#this is me trying to hold myself accountable lmao

[themickeysays]

I've actually started working on part 2 of Chariot so if I don't have a chapter posted in a month someone needs to come slap me

[piplupod]

hello! i am moving over to @dandyghest now for the most part! if you are interested in keeping up with me and my shenanigans (art, isopods, love of jpegs and pngs), i suggest you follow me over there!

i will likely not abandon this account entirely but I am working on figuring out how much time I'll be allotting to this account now that I'm getting more comfortable over on the new one. i have many sideblogs on this account that I do not want to abandon or leave behind, so I'm trying to think of how I want to handle that still.

either way, if you like the things i say or post, or enjoy the things i also enjoy, come on over to dandyghest :]

[jamesbukkakebarnes]

🙃

[uwooyoungs]

//

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 ### : 」 Modern AU ish !! GN Reader gets drunk at the club !! But Navia and Clorinde stay with you through it tho, because they're your good friends !! This is literally just humor and reader not recognizing Wrio but gushing over your husband so so much !! Reader swears when drunk bc same lmao

Had a vision. No editing. Feast on this while I feast on my Nissin Bulalo cup noodles.

The moment Wriotheseley steps into the club, he immediately spots you. Even over the painful strobing lights, the sea of dancing bodies, he can single you out a mile away— regardless of the fact that you're slumped over the bar, drunk out of your mind.

"Navia, Clorinde," he greets with a wave, hurrying over. His voice has to be almost a yell to be heard over the loud music.

They sit on either barstool beside you, bracketing you between them. When he approaches, Clorinde hands him your phone, and he knows who he has to thank for the 'come pick your bae up' text. The moment he's close enough, he's already looking you over, making sure you're alright.

"Sweetheart," Wriothesley tries to rouse you, but you just mumble and splay out further on the bar. Your hand knocks into a mostly-emptied glass of what he can only assume was tonight's poison of choice.

"How many—"

"More than five," Navia tells him, grinning sheepishly, just as Clorinde says, "Nine."

Your husband shakes his head fondly, sighing, and turns back to you. "Sweetheart," he tries again, voice a bit louder. He places a heavy hand on your waist, coaxing you up. "Let's g—"

But at the touch, your eyes —still hazy and unfocused on account of the nine drinks you've had— shoot open, and you whirl on him in your seat. If not for the hold he still keeps on your hip, you may have just toppled over. There's a look of unbridled, drunken rage on your face, more comical than actually terrifying.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you hiss, slurring, as you wrench his hand off of you and fling it away with such contempt that he has to stifle a laugh. "Keep your hands off of the masterpieces, bucko."

Not even giving him a moment to breathe, you shove your left hand in his face, vehemently pointing at the ring that sits on your fourth finger. "I! Am! Married! If I tell my husband that you're out here getting handsy, he's gonna come and kick your ass sooo hard. He's gonna rock your shit, you trick ass bitch, if i don't do it myself!"

Wriothesley shouldn't find this funny— he shouldn't. But Navia and Clorinde and fighting smiles behind their palms themselves, and he can't help the grin that breaks across his face.

"Oh? Is your husband that strong?" He can't help but ask, and you scoff.

"Is he that strong— you wanna find out for yourself? Huh? Wriothesley could— could—" you hiccup, and he has to fight the urge to coo. "He could knock you out with just a flick of his fingers, you know!"

"And is your Wriothesley more handsome than me?"

You turn your nose up at him, scowling. Once, twice, you try to cross your arms in contempt as you drunkenly look him up and down.

"You're alright," you begrudge, "but my Wriothesley is the— the most handsomest man in the world! The fucking prettiest! No one holds a candle to my husband and his broad shoulders and his thick thighs and his... and his adorable smile."

Wriothesley has to bite his lip to control his grin. Navia is fighting for her life to stifle her giggles, and Clorinde hides her amused smile behind a cough.

It's like that loosened your tongue though, and you continue on, oblivious to the embarrassment you'd face the next morning.

"And he— he'll be very upset when he finds out that you're here, hitting on someone who is very happily married to one of the best men on this side of the fucking galaxy, so— so you can fuck off!"

He really, really tries his best to not laugh.

You huff, patting down your pockets and grumbling incoherently about your phone, not even questioning it when Wriothesley hands it back to you himself. It takes only a second of you furiously tapping your screen before his own phone buzzes in his pants.

[Sweetheart ♡]

babe pookie pick e ip plrase im drunk and i wanna go homd snd yhere's this assholr hitting o me love yoy [location attached]

As soon as the texts go out though, you yawn and the energy leaves you in one fell swoop. Wriothesley manages to catch you before you face plant back on the bar and break your nose, maneuvering you to lean into his chest. The fight escaping you, you nuzzle into his black button up, rubbing your face against him like a big cat.

"Mmm. I know that cologne." Blearily, you look up and make eye contact with those pretty, pretty blue eyes, and your face immediately lights up in the most delighted grin. "Wrio!" you gasp, arms coming to wrap around his waist and pull him towards you. You're still drunk, still pretty out of it, but it melts his heart how overjoyed you are to see him.

"Hi sweetheart," he says fondly, running a hand through your hair. Happily, you lean into his touch. "Have a fun time with Navia and Clorinde?"

"Mhm. Missed you though." Then, your eyes pop open and you sit up, looking around furiously as if you're looking for someone. When you don't find this person, you lean in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear— "There was this guy who tried to make the moves on me, you know! But I told him that I'm super duper married and with the bestest husband ever— if you wanna double team him, I'm sure the guy's around here somewhere."

But your husband just chuckles, pulling you back into his embrace. Smoothly, Wriothesley has you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist so he can easily pick you up and into his arms.

"You two need a ride home?" He asks the two, but they shake their heads.

"Appreciated, but we only split a drink between us," Clorinde says, already standing up alongside Navia. "We'll be fine."

"Get home safe, you two!" The blonde says, waving you off, and that's that.

Wriothesley easily maneuvers the two of you out of the club, you having already fallen asleep on his shoulder. He can hear your soft breaths in his ear and feel the way you cling to him even in your sleep. No doubt you'd have a raging hangover tomorrow, but that's okay— because you'll have him to take care of you, too.

Bonus!!

You wake up to hands down the worst fucking headache in your whole life. Your temple hurts so hard that you swear your head's gonna crack open like an egg. Groaning, you pull the covers over your head and roll over, blotting out the mid-day sunlight as best as you can.

There's a chuckle from the other side of the bed, then weight moving across the sheets— then your husband's face appears in front of you, under the blankets too.

"So, darling sweetheart of mine" he starts, voice soft as to not aggravate your headache, and you're grateful. "What were you saying about my broad shoulders and my thick thighs?"

You're suddenly not as grateful.

Promptly, you kick him out of your blanket cave, and he goes with a laugh. He leaves you grumbling on the bed, cursing out all the drinks you had last night and swearing to never ever ever drink again.

Wriothesley grins, shutting the curtains of your bedroom as he ambles out the door, dead set on getting you water, advil, and something to eat.

Maybe by the end of the day, you'd add 'endlessly doting' to the list.

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[roseyodditea]

Shooting Practice - Boothill x gn! Reader

Summary -> Cowboy teaches you how to shoot.

Warnings -> Mentions of a gun (no actual violence)

A/N -> Fun fact, this is the first thing I've ever posted. Created an account just for this. Feedback and suggestions welcome! I'll figure out how to format better later lmao

***************

“Hold it steady” The deep southern drawl rang gently right next to your ear, his metal hand cold against your wrist. “Back up and let me do it myself,” You try to not grit your teeth, the cowboy once again far too… overbearing.

Boothill let out a scoff of annoyance, watching you hold the gun shakily in your hand, but he did back up, crossing his arms. You stood with your legs far too close together, arms too overextended, aim entirely off. It was abysmal to watch for the gunslinger. There was a sharp crack in the air, followed by your groan of frustration. 

You placed the gun down on the table in front of you, taking off the hearing protection that hugged your head too tightly. Boothill chucked, “Told ya s-” “Don’t.” You glared at the man, that stupid cocky smirk on his face. “Maybe you’re just an awful teacher.” Boothill stepped close, grabbing his spare pistol off of the table and slipping it into your hands again. “Nah. C’mon. Let’s try again” He stood behind you, too close yet again. The smell of motor oil, gunpowder, and the cheap cologne attempting to cover up the stench of the oil invaded your nostrils. “Feet shoulder width apart” He says, waiting for you to adjust your stance.

“You don’t have to go through the steps so slowly” You practically growl, frustrated.

“I’ll stop goin’ so slow when you get it right” He growled right back, matching your less than thrilled energy.

“Don’t sass me while I’m holding a gun, Boothill.”

“We both know I’m quicker, sugar” He chuckled. “Feet shoulder width apart, shootin’ foot back, relax, and don’t lock your elbows” He guides rather gently for a man you’ve watched gun down IPC without a second thought. “Eyes on the target, deep breath, and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.” You took a moment to go through the checklist. Feet apart, dominant foot back, relaxed… Boothill’s hand on your waist, making sure your torso wasn’t turned. You could feel the chill of the metal, hear the crackling of his synthetic voice box, his body breathing out of habit rather than a need. He was paying very close attention to your stance, and you could feel it. You could feel his gaze, his crosshair eyes locked onto you. “Stop staring. You’re making me nervous.” You sigh out through clenched teeth.

“Take the shot.” That was the only answer you were going to get out of him as he didn’t listen, only kept looking at you expectantly. 

There was a crack, followed by a clink, the empty beer can that was setup on the table being knocked over.

“Oh my god! I did it!” You placed the gun down and excitedly turned to Boothill, who had a huge grin on his face. Without even thinking, you wrapped your arms around the cowboy who you had spent the last half hour trying not to slap. It only took a split second of hesitation before he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Can’t believe you actually hit it.” He teased, chuckling softly.

“Just be proud of me.” You plead softly, resting your head on his metal chest, feeling it grow slightly warmer, the once quiet hum of cooling fans getting louder.

“With a stance that fudgin’ shaky I’m shocked you-” “Boothill!” You smack his chest, the soft sound echoing in his chest compartment. His hands move to rest on your hips as he smirks at you.

“Fine fine… I’m proud of you, sugar.” He says in a shockingly genuine tone. “We can work on makin’ you a bit quicker in the future. You take that long linin’ up your shot and you’ll end up dead.” You didn’t respond. You didn’t want to. You were so used to the cowboy being loud and brash, but now he was being soft and caring… borderline tolerable, a new record for the man. Boothill always said he was a dead man walking, but right now he seemed more alive than ever. 

“Thank you for doing this.” You said after a long beat of silence, a slight crackle in your voice as you tried to swallow the emotions you thought you were so good at hiding. 

“Of course.” He replies just as softly. “I want to make sure you’ll be alright when I’m out on bounties” “You say that like you’re going to come back.” You scoff, trying not to make it sound like you wanted him to. 

Boothill looked away, swiping a hand down his face and letting out a breath, adjusting his hat before looking back into your eyes. “Well… this planet is out of IPC space and has good liquor. Pretty easy to hitch a ride to and from. And it has you.” He adds on, trying to make it sound like he wasn’t hung up on the word ’you’. 

“I’d like for you to come back.” You confess and before you can even take a moment to process the words either of you had just said, cold lips were on yours, metal hands on either sides of your face, the cooling fans in his cyborg body spinning impossibly faster as he pulled away, looking at you in shock.

“I think I’d like to come back to you, sugar”

***************

[jojikawa]

GEKKO SHIP DYNAMIC 💚

I headcanon him to be a soft boy. (I also haven’t done much research outside of watching his trailer today so I don’t even know his real name lmao)

Gekko x Fem!reader

Is usually fine until you come along. You make him so red and flushed just by being around bc he thinks you’re so pretty.

Always trying to impress you by making you laugh or putting you in awe with his ability.

Always talking to Reyna about you. “How can I just be myself!?” “How do I know she likes me??” Sort of thing.

His heart flutters whenever you compliment him on anything.

Tries to hide his crush but is exposed by the activity of his little gekko.

You would need to confess to him first. No amount of teasing him will make him act on his own.

Gives forehead kisses and loves holding hands.

Is terrible at providing comfort when you’re sad bc he’s always the one being cheered up by you. When you cry or have anxiety, he will hold you tight as he thinks of what to do.

He’s def a TikTok boyfriend. He will make videos with you and will probably wanna make a shared couples account to make posts there.

Loves matching outfits

His little gekko loves the shit out of you!

Doesn’t mind PDA at all as long as you’re cool with it. But he’s way more shy in public. In private he will probably do more lewd things like grabbing your butt or booba.

Saves up all of his allowance to surprise you with some cute gifts. Records your reacts so that he can watch them on repeat later.

Posts about you on his social media. Probably makes you his profile picture or have his username be “Gekkoloves(username/name)”

The kind of guy to tense up when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep on HIM of all agents.

Asks for consent for everything ❤️

[just-some-random-blogger]

Okay so here’s my request for a blurb…💕

Think of that one scene where Tormund is talking to the hound about Brienne but instead of Brienne it’s the reader (fem Y/N). The readers a hard woman and hasn’t given in to Tormund because she’s secretly with Sandor.

So basically the hound being jealous that tormund is into his woman.

Preferably NSFW if it’s too long to get to NSFW no worries.

⭐️( PS: i love your writing for the hound, barely anyone else gets it right!)

Save Me A Bowl

"A pretty thing for a pretty thing," Tormund says, holding up a small flower, not yet bloomed. I raise my brows at the white bud, "do I look like a thing to you?"

Sandor Clegane x Reader x Tormund Giantsbane | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, jealousy, whipped!Tormund, fluff?, casually implied sex, typos, etc.

A/N: UR NOT ABOUT TO CATCH ME SLIPPIN ON MY POST STREAK. Once I post this, I'd have finished all my requests which is such a slay for this girl 🥹🫶. It has been quite a while since I got this req tho, so I hope you enjoy it nonnie 🫶 also.... I haven't actually reached this part of GoT yet HAHAHAHAHAH it's fine tho I think I know enough to write it lmao

Sandor was not very affectionate, at least not in the noticeable kind. In truth, neither was I, though I suppose it's because you don't really have the time to think about such things when there was a war at hand.

However, I would say I didn't shy from checking on him, nor from asking him to accompany me. I definitely didn't shy from going out of my way to sit next to him, nor from leaning into him when it got too cold. The same could be said about him, I think.

In my opinion, my relationship with Sandor was rather obvious, though we never spoke about it, especially on the multiple accounts I've announced I'd be heading back to my tent and have the Hound immediately follow after me. If anything, I thought it was at least crystal clear what we were up to after the fact.

This was why I turned to Brienne when Tormund began harking nonsense. She and I had been huddled by the fire, finishing a bowl of soup when he came around.

"Is he trying to seduce you?"

"Don't look at me," says Brienne in between spoonfuls, "I am not the one he directs such gaudy poetry to."

I raise my brows as I turn back to Tormund who immediately smiles at me. I find myself sparing a smile back just to get his oration over with.

Ever since then, Tormund went out of his way to tire my ear with the sound of his voice, telling me tall tales of his life and his people. To be honest, I didn't mind it. In fact, I was partially entertained by some of his stories.

Showy as he was, he was harmless for the most part, and so I just let him do what he wanted. Eventually, his yapping would earn him a bowl to head and a threat to shut his trap. It worked out for me the men had much less patience for him than I did.

Little did I know, Sandor just about lost his patience with him.

I have to stop eating so I can get a laugh out of my system. The orange haired man laughs with me and concludes his story. He sighs, "you're the only fun one on this side of the fucking wall."

I shake my head and continue eating my food, "you mistake my tolerance of you as solidarity with your humor."

"Yet you laugh," Tormund raises a thick brow.

I shrug and swallow a mouthful before replying, "because you are fool."

"Fool enough to make you laugh," he says, standing from his seat beside me. He seems to look for something in his pocket.

I barely spare him a glance as he tells me, he's forgotten something, "I'll be right back."

Just as he runs off, I see Sandor and smile at him. He seems not to notice me and sits in a spot across from me. I immediately stand and come up next to him. I sit next to him, "took you a while."

Sandor ignores me.

I nudge him when he does not respond.

He side eyes me then begins to eat.

I raise a brow at his ignorance, "has something happened?"

He grunts then snaps, "why don't you ask that ginger fuck."

I frown.

"You seem keen of his company," Sandor glare, "you even laugh at his rancid jokes."

I furrow my brows.

Just then, Tormund comes back. He looks for me a moment, then beams when he spots me.

He runs up to me and Sandor; I feel Sandor stiffen against me.

"A pretty thing for a pretty thing," Tormund says, holding up a small flower, not yet bloomed.

I raise my brows at the white bud, "do I look like a thing to you?"

"The prettiest thing in the south," Tormund grins.

I release a breath.

I look over my shoulder and realize Sandor has stopped eating in lieu of glaring at Tormund. I'm about to speak, but I'm beaten to the chase.

"Fuck off, filthy minge," Sandor growls.

Tormund turns to him. His upper lip curls, "I wasn't speaking to you, smelly mutt."

Sandor stands and the two impose upon each other.

I immediately set my bowl down and step between them. I push them both on their chests, but neither budge. I hiss, "enough."

"You heard the woman," Tormund says, "get lost."

"I-"

"She was talking about you, you yapping fuck," Sandor snarls.

Before they can jump at each other's throats, I step back and yell, "ENOUGH, I SAID."

Sandor and Tormund stare at me.

"It's been a long day," I snap, "I'm not in the mood to soothe two whining bitches."

Tormund nods, "right!"

I narrow my eyes, "Tormund-"

"Yes?" he immediately retorts.

"- fuck off."

He opens his mouth but is too taken aback to say anything.

"You've been too busy picking flowers to notice that I'm with Sandor."

Tormund stares at me blankly.

"He's the one warming my tent."

He is aghast.

Sandor's face is blank, but he seems otherwise pleased as he sits back down and continues to eat.

The ginger steps forward and reaches out, "but I-"

"Keep your fucking hands to yourself," Sandor stands again, "if you know what's good for you."

Tormund glares at Sandor.

I sigh, "I told you you were a fool."

Tormund deflates. He walks off silently.

Sandor pulls me by the arm as he sits, sitting me down next to me, "good fucking riddance. Finally some quiet."

I roll my eyes at him, "you know," I pull my arm away, "this wouldn't have happened if I-"

"Fucked you harder?" he says in between chewing, "aye. I know better now."

[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 20 - Captive(Yandere Rottmnt Donnie x Reader)

A/N, not important: This was supposed to be the final fic, but I didn't have one for today and this is my attempt to not delete my account or brain out of stress lmao. Me and @astral--horrorshow both had similar ideas, but they're completely independent of each other. We were both talking about them on discord then realized how similar they were, but neither was taken from the other👍. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Kidnapping, blindfold, needles, dehumanization, collaring, restraints, cage

Words: 2464

Summary: Draxum is working on eradicating the human race, but what happens when his son wants to keep one for himself?

The sounds of metal and cries pierce my ears, the blindfold and binds keep me hogtied and blind, not letting me do much else other than listen to sobs around me. My ears twitch at the sound of low footfalls, the clopping similar to that of a deer or horse nearing. I grimace, knowing the Baron was back. The quiet flapping of his gargoyles could barely be heard over the sobbing from the cage next to mine. I try not to let out a scream of my own at the loud bang of hoof against metal, and a skull against concrete. The sobs quiet, and the air goes still. I slowly let out the breath I was holding, my nerves firing off warning bells as I resist the urge to flail around and cry. It wouldn’t do any good either way. Those who fight back fall first.

Another pair of steps joins the Barons while he makes his rounds. I can sense how everyone else stills, all us captives going completely silent to try and hone in on the new visitor. I couldn’t tell how many of us there were. Anywhere from five to a hundred, I wouldn’t know the difference. I rub my face against the rough floor, hoping to loosen the blindfold so I could finally look at my prison. While there were many of us here, people came in and out every day, taking someone away or adding another to the lot. I could always tell when someone was taken. Their screams reverberated around the walls of our keep, cries and pleads not reaching the ears of whoever took them. I assumed it was the Baron, although I was not sure. It’s not like I could see the act either way.

“Take your pick, my son. It’s time you truly learn my work.”

I grimace at the Baron’s low voice, shrinking back into my cage as much as I can while bound. Of course he has a son. Of course he’s going to be just as rotten as his father, doing who knows what with the poor souls who get picked. My stomach rumbles and I chew on my bottom lip, grinding down on the flesh with my teeth. The blood soaking out may be gritty and limited, but it was better than nothing. I just prayed I wouldn’t puke.

The quiet scraping of free feet across the ground alerts me to the younger captors movements, my face moving towards the sound subconsciously so I could hear it better. A beat passes with no more movement, and I tense. Someone had been chosen. Or, hopefully, he would decide this was immoral and demand our freedom. I chuckle quietly to myself. Yeah right, like that would ever happen. A sharp sound in front of me catches my attention and I turn towards my cage, my face furrowing in concentration. 

“That one looks interesting.” An unfamiliar voice muses. His voice is sharp, unwavering, and oddly smooth. It alone was enough to make my blood run cold, but what really terrified me was how much closer it sounded than I expected. I could’ve sworn both of them were in the center of the room, but it sounded as if the voice was right in front of my cage. I shrink in on myself, tucking my chin to my collarbone and sitting on my ankles. Two sharp taps sound on the metal bars of my enclosure, a light chuckle sounding from the boy's chest. It wasn’t a friendly chuckle, nor a comforting one. I try to keep my breathing steady, refusing to cry and refusing to beg. I wanted to go down with dignity. I would refuse to bow to these monsters.

“If that’s the one you want to start on, then so it shall be.” The Baron’s deep rumble sounds, a sharp clap bouncing through the room. The sound of flapping fills the room, heading towards my cage and closing in fast. I sit back, trying my best to not shake. I couldn’t even tell if I was.

“Wait.” The younger voice sounds. He taps my cage a couple more times before I feel a scaly hand brush across my neck, taking hold of my collar and yanking me forwards. I yelp, losing my balance at the tug and falling onto my face before him. I struggle to move back to my kneeling position, the ropes keeping me bound threatening to pull my arm out of its socket if I keep trying. I lay down, defeated. I couldn’t get up. A deep heat settles in my cheeks from the shame of being at his mercy, and I can almost hear the smile in his voice at his next words. “I have a different idea for them.”

“Oh?” The Baron asks, his footsteps nearing as well. I try to pull back from the grasp the younger captor had on me, but his grip just shifts from my collar to my chin. “What are you planning then?”

“I want to keep this one. For my own personal studies. I can experiment on that one,” There’s a brief swish of the air when his hand undoubtedly moves to point at another poor soul in the vicinity. “But this one… I want to keep them.”

I hear a sharp breath from the Baron, his tone turning sour. “Donatello,” ah, so that was his name. I try and tug back again to no avail, my eyes widening under the blindfold as I realize he only has three fingers. “You cannot keep a human. They’re pigs. The rot of the world. You must understand that.”

I’m tempted to bite the fingers holding my face when I hear this, indignant anger bubbling in my chest. We weren’t the ones kidnapping people and caging them to experiment on. Sure, there’s a few bad apples in every batch, but you can’t doom the whole of humanity for a small handful’s doing.

The younger voice huffs, his thumb caressing my cheek. It was getting harder to hold back, every instinct screaming at me to pull back and run. “Still, why that may be, I think it would be interesting. Test their limits, experiment in different ways.” I can almost hear the sick smile in his voice. “Plus, it’s always nice to have company.”

“Do you even understand what goes into keeping a human? They’re very needy creatures. Not to mention clingy and violent. You’ll be responsible for its upkeep.” I feel sick the way they're talking about me, the hands of the scaled one still having yet to leave my face. He lifts my chin more and forces me to face him, my body screaming in protest from the position he was contouring me in.

“I do.”

The Baron sighs in defeat at his son’s words. I hear him take a step back, his voice steady as he walks away and starts to audibly mess with another cage. “Then I’ll allow it.”

I hear the screams of what sounds like a small child and my heart breaks, knowing slightly of his fate. While part of me was glad I had escaped it, I still yearned to switch places. Hearing someone so young scream in such ways was unbefitting. It wasn’t right. I feel the hand of the younger captor slip off my face, my own cage opening with a loud squeak. Strong hands hoist me up, fiddling with the ropes around my ankles and wrists. My two halves separate, my ankles freed from my wrists, but still stuck together as were my wrists to each other. I get slung over his shoulder, his muscle mass and metal backpack digging painfully into the soft of my stomach.

I consider trying to fight back, to even finally scream and curse them out, but I don’t. Every step he took sent his shoulder straight into my gut, and I knew it would be useless to try and resist. He seemed solid, and his shoulders reminded me of jagged rocks as they push against my torso. I try to shift myself into a more comfortable position, my body rocking hazardously in his grip. For one awful, awful moment, I’m certain he’s about to drop me, but his hands regain their steadiness as he tightens his grip to a painful degree.

“Move again and I’ll send you off to be experimented on instead.” He hisses, his voice as sharp as always. I settle down more, trying to ignore the painful lab of his arm.

He continues to walk for a while, his steps firm and sure. I wasn’t sure where we were going, nor what my true purpose was. This was out of the blue and completely unexpected, especially from someone who was supposed to be experimenting on me. I hear a door open and let out a small cry as I’m thrown atop a plush bed. I sit up, shaking my head to try and chase the disorientation away. A hand grabs my chin and holds me still, pulling the blindfold off of my eyes. I quickly close my eyes, shrinking back with a pained hiss. I’ve had the blindfold on since I was first kidnapped, covering my eyes and blocking my senses for weeks. I slowly open them, trying to get them to adjust to the new lighting. Once they can open, I glance around, taking in my surroundings as fast as I can.

It was a large room, one larger than I was expecting. There were different mechanical parts and machines strewn across the room, as well as a desk piled high with similar junk. I look in front of me, finally fully seeing my captor. He was only a couple inches taller than me, but his foreboding stature made him intimidating nonetheless. I scan him for a moment, my eyes taking in his green scaly skin and the metal shell upon his back. I lean backwards, wary of his domineering nature. He seemed to command respect, as if it was owed rather than earned. I felt no desire to give it to him.

“Why am I here?” I ask rudely, my tone clipped and eyes narrowed. The turtle doesn’t seem phased by my attitude, if anything, he was delighted.

“I’d suggest you’d hold your tongue. As lovely as your voice is, I do admit I have a short temper.” He walks across the room and picks up a small case, like he had been preparing for this for a while. “And I’m sure you would rather your tongue stay inside your mouth.”

I shift uncomfortably at his words, trying to decide what to do. I watch him carefully as he takes the case and opens it, four needles showing. My eyes widen at the sight as I back up on the bed.

He takes out the first needle and grabs a small vial from a miniature fridge next to him, getting the shot ready. “If you have any allergies, speak up now.”

I barely register his words, my eyes focused solely on the large needle in his hand. “What is that?”

“A couple of vaccines and boosters. It’s come to my attention that most of you have not had proper shots nor care, and while the others don’t matter, you do since you’ll be living here now.” He stalks forward with the syringe in hand as if he did this every tuesday, not a care nor concern on his face. I try to lean back, but he grabs me firmly by the elbow, not allowing me to move away. “I’d suggest you stay still and relax.”

I turn away from him, my heart thundering in my ears. I feel him inject the first into my arm, the sharp sting making me want to jerk away. It feels like hours, but he eventually lets go of my arm and backs away, disposing of the needles and setting the syringes back in their case.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” He starts, turning back to me. “It’s time we get started.”

“Who are you?” I interrupt, my mind hazy from the adrenaline coursing through after the shots he administered. He frowns at my interruption, his face pulled tight.

“I don’t like being interrupted. But, as you’re a human with no manners, I guess I can’t fully fault you. You haven’t learned the rules yet.” The turtle clears his throat, bowing with a dramatic flair. “I am Donatello, your new owner and savior. You, however, may refer to me as ‘Sir’ or ‘My Savior’.”

My nose scrunches up at his introduction, a chill running down my spine. My arm was sore, and my head was blaring warning bells left and right. This guy was seriously messed in the head. Well, of course he was. I was part of a group of humans he and his dad had kidnapped to experiment on.

“So, pet-”

“Not my name.” I interrupt, partly without meaning to but not fully regretting it. I refused to be called ‘pet’.

“Did humans never learn it was rude to interrupt or speak back to their superiors? Or is this just a you thing?” He hisses, clearly displeased. I shrug. My non-answer seems to anger the terrapin even more, his fists clenching at his sides. “As I stated before, I saved you. If it weren’t for me, you’d be cut open on a table with your guts spilled out. And while I would gladly return you to that fate, I felt it would be a waste to use someone like you in that manner-”

“Someone like me?” I interrupt again, tilting my head in confusion.

“Would you cut that out!?” He hisses, his face turning dark in anger. I shrink back, pursing my lips. I didn’t really want to anger him. I didn’t trust him. He continues to glare at me as he straightens his back. “As I was saying, you have something about you that I felt needed to be preserved. Therefore, here you are now. Serving as my pet rather than an experiment. And mind you, I’ll call you whatever I please.”

I glare at him, trying to pop his head open with my mind. Unfortunately, no such thing happened, and he continued to drone on.

“So, pet, I have something for you.”

He turns around and grabs something off his desk. I recognize it immediately, the bright collar jingling the bell as he moves closer. I try to lean back but he quickly hooks the offending item around my neck, his eyes and markings glowing for a moment as he holds the two pieces together. I rub at it with my chin, scowling. “There you are pet. Now you’ll never forget your place.”

It takes everything in me not to spit on him.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟚𝟜 ✧₊

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts (yeah I'm still working on these whatever lmao)

day 24: Bratty Sub, Anal/Oral Training, Caging

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭

| PAIRING(s): BrattySub!Dieter x SoftDom!FemReader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 2.4k | CONTENT: pathetic men who want to come, Dieter being a menace, mental health, established relationship, leash and collar, brief foot fetish stuff, exhibitionism/humiliation, soft degradation, cum play | SYNOPSIS: Dieter breaks a rule, and you have to get creative.

“DIETER! BRAVO! I swear to god!” you yell from the bottom of the stairs as you make your ascent. 

You can hear him scrambling around the bedroom as if you don’t already know exactly what he’s been up to. You shove the door open and find him pretending to meditate on a hastily rolled out yoga mat, the very same one that has been leaning against the dresser for four months now.

“Oh, don’t even start with this bullshit.”

He peeks an eye open to look at you and squeezes it shut again quickly. He makes some fake mantra humming sounds that would’ve made you laugh had this situation been any different.

“I don’t know how you managed to get into your accounts, but I do know that you have been making an absolute idiot of yourself online all morning.”

He wiggles nervously at the accusation but doesn’t deny it. You both knew the damage was done at this point. It pissed you off even more to know that he probably didn’t regret it, not even a little.

“Dee,” you sigh, exasperated that this conversation even needs to happen. “We had an agreement. You know how bad your mental health gets when you go on all these apps and start reading what people say. And then you go and start responding to people, saying all kinds of batshit stuff?”

Not all of his retorts to the negative commenters across several different social media platforms were batshit, but the most recent ones definitely showed a growing pattern of unhinged annoyance and bruised ego.

“You were the one who suggested giving me control of the passwords in the first place because you couldn’t trust yourself,” you remind him.

“And doesn’t it sound like I was right to not trust myself?” he chimes in with a barely contained grin.

Oh, of course he thinks injecting a little humor into the situation is going to fix things. Underneath the quips and the giggles was the sore and raw self-conscious person who was terrified of being hated and criticized – or, worst of all, forgotten. Knowing his insecurities sometimes made it easier to remind yourself that he wasn’t necessarily trying to be so much of a headache, but it didn’t always help enough to keep your irritation in check.

“Give me your phone and get undressed,” you snip. When he looks up at you, all confused with those big brown cow eyes of his, but doesn’t comply, you grip his hair firmly and pull him toward you. “NOW, DIETER. DON’T MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF.”

You disregard the half whimper, half moan he lets out at the manhandling and snatch his phone from him as he hands it to you. You dutifully ignore the overexaggerated rustling of him removing his clothes and instead go through his phone to delete each and every social media app. You look up when you hear the bedframe creak. Ass perched up in the air, head lazily dropped against his folded hands on the mattress.

“I know I’m not supposed to negotiate how many I’m getting, but I–”

“Oh, you’re not getting spankings for this, Dieter,” you exhale sharply in a humorless laugh.

He lifts his head a little in surprise. “What do you mean I’m not—”

“I didn’t say you weren’t getting punished,” you interrupt. 

His face falls slightly at this news. You hold back a laugh at his expression as he works through the fact that he won’t be getting spanked like usual when he needs guidance. It wasn’t lost on you that he’d start to see it more as a “funishment” anyway.

“So I— I don’t get to get spanked?” he pouts, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“Well it clearly isn’t a deterrent for you anymore. Maybe if you’re good for me I’ll consider adding it as a reward.”

His face brightens a bit at this, and you really have to bite back a smile now. He was so infuriatingly charming sometimes that it wasn’t any wonder he’d never had a partner that was able to keep him in check. He has his moments – like today – where he slips up and needs someone to hold him accountable, and you were more than happy to be that for him.

“Now stay put and don’t get yourself into any more trouble than you’re already in,” you caution, striding from the room without a look back.

It takes you a few minutes rummaging through old bins of entirely unused, unsorted things Dieter had bought over the years to find what you’re after. You’d gotten his Miscellaneous Museum down to just a few bins now that his stress spending was better managed.

“There you are,” you mutter to yourself as you pull the ostentatious luxury fashion brand dog leash and matching collar out of the bin. It was as gaudy as it was expensive, and you roll your eyes at the memory when he’d impulse bought it and tried to justify it to you.

“Baby, do you honestly think you can just get a leash for an ocelot at some random store?!” he’d huffed. “You have to get this kinda stuff specialty, baby.”

“You are NOT getting an ocelot, Dieter!” you’d chided. “I don’t even think they’re legal to own! Which, somehow, is further down the list of worries when it comes to owning a fucking MURDER CAT.”

He’d pouted and stormed off, leash trailing on the floor as he dragged it along and away to stew in his defeat.

It glistens in your hand now, hardware probably made with enough real gold you could melt it down and sell it for a good chunk of change. It was a wonder Dieter wasn’t homeless and penniless when you’d met. You smile to yourself thinking of how he’ll probably point out later on that this ended up being a useful purchase after all.

You make your way back to the bedroom and are pleased to find that Dieter hasn’t moved.

“Well at least we’re off to a better start than I anticipated,” you note as you run a hand down his angled spine.

He shudders under your touch, eyes drifting closed peacefully for a split second. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done it.”

You take a deep breath and acknowledge his admission. “I know, Dee. But you also know that admitting it is only half of the equation here.”

He nods in understanding and follows your direction to sit up on his knees. You fasten the collar around his neck and direct him to the floor. When he puts a foot down onto the carpet to stand, you correct him to stay on all fours. He’s patient for once as you attach the leash, not badgering you with what you’d be doing or what his punishment was going to be.

“Now, the best remedy for a social media cleanse is a nice walk outside, don’t you think?” you coo, mocking and pointed as you wait for him to understand what you’re insinuating.

“You– What? I can’t go outside like this!” he protests.

“Oh, you can and you will,” you retort.

He balks and stammers as you start jerking the leash and collar towards the hallway and down the stairs. You make him crawl down first so you can watch the globes of his ass flex and push, pink rim in between twitching at the cold air. Maybe once you’re done with his punishment he’ll still have enough energy to take the strap.

You’re closing in on the large sliding patio doors, and Dieter begins bartering again. “But-But what if somebody sees me? It’ll be plastered all over the place! Maybe I can just.. I’ll stay in the collar and leash all day, okay? I’ll keep it on for the entire day inside. I promise!”

“And you’ll have no idea if somebody does see you like this outside because you won’t be going online looking for it,” you snip pointedly. “Besides, since you’re so determined to publicly embarrass yourself, you might as well get some fresh air while you’re doing it.”

His cheeks burn in shame and anticipation. “I swear I won’t ever—”

“You already have, and this is the consequence. Now let’s go.”

His head dips down, but he starts crawling on hands and knees towards the door, waits for you to open it, and gingerly makes his way across the hard tiles that make up the patio. He tilts his head up just enough to glance around at the privacy hedges, no doubt searching for any openings where passing eyes could see him in this predicament.

You guide him to the middle of the yard and instruct him to sit back on his haunches and look up at you.

“Isn’t this nice, being outdoors for a change?”

He grimaces and fidgets. “Baby, please–”

“How does it make you feel, Dee? Being out here like this for anybody to see?”

He huffs and looks down, but you won’t have it. You grip his jaw and direct his attention back to you.

“When I ask you a question, you answer me.”

“I-I feel… open. Too open. And-And nervous,” he mumbles.

“Do you remember our special word?”

“Not that kind of nervous,” he huffs. “Just… I don’t… somebody could be taking a picture of me right now, and it’d be on the trending—”

“And that’s none of your fucking business,” you interject. “Being so concerned about that is what got you in this situation to begin with, so I suggest you start letting go of all that before I get annoyed all over again.”

He groans and gripes to himself but doesn’t argue. “So how long am I s’posed to stay out here like this?” His cheeks heat at the renewed awareness that he’s completely nude in his backyard, being led around on a lead like some misbehaved animal that can’t be trusted to be left to its own devices.

“Until I say we’re done,” you say flatly.

He grumbles under his breath and hangs his head. He goes suspiciously still, and you follow his line of sight to your bare feet. You wiggle your toes just to confirm your hunch and are awarded a gravelly, hitched breath from Dieter.

“Find something to take your mind off things?” you needle.

“You’re wearing the toerings I got you,” he hums, voice shifting into something low and excited.

“Yes, and I was going to let you take them off with your mouth, but instead we’re having to do this.”

He gasps, head shooting up to look at you again with a frenzied expression. “Oh, please let me! PLEASE?”

His flaccid until now cock springs to attention at the mere mention of your feet and his mouth. It had become a fixation of his after a particularly erotic shroom trip, but you didn’t mind it too much. After all, it was just another tool in your arsenal to keep Dieter’s focus and energy where it needed to go. 

“What happened to being scared somebody was going to see you outside like this?” you drawl with a lazy grin.

“It’s probably fine,” he reasons, now rapidly talking himself out of being shy. 

“You know what I think, Dee?” you ask in a throaty rasp. You lightly rub the top of your foot against the bottom of his sac and delight in the way he gasps and twitches. “I think you’d like it if somebody took a photo of that.”

You push harder, the warmed metal of your jewelry pressing into his sensitive skin, and Dieter moans openly now into the expanse of the sunlit yard. 

“Or even a video. Bet you’d love to have that to watch the next time you’re jerking off.”

He whines and buries his nose against your legs. You take pity on him and scratch his scalp in soothing strokes. His reprieve isn’t long, though, when you bend down low enough that your lips are next to his temple.

“Bet they’d be watching, too, and see what pathetic little slut you are for me,” you rasp in his ear.

He whines and shuts his eyes tight, hips grinding against nothing.

“Maybe once you’ve been humiliated in front of the entire world, you won’t care anymore about what anonymous losers have to say about you online.”

He gasps and grips his hands into thighs, knees digging into the grassy earth beneath him. You smile almost cruelly at the way your words have him clinging desperately to the tiny shreds of dignity left right now.

“But you don’t care about any of that right now, do you?” 

You stand upright again and pull the leash taut enough the collar digs into the side of his neck.

 “You just care about being good for me so you can come all over my feet like the desperate little boy slut you are.”

Dieter’s eyes glaze over completely, and one more nudge of your foot against his sac is all it takes before he’s erupting all over your foot and the grass. He grabs onto the back of your calves for leverage as he spurts thick, white ropes again and again. All sounds of pleasure bottleneck in his throat to a breathy, strangled moan. 

He slumps shoulders first towards the ground and whines as he licks up his own spend from your feet. You let him go at it for a few moments before pulling him up for a kiss, the tang of his spend flooding your tongue. He sighs into your mouth and deepens the kiss until his energy dips again. You help him to his feet and walk him back inside to the couch where he plops down haphazardly.

You caress the red indentations on the side of his neck as you remove the collar and leash. You start to fuss over whether or not to get him some ice when he shushes you and pulls you down on top of him. You run a leisurely hand through his hair, gentle pets and rubs as he settles closer into you.

“You okay? Your neck is a little red.”

“Mmmmmm, I’m doin’ really good, baby,” he murmurs. “Love you so much.”

“Love you, too, Dee.”

He sighs contentedly and tucks himself into your side. “Didn’t even think I still had that thing.”

“Hm? What thing?”

“That cat collar and leash.”

You chuckle into his mussed locks. “You find some real gems in the Miscellaneous Museum every now and then.”

He joins your soft laughter and then stills.

“Dee? What’re you thinking about now?” you ask when you note the change in demeanor.

“So are you still a hard 'NO' on getting that ocelot, or …..?”

You groan a laugh and sling an arm over your eyes. You can’t deny it might be a good distraction to keep him away from his phone. He giggles and cuddles closer, knowing he’s finally wearing you down, just like he always does.

[dropthedemiurge]

I usually watch The Trainee Series at 3-4am so I don't have energy to write huge meta but this is my weekly aaaaaahhhhh!!! post 😆

HOW DO I LOVE THIS SHOW! It might not seem intense but it's so perfect in all the details, I can't.

This show feels like a warm hug, gentle mentor, relatable story and catharsis to every young adult, doesn't it? 🫠

Story arc of Pah this episode is my favourite! I don't think I ever had happy tears while watching BLs but this just happened 🥲 All scenes with him just were great, from insecurities and lashing out to trying to be better, making up and receiving solace from older people who also hold themselves accountable. How could it not touch ny heart?

Also I had the time of my life with the scene with Pie where she was so confused dealing with heartbroken Tae. Like "what do you mean how do I live alone as a single person? I have hands?? My feets function perfectly?? I can take care of myself?? What do you mean how to not be with a lover? It's perfectly possible and very easy???" Even if it wasn't implied, that was such a perfect aromantic representation as I imagine it lmao So perfect for memes and gifs. Also I noticed only now that her username is literally π (Pi) and I loved this little detail so much 😆 Of course, she's π! Rational, calculative but also unique, with neverending quirks, usefulness and potential.

Other goes without saying, of course. Damn. What is this silly showing doing to me and how is it possible?🥺

P S. I feel you Tae, "we can fix it in post-production" is the scaries phrase that can ever be said lol

[magpod-confessions]

Honestly i wanna hear opinions on season 4, cus im gonna confess i could NOT finish it (didnt move on to season 5 either lol). Got to like ep 135 & i just couldnt tell any of the episodes apart it felt like such a drag; just a slog of misery with some offhand Important 5 Minutes once in a blue moon. I hate repetition & i got the sparknotes from fandom/wiki stuff so yeahhh i just stopped listening; i still love TMA & it’s story & characters, it’s just the execution that got to me RIP

Everything felt kinda forced to me ig? Like there was some shoe-horned “humans are more monstrous than the actual monster” that snuffed S1 Jon’s fun cockiness/jackassery just to make him ? The best one in the archive ??? & all of his wrongdoings are either off-screen or justified by him being tricked into becoming a literal monster against his will (who would STARVE w/o his ‘evil-doings’, which didnt even kill ppl). Also felt like everyone got needlessly dumbed down except for Martin (the Love Interest ofc, who got 180’d from his pre-established incompetency to be some mastermind in a playing field he should have REALLY been inept in) just so they’d be blind to Jon’s situation & be mean to him LMAO

They started trying to make Jon accountable for “choosing this” & i couldnt handle it, held no fucking water to me—the guy being explicitly puppetted & manipulated as the entire plot? That guy is expected to take responsibility here? Felt like some after-thought theme they threw on top of it all. Anyways uhh feel free comment either on what i said and/or your personal thoughts on the season, or nothing if ya got nothing lol

🗣️

Ehh disagree. S4 isnt my fav but I dont think its bad. S1 Jon to s4 jon feels like natural character progression to me. He starts as acting all high and mighty to try hide the fact he has no idea what hes doing and is terrified, and then experiences a lot of ppl dying that he feels is due to him and is his responsibility. At that point his thought pattern is 'I keep messing up and making mistakes and getting myself and everyone around me hurt, so other ppl surely know better'. Hes got a lot of black and white thinking around him, which has been consistent throughout his entire characterization

I dont think any characters were dumbed down either

Melanie was always angry, she only go worse bc she had smth making her think everything she did was justified and when that stopped she became avoidant and stopped lashing out. She was still angry, just managing it better

Basira has always been Daisys no1, the person to justify all of Daisys actions. She knows what daisy did and why its bad but she holds onto the idea that daisy is right in doing so. She blames jon for what he does bc logically she knows its wrong, hurting ppl who havent done anything is wrong, but still excuses daisy bc she needs to. Bc that was a fact of her life and it cannot be wrong. In the unknowning she focuses on facts to keep her grounded and to her 'Daisy is a good person' 'Hurting ppl is wrong' and 'If you hurt ppl you are a bad person' are all facts she needs in her life to stay grounded. How she justifies Daisys actions is by saying that the ppl who daisy hurt were worse and it ultimately helps more ppl to have them gone. Not only can she not do that with Jon, as she believes those he hurts are entirely innocent, she also doesnt care to. Shes not close with Jon and she doesnt have 'Jon is a good person' as a fact in her mind, so she doesnt need to work to excuse his actions. Its all or nothing with her, if you hurt and continue hurting ppl, no matter your reason, you need to stop and the only way you will stop is if you are gone. She also has a lot of black and white thinking, gotta love the autism podcast

Martin being a mastermind in s4 also makes sense bc him being stupid is an act. If ppl think your stupid theyll underestimate you and ultimately leave you alone. They wont scrutinize you, they wont attack every part of you, they will brush it off as just a typical normal thing. It will get you ignored and you cannot be hurt if nobody knows who you are or how to hurt you. Its a lonely miserable existence but its one martins used to. Martin rarely drops the mask of 'Sweet but stupid' bc he needs that to survive and tbh he probably learnt that from needing to survive his mom LOL. Martin just knows and picks the best method of getting ppl to like him, which for him is doing exactly what they want and keeping their expectations low so they wont hurt him as much when they mess up. Honestly in s5 I see him as hes finally got to a place where he doesnt care if everyone hates him, bc he has someone who does and thats all he needs. Hes survived the worst of it and he doesnt care anymore

Part of the reason everyone blames Jon is bc he is there and he is the one who is currently causing the most problems. Also they dont actually see the extent that Jon is manipulated. Elias talks and interacts with Jon differently to how he interacts with others. All of them met Jon when he was already at the institute, they meet him when it does actually look like he made his choice, entirely of his own free will. It doesnt help that daisy is there, someone who completed their transformation like Jon did and turned back on it, and she looks like shes managing well enough. She is surviving without feeding so why cant Jon do the same? Also basira does trust elias on some level. She trusts he knows more than she does and can be an asset if used correctly, which definitely doesnt help things. Also the idea of Elias is locked up, he cant affect Jon anymore so why is Jon still acting this way. Elias has very effectively vilified and isolated jon and jon doesnt fight back against it bc he believes it as well. Other ppl are normally right so why wouldnt everyone be right abt him?

Oh my god that was an essay and I absolutely missed sooo much stuff but idk take that - rosette

i literally have nothing to add . rosette sincerely you are insane and i love that . i honestly don't have a lot of s4 opinions that i could really put down , but i also disagree anon . s4 may not have been the best , but it certainly wasn't Bad or not enjoyable to listen to . coming from someone who has listened to the podcast twice now [ and who is planning on a third relisten ] , i really do enjoy s4 as a whole . martin's buildup and his manipulation of peter lukas is honestly one of my favourite parts , because it has been said that martin was originally going to be apart of the mother of puppets ! this shows that part of martin we didn't get to see but has been there . i got distracted and don't remember what else i was gonna type um . whoops - deceit

[noemilivv]

Hello :) I saw you were doing Hazbin Hotel matchups and honestly I would be very excited to see who you would assign to me (no pressure ofc!!!) so I hope this request is finding you at a good time ^^

ABOUT ME: Feel free to just call me Zo! I’m AFAB and I use she/her as my pronouns. While not officially diagnosed due to growing up in a household who treated it as taboo something that I couldn’t “catch” I definitely fall under the umbrella of neurodivergence. From past research I’ve found ADHD symptoms relate to most of my experiences.

SEXUALITY/ROMANTIC TYPE: To be frank, I’ve always internally struggled when it came to my sexual and romantic identity. Found myself craving some sort of connection that traversed the likes of just platonic bonds but the couple times when someone showed interest in me I’d clam up and push them away. The couple crushes I did have always happened to develop after I had built rapport with them, after we had grew close. So for the sake of labels and for this matchup I’d definitely like to say I’m demiromantic? In terms of sexuality all I got for you is that I’m not repulsed by it??? All I know for sure is if I like them, we’d have to have been friends or at least know each other. (In terms of gender I’m fine with either or! I’m just curious to see who fits the box el oh el ^^)

PERSONALITY: Oh boy. Ok so to start off with I’m an INTP 5w4😼…. My hog warts house is Slytherin. My temperament is Melancholic (my sub temperament is tied up between Melancholic sanguine and melancholic phlegmatic). I definitely fall under the umbrella of shyness, however I’ve also noticed that depending on my company I tend to emulate the majority of the vibe. A half hearted defense mechanism in order to fit in is what I assume it be. I’m told I’m a very emotionally intelligent person, and my friends prefer to talk to me about issues and problems due to the fact that while I can comfort I can also hold them accountable and give them solid advice. They also make jokes on how I should’ve been a psychologist if I wasn’t actively getting a degree in early education. I’m terrible when it comes to changing topics which just makes it me all the more unintentionally hilarious. I’m always more funny when I’m not actively trying to be, I just have this unknown charisma that activates when i don’t try hard being funny </3. I struggle when it comes to maintaining my relationships and also most of my responsibilities, maybe it’s a numbness for my own priorities but it’s so easy to help other people in their own slumps, that when I’m forced to face my own issues and problems I can’t help but make myself numb to it and push it on the back burner. Not for lack of care, but more of seemingly frozen in place, it’s all so terrifyingly overwhelming that I just don’t even acknowledge it. Scarily good at doing that while also avoiding spieling my own feelings on personal matters that my friends always believe I have my all together. So ironically enough while I’m good at helping my friends communicate I’m terrible when it comes to communicating about myself (yippee⁉️ #imworkingonitiswear ) more or less I’m laid back, However I did used to be more of a doormat, luckily I don’t bend backwards for every little thing that breathes now LMAO. I do have a bit of a competitive streak when it comes to games (cough uno cough) and I definitely have a penchant of using my mind and other mediums as a form of escapism. Which can be ok, but sometimes I overdo it.

LOOKS: Medium length dark brown hair, round hazel eyes. I have a round face, and here in the future I want to get wispy bangs to compliment my face shape :D. Pale but not too pale skin, I have the pear shape body type, in the sense that my hips are wide, and I have somewhat big thighs but other wise I’m relatively flat. I do have a bit of chub when it comes to my midsection. Oh! I’m like 5’5 (maybe a little taller????)

LIKES: My cats Basil and Mugwort (literally my sons). I prefer more morose weather like rain. I quite like fall compared to the other seasons. I used to draw a lot but now I don’t as much, still a joyful hobby nonetheless. Recently bought a couple new books and am getting back into the grove of loving reading once more. I will absolutely demolish croutons of any kind. Currently really into mlp, it’s those TikTok infection slideshows I swear (I redownloaded the game….) I like to ramble about my interests like animation and its evolution, cats (the breeds, the care, the everything), and much much more.

DISLIKES: I hate beans. The taste. The texture. If I see beans in food it’s an immediate ick. I will gag. Overstimulating events, like I can bear with it and grow accustomed to it, but that’s doesn’t mean I’ll like it every single time. I hate being/feeling like a burden. Oh and not really a dislike and more of an annoyance(?) the fact that ritz cheese and cracker packs don’t come with the little red plastic spatula to spread your cheese anymore. I assume because it could prove to be a choking hazard, but still I’m just like 😞

LOVE LANGUAGES: Had to really scroll through my gallery because I did take an online test before!! Physical Touch was my highest (ie im extremely touch starved but am too awkward to initiate </3) Something in me just yearns for some kind of comforting touch, but I always tend to swallow it back and push it away for fear of rejection. After that focus, intellect, acts, and words of affirmation were literally all tied not even 5% behind phys touch. I’m just a kind of mentally paralyzed overthinking insecure(ish) gal, my bad bro 😎 But on a real note the confirmation that I’m being seen and heard will make me melt.

Alright!!! Hopefully my yapping was coherent and not a chore to read through!! I think it’s really cool you’re doing this and I’m mainly curious to see who it is you’d pair with me! Because I have a favorite character in mind who’d jump with joy to see, but that’s just because of bias 😭😭

And if it’s not too much of a bother is it alright to ask not to pair me with angel dust? It’s mainly personal preference so hopefully it’s not too much of a bother :))🫶🫶🫶

hey zo! this was quite the adventure to read through haha, after some deciding, I decided to go with…

Alastor !!

I can see you and Alastor meshing well together due to your craving of a platonic bond (you both may or not have a QPR? idk)

Alastor takes deep appreciation for not only your charisma and wit, but also your ability to read the room and match everyone’s energy, it’s helpful in certain situations with him

He isn’t the most touchy feely person you’ll meet in Hell, but he does make an effort, you’ll both usually have your arms loops while holding hands, or he’ll let you lay your head in his lap while he reads and he’ll rub your scalp

But Alastor isn’t afraid to tell you how it is, he makes sure you know your worth, and that he sees you all too clearly

[hanasnx]

babe it's okay bc dick grayson IS over 6 foot and he has a long cock (i saw it!!!!) 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

wishing i was his sunshine gf who he spoils rotten 💔💔💔💔💔 he always makes jokes about how he's almost a glorified sugar daddy, but you always rush to reassure him you don't care about the money (he knows lmao) and im so sorry for this but, dick grayson has a voyeurism kink, a somnophilia kink and an arm kink bc he likes it when you cling to his arm like a koala to a tree.

he always gets home late after patrol, and seeing his pretty girl in any way is what gets him going, so he just couldn't keep his hands off you. you woke to your underwear being on the ground, and with his fingers in you 🤭

he always a spends a fucking FORTUNE on you whenever you go out, but he never lets you see the price tags. like my dude RUSHES to cover them so that you don't worry your pretty little head off <3 he started doing that after you told him "if you keep spending so much on me, dickie, you're gonna be in debt by the time we've been dating for like- a year!" so he's very cautious now. can't have his pretty girl worrying about that of all things! especially when you're as rich as him, i mean, all of things he buys is barely a dent in his bank account..! as long you let him touch your pretty pussy while you sleep, wash his hair (!), and be his sunshine, he'll be fine !!!!

(im literally so obsessed w him 😓)

baaabbbeeeee stopppppp

(me when someone says “arm kink”)

behold. elite arms for your arm kink viewing pleasure courtesy of a one dick grayson

☥ i think i saw somewhere that he was canonically 5’10 and that’s good and all, still very tall like i won’t deny it. i just feel like he has crazy tall energy.. and i’m a fool for “glow ups” and growth spurt trope. like in the first season he was shorter than everyone, and then second season he’s taller than everybody like 😵‍💫😵‍💫 i can’t get enough of it. he’s got like 6’2 energy to me

☥ thank you for telling me about your headcanon kinks for him bcos i’m still trying to delve deep into his psyche over here. still trying to figure him out, my sexy little human rubik’s cube

“he likes it when you cling to his arm” is soooo real. like where other couples would hold hands, you hold his arm. feeling his muscle under your palm 🫠

☥ when he realizes you’re awake, he whispers over the wet sounds of your pussy, “shh, baby, go back to sleep… just couldn’t help myself. be done soon.” he coos, and you’re so groggy you hum in content, adjusting further into his warmth while he’s toying with you.

☥ “cant have his pretty girl worrying” PLEAKBSLWBEME

“as long as you let him touch your pretty pussy” HFSLDHSLKCJS IM SO 🔥🔥🥵‼️

the fact he’s fucking loaded fr. he doesn’t like to flaunt it really.. a silver chain for himself here, an expensive motorcycle there… he’s very cautious with it. never liked the mansion life, too big too lonely. the apartment guy, the city guy,… unless he’s with you. then he feels like he wants to step it up. especially bcos he wants to fuck you that night after your luxurious outing

[gay-gambler]

I ESCAPED JAIL NOTHING COULD HOLD ME BACK FROM SENDING MY FAVOURITE AUTHOR FANART!!!!!!!

so here's part *checks

Part 4 of STG textpost! Enjoy :3

Part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 | part 6

Masterlist

Based on fanfic by @blot-squisher !

I couldn't post last update because I was busy and then I fucking got deactivated by Tumblr for ACTING LIKE A BOT?? which still confused me idk what I did

Funnily enough it was after I finally got myself an ao3 account and posted my first work lmao the curse is real

Also I have such a hard time trying to find textpost that WASN'T Danny, he is so goober but I wanted to draw other slashers too 🥲

[namazunomegami]

A healthy dose of stalker Geto thoughts

a/n: FYI, thats the result if you lock me up in an empty room with my laptop and a playlist full of mareux, NIN and MSI. At least I got a newfound love for Closer now bc some years ago a fic ruined the song for me lmao

Before you ask, yes, I have mental problems. But likes and reblogs are still appreciated <33

wc: 1919

cw: geto is fucking delulu, online stalking, serial murder, poisoning, dismemberment, geto cooks his blood into a meal, implied bondage, kidnapping, reader was abused, corruption, reader is forced to torture and kill their abuser, gore

credits: nakatsuji sakutaro for one of my fave geto fanarts ever <33, my dearest @notveryrussian for proofreading, my criminal pedagogy teacher for some interesting details about organized criminals lol and arone_cosplay on tiktok bc his scream au cosplay was the sole inspiration when I started writing

The dark content is heavy with this one so there's nothing wrong if you won't interact with this post! If my horror enthusiast bestie says that this shit is scary, believe them. Minors are gonna get kicked, obviously.

He’s definitely not that “Joe Goldberg from You” type of stalker. He despises the guy, he watches that show to have a laugh. It’s his form of disaster tourism. Geto is almost the antithesis of Joe. I was a big fan of the first season of You so let me elaborate. Joe has a savior complex and he latches onto any conventionally attractive rich woman in his proximity and tries to mold them into his ideal type (which is vulnerable, dependent, innocent, and forgiving) and when shit hits the fan he becomes a whiney little bitch saying stuff like “aww, but I did this all for you :cc” because he’s in complete denial about his crimes and psychopathic nature. Geto is the opposite, and what makes him so fucking scary is that he doesn’t need to convince himself that his actions are right. He knows he’s right.

Also, he won’t put on a fucking cap and go out on the streets to stalk you. That’s just a dumb decision, he has a job to do, and it’s easy to recognize him. But that doesn’t mean that he won’t do it in his spare time, from a comfortable distance. He only needs one of your socials and digs up every little detail about you. Your entire lore. Pictures shared by your relatives when you were just a little kid, he tracks your friends’ accounts (he wants to make sure that you’re surrounded by the right people), all the locations, cafés, restaurants you share on your instagram highlights, your celebrity crushes, all the playlists you made on spotify, everything. He gets to know you before you’re even aware of his existence, you’re an open book to him before he talks to you. It’s so easy to get a feel of your essence in the online space, use the tremendous information to his advantage, surprise you, win you over with his fake thoughtfulness.

"Aw, you’re so sweet, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

Yeah, a lucky guess, he just scrolled your twitter until 4 am to reach your first ever post.

The easiest way to understand how his mind works is to look at his MBTI type and I’ll try to hold myself back to not flood you all with my everlasting love for Jungian psychology and cognitive functions. INTJs are meticulous, skeptical, analytical, practical, everything is centered around a bigger, more complex system, a spiderweb of thoughts. Their subjective ideals and values have the utmost importance. They get lost in the details sometimes, but they manage to prioritize creativity and rationality in their actions and thought process. So, if we want to pick a category among murderers, he’d definitely belong into a mission oriented type (canon is my only proof for this). He couldn’t care less about money, power, or satisfying his needs for control. He’s the personification of punishment in his mind.

Evil is petty, he is petty, but not so much to just deal with every single nuisance in the shape of a person (looking at Joe again lol). He won’t go after the Karens at your workplace or the shitty classmates who just wanted their name on your assignment without any contribution. If he kills, he must kill for a valid reason and does it brilliantly. Calm and level-headed, organized, devoid of anger or any intense emotion. He makes awful lot of preparations for a kill. He studies the victim just like he studies with you. Their schedule, relationships, habits, social media presence. He’d rather arrange the scene to give the impression of an accident. Mixing cleaning products, fucking around with the heating system and letting them die of carbon monoxide poisoning or a house fire (an easy kill if the victim smokes). He rarely lets himself get carried away and get all bloody and gorey because he knows how much effort he must put into disposing of the body. But he does feel like a god during the process. That he rules over life and death. That he has the divine right to decide who should be removed from existence.

The only slightly risky thing he allows himself, is to put his earphones in and call you up while dismembering a corpse. Good thing that his grandma has no use for that big ass meat grinder, a literal jackpot for getting rid of the bodies. His voice is soothing, so sweet you can turn into a blushing and giggling mess, but you can still hear the loud chopping noises as he severs the body parts right at the joints. He shrugs it off that he’s just meal prepping.

You believe him, you don’t question him further. But he does cook a delicious meal just for you and sends it to your workplace. And you have absolutely no idea that he was thinking about cutting up the ingredients with the same knife he killed his victim with. Luckily, he changed his mind. You don’t deserve to have any remnants of a lowlife in your system. But the idea was nice, just like how modern witches tie their favorite person to them. There’s something ritualistic about blood consumption in his mind that he can’t explain. Hopefully, a few drops of his own didn’t ruin the meal. At least you weren’t complaining about the metallic taste. He doesn’t mind he has to live off on two cans of Monster because he pulled an all-nighter. You’re falling head over heels for him so it’s worth the suffering.

The only thing that makes his heart ache is that as your relationship develops, he must use you to forge his alibis. He immediately copied the keys to your apartment, without your knowledge of course. Sometimes he drops by when you’re absent, goes through your stuff, sniffs around, looking for trinkets. He comes over specifically when he plans to kill his next victim. Sneaks out in the middle of the night, kills them, then goes back to your place and crawls back next to you. And he’s as silent as a cat, as a phantom, as a ghost.

He’s a fucked up man in every aspect. You think he’s too hyper fixated on restraints and bondage. He’s far too keen to spend an excruciatingly long time arranging the rope in an aesthetically pleasing way, or have the gag’s and blindfold’s colors match perfectly. His creativity and imagination are running wild when you’re the rigger. You almost question his sanity when he asks you to use cable ties and masking tape on him. What does he want? To feel tortured? Deep down he’s fascinated with the feelings a potential victim might experience. A taste of distress, vulnerability, helplessness that he usually has no chance to feel, yet he’s thrilled about it. You still won’t suspect a thing, everybody’s got a weird kink or two that they can’t explain, right?

He knows that one day, you’ll discover his secret. That he can’t hide it forever and even though he justifies his vile actions by giving it a noble cause, he must earn your forgiveness. He deliberately kept those who hurt you mostly alive. Whether it’s a bully, the shittiest ex known to mankind, or an abusive parent. He knows he has no right to kill them. But he can bring them to your basement, gagged and tied up. The best birthday gift ever is to let you have your revenge, right? Or maybe he just wants somebody as irredeemable as him, like he’s undeserving of anything nice in life so he must break it, tarnish it, ruin it. The world is a such a cruel place for kind spirits, he feels the need to corrupt them. Bring them down to his level.

He lined up a bunch of tools, a wooden bat, scissors, knives, razor blades, a hatchet, a hammer. He transformed the basement into a makeshift rage room. You don’t dare to cry, run, or scream at him, the person before your eyes makes you freeze completely, your features are distorted in dread. An old response got triggered, your nervous system remembers those years, you’re flooded with memories. You feel yourself regressing back to the victim you once were and that’s the process that Geto wants to stop once and for all. It’s so strange that you find safety in his presence and his firm hold above your elbows. He’s looming over you like a shadow, a shroud. Like the devil on your shoulder. Cooing in your ear to pick up something and have fun, let your rage cloud your mind, make them relive your pain. Don’t worry about a single thing because he will do all the clean-up. And you have no idea why, but you accept.

It’s strangely comforting. You feel in control, all-powerful, accomplished. It feels better than it should. It feels so right but it shouldn’t. There’s no guilt in you, only endorphins running rampant in your veins. The dopamine rush enslaves you, fills your brain with white noise. The pain does fade a little or something just irrevocably breaks in you. Maybe you’re just as fucked up as him and you managed to bury it in the deepest corner of your psyche. All bottled up for years like the most exquisite French wine, chained just like a beast but now it’s freed. Your reward is a bloody pile of flesh and guts that once was a person, and utter devotion gleaming in Geto’s eyes.

Your consciousness gets clearer, you notice the sensation of being drenched in blood and sweat when the realization hits you that there’s no going back. Now, you’re sticked together for life. You know his dirty little secret and now you’ve forged your own that he can blackmail you with if you ever want to get away from him. But why would you do that? You’re everything he needs and he’s all you have.