#there are ZERO good wigs for it

[gothamslostboy]

So I have to grow out my hair to dress as David for holloween right? Here’s a progress pic:

This is the longest my hairs been in almost three years, and I don’t think I have the willpower to not shave this shit away.

Honestly how do ppl deal with the constant feeling of hair on their neck? Y’all deserve medals bc wtf it feels like little knives

I’ve completely forgotten how to sleep in a way that doesn’t make me look like this in the morning :

[cpirits]

// Screaming in my soul about finally writing my favorite DMMD ship with people. I love it so much and I know it's kind of problematic, but who cares? Not me. The fact that I write both muses in the ship is fun, but I have to say I love writing Aoba the most.

[bismuthburnsblue]

we take a break from your regularly scheduled sewing to make hair soup

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

So, they just forgot how curlers work or...

[fremedon]

Me when I have to vote against Fiddler in the musical bracket:

[cryptid-paint]

RELEASE THE DIVA!!!! *I scream into a megaphone as Butchverine walks into the stage*

A couple of notes on my take on sapphic Poolverine:

-wolverine's full name is Jane Lenore Howlett, she mainly goes by Jane, she still goes as wolverine as her hero persona

-Lady Deadpool startet to call her Lottie (because of her middle name, Lenore) because it rhymes with Hottie "hottie Lottie"

-doesn't really cares about makeup, sometimes she can indulge a bit in wearing black lipstick but she's always seen with eyeliner....it's for intimidating purposes she says .....sure thing, we say (she's lying, she enjoys doing her eyeliner)

-Jane gives zero fucks about shaving, but we stand a soft fuzzy gal, so kuddos to her, Lady Deadpool says she is "as soft as a kitten"

-fashion wise Jane is all about the ripped jeans, combat boots, tank tops, sleeveless crop tops, flannels and ofc a good leather jacket

-Lady Deadpool's name is Winnona Wilson (I know her canon name is Wanda in the comics but marvel come on, there's already another Wanda and plenty of female W names, get creative!...plus Winnona is cuter)

-wolverine calls her whinennona, whiny or straight up Wilson depending on her mood

-Winnona LOVES accessories And is oftenly wearing wigs, cute hats, beanies and bandanas in her head when she's not wearing her mask, she loves makeup too! She enjoys false eyelashes, lipstick and sometimes eyeshadow, she draws in her eyebrows but she doesn't wears foundation tho, it irritates her skin a lot

-she probably has the biggest cute and funny earrings collection ever. Fashion wise I can see her rocking low waist jeans, rhinestone belts, crop tops and those juicy couture velvet tracksuits lol

[gremlingottoosilly]

Been thinking about this, bunny!reader with Ghost and Konig at the same time somehow, that poor woman ain't gonna survive

Oh!! She is going to die!! Being a bunny with Ghost or Konig is bad enough - these are predators with zero regard to your comfort. They might like you, even love you, but it just means they would be just barely careful enough to not kill you...they wouldn't care about silly things like making you comfortable! You're literally just a chewing toy to them, and it's the hottest and the most dangerous experience of your life. Ghost is taking you from the back, his dick is only slightly smaller than Konig's - and his shadowy tentacles are groping your asscheeks and making you spread wider, whining as he is forcing his cock in your underprepared ass. You might be extremely aroused from the slime that constantly leaks from Konig, but you still can't relax properly - can only cry and wiggle, as Simon covers you in bite marks. He only partially takes off his mask, not wanting for his competitor to see his face fully..but it's enough to kiss you, to bruise your lips and force some of his shadow tentacles inside of your mouth, pass Konig's tendrils. Konig is taking your pussy, his need to breed is to strong to resist. It's a good thing you're just a pretty dumb bunny - you're constantly in heat, constantly wigging your fluffy cotton tail and pressing your ears closer to your head, wanting for the big, strong predators to mark you. You are terrified of them, but Konig is filling your tummy with his eggs and your desire to breed is satisfied...he is leaving bruises on your plump hips and forces his tentacles even deeper, making sure that not an inch of your body is not covered in his fluids. He growls in your ear and you tremble - with them, it's only a matter of time when they snap, when they'd decide that you need to be punished properly. They would take care of you after, cleaning your poor, abused holes and laughing as they twitch around nothing, your hips buckle into their fingers as they clean you up. Poor, dumb bunny - they are shackling you to the nest, making sure you wouldn't escape even when they are filling you with their combined tentacles, never leaving your holes alone for long enough...

[thebestandrealestever]

more headcannons .

a/n : ion feel like doing warns or sums so js read and find out it ain nun dat bad femblack reader coded as always . i’m so burnt out idk why but anyways, hey mooties iloveu 🤫😉.

miles is a lame nigga who has absolutely zero game or experience so when y’all started talking he is WHIPPPEEEEEDDDDDD. wanting to do everything right. so surprisingly enough he went to his dad for on how to ask u to be his gfn, he admires the love his parents have.

u are a supermodel in his eyes, u do a ec like dancing or play an instrument? he thinks ur the best at it, he thinks ur the prettiest and coolest girl in the entire world, he thinks ur the smartest and really the only girl for him, this boy really loves his gfn.

miles is always looking out for u, makes sure the doors are locked, closes ur tabs and puts your phone on the charger, turns your tv off, ect. he just wants to make sure your straight

when he liked you he was always trying to impress you, it was short lived when you told him that you loved his personality.

he stole a watch for you so you could connect with his friends

you were miles realization that he needs to and is capable of making connects in his own dimension as miles, not spiderman . he usually gets sensitive thinking about how much you opened his eyes and made him feel heard in his own world.

it’s truly all about the little things with him, rubbing your hand with his thumb, waited on third date to kiss you for first time, asked some of your friends about things you liked, draws you everywhere always, sending you voice messages instead of text. and the fact he doesn’t understand why that’s such a big deal for u drives u insane.

didn’t know how to deal with your period at first so he asked his mom, he went out and bought your favorite everything.

thinks he’s the funniest nigga ever when he puts on your lashes and wigs

looks at your highlight’s at least twice a day because ur beautiful

can’t go to sleep mad at you or have you mad at him, if you guys argued he would be there with food and a million kisses to make up for lost contact then have a conversation about whatever the situation was. one time the argument was so bad you didn’t talk for 3 days “hey ma, i got chick-fil-a” he said while taking his coat off and putting the food down while trying to eye you out in the complete darkness, you just looked at him still upset. “i’m sorry (name), i shouldn’t have said that or raised my voice.” he sighed turning on your lamp to look at you. “i’m sorry too, i shouldn’t have talked to you like that. i missed you miles, we don’t go days without talking to each other” you said pulling him into a big hug, he rubbed your back and kissed your head. “i know, i’m sorry baby. let’s talk about instead of yelling at each other from now on okay? i don’t think i could do this again.”

loveeeessss it when u give him messages or shower with him (NOT LIKE THAT.) after a long ass day of being spiderman.

thought he was gonna die when you went on vacation.

when you’re stressed or he’s stressed you guys go on the highest roof he can find and just talk to eachother.

wants to be held like a baby in your arms burying his face in the crook of your neck laying his weight on you.

squeezed your hand so hard you couldn’t feel it after when he got his ears pierced and lemme tell u it looked so good.

rubs your feet and legs while you tell him about whatever problems you had.

willingly risk his phone blowing up to be on the phone with u while u sleep

okkkkk byeeee

[izvmimi]

cw: selfship content. halloween themed. female reader. multiple children are mentioned, all named. family fluff.

You sigh, running gel through your son’s freshly dyed sandy blond hair for what feels like the third time in the last twenty minutes as he frowns in the mirror and points to portions where his curls have overpowered his desire to mimic Dynamight’s signature spiky tips.

“Maybe we should just cut this part?” Izumi asks, a slight whine in his voice. You shake your head and tut.

“Be patient with me, honey,” you insist. He doesn’t seem so sure, brow furrowing which you smooth out with your non-sticky pinky. He whines again and you look to your other son instead to prevent yourself from being just as frustrated with him. Aki is sitting quietly and waiting patiently, kicking his feet as he sits on the edge of your bed and it makes you chuckle, because somehow the two-toned wig suits him a little too well, and you can imagine Shoto as a kid with the exact same peaceful expression on his face as he entertains himself.

You finally come up with styling that your eldest will accept and he gives you a thankful hug then starts to run off, almost tripping over a plastic gauntlet as it falls off his arm, poorly adjusted. Aki looks at you and then his brother, eyes wide in shock, and you find yourself laughing, because again, he’s got Shoto’s mannerisms down a little too perfectly.

“Mom!” Izumi immediately calls out, not bothering to pick the gauntlet up, pointing at it helplessly. 

“Baby, it’s not broken, don’t worry,” you reply softly, coming over.  You scoop it up and kneel to readjust it just when Izuku comes in, a little Red Riot on his hip, and your only child with a traditional costume, Atsuna the Good Witch, trailing close behind holding her father’s hand in a bright pink glittery dress.

“Is everything okay?” Izuku asks, tentatively. He’s dressed as a mummy but his heavily bandaged up face only sparing his curls, his eyes, parts of his nose and his mouth reminds you too much of every time he’s been practically chained to a hospital bed. Atsuna, as though summoned, runs over to tap a visibly anxious Izumi’s shoulder with her wand and he bristles at her but doesn’t snap and you’re thankful that your irritable son still loves his little siblings more than anything.

“The gauntlets won’t stay on,” Izumi grumbles. You fasten them carefully then remember you have tape and ask him to hold on. Izuku adjusts Kenji who’s sucking on a lollipop with zero cares in the world on his hip and frowns sympathetically.

“Aw, that sucks, buddy! You know whose costume doesn’t have gauntlets-“ 

“Izuku,” you warn as you rummage through the drawers for a lasting solution to the Gauntlet Affair.

“I’m just saying!” He calls back. Atsuna floats up to her dad’s eye level then taps her wand on his nose as well and he smiles at her before booping her on the nose as well. She giggles as 4 year old girls are wont to do and Izuku figures out her bid for attention and cradles her in his other arm.

“Aren’t you the cutest witch?” He praises her and she replies, “Princess witch, Dad! Princess witch!”

“Yes, Princess witch, of course!”

They play together for a moment while Kenji finally decides he’s had enough of sitting still and insists on slipping out of Izuku’s grasp to sit with Aki instead. Aki carries him awkwardly on his lap, still kicking his feet as he waits. Kenji thrusts his saliva-covered lollipop in his face but Aki shakes his head instead and smiles without consequences.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you finally secure the gauntlets with enough tape to last sixteen years of play. Izumi, now overjoyed, throws a few punches then jumps for joy.

“Okay, let’s go!” He insists, beaming and despite your earlier unrest, this also brings you to a grin.

—-

“I just don’t know why he doesn’t think I’m cool too,” Izuku mopes as the two of you stand back at the edge of the curb, watching Izumi, Aki and Atsuna collect candy from a particularly well decorated house. Atsuna stands ahead, singing “Trick or Treat!” and gets the oohs and ahhs she deserves while Izumi pretends to be tough and gets candy regardless, and Aki is tremendously polite as usual, bowing as he’s treated as well. 

“Let your kids escape you for one night, Izuku, please,” you reply. He pouts again and you giggle. “Just on our short walk here we passed by five Dekus, I think you’re liked enough.”

“It’s not the same!”

Izumi might look nearly exactly like Izuku but that similarity is bidirectional when it comes to pleading with you.

Kenji looks at his dad and shakes his head too solemnly which makes you nearly burst out laughing, and then he offers you a now nearly completely consumed lollipop stick that almost sticks to your Dorothy costume wig if not for your artful dodge. You peck his forehead to distract him as you gently remove it from his sticky fingers, then continue to watch ahead at your older children.

“And he banishes us,” Izuku adds, displeased. 

“He’s banishing you, not me,” you correct.

“I can’t stop people from asking me for autographs.” Izuku’s close to another why-doesn’t-my-son-love-me spiral, as Izumi often sends him in, and you pat his cheek sympathetically.

“I know, and that’s why I appreciate the mummy costume this year, although it’s not working with our theme, baby.” You pinch his cheek. 

“I think considering half of us are cosplaying as my high school friends, and the other half the Wizard of Oz, we don’t have a cohesive theme anyway,” he retorts, crossing his arms. He looks satisfied with his response and you raise an eyebrow.

“Are you telling me I should have dressed like Ochaco?”

The blood drains from his face.

“When did I say this?”

“Careful,” you reply icily. He gives you a nervous smile, then kisses you on the forehead. You let him defrost you, and Izuku pulls away as both of you receive a group text.

We’re turning the loop, we’ll meet you halfway? Your friend texts you and Izuku. With that text, there’s a picture of Bakugou’s son dressed as a little Deku which makes you stifle a laugh. When you turn to Izuku, he’s positively elated. It’s the original suit too, the very first costume he’s ever had at UA and looks almost perfect, and Izuku raves about the attention to detail and how he can’t wait to see the little boy in person.

“See you’re someone’s hero!” you whisper as the kids finally make their way back with their hauls. Atsuna and Aki obediently hand the buckets to you to inspect the candy before you hand them each a piece, and move on to the next. Izumi frowns but reluctantly hands his bucket to his dad.

Izuku takes it and ruffles his hair before Izumi runs off ahead, Aki and Atsuna following close behind. Izumi suddenly stops, and turns to Izuku.

“Dad, race me?” he asks. 

Izuku is happier than anything to do so, and you watch your family run down the street, as sweet a sight as can be.

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Some old writing I did for a Harbor Town AU x canon POTC situation

So like, this is out of the blue, but some time ago I might have thought up a scenario where the canon POTC cast find themselves in the AU world and, well, not get along. Something about canon Beckett wanting to steal modern technology to get the upper hand in his war while the townspeople try to send the scurvy lot back to their time without the government getting involved.

It was mostly a mishmash of broken scenes but I wrote a bit where AU Norrington has to disguise himself as the 18th century version for some intel or other and runs into Beckett (you'll see which one).

(This was written in 2022, just so you know.)

OH AND IN THE MEANTIME here's the document for general AU ideas I had in 2021. It's been three years, I've outgrown shame.

"Lord Beckett, the Admiral is here to see you." As Groves - the other Groves - stepped forward and opened the door, Norrington tugged discreetly at his collar. It was by some miraculous coincidence that he had recently learned the general methods of donning period garb for an educational reenactment, but heck, the stuff was uncomfortable. He hoped that whatever the situation was, it would end quickly; the boots were already hurting his feet, and more importantly, he wasn't sure he could hold the guise very long.

"Let him in," a smooth voice answered. He was led into what he could only vaguely describe as an organized mess of an office. There were furnitures of very expensive-looking wood, and everything was in perfect order, but there were just so many objects - some of which he could not even guess the uses of. He had to steel himself for a moment, reminding himself that 18th century Admiral Norrington of the Royal Navy would not be caught gawking at his superior's belongings. The doors creaked shut behind him, leaving only him and - presumably - Lord Beckett in the room. He spotted a large portrait of a man standing atop a globe, as if he had conquered the world. The outfit was unfamiliar, but the face bore the likeliness of the Cutler Beckett he knew. So their version has more of an ego, he mused. He turned to face the other side of the room where, behind another one of those fancy polished wooden desks, sat the other Cutler Beckett. Which is to say, basically the same man but in a powdered wig and embroidered waistcoat. Norrington bit the inside of his cheek, successfully holding back a laugh. (To be fair, he himself was looking rather like an ice cream sundae at the moment.)

Wait, was he supposed to say something? How would a Navy officer initiate conversation? He was saved the bother by the other man.

"Ah, Admiral," he started. "Just on time. Excellent. We ought to discuss the matters previously mentioned, then?"

Oh god what was he supposed to say, he had no idea-

"But first, there are some things I need to check."

Oh no oh no oh no-

"Admiral," Beckett started again briskly, not paying attention (thank god) to the visibly anxious not-Admiral. "You were to be stationed on the Flying Dutchman before the recent series of events transpired, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," Norrington answered as dryly as possible, immensely relieved that it happened to be among what little bits of information he had picked up here and there.

"Good," said Beckett, still not looking, "that seems to be in order. Ah- one more thing. I would need your phone number."

"Zero seven-" Norrington stopped.

What?

"-five, one zero one four, and I will not mention the rest," finished Beckett in a low voice, finally looking up. The smooth drawl in his voice was gone.

"Sir, I-" 

But even as Norrington's brain scrambled to come up with a plausible excuse amidst his mounting confusion, he noticed that the shadows under the shorter man's eyes looked all too familiar - and then Beckett whipped off his wig, revealing a sleek brushed-back hairstyle that was definitely not in fashion during the Age of Sail. So this wasn't the other one after all.

"Don't bother," Beckett called as he rose unceremoniously from his seat and bent down to rummage underneath the desk. "I specifically ordered the men to look for James Norrington near the piers and-" he rose back up with a handful of papers - "told them he would most likely have lost his uniform. I see it's been working out so far." He pushed the papers into Norrington's arms.

"Here, take these. They seem to have stolen some documents of mine, and while this is the majority of it there are still several missing."

"What's going on?" he asked, feeling rather stupid all of a sudden.

"I just explained," the not-Lord Beckett gave one of his scathing glances. Then his narrowed eyes softened slightly. "I explained enough. We don't have time for the full story at the moment."

He picked up his wig from the desk and replaced it on his head. "Now go," there was a hint of urgency in his voice. "Tell them you've been sent to join the reconnaissance party. They will lead you out."

"What about you, Lor- I mean Mr. Beckett?" asked Norrington, safely tucking away the papers in one of his frock coat's inner pockets.

"I still need to look for the rest of the documents," Beckett reminded him.

"What of the other... you? The Lord?"

"Oh, I think we'll have several hours before we have to worry about him, don't worry." answered Beckett with a small, rather ominous smile. "Now please take your leave."

As Norrington walked out the doors and headed up the corridor towards the upper deck, he muttered to himself, Oh god he hit him with the McDonald's sprite.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hii its me again! Sorry to bother you 😅 did you know hanzo hasashi and kuai liang from mk11? Can i request about reader having some wings but reader is not demon or angel just born with it, reader is injured from having some fight against hanzo and kuai, they think reader is a threat, the reader is just a hunter with a pure soul (ig??) , and reader wings got slit up or something like that i guess. Take your time to write! And don't forget to take a break! I hope you have a nice day ♡♡

author note: don't worry and thxs for being so nice! Sub zero!Kuai Liang with that golden retriever eyes makes my heart do insane tricks.

Kuai Liang: -You are not the first winged creature that tries to attack Lin Kuei, so at the first sight of wings, Liang is already on your throat. -It's when the damage is already done, one wig ligaments cut and unrepairable that Liang notices that you are, in fact, not a warrior and for sure not a danger. -He is remorseful. It's all his fault if you are in this condition now. -So Liang takes you in Lin Kuei's quarters, making you his trainee. -At least now, you'll know how to defend yourself well. -And maybe, if you are good enough, you can become the future grandmaster…

Hanzo Hasashi: -"I'll burn you to crisp." "???" -He attacks you before you can even understand what is happening. -For such a fast warrior, it took awful long to understand you are no threat, stepped in Shirai Ryu grounds unknowingly. -Hanzo knows the remorse he has inside his soul; again, his anger took over. Your wings are now useless, feathers burnt to ashes. -He decides to train you and give a home where you can live safely. -Hanzo will ask if you have a family, ready to bring you back there and accept the punishment. -But you are alone, so you accept his offer of living with him. -Hanzo is still rough around the edges, but if you treat him nicely, you'll be able to witness his soft core.

[leresq]

Finally watched Deadpool and Wolverine. First of all I was not coming into this with high hopes because even though everyone was talking about how good this movie is I've never found the Deadpool movies funny. To me they're just different variations of "You haven't seen this in an Iron Man movie" stretched into two now three feature length films. But honestly I liked it at the end.

- Why are Logan's ears and one of his eyes not decayed when no other part of his body is intact? Why does he have a beard on his jawbone?

- I'll bite, the Bye Bye Bye is a fun idea. The wintery forest setting is cool.

- I can't enjoy that opening fight scene because it's not how anything works. You don't get bludgeoned with a dull object, have your body armour completely give way, and have a pint of blood splash out. I understand the whole point of Deadpool is that it's over the top, but this is just so overly gratuitous it's insane. I feel like Marvel Studios felt like they had to make it so unrealistically violent to try and separate it from the mainline MCU to get the people who have Deadpool funko pops to guffaw in the theatre. It's "You haven't seen this in an Iron Man movie" with zero words spoken. Honestly incredible.

- The CGI is better than it's been recently but it's still noticeably bad

- Peter Parker's Iron Man mask is on the desk in the background! How did that even get there.

- Why is Tony's ARC reactor on the table, I thought that was pushed into the river at the funeral

- The timeline is just so incredibly fucked. I still don't understand how the X Men timeline reboot works, or how Logan fits into it; if Logan dying means Deadpool's universe collapses, that implies the Logan movie is in the X Men reboot franchise, but Patrick Stewart is in that and James McAvoy plays him in the reboot making me think it's a one off... Augh my head...

- Something looks up with John Favraeu. I don't know if his wearing a wig is supposed to be obvious, I don't know if he's just under a lot of makeup or it's CGI, it's just weird.

- Deadpool is never going to be an Avenger because Marvel Studios would rather execute everyone working for them than give up the licencing deals from making PG13 movies, and Deadpool wouldn't feel the same in a PG13 movie.

- I think any brand would let Ryan Reynolds walk all over them in muddy boots, for some reason he gets the pass to slander anyone he wants to and he gets paid by the companies to do it.

- 'I don't have a lot of v*ginal sex' 🤨 that has numerous connotations. Also can we not do sex jokes in front of 12 year olds

- I was not expecting a Deadpool movie to contain any hints of character development because the previous two instalments seemed to be hellbent on making sure I understood nothing of emotional value would ever be allowed to appear without being undercut by a sex joke.

- "I've never been a natural bottom" 🤨🤨 I thought Poolverine was just the average two male leads naturally gets shipped together thing but no they're sowing the fields

- If that Thor crying over Deadpool never comes back I will say something about it

- If they didn't want me to know Paradox was going to be a villain why would they make him British

- The 'Suck it Fox' cut to nothing being there is the only time I will accept something raising more questions than answering them at this level as funny

- "Your tailor is a predator" caught me so off guard I started coughing

- Wow I wasn't expecting them to pull the Paradox is actually evil card not even a third into the movie. Honestly a good subversion of expectations.

- How is Deadpool's universe going to evaporate in 74 hours, I thought time doesn't exist at the TVA?

- Are they going to explain why Deadpool's suit can just fix itself now. It used to keep its holes.

- Finally, I think the first time we ever hear Deadpool is from Canada in the movies! I wonder if Ryan Reynolds only wanted to play him in the first place because they're both Canadian...

- "You two gonna fuck or fight?" 🤨🤨🤨

- I actually understood the Honey Badger reference

- the FF floating platform thingy is another reference I'm surprised I got

- The Human Torch CGI is actually really cool

- "Not all of you was asleep" after waking up on his shoulder 🤨🤨🤨🤨

- Too many cameos in Cassandra's little alcove so I'm not even going to bother looking for them all

- I'm not sure if Johnny Storm's death was supposed to be played for laughs or just shock value, either way I'm not laughing I loved those movies ;(

- How does Cassandra know she's Xavier's sister if she was sent to the Void before she could walk?

- Wolvie being nice to Johnny post mortem is cool

- Nicepool having a stronger Canadian accent is a good joke, and Deadpool looking on in disgust as Nicepool talks about his dog's 'G-spot' is good. At least that's not played off as just a normal thing to say even if it is a joke

- "I identify as a feminist" could easily be misconstrued as an 'anti-woke' joke but all of the jokes of a similar calibre in this movie seem to be made ironically

- "Where's your mask" and Nicepool points to his face actually implying his nice guy attitude is a facade for being a shitty person is actually really good

- Why is Nicepool's car surrounded by untrampled corn, how did it get there? Who grew the corn?

- Deadpool includes Colossus in his world 🥺

- Wolverine is nothing if not an excellent shit talker, and it's actually very out of character for Deadpool to actually get affected by insults

- I wish The Greatest Showman soundtrack was incorporated for more than just a third of a second

- 'Close up magic' ant man reference?

- 'There's only ever gonna be one Blade' about that...

- I think that's Apocalypse's throne in Cassandra's room? Or Thanos's

- I never thought about how both Cassandra and Xavier's powers radiate from their heads until the Juggernaut helmet scene

- Finally some real actual genuine character development that's not thrown away for a joke!!! The best part of the movie to me was Cassandra's redemptio-. Oh. Nevermind. Anyway I like it better than if it were just shoved away for a joke then she died

- Deadpool waiting for the 'extras' to clear was, to me, a good indication that he's a hero now. Caring about civilians is #1 on my makes you a good guy requirements

- "You smell something?" "Yeah you" 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

- And there it is. Nicepool's death is probably the most predictable death I've ever seen on film.

- Eastside Pharmacy?! Agatha All Along reference???

- Wolverine's helmet looks like a rubber playground ball

- Will Marvel Jesus come back in three days however?

- Staring at Hugh's abs? Same, but 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

- That hand holding ending was actually impressive, I wasn't sure what was going to happen and it actually kicked ass

- Is the guy with the mug who stared at Deadpool in the beginning Marvel's first gay character

- The introducing Logan to Blind Al is so unbelievably 'the parents meeting the boyfriend' I could die there's no fucking way that wasn't on purpose

[demelzathemer]

My Heart Is a Haunted House

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 + 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘛

@dbdpromptober Day 6 (words: 1717)

In this episode of the Corpse Bride AU, featuring: Charles' uncanny ability to compartmentalize the horrors, Jenny being a single father

First Previous Next

Charles groaned, screwing his eyes shut tighter, trying to will the dizziness to die down. He felt a dull ache where he’d fallen onto the hard ground and moved his arms with difficulty, blindly grasping around him for something solid.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t anticipate such a harsh landing,” he heard a kind voice say, somewhere close to him.

When he cracked his eyes open, he saw a hand outstretched towards him. It had the most pristine white glove followed by a sleeve of a fancy pressed shirt and jacket. Charles’ muddy brain decided to zero in to the fact that the cufflink was missing, grabbing the hand without much thought.

He was pulled up and when he swayed, still wobbly on his feet, another hand came to support him on his upper arm. Charles felt something was weird and turned to stare.

The hand against his black coat was as stark white as the suit sleeve, bare tapered knuckles of a skeleton.

Charles snapped his head up. The corpse groom stood in front of him, peering at his face with a worried frown between his brows.

He yanked his hands back like he’d been burned when Charles flinched, staggering backwards. He saw hurt flash across that handsome face, but he was too disoriented to process it.

The ghoul bent down and picked up the fallen lantern with his skeleton hand.

“I’m-” he started, his voice strained.

“Edwiiiin-!” A sing-song squeal of delight interrupted him when a girl with long white hair jumped from behind a stone wall to skip towards them. Her bloodless skin matched her hair and kimono, giving her a ghostly appearance.

“We heard everything! Congrats, you two!” She beamed. The arms she threw around both of their necks were solid, pulling Charles from out of his head.

This was really happening.

From the vice-grip of her hug, Charles lifted his head to look around. They were on a cobblestone street, enclosed with walls, narrow alleys leading into dark shadows. He couldn’t see the moon above them, as if the sky was more like a low-hanging ceiling, trapping them underground.

“Come, come!” She hopped away like a bird, pulling at their sleeves. “Everyone wants to meet you!”

Charles let himself be pulled, but Edwin dragged his feet. Before they turned the corner, he turned to Charles, speaking fast in his polite manner.

“It must be quite sudden, I’m sorry. Everyone can be a bit… much, at first, but I assure you, they only have good intentions.”

Charles nodded his head slowly, still dazed. Music and lively sounds of a crowd could be heard from the other side of the wall. It had been a long time since he’d heard that electrifying buzz of a good party. Not once after leaving London.

Gazing down at Edwin’s skeleton hand holding the lantern and the ghost girl on his side, he came to a realization.

This was a dream. The most vivid and wonderful dream, the strangest dream he’d ever had. So whatever happened, he was going to have a good time, wasn’t he?

Charles grinned.

“Don’t worry about it, mate. I’m aces.”

Edwin seemed reluctant still, so Charles grabbed his hand. Even through the silk glove he could tell how cold his fingers were. They rounded the corner led by the ghost girl and Charles saw what Edwin had meant by “everyone.”

All the people gathered -and there was quite a crowd- were dead. There were those with clammy, gray skin, and those with parts of their bodies decayed. Some of their clothes were torn rags, some wore old-fashioned wigs and funeral attire, and then there were those whose flesh has long since fallen off their bones, leaving them as living skeletons.

A roar of cheers welcomed Charles and Edwin, joyful hooting and hollering, waving hats and raised glasses.

“Toast to the newlyweds!”

The people rushed forward to shake Charles’ hand and pat his shoulder, many pointed digits poking at him.

“Edwin, dearie, you’ve brought a live one!” One grandma exclaimed when she squeezed Charles’ arm.

“Fresh meat!” Squealed a skeleton kid where he clung to Charles’ leg, getting hoisted up with him when dozens of hands grabbed him.

His hold from Edwin’s hand was broken but when Charles caught a glimpse of him between the crowd, he was smiling.

The band played a wacky jazz version of the wedding march when Charles was thrown in the air with enthusiastic huzzah��s.

“To the loverboy!”

The clinking glasses spilled bright green liquid on the floor and was poured through empty rib cages. Charles barely missed hitting a chandelier with live candles.

“What are we celebrating?” He asked, out of breath from the jostling.

“Your proposal of course, you silly!” Somebody answered from the crowd.

“To our corpse groom!”

Over in the air he saw that the cramped space was a pub, with wooden counters and well-worn seats, the corners rounded and smooth from years of serving patrons.

“I proposed?”

The room was spinning in Charles’ eyes, colors and movement blurring together. The chandelier above him had mounds of melted wax covering it and dripping down. Every flame burned a different hue, casting moving shadows on the walls.

“Yes! It was so romantic! I hope someone would propose to me like that!”

Charles was tossed in the air for the third time.

“To their love everlasting!”

The many skeleton hands and bones arranged themselves into descending stairs. When the crowd parted, he was presented with Edwin in a spotlight. One look at the shy smile playing on his broken lips got Charles’ heart doing cartwheels.

You BET I proposed!!

The band played a groovy fanfare and Charles didn’t think he’d ever grinned as hard as when he stepped down towards Edwin. He didn’t feel his feet touching the ground at all, walking on air with joy when his hands met Edwin’s and he pulled him into dance.

Charles caught him when he stumbled, stiff as a board, and twirled him around. He heard the ghost girl giggle behind them, a clear and delighted sound, and Edwin caught Charles’ forearms, stopping him to give him a reprimanding look.

Breathing was light and laughter was easy when joy bubbled up in Charles’ chest, endeared by that stern lift of one eyebrow. The skeleton band played their cooky tunes, infectious enough to have everyone dance, and soon Edwin was swept along by Charles, relaxing with their hands tightly entwined.

Charles confirmed that time didn’t exist in dreams, because that felt like hours and too little at the same time. After one more song after saying two times it was the last song he was going to dance to, Edwin finally pulled Charles out of the party to have a break.

They slumped on the barstools on the far end of the counter, Charles’ shoulders shaking when he buried his head into his arms on the table and giggled.

“You are killing me, Charles Rowland. And that would be an incredible feat, since I am evidently already dead,” Edwin groaned, making Charles laugh even harder.

He stole a glance at him over his arms; Edwin was fussing over his perfect hair and crooked bowtie, gathering his composure. Charles bit his lip to muffle another giggle bubbling up. He reached out his hand to try to sneakily mess his hair up, but Edwin snatched his fingers into his palm and put them back on the table.

“So, what can I get you boys?” The bartender asked sharply, making Charles jump up and fix his posture.

She had black hair in a well-kept updo, and her skin was so white and translucent the dark shadow of her skull could be seen underneath. The black ink on the tattoo around her throat absorbed light, making her look almost decapitated.

“Whatever he’s having,” Charles shrugged.

“Good. We only serve one thing,” the bartender said in a flat tone and looked him dead in the eye.

Charles flinched when she slammed down a big cleaver into the counter where it stayed up, quivering. With her now free hands she poured two glasses of the same lurid green liquid and pushed them over.

“Are you a butcher or a bartender..?” Charles asked, accepting the glass. Her white button up and black apron didn’t clue him in either way.

“Newsflash, fresh meat. We’re dead. We can be whatever we fucking want. Ain’t no rules like upstairs, down here. Is that clear?” She cocked her head and gave him a mocking smile.

“He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, Jenny,” Edwin cut in. “Jenny, this is Charles. Charles, Jenny.”

Charles didn’t dare stick out his hand for a shake when that cleaver was still too close. He opted for one of his winning smiles.

“Happy to meet you-,” he began, when Jenny grabbed the handle of the knife.

“Listen here, kid. I’m gonna say this exactly once. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. But if you do anything to make Edwin sad, then you and I are gonna have a problem.”

Jenny squinted her eyes coldly towards Charles. In full view of him, she yanked the cleaver from the wood and moved her finger across the sharp edge, the shiny metal glinting in the lights menacingly.

“If you plan on hurting him, you should get the fuck out before I can hurt you.”

“Jenny, I can assure you that is completely unnecessary,” Edwin sighed. “Firstly, I’m not a kid. And secondly, I know Charles.”

Charles caught the look in his eyes when he glanced at him, and it set out a warm wave flushing him from head to toes. Edwin looked at him with such unbearable fondness it was impossible to receive or comprehend. Charles felt like there was a puzzle piece missing, something that would make him understand. How could Edwin hold such open adoration for him, when he knew nothing about Edwin?

Well, that should’ve hit him a lot earlier. Charles spun around to stare at Edwin again, to study him with new intensity. The fancy white suit. The blood that covered half of it.

“What happened to you?” He blurted out.

Edwin’s eyes darkened and he turned his head away. It seemed like he’d anticipated the question for some time now.

[cherrycolaride]

I'm sorry but...

what even is 'kissin' cousins'?!!

i gotta tell you i've been through a lot of elvis movies already... and despite them having often enough poorly written scripts, displaying strange dynamics, sexualizing our boy etc... i still loved them all somehow (sorry e 🥹🕊️) and found them quite entertaining... besides e just looks extremely gorgeous in each of 'em what shall i say ✨

BUT this one... this one really drained me. i mean i thought it must be extra cheesy as e is playing his blonde cousin wearin that cheap wig and i saw some pics and videos from the movie... but DAMN i didn't expect it to be that bad! 😭

what's up with those screaming girls runnin around like crazy and jumpin on any male bein' that has legs?? fr the screamin' was so annyoing i had to turn down the volume on my TV 😂😂

plus every character including elvis' ones seems to have like 0 braincells... like zero zero

only good thing are the make out scenes with e and the girls and him lookin' like a dreamboat as always buttt...

yeah that's the first elvis movie i saw that really didn't do it for me... and i even loved HARUM SCARUM so this must mean something!!😂

sorry to anyone who loves it, maybe it's just me🥹

[tacosaysroar]

5

Did you know U.S. expats have to renounce citizenship to stop paying taxes? So if I moved out of the country on a work visa, I’d still pay taxes to the U.S.* for as long as I lived. That’s bonkers to me — and we should have WAY better public resources if all of our expats are still funding us. (Willfully ignoring you, enormous military force! I mean other resources, like education and social programs.)

I listened to a podcast recently all about feijoas and now I’m desperate to try one.

Work drama continues. HR has officially recommended my manager change my rating and several big wigs are now involved. I can’t believe how long it’s taking to resolve this.

My first content piece went to the PR agency yesterday. They always have edits, that’s part of the process — they went two rounds with the writer my nightmare manager loves (which he took like a cat being forced into a full bathtub) — but they loved my piece. ZERO edits. My work partner made sure to point that out to both the nightmare manager and the beloved writer (who treats me like this is my first job).

It would be nice to win them over, but at this point I’m just collecting a paper trail of accomplishments to present as evidence if the nightmare manager tries to give me another shitty review or get me fired. I’d love to leave and wash my hands of the whole thing, but I need to stay long enough for [redacted] to happen. So I have to make the best of it — while continuing to search for internal job openings.

Having plans in my calendar over the next several months to see NFA and my family — mostly in warm, sunny places — is doing wonders for my sanity.

*Eritrea and Myanmar also have this policy, and THAT’S IT. Every other country is like, “Bye! Enjoy not paying taxes on services you don’t use! Have a good life!”

[earthpleasures]

BON APPÉTİT !

Pietro Maximoff x fem!stripper!reader

Summary: Just a boring mission, what could do wrong?

Warnings: MDNI +18 / swearing, oral sex (m. receiving), body worshipping (m. receiving), dry humping, overstimulation, praise, nipple sucking, throat fucking, dom!reader, sub!pietro.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/n: istg some kind of horny demon took me over to write this

"'cause I'm all that you want, boy

all that you can have, boy

got me spread like a buffet

bon a, bon appétit, baby"

- bon appétit by katy perry.

Blinding lights of the strip club were pricking right into his eyeballs, making it hard to observe his surroundings. His hand rested on the header of the comfortable couch. He would be lying if he said the ongoing show wasn't appealing. However it wasn't why he was here.

He could run much faster than sound but he couldn't knock the formula this club's owner had in his palms. If Stark's calculations were right, and they always were, the tube carried formula may be made of bulletproof material but it wasn't going to stand the speed Pietro would be pushing on it when he runs.

Foolish, he thought.

He scoffed as he swirled his whiskey in its glass. Where the hell was this man? He couldn't possibly take news of mission and fly out of his grip. But Pietro's careful eyes couldn't spot the motherfucker.

As music came to an end, the crowd let out exaggerated protesting noises. Mood rose back to its original rhythm when new dancers took their places on stage. Another song began to play, one he could evaluate with the term ‘lively’ rather than the previous erotic one.

He really wanted to be done and go back to the compound. Obnoxiously loud sound of Katy Perry was going to damage his eardrums if they kept blasting the goddamn speakers like this.

Song was slowly rising to its peak, men and women around the strippers were throwing money every direction in the company of obscene profanities. Their desperation made him nauseated. Damn, some people have zero dignity.

It wasn't like he was going to catch the owner anytime soon, so he made a decision. Why not enjoy the show while time passes?

He couldn't choose who to watch, they were all dancing excellently. No wonder it says ‘VIP’ on the front. But that wasn't his concern anymore because his eyes, in fact, caught a girl.

Dusty pink hair, a black leather set left too little to imagine, painful looking heels.

There was no fucking way that hair was her own hair, it had to be a wig to look this perfect.

His eyes locked to her figure, moving flawlessly. On her knees, her body rippled against the pole with the roll of a professional, long crimson nails slowly climbed their way to her neck from her crotch.

‘Cause I’m all that you want, boy,

All that you can have, boy.

She stood up languidly and wrapped a leg around the pole. Letting herself fall backwards, she arched back, pushing her breasts up. Arms extended forward like she wanted everyone to reach her, touch her. From the distance, he could barely read a line from her lips.

Bon appétit, baby.

He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on his leather couch. The pants he wore began to tighten around his lower body, he could feel the sweat beads rolling from his neck all the way down to his abs. This wasn't good.

Nudging a palm over his obvious erection didn't relieve any tension his stressed body carried. He bit inside of his mouth, chewing on his cheek's tissue. His fingertips itched to touch, to feel.

After a swipe of his tongue over his lip, he raised his hand slightly, signaling a waiter to come closer. Waiter looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Anything sir?” He pointed at the dusty pink haired girl on the stage. “What's her name?” Waiter turned his head back to pinpoint the stripper in question. A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Nice taste. Celestia.”

When Pietro narrowed his eyes with a confused who the fuck would name their child ‘Celestia’ stare, he couldn't contain his snicker. “It's her stage name. We’re not allowed to give out their real names unless they're willing.” Pietro wanted to laugh, atleast club gave their strippers some rights.

“Makes sense. I want a room for Celestia.” Waiter nodded as he noted down his name. “Enjoy your ride, buddy.” He smirked before refilling his whiskey glass. Pietro didn't say anything back to the man as he retreated to the suffocating crowd.

When show came to an end, one of the waiters headed in his direction and gave him a ticket-like paper. The red, glowing calligraphic sign was placed in the right direction of his seat.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his weight up to make his way. The hallway was long, housing many rooms, different light colors were leaking from under the doors of some of the rooms. Music sounds were almost deaf to ears, he guessed the rooms to be soundproof.

Attendant unlocked the door for him after checking his room's number. Before letting him in, he stopped Pietro. “As I can see, it's your first time here, mate. There are two rules. You have twenty minutes with stripper and it is absolutely forbidden to touch stripper.” After a nod of his head, he was allowed in.

The inside was as good as he expected. A pole, white leather couch and lights were placed in the room. Black walls surprisingly didn't feel claustrophobic. It didn't seem like any camera was placed around.

His palms were sweating, perhaps from excitement, perhaps from stress.

Couch was comfy, it felt like sinking into the clouds. His breath hitched when he sensed a click on the door handle. Adjusting his position, he gulped down the lump sitting on his throat. I shouldn't do this. I am here for a mission. This is so wrong. Wanda is going to kill me-

His flowing thoughts were cut with her entrance. He could see the sinister lust emitting from her eyes, doubting she looked at all of her clients with such intensity. “So, today's delight is you.” She mumbled as she came closer step by step, quicking his pulse unnecessarily.

She licked her lips while dropping her hands on his knees. Leaning forward, her red painted lips ghosted over his ear. “Interesting to see a thing like you here.” One of her hands fastened on header of the couch to help herself as she strangled his lap. She groaned in surprise when his hard-on pressed against her.

“Woah, you're a big boy, aren't you?” All he could do was to look up to her like a stupid puppy, waiting for her to do something since he couldn't touch her.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, rocking her hips back and forth against his clothed cock. He moaned through his clenched teeth. ‘Fighting his inner demons’ would be the name he would give to his urge of groping the tits in front of his eyes and mouth.

“You would’ve felt so good inside.” She pouted mockingly, her hand running on his hair. “But we ain't getting time for that.” A subtle chuckle left her lips. “Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?” His lips quivered before answering her question.

“No, it's just… you. You're so mesmerizing.” Well, it was too late to take his words back once they left his mouth.

I think my brain just short circuited.

“Aren't you a sweet talker?” She whispered as her manicured nails traveled down, trailing a line between his abs over his shirt. “Normally, I would've given you a nice lap dance and maybe some humping.” To press on her statement, she rocked her hips harder to his crotch.

“However, I decided to do you a favor.”

She got off of his lap. “What, no.” He reached out in a panicked state which was stupid due to no-touching policy. “Easy, I am here for the next sixteen minutes.” She smirked, standing over him with a hungry gaze. It's been so long since she had any actual intimacy with anyone and he looked like a delicious treat.

She got on her knees, her hands massaged his firm thighs. “God, men like you should be put in a museum.” She breathed as she ran her hand over his bulge. Her fingers didn't even fumble on his zipper, immediately pulling it all way down after she undid his jeans’ button. He lifted his hips to help her as she pulled his boxers and pants down to his ankles.

Her pupils dilated as she focused on his cock, it was resting on his stomach with a painfully red tip. Her thumb pressed on his tip, smearing bead of precum over his skin. He let out a pathetic whimper. “I-i.. is this o-okay?” He almost quacked during his sentence when she spat on his shaft and wrapped her hand around it.

“Probably not. But they will understand a girl in need.” She looked up to him.

Disheveled hair, hazy eyes, flushed cheeks. I want to swallow him.

He was getting impatient, but still didn't move. What was meaning of moving if he couldn't touch her?

It took just a lick from bottom to top for him to buck his hips. She held his hips firmly, settling him down. “No, no. Let me do my thing.” He bit his lips, maybe hard enough to withdraw blood. “Please, I've been waiting-” Her mouth suddenly enveloped his cock, taking it half way with her eyes observing his reaction.

He cried out due to shock, clawing at the fabric underneath his grip. His hand reached out to tangle his fingers to her hair, but before he could, she caught his hand. She pulled away from him. “No touching.”

Sizing up his strong figure, she made a shift on her plan. “Take off your shirt.” His trembling fingers peeled the tshirt of his body. She could feel her mouth going dry with the sight of his bare torso.

Before she could control herself, her fingers wandered on his firm chest and abs. His pale skin was stained with scars. Almost each of them looked like they were telling a different story.

She rose on her knees, running her tongue on his abs. Texture of the scars caught on her tongue, causing him to clutch onto one of the cushions and bite inside of his mouth.

She pressed her thumb on his nipple, feeling it harden under her touch. She circled her finger on his areola, wrapping her lips around the neglected one. A moan left his lips.

Satisfied and encouraging by the noises he let out, she draped her arms around his waist, pushing him against her mouth.

“W-wait-” She pulled away with a pop sound, leaving his chest aching. “What's wrong?” She asked as she pressed a kiss to one of his scars, then to another, then to another.

He looked down at her. “It's too-”

“Overstimulating? That's the purpose.” She smirked at his naiveness.

She sucked marks all over his chest, kissing each of the scars and soothing the ache she left with a run of her tongue. His labored breaths became unstable during her treatment. God, it fucking felt like being worshipped.

And finally she went back to her original plan. Hand wrapped around his shaft, she began to stroke him. “You're not some kind of loser who has no hole to fill, are you?” She planted a kiss over his tip. “You're different.”

She suckled on the tip, treating it like a tasty lollipop. “Well, can't say I care.” Without breaking eye contact she went down slowly, inch by inch. Even after all the times she gave a blow job, she couldn't deep throat him like she wanted to. His tip reached the back of her throat, hitting there repeatedly as she bobbed her head.

Tears filled her eyes, forcing her to let go of him. He didn't care about the shitty policy, running his thumb over her cheek and wiping her tears away. “You don't have to if it's hard for you.”

But she didn't let him rest, jerking him off when she didn't have him down to her throat. “But I want to.” Her free hand tangled her fingers to his, bringing it to her skin. “Touch me.” He raised an eyebrow.

“But I thought-”

“I am letting you.”

And that was enough for him. His both hands cupped her cheeks. He leaned down and smashed his lips against hers, tasting the smeared lip gloss and himself. Getting impatient, she pushed him back to the couch.

She put her hands on his thighs to balance her weight as he tugged at her strands pushing her all the way down even though she gagged around him. She hollowed her cheeks and pressed her tongue underside of him while he bucked his hips somewhat violently, fucking her throat on his pace.

She cupped his balls, massaging them to encourage his orgasm. She could sense his legs shivering under her palms. He was close. With thought of it may help, she moaned around him, and it worked.

He shot down rope after rope to her throat, not even allowing her to breath. Aftermath of the orgasm was violent on his body. His cock twitched as she pulled out and got up.

Strangling him again, it was her turn to kiss him. It was sloppy, teeth against teeth with a mix of lust and rush. He remembered the fact he was allowed to touch, so he did. His hand roamed on her skin, pressing her against his chest.

Red light illuminated the room. Time to part.

He wiped her lips with his shirt, fixing her hair as much as he could. “Will you be okay? What if your boss gets angry?” He questioned, hands softly placed on her waist.

She giggled. “He will understand. Women have urges too.”

He laughed. “You're a surprising woman.” He said as she got off his lap.

“Sure I am. And I would like to see you again.”

With one last peck over his bruised lips, she parted from the room. Leaving Pietro behind disheveled and exhausted.

Now, how was he supposed to explain the wasted time he spent in the club and the hickeys to the team?

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