don't hurt me *hiccup*.” you make yourself small against the stones, trying your best to shield yourself from harm.

You felt a warm body press against your back. You waited for the pain to come. You waited for things to finally end. Maybe at least this way you'd be able to find peace…

But pain doesn't come, no type of hurt befalls you. Instead you feel arms wrap up around you in a warm embrace.

“Shhhh sweetheart, I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you so much. You're ok.” The person turns you around as they wipe away your tears gently with their glove covered hands. There's no weapon in sight. Their familiar scent of sweet florals invades your senses as they hold too close to their chest. They rock you side to side until your hiccups quiet down and the tears dry up. But your eyes still sting from all the crying you did today.

“Such a good girl. So brave. So pretty when you cry. ” You gaze at them with hazy vision. It's been a long day and you're drowsy. Your eyes must be red from all the crying and exhaustion.

The head pats and gentle rubs weren't helping your drowsiness. You feel yourself leaning into their touch. You felt your mind drifting into a dreamy headspace. You knew it was wrong, you knew you shouldn't be doing this with a stranger. Let alone with someone who just chased you for the fun of it. But you couldn't help yourself. You were having an endorphin crash. Plus, you haven't received comfort like this in such a long time. Soap is usually only sweet after hurting you in some way. You didn't like being in pain. You didn't like being punished.

“Close your eyes Dove, I'll take care of you tonight.” Like a good girl, you do as you're told. You hear the shuffle of fabric before you feel soft tender lips press to your forehead. You involuntarily bury your face into their neck as you feel them rub circles on your back.

“Let's get you in the car to warm up. You're freezing.” You just nod as they lead you back to the station with your eyes closed. This was such an odd beginning to your new found freedom. Yet you can't seem to mind too much. You liked the warm hugs and head pats. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all…

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[voidandabyssal]

Hihi! I was hoping to put in a reqest?

In this, may I ask for underrale bros, underfell, and horrortale? (Underswap to if yiu are willing to do them)

In this, they have been dating reader(Female or male) for about 5-6 years, and they have been comfortable. Reader decided on the 7th anniversary that they go somewhere romantic. (Like Rome, Pairs, etc.) And when it's the last night there, BOOM! The Propose. No warning, no message, nothing. They made sure it was perfect to. Lights, music, favorite foods, perfect.

How will they act? Will they reject the reader or accept?

Hehe this is cute!!

Also I only do four characters per request, so I kept it to that

Red (uf sans):

Funnily enough, red had been working up the nerve to propose to you the entire trip.

He had kept the box tucked away in his back pocket. Every time he reached for it, something seemed to go wrong

Well, either that, or he suddenly just lost the courage to pop the question.

So when you do propose, red breathes a sigh of relief. Though he is a little embarrassed that you’re the one doing it and not him.

Of course he also accepts. He sweeps you up into a bear hug and kisses you

He’s pretty shocked you managed to organise those whole thing without him noticing

Red isn’t going to admit it, but he is incredibly excited for all the wedding planning (ngl he is the bridezilla out of the two of you)

Edge (uf papyrus):

First of all, congratulations on managing to surprise him. Edge is very rarely caught off guard.

But seeing you down on one knee, ring in hand, his mind goes blank

For a moment he stands there not speaking, his mouth dropped open in shock before he quickly sweeps you off your feet

Not one to be stood up, Edge quickly grabs the ring he had bought for you, and had planned to propose with and slips it on your finger as he kisses you

This is truly going to be one of Edges favourite memories. He’ll insist on enjoying as much time together that night

Ignore him if he gets a little weepy! Ignore the tears! They aren’t real! In fact they are a figment of your imagination!!

biggest bridezilla out of these four. Edge is a menace to your poor wedding planner

Axe (ht sans):

Axe can be pretty clueless at times, a traumatic skull injury will do that to you. So he’s pretty much kept completely in the dark

You probably organised this to be somewhere familiar to him, maybe where you first met, Grillbys bar, even just your home

Somewhere safe and welcoming, where Axe doesn’t constantly feel watched or threatened

The moment you propose to Axe is the best moment of his life

Years of survival and suffering all worth it for this one moment

He pulls you in to kiss you. A loud rumbling purr emanates from his chest as he nuzzles at you.

Every time he looks down and spots the ring on his finger he’s enveloped with love. Axe always go searching for you right after for kisses and cuddles

Get ready for a few very affectionate and loving couple of weeks

Honestly you could have proposed to him with a ring pop and he would treat it like it was the biggest most sparkling diamond he had ever seen

Crooks (ht papyrus):

Crooks had a sneaking suspicion you were up to something

You had employed Axe to help you organise everything. Sadly Axe isn’t the hardest or most helpful worker around.

So some things got left lying in plain sight, including the engagement box of all things

Crooks decides to play dumb, let you sort out whatever you’re doing

The moment you propose is pure magic

Crooks bursts into tears, sobbing out a very loud “YES” as he lets you put the ring on his finger

Seeing the giant skeleton break down into tears, you feared he was going to reject you

So it was a relief to have him pull you into a kiss

You have to convince him to not haul you to the courthouse right then and there. Crooks would get married under any circumstances, even if you can’t afford a lavish wedding. Crooks is just so glad to spend the rest of his life with his soulmate

[landoffreaksandfrogs]

what type of youtubers would the trolls be? Karkat would definitely make rants and reviews of romance movies, Kanaya would make makeup or fashion tutorials, Sollux has an IT channel he made so people stop bugging him (nobody ever bothers checking it instead of asking him)

quick spitballed ideas bc this is such a cute prompt

aradia - reviews of inaccurate halloween decoration skeletons. theyre not rated on anatomical accuracy but by how much swag they have. most of her other videos are short clips of her livevlogging her day and telling short stories, but shes funny and witty so they do numbers. very low effort and low cost, but shes having fun.

tavros - CARD PACK UNWRAPPING. guy who in no way can afford his hobby but keeps getting these card packs for his channel. surprisingly relaxing to listen to while you have him minimized in another tab while you do something else. he goes over each card in the deck and their effects as well as rarity.

sollux - basically what you said. IT guide on walking through common computer problems. horrible mic quality, but really helpful information.

karkat - ABSOLUTELY would be a movie reviewer. no facecam but for whatever reason has CRISP mic quality. somehow NEVER peaks his mic despite all the screaming he does. he loves media analysis and getting pissed off over fandom drama so hed probably also do breakdowns of scandals in fandom spheres, and somehow almost getting sued.

nepeta - SPEEDPAINTS. and like. flipnote hatena style amvs. obviously very amateur but its a very cute art style and she has no concept of copyright infringement.

kanaya - makeup tutorials and fashion reviews. would definitely be like that one youtuber who reviews the accuracy of historical fiction dresses in film and tv. everytime the virgin mothergrub is in the background of her videos her comments are spammed with "MOTH MOM REAL"

terezi - animated shitposts. like. grinchs ultimatum, garfielf, shit like that. REALLY bright colors and shitty linework with windows moviemaker transitions. no one knows who she is and shes never done a face reveal so shes a total enigma. there are deep web theories that her videos are anti-empire propaganda.

vriska - flarping tutorials. genuinely. she goes over mechanics, spells, class breakdowns, even shares stories of her own flarp campaigns. VERY passionate about it and kind of has an asshole youtuber persona. posts an apology video like once a month then goes on like nothing happened. replies to every mean comment.

equius - weightlifting videos. dead silent. just grunting and metal clanking. no editing. addresses every comment in every video. lots of heavy breathing. very uncomfortable. almost like performance art in how desolate it feels.

gamzee - cooking videos. its as bad as it sounds.

eridan - showing off everything in his hive and talking about it. his guns. his outfits. ranting about pollution. each video is an hour long. its mostly just him complaining or bragging about the stuff he owns.

feferi - has a live feed of her cuttlefish pen going constantly. posts animal care videos. posts music. does challenges. her youtube is kind of an inconsistent mish-mash of content but one thing remains: you will watch her cuttlefish.

[cinebration]

The Darkling’s Shadow (The Darkling x Reader) [Part 5]

The Darkling makes a decision.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

Tagged: @don-daygamerz​​, @weallhaveadestiny​​, @kaqua​​, @sinful-wxrld​​, @ashdab2611​​, @ultarviolence​​, @chodingcreature​​, @demonenotturno​​, @crowssixof​​, @mxacegrey​​, @dreamlandcreations​​, @s-r-reads​​, @byulsrecs​​, @peleksstuff​​, @seraferna​​, @imtherain​​, @vex-et-soleil​​, @rayrlupin​​, @peakyispunk​​, @itsyaspwr​​, @adajoemaya​​, @b1bbles, @rockintensse​​, @adharanotfound, @allinestarr​​​

Warnings: mention of blood, body horror

Gif Source: ethanhunt

Shock and fear broke the Darkling’s iron composure, his hands instinctively drawing together to perform the Cut. You didn’t so much as flinch, staring at him with eerie, unblinking eyes as though trying to drive the force of your conviction into his skull.

He didn’t complete the movement, leaving the Cut unfinished and melting back into the shadows.

“Now,” you said, your voice low, as though you were struggling to restrain it, “while you waste time coming to the right decision, I will go on ahead and clear the fort of Fjerdans.”

Without so much as a backward glance, you pivoted sharply on your heel and stalked off in the direction of Ulensk. The horses had bolted during the fray, long since gone and out of sight.

The Darkling watched your back until you disappeared behind the trees, once again entertaining the idea of slicing you in half not only for your insolence but for the fear you instilled in him. The feeling was shockingly cold, shriveling his insides and freezing his lungs. His breath tore raggedly from his chest.

If Baghra were there, she would say, “You cannot afford to make an enemy of this woman. Either kill her or bring her into the fold.”

Neither option was preferable to his fear-clouded mind. You knew who he actually was, but rather than flinch and fear him, you had placed the Black Heretic on some kind of pedestal. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would had been like if you had been there during the creation of the Fold. Instead of Baghra’s “What have you done?” you might have stared at the black shadow unfolding across the land with wonder in your eyes and said what the Darkling had most needed to hear in that moment: “Beautiful.”

The thought of it sent a thrill through him. He didn’t have to be General Kirigan in front of you. He didn’t have to temper his words or feign scorn for his “ancestor.” He didn’t have to hide his true plans, centuries in the making, to keep the Grisha from fearing his vision of the future before it had come to pass.

Shouts rose up in the distance, followed immediately by screams.

The Darkling listened to the swelling sounds of violence and death. For a brief moment, as high-pitched screams rent the quiet of the woods, he heard something harmonious in the sound. What had you said that first day? A symphony of their bones…

Perhaps you were right. Perhaps he did need a fanatic, someone utterly devoted to him and his cause. Someone who would do anything without asking why, who would destroy and silence for him while he maintained the aloof composure of a general above it all, his boogeyman operating in the shadows behind him.

The Darkling set off toward the fort, following your footsteps in the snow.

He arrived to find you dispatching one last Fjerdan. The man, fueled by terror and adrenaline, threw himself pell-mell at you. You lunged forward, your hand slapping across his bearded face, and yanked the skeleton from his flesh. Gore splattered over your kefta as the body separated from its bones, a sickening, vile sound splitting the silence. Tossing the skeleton aside with one hand, you wiped your palms on your kefta and turned to face the Darkling.

He surveyed the carnage in mute fascination. “Is this what the other Fjerdans looked like that first day we met?”

“It was more…artful,” you answered, waving your hand about in a vague gesture. “Staged to achieve maximum shock and awe, as they say.”

“You know the value of spectacle.”

“I know the importance of dramatic delivery,” you countered.

“Is that all?” The Darkling stepped around a corpse. “Do you know the value of discretion? Of subtlety?”

“I am capable of it, although I don’t prefer it.”

“You don’t mind being the subject of fear and hatred? You don’t mind the whispers they will speak of you?”

“One doesn’t develop this kind of skill and worry about what others will say. If anything, if they don’t fear and hate me, I will consider myself a failure.”

“Even among Grisha?”

“I am not here for the Grisha.”

The Darkling fixed his gaze on you. You met his stare without flinching once more, letting him bear the weight of your full gaze.

“In four hundred years, you are unlike any Grisha I have ever seen,” he said. The words slipped past his lips unbidden, a truth he didn’t bother twisting or concealing.

“That is the point.”

A faint smile tugged on his lips despite himself. Shaking his head, he schooled his expression into a stern mask. “I don’t deal well with insubordinates.”

“Then don’t give me any orders for me to react to with insubordination.”

“I need to know that I can trust you to do what I ask and how I want it.”

Wiping your hands together again, dried blood flaking off your palms, you countered, “I’m not allowed to have disagreements? To suggest alternatives? Isn’t that what proper counsel does?”

The Darkling frowned. “Now you aim to be one of my strategists? What happened to being my shadow?”

“In some cultures, the shadow is believed to be one’s second self. Or one’s demon. Either way, I have a voice, and I didn’t come all this way to be silenced when you need my expertise most.”

“And why do I need your expertise most now?”

“Can’t you feel it?” You inhaled deeply, as though you could taste it on the air. “The change? Something is coming, and you need to be ready.”

Unease slithered through his guts. “What’s coming?”

A beatific smile split your face. “Your chance for more power.”

A sharp thrill shot up the Darkling’s spine, compounded by the unnerving expression on your face. For a moment, you were darkly beautiful, terrifying and awe-inspiring.

The Darkling slowly stepped forward and extended his hand to you. Eyebrow arching, you slipped your hand in his, your palm rough and your fingers strong as they clasped for a shake.

“Call me Aleksander.”

[cure-icy-writes]

Okay so. A lot of people have been making cute little dungeon meshi aus where it's modern, but specifically the cast lives in one place. Figured I should maybe share mine?

Anyways. Dungeon Meshi but it's midwestern.

-Senshi, i think, is a regular presence in the church but is the kind of christian that the pastor has beef with. He has an apron with two fish and five loaves of bread on it, and can be found at pretty much every barbecue and church potluck. No one's sure if he's really devoted to jesus or just heard the story of a guy feeding an entire crowd and started showing up to church to feed people. He has caused two married men to have their bisexual awakenings.

-The town they all live in has an extremely high density of restaurants, meaning the only thing to do around there is go out to eat. The gang goes out to eat new places a lot together!

-Izutsumi is a warrior cats kid who was probably bullied for hissing and biting the other kids. The gang recognizes that she's not mean, she's just badly socialized and also seventeen. She lives in a group home, but has been running away less ever since she got promised regular meals.

-Related: Chilchuk is a union guy who is covertly making sure every restaurant they go to is up to code. He keeps shutting down places for not having adequate safety measures for their employees.

-Izutsumi has decided she's going to hang out with Chilchuk sometimes and will stop by his workplace. He's insistent that he's not adopting any more children, but has been teaching her how to budget, how to lie convincingly enough to get a job, and the most ethical places to shoplift from with the fewest risks because she's going to steal things anyways.

-Marcille has never been to a cornfield in her life. She's a Chicago kid, who really misses her deep dish pizza and that really good Italian place, but she's here to study some rare microorganisms.

-Marcille studies a very weird field of medicine that involves looking for medical uses in odd places. She's looking to eliminate class divides in lifespan by trying to find more affordable medicines for diseases that primarily affect the lower class.

-Her father died of asbestos poisoning from working in unsafe conditions when she was a kid, so she's especially alert for it, and gets a little neurotic around flu season.

-Laios and Falin used to go to the creek behind their house all the time to catch crawdads, and sometimes he'll still do it for old time's sake.

-Laios flunked out of college because they couldn't handle his autism rizz. He's going to trade school for the culinary arts, but he keeps trying to cook things he shouldn't.

-Laios checked out the massive dragon books from the library and cried when he found out they weren't real.

-He does furry commissions online, but he's not the best with customer negotiations and keeps wondering how many nipples someone's fursona has. Chilchuk helped him build his profile to appeal to commissioners who like speculative biology.

-Falin watched her brother flunk and went "hm, I think I will not." she's an apprentice at a local gardening shop. You think she's a normal sweet cottagecore kind of girl but then she starts gushing about soil nutrients and sustainability and you realize. Oh. Oh this is the kind of girl who would romanticize being buried under a tree and having it consume her bones.

-Laios wears shirts with anatomically correct dinosaur skeletons on them, but he has to order them online and frequently complains that there are no good clothing shops nearby. Senshi heard him say this, and introduced him to fabric paint.

[kaeso4ka]

Optimus is dissecting your human body

Pairing: yandere Optimus Prime x reader

Optimus hovered over the platform, gazing into the painfully familiar human features. You were beautiful. You were perfect, as you always were.

And so was your body, which didn't contain your mind. Ratchet had called it a corpse, but Optimus thought otherwise. No part of you could be dead. No part of you.

That's why he was here. And that's why he lied to you and Ratchet: your organic body wasn't destroyed at all. Optimus didn't want that. Why would he? Why destroy this beauty?

But it was also dangerous and... Not as interesting to leave it in its familiar form. Optimus had long felt the urge to find out exactly what Eve's organic body was hiding inside of her. The Cybertronian could easily expose any part, even the Spark, while humans were beyond his control. And Optimus wanted to. Wanted to know what was inside you. What your soul and body were hiding.

There was no obstacle to that now. The merger would soon take place, but the body...

Optimus transformed the manipulator into a blade. A combat upgrade might not be suitable for operating on organics, but operating on you with something other than your own body Prime considered sacrilege. Oh, no. He must feel. To feel the way his Spark's flesh cut through like a thin layer of metal.

Optimus had purposely sharpened the blade in a way he hadn't sharpened it in the entire war. Optimus thought long and hard about where to begin. Everything drew him in, beckoned to him, and all he could do was blow air through the ventilation systems at high volume.

The blade swept across your forehead, thin drops of blood trickling down, staining the unnaturally pale skin. The scalp came off easily. Optimus watched with interest as the thin layer of red film hid the skull. White against the red.

Prime carefully sliced the scalp off, setting it aside. Thoughtfully examined your head.

The next stage was the eyes: Optimus couldn't afford not to look into them at least once a joor. Therefore, he really wanted to keep it.

The tip of the blade lifting the closed eyelid, digging under the eyeball. It's exquisite workmanship. Optimus never thought he'd do a job like this, but he couldn't let you down and mess it up. So he calculated every move, every gesture.

The first eyeball protruded from the eye socket, and Optimus carefully began to cut away the tendons. Slowly, in no hurry. When the eyeball was finally separated from the body, Optimus held it up to his optics. The brown pupil stared at him silently.

Optimus smiled at your gaze, and then proceeded to the other eye. This one was quicker to do.

Optimus moved a little and pressed on your jaw. Your mouth opened obediently, and the mech immediately hooked your tongue with his fingers. He pulled it back a little, and with a second manipulator he cut off your tongue. Optimus really liked to hear you talk, and to neglect that organ would be... Just awful.

Optimus examined the result he'd gotten. You looked at him with empty eye sockets and the bloody yawn of an empty mouth.

Optimus wanted what was hiding behind your skull. Your brain.

But Optimus was thinking. He so wanted your whole skeleton. In order to do that, it had to be stripped completely of meat, muscle, fat, internal organs. At these thoughts, Optimus' motor sounded louder, more satisfied: the process would be long. Now the blade rested against your sternum. It pressed down, burrowing inward, but without damaging your lungs or ribs.

Optimus moved the arm downward, revealing your chest, abdomen, and pelvic organs. Beautiful. You were as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside.

A riot of red, burgundy, yellow, and even purple, that's how Optimus saw your inner world. Prime noted with frustration that to get to your lungs and heart, you'd have to break your ribs.

Those hid the things Optimus needed with their whitish cage. But that's okay.

Optimus would rebuild the skeleton afterward.

The sound with which each rib broke, separating from you, Prime could only compare to a prayer. The blade moved with even more care.

Optimus cut through the heart sac, slicing through aortas and tendons, wanting to get to the heart.

Your heart was... Prime, it was what Optimus had spent so long conquering. Prime took a few long brims to look at what once drove blood through your veins, and then brought it up to your dermis, kissing it. A trail of blood was immediately imprinted on the soft metal. But that's okay.

Optimus will lick it off later. Right after he got the lungs. The stomach. Liver. The intestinal tubes. And the uterus and ovaries. And Optimus won't leave anything inside you untouched.

“What the hell are you doing in there!!!” you banged your fist loudly several times against the automatic doors leading to Optimus' compartment. His private compartment, not their shared one. “Ratchet is calling for you. He refuses to take me for a physical on this stupid hull and my Spark without you present.”

Optimus immediately switched gears: contacting your past body was intriguing, but contacting your new hull and asset... It was infinitely times better.

“Give me five minutes, my Spark,” Optimus hurries into the purifier. He doesn't want to wash you off of him at all, but if he doesn't, you yourself... Once again, you'll be afraid. Reject. You won't understand.

Outside the door, you hummed quietly in response. The familiar smell of metal and... Meat? But you immediately dismissed those thoughts.

Where on Cybertron would meat and blood come from?

[southparktegreity]

south park ; [main 4+ butters] + s/o who draws !

NOTICE : all characters are aged up to their 19/20's!

CW : mentions of drinking (stans part), otherwise none

stan :

i get the impression stan would be really supportive! i feel like he would help you come up with things creatively

he would definitely ask you to draw like the skeleton hands on his hands

out of all the boys, i think he'd be the most interested in learning how to draw or alternatively learning how to draw specific things

i feel like it might end up being a healthy way to express his emotions, ie through vent art instead of drinking

i also think he'd like to paint more than any other medium, probably oil painting? but he uses the cheap acrylic ones whenever he's making vent art since oil paint is expensive

"hey... thanks again y/n for teaching me how to paint.. - it's really helped me."

kyle :

again, very supportive

though he probably would have minor concerns if you started to consider being an artist as your main job? i think he'd be worried about you making money so he might try and help you start an etsy shop or a redbubble or something so people could support you on something other than commissions :)

if you did that with him he'd definitely help you package and ship things out to your customers

whenever you and him babysit ike, you guys all three play pictionary !!!

they both think you're cheating lol

"isn't this like - cheating?! you're too good at this!"

kenny :

i feel like kenny would also want to learn like stan, specifically because he wants to draw you and karen together with him ! he’d probably wanna give it to you and her as a gift since he can’t afford other things

would definitely want you to draw on him, anywhere you want. i could definitely see him wanting you to make him some tattoo art or smth

karen would also probably want you to teach her how to draw

so you and kenny and karen all sit down together and teach them some simple stuff !!

kenny ends up drawing the life he imagines for you and karen, beautiful house - pretty garden - all the works. and of course, most importantly - you both with him

"well... here's the garden, and here's the house... and if you look inside this window right here... you can find you me and karen."

cartman :

as with everything you do, cartman will probably make fun of you, saying something about your “gay drawings”

we all know he secretly loves watching you draw

i feel like he would really like watching the process of you drawing? like he doesn’t care about what it is, but rather the whole process itself

if you take too long though he’ll start to complain

will probably beg you to draw either ‘the racoon’ fanart OR making him x kyles mom fanart

he'll end up commissioning you if you say no

"um. y/nnn. are your requests open? you see, there's this really neat superhero - you'd love him - that i want you to draw for me. he's VERY kewl.... you should - like.. draw him for me... what do you mean i have to pay you?"

butters :

butters DEFINITELY loves it!

i feel like you both would do art trades, except he'd feel a bit bad since he doesn't have the best skill - so he'd make it up to you by buying you a sketchbook or something

i think he also loves the feeling of being drawn on, and looking down at his hands and stuff to find drawings of hello kitty and him that you made ! he would practically MELT - but he’d probably be too shy to ask you to do it

definitely has gotten grounded for your drawings on him

i also feel like he totally shows off all your drawings to cartman and everyone

"well, heya fellas! look at what my partner drew on me! ain't it pretty? :)"

[lily-alphonse]

hey could we pretty please have some more of Marlon x Rasmodius!! Pls ?

love ur writing btw!!

hmm alright but only because Im quite sad this ship didn't win the poll and you asked so nicely

I was looking over the outline I laid out and I think I can expand into a scene for it. I'm thinking mainly this point:

Marlon tries to be buddy buddy with him and Ras is not about it. Like bro do your job protecting the valley and shut up pls.

It's Spirit's Eve. The one festival that Marlon and Rasmodius both take part in.

Rasmodius is handling all of the work himself. Marlon is a glorified safety net. A nuisance deemed necessary by the powers that be.

Marlon is meant to be patrolling the monster cages and yet tracks down Rasmodius, who was trying so hard to blend into the shadow of a tree off to the side.

The wizard bites back a sigh, which is really as much politeness as he'll afford the monster hunter.

"Evening, Rasmodius," Marlon drawls.

Rasmodius does not answer. He's more than capable of continuing to hold the forcefield shield and talk at the same time, but what if he wasn't? They were working. Marlon always had these ridiculous notions of putting up a front of decorum just not required or welcome in their line of work.

"The spell you're using to keep the skeletons docile, is that a sun spell?"

"No," he answers flatly.

The fact that Marlon does not continue the line of questioning speaks to either the wizard's successful intimidation, or that Marlon was simply trying to make conversation. Neither option, as far as Rasmodius is concerned, speak to a particular strong character.

Minutes pass with Marlon lingering silently.

Eventually, Rasmodius grumbles, "Don't you have townsfolk to mingle with?"

"No." It's Marlon's turn to be short.

Rasmodius is somewhat caught off guard. He feels a modicum of something like pity, and then, horror at the flicker of curiosity sparked in him. He almost wants to ask why not, but the last thing he wants is to give him more of a reason to speak.

So they continue to stand shrouded in darkness, watching the townsfolk laugh and scream.

[nixie-writes]

Sir pentious x Michaela(female white demon with two furry tails and yellow eyes,wear black shirt and blue shorts,is aggressive at first but is really just a softie,bisexual,favorite color is black)

Plot:Michaela been at hazbin hotel before Sir pentious and at first,she didn't trust him at first

But after a while,she start to grow soft for him and while having a sleepover with sir pentious,she start to realize something

"Oh crap,I'm in love with this snake door" she thought

(It's the same ask but with plot added in)

Hey! I felt bad when you said you couldn't afford a commission, so I made this a little longer than usual requests. I hope you enjoy this, I tried to include all of the story into one page.

Michaela’s yellow eyes swiveled across the day room of the hotel. Despite Pentious’ efforts to kill Alastor again, it seemed rather safe. She could get used to this. It was paradise. At least, almost paradise, when Vaggie opened the door and revealed Pentious standing in the doorway, a nervous smile on his face. “Why, hello my dear-ack!” Vaggie punched him in the face and aimed her spear at him. Michaela jumped up, tails bushed, her white fur fluffed out to make herself look more threatening.

After Charlie welcomed Pentious in the hotel, Michaela followed him around, watching his every move. He appeared to be looking at some wristwatch a lot. Was it handmade? She wasn’t sure. But he participated in every exercise for the day and he appeared friendly. She still didn’t trust him. 

But after he was exposed to be working with the Vees she launched herself at him, snarling, claws extended. Charlie grabbed Michaela by her shoulders and pulled the white-furred demoness away from Pentious. “This isn’t how we handle things!” She chastised, helping Pentious stand up. Charlie may have forgiven him but Michaela had not. 

Days passed into weeks with nothing new regarding Pentious. He participated in every exercise, he stopped building weapons in the hotel and even made handy gadgets that helped everyday tasks become easier. It was late in the night when Pentious tugged on her black shirt - a black shirt she was proud of. It featured her favorite band in all of Hell - Midnight Rockers. A little peeved that someone touched her favorite shirt she turned around to see Pentious. 

“Ah yes, how do I start this…?” He hummed to himself as he pulled out some note cards. “Miss Michaela, will you uh…join me in a sleepover with the eggies?” It was flabbergasting how bluntly he asked. Fixing her shirt and adjusting her blue shorts she sighed. “Sure, whatever, we’ll see what happens,” she answered with a touch of crassness in her tone. Pentious looked over the moon. “Oh, thank you miss Michaela, you won’t regret it!” He bowed down, pulling his hat down as well, and slithered away excitedly. Michaela rolled her eyes. 

Finally 8 o’clock struck and Michaela held her promise to visit Pentious’ room for a sleepover. He didn’t have much. Just a lot of pillows and blankets, and a television. He tried scanning for a good movie to watch but Michaela wasn’t much into movies. She preferred music, but she knew her generation of music would kill a Victorian era child. They sat together watching some shitty movie about a skeleton sinner and a Hellhound joining forces to make a drug ring. Pentious was asleep almost immediately. Michaela was petting him gently and a sudden thought crossed her mind. 

“Oh god, I have feelings for this slippery dork.”