#empal

[beegswaz]

more percy posting But its sally and the poodles edition

if i Decide to then ill Also draw the tamas tonight :3

[bantennewscoid-blog]

Ketan Bintul, Kuliner yang Diburu Warga Saat Bulan Puasa

SERANG – Ketan bintul adalah makanan khas Banten yang terbuat dari beras ketan dan memiliki cita rasa yang gurih serta bertekstur kenyal. Tak hanya soal rasa, ketan bintul juga punya cerita sejarah yang menarik. Berikut beberapa hal menarik tentang ketan bintul. Hidangan khas bulan Ramadhan. Ketan bintul mudah ditemui pada saat bulan puasa. Bahkan, di Kota Serang, Banten, ada penjual khusus yang…

[lauk-pauk]

Lauk Instan Sehat Gambir Jakarta Pusat, Maksim,

[yngles]

❝ [sloppy] ❞

↳ “how bts like to get fucked”

↳ boypussy!bts x reader

↳ dom!reader, sub!bts, (kinda) implied poly!ot7, reader isn’t gendered but has a dick, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, squirting, dacryphilia, praise kink, degradation/slut shaming (consensual dw), breeding kink, daddy kink (r. receiving), pet play, mentions of bondage, lmk if i’m missing anything <3

↳ don’t know if anyone else fucks with bp bangtan… but i know i do!! also catboy yoongi is sooo hot to me - rory

❝ [kim seokjin] ¡! ❞

↳ seokjin will take you in any way you could think of. this man loves getting fucked more than anything in the world, so feel free to bend him over whenever you want. but he especially loves when you have him ride your cock, making him do all the work without you even lifting a finger. although jin is the #1 pillow princess, he can’t help but enjoy it when you punish him by making him seek his own pleasure without your help.

“what do you need, jinnie?” you can see how your words make him shiver from where he is sat in your lap. “please want your cock. i’ve been waiting for days!” his eyes are getting more teary the longer you make him wait. “i know you have been, sweetheart, i can feel you dripping through your panties.” he gasps, hips slightly shifting to gratify the pent up need radiating through his body. seokjin lets out small whines at the feeling of your cock rubbing against his clothed pussy. your hands come to rest on his hips to stop his movements, making him cry out, tears finally leaving his eyes as he pathetically pushes against your hands to let him move again. “if you want my cock, you can get it yourself.” once he hears your statement, jin is immediately scrambling to pull down both of your underwear and sliding down onto your dick. his slick walls easily suck you deeper as he rests his hands on your shoulders to help keep himself up right. he sits still for a moment, beautifully empaled of your cock, only to be startled back to reality when you place a sharp smack on his ass. “thought you wanted it bad, jinnie, what’s taking you so long?”

❝ [min yoongi] ¡! ❞

↳ yoongi likes it best when you take him from behind. holding himself up on his hands and knees, back arched as you pound in and out of his messy cunt. he loves it when you play into his fantasy, turning your little kitty into a bitch in heat. yoongi wants you to put a collar on him and place cute cat ears on his head, maybe even push a tail buttplug up his back hole. if he gets deep enough into his headspace he’ll start meowing, which makes you start fucking into him at a feral pace while you pump him full of your seed.

all that was heard throughout the dorm was the sound of skin on skin and the wet noise of slick being pushed out of yoongi’s hole. every time you hit his special spot, he would let out a string of meows which only encouraged you to fuck him harder. “does it feel good, kitty?” “meeoow~” was all he responded with, not being able to communicate with words once he got this far into his own head. “want me to fill you up with my pups? gonna knock you up just like you’ve been begging for, kitten.” your vulgar language causes the man’s arms to give out, making him fall face first into the mattress, the cat ears sliding further down into his disheveled hair. you reach your arm under his torso and force him to arch his back more, causing him to fuck your cock deeper into his soaking pussy. the wet sounds made by your ongoing thrusts cause yoongi to cry out, clenching around your dick as he gets closer to his climax. you groan at the feeling and finally fill him up, making him whine and cry as his greedy pussy sucks up every last drop.

❝ [jung hoseok] ¡! ❞

↳ hobi is a slut for seeing your face. any position where he can look at you while you fuck him will make him come very quickly. he loves when you put his legs over your shoulders while you fuck into him, the angle shooting pleasure straight to his core. he’s so loud in bed, unable to stop himself from screaming out when you hit the right spot inside him. he doesn’t even care if his members hear the noises he lets out, wanting them to know that he’s getting fucked by you so well.

“oh myyyy godd!!” hoseok’s screams reverberate around the room as you continue to piston into him at and incredible speed. each time you thrust into him his body goes flying against the headboard, legs flailing from where they are stationed around your shoulders. “that’s it, seok-ah. let everyone know how good i’m fucking you. bet they’re rubbing themselves to the sound of your moans.” your words have his legs trembling and his hands grasping at your arms, which are placed on his hips to keep him in place. “please! please i need it so bad!” hoseok cries out, the amount of cream caking at the base of your dick increasing after each thrust. “i’ll give you whatever you need, baby.” as you finish your sentence, he meets your eyes and you can feel the way he tightens at the intimate connection. your increasing speed causes immense pressure in his pussy, causing him to squirt around you. the liquid soaks both of your stomachs and makes the slide of your cock into his overstimulated pussy much smoother.

❝ [kim namjoon] ¡! ❞

↳ joon likes to get fucked laying on his bed with his legs wrapped around your waist. it’s so relaxing for him to have the ability to sit back and be taken care of. he enjoys you fucking him at a fast but gentle pace, relishing in the feeling of your cock sliding in and out of his walls. joon absolutely loves when you come inside of him but he doesn’t mind if you pull out and nut all over his thighs and tummy.

“taking me so well, joonie” “thank you, thank you- i love it so much. fucking me so good~” he replies, eyes struggling to focus on yours as you continue to thrust inside of him. “are you close, baby? i can feel you getting tighter around me.” your words makes his eyes roll back into his head and his mouth fall open in a silent moan. “gonna come! please can i come?” you lean down to suck on his neck as he keeps begging for release. you reach you hand between your two bodies, quickly rubbing his clit to bring him closer to the edge. “of course you can, baby. want you to come all over my cock.” at your words, he flings his head back against the pillows and allows the pleasure to overtake him. he releases his juices around you, soaking your hand and the bed sheets beneath you. “such a good boy, gonna come inside you now. i know you want it, baby.”

❝ [park jimin] ¡! ❞

↳ jimin really loves riding you, goes crazy at the thought of being able to take your dick however he wants. he especially likes reverse cowgirl, he loves twerking on your cock to hear you groan and give him a good slap on his cheeks. the sting only helps to keep him going, riding you harder once he knows that you are enjoying the view. another fan of creampies, he doesn’t like to let any of your come go to waste. if it slides out once you’re done with him, he’ll scoop it up with his fingers and shove it back inside.

jimin turns away from you, straddling your hips and lining himself up with your large cock. he is always excited when he’s able to take you inside him, no matter how long it’s been since it last happened. once he slides down to the hilt he looks back at you, only to find you staring straight at his butt. “i can never get enough of your fat ass, min. you always look so fucking good taking me.” you end your statement by gripping both of his asscheeks in your palms. jimin whines at once the possessive feeling of your hands on him disappears, leaning forward slightly and shaking his ass on your cock, listening to the sound of it clapping against your skin echo around the sweaty room. you groan at the sight and plant your feet against the bed, bucking your cock deep into jimin’s waiting pussy. he knows that by the end of the night he’ll be full of your seed and that satisfies him enough to let you set the pace, grasping the skin of your thighs in his small hands. “that’s it daddy, jiminie loves your dick so much.”

❝ [kim taehyung] ¡! ❞

↳ taehyung likes to be held while you’re having sex. whether that be you holding him tight to your chest while you gently thrust into him on the bed, or pining him against the wall as you claim his pussy for your own pleasure. as you go between the different scenarios, tae has his preferences of how he likes to be treated and addressed. if you’re slowly making love to him on your shared bed, he likes when you praise him and tell him how well he’s taking you. on the other hand, he loves when you call him a dirty whore when you are fucking him so fast he can barely comprehend what’s going on. as long as you give him proper aftercare, he’s happy.

“how do you want it tonight, taetae?” you gaze down at your sub from where he’s seated on the couch. “want to feel it. please.” he looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout that you would never be able to resist in a million years. “of course, jagiya. you know i’ll always give it to you however you want.” you lean down to scoop him into your arms, his legs automatically wrapping around your waist and his arms circling your neck. you carry him through the hallway, unable to focus on your steps as he sucks on your neck. you come to a stop outside his bedroom door, pushing him against the wall, unable to resist the urge to take him any longer. you shove your pants down and push his panties to the side, inserting your cock into his waiting hole and setting an overwhelming pace. taehyung throws his head back against the wall as you push into him and whisper dirty things into his ear. he comes alarmingly quick due to the amount of stimulation you were providing him with, you following shortly behind him, pulling out to come across his stomach. as you come down from your highs, you hear the door open down the hall and a voice ring out, “can we join next time?” you laugh at the request, knowing tonight is gonna be long for both you and taehyung.

❝ [jeon jungkook] ¡! ❞

↳ one of jungkook’s biggest kinks is bondage. he loves the feeling of being restricted and not having the ability to touch you. it makes him incredibly wet that you are able to do whatever you want to him and he can’t do anything to stop you. he likes when you tie his hands behind his back and fuck him doggy style, having to shove his face into the pillows to quite his screams. he also loves having you eat him out before fucking him because it gets him nice and ready to take your fat cock, but also it turns him on so much seeing you not be able to resist yourself when your face is shoved in his cunt.

“yes!! fuck me with your tongue! feels so good… i don’t know if i can wait any longer.” as soon as jungkook says that, you remove your face from his pussy, grabbing his hair to pull his back flush to your chest. “you’re not going to come until i’m fucking you with my cock. do you understand?” he immediately nods at your words, grinding his ass against your bulge as he tries to get you to put your dick in him. “words, guk.” “yes! yes! i understand! i promise i won’t come until you tell me to!” you let out a satisfied groan at his words, shoving his legs apart to line your cock up with his entrance. as you push in, jungkook can’t help but scream into the sheets beneath him, the pleasure in his core building up as you bottom out.

[choas232]

G/N Chatty reader x Steb 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Summary: In which you grapple with feelings you don’t yet understand by talking a certain enforcer’s ears off. Forced proximity makes everything worse, as it tends to.

CWs: Profanity. Canon typical violence. Reader has some bias about Zaunites they probably need to work on. I wrote most of this at 10pm at night, so be warned.

No use of Y/N, neutral terms and they/them are used to refer the reader. Set in episode three, season 2.

Word count: 2.9k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝

“God. I’m starving. And tired. I barely slept at allllll last night. Do you think the Grey’s keeping us awake? Our glorious leader Kiramman sure wants it to, dragging us along at this cracking speed. It’s been a whole week, too. I’m gonna drop dead, at this rate.” You lament. Your fellow enforcer does not comment from his place behind you, his footsteps echoing around the pipe.

Graffiti crowds the metal surface, amateur artworks, declarations of love, violence, and scripts you don’t recognise cramming themselves over one another, space sparse and sought after. It’s not Jinx’s work. Still, there’s a chill on your back you choose to attribute to the profanities.

The people of the underground sure know how to decorate, that’s for sure.

You two have been chosen to scout out a fairly low-danger area in search of a Zuanite’s sighting of Jinx. He did say it after a hefty heaping of Grey was funnelled into his lungs and a gun was held to his head, but Caitlyn is paranoid enough to bark at shadows, and you will oblige, if only to keep her happy.

It’s not like any of you are much better. Loris is quieter than ever, Maddie jumps at the smallest sounds and of your companion… you have no idea. You never have. Steb’s inner workings remain a mystery to you.

You turn. “Are we there yet? We should be there soon, right?” Steb nods distantly, more focused on the setting around you.

This part of the pipes is yet to be flooded with grey, so you can see him clearly without the obscuring mask.

His light teal skin, thin lips, nose, sharp, angular features. His neat uniform. His polished posture. He is distinctly and utterly out of place amongst the chaos that surrounds you. His eyes are so blue. So opalescent, shining like pearls in his eye sockets. Is that weird to notice? How much detail is it normal to notice about someone? You should probably stop looking.

His ribbed ears flick back, ever so slightly, eyes flicking to meet yours for a brief moment.

You look away. “Uh.” His eyes. His blue eyes. Blue. “God. I’m sooo hungry. Hah. I haven’t eaten since this morning. The rations are running out, and all the Zaunite stuff Vi is bringing in is uhm, questionable.”

You don’t look behind you again, your mouth moving quicker. Your breath is tight, probably because of the steady stream of words flowing from your mouth. You think. “I would kill for a good sandwich. Or two. I might have to resort to cannibalism—”

Hands enclose around your collar and yank you back with force.

Below you, a human sized-hole lined with rusted, broken metal grating, a slowly, ever spinning fan—

Your heart staggers in your chest like a drunkard. Images of your empaled, scraped, body twisted and pressed beyond recognition cram into your skull, rattle and scream.

“Fuck.” You mumble, quietly. Steb’s hand releases your collar. “C-close one. Thanks. Fish-sticks. How didn’t I see that?” You laugh. He doesn’t. It isn’t funny.

He brushes the shoulder pads of your uniform off, carefully but hastily looking you up and down. He keeps a respectable distance between you, but you can still see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. You mimic him. Your mouth feels dry.

He fixes you with a look as his hands drop to his sides, and although his face usually retains some semblance of ambiguity on it, you know exactly what he’s thinking. Watch where you’re going.

“Sorry doc. I…” You trail off. You should stop talking. You probably talk so much around him because he makes you nervous. Why does he make you nervous? Your usual slamming of thoughts trickles dry. You have no idea.

Carefully, you two traverse over the great gaping hole in the pipework. How did you miss it? You don’t sure don’t miss how Steb watches you hawk-like though, and the following guilt is low and prickling in your gut. He goes first, and every small unprompted movement of yours has him stiffening, arm moving to steady you.

“Jeez. Don’t mother hen me, I’m all grown-up, I assure you.” You bat him away, landing with a clang! of the metal against your boots as you leap across the last segment. His frown is resounding.

A corner stretches before you, now. You let him go first with a swing of your arm just in case the metal of the pipe opens up to attempt to swallow you yet again. “All yours,” He obliges.

It’s an open space. Milky green light filters through the roofing, painting the graffiti stained flooring monochromatic and hazy. Two other pipes adjoin to the room, and a mural of Janna clad in white laced with metallic armour bounds over the walls. It looks exactly like what was described, which is worrying, because hey, Jinx!

The sniffling child is even more worrying, though. Looking up, she brushes away dark locks  from her face and bursts into prompt tears. “Please, m-my-my… my leg. it really hurts.” She wails.

Sure enough, one of her legs is crushed under a slab of tin, making itself known as the cause of the light filtering through the roof. “Please. Please.” Snot dribbles down onto her ragged shirt, her big brown eyes blown wide.

Steb is already gone before you can access the situation, bounding over.

Poor kid. You wince, tapping your fingers against your lips. Probably just playing with the ball you see perched nearby when shoddy craftmanship led to tragedy. Still… “Jeez. Think to consider a trap? No? Just me.” You mutter.

“Just you.” The voice from behind you amusedly whispers, and then you feel the cool rim of the gun pressed against your skull.

Fear makes a mockery out of you. Your thoughts accelerate, snapping at each others heels, but you cannot think. You aren’t really the brawlers of the team. He’s the field medic, for fuck’s sake, and while you can handle yourself in a fight this is more of a Vi job. You regret mocking her cuisine choices. This is probably some kind of sick karma. Sick? You feel sick. God, your stomach is writhing, your insides eating each other up.

Steb, still blinded by his tunnel vision, hauls the tin off of the girl. His ears flick down as he peers down at the clean space beneath, clean of blood and gore. Her leg, unblemished and by all means healthy looking, curls back into her body, and then she bursts outwards like a spring, down the nearest tunnel.

Too late, he looks back at you.

“I’m sure they require you topsiders to rattle a few braincells together to wear that fancy uniform. They don’t need allll of them, do they?” The man holding the gun to your head calls out to him. Flesh drips from his arms, lanky and lean, pressing against your neck as he holds you into him. You smell the shimmer on his breath before you see his blood lined eyes.

Steb jerks forwards. Bruisingly, the gun slams into your skull. “Move and their brains go BOOM! Hands in the air. Now.” He snarls, and Steb freezes in place, slowly raising his hands. You can see him breathing, hard, heaving breaths.

More people clamour their way out of vents, behind slabs of wood. You count at least four. Shit.

Shit.

This is bad.

“Woah! Talk about dramatics, huh?” You start, and almost in shock, the man holding you to himself grip loosens. From Steb’s place, you can see the wrinkle that lines his mouth when he gets stressed creep into existence. (That’s normal to remember. You should know when your coworkers get stressed. Part of the job, and all.) He slowly shakes his head. You mouth, trust me. He shakes his head harder. “Maybe we should talk this out? Civilly, tea and biscuits? …No?”

“It stopped being civil when you went for one of mine.”

Of course that guy you beat the shit out of gave you the location of an ambush. He was all too eager to speak, and when you go poking your hand down foxholes, it’s going to get bitten off. You feel both incredibly stupid and incredibly self-satisfied, you knew it, and you went here anyways.

“One of yours? I mean, we probably didn’t mean to? It was probably a mistake—” he shoves the gun down your throat. Spittle drips down the barrel. You taste dirt and gunpowder. You taste the blood leaking from your tongue.

You taste fear.

“Well? Your bag.” He gestures loosely to Steb.

Steb locks eyes with you as he gently tugs the straps off of his back, letting the hefty bag land to the floor with a thump. Carefully, he steps back, raising his hands in the air once again.

One of the hovering goons quickly snatches it, tugging it open. Medical supplies, bottles, all-the-like clatter the ground, but she continues shifting through hastily, eyes slowly narrowing. The last of our food supplies…, you mournfully think, quickly followed by Caitlyn is going to kill us, and she’s probably right to.

“You told us there would be hex tech, you fucking liar.” She drops the bag carelessly, starting towards the man holding you. “Well, do you think I’m some sort of prophet? You knew that it was an estimate.” He snaps back, grip on you loosening, the gun shifting out of your mouth to point towards the soft flesh of your cheek, spreading out your blood clouded spit as it does.

“I think you set us the hell up. You promised we’d split the money, but where’s the money now, huh? I gotta family to feed, hired work is dropping like flies with the chem barons at each other’s throats, which means I missed on any number of begging clients for this shit.”

You get an idea.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

It’s a terrible idea.

Steb tears his gaze from the arguing pair to meet your eyes, perhaps on some precognition of the mistake you are about to make.

You wink, grab the gun pressed to your cheek and then you yank.

It comes as cleanly as expected, the man’s adrenaline rattled, drug loosened reflexes nothing for the shock you give him when you take the gun from his hands, and than run. Surprise gives you the upper hand, yells clouding your soundscape. You still manage to pick out Steb’s footsteps, clean and even behind you as you barrel down the nearest pipe.

You run harder than you’ve ever run, past graffiti, with only your breath, the calls behind you, your heartbeat and the echoes of his and your boots slamming against metal to guide you.

You turn the corner so hard you slam your side against it, feeling your already bruised cheek cry out in pain in time with your yelp, and you stumble. Steb catches your shirt and yanks you right back up, and then you’re in another wide-open space.

Your head swings around, fear hammering around your ribcage like a desperate songbird.

Steb grabs your shoulder, gesturing with his head. You follow his gaze. There’s a smaller pipe in the wall, covered by a draping of torn fabric, and you rush towards it before you have any time to think, the fabric draping over your hair, the surface cool under your fingers.

He follows, your pursuer yells barrelling into your ears as the curtain draws shut.

The space is tight, circular, not even big enough for you to stretch out an arm and not brush the opposite end. Your back is pressed flush against the concrete and plaster. Your legs cage Steb, as do his, looping over one each other, his knee bent at an angle that’s for sure going to hurt later. His arms clutch the walls of the tube, yours resting bent in your lap.

He leans down, and his fingers gently grasp that stupid beret of his and tug it down onto his lap, before he pulls his head back up, his head scraping the roof. He’s a least a head taller than Maddie, and although you’d like to think of yourself as average, you are now grateful for the height you lack.

“OVER HERE!” Did they see you? Is this it? What can you do, two against at least five or so. You mean, counting has never really been your strong suit under pressure, and who’s to tell? Are you going to die? Are you going to die, your legs pressed into his midriff?

The gold smattering across Steb’s undereyes and nose adjoins with the darker turquoise scales lining the cavities his eyeballs are strung into, carving out little gold, blue, orange stripes, like the ones on the fish you and your parents used to gawk at the aquariums had.

Are they going to cart out your body to your parents, after your fellow enforcers find you, crammed into a hole in the underground? What would you had died for?

His eyes are so blue.

He blinks, smooth, deep lapis overtaking the gleaming surface of his eyes before his eyelids do. He has a second eyelid. How did you never notice?

His lips, perpetually downturned as they are, his steady line his eyebrows carve themselves into, his perfect posture, even as you are cramped within the pipe, the smooth, angular frame of his cheekbones all of it make him look like one of those forever uninconvenienced paintings the councillors hang from their mansion walls. He looks calm. His stupid snooty resting face cannot fool you. You know he isn’t.

His lips are parted, the gap between his front teeth visible as he stares down the opening of the tunnel like a loyal family dog. His little giveaway.

Maybe his inner workings aren’t such a mystery, after all.

He makes you nervous. He makes you so nervous. He makes you into a wreck.

You think you might be in love with him.

—and your pursuers are rushing past you, all until you can’t hear their voices and you’re alive. You’re alive and you’ve never been so happy to tomorrow eat shitty Zaunite food and have Caitlyn yell at you for loosing supplies and talk and talk and talk until your throat is raw.

You don’t. Talk. You don’t talk.

He’s looking at you.

You feel like a fool.

You sit there, just looking at him too. His eyelids slip halfway, letting you count the short lashes that frame them. His expression relaxes, loosens, ever so slightly, his arms moving from the wall of the tunnel to his lap.

You could sit here with him for hours, death inches from you both, and you could be happy. You could be suspended in disbelief and plausible deniability; you could allow yourself to lie. Your heart is pounding from the adrenaline, of course. Your face is pink because of overexertion, and you kind of want to kiss him because you’ve never kissed anybody and you may as well as get it over with before you die, right?

He points to his face. You blink, and then he points to yours. You brush your finger cheeks against the flesh and feel the sting of injury, spittle and blood on your fingers. Right.

Right. He’s looking at you because you’re injured right?

Of course he is. (Disappoint is still food, and you swallow it.)

Gently, he reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Instead of sparring you and handing it to you, he merely carefully holds your head, one hand on your jaw and the other gently patting down the mess on your cheek. His head is tilted. You feel your heart slam up your throat, a throbbing, horrible pain that lets you part your lips to let the breath escape you before it can choke you.

The hand cradling your jaw moves a careful finger up to brush your lower lip.

Accident, of course. He’s not even looking at them, rather, the mess, taking his sweet time as he does, so very gentle.

You think he might be the danger, not the hell that is the pipework, nor the Grey, nor not the man with the gun

He pulls back, tucking the handkerchief back into the pocket and shallowly inclining his head towards the opening.

With a long look back at you, he crawls out of the hole first. You follow, dizzily. Ever the gentlemen, he offers you a hand as you push your way out of the hell that made you. You take it and feel incredibly guilty for doing so, stumbling to your feet.

He fastens his beret, usually a sign from you to inwardly (or outwardly) mock his silly hat, still watching you. You do not, in fact, mock him. You might be shaking, in fact, and that thought makes you hate yourself more than you could ever despise that ugly navy piece of fabric.

He frowns, and then he gestures to your mouth. You flinch without meaning too. “Huh?”

He mimes speaking, shallowly opening and then hastily closing his mouth

He's right to be concerned.

You haven’t spoken since you two trapped yourselves in the tunnel, after all.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝

Notes: Thank you for reading!! :)))) STUPID. IDIOTS IN LOVE. Him under the guise of medical assistance letting himself touch you... bro isn't slick whatsoever. If you have any ideas, be sure to drop them in my ask box, there is lack of fic on him holy hell. As a side note, we all need the comfort after season two part two holy cow…

[beegswaz]

i fucking lied Abt no more percys art btw. More sprites soon.

[flower-blossoms654]

Each time I think about how they took out the Goldy Pond arc, I get so angry. Cause like not only was it a good ass arc, getting rid of it takes out something integral to the story as a whole, that I just don’t think they realized/cared about:

The validation of Emma’s beliefs.

Emma is established to be this happy-go-lucky character right? And as the children are still in Grace Field, you see that she still keeps this demeanor while juggling the new graveness of the situation she is in. While losing some of her naivety, she still shows herself capable of being someone hopeful for the future who will not let her circumstances get the better of her. The most important part of what makes this WORK for her character (instead of making it annoying and unrealistic) is the fact that she both acknowledged and experiences the tragedy of the world she is trying to be hopeful in. It’s not some little girl being like “I believe everything’s gonna be fine! Sparkles and rainbows!” while being shielded from the darker parts of the world. It’s a little girl who looks in the face of the darkness and that terrible world and is in the MIDST of it. It’s a little girl who found the dead body of her younger sibling and was faced with the reality that her whole life was a lie. It’s a little girl who realized her whole family was going to die and fought to grab onto her hope despite how overwhelmingly bleak their situation was. She knew and yet she didn’t hesitate to believe that they could escape. She knew and still wanted to yell to the world that she was going to save EVERYONE. Seeing someone so unwaveringly hopeful even after being hit with devastating loss and despair is like a beacon for anyone else struggling to keep surviving. Emma is lovable for how she loves—how her hope and determination stands fast in the face of adversity and still goes forward even as more events threaten to shake and bend it.

For whatever reason season 2 was changed the way it was (I’ve heard many things)(if it was because of the guns then WHY pick up the anime in the first place bc you derail EVERYTHING) it could never stand completely without Goldy Pond.

Goldy Pond is in plain terms Emma’s defining arc. It seems to be pushing forward a question whose answer will define the rest of the series.

“Who is Emma?”

Not as she is with her siblings. Not as she is when there is her family there to keep her going. Who is Emma, and how will she grow from here on out?

Goldy Pond is the first time Emma is “alone”. She has none of her siblings around her and she is in an unfamiliar environment, with people she does not know. People by all means unconnected to her when she has a family to get back to and protect.

But Emma doesn’t treat them that way. She cares for each stranger she meets, jeopardizing her safety by using herself as bait—by charging forward into battle to protect them and change the demons’ focus. As the arc progresses and she meshes herself into the other children’s ranks, treating them as family as well, it seems to be clear what the answer is. As she serves as a distraction in this main fight. As she reminds them of details of HOW they can win this fight even when there seems to be no hope left. When she gets empaled and STILL takes a shot to kill Duke Leuvis.

Emma is hopeful and kind and self-sacrificing. She treats strangers as she would treat her family, and cares for all lives the same. She is so overwhelmingly forthright and sincere in her emotions and love, that you can’t help but want to support and follow her. That is who Emma is. She is not naive. She has seen death and battle and bleak circumstances but still rises to the challenge EVERY time — and most importantly this time was the bleakest so far. This time she was “ALONE”.

She has the experience behind her to make her care for all things “valid”. This is not a silly, childish little girl not knowing all the different aspects of her declarations. She says they will survive and you can take her for her word because she knows what it’s like to be near death. But specifically and more crucially for Goldy Pond (and therefore the rest of the series): Emma says that she wants to save demons. And with Goldy Pond, you can take her word for it.

When Norman declares that his way of saving everyone is to have a demon genocide, the most important part of this is that we as the readers support Emma and her viewpoint (that the demons should not be killed.) Her viewpoint is valid in the manga because of what she has gone through. Emma says she wants to save demons and we can take her for her word because she has experience at the hands of some of the worst cruelty from demons possible. She and other children were hunted for sport. She was placed in a mockery of a sanctuary and hunted down for demons entertainment—not for the demon’s hunger or survival but for FUN. And she still turns around and says that she believes there are GOOD demons.

Without this, Emma has nothing in her experience for her to stand toe to toe with Norman’s beliefs. She looks like a naive, silly child trying to justify a foolish dream when she has experienced nothing of the world. It’s practically an insult to Norman and his experiences and it doesn’t give off what it should to the watcher. How are we supposed to believe in Emma (and go against a GENOCIDE) when it seems as if the writers want to paint that the genocide is the reasonable answer (when it fucking ISNT). And this is all because without Goldy Pond, Emma doesn’t have the experience to be meaningfully hopeful. She can’t properly value her positive experience with Mujika because she doesn’t not have a big enough negative experience to weight it against (and gracefield isn’t good enough bc Norman has gone through more than that). For Emma to have weight, she needs to be able to weight the good and the bad and STILL choose good. To still choose to be hopeful and caring.

Getting rid of Goldy Pond got rid of such an important foundation of Emma as a character and I can never forgive them for that.

[makebleachgreat]

Top 10 most dangerous Soul Reapers

It's not about power, it's about skills, how far will they go to kill you no matter how strong or divine you are, they are literally gods of death.

N 10. Ikakku Madarame:

Body Count: 1 (Edrad Liones)

Chances of dying from: Decapitation, loss of limbs, empalement

N 9. Renji Abarai:

Body count: +2 (Yylfordt Granz, Mask de Masculine)

Chances of dying from: desintregration, death by serrated blade

N 8. Rukia Kuchiki:

Body count: +2 (Aaroniero Aaronueire, As Nodt)

Chances of dying from: frostbyte, shattered

N 7. Soi Fon

Body count: +10 (offscreen) Ggio Vega, BG9 (Kind of)

Chances of dying from: poison, missile explosion

N 6. Mayuri Kurotsuchi

Body count: +10 (a lot of soul reapers, Szayelaporro Granz)

Chances of dying from: poison, death through tortured and experiments, empaled by 20 swords

N 5. Byakuya Kuchiki

Body Count: +2 (Zommari Rureaux, Shūkurō Tsukishima)

Chances of dying from: cut by millions of blades

N 4. Yachiru Unohana

Body Count: +100

Chances of dying from: amputation, melted by acid

N 3. Shunsui Kyoraku

Body Count: 1 (Coyote Stark, Lille Barro (kind of)

Chances of dying from: childsplay, shadows, stabbing, theathers

N 2. Ichigo Kurosaki

Body Count: +2 (Ulquiorra Cifer, GInjo Kugo, Yhwach)

Chances of dying from: slashing energy, stabing, cero, cut by a giant sword

N 1. Zaraki Kenpachi

Body Count: +100

Chances of dying from: cut in half, slashed

[lauk-pauk]

Lauk Instan Sehat Gambir Jakarta Pusat, Maksim,

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Giant monster that puts ite thumbs in your hole and spreads it wide as if trying to open an orange 🍊

Only it wouldn't use you for sex, but rather as a piece of novelty decor, a fancy object or perhaps an art piece, keeping you immobile and spread, until it takes pity on you and finally fists you good or empale you on some pole to show you off to its friends, somehow keeping you alive in a state of constant bliss or longing.

.

[la-chonga]

"petit tips pour les anonymes, si vous assumez pas suffisamment vos propos pour les poster avec votre compte, c’est probablement que vous devriez les garder pour vous." Non c'est juste que tes potes et toi avez fait une profession du fait de tourner en ridicule et d'aggro les gens qui leur parlent ouvertement, confonds pas tout. C'pas psq les gens veulent pas que vous veniez vous acharner sur eux leurs fo et leurs potes pendant 5 ans qu'ils sont pas en accord avec leur opinion. C'pas psq des gens qui vous connaissent pas veulent pas deal avec vous que c'est eux le problème.

Et si on veut parler en anonyme tu vas faire quoi ? J'viens avec un post anon rien que pour te mettre ça dans la tronche : me semble que des meufs t'ont dit de pas parler sur leur projet et que t'as répondu grosso modo que tu fais ce que tu veux. Donc les anon font ce qu'ils veulent ? :)

Ah et pour ton "ouin ouin violence bouh regardez vous avez deux poids deux mesures" : j'peux pas t'aider comme le tone policing est interdit ! Mince alors. Mais t'es drôle quand tu insistes sur le fait que personne n'a à te dicter comment parler puis que tu sors une quote de comment t'estimes que X aurait dû te répondre avant de reblog Y pour te plaindre de son parler de banlieusarde. C'est pas comme si ça fait 4 ans que 90% des gens qui vous lisent vous disent que vous filez de l'anxiété à tout le monde et que vous êtes agressifs et que vous rendez impersonnelle et malveillante une cause juste, et que vous en aviez rien à taper.

Comme t'as dit t'es une bad bitch qui emmerde tout le monde donc vas-y relève-toi mdrrrrrr t'as soudain oublié ta street cred dans le marécage où tes potes ont laissé leurs neurones quand ils ont ficha qu'un post débat poli était trop long et trop complexe pour eux.

Bon étant donné que tout semble tourner autour du « vous » et du « nous » je vais donc en faire de même. Et vu que vous avez tous pris le temps de lire 5k d’une autre personne, vous prendrez certainement le temps de lire les miens n’est-ce pas?

Vous êtes super rapides à brandir la croix et la bannière pour défendre les gens sur des multitudes de sujets tels que la santé mentale, l’accessibilité, le plagiat et autres, mais quand c’est des personnes racisées qui expriment leur lassitude face à une discrimination qu’ils subissent (et donc un mal-être qu’ils ressentent, parce que c’est bien de ça dont on parle, c’est pas un débat ou l’un a tort et l’autre raison c’est un constat fait par des gens qui partagent leurs plaintes et vous votre réponse à ça c’est de les fustiger encore plus) là y’a plus aucune tentative de compréhension parce que vous êtes visiblement tellement étranglés par votre propre conscience que vous le prenez personnellement. 

Vu que vous n'avez à priori pas dotés de suffisamment d'empathie pour parvenir à saisir les nuances d’une situation quand elle ne s’applique pas à votre propre personne : s’offusquer qu’on fasse des généralités (statistiquement correctes, j’insiste encore) sur les membres d’une communauté c’est du même niveau que les hommes qui s’offusquent quand des femmes témoignent de l’oppression qu’elles subissent et dégainent leur #notallmen. Là c’est pareil. On a pas dit qu’absolument toutes les personnes qui jouaient des fcs blancs sur ce forum ou d’autres étaient des racistes, mais si vous n’aviez absolument rien à vous reprocher ça vous serait passé au dessus de la tête et vous auriez pas été violentés au point de faire des amalgames comme si on avait sous entendu que vous étiez des nazis. La preuve étant qu’on a même pas qualifié quiconque de raciste, ce raccourci vous l’avez fait vous même comme des grands ce qui ne fait que prouver davantage que vous êtes au courant de la problématique que cette constatation de sur-représentation blanche représente. Vous êtes en train de vous empaler tout seuls sur votre épée mais vous préférez blâmer le forgeron.

En fait vous êtes tellement aveuglés par votre désir de diabolisation de nos personnages que tous vos arguments se focalisent sur notre façon de parler et/ou de ne pas parler plut��t que sur le message qu’on porte. Vous avez des œillères tellement phénoménales que vous préférez par exemple ignorer que si, on a répondu au long message qui ne comportait que des affabulations et de la réthorique fantasmagorique qui reposait sur de la spéculation totale. Tout ce qu’on dit vous trouvez un moyen de l’interpréter et de le tordre pour concorder au moule de votre vision étriquée de la situation et vu que vous avez l’air d’avoir des soucis d’ordre interpersonnels avec nous vous préférez ne pas chercher à comprendre ce qu’on dit mais plutôt trouver un moyen de nous le renvoyer à la gueule. 

La vérité elle est très simple, on est face à une situation où on a constaté un manque de représentation dans les fcs des forums, et la réponse qu’on a reçu c’est « traitez nous pas de nazis vilains harceleurs haineux ». Un grand écart tellement prodigieux qu’il en ferait faire pâlir les plus grands gymnastes de ce monde.

On est tous d’accord je l’espère sur le postulat que le racisme c’est pas bien, donc pourquoi est-ce que vous cherchez à nuancer le propos uniquement quand la responsabilité de son existence vous incombe aussi? Au lieu de saisir l’occasion de vous remettre en question et d’œuvrer positivement pour faire de cette communauté un espace davantage bienveillant comme vous semblez tant le désirer vous préférez sacrifier ça au prix de votre défense. Quel égoïsme et autocentrisme tragique. 

En tout cas ne te fais pas de soucis pour nous, on se porte tous très bien mentalement, on notera tout du moins la rapidité avec laquelle tu es venue te réjouir et fanfaronner d’un potentiel mal-être de notre part. L’attention portée au mental des gens c’est à sens unique comme toujours mais heureusement on est solides à ce niveau là parce qu’on est profondément convaincus de la noblesse de nos propos et de ce qu’on défend. Les difficultés de l’un ne l’emportent pas sur celle des autres, vous ne savez à priori pas grand chose non plus de ce qu’on vit ni qui on est, mais étant donné qu’on ne pollue pas nos paroles avec des informations d'ordre de l'intime on n’y prête pas attention. Si vous êtes fragiles mentalement et souffrez d’anxiété, j'en suis désolée pour vous mais ça n'a pas sa place dans la discussion et avant tout ça ne vous dispense pas d’être tenus responsables de vos propos et actions lorsque ceux-ci sont de nature discutable. Si vous proférez des propos virulents et invalidants, on vous répondra avec la même énergie parce que jusqu’à preuve du contraire le droit de se défendre ne vous est pas exclusivement réservé, et soudainement vous vous plaignez en disant que ça vous agresse? J’suis au regret de vous annoncer qu’il fallait pas laisser votre bouche écrire un chèque que votre cul est pas apte à encaisser. 

Maintenant que ça c’est fait, je te réponds aux critiques envers moi et moi seule. Par rapport au sujet de ma critique vis à vis de l’anonymat, oui vous faites ce vous voulez, et moi j’ai pareillement le droit d’exprimer mon avis sur la question. C’est ce que j’arrête pas de dire depuis le début mais vu qu’encore une fois vous préférez comprendre ce que vous voulez je vais continuer à radoter.

Mon message avait pas pour but de « chouiner », il avait pour but de retourner le principal argument qui est employé depuis le début de cette histoire pour dévaloriser nos paroles et décrédibiliser l’importance de notre revendication étant : vous êtes violents, et même si on est d’accords on cautionne pas. Le fait étant que là y’a de la violence réelle et tangible qui a été proférée mais j’vois personne en aller de son petit texte et rebloguer en masse pour exprimer oh combien ça le remue de voir de l’agressivité. Étrange phénomène. Ça prouve bien que le problème de notre soit-disant violence il est épidermique et que le cœur de vos reproches envers nous est lui bien viscéral. 

La vérité c’est qu’à la fin de la journée c’est chacun avec sa propre conscience et vu la virulence avec laquelle vous défendez et justifiez votre caractère j’ai l’impression que la vôtre est bien bien lourde. J’ai jamais dit que j’étais une bad bitch, jamais mentionné la moindre street cred mais merci pour le compliment, et tu sais quoi pour te remercier c’est ton jour de chance j’emmerde pas tout le monde mais j’vais mettre un point d’honneur à t’emmerder toi tout particulièrement, des bisous.

[fabseg-creator]

I have some Cerisette sketches. This time, happens in a fairy tale AU.

From left to right: Marinette (Knight), Cerise (Witch/Deviless/Demon Queen) and Adrien ("Princess"*)

*he's a boy

This is the "confrontation" scene.

The Knight Marinette is come to the castle for free the Princess Adrien but she must face Cerise the Witch Deviless and newly owner of the castle (the previous was the "Witch" Gabriel but he's dead (see at the bottom of the post)).

Princess Adrien is the witness/spectator of the battle (In VIP position).

Marinette is planifying her 131st raid/attempt (all the previouses had failed).

The strong fact: Cerise has never tried to eliminate Marinette unlike to the other knights who terribly failed their raids. She has just repelled her. It's because Marinette has managed to dodge all the traps in the castle.

This time, the Knight and the Witch Deviless make a Tie. The two opponents have their weapons (Marinette: Sword and Shield; Cerise: Magical Scepter) both destroyed.

In next moment, Cerise congratulates Marinette and declares Adrien is released from his captivity. The Princess Boy is surprised he can leave the castle (despite the fact Marinette haven't entered to the Adrien's tower room yet).

Cerise doesn't seem interested about continue to fight Marinette. The Deviless comes closer to the Knight and pins her to the wall with a flirtatous tone. First time, Marinette doesn't understand the Cerise's behavior.

Suddenly, Cerise offers a request to Marinette: To accept her wedding confession/to marry her.

During the battles moments in the past, the Deviless Cerise had developped a little crush on the Knight Marinette.

Bonus:

This is the first meeting between Marinette/Knight and Cerise/Witch Deviless.

Cerise hasn't just overthrown Gabriel the Witch (and Adrien's gaoler). She has killed him. When Marinette the Knight has finally entered to the throne room, she is confused and shortly horrified to see the recently murdered Gabriel's bloody corpse who is empaled on many objects. Cerise and Gabriel had previously a fight against each other and Cerise had won.

Marinette had worked her Knight's skills during her trainings. She became the champion of the Kingdom after winning the tournament. She prepared herself to defeat the Witch Gabriel and to rescue Adrien. And now, a new Witch (a Demon girl) she had never seen yet is standing up in front of her.

But Cerise turns her interest about the new "visitor". She sits down on the Gabriel's throne, poses like a Femme Fatale (Basic Instinct vibes) and invites Marinette to come closer to her with a finger gesture (the Deviless Cerise's hands are like Dragon claws and her fingers are claws).

Marinette/Knight: Who are you ? 🤨

Cerise/Witch Deviless: I am the Demon Queen Cerise. The witch Deviless. But you can name me Cerise. 😉😘

Concerning the Adrien's fate:

Marinette/Knight: What happens with the Princess Adrien ? Do you free him from the Witch ? 🤨

Cerise/Witch Deviless: I wouldn't say "free", more like, under new management. 😉😈

I let you find some ideas for how can be happened in the next moment.

I just taken the idea from the Gabriel Agreste episode (4.09). The illustrations of Marc and Nathaniel have been used as models for this sketches.

[cursedimagesforthesoul]

Accidentally deleted the og so a repost lmao

The “shorter” story of Giulia my Prime Asset!

- height 6’6; built quite long/slim/ectomorph

- She has ocular coloboma in her right eye and ichthyosis Vulgaris that primarily affects her hands/forearms, her cheeks, feet/calves, shoulders, and around her eyes

- She is the handler for some of her crocs (her babies named Lottie, Dot, Rose, and Thelma notably [all female to avoid a potentially catastrophic event]) by which she has trained using primarily clicks of her tongue or a whistle.

- Her father was largely absent due to being in the military and despite having a love for his daughter in a purely paternal manner he didn’t *like her* and almost refused to believe she was his daughter so he in part often avoided her when he could.

- Her mother was obsessive of her especially after Giulia was put into school and was ostracized by her fellow students, seeking to protect her from everything despite her good intentions she did more harm than good taking Giulia out of school and away from everyone not allowing Giulia to go out even as she got older. When she turned 16 her mother offered to take her somewhere special and out to have a meal of her choosing and her of course trusting her mother agreed. What she didn’t know was that her mother had been drinking and was hoping to protect Giulia for the final time in the way she saw best. This world is a terrifying place especially for her darling sweet Giulia, she couldn’t bear to think about her own daughter one day being without her mother so she figured “why not go out together?” She saw this as the best gift she could give her daughter for them to be together forever. So as she reached a point she was happy with she accelerated, Giulia had started to beg her mom and try to get her to snap out of this moment but she had already made her mind up and so Giulia braced herself for the crash. The same crash had ended up killing her mother, leaving Giulia with traumatic injuries to her torso and neck a tree branch had broken through the passenger window empaling her mother. The same branch had clotheslined her cutting into her neck as well as her seatbelt and this had disrupted the nerves to her larynx fracturing it. After this she was hospitalized for weeks and put into a medically induced coma to allow her body a fighting chance having to amputate her pinky on her broken right hand, cracked ribs, tissue damage, fractured collarbone, internal bleeding, and various cuts to her face/neck and body. From here the distance between her and her father seemingly grew, as she came back home *different* she was quiet, was awake at odd hours, impassive, and avoidant sure he already avoided his own daughter when she sought his attention/approval but after the accident this was amplified. No one had seen them together even after, she didn’t even show to her mother’s funeral no one blamed her for that decision although her father may have resented her for it a bit. As they grew older he had to depend on her care due to a cancer that took up a home in his left lung that had spread to his thyroid, getting an honorable discharge from the marines to stay at home with his “daughter” she took well enough care of him even with how he had seemingly resented her for her whole life. As the days passed and he grew weaker, finding it harder to move due to the increasing pressure on his spine he had depended fully on her now, within the year he would die leaving her in the home by her lonesome at the age of 19 surrounded by a marsh with her true family

- Giulia had started to befriend the crocs when she was younger (around eight) after a particularly difficult day at school and then coming home being under a constant watchful gaze from her mother she snuck out of the house that night to go have a cry on the docks this was where she had her first real encounter with them through teary eyes she noticed them watching her first it was fear that crossed her mind but they hadn’t attempted to attack her when they had all the chances to. The other thing that had crossed her mind was a slight kindred feeling looking down to her hands and the reflection in the water she felt they were one and the same to some degree. This had started the beginning of a kinship between her and the crocodiles even to her feeding and caring for them when no one was around, seeking out road kill when possible for her new friends only growing the odd friendship further. This grew into an obsession for her she learned everything she could about them their vocalisations, non vocal communication, society, hierarchy, etc. it made her feel closer to them being able to differentiate what they were trying to communicate to her leading to experiments with attempting to communicate back this was more difficult after her larynx injury so she adapted to whistle training and so did they (although she can still do some vocalizations similar to bellows, hisses, and grunts)

- Due to proximity it’s no surprise she likely has met some mafia members of either Franco or his father (most of which probably became a light snack for her crocodiles) not that either of them are actually aware of that she just saw trespassers and dealt with them as she would have anyone else likely thinking they were hunters

- Actually the only reason Murkoff had eyes on her was due to them hunting for Franco and following leads of missing people which had association to Franco

- One of her original crocs at home was missing a large portion of its top jaw from some hunters this one she called Bellona after the Roman goddess of war (and yes she did have names for ALL of them) she took special care of this one with assisted feeding and ensuring that she wasn’t picked on by the others after she had passed away Giulia made her bottom jaw into her signature blade she uses to this day to keep her fighting spirit alive with her

[fairy25]

I was researching Project 2025 and it’s so fucking disgusting how many men are commenting their support. We gun these fuckers down with military grade assault weapons WHEN? I’m not one of those “equality is for everyone 🥰 don’t stoop to their level” types I want to empale these men’s heads on spikes around the White House

[rainbow-beanie]

My favorite screenshots from helluva boss the full moon, aka season 2 episode 8, spooky scary bloody bodies, part two

Near the dumpster is another bloody spine on the ground, next to someone’s spilled boba tea, which may have belonged to one of the victims.

Above that is someone who is suspended in the air by a axe, having been fatally struck between his face and chest, not a fun way to go.

Then there’s this guy, who is suspended off the ground similar to the other guy, the difference here is that the body has been empaled through either one or both legs by a sharp object, which could be double bladed sword.

Then there is this body suspended in the air, with the only thing keeping them there is rope around their arms and legs. I’m thinking the person could have been interrogated by i.m.p before either getting stabbed to death or succumbing to their injuries.

This body seems to have had their leg chopped off, with what appears to be another body almost fully submerged in what can only be assumed to be intestines, brain matter and whatever else, leaving only their butt and part of their back exposed.

And lastly, in the middle of the aftermath of all this carnage is a young boy, who was somehow the only one left alive to tell the tale (I’m thinking the reason why he was not killed is cause moxxie might still feel bad about indirectly getting the father and children killed waaaaaay back in season one) who is definitely been traumatized for life, and no one will believe him about what had happened.

We will be back to our regularly scheduled screenshots in part three.