#yall remember Voice

[joshuamj]

...?

[devotion-disorder]

ok since you listen to drama cds which japanese VAs suit the elves (this is totally not suspicious and i will not look those voice actors up when you answer)

love you for this. muah

Killian: 佐和真中

Asa: i dont know actually. 猿飛総司 mayhaps?

Yuri: 彩和矢

Mishka: 冬ノ熊肉

and i know you didn't ask for this but:

Kuuya: 一条ひらめ　(but like, imagine if it was more high pitched)

Noel: 湯町駆 or 五日天峰 mayhaps?

[t0bey]

Tobey what did you think of Mike Morton and Nagito Komaeda having the same voice ?

cursing identity v to hell for never visibly crediting their Eng vas so Mike is in a perpetual schroedinger’s komaeda voice until they actually confirm he’s either voiced by Bryce papenbrook or some dude that unfortunately sounds really similar to him

[synthshenanigans]

an annoyed Heart sketch that i kept coloring too much & now i have this

[alt versions below as always v ]

[starry-bi-sky]

I had a thought, dear However scary About that night The bugs and the dirt Why were you digging? What did you bury Before those hands pulled me From the earth? I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you

-------- an extension of this excerpt because I've been thinking of Femme Danny and Jason all week. It's mildly suggestive, but that's really the only heads up needed. --------

Music blaring, bass heavy in her ears, Danny finds him in a ditch at the bottom of the bluff. She was leaving the observatory, and she nearly misses him as she turns out onto the last stretch of road leading back into the city.

She catches sight of him, just barely. A glimpse in the corner of her eye; something reflecting on the light. She thinks it's a deer at first, and instinctual terror that only the idiocy of a deer denting her car can give her, strikes her hard. There's no one behind her, so she slams the breaks.

Her car stops; there's no deer. She looks and looks, but there's no deer, no deer buddy — they always come in pairs. But something still catches her eye; light reflecting off leather, in the ditch below just a few feet in front of her.

"What the fuck is that?" Slips out of her mouth before she can really think it through, and she's pulling off to the shoulder, wheels crunching gravel, before she thinks that through either.

Danny's climbing out of her car within seconds, putting it in park and hitting her hazards as her door clicks open and she stands up on the ledge. The trees block the sky, and there is no moon beholden to brighten the land, only the dull light of the stars and the brights of her car.

There's a man in a ditch. And he's not moving. From the distance, Danny's not sure if he's breathing.

She breathes out for him; "Fuck." She's running around the front of her car, not thinking it through. Her feet crunch the gravel, bugs buzzing at her ears, and she's sliding down the small hill into the ditch to reach his side.

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead." Repeats in mantra under her breath, she can smell blood; heavy and iron, mixing with the dirt and the grass. Her hands find his side, Danny rolls him over onto his back. Her fingers find his pulse, and she breathes relief. He's alive.

—---------

Danny finds no less than two — no, three guns, four knives, and an actual, goddamn shiv on the half-dead ditch man. But not a single ID or wallet.

The man reeks of danger, even in his unconscious state it lingers on him like a rich cologne. It's the human instinct to be curious, and maybe it's the blood and dirt that tells her he's bad news. Common sense, naturally.

She doesn't know what to do with him. Danny wants to help him, but the ghostly part of her, the one that seeks safety above all else — for herself, for her loved ones. Because growing up in a house of weapons on the tables for sticky, pudgy fingers to play with, and food that needs killing twice, and labs full of half-broken beakers and radioactive substances spilling onto the floor robbed her of it entirely, — tells her to leave him.

He's dangerous. Her core hums cold, freezing the tips of her fingers, making her ears ring. She forgets to breathe, her hands going numb. Leave him for the coyotes to find; for the bugs to feast on; for the mud to swallow whole. Leave him for the land. Nobody carries this many weapons on them unless—

He groans. In only the light from her high beams, his cracked lips split and makes a noise of pain. His chest rises, shuddery and slow, and he doesn't wake. The man slips back down into unconsciousness. But he's alive.

He's alive.

Danny exhales. It's springtime, wreathed in life. It's cold; he's cold. But alive. She shakes the chill from her fingers, resolution warms her lungs.

Carrying him up to her car isn't easy — dressed like fucking Dean Winchester and wearing half as many layers, the man is probably two hundred pounds. But she's been working out and taking boxing classes since sophomore year of high school. She throws him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and hikes them both up the hill.

She drives them home. Don't ask her why she didn't take them to the hospital; she can't give an answer. Not one that makes sense. She knows enough first aid to fix almost anything he might have.

Danny blasts the heat and turns the music on low; switches to something softer, more comforting, in case he wakes up. She kicks the passenger seat back far enough so that if he does, he's reclined comfortably.

He doesn't wake up, she can't keep her eyes off him anyways.

—---------

Danny lays him on the couch in her house. He gets blood and mud on the fabric, and she'll need to get a new one because of it. But she takes off his boots, strips him of his shirt and jackets, and flies to the bathroom to get her first aid kit.

He doesn't wake up the entire time she's putting stitches in his side. Nothing is broken, but he's bruised and cut. Some get band-aids, others get bandages.

The man has half as many scars as Danny does. Stabs, cuts, a few burns here and there. Danny has those too, but she doubts the man has been impaled before like she has. The luck of ghosts that they can't die by mortal means. Or curse, depending on how you look at it.

(There's a thin scar on his throat, like someone tried to slice it open. She sees it while she's stitching up a laceration near his collarbone, and Danny can't stop herself from huffing.)

("We match." She murmurs, joking dry and ingenuine. She doubts anyone's survived a botched decapitation like she has. At least his scar is thin and hard to see. That wasn't a good night for her; she had to sew it closed herself, alone out of refusal to let her friends help.)

When she's done, she collapses into the recliner beside him, and falls asleep. She slips in and out of dreams all night.

—---------

When she wakes up, the man is staring at her, sitting up on the couch like an animal listening for the predator nearby. It's a good thing she hid his weapons in the floorboards when they arrived. She stares back at him, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

He's handsome. She thinks, and wakes up fully.

—---------

His name is Jason Todd, he doesn't remember who he is.

That's... a problem.

—---------

She makes them both food, and she'll never stop appreciating the fact that she no longer needs to fight her fridge before the food inside lets her eat. She hasn't lived with her parents in years, and yet the awe still hits her some days.

"I thought I told you to stay seated." She frowns when Jason Todd enters her kitchen, a hand hovering over his bandaged side. They're both tense; awkward and wrong-footed. Off-kilter. It's not a surprise to her. He's amnesiac, she's a stranger.

Jason Todd blinks at her, leaning against the doorframe. From her periphery, he shrugs, only to suck in his teeth in pained regret moments later. "I got bored." He tells her.

"Well, I don't have painkillers," Danny retorts, cheek comes easy to her. Too easy, sometimes. "if you tear your stitches then I'm giving you a rag to bite into while I redo them."

Well, if anything, it gets a snort from him.

—---------

"So, do I have a shirt, or did you just find a half-naked, half-dead man in the woods and decide to take him home?" Jason Todd asks her from the table a few minutes later. She can see, even standing a few feet away, the gooseflesh rising bumps against his skin.

Her cheeks color pink, and she moves to the hallway. "You have a shirt," she says, "you have two actually, and a jacket. I threw the shirts in the wash because they were filthy."

The jacket was leather, so during the night, when she woke up from her many bouts of restless sleep, she got up and cleaned it by hand. "I would've done the same with your jeans, but I can take a half-dead man home," she opens the dryer and pulls out the shirts, "but I draw the line at taking off his pants when he's unconscious."

It gets a short laugh out of him; harsh and brief, and it makes her relax, just a little. Laughter meant just enough comfort to not be tense... most of the time. She returns to his side and drapes the still-warm clothes onto the table.

"What if my legs were hurt?" He asks her, raising an eyebrow even as he reached for the first shirt.

"Then that is called an exception to the rule, ditch man."

—---------

He stays with her. He has nowhere to go — and trust her, they looked. Or they tried to. But he has no social media that shows up under the name ‘Jason Todd’. Oh, there are Jason Todds, but none that match the way he looks — none of them his age, none of them with black hair and blue eyes, no white streak in the curls at the front.  

Well, there was one possible candidate. A Jason Todd-Wayne, infamous adoptive son of Bruce Wayne. But he died the same year Danny did, and unlike her, he didn’t come back. 

“Great.” Jason Todd sighs heavy, “I match with a dead kid.”

“I’m honestly kind of impressed.” Danny tells him, frowning despite her laughing disbelief. She scrolls through every social media she can find, and he just doesn’t show up. There are no warrants out for his arrests, no celebrity interviews with him in it, no missing news reports matching his description. Nothing. “How do you not have any socials? You’re like a ghost.” And she knows a thing or two about ghosts.

It’s equally as suspicious as it is impressive. Who are you, Jason Todd? She wonders, looking over to him.  

He merely shrugs, careful of his injuries, and slumps into his chair. “Don’t ask me, I don’t remember.” 

She gives him the guest room, and they go out and buy him clothes with what budget she can afford. She drags him to a thrift store first, to every thrift store in the city, and they come back with a decent enough haul that he has clothes for at least two weeks. 

—---------

“Danny, what is that?” 

She takes a long sip of her drink, Jason lingering at her side like a shadow. “A smoothie, Tucker.” She says, deadpan like it's the most obvious thing in the world as she slides into their favorite booth with practiced ease. “You know this, I always get one on Fridays.” 

Jason follows her easily, slow and careful, mindful of his sides. He’s back to awkward, tense, acting like an outside looking in. Like he’s not quite sure what to do in the face of her friends. They’ve been together for a week now, and she asked him if he wanted to meet Sam and Tucker with her. 

(“You’ve been cooped up here all week.” She says when he asks her why, her hands shifting the purse at her shoulder. In shorts and a tank-top her scars lay on display for the world to see, and while she's long since shed the worst of her self-consciousness, it still creeps up on her. She can feel his eyes on them, even after a week. “Some fresh air and a change of scenery might do you some good. Maybe even jog that noggin of yours.”) 

Sam and Tucker stare at her, expressions unreading on their faces. Their eyes flick to Jason at her side, and then back to her. Danny takes another longer sip of her drink, and when she lets go with an obnoxious smack, she jerks her head to Jason. “Oh,” she says like an afterthought, an impish smile shadowing over her lips. “This is Jason, I found him in a ditch on Sunday.” 

"You what!?"

—---------

She doesn’t know how it happens. It sneaks up on her like sunlight creeping across the grass, melting away the morning dew and warming the dirt. She loves him. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him. It’s a terrible, choking thing. Wonderfully beautiful, melting her from the inside out. 

She loves him, she loves him, she loves him.

It’s greater than anything she’s felt before. Different from when she nearly dated Valerie in high school — but so, so similar to it at the same time. Warm in its certainty, in its similarity, burning in its difference. 

Danny doesn’t even realize it until half a year living with him, maybe just a little bit longer. But she realizes when she comes downstairs in the early dredges of the morning, sleep clinging to her lashes and sunlight unfurling through the windows, and finds him in the kitchen making food already. 

It’s not the first time she’s woken up to him doing this. But it’s, for some reason, only now that it hits her how fucking domestic it is. With music playing soft through the speaker of his used phone, barefoot in nothing but sweatpants, and humming along under his breath. He’s gotten so comfortable here; he laughs easier now, smiles easier. It was like watching a flower bloom in real time. 

And the sunlight cards through his hair like fingers, caressing over his face in that loving way it does when it wants someone to see the breathless beauty of their eyes. 

Something constricts in Danny’s chest, tight, fond, wanting. Mine, her mind whispers, faint and distant, and knocking the air from her lungs like a fucking train. Her fingers curl tight around the stairway rails, she has half a mind to crack it in two. 

Then he turns and sees her, he always notices her quickly, and Jason smiles at her. 

Somehow, Danny manages to smile back smiling with the ease of breathing, even when her mouth runs dry.

(If she kisses him, will she taste sugar? She hopes not — white sugar is unfilling, sweet but with nothing else to it. If she tastes Jason Todd, she hopes she tastes caramel.) 

—---------

“Want to go throw axes with me?” Danny asks, draping over the back of the couch and hanging her arms off Jason’s shoulders. Her hand finds his hair, and her fingers tangle with the dark curls. She can smell his shampoo when she hooks her chin on the top of his head.

Jason stills, a book in hand — he’s always got a book, and Danny’s never had much artistic talent but she always want s to find a pencil, maybe some charcoals, and sketch the sight down on paper. Memory isn’t enough, she needs it burned into something tangible. She wants to burn everything he does onto paper, wants to remember every little thing about him.

Then he hums, questioning and low, and Danny tries not to shiver with greed to hear it again. She hums back, her next inhale clearing her head. “Well, it’s not just me, but Sam and Tucker too. A new bar opened up downtown and we were gonna check it out, and we have enough time to add another person to the reservation.” 

A silence, thick and thoughtful. Jason tilts his head back to look up at her, and she removes her chin and hand to look down at him. Her hair curtains over them both, locking her into his eyes — impossibly blue, and beautifully so, with teal lining the iris. 

He wears his thoughts on his sleeve, his brows furrowed and mouth puckered in lighthearted thoughtfulness. Quit making me want to kiss you, Danny thinks, and forces her eyes to remain on his face. Idly, her hands trace over his shirt, rising slowly to drag the back of her nail over his collarbone. 

Jason shudders, sighs out slow, and smiles easily. “Sure, what time are we leaving?”   

—---------

Danny sighs as if she aches; she does. Her fingers find Jason Todd’s hair, soft and slipping between her fingers like silk. He’s so close to her face she can feel his breath on her lips, it’s driving her crazy with it. 

“My god.” She murmurs, her voice slipping out without her consent as her fingers drop from his hair to trace featherlight touches down his temples, down his jaw. His eyes haven’t left hers, half-lidded they are, and heavy, staring at her like he might just swallow her whole. 

Please do, she thinks, tilting her head to the side to slot their noses next to each other. His hands tighten at her waist, fingers digging through her hoodie into her skin. He hums, questioningly, low and rumbling like a thunderstorm on the horizon. As if he can’t trust his voice to say something instead. 

Danny chokes on nothing’s heat and runs her thumb over his bottom lip, the flesh catching briefly on her nail. She can’t think straight with him so close to her. Not when he’s so close she can smell his cologne, not when he’s so close she can lean down and sink her teeth into his throat and leave a bruise. She should, it might clear her head. 

Instead, she sighs again, her mouth so close to his that she brushes over his lips when she says; “You’re divine.” 

In the end, she doesn’t need to think about leaving bruises on his throat, because Jason closes that centimeters’ worth of distance between each other and kisses her like he needs air. 

—---------

“Do you have to go, love?” Arms snake around her waist, slipping easily over her dress, and Danny laughs, soft and easy, as Jason pulls her flush against his chest and drops his head into the crook over her shoulder. He dwarfs her in the mirror, capable of curling around her entirely, and she raises a gloved hand to rake her fingers through his soft hair.

Danny hums deeply, tilting to bare her throat as Jason starts pressing kisses to the skin. “Vlad will be upset if I don’t show up.” She wasn’t sure of the importance of this party, but Vlad had promised her a hefty bribe to show up, and call her greedy but damn if she wasn’t going to turn it down.  

Teeth bite gentle at the underside of her jaw, and Danny laughs out of surprise. Jason smiles, indenting it into her skin, and his hand finds the slit of her dress and covers the burn scar on the outside of her thigh. “What about running late?” He asks, something impish in his tone. “I’ve never seen you wear this one; you look good in red.” 

Danny laughs again, turns her head to catch his lips against hers, and kisses him long and sweet. “Yes, he’ll be mad if I’m late.” She says when she pulls back. 

He pouts, and really, how else is Danny supposed to react other than kiss him again? So she does, happily. “Wake me up when you get back,” Jason murmurs against her mouth, chasing after her, “I want to help you undress.” 

—---------

Some days, death creeps up on her, and the phantom pains of it render her coiled into a ball in her bed. She wakes up at three am burning, her starburst scars rooting down to her bones to remind her of the feeling of being torn apart by the atoms and stitched back together again. 

Danny can feel her heart beating in her ears, fast and panicked like she ran a marathon, filling her mouth with iron and the urge to cough out her lungs. There’s a scream stuck in the back of her throat like a spider sac, and she writhes with her head in her arms for what feels like an hour before she forces herself out of bed, mind half-muddled like a zombie. 

Jason is still asleep, Danny doesn’t have half the mind to be grateful, she shuffles herself down into the garage and grabs a compressed canister from the fridge, hidden in a false shelf. She might not keep ectoplasm in the kitchen, but she does in the garage. 

She returns on second nature to the bathroom. She locks the door, shuts the drain, and runs the water to boiling, and doesn’t stop the faucet until the water reaches the little drain in the wall beneath that prevents overflow. The compressed canister cracks open with a hiss, and Danny dumps what’s probably an ounce of ectoplasm into the steaming water.

The effect is instantaneous, the water swirling and turning bright with ectoplasm all the way down. It’s diluted, and Danny only remembers to take off her sleep shirt before she slips into the water. 

Relief sinks into her, and chases away the worst of the pain. She sighs, she can breathe again, and dunks her head beneath the water. 

Then doesn’t get out until she’s freezing again and nearly peeling with wrinkles. 

(She goes downstairs when she’s changed into dry clothes and her hair is damp, and then collapses into Jason’s lap. Her face finds the crook of his neck, and Danny slumps, arms wrapping around his neck.)

(Jason’s hands find her waist, and his thumbs rub circles into her side, slipping under her shirt to run over the raised skin of the burn there. “What’s wrong?” He asks, murmuring low and close to her ear.)

(“Phantom pains.” Danny mumbles.)

(“Where?”)

(“Everywhere.”) 

—---------

When Danny returns home after finding Jason again, she feels numb, she feels cold. Her engagement ring is heavy on her finger and she feels like an outsider looking in when she looks down at it. 

She can’t get the way he looked at her out of her mind. It’s seared into her brain. 

Her back hits the door, and slowly she slides down it, a sob building in her throat. Her lip curling, her heart aching, her heart breaking. Too many questions inside her head for her to try and sort through them, but one is prevalent; Jason Todd is a liar.  

Danny shrieks his name so loud that she breaks her ceiling lights, and takes out the power throughout the entire block. There are dogs howling, cars wailing outside. There’s broken glass beneath her, scattered across the ground, cutting into her palms, and she hurts so much she wants to take the biggest shard and shred herself into ribbons. 

—---------

The memory fades away back into its small star-shape, and floats back up to the ceiling of her lair’s observatory. Danny watches it go, something small and aching still in her chest. Two weeks since she moved into the Zone, and she hates that she still loves him. She loves that she still loves him. 

She hates that she still misses him. She still visits Sam and Tucker, but Amity Park is tainted with the memory of Jason Todd; she needs away from it for a little while. Maybe a long while. She’s not too sure right now, she just needs to stay away. Somewhere where she can’t run into him. 

Danny pulls down another star to watch another memory again. One where they're dancing.

[omanu]

decided to post this digital collage i did last week... ive been obsessed with this song, it's so beautiful! i went after the first recording by Clyde McPhatter and it is beautiful as well, i love his high tone! To know Elvis chose this song to sing in 69 makes me think a lot of things and the way he delivers it is devastating.

I went after the takes he did until the master, i think it was the 5th take that made it to the final cut, and then they added the choir and more instrument lines... i think it was such a pretty arrangement, the album version is my favorite. I've seen a lot of ppl saying that they like the raw version better. i understand, cuz there is elvis and his voice and it's kinda simple and it is enough and beautiful as always! but as an instrument and melody lover, i always surrender to beautiful arrangements and backing vocals, i think it adds a lot to elvis' performances cuz they make everything feel magnificent, like it's heaven jfkkdf

anyways. when he sings "i have conquered the world, all but one thing did i have...." it's so beautiful, his signature Cry brings me to my knees. sometimes i dont understand how he is such a really really good singer, technically speaking! cuz his tone is its own thing, and his technique is another thing entirely, both amazing, but like, he REALLY knew how to sing... i wish he had talked about it, if he did, at least once, i dont know about it. need to geek on it but well, limited historical sources 😭

ok! feel comfortable to comment or reply i love talking about elvis and im lonely

here they are:

[goozeghost]

To celebrate 10 years in this god forsaken fandom, I redrew the og art of my fave paranormal investigators !

Singles and small rant below cut :P

Cannot believe it’s been a damn decade. This fandom and these characters have done so much to shape me and help me turn into the person- and artist!!- I am today, and I am forever grateful for the friends I’ve made along the way. (You know who you are 😉)

I cannot believe young Gooze looked at Johnny Ghost and said Yeah, that’s my entire personality now, and then it WAS. Now I’m an inducted thespian with a love for dramatizing everything, and for doing stupid voices, and a buncha other stuff. I even took his name, Johnny/Ghost. Which I suppose a lot of us have, huh?

Anyway if you’re looking down here, hi, here’s the first ever piece of fanart young Gooze did (that I can find)

(Yes, that’s Ghost and Jimmy. And yeah it’s bad, but I was a very young child. Let’s appreciate how far I’ve come, yeah?)

[typicalopposite]

*runs into room with something I just spent far too much time thinking on…* 😀 (mostly because I remembered the second line I’ll be mentioning but could not remember where it was said from so I had to repeat it over and over in my head until it finally clicked)

Ok so when Buck says “that was the most fun I’ve had since getting struck by lightning” it’s really giving Ian telling Mickey after they fight at the baseball field “that’s the first times I’ve felt anything since uh—” (his bipolar diagnosis) and then they kiss… and what does Buck and Tommy do after that line… they part ways BUT BUT BUTTTT they come back and they KISS!!

You know what Mickey and Ian are my friends? They are happily married! Sooooo I’m gonna just call it now! 😂🤡

[ossydrawsthingz335]

catch me if you can!

[tiredemzz]

“What fandom do you remember from your childhood?”

Legit shows this -

[echo-goes-mmm]

Circle of Life (Oneshot)

My Writing Masterpost

Warnings: blood, murder, death, implied non-con, implied torture, nudity, gun (briefly)

Vale could hear them from a half a mile away; a huge racket that disturbed the still night. 

He stalked them as they moved through the woods. It was rare that prey came to him, usually he had to hunt them down.

At first he thought they were campers who preferred the deep forest to the cozy campsites, but it soon became clear they were no campers.

One held a flashlight and a shovel, and was fully clothed. The other had his wrists chained together with heavy metal and thick cuffs, and he was completely nude.

Intriguing.

Vale followed them silently. He observed their conversation; the naked one sobbed as the shovel holder barked orders. 

“Please,” begged the naked one, “I- I’m sorry.”

“A little late for that, sugar.”

Vale licked his lips and watched.

The two stopped in a small clearing, and he could tell the one in charge had been there before.

“Start digging.” ordered the leader. He tossed the shovel on the ground, and the crying man picked it up.

Was he digging his own grave? How cruel. How entertaining. 

Vale circled around, inhaling their scent. The leader was sweet-smelling, but the follower stank of sweat and dried blood, semen and other bodily fluids. Underneath the foul stink was an alluring savoriness. He was a fine specimen worth keeping. The other was disposable.

Vale was going to sink his teeth into both of them.

___________________

Nick wasn’t really going to kill Felix. At least, not yet. Making him dig his own grave was just to scare him. It was funny to see him beg for his life, when Nick had no intention of killing him.

Well, it was funny, until the hair on the back of his head stood up. 

He glanced around the woods. Nothing. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

A twig snapped in the darkness. He swung the flashlight around. Still nothing. He reached for the gun tucked into his pants.

“Ya better get a move on,” he called into the dark. “I’m armed.” If it was an animal, the light and the sound of his voice should have scared it off.

The darkness chuckled. “Oh dear,” it said, “I’m scared.”

That was not an animal. Felix whimpered beside him, staring at the gun, but Nick had bigger fish to fry than to tell him to shut up.

He clicked off the safety and pointed it in the direction of the voice. “I ain’t gonna say it again. Forget you saw us an’ leave. Or I'll shoot.”

Something in the darkness moved towards them, and Nick was a man of his word. He fired off three shots, and there was a grunt.

But then the shadowy figure kept coming, and a- a thing stepped out into the beams of his flashlight.

The man was tall and lean, his face pale and hair dark, eyes red.

“How rude,” he said. Nick stared in horror at the bullet holes on his fancy shirt, thick black tar in the place of blood.

Nick had shot him dead in the heart, and the thing called him rude.

“Wha- what are you?” he managed.

“Hungry,” grinned the man, and his bone white teeth were sharp as a snake’s.

Nick turned tail and ran.

___________________

Master had left him behind, and took the light with him. The dark was overpowering, and he couldn’t see the vampire except for the faint glow of his red eyes.

“Please don’t kill me,” he whimpered.

The vampire circled around him, his footsteps silent. 

A cold breath brushed against his neck. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“I-” his mind raced. “I can in-invite you into my Master’s house,” he offered, “you can have him instead.”

The vampire hummed. “Can you?” he mocked. 

“I- I think so? I lived there too.”

The vampires laughed, a breathy sinister sound. “I don’t need you for that,” he cooed into his ear. “I could just wait him out.”

Felix swallowed. He was right there.

“Please,” he begged.

A cool hand tilted his head, the grip on his jaw firm and unbreakable. 

“Hold still.”

A sharp, cold pain stabbed into his neck. He gasped, and could feel warmth leaving him. Soon he felt woozy, his stomach turning, head dizzy.

He couldn’t form the words to beg, thoughts escaping him as soon as they showed themselves.

“You’re filthy,” said the vampire, pulling out with a slick sound.

“Nnng-” Felix was limp in his arms, unable to even stand. Distantly he felt himself moving, the vampire lifting him without effort.

“Let’s go home and get you clean.”

___________________

He could hear the vampire, could feel his touch. His hands were cool, but his voice was warm, if condescending. 

“Were you living in squalor?” he asked. Felix couldn’t answer him; he was too weak to even keep his eyes open. 

“No matter. I’ll wash this mess off of you.”

A hot washcloth pressed to his skin, wiping away the filth. 

The bath he was in was shallow, but blessedly hot. Almost too hot, but Felix had no complaints. A groan slipped past his lips when the vampire agitated his bruises, but there was no reaction, corrective or merciful.

The vampire kept going until every inch of him had been scrubbed clean, every inch, and then he heard the water draining and felt a towel rub him dry.

The vampire scooped him up again, and his head lolled to rest against the vampire’s chest.

Strength was slowly coming back to him, and he willed his eyes open. The vampire was carrying him down a dim hallway. It was like in the stories, dark stone and torches on the walls.

The vampire turned into a room, a bedroom. A lived-in bedroom, and Felix braced himself.

The vampire set him down in the bed, looming over him.

His cool hand came to stroke his cheek, and Felix was paralyzed with more than simple weakness.

But the vampire blew out the candle and crawled past him into the bed. He pulled the covers over them, and Felix let out the breath he was holding.

___________________

It wasn’t like sleeping next to a corpse. Master was cool, but not cold, only a few degrees of warmth difference between them.

Still, he slept fitfully. Unlike the basement, he couldn’t just collapse into a deep sleep. Not with a vampire right next to him.

Felix woke late in the morning, the vampire gone. The dizziness had disappeared, and he was clean.

He got up, taking the sheet with him to cover his nakedness. He poked his head out into the hall, left and-

The vampire was standing directly to his right. He yelped in surprise, and the vampire grinned and tilted his head.

“Feeling better, I see.” It wasn’t a question, but Felix nodded anyway.

The vampire looked him up and down, and Felix got the feeling he was hungry for more than blood.

He stepped closer, and under the light of morning Felix could see him clearly. 

Tall, imposing, with pale unmarked skin and red eyes. He reached out and tilted Felix’s chin up with clawed fingers.

He grabbed the sheet and jerked it from him, tossing it away.

“You wear what I give you. Nothing less, nothing more.” Felix swallowed.

“Yes, Master.”

Master stepped away again. He began to circle, and Felix shuddered. 

Master was inspecting him. A cool hand settled on his hips, the other tracing up his spine, splaying over his ribs. Groping, feeling him up, wrapping around his neck.

“Good boy, Felix.”

How did he know his name? Master must have been stalking them through the woods longer than he thought, and had heard Nick.

Master squeezed his hip before circling back around.

“Come, pet,” Felix had no choice but to follow him down the hall.

___________________

After breakfast and getting dressed (finally), Master tugged a collar around his neck and pulled him back out into the woods.

It didn’t take long before he realized he would have to make good on his offer to turn Nick over to him. Master was tracking their path from the night before, smelling his way through the forest.

He nearly felt bad for Nick, but his scars and bruises reminded him that Nick was a monster. He deserved it.

___________________

The poor bastard’s house backed up to the woods. 

“Go on, pet,” ordered Master, gesturing. “Invite me in.”

Felix walked up to the porch and turned to Master, a mockery of good manners. 

“Would- would you like to come in, Master?”

“I certainly would.”

Master kicked the door open, the wood splintering as if it were nothing. There was a shout from inside, and Master moved so fast he blurred.

Felix meekly followed him into the house.

Nick was pinned underneath Master, thrashing. Master’s mouth was open, fangs dripping with saliva. 

“No! Nononono-”

Master sank his teeth into Nick’s neck, but he was tearing, not feeding.

Felix watched in horror as blood spurted everywhere, spray coating the furniture and soaking into the carpet. Nick high screams turned to a gurgle, and his flesh tore away with a sick squelching riiiiiip.

Master panted, mouth dripping with gore. He licked his lips.

“How about,” he said, as casual as anything, “you show me where he kept you.”

“Okay,” he whispered, barely able to look away from the remaining blood slowly pulsing out of Nick’s obliterated throat.

He led Master to the basement. It stank of old urine, and the smell he had gotten used to smacked him in the face with a renewed vengeance.

Master seemed unperturbed and instead studied Nick’s setup. 

He traced a finger over Felix’s old chains, humming. He glanced at the sex toys laid out on the far table, but took more of an interest in the torture tools. Felix couldn’t bear to look, instead eyeing the bloodstained corner he used to sleep.

Oh how much could change in just one night.

“Let’s go, pet. I’ve seen enough.” Master held two of Nick’s whips in his hand, the long bullwhip and the crop. 

Shit.

___________________

He was an idiot.

Nothing had changed at all.

He had the bed, but Master was in bed with him. The sex was without toys, but it was still sex he didn’t want.

There were no chains, but the leash was close enough.

And the whip- oh god the whip- still made him scream whenever Master felt the whim.

It was hell, a cold vampiric hell, but still hell.

Until one night, Master sank his fangs into him, taking and taking and taking, the world going black.

He woke up with red eyes and an insatiable hunger.

And Master’s voice was alluring and compelling instead of terrifying.

And then Master took him out on his first hunt.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[ourdokidokilife]

Cove catchphrases

#1 "Oh my god!"

#2 "Don't worry about it."

#3 "I know, right?"

[dellinah]

We put a man in the moon but GOD FORBID we have a scanner that doesn't BLAST the scanned picture I guess

They know I'd be too powerful if my hand-drawn pictures looked good all the way :( I swear it looks so much better irl ugh. But have some Beelzebub ~appreciation~

This is the first thing I've drawn in like... months. Eesh. And I had to google *realistic* boob physics to do it

It's actually the first anything I've done in months hey hi hello how have you all been

Uh anyway Helluva Boss. That Masterminds episode has me DEAD and deceased and I like it a lot. It's not perfect but I like the little demon show and I LOVE MY OWL SON and he's done so much and ughhhh I just wanna hug him and I can't wait for the next one bc I'm excited to see where he'll go from there. I want to go off about it if I could stop feeling like shit but Stolas brings smth in me alive so. Mother and son are both at the fucking bottom of the well let's gooo

Brain's been a bit off and I haven't been present in my body at all for the last few months and I hate it but I guess this is a step forward? Maybe. Having two jobs + school + anti-depressants + life in general does that to one. But I also have this thing that I have to be perfect all the time so I will say I will do smth when I feel ready but then I'm never ready and then I feel like it's too late to do it and it spirals and I just felt like it was too late to like... do anything. Even be a furry or like talk to people. Why does life feel on a perpetual countdown. Eesh

I've been thinking about silly demon show a lot abd just couldn't get myself to even be excited about it bc i'm late and now it doesn't even make sense so like. It sucks. But I'm trying. I've been thinking a lot and I just hope everyone and everything's been ok. Shout out to Odin and Zen. My helluva buds. I think a lot I just never do anything

But I'm here. I guess

If it's a Helluva Boss episode that gets me out of a rut who am I to turn it down I'm grasping at straws over here

OH YEAH THIS POST HAS A DRAWING ATTACHED TO IT

But tbh it's almost better without context

I have a friend that really likes Beelzebub and he likes to be looked down upon by big women and the ep was about tension among classes so I had a vision and figured it's time I do smth and also do smth for him and his fursona so. He liked it. A lot. Maybe yall other Bee's fans will like it too. Or not thats also fine

I don't know what this post is about or who it is for but there you have it

[glowsticcc]

the amount of money i would pay to have a video that is just professionally done dubs of the egg signs

[wanderingibon]

just tried sitting w my family it lasted about two hours before I got fed up and left WHEW….

[machinavocis]

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