#smh he WOULD
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I saw a video the other day of womenâs husband who stopped to go check out some bison and the video starts with him running back over the hill yelling to start the car because he saw one get up and sheâs just laughing at him. I thought it was so Stan coded especially the way you write him!
Oh my GODDDDDDDD YOURE RIGHT!!!
Like the way my Stans have gotten WAY too close to an animal that could definitely fuck him up, every time, bc there isnât a single Creature out there that he doesnât wanna make friends with. This man will see a MOUNTAIN LION and be like :) kiittyyyy. He is looking at wolves and unironically thinking âcan I get that dogâ smh sir WHERE is your sense of self preservation
The answer: it flies out the WINDOW when he sees any animal ever. I literally wrote a TSOT oneshot where he tried to make friends with bear cubs and the mama bear clawed the fuck out of him and he was just like âIâm sorry I made you nervous I just wanted to say hiâ fully just not even blaming her at all as heâs actively bleeding out lmfao.
And if an animal fucked him up? Heâs not even CONSIDERING that theyâre in the wrong like OJV Stan once got his fucking ribs broken getting kicked by a horse and he fully maintains that itâs his fault for trying to give it medicine. And was he worried about the fact that he was LITERALLY unable to breathe? NOPE he was just sorry he scared the horse this man I swear
Iâm just imagining Stan getting way too close to that bison and Kyleâs over by the car like âoh my God Stan back up back upâ and Stan is just âthese things are so fuckin coolâ and then one gets up and like theyâre HUGE and then it GLARES AND HUFFS AT HIM and he totally bolts bc this man has watched an ungodly amount of Animal Planet and he knows what that means so heâs HAULING ASS like âKYLE START THE CAR START THE CARâ and once theyâre safely away kyle just goes âwell what did you think was gonna happenâ
I may need to write that now. Thatâs iconic.
And itâs SO kickass that u thought of my Stans when you saw that video thank you for letting me know, like I deadass CACKLED at 4am
#asks#THIS GENUINELY MADE ME SO HAPPY#south park#lmm voice: look at my son#smh he WOULD#but also same#I see a creature Iâm trying to approach it#literally earlier today I was trying to get close to a squirrel bc it looked really soft ok#and my partner was just like that things gonna scratch you#like? so?#Stan moment#stan marsh
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I don't want to regret the way I lived
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#fanart#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#yuji itadori#gojo satoru#nobara kugisaki#nanami kento#choso kamo#junpei yoshino#jjk leaks#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#this idea started as a 2 part series . then my braincells decided to spark and supplied 7 PAGES#'did you sleep hina' no#ws looking up mentally stable things like 'who has died in jjk' smh i love my hyperfixation media im sooooo glad so many ppl r DEAD#i *could* have included more ppl but i think this is a good crew. this is a yuuji emotional support crew#also Was gna include his grandpa final panel but i Did Not Want To#he is implied through th dialogue#side note i donot like how i cn see this scenario playing out . ..yuuji this isnt ur stop u r monopoly voice Just Visiting ok >:(#anyway I broke my own heart with this and ik i hyped it up a lot but i hope that its not just me...#hope i did not hype it up fr nothing and no one else finds it devastating :((((( that would b humbling in the worst way#pls ...join the happy party train.......i hate it here i suffered pls :<<<<#also !!!! colours in this !! i cooked i fear . adding th first bit of warm hitting yuuji's face after th first 2 panels....#ive never had that kind of experience while drawing before it was wild . painful ! but wild.#the whole transition from p 2->3 might b the most emotionally moving piece ive ever made to me#not 2 sing my own praises tho i will shut up ! i wil. nap
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I mean this with love and kindness. I hope all the girlies who were convinced Jayce would exile Viktor and inherently despise him for using the Hexcore on himself feel real silly right now.
#arcane#arcane spoilers#arcane s2 spoilers#jayce talis#viktor#viktor arcane#jayvik#HE LOVES HIM SO MUCH#THAT MAN WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM#some of yâall think so low of Jayce smh#like sure he exiled him in lol lore#but their relationship in arcane is fundamentally different#they like actually get along in this one
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Edwin after the confession is a menace
Bonus Charles being normal about it:
#payneland#edwin x charles#dead boy detectives#dbda#give a man a warning Edwin smh#what is he doing anyway? is it on purpose? he just can't help himself now thta he accepted his feelings? he just likes saying it?#not even he know methinks#honestly charles should hear how loved he is often#i think edwin would agree#also I think it would be funny if they had to deal with a specific kind of creature at least once a year#i picked the church grim because there truly are a lot of stories about them#and it felt fitting
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Honestly I feel like if Fiddleford fell into the portal instead of Ford, the whole plot of Gravity Falls would've been wrapped up decades sooner.
People forget that Ford needed Fiddleford's help to build that portal. Even with 12 PhDs and a god of knowledge whispering in his ears, Ford couldn't figure it out! And though FF is physically weaker than Ford, he's not exactly useless in a fight; he gets Ford out of trouble numerous times in Journal 3 & TBOB.
Ford traveled the multiverse for over 30 years looking for a way to kill Bill, and it's ultimately still Fiddleford (or rather a happier, healthier version of him) that helped finish the quantum destabilizer. In fact, Fiddleford made not one, not two, but three deadly weapons that were used against Bill, including the one that ultimately ended him (the quantum destabilizer, mystery shackatron, & the memory gun).
...so yeah, he would've been back home in time for dinner.
#smh hirsch gave fiddleford mcgucket anxiety addiction & repressed homosexuality bc he knew gf would end too quickly otherwise#fiddleford mcgucket#fiddleford hadron mcgucket#gravity falls#stanford pines#gravity falls au#AHHHH ford getting parallel!fiddleford's help for the destabilizer drives me CRAZY. 30yrs & a whole multiverse apart theyre still entwined#i NEED to know what that interaction looked like#fiddauthor
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VLAD'S ANGELS
#or 2/3 of them at least. we need another fledgling girlboss for vlad to recruit before sending his girls to kick danny's trio's @ss#if they'd written vlad correctly they would have realized an all girl henchman team is exactly what he needed smh#danny phantom#dani phantom#danielle phantom#valerie gray
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More drifting dreams silly stuff (tumblr killed quality pls click images)
Dreamcaptor ford and bill belong to @neonross
#gravity falls#mabel pines#bill cipher#gravity falls au#drifting dreams au#dreamcaptor au#drifting stars au#sorta?#drifting stars but ford is evil#stanford pines#my art#bill doesnât care much for mabel#lmao#ford probably zapped him after this and for no reason smh#i would say bro doesnt deserve that but he does#also the comic one took so fucking long i just couldnt figure out how to organise the text in a way that was satisfying#it still looks clunky but its been 15 hrs so im done
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a/n- this is so sad to think about
summary- megumi is curious about his âmomâsâ current situation⌠ft husband!gojo x pregnant reader
âââââââââââââââââââââââââ
âWhy are you so big?â
A choked cough caught in your throat at the little boyâs comment, his big, bug-like eyes scanning your belly as you fought to hold in a laugh, arm wrapping around his shoulders to pull him closer, his little form curled into your side on the couch.
âYour little brother is the reason, Iâm afraid,â your voice was soft as you eyed him, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion before his fingers latched onto your swollen belly, tiny digits pulling at the fabric of your top to reveal the skin underneath, your stomach now completely bare before him.
Megumi looked as if your reply was the most confusing thing to ever cross his mind, his nose scrunching as he pondered the meaning of your words before his eyes locked on yours again. âBut I thought babies came from birds?â
An amused sigh left your lips as you wondered who had told him such a thing, a certain white-haired man coming to mind as if in answer. âMegs, donât listen to what that idiot has to say,â you hummed, your palm cupping his cheek before brushing his dark locks out of his face.
âAnd who is this idiot, I wonder?â a familiar voice spoke in your ear, a surprised yelp coming from you at Gojoâs sudden presence. Your surprise quickly turned to anger, however, as you felt a restless kick delivered to your lower abdomen, your hand flying out to slap your husband against the chest, a gasp coming from his lips in faux hurt.
âYouâll scare the baby, Satoru,â came your muttered reply, his legs quickly maneuvering over the back of the couch to land next to you, long arm shooting out to pull you and Megumi into a smushed, side hug. âI love you too,â he smiled as he left a kiss to your cheek, one hand snaking around your torso to cradle your bare belly, the other ruffling the boyâs hair while he was distracted.
âYouâre the idiot!â Megumi blurted, fingers slapping Gojoâs hand away as you scoffed, a facetious âthanks megsâ slipping from your lips before Gojo hummed gratefully for the boyâs insight. âAnd why am I the subject of your bullying?â he purred into your ear, your eyes turning to look at him far more eagerly than he anticipated.
âMegumi was wondering where kids come from. You should tell him, Toru,â you said sweetly, a grin starting to pull at your lips as his own fell from his face, the tips of his ears turning red as well as a light blush creeping up his neck. You watched as he looked at the waiting Megumi, his innocent eyes staring into Gojoâs own, waiting for his answer.
A gulp came from your husband, his long fingers rubbing your belly as if for reassurance before he confidently said, âItâs just as I said, Megs, a white bird came into our room at night and gave her your soon-to-be brother. Thatâs all there is to it.â
Megumi maybe thought his answer to be true, or maybe he didnât, he didnât seem to care though, a smile pulling at his cheeks as he watched you struggle to hit Gojo over the head, frustrated huffs coming from you as Satoru himself just grinned, your shared voices eventually twining into comfortable conversation as the little boy snuggled up to your stomach, the soft words the two of you shared pushing him closer and closer to drowsiness, and ultimately, the hands of his afternoon nap.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââ
#he would be the best dad smh#why do i want a baby so bad#gojo satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojo x female reader#jjk fluff#gojo x reader
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he's just a lil' guy who's never done anything wrong in his life Ever
#hellooooo beagle nation how we doing tonight#*this afternoon#well it might be night for some of you! fuck if i know!#he's so... he's so.... Shaped... such a good Shape....#the goodest boy....#scribble garnish#welcome home#welcome home puppet show#welcome home fanart#barnaby b beagle#i have said it before and i Will say it again-#i would kill to lay on him like a giant beanbag#i'd be the coziest in my life from now and for forever#see he's the ideal dog becuase hes Not a dog#no weird smell no weird fur residue no headache-inducing barking#barnaby is The hound ever smh
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Charm Brought It Back
Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse
Commission Info
I am so excited to present this Hocus Pocus inspired AU requested by the lovely @jackofallrabbits! The boys star as the witchy brothers who return once a fated reader lights the starry candle. They simply must show their gratitude! And what better day to post such a spooky and fun fic than on Friday the 13th?!
Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.
âââ
You turn the key and cut the engine of your car. With a flick, you turn off the headlights. The beginning of a sunset swoops down onto your ill-adjusted vision. The horizon is drenched in purples and oranges as shadows begin to crawl off of trees and their yellowed leaves. It will take a minute or two for your sight to adapt, but you have tilted and revolved the structure waiting just at the edge of the forest within your mindâs eyes for days now. Itâs beyond the dirt road youâve pulled onto the shoulder of.
Blinking slowly, you find the houseâs dark silhouette through the boughs of clustered trees, and you sigh at the beauty of its preserved history.
The building is an artifact dating back roughly to the 1630s. A post-medieval English-style home, it contains two stories with an overhanging jetty and stunning clapboard siding that has survived a little under four centuries of existence. Your eyes catch on the windows and your heart sings at the sight. Diamond-paned casement. And there, decorative pendants of celestial bodies, including iron-casted suns, moons, and overlapping symbols of the two. The steeply pitched roof is common for the era and is more renowned in its descendant the saltbox form, but this style boosts its spooky aura.
The Puritan colonists were the ones responsible for importing the style to America as they landed here on the eastern coast.Â
Itâs no stretch of the imagination to think of witches and execution trials while gazing over the beautiful home. Youâre particularly intrigued by the history of the Salem witch trials, and as a historian, you couldnât deny yourself the chance to enter the building and feed the gnawing need to stand within a piece of history.
Stepping out of your car, a gust of wind carrying the bitter edge of autumn cuts through your brown sweater. You shiver and shut the door as quietly as you can manage. This is hallowed ground. This will supply your ever inquisitive mind which is always looking to the past with a curiosity most insatiable.
You face the home. A footpath lightly serpentines between the trees. Hooligans with destructive tendencies and teenagers on dares will venture here for a spooky, fun time, but are usually caught by the police because the building sits on private property. You asked for permission from the owner of the hundreds of acres of forest land that includes the so-called âWitch Houseâ if you might enter the premises. Given your credentials, you were certain the owner would trust you with exploring the home.
Much to your relief, the owner agreed.Â
You look up, arms clutching your knitted sleeves to fight the chill of an October breeze, in awe and reverence.Â
From your pocket, you slip out a wrought-iron key with the symbol of the moon overlapping the sun to form a black eclipse and marvel again at the intricacy of ancient beauty. Your fingertips grow chilled in the late hour. The sun shifts from orange to dark, bleeding red like blood from a heart spilled across the horizon. You walk towards the home.Â
Perhaps you should have arrived sooner. You were caught in another historical journal depicting the specific timeframe of when this home would have been occupied by its original inhabitants.Â
The rumors even now speak of curses and cursed artifacts within the building. Some of it is trueâyou have confirmed with your own scholarly sources. The original owners were a trio of brothers. They were accused of witchcraft and hanged for the crimes. That much is historically documented and verified.Â
What is fantasy is the tale of the brothers casting a curse with their dying breaths, declaring they would one day return if a virgin lit a starry candle on the anniversary of their executions.
Superstition. Most likely, the fear of the townspeople transcended to their children, and their children, down and down until it became a tale to spin on Halloween night around these parts.Â
The door is black as you approach it. A stray branch catches on your sweater, pulling on a thread, and you yank yourself free and silently mourn the roughen fabric before returning your attention to what really matters. You must be careful. This entire place is iconic and in need of preservation.Â
You slip the key into the lock hole and turn it with a thick, heavy click before the black wood door groans and slides inwards as if inviting you into its sphere. You take a breath. Your boots cross the threshold and you enter the home.Â
As is typical of some homes built in the early seventeenth century, an open hall greets you. In the far back is the fireplace with a cauldron still sitting upon an ashy bed. An original wood-carve table and chairs are set to one side as a staircase climbs up into the darkness of the second level. What little red light leaks inside is narrowed and cut up into diamonds by the panes. To one wall, shelves contain dusty and forgotten cooking utensils, once glimmery copper pots, and dinner dishes with designs considered much too gawky in the Puritan era but it causes you to softly gasp.
Your hand covers your mouth as you gaze around you, overwhelmed with the beautiful intricacies of metallic chandeliers holding half-burned tallow candles, and to the other wall lies a bookshelf covered in cobwebs as if the spiders refuse to let anyone examine such precious reads. Your fingers already itch to gently pry out one manuscript and gaze at the original script of whoever wrote it.
But the lightâitâs far too dark now. The red has given way to blue and pale indigo. You squint. You reach into your other pocket for a lighter and flick it on. The tiny flame spouts a delicate light. Never would you dare admit this out loud to a living soul, but you so desperately wish to see the home in its authentic state, lit only by the technology the brothers had at the time: fire.
There are thick, yellowed candles lying on the table and clustered together on the narrow window sills. You have no hope of reaching the metal chandeliers but you do spy a candelabra positioned near the bookshelf on a small end table. You light it first with a careful touch of your lighter flame. The wick catches, even after all of these years. You smile softly, your heart warm within your chest as you bask in the essence of this beautiful place.
A few more candles should suffice.Â
You slip to the table to light the thick and tall candles. The flames bloom and warm the space in rich light, casting thick shadows from support beams. You almost set your lighter away when you spy one last candle set upon a golden candle holder. The fashioned metal twists and twines with elaborate engravings of shooting stars and slices of sun rays were placed in the corner of the room almost out of sight. The curiosity within you urges you to take a step, then another, and another. You stand in front of the almost forgotten candle.
The tallow is black as midnight. Strange. How did they color this? Embedded within the darkness are speckles of white, splattering the candle like an array of stars. Your eyes stray in search of constellations before shaking your head.
Itâs true. There is a starry candle. Perhaps the brothers did dabble in the occult, playing with cards and fortune telling, and being punished with death for their interest in unholy magic.Â
The wick is dark and untouched as if it were never lit before. You bring the lighter flame closer. Superstition might worry another, but you concern yourself with logic and reasonâexplanations of humanity rather than inexplicable forces beyond comprehension.Â
Something stirs from a nearby corner shelf. Two long ears twitch. You catch a glimpse of a rabbit with creamy white fur just before it leaps off of the shelf and directly onto your arm. You yelp. Nearly dropping the lighter, you scramble back as the rabbit hits the floor, collects itself, and sits on its haunches.
Green eyes glare up at you. The rabbit, small and bunny-like, stays firmly between you and the starry candle.
You stand with your chest heaving and your lungs scraping out air, almost burning your thumb on the lighter flame before turning around yourself. Where did the woodland creature come from? Did it crawl its way inside like a rat and become trapped within the colonial home? The shot of adrenaline still flowing through your veins leaves your hands shaking.
The rabbit is still watching you with uncanny eyes. Prey animals so rarely stare back at bigger, larger threats. Perhaps itâs a pet. A runaway pet that somehow ended up here, of all places.
You slowly offer out your hand, keeping the lighter away in your other, as you take a step towards it.
It thumps a foot once, as if in warning, then bounds away. You watch it disappear into the house, still reeling from the fright it gave you.Â
If Michael was here, he would have laughed and told you to leave with him, now. He never wanted you to go here, especially alone, but you shake such ominous warnings away. He said curiosity killed the cat. You disagreed. This house is a part of history, not a curse. Witches are mere stories, conjured out of historical unrest and the longing to blame bad luck and tragedies upon an individual or three.Â
Thereâs always an explanation for fear superstition or mistrust. Itâs far more sad than it is spooky.
You shake your head, smooth out the creases in your sweater, and face the starry candle again. The lighter flame flickers softly as you draw near it.
It is the anniversary of the brothersâ executions. You remember now as the shadows from other candles drape over you like a veil. You are also a virgin.
You laugh to yourself, covering your mouth as you do so. Look at you! Youâre getting so worked up because a rabbit jumped at you.
Itâs only hocus-pocus.
You tilt the lighter until it engulfs the wick. The flame catches, and you at last snap the lighter shut and return it to your pocket. Your eyes squint slightly at the candle. The wick snaps and bursts into sparks. The flame is not yellow or orange or even blueâitâs pure white like a comet streaking across the sky.
A crack of thunder splits the night sky with a bellow so monstrous, you feel like a child again, fearing a storm. You drop low to the ground, shielding your head as if the very world was going to fall upon you. A spark cracks in the fireplace, conjured out of ash underneath the cauldron before it burns hot and bright. The cauldron immediately begins roiling and bubbling with water. Laughter, great and terrible, and filled with the most jester-like joy sweeps over the room.
The pulse in your ears drowns at any sense but the need to hide. You scramble into the corner, tucking yourself behind the stand of the starry candle and hunker down. Holding your breath, you grab a fistful of your sweater while clutching your chest, and watch the door to the almost 400-year-old house fly open.
Three figures stride inside, looking about the place with wide eyes and disk-like heads framed in jutting adornments not unlike sun rays or shrouded in a heavy, dark blue hood.
âBrothers! Weâre home!â The first one, tall and dark with deep red hues to his form, accent in sharp orange sun rays and an eclipse upon his face, turns to face his brother with bright, cat-like yellow eyes. âIsnât it glorious?â
Another figure steps forward, yellow and off-white. Pale eyes beam. His head is crowned in bright sun rays as well. His spindly fingers twindle together in exuberant energy while he glances about the room eagerly. âOh, yes, yes! More than anything! Itâs as if we werenât gone for more than a dayâthough the dust and cobwebs beg to differ.â
He draws a clawâyou suck in a sharp breathâalong the tableâs edge and rubs his taloned fingertips together in disappointment.Â
âWe must get to cleaning at once.â
âNo,â the last figure fixes his hood with silvery digits. Golden jewels hang down the back of his unusual skull, the last and most prominent adornment a thick, golden star pendant. His eyes cast around the room, scarlet, and searching. âWe must thank the little mouse who lit the candle.â
He flashes sharp teeth within his wide mouth, shaping it into a hungry grin. You gulp.
âWhere are our manners?â The red and dark one twists back to the room with a flourish of his arms. His yellow gaze sweeps over the shelves and floors with a blade-like glint. âOf course, we must thank one so lovely.â
A dark cape drapes about his person. Underneath, a white flowing shirt hangs loosely to his lithe and slender figure, causing you to balk upon staring at such an exposed chest. The other two are no different, wearing similar shirts and dark trousers, but the hooded one bears a thick, longer cape while the sunny figure shares a cape similar to the first.
The yellow one lifts his wrists and frowns at the red ribbons tied around them. Golden bells jingle softly in an ominous chord.Â
âHow terrible a reminder of our current impermanence,â he growls low in his throat, all cheerfulness lost and causing you to squeeze your ribs in fear.
âPatience, Sun,â the red one speaks, though he too casts a narrowed glance to the black ribbons and golden bells adorning his wrists. âWe will affix ourselves back to this world in due time.â
âEclipse, what a delicious creature I smell.â The hooded figure steps deeper into the home. Blue claws scratch at equally blue ribbons knotted to his hand bones but his attention is terrifyingly fixed on the candle stand just above your hiding spot.Â
You shrink further into the corner.
âYes, Moon? And how lovely?â Eclipse, you assume, asks. His yellow eyes flash.
âAs lovely as the stars,â Moon answers.
You watch claws curl around the wooden side of the candle stand, scratching deeply into the wood before a half-moon face emerges from behind, teeth set like a predatorâs upon the sight of a wounded animal. Your heart flutters like a bird with a broken wing.
âHello, little mouse. Wonât you come and play with us?âÂ
You scream as he leaps behind the candle stand, takes you by the arms, and pulls you to your feet. You struggle to free yourself, crying out as he grabs hold of your wrists and fixes you firmly in place.Â
âMy, how sweet,â he purrs in a dangerously low voice that rolls in the back of his throat. âYou are the darling virgin who lit the candle, no?â
âLet me go!â You thrash but Moon grins in delight, as if youâre simply too precious.Â
âYou deserve proper thanks,â He lowers one hand, forcing you to submit with slightly bent knees. âHere is my gratitude, little mouse.â
You freeze as he brings your hand towards his mouth, and a hundred, horrifying visions of him biting your fingers off or sinking his teeth in your palm send your blood into a frozen sludge of fear.
The witch, however, presses a kiss to the center of your palm. The softness catches the gears in your mind and jerks them to a halt.
âThank you for allowing us to return once more,â he rasps. His scarlet eyes find yours between the space of your thumb and forefinger, and a strange stirring takes hold of your middle.
âThis isnât real,â you breathe. Dizziness begins to take hold.
This must be a dream, a thought gone wild, or inhaled bacteria triggering hallucinations.
Moonâs grin widens. He lowers your hand, loosening his hold for one precious moment. You rip your hands free of his grasp. A low growl escapes him but youâve already slipped away, your eyes upon the door and spilling with the need to rush out into the night, away from the impossibilities standing before youâ
Arms snatch your waist and lift your feet from the ground. You gasp.Â
Held in the air, you squirm before a hot breath dusts the shoulder of your sweater. You fall still, your throat bobbing as a mouth presses into the corner of your neck and lays a kiss on the sensitive spot. Gooseflesh prickles up and down your body.
âI assure you, Iâm very real, little mouse,â Moon purrs. His hands squeeze your hips once. âAnd as nice as this⌠attire is, I would dress you in blues and silvers. You would look proper and powerful, like my brothers and I.â
A squeak escapes you. You shrink against him, caught in his embrace.
âBrothers?â The word rattles out of your throat.Â
âThis is our home,â Moon whispers. âAnd you are our most honored guest.â
You manage to pry off his hands from your waist. With a sinister chuckle, the blue and silver hands release you. Without looking back, you run, ignoring the twinge in your stomach that whispers it was too easy to get away.
You hardly get a few steps before the sunny oneâSunâsteps into your path. He catches you in his arms and spins you in a waltz at breakneck speed, your feet never touching the ground, before stopping without warning as he dips you low. He looms above you, his smile filled with sharp teeth.
âLet me get an eyeful. Oh, yes, you look good enough to eat,â he simpers. His hand splays along the small of your back and you gawk up at him, still trying to regain your balance after the sickness-inducing whirl. âYou have no idea how long Iâve waited for you.â
âI just want to leave,â you whimper. âPlease, donât hurt me.â
âHurt you? Sunshine,â he laughs, and it echoes with all of his heartâdo once-hanged witches have a heart? There is no historical journey to give context to this very moment, you fear.
He lowers his sultry gaze to you. âI wish to only thank you. And I intend to.â
He pulls you back to your feet. Youâre still clasped in his embrace like lovers on a ballroom floor. His hand hooks tight to your hip, and his other catches the side of your face. Heat spreads through the marrow of your bones.
On the tabletop beside you, something white moves across the plane of its surface, hunkering behind the thick stack of candles still burning.
His head lowers to your neck. You stiffen as he tilts your head away, opening you to his parting teeth. A tongue, dark and sinuous, flicks out of his maw. A gasp slips from your lips at the wet lick up the column of your throat. Eyelids fluttering, you start to sag as weakness fills your knees. He drags his tongue higher to taste your jawline and finishes at your cheek with a swipe for good measure.Â
Your hands find him and clutch tightly to his slender arms. He presses his lips to your ear and with a misty warmth, whispers.
âThank you forâGah!â
The white rabbit leaps up from the table, squirming directly between you and his chest, breaking you apart. Instinctively, you jump away just as Sun snarls. The heart-wrenching sound shakes your entire frame as he snatches the rabbit by the scruff before it can scramble back from his wretched claws.
âIâll boil you alive!â he thunders. He steps towards the cauldron, back where Moon leans against the wall, watching the spectacle with an amusing twitch of his grinning maw. Behind you, Eclipse stands at the door like a sentinel, his eyes still hungry and even furious as he follows his brotherâs movement to the cauldron.Â
Sun dangles the rabbit, now struggling and kicking but unable to find purchase against the witchâs hold, above the boiling water of the caldron.
âNo!â you cry.
Sunâs eyes widen. He turns back to you just as you close the distance and scoop the rabbit in your arms. His claws, pale-boned and wickedly curved, clench around emptiness. Without thought, you turn and run again though there is little hope as you come to the door. Your boots stamp against the wooden floorboards.
The rabbit in your embrace turns its face up to you and mutters in a womanâs voice, âYou have no idea what youâve just done.â
You gawk, stunned before hands catch you by the shoulders. Youâre brought to a dead halt. The rabbit leaps from your arms, drops to the floor, and races away into a shadowy corner of the room with only one glimpse of its fluffy tail before youâre left alone.
You twist and face the eldest witchâs attention. Eclipse. His yellow eyes go up and down your body, and you watch in muted shock as two additional arms emerge from the shadows of his cap. He forces you backward, one step after the other until your back is pinned against a dusty wall.
You stare into his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Your pulse pounds in your eardrums.
âI donât believe this is happening,â you utter.
The witch tilts his head with a wicked grin.
âWeâll make you a believer yet.â He promises, and his deep cords vibrate through your form. âMy dear, we simply must thank you for all that youâve done for us.â
His claws slip over your collarbones. Your breath quickens, a stirring you cannot name unfolding deep within your middle. His extra set of hands fall to your hips and begin caressing the bones. Daintily, carefully, his warm fingertips slip just underneath the hem of your sweater, touching your bare flesh. A shiver runs down your entire body, leaving you to squirm.
âBe a good little comet,â he says softly, âLet me pour my gratitude all over you.â
âI didnâtâI didnât know it was true,â you stare into his face, marked with a red crescent over a dark shadow, and his eyes pierce into the very nature of your being. âYouâre back.â
âBecause of you,â he rumbles softly in his chest. His grin pulls higher at the corners.
His claws slip over the nap of your neck and card gently into the small, sensitive hairs at the bottom of your skull. You breathe in. His eyes brighten in pleasure before he slips his sharp but controlled talons over the shells of your ears and follows the arch of your cheekbone. His gaze drops to your lips. Your heart thumps and thumps against your sternum so powerfully, you fear he may hear it.
His lips pull over his razor-sharp teeth and you stop breathing.
His other set of hands begins working up the sides of your torso. He rubs slowly and gently, but you squirm despite this. He touches you far too intimately when you have never experienced such affections before. A mewl escapes your lips. You wriggle as he refuses to relent.Â
In answer, his upper hands lower and capture your hands together in one, and pin them above your head to hold you in place. He coos, chastising. A great roil starts in your stomach and expands upwards until your face becomes pink and flushed.
âHold still, little comet,â he chuckles, and you whimper. âIâm not finished with showering you in all my adoration.â
âEclipse,â your breath is harsh and hot.
âIt is good to hear my name upon such lovely lips,â his voice lowers, husky and scorching. âI knew a virgin would light the candle. I swore it to my brothers as they set us on the gallows and draped nooses around our necks. You are our light, our savior. How could I ever thank you?â
In his words, his burning stare that singes with sincerity, it clicks into place. All at once, you believe what you are seeing with your own two eyes.Â
Itâs true. Heâs back. He and his brothers have returned with magic.
âI have questions,â you say hesitantly in your demureness, âI want answers.â
âOf course,â Eclipse agrees easily. âBut firstâŚâ
A dark claw brushes your hair back from your face. The flutter in your heart canât seem to hold still. Eclipseâs grin widens and his eyes soften.
âYou have freckles like constellations,â he murmurs in the manner of one gazing at the night sky or one studying an ornate painting. Â
Before you can shape words to reply, to say anything that might free you from his grasp, his mouth is upon yours. A sound softly catches in the back of your throat. You fall still under his caressing hands still moving below your sweater. He traces the row of your ribs. You have just enough mind to wonder if he feels your skin prickle in your sensitivity. His other hand clasps your wrists tighter. You gasp against his teeth.Â
He pulls gently, hungrily, taking you as if a bite of honeycomb. You become melted honey, easily malleable between his teeth and then molded by his mouth. His tongue invades you. You moan softly at the claim he lays upon you until you become weak in the knees and almost fall. His kiss seals your fate.
He releases you from his maw. You sink slightly, and his arms fall out from under your sweater to properly catch you. He lowers your wrists, returns your hands, and brushes your hair once more from your face.
A chuckle emits from his lips, and you burn.
âYouâll stay with us, wonât you?â he asks, but he waits for no answer as he scoops you into his arms. Feet dangling, you have no choice but to cling to his shoulders and endure his brothersâ attention as he twists around and faces them.
The rabbitâs right. You are in trouble. Michael warned you. He said curiosity killed the cat.
But charm brought it back.
#naff's writing commissions#witches and rabbits and candles oh my#if michael was there he would be so mad at you for lighting the candle smh#hocus pocus au my beloved#witch!eclipse#witch!sun#witch!moon#charm brought it back#naff writing
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The one where having a secret lab in the basement is not as much of a red flag as it should be.
Because somehow, EVERY. SINGLE. ADULT. IN ALL OF AMITY. Have âsecretâ basements.
Sure, MOST of them have refitted them to act as emergency bunkers in case thereâs another large-scale ghost attack, with rations and shields and blankets and all that, BUT. Even BEFORE the portal opened up, they were there.
Some of them were laboratories dedicated to one of many sciences. Some of them were just storage for the more concerning family heirlooms. At least one person kept the taxidermied bodies of each and every pet they had over their lifetime. Really, it was more odd for someone to not have some weird secret in their basement.
So when Danny ran from Amity and learned just how many people didnât have strange, niche basements for their hobbies, he was a little put off. When he was eventually asked to stay with the Wayne family in Gotham, well, maybe he could have phrased it better.
How was he supposed to know that asking if they had a âsuper-secret basement either for your job, your personal life, or disaster preventionâ would lead to them thinking he knew about their nightlife?
#dp x dc#dc x dp#dpxdc#dcxdp#we always talk about how he would avoid creepy basements#but like? imagine if everyone had one???#and instead of thinking that itâs weird#Danny thinks having said basement is normal#and so when heroes go around in their civilian ID trying to get a read on this meta runaway#hero: do you need someone to stay? just for one night?#danny: I dunno⌠do you have a super secret high-tech basement?#hero: âŚno?#hero: (does he know?)#danny: you donât? how am I supposed to trust you then smh
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That middle child feel when youâre the one who successfully gets you and your siblings out of trouble only to immediately get jumped by them afterwards
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#rise leo#pouring one out for all my fellow middle children đ#Donnie betraying his fellow middle child like thisâŚeven being the one to throw him under the bus first smh#no but like if I was Leo here Iâd be like wtf guys#it does make me wonder if Leo constantly was the one who got them all out of messes#and in turn the main one who took the fall if his attempts failed rip#we kinda see this often in the series tbh? where Leo takes point when it comes to talking out a situation#maybe it started very very young as seen in this short#(actually there is no âifâ Leo was the one doing this he literally WAS at least twice as tots from what weâre shown)#side eyes Bug Busters where Leo gets his bros out of being turned into clowns and immediately gets blasted đ#no thanks in sight#canât even blame him for being a sore winner there I would be too lol#and then he gets thrown off a building like man all around an f tier day for Hamato Leonardo#side note but Leoâs face stripes look especially pink in this lighting and I really like when we can see that pinkness because it looks cute
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new official illust of them with puppies healed something in me
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yuji itadori#megumi fushiguro#nobara kugisaki#fanart#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#file name pupys btw bc they r all. pupys#6 pupys in this image#cries eternally u kno the cruel thing is there is no winning fr me when it comes 2 creating art fr this series#i draw them in canon situations i experience pain i draw them in noncanon Relaxed situations i experience pain#illusion of choice.....#regardless i care them so much i would MUCH rather them b in a sunny field with dogs#i will endure the bittersweet feeling of being an audience member n knowing that their reality is nowhere this tranquil#i can dream :'< i can draw :'<#anyway this took a billion years bc i made megumi stand smh#he didnt fight or anything but th overall Composition ws a bit harder 2 navigate because of it#smth smth sizing smth smth planes idk i cant draw#i think it makes sense tho! nobara/yuuji sitting chilling casually rolling a tennis ball fr their puppies#meanwhile megumi Actively trying 2 train his#head in hands god im MISERABLE#anyway this will b available as a print per request if any1 wants 2 b miserable with me
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Manwhore AU headcanon
I like to believe Manwhore Ody got home shortly after the war ended because he didn't have to deal with any of the bullshit that canon Ody has to deal with.
Like imagine: if only he seduced his way out of the whole Polyphemus situation, he wouldn't have pissed off Poseidon, meaning he would've got home pretty much immediately.
I'm not even saying he had to fuck Poly (he'd die), but he could've used his babygirl looks or something. Be like "I'm sorry about your sheep, pookie *bats eyelashes*", but no. He just had to abandon all reason and blind the cyclops before telling him his full legal name and address.
#epic the musical#epic#the odyssey#epic odysseus#odysseus#epic poseidon#poseidon#epic polyphemus#polyphemus#shitpost#manwhore au epic#manwhore au#anniflamma#epic the cyclops saga#epic the ocean saga#epic circe saga#epic ocean saga#epic the thunder saga#epic vengeance saga#so much for the warrior of the mind#won't even use every tool he has available#smh#he could've avoided all of this#if he just used his head#everyone could've lived#eurylochus would probably still be traumatised from seeing his captain flirting with a cyclops tho#polites would be conflicted#he'd be happy Ody didn't choose violence#but unsure of the method#penelope would've been proud either way
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a handful of kisses
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#astarion#bg3 astarion#khael tav#disegna e bevi#dnd#all of these were supposed to be quick warm up sketches AND YET#did I give them the true love's caress/embrace rings? of course I did who do you think I am#what would be the point of having a tank bf if he can't even take half the damage for you smh#otp: Warding Bond
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Ectoberhaunt Day 13
Isekai: Old Hero New World
#i have Thoughts about Harbinger!Danny#bro is Very interesting in Aether bc he wants to go home#he and aether would prob get along rly well tbh#this danny is kinda bitter bc he's been separated from his family. but he can be a silly goofy guy occasionally#he and childe are besties. i declare this now. both love their families and want to protect them#also- abyss and ghost zone?? hmmmmmmmm#abyssal energy is ectoplasm... maybe?#idk#oooh that would be neat bc then danny is like the exact opposite of aether/lumine (with their full/light power)#danny has a fake cryo vision. bro doesn't really need a delusion but he can have an anemo one. as a Treat#(he wants to be Free of this world)#danny just wants to go home but no he gets dropped into the middle of snezhnaya smh#ALSO. back to the point of the post lol-#danny HATES dottore. but also the guy kinda reminds him of his parents (who he rly misses). it's very trauma-bond-y.#danny phantom#dp#ectober#eh 24#day 13#ectoberhaunt24#ectoberhaunt 2024#ectoberhaunt#(its rly late i know but i'm not stressing this yearâ¨ď¸)#(dottore is also equally fascinated in danny.but no way in HECK is danny gonna let him experiment. so dottore has to be Subtle about it lol)#genshin impact#scaramouche#combining my fixations đđ (always)
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