#like REALLY? there is no brain left it's all worms

[twobellsilence]

On Jimmy's cannibalization of Curly

Because this game gave me brain worms I found myself thinking way too hard about the second birthday party scene. Specifically, why Jimmy cuts off a chunk of Curly's leg and not only eats it, but also forces Curly to do the same, and what this says about him and his relationship with the captain.

Jimmy frames this as a matter of survival, but that's not really the case. "Judgement" happens 3 months after Daisuke states there's food left for around 4 months, meaning they'd still have resources left for a little while; still, just to cover all our bases, let's suppose Dai overestimated the amount of food they had or they all simply mismanaged it and they really had nothing left when Jim set up the party. That still leaves him with other three corpses - Anya, Swansea and Daisuke - to chop up and consume without endangering Curly. You could argue Anya's body is tainted by the meds she OD's on, and that Swansea's is too saturated with alcohol, and that makes sense. Daisuke, however, presumably quit drinking mouthwash two months before the end of the game if we were to take his "I don't want to look at this stuff anymore" line at face value and consider the fact that he was sober when the vent incident happened, meaning his flesh would be clean for consumption. But Jimmy still decides to mutilate curly, even risking him bleeding out, and at that point his "survival" argument falls apart pretty quickly. It isn't just survival - it never was.

See, to Jim, Curly is not a man but an idol, a symbol. He is simultaneously a source of hatred and adoration from him; he has everything he's ever wanted, is everything he aspires to be, and he despises him not only for being better than him, but also for being willing to throw his status away just because he doesn't feel like it's quite right for him, as if said status - the one Jimmy desperately wants to reach but can't, he simply can't - didn't mean anything, at least from Jim's perspective. He thought he could finally reach this level after Curly became disabled, but he quickly found out it was more than he bargained for, and even after reassuring Curly that he's a good captain - something he'd only ever mentioned as a jab, never as something positive - and being willing to give him the title back, that resentment lingered, because even in his current state Curly was better than Jimmy could ever hope to be, and at that point he'd ran out of ways to prove himself he could be superior.

I think this is why he decides to cut off Curly's leg. Yes, it is most certainly a form of punishment - to reduce him to livestock, to a mere tool for the survival of the crew, a parallel to his role as the captain where his blood, sweat and tears kept the cogs in the machine working. But it isn't simply because he wants Curly to suffer, he already did so with the crash and agreeing to keep him alive. Eating Curly's leg is, in a twisted way, the only manner in which Jim could ever hope to embody him well enough. If he can't be like Curly, perhaps he can become Curly by consuming his very essence. And this is also why he "shares" him with the rest of the crew - severing a part of him, this unattainable symbol of authority, and feeding it to his fellow workers is a way to equalize them all, to seize power from him, and absolve Curly's sin of being above them on the ladder. And now that Curly is down at their level, maybe even lower, Jimmy is willing to share this power with Curly too by force feeding him a piece of himself - the "forgiveness" he talks about on his speech.

[velvetvexations]

Me, a transwoman, in an aside: I think the term TME has some inherent issues but putting that aside the main point of this ask is-

Freaks: The backlash against TME/TMA is that transmascs don't want to identify themselves so they can use confusing terminology to pretend to be transfems.

[raviollies]

My character development (realizing I'm a lesbian) is going from playing androgynous twinks to Goth Cuntess

[josecariohca]

.

[manasurge]

bleh

[kiki-strike]

PTSD is so stupid saw a jar of biscoff cookie butter at the store and went ha that’s the brand they had in res. (Completely unaffected). Then went home and had a panic attack about it (????)

[swordmaid]

thalia is so growing on me i love my rich woman who has Problems.. i gave her ice powers for like. the elsa vibes.

[panspy]

hmmmmmm.................vent post under tags...... feel free to give advice or dont¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[ray-the-fanatic]

📓

| Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

Originally I was gonna use this plot for something else but ultimately decided I have decided to pull it for a fanfictuon idea instead.

I wanna write a fan fic about Raphael 2012 slowly losing his mind after the brain worm incident. Show how the ordeal effected him after. Hiw it gives him bad nightmares to points he no longer can sleep and the lack of sleep drives him more over the edge. He has a hard time telling when he's awake and when he's asleep. At first it's easy but eventually?

He's attacking when there's no danger he's becoming a liability to missions. He's not taking care of himself slowly coming undone and cracking under the pressure.

Just wishing for it to stop anything to make it stop eventually leading to Raphael hurting one of his brothers I feel it should be Leo. leading raph to run off and take himself to Shredder. Looking like he might attack them but in that moment Raph recalls the one time he felt at peace clam and not like he was losing it. When he followed all thier orders. So he kneels and offers himself back to Shredder

[sux2be]

taking my heart out and stomping into the ground dont you dare get another friend crush. dont fucking do it.

[todayisafridaynight]

this might not make sense. but i feel like after moving to america masato’s dramatic ass would start thinking of Daigo as Right Person Wrong Time & like he’d make Daigo the embodiment of his “sordid” youth & how he’s Outgrown smudged eyeliner and drunken bathroom hookups. so he Becomes Ryo Aoki and returns to Japan & sees chairman Daigo with his slicked back hair & pressed suit & pleasant smiles, the same image that Ryo Aoki wears, but different, somehow. Daigo still has his familiar stubble & his dark eyes, Shitty 20-something Daigo is still there in Chairman Daigo. somehow, Daigo managed to change, managed to be this better, fuller, realer person without killing off his former self. while Ryo Aoki changed his name, burned his bridges, went under the knife and became an entirely new being. I think it’d infuriate Masato, it’d drive him mad, out of jealousy and superiority. How stupid of Daigo to keep his past so close to his chest. How lucky of Daigo to be able to transform without having to shoot his past between the eyes.

Meanwhile Daigo is just like 🧍‍♂️ nice glasses nerd.

(Sorry if this is incoherent)

anon i cant stress how much im eating this and seasoning it and putting it in every soup and dish i make i am injecting this straight into my bloodstream and i'm turning this into a pill so i can take it every day oh my god

[fingertipsmp3]

Do you ever observe random people you went to high school with on your FB and you’re just like “you really went all around the world and still picked a boy from our hometown? Really?”

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[kissingwookiees]

done gaslighting, girlbossing, and baldur's gatekeeping for the day. heres the murder boy izaak and all five of his brain worms (not pictured but sooo present).

[2kiran]

Hi‼️ lurker here‼️ just wanna say that your works are awesome‼️‼️ and that your dash always looks so cool and pretty every time I come around to check up on you‼️ your works are so good and you’re such a talented writer‼️

also… can I…can I ask for a tired reader being surrounded by a very demanding and needy 141? Like I’m not all that creative like the other anons but like I just really like the reader satisfying the 141s in any way his tired form can‼️ whether it’s by letting them ride his dick until they’re satisfied or having them being cock warmed as reader falls asleep‼️

sorry for this‼️ just thoughts and brain worms are weird rn and I thought that you would carry these out well… back to lurking now‼️

p.s. the ‼️ are just here to show excitement not to be scary or anything I’m sorry

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: bottom 141, top male reader, consensual somnophilia, cowgirl position, cockwarming, fingering, dividers

The weight of the missions and daily tasks being distributed made your limbs slack, eyes droopy, body boneless and desperate to pass out for even a week. You’re dozing off the second you sit down or rest against a wall, jerking awake when shaken by your mate. It isn’t your fault that you’re hardworking when needed, and everything was becoming a necessity to put your full attention on.

You need a break.

On the other hand, your team doesn’t seem to agree.

They’re clingy, more than usual. When you’re in a room with them, it seems as though their presence is the only thing that matters. Unabashedly acting like animals in heat, they’d sometimes even gently rut against your thigh.

Their excuse? You’ve been neglecting them, rarely glancing or facing towards their direction. Sometimes, you’d fail to acknowledge them in passing which evidently piles up their frustration and need to turn the source into the outlet.

And you’ll let them. They know you will.

Soap is the first one to snap. The man’s too needy for his own good. He can’t stop thinking about you, your hands wandering along his body, allowing him to take a sniff of pleasure before you’re shoving him away. But now? Now you’re doing it unintentionally.

He’s concerned, knowing damn well that he shouldn’t bother you. And yet, he can’t keep it within his pants. You’ll be good for him, right?

“Shit, tha’s it, love...” Soap groans, face contorting with blissful relief. He rolls his hips, desperate to feel every inch of your cock - the one that had him dreaming about it, waking up with his boxers damp, and hole twitching from being so empty - “Y’can get some shut-eye, ‘s alrigh’.”

You’re hanging onto your consciousness by a mere thread, the promise of slumber darkening the edges of your view while simultaneously heightening the sensation of slick, twitching warmth wrapped around your length. Small moans left him, thick brows knitted together in concentration.

Soap cannot remain still for the life of him. He sinks further down, enveloping you in his tight heat and squeezes you with it. His jaw hung open, mouth agape, and his thighs are quivering in a poor attempt not to fuck back against your cock with his desperate hole.

-

The second is Price. He may be a responsible and patient captain, but he’s still a man with lustful requirements. He needs to let off stream, you know?

“Hhang... that’s a good man.” He ruts his hips against yours, the plushy thickness of his scarred thighs rippling with each bounce. If you’re comfortable with it, he’ll take a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke slip through his teeth as a breathy moan rasps from his throat.

God, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feel of you. Your tip meeting the spot that has him high with squelchy smacks, the scratchy stubble spread on his chin making the firm muscle of your shoulder raw whenever he angled himself forward to make you pound into him deeper.

Such a good soldier, you are. “Stay still, m‘fuckin’ close.” He huffs. Your cock twitches in response, and his lips curves in a self-satisfied grin. It has him riding you harder, rim taut, his pace fast and it makes the both of you dependent on chasing that point.

The Captain isn’t afraid to milk you for all you’re worth, either. It’s your own fault for making him needy. – “C’mon, you’ve got more in you, don’t you?”

-

Gaz is the next one. He heard your ‘interaction’ with the other men, smelled how Soap and Price practically reeked of well-deserved sex. It has arousal pool in his lower belly, dick twitching to life at the possibility of finally being satiated by you.

He’ll praise you for it; “Good boy, letting me use you like this.”, “Th-thank you, my love. Fuckin’ me so well.” and “Shh, I know. Go rest. I’ll just suck your pretty dick off, yeah?”

You think he’ll prep himself because you’re melting into the sheets to nap? No, you’re terribly wrong. He’d grip your wrist firmly, lubing your fingers up, and gently make them breach his tight hole. He gasps, immediately clenching from how intense it felt.

Gaz smiles fondly at how you seem to battle sleep, nodding mindlessly. When you do succumb to the urge, he’s biting his lip to contain his pathetic noises. You look so peaceful, and here he is fucking himself on your fingers. He’s holding onto your forearm, guiding you back and out. The murmurs of slick ringing through the room as he throws his head back.

“Fuckkk...” He’d mutter, fisting his own cock with rough jerks. Leaning down, he peppers kisses all across your jaw. He’s unbelievably turned on, rocking his hips to take in your digits completely. He’s getting desperate, but he will wait for you to wake up before he shoves your cock down his throat.

-

Ghost corners you. Sure, he’s got better self-control than the rest of the men. But hey, he’s still a human with very human needs.

Doesn’t matter if you’ve got a broader and hulking figure or a shorter stature, he’s guiding you with his frame until your knees hit the edge of a bed or a threadbare seat and your aching back is laying down. His mouth twitching in a mock snarl to have you submit. All with your consent, of course.

One of his favorite things to do to tease you? He loves to keep on asking you “This okay, luv?” and “Hmm? Y’want me to touch ya here?” until you’re begging him to finally fuck himself on your leaky dick that he’s been either playing with his roughened digits or warming with his inviting heat the entire time.

Rides you so slowly, hips rocking ever so slightly, and his soft walls pulse as they give way to your length. And it’s all to keep you awake, tightening up when you’re about to fall asleep on him. He wants you to be completely aware when he’s in the heights of arousal and he has you balls deep inside of him.

“Wake up, swee’art. Fuck– eyes on me, yeah, there we go.” / “Oh, you like tha’? Uh-huh? Good boy, you do.”

–

Or you have Price behind you, one of his arms slung around your waist as he thumbs at your slit until it’s coated in your pre. Soap’s tugging at your shaft, his fist enclosed and tight, consistent and oh so whiny like you’re inside of him. “Ye can fuck me harder, (rank), jus’ like this.”

Gaz on his knees, his tongue flicking at your sensitive veins. They’ll be toying with your cock as you lean back against the captain, letting sleep overtake you until you feel someone familiar climb into your lap. The other men supporting Ghost’s weight as he takes your dick in his skull-gloved hand, guiding the head to meet his rim and he sinks down with a low groan.

[thesweetestofdreams]

hot chocolate

pairings: poly!marauders x reader (852 words)

warnings: should be none, just a little stress cry/ burnout

a/n: Do I like this? I have no idea. The boys help to comfort you on a late night that has you stressed.

Reaching out to his left, James expects to find your warmth. Instead all he feels are empty sheets. The fuzziness of sleep threatens to pull him back down, but your absence keeps him up. 

He pads through your small apartment doing his best not to wake your boyfriends still sleeping behind him. The small spike of panic he felt at not finding you eases as he finally does. 

You've got your back to him, typing away at your computer at the kitchen table. 

"And I'm the one not allowed to have coffee after six," he says softly once he's closer. You hardly glance at him, still typing. "Love," he says, a hand gently coming to cover yours. "Do you know how late it is?" 

Your heart melts as you finally look at him. He's rubbing sleep from his eyes, knocking his glasses off kilter. He looks warm and soft around the edges. It's enticing but your work's not going to do itself. "I'll come to bed in just a minute, Jamie. I should really finish this." 

He points at the time on your computer, 3:48 blares at you and you realize how much your eyes sting from staring at the screen. "Come on," he says, his grip now a soft tug at your wrist. 

"Just let me finish this paragraph." You're trying to bargain, having the feeling you'll probably lose. 

"It can wait, love." He's looking at you with soft eyes and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. You hear shuffling behind you. Now you're really in for it.

Remus comes into view, his oversized shirt- probably one of James’- askew on his shoulders, followed by a scowling Sirius. “How dare you make us go on a man-hunt at three in the morning.” Sirius crosses his arms trying to look angry, but he still comes up to rest his chin on your shoulder. His nose tickles your cheek, “Let’s go to bed my love.”

Remus walks further into the kitchen of your tiny apartment. You remember the day you moved in, you ate ramen over a cardboard box as a kitchen table. Now as he stands across the table from you Remus reaches over to slowly close your laptop. 

You stop him halfway, and he gives you a knowing look. “I’m really not tired, honestly I won't be able to sleep until I finish this,” you say quickly returning to typing. 

Remus sighs, looking to James for help, but it’s Sirius who comes to his aid. “Well then I guess we’re all staying up,” Sirius says, his chin digging into your shoulder and sleep muddling his words, “but when I wake up with dark circles that’s on you.”

“No go to bed, I won’t be long.” You try to focus on your work, but Sirius worms his arms under yours, wrapping around you. “Siri, please.” Your head is starting to hurt from forcing your eyes to stay open, and the warmth coming off of him only makes the fight harder. 

“What are you doing, Remus?” you ask, hearing the kitchen cabinets open and close. 

“I’m making hot chocolate.” He grabs your favorite mug from the cabinet followed by three more. 

“You don’t have to do that Rem.” Your eyes are still stinging.

“I already opened the packet.” He says it with a finality that tells you, you’ve hardly any choice in the matter.

“I’ll get the marshmallows,” James adds, sounding far too excited for this time of night. 

Before you can stop it your eyes fill with tears, blurring your computer screen. You hide your face in your hands. “Are you okay, love?” Sirius asks, suddenly sounding much more awake. You can’t stop it as much as you want to, your tears flow leaving your boyfriends flustering to help you. 

“Dove.” Remus kneels beside you. “Let’s take a break, yeah? It can wait until tomorrow.” 

You hear the soft click of your computer shutting as you nod. James holds your hand across the table. “You’re all too nice to me,” you say, it comes out half laugh half sob. 

“All that work is scrambling your brain,” Sirius says, squeezing your shoulders.

You let Remus pull you to the couch where he brushes stray tears from your cheeks. You melt into his side. He plants soft kisses into your hair. 

James and Sirius come with cups of hot chocolate almost overflowing with marshmallows. The cups are soon abandoned as the rich chocolate threatens to drag you all to sleep right on the spot. 

When you eventually make it to bed through fits of yawns and tired shuffling, you realize you’re finally exactly where you want to be. Sirius falls asleep practically on top of James.

Remus pulls the blanket to your chin. “Too nice,” he laughs quietly to himself. You swat at his arm. As you fall asleep, he listens to the rise and fall of your breath. You deserve all the niceness of the world, and he would make hot chocolate in the middle of every night if it meant you felt even a bit of it.