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ushiwhacka · 1 year

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BUY MY SILENCE | college au! eren jaeger + fem! reader | 2,064 words | mdni | just smut, eren has a huge dick <3

.⋆｡⋆☾ summary: your neighbour has an annoyingly overactive and loud sex life. but all you have to do is fuck him to shut him up forever. .⋆｡⋆☾ warnings: fingering, rough sex, public exposure, pussy slapping (once), a bit of corruption kink, mentions of daddy kink, slight degradation

It’s been an hour. A whole hour since you last wrote even a word in the nearly blank document - a lab report due tomorrow at noon. A whole hour since your neighbour started fucking his new whore, the latest in a very, very long line of whores. At 9 PM. On a Tuesday. And it’s the same scenario with each one. They moan and scream and moan some more. Call him daddy. Giggle as he orders them to swallow or be a good slut for him. And you can always hear it all through that thin napkin excuse of a wall.

And you try to ignore it, try to ignore how you can feel the drag of cotton against your nipples with each breath you take, try to ignore the way your pussy is just throbbing. But it always ends the same, with your hand in your panties and teeth pressing painfully into your bottom lip, trapping little gasps and shaky moans.

Then comes the shame, as you lie in bed and try to convince yourself that he cannot be that good. A sinking feeling in your chest that makes it hard to inhale. An ugly, worming thing that has you teeming with unexplained anger. They must be faking it. They must be. And you almost manage to convince yourself. But thoughts of it - of him - occupy your mind constantly. In class. At lunch, when you’re trying to keep up with your friends and their extremely boring conversations about the student council. Or some charity. Whatever. When you speak to your mother on the phone. You’re disgusted with yourself, you really are, but you always end up pressing your legs together, your soaked panties sticking to your thighs.

Eren. You’ve heard his name many, many times. Cried out, moaned, and screamed by many different voices. You don’t know what he looks like, but you know what he sounds like when he cums. The kind of porn he likes to watch (extremely loudly). And if you listen very, very closely, you can even make out the squelching noise as he pumps his hand around his length.

But when you lie in bed, eyes pressed shut, trying to ignore your throbbing pussy, you wonder how it would feel to have his fingers inside you instead of yours. How much deeper could his fingers reach? Would he also call you his good little whore as your walls squeezed around him, your little cunt leaking all over his hand? And then shame washes over you once again as you cum with his name on your lips.

The exact moment you lose your temper is when you’re woken up at an ungodly hour by the squeaking of his stupid bed and the stupid slut he’s fucking into it. This one annoys you more than usual, for whatever reason. With your patience running thin and your brain still foggy with sleep, you march into the hallway and bang on his door with weeks worth of accumulated rage.

“What do you want?”

Rage that quickly dissipates into earth-shattering embarrassment as he opens the door completely naked. Blood rushes to your cheeks, skin almost burning with the sensation. But you can’t look away. And you can’t help the way you gulp at the sight. You really can’t look away from his cock. Long and thick with two veins curving up each side, dripping with her slick and precum. Despite his irritated tone, Eren doesn’t seem too annoyed at the interruption. If anything, he’s rather amused as you unsuccessfully try to say anything at all. And then he’s fully smirking when he notices the cute little wet spot on the front of your panties.

You could die of humiliation as you slam the door behind you. He’s completely insane. Rude. Shameless. And he seems to be fucking her even harder now. Grunting with every thrust, telling her how good her tight little cunt feels. Almost like he’s mocking you.

A few days pass and he’s standing in front of your door, leaning against it to hold it open. Again, your tongue twists around itself and there is not a single word that forms in your throat that doesn’t make you feel like you might choke on it. He’s intimidating. The way he’s standing, almost like he’s looming over you. Predatory eyes following every little movement of your body. And he definitely notices when your eyes flicker down to his crotch, the outline of his cock clearly visible through, of course, grey sweatpants.

“Do you always stare at people’s dicks?” His lips curl up in a smile that feels sinister. “Haven’t you learned it’s rude to stare?”

Standing so close you can feel his breath on your face. You wish you could get a grip on yourself but it’s so hard to swallow.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. “You know I can hear you moaning my name, right?” It feels like your lungs have been deflated like your body is so heavy with embarrassment you might turn to stone. “You think of me when you play with your little pussy?”

God, you wish you the flames of hell would devour you already, “N- no.”

“I wanna play with it too.” He takes a step and you stumble backwards, trying to create some distance between your bodies. “Make you scream my name properly.” And you feel like your heart might stop.

Courage seems to find you unprepared and you speak before you have time to consider the consequences. “They’re probably faking it anyways.” You scoff, voice filled with venom as you try to salvage at least some of your dignity.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we should test it out.”

He cannot possibly be this arrogant, this vulgar. But he is. And the way he’s looking at you, the way his tongue peeks out to lick at his lips, confirms it. “If I can’t make you scream then I’ll try to be quiet.”

“You’re insane.”

“Aww,” he coos. “Scared you can’t take it?”

Truthfully, you’ve never had anyone as big or as thick as him, but, admitting that to him and his obviously overinflated ego is not something you’d allow yourself to do. Not that you’re considering it. Not like you would ever sleep with someone like him.

But you are right about him, you must be right about him. And if can get the peace and quiet you’ve been dying for just by letting him fuck you. Would it be that wrong? It’s like you’d be using him. Just once, obviously. It’s not like you’ve been thinking about his cock for days. It will be fine. And, well, you can’t even remember the last time an actual man has given you an orgasm.

“You get five minutes.”

Eren can barely hide his satisfaction. You look so cute in your tiny little skirt, with your pouty lips and bratty attitude. He can’t wait to pound it out of you, really. Wasting no time at all, he picks you up with a squeal, makes himself comfortable on your bed and manhandles you over his knees. Your ass up and face pressed into the bed as you call for your phone to set a timer. In five minutes only, he gets his ego crushed and you get silence.

Once again, you’re soaked and he knows it’s all because of him. He pulls your panties down, the pink lace digging into the fat of your thighs. There’s something so embarrassing about the way he’s running his hands over your legs and ass. It feels like your whole body is shivering, and just like that, your confidence starts slipping away. You can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as he pinches your clit. Then runs two fingers down your slit, and inside of you. And they feel so much better than yours, longer and thicker, pressing down into that squishy spot that you can never quite reach on your own. And maybe you’re enjoying it more than you’d like to admit.

This position offers him such a pretty view too. Your puffy lips glistening with arousal. The way your clit is swelling at his touch. The way your hole is gripping onto his digits, pulling him in. Plus, he can easily hold you in place so you can’t run away as he bullies your soppy cunt.

“You act all innocent but this slutty pussy is gushing all over my hand”

You hate that he’s toying with you, like he can sense the desperation within you. And you hate the way he’s stretching you out so well. And you especially hate that you can hear how drenched you are. And the way you can’t stop yourself from moaning no matter how hard you bite down on your bottom lip. Cheeks burning with embarrassment at how exposed you feel. Still, you refuse to give in to his teasing.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so uptight if you got properly fucked, huh?” He’s talking to your cunt, not to you. So transfixed by how it twitches and clamps down around him at every degrading word that comes out of his mouth. “All nice and wet for me.” Then his thumb is running over your clit and you cum with a muffled scream, legs shaking. Your slick running down his hand.

The timer hasn’t gone off. Your brain is too foggy from your orgasm so you don’t even notice until his voice cuts through the haze. “Three minutes and forty-seven seconds.” He huffs out a laugh, so pleased with himself. “I think she likes me.” He gives your pussy a little slap, a sharp sting as his fingers connect with your already sensitive clit.

“W- wait,” Your voice weak as you try to pull yourself together. “It’s not fair, it’s been a while.”

“So what I’m hearing is-” Eren moves you off of his lap and brings his wet hand to your face, smearing your juices over your lips “You want my cock.” Then he pushes his fingers into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue, making you clean every last drop of cum.

“Just set the timer.”

He’s repositioning you once more and your pussy throbs at how strong he is, how his big hand feels pressing down at the small of your back. It’s filthy. Never before has a man treated you so disrespectfully, like you’re nothing but a toy for him to get off in, to use for his own pleasure in any way he wants. And the worst part is that maybe that’s why you like it. Maybe you’re tired of the nice boys who make love to you so tenderly and touch you as if you might break underneath the weight of their hands. Maybe you want to be held down and fucked within an inch of your life, have every single thought pounded out of your brain. To know that your other next-door neighbour is stroking his cock to your moans and to the sound of skin slapping against skin.

And maybe you’re just about to get your wish.

Chills are running down your back as he slides his cock between your cheeks. You can feel it, heavy and dripping precum on your lower back. Then you’re seeing starts the moments his flushed tip presses into you. It feels even bigger inside you, a bite too big for you to swallow.

“Eren, ’s too much, p- please.” But he loves your pathetic whimpering, your squealing, your choked sobs. He wants to absolutely ruin you.

And then he does. He starts slow, pulling out completely and rolling his hips against your ass, his hands firmly gripping your waist to stop you from sliding down. And each time you can almost feel his cock in your throat. He picks up his pace, now slamming into you. You’re making such a mess on your bed, cunt dripping with every thrust. Your sheets wet with drool and tears, skin taut around your knuckles as you squeeze around them. There is nothing that can stop you from babbling and sobbing out his name at this point, no matter how much you push your face down into the mattress, or bite down on your tongue, it comes. Slutty and obscene and shameful. Just like all those other girls before you.

Maybe you’ll fuck him just one more time. But that’s it!

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger smut #aot smut #snk smut #eren yaeger x you #eren yaeger x y/n #eren x y/n

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archon-maenad · 4 months

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yknow I wrote out this whole post explaining why I don't often consume original media of what I post about and how worm isn't an outlier there, in a lot of unnecessary detail, and then realized I was just dancing around the point.

I am literally just not fucking emotionally strong enough to read worm. I am a lil bitch who cannot imagine actually having to follow in detail step-by-step the tragedy of taylor hebert.

but the problem is that I really want to read worm! because being on wormblr instead of just reading fanfic has like. shown me how deficient I am with the actual characters. I can write for hours about earth bet cultural trauma but when it comes to people I'd have so little if I wasn't consuming snippets and learning about smaller canonical moments via posts.

and I want to change that. I want to write actual literary analysis on worm as a story, not just worm as a world. but all my posts of the former can't match up to mine of the latter because I haven't read the source material!

so like. I should read worm on principle. I want to read worm. and I literally don't think I am emotionally sturdy enough to force myself to do it.

maybe I can start by just reading every chapter bonesaw is in or referenced. that way I can learn and write more about my favorite girl in a way that doubles as exposure therapy to the story.

(the fact this sounds viable says so much about all the ways my brain is broken lol)

#mae just talks #wormblr #parahumans

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son1c · 3 months

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Hi, I love your blog!! Your art and ideas are so cool!

I know it took Starline hundreds upon hundreds of tries to worm his way into Sonic's mind, but I was wondering how much time did it actually take Starline to make Sonic stop actually fighting him and believe in the fake memories. Weeks? Months? (kinda curious what was Sonic's thought process during the whole thing, but that feels like another can of worms lol)

Also I had an idea how Starline could make Sonic reluctant to leave Snowpoint even more - what if he made Sonic's "friends" have very emotional reactions to the idea of Sonic leaving? Maybe Cherry could be sad because he feels like Sonic is abandoning him, Sonic's "rival" could be pissed because no one else can keep up with them so snowboarding won't be as fun anymore etc. None of them know WHY they're freaking out so much,, it's irrational, but they can't help it. Above anything else, Sonic cares about his friends. If him leaving makes them so upset, then why WOULD he leave? He's happy here, after all :)

-🍑

i was thinking that instead of the typical "the more exposed to this thing you are, the more resistant you get to it", the warp topaz would work in the opposite way. so, "the more exposure you get, the weaker you become". i recall starline saying something about giving surge and kit a weakness to the hypnosis, and while that could mean he literally programmed one in via the cyborg fuckery he did to their bodies, it could also mean... this. so!

that being said, i definitely think there was like, a hill (or mountain, heh) or difficulty irt the whole thing for starline. like, just getting sonic to SIT STILL was hard enough. he literally had to bolt his feet to the floor. sonic's anger alone probably would have protected him from whatever starline was trying to tell him, at least for awhile.

but as time wore on and sonic had to weather hundreds and hundreds of exposures to the hypnosis, it would've gotten harder and harder to completely dismiss it. even when starline left to go do whatever the fuck it is he does, sonic would've been left there with nothing but those words he'd heard repeated over and over and over and over.

and that's the real trick. even before putting him in snowpoint, starline had him completely isolated. and he could think to himself, "none of what he's saying is true," but at the end of the day, it's starline's word against... no one's. cuz sonic is on his own this time.

more sessions. starline's lies repeat endlessly in his brain. he can see that damn topaz even when he closes his eyes.

it's not true. none of it. but...

he does love his friends.

and starline KNEW when he crested over the top of that mountain and the uphill battle finally ended for him, because it was when sonic haltingly repeated what he was telling him for the first time, albeit a little bit off. "i'm hhhappy in snowpoint. i d-don't wanna leave my friends."

so, how long did it take to get to that point? days? weeks? no. 2 months. of constant exposure and drilling and pressure. and sonic STILL refused to crack in exactly the way starline wanted him to. such is the will of the hero...

but yeah, i might extend the timeline a little. 4 months instead of 3, so half could've been with starline, and the other half "happy" in the town. :P

#anonymous #as for the last paragraph u wrote. yeah #that's canon #text heavy #snowpoint sonic

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leathfaic · 11 months

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Ghost and Soap tattoo headcanons because the brain worms demand it right now!

In my mind at least Ghost has a lot more tattoos than just his sleeve, it's just not common knowledge because until he gets together with Soap no one ever really sees him undressed except maybe for medical staff.

The sleeve was the beginning but he's adding to them whenever leave allows, on his chest and back, on his legs and his other arms and even his hands. Ghost is also the kind of guy that is very stoic while getting tattoos, the pain doesn't really bother him, he's been through so much worse, but he's not the guy who's chatting with the artist either. He just sits through it. Similarly afterwards he's pretty disciplined about the aftercare required. Sun rarely is an issue with the way he dresses and he plans his leave times around the appointments so he can take it easy for a while.

When the inevitable itching starts he just glares at the spot, never actually touching it, but he gets fucking irritated for a few days.

And while he's not the best at taking care of himself in many aspects of his life I can actually see him take good care of his tattoos in the long run, because I imagine him getting them to cover up scars, especially those left by Roba and his men. It's his way of reclaiming his body. The motive itself often isn't as important as the fact that he chose to have it put at that spot. The meaning isn't in the design either it's in the fact that it was his decision to wear it, unlike the scars that were forced upon him.

And then there's Soap, he's only got the one tattoo that we know, at least when he meets Ghost.

Its faded from sunlight exposure and because he never took proper care of it while it healed, even caught himself scratching it once or twice when the itching started. Its always exposed and he rarely thinks of putting sunscreen on, so naturally the tattoo has a hard time and the colour fades quick.

So at some point Ghost asks him if he wants it touched up. He's making an appointment with the artist he trusts anyways and he'd be happy to bring him along. Ghost knows that for Soap his tattoo does have meaning, that he's fucking proud to have made it into the SAS and that he got kinda sad comparing the crisp lines of Ghost's tattoos to his own.

Soap ends up agreeing although he's wary since he can't see it go better than it did last time. But if anything the fact that Ghost is allowing him to come along for this is such a huge sign of trust that he just can't refuse it.

And Ghost's tattoo artist is going to have to recover for a moment because Soap is so fucking chatty compared to Ghost, the pain is kinda exciting to him so he talks more and more and the artist hears more words out of Ghost in response to Johnny than he ever did before. Would wonder if it was the same man if they weren't literally continuing work on a tattoo they had started.

Once they are both done Ghost makes sure Soap takes proper care of the new ink. Threatens to tie him to the bed if he starts scratching at night (something Soap finds entirely too exciting). Shares his care products with him and makes him wrap it up for the first weeks and months. Is always at hand with some sun screen, at least for the arm, even when they are in the middle of nowhere. It's worth the trouble to squeeze some sun screen in his pack when he gets to see Johnny so happy about how good his tattoo looks again.

And once he sees how a properly taken care of piece will look Soap wants more. Ends up accompanying Ghost to the studio whenever he goes.

He's creative, most of what ends up on him is based on his own sketches, always with meaning behind it for him. The next thing he gets is a certain skull based on a specific mask that he wears close to his heart (making Ghost go through emotions he wasn't aware he was capable of having). He also helps Ghost with giving some of his ideas form often redrawing endless variations to make sure Simon doesn't just pick one that seems okay and fitting for its purpose but one he really likes to look at too. Poor man almost loses it when he sees one of his sketches inked on Ghost for the first time and its a good thing they are on leave because he's not gonna let him out of their bed any time soon. Purely to protect the new ink from the sun of course.

#ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #cod #cod mw2 #cod hc #this hc has nothing to do with the fact that i just got a new tattoo #not at all #also i'm lying #tattoos

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frogwithastrawberry · 8 months

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Danny Phantom headcanons I just thought of!

For starters: Not really a headcanon, but I love it when people write Danny using astronomy related nicknames for his partners. It makes the brain worms happy

-All ghosts have a specific weakness tied to when they died. It is HIGHLY frowned upon to knowingly use this against someone. Like, they can recover from it, but not easily

-this weakness is especially prominent in Halfas

-Out of the three Halfas, Danny is the only one who really has the weakness. Since the weakness is based on Death, he's the only one it really applies to?

-Vlad died slowly over time due to one event of mass exposure to ectoplasm, which I'm saying seeped into an open sore like acne in his face, and then replicated said acne. While the original case healed, the ectoplasm was in his bloodstream, and since he was fully alive it was slowly over time taking over his bloodcells, until eventually one day he, just found himself with enough of it that he was able to use ghost powers, and then the ectoplasm recognized him as a ghost and stopped harming him

-Dani was never really fully alive. She has a slight weakness to electricity as residue from Danny, but it's barely more than how one would normally react to being shocked

-For Danny though, the electric shock from the portal killed him, and the Lichtenberg scars that were formed as a result counted as enough of an open wound the ectoplasm started seeping in. Since the ectoplasm crept into the scar of what killed him though, he has a weakness to electricity

-this does also mean that if someone were to die by a fire, the ectoplasm would go into burn scars. They die by bleeding out though? Well, being stabbed was going to be a weakness anyways. Someone dies by drowning, the ectoplasm takes over the lungs, since they went out of commission, etc.

-TLDR: Ectoplasm works by taking over blood cells. Souls don't have those, so they just become fully ectoplasmic beings, AKA ghosts. Live people have blood cells, and the ectoplasm seeps into whatever open scars may exist until it occupies 50-75% of the bloodstream, making you recognizable as a ghost, and a halfa.

-BONUS FOR IF YOU WANT DC IN HERE!

-the reason Jason has pit madness is because the pit is ectoplasm (as most have agreed on) and since he was a corpse, the ectoplasm wasn't sure where to go. He didn't have any pumping blood for it to take it over, and so it settled in as his nervous system. But then the ACTUAL nervous system and blood vessels started working, and they're doing they're best to push out the mysterious entity, but the ectoplasm is sentient, and therefore trying to stay. (It's losing)

-this does mean that in my headcanon Jason can either become the fourth halfa, or become fully human again, depending on if the ectoplasm keeps fighting, or if he meets Danny who teaches him to control it

-side note: If he were to become fully human again he'd likely have a shorter lifespan since his body would be used to having assistance against things like injuries or poisons and wouldn't be able to learn how to heal fully by itself again fast enough to save him.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #my headcanons #ectoplasm #vlad plasmius #dani phantom #worldbuilding #plot?#in my headcanons?#more likely than you might think #this just came to me while doing math homework #i think its because thats when im closest to death #jason todd #dp x dc #barely #please ask me questions

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hiskillingjar · 10 months

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we love only the person we can eat

Relationship: Strade/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Vaginal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Amputation, Love Confessions Length: 4600+ words:

Summary: “For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love. We love only the person we can eat [...] Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up.”

Hélène Cixous (1998) Stigmata: Escaping Texts. pg. 78.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48093946

Loving someone shouldn’t feel like this, you think.

It should make you feel warm and fuzzy inside, it should feel like butterflies fluttering in your tummy, it should feel like safety, security, warmth and worship. It should be a feeling of girlish innocence and infatuation, bunny rabbits and taking the first steps past the gates of Disney World.

It shouldn’t feel like a virus or a disease that made your insides turn into poisonous mush and bile and spit, and threaten to spill out of you in a puddle of toxic vomit every time you opened your mouth.

It shouldn’t feel like your stomach and your brain were itching with insects and creepy-crawlies, maggots and worms, turning and squirming in your guts and never letting you feel a moment of stillness.

It shouldn’t feel like a life-encompassing obsession that convinced you that he would stop caring about you or even stop existing altogether if you stopped looking at him, stopped talking about him, stopped thinking about him, for even a second.

It shouldn’t feel like this.

But then again, you’re not sure if you even really felt love before this, before he saw you at the bar and took you for his own.

So maybe, this was exactly how love was supposed to feel.

“Ah…there you are. You’re waking up.”

It wasn’t often that you let yourself be underneath him, let yourself be taken so willingly, bare skin against skin. It wasn’t often that you allowed such a deliberate invasion of your space or exposure of your innermost vulnerabilities.

Not like you had much of a choice.

That night, you felt sluggish and slow and heavy, like you had a ton of weight strapped around your neck that kept your hazy eyes locked towards the ceiling, your neck pinned down to the bed. The pain you traditionally associated with being awake and living was replaced by an overwhelming numbness, so much so that it made your body feel cold and still, like a living corpse.

You assumed that your sluggishness was probably due to the drugs in your system. Strade was always pretty sloppy when it came to chemicals.

Not that you could blame him, though. He was more of a hands-on kind of guy, after all.

"Hey, buddy," He said with a slight tilt of his head, a playful lilt to his voice as he peered down, a slow smile spreading on his face as he considered you with a hungry twinkle in his golden eyes. "You doing okay? You were out of it for a while."

"Ngh," You attempted to speak, to make some kind of vocalisation (in either agreement or disagreement, you weren’t quite sure), but your tongue felt as heavy as your head did, loose and lousy behind your teeth, inside your skull.

He chuckled affectionately as he knelt up on the bed, the mattress dipping low underneath his weight (he had packed it on in the last couple of years since things had slowed down on his end of running the streams), pushing a hand through your hair. He wasn't gripping it just yet, he wasn't hurting you (a surprise in its own right), as he gently urged your head forward, your neck straight, and your eyes to meet his.

"Ah, I think I gave you too much sedative." He mused thoughtfully, raising his other hand to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing over your parted lips where a thin stream of drool was running down your chin, down your neck. "Whoops. My bad, I guess." He then said with a laugh. “You know me. I’m lousy with anything stronger than chloroform.”

In a moment of uncharacteristic gentleness (maybe he was in an especially good mood tonight), Strade started to kiss your cheek, down your neck, across your collarbone, practically doting on you and making your slack body tremble and shiver.

"I mean, I didn't have to sedate you," He then said with a casual shrug, giving your cheek (a smear of wet still clinging to your skin from his kiss) a few light taps, as if he was trying to wake you up from a deep slumber, wake you from your sluggish fatigue. "That was just me being nice, really. So I think a thank you is well deserved…”

He then brought his face closer to yours for a moment, raising a single brow with a silent question. A quiet reminder of just how dangerous he was capable of being, if he wanted to be.

“Don’t you?” He then said, his voice low.

“Mm,” You hummed, giving your head a little shake as you tried to kick yourself out of your sluggish daze and be as lively as he wanted you to be (and you were getting so tired of being lively). “T…thank you…”

“You’re welcome.”

His smile lines were deeper than they once were, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled and softened handsomely as he smiled, in a way they didn’t when you first met.

He was aging gracefully, he didn’t even have a single grey hair yet, and he had given you the privilege of aging alongside him. You could only guess the number of people who hadn’t been given such a privilege.

“Why did you sedate me?” You then asked, though your words were more of a mumble than anything else, your tongue still heavy behind your teeth.

"Oh, I wanted to do something special.” He replied, his voice a touch softer than usual as his smile softened too. “It’s our big day, after all.” He traced a thick finger along the curve of your jaw, down your neck, tracing the line that he had previously kissed. “I mean, it's kind of like an anniversary, don't you think, fräulein ? Seven years is an awfully long time for two people to be together. We ought to celebrate it."

Together.

He said the word so easily.

He implied a togetherness, a quasi-relationship that wasn’t built off a sadomasochistic need for fear and pain that was so terrifying and obscure and truly sublime in the most Gothic sense of the word, with such conviction that you were almost certain that he was joking, that he was teasing you.

And you were so easy to tease. You and your wide-eyed hopes, your romantic dreams, your tragically romantic books that depicted darkness and lightness in tandem, your cheesy romcoms that he bought for you and made fun of.

Together.

Were you?

He took a quiet moment to consider you further, his fingertips brushing tenderly over every scar that marred your shoulders, your chest, your barely exposed sternum, every cut, scrape or bruise, with such care and compassion despite him being the cause of the majority of them.

“I think we’re worth celebrating,” He brought his face close to yours, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth as his big hands mapped the span of your body as if he was trying to devote it to his memory, like he was afraid of possibly losing it. “ You’re worth celebrating.”

Really, when he spoke like that and touched you with a gentleness he never showed to anyone else ( because you’re special, you’re special, you’re special, that’s why he kept you, that’s why you were still alive ) , it's no wonder that you were keening up against him (the best you could), chasing his mouth with your own, wanting to be so close to him that your bodies merged together.

Loving someone shouldn’t feel like this, you think.

But you don’t want any other kind of love anymore.

Finally, he brought his mouth to yours in a deep kiss, one strong hand cupping your cheek, his grubby nails digging into the soft flesh as the other reached down and dug into your hip, groping and squeezing. When you gasped against his lips, he took the opportunity to press his tongue into your mouth, suffocating and all-consuming, and your eyes rolled back into your skull as you let yourself be so thoroughly invaded.

If it were possible for him to consume you, wholly, you would have let him, you think.

You knew that impulse came from something fucked up and Freudian, a wanting to be consumed by a man you should have hated but loved so deeply and intimately that it made you want to throw up, but that didn’t stop you from yearning for it.

You yearned for Strade to devour you with his sharp cannibal teeth , to tear flesh and muscle, to rupture skin and fat, and be devoured himself, in the truest sense of the word, in the unity of shared skin, bones, body, and blood.

But, because he couldn’t devour you (not in the literal, all-consumptive sense, at least), you, instead, pulled away from the kiss, raised your head, and bit his collar-bone to fill that violent yearning that haunted every dream and waking nightmare, marring his skin with rough indentations and pinpricks of blood welling at the surface of his tan skin.

Strade didn't mind.

“Ngh, scheiße !” He sucked in a pained hiss through his teeth, though that didn’t stop a dangerous grin from coming to his face as you dug your teeth in even deeper. “Ah…ahhh, little devil, this is how you want to play, ja?”

If anything, the pain made him all the more excited as he growled out his arousal and pressed himself even closer to you with another firm and invasive kiss, his cock hard through his slacks and rubbing against the soft mound of your cunt through your shorts, open and weeping and already begging to be stuffed to the very brim with his cock.

Gasping your own arousal against the deep kiss, your thighs parted with an unspoken invitation as you reached up (with shaking hands, the sedative hadn’t worn off just yet) to yank his shirt open, popped buttons shooting aside, and push it down his shoulders and his arms.

Despite the weight gain, and his general lack of strenuous activity as he had gotten older, Strade’s arms were still strong and well-defined (the strength gained from years of lugging around dead bodies didn’t go away that quickly, it seemed). You allowed yourself an ever-indulgent moment to stroke up and down them, feeling the warmth of his tan skin, the slick of the sweat clinging to him, and reveling that he was alive, he was real, you could touch him.

“So needy,” He teased with another grin, his words whispered against your parted, kiss-bitten lips as your shaking fingers traced over his tattoo, stripe-stripe-arrow (you’d never even asked what it meant). “You’re so desperate for me, fräulein. You never change.”

As he spoke, he reached down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his khakis, idly squeezing and groping his cock through his underwear, a damp spot of pre-cum soaking the thin fabric. Your mouth watered for him (literally, from the way you were still drooling down your chin).

“You don’t want me to change,” You replied, letting your lips trail down his chin and to his jaw, pressing a quick kiss to his scar before kissing down his neck, relishing in the low rumble of pleasure he let out as you did so. He really did like it when you paid attention to him. “Not really.”

“ Ja, that’s true.” He hummed, his free hand reaching down to your left thigh, spanning over the soft flesh and kneading it idly as he continued to grope his cock. “I picked you up exactly how I wanted you to stay forever. Hungry,” He sighed with pleasure, digging a canine into his bottom lip as you teased the bites on his collar bone with your tongue. “Needy, and so eager to please. Ha!” He barked out a gruff laugh, giving your thigh a slap and making your entire body flinch (despite the still-flowing sedative in your blood). “Let’s see if we can keep you like this for seven more years, hm?~”

At the very idea (and kind of promise) that he would be keeping you for at least another seven years, you dig your teeth into him again and again ( and again and again and again) , decorating his soft chest with bloody declarations of ownership (as close as you were going to get to ownership, anyway) and possessive love.

It was clear that that was enough to encourage Strade to take a scarred hip in each hand and effortlessly slide his hard cock inside of you, your loose shorts pushed aside and clinging to your puffy labia, groaning at the ease, the warmth, and the hot, tight heat of your cunt.

A flicker of discomfort came to your face as Strade started to fuck you, but it subsided as quickly as it came as he gradually built up a steady rhythm of shallow thrusts, barely giving you enough stimulation for pleasure (you liked to be teased in that way) and demonstrating only an interest in pleasing himself.

It’s a good pace, you thought as you reached down to circle your erect clit, standing tall and proud, with one hand, making yourself gasp and whimper, and one that Strade had to learn in the seven years since your initial capture.

He’d been a lousy lay at the beginning, seeking only a warm hole to sink his dick into when he was in the mood (whether it was a consenting hole or not), but since then, since coming to know each other and learning about each other’s bodies (in a way that was wholly consenting, albeit not at all safe or sane), he’d gotten much better.

Biting your lip as pleasure slowly started to build in your core, you took Strade's sweaty face in your free hand, staring up at him intently as he continued to relentlessly fuck you.

His face was uncharacteristically flushed and his eyes, the colour and sticky depth of honey, were hazy, half-lidded and incredibly hungry. His lips were kiss-bitten and parted to let out short breaths of exertion as he kept moving and gradually picking up the pace like a brutal machine, slamming his full hips against yours, his belly straining against the still-clinging buttons of his shirt.

“ Ich möchte dich verschlingen, ” He panted out, a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek and dripping down on your chest as he fucked you, before he brought his face closer to yours, his teeth bared. “ Meine fleisch, meine liebe~”

His mouth watered to tear you apart with his teeth, because he was only half man, not so much, and the rest fiend .

But he couldn’t do that, not yet, not truly, so he pressed a hungry kiss to your mouth instead, biting your lips and pressing your tongues together in a grotesquely erotic merge of fluids and flesh.

Strade's pounding cock brushed against a tight bundle of nerves deep inside of you, making your entire body, suddenly alive and brimming with energy and burning, aching fire, flinch and tremble. You were instantly compelled to throw your arms around his neck and sink your nails into his back, marring his skin even more with bloody lines and crescent moons dug into his flesh.

“Ah-hah!” Your once hazy eyes shot wide open and bloodshot as a prickling, electric shot of pain shot through your entire body and made your spine arch and bend. “F-Fuck-!”

The sedative had worn off, well and truly, and suddenly, the intense pain of your amputated leg ( your amputated leg, he FUCKING CUT YOUR LEG OFF HEFUCKINGMAIMEDYOUFUCKINGMONSTER) is the only thing you can feel. The deep gash on the bottom of what used to be your knee throbbed and burned, your very bone aching and burning in the meat of your thigh, and you had to dig your teeth into Strade's shoulder to stop yourself from screaming out in pain.

“Oh, there it is. That’s it,” He panted into your ear with a filthy grin, running his tongue over your ear and digging his teeth into your lobe, the same as you did. “Feel it, meine liebe . Feel the pain and remember what I did to you .”

You whimpered helplessly against his shoulder, clutching onto him and wrapping your leg around his full waist, trying desperately hard to ignore the consistent throbbing.

"Do you remember how it tasted?" He then growled into your ear again with a cruel smile, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, spearing you on his cock and watching intently (his golden eyes wider than you had ever seen them) as you writhed and squirmed beneath him. A pinned-down butterfly with a needle through its middle, an animal skin waiting to be filled, a rabbit thrashing for freedom beneath the jaws of a wolf, foolish enough to consent to their capture. "Remember how you begged to taste yourself on my tongue, meine liebe ? What a sick, little freak you are."

"Nnoooo-" You whined helplessly as you tipped your head back with a desperate groan, your hips pushed back against his cock as he wrapped a hand around the stump of your leg and pulled you closer to him. "No, no, noooo..."

"Yesss~" He drawled with a mean chuckle, his honey-coloured eyes half-lidded as he used his grip on your thigh to pull you down onto him, as if you were a toy, a doll in his lap. "And you loved it, didn't you? You loved that I cared about you enough about you to eat you, to devour you and hold you inside myself forever...ah, fräulein, what a poor creature you are."

"S-Strade," You gasped, whining out a broken gasp of pain and pleasure, his thick cock filling every inch of you and making you shake and tremble with desperate, yearning want, despite the excruciating pain that was now shooting from your scalp to the very tip of your toes. "Please, please, I can't-"

"It's too much, isn't it?" He cooed softly, as the hand not on your thigh reached up to idly grope your chest, rolling the piercing through your nipple between this thumb and pointer finger, listening to each of your whimpers and whines. "All too much for a sweet, little thing like you to handle.”

All you could do was try to jerk your head away and look somewhere else, the ceiling, the wall, the fucking carpet for all you cared right now-

“Hah, you know, I would have thought you'd built up a bit of an endurance to it after seven years!" He laughed again and pinched your nipple cruelly, tugging at the hoop with a teasing grin when you let out a shrill shriek of pain at the motion. "You always have a way of staying soooo interesting, meine liebe . That's why I like you so much~"

He then dipped his head to indulgently run his tongue over your chest, nipping at the hoop through your nipple and giving it a mean little tug as he continued to relentlessly fuck you.

"That's why I love you."

And for whatever reason, just hearing those words, everything around you fell into place.

You stopped shrieking, and crying and twisting away from him. Even the pain stopped, in the traditional sense, replaced with a burning ricocheting through your trembling body as you stared up at him, like you were staring at an angel, a twisted kind of God, and not the fucking Devil himself.

“Because I do,” He continued, meeting your eyes with his own as he looked down at you. “I do love you. Very much.”

“I love you too,” You gasped out, feeling a cold sweat clinging to your forehead as you reached up to cling onto him, digging your nails into his shoulders like you were scared of being pulled away from him, scared of losing him. “I love you, I love you, I love you-!”

You were tethered, you thought, as you dipped your head and tongued one of the bites you had left behind on Strade's shoulder, like a dog tongued an enemy's lacerated throat, as Strade fucked you deeper, earning more scratches and cuts down his back, not even a modicum of the pain he inflicted on you so easily, so readily.

“This is all for you,” He then murmured softly, his voice low and even gentle sounding as he brought his face closer to yours again, every hard edge of his features softened by the low light of the setting sun, to the degree that he almost looked as harmless and charming as he did on the very first night you met.

“So be sure to savour it.”

You kissed him again, desperately hard like you were a man starving, and in your frenzied haste, you bit down too hard, somehow managing to rupture the thin skin of Strade’s bottom lip, a rivulet of blood suddenly streaming down his chest and staining his mouth, his lips, his teeth.

It was a perfect taste, you thought, as you thrust your own tongue into his mouth, wrapping yourself entirely in him as he pushed his cock even deeper inside of you.

You didn’t like sex before this, not really, at least not in the traditional sense because you had always liked what you and Strade had done together (no matter how grotesque, repulsive of wrong), but you like how inseparable your bodies have become through this erotic unification.

Is it your own thigh that you’re touching, or is it Strade's? Is it Strade's blood that’s spilling across your tongue or your own? Is Strade's cock inside of you or has it always been there, a part of you?

In the light of the setting sun, sealed away from the eyes of anything normative or traditional, the lines between you and Strade began to blur and were replaced by a mass of writhing, sweaty flesh, and you liked that.

You preferred being rendered monstrous through your own actions to being deemed monstrous by those who cannot see them.

Because you were a monster, in the truest sense, and he had seen the monster in you and loved you, not despite it but because of it.

Strade kissed you again, fiercely, thrusting so deep inside of you, inside of your pulsing cunt, that you could practically feel it in your lungs (you wondered, for maybe a moment too long, what that would actually feel like, Strade thrusting his cock into your vivisected chest), pressing your chests together, smearing the blood that was still dripping down his chin against your pale skin and tethering your bodies even more.

After a few more short, erratic thrusts, you could feel your core tighten and throb around Strade’s still-thrusting cock, and your entire body trembled and shook from pain, pleasure, and sheer exertion.

Like a mean form of payback, Strade suddenly bit down on your lower lip (with his sharp cannibal teeth), and a burst of blood coated both your probing, writhing tongues and trickled down your chins, painting your bodies even more so in brutal pleasure.

With Strade's hands on your hips, grubby, bitten fingernails digging into the soft flesh, your pale skin, he pushed himself even deeper with one final thrust and ejaculated deep inside of you, pushing you, himself, over the line of orgasm and into a world of white-hot, mind melting ecstasy.

Maybe it’s poetic that you came together so often. Romantic.

The one rendition of romance you had, barring the cannibalism.

You were the first to pull away, nearly collapsing back against the bed and letting out a deep exhale as you run your tongue over your wounded lip, hissing at the sensitivity of it.

What was another wound, though? It paled in comparison to the still burning, throbbing pain of your amputated knee.

Strade took a moment to indulge in a rare vulnerability, not even trying to detangle himself from you and opting instead to cage you down against the bed underneath his weight, resting his head on your chest and his slowly softening cock, still weeping, pressed to your right thigh.

He reached up to idly stroke over the lacerations that ran down the center of your sternum, a poor man’s attempt at vivisection when he was feeling particularly ambitious, and you ached for him to push his fingers past those scars and penetrate you even deeper.

You ached for him to devour even more of you, for him to reach into your chest, to pull out bones, flesh, and organs and tear into you, engulfing you completely and carrying you with him always, no matter what he did to you.

That way, you would always win//

"I left your prosthetic downstairs," He murmured softly after a long moment of comfortable silence, before he sat up on the edge of the bed and pressed a quick kiss to your temple, nestling his face against your soft hair (longer than it had been when you first met). "How is it feeling? Still painful?"

"Y-Yeah…it hurts," You said with a soft hiss as he ran his fingers over your gash, your body trembling a little at the pain but trying hard not to flinch or cringe away. You could endure it. "Can I have another dose?"

"Hm?" He hummed a non-verbal question, his voice an ever-playful lilt as a teasing smile spread on his face. "You want another dose of sedative, is that it?"

"Please," You pleaded softly, keening into his touch, your cheek pressed into his palm. “For our special day?”

"Mm, I'll think about it," He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your other cheek as he idly pushed his fingers into your hair, petting you like a dog, a cat, or an animal in his bed. "I'll go get your prosthetic for now.” He fished in his pocket for a moment and took out his phone, checking the time with a swipe of his finger. “I think Ren should be finishing up on the stream by now, so we can have a late dinner together to celebrate. Okay?"

You couldn’t think of a reason to try and argue against him.

"Okay." You nodded and smiled the best you could, despite the pain, leaning up to chase after a kiss as he stood to his feet, buckling his belt and buttoning up the (remaining) buttons of his shirt.

He gave the kiss to you readily, reaching forward and cupping your face gently with his free hand, his thumb tracing over your chin, and your bottom lip as he pulled you into a soft, close kiss.

Just as he gave his love to you readily now.

“ Meine liebe, ” He whispered softly against your lips between kisses, his eyes deeply fond as he stroked his thumb up and down your cheek. “You’re mine, sweet thing. Mine to kiss and to fuck and to devour, and to love, however I want . Remember that.”

“I’m yours,” You whispered in a reply, pressing your own kiss to his smiling lips. “Always.”

Strade didn’t say another thing. He didn’t need to when he smiled so proudly and kissed your cheek, running his fingers through your hair for an indulgent moment of softness before he stood to his feet and left you in the bedroom, idly shouting for Ren as he paced down the stairs.

You fell back against the bed with an exhausted huff, your body a mess and your lip, your neck, your shoulders, and your leg throbbing in pain.

Loving someone shouldn’t feel like this, you thought, as you looked down where your leg used to be, the dark gash marring the tattooed skin of your right thigh, a cruel reminder of his ownership over you.

But he was right. It was the perfect kind of romance for the two of you to share.

A perfect romance and a perfect meal.

Loving someone shouldn’t feel like this.

But you didn’t want any other kind of love anymore.

Not ever again.

#boyfriend to death #btd #you kill me every time #ykmet #strade btd #strade ykmet #strade x reader #IT'S BEEN SEVEN YEARS #MOTHERFUCKERRRRRR #i don't want to fix him i want him to EAT ME #ray's fics

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hjemne · 6 months

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Ilsa, I’ve seen you posting a lot of Trigun and well I’m intrigued by it, to say the least. But just for giggles, would you try to convince me why should I watch it? 😆🤚🏻

AHHHHH!

I didn't think Trigun was going to worm its way into my brain so much but here we are. There is so much to love about it and I adore so many of the characters for a billion different ways. The character type of someone who is made into a killing machine and then is slowly convinced to accept love and forgiveness is my favourite and is all over trigun. So many characters see themselves as monstrous but choose to do what they see as right for the sake of / with the help of their friends. There are moments of silliness and of tragedy, all with an incredibly interesting setting which slowly gets revealed.

Because of the recent release of Trigun Stampede, the community is really active rn (esp on Tumblr!) and it's really cool to see so many incredible fanarts, comics, fanfics and discussions being made. It's very fun to be part of a very active fandom, but also one that is 25 years old and has fanworks that are older than I am.

I really love it, and I would recommend it, but unfortunately I also have some caveats which I gotta mention.

What you gotta know before getting into Trigun is that there are 4 different canon versions and each one has its problems. I wish I could recommend X version as the definitive and best, but that just doesn't exist which is very annoying.

1) Trigun Maximum: the manga

Good: incredible nuances to characters like Wolfwood, Knives, Livio/Razlo. Vashwood subtext is off the charts and their dynamic is incredibly fascinating and central. This is the most detailed and complex story of Trigun and has lots of themes, characters and plot points that don't exist in other versions. Has elements of sexism and sexual violence, but (imo) to show how shitty the world is, rather than to revel in the misogyny. The tone is tragic, with equal mix of hope and pain.

Bad: the female characters of Meryl and Milly get massively sidelined in comparison to their depictions elsewhere. It's a very long manga and has (imo) pacing issues that limit the impact of emotional moments. The art style is beautiful, but notoriously difficult to follow, especially in the many long fight scenes (particularly bad in volume 5). There's lots of disagreement about 'correct' translations and it can be hard to tell which character is doing/saying/thinking what at points which can make it confusing and frustrating to read at times.

Overall: 7/10, I would recommend but maybe not as your first bit of exposure to Trugun

2) 1998 anime Trigun

Good: the silliest of Triguns with some great voice acting. The friendships between Vash, Milly, Meryl and Wolfwood are very sweet and engaging (although it would have been nice to see more of the four of them together). It's a fun overview of the Trigun story and has a very entertaining mix of comedy and serious emotional moments. Lots of hijinks and lots of fights. Milly and Meryl are core characters and get time to shine (it is impossible not to love Milly). This is personal preference but the animation style is kinda goofy in the way it changes styles to exaggerate characters' feelings which I love. The first 12 ISH episodes are very Saturday morning cartoon vibes without being too inane and childish.

Bad: because it only had the first couple of volumes of the manga to adapt from, the mid-season tone shift and later fights feel rushed, a little confusing and ultimately lead to a less satisfying conclusion than in trimax. The misogyny is noticeable, especially in the first couple of episodes, though is limited to a couple of comments in some episodes and doesn't (I think) make it unwatchable. The antagonists are rushed through and it's hard to work out who the 'main' villain is. Tone change is quite abrupt. Wolfwood is a less developed character with a less intense (back)story, Livio/Razlo doesn't exist at all etc

Overall: 7/10, this is what I'd recommend you start with. It has pacing issues and uncomfortable sexist comments, but I think they're outweighed by the strengths of the main casts relationships and the pure entertainment value of it. Not the most satisfying ending, but they were constrained so :/

3) Badlands Rumble (film)

Good: animation is SO crisp. Wolfwood is at maximum chest exposure and actually his character is pretty interesting here. Milly and Meryl are back, but in limited roles. Some interesting world building and Vash and Wolfwood go thru their divorce arc TM which is dumb and funny and angsty.

Bad: Wolfwood is far too pale. The first half an hour is made almost unwatchable by the decision to make sexism and sexual harrassement a way to pad out the runtime. Vash is such a creep it just makes for uncomfortable watching.

4/10 don't watch if you're not already invested, and honestly do yourself a favour by watching the opening scene, then skipping to the 30 min ish mark and watch knowing that Vash has some very tough dried meat in his front coat pocket.

4) Trigun Stampede anime

Good: really cool 3D animation and music. Has Wolfwood's manga backstory and some manga characters like Livio and Crimsonnail, but with very different characterisations. I really liked the episode looking at the childhood of two orphans and how their love for each other was manipulated against them both. Much bigger focus on Knives than the original and more elaboration of his motivations and plans. Zazie is SO much better here than in the original anime. No uncomfortable sexism yay!

Bad: I... don't like tristamp very much. The characters are watered down from their manga versions and Knives is just kinda evil because he was en evil child, rather than the much more nuanced version in trimax. Milly doesn't exist (yet) and they added in a new character Roberto whose role in the story is (or at least was to me) obvious if you know the basics of the hero's journey structure. Everyone has been twinkified and Wolfwood doesn't even have his tits out smh. Vash just comes across as having less agency and his motivations feel weak. I really just dont like a lot of the character decision here BUT to be fair, that's because I'm comparing them to the manga. But also, a main plot point is someone taking over his brother's body so that his sisters can get pregnant and it definitely still feels weird in context. The focus on the two brothers makes other dynamics a little weaker, and has led to a lot of incest-y fandom things which is ehh.

5.5/10 there are some things it does very well and it's very popular for a reason but I personally think the characterisations are disappointing. It's trying to strike a weird balance between being its own, new thing and also nostalgia for original elements, leading to some questionable pacing and plot choices. It doesn't even have Midvalley the Hornfreak.

I would love to be able to talk about Trigun with you and be passionate about the elements of it I love, but also I don't want to recommend it without giving you a fair picture of the parts I'm more critical about. I genuinely love the world building and characters, which are expressed best in the less accessible form of the manga but are also found in the animes. What I'd recommend is watching the original anime first, but also you might need to give it the benefit of the doubt for the first couple episodes which is where the dodgy 90s sexism is most obvious. I'd be super interested in hearing your thoughts and reactions to it if you did watch it, and also please bear in mind that my complaints about tristamp are personal and there are many who love that version so don't take my negativity as fact.

#asks #sorry that got LONG #YOU SHOULD WATCH IT #I REALLY LOVE IT #its just not perfect #trigun #trigun maximum #trigun stampede

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justsasuke · 9 months

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So I know in cannon all the countries are treated as if everyone speaks the same common language (I get it makes story telling easier) BUT lately I've had the brain worm of IF each country did have its own language to go with it's culture....what accents would Taka have?

This made me think about how Sasuke gets a lot of comments about how he's "clearly from Konoha" and in canon it's always because he's a softie or whatever (which, we've all seen how Konoha is, we know being soft isn't a trait that's from there) but what if it's actually because when he speaks he has a very distinct Konoha accent that he never really lost despite years away? And he could lose it, he has a good enough ear to pick up a different accent but what if it's not exactly a Konoha accents so much as it's the Uchiha accent. Because they lived in such a condensed environment there's no way they wouldn't have their own way of speaking that's similar enough to Konoha to get mistaken for it by those who don't know but still different. Sure, this means everyone who meets him will know where he came from but he refuses to lose the accent because it's the way his mother talked, his father talked, his aunts, uncles, and cousins talked. It's the way his brother talks, and it's another reason he's so easily recognizable as an Uchiha.

Suigetsu knows this and respects it (heck, he has a strong Kiri accent that he's not losing because it's where he's from and he wants people to know) but still definitely teases him about it sometimes. That one time he said "you really are from Konoha" wasn't actually commenting on Sasuke's no killing policy, he was saying "your accent is showing, dude" jkjk.

As for the rest of Taka, I'm not sure how their accents would compare to the ones we have in our world but I do think that Karin would have a southern accent. In my experience southern accents in the languages I know tend to be wider, have more tonal ups and downs, be more dynamic, and carry a lot of emotion which I think would be perfect for Karin. She usually speaks standard* but will slip into her native accent when she's emotionally charged. Only Sasuke and Juugo understand her when this happens, Suigetsu does not.

*Standard being what most people communicate with outside of small villages and in large cities with lots of import/export. It probably started in the Land of Fire and then was generally accepted across the rest of the major 5 nations. Other smaller nations don't use it that much but it is used in Otogakure because Orochimaru is from Konoha. Even though he probably uses old standard so no one understands him anyway.

Suigetsu has a Kiri accent which...probably sounds slightly sinister and a little slippery. It's a fairly well respected accent in the business world because Kiri is known for the quality of their assassins but is heavily associated with organized crime so if you have it civilians won't really trust you.

Juugo has a more rural, rough accent that comes from limited exposure to "modern" civilization and a lot of exposure to mountain villages and farmers (not helped by his time in the northern hideout where most everyone spoke the same except for the employees) He can't speak standard and is embarrassed about it and how rough his language sounds so he doesn't speak a lot at first. His accent is hard to understand for most people in the 5 great nations because it's so rural, but people from smaller countries like the land of birds get it. Sasuke understands it but only because he traveled to the northern hideout with Orochimaru a lot.

I'm not sure if this correctly corresponds with where each member is from geographically and how the language would be there, tbh I feel like the linguistics of the elemental nations + other countries could be a whole study in and in of itself, but these are my current thoughts on the topic. It's such a fascinating idea and I'll definitely be thinking about it more.

#accent anon #This never crossed my mind #and I love that you brought it up #Team Taka #Sasuke #Juugo #Karin #Suigetsu #Team Taka headcanons

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tawneybel · 8 months

Text

Note: Ten favorite monsters, part eight. Previous part. The Point is a seriously underrated movie. Catch it if you’re into stuff like The Phantom Tollbooth or Yellow Submarine.

1. Oblina from Aaahh!!! Real Monsters

Tbh, I didn’t really watch this show. Rugrats was and is my fave Nicktoon, so my first exposure to ARM was crossover episode “Ghost Story.” (That, “The Last Babysitter,” and Rugrats in general has great juvenile horror.) But I have a soft spot for female monsters that have “girly” features while still giving grotesque.

2-4. Anglerfish-esque monsters

Dark spider spirit from Avatar: The Legend of Korra: Some kind of arachnid, anyway. Don’t let her teethies fool you. This lady will just yeet anyone spirited away into the Fog of Lost Souls, she hates people so much.

Grand Fisher from Bleach: The Bleach Wiki describes him as “resembl[ing] a giant hamster.” Which is great. Didn’t even think of that. Rats aren’t the only rodents that can scary. But he’s included here because I love monsters that mimic victims’ loved ones.

Frogfish from The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie: SpongeBob has other anglers, like two cute ones from “Rock Bottom,” one of my fave episodes. As with Grand Fisher, I love how the Frogfish uses a biological dummy of sorts as a lure. In this case, its tongue. Bringing to mind the Alaskan Bull Worm.

5. Old Dark Frog from Days with Frog and Toad

This and Bony-Legs were seasonal delights for teeny Tawney. The illustration where he's looming, nay, towering over a chilled Frog was so hair-raising.

6. Brain Eating Meteor from The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy

Pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Has one of the best villain songs ever. Thank you, Voltaire.

7. the Demons of Ignorance from The Phantom Tollbooth

It’s like with the Blue Meanies where I can’t pick just one! There’s the Terrible Trivium, of course. But also the barely-there-but-will-bring-you-fear Threadbare Excuse, draconic Two-Faced Hypocrite, etc.

8. the Pointed Man from The Point

Trickster who sounds like a shaken clock. Tumblr sexyman candidate right there.

9. Sadako Yamamura from Ringu

Screenshot’s from Ringu 2. The visage creeping after Mai as she climbs with Yoichi out of the well is based on the forensic reconstruction of Sadako’s corpse.

Localizations are hit or miss for me, but I’ll admit The Ring 2002 was more entertaining. However, I think Sadako’s generally a more interesting villain than Samara.

While Ringu notability took inspiration from Videodrome, it’s its own unique spin combined with Japanese ghost lore.

10. the Tingler from The Tingler

A literal spine-tingler, living on people’s vertebrae. Emits a cardiac, pulsating sound when free roaming and swells after gorging itself on fear.

Note: Eventually, I will try reading the Ring series. I read more murder mysteries than straight-up horror. Might add other Aaah!!! Real monsters to future lists if I ever watch the show proper.

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ghouljams · 3 months

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Hey Ghoul! It’s shy anon again but this time it’s not to share brain rot (don’t worry the worms are squirming around, something will come out soon).

It was more of a question/ asking for advice thing. I really like your style of blog, the blorbo-based and not-fully-specified-timeline kind of writing because i also have adhd and it’s kind of how my brain produces stories if that makes sense.

I’ve been on a back and forth with myself for a while about maybe starting a blorbo account and write my own stuff. But stuff always gets in the way when i’m about to start it and then, by the time i could do it insecurity creeps in and i end up not doing anything. (that’s why i’m always kind of nervous to send asks as well)

So anyway, i guess i kind of wanted to ask how did you start the blorbo style? any tips to like keep consistent or anything like that?

As always, no pressure to answer and totally feel free to ignore this. Hope i can send a new anon soon with even more brain rot.

Good questions, good questions

I don't know if I have good answers...

I guess I just made a post. That's literally it. I already had this side blog which I had previously posted my nsfw art on, but I hadn't used it in forever and it was already customized so I just scrapped my art posts and popped a post with my stupid CoD thoughts down. Then I just posted again because I had more thoughts. It was all very off the cuff. I had no stories planned or any real direction I wanted to go it. I just had thoughts(tm) and worms wriggling in my brain, and I had to get them out somehow so I posted them on tumblr rather than letting them languish in my notes app.

This was also lowkey me trying to exposure therapy myself into getting comfortable posting my writing again. I had a long form fic that I'd written several chapters for and was considering posting, but didn't have the confidence because a. I hadn't posted fic in 4 years and b. it was oc fic.

I guess my tip on keeping consistent is to just always be writing. Posting is whatever, I post when I finish something, but I'm literally always writing. I write in my head if I can't type and write in my notes app if I'm away from my computer. I am always writing or thinking about writing. Like you said my style is very go with the flow, my timelines jump around and I don't publish traditional fic chapters, it fits better with my brain to be able to move around between different stories. I wouldn't be able to do this anywhere but tumblr(thank you tumblr I love you tumblr) and I did not go into this with any intention of doing anything but talking about cowboys.

My advice is to have fun and be yourself. The rest will follow.

#ghoul speaks

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merakiui · 2 years

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We got Childe with actress darling, so how about Azul with idol darling?

Fanboy Azul who hide his fanboy life from everyone, who would spent money just to buy idol darling merch, who would stay up late at night just to wait for darling new MV to drop

Fanboy Azul who knew about idol darling from idia (ofc), scoffed about it at first but end up curious, watch one (1) MV and got hooked afterwards

Fanboy Azul who learn a Few dance here and there (it would be funny if idol darling concept is cute and soft)

Fanboy Azul who planned to kill one of his classmate after he hear one of them bad mouthed darling, by saying that they're only got pretty face

🐏 anon

Aaaaa thank you for putting this worm in my brain!! orz

(cw: yandere, obsession, azul is a hater, unhealthy behaviors)

Everyone around him seems to be talking about you. He can’t fathom what’s so special about a bipedal creature who puts on elaborate and expensive outfits and sings into a microphone while telling the audience how much they love and appreciate the support. He’s seen this plenty of times in business and, unsurprisingly, it always works. Something about singers and idols always garners lots of money, especially if they act like a loving friend or a personal cheerleader. He’d like to try his hand at building an idol from the ground up, but that takes time, experience, and money. And he’d rather make more money than waste it on meaningless endeavors with no certainty of success.

It feels like he can’t escape you or your influence. Wherever he turns, you’re there. The twins are constantly checking your socials and scrolling through old photos of you when they have time and Idia has been enthusiastically relaying your entire life’s story at the board game club. And Azul, not knowing a clue about idol culture or you, asks what the appeal is. A dumb question, considering he can recognize the monetary appeals right away. But a question nonetheless. Idia’s happy to answer and he becomes so animated when talking about you and how your journey and struggles have made you such a strong, independent idol.

That’s not fair. Azul’s struggled, too. Why isn’t he famous? Why isn’t he raking in lots of money for simple things like dancing and singing? He realizes there’s more to it than that, but even so… How can your success feel so genuine and easy when his was mired in darkness? Always cutting back on meals to slim down. Turning away from mirrors to avoid looking at his face. Dirty deals on land and in the sea in order to get the things he couldn’t ever hope to possess. Lacking friends and a social circle because that same circle turned their backs on him and called him stupid, clumsy, weak, a crybaby.

Your motto is ‘work hard to achieve your starry dreams.’ His motto is ‘if you can’t have it, take it.’ And, frankly, your motto is a falsehood that you peddle to the masses like a cult leader selling the idea of self-destruction to brainwashed fools in need of so-called salvation.

One evening, after the Mostro Lounge has closed, he finds himself cooped up in his VIP room, phone in his hands as he analyzes one of your music videos. The production quality is amazing. The outfit and the scenery and the overall feeling have been perfectly tailored to fit the song and its themes. He hates to admit it, but you’re good at what you do. Perhaps even better than him. Maybe you’re up there with Vil. Who is he kidding? You’re probably acquainted with Vil, which isn’t too surprising to consider. Celebrities flock to other celebrities for exposure, to feed the tabloids and media new gossip, to stay connected and network through the rich and famous.

“Azul’s really staring, huh.”

“Indeed. I don’t think he suspects we’re here,” Jade adds with a chuckle. “It seems someone has charmed him.”

Azul’s head snaps up to view the twins as they lean over the desk, gazing at the visual on his screen with glee-filled eyes. He swats at them with a grumble. “This is research. I am not charmed.”

“Oh! That’s our cute, sparkly shrimpy.” Floyd snatches Azul’s phone for a closer look at you as you execute complicated dance moves with flawless grace. He pouts. “You haven’t even liked the video after all of our shrimpy’s hard work?”

With a scowl he reaches for his mobile, but Floyd holds it up and out of his grasp. “Jade.” He glances at the more mature twin. “Tell me. What’s so special about this…idol thing? Be short about it and spare me the earful.”

Jade smiles, razored teeth glinting in the dimness. “Idols like (Name) are usually charismatic individuals who have amassed a loyal following through music, fan interactions, and engaging interviews and collaborations.”

“So why do you like them so much? They’re a money siren, if anything.”

“They’re cute and they wear cool shoes!” Floyd lifts his leg to give Azul a view of his leather uniform shoes. “These are boring and dull. The shoes (Name) wears are colorful and I’m going to own every pair!”

“You’re throwing your money away. And get your foot off my desk!”

“You’re being stingy with yours.” He sticks his tongue out at him, brows furrowed in annoyance.

“I enjoy their captivating performances,” Jade admits, a hand over his heart. “(Name) has an energy that is difficult to describe. It’s…invigorating. Perhaps you are correct when you say they are a siren. If that’s the case, Floyd and I have found ourselves thoroughly entranced.”

Azul steeples his hands as he ruminates. Eventually he hazards a glance at them and asks, “You saw one of their performances recently, did you not?”

“Ah! That’s right!” Floyd drops Azul’s phone, which Jade catches expertly before it can shatter on the ground. Floyd digs his mobile out of his pocket to showcase the pictures and videos he managed to take. “They made us put our phones in these gross covers, but it kept them safe while we watched. Look, look! Isn’t (Name) really adorable? I wonder how they’d look with a tail. Hey, Azul, turn them into a mer.”

Azul gazes at the photos as Floyd swipes through them, stopping at a group photo where the twins pose with you. “You certainly enjoyed yourselves,” he says with a scoff.

“In more ways than one.” Jade’s smile sharpens. “We did invite you, but you refused to join us.”

“I made the right choice.”

“Aha. That’s no fun. You really missed out. (Name)’s crying face is delicious.”

“No need to rub salt on a poor octopus, Floyd.”

“The both of you are fools,” he declares after a minute of trying and failing to form an eloquent comeback. “However, if (Name) were to perform at the Mostro Lounge… Or perhaps we could work alongside our friends at the Mystery Shop once again. An event jointly sponsored… Sales would certainly increase.”

“What’s this? Azul wants little shrimpy to dance for him?”

“Oh my. I wonder if Azul has changed his tune.”

“Perish such idiotic thoughts. This is simply business.”

Yet he can’t help but wonder who you truly are beneath that glimmering façade. Surely you’re not as sweet as your fans claim you are.

- - -

Azul is on his way to Pomefiore to deliver another moisturizer when disaster strikes. The minute he emerges from the mirror and is standing in front of the elegant dormitory someone crashes into him. The force sends both him and the stranger tumbling, the delicate bottle of moisturizer flying from his hands and shattering into shards on the cobblestones. Azul remains on the ground, ferociously stunned into silence as he eyes the damaged product.

He was working on a time constraint, as always.

He wrung Floyd of his moisture, despite his protests at drawing the shortest straw once more.

He had everything perfect, as always.

He was going to uphold his end of the deal, as always.

Along with the now broken vial, his hopes are perfectly, undeniably fractured.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“You fool!” He turns on the cause for this mishap with a nasty glower. “Do you have any idea how important that was?! Haven’t you land folk ever heard the saying ‘watch where you tread’? You’ve ruined everything now and I can’t possibly make—wait.” He stares at the person cowering before him, a look of genuine grief plastered to their face as they spy the damage. You’re wearing a disguise, but there’s no mistaking your familiar voice. He’d recognize it in a crowd of hundreds after spending many sleepless nights watching your music videos, interviews, and much more just to commit your stunning voice to memory. For research purposes, of course. “You’re (Name), aren’t you? That idol from the surface…”

“Shush!” Your hands are quick to cover his mouth. He blinks at you, his flustered face betraying his initial anger. “I… Look. I’m sorry. A few fans recognized me and they were chasing me down. I wasn’t looking where I was going… I’ll pay for the damages. Just please be quiet.”

Azul considers his options. On one hand, he can’t make another moisturizer unless he wrings Jade out and the eel won’t agree to something so painful without proper compensation. On the other, he could just use his own moisture, but that still takes time and effort and he doesn’t want to subject himself to that. You aren’t a mer, so he can’t wring you out. How is he going to make a new moisturizer by the end of today? If he can’t get Vil his moisturizer, he’ll have broke his own contract terms. He absolutely can’t have that.

But you’re you. Jade is fond of you. Maybe he’ll do it for your sake.

“Why are you here?” he asks instead.

“I’m here to see Vil Schoenheit. He invited me to test a few makeup products for a Magicam livestream, one of which is this moisturizer he swears by and…oh. That was the moisturizer, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” He rubs his temples, willing himself to remain as the composed, suave businessman he usually is. “Yes, it was.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“‘Sorry’ won’t reverse it.” He inhales a breath, holds it, and then exhales slowly. “Let’s be sensible. If you’re close with Vil, you can just explain what happened. It’s not ideal for me, but the fault still lies with you. Although it wouldn’t look very good if I broke my own contract…”

“I can explain it to him, but you’re right. I can’t exactly fix whatever contract you wrote up. Maybe I can help you make a new moisturizer instead.”

“Hm.”

Looking at you this closely, Azul realizes you really are attractive. Humans have always appealed to merfolk, but you’re in another league entirely. You aren’t wearing any makeup and instead rely on your natural beauty to charm those around you. No wonder why Vil associates himself with you. You’re so naturally you. No wonder why you have so many fans.

Perhaps through his weeks-long research Azul has allowed you to strike his heart like a cupid with terrible aim. And he can’t believe that, of all the humans to adore, he’s fallen for one that is a star—out of reach, destined to shine brighter than him.

But stars can be bottled and kept safe from implosion. This is a fact that he, as a dutiful collector, knows well.

“I’ve got it!” He rises to his feet, brushing himself free of dirt, and holds his hand out to you. “From today onwards, we are business partners. If you help me solve this little predicament, I’ll consider overlooking your clumsy error.”

“All right. As long as you keep my being here a secret.” Your hand fits into his and he tugs you up from the ground. “So how can I help?”

Azul flashes you a sly grin. “What are your thoughts on transformation potions?”

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #🐏 anon #bitter and jealous azul is a delicious flavor of azul >:)#but so is obsessive fanboy azul who would do anything for you #even changing himself just to suit your tastes

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