#need him though

[thatwriterchick222]

sweet release (james sunderland x bubble head nurse)

summary: then he saw it. one of the bubble head nurses, another name he coined himself.

it was draped over the grungy operating table, its body writhing in what seemed to be agony. its hands, which would have normally been brandishing a rusty metal pipe or blade ready to go in for the kill, were empty, gripping onto the edges of the metal surface. it was in pain.

its legs were spread in a way that james could only describe as tempting. white thighs apart and exposing white underwear below its skirt, long legs laying as if they were just asking to be grabbed and wrenched apart. helpless.

james felt his cock harden in his pants.

sick fuck. 

a/n: this one is a bit different than the stuff i normally write and definitely a lot more DUBIOUS so if you're not into that sort of thing please do not read lol.

i also have been obsessed with silent hill 2 recently (obviously) and i wanted to explore some dubious morals as well as unreliable narration, so i figured why not?

ANOTHER TW: references to r@pe, non-con, and extremely dubious consent

-------------------

james was tired. he didn’t know if it had been hours, days, weeks, or even months since he got to silent hill. his limbs were heavy like they were filled with lead. his clothes were caked with blood and god only knew what else, and he was slowly losing hope.

every step he took blurred together, every twisting dark hallway and locked door after locked door, an endless purgatory for him to wander aimlessly.

he killed because he deemed it necessary. these things came at him with force, with an unprovoked violence that called for nothing but violence in return. his finger ached from pulling the trigger, his arms weak from swinging that fucking metal pipe. the squelch of guts and porcelain and the putrid stench of vomit permeated his senses until he was unable to do anything but kill. put them out of their misery. 

and he still found no sign of mary.

well, the real mary.

the few lives in this hellish place were the only things that kept him grounded, angela and eddie and laura and…

maria.

fuck… maria.

was she placed there to tempt him? brought to him to remind him of who he lost, who he was searching for, who he missed the most? or was it some sick fucking joke that this town wanted to play on him? 

she was beautiful. she was– well, she was mary– but different. she had her face, pleading eyes and shy smile, but her voice was seductive and uncanny in a way that he couldn’t quite describe.

he settled on the theory that she was there to tempt him. to draw him off course. 

that way it was easy. straightforward. don’t let her get to you. don't let her make you weak. she isn’t mary.

but why did she smell like her? why did she give off a sweet, deep, musky scent that reminded james of some old memory, a first date, maybe even a first fuck? 

why— when the chilling breeze caught her smell and brought it to him like it was teasing him with her pheromones— did it make him ache like he did all those years ago?

it had to be a sick joke.

as hard as it was, james resisted her. he acted like he didn’t feel some otherworldly magnetic pull to just give in and pretend she was mary because she was close enough , maybe even better in ways he didn’t want to admit. even when she got tired and weak, a sudden sickness hit her that made james’s stomach twist with familiarity, she lay down on the dirty mattress and the first thing james wanted to do was touch her. as he turned to leave he saw her knees, covered in the sheer nylon of her tights, propped up and suspiciously, teasingly open, as if waiting for him to pull them apart.

he was a sick fuck.

this place must have been getting to him.

but, like all things in this forsaken place, maria was killed. not by his hand, but by the mysterious creature james coined as pyramid head, an unrelenting beast that sought him out. this executioner plunged his spear through maria’s stomach, and james watched the life drain from her body. in that moment, she looked more like his mary than she ever had.

james was tired . exhausted to the point of delirium, alone again to roam in the dark, decomposing halls of the hospital. as he walked, he thought back to what he could have done. if he was a different man, he would have taken advantage of the opportunity; a beautiful woman attempting to seduce him, a woman who looked exactly like his late wife… deep down james felt that it was a dream come true. 

a dream that he passed up. and now he regretted it.

he could feel himself aching as he recalled her pink lips, her top teeth digging into the plump bottom one for a brief moment, the way she slowly blinked and looked up at him. the way she touched him, ever so casually, and left his skin burning for minutes after she had recoiled.

he imagined her knees propped on the bed again, except this time he imagined turning around and spreading them, pulling off her boots and running his hands up her calves, her thighs… 

james inhaled sharply and tried to push the thoughts from his mind.

but these halls were so quiet, so empty, and he was so fucking lonely . 

he imagined maria gasping in surprise as he touched her, and in her sick and fatigued state, not bothering to push him away. she had wanted this after all. maybe he would rip her tights, push up her skirt, put his mouth on her. maybe she would have tasted just like his mary too.

james was startled out of his thoughts when the radio in his pocket sprung to life, the jarring sound of muffled breaths and static making his stomach drop. 

he realized he was growing hard from thinking about maria. he continued on, turning the corner into one of the open hospital rooms as the feedback from the radio grew louder, making him wince with its high-pitched frequencies. 

and then he saw it. one of the bubble head nurses, another name he coined himself. 

but this one was… different. 

the nurses were normally hostile. they would twitch and stumble towards him, swing at him with malicious intent, but this one was… weak.

it was draped over the grungy operating table, its body writhing in what seemed to be agony. its hands, which would have normally been brandishing a rusty metal pipe or blade ready to go in for the kill, were empty, gripping onto the edges of the metal surface. it was in pain.

its legs were spread in a way that james could only describe as tempting . white thighs apart and exposing white underwear below its skirt, long legs laying as if they were just asking to be grabbed and wrenched apart. it had thigh-high white tights on that were held up by a garter belt, the straps disappearing under its skirt, and against his better judgment, he wanted to rip them off.

if james didn’t have the context of the world around him, he would have assumed this faceless nurse was caught in the grip of pleasure, its body open and ready for the taking. 

docile, weak, helpless.

james felt his cock harden in his pants.

sick fuck. 

mary was gone, maria was gone… he didn’t know if this place was just getting in his head or if he really was just that desperate. 

james kept his gun up, shakily on it as if all his attention wasn’t occupied with the throbbing below his belt, the intoxicating thud of his heart in his chest and his ears.

but the nurse just lay there, squirming, its back arching and its legs dangling from the table, white high heels not even touching the ground.

though it didn’t have a mouth, struggled inhuman gasps came from its throat, a wail that almost resembled the rattle of death. it sent chills down james’s spine, but he reached forward, placing his hand on its cold knee.

it didn’t even look up. its head was thrown back, faceless and wrapped with rotting cloth, its breasts bulging from its dress and rising heavily with each gasp it took. james licked his lips, his breath catching in his throat.

i’ll help you. he thought. just let me do this. it’ll feel good, i promise.

when he placed his gun down on the table beside it, he knew there was no going back. he was already imagining if it even had a pussy, and if it did, what it would feel like to plunge his dick into it as deep as humanely possible.

he ran his fingers up its thighs, his brows pinched together and his lips parted in pure desire as he felt its flesh. it was flesh . soft and plump, like a real woman. if he closed his eyes, he could pretend. maybe he could pretend it was mary, or maria, or some strange amalgamation of them both.

this thought only made him harder. 

james attempted to pull its legs further apart, but it seemed stiff, as if its body was old and worn out. 

the nurse choked out a pained rasp as james pried its legs apart, pushing them up as he yanked it closer to him. as he bent its knees, he was reminded of the pyramid head man, the way he wrenched the mannequin legs apart sadistically, toying with them. was he any different at that moment?

the only difference was that james wasn’t toying. he had one thing in mind, and it still wasn’t putting up a fight.

continue on ao3!!!

[kochei0]

I turn to Ares.

Thanks to Tyler Miles Lockett who allowed me to draw inspiration from his ARES piece for page 2! Look at his etsy page it's SICK

⚔️ If you want to read some queer retelling of arturian legends have a look at my webtoon

[ideas-ideasideasideas]

Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

[jabberwick]

Human Bill Cipher

(Based on Alex Hirsch's "canon" design)

And just to be clear, writing dissertations at me justifying why he should instead be a conventionally attractive twink will involuntarily cause me to draw him with even fewer teeth.

[c-rowlesdraws]

Ratatouille would have been a better and potentially much more interesting story if Remy had partnered with Collette instead of Linguini. Two underdogs with talent and passion forced to maintain a dangerous ruse. Fiercely independent Collette giving up temporary control of her body to a creature who, despite the insanity of a rat wanting to cook professionally, she can relate to on a personal level and who she does want to teach. The inner conflict of wondering if Remy’s growing talents are eclipsing her own, if the praise their food is earning belongs more to him than to her. Her guilt over feeling resentment and jealousy towards this little guy who wouldn’t have a hope of realizing his talents if not for her trust and protection. Both of them unraveling the mystery of that sweet but bumbling kitchen boy with the obvious crush on Collette being Gusteau’s secret son, and working together to thwart the new evil owner’s plans to stop Linguini from claiming his birthright. The message of the movie not being this weird, almost smug “some people are born with talent, some people aren’t, and that’s how being a ~great artist~ works”, but something more like, “if you have a dream, you deserve to pursue it, and be supported and encouraged in your pursuit of it, even if other people tell you that, because of some intrinsic aspect of yourself or the circumstances you were born in (like being a human woman in the restaurant industry, or being a literal rat), you have no place pursuing this dream. Also, raw talent can only get you so far, and skill and passion existing in the right balance is key.” I’ve been thinking about this for seventeen years. I’m breaking my silence

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael Afton and Jeremy Fitzgerald are FNAF besties..

[pangur-and-grim]

alright, this one's a little more silly

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

...Turns out gay sex actually was the solution.

(This is basically a redraw, come read the real deal over at Tiger Tiger)

[disgracefulthings]

Shang Qinghua, holding a present: Happy Birthday my king!

Mobei-Jun: ...what?

Shang Qinghua: Oh, once a year humans celebrate our birthdays with gifts, so I got you something!

Mobei-Jun: No I got that, I just don't know how you know it's my birthday, I don't even know when I was born

Shang Qinghua, sweating profusely: I guessed

[nortsauce]

i am compiling a list of Freaknix wright moments bc. i see absolutely no one talking about his. preferences.

[radiance1]

Danny: Hey, I need you to be my boyfriend for a week.

Jason: What.

Danny: My parents are coming over and I've apparently accidentally talked about a partner more than once and only realized when they said they wanted to meet them.

Jason, currently still solidifying his power as a Crime Lord: Excuse me?

Danny: Let me get this out of the way, I do not consider you at all a person of romantical interest and a friend. But I need you to act as my partner for only a week until my parents go on their merry way over to my sister, okay?

Jason: Is there, quite literally, no one else to ask this?

Danny: You're my only friend who lives in Gotham, plus we share the same apartment.

Jason: That's almost sad.

Danny: You in?

Jason: Sure, why not.

===

Maddie: Danny, honey.

Danny: Yes mom?

Maddie: I don't mean to.... question, who you choose as your parent but. Well, me and your father was just wandering if he was a... [Maddie gestures with her hand] you know, one of those.

Danny, uncomprehendingly staring at his mother's hand: What.

Maddie: Oh dear, how do I bring this up. You know, one of those.

Danny: Mother I need more context.

Jack: If your boyfriend a crime lord!?

Maddie: Jack!

Jack: What? Beating around the bush wasn't helping!

Danny: Say WHAT?

===

Danny: Hey dude, thanks for helping with this even though you didn't need to!

Jason: No problem, I wasn't doing anything too [Crime Lord activities flash through his mind] important.

Danny: Can you believe my parents thought you were a crime lord though? Weird am I right?

Jason:

Danny: Jason. You are scaring me.

Jason: Haha, yea that's weird isn't it?

Danny: Jason.

Jason: Well, I have to leave now to attend to my totally real and totally not crime related job at the ice cream shop.

Danny: [Squints eyes]

Jason: [Internally sweating bullets]

Danny: Suuuuure, bring me back some ice cream though.

Jason: [Thumbs up and leaves]

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[beebfreeb]

To all my long-term followers: You have to look through all of my art and deduct exactly what's wrong with me. I know you can do it by now.

[cacaocheri]

sun fnaf except i had the worst morning EVER so i drew these low quality doodles to cope

[chloesimaginationthings]

Jeremiah and Mike’s first conversation in FNAF 2