#his specific tag that i have for him might be.........

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

I got to thinking and realized something. Wouldn't you be the scariest thing in home? A human with sharp teeth, resilience and strength. To the puppets, who are all made of soft fabric, you're a machine made of flesh and bone.

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Scary parts of the Reader

★ You might not think of yourself as intimidating, but from their perspective, you're a walking anomaly. A creature unlike anything they’ve ever seen. Even frank didn't know what you were! And he's supposed to be the smartest neighbor.

★ Puppets tear, unravel, and fade. Requiring patches or stitches. Even after that, they never look the same. But humans? You heal, your body repairs itself. Leaving you good as new after getting a scrape. That alone could make you seem unnatural.

★ There’s a fine line between strange and scary, and in Home, you might find yourself stuck between it. At least when you first move in. Even so, the tight knit community welcomed you.

★ If you use your teeth to open something, be prepared for some strange looks. Poppy might flinch, then look at you with concern. "O-Oh my goodness, oh dear. Why would you do that?! Is this just… normal for you?" Eyes darting between your mouth and whatever was torn open.

★ On days where you didn't have any sleep, Eddie gets nervous around you. It's something about the way you move that unsettles him. Partnered with the unfocused look in your eyes. Would Eddie be scared? No, not exactly. But he keeps his distance until you’re back to normal.

★ The worst thing Frank learned was that you're a predator. Specifically, an apex predator at the very top of the food chain. Before, Frank saw you as merely an oddity. Now, he sees you as something a little more dangerous.

★ After figuring out human's hunt prey by chasing them to exhaustion. Frank refuses to play tag with you. Saying "Absolutely not." While crossing his arms. "There is no way I'd willingly put myself in a situation where I have to outrun you."

★ Julie loves you, she really does! But sometimes you can be a downer. Even if it's not on purpose. Your serious moments just throw her off. Having a more realistic view on the world would make you stick out in the neighborhood.

★ Your stomach growing freaks out Barnaby. To him it sounds like a dog growling at him. And he reacts accordingly. Leaning back to put some distance between himself and whatever might be dwelling inside of you. Mabey just a little scared.

★ Howdy once saw you bite down on a plastic cord. Cutting it without the need for scissors. "Whoa there, neighbor! Did you just..." He gestures towards the cord, trying to process what he just witnessed. Watching you bite through tough materials is too much for him.

[noperopesaredope]

(Got too long for the tags)

I already reblogged a post where I rambled in the tags about this but screw it I'm gonna ramble again-

I love creating clone trooper OCs and I think it would be so fun to explore the dreams, hopes, ambitions, and perspectives of just random ass clones on the front lines who are focused on just surviving each battle. There might honestly be no singular main character, or it sort of gradually changes overtime. There's a greater “main cast” and characters who get a lot of focus, but they keep gradually dying and having new characters come in to take their different places.

I have the fun skill of looking at a random word and creating a whole clone OC based on it, and it makes it easy to invent dozens of characters over the course of a series who manage to get at least slightly fleshed out in the short amount of time they have on screen.

Beanstalk and Jeggings were both random names I came up with on the spot for a post about clone names giving them personalities and how that makes their deaths sadder. Now I am extremely attached to both Beanstalk and Jeggings because I gave them backstories, goals, dreams, beliefs/ideologies, friendships, personalities, and arcs that get cut short because their lives are cut short.

You can introduce so many clones who start out seeming like gag characters but gradually get more depth beyond that simple gag.

Hypothesis named himself after his favorite holonet show and is a mega fan of the series because it brings him simple joy in a life of constant destruction and death and loss. But not long before he can meet the series creator, Hypothesis ends up fucking dying. I fucking kill him. He's dead now.

Kenny was a joke OC inspired by a subplot in a fic called “Zillo Beast for Chancellor!” that made me imagine a clone singing a cover of “Not Like Us” about Palpatine and then infodumping about the beef to some of his squadmates (based on FD Signifier's essay). Now he's one of my other favorites.

Leaf was a joke OC who's a stoner, and now he's not only the chill therapist friend of the group, but uses "leaves" to cope with the trauma of war.

Commander Hydro is based on the Schafrillas dehydration gun meme and is slowly becoming one of my favorite CC OCs.

Dustpan and Broomstick are my children and I love them so very much.

Honestly, what inspired the post about clones getting names then immediately dying was one background clone named "Lucky" who I became attached to by name alone. Wouldn't it be messed up and wild if there was a series about various random clones who appear ones before suddenly dying? Maybe even clones who we saw dead in the background or were an unnamed casualty. And we don't even realize it until a certain number of episodes later when some of the characters start dying off the way we saw in random episodes?

A series where a few members of our main cast are the clones in the R2D2 rescue episode that got killed off during the mission, and we don't even realize it until the "episode" where they die occurs and we slowly realize who some of them are and how it ends.

Just- there's endless potential for "filler" clones who seem simple while being complex and layered. You could even focus each episode on a different clone, with occasional arcs focusing on a larger number of them (in which you can kill guys off). There can be a greater main cast of characters, but most episodes are mainly focused on one or two who are the supporting cast in other episodes.

It would be so fun to just see a series specifically just about random clones with their own lives who are completely unrelated to the greater plot and might not even have very important plotlines in the grand scheme, with the show being mostly character driven. It could be great and honestly still explore the true tragedy of the clones with ongoing subplots related to things like them realizing how messed up their situation is or disillusionment with the Republic/the war or a million other things.

Sorry for rambling, I just really want a series like that.

Star wars animated shows I really wanna see.

Star wars what if show.

CLONE REBELLION SHOW PLEASE

something about Kix. It can be a one episode thing I just wanna see what happened with him

What happened to Echo.

What happens with Omega.

WHERE THE HELL IS CODY?!? WHERE DID THE SUNSHINE GO!?

[eph-em-era]

is it bad writing or are you just sad?

I see a lot of people talking about this episode being bad writing, which it isn't. You are sad and you're angry and you're using the tag of 'bad writing' because you didn't want it to happen. Let's talk.

buck and eddie reunion happened off screen - Yeah. Don't I wish I also saw that? absolutely. does it make logical sense with a) filming budgets, time and episode space and b) the arc of the episode? Yeah. It does. This is an episode about Athena. It's an episode about her dealing with the loss, which is why we get a ton more from her and a ton less from everyone else. the madney and bathena moments were tiny too.

to include a buck and eddie airport scene you have to

get location permission for an airport, and aviation spaces often include more specific permissions than other spaces

get extras for the scene

get security

block out time in the schedule for that filming with your actors

pay for all of those things

aside from those complexities - a scene like that almost certainly would have been cut for time, as they have FORTY TWO MINUTES for an unrelated plot which is why they didn't shoot it

the b-plot - I see a lot of people talking about this b-plot as being something emergency-related just shoved in, or 'mocking the fans'. it's a LIKE STORY. 9-1-1 does them all the dang time, grouping similar stories together on screen. this b-plot was about athena learning to recognise that bobby was actually dead, that even if things seem unfair and seem like they shouldn't have happened, sometimes people just die and it's awful and it makes no sense but they do; alongside having space and compassion for death even many years after the fact.

also, the woman in the b-plot was being held! they were being compassionate to her! they weren't treating her like she was crazy, they were being deeply kind in a moment of terrible tragedy. they weren't mocking her grief.

buck isn't sad enough - you have seen two days two weeks after bobby died. grief is not quantifiable and everyone does it differently. if you do not think that buck's not holding that grief right down at the moment - you could see it in his face at the funeral - you're kidding yourself if you think this is the end of it. athena is coping in her way, eddie in his, hen in hers, chim in his. this is how buck is coping.

they should have started this episode the moment after the last one finished - that's terrible television writing, no they shouldn't have. having people constantly talk AT each other might be useful for fandom, but makes no sense on screen. you need to show these emotions rather than have conversations about emotions, and they absolutely did

eddie should have been there earlier - eddie diaz needed a reason to come home, to break free from the living life day by day that was him living with chris in el paso. he needs to reach out and actively fight for himself now. now that bobby is gone, he feels guilt that he wasn't there, and he's going to spend more time reaching for the things he wants

realism/creative decisions - you read the phrase "real stakes" and took "realism" from it. they're two entirely different things. the show has settled into an isolated system. a death, after eight years, is a very creative decision, actually, because it pulls us free from the entropy. now, we're scared. now the characters are scared. it feels more fleeting, and people are more likely to take risks, to live, to reach for the things they want. why after eight years? cause now you care.

the leaked script - it was april fools day and you were coping. i think doing that thing after doing so much genuine empathy and tragedy would have absolutely cheapened the death

bobby buried in minnesota - his family died not even a decade ago. if you think he would have preferred to have been buried in an LA plot, with no-one that he knows, i think you're kidding yourself

bobby should have been on screen more - he's dead. i'm sorry, but he's dead. the scenes we saw of him? they were of a worthy man, one clearly well loved and important. a man with good principles and a good heart. but he is dead. the story has moved to focus more for those who are living.

the actors were laughing and having fun on set - because they're actors and this is a tv show

I am sad too! I am genuinely sad too! i think this was a beautiful episode and did truly as much as it could with a grief storyline, honoring those who were living as well as the one who has gone. i don't doubt it will continue to do so throughout the rest of the show. bobby is dead. there's no takebacks. it is not bad writing, you are just hollowed out by grief.

this is television. they have 42 minutes to tell a story. you set your expectations for canon based on the bounty we have in fanon, and that will NEVER be possible to achieve.

[venusbyline]

Mother Above — Aemond Targaryen.

— summary: His wish for revenge had broken the bond of love and affection between him and his mother. Alicent no longer saw him as her good boy. She was seeing him as a monster, worse than Aegon. A murderer. A murderer who could only find comfort in another woman's arms. In your arms.

— pairing: Aemond Targaryen x brothel worker!reader

— type: smut

— tags/warnings: female!reader, sub!Aemond Targaryen, prostitution, breastfeeding, lactation kink, handjob, mommy kink, mommy issues, breast worship, naked snuggling, implied Aemond Targaryen/Alicent Hightower BUT NOT REALLY, mention of Helaena and Aegon together during the Driftmark incident, Lucerys Velaryon's death mentioned, Jaehaerys Targaryen's death mentioned, religious imagery and symbolism (Faith of the Seven), single mother!reader, kinda fluff, kinda angst too, fluffy but open ending, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— author's notes¹: Reader has no specific description of physical appearance other than breasts (no specific size mentioned) and a vagina.

— author's notes²: This one-shot is based on an anon horny thought that I received on my inbox this week 🤭🤭💕💕 Tysm sweetie!!!

❥ Aemond masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

Aemond entered the brothel with the same stoic face as always, his jaw clenched almost like a stone, perfectly matching the coldness of his gaze. His single eye scanned the place without worrying about the whispers of the other people around.

The whores and their clients... All whispering about the constant presence of the Targaryen prince there, once again that week. Such visits no longer caused great surprises, no longer raised confused or fearful looks. No one asking about what he might want... Everyone knew.

Everyone knew why Aemond was there. They knew who he was looking for. Who he was paying. Who he was desiring, and not just physically.

"May I help you?" A random girl approached him, as she was instructed to do. Regardless of how obvious the reasons for Aemond's visit were, the rules established by Madam Sylvi had to be followed. The whores had to offer themselves to him first, no matter what.

Aemond grimaced at the sight of the girl coming close to him like a dog in heat, her nipples perky behind the fabric of her silk robe that did little to keep her mounds covered. She was not ugly, perhaps she was the type that would catch his older brother's attention — although Aegon did not have very high standards when it came to women. He just liked any tight pussy he could fuck.

"No." Aemond answered to the whore's suggestion, returning to survey the brothel with his eye, not even bothering himself to try to be a little more friendly or to thank her for that offer.

He was there for a specific purpose, and that one did not include tarnishing his dignity with a woman of no importance.

With a woman who was not you.

The whore did her best to disguise her reaction, a poor and weak performance. The offense at the quick rejection was clear on her face, as difficult to mask as it was impossible for Aemond to hide who he really was.

His attempt to hide his Targaryen bloodline was failing, despite the hood he wore to cover the color of his long hair.

Everyone knew he was a Targaryen prince. Everyone knew he was Aemond One-Eye. After all, who else on that damn city would have silver hair and wear an eye patch?

After a few more minutes of complete silence, an older whore approached the one who was already close to Aemond, whispering something in her ear. The younger woman took a deep breath and nodded, before turning to the prince with a fake smile. "She is waiting for you."

Aemond's tongue circled around your nipple, teasing the peak so he could turn it more perky... Drops of milk dripped even though he had not made any real effort to suck and extract them yet.

The taste was sweet. Familiar and comforting. Just like the sounds of pleasure that came from the lips of the pretty woman beside him. You.

You seemed like some Goddess before Aemond's eyes. The Mother Above herself in all her glory, granting him the blessing of taking you, of drinking from your breasts like a starving child. Like a newborn baby desperate to stay alive, to survive the hardships of life.

The hardships he brought upon himself when he killed Rhaenyra's son. When he let himself be carried away by impulsiveness, by a strong wish for revenge since the Driftmark incident.

Aemond could blame his cousins, Rhaena and Baela. Daemon’s daughters who had been too stupid to understand that a dragon was not like a puppy and could not be stolen, and that he had every right to try to claim Vhagar before Rhaena could recover herself after her mother’s death.

Aemond could blame Aegon and Helaena. His older brother had been so drunk that night that as soon as he was escorted back to his chambers by their grandfather, Aegon had snuck out and sneaking into their sister’s, laying next to Helaena even after he complained about his recent betrothal to her, both of them not even remembering about Aemond’s existence while they were having a decent conversation for the first time.

Aemond could blame Rhaenyra and Daemon. His spoiled cunt half-sister and his idiot uncle had not even paid attention to their own children, because they were so focused on having sex on that beach after years apart.

Aemond could blame Lucerys and Jacaerys. His nephews who were too easily influenced and who always played tricks on him along with Aegon. His nephews who always saw Aemond as someone inferior, who had accompanied Rhaena and Baela to argue with him about a matter that was none of their business. He could blame Jacaerys for bringing that knife, just like and he could blame Lucerys for using it.

Aemond could blame Viserys. He could blame his damned father for letting things go too far, for not defending him that night, for caring more about those "false" rumors of Rhaenyra's children's bastardy than the fact that Luke had mutilated his eye. For always favoring Rhaenyra, his firstborn, and completely ignoring the existence of his other children, even though he had spent years wanting a son, a male heir.

Deep down, though, Aemond knew there was only one person he could blame. And it was himself. His wish for revenge led him to murder his own nephew Lucerys Velaryon. His wish for revenge caused the war between the Greens and Blacks to begin in earnest. His wish for revenge was the reason for Jaehaerys' tragic death and for Helaena's incessant melancholy.

And worst of all... His wish for revenge had broken the bond of love and affection between him and his mother. Alicent no longer saw him as her good boy. She was seeing him as a monster, worse than Aegon. A murderer. A murderer who could only find comfort in another woman's arms. In your arms.

"You are hungry tonight..." You teased him, fingers stroking the prince's long hair.

A groan rumbled from Aemond's chest when your free hand moved down between his legs, teasing his shaft, but not quite touching it. Not quite holding it tightly and stimulating it. Not quite giving Aemond the pleasure he wanted. The pleasure he needed.

He felt like a son being denied by a mother. He felt like the way he had when he had tried to hold Alicent close after returning from Storm's End. His often stoic face was contorted into a look of despair, barely able to tell her that he had just killed Lucerys. His single eye were filled with tears that refused to let go, like when Aegon and their nephews played pranks on him and he sought comfort from his mother.

That time, however, Alicent did not comfort him. She slapped him across the face and yelled at him, the same way she always did with Aegon.

The boy had been deprived of any affection or words that could help him deal with the situation. During that night, just hours after becoming a Kinslayer, Aemond found himself entering a brothel for the second time in his entire life, thinking about distracting himself with a little sex, a tactic Aegon used whenever he was scolded by Alicent.

Unlike his older brother, who drowned his sorrows with wine and rough sex with any whore he saw, Aemond was looking for someone who would care about him. Create a bond. Someone who could love him the way Alicent had loved him before all of that. Or at least someone who was good enough at pretending.

And from the very first moment, you were willing to do it.

Now, after so many moons bedding with him, your motivations were no longer focused on the gold he paid you, no longer just focused on the opportunity to have enough money to keep your daughter fed and safe.

Aemond was not pretending.

You were not pretending.

Neither of you were pretending.

"Do not deny me..." Aemond's words sounded muffled against your breasts, not like an order dictated by a prince to a mere whore. It was like a little boy begging for his mother.

Like a believer begging for the compassion of the Seven.

You guided your palm until it finally closed around Aemond's thick pink cock, the young man's only eye closing with the pleasure of that touch while the sapphire that filled his empty eye socket looked even more beautiful than before.

Oh, how grateful he was to the Mother Above for your motherhood, for the breast milk that trickled from your breasts as he sucked and squeezed them, nourishing him like they nourished your own child, nourishing him like the wet nurse had nourished him when he was just a little baby, nourishing him like Alicent never cared to do when he was born.

"Gentle Mother, font of mercy. Save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows. Let them know a better day..." Your voice sounded soft, humming the hymn Aemond had already asked you to recite when he was breastfed by you for the first time.

Aemond whimpered with a mixture of pleasure and sadness, melancholy filling him as he remembered about the afternoons he had accompanied Alicent to the Sept so they could pray together. As he remembered about her humming that hymn along with Helaena when he and his sister were little kids.

Melancholy filling him as your milk wet his lips and his creamy seed splattered onto your fingers.

"Gentle Mother, strength of women. Help our daughters through this fray. Soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way." You finished singing, kissing Aemond's forehead like Alicent used to do. Like Alicent would never do again.

[kalied0skull]

“ front and center, girly! ”

— “ yeah, I'm hearin'! ”

now playing: Hey Cowgirl — Mac Demarco ♪

★ ramble & extras under the cut !

it was only a matter of time until i got my grubby hands on cowgirl curtis, i have been running around grabbing EVERRYYY SINGLEEE trans headcanon and absolutely eating that shit UP!!!

shout out to @trevination & @broareweabouttoviberightnow because when scrambling around for ideas to draw her I've discovered that she is your guys' collective daughter and it feels only right to show her to you (so sorry for the @'s I'm not prone to tagging people but i take it you both wouldn't mind much 💀)

this is my little take on cowgirl! and AAAUGHHHH I LOVE HERRRRR I DOOOOO!!!! i am holding her so gently in my hands and brushing her hair with a tiny little comb ,, she's my gal. ..

soemthing about transfem curtis brothers makes my heart go wah, i love them really i do they're so lovely to me

I don't have many headcanons of cowgirl at the moment, but i am obsessed with the idea of calling her "girly" (thankyou to my memaw, who uses girly and inspired the idea) — like... pony / girly? the parallels... okay whatever I'm shutting up i promise /j+silly

anyways, whilst trying to make up a little design for her, i got a bit sidetracked and made this drawing of ponyboy and cowgirl sharing a cigarette and having a real short talk

the specific ponyboy i have there IS post-story, his bleached and overgrown hair making a weird appearance in the drawing. i dunno, i like to imagine post-canon pb would have a way more enamored response to cowgirl compared to pre or during.

he's really in love with the girl he becomes in another universe, even if it might not be him. he still loves her no matter what, and i think that's really neat :D

my favorite little detail of cowgirl has to be the little designs i put on her clothes, something tells me she is a girl who is in LOVE with embroidery. i think it might be one of the things she picked up when transitioning, because you always have to be a little punk in terms of being transgender in my opinion — and i take cowgirl to be quite crafty :3c

i just think she'd fawn over tiny flowers and spirals all over her stuff, because "they are so cute n' simple, right?! but they're so complex and cool!" and awawawahhh... she just likes her details in my eyes

anyways i really really REALLY enjoyed making this drawing, mostly digital though – the traditional sketch was a hit of a process, i accidentally made her too tall at some point and was like "??? nuh uh" 💀 but she's beautiful and she's such a doll and wahhh my babyy...

i hope all the transfem pb fans out there can appreciate another addition to the gallery, I'd also like to shout out GLORBIEZ' ART !!! who also inspired me very heavily to make my own version!

please please please go look at it glorbiez is an amazing artist and i really love their take on cowgirl /BEGGING, DESPERATE (/silly)

who am i if not to jump on a trend with a very niche headcanon amirite ;3

[beigetiger]

So I know I made an entire post saying I don't think Breadhead would just be fine with Mel being human (and I still think some people are babifying him over this), but I may have thought too hard and I'm now coming to realize that the theory that he knows already and is choosing to remain quiet actually has quite a bit of credence. So I'm gonna swallow my words a bit and go over the evidence.

We have this very nifty image (taken from @pandathug, sorry for the tag) that shows a comic summarizing how the Smiling Dead got into this situation, placed specifically around Breadhead looking at his sister. Remember that all details in this pilot were placed there intentionally, and so there's got to be a reason they put it around Breadhead instead of Mel or Ken (who might otherwise make more sense).

He's also literally in the room when Mel gets revealed as human. He's sleeping in an open breadbox. It makes sense that he would wake up from Jack's yelling and Mel panicked and trying to talk him down, and Mel definitely spilled enough blood for it to get on the ground. He could have easily just woken up and walked out, seen the blood and the chaos that was going down, and put two and two together.

And he kiiiiiind of tells Mud to shut up when Mud asks why they're hunting Jack. "If we get paid, who cares why we do it" even though it is made VERY clear later that Breadhead does not get paid. He's just trying to focus Mud's attention elsewhere, which Mel and Ken almost immediately join in on.

Although less consequential, he also carries Mel at the end while she's bleeding black blood and says nothing about it. I give this less credence because he can guess that she just fought an angel, an unassuming Breadhead could easily just say that the blood belongs to the angel (a lot of it does) and leave it at that. He also immediately crushes Jack so that he cannot speak properly after Jack says to listen to him.

So, yeah. That's a theory. We'll see if it goes literally anywhere.

[mattslvrxo]

first series!!

{secret addiction}

part {1 }

꣑ৎ { insta famous user x chris sturniolo } ꣑ৎ

{ ! } contains: sex, stalking, nsfw content, adulatory , only fans, swearing, .. etc

based on the song

╰┈➤ ❝ . ۫ . my strange addiction . ۫ . ❞۫

by billie eilish

{your pov }

a few years ago, i kind of blew up without really meaning to. it started with a few instagram posts — random selfies, outfit pics, nothing groundbreaking — but for some reason, people latched on. called me an “it girl.” an “instagram model.” whatever the fuck that even means.

i didn’t fight it. i leaned into it. posted more, gained more followers, brands started reaching out. next thing i knew, i was verified, making money just for existing online. and when the offers came to start an onlyfans… i didn’t even hesitate. it wasn’t some deep, complicated decision. i had the face. i had the body. people were already staring — might as well make them pay for it.

the money was stupid. the attention was overwhelming. but i couldn’t lie — i loved it. the attention i got from it. the way it made people lose their minds. the thing is, i barely dipped into youtube. maybe a vlog once a month, if i remembered. nothing serious. i wasn’t trying to be an influencer. i was just me. so when i was mindlessly scrolling on tiktok one night and a random edit popped up — my face mashed next to some guy i’d never seen before — i was confused as fuck.

“omg they would be SO tea tg.”

“they match each other’s energy so bad.”

“manifesting this.” the comments were insane. i didn’t even know who the hell this guy was.

curious, i searched his name. “chris sturniolo.” apparently, he was a youtuber. a triplet, which was… weirdly hot. i clicked through his instagram, half-expecting to be unimpressed.

nope.

he was attractive. way too attractive.

the kind of boy you try to convince yourself isn’t your type just so you don’t have to deal with the consequences.

messy brown hair, effortless smirk, not too tall but not too short, great style , kinda broad shoulders but still looked like he didn’t take himself too seriously. only one tattoo — clean skin, sharp jawline, heavy-lidded blue eyes that looked like they could ruin your life without trying.

i hated how quickly i was interested.. i hated how i scrolled back months on his profile without even realizing. seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours.

i told myself it was just curiosity.

just research.

but every time i posted a new story, every time i dropped a new set, i’d wonder would he see it? would he care?

i never followed him, never liked a post, and never commented. i just watched, silent, invisible,like a fucking coward.

and what i didn’t know — what i couldn’t have known — was that he was doing the exact same thing.

{chris’s pov }

saturday night, absolutely nothing to do.

i was half-dead on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through tiktok, thinking about how much i fucking hated social media.

everything felt recycled lately. nothing new. nothing exciting. i was looking at my mentions until something caught my eye, i kept getting tagged in one specific video,

a fan edit.

me… and this.. girl?

the caption was some dumb shit like “soulmates fr.” what the fuck? how the fuck would i be soulmates with a chick that i don’t even know. i almost scrolled past it, almost.

but something about her face — the way she looked at the camera like she already knew how attractive she was, her smile wasnt bright.. her sharp eyes stared into the camera — made me pause.

who the fuck was she? i clicked her account that was tagged in the caption.. next to my @ , and before i could even blink, i was on her instagram page. 2.5 million followers. verified. full-blown star.

she was gorgeous. not just pretty — dangerous. the kind of gorgeous that makes your chest hurt a little. i saw the link in her bio. clicked it without thinking.

onlyfans,of course. because why the fuck would anything ever be simple?

i didn’t subscribe, but it didn’t matter, her posts were enough.

bikinis, short skirts, tight tops, sometimes baggy pants, her style was fire and it was fucking torture. i hated myself for not being able to look away.

i stalked harder than i should have, found her tiktoks. her youtube. even her pinterest.

it was bad.

i knew it was bad.

but i couldn’t stop.

i never followed her. never liked her pictures,

never commented.

i just watched,quiet,obsessed,paralyzed.

it became a sick routine, open instagram. check her page. close the app. pretend i didn’t just waste another twenty minutes memorizing someone i’d never met.

i told myself it was harmless, but deep down, i knew.

written by adeline!

part 2 coming soon..

[stalkingthenet333]

Hii again!!

I’m the anon who requested the short!reader x Brahms and omg I love the headcanons!!! I got excited seeing the post pop up when I looked at the Brahms x reader tag lolll. Thank u for doing my request :D ! I’m writing this bc earlier I wasn’t sure if you do nsfw so I just left the original request the way it is. If it’s not too much trouble, can u do a nsfw head canons of a short reader x Brahms?

Thank u again for the headcanons! <3

Helllooooo! I would love too! Most of the time I like to write hints of nsfw things only because sometimes i can’t find the words LOL anyway Again, I’m super tall so this might suck (oopsie if it does ily for the request anyway!) This is very long so I apologize that it took me a minute to get to this! I also kinda made a plot? Sort of... idk, I know you asked for head canons and I apologize for forgetting! I have some drafts for Brahms I'm working on so maybe I'll do that too!

(NSFW — size kink, soft dom/sub, needy! Brahms, virgin! Brahms, overstimulation, gn! reader, no specific use of f/m features, etc, maybe ooc! Brahms? lmk lol )

"Show me how?"

He stood at the edge of the bed, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The room was quiet except for your breath — steady, encouraging. Brahms was flushed to the ears, towering over you, wide-eyed like a deer caught in a trap he built for himself.

“You… want me to touch you?” he asked, voice low, trembling.

You nodded from your seat on the bed, looking up at him with soft eyes. “Only if you want to. I can teach you. We can go slow.”

He hesitated. His fingers twitched.

“I’ve never— I mean, I’ve wanted to. Thought about it. A lot. But you’re so…” His eyes trailed down your frame. “So small. What if I… do it wrong?”

You reached up, gently guiding his huge hand to your thigh. “You won’t. I’ll show you.” His breath hitched. He stared at your skin under his fingers like it might vanish. “You’re warm.”

“And you’re sweet,” you said, guiding him closer. His knees bumped the bed, and he dropped to them without grace — massive hands now braced on either side of your hips. You could see how hard he was, straining under his clothes, his body shaking with restraint. You peeled your shirt off slowly, letting his wide eyes follow the motion. His gaze was starving.

“Do you want to touch me more?” You asked him softly, carefully.

His voice was hoarse. “Yes. But… you’ll have to tell me what to do. I don’t know how to… how to be gentle.”

You leaned forward, grabbing his wrist and pressing it to your chest. “Start here. Just feel me.” His hands were almost comically large compared to your frame — his fingers easily covering most of your chest, trembling as he explored, barely breathing. “Good,” you whispered. “That’s perfect. You’re doing great.”

He looked up like you’d given him a medal. “I… want to see you. All of you.”

You stood, short and bare before him. Brahms stared like you were divine, eyes wide and bright as he took you in. His hands brushing your hips.

“I don’t even know how I’d… fit inside you,” he murmured. “You’re just so...I feel like I'm too big I-.”

“Let me show you,” you said softly, cutting him off gently, then slowly began tugging him toward the bed. You undressed him slowly, carefully — like unwrapping something dangerous and sacred. His body was scarred, but beautiful, and when he was fully bare, he was huge. His cock stood thick and flushed, leaking at the tip, twitching with barely restrained need.

You saw the fear in his eyes again. You knelt before him, pressing your hands to his hips. “Breathe. I’ll guide you.”

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Your hands wrapped around him, slowly lining him up to your entrance. “Go slow,” you whispered, steadying yourself. “Let me take you.” He whimpered — an honest, broken sound — as you sank down, inch by inch. He clutched the sheets, terrified to move, breath ragged.

“You’re so… tight,” he gasped. “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

You leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “You feel amazing. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

Once he was fully inside, you began to move. Slow. Gentle. His head fell back, a groan escaping him — overwhelmed by the heat and the way you clenched around him like you were built to take him. “Use your hands,” you murmured. “Hold me. Touch my hips. Guide me.”

He obeyed instantly, gripping your waist with trembling reverence, helping you rock against him. Every time your bodies met, it made a soft, wet sound that drove him wild. “Am I doing okay?” he whispered, nervous and scared he wouldn't measure up to your expectations of him. You smiled, breathless. “You’re perfect, Brahms. You’re making me feel so full. So good.”

That undid him.

His hips snapped up, and your cry echoed in the room — not from pain, but from sudden pleasure. Something in him broke loose. His shyness burned off in the heat of your praise. He flipped you onto your back, covering your smaller body completely. His thrusts grew frantic, then desperate, burying himself deep again and again while he clung to your hands, your waist, your moans.

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “You’re learning so fast.”

He groaned as he came, pulsing deep inside you, body shaking with the force of it. He didn’t pull out. He didn’t move at all. He just buried his face into your chest, panting, and whispered:

“Teach me everything. I want to learn everything… with you.”

yes there's more muahahaahahaha

He hadn’t let go of you.

Even after he’d emptied inside you, even after your body had gone limp from the stretch and heat, Brahms stayed wrapped around your much smaller frame, his arms like a cage made of trembling muscle and heat.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbled into your neck. “So good. You made me feel… alive.”

You were barely catching your breath when you felt it — the slow grind of his hips again. Still hard. Still huge. “Brahms—” you started, dizzy from the first round.

“I want more,” he whispered. Almost like he was ashamed of how much. “Please. I want to learn more. I want to know what makes you cry. What makes you shake. I want to… hear you beg.”

Your eyes fluttered. He sounded like a man possessed — but still so gentle, like every movement was him holding back a storm.

“You can barely fit,” you said, half-laughing, half-moaning as he pushed back inside, the stretch sharp and deep all over again.

“I know,” he groaned. “That’s why it’s so good.”

He moved slower this time, watching your face with awe as your breath hitched with every thrust. Your legs barely reached around his waist, your smaller hands splayed uselessly against his chest, but he let you guide him anyway — his hips rolling with every soft gasp you gave him. “Tell me what you like,” he whispered. “Tell me everything.”

You gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, breathless. “I like when you fill me up. I like how careful you are. I like… how you look when you’re losing control.”

His eyes darkened. His rhythm changed.

“You like that?” he murmured, voice rough. “When I stop thinking and just— mph..”

He started to move harder. Not rough, not violent — but with a kind of wildness he didn’t know how to rein in. Your smaller body bounced beneath him, stretched again and again around his thick cock, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Say more,” he growled. “Tell me what you want.”

“Touch me,” you gasped. “Everywhere. I want your hands on me. I want you inside and around me. All of you.”

He obeyed immediately — one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other sliding down to your stomach, pressing gently over the bulge he made inside you.

“You’re so tiny,” he whispered, breath shaky. “I can feel myself through your belly. You’re taking me.” Your walls fluttered at the words, and Brahms felt it.

“Oh… oh, you liked that. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

His thrusts became desperate again. Not sloppy — focused. The kind of rhythm that meant he was chasing something. Not just pleasure — a lesson. A reaction. Your undoing.

You came with a sharp cry, body writhing beneath him, shaking around his cock like you were made to be filled by it. Brahms moaned like he was the one breaking.

He kept going.

Your vision blurred. Your thighs trembled. “Brahms— I can’t— it’s too much—”

“No,” he breathed, kissing your forehead as his thrusts grew gentler, deeper. “Just a little more. I’m still learning.”

You came again, with a loud moan which sounded more like a whine then anything.

And he didn’t stop until you were crying his name, clinging to his shoulders, babbling soft praises into his hair.

When he finally came again, it was slow, deep, and quiet — his arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he could fuse your bodies together forever. He kissed your temple. “I think I’m a fast learner,” he said, smiling shyly. You laughed weakly against his chest, spent and full and blissed out.

“Yes,” you murmured. “But you’re insatiable.”

He pulled the blankets around you both like a cocoon and whispered:

“Then you better keep teaching me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for the request I really enjoyed writing this :)))

[sirenscradle]

Devil’s catch | K.HJ

[character sheets: pt.i]

pairings: exorcist!hongjoong x psychic!reader (some ot8 x reader but heavily focused on hongjoong)

genres: religious horror, supernatural-fantasy, suggestive (possible eventual smut and more intense displays at intimacy). (18+)

summary: “the order” is a secret organization of exorcists blessed with special abilities dedicated to expelling higher class demons—located in a ancient crypt hidden beneath the vatican. when an exceptionally gifted child is followed by prophetic omens and falls into possession of an unclassified s-class demon—kim hongjoong, considered one of the greatest exorcists of the 21st century, is dispatched under the mysterious order of convincing an enigmatic psychic hiding away in a metropolis to accompany he and his team in what might be their most daunting exorcism yet.

series warnings: strong language, religious allegories, lots of talk about religious trauma (some of it may be sacrilegious in nature, so if you aren’t comfortable with that please keep that in mind before reading!) exorcisms, possession, sacrificial rituals, alluded mentions of ableism (specifically regarding blindness, as one of the main characters discusses his experiences as a blind man/his background and talks about the process of losing his sight in detail), light mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, horror, angst, child possession, intense imagery, hallucinations, light amount of self inflicted wounds, violence, blood, and gore. additional warnings will be provided for each chapter. (story is marked as 18+ due to the descriptive elements of horror and suggestive scenes.) there may be eventual smut— but nothing planned as of right now.

taglist: @cypherluv (let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged!)

this is part two out of five of my character sheets. these are detailed descriptions for each of the exorcists gifts and every post will contain three randomized characters (though, i’m saving hongjoong’s for last ;) ) chapter ii will be posted later today or tomorrow (i’m obsessed with writing this.

masterlist, architecture moodboards, character sheets i, character sheet ii, character sheet iii, character sheet iv, chapter i.

jung wooyoung: the scalded hand.

name: jung wooyoung

age: 26, born early november

abilities: due to his fluctuating emotional nature, wooyoung’s abilities are still being sharpened into perfection. he was the last to join their clergy and was much older than the rest of his incoming class upon being initiated into the order—wooyoung was already fourteen when he unknowingly became an infernal host, which put him at a disadvantage to the rest of his team who had been trained since the age of four or five. (in which was also when they all unknowingly underwent the ‘ritual of infernal trial’ —after it was successfully completed, the memories of the ritual were wiped by an exorcist who is the bearer of a memory oriented gift.) his gift is nicknamed “hell-fire” due to the fact that his flames are the only ones that have the ability to permanently burn a demon and because of his lack of control over his ability— it can be proved lethal to the object of possession, as it takes too much of a toll on the human soul and can kill them along with the demon they host.

choi san: the pale blue eye.

name: choi san

age: 27, born sometime early summer.

abilities: san bares the most insecurity regarding his ability—giving that he does not have an inherently offense based gift. san gradually lost his sight at an early age but is gifted with the ability to see the world from his third eye, such as heat signatures, energy prints, etc. and later finds that he can track anything with his senses. (i.e if he hears a sound once, he can locate the source of it by tracking its energetic print and frequency) san doesn’t have access to the full extent of his powers as his predecessor hasn’t passed away yet. we are under the impression that he is the successor of the eye, which is a confidential ability passed down to one successor of each new generation of exorcists who act as infernal hosts. the path of succession is not inherited by blood and it’s still unknown how it chooses the bearer of its gift.

park seonghwa: the fragile weapon and bearer of the plights of a right hand man.

name: park seonghwa

age: roughly 29 but does not know his exact date of birth.

often has to clean up after hongjoong’s eccentric decisions and gets caught up with him at the worst times. looks cold and is the embodiment of a living weapon but is quite fragile.

abilities: seonghwa has the ability of a weapon maker and can craft spiritual weapons from his bone mass to form weapons containing his spiritual energy. though he also has the ability of manifesting them into physical forms, it’s a taxing ordeal and he usually ends up sleeping for days on after, as it takes an immense toll on both his body and spirit. with the exception of hongjoong, no one knows the nature of seonghwa’s backstory, as he and hongjoong were the first ones initiated into the order out of the group and it remained that way until yunho joined a year later, and so on so forth. seonghwa’s attitude is widely renown throughout the vatican as “the man with a stick up his ass that can only be pulled out by the greatest exorcist of the twenty first century.” (aka hongjoong) he is unaware that it was actually jongho who started that trend shortly after joining the order. seonghwa is still trying to hunt down the man who started it without knowing it was his own roommate. (hongjoong knows but opts to say nothing about it to protect his peace)

[blackparadinq]

i have a lot of unorganized miguel headcanons that float around my brain at times but since i usually think of them at night and forget about them the next morning im just going to continuously update this post probably? anyway here are the ones that i do remember

i will either leave this in my drafts and update it when i want to or ill just edit/reblog with new stuff idk

edit after i stopped typing:

ok its time

fuck you

posts

identity headcanons first, because idk getting those out of the way feel free to get pissed off about these ill just block you 💖

trans man. he/him pronouns. probbably doesnt care if you use gender neutral terms for him because like... why would he, he has a multiverse to stare at

asexual, can't really figure out of i see him as being aromantic as well, i personally just think he's too busy to think about it atm but i dont think hes incapable of it. maybe arospec, like demiro or greyro or smth idk, i just know this mf is asexual.

he is autistic (and probably undiagnosed?) i will die on this hill as if i was a warrior cat defending the sunningrocks i will commit an oakheart fight me on this and i will throw rocks at you and then promptly get crushed by rocks as well (is that warrior cats spoilers um oops sorry)

now to the rest- that i remember- i have not read the comics yet so if some of these are like.. actually canon lmk because that would be really funny

this one might be a hot take but he does not hate miles. he wants to look out for him and definitely either currently regrets or is going to regret what happened in that chase scene. i genuinely doubt he hates any of the spider-gang hes just very, very worried about the multiverse. in his head thats the only way. (i am hoping and pleading that miguel and miles make up somehow, maybe miles doesnt forgive miguel and that totally understandable and would make sense but pLEASE writers i would die if you kept them as being rivals i genuinely would)

he hates Audrey Hepburn, fangoria, harry houdini, AND croquet. he CAN swim, he CAN dance, and he DOES know Karate. he still wont make it though. sorry man.

since hes from the future i dont think he'd be terribly confused by current slang/terms, hed more look at it like we see terms from like... the 80-90s or anything before that as "oh wow people used to say that? huh. interesting."

im going back on a headcanon ive had since i saw the movie im SoRRYYY but he cant curse. from what ive seen from the comics he uses replacements like "shock" and "bithead", thats it. maybe he says fuck on accident or in spanish (he technically kind of does depending on how you see "Ay Coño" being said but thats beside the point).

probably a blue eyes hater idk he just gives me the vibe of saying "jesus christ your eyes are way too blue, get contacts please im begging you stop looking at me" which is probably why him and gwen have so much beef.

i dont give a shit about what the movie says his fangs are not retractable fuck you. (he still has crooked teeth though i will never forget about those <3 )

autism be damned my guy can work a grill 🔥🔥🔥🔥

a lot of people cant really tell if hes pissed or not by his tone sometimes. is this projection? yeah, next question.

he hardly ever sleeps but when he does its like hes dead (at least when its dead quiet, which again, isnt often so he hardly ever gets a good nights sleep). you'd have to use a fucking blowtorch to the face to wake him up.

i also see him as not only having hypersensitive vision but also having elevated senses period. hearing, smell, touch, etc. probably the main reason he sits in the dark with no other noise.

branching off of that he frequently gets migraines of things get to stressful or too loud or if anything is very off about his schedule.

arachnophobe. ha.

cat person.

cat person as in he likes cats not like hes a catboy.. i shouldnt specify that actually that just makes it worse but i will anyway because tumblr hellsite will be tumblr hellsite

he partially likes lego peter because his daughter really liked lego.

ok but like think about it he'd probably be really good at taking legos apart with those claws. like imagine. it'd be nothing for him.

hasnt spoken to gabriel in years. he cant bring himself to reach out and when gabriel does he just doesnt have the energy to try and respond. he has no idea how to, especially now.

this is very specific but he stims a lot with his claws. like extend and retract over and over absentmindedly (mainly because thats what i'd do if i had claws imagine how fun that would be)

he usually bottles up all the emotions that he has, including anger. kind of explains why he lost it in the chase scene in my head because he reached a boiling point. he hates talking to people about his problems.

empanadas are his safe food, also theyre just easy to eat when your mouth is a little funky (i would know i have some fucked up braces theyre great for that 10/10), its mostly just easier on his fangs.

definitely horrible at the whole self are thing. he just forgets, all the time. would forget to breathe if it wasnt involuntary

if you say anything he doesnt particularly like (eg "hey bro are you okay do you wanna talk") he'll just stare at you with his rat eyes like 👁️👁️ until you stopped idk what im saying.

he is a bit touch starved, depending on his mood he'll let people touch him in a friendly (emphasis on friendly. friendly friendly friendly dont take it any other way :/) way.

OH I almost forgot about this one: he hisses. some spiders hiss. so does he. vampire furry energy

he also gets pissed when people call him a vampire so uh... im counting my days oops.

will go out and sit in the rain. (wait would it still rain in the future? is the climate still fucked in his timeline or nah)

like "ah, its water time" and goes out to sit like this:

Man if only there was a rain filter

that is all i have for now maybe if something else comes up ill reblog with new stuff >:)

[dreamsy990]

drew some of my fav ody designs! wasnt originally meant to be also replicating the styles but thats sort of just how my brain works. except i didnt copy the lineart styles of anyone here so its DEFINITELY a bit uncanny for a couple of these (LOOKING AT YOU QINNY IM SO SORRY) but whatever

the designs featured here (from left to right) belong to: me, @gigizetz, @neal-illustrator, @irunaki, @bigidiotenergytm, @qinnyanimation, and @foopsie-daisy

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[cherrycoloredphoenix]

Animated Nezhas of my childhood (+1)

left to right:

Nezha Naohai/ Nezha Conquers the Dragon King

Legend of Nezha

Journey to the West: Legends of the Monkey King

Nezha 2

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I've been doing a lot of reflection as of late, especially after this past class.

This past class was about the Torah and Tanakh in general, and the way the rabbi talked about the commandments (specifically the ten commandments) has made me really reflect on how I interpret them, specifically the fifth commandment, or honoring your mother and father.

This is a commandment I have wrestled with for a long time - in fact, it brought me away from g-d at multiple times. I was severely abused when I was incredibly young by my mother, and I used to feel insulted at the implication that I were to honor her while she got to live a better life. It was hypocritical, in my eyes.

But this rabbi surmised that this particular commandment was because parenthood is an act of creation, something that is like the g-d from which we come from. My realization is this: I don't think we're necessarily meant to take even these commandments literally.

I this particular commandment is more of a call to honor creation - creation is a gift, and like any gift, many people simply will not like it and will discard it. The person who abused me created me, but she did not honor creation. She didn't honor me, but I can still honor it.

I have started to honor creation much more. I'm too young, too unstable, not mature enough to be a father (though I fantasize about it), but I create all the time. I create relationships, I create with my hands through crochet. I create memories, I create my world. And I can honor who I am and where I came from that made me who I am. I've been learning one of the mother tongues of my family (Italian, since part of my family originates there) and it was judaism that inspired me to do this.

I don't think g-d wants me to honor my abuser. I think He wants me to remember the Holy action of creation. When I am a father, that act of creation will be Holy, and indeed, I am already joyful about the thought.

I have seen many people struggle with this particular commandment, but I think this perspective helps me personally. I don't think I ever have to forgive my abusers (plural), and I don't think I am commanded to simply because they happened to be family. I am commanded to recognize the holy, to elevate the mundane. In doing so, I will remember g-d. Through creation, I honor g-d and everything he has done for us, for me, and for our collective people.

[vaguely-concerned]

powerful mental image of lucanis expounding passionately about any given one of his limited but extremely deep areas of interest (the wyvern/knives/coffee/cooking/murder continuum of lucanis dellamorte special interests if you will) while rye lounges around and Beholds him with palpable twink boutta pounce energy