#bug mention cw

[storybounded]

Hi. It's almost 3:30 in the morning, and my brain can't even think about sleeping right now since it's on guard. I kept hearing the skittering of a big bug somewhere near my bed's headboard, and....YEAH. I blasted everywhere around my bed's edges with bug spray. Always a joy when I can't see it but I HEAR it. So the head says yes to writing for a little bit. Will work on starters that have been given to me recently...maybe some asks.. we'll see how much my brain can manage...

[hasmephydoneanythingwrong]

GILFistopheles conceptualizing.

* (After one too many scuffles with Moriarty) “alright, bet.” [unlocks GILF form for the goof]

* Goes out of his way to treat Abby as a Fran equivalent, since he already gets along with her

* Has real horns, as a treat

* Has a cane sword and claims to be a Lancer for the advantage over Moriarty because “a lance is just a really long sword!”

* Thighs gone. Top 10 anime betrayals

* Was already *so* tall before, has been stretched to the limit

* Still has illusion powers, maybe pretends to be the OG in Traum?

* Silver hair with blue undertones to contrast Moriarty’s silver hair with platinum blond undertones

* Peppers German into casual conversation (I just *really* want this to be canon for Mephi in general already)

* In Chaldea, the two Mephistos are prank partners.

* There isn’t exactly an antonym for “Lily,” so maybe GILFisto would be referred to in-game as “Mephistopheles (Orchid)?”

* Whereas Moriarty has butterflies, GILFistopheles has centipedes, including a *very* long coat trail that resembles the Tick-Tock Bomb

* “How did Mephisto age, anyway?” Like fine wine.

[hexoskeleton-anonymous]

Me looking at what species are safe to bring to Galar or Paldea

[ledybas-the-ledybest]

Source (content warning for unreality, caps lock, flashing images, static, visual glitches, harsh noises, bugs, and shaking footage in the video):

Feel free to use this gif so long as you reblog this post and link back to it!

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

cw: centipede(so lots of limbs), dubcon, yandere behavior

Yandere!centipede hybrid that is always using his multitude of arms to keep you close by, to catch you when you trip, and most importantly, touch every part of you during sex.

One of his limbs is holding you still while another probes your warm cunt, and another set keeps your thighs spread apart so he can have full access to you.

His antennae twitch, rubbing against you as he moves his mouth to your neck. “Be still, love. I don’t want to bite you.”

A centipede hybrid’s bite can either cause mild pain and swelling, or temporary paralysis and act as a mild aphrodisiac.

When you don’t behave, he bites down, waiting for your body to slow before he sinks his cock into your fat pussy.

He only has two hands, his other limbs ending in a full point or tentacle like appendage. The slimy, slippery limbs push into your ass, fucking in and out if you as his cock fucks you in tandem.

It’s overwhelming, feelings so many light touches all over your body, unable to move or do anything… but god it also feels like heaven.

He kissed you, his tongue feeling wet and rough against your own, but weirdly slimy as well. Cum spurts into your womb, and for a moment… all of his limbs stop moving.

“…”

He’s quiet, peering down at you with his cheeks flushed and sweat bedding at his forehead.

Then he smiles, cooing.

“You thought it was over? Oh my little one, it’s just begun.”

———————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @sunset-214 @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @swasti8854 @an-ever-angry-bi

[hexoskeleton-anonymous]

8<o>

:3

always the skitty girls in my inbox. where are the Dewpider Girls

[antikr1sta]

(tw sh/blood/vent art) "i hate it here, i hate the smell and fluorescent lights, but most of all I hate you", he utters, gazing at his own face in the reflection of a dirty mirror; as both are only hanging on by a thread.

blood/injury tw ↓

..yeah.. i really really hate it here

[an-albino-pinetree]

I drew an entire page featuring a doctor who’s very strange and very bad 👍🏻

So, if you needed a prime example of a terrible medical professional, for whatever reason, here you go 🤲🏻

AU Jax featured belongs to @etanow !

[lavendermin]

disasterology | boothill

boothill x reader, mad scientist reader

wc | 1.7k

genre | light banter, ambiguous relationship

warnings | nsfw, artificial cyborg guts, suggestive, body horror, love bug (literally via data transfer), mentions of giving boothill a womb, boothill bluescreens

note | my piece as part of the autumn festival collab hosted by @owlespresso ^^ I’ll probably make a part two to this to squeeze in more banter and get some actual freaky stuff in

“You’re back at my lab… A little soon, no?” The question is thrown at Boothill without a spared glance as you are engrossed in several tasks at once. The Galaxy Ranger makes his way over to your mess of screens and tools by your main work desk, his strides reminiscent of someone a little too comfortable in your bubble.

“Annual checkup. Don’t tell me you forgot already, doc?” Boothill teases with feigned hurt, sharp teeth flashing with his playful grin.

“Not a doctor,” you correct him flatly.

A holo-screen appears before his face, stopping him from nearing your concentrated form. A flurry of data scrolls by and a pop-up appears with a few dates.

With a few final taps you swivel toward him and the screen. “According to your record in my data bank, you’re not due for your checkup for another nine weeks,” you state matter-of-factly. With a few taps and a swipe, the screen is gone and you meet Boothill’s gaze for the first time. “So, what’s the actual reason you’re here? Surely not just a friendly visit to the resident witch or whatever they’re calling me these days on this planet.”

“Recent scrap didn’t end too well. Leg’s been acting up.”

Your eyes scan him briefly, humming in thought as you enter new data and access his file.

“I definitely noticed a few new scratches to your outer shell armor,” you note, speaking more to yourself as you log the new data. “I’ll run some tests and analyze further.”

You roll back in your chair near him, gathering a few tools here and there and holding an emesis basin in front of him. Boothill squints at you in confusion, a frown pulling down his lips in a glimmer of dangerous, sharp teeth.

“Here. Spit them out—all the ammo you have. Now.”

His eyes sharpen, but he relents with a grunt. The metal of the bullets hitting the basin is all that fills the silence as you return to some screens and rummage through rows of drawers and drawers that line the walls.

It’s a chaotically organized yet unorganized lab, to say the least.

“There’s an empty box near you. Go ahead and remove all of your outerwear and any other weapons so we can get started,” you instruct as you prepare a table nearby.

Boothill begins to protest. “Doc, it’s just my leg. I don’t need–”

When he turns back to your desk you’re gone from sight. It unnerves him and you appear behind him seemingly from thin air.

“Hey–!”

You plug several chords into a few outlets on his hip. The feeling of the data processing through multiple base drives makes his entire body feel like numbing static courses through it.

Your face is close. Too close.

“Let's get a base-read on what’s going on here for now. I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed if you’re modest like that.” Your eyes flit down and you smirk. “Not like I haven’t seen your full model before.”

His face flushes a bright crimson and he sputters, shoving you away. You laugh out loud, unsettling and loose as you go back to your screens. It’s become more apparent with each visit that you aren’t entirely sound of mind.

“I still wonder why your face flushes red when your synthetic blood is blue. Perhaps I’ll find out today,” you grin, looking up and being met with a metallic click and the barrel of a gun between your eyes.

There’s a fierceness in Boothill’s glare, red cheeks betraying his threat. Though his hand is steady, your monitors signal increased levels of core maintenance and adrenaline. He doesn’t know how to handle your teasing— never will.

“I don’t have time to be yer forkin’ lab rat,” he sneers.

Your expression remains calm, unbothered as a lazy smile makes way to your lips. It’s an irksome sureness that makes the ranger’s eye twitch and teeth grit. Perhaps that’s simply your insanity creeping into him as well.

It draws him in like a moth to a flame. And he convinces himself that he hates it.

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t put a bullet in yer head for crossing me?”

“Plenty of reasons. But really I only need one.”

“Yeah? And what’s that, sweets?” He scoffs, patience running thin.

You gently tap a knuckle over his heart core, the area making a soft metal clank as you do so. Boothill falls silent for a moment as you say nothing more. The mental gears turn a little harder than usual and suddenly his face is hot. Too hot.

“Wh– What– Who ever said I liked ya like that?! A ranger doesn’t get wrapped up in those feelings, ya hear?!”

And you fucking smirk.

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating. All I meant was that you wouldn’t get rid of your one and only mechanic on this side of the galaxy, would you? Who else would be stupid enough to take all your last minute tuning appointments and repair jobs after reckless battles? You need me, ranger.” You pause and shift your gaze directly at him. “No reason to get so defensive. Unless… you have feelings for me?”

“Negative feelings,” he seethes.

But you’ve seen right through him. It’s an act of pity that you just chuckle and resume your work on diagnosing some of the sensors around his midriff. Still enough to keep the cowboy grumbling and red in the face.

“Feelings nonetheless,” you chuckle under your breath as you swivel back to the flurry of incoming data. “I’ll head to the back to grab a few things I’ll need and see if a few spare parts are lying around that are similar to some of your fractured hip joints. Do not touch anything.”

Once you’re out of sight, Boothill grumbles and removes his hat and jacket. The bright industrial lights only serve to irk him more— never was one to like hospital settings.

It’s a bit more of a predicament when the wires attached to his hip get in the way of removing his bottoms. He clicks his tongue and listens as your fumbling in the distance remains constant.

Whatever. Damn cables are in the way. What is he to do? He yanks them off and removes the last of his articles, shoving them in the box off to the side you left for him.

“Fork me,” he grumbles. There’s an unruly mess of cables on the floor, most of which look the same and range in color. Naturally, none are labeled.

Just his luck.

One of your monitors beeps and a few pop ups come up as the data flow abruptly ends. In a panic, Boothill grabs a red and a black cable and plugs them in. He clicks a few of the pop ups to make them go away and resume whatever they asked. He didn’t have time to read whatever jargon it said, not that he would have understood it anyway.

He’s seated and on the examination table by the time you walk back in with a few boxes stacked in your arms.

A warm hum settles in his core with his data processor kicking in. It’s pleasant, albeit an odd sensation.

You set down the boxes and glance at the screens, humming with thought. The pause is a beat too long and Boothill can only hope you don’t prod. You tap a few things on the screen and approach him with a smile.

“Alright. Pain receptors are off and your maintenance mode is on. Let’s get started.”

—

Only about forty minutes have passed but it’s becoming increasingly clear to Boothill that something is clearly wrong. He’s used to certain processes being shut off while you work on him— that part is normal.

Right now, he can’t seem to take his eyes off you. And you won’t spare him a glance as you work, much too engrossed in his guts— literally. He huffs and you don’t bother looking at him. It pisses him off.

“If you’re feeling discomfort use your words, ranger,” you mutter without missing a beat. “If your pain processors kicked in due to something that went wrong I need to know before you blow up on me.”

Your tug at a particular wire makes him gasp, his grip on the edge of the table warping the metal.

“Fork– Watch it!” His breath shakes with a gasp, face flushed.

“You didn’t exactly come with a manual.”

“Please don’t say that while yer hands are in my guts.”

You snicker, ignoring his glare as you continue to work methodically.

“I could always give you new insides if I mess these up,” you tease smoothly, fingers deeper still in his abdominal cavity. “Would you like it if I gave you a womb?”

Boothill huffs with a shiver as you tug at that same wire again, his back arching slightly off the cold, metal table. His mouth hangs open, unable to say a word. It’s overwhelming, an intense sensation that he feels in every artificial nerve end.

You call his name once more— so sweet and full of concern. The auditory hallucinations have begun from the wrong dataset he hooked himself up to earlier. Your voice in actuality is much more nonchalant than he processes.

“Booth? Ranger? Are you still with me?” You tap his cheek, his eyes darting shakily around the room. Red hearts for irises replace his usual programmed eye setup when he blinks to glance at you. You sigh. “I told you not to touch anything didn’t I?”

“Yer… my soulmate.”

“No,” you deadpan, flicking your wrist to bring up a holo-screen before you. Seems the neuro-processors couldn’t sort the wide range of the artificial emotion dataset and developed a love bug. “Boothill, if you can still understand me beyond the love bug, I’ll be turning on your standby function for a few minutes to finish.”

You’re not sure if he heard you at all, watching as whatever he heard in his bugged brain makes him red in the face and shiver.

Then, he blue-screens and all is quiet after his metal body clangs against the table.

You heave a sigh, a smile still on your lips. “Only your soulmate would put up with a ranger this obtuse.”

[little-pup-pip]

25 Days of Agere Moodboards! Day 24: Ideal Vacation!!

[blumin-onion]

Daily Doodle Day 312

<- Day 311 | All Days | Day 313 ->

Adding this ant to my bug collection

[hasmephydoneanythingwrong]

I’m coming for ya, bug boy

[hexoskeleton-anonymous]

If you had to add a non bug to your party, who would you pick?

I don't know what you're getting at. I don't plan to have all bugs! I'll get a ghost some day! Like a Shuppet!

[hexoskeleton-anonymous]

Maybe I should get some stickers for Cuddlepie…

sooo apparently it's illegal to modify your pokemon's pokeball to look like a different kind of pokeball, or so i was told. am i rly gonna get in trouble for painting my trapinch's greatball to look like a regular pokeball?

if you do a good enough job then who’s going to correct you. also, if anyone tries to call you out for your pokéball decor then they’re a bitter bitch and a sore loser

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

I fear that Alfons's route will be just as emotionally taxing as Elbert's and I'll miss using my tickets in time just like I did in Elbert's route because my brain's had enough emotions and miss finishing the mission board again

[nuclearplutonium]

🌈EPILEPTIC TECHNO 🎵 EPILEPTIC TECH-NO🌈