#pspspsps come get y'all juice

[blorbologist]

This little space between us

Cassandra de Rolo/Kynan Leore, T, 16K, Hurt/Comfort

Giftfic for @burr-ell! <33

"... So, if you don’t mind - I guess that makes me your guard, now?” Cassandra does mind. Very much so. So at her first opportunity, when the stumbling and sighing and shifting becomes too much, she slips away. -- Cassandra de Rolo survived by hiding and still finds comfort in small spaces. Regrettably, Kynan Leore is pretty damn good at finding her.

Cassandra is used to jumping at her own shadow. It slinks too close to her heels, looms too tall overhead by candlelight. She will spy it out the corner of her eye and think it part of the castle’s literal skeleton crew. Worse - Sylas or Delilah. Unfortunately, her wallbound twin resembles the latter more than anything. She takes to wearing her hair down, or braided, or pulled back, just anything but the tight bun - 

She hates her shadow. Wishes she could carve it from her heels with a stolen kitchen knife.

So to find she has two, after Percival revealed a dragon hiding in their castle, she - she would scream, she should, but that habit has been cut from her successfully. 

He’s not Assum. Though that hardly matters, with a shapeshifter (can she trust the next Percival she sees to be her brother at all)?

Older demons, at least, she can identify. His flesh is not sloughing. His bones are all well-hidden. He is not Sylas. He is not Delilah. (She is not Delilah.)

And so Cassandra swallows enough bile to squeak “Who?” at this stranger. 

Her new shadow startles, backing some paces. “I - oh, I’m sorry, my Lady! I just - sorry, did no one tell you?”

It feels like a trap. Smells like one, too, but that might be the familiar cold sweat she breaks into at mind games. She swallows and feels the snare against her throat. The dagger in her corset. “Tell me what? Why are you here - and speak clearly, or I will - I’ll -”

What? Cry for help? Gut him like a fish? Die prettily? She isn’t sure. So she pretends it’s a hanging threat.

To his credit, however he takes it, he takes her seriously. 

[Keep reading on AO3!]

[prismatica-the-strange]

Some variations I made of my icon

Reblog if you download/use 💜 (credit is appreciated but not necessary)

[dilfsuzanneyk]

oops guess who wrote another b&tb oneshot

[ravenmold]

Fuuuuuuuuck not the black polo neck he's too strong

We can all thank tumblr and my partner for getting my ass back on these two Jesus christ.

(Alt version w/ no glasses Matt and other stuff below the cut 💪)

Silly doodles and art which are old as fuck but I needed to put somewhere cause they're silly and I think people would enjoy them lololol

[sunnymeddows]

Hey pspspsps moomin fans come get y'all's juice

[eddiemunsonscheckeredboxers]

pspspsps eddie girlies, come get y'all juice

eddie munson x female!reader

summary: after dating eddie for a little while now, you're ready to amp up the intimacy a bit. since your parents are out of town, it's the perfect opportunity for eddie to come over so you can make your move.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: MDNI, 18+ only, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy

a/n: reader is 19 yrs eddie is 20 yrs; I don't know how in love with this i am, but this is a practice in writing smut so that's ok. hope you enjoy parts of it anyway! i literally didn't know what to call this; i suck at proofreading sorry

MASTERLIST

Comfortable

The peaceful silence that fills that time of day where the late evening bleeds into the quiet calm of the night was one of your favourite simple pleasures in life. The expectation to do anything or be anyone has vanished, and you become free to give into whatever selfish cravings your tired mind needed. With your parents being away for the weekend, the freedom that tonight brought tasted more nectarous than usual. It meant that you could leave a key under one of the big rocks in the front garden. It meant that Eddie could turn that stone over to find said key. He could let himself in through the front door, wander his way up to your room, and find his favourite girl waiting for him, patiently. The romantic side of your relationship is still relatively new. You'd met a while ago through your mutual friend, Robin, and were relieved to feel a mutual adoration for each other. In the beginning, your relationship mostly consisted of deep conversations about each of your passions, whether it be while driving down back roads lit by the setting sun, at the play ground in the trailer park at dusk, or in the back of his van, doors open to Lovers Lake glistening under the cover of night. That night at the lake was the first time he kissed you. Slow and sweet; a delicate, whispered promise of love.

Since then, every late night tryst was infused with the underlying need for intimate touch. The light brush of your finger nails through his curls, the repeated pattern of his thumb circling your exposed ankle. The lustrous trail of hungry kisses lovingly placed from your jaw to your collarbone after he snuck in through your window for the first time one night after your parents fell asleep. It hasn't escalated beyond that yet, but you feel ready to move things along. So, tonight you plugged in some warm white holiday lights and draped them over your headboard to create a comfortable, dimly lit atmosphere. You donned an oversized sleep shirt and slipped on a new pair of lacey underwear. You spent a bit of effort making your hair look effortless in a bun atop your head with a few stray pieces pulled out in a attempt to give off a sexy-librarian vibe. You huff and give up. Eddie has always made you feel beautiful no matter what state your appearance is in, there was no reason to believe tonight would be any different. Nevertheless, there was a nervous flutter beginning to form in your stomach. But it was the good kind of nervous, like waiting in line for a rollercoaster.

There was still some time to kill before Eddie would be done with his Hellfire meeting. You walked over to your bed and absent mindedly fluffed the pillow and pulled the corners of your comforter taut. You skim your fingers over the bedding thinking about the nights that you've laid with Eddie on this bed talking about anything and everything that came to mind. His fingers would draw circles on your back as you were tucked up on his side. He'd have the other hand behind his head as he would ramble on about whatever topic you guys had landed on, while you memorized the spots where his dimples would sporadically appear whenever he laughed or smiled while recalling something amusing. Glancing around the already tidied room, you spot the book you've been reading for the past few weeks. That should be enough to keep your mind occupied until Eddie gets here. Picking it up, you plop yourself across the top half of your bed near the pillows with your feet facing the door. You tilt the book toward the light coming from the holidays lights on the headboard to your right and begin reading were you left off.

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

Eddie throws the transmission into park and takes the keys out of the ignition. He loves his Friday Hellfire sessions with his friends, but he always feels a deep itch somewhere in the back of his mind for time to pass by a little faster when he knows he will be seeing you later. He fights the smile that begins to spread thinking about you as he hops out of his van and makes his way to the front garden to snag the key. "Gotcha," he whispers as he straightens up, key in hand, and heads for the front door. After hearing the deadbolt release the door, he twists the knob and lets himself into your house. "Sweetheart, you here?" he offers as he peers around the main floor of the home. All the lights were off; there was no sign of life down here. Turning his gaze to the top of the stairwell, the warmth from the glow of dim light flooding into the hallway from your room upstairs reaches him. He feels himself relax, taking in a deep breath as he toes off his shoes. Climbing the staircase softly, he feels the tension leave his body as he thinks of climbing into your embrace to unwind after a long week. He slows to a stop just outside your door to peer in as he raises his hand to knock on the slightly ajar door. His hand stills and breath gets lost somewhere in his throat as his eyes find you.

You're laying on your stomach reading a book facing away from him. Immediately, his eyes are drawn to the cheeky view of the round of your ass peaking out from where your sleeping shirt has risen up and settled on your lower back, adorned with black lace. The sight of the fold where your cheeks meet the back of your thighs is enough to make his mouth water. His eyes flit to the sudden movement of your ankles rubbing together as they meet suspended in the air above you due to the bend in your knees. Not wanting to feel like a pervert for much longer, he slowly drags his eyes up to the curve in your arched back before settling on the back of your head. He breaks the silence by managing a timid knock on your bedroom door. Your head whips around in surprise and a soft smile pulls at your lips once you realize it's him. Realizing he is staring with his mouth agape, he quickly corrects himself to return your smile and mutters a quiet, "Hey, doll."

You make no effort to move from your position. Seeing the hardly hidden internal battle Eddie is fighting to not stare at your ass as he makes his way toward your bed, you figured this serendipitous position would hopefully provide the spark you needed to turn up the intimacy of your relationship. Feigning innocence, you smile sweetly and ask, "How was Hellfire?" while turning your head to place your book back on the night table in front of you.

"Was good, definitely had them on their toes tonight," he responded, trying to act as casually as he could but his distracted state of mind was obvious. It was in the way he stared nearly unblinking at you when you turned your head back to him, as if thinking of something else entirely, lost in a slight trance. You suppress a giggle. He comes to sit facing you, slightly more toward your lower half. He leans toward you on his left arm and cocks his head toward your face. He inhales slightly and flicks an eyebrow up. "You uhh... you getting ready to go to bed?" he asks, as his pointer finger gestures to trace up and down your torso to the swell of your ass (where he steals a small glance again) to indicate his interest in your current attire.

"Not yet," you offer slyly, studying his face. "Just wanted to feel comfortable while I was reading."

"Are you comfortable?" he asks with raised eyebrows. Bringing your fist to your right cheek to rest your head while you give him your full attention, you give him a small nod. He presses his lips together slightly and returns a small nod of acknowledgment as he turns his head to stare down at your feet. He hesitates for only a second before he reaches his right arm out to gently grab ahold of your ankle to draw circles there with his finger, as he normally would when he's this close to you. He returns his gaze to you, his curtain of curls swaying along with him, and smiles sweetly, "How has your week been, sweetheart?"

"Oh, you know. Just living the dream, one nightmare at a time," you joke. You then get into telling him about the mostly minor inconveniences that seemingly came one after another this week at work. He listened intently offering sympathetic looks or a short snort laugh when the occasion called for it. All the while, his finger traced patterns across your skin. It started at the elevated ankle, but he moved his hand down to your shin, the ghost of his invisible drawings left on the soft skin there. You kept track of where his hand was moving, waiting to see where it would wander next. As you finished up airing the last of your grievances, you felt his hand shift to your calf. Instead of fingers, you felt him softly stroking your skin with the back of his hand. Steeling your nerves in the name of not wasting this opportunity, you folded your leg so that your calf met the back of your thigh, with Eddie's hand imprisoned gently in between. He flicked his eyes down to where he was touching you as you lifted your calf, leaving Eddie's hand splayed against the back of your thigh. He hesitates a moment before he turns back to look at your face, his heart rate begins to pick up some speed. He feels a warmth spread from his chest, up his neck as the room starts to feel a bit warmer suddenly.

"You still comfortable?" he almost whispers, searching your face for any hint of disagreement. But he only finds you smiling back at him.

Likely boldened by the same heat that bleeds through Eddie's hand and wanders upward, now hitting the core between your legs, you surprise yourself by saying, "Eddie, I-I want you to... I want you to touch me." Any concern that was present on his face is rapidly replaced by a much deeper feeling, one that darkens his eyes and flushes his cheeks.

Eddie had always intended to be as patient as you needed him to be when it came to sex in your relationship. He had some experience from drunken nights at high school parties in his first senior year, or random girls from the Hideout from before he met you. But this was different for him. You meant so much more to him than that. He'd gladly wait on thousand years for you to ask.

"Of course, baby. But if at any point you want to, just say the word and we stop, no objections," he states firmly, wanting to reassure you that he wants to respect any boundary you might have before he begins. You weren't worried, Eddie was constantly checking in with you to make sure you were relaxed with him. He always wants enthusiastic consent or nothing. It's part of what made this decision for you so easy. You grant him permission with a shy 'yes' and he begins to massage the dough of your thigh that his hand rests on. Turning his attention back down to your lower half, he starts to slowly run his right hand up the back of your leg with this finger skimming along the inside of your leg and his thumb gently caressing the outer edge. He pauses at the conjunction of where your leg meets the cheek of your ass. He slowly traces his thumb along the crease there until it reaches his pointer finger and then runs it back along the same path again. His fingers were now sitting dangerously close to your heat. Rhythmically, he rubs his thumb back and forth for a few moments. His middle finger ever so slightly reaches forward to softly run along the material of where your underwear was covering your entrance. You shutter at the feeling and drop your head to the bed beneath you while your eyes closed. Eddie shifts focus to what he can see of the side of your face. The heat in your chest radiates against the lower half of your face. You turn to angle your face toward Eddie and open your eyes to plead to him with heavily, hooded eyes.

"Please," you whine breathlessly. Pathetically.

"Please what, baby? Use your words, pretty girl," he whispers softly, afraid the tenderness of this moment will collapse in on itself if he speaks too loudly.

"I want to feel your fingers there, Eddie. Inside me."

Eddie nearly whimpers at the confession. Such filthy words falling from your plush lips, words he only ever fantasied about hearing late at night when he's tugging at himself under the cover of his tattered quilt. But this is happening in real life now. He hopes he's the only person who will ever see you like this for the rest of your life. He allows himself to admire your flushed cheeks and loving stare for one more small moment before that cocky smirk you love dons his face. "How could I say no when my girl is being so sweet?" he coos.

He swipes his fingers along your clothed entrance again, all the while watching your face for any signs of discomfort. Your face relaxes more as you huff out a sigh, so he proceeds to move up to the waistband of the lacey piece. He raises his eyebrows to you and mutters a small 'may I?' before slowly pulling them down your legs at your permission. Once they are discarded somewhere on the floor, he returns to lean back on his left arm again, eye flicking between your face and where he is preparing to caress with his fingers. He slowly runs his hand over the round of your backside before letting his three fingers dip in between your legs to trace firmly over your weeping hole to gather some of your wetness before he moves down toward your clit. You gasp slightly when he reaches the bundle of nerves. Empowered, he rubs a few languid circles there and takes in the breathy moans that escape your lips. His brain almost goes fuzzy at the sounds, losing his hearing slightly and eyes rolling back in his head. A shiver runs down his torso and gathers low in his abdomen where he can feel his length hardening. After basking in your small whimpers for a few more moments, Eddie moves his hand back toward your entrance. With his attention turned to your face, he slips in a ringed finger. Instantly, the heat from your core that had been rising, skyrockets. You can feel the splotches of red forming on your chest, neck and jaw. You let out a pitiful moan, louder than any other you've already involuntarily made tonight. You close your eyes as you give in to the feeling of Eddie's finger as it begins to curl slowly in a come hither motion deep inside of you in a way that you can never replicate.

"Nuh uh. Eyes open for me, princess," Eddie interjects as he simultaneously haults his movements. You comply and peer at him through hazy eyes. The sight elicits a primitive groan from him. He pulls out his finger slowly only to add another to the mix and slowly enters them back into you again and continues to curl his fingers rhythmically once again. This time it was your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. He continues curling his fingers deliciously into that perfect spongy spot without remorse. Your pleasure continues to rise in such intensity that you can hardly care about the lude sound mix of moaning and squelching filling your room. Sounds that were quickly becoming like his own personal gospel. As your breathing quickens and your panting becomes more shallow, he moves to place his thumb over your clit again to draw firm, even-paced strokes over it again. The combination of the two is enough to send you over the edge. Breaking his rule, you close your eyes and tuck your chin to your chest, giving in as the waves cascading through your body, legs shaking, while your orgasm unleashes upon you.

You feel Eddie remove his fingers but continue to rub slow, concentrated circles over your clit as you come down. Once you recover, you turn your head to face him again and find him already smiling sweetly at you. "There's my girl," he softly whispers. A small giggle tumbles out from behind your lips as you turn to sit up to face Eddie. You can't help but reach up and place your hand on the side of his face to run your thumb across his cheek. You lean into him a press a sweet kiss to his lips. He hungrily accepts it, which causes you to slowly pull away and glance down to his lap in realization. Seeing the bulge straining against his jeans and you can't help but let your mouth water. You can smell his musk clearly now that you're sitting this close to him.

"You don't have to, you know. If that's all that happens tonight, I will still drift off to sleep a happy man," he says after following your gaze.

"What kind of host would I be if I didn't make sure you sleep comfortably?" you say with a smirk.

MASTERLIST for more :) thanks for reading

I do not consent to my work being copied onto other platforms, I do not have other fanfic platforms as of yet

[mystic-blue]

i've been working on the new chapter of the meemaw fic but i've also been studying for exams so i drew some meemaw to unwind a little so pspspsps meemaw nation come get y'alls juice

[paradoxicalpaldeann]

pspspsps chapter 3!! come get y'alls juice

[acapellasampler]

@digishima pspspsps come get y'all juice

🐇♠️

[piningfor-pinestwins]

Natural Attraction - Confrontations (Stan X Reader Slow Burn; Eventual Not SFW)

Yawning, you find yourself still dozing off while stretching out your legs, waiting for Fiddleford to finish packing up his tent while the twins bicker about the “correct” way to fold a sleeping bag. You smile to yourself, cracking open an eye and biting your tongue from making a comment about this being why you’d brought a quilt instead, but you keep it to yourself as you lean forward to stretch. Wincing as you roll your injured ankle back and forth, you’re reminded of the night you’d dealt with.

It ached as you adjusted your shoe on your foot, tying the shoelaces tighter to try and support your ankle a little better for the trek ahead. Ford hasn’t said much (to you, anyway--he’s still very wordy when it comes to his current argument with his brother as the both of them shove differently-folded sleeping bags away into their respective packs), but you’re certain that the day will prove to be long and tiring. Still, as you fix the tops of your socks, you have an odd sense of...hopefulness? Excitement? You aren’t sure, but the anticipation is strong.

The sensation only grows as Stan comes toward the tree you’re leaned up against. Warmth flutters in your stomach when he catches your eye, a knowing sort of smile spread across his cheeks when he adjusts his and your bags onto his shoulder. He clears his throat as he reaches his hand down to you, his smile warming you from the inside. “Hey, you. About ready to head out?” He asks, voice soft with an almost-gravelly sleepiness which makes you smile.

As I’ll ever be, you answer as you take his hand. Stan pulls you up slowly, your hand in his with his other arm outstretched to catch your side, just in case. Wincing as you put weight onto your tweaked ankle, you hold to Stan a little tighter, all the while hearing his voice whisper soft encouragements until you’re upright. “That’s it, honey--slower, slower,” he soothes. You’re unsure if it’s his words, the gravel in his voice, or proximity, but your cheeks flush at his soft urging, a flutter in your chest. His outstretched arm is closer now, that hand resting securely on your lower back to remind you of its presence, gently brushing his thumb against your hip (which, frankly, doesn't help, since the flutter only moves to your belly).

“There ya go, hon. Y’feeling any better today?” Stan levels his gaze to you, the concern knitting his brows together in a way that makes you smile, averting your eyes quickly so he can't see the tenderness there. You reach, patting his chest lightly to ease his mind when you meet his eye again, Feeling just fine, thank you.

“Kissed you all better?” He asks low, voice playful as he quirks a brow down at you. You flush as your own brows shoot upward, pushing lightly on his chest as you urgently shush him, looking toward where Ford and Fidds are chatting. The both of them quickly avert their gazes, knowing smiles still spreading their cheeks as they turn away--you almost wish you hadn’t caught them looking.

Your cheeks burn despite your smile, giving the cocky man ahead of you a stern look, Don’t be so obvious, Stanley, you tease in a whisper, your thumbs brushing lightly over the hem of the white tank top he wears, acting as though you’re smoothing down his shirt. Your hands drop away with one final pat, smiling wider when he looks at you with something akin to surprise. “Sorry, hon. Just...a little giddy this morning, is all.”

Wonder why? You hum in question, shaking your head as you hold out your hand toward him. At first, he stalls, eyeing your hand with a furrowed brow, questioning. He reaches to take your hand, a bashful sort of smile growing on his face before you motion to your bag. He coughs a gruff sound, and you only barely save him the embarrassment this time, looking down as you feel your smile at his pinkened cheeks. He releases your hand easily, trading its place with the strap of your bag as he turns to look toward the other two instead, lightly rubbing at the back of his neck. You take the duffle bag, looping your arms into the straps to turn it into a good-enough backpack for the trek ahead.

You stretch your ankle gingerly, biting into the inside of your cheek. Surely, there should be some sort of tracks for your creature somewhere around here… Moving carefully to test your first few steps, you crouch beneath a tree limb, leaving the familiar grassy space to try and find your next clues to where it may be.

“Hey--don’t run off!” Fiddleford scolds from his place beside Ford, taking a few steps as he reaches, as if to catch you in the act, “Even if it’s sunny out, yer luck hasn’t been great for the past….well, 12 hours.” You almost laugh, shaking your head, Not running off, just...trying to find where we go next, you explain. He keeps walking closer, a little smile budding on his face as he comes to join you. “At least lemme help you,” he teases, pushing away a branch near the top of your head. You look over to him and duck under it as you laugh, Thanks, Fidds.

“The last tracks we’d seen were just that direction,” He points toward the unnervingly-familiar patch from the night before, and you frown as you take a few more tentative steps. “I’m sure there’s more o’them somewhere around here....”

Fidds moves alongside you, the both of you looking for some sort of indication of the creature. It’s almost frustrating--you’re certain something had to be here, some sign of the damn thing. You finally huff, a frown pulling at your lips when you look to Fiddleford, not far off in his own search. “I can’t find anything, either--”

“Hey, uh...guys?” Stan’s voice calls from the other side of the brush, sounding almost concerned in a way that makes your stomach drop in worry. Your eyes meet Fidds’, sharing a furrow-browed glance between you as you both move toward the grassy spot once more, toward Stan’s voice.

Stan? Are you okay? You call, looking out from the brush, your question joined by Ford’s voice, calling at the same time, “Stanley?”

You spy the twin as he’s readjusting his pants, buttoning his fly and re-buckling his belt as he walks up the hill you’d been ‘attacked’ at the night before. You quirk a brow, eyes trained on his fingers at his belt before realizing what he had been doing that far down the hill, feeling a flush as you quickly look up to his face instead.

“What’d you see?” Ford asks his twin, knowing the tone of his voice well. “Well, ah...remember when she,” Stan motions to you, “had an owl bothering her last night? It was around here, right?” He asks you with a furrowed brow, hands finished with the buckle as he motions to the ground near the top of the hill. You finally look at him again, biting your lip as you nod, Right over, uh….here, you say, eyes narrowing at the spot he’s referring to. In the area you’d fallen, you can see the scuff marks of your shoes going down the hill, and a strange indentation in the grass, right in the same spot.

“...Huh,” Fiddleford hums, moving to the dip in the grass and pushing some of the longer tufts away, finding two large tracks, looking very much the same as the tracks you’d followed from the cabin.

“There’s no way,” Ford murmurs, rushing ahead closer to see the tracks, too. He looks up, toward the direction of the trees where you’d all seen the owl last night. “If these are here, that must mean, either the owl last night was much bigger than we’d all expected, or--”

“Or your big ‘birdlike thing’ came around afterward to check us out.” Stan finishes, crossing his arms. He looks almost uncomfortable, looking over you with something unreadable in his gaze before pointing the same look towards his brother and Fiddleford. “I guess it makes it easier to track, but...I dunno, I’m a little weirded out that the thing is as interested in us as we are in it.”

“Nonsense,” Fiddleford shakes his head, standing from where he’d crouched with a quiet grunt, “We don’t have all those pieces, Stanley--we can’t just assume the thing’s a menace, just ‘cause it ends up near our campsite. Maybe it’s more a sign that we just… tracked it real good?”

You shrug, I’m sure it’s just an...odd, albeit helpful, coincidence. Stan doesn’t look swayed, arms still folded across his chest. Sighing, you nod, I admit, it’s weird. And a creature my size being hunted by an owl isn’t normal by any means, but...is anything in this town normal? You pose the question toward the man, who’s still frowning down at you in uncertainty. He finally sighs, relenting, “Not at all. Alright. But if this gets freakier, I say we call it off and head home.”

Ford scoffs at his brother’s insistence, shaking his head. “If the creature is hostile, that’s even more reason to track it,” He argues, continuing, “God forbid the thing tries to come for the town.”

Stan’s brow furrows, and you can instantly tell that his brother has struck a nerve. “God forbid the thing goes after one of us again! Especially her!” He scowls, motioning to you with his hand as he takes a step closer to his twin. “The fucker’s got big feet, look,” he points down to the tracks, “If he decides to grab one of us and fly off next time one of us goes off for a piss, we’re screwed.”

Ford rolls his eyes, but says nothing more as he shakes his head. You can tell the action annoys Stan, the latter clenching a fist at his side. You reach to him, one hand landing on Stan’s arm to pull his focus back. He turns to look at you, a frown still on his face, but more relaxed now.

eI know you’re worried, you start, smile warming up, But you know...I can handle myself. You wink, putting up your fists as if prepping to fight. The action makes him scoff a laugh, shaking his head at you as he speaks, “Right--I almost forgot, you’re a killer.” He winks, a hint of the dimple at his cheek peeking out at you, even as he rubs at his face to calm down a little. He takes a breath and you release his arm, eyeing Ford and Fidds, the latter being the only one who meets your eye (and rolls his own, apparently very used to the duo’s mini-arguments).

Alright boys, you say with a smile, pushing your thumbs into the straps that rest on your shoulders when all three heads turn to look at you, I’m ready to track down a weird bird creature, how about you?

“Of course!” Ford laughs as he answers, argument easily dismissed. He moves, only struggling a little as he hoists his heavy backpack into place. Fiddleford snickers at the brunet, pulling one of the straps of the backpack up to help the man put his arm through the loop, “Hold onto yer britches, Ford--there you go.” The taller man smiles wide at his friend before nodding at you, “I’ve been ready. We’ve gotta take advantage of the daylight for as long as we’ve got it.” You smile at Fiddleford in agreement, glancing to Stan beside you with a quirked brow, surprised to find him already looking your way.

Stanley finally grins, his gaze catching you off guard in a way that makes your chest flutter, and you find yourself mimicking his smile when he reaches to clap a hand on your shoulder, giving you a little shake, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” Ford pipes up, instantly making the former twin’s smile falter. Ford doesn’t seem to notice, taking one last glance around at the grassy space you’d used as a resting point for the evening, just to be sure. “We haven’t got time to lose. As you so graciously found out,” He motions in your direction, peeking at you from over the rims of his glasses, “Being out in the dark isn’t quite the safest option we have, both in terrain navigation and… creature interaction, I suppose.”

You scoff a quiet, No shit, which causes Stan to snort a laugh beside you. All things considered, last night wasn’t too bad, but… bits of it were scary, to say the least. The ache in your foot reminds you to keep your eyes on the ground just as much as you’re watching for signs of the creature, though it seems the boys are doing their best to keep you on your feet, too.

--

Unlucky only begins to describe the hike of the day. After the strap on Ford’s backpack broke, and Stan had to cut himself out of a thorny bramble with just a pocket knife, the four of you were sure that the rest of the day would be a little easier.

You were wrong, you realized, when the only-slightly-cloudy sky became much more cloudy and started thundering.

“Fuckin’...” Stan grits, using the bottom of his already soaked t-shirt to wipe away the rain mingling with sweat dripping down his forehead, “Did any of you geniuses decide to check the weather before we set off to find your little monster?”

“It’s just a little rain, Stanley,” Ford scoffs, walking ahead of his brother, “Contrary to popular belief, you won’t melt.”

“Y’could track any kind of creature with your heavy machine, but you can’t even turn on the tv to look at the news once in a while? Especially when the whole damn family’s coming out on a hike?” The twin argues, and even though he’s kind of chewing you out too, you find yourself snorting a laugh. It is a little ridiculous, you can admit. It’s even more ridiculous when Ford whips around to look back at his brother in annoyance, and you see him squinting at the both of you, glasses absolutely useless as they rest atop his head, fat water droplets sticking to the lenses and rolling off to saturate his hair even more. Stan snorts then, casting a glance to you as he does, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” Despite his frustration with the weather, Stan’s voice holds no real malice, the indent in his cheek almost giving him away as he continues to follow his brother and Fiddleford.

“Dammit, if we could just...get somethin’,” Fidds murmurs, his own glasses folded closed and hanging from the collar of his button-up. “Even if it’s rainin’, there should be a sign of the creature somewhere, right?” He turns back to look at you, an almost pleading look in his eye. You jog a little, boots squelching in the muddy ground as you get closer to the front of the pack.

Surely there’s some signs, you agree, offering a sympathetic smile his way. Fidds is intrigued by this thing, you can tell; maybe even a little more than he usually is in the creatures you find in town. As you look for a sign, any sign, you step a little quicker, getting in front of the pack. Really, there should be something…

The more you look, you realize, the more you find. Whether that’s a good thing or not, you’re unsure. Guys! You call, turning to look over your shoulder at the group and finding yourself considerably further away from them than you’d expected. There are tracks here in the mud! I-I think it might have trouble flying in the rain? Your voice lifts like a question, Ford’s voice calling after you over the rain, “Wait for us! We don’t want a repeat of the last time,” he warns. You know he’s right; as it begins to storm in earnest now, the grass and earth at your feet seem to relax beneath you, steadily becoming mush at your heels.

You wait just a few moments more for the boys to catch up, hearing the muted sounds of their huffing and puffing up to you. Entranced, you stare down at the muddied floor of the forest, the tracks in the mud seeming to beckon you to follow them. If you were fast enough, you might be able to snap a picture of the prints without your camera getting too wet. It would help in tracking the creature further, and whatever research comes next…

You bite at your bottom lip as you adjust your bag onto your shoulder, rummaging through the slightly-damp insides as Fidds catches up to you, looking down at the tracks much like you had been. “Woah,” He starts, almost breathless, “These are the best prints we’ve seen from this thing yet! Lookit--you can see every segment of the thing’s foot, all the way to its claws...How big d’ya think this thing is? The whole foot’s almost as big as my hand,” The honey blond man crouches down, even in the mud, to inspect and absorb as much information as he can, stretching his palm next to the print but not touching the mud beneath.

I don’t know if that’s an accurate measurement, you tease with a grunt, turning your back to the heaviest of the rain and the other tracks, You’re a tall, lanky guy. If its claws are that big, I’m sure it may be proportionally huge, you finish with a laugh. He glances up to see you fumbling just a little, trying to block the rain from hitting your camera full force and get the footprint and his hand in the shot all at once. Fidds snorts a laugh, and you smile as you shake your head down to him, your wet hair mimicking the motion out of the corner of your eye as you scoff a fond, Shut up.

In your movement, you’ve turned to be able to watch as the other two boys make their way up to you, glancing to see the both of their bodies coming into view, smile still on your face when you look through the viewfinder to center the shot. You know you don’t have much time left to have your camera out in this rain without ruining some film or the mechanisms inside it, so you’re quick to press the button, even as you hear Fiddleford gasp at something behind you at the same moment. The flash of your camera goes off, the light similar to a strike of lightning, illuminating the woods around you in one brief second. You move the camera from your face, reaching to start and put it away despite the sound of it printing the snapshot.

Fidds, what’s wrong? You ask over the loud rain, turning your head in time to look at him, seeing…fear? You don’t have the time to think or ask anything else as Fiddleford stands abruptly and grips your arm, nearly knocking your camera from your hand as he yanks you back toward the way you came. You yell out, frightened by the sudden change in the man, until you turn your head to see why.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan’s voice bellows over the downpour, suddenly so much closer than you’d imagined. When you’d glanced up at them, you hadn’t noticed the duo were running, mud caking their shoes and the bottom of their pant legs as the twins made their way toward you and Fidds. Now they’re right in front of you, looking up and over you with something akin to fear as Stan throws something--you think a rock--at the thing.

This must be the creature, the feeling of dread in your stomach at the sight of it reminding you of the hillside incident the night before. It stands somehow taller than you’d imagined on the feet that match those prints, a mass of pitch-colored ….hair? feathers? looming tall against the trees of the forest. You’re not sure where its height ends and its wingspan begins, neither more entrancing, or terrifying, than its eyes. Big, red and almost-shining eyes watch as you’re pulled by Fidds, nearly running face-first into the chests of the Pines men. The rock Stan threw hits it square in where its chest would be, were it a man, and the creature seems to puff up more, appearing larger as its wingspan opens, remarkable and terrifying all at once even as they drip with the incessant rain.

The four of you watch up at the beast, wide-eyed. You would almost swear Ford was enamored with the thing, if it weren’t for the tightening of his grip on Fidd’s sleeve, all of you panting from either exertion or pure adrenaline-toned fear. Thinking on your feet, you push down on the camera’s shutter and point the thing at the creature, hoping for a moment that the flash would blind it as you back into Stan’s chest. In the same instant, lightning strikes, rendering your flash useless as the thundering clouds rumble loud enough to feel in your chest, the storm right atop you now. The creature rears back, then lets out a high, wailing screech unlike anything you’ve heard before. It steals your breath, and before you can react, Stan has a hand wrapped around your arm, fingers firm in his grip to you as he pants, a word stumbling from his lips in one harsh breath.

“Run.”

[cheese-induced-madness]

doc twobrains general headcanon dump bc i love him <3

-Steven is still in there and has about 60 to 70% direct control over the body he and Squeaky inhabit but his words actions are being heavily influenced by Squeaky's incredibly loud and obnoxious demands for cheese and destruction, which makes it extremely difficult to act the way he'd normally want to as just plain old Doctor Boxleitner. It's like driving a car with an evil mouse constantly screaming at you in the passenger seat and trying to grab at the wheel.

-both brains can hear the thoughts of the other 24/7 so it gets a bit chaotic.

-If Squeaky doesn't get his way, he can fire up TB's pain receptors until he caves in. He also does this upon what he perceives as being insulted (if he calls him a rat instead of a mouse, daring to diss cheese, etc.)

-On days Squeaky has less control, TB can actually eat things that aren't cheese, or at least are less cheese heavy. They never taste quite as good as they did before the accident, but he still savors the chance to eat something different every once in awhile until the mouse brain gets sick of waiting for his next cheese fix and starts to make him nauseous. For some reason the non cheese item least likely to annoy the mouse brain is fruit juice. Squeaky almost finds it tolerable.

-Steven was one hell of a foodie and used to cook pretty often before becoming Twobrains, and while most of what he cooks now is cheese based, having the henchmen around gives him an excuse to branch out and try making something different every now and again, even if he doesn't eat it himself. It also doubles as a way to ensure the henchmen know he appreciates them when it's difficult to voice that.

-He tends to chew on things in his sleep. After tearing through about 6 pillows he started learning to sew just so he wouldn't have to keep replacing them, though that lead to figuring out that the act of stabbing fabric repeatedly with a needle was destructive enough to keep Squeaky entertained for a bit, so TB took it up as a new hobby. He makes mouse plushies and sells them on etsy.

-Neither Steven nor Squeaky would ever admit it, but both of them HATE horror movies. The mouse brain is easily scared as a prey animal, freaking out at every jumpscare, and the human brain just doesn't like watching people suffer and die as they often do in horror. He refuses to watch anything scary with the henchmen, always under the guise of not allowing it because the henchmen get scared too easily. The only horror they'd ever watch are the ones campy and low budget enough that you'd sooner laugh at the scares than feel any actual fear.

-TB can understand most rodents or rodent like animals, including mice, rats, moles, hamsters, guinea pigs, rabbits, and capybaras. Squeaky has a weird grudge against those last four because humans love them but treat mice like trash to be disposed of.

-He frequently questions whether or not being partially mouse makes him a furry. He still doesn't have an answer. He's not sure he wants one.

[boohoo-cracker]

the more things change, the more they stay the same.

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

Thank you so much for this incredible gift!!! I know I already comment-rambled but I really just want to say again how awesome this is.

@ my Elwing loving mutuals and followers: pspspsps come get y'all's juice and appreciate this masterpiece

my @officialtolkiensecretsanta for @an-eldritch-peredhel !

elwing is having a really weird time all the time & can bond with eärendil over about half of it

happy holidays!

[mimicmew]

I dont know why these images look like they’ve been tossed through a blender but;

Heres Siren!Thin Man, Gorgon!Lady and Centaur!Hunter

[moemoemammon]

What about the boys with claws, fangs, traits from their animal avatars that they have and use? Instincts that they have? We know Mammon loves gold but does he hoard anything shiny? Are Levi and Asmo poisonous? I love any monster ideas!

Demon Instincts! (lowkey toxic)

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

pspspsps monsterf*ckers come get y'all juice

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

Lucifer doesn't flaunt his abilities openly, but in a subtle way that draws attention to his perfection. But the only person he wants to attract is you.

He won't stoop so low as to use underhanded tactics, but his pride simply won't allow you to go around without properly acknowledging his brilliance.

He constantly calls you into his space to make sure you soak it all up, and it feeds his ego like no tomorrow. And if you say something about it? Bliss.

Something about his aura demands your attention. When he enters the room, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle and stand up, and it feels like the air becomes colder.

And that tone of his that whips any demon back in line? It's a literal power he uses over lesser demons. Sparingly, of course. But he's so intimidating that it's hard to even tell when he's using it- (He also finds out pretty quickly that it doesn't work on you >:( )

Mammon

You'd think Mammon was the inventor of the concept of hoarding, with all of his habits. He calls himself a collector, but acquiring more and more stuff for literal eons isn't exactly 'collecting' at that point.

Has an entire closet dedicated to stashing his stuff. I like to think Mammon's got some kinda spacial magic that lets him use that closet as a lil pocket dimension specifically for throwing things into

Anything that seems even remotely valuable is Mammon's go to. And 'valuable' means anything that's prized by ANYONE. If you've got a lucky rock, he'll be tempted to snag it. He sells most things for money, but stuff that's really precious are the things he keeps. Just wait till you find out how many of your things he's got-

Picture an endless sea of riches and junk, and only he can tell the difference between the two. Probably forgets it exists sometimes tho-

Also growls when angry (this is canon). Angry Mammon sitting on his sofa, surrounded by the spoils of his Akuzon splurging, growling at anyone who dares step close to his treasure trove... Oh yeah, MC's in that pile somewhere, too.

Levi

His self depreciation knows no bounds and he can't live up to the pedestal he's put his brothers on, but there IS one thing he knows he can do without much trouble:

Keep you in his room.

Now it's not like he's trapping you or anything, but Levi is a master manipulator with the way he puts himself down and coerces you into pitying him. Don't you wanna stay with him...? No, of course you wouldn't want to stay with a yucky otaku...

His brothers swear he's got a jealous glint in his eye every time he sees you anywhere else but his room. But all you see are his pleading reptilian eyes that almost suck you in... like they're begging you to pity him.

Quite literally toxic. Boy's got a slime fish man coat on his skin, and long exposure isn't too good for your fragile human body.

Satan

As the Avatar of Wrath, revenge is his favorite thing. It's the reason he harasses Lucifer so much, and whoever else has caught his negative attention. Also nobody can convince me that this man isn't a cat.

He can be HELLA cruel, and watches his enemies squirm. He lures them in with that false smile of his, just to make them wish they'd never met him.

Satan can barely resist the strong desire he has to torment and harass those around him, especially the ones he deems weaker.

A big part of his life is centered around keeping himself calm and collected, so he rarely has a chance to go apeshit. But there always that nagging desire to give in and cause mischief. Good thing it's mostly tame, huh?

I fully believe he's constantly on the verge of going into an untamable frenzy and that's why his brothers are kinda wary of him- 

Asmo

The snuggly, cute, and oh so affectionate Asmodeus tries to be more subtle about the way his instincts show. Specifically, his possessive side.

Naturally has a sweet scent, and it's quite literally addicting. It adds to his allure when paired with those demon eyes of his, but it's such a shame that it doesn't work on you! Boo..~

He's not shy when it comes to marking the object of his affection, and he LOVES leaving his scent behind. Any sort of sho of 'ownership' does it for him.

Why do you think he likes buying you clothes and sharing his perfumes with you? It's because seeing you walk around with something he gave you is a clear sign that he's been there.

He always wants you in his space, and vise versa. Asmo's desire to claim you completely rival the possessiveness Mammon has over you.

Beel

Beel doesn't always know his own strength, and this is especially the case when it comes to his bare instincts.

His strength matches his emotions, so when he's super happy? Crushing hugs. Angry as hell? You already know he destroys things in an fit of rage.

Satiating his hunger is one of the keys to his happiness, and he projects that onto you too. Have you eaten? You must be hungry. Come eat with him. He wants to make sure you're fed. Hungry hungry himbo

STRONG urge to protect the people he cares about. Like he'll go borderline feral if he even has an inkling that someone's in danger. And when he's in a mood, it's hard for you to pry yourself out of his big ol arms.

literally eats his enemies

Belphie

His clinginess knows no bounds and only intensifies when he's feeding into his instincts. He won't let you go anywhere, and either slowly follows you around, or holds onto you

It's pretty endearing from the outside looking in, but everything in Belphie wants to drag you down to his level, so he can always keep you close.

Do you REALLY need to go out today? Just do it tomorrow. Or use your pact and order someone else to do it.

His words have a drowsy effect that seeps into your head, and it's definitely a power that he may or may not abuse to get what he wants. But you're probably immune to it, being the wonderful MC and all.

Also has the habit of literally cocooning you in blankets so you can't leave his bed. It's like he's turning you into a personal comfort object.

[sasswonfp]

Pspspsps monster high fans come get y'alls juice

Abbey should've been taller no you can't change my mind