#let them be batshit insane for a change

[kennyomegasweave]

Ming in the restaurant:

Man can't even mention himself around Ming without Ming hearing Kill Bill sirens and it's just

I love him. He's so unwell.

[torchickentacos]

I know that Max is referring to May not knowing anything about Harley's plot in Going For Choke, but for a second I thought he was just taking a moment to call her stupid, unprompted 😭

[little-pondhead]

Damian was once reminded of a quote.

God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.

The saying held no meaning for him, but it slipped out of his mouth once when his mind was wandering and hazy, and his self-control was null.

The boy sitting beside him huffed, a flicker of amusement flashing across his face. The most emotion either of them has been able to express for a while now.

"That line is bullshit," the boy whispered. His voice was hoarse and raw. Damian had to strain to hear him. "I've met many gods, and they would rather sacrifice their soldiers if it meant their own survival."

Damian's head lolled to one side, contemplating his words. "Indeed," he croaked. "I've met my fair share of gods as well. They were, how do you put it..."

"Wimpy? Disappointing? Underwhelming?" The boy offered. The conversation wasn't the most cheery subject to talk about, but it served to fight off the medicine that was attacking their minds.

"Soft-bodied bitches." Damian let out an uncharacteristic snicker. The boy broke out into giggles, that soon transformed into violent coughs. Thick blood was spat onto the ground, and the temporary joy dissipated from the air.

No jokes could cover up the fact that they were trapped.

Well, not trapped. They'd been captured. And caged. Like fucking animals. It was humiliating and terrifying at the same time.

When Damian first landed in this dimension, he immediately knew something was off. He paid no mind to the empty streets of a half-destroyed town nor the strange graffiti and green fog that reminded him of Fear Gas. Blast marks made his footsteps dirty, but he barely even noticed. What was truly unsettling to him was the immediate pull he felt toward a certain direction. His very soul was crying out desperately for something, and it was all Damian could do to follow the urge.

He walked for what felt like hours. Glowing eyes peeked at him from the shadows, scattering when he approached. The fog got thicker, dragging at his bones and making his heartbeat feel slower. The silence was mind-numbing, and he didn't dare make a peep.

As he got to (what he assumed) the center of town, Damian noticed a thick, rotting stench replacing the fog within the span of a few blocks. Glowing red flowers lined the sidewalks and streets, sometimes sitting in piles in the mouth of alleyways or arranged in a line across the doorway of a shop. Like how one would salt their home to ward off evil. When he tried to get a closer look and possibly a sample, his body physically recoiled from the flowers as if stung. The mere presence of them made him feel sick.

So he ignored them for now. Damian continued to trudge along in a straight line, following his instincts. As the fog lifted even more, sound returned to the world as well. The town was truly abandoned, then. No sirens or car horns were going off. No one was running through the streets, panicked about the fight that had obviously taken place.

What Damian did hear was two voices raised in anger, a third in fear, and the sound of concentrated explosions happening nearby. He broke into a run. The fight that brought him here had done some decent damage to his outfit and person. His mask was barely clinging on, his armor was digging into his skin strangely, and he'd lost his weapons, but as soon as Damian had heard that third voice, he just had to run.

Damian knew he was going against all his training by rushing into the situation. Logically, he should have backed out as soon as he heard the commotion. Maybe retreated completely or at least snuck around to assess the situation first. But no, here he was, barely keeping his secret identity intact, bolting towards a group of unknowns like his life depended on it. His mind screamed at him that it did.

He finally rounded a corner and nearly tripped on the excessive rubble. He'd made it to the town square. There were more red flowers and blast marks. A pair of adults, one impossibly large man and a smaller, lithe woman in hazmat suits, were standing back to back, glowing guns raised as they searched the sky and ground around them. He stepped behind a chunk of concrete to hide himself better.

"Show yourself, Phantom!" The woman screamed. She was so full of rage. "There are blood blossoms surrounding this whole area; I know you can't leave!"

There was a slight shift in the rubble to Damian's right. Without hesitation, the man spun around and shot the pile. Damian didn't have time to move, so he just crouched and covered his head while a blast of green light destroyed the pile and surrounding debris. When the light cleared, Damian was distantly horrified to find that his cover had taken on the brunt of the rebound blast and had been reduced to pebbles. His cover was gone.

The man immediately noticed him.

"Oh, look, Mads! Another one!"

The woman whipped around to study his tiny figure, still curled up to protect himself. Damian knew these were dangerous people. Why couldn't he get up and run? The woman grinned awfully and hiked up her gun-more like a bazooka-to aim at Damian.

"How wonderful, Jack!" She crowed. "Phantom would never leave one of his kind behind. And this one is so human-shaped! It looks just like Danny."

"Using the pest as bait? I'm so glad I married you, Maddie." The man gushed, slipping his goggles and hood off to gaze lovingly at his wife.

Damian's heart stopped. He couldn't take his eyes off the evil, terrible look on the man's face.

"Father?" He mouthed.

The couple didn't notice. The woman just took aim, and for the life of him, Damian couldn't force himself to move.

That was his father. That was Bruce Wayne in a hazmat suit, shooting up a city without regard for human life. That was Batman, who was pointing a gun at his face, no recognition showing in his eyes whatsoever.

The bazooka went off first.

"NO!" Someone cried, coming out of nowhere and slamming into Damian's frozen form. His head bounced off the ground, and the last thing he saw was his own eyes staring back at him.

---

Damian came back to himself slowly. It was unnaturally bright where ever he was. His limbs were stretched far straighter than he would have liked them, and the feeling of dried glue on his face told him that someone had captured him, stripped him, and tied him to a table.

This time, though, his training did kick in. As soon as he was aware of himself, he regulated his breathing so it would appear he was still asleep. The air still smelled of rot and concrete dust, but there was a sharp tinge of chemicals in there, too. It was chilly despite no nearby AC vent going. A lab? Underground, perhaps? He dared not open his eyes, but he could feel something familiar laying on his left.

A door hissed open, and the voices of the couple from earlier entered, arguing with a third party.

"-said we got to start the dissections first!" The woman, Maddie, demanded. "That was our deal! If we handed Phantom and any other specimens over to you, the lab would let us have the first go for the experiments!"

"Yeah!" Added in Bru-Jack's voice. "We could learn so much from a powerful specimen like Phantom, and he's been a pest to us much longer than he has been to the GIW. We can put him back together for the rest of your scientists if you really want."

The third-party spoke, sounding irritated and exhausted from arguing. "Listen," they stressed, flipping through papers. "I'm not saying you can't partake in the agreed-upon experiments. I'm saying that you failed to fulfill a crucial part of the contract and cannot even look at a scalpel until you complete your part of the job!"

"WHAT?!" Maddie screeched. There was a flurry of paper sounds, so Damian assumed she'd snatched a pile of them from the third person's hands. There was a moment of silence while she read, and then, "Oh, fudge cake! Jack, the contract states we have to provide a minimum number of specimens plus Phantom in order to be let into the labs. We'll have to go out and round up as many as we can before we start dissecting."

Jack grumbled. "Fudgin' lawyers and their tricky tongues."

The third person tsked them and snatched the papers back. "No lawyer trickery was used here, Mr. Fenton. We prepared this document in good faith, seeing as we're already business partners. It's not our fault you signed before reading. Now, I heard that the Manson house has been a well-known haunting spot ever since the family moved out. Perhaps you should start there?"

Jack and Maddie grumbled some more but agreed and left the room, with the third person sighing and following them. The door locked shut with a click that echoed in Damian's ears. He waited for a breath. Then two. Once he was sure the party was gone, he cracked open his eyes and looked to his left, where his soul was still trying to reach.

There was a boy staring back at him.

Strapped to a table, just like Damian, a thin and lanky boy around his own age seemed just as surprised as him when they locked eyes and something clicked in their brains. Damian realized that while the boy was obviously not human, with his floating white hair and dim green eyes, he did share the exact same face with Damian, if not extremely paler. In fact, the boy's skin was deathly, almost taking on a mottled blue-green tinge he'd seen dead bodies develop.

The boy got over his surprise first. He grinned at Damian, clearly exhausted but obviously trying to make the situation seem less dire than it actually was. "Why, hello, stranger," he quipped. "What a good looking face you have there."

"Of course you would say that." Damian snapped automatically.

The boy just chuckled, unfazed by his attitude. "Chill out, my guy, I'm just joking. If I had to guess, you're from another dimension, right?"

Damian stiffened up, straining against his restraints. "How did you know that?" He hissed, glaring.

The boy sighed. He suddenly looked much older than either of them had any right to be. "You reek of the Deep Zone, dude. It's not something humans can smell easily, but with a little practice, you should pick it up quick."

"What makes you say I'm not human? And why-"

"Why did you feel a connection?" The boy turned his head back to the ceiling, eyes unfocused. He looked and sounded very sad. "I'm pretty sure we're alternate versions of each other, my dude. I've met a few other versions of myself, mostly from other timelines, but you're the first one who is so obviously different and so similar at the same time. It's weird."

Damian's heart dropped.

"...Alternate versions of each other?"

The boy nodded. He was refusing to look at Damian's reaction. Scared of rejection. "Yeah. And every version of me has died and come back in some way at least once, so by the time we're a preteen, we no longer identify as strictly human. Although," his voice grew bitter. "We do get pretty good at blending in, according to others."

Damian examined the boy more closely. His outfit was falling apart from whatever he'd gone through, but it was very clearly an old hazmat suit with a logo on the chest. Scars, both new and old, littered his skin, some of them matching the scars on Damian's own body. His eyes weren't dim originally, it seemed. They had swirled and glowed brighter when the boy had spoken, and his whole demeanor screamed exhaustion. Thinking back on everything he learned since being dropped in the middle of the street, Damian put two and two together quite easily.

"You're a hero." Damian pointed out. "An undead hero." The boy flinched but nodded.

"Was. The key word there. Not many people enjoyed having a ghost around to save their asses, even when it was from other ghosts." He held no resentment in his voice, just genuinely upset and betrayed that the people he had protected for so long and loved so much had turned on him, and abandoned him in his time of need.

"And, these people don't think the undead are...human?"

"Not in the slightest. We're apparently unfeeling monsters with no sentience but are driven by a single goal to destroy anything living."

"So now we are to be dissected? For what? The ghosts I know don't have physical bodies. What use would this be?"

The boy scrunched his nose. "Damn, your universe must really be out in the sticks if your ghosts aren't solid." Somehow, Damian felt offended. "Don't give me that attitude; I can feel you judging me. Anyway, the ectoplasm here is much thicker than other universes, so most other ghosts can walk around and act just like humans if they want to. They just usually don't because we are technically a different species. It's like asking a dog to act like a cat."

"Hmm. I'm starting to understand."

"That's great!" The smile returned, and the boy turned his head a little too far to make proper eye contact once more. "By the way, I never got your name. Do we share the same one?"

"Perhaps. I go by Damian Wayne. What is your name?"

The boy gave him a shark-toothed grin, one that was barely familiar. It reminded Damian of his grandfather. "Oh, my ghost name is Phantom, but my living name is Danny Fenton."

---

[that's all I got in me, but anyone is free to take this and keep going. Like a baton race at track meets. Go win us gold!]

Ooooh I just came up with an idea

You know all of this fics where Danny is an alternate universe version of like Bruce or Jason? What if it was with Damian

There could be some kind of ritual that sends Damian into Danny’s universe only they both get caught by the GIW and Everything Goes Wrong

By that I mean both of them get vivisected. And the Fentons should do at least some of it, and that Jack looks just like Bruce for extra ✨trauma✨

They both go on the Road Trip of Hell while escaping and Danny’s just working on building a temporary portal to the Ghost Zone/Damian’s home dimension.

I want Danny to lean out of a car with like a mcguivered bazooka or something to try and drive off the GIW for a while with some kind of crazy/stressed smile back at Damian.

I want little moments where they’re bonding/teaching each other how to fight (Because Damian knows formal fighting, and if we go with Danny knowing some self defense from his mom he’s not completely horrible at it, but Danny knows how to fight like a feral raccoon. It’s effective and Damian DOES like animals right?)

I want them to finally get to Damian’s dimension and when they finally finally gets to the bats and Bruce reaches out to help his son Damian flinches

And then I want it to get into the fluff/healing/trauma dumping part where the newly dubbed twins (who get along scarily well and everyone is pretty sure are trauma bonded) are healing while simultaneously causing the other bats to become more and more distressed (it may or may not be on purpose)

It would also be pretty cool if their habits and mannerisms rubbed off on one another, so they can be uncannily similar one moment then completely different the next

I also had the idea of them being literally the same soul- like, the soul that originally formed was completely identical when they were babies but diverged due to different experiences, so it’s literally a ‘same soul two bodies’ thing. I just think it would be neat, even if it’s not even really mentioned, but just like, Implied you know?

[digitaldaydreamm]

For the helping out ‘unspoken claim’ could u do an afterwards maybe? like ever since then reader is sooo like wtf did we do and she tells him it’s better if they forget ab it and then when rafes all frustrated cuz not only is he like IN LOVE W HER but he’s also like sexually completely attracted to her so she goes like if ur mad cuz I didn’t give u head back I could do it now?? And he’s like WTF it’s not even ab that? It’s the fact that I’m in love w u batshit crazy?(in his mind) Ik this is long but this is soooo them omg😭😭

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | you tried to act like nothing happened...

warnings: cursing, mentions of a blowjob

a/n: i mixed this request with the one i accidentally deleted, i hope it's okay!! also i didn't add rafe admitting his love... yet. saving that for later ;)

part 1 part 3 masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

You didn’t think about it.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You kept things normal. Rafe was still Rafe. You were still you. Nothing had changed.

And if your skin prickled when he stood too close, if your breath hitched when his fingers brushed yours, if your mind wandered back to that night more times than you’d ever admit—well, that was your problem.

Not his.

So you did what you did best. You smiled. You joked. You teased him like always.

And Rafe?

He was going insane.

It had been three days. Three days of you acting like he hadn’t had you trembling beneath him. Like he hadn’t heard those breathless, wrecked moans of his name. Like he hadn’t felt your fingers tightening in his hair, your thighs squeezing around him, your entire body shattering under his touch.

You just carried on. Completely unfazed.

It was driving him fucking feral.

The worst part? You weren’t avoiding him. If you had been weird, awkward, shy—he would’ve known you were thinking about it just as much as he was. But no. You were still hanging out, still texting him dumb shit, still laying on his bed like nothing happened.

Like right now.

You were scrolling on your phone, one leg tucked under you, absentmindedly flipping through Instagram while Rafe sat at his desk, pretending to do something—though he hadn’t typed a single thing in the last ten minutes.

Because all he could do was watch you.

Meanwhile, you were completely unbothered.

And when you let out a small hum, stretching slightly before tossing your phone onto the bed, looking over at him like nothing was wrong—he finally snapped.

Rafe pushed away from his desk.

The chair scraped against the hardwood as he stood, crossing the room in just a few long strides.

You barely had time to react before he grabbed your ankle, yanking you toward the edge of the bed.

Your phone tumbled to the floor with a thud as you yelped, eyes flying to his. “Rafe—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His voice was sharp.

Your stomach twisted.

You blinked up at him, feigning confusion. “Excuse me?”

Rafe exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his face before gripping your wrist, yanking you up until you were sitting upright, forced to look at him.

“You’ve been acting like nothing happened.”

Your heart pounded.

Your lips parted slightly, but you hesitated—just for a second—before tilting your head, playing dumb. “Like what happened?”

His jaw clenched.

You swore you could feel the tension radiating off him.

“Don’t fucking play with me, kid."

Your stomach flipped.

You shrugged, forcing a small, nonchalant smile. “I just didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Rafe laughed.

The sound wasn’t amused. It was dangerous.

“Not a big deal?” he repeated, voice laced with disbelief.

Your throat felt tight.

You shifted on the bed, but he was still standing between your legs, still looking at you like he wanted to ruin you, towering over you.

“I mean… you were just messing around, right?”

Something dark flashed in his eyes.

His hand shot out, fingers gripping your jaw—not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath catch.

“Is that what you think?” he murmured, tilting your chin up. “That I was just… messing around?”

You didn’t answer.

And that only pissed him off more.

He let out a low, humorless chuckle, his fingers dragging down your jaw before he dropped his hand entirely, stepping back like he couldn’t stand to be near you right now.

You hesitated.

Then, quietly, you said, “Well… if it bothers you so much…”

Rafe tensed.

You bit your lip, suddenly shy, suddenly not able to meet his gaze as you mumbled, “…I could, you know. Return the favor.”

Silence.

Your face burned.

You had never said anything like that before. Not to anyone. Not even to Rafe.

And you definitely hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.

You peeked up at him, nerves tangled in your chest.

Rafe was staring at you.

Not in the way guys did when they wanted something from you.

No, he looked—pissed.

Fucking furious.

Your stomach dropped.

“Is that what you think this is about?” he asked, his voice eerily calm.

You swallowed. “I just thought—”

“No. No, you didn’t think, sweetheart.”

The nickname didn’t sound teasing this time.

It sounded like a warning.

Like he was barely holding himself back.

You bit your lip, shifting on your feet, suddenly feeling small under his gaze. “I just figured it would make us even…”

Rafe exhaled hard, tilting his head to look at the ceiling, his hands flying to his hips like he needed to physically ground himself.

You couldn’t tell if he was trying not to snap or trying not to laugh in disbelief.

He dragged a hand through his hair before finally looking at you again.

“Even,” he repeated, like he needed to hear it out loud.

Your face burned even hotter.

“…Yeah?”

Rafe took a slow step closer. His voice dropped, dark and slow.

“You think I give a fuck about being even?”

You stiffened.

You barely had time to react before he was right in front of you again, tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

“Is that what you thought it was?” he murmured. “Just some random thing we did, and now we’re supposed to trade favors to make it fair?”

You hesitated again.

Because when he said it like that, it did sound stupid.

And you suddenly felt really fucking stupid.

Rafe shook his head, voice still dangerously low.

“I don’t want a fucking blowjob, baby.”

Your breath hitched.

His fingers trailed down your throat.

“I want you to say something.”

Your lips parted. “Say what?”

His grip tightened just enough to make you shiver.

“That it meant something,” he murmured. “That you felt it.”

You were already shaking your head before you could stop yourself. “Rafe—”

His fingers ghosted along your jaw.

“You can pretend all you want,” he said, voice dark and sure. “But you know nothing’s been the same since that night.”

You swallowed hard.

He leaned in, lips barely brushing your ear.

“And the sooner you admit it,” he murmured, “the easier this’ll be for you.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

Because he was right.

And you had no idea what that meant.

[cold-kitty]

Remember the Yandere Neuvillette fic? Well you know that one meme that goes like "I have two sides"? That's how I am with Neuvillette. On one hand, I like to think of him as the sweet goober that was in that fic. On the other hand? Well...

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

Contains: NSFW (not with darling), murder (not darling), Neuvillette is quite literally insane, Neuvillette is slightly rough with darling (not sexually), abuse of power, mentions of kidnapping, stealing darlings things, Neuvillette has masochistic tendencies

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

Yan!Neuvillette who hires you as an assistant. you tidy up a bit, bring him things he needs, just normal things.

Yan!Neuvillette who stares at you, stares. he only works half of the day, the rest of that time is spent staring at you.

Yan!Neuvillette who will invite you to lunch everyday, insisting that he pays even though you want to. oh don't worry, it's not like it's a date. even though it should be...

Yan!Neuvillette who will steal your used napkins, spoons/forks/chopsticks, leftovers, anything that you've touched or put your mouth on.

Yan!Neuvillette who takes those things home with him, swiping the saliva off of them and is immediately tugging down his pants.

Yan!Neuvillette who is definitely physical with you. hugs, patting your head, hooking your arm in his, standing a little too close to you, etc.. but he's very insistent with it, and he doesn't care if you turn down the offer, it only makes him squeeze you harder than usual (which is abnormally hard for someone who's supposed to be platonic with you).

Yan!Neuvillette definitely swipes some of your clothes, gaslighting you that you didn't wear it. gloves? no silly, you didn't wear any.

Yan!Neuvillette who also finds the cologne you use, spraying it on all over his room, especially his pillow.

Yan!Neuvillette is a pillow fucker 100%, his pillow is constantly nestled between his plush thighs as his hips move feverishly against it.

Yan!Neuvillette who talks to his pillow, pretending it's you. begging it, whining with it, holding it as if it were a person. p-please love- ngh... please please please i wanna cum, please- darling please l-let me- hah- cum...

Yan!Neuvillette who has fantasies of you randomly bending him over his desk, ripping his clothes apart and absolutely ravaging him.

Yan!Neuvillette who has a certain ache for pain with you. slap him, kick him, hit him, bite him, strangle him, he'd even let you cut him for Christ's sake. make him bleed and cry, bruise him and make him sore. anything that you do is ecstasy for him, and he would love you to have power over him like that.

Yan!Neuvillette who goes batshit feral when you're affectionate with someone. teeth gritted, body twitching, eyes wide with rage, but he would never ever do anything to hurt you, so he simply slits the persons throat.

Yan!Neuvillette who will quite literally tweak the law just so he can have an advantage, making loopholes so he can legally kidnap you. the government doesn't even need to know, he'll just change it whenever he wants.

Yan!Neuvillette who will stop at absolutely nothing to have you, he'll kidnap you, blackmail you, threaten people you love, anything.

Yan!Neuvillette who - if pushed to this point - will accuse you of a crime and label you guilty, sentencing you to 'behavior correction' with him for the next year.

Yan!Neuvillette who really, really doesn't like the look on your face when he takes you to his home, as much as he likes having power over you, it makes him feel sick. you're crying, begging him to understand that you haven't done anything wrong, that you were framed.

Yan!Neuvillette who won't hurt you unless you try to run away, and even then it's only a few smacks on the back with a wooden paddle. he hates your tears.

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

There are only two Yandere Neuvillette's (in my opinion), the sweet baby from the first fic, and whatever rabies infested rat this is.

~🐈‍⬛

[green-static]

Writing Sam and Max’s dialogue, some tips!

Yeah, so I just wanted to get on here and try to talk about how I write Sam and Max. No one asked me to I just kind of felt like sharing.

So the biggest thing that I noticed when reading fanfiction is that a lot of people tend to make Sam more mellow. Essentially they try to make him seem sane compared to Max which yes you can do, but you need to make sure that you keep Sam not seeming mentally stable all the time.

I mean, he literally killed a fast food employee because they didn’t make his food right. Sure he let Max do the torturing to death thing, but he did pull his gun out on him. And he told Max to do it. He also murdered like a hundred people at one time and only said “man I kind of feel bad about this” did we forget that he and Max kept a man locked in their closet until he died? What I’m trying to get at is Sam is not the sane member of the freelance police. He just has some semblance of self-control is well spoken and relatively soft mannered.

Examples of Sam being generally violent

For example, let’s say they’re going to commit murder. Sam might say, “I think I’ll shoot this guy to make him stop talking.” But Max might say “ if I rip out your vocal cords and tie your small intestines around your throat will that keep your trap shut?” The point is Max is more unhinged with what he says but Sam still says the same thing just in a way that makes it come off as more normal. (Compared to max anyway.) they are both violent, but Max comes across as more violent due to the way he says it.

You also have when Max says something batshit insane and Sam just adds on to it.

“Sam, what do you think would happen if I threw Harry Moleman into an industrial frier? His face makes me seethe with anger.”

“Just make sure to throw away oil after, I don’t wanna eat anything that had his body anywhere near it”

My biggest piece of advice when it comes to writing them is just don’t be normal. Sam and Max deeply care about each other. They may show aggression towards each other, but most of the times it’s still in an affectionate manner and neither one of them gets seriously hurt. Sam and Max are unconventional characters so your writing needs to be unconventional as well.

When I write them, the first thing that I do is I read the dialogue and I think to myself “would a well adjusted member of society say this?” if the answer is no, then I’m on the right track. 

And make sure that you’re engaging with a canon media and not just fanon media. It can be really easy to have your perception of a character changed based off of the fanfiction or fan works that you’re reading/engaging with. So making sure that you’re regularly going back to the source material is important . 

OK, I guess that’s all for now. If y’all have any specific questions you want asked about how I write them go ahead. I run an ask blog so if you wanna read what I do to see how I write them then yeah you can do that.

Ask blog -> @freelancepolicedotcom

And just to clarify, you don’t have to write them this way. this is just how I write them and I’m just sharing in case any aspiring writers out there need help with these funny guys. If this helped you write anything, please send them to me I love to read fanfiction. 

[dazedantics]

Hiii!!! I’m not sure if your commissions are open, but then at least this is gonna be in your inbox,

Joker Mohawk!Mark x Harley Quinn reader, like they are both batshit crazy, but mark isn’t like toxic towards reader, and they be kissing while they nuke/kill massive amounts of people and ruin buildings, like them going around soaked in blood smiling as they raid their 25th house that evening, like they are so in love with eachother,

And like imagine if reader gets hurt, then he will carry her (with one arm or bridal carry) as he flies in the sky, watching the area were reader got hurt burn while cradling his precious

Thank you for listening!

Wild Card Joker Mohawk Mark x Harley Quinn Reader

Haven't really written directly for the Mark variants so this may be a little shaky, but I hope you like it

No one wants to end up like this.

Get into a discussion about whether it's better to be respected or feared, most people choose respect. You didn't always agree with it that, but what are you gonna do? Voice the risky answer and sow a disturbance that drags behind you whenever you enter a room?

No one wants to find themselves on the wrong side of a war.

Research old battles and there are clear good guys and bad guys. Heroes are praised while villains get crap for the rest of their life. And hardly is there respect for the few who can't clearly be labeled as one of the two.

No one wants to be deemed gone. Lost. Insane.

People pity the deranged, patronize as they say how they pray for them to get better. Then go on with their day, averting eyes, speeding past all the weirdos in the streets. Who cares what happens as long as they don't end up as them, right?

You used to do the same. Simply acting as polite society expected one to be. Stay on track, be kind but hold your tongue, speak your truth but don't let those risky opinions out lest you tarnish your precious reputation. Presentation is everything, you know? If people become uncomfortable around you then you basically become good as the garbage draining down the gutter.

Suppose that's why you like Mark.

He dosen't care about all those unspoken rules. He doesn't care what people want. Or think. Or say.

He only cares about what he wants. What he likes. Enjoying himself.

Maybe that makes him selfish.

But when he first showed up? Crumbling once steady skyscrapers, punching through the rich, the needy, and everyone in-between, brushing off their splattered blood, laughing above the cutting screams? Gloating about this world's pathetic lack of control, then seizing it without much of a struggle?

You decided you didn't care if he was selfish.

And you actually cracked a smile. One that wasn't forced out of necessary politeness.

You watched your old colleagues scatter by, tears of fear running down their cheeks. One ran into you. And then you lost it.

You started to laugh. Swinging them round like a kid in a playground. Couldn't they see? Nothing mattered anymore. No one has to restrain themselves by playing nice. This new guy in town was going to make changes for the better!

You have to meet him.

Your colleague shouted as they wretched away from you. And there was no reason for what you did next. But when they said you were acting crazy, that you needed to pull it together and find a way out of the city? You decided to follow in the Viltrumite's footsteps.

You snapped their neck and delighted in that bubbly feeling springing in your gut. It had never felt so good to laugh.

A new you was born that day. Or rather, your true self had been set free.

You went on for hours, your spree becoming more loose and experimental. So many methods, so much time. You truly forgot about Mark in those moments, practically moving in a daze as you searched for people in hiding.

But you had certainly caught Mark's attention by then.

Not noticing him watching from a distance, distracted by the unexpected, yet not uninteresting display. Snide grin spreading further on his lips.

If he hadn't been more than a human, you probably could've done some real damage to him as he got closer.

He was taunting and he was crass, poking fun at your unskilled manner. Seemed to be trying to goad you into attacking him as well.

But when he finally set foot on the ground, chest to your back as he let his hands grip your hips, lips to your ear as he whispered tricks to make the process go faster? You both knew this invasion couldn't have been a mere coincidence. You were meant to have met each other this way.

It was obvious you were asked to help rule his empire. And you learned to the extent that you could love his percieved selfishness.

You sit on the arm of his throne, leaning in to whisper news about the people trying to rebel. It's not hard to find their hideouts when you knew this world like the back of your hand. You do everything to be useful to him.

And he'll reward you with a hug and a kiss. But he's not soft and he's not fleeting. No, he yanks and pulls, rich with teases as he kisses you like you have nowhere else to be. God forbid someone interrupt. And if you praise him, those habits will only get worse.

Mark's taken a liking to you. So if anyone ever gives you trouble, you know he'll handle it. He'll even let you in on the fun. Whaddya say, babe? Should we give them a chance to run, five second head start? Or play around, torture them a bit?

You always get to provide your input on what happens to these people now.

It's nice ruling with him, sitting far above the rest, getting to see that scared look in people's eye once they see you. But sometimes the scenery in the throne room can get a little boring. So you go out on dates.

Anywhere you'd like, the world's your oyster after all. You sit in his arms, all nice and cozy, kissing up his neck as he flies you around, telling him how great he is and how you'd do anything for him.

You never plan where you're going. Sometimes you go on normal dates, making out in the ruined parks, star gazing till the sun comes up. It's nice and all, but you both prefer more excitement than sitting and enjoying nature can give you.

So you go to the city to have some fun. See who can kill the most people by the end of the night. Which of you can knock down the building fastest, his raw power or your bombs and other weapons? Who'll be the one to spark the flames that rage through the city first?

It's lovely. Watching the smoke pour out the doors, picking off the last few ants that stumble out of the buildings. Making a mess on the pavement, staining your clothes in a glossy coat that you won't easily wash off, careful hands drenched with a vibrant red. You laughter free and truly happy, ringing high above the terror. Watching Mark grin as he taunts the few still alive, drawing them out into a slow, painful death.

You couldn't be more greatful that he'd come to your world, that you got to see him like this.

You go over, turning him by his shoulder. You don't say much, just smile sweetly, hoping your eyes can convey how content you are. And you kiss him slow. Savoring him, thinking over every moment that had led to you being here.

When you pull back, his lips are stained red with the blood that had splashed over yours. An effective mark to seal you to him.

Thank goodness you already thought so, cause if he wasn't obsessed before, there was definitely no getting away now. I mean, how's he supposed to think when he sees you looking so tenderly at him like that?

He'd go through hell or high water to keep you at his lap.

He never really had to prove it, you would have believed anything he said.

But when you'd been ambushed on one of your outings, not responding to him for a certain amount of time. Laying on the ground, pinned by a few resourceful rebels. Getting kicked and beat for being a traitor to your own kind. Blood, your blood spilling around you. And you mutter out a weak, little, "Mark."

He proved he wasn't all pomp and words.

In an instant the roof caves in, light shining down on the rebel base like a spotlight. One second to scan the area, one second for the rebels to realize what true fear is, one second for you to laugh as you tell them how they messed up.

Then everything is a blur.

Screams are cut short as black and blue zips past, slicing through them like paper. Blood is spilt, organs are flayed, bones are splintered through as easily as toothpick, clothes becoming the kindling that would melt the flesh from their skeletons.

You're laughing, sides aching as you cough up fluids. You had warned them about this and they hadn't listened. So why wouldn't you enjoy their idiocy?

Mark though?

Mark was silent, for the first time since you had met him. He wasn't playful or joking as he usually does. Quick and efficient as he worked through the whole base.

You weren't on the ground long before he came over to get you. He held you carefully, not wanting to hurt you. Intimately close to his chest, not caring how dirty he'd end up after. He flew you back out the opening he'd made, stopping and turning a good distance away to watch the base crumble. The flames licking higher and higher, reflected in his soft brown eyes.

Right now though, his eyes were not soft. They looked on with disdain, stormy with thoughts you couldn't quite pinpoint. And his lips were set in a thin line. Frowning didn't suit him.

His hands were slowly starting to become painful in their grip on you.

So you kissed his cheek and thanked him. Once, then twice, coaxing him with smaller kisses as you insisted that you were okay.

Maybe he didn't agree, but his grip lightened and he looked down at you.

So pliant and delicate in his arms. You were still bruised in ways you shouldn't have been, by people who shouldn't be touching you. And he remembered how fragile you were compare to his Viltrum genes.

This would never happen again. If you were to be at side for forever then it couldn't happen again.

He'd make an example out of anyone who dared to think it. With his superhearing, it wasn't hard to weed out the people who planned to target you next time. He let everyone see what would happen to them if they tried.

He took his time with the executions, like he should have back at the base. But he'd been so angry then that he didn't even think of enjoying himself. So now he would. He laughed and smirked as people began to cry, reminding them how stupid and pathetic they were, what a waste they made by living.

He called out to the crowd that he forced to watch, declaring how it'd be them next. Breaking limbs so they couldn't resist, cutting and gouging enough for them to survive but for it to also be painful, beating them within an inch of their life but careful enough so they wouldn't fall unconscious.

Then he'd look back up to his throne, where you sat all safe and sound, waiting for your verdict. The torture didn't stop till you said so, till you gave him the thumbs down to rip off their heads.

The people had to clean up the mess when it was done, friends and family forced to scoop up the mushy remains of their loved ones and toss them out.

At the end of the day, you and Mark would fall into your bed. His head on your chest, memorizing the pattern of your heart. Your hand in his slip of hair, murmuring how sweet it was for him to protect you like that. Planning how tomorrow would go, assuring each other that you loved the other so much.

You were okay ending up like this. Being feared.

You were okay finding yourself on this side of the war. Seen as a villain.

You were okay being deemed gone. Lost. Insane. People had ignored it, you were given the chance to embrace it.

If it meant you were with Mark who didn't care about any of that, then you'd be okay.

You wouldn't have been able to be yourself if he wasn't around.

So you want to stay like this. Want to wreak havoc as day breaks. Want to kiss him amidst the screams. Want to lay at his side as night falls.

You want to be with Mark even if it meant being around no one else anymore.

And Mark was going to make sure that was gonna happen.

[starlight-tav]

I'm going fucking insane over Jayce & Viktor so I offer you an unhinged ramble about the butterfly and the narrative structure of their relationship. I apologize in advanced for being batshit.

So Viktor and Jayce's relationship is a chiastic structure. A chiasm is where the beginning and end of a story point to the middle of it, creating an X or ∞ (a chiasma is also a structure in genetics, if you've seen the word in science classes before.)

This means that the rise and fall of the narrative mirror each other (parallelism). There are many parallels in Jayce and Viktor's relationship, with one of the most overt being "Am I interrupting?" and one of the more covert examples being Viktor's belief in Jayce's dream to use science to bring access to the Arcane ("Our hextech dream") and Jayce's belief in Viktor leading them to shattering access to the Arcane web ("We finish this together.")

At the center of this narrative is death and resurrection (metamorphosis). The first season ends with Viktor's death, and the second begins with his resurrection, the literal center of the story.

Now, Arcane is about love in its entirety. All-encompassing, earth-shattering, life-giving, life-taking love. Love, which inspires our greatest evil and our greatest good, is something that changes us. Love which can lead to grief, can make us into our worst selves (consider the warmongering), but it can also make us into our kindest selves (consider Isha.)

Jayce's love for Viktor saves him but it also changes him. Twice. When Viktor dies, Jayce is unwilling to let him go and uses the hexcore to resurrect him. This transforms Viktor into the Herald.

When Jayce is forced into the alternate reality where he experiences the decline of his body and the struggle to climb from the depths to the surface (a narrative representation of empathy), he finally understands Viktor. This transformative understanding primes him to fulfill his promises to Viktor, past and future - to destroy the hexcore and stop the Arcane from bleeding out all over reality; to save Viktor.

The butterfly is a well-know symbol of transformation, so it's no accident that it follows Viktor and Jayce from the very beginning to the very end. But it isn't just a visual representation of love and its power, but a reminder of the very structure of their narrative.

Because Arcane is also about perspective - narratives. Silco and Vander show us how our shared experiences can yield different motivations, as do Jinx and Vi, and Ambessa and Mel too. Every single one of these characters is motivated by love, but their methods are opposing forces.

We see, time and time again, that those with the most power are those who control the narrative (power in Zaun creating a righteous rebellion vs power in Piltover creating a narrative of dangerous insurrection), and that power lacking empathy is corruptive (Cait and Ambessa forsaking empathy in favor of violently seizing control vs. Vi and Mel embodying empathy to save that which they love.)

At the center of all of this conflict is partnership. Failed partnerships, like Vander & Silco and redeeming partnerships, like Ekko & Jinx. Viktor and Jayce share a dream, and that dreams bleeds the Arcane, corrupting reality. But when they forsake their partnership (Jayce joining the council and Viktor leaving the lab), it nearly destroys everything.

When they lean into their affection, when they utilize empathy, when they let their love be transformative, they heal the Arcane and reality. In their final moments, they mirror each other, and as they're scattered into all timelines and all possibilities by the explosion they are transformed into something cosmic together. Their story ends as it began.

We know from the lifecycle of the butterfly, by the structure of the narrative, that beginnings and endings are not so finite. Love is both a constant ("in all timelines, in all possibilities") and an anomaly ("That which inspires us to our greatest good, is also the cause of our greatest evil".) It is the infinite, and the infinite is not a line with a beginning and an end, but a tangle of time and potential.

The chiastic structure of Jayce and Viktor's relationship is one that shows that love itself is the most powerful and transformative force in nature. It demonstrates that love doesn't just have the potential create or destroy but to do both at the same time; that reality isn't binary, but it is symmetrical. A butterfly was always a caterpillar and a caterpillar was always a butterfly; it experiences both, not one or the other (there's even a moment where it's neither and both all at once!)

Love is imperfect. People are imperfect. When Jayce is transformed in the depths of Zaun, he finally understands this. He carries this revelation to the height of Piltover where he finds Viktor waiting for him.

"There is no prize to perfection, only an end to pursuit."

If love were perfect it would stagnate, dreamless. Recognizing its power is seeing it for all its good and evil, and choosing it all the same.

"You were never broken, Viktor. There's beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are. An inseparable piece of everything I admired about you."

Viktor's transformation isn't from a broken man into the Herald, it's from a man believing himself unworthy of love to one knowing he is loved unconditionally. If love were perfect it would require perfection of us. But it isn't and it doesn't. Only Jayce can show Viktor this, because Jayce loves Viktor and Viktor loves Jayce.

"I thought I wanted to give magic to the world, but all I want is my partner back."

Think about Singed telling Viktor that "Love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress."

And Viktor responding, "Jayce will understand."

He did understand eventually, only he sacrifices progress and legacy for love and transformation. Love is not the opposite of progress, perfection is the opposite of progress. In a perfect world, there is no need to dream together. Jayce understands this. He shows Viktor this. And together they change.

I've always been bad at concluding paragraphs, but I hope my rambling has made sense up to the point. TLDR; the butterfly is a visual representation of Jayce and Viktor's narrative as one of love and transformation.

[mirensiart]

Hey Miry what are some fun (or maybe angsty) headcanons you have for the boys, including Chain?

Hmmmm 🤔 ok let me think

Sky: I know most people headcanon Warriors as the field medic, but I feel Sky is also versed in first aids and is really good at it, he has excellent bedside manner. Like the knight academy probably taught him all about it, so the 3 medics of the gang are warriors, hyrule and him. I also believe he has an impeccable stitch technique, like barely leaves scars at all. Really dexterous with his hands too, thanks to his wood crafting and harp playing, he's really good with them hands lmao.

Four: he's a blacksmith sure, and knows a lot about making weapons and maintaining them, but I like to believe he's also really good and making stuff out of leather. Like he knows how to make leather belts and pouches for the weapons his grandpa makes or leather clothes as protection in battle. Idk just a very crafty little guy that offers the entire deal aka a weapon and the leather belts to carry it, all in one service hehe

Time: I like to believe he lost his eye in a very mundane non heroic way, like maybe he fell off a rowdy horse and landed in the worst way possible or a farm centric accident. He makes up different stories about how he lost it, every time someone asks, he changes it, some stories are batshit insane and some others are super normal. He actually has told the real way he lost the eye in between the fake stories, but no one believes him. He thinks it's hilarious btw.

Twilight: I've mentioned before that I headcanon him to be a very sensitive guy, like small things can make him tear up aka a baby animal absolutely makes him want to start sobbing lmao. I like to believe he gossips and talks a lot with his epona as wolfie, like when you're in wolf form in twilight princess you can talk to animals and epona is so sweet with him when you talk to her, they are soulmates man. The guys do something dumb and he turns into wolfie just to walk to epona like "can u believe those guys??" Epona knows everything tbh like he tells her everything, she's the only one who truly knows his woes over losing midna.

Wind: I love to believe the little guy can legit control the winds, like the wind waker is a way for him to channel his magic, but he can control the wind unconsciously, too. When he gets really mad, the winds pick up speeds around him, or if he's happy, a gentle breeze circles around him, etc. His hair is always blowing in the breeze even when he's inside doors, and there's no wind. It just does that.

Legend: Excellent gardener, has a talent for growing plants, flowers, and trees. They flourish under his care. Extremely particular about soil and water and shadow/light for his plants, he not only has an apple orchard, but also grows veggies and rare flowers. Ravio maintains his garden under extreme rules and guidelines lmao ravio is not allowed to sell the apples or veggies from legend's garden, but legend encourages rav to use them for cooking instead.

Hyrule: disney princess aka animals love him lmao typical guy who befriends every single creature he meets, he could pacify a bear if he wants to. His fae part is what makes him have such an affinity with nature in general, I see him as the elves from LOTR who can feel and communicate with trees and they guide him. It's why he never uses maps, he doesn't need them.

Wild: using LOTR as my base for headcanons again lol but I see him like aragorn in the sense that aragorn is a human who was raised by elves so he feels a strong connection to elf culture because of it. I picture wild to be the same, but with the zoras, since he was childhood friends with mipha, we can imply he spent A LOT of time in zora's domain as a child. He is way more versed in zora customs, language, holidays, etc, than the hylian ones. It's also why I feel the older zora are so pissed off with him in botw, like they saw him as one of their own for so long, utter betrayal that he didn't protect their princess (mipha) and failed them all lol he has some zora mannerism in the sense that sometimes, he eats fish raw LMAO when he absentmindedly ate one in front of everyone the first time everyone was shocked for a while lmao

Warriors: absolute nervous wreck, always riddled with anxiety, really low self-esteem, is probably screaming 24/7 inside his head at all times, but is EXCEPTIONAL at faking it, like fake it til you make it is his way of life lmao he exudes over confidence and is always worried about his looks as a way to hide how much of a mess he truly is. Time & Wind has seen him at his worst and know that he's a great actor, which helps him cause he can stop pretending around them for a while

And now my link lmao

Chain: All bark, no bite. He is ironic and sarcastic and shows himself as a tough guy, but he's actually a sweetheart, and things get to him pretty easily. He learned pretty early on than carrying his heart on his sleeve is a really bad idea around the Bounty Hunter guild, since soft nice guys don't last long, so he replies to hurtful comments with sarcasm and a tough attitude, when in reality he's really hurt lmao he also jokes to cope, he'd rather throw a joke or two at you than really open up and talk about his feelings.

[aleisters]

the impression i have rightly or wrongly from "the resident of the boudoir" is that haarlep simply does not leave the bedroom, which had me thinking about things:

the extent of the decadence in there. most of it is raphael's taste, but i think haarlep would drive raphael batshit if haarlep did not have the appropriate amount of enrichment in his enclosure

haarlep spends their whole life eating nice food and sleeping in a nice bed and has a bath so big u can swim in it ... who is the princess here ... (it's still raphael, but haarlep is borderline princess)

i do not get the impression we're supposed to feel sorry for haarlep. it would be very easy with a few tonal changes and suggestions for the game to make it clear that haarlep is miserable and their situation sucks. haarlep doesn't mind making trouble for raphael but doesn't seem to hate him either

wait what other creature gets kept indoors all the time, has to have enough enrichment or they go insane, and has a questionable amount of respect for their person

cat

haarlep is a house cat

haarlep is one of those indoor cats bc if you let them go outside they're going to decimate the local bird population

[kaciidubs]

Haiii its me, jellyfish🪼. BUT im back with maur delulu shit 🤭

Soooo here we go!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Fem!reader that has a fat AND I MEAN FAT cunt,like if you cut a peach in half then turn one side over FAT. You know whl eould go absolute batshit if they had this type of girl? pussydrunk!jisung 😈.Mans would go absolute insane every time he goes down on her. (BONUS: Her pussys sweet asl. And shes super sweet too :) [in personality]

Peaches

Jellyfish, my darling, this request changed me as a person and I THANK YOU FOR IT!!

❣ Summary: Jisung could have a PhD in pussy eating, if he wanted to. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 1.06k ❣ Warnings: Pussy Drunk! Jisung, slight Dom! Jisung, messy, messy pussy eating, pure smut, coming untouched, spit play, dirty talk ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Han is referred to as Jisung, Sungie, Baby, and Ji, Reader is referred to as Jagi, probably the dirtiest pussy eating I've written to date ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Jisung was fairly neat in life; he didn’t leave many dishes left out - save for the occasional cup or two - nor would he leave clothes lying around the apartment, if it was in his control then it would be kept clean. But, there were times where he was messy - messy and dirty and nasty and sloppy without a care or even a first thought.

Those times were when he was between your legs - or, to be more specific, when his head was between your legs, ravishing you like you were a thanksgiving feast after a year of fasting. 

And, admittedly, things were usually hot and desperate whenever you two fucked, but his infactuation with your pussy was one to be studied; it was almost like he lost all sense of self every time he got to eat you out.

“F-Fuck, Ji! Baby s-slow- ah- slow down!” You wailed, body trembling against the bed, stuck between wanting to put him away from your quivering pussy or pull him closer.

He had your legs over his shoulders, large hands gripping the flesh of your thighs like a lifeline as he lapped at your wetness as if you were his favorite ice cream cone, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping back down to your hole to lick up more of your juices.

Your back arched as he dipped the tip past your walls, spit-glistened lips parting in a breathless moan, “Sungie-”

Jisung moaned against your pussy, pulling back with a lewd slurp and a sharp exhale, “Sweetest fucking pussy ever, y’know that, Jagi? So fucking sweet, and puffy, and fat-”

If his words didn’t have a flush of heat swarming your body, then what he did next surely made you feel like the room’s temperature skyrocketed to hell; his hands sliding their way to the inside of your thighs before pushing them open, your knees just barely grazing the mattress. His electric, lust fogged gaze went from you to your cunt - glistening under the low lights, open and spread for his viewing pleasure, before pursing his lips and letting a bead of spit drop onto your puffy clit.

Before you could even have a solid second to react, he dipped his head down and lapped it up, dropping his head lower for another rush of your arousal to coat his tongue before pulling back an inch to spit it back directly onto your hole.

“Fuck me-”

You were damn near in tears from the way he was going at you now, blunt fingernails digging into your plush thighs to keep you spread the way he wanted, one of your hands gripping his hair while the other twisted into the sheets underneath you.

“Mm- Love this pussy so much-” He didn’t even bother moving away when he spoke, the vibrations of his voice stimulating your clit in the best of ways, “Could stay forever between your legs - never wanna leave.”

He could feel your arousal everywhere - staining his cheeks and chin, coating his lips and tongue, even the tip of his nose was a little cold from the slick cooling there - and he was in heaven.

“Would you like that, Jagi? Want me to live between these thighs? Have you whenever I want?” 

He wouldn’t give you a chance to answer, he didn’t need an answer when he felt your hand urge him back to when you needed him - obliging with a sinister open mouthed kiss to your plump cunt, only to wrap his lips around your clit with a suck.

“‘M close, Sungie - please, let me come, baby!”

Oh.

You felt the drag of his nails before you realized he was changing the position of your legs yet again, hooking your legs over his shoulders and bringing his hands underneath your ass, damn near lifting your lower half off the bed and forcing your cunt to stay on his mouth.

Speaking of, his tongue was absolutely destroying you, working its way past your walls and licking at you at a pace it was trained to - if you weren’t sane, you would’ve thought he was reciting one of his rap verses inside of you.

At this point, the only things leaving your mouth were nonsensical babbles and moans, your legs tightening around his head as each lick and suck brought you closer and closer to that peak.

“S-Sungie- ah- mm- it- I’m- y-yes- baby- Ji!”

He shook his head in an effort to get even closer, a low moan vibrating through him, and that was your final straw - your fingers twisting in his hair as your body tensed.

“J-Ji-!”

The partial formation of his name melted into a whiny moan as you came against his tongue, eyes rolling to the back of your head in the process.

Jisung continued lapping at you through each wave of your orgasm, moaning as your taste flooded his tongue and took over every one of his senses - if he died in this moment he would’ve considered it a full life.

Once your body fell lax, he relinquished his hold on you - lowering your ass back to the mattress, your legs slipping from his shoulders to grant him the pleasure of hearing your breathless pants. Giving your cunt on final, thorough drag of his tongue, he pushed himself up to sit on his calves; breathing heavily as he ran a hand through his undoubtedly messy hair.

“If-” You panted, head lolling to the side, “if you wanna… fuck me… you’re gonna have to give me a second…”

“Ah…” He dropped his gaze to his lap, a sheepish smile growing on his still wet lips, “I guess you’ll have to give me a second too.”

Peeking an eye open, you craned your head to follow his gaze, coming to find yourself staring at a fairly sized wet patch staining the front of his boxer briefs.

“Did… Did you…?”

“Jagi,” he huffed out a laugh, running his thumb across his bottom lip before licking the mixture of his spit and your cum off of the pad, “you taste really good - I can’t help it.”

You dropped your head with a whine, throwing your arms over your eyes, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Jisung.”

This time his laugh was fuller, his hand massaging your calf, “You’re gonna be the death of me too! Now, rest up because I definitely want more.”

[galatoma]

I miss the batshit insanity that was the one time they let Roier, Charlie, and Tubbo do a mission together. Like, we really only got it once, but I still think about it. It was literally just the three stooges. Their braincells were being passed along to one another like ping pong balls.

The last time they were together, they had no kids, but i wanna see them have to do some absolute ball busting mission again now that they're all legally parents (again for some). Back then Charlie was like "if it isn't about Flippa then i don't care" so i want to see if there's a change there, the same for Tubbo and Roier (though they already cared about the other eggs, I just want to see if being parents to Sunny and Pepito changes anything for them as well). I have 5 whole dollars to give to make this happen

[threads-strings]

Donn the Docker

For ppl that remarked that he seems to have some genuine care/guilt/regret about participating in the orphans abuse: Y’all are 100% correct, Donn does actually struggle (but denies that) to see himself as one of the people that used to torment him. He doesn’t have an issue doing that to other people btw, it’s just specifically Bailey’s orphans he has a (sort of) soft spot for.

Donn knows what it’s like to be that powerless, and he holds some intense self hatred for the fact he still participates in their abuse. Is that going to make him stop? No, because at the end, it’s a way for him to feel in control in this batshit insane town. Is he gonna treat the orphans with a whiplash of cruelty and care? Absolutely, he’ll do whatever he feels like doing with them, have his post-nut clarity and regret, patch them up in silence and send them back, hate himself for a few days and then do it again. It’s like drugs to him. He hates that he can see why people make deals with Bailey. He hates himself for making deals with Bailey. He also hates the orphans a little bit for letting him do that to them, even if he knows it’s really not their fault.

Donn also avoids getting the same orphans too often - he doesn’t want to built relationships with any of them, he doesn’t want names, stories, faces, he just wants to see them as fleshlights he buys for fun and doesn’t have to feel guilty about using. Yeah he’ll clean them and bring them back just like you do with objects you rented. No he isn’t doing it because he feels bad. He just doesn’t need Bailey on his ass because he damaged the goods too much now stfu before he’ll change his mind.

[snapdragonsimming]

The Big Fundie Simblr Ask Game

I've noticed that our beloved Fundie Simblr community could use a little more action, so I've written up this (insanely long!) ask game. Just pick a letter and a number to play. I encourage you to send asks to your mutuals and non-mutuals alike!

A: Writing/Posting

Who is your favorite sim to write for? Your least favorite?

What has been your favorite storyline to write? Your least favorite?

If you could go back and change anything you've written, what would it be?

What part of your blog are you most proud of?

How long does it take you to draft the average post?

Where do you write?

Where do you get your inspiration?

Do you base characters off people you know personally?

Share some advice for those running a Fundie Simblr blog!

Share a screenshot you took that you love the look of.

Share a hint, spoiler or teaser for an upcoming post.

How far ahead do you plan? Do you have a full queue right now?

B: Gameplay

What packs do you use the most?

What mods do you use the most?

Who is your favorite CC creator for modest clothing?

Do you think you struggle with "same-face syndrome" when creating your sims? 🙃

Do you find yourself falling into trends with regards to the "type" of (fundie) sims you create? (for example: lots of guys in the military, lots of girls with red hair, et cetera)

How do you pick names for your sims?

If you have multiple households, which is the easiest/most enjoyable to play? How about the easiest/least enjoyable?

Do you keep your sims on a routine, or is it constant chaos?

Do you cheat needs often? (No judgment either way!)

What's your advice for keeping large households alive?

In actual gameplay, how fundie are your sims? (for example: do you let them kiss before marriage, even though in-story they don't do that until the wedding? Do your sims actually have the jobs they do in the story? Et cetera.)

When you're not playing fundie sims, what kind of sims do you play?

C: Character Questions

Feel free to answer these as yourself/the narrator, or as the characters themselves! And if you're the one sending the ask, make sure to specify the sims in question, unless you want to be surprised :)

Would [Sim] say they were happy, if asked? Are they happy?

Are [Sim 1] and [Sim 2] happy in their relationship?

What are [Sim]'s personal convictions on modesty/dating/children/whatever?

What would [Sim/Family] be like if they weren't fundie?

Has [Sim] ever doubted their faith? How did they "return to God"? (Or "come to God," if they're a convert!)

What does [Sim] love and hate about their family? (Parents, siblings, children, whatever!)

If [Sim] had another career path, what would they do?

Share a few random facts about [Sim/Family] that may not come up in the story!

How would others describe [Sim]? (Feel free to specify who those "others" are!)

How would [Sim] describe themself?

Is [Sim/Family] well regarded at their church? Where do they fall in the community hierarchy?

How is [Sim/Family] doing, financially speaking? Are they content, or do they desire more?

What's the most scandalous/sinful thing [Sim] has done? Would they admit to it, if asked?

D: Community

Choose one Fundie Simblr blog that you follow, tag them, and say something nice about them or their story!

Choose a post from a Fundie Simblr blog that you enjoy, and reblog it with a comment in the tags!

What's your favorite character, storyline or moment from another Fundie Simblr?

What's something you'd love to see from the Fundie Simblr community?

Are there any non-fundie Simblr blogs that you enjoy? Feel free to recommend some!

Have you ever been inspired by another Simblr's writing? How did it go?

E: Fundie Snark

When did you first get into fundie snarking, and how?

Which is your "favorite" fundie family to keep up with, if you pay attention to real-life fundies?

What's your favorite batshit fundie moment?

Which poor fundie child are you rooting for the most?

Did you ever watch 19KAC/Counting On/Bringing Up Bates/etc?

F: About You

When did you first start playing The Sims? Which game was it?

What's one good thing that's happened to you this week?

Share a fun fact about yourself!

Have you told in-person friends or family about your fundie sims?

If you had to describe yourself with an aspiration + traits, what would they be?

If you had to choose a Sims pack that represents your personality, which one would it be?

[yoru-no-seiiki]

YANDERE ! EREN JAEGER X READER HEADCANNONS

TW/CW: mdni, yandere themes, masturbation.

Have some headcannons while I wait for my henna to dry/watch the first season with my cousin.

I wish there were more who wrote for Canon! Eren. Like don’t get me wrong, Modern AU Eren is hot but I mean, fuckboys can be seen everywhere.

But Canon! Eren is batshit insane and that’s exactly what I love about him. I wish they at least add that to his modern counterpart instead of making him a basic bad boy but I mean if that’s what they’re into 🤷‍♂️

Anyways Exhibit A of why Eren in all eras is my fave AOT character:

Like I said, he’s batshit insane.

He has directly killed 2 people by the age of nine, and assisted in killing the third. Although this is out of self defense it still can’t be denied HOW HE TReateD THE SECOND DUDE HOLY SHIT- THE AMOUNT OF TIMES HE STABBED HIM.

Normal kids would just be terrified, maybe be even fight blinding and/or cry, probably even run tf away. But ya boi brought a knife and even deceived the person at the door.

EXHIBIT B:

He’d be a great yandere.

Let’s say that we age up our cast and make 18 the minimum age of enlistment (making him 21 around the attack of Trost).

Trainee Eren has the will of fucking steel. He’ll do whatever it takes to wipe out titan-kind, to make the cruel world he lived in finally know true peace.

To be with you in that new world he’ll build.

You were one of his fellow trainees. Someone who unconditionally believed and supported his desire to see the outside world. You didn’t treat him like a child as Mikasa did, and you weren’t so oddly distant when it came to his help and presence like Armin.

At first it started as a crush. An infatuation towards your looks and kind demeanor which morphed into a twisted sense of love.

You were the only one that understood him, that resonated with his wavelength.

He definitely frequently masturbated to your image. Stress was a known issue amongst trainees and soldiers alike. Many drank to rid themselves of such a problem. But to him just the thought of you two becoming one gave him relief and pleasure that any form of alcohol could never give. In the aftermath of the Trost incident, when faced with your unconscious, battered body he pulls a Shinji and jerks one off. Covering you with his release.

You think you’ll leave his mind once he gets busy with being a titan-shifter and the future of Eldia and such but nope.

Eren only has you and the new world he promised in his heart, body and soul. And that’ll never change.

EXHIBIT C:

Eren believes in freedom first and foremost.

So none of that kidnapping. At least in earlier years. He just wants you to be happy and safe. He’s more of the type to hurt others for your sake rather than be abusive and take away your rights.

Eren in later seasons has the capacity to keep you isolated, and that he will.

Like in other (unfortunately rare) fics of him, he keeps you in a farm land with a bunch of loyalists. If reader is afab! or has the ability to bear a child (for those with abo ocs or something idk) he’ll tell them that you are bearing his child and the future inheritor of his powers.

Otherwise he’ll come up with other excuses like having you as a tactician or war-hero they have to pay respects to.

He’ll give you as much freedom as he can provide while keeping you away from danger.

Though one might argue that his version of freedom for you is just an illusion.

[justsomeday-dreamer]

Olivia is a cutie i fear. What is her opinion on the jerks?

Oh she’s terrified of them😄

But for different reasons of course…

There have been people who warned her about the group but nobody knows just how fucked the group actually is, unfortunately Olivia had to fuck around and find out the hard way…

JB: “How does she do it…?” Olivia used to quietly envy and admire JBs natural charisma, warm upbringing and wit (still kind of does) not to mention everyone’s infatuation with JB , but of course when Olivia figures out that the jerks are actually batshit insane her jealousy and wonder quickly turns into concern for JB. Granted, JB may be good at handling the jerks, Olivia knows that it’s only a matter of time before her luck runs out. She still fears JB but occasionally tries to help from a distance when/if she’s capable and even then, that’s ONLY when she knows that the jerks won’t find out or get pissed. And ONLY when her conscience is bugging her. She doesn’t understand how JB is able to put up with being obsessed over by a bunch of psychos, let alone enjoy it…

Everette: “FUCK NO-“ Don’t look at him and don’t talk to him. Everette has the shortest temper in the group and she’s witnessed it firsthand just how easy it is to set Everette off. Olivia finds it odd how one moment he’s talking to his mom or laughing with his friends and the next moment, he’s bashing somebody’s skull in just because somebody annoyed him. She thinks he’s a huge asshole and wants nothing to do with him, but she knows better than to say anything back when he insults her…

Nate: “I….Are you okay…?” Olivia used to see Nate the same way everybody else saw him, the bossy nagging know-it-all that’s uptight and occasionally biased despite his fixation with rules and order, but that was before she saw Nate kill for the first time. Not to mention tweaking out and crying or muttering to himself. She’s seen glimpses of him mumbling about his parents and knows better than to ask him or Everette about it, if Olivia knows anything, it’s shitty parents. Of course her speckle of sympathy doesn’t blind her from the fact that he’s INSANE and kills anybody he catches breaking the rules, or the fact that none of the faculty has ever tried to stop him…or do they even notice?

Bae: “What the hell…?” She’s still getting over the fact that Bae isn’t even human, but to her surprise he’s probably the safest option in this death trap. She actually likes him…to an extent. She finds his nicknames charming, despite knowing that he’s being patronizing and appreciates his kindness towards children and his somewhat caring nature. She’s just glad he’s not after her…doesn’t change the fact that he’s a demon of course. Who knows what he’s capable of?

Shiloh: “AAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Olivia fears Shiloh the MOST and for very good reason. She only knows a bit of what he’s willing to do for what he wants and that alone is enough to make her avoid this guy at all costs. He knows too much about everything and everybody and is practically omnipresent. One moment hes watching JB, then he’s keeping tabs on Nate or Pran. Shilohs eerie even when he’s “happy” with wide unblinking eyes barely masking his intentions. She almost fell for the facade, thinking she finally made a new friend at SSB, but that was before she saw what he did to Waldo…and Toni. Olivia doesn’t know when or why Shiloh could snap. Maybe he hates you, maybe he sees you as a potential asset. You won’t be safe either way…

Jeremy: “Well…” Olivia pities Jeremy…. He reminds her too much of herself before she came to SSB. Of course she was quickly shut down the moment she tried to talk to him, before she learned what the afterschool group was really like . However, she still has a painful understanding of some of his behaviors and mindset. Olivia knows that she’s not the one he needs help from, she sees how he looks at JB and she knows that he’s not safe to be around either…

Pran: “Uuuuuuhhhh…” He doesn’t really do or say anything, but he’s big enough to snap her in half. And Olivia knows that Pran would un-gladly do so if she somehow pissed him off. They both stay in their own lane but Olivia’s usually trying desperately not to offend or provoke the human rock…Guys a literal landmine