#idk why i wrote it but it's here

[nancyqueerler]

Ronancetober Day 1 2: Ghost

I've been compelled to come back for a minute to write for ronancetober, so here's day 1/2 because I wanted to write for the ghost prompt.

Enjoy! And warning, this is kinda long and pretty angsty. Also it's set in an AU so no upside down (mentioning this in case some stuff don't make sense).

-----

The equipment was for show. Although it was an expensive sacrifice, Robin would not be able to make a living in Hawkins, Indiana, simply by claiming to be able to see ghosts. If anything, it would get her locked up at Pennhurst before she'd even get a paycheck. So, when she got the call from the library, she showed up with the EMF meter, digital thermometers, night vision goggles, and audio recorders instead of just her more comfortable patch-plastered denim jacket and jeans.

The numbers alone were enough to get her down there by sunset, but the witness reports had her shoveling her dinner into her mouth like a dog who sniffed a buried bone.

Robin mostly got calls for homes and abandoned buildings, but she hadn't gotten the library before—she was excited when they told her it was down in the archives. She had been there before in high school doing research for projects and always got chills, but she'd never seen anything. That made her curious, but it wouldn't be the first time that a ghost had hid themselves from her.

Walking into the archives, shutting and locking the door behind her with the key lent to her by the librarian, Robin was pulled four years into the past. When she put her hand on the railing that led down into the dust-filled room, it was ice cold. It was part of the report: after five p.m. and well past midnight, the room appeared to be insulated with blocks of ice. Robin turned off all her equipment and dove into the dark room.

At first she couldn't see anything, much less the wispy presence of a lonely ghost. She stuck one hand in her pocket and scrolled her fingers down the unchanged cupboards cramped with decades-old prints from local newspapers to the Weekly Watcher, which was notorious for endorsing crazy conspiracies. She would have smiled at the memory of discovering an article about Elvis being cloned by aliens if her nerves hadn't been jolted into action when she touched the cupboard marked "W.". It was cold—much colder than the rest of the otherwise identical sprawl of drawers.

Robin opened it and knew she wouldn't find the Weekly Watcher tucked between the other cassettes. She pushed it closed, stuck her other hand into her other pocket to warm it up, and walked to the microfilm readers.

The small room, filled with desks with banker lamps and book-swollen shelves that evidently hadn't been dusted in the past two decades, housed two readers. The sole distinction between the two readers in the center was the presence of a COMCAT black-and-white acrostic poster on the left reader's side, along with the presence of a ghost hunched over the screen.

Robin froze beside the entrance. Anyone else would have screamed bloody murder, but Robin felt relief. A girl sat on the stool, her finger depressing the scroll button while her other hand gripped the side of the reader, seemingly ready to explode it with her mind. Besides her relief, Robin was surprised at the sheer brightness of the girl ghost's body—she was practically corporeal.

It took Robin a second to recognize her as Nancy Wheeler, Hawkins High's ex-princess. The realization nearly knocked her off her feet, but her heart beat her to it and plunged straight through the floor like an anvil.

Nancy hadn't seen her yet, and Robin was really hoping she wouldn't. Robin hoped her legs would unfreeze before Nancy turned her head and saw her too. It was a sudden and horrible drowning of panic, gut-wrenching sorrow, and shattered memories that mended back together in striking speed.

Nancy Wheeler had died a year ago, a year before she graduated from Emerson, a year after the last time they had seen each other. Robin had gotten a call from Jonathan Byers on some lazy June afternoon when she'd been relaxing with the windows open, a cool breeze freshening her hot room. After the call, she didn't leave or eat or shower well beyond December. She never opened her windows again, but her room never stopped being cold.

Robin was about to turn around; she really was. She had willed something out of herself, something strong enough to lift her left foot from the ground. But then Nancy closed her eyes, took her finger off the button, slumped into her hands, and suddenly Robin couldn't help herself and fell to her knees.

Nancy did look at her then. Funny enough, she was the one frightened in the end. Her face jumped out of her hands, her whole body got shocked into a curl. She looked at Robin up and down, knees to eyes, and got dim enough that Robin could read the titles of the books on the shelf behind her. Robin hung her head.

"Robin?"

Robin fell onto her hands, a numb feeling rising all the way from her toes to her cheeks. Nancy's voice was still the same, albeit distant, as though hearing it coming from deep inside a cave just like every other ghost, but it wrecked Robin in every way it could. She shook her head, but she didn't know why. She couldn't look up at Nancy; she didn't want to, either. She didn't want to be there.

But then she saw Nancy's heels in the edges of her vision, and all it took was for her to blink for the tears to spot the floor.

"No," Robin whispered desperately. She shook her head again, the flood of two summers ago like electric eels unleashing into her nervous system. A spark of Nancy in her denim jacket; a spark of her in Robin's arms; a spark of what their first and last kiss felt like; a spark of Nancy in the rain carrying a bouquet turned to mulch.

It was enough for her to turn, cover her eyes, and run in the other direction. She didn't turn around even when she heard her name, loud and resonant enough to shake the ground. But when she reached the stairs, she couldn't get past the first step.

"Robin!" she heard again, and it was the worst feeling in the whole world to hear her name come from Nancy's lips after all this time. It didn't feel real, and it didn't make sense, like her mind was playing a horrible trick on her. The whole of her back turned ice cold, and she knew that meant that Nancy was right behind her.

Robin took in the coldest breath her lungs ever held and turned around.

Seeing Nancy head on took a blow to her chest harder than she had expected. The breath flew right out of her, but not a hair on Nancy's head moved out of place. Nancy's ghost was there in all her glory, hands curled into a steel fist, the dent between her furrowed eyebrows the same as it was always. She looked as beautiful as she did the last time Robin had seen her, and that twisted the knife in her heart until it erupted against her ribs.

Nancy spoke first. "Hi" was all she said for a while, probably because she expected Robin to say something in return. But Robin had become a coward who lost her heart and couldn't come up with anything worth what she was feeling.

Eventually, cutting through the thick cold tension, Nancy's features smoothed out as she said, "I've missed you."

Robin wished to be smite right then and there. She prayed for it, but the prayer turned into, "I've missed you too," half-way through. The watery smile it pulled out of Nancy was greater than anything a god could have ever given her.

Nancy tentatively raised her hand and drew it down Robin's jaw, feeling a biting chill that made her grind her teeth. She then pressed her palm over Robin's heart. It was the second greatest sorrow in all of Robin's life that she couldn't feel any of it but the cold pressure on her skin, but she figured she was the luckiest person ever to have had the luck to be graced by Nancy Wheeler after having been taken like a breath. I've you missed too was not enough to describe Robin's ache; she had missed Nancy like one might miss a misplaced lung.

She didn't leave the archives until sunrise, when the librarian lady had to have the door busted open. They found her curled up against the right microfilm reader, dried tears down her cheeks, and the ghost of a smile under her sleep-worn eyes.

[bixels]

The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

evan and regulus frolicking like they're frotting in bed making out sloppy style about to fuck to the sounds of their boyfriends fighting outside

jfkdkfkdkf STOOPPP (this escalated, NSFW)

Regulus comes back into the living room, mug of steaming tea in hand and he rolls his eyes as soon as he, too, hears James and Barty where they're still out on the balcony arguing, cigarettes long stubbed out in the ashtray.

Evan grins, lifting the blanket as Regulus lets himself plop down and snuggles into his side.

“What’s it about this time?”

Evan snorts, nuzzling the black curls behind Regulus’ ear, “You think I know?”

Regulus shakes his head, like a disappointed old grandpa and Evan’s grin widens.

Outside, Barty makes an incredulous noise, half rising from his chair before he sits back down, trying to talk over James’ continuous arguing.

Regulus makes a soft groan in irritation, tipping his head back against Evan's shoulder. There’s a triangle of moles right under the hinge of his sharp jaw, teasing Evan to put his mouth to good use.

“It’s never nothing with the two of them,” Evan murmurs, warm breath ricocheting off Regulus’ skin and back at him.

It makes Regulus tilt his head back down, eyes narrowing and searching for something in Evan’s expression. He hums a little, sinking lower into the cushions and Evan’s embrace.

“Think we should keep ourselves busy, don’t you?” Evan says, catching Regulus’ eyes skipping down to his lips, “Who knows how long they'll be at it this time.”

Regulus doesn’t say anything but he tips his chin up and he lets Evan hook one of his legs over his lap without fuss. Evan watches the line of his throat move when he swallows, “You smell like lemons.”

“And limes,” Evan corrects with a grin. “You're off your game, whiskers. Something distracting you?”

Regulus’ slack expression slips into a glower and Evan chuckles, bumping their noses together. “I spooned some of Barty’s protein yogurt after dinner when he wasn’t looking, too busy nagging at James while they were doing the dishes.”

Regulus snakes a hand under Evan’s t-shirt, caressing the skin, “’s it taste anything good?"

The tiny devil on Evan’s shoulder does a little happy spin, “Why doesn’t the chef try for himself?”

Evan happily swallows the little pant betraying Regulus’ indifference before their lips connect.

He doesn't even have to goad him, their tongues nudging immediately as Regulus eagerly parts his mouth.

It's a wet slide of lips and Regulus’ short nails digging a little desperately into the side of Evan’s ribs when he sucks Regulus’ lower lips between his teeth.

James lets out a loud string of spanish curses outside, slamming a fist into what must be the metal of their balcony railing and Regulus sucks in a breath against Evan’s cheek and oh, is Evan having fun on this beautiful Friday night.

More kissing, hands grabbing and shucking away clothes and when Evan tugs Regulus closer by the hip he makes an entirely too sweet needy noise that goes straight to Evan’s cock.

They keep licking into each others’ mouths, Barty’s and James’ aggravated voices a quiet muffle in the background, and Regulus keeps making these little noises, squirming in place and adjusting his hold on Evan again and again, fingers clenching and unclenching and Evan can’t help himself but grin into the kiss.

It disrupts their rhythm and Regulus makes a complaining grunt that tells Evan he’d roll his eyes right now if he wasn’t currently busy eating Evan’s face off.

He’s so cute Evan wants to take a fucking bite out of him.

Or maybe finger him until he squirts all over the couch.

Evan gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek and then works his way down his neck and Regulus is restless, shifting around and then his fucking knee slides over where Evan is rock hard and he stutters out a truely embarrassing groan for it being a fucking knee.

But Regulus is an angel because he moans in response and slides his fingers into Evan’s bleached curls like it’s second nature whenever he needs something to hold onto.

“Evan,” Regulus speaks up, voice husky and eyes a little glassy when Evan lifts his head to look.

“Reg?” Evan says sweetly, cocking his head, before he goes back to the mark he was about to suck into the pale expanse of his throat.

“I’m– mgh,” Regulus swallows, out of breath, “Can you—”

Evan’s lips twitch into another smile, “Huh? Pardon, I can’t hear you, bébé.”

Regulus huffs but he makes another obscene noise when Evan trails his fingers up the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to where Evan already knows he wants him.

Another of his complaining noises—Evan lets out a snicker against the soft skin and gets a shiver in response—and then, “Want your fingers.”

“Want my fingers, love?” A gentle bite into the tendons of his neck.

Regulus arches, nodding against the cushions, “Please.”

And who is Evan to deny a polite plea as sweet as that of his lover?

Regulus’ sweats, that are actually Barty’s, get discarded. He isn’t even wearing any boxers, nom de dieu, and then Evan is slipping the tip of his middle finger through where Regulus is sinfully slick.

He throws his head back with a moan that Evan feels reverberating down his spine and then Regulus is looking at him with big, silver eyes. Wide and needy and dark brows furrowed and, fuck, so fucking wet for him Evan simply slips in two fingers at once.

And maybe he shouldn’t have. Honestly, should have taken it easy—Usually he’s the last out of the four of them to lose his patience but with Regulus looking at him like that?

Evan presses their lips together, heated and rough, and Regulus welcomes him happily. Makes a high-pitched noise when Evan curls his fingers before starting a slow pace of pumping in and out, thumb drawing slow, teasing circles around his cock.

Suddenly there’s a sharp noise from outside, one of their garden chairs scraping against the tiles of the balcony and then the door flings open.

“—the fuck do you think you’re goin’?”

“If I’m gonna have to listen to your fucking bullshit only one more second I’ll start to get violent, B. Reg is still pissed we didn’t get the blood stains out of the—”

“Fuckin’ pussy. I told you to– oompf,” the sound of someone walking into another body, “James?”

“Shut up.”

“You- fuck you. I’ll—”

“B, look.”

“—fucking destroy you, P- oh.”

Evan peeks over the back of the sofa to see James and Barty standing dumbly in the middle of their living room, expressions slack and balcony door wide open behind them. He crooks his fingers again and Regulus whines brokenly, throwing his head back, mouth parting in a perfect little o and Evan watches James eyes bulge behind his glasses and Barty’s tongue lolling out.

Can’t help himself when he grins menacingly, tilting his head and thumbing over Regulus’ cock again, making the man beside him arch.

“I- you seeing this, Crouch?”

“You fucking bet I am, Jamie.”

“Since when have they- How long were we out there?”

“Dunno but I do know I’m not missing another second of this. Budge up, Rosier. You’re going to get your dick sucked so good.”

“Fine with me as long as you do it ass up,” James murmurs lowly, “Gonna fuck that wrong opinion right out of you.”

Barty scoffs a laugh, “You wish.”

“Then dibs on Regulus riding me.”

“You—”

Evan shakes his head and chases the delectable noise slipping out of Regulus when he slips in a third finger.

[ganondoodle]

so, inspired by the warm welcome the captain received with that rough doodle i posted, i made an updated design for Ki'ita as well (basic and with clothes)

i removed the piercings she had bc considering that they spend the majority of their time in arctic waters i think having metal directly in your skin is a bad idea, no matter how thick your blubber is; i also gave her typical white markings a green hue bc ... i liked how it looked and makes them stand out a little more

(i will not repeat what i wrote on the post about the captain but wanted to add a bit of more info about Ki'ita herself)

(i dont have ALL of their backstory done yet but) the captain and Ki'ita worked together in another organization, one in which the father of the captains child also worked at, before being betrayed and barely managing to escape, after which the both of them founded their pirate crew (possible name is the Solar Pirates bc of their solar powered boat stuff); since the captain had her daughter shortly afterwards Ki'ita managed most of the organisational matters at first, including the construction of their base on an abandoned island they had initially fled to

over the years they invented the solar powered ships that allowed them to gain control over a large part of an important trade route, leaving normal ships (mostly) alone but attacking those of hunters and similar, rescuing demons and mutants, even some humans from them, most of which also join the crew and it quickly lead to them becoming their own little community

Ki'ita does not like to spend alot of time among large groups of people, no matter how much she cares about them, and her originally being from norther lands gave her the idea to explore, and if viable, do underground missions in those norther areas to disrupt the infrastructure the hunters had built in recent years and overall keep the crew informed about things that may otherwise stay hidden; with each of their travels her time absent from the base increased but the patience of the captain is wearing thin so its likely a serious talk is underway on Ki'itas third solo mission she nearly died due to entanglement in abandoned nets made by hunters from an unknown material that she could not break, the massive scars on her tail especially come from that, only surviving bc the date they were supposed to return to the crew had passed and the captain grew to worried about her and made the entire crew rush into an emergency search, including the captain herself and her toddler, who were not suited for the cold climate just like the rest of crew, taking a huge risk that Ki'ita still feels ashamed of for causing; they stayed within the base for a whole year afterwards, not just to recover but also as a silent apology, taking time preparing herself to ensure theyd not get into a situation like that again

(before departing on their next mission the captain gifted her a sword with the blade made from the material of the net, a wooden handle, bc of the cold, and a blue wrap around it reminiscent of the captains striking blue teeth; a reminder of what had happened, a means to defend herself when their strength and teeth are not enough, and also a promise to always return again)

the oldest members of the crew know Ki'ita well and treat her like an old friend, among the newer members she has more of a .. cryptic status, the mysteriously absent vice-captain who only appears every few months or so out of thin air, throws a big party, sleeps for a few days and then vanishes again, the only hint to when they will return soon again being the captain getting noticably grumpier

(OC art, Ki'ita, she/they)

[frownyalfred]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson Characters: Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne (Mentioned) Additional Tags: Post-Killing Joke, Explicit Sexual Content, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Fantasy, Consensual Somnophilia, First Time, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Barbara Gordon in a Wheelchair, Barbara Gordon Needs a Hug, Protective Dick Grayson, Mildly Dubious Consent, Canon Disabled Character, Vibrators, no beta we die like jason todd, Vaginal Sex, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping Summary:

It’s a rapidly-devolving fantasy, made real and unreal in Dick’s tired, post-patrol voice. His armor hits the floor, and she can identify the pieces by sound alone. Gauntlets, chest plate, greaves --

[looloolands]

I'm seeing a lot of interesting takes about Loser, Baby and I just want to throw in my two cents and say that it's not a "quit your bitching, you can't fix it so stop trying" song but rather that it's a "you're not alone" combined with "stop pretending to be someone you're not" song.

It is undeniably goofy stupid for the writers to compare Husk and Angels situations, with the only real similarities being that they sold their souls to "psychopathic freaks", but to say that Husk is accusing Angel of bitching and moaning in this scene is a little... disingenuous? It feels like kind of like a deliberate misunderstanding of the scene because of the comparison that it comes from. Yeah, it's a dumb writing choice, but it's not what the song is saying.

To me, "Loser, Baby" is Husk saying "yeah shit sucks, but you aren't alone and you need to stop acting like you are." He spends the entire episode telling Angel he's acting fake and putting up a mask and it's here, after he's upset him enough to send him running off to spiral, that Husk tells him it's okay to be himself and that he wants him to and that he wants Angel to be himself with him. Husk doesn't pretend to be anything he isn't and "Loser, Baby" is him telling Angel that he doesn't have to either. He doesn't have to be alone with it all either. They can be "losers" together and be happy while they lean on each other for support with someone who understands (which I really wish was written better).

The execution of the whole idea and message of the song isn't the best, but it comes across well enough in my opinion.

[judasgot-it]

Hiii! I suddenly had an idea like a vision or something tehee

imagine after a party (idk, hunting dogs celebrating another victory) and s/o’s feet hurt for her heels so tecchou noticing, carries her on his back. sorry if it was simple

btw Can i call you Judy and be 🪻anon?

You've gifted me a nickname and all I did was ignore you. I think the best thing that should be done is that I write your ask and that you beat me (jk please don't I'm just a writer. but ily flower anon that nickname is so sweet u have full use to call me it <3)

Scenario: Husband! Tecchou carries fem! reader around while at a party (TW for reader being a little drunk at some parts lol)

1 k words

Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Wiser

1:15 AM

The work party was still raging on.

Fukuchi and Teruko were screaming a duet into the karaoke machine, some sort of anime intro that Tachihara complained only old people would know.

Jouno was surprisingly still in the room, forcing some poor chef to make another batch of some overly complicated dish that apparently only Jouno could appreciate. There was a gun on the table, although surprisingly it wasn't pointed at anyone yet.

You could breathe a sigh of relief at that.

All you were looking for now was Tecchou. He had gone missing around half an hour ago, doing who knew what. He was the one thing keeping you alive at this party, considering how you were one or two drinks away from either passing out on the floor or just trying to take yourself home.

Your feet hurt, what else could you say? Maybe you were a little bit too drunk right now since you were sad over where you had placed your shoes. They were somewhere in the room, you were sure of it.

It was a really emotional endeavor, enough that you felt tears start to come to your eyes thinking about where you placed them. You tried to wipe them away the best you could, trying to not hit your face with the pair of shoes you were holding in your hands.

You walked across the room, hoping to find your husband in the crowd of very important government people whose names had lost you at that moment. Thankfully no one approached you, although maybe it was because they were all as messy as you were.

Tecchou was one of the tallest people there, and even on your tippy toes, you couldn't find his messy chestnut hair in the sea of heads. The feeling of panic started to settle quickly, your heart almost beating outside of your chest - your husband could be almost anywhere.

You turned around, feeling your tongue fall into your throat as you still couldn't locate your man. Wiping your wet eyes, you watched as a man approached you - tall, with messy chestnut hair.

Swallowing deeply, you tried to compose yourself as you saw his eyes land directly onto yours. Against your will, your eyes began to well up with tears once again.

Your feet guided you, rushing towards him like a bullet.

There was no thought as you wrapped your arms around him, your face buried down inside of his red suit. You sighed with relief as you felt your cold nose start to warm up against his body, the air you breathed our fanning against the cold skin on your cheeks as you nuzzled deeper onto him.

“Oh, there you are Angel.”

Two hands pulled at your arms, their warmth shocking your cold skin into goosebumps. His fingertips danced along your skin, callouses massaging your skin all the way up to your shoulders.

“I was looking for you. I was starting to think you got lost.”

You looked up as you said this, blinking innocently up into his honey eyes. He leaned his head a little bit away to stare at you, the tattoos on his cheek blending in with his long eyelashes.

Watching them twitch made your lips curve up, how they perfectly melted in together. You took one of your hands and pulled his face to look down at you properly, his brows pinching as he took in the full sight of you.

“You're so pretty Tecchou. Do you ever hear that?”

He smiled at those words, leaning closer into your hand.

“You told me that on our wedding night, actually.”

His brows pinched again, his gaze looking downward once again.

“Angel, why aren't you wearing your shoes?”

His words took a little to sink in, you still too busy watching how his beautiful face pulled apart as he said those words - the tattoos underneath his eye moving just underneath the small creases from his smile.

“Hmm… My feet hurt.”

You other hand lowered itself, cradling his waist as you swayed to the music that played throughout the room. It was easy to ignore the horrible singing that accomidated it, as you instead focused on the strong muscles that were barely consealed underneath Tecchou's suit.

He barely budges, only swaying slightly as he let you have your moment - watching you with hooded eyes. His steps were small, his heels clicking lightly against the tile of the dance floor.

“You know, if your feet hurt I can just carry you around.”

Stopping, you looked up at him, looking at his face carefully. His eyes held no lie, seeing as he was always a truthful man.

“Are you sure about that?” It was always polite to ask in your mind, even when you were challenging one of the strongest men you knew.

“I can lift twice your weight, you know that angel.“

A small smirk spread on his face as he said this, his eyes poring through your figure. His hands traveled down to your waist, squeezing you gently.

”I wouldn't break a sweat at all, if that's what you're worried about.“

You didn't have time to react as you stomach did twists, Tecchou manhandling you into a bride carry with ease.

”Oh my god, Tecchou!”

It was impossible to hide the joy in your words as he carried you, continuing the dance you had started earlier with ease. He hummed along softly to the song that still played, ignoring whatever wailing words were coming out of a horribly drunk Fukuchi's mouth at that moment.

It wouldn't ruin yours at the very least.

“What? I'm not going to let you walk around while your feet hurt.”

He danced with ease, completing a lazy waltz with you in his arms. His soft locks were lit up by the chandelier above, turned into a soft caramel from the light that shone through the strands. They stuck up in all sorts of directions, forming a creme brulee halo around his face.

You brought one of your arms to wrap around his neck, bringing your fingers to sift through the longer strangs of his hair. It was soft, almost an estactic feeling to have something so ethereal under your hand.

“You're so gorgeous.”

His face was closer to yours, his nose nearly brushing against yours. You giggled, stealing his air as you did so.

“I think you said that to me on our wedding night, handsome.“

His lips were pressed against yours, his handsome face blocking your vision for the rest of that night.

[murdockhawkeye]

yk i kinda wish miss chatham was in the later seasons still. like imagine if we got an episode of them visiting the retirement home

i can see it now. they lose miss chatham somehow while in there, and then end up on their own side adventures

lewis is acting like he's found his people and he's invited to the next bingo meet by a gladys. or multiple gladys's. while on the opposite end of the spectrum, rikki gets into a fight/rivalry with some old lady

and cleo and emma end up being wrangled into helping one of the seniors, only for emma to end up transforming into a mermaid and for the senior that they were helping, to see it

and then because for whatever reason this came to mind, it turns out said senior is julia's ex karl, who apparently lives at the same retirement home as miss chatham

he almost gets his camera out for old times sake, because he hasn't changed much since they were teenagers, but then miss chatham gets her tennis racket out

suffice to say. they end up walking out with pocketful of old people candy and also a bunch more lore/info from miss chatham. idk

[b4kuch1n]

making of a feathered thing

[renae-the-turtle]

Art for my fanfic, Charmy and the Dad Talk; I did the drawing and line art, and @alcadanon did the colours using alcohol markers!

Link to the fic here:

[httpiastri]

biggest congrats on your birthday ollie, i have a feeling this year will be good to you <33

[ananicoleta]

Looney Tunes headcanon time!

I've been thinking about this for a while so now I gotta share it on here!

Bugs Bunny doesn't get mad easily. That's just how he's wired. Calm, collected, level-headed, usually pretty relaxed, lazily strolling down the street while humming a merry melody (eh?), he prefers to chill and doesn't really take anything seriouslly.

A Warner Bros. intern messed something up, be it accidentaly or because he was a careless idot? Bugs doesn't even flinch and immediately finds a way to fix whatever it is.

A student at Acme Looniversity is goofing around way too much during a lesson? All Bugs has to do is give him a look and the child stops at once, but he never raises his voice or loses his temper.

One of his enemy messes with him? Pfff, are you kidding? That's the most fun he's gonna have all week!

Even when he gets irritated by one of them, he doesn't actually get mad mad and he certainly doesn't hate them (he's too cool for that). It's more of an "oh, he interrupted my peaceful afternoon? now i'll have to fuck his entire shit up" kind of thing. He might be mildly annoyed in the beginning but by the time he starts plotting the poor soul's demise, his irritation is long gone. His motivation is rather the principle of "don't mess with me" rather than anger.

Sometimes Bugs will fake being mad to get his point across (to scare people, usually a nemesis or a student), but again, he's not really angry, he's just exaggerating.

However, and this is where my headcanon comes in, this doesn't mean that sometimes Bugs Bunny doesn't get pretty fucking MAD.

Like I said, it's very hard to get him at that point. But when he gets there oh, Lord have mercy! And it's not what people (who have obviously never seen him in that state) might think.

He doesn't shout. He doesn't get physical. He doesn't throw a tantrum. If he does any of those then again, he's not really mad. He either does it for comedic effect or to intimidate. No. It's much more unsettling than that.

Instead, he just goes quiet. And not the usual relaxed, watching-shit-go-down-from-the-sidelines quiet. Oh, no. He's rigid as a statue. His upbeat expression is replaced by one of pure coldness. No condecending smirk, no smug look, no playfullness in his eyes. Just a motionless face with an icy stare.

If Bugs speaks when he's like this he doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. Instead, his tone is serious but surprisingly... calm. Not relaxed like it usually is, but more like... even. Controlled. Firm. There is a slight strain in his voice as if he's doing his best to hold back the greatest rage someone has ever seen (because he is).

If he does this to anyone then that person/toon will most likley shit their pants. Because they know, oh, they know they fucked up big time if Bugs Bunny acts that way towards them.

Whenever he's like this literally everyone is scared of him. Toon or human, doesn't matter, if Bugs is this angry YOU STAY OUT OF HIS WAY.

No one messes with him, not Elmer, not Sam, not Wile, not Marvin, not any of his enemies, no Acme Loo student, no WB intern, even the executives are nervous around him if he's like this. Even Daffy, who gets a kick out of pushing Bugs' buttons every time, is nope-ing himself out of that situation so hard. Like nope. Not today. Nuh-uh. He wants to live, thank you very much.

I feel like I should mention that Bugs isn't cold hearted though. Even if he is in this state he will not be a prick to people who have done nothing wrong or to the ones he cares about. He realizes it's not their fault.

He might be a little distant but it's just because he wants to be left alone to calm down. The others know and understand and will leave him to cool off.

Again, though, he doesn't get this angry that often. In all his life he's probably been like this like three or four times (which is very rare given that he's been around since like what? the 40s? but even if it's happened only a few times it was enough to earn him the reputation of being really damn scary when pushed to far).

Also, he's never ever like that because of a Looney Tune or an Acme Loo student or anyone he cares about. If you are part of the aforementioned categories then it's damn near impossible to get Bugs to be that mad at you. Annoyed? Sure. Angry? Sometimes, yeah. But never mad like that.

No. This type of rage is reserved for a special breed of people. The ones that have crossed Bugs big time, that have done something really messed up.

What makes this so scary for the others witnessing it, even if it's not aimed at them, is the fact that it's so different compared to the way Bugs usually acts. Like, he's almost unrecognizable. Besides, the rabbit is pretty powerful given his whole WB mascot gig thing. He can rock your entire world with just a snap of his fingers.

[ganondoodle]

(Original art) Xaror, any pronouns, species (?), age (?)

short summary about them; they act as both an antagonist and an ally since they are only really interested in what they want or whats fun to them, they are immortal and call themselves 'death itself' since they have a special connection to souls (being the only one able to communicate with them) and the ability to seperate souls from their bodies in such a way that nothing can harm the soul afterwards their main goal is to .. bother and disturb the 'celestials'*, which they hate, as much as they can, breaking into their palace, freeing prisoners, destroying research, destroying the place, and most importantly, making as many souls unusable to them as possible-

they dont want to destroy the celestials though, they cant fight them anyway and this game of doing 'good' only with the goal of annoying them is their most treasured activity, so Xaror doesnt intend to stop them from killing or hurting anyone, only from harvesting what they are actually after (though Xaror doesnt actually care as little as they think they do about people, and has a soft spot for demons)

most of their appearance is later into the story; Zaphira (the empress) had been in coma and the medical facility she was treated in was destroyed by Shargon (orange eyed demon who acts as her bodyguard for the first part) in an attempt to save her from her estranged relatives taking over her country after they heard of her decline in health, she is believed dead but washes up on the shore of the mountain Xaror resides at years later (it has a reason, too much to write here) and they slowly nurse her back to health, the reason they give for it is that they found their first encounter very fun, thats all (is it?)

(more lore under the cut bc this is already so long .. im trying to keep it short q-q ......... this is stuff i have been working on since i was a kid so uh, some things might be cheesy but i cant change them anymore ..)

just to get some basics out of the way; theres three worlds, the celestials palace, human world and demon world, each are their own planet connected via different gateways

*celestials (possibly not final name, loosely based on angels) are the last remaining "survivors" of their planets demise, when their world died the most powerful among them cannibalized the weaker to sustain themselves until there were only less than 10 left, who each turned into different beings from it and dont resemble their own people much anymore, they built a palace from what was left on their world that protects them from space as its atmosphere collapsed shortly after- however they still needed something to live off; they discover the human world and are delighted to find rather short lived people with powerful souls, the best kind of sustenance for them (now), they aim to herd them like cattle, but a problem arose when it turned out another world has long been in contact with the human world; demons

demons are semi immortal creatures that act as protectors for their world, protection they extended, more or less secretely, to the human world ensuring them a long and secure life- the celestials need them to die at their whim though (demons are few in numbers, hard to kill and rarely have offspring, not an ideal target); as they worked out a plan on how to get rid of demons one of the celestials, Xanthriel (time) grew somewhat fond of people as they spent alot of time in the human world to observe and research them; in the end turning on their own completely, but losing the fight against Uriel (knowledge)

Xanthriel was supposed to be executed for their betrayal, but it doesnt work, instead they are splintered into many parts after a lot of struggle, most body, memory and most strength is one part (ending up as motionless forever bleeding corpse kept locked up in the palace), the rest is some time later gathered together and reforms as a seperate, weak mockery of them, they embody Xanthriels emotion- Xaror, without memory, strangely cut to pieces (hence all the missing limbs and broken halo) but driven by an unstoppable desire to disturb the celestials (they live seperate long enough to each become their own person, at some point Xaror discovers Xanthriels body after all and they merge back together, though as they are now two, Xanthriel only takes over once directly after merging, stays silent for a long time and lets Xaror be themselves, only later revealing that they are there at all .. hiding perhaps- i rarely have specific ideas for voices, but Xanthriels is like, like coarse rocks being violently rubbed against each other, less voice more noise)

(also, the celestials use Xanthriels blood from the day of their execution to create a plague that nearly wipes out all demons, only the youngest of them survived, effectively robbing them of everything, culture, history, knowledge etc- as demons rarely have children, like a complete restart of their society, they disappeared from the human world, and over time being largely forgotten as actually existing- the celestials wanted them all gone however, so they kept kidnapping them to try and find somethign that would work similarly against the young ones too (and then in general, bc the only usable blood of Xanthriel was from the day of their fall, and that has long since been used up) one of the young ones was Shargon, he was the only one still alive from his group

(also, the celestials use Xanthriels blood from the day of their execution to create a plague that nearly wipes out all demons, only the youngest of them survived, effectively robbing them of everything, culture, history, knowledge etc- as demons rarely have children, like a complete restart of their society, they disappeared from the human world, and over time being largely forgotten as actually existing- the celestials wanted them all gone however, so they kept kidnapping them to try and find somethign that would work similarly against the young ones too (and then in general, bc the only usable blood of Xanthriel was from the day of their fall, and that has long since been used up) one of the young ones was Shargon, he was the only one still alive from his group (he wasnt the strongest or special, he was jsut the last in the row and always got the lowest dosage) when Xaror found them in yet another break in into the palace and got him back to the demon world .. where he was promptly blamed for the others that were taken and treated like a pretender/fake/spy bc what he got put through changed his eye color (something that demons cannot change in any form) to one that does not exist among 'real' demons (orange ... notice the inner color of Xarors broken halo? :) ), some even suggesting killing him, but none of them were brave enough to do it (they were all kids still) .. except Eadrya (the big blue-ish one, largely regarded as the strongest demon alive) but Shargon managed to escape, and since then lived largely in isolation- this is part of why he is so hated, and why he starts to spend so much time in the human world after rediscovering the pathway there)

[sturnioloho]

tell me why the fuck i wrote song lyrics the other day lmao. they came 2 me in the shower. perhaps i could expand on them in a hc or something if ur into it. these aren’t based on anyone irl btw i’m just talkin my shit n being a promiscuous bitch lmao. also chris if u wanna recreate these lyrics with me hit my line

everybody likes you two but baby i can see right thru

she only sees you as a friend but baby i want you till the end

i know that it’s wrong to do but doesn’t it feel good for you

and i just wanna fuck on you while she’s in the other room

[golyadkin]

i am in fact doing another vbros comic even though i said i wouldn't so here's a preview of pete serving cunt while being a jackass

[brutal-nemesis]

ok siiince you asked for requests for demon boy castys… the tongue cut out + gag seemed like such an adorable situation for him <33

Giving you that and a little extra because I wanted More Whump 💕

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Ingredients: manhandling, a lot of unsexy noncon touching, slight dehumanization, partial nudity

Castys wasn’t sure if he slept at all that night, but after what felt like an eternity, Neteri reappeared wearing different clothes under her white coat.

“Good morning, Castys!” She sat on one of the stools from last night and motioned for him to do the same. “Get up, I’ve got wonderful news to share!” 

Castys opened his mouth to retort, but he found he couldn’t form the words. His tongue was still…he looked away, swallowing, and sat up while remaining on the floor. 

“You’re going to have to start listening to me, you know. Because,” she broke out into an excited smile, “I get to keep you!” Upon seeing Castys’s glare, she just laughed. “I figured you wouldn’t be excited, but trust me,” she held up a finger, “you’ll be much better off in my hands than if you were sold as a pet to some bored aristocrat. I’m sure they’d beat that personality right out of you, and I don’t plan on doing anything of the sort. As long as you cooperate with my experiments, you’re free to be yourself. You can even hate me as much as you like!” Castys raised an eyebrow at her final statement. He’d see about that.

After rummaging in her bag for a moment, she pulled out a little silver medal and moved to crouch next to him on the ground. “Hold still now,” she ordered as she started to bring it towards his neck. Castys wasn’t sure what was happening at first, but after a moment, it clicked, and he decided he’d rather not listen, leaning back. Neteri just sighed. “You’re not off to a very good start.” Well, it’s not like he wanted to be.

Suddenly, Neteri changed tactics, shoving him down on his back and straddling his waist before he could try to sit up, pinning his arms down with a knee on each elbow. Castys cried out, the wounds on his back from the whip lighting up in pain, and that combined with her full weight on him kept him from moving. He bared his teeth as her hand came closer, daring her to get within range, but she just curled her other hand in his hair, yanking it back and keeping his head firmly in place. Great. He was once again powerless against this tiny lady, forced to keep still as she attached that dumb little tag to the collar and sealed the metal shut with the same spell that kept him from taking it off.

“There,” she said once it was on. She tapped the tag, cold against his throat. “Property of Neteri Crozien. Whether you like it or not. Now,” she grabbed his chin, “are you going to let me put some new restraints on you or should I call the guards to manhandle you? Your resistance is pointless and only delaying the inevitable, exactly like every other time. Just nod if you’re going to cooperate.”

Did he want to get manhandled again? Not particularly. He’d had more than enough of being grabbed and held still while chains were taken off and put on. And it’s not like he was resisting out of pride or something stupid, he just fought back when it was something he really didn’t want to happen. Which was most things in the past couple days, but, hey, if new restraints meant he got to leave this boring-ass cell, he was okay with it. Her grip on his hair had loosened enough to allow him a small nod, so he gave one, praying she’d get the fuck off of him now.

Neteri smiled brightly at his cooperation. “Great! Although,” she got off of him and stood, thinking, “maybe just stay laying down. I don’t really trust you not to try and run at the moment, so just roll on your stomach and I’ll take the chains off.” Castys sighed in annoyance but complied, gritting his teeth as his weight went from his injured back to his burned chest. The cold stone floor felt a little good on it, at least, but it was a small consolation as he watched Neteri walk back over with a key and a coil of rope. 

She squatted down and-fuck, that was a knee on his back, not her full weight but enough to make him gasp in pain. Paying him no mind, Neteri unlocked the manacles around his wrists, and he could barely enjoy the feeling of not having anything around them for a moment, just wishing she’d tie him up and get the fuck off of his back. It didn’t feel like she was going particularly slow as she pulled his arms behind him and wound the rope around his wrists, but the seconds still dragged by at an agonizing pace. 

Finally, she finished tying the knot and took her knee off of his back as she stood. “There we go!” Castys just groaned, rolling on his side. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’s not like I was hurting you.” Castys’s glare deepened, and he awkwardly used his bound hands to pull up the back of his shirt enough to expose the bandages wrapped around his torso. Neteri’s jaw dropped slightly, and she just stared at him for a second before worry took over her features.

“I…I’m so sorry I…I completely forgot. That you were hurt. I wouldn’t have done that if I remembered.” Her head hung slightly. “I’m really sorry, Castys.” Her apology seemed genuine, but how the fuck did she forget he got whipped and branded yesterday? She looked back at him again. “Let’s just hurry and get you to your new home so I can heal you up, okay?” Wait, new home? She was taking him somewhere else? At first the idea was scary, but then Castys remembered that he’d never particularly loved living in the castle, so whatever. It was probably just going to be a different prison cell, anyway.

With ridiculous difficulty and a lot of groaning in pain, he managed to sit up, using his elbows to help him do it since his hands were kind of useless. By the time that was done, Neteri was standing above him with…a chain? He was already tied up what the fu-no. No fucking way. He growled as her hands moved towards his neck, baring his teeth once more.

“Seriously, Castys? You said you weren’t a dog yesterday, but you sure are acting like one.” Yeah, sure, whatever, but since he couldn’t fucking talk, he was forced to resort to other means of protest. He honestly wasn’t entirely sure where the growling came from himself, and, yeah, it was a little animalistic, but that didn’t mean he deserved to get put on a leash. “This is happening either way, so just give it up already.” Her hand was moving closer, closer, the clasp at the end of the chain open, ready to-

Once again, instinct took over, and before he knew it, his teeth were buried in the flesh of her hand.

Neteri cried out, jerking her hand back and dropping the leash. “Lyte! Seriously?!” She winced as she dabbed the wounds with what smelled like the stingy liquid from yesterday and used her magic to close them up, during which Castys couldn’t help but smile smugly. Once she was done healing, she pulled on her leather gloves and grabbed a couple rolls of bandages from her bag. “I figured you were going to be difficult to keep in line, but this is just ridiculous.” Castys took pride in being ridiculous, so he’d take the compliment. What he didn’t want to take were the consequences of his actions, but he was a little bit helpless at the moment, so there wasn’t much he could do as Neteri shoved a wad of bandages in his mouth and tied a strip around his head to keep him from spitting it out.

“There. You’re just about the only person who’d need to be gagged when they can’t talk.” Castys just looked away, feeling his face grow hot as she clipped the leash to the collar. She gave it a tug, but he didn’t budge. Now he was just resisting out of spite. Neteri’s expression grew even more frustrated, and it looked like she was about to say something before she stopped herself and took a deep breath, calming herself down. She crouched down to look Castys in the eye.

“Look, I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I hurt you when I didn’t mean to, so I’m not going to punish you for biting me. We’ll just call it even.” She paused and held up a finger. “The gag stays until we reach our destination, though. Just for safety’s sake. But I’ll tell you something about my plans for you. If you come with me, you’ll have a tongue again by the end of tomorrow. Does that sound good?” 

Castys could be stupid and stubborn and petty and shake his head and sit here and then end up getting dragged off to wherever, or he could just suck it the fuck up and get the ability to complain back. Complaining would be nice...After weighing his options he nodded, and Neteri broke into a smile. “Good. Let’s go, then.” She helped him stand, and she seemed to do her best not to pull on the leash as they walked along. Soon enough, they had reached the teleportation stone, and Castys…he couldn’t help but be a little excited to leave this stupid place. He knew he was a fucking prisoner now, but he was basically a prisoner in his old life, too, minus the chains and plus a comfy bed. 

At least he was going somewhere else.

The other palace was pretty cool, at least, the short glimpses he got before he was pulled into the lower levels, down halls and through doors until they arrived at his lame little prison cell. It did have a bed, though, so that was an upgrade. And a private bathroom?! Why did the prison cells in his family’s dungeon have to suck so much ass? He only spent two nights there, but still. If he was ever in charge of a dungeon, he would make sure it was at least a little comfy in case he got thrown in there.

Neteri clamped a manacle around his ankle, which was whatever, because that meant she untied his wrists and took that stupid leash off. And then, true to her word, she healed his wounds. The brand scarred, of course, which was…the symbol was kind of cool, but since it meant he was “property” or whatever he wasn’t too excited about it being on his chest for the rest of his life. At least shirts existed.

After that was done, Neteri instructed him to clean himself off and left him alone for a bit. He wandered into the bathroom, chain clinking with every step, and paused in front of the mirror. He looked pretty much the same as always, just a little more tired and blood-covered than usual. Oh, and the stupid collar around his neck. Neteri was fucking delusional, it didn’t look the slightest bit “cute” on him, it just looked…He didn’t want to see it anymore.

Once he was clean and dressed in some slightly comfier clothes, Castys tried out his new bed. It was nowhere near as nice as his old one, but it was way better than the floor, so he’d take it. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Neteri poked him in the face.

“I’m back, Castys, get up and take your shirt off.” Castys sat up, but didn’t take his shirt off, instead just crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. His wounds were healed, so what the hell did she need it off for? “Come on, I’m just going to examine you and take some measurements. Nothing painful, I promise.” Not painful, sure, but probably still not pleasant. Even so, he didn’t really have much choice but to listen, so he pulled off his shirt and stood, hoping this wouldn’t involve too much touching.

His hopes were in vain.

It started off fine, her measuring his height and a few other things with a strip of leather, but then she started running her hands all over him, poking at him, moving him this way and that. He couldn’t help but flinch every time since he hated being touched, and Neteri was clearly getting annoyed by it. His full-body recoil after she ran a hand down his spine was the final straw. Wordlessly, she clamped a manacle around one of his wrists before shoving him down onto the bed. He tried to stand back up, but she basically fucking tackled him, pinning him down on his back for the second time today. And, to top it all off, she managed to loop the chain around the top of the cot before cuffing his other wrist, leaving him pretty much helpless.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just kept still,” Neteri sighed, seeing his frustration. Well, it was a little fucking hard to be still when someone who’s basically a stranger is running their hands all over your bare skin. He considered trying to kick her, but she’d probably just chain him up more and keep going, and he’d rather this bullshit just be over with already.

Being chained down on his back somehow made this infinitely worse. There was nowhere to run, nothing he could do, Neteri looming over him as she put her hands all over him, touching his chest, his brand, squeezing his arms, grabbing his chin, pulling at his eyelids, gloves on now, hands in his mouth, poking at the stump of his tongue, feeling his teeth, gripping his hair to turn his head from side to side, his skin was crawling, crawling, his muscles tense, breaths coming short, fast, he just wanted her to get off stop touching him examining him taking notes reducing him down to just numbers just a body not a person not someone who got boundaries or personal space no just someone who gets touched and touched and touched-

“Castys! Hey, hey, just breathe.” Neteri was standing over him now, fiddling with the cuffs on his wrists, releasing him. Castys hadn’t even realized he was hyperventilating, but he tried his best to calm down as he scrambled to the other end of the bed, as far away from her as he could get. Neteri watched him sadly. “I…I was making you uncomfortable, wasn’t I? I’m sorry, I just thought you were trying to be a nuisance.” No shit he was fucking uncomfortable, how the hell did she misread that?! At least she looked upset by this, but it was way too late for that. Castys still felt like there were bugs crawling all over him, and he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. 

Neteri reached out a hand in a misguided attempt to comfort him, but after seeing how Castys flinched and bared his teeth, she backed off. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone. Well, I’ll go get you something to eat, and then I’ll leave you alone. Until tomorrow, and then you’ll have a tongue again and you can complain all you want and yell at me, okay?” Castys would rather never have to see her stupid face ever again, but that’s not how this was gonna work, so he just nodded silently, not relaxing until she’d left the room. 

He almost wanted to take a shower again, just to wash the feeling of her hands off, but it was starting to subside, so he just pulled his shirt back on and hid under the covers. What was that, exactly? He knew he didn’t like being touched, and he’d never let anyone do it remotely that much, so maybe being touched for so long in such an invasive way had been too overwhelming. Castys had thought he’d be a little tougher than this, since the thought of pain didn’t really scare him, but apparently being pinned down and touched was too much for him? Kind of…pathetic. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he could talk, protest, fight back a little bit with his words. Maybe he’d be okay once he could talk again.

He just hoped Neteri wasn’t lying about giving him his tongue back.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ 

@starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump 

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​

@whumpedydump