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whalesforhands · 10 months

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chew your regret (geto x reader x gojo) pt.3

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warnings: no fluff here folks, just suffering. gore mentions.

“Suguru?” The man let out a laugh, throwing his head back as the sun shone down on him. “He’s my best friend. My one and only.” A boisterous exclamation.

“Ah, Satoru?” He smiled, gentle, soft and affectionate. The moonlight bathed him in an ethereal glow. “In this world, there is definitely no other like him.” A serene confirmation.

“After all, we’re the strongest.”

There was a ‘we’, a ‘they’. In those conversations you’ve had, there was no ‘you’.

Maybe there never was.

No matter how you view it, Satoru and Suguru were made for each other. They loved the other in a way only they could ever understand, a love so deep it transcends meaning.

How could you ever have thought you’d be able to fit in a puzzle that never required you?

You should never have coveted what was never yours to have.

You feel the marks on your neck sear, the aftermath of your little session with the two boys. They glowed an angry red, the beginnings of the hickeys starting to mar your nape as you wince slightly at the soreness.

You floated around in a domain, eyes blank and empty as you thought and thought and thought, mind racing back to the times of your first significant memories of the duo.

Your breaths uneven as you heaved, the heavy stench of blood filling your nostrils as you shook. Your knees, scraped. Your leg having had had an arrow pierced, embedded into your flesh. You’re in pain.

It was a Grade 1 curse. What was supposed to be a straightforward, simple exorcism of the appearance of a few Grade 3 curses, your second ever solo mission, had soon taken a sharp turn.

You screamed as you felt the curse’s hands snap your arm, your staff laying on the ground, broken and useless much like your hand.

You heard the damned thing snicker, laugh at your pain as you struggled to maintain your vision. To stay awake. Stay alive. You can’t die. Not when you saw the young girl cowering behind the pillar you had hidden her in.

“Hehehe! You sorcerers are a joke!” It taunted, it’s hand gripping painfully tight around your torso, making you wince as you felt one of your ribs give.

“Oh? Not going to scream again? Perhaps I should break something else?” It squeezed tighter, it’s disgusting tentacles wrapping around you as it’s jaw began to unhinge, revealing a red, slime covered mouth, rows of yellowed, misshapen teeth and a sliced tongue. You felt bile and blood rise in your throat, desperate to fight off the pain. Desperate to fight back. You can’t be eaten here. Your vision was white hot, your broken arm feeling limp and useless at your side.

You heard a cackle.

Tchak! “Let the lady go, you ugly monster!” A small rock was thrown at the monstrous curse’s head.

No. No no no no nonnonono You felt yourself be thrown into a concrete wall, your back taking the brunt of it as you clawed at the wall with your good hand for support.

Stand up. Stand up stand up stand up.

“And what do we have here?” You heard the curse hum, it’s slimy appendages moving further and further from you. Towards the innocent civilian you were protecting.

Shit. You can’t see. The blood was rushing to your head. Your heart pounding at a mile per minute.

Your vision is gone.

You heard more screams. Your legs burned as you forced yourself up. Your eyes closed as you channeled your cursed energy.

Get the focus off the girl. You may not be able to physically see the curse with your current state, but you sure as hell can sense it.

You focus. Focus and focused and focused, a blast of your pure cursed energy surrounding itself around the girl, who was running for her life towards you as she screamed and begged for help.

You want to keep her safe. You promised, afterall.

Your mind steeled, your cursed technique activating as it formed a barrier around her just in time as the curse reared one of its ugly tendrils, forming a spike at the end as it readied to plunge through the civilian’s skull.

The tendril bounced back, burnt to a crisp by your cursed energy as the protective barrier burned, shined bright within the dark compounds of the abandoned car park.

The curse giggled. “You think that measly shield is going to stop ME?” It clawed and clawed at the barrier, the little girl curling into a ball in on herself as she cried and begged for it to be over.

The curse was futile in its attempts. You can’t break a promise. You steadied your breathing, your hair a mess and blood trailing from your face as you shakily held your broken staff in your good hand, your good elbow bracing yourself against the wall for support.

“Come…” You heaved. “Get me, you ugly bitch.”

It reared its grotesque head towards you.

“I should’ve finished you off first, sorcerer!” It broke into a run towards you, screaming agonized threats. “You’re going to wish you died just now!”

You hope your shield holds. This is your end. You can’t fight anymore. The last remaining remnants of your cursed energy flicker uselessly on your staff, dying out as you prepared for death to take you.

You failed. Failed to accomplish your mission. Failed. Failed failed failed failed failed

“Oops.” A strong wind blows in your face, the curse incinerated with one strong blast, with no milliseconds left for it to even think about its final words. “Suguru would’ve called that overkill.”

Gojo Satoru has made his entrance.

You never felt such relief, your knees collapsing where they stood as the chosen one stepped before you.

He took one look at the young civilian girl that had fainted from overwhelming fear, your cursed energy still glowing bright around her, before turning his judgmental gaze towards you.

“That was weak.” You know. “That all it took for you to get in this state?” You tried.

You couldn’t even answer him, your body burning in pain as you struggled to stay alive.

“Gotta hand it to ya, though.” You felt his presence near you, hearing him squat down to be eye level with you, his bones creaking slightly. “Pretty stupidly brave of you to sacrifice your last pitiful reserves of cursed energy on ‘er. Respect.”

You think you felt your heart throb at the compliment, before you passed out.

—

You sat within the confines of your hospital room, aimlessly staring out the window. The bandages encased almost your entire body, your cast heavy as you looked into the outside world with one eye.

(The other was tucked away behind an eyepatch to speed up recovery. Apparently, using reverse cursed technique on you in your sensitive state would cause you to potentially implode. Gonna have to wait a while before you could receive that treatment.)

You smile down at the signature Gojo had left on your cast, a crude drawing of what was meant to be him winking and sticking his tongue out.

(“You don’t have any other friends anyway. I can sign it as big as I like!”)

Beside it, was Shoko’s sign. A small message to you to recover quicker, cause being left to the two menaces was driving her insane, and she missed you so much.

(“I missed you.” She whined out, plopping her head onto your lap as you sat upright on the propped up pillow. Her short auburn hair obscured her eyes as she stared up at you, a pout on her pretty lips.)

“Please excuse me.” The hinges of the door squeaking slightly as they were opened.

Suguru was finally here. You’d didn’t think he cared enough about you to come.

“Ah, Geto-san.” You tried to bow in greeting, wincing when you were only able to bend forward awkwardly due to the pain and stiffness of the bandages as you met his eyes. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“It’s nothing.” Suguru bowed back politely, a small bag of what he had seen you snack on during breaks in his hand.

(They were bought at the supermarket nearby after he decided it was rude to visit a hospitalized classmate without something. He’s better than Gojo.)

“I’ve come with some gifts.”

—

Suguru sat upon a chair at the side of your bed, lazily leaned back on the chair as a leg crossed over the other, hearing you fumbling with the plastic bag with your one good hand.

He broke the silence.

“Satoru told me about your mission.” He pauses, before smiling. “He’s been non-stop whining about having to fill in that report in place of you.”

(Gojo would’ve never written that report if it wasn’t for you.)

You let out a polite laugh. “I suppose I should thank him accordingly after I’m discharged, then.”

Suguru stays silent, watching, observing you.

“Were you actually going to let yourself die, trying to save that little girl?”

You stay silent, your one eye cast down towards the scratchy sheets of your bed. You don’t hesitate with your reply.

“I think protecting those who can’t protect themselves is a noble thing.”

“Even at the expense of your own life?” He cocked a curious brow.

You smiled. Genuine, soft and melancholic.

“Even then.” You direct your gaze towards him, looking him straight in the eye. “If not us, who else?”

Geto smiled. “You’re pretty strong, huh?”

——

You drift endlessly in the confines of your cursed space. You don’t think you could even forget them if you tried.

You think you’d curse yourself to remember them even in your death.

If- If all they wanted was your physical being… That’s okay, right?

You’re okay with that. Right? It’s all you can offer the two who had everything. The two who your heart hopelessly longed for.

Fate has cursed you to love.

And you’re going to accept it, wholeheartedly and in all its cruelty. You’re going to take it, cling onto the hope that they could ever love you, take and love and love and love, then die. No matter the pain.

That was just your fate, right?

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Notes:

Gojo thinks it’s amazing that you push on through again and again, despite your weak self. Putting others before yourself is something he isn’t used to seeing, and he’s so intrigued by your weird kindness. You never stop smiling either.

Geto thinks your strength is admirable. You were clearly weak and struggling to nurture your cursed technique, you should’ve given up long ago. You don’t possess any talent. But you didn’t give up at all. Cool.

The hospital was the first time you had ever properly met eyes with Geto. He didn’t expect your one good eye to be so sparkly and full of life. You looked cute.

Your cursed technique is pretty simple. It’s more defensive than anything. A technique that allows you to make barriers, walls and transport you to void of empty space. The void is not your domain. Only you can get in and out of it.

Unfortunately for you, you crushed on Gojo first.

#geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #whalewrites #getou suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #dyf au

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abominationimperatrix · 2 years

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A short list of extremely-specific lesser-known mythical monster tropes which I didn’t expect to be super widespread:

1. Ogres which, when slain, spawn huge amounts of mosquitoes out of their bodies.

2. Humanoid horrors that lurk at the tops of cliffs and kick passerbies down off of the ledge so that their mates and/or offspring can kill them.

3. Depraved ex-human cannibals for whom one of their feet has rotten away into a spike of bone which they then stab people with.

4. Creatures which resemble pitiful old men and beg people to carry them but their legs are actually tentacle-like “straps” which they use to kill or enslave their victims.

5. Hairy ogres with axe-heads sticking out of their chests.

6. Grotesque female humanoids with enormous, pendulous breasts, one of which they throw over their shoulder. (That last detail specifically shows up more times than you would think possible.)

7. Flying detachable heads. Organs hanging down frequent but optional.

8. The “animal that cannot lie down,” i.e. a monster without joints in its limbs that, you guessed it, cannot lie down and has to lean on things.

10. So. Many. Backwards. Feet. Usually as a means of making trackers think they went in the opposite direction.

11. Swallowers. I.e., monsters that swallow huge amounts of victims but keep them inside in their stomachs before spitting them out when slain. Most famously present in Sub-Saharan Africa, but basically everywhere.

12. Bisected humanoids. Creatures with only half a physical body, cut vertically.

13. Headless monsters with faces on their chests.

14. Natal revenants. The undead remains of women who die in childbirth, usually as some sort of ghostly Succubus.

15. Female creatures with hollow backs, the main giveaway of their supernatural nature.

16. Living meteor demons that spread disease.

17. Chicken-snake hybrids.

18. Rattite-snake hybrids.

19. Parrot-snake hybrids.

20. Monsters that fly around in the atmosphere, and if you look at them you die. (Related to number 16.)

21. In arid regions, RAINBOW TASTE YOU. (Because it signals the end of much-needed rain and is therefore seen in a negative light and personified as something malicious.

22. Owl demons! Tend to be witchy/hag-like.

23. Succubi whose only giveaway of their monstrousness is a single hooved foot.

24. People cursed into becoming weird donkey-things.

25. River blockers. Monsters who block off water supplies in order to cause droughts, and must be slain for that reason.

26. Monsters who inflict some kind of seemingly unsurvivable body horror on you, before resurrecting you long enough to go home at which point you promptly die for reals this time.

And many, many, more, but I’m tired right now. Might update later.

Update: Wow! I did not expect this blow up, or for this many people to be interested! This was very spur of the moment and off the top of my head, I assumed I would just be infodumping into the void. I’m going to write up examples for all of these, I’m just going to need a little bit of time to get my sources in order to make sure they I don’t misrepresent or misremember anything. How common a lot of these are varies, some tend to be primarily amongst neighboring cultures in specific regions, others tend to be downright global. And some have dozens of instances while others are more like that Doofenshmirtz meme. (I’d only have two nickels but I’m surprised it happened twice).

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scribblemakes · 2 years

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The Physique skill set for today in all their glory, it is nice at least to put a name to all of them so they’re easier to identify. Longer ID under the cut:

[ID: 12 images depicting the Physique skills from Disco Elysium as bigger monsters that interact with Harry. In order, there’s Physical Instrument, Shivers, Endurance, Pain Threshold, Electrochemistry, and Half Light. /End ID]

[ID: Every second image shows the previous skill’s design iterations. For example: The second image shows Physical Instrument’s iterations, the fourth shows Shiver’s iterations, and so on.

The first image shows Physical Instrument both at a low level and a high level. At a low level it’s standing on Harry’s shoulder as he looks up at a tall man who’s standing over him. At a high level it’s standing behind a violent-looking Harry and pushing its arm forward. The arm is wrapped around Harry’s own fist like a glove. The dialogue reads: Small Physical Instrument: “Son, this man is going to pulverize you.” Large Physical Instrument: “He shouldn’t have done that. Not when he’s so WEAK.”

The third image shows Shivers both at a low level and a high level. At a low level, Shivers is absent. Harry and Kim are looking out toward Revachol and talking. At a high level its looking down at Harry, bigger than the city, as Harry kneels down in the dirt in distress. The dialogue reads: Harry: “I feel like I’m missing something.” Kim: “Other than your gun and badge?” Harry: “Yeah.” Kim: “Khm. We’ll see if we can find it.” Large Shivers: “LOOK AT ME. I CANNOT END.”

The fifth image shows Endurance both at a low level and a high level. At a low level it’s slumped over Harry’s arm as he pants and clutches at his chest. At a high level Endurance is standing behind Harry and encouraging him. Harry has both fists raised and is injured. The dialogue reads: Small Endurance: “You’re about to pass out brother.” Large Endurance: “You will outlast them. Keep going, brother.”

The seventh image shows Pain Threshold both at a low level and a high level. At a low level Pain Threshold is laying over Harry’s arm while he looks sadly at a splinter in his finger. At a high level Pain Threshold is behind Harry as spikes go through Harry and into Pain Threshold. The dialogue reads: Small Pain Threshold: “Ow” repeated Large Pain Threshold: “TAKE IT”

The ninth image shows Electrochemistry both at a low level and a high level. At a low level, Harry is holding up Electrochemistry by its tentacle legs. At a high level Electrochemistry has wrapped up Harry in all of its arms. Harry is loose and holding an empty bottle in his left hand. The dialogue reads: Small Electrochemistry: “How was I supposed to know that wasn’t sugar?” Harry: “Kim said no one keeps sugar in little bags.” Small Electrochemistry: “Haha. Oops.” Large Electrochemistry: “Doesn’t that feel good, Harry? All of those bad memories fading away. Let’s have another.”

The eleventh image shows Half Light both at a low level and a high level. At a low level, Kim looks exasperated while talking to Harry, who has Half Light sleeping on his shoulder. At a high level Half Light is crouching on Harry’s back and yelling at him. The dialogue reads: Kim: “Detective, did you not feel like she was about to shoot at us, or do you have a death wish?” Harry: “Um.” Kim: “Don’t answer that.” Kim sighs. Kim: “Sorry, that was unprofessional.” Harry: “It’s okay.” Large Half Light: “They have guns Harry! They hate you! They’re dangerous!” Harry: “Even Kim?” Large Half Light: “Even him! Everyone!”

/End ID]

#Disco Elysium #de skills #body horror //#gore //#monster cabinet

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akumastrife · 4 months

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Knightmare Of Your Dreams // Dreamling

Rating: Explicit (Just All Smut) Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Word Count: 3k I have no excuse for this. I wanted to write weird and kinky Dreamling with a side of shapeshifting, the thinnest King and His Knight vibes, weird anatomy, some claws and shadow tentacles, and self-indulgence. Written for the "Eldritch" square on last year's Monsterfucktober Bingo that I never finished in time.

{Also on AO3} Shout out to "Violently (slowed) by Mira" that I listened to roughly 200 times while writing this bc its soooo Dreamling to me. also to Zomsaurus for the funniest line in any of my writing ever

It was never supposed to be like this. Death was for everyone else, never Hob. She’d promised.

But the Endless did not abide by such rules; drifted uncaring outside them. If Death could make such a thing, it could be assumed that one of the others could unmake it.

And now that the imminent danger is gone, now that Hob’s safe and remade under Dream’s protection, he can at least admit Hob looks wonderful on his knees.

Dream’s always thought so, and now he gives himself over to leisure to look his fill. He’s well and truly his now, shouldn’t he be allowed?

The visage Hob’s chosen for himself is fitting; muscle encapsulated in shining armor, a sword at his side and the helmet with haloed spikes set reverently beside him. The insignia, mirrored on cloak and shield, is Dream’s favorite part.

A burst of stars across a sea of black, glittering as it moves just as Dream’s coat does. It is the same, after all; a claim that makes primal satisfaction simmer low under his skin.

Dream’s remade him, and Hob has chosen to be his, still. Always.

Everything the Corinthian was supposed to be. Every iteration a pale imitation of the man Dream has followed through time.

“You do not have to kneel,” Dream says. Near purrs. Can tell the low timber is pleasing by the way exposed skin shivers in answer. But Hob himself does not move. Not even an inch to have his armor creaking.

“Perhaps,” Hob says, looking up quickly and the corners of his mouth flicking up similarly. “But you like it. And I owe you, don’t I?”

Hob owes him nothing. The centuries of give and take sprawl behind them, and Dream is almost certain the scales are still tilted in Hob’s favor.

And yet.

That is not what Hob is asking.

Now that he’s part of the dreaming, now that he’s part of Dream—intertwined irrevocably—there is little Dream cannot know about him. His feelings, his mind, his desires.

It is a game Hob’s wanting.

Dream hums, leaning back in his high-backed throne, crossing one leg over the other. Considers Hob, all his pieces, the laughing light in his soft eyes. Gestures wide and airy with one hand. “And what would you offer? To me, an Endless, who has need of nothing.”

Hob does shift then. “My lord,” said with all the impudence of a knight who ought to be taught to heel like a dog. His eyes drop, hungry and dark, down Dream’s front—

Dream finds himself wearing a velvet robe in the darkest shades of plum and night-sky blue, open to expose the moonlight of his torso. Plays fingers along the sweeping sleeve hems with half an eye on Hob, considering him and the outfit he’s put Dream in with sheer want alone.

“I see,” he murmurs. Watches Hob swallow. Extends his lifted foot, now encased in a soft stocking that runs the length of his leg under the edges of the robe, and slides it slow between Hob’s legs. Presses up, idly, like he is a curiosity and nothing more.

Hob shudders, eyes fluttering closed as he swallows again, jaw clenching against the sigh Dream can almost taste.

“You would like to serve me, then? You, who are now a Nightmare under my hand, and think yourself clever as a knight. All the centuries you’ve lived, and still, you crave a king to kneel before.”

When Hob doesn’t answer, Dream arches up his foot again, a smooth slide that pushes speech out of Hob.

“No,” Hob gasps.

“This says otherwise.”

“No. Not a king.” Hob grits his teeth, every part of his body (tight, honed and singing like a weapon begging to be asked to strike) shivering in an effort to stay still. “Just you.”

Warmth blooms and oozes under Dream’s skin. He lets the satisfaction radiate out as something tangible until Hob’s blinking up at him, expression bare in its awe.

“You are an impossibility,” Dream praises, softly. “I should’ve offered to keep you long ago.”

“I would’ve happily,” Hob says. “Let me now?”

“Be kept? Oh, Robert Gadling,” Dream says, leaning towards him. Takes Hob’s cheek in his hand, cradling gently before shifting to catch his chin in an unrelenting grip. “I am never letting you go, even if you beg.”

Hot hands land on his knees as Hob surges closer and leans up on knees still to catch his mouth in a kiss.

Dream lets himself be kissed. Let’s Hob direct it as hot and slick as he likes, lets himself be lulled under the rhythm like a boat bobbing gently on calm waters. It is at odds with the desire boiling under Hob’s hands, thrashing and teaming to get out. Barely contained in this body Dream has fashioned lovingly for him.

“What do you have for me?” Hob asks against Dream’s mouth, hoarse already with the want like it’s choking him. His hands slide reverently down Dream’s chest, toying with his nipples before following the edges of the robe to his lap. Kisses him gently as he finds Dream’s hips and holds on, thumbs rubbing back and forth.

“What would you like?”

Hob’s hands squeeze, breath catching audible in something too close to a whimper. Freezes, startled by the overwhelming realization and the world that’s been opened to him. Offered to him on a platter.

Dream slips into his mind easily, eyebrows raising at the dozens of images that flip through him. Hob’s brain working overtime with all his wonderings and filthy dreams.

Hob certainly isn’t lacking in imagination. It seems like he’s traded any shame he might’ve had for more of it.

If Hob is spoiled for choice, then he shouldn’t have to choose.

Dream selects a few of them, plucking them out of the mire with newly sharp claws, as precise as a spider traversing its own web. He feeds that thought to Hob while he has him, and smiles at the shudder it gets him.

“Are you that easy?” he asks. He runs his black-tipped claws through Hob’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

“For anything, as long as it’s you,” Hob assures him, nipping at his lip.

“I might scare you.”

“You can’t,” Hob says.

Something dark and dangerous flares low in Dream, and he grips the back of Hob’s neck, dragging him back into a kiss. He has to taste him, has to steal his breath until he doesn’t breathe at all without Dream doing it for him.

Hob fumbles to strip his thin gloves off and find the opening of the robe with bare hands. “Please,” Hob groans. “I will be so good for you.”

His hands slip greedy to skin, wrapping around Dream’s cock. Strokes him slow to learn the new shape of him, to thumb all the fluted edges like a tall flower closed.

Hob bows his head to take him into his mouth immediately, groaning softly as his tongue dips into the slit.

Dream sighs, letting his hands wander of their own accord. The armor is mostly in his way, but he is not bound by mortal conventions and can slip beneath them. “You have only ever been perfect.”

Hob’s tongue is heavenly and cruel at once; a rolling softness that deftly coaxes at every place that sparks pleasure like Hob is singularly attuned to it.

The plush give of his mouth is enough that Dream distantly wonders if he had reshaped it to only accept him.

He wants to devour Hob whole, if only he might also feel this all-consuming pleasure.

Hob groans softly like he agrees.

“Easy,” Dream praises again, deftly flicking at every buckle and clasp of Hob’s armor with his claws. It all falls away under his whim, clattering indecent to the floor and echoing through the hall. Leaves Hob in just a soft tunic and breeches, and available to his hands and the shadows that ripple around them in pleasure. They shift and pulse in time with his own heartbeat. Grow larger and darker, building up on their own and teaming hungrily around Hob.

The hunger is its own entity, awakening from disuse in his body and ravenous for it.

Shadows pull together, wriggling into tendrils that wrap and caress Hob like a lover.

Dream can feel him shiver and shake, can feel his breathing stutter and deepen. Feels everything his shadows do, awareness split to watch Hob’s head move sinuous and also in the tendrils slipping under fabric and along tacky skin.

Exhales heavy and inexorable as he tips his head back and watches through the shadows that explore the length of Hob’s body, licking in every crease and curl against the tight heat of him.

“Hard for me?” Dream breathes. “Just from being on your knees, just from having your mouth full? Easy.”

“Merely rigor mortis, my lord,” Hob teases, tracing his tongue down.

Dream tightens his fingers in Hob’s hair, pulling warningly. “I gave you life, and I can take it away.”

“Don’t threaten me, I’m into that.”

Dream laughs despite himself, startled, and just as quickly it twists into a moan at the savage spear of tongue against his slit, the way Hob takes him so deep into his mouth he can feel the squeeze of his greedy throat.

“Do you wish to consume me?”

Hob whines, nails digging into his sides, swallowing again.

“Do you wish to take me inside all of you? Or shall I open myself up so your tongue may taste me at my core?”

Images fly fast and desperate behind Hob’s bruised eyelids, saliva pooling and dripping, knees twinging against stone as shadows finger lovingly along the inside of his thighs. Debauchery, and a spine-tingling notion of Dream splitting his cock open so Hob can lap his tongue down the center of it, giving pleasure from inside-out.

“Steady, love,” Dream eases. His claws betray him, digging into the back of straining shoulder blades. Trace slow paths that almost draw blood. “We have eternity yet.”

Dark tendrils tease up to Hob’s hole, laving attention and worming inside.

“Fucking terror,” Hob gasps, pulling back and jamming his face in the crease of Dream’s thigh.

“Just that? They are so small, just curious,” Dream muses, curling fingers through his hair, soothing. “You have taken more. This should be nothing.” Tightens and pulls, yanking Hob’s head back and savoring the electric groan.

“It’s well and truly different, and you know that.” Hob’s already panting. Shifts on his knees, hips hitching into empty air and then back on the mime of fingers. “More?”

Dream lets him have as much as he can take, humming a soft ballad from the thirteenth century as he feeds more to Hob, stretching inside him; another to wrap and squeeze his balls, preventing him from rocking himself to any sort of satisfying end. Savors the choked moan.

He would play with him like this for a century, like a cat does a mouse, toyed with on just the edge of some finality but never letting him have the satisfaction.

“Please,” Hob begs. “Please, anything you like, I will do anything, just—just more. I want to feel you. I need to feel you.”

He’s very lucky that it’s exactly what Dream himself wants. Lucky to be so handsome, to have caught Dream’s affection like the golden-limned muse he is. Lucky that Dream will happily bend time and reality for him.

Will happily help him up from the floor to kneel over Dream’s lap instead, and hold his hands firm for stability as Hob sinks down onto his length with a groan so obscene Dream’s sure it would put a whorehouse to shame.

“Look at you,” Dream purrs, watching every inch of Hob��s face tipped back in rapture. “You take me beautifully, my love.”

Hob laughs, something breathy and aborted, tight around all his edges as he squeezes Dream’s hands in a dozen things unsaid. Squeezes his eyes shut; squeezes around Dream himself, sweat dotting his skin as he takes a blessed moment to get used to the new shape of him remade for Dream’s pleasure.

Or maybe it the other way around, maybe it is Dream who’s been reshaped for Hob, to be used and enjoyed.

Dream continues to watch him, enjoying every detail and shift, as Hob takes his time. Runs sharp claws only somewhat careful up and down Hob’s heaving ribs, keeping his own hips still as Hob begins to rock small circles onto him. Keeps him deep inside, but chasing the little shocks of friction.

“Everything you wanted?”

“More,” Hob says. His thighs flex in an effort to lift and sink back down, building to some rhythm only he knows. It is heaven and hell both to feel him—better than, when he’s experienced both. Would rebuke both for this here, and does with his teeth to Hob’s throat, tasting the pounding of his heart as Hob works himself a little faster.

“And you?” Hob manages to ask.

Dream does not bother with words, just in the tightness of his hands and claws as he drags Hob closer into him, both of them gasping as talons pierce skin.

The dark tendrils are as hungry as ever, sliding around Hob’s skin and covering every inch Dream cannot. Teaming against them both like a desperate creature, jealous for attention. Needy still, despite having tasted Hob already. Maybe wants more for having done so already.

They are part of Dream, after all, and Dream does not think he will ever tire of tasting Hob. Tastes him again in an open kiss, slow and indulgent in contrast to the fast and brutal way Hob fucks himself on him. Tastes every breath and keen that escapes Hob. Tastes Hob’s skin and nipples and cock through the wriggling passes of darkness.

Hob is tight and hot and slick, and Dream buries his face into Hob’s neck, breathing deep and fast, grazing with very sharp teeth. Each press gets closer to breaking skin, and each one makes Hob shake harder.

“Will you give it to me?” Dream rumbles. Teeth and claws dig in so slowly, pressing wrenching gasps from Hob. Shadows build and creep around Hob’s cock, gripping him tight, squeezing in time with his own frantic rocking.

Hob sobs, body tense and face utterly slack in ecstasy. “I’d give you anything.”

“Just you then,” Dream says. Drags nails down to sink into the writhing dark mass to take Hob’s cock in hand. “Everything. You are everything.”

The smallest, weakest whine escapes Hob. As does a tear, tracking slow down his cheek.

Dream stretches to lick it up, saliva turning sticky as arousal swells. He grips Hob tight all over, free hand gripping his hip to yank him down into a frantic rhythm. Feels his pulse follow suit in the desperation—hears Hob’s do the same—thoughts swirling with the desire to fold Hob over something and well and truly claim him. The desire to hold Hob down and use him as much as Hob himself wants.

Wants most, ridiculously, to make Hob happy. And that is to stay right here and let desire fan the flames of his power until he is growing in size and energy, and still letting Hob curl over top of him as he shouts in painful sharp release.

Dream groans with him, drawing it out of him like spinning yarn, a gentle and thready tug-and-give, taking every shake, every pulse, all the suffusing warmth Hob has in him. Wishes to draw every ounce of damp completion out of him until he is as empty and cold as the armor he likes to wear. The armor still scattered on the floor of the throne’s dais. The sight of it over Hob’s shoulder (scratched, bitten, bleeding) is nearly as loose and erotic as the man still fucking himself on him is.

“Won’t you join me?” Hob gasps. His voice grates and fails him, near hoarse. Keens as he forces himself to tighten around Dream’s cock, trying to milk pleasure out of him. Hob is so tired. Dream can feel it. His exhaustion. His pleasure. His satisfaction. His greediness as his muscles spasm and twitch with continued stimulation. “You’ve made me feel so good, love. Won’t you let me do the same? Please.”

It wobbles. The word or Hob’s voice, or maybe Hob’s grasp on rationality.

Dream only hums. Loosens his grip on hip and cock both, softening to hold and stroke featherlight. “You are tired.”

Hob shakes his head. Resumes languid rolling of his hips.

“You might hurt yourself, continuing like this.”

“You will fix me,” Hob argues. Stubborn in life and death both.

“You are charming.”

Hob manages a breathy laugh. His expression tightens, eyes squeezed shut in focus. “If you don’t come inside me right now—”

Dream bites his lip, cutting it off neatly. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t. Just…” Rolls words around in his mouth, leaning back against the throne, watching Hob refuse to still.

The dark tendrils, pesky things, help him. Wrap around his waist and curl at his back, stabilizing him, keeping him from tumbling either direction.

“Not yet,” Dream decides.

Hob chokes on a whine, posture shooting ramrod straight as the layers of ridges on Dream’s cock expand outward. Just enough to keep him locked in place.

“You wanted something new to play with,” Dream reminds him, running claws through sweat-soaked hair. “Who am I to cut your fun short?”

#dreamling #the sandman #dream #hob gadling #monsterfucking #eldritch dream #shapeshifting #shadow tentacles #my writing #monsterfucktoberbingo #knight vibes #PWP

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roxtron · 10 months

Text

So I wanted to try to make a theory/analysis post on something I've wondered for a while: What the fuck are the Krang made of? Yeah that's literally my intro to this. Can I make smooth transitions? Absolutely not.

So starting out chronologically with their introduction, the majority of their animation shows smooth movements from their tentacles, basically like tentacles irl lmao. But further into that fight scene..

We can see their tentacles also strong enough to double as blades, able to stand up against (and nearly overpower) Leo's swords, and able to stab through Raph's shell. The material isn't exactly consistent in how solid it can be, able to go from the fluid movement of the tentacles, to sharp enough to function as a blade. This leads me to think their flesh is able to shapeshift in some minor ways, especially considering the way the tentacle shifts to become sharper as the Krang's leg is about to stab Leo.

And considering how goopy Krang 2 looks after being.. basically melted by April, it does show that at the very least their natural state of flesh is more fluid. Another interesting detail about this scene, and the way Krang 2 is animated after the attack that sort of feeds into the shapeshifting theory..

Back in the finale we're shown the skull of one of the Krangs. Yet after Krang 2 has her eye melted off, we see no hint of the skull. That could either just be from not wanting to add that much detail into the animation, which to be fair it would've likely given more extra work to animation that's already amazingly detailed as it is. OR- It could be from the flesh melting around the skull to keep it from being exposed. If we can see their bodies practically shift states of matter, and see Krang 3 use his own body to expand the portal, is it that much of a stretch to say they can shift their state of flesh to cover vulnerable parts of their body after being injured?

And another thing this screenshot helps to show, their bodies don't seem to all be made from the same material specifically. Normally I'd assume all the pinks/purples are the same type of flesh but I actually don't think it is. Their tounges specifically are shown to always be sharp, a slightly darker shade with the sort of lines and stripes covering it. Keep this part in mind.

After the Foot Clan get transformed into these creatures, it actually gives us further evidence on how the krang's flesh functions. When possessing humans, the Krang pieces sort of fuse and meld with human flesh. Whether it's adding on pieces, or, like with the stomach here, changing its shape entirely. But notice how they have those additions while still keeping the same colors their skin and bodies used to be.

But when Raph gets possessed? The Krang flesh doesn't fuse with his body at all. It's more of an add-on, especially with the way his arm back there shows the original shape of his hands, while still being covered in the Krang's pink. That, and his body isn't even the same color of pinks either. Some pieces are darker, and some don't even seem to be the same shape. Like I mentioned with the Krang's tounges earlier, I think those spikes on his arms and back are made of that same material. Darker color, lines and stripes, permanently spiked.. Sounds right to me.

Even in this scene, the colors of the tounge seem to match up, a lot of pieces attatched to his body fit into that, maybe that fleshy state inbetween transforming from fluid to solid? His tounge seems to be the only part of those spiked pieces that's able to mimic fluid movements, the rest seems to be solid in place. It definitely seems to be a different type of flesh, considering how the flesh around it seems to part instead of melding together.

As for the Krang's armor.. I was confused about it before but now that I think more about how the Krang themselves are built it's starting to make more sense. Essentially I think there's 3 main components to pay attention to. The darker gray of the chest and shoulderpads seem to be simple armor plates, made of some type of alien metal I assume.

The darkest blacks of the armor seem to just be the base pieces of the suit. I've seen theories it's partially organic, with the way it bleeds black liquid after Leo stabs into it, and honestly, that seems like a really good answer. I'm not sure if it's flesh with the black suit on top of it, or if that dark black with the markings is actually its natural state. (Though, side note, it makes me even more curious HOW they would've aquired or created this armor. Their tech is mostly made of flesh, sure, but with another theory about the Technodrome having a mind of its own, willing to let Donnie merge with it and control the ship.. It does make me wonder if their armor is made from the corpse of another being, or if they simply know how to create and generate flesh, and were able to mold it for their purposes.)

Anyway- The white pieces of the armor seem to be bone to me. What with the head looking like a skull, the tail having bone-structure and being animated that way, less smooth than everything else, jerking around each piece. But here's what makes it confusing, the gloves.

There's a couple scenes where the hand has folds on it. Yet the rest of the arm seems pretty solid, and the material must be solid enough to form claws at the end, so, what the hell is it?? This is what stumps me the most, it seems to be made of fabric and bone at the same time, I really don't understand it. The only real answer I have is that the material is comparable to the base body of the Krang. Flesh that's able to mold between different states, able to take that solid, bone-like appearance, to form claws at the end.. While still being moldable enough it's able to bend and fold like the tentacles can. Potentially, it's mostly solid and bone-like, but the pieces that need to be able to move are more flesh-like. The wrist and hands have more folds because they move more, and tend to get stuck in that state to move with the body, while the plates, spikes, and claws are able to be stuck in their solid states.

I dunno how to write conclusions, but that's most of what I'm able to observe for what the Krang are made of, and why pieces of their body function the way they do. Not only are they futuristic, they're also alien, so it's natural to assume they're just advanced enough to be capable of breaking these rules materials in our world have to stick to.

#rottmnt #rottmnt movie #rottmnt krang #rottmnt theory #rottmnt analysis #krang #krang raph #rise of tmnt #rise of teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt movie theory #rottmnt movie spoilers #and now for the save rise tags haha #save rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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misc-obeyme · 9 months

Note

Hi! I hope you're well! I saw the prompt list and wanted to ask for Fear with Salomon or Simeon (whoever inspires you most to write). Take care of yourself!

Hello there, anon!

Okay so I went with Simeon because I don't get to write for him very often, but man I had a tough time with this for some reason?? Hopefully it isn't too terrible.

Anyway, there are spoilers for what happened to him in season 4, in case there's anybody still unfamiliar with that scenario.

Thanks for the request!

GN!MC x Simeon with prompt Fear

Warnings: spoilers for Simeon in season 4

Simeon was out for a walk in the Devildom evening, wandering the area near Purgatory Hall alone. It was a nice night, a slight breeze running through his hair as he went. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular and he had no destination in mind. He was simply enjoying the movement of walking.

There was a slightly forested area here by the Hall and he often walked along the paths, following one that eventually brought him to a large lake. The black water glistened from the moon and starlight above. The water had only gentle waves, lightly lapping against the shore.

Simeon went to the edge of the lake and looked down at his reflection. He straightened his tie, brushing down the white vest he now wore instead of his angel outfit.

There was a splash and Simeon looked down to see a long black tentacle wrapping around his ankle. He cried out as he was pulled unceremoniously from the shore, his body sliding along the ground as he was dragged backward into the lake.

Simeon clawed at the dirt as he went, unable to stop himself from being taken into the water. He was yelling and fighting despite the thudding of his heart, the heavy spike of fear that shoved its way down his belly. He couldn't protect himself anymore, not the way he was now. He hadn't known this feeling in all of his long life. The feeling of knowing that he was powerless, that he couldn't save himself, that he was at the mercy of some unknown being that was stronger than he was.

The water reached up to his waist, the cold of it seeping into his clothes as he continued to thrash against whatever had grabbed him.

And then something else grabbed him, too. He stopped fighting to look up at who had his wrists and let out a little gasp when he saw it was you.

"MC!" he said, his panic rising far higher than it already had been. "MC, get back!"

What if that thing got you too? He couldn't protect himself already and he certainly couldn't protect you.

You didn't back down. You pulled on his wrists and recited a spell at the same time.

Simeon felt the tentacle let go of him. As the tension disappeared, you fell backward onto the ground, pulling him out of the water a little ways.

He was still partly submerged, but he also found his arms and torso resting on your legs. He looked up at you, a little dazed, as the panic began to ebb away.

You smiled at him, taking his hands and standing, helping him to his feet. He was dripping from the waist down and he shook out each leg to get some of the water out of his pants.

Simeon looked at you, frowning. "MC, what were you thinking? You could've been dragged in with me."

You laughed a little, guiding him away from the lake, your hand still in his. "No," you said. "I'm not worried about that grouchy lake monster. That spell always banishes it back to the bottom of the lake. I'm just glad I was able to save you from being monster food."

Simeon stopped, pulling you to a stop with him. The fear that had been clutching at him finally let go and he squeezed your hands.

The smile on your face vanished and you stepped closer to him. "You're shaking."

Simeon closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, MC. I couldn't… I couldn't do anything. And you were almost monster food, too."

Simeon opened his eyes again when you dropped his hands to put your arms around him instead. "It's all right," you said. "We're both safe now."

Simeon embraced you tightly. He knew he was giving himself away by holding you so close, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that. He just wanted to hold onto you, to keep you in his arms where he knew that you were safe. Even though he knew that you were now the one keeping him safe.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon x mc #simeon x reader #simeon x mc #request #anon request #misc writes

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princessxgarbage · 10 months

Text

Happy ShiSaku Week!

Day 6 | @shisakuweek

Title: Find a Way Forward

Prompt: Poison

Warnings: character death, poison, this is only chapter one and I'm so sorry

Words: 2,274

Read on AO3

It started in his toes. A creeping static blanket slowly clawing its way across his entire body.

Next he felt it in his fingertips. His grip around his kunai loosened against his will. An internal battleground full of nerves refusing to obey orders. He briefly stopped running to stare at his hands, willing the fingers to bend, to grip the handle of the knife, to do something, anything. His fingers managed to respond, if delayed. They seemed to mock him with their weak attempt at dexterity. He tucked the kunai back in its holster, hoping he wouldn't need it. Couldn't fight with one if I tried, he thought. He couldn't manipulate his fingers well enough to snap the holster shut, so he left it open.

He then resumed running. Every step he took reverberated sharp pain up his legs. As soon as each foot hit the ground it felt like the dirt turned to spikes beneath him. The pain gripped at him like a clawed hand made of needles trying its damnedest to slow him down.

Then it started creeping around the edges of his vision. Darkness extended from the back of his head, clambering forward like a climber pounding pitons into his head, spikes of pain to grasp onto and extend their reach to his eyes. His eyes, his greatest weapon, his family's heritage, his sight. It was all at risk, thanks to whatever was happening to him now.

He kept running. He knew if he could just push himself a little further, focus through the pain, then he would be safe. He knew he just had to keep running in this direction, just keep going– he could make it. He was Shunshin no Shisui, the fastest of them all, if anyone could get there it was him.

Where was he going again?

He stopped, looked around. There were inky black fingers pulling at his vision. Reaching out and pulling back bits of his sight. He tried to push them out with his Sharingan, closing his eyes as tight as he could then bursting them open wide. He stopped and shook his head violently, willing away the encroaching sense of doom. No, he can't stop now, has to keep going.

Another few steps forward and he falters. His knees suddenly give out and he lands on them hard. The impact pounds through his thighs and calves like a drum. He swept his hands forward to brace his fall, but the pain is there too. It tears into him at every point of contact- stabbing, ripping, pulling, pressing.

He seeks comfort from a tall oak, leaning against it and letting it take his full weight. He sinks down into the bed of roots and imagines them pulling him in like tentacles. Everywhere the tree and ground are touching him feels like fire. He can feel it in his abdomen now, that same static blanket from before. It's weighted and it holds him down with no chance of escape. The feeling spreads over his entire body. The sickening black ooze-like fingers reach back into his vision and he shifts into his mangekyo like putting on a gauntlet, hoping the armor is enough to keep his enemy back. His breath quickens. He can't move his arms anymore, his legs feel like they're tied down. He makes no noise but for his breathing. The black fingers shift into hands, and they have claws.

And then there's nothing.

///

He feels warm. So warm. And there's something heavy on top of him, encompassing his entire body. It smells familiar, clean. A smell he knows, he's been here before maybe. His limbs are stiff and struggle to obey when he wills them to move. His head is throbbing lowly, a buzzing, a thrum of pressure at the back of his head. He thinks he can hear the ocean. It's loud and whooshing in waves, crashing against his ear drums.

His eyelids feel so heavy. It feels like someone is holding them shut and he has to fight to open them.

Everything is a blur, it's so bright here. The walls are white, the lights too bright. It hurts too much to open his eyes, so he closes them.

Until someone is there, touching his face.

They're gently prying open his left eye and he can see an obnoxiously bright shock of light. Then they release him and his eye falls shut again. They repeat this on his other eye and he is helpless to stop them.

He realizes then that this person, touching his face could take his eyes from him. Dig into his flesh and pry them out, gaining one of the most powerful dojutsu in the world, and he's helpless to stop them.

He starts to breathe heavier as panic sets in.

"Hello there," a soft girlish voice starts, "you are in the Konoha hospital. You were poisoned and are coming out of a coma. I need you to stay calm." A hand touches his arm to gently console him. "You don't need to tell us anything right now, you are safe."

He releases a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding.

He tries to open his eyes again, a little more successful this time. Things are less blurry, but he can make out the outlines of the objects in the room with him now. A counter, a cart, a sink, the foot of the bed he's laying in, something pink- maybe flowers? Wait it's moving towards him-

Oh, it's hair. He blinks once. Twice. His vision clears a bit more and she comes into focus. This must be the woman who spoke to him a moment ago. She has her hair pinned up onto her head, pink– as previously noted, jade-green eyes running over the papers in her hands with studious determination, and she's wearing a white coat over her regular clothes. She carries herself as if she's important, and Shisui believes in that moment that she is. She must be his doctor.

"Who–" he tries to say, but his voice is thin. He's suddenly aware of how dry his mouth feels, his throat aching for water. The roseate doctor abandons the papers and pours him a glass of water, a moment later bringing it to his lips.

"I'm Dr. Haruno."

He tries to move his hands to take the cup from her but finds he can't. Realizing now that the weight he felt earlier was simply a blanket draped over himself. He lets out a soft grunt and she stops feeding him the water.

"How long was I out?" His voice is raspy, strained from not being used.

"I'm not exactly sure. Quite some time."

That's specific.

"Do you know what happened to me?" Shisui asks, finally able to form words without pain.

"I'm afraid I don't. There will be an investigation when you're ready to speak to the police." She offers him more water, he shakes his head in declination.

"I'm ready now." He might have sounded convincing if his voice hadn't chosen that moment to break with an embarrassing screech.

"Like hell you are," Dr. Haruno chuckles at him. "I've got some of my own questions before they get their greedy little hands on you."

Shisui isn't sure, but he thinks he might've blushed at the change in her tone. His face felt just as warm as the rest of him did, so maybe it was just evening out.

He clears his throat and tries to move the blanket down off his chest. His left arm is hard to bend at the elbow so with his right hand, some pain, and very small movements he grasps the blanket from beneath and pulls it down until it pools at his waist. He looks down at his chest to find an assortment of cables, wires, tubes, and other normal hospital gear. A quick glance confirms the IV in his left arm, which had prevented his movement further than the pain within his body had.

"This seems like a lot of wires, Doc," Shisui grumbles.

She stops tinkering with whatever she was adjusting and looks at him pointedly.

"You were given a fatal dose of poison. We had to monitor all your vital signs while I extracted it. We still are." She tilts her chin up and looks down her nose at him, like a judge giving a sentence. "I assure you it's all necessary equipment. If you remove any of these, I'll find out and you will wish you never stepped foot in my hospital."

He swallows down whatever he thought he might say next in a dry gulp. He nods to reassure her that he'll do as she bids.

"Good," she picks up a clipboard off the nearby counter and pulls a pen out of the bun in her hair. Without the pen to hold it, her petal colored hair cascades onto her shoulders and he watches it fall into place like blossoms falling in the spring. "Tell me your name."

"Uchiha Shisui."

She makes a quick note and asks him his rank and ID, which he replies to without sass. She asks him a few more baseline questions to assess his cognitive awareness and memory. She writes a few notes as they go back and forth, her manner returned to professionalism with little hint of intimidation.

"That's enough for now, Uchiha-san." Sakura tucks her pen into the chest pocket on her coat. "Would you like anything before I leave you to rest?" She's already filling his cup back up with water and setting it within his reach.

"Nope. Thanks, doc." He does feel tired. He's sure there's a million questions he probably should be asking, but he's drawn a complete blank on specifics. He watches the doctor as she rearranges and checks some of the equipment attached to him. Her hair is a bit frizzy and kinked from being pinned up, but it frames her face and draws out her delicate features. He watches as she worries her bottom lip, nibbling lightly as she makes another note. He feels warm again and the blanket isn't even pulled up anymore. Warm is good. He could really go for that nap right about now.

///

He hears a curt knock and stirs, forcing his tired eyes open. The door opens and he can see two figures enter the room with him. He blinks a few times to focus his vision and recognizes them. Dr. Haruno, and Fugaku-sama.

He tries to sit up as Fugaku would expect of him, but he can't. His body is aching and sore, and the hospital equipment weighs him down further. Dr. Haruno notices and quickly comes to adjust the bed, angling it differently so he appears to be sitting up, but with no effort on his half.

"Shisui. We are–" Fugaku swallows, "–relieved you're awake."

"Fugaku-sama," Shisui starts, sensing immediately that something is wrong, "do you know what happened?"

The doctor stays silent but brings forward a chair and sets it near Shisui's bedside, motioning for Fugaku to sit. He does and lets out a sigh, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He looks down at the ground for a moment, seemingly gathering strength, then meets Shisui's gaze.

"We don't have all the details," Fugaku sounds so exhausted. Shisui isn't sure he's ever seen him like this. He's usually stoic, firm but understanding, but now his emotions are barely under his skin, trying to vibrate their way out of him and reach the surface. "What do you remember?"

Shisui tries to remember. He thinks he can see flashes of someone, he can't see their face. Does he know them? He can't recall if he spoke to him, maybe he did.

"There was someone," Shisui remembers a flash of someone looming over him after he fell, they're wearing a mask. "ANBU, I think."

Did they fight? He remembers a time with Itachi, when they went into the Forest of Death and discovered two different factions of ANBU at odds with each other. Why would the Hokage attack him? It must have been a Shinobi from the opposing ANBU faction. What were they called? His head hurts.

"I remember trying to get to something… someone? Somewhere. I can't–" Shisui sinks his hand into his hair, hoping putting pressure on his head will force the memories to light. "All I remember is the pain. I'm sorry, sir."

"I see," Fugaku mumbles, he speaks up, "That is unfortunate. We may have to resort to other methods of recollection. You understand."

He means interrogation. What could have happened to warrant such an extreme method of–

His doctor speaks up then, "Excuse me, Uchiha-sama. He is a victim. You shouldn't–"

"He is a witness." Fugaku's voice drips venom as she questions his methods.

A witness? What–

"A witness? To what?" Shisui asks aloud, instead of simply thinking it. Fugaku's ire towards the doctor from a moment ago seems to shift into something else. It's not something Shisui can say he's seen from the man before. Anger? Grief…?

The doctor steps forward, closer to Shisui than Fugaku, acting as a partial shield. Her face tells him very little, but he looks to her for an answer now, Fugaku having fallen silent.

"The man who found you unconscious and brought you to the hospital was fatally injured. He did not make it through surgery." Her jade eyes are boring into his in dismay, but he's not sure why. The dread lands in his stomach and starts to crawl its way up into his lungs, settling with a stiff grip around his heart.

"Who–"

"It was Itachi."

#shisakuweek2023 #shisaku #shisaku rodeo #shisui/sakura #shisui baby boy #my fic #im so sorry for this one #part one #naruto

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snailsdraw · 1 year

Text

[Start ID: 4 more pages of HLVRAI doodles about Darnold joining the Science Team and Half-Life creatures. Warning for blood in the 4th page.

Before the Science Team leaves the Mixology Department Lab, Darnold has to arm himself. He holds a conical flask and wine bottle with a silly straw stuck through the cork, both containing sleep potion, looking around: "Hmm…I'll need somewhere to store these…something…" He spots a box of decorations on the nearby shelf and his eyes light up: "Oh!" He picks it up with a delighted "Aha!" and sets it down on his lab table. "I know everyone's been telling me to stow these away somewhere, but I always knew we'd need them someday," he says, beginning to rifle through the contents and past a coil of fairy lights until he finds what he's looking for and exclaims, "Ah, there we go!"

He raises a transparent glass bulb ornament with a string attached on top out of the box with a huge grin. Later, he proudly shows off the now sleep-potion-filled glass bulbs hanging from a belt he's since buckled around his waist. He now has a defense weapon he can throw at hostile creatures to knock them out without killing them. Bonus drawing: Gordon is disturbed by how Darnold seems to never run out of his potion-bulbs even though he's been slinging them consistently. "How do you keep replenishing those so quick?? Weren't you just out???" he asks. The four potion-bulbs strapped to Darnold's belt haven't gone down in numbers despite having taken two in his hands. He looks at Gordon, puzzled: "I have an inventory, Dr Freeman. Don't…don't you have one?"

Separate scenario: Benrey shoots a reproachful look at the Snark creature he's holding in his hand, his other hand it bit held away from it: "ow, aw wuh the hell bro, no biting." The one-eyed, bug-like alien hisses at him, ready to go again. Benrey begins shoving the Snark into his mouth, only delayed in progress by the angry, screeching creature holding itself back with its two hooked front legs. Gordon yells at him: "Wh- DON'T FUCKIN' EAT IT?!!"

Separate scenario: Darnold holds up a docile Spore Launcher, the puppy-sized, toothy, lungfish-like creature quiet in his hands. It has a smooth rounded skull crowned by spikes, two spindly front legs, gills along its side and trailing tentacles. Darnold looks at it, the nervousness melting from his face. His mouth turns up in a little smile: "H-huh, I…You might just be the only thing that hasn't tried to kill me today..." Extra drawing: Darnold, with the right side of his head sprayed with blood and wearing a tight-lipped smile, pets the Spore Launcher cradled in his arms to soothe himself as fighting and gunshots ring out around him.

End ID.]

Previous parts to the Darnold saga found here: [Part 1.]

I love Spore Launcher so much *hands it gently to Darnold* your emotional support, sir.

Thanks to my friend for imparting to me the wonderful knowledge of Half Life creatures <3 [heart] (you know who you are >:))

#hlvrai #hlvrai darnold #hlvrai benrey #hlvrai gordon #spore launcher #snark #snail's art #id #tw blood #cw blood

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mumms-the-word · 2 months

Text

Slayer

Day 26 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

Hoo boy am I behind anyway have a hastily written Freyr-and-Minthara-are-a-little-too-into-the-slayer-form fic for you bye

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics!

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26. Using a new power for the first time

---

“Minthara!” Freyr shouted, his stomach dropping as he saw Ketheric swing his hammer right toward Minthara’s skull. She deflected with her shield, but only barely, the force of Ketheric’s strength driving her to her knees.

Freyr swung his greatsword wildly at Kar’niss, cleaving off two of the drider’s spider legs in one go, rolling out of the way of the drider’s other legs as he screamed and lashed out. He had to get to Minthara before Ketheric could hurt her. He refused to let that rotting corpse get the better of him or anyone else with him.

His human form was too slow, too weak. If there was ever a time to test the limits of his Father’s gift—whoever his father was—it was now. Freyr flung his sword aside and called to the beast that lay fretfully dormant within him. His body bent and twisted, bones snapping and lengthening, flesh ripping and stretching. It was painful and delicious all at once, this transformation. Scales and leathery skin replaced his human flesh, spikes forcing themselves outward from his spine, horns from his head and his jaw. Two completely new arms erupted from his sides, tipped with lethal, black claws. He arched his back as the transformation ended, screeching with a new voice, his face a wreck of needle-sharp teeth and vicious mandibles.

Ketheric would die this day. He would die for good this time.

Freyr leapt across the roof of Moonrise Towers to land just behind Ketheric, lashing out viciously with his claws. Sparks flew where his claws met the metal of Ketheric’s armor, but they caught death-taut flesh, too, ripping into it and leaving deep gashes that oozed thick, rotted, blackened blood. Ketheric stumbled out of the way, turning to face this new threat.

If Freyr’s face were capable of grinning, he would. His entire body sung with zealous bloodlust, even as the battlefield around him offered very little for actual bloodletting. No matter. He would grind the bones of these necromites beneath his taloned feet and rip Ketheric into so many tiny little shreds that he would never be able to reform again. Freyr practically salivated at the idea.

Ketheric bared his teeth at him and readied his shield but Freyr swatted it away with ease, unbalancing him. Ketheric responded with a heavy blow to Freyr’s side. Freyr felt his new ribs crack under the blow, but he barely felt the pain. This new form, this slayer body, was capable of handling so much more than his weak human form did. He screeched again, his voice reduced to banshee cries and guttural roars, and once more attacked Ketheric, driving him back toward the center of the roof.

Ketheric leapt back, out of reach of Freyr’s claws, and glared at Freyr from across the platform. “My Lord beckons me,” he said. “You have no idea what you’re meddling with. You’re a pawn—a slave—to forces you cannot comprehend. Even this mangled form is a testament to your ignorance. No more.”

He lifted his hammer. The entire structure of Moonrise Towers seemed to shudder and shake under the force of a new entity, until at last one of the smaller towers erupted in a shower of stone and brick, a colossal tentacle curling out from within. It bent closer toward Ketheric, snaking its way toward him.

“I am the Chosen, and you are nothing,” Ketheric said, taking slow steps backward. “Follow. See.”

The tentacle brushed against him and soon both disappeared in a flurry of black ash.

Freyr growled, as much as his slayer form could be said to growl. Behind him he heard the death rattle of the drider as someone, either Seraphine or Astarion, dealt the final blow against him. Around the roof, necromites collapsed in a clatter of useless bones. There was nothing else to shred or claw anymore.

Except…

Freyr shook his large, monstrous head quickly, banishing the frenzied thoughts. He refused to hurt Seraphine, Minthara, or Astarion. Well…maybe Astarion a little bit…

But as he turned to contemplate how much he could draw blood from the pale vampire, he found himself facing Minthara instead. She stood before him, splashed with blood both black and red, her own, Ketheric’s, Kar’niss’s, Freyr’s. Behind her, both Seraphine and Astarion stood, looking warily up at him.

“Gods above,” Astarion said. His expression seemed both impressed and deeply perturbed. “Look at you…”

“Since when could you do this, Freyr?” Seraphine asked. She tilted her head, frowning. “Assuming you’re still in there?”

Freyr rumbled, the closest approximation to a chuckle he was capable of, and gave a nod. Astarion suppressed a shiver at the sound.

“As charming as you are, just make sure those claws don’t come anywhere near me.” He smirked. “But I must say, you do make quite the pretty pitfiend.”

Freyr growled. The temptation to swipe at Astarion was only growing. He fought to keep it down, turning his attention again to Minthara. She had yet to speak.

He cocked his head at her, trying to ask her what she thought without words. She gazed up at him, her red eyes staring unashamedly and without judgment. It was difficult for him to read her expression at first, but after a moment, her lips curled into a smile.

She reached out a hand to brush her fingers down the length of his arm, taking in the leathery skin, the new bumps and spikes. She hooked one finger around a long, curving claw, examining it with fascinated wonder. When she looked up into his face again, her smile only grew.

“You are exquisite,” she murmured.

Freyr bent his head down, crouching his body slightly, bringing his face closer to hers, but she didn’t flinch. They regarded each other curiously and silently, Minthara drinking in every detail while he stood before her, breathing in the scent of her through this new form’s senses.

“Hm. It is almost too bad Ketheric fled before you could unleash the full might of this new power against him,” she said at last. “We shall have to rectify that.”

“Ah, sure,” Astarion said, lifting a finger. “Except that Ketheric seems to have fled down a big fleshy hole—and not a fun one, either. Can that new beastly form of yours even fit?”

Freyr lifted his head to regard the destroyed tower that the tentacle had emerged from. Astarion had a point. It would be very difficult to climb down after Ketheric in this form. With some reluctance, he relinquished his control over the slayer form. His body twisted and crunched inward again, another round of pain and pleasure, until he was at last standing before his companions again as a man and not a slayer.

He flicked slick blood from his fingertips casually as he reoriented himself in his original body. “I’m glad you approve of my new gift,” he said to Minthara. He smiled darkly, rolling his shoulders. “I can’t wait to see what else it is capable of.”

“You will have your chance soon,” Minthara said. “And I will grant you many more chances afterward. But for now, we pursue Ketheric.”

Freyr gestured for her to take the lead. “After you, Minthara.”

Astarion groaned and rolled his eyes. “Oh get a room, you two. Bloody psychopaths…”

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3ficfeb #my fic #oc #freyr #minthara #minthara baenre #slayer form #honestly these two are the worst and they are psychopaths #but does astarion have any room to talk? no #not now that he's ascended in our game lmao

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mychlapci · 4 months

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Crankcase and cons4eva are both massive monsterfuckers and that’s just so funny to me

Like, if most people were messaging someone online and they didn’t even consider that they might be a different species, and going to meet them, finding out that they were an alien, they’d nope the fuck out

However, crankcase sees cons4eva in person for the first time, and sees what he TRULY looks like and he’s still like, smash

Cybertronians and whatever cons4evas species is are clearly completely different. Very fleshy things with a lot of eyes (I like to think they also have tentacles) is extremely different from big metal guys who’ve got guns built into their bodies and shit are two extremely different things. If you were attracted to either of these as a human, you’d of course be considered a monster/alien/robot fucker. Most species would tbh

And their first time interfacing/fucking would be such a learning opportunity for crankcase, since cons4eva already knew he was talking to cybertronians, he would’ve researched their anatomy and such, but crankcase would be going straight into uncharted territory

Fully convinced that he was talking to a member of his own species, he would be in no way prepared for whatever cons4eva is. Does he have just a spike of just a valve? Does he have both? Neither, maybe? Does he even reproduce sexually? Are their eggs involved? (And of course he wouldn’t know about his hypothetical tentacles)

Crankcase would probably be interested in cons4evas tentacles for the first night (if he has them), and they’d probably play a game or something, like seeing how many tentacles he can take

One that he’s trying his best to deepthroat, another one wrapped around his neck for the sole purpose of teasing him, one either jerking off his spike of slipping into his spike sheath, maybe taking 2 in his valve (they’d just fill him up so good), and another one constantly teasing his node

This cranky dude would be so overstimulated, writing and moan and whimpering around the tentacle in his mouth, being held in place by the one round his neck, and if he got too loud, he’d get a nice little smack on the node

And all throughout this, cons4eva would be telling him how good he’s going and how if he stays quiet for just a little while longer, he’ll let him have the best overload of his life

-Red (short for red alert anon because 1) that’s a pain in the ass to type out and 2) my fixation with him has died down a bit)

Crankcase won the lottery the way i see it. a hot alien wife with tentacles is exactly what he needs. i fucking love bringing back spike sheath fucking, like Cons4eva being a big freak who wants to rock Crankcase's world with all that he has, and what he has is a bunch of thick, fleshy tentacles ready to fuck him until his legs are thrashing. To say Crankcase was unprepared for their first time is an understatement... Cons4eva learnt cybertronian anatomy beforehand, but he still wanted to play... he slides a tentacle dick into Crankcase's spike sheath before the spike can pressurize, keeping it throbbing and poking uselessly against his tendril as he fills his cybertronian with as many tentacles as he possibly can without snapping the inner calipers, drilling into the clusters of nodes on the cable walls without any restraint... There's nothing like the mesh of a pretty, swollen valve clenching around his tentacles in overload, poor Crankcase unable to even move as he's held down by two pairs of strong limbs, his spike aching in its stuffed sheath, oozing transfluid...

#valveplug #A+ work youve managed to make sex between a guy named CrankCase and a guy named CONS 4EVA hot as fuck

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atsadi-shenanigans · 5 months

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Feeding Alligators 11: Murder Buddies

You and Astarion have a chat.

On AO3.

You fumble with your stolen tent for a good thirty minutes until Gale takes pity on you. Though he assembled his with a wave of his hand, and since you’re incapable of the ~mystic cosmic powers~ he possesses, he tries to show you how to rig the thing up by hand. Which means it’s Shadowheart, ultimately, who takes pity on you both and shows y’all how to drive in the stake into the ground to secure the canvas.

“As, yes,” Gale says, totally not wiping sweat from his brow. “I’d forgotten how refreshing manual labor can be. Quite invigorating to get the blood pumping again.”

He’s quick to take a seat next to the fire Lae’zel got going. From being invigorated and all.

You’re not far behind.

Your feet are about to fall off. Your legs shake so bad you don’t sit so much as keel over to land on your ass. The pounding in your skull goes atrocious for a hot second, spiking into nausea, before clearing enough for you to make out Gale telling some story about a “magical misadventure” during his youth.

Shadowheart doesn’t join you. Too busy glaring at Lizard Lady—named Lae’zel. They’ve been making snipes at each other. From what you gather, Shadowheart is real indisposed to Lae’zel, and Lae’zel is generally indisposed to everyone.

Y’all didn’t talk much as y’all got her out of that cage. Everyone boot-scooted out of the area before the demons—called tieflings—came back with friends.

Lae’zel has an accent none of the others share. And Gale said something about “astral raiders” under his breath as she marched to the front of your group (before Shadowheart stopped, declared she wasn’t “following a githyanki”, and the two almost got into a fistfight right then and there).

“Astral” sounds a lot like “inter-dimensional” to you. So you extricate yourself from Gale’s story—sorry, gotta check on the new guy!—and trudge over. Lae’zel has probably the nicest tent here, with a hide rug inside and a comfy looking bedroll set up. It’s also scattered with stuffed heads.

“Hi,” you say.

She regards you with her narrow eyes as she pulls an entire training dummy out of her bag. It’s got tentacles sewn onto its face.

“We, uh, we met on the ship?”

“The useless istik, I am aware,” she says. “So you survived the crash. Perhaps you are not as pathetic as you first appeared.”

Wow, okay. Accurate, but damn.

She keeps on hammering that one. “It would have been more efficient to kill those horned teethlings. Though I suppose one as weak as you would not be capable of such a task. In githyanki culture, you would have been culled from the creche. Your people must be soft. Or perhaps you are not as you seem.”

“Well,” you say. “I’m trying, thank you?”

Her eyes narrow. This close and actually talking to her, and she’s not so much a lizard as a crocodile. There’s the same coldness in her, the same predator shine to her eyes. Best to divert the conversation.

“The way the others are talking, you ain’t from here, right? This world?” you say.

Her spine straightens. Her face is pretty, in a sharp, harsh kind of way. “We githyanki are not bound to the physical realms. We sail the astral seas in pursuit of our ghaik quarry.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, and you legitimately would like the time to sort it out and pick through the details. Buuut…

“Your people have been to other, uh, realms, then? Worlds? Not this one?”

“My people guard and conquer all the realms connected to the astral plane, yes. The noisy ones said you were taken from one such plane. I assume that’s why you came to me with your meaningless chatter.”

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t wanna take up your time, setting up the heads and all. Very aesthetic.” She pulls out a stuffed Squidward face. “Is there a way to get back? Like, at all?”

She pauses. Her expression is still sharp enough to slice, but you think you might, maybe, just a little bit detect the faintest baby softening around her eyes.

“You wish to return to your people,” she says.

“Yes. Very much.”

“I do not know,” she says and curb-stomps your burgeoning hope. “You would have to know the path the nautiloid took, and perhaps find your world alongside it.”

Fuck. Fuck shit fuck no.

Does a nautiloid have some kind of flight data recorder? Can you even access the damned thing if you find it (if you even recognize it)?

You think of the tadpole. Amongst Gale’s ramblings had been something about a hive mind. If you give that nasty thing a nudge, learn how to use it, maybe…

Assuming it doesn’t rip your face a new asshole.

And maybe it’s the wormy bastards and their bullshit psychic powers, or maybe Lae’zel is just really good at reading people. She stops her set up. Gives you what you can only call a scathing glare.

“The only way to save ourselves is to find a githyanki creche. All this prattle will be futile should the ghaik parasite twist our bones and melt our organs and turn us into ghaik ourselves. We have been lucky, far too lucky, that the process has not yet started. But we cannot trust to luck.”

That’s that. You’re maybe three days out from being stolen and brainwormed. According to the others, you should basically be shitting blood right now. But aside from the occasional, crippling headache—and looming mental breakdown; you know that bitch has penciled herself an appointment in your mental calendar—everyone seems to be good?

You turn to watch Gale rake coals out onto cleared dirt to nestle beneath what looks like a cast iron skillet. More sausages. Jesus.

You would literally commit murder (again) for a bottle of ibuprofen and a pepperoni pizza.

***

Speaking of murder.

Almost everyone has tucked in for the night. Or made a show of doing that—you’re pretty sure Shadowheart is going to literally sleep with one eye on Lae’zel, while Lae’zel dismisses sleep entirely as a weakness and seems determined to spend her night sitting crisscross-applesauce and glaring into the night.

Maybe she’s on watch. No one asked you. No one even brought it up to you. That’s probably a bad sign.

You’re sitting next to the fire, poking at the coals with a stick and trying to rub the burning from your eyes. Then Astarion is kneeling right next to you out of fucking nowhere and you startle so bad your stick goes flying.

He watches it arc away into the night with a raised eyebrow. “You throw things a lot, I’m noticing.”

“Jesus fuck,” you whisper shout. “You scared the piss outta me!”

“Apologies,” he says in such a smooth, blatant lie like he wants you to know it. “I forgot human senses aren’t as perceptive. I wasn’t trying to be stealthy.”

Bullshit. This guy is such a fucking weirdo.

“Uh huh,” you say, aiming at amiable and probably failing.

The two of you sit there a moment. A piece of wood collapses into the fire and sends up a cascade of sparks into the sky. They look like a swarm of orange fireflies. The homesickness crashes into you so hard you have to fight the urge to curl in on yourself. Nights with Uncle Randy on his porch, his lanky frame sprawled out over a lawn chair, cigarette flaring red as he took a draw. He’d offer you a beer, which you’d decline (“It takes like piss.” “Well suit yourself and more for me, sug’.”)

He wasn’t close to your dad once they’d gotten older. Had some sort of nasty fight Uncle Randy never talked about (you’ve developed a strong suspicion it had something to do with your mother). But he told you stories he knew about your dad—hunting squirrels, illicit fishing trips, that one time they got chased and bit by a raccoon and the rabies shots they’d needed (“Your gramma was so pissed off. We came back all cryin’ from them first shots and she made us go collect us a switch for our own ass-whoopin’”).

Your family wasn’t traditional. But Uncle Randy still had the stereotypical eagle feather tattoo on his bicep. He didn’t talk about it, much.

“Wa’n’t sump’n t’be proud of,” he’d said one time. “Things’re changin’ now, I guess.”

But you’d caught him mouthing Cherokee words on the porch in the dark, scrolling along a language lesson from the Nation on his ipad.

“So,” Astarion drawls.

Fuck. You’re in another dimension. You blink a couple of times, make sure no water spills down your cheeks.

“I couldn’t help but notice how easily those tieflings left earlier,” he says. He gives you a slow, deliberate once over. “Yet you’re not drenched in blood, so I assume there was no stabbing this time?”

“I don’t know about all that,” you say. “Like I told y’all. I said y’all were monsters coming up after them and they hightailed it outta there.”

“How lucky.”

“I generally am.”

“And the gnome the other day? That was luck?”

You blink. Turn to look at him. “Gnome?”

You hear that word and you think of that old cartoon of those pixie people with beards and pointy, red hats. The guy rode a fox, you think?

“Yes. The gnome you butchered,” he says.

“I thought he was a hobbit?!”

“A what?”

This fucking place. This absolute clusterfuck of a place. The fuck else is there over here? Fucking werewolves?? Do you need to watch for fucking werewolves now???

“I’ll be honest with you,” you say. “I ain’t never hurt somebody like that before and I am in way over my head here. I don’t even know what all happened that day.”

Aside from the murder. Self-defense, absolutely. But you freaked the fuck out and a man—gnome—is dead.

He nods in what a casual glance would label as sympathetic. “I see. Your first time?”

You stare. He’s still wearing that face. But the edges—maybe it’s your hyped-up paranoia here, but it shifts into something…smarmy.

“Yeah, actually,” you say because damned if you’re gonna let some bastard man make fun of you over that. He wants some kind of easy target? Come get some.

You choose: stoic Indian face!

“It happened so quick,” you say. “All the adrenaline, you know.”

You scrutinize him. Try to catch a hint of maliciousness.

But his grin widens and the corner of his eyes crinkle. “It got the best of you, eh? Happens to us all, from time to time. The first one, especially. All that rushing and one tends to fumble. You’ll want to practice your technique for your next round.”

Stoic Indian face is super ineffective!

He pats your arm in a half-hearted “you’re too gross to actually touch” gesture.

Is he…joking with you? Not mean-teasing, but like, murder-buddies-teasing?

“Since we’re talking about that, I got a question for you,” you say. “What’s up with chucking that body at me?”

The shithead actually places a hand on his chest like some kind of southern belle-of-the-ball. “Oh darling, I had to make sure he was dead. You were in such a state.”

You’ve been told you’ve got an intimidating stare. You don’t try to look mean, you just keep everything still and blank and stare at people, and it tends to make them squirm. But that just slides right off this bastard.

“It looked kinda calculated to me,” you say. Because it was.

“I do apologize for that,” smarmy bastard says in smarmy bastard tone. “It happened so quickly. You know how the adrenaline is.”

This bitch!

You almost call him a liar to his face. But sense wrestles back control. You don’t know these people and you have no backup, no safety net. This smarmy-ass, fancy pants fucking albino elf is absolutely messing with you, but he hasn’t pulled a knife (this time). And while he’s hinting at stuff, he’s not actually accusing you of anything (yet).

A test? An introduction? Both?

Maybe you’re as weird to them as they are to you. You’re an unknown entity; unable to communicate until yesterday, unable to use their most basic magic, and no training with weapons. But you did stab a gnome to death, and you freed Lae’zel.

He chose to interrogate you—none of the others have asked, was this an agreed upon plan?—by, what, teasing it out of you?

“Well,” he says. Stands and brushes the dirt off his pants. “It’s been a delight properly making your acquaintance, my dear. Do sleep well.”

You watch him saunter back to his tent. Duck inside. His shadow moves against the candlelight as he settles down.

He doesn’t blow the candle out.

Between him, Lae’zel, the girl named Shadowheart, and Mr. Chatterbox wizard, you’ve collected quite a company of oddballs.

Your headache remembers itself and sinks in to kick at the back of your eyeballs.

Fuckin’ A.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #no betas we die like men #demisexual tav #plus size tav #feeding alligators #slow burn

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notyetdeadkennedy · 6 days

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@nghtshroud only thought he caught a cop.

ㅤIt felt good to know that this weird fucking place may have tossed him into his old uniform, but it hadn't dulled his reflexes at all. A white-faced form leapt out of the dark at him, its body entirely shadow in a split second glance he'd seen before he swung - and apparently hit dead on target. The mask, because it wasn't actually its face, it was a rubber mask, crumpled under his fist until he felt something real crack underneath and he knew what that was. He'd just broken someone's nose, not that the mask gave any indication once the bastard had backed off.

ㅤLeon also backed off a few paces, turned to better face him and when he got a good look at the guy, he was...actually kind of underwhelmed. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but given the shit he'd seen, maybe his head would have popped off and an entirely new torso would split from the neck? Flailing, spiked tentacles? Maybe it would just grow wings and sharp legs and fly at him, screaming the whole way?

ㅤNope. Just a guy, rocking back on his heels and recovering, holding a knife, and Leon didn't even give him the benefit of shaking out his fist like it had hurt because he'd felt it, but not enough to matter. It was the voice coming through that made him finally quirk up an eyebrow, smirking a little and glancing sideways towards the trash heap. Everyone ran, but why? He reached for a piece of rebar sticking out awkwardly and yanked hard, flicking the flashbang off of his belt with his off-hand. "Pal, I really hate to break it to you, but this uniform only lasted a day. You shouldn't believe everything you hear from anything with that many legs."

#nghtshroud || .001 dbd #nghtshroud #we were born alone and we die alone ✇ [v. dead by daylight]#your wishlist mentions a survivor fighting back so I give you leon #you're also welcome to turn it around if you're not feeling it #I'm big into 'yes and' writing

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kollector-of-stims · 1 year

Text

Here we go...Squirkies Rating!

I now have 9 different pets and shall rate them based on my personal opinion of them. Though its opinionated, I still hope my ratings will help anyone that wants any! Unfortunately I will NOT be rating Pop Bop Butterfly, Toggle Turtle, and Spin-Fin Axolotl since I don't have those.

All ratings and reviewing under the cut!

First off, the collection guide says as a warning, and I quote: "Caution: squirkies are collectable novelty toys and are not intended to be used as soothing aids. Continuous repetitive use will degrade performance." I guess this applies to many stim toys though? I don't know but I'm including this still just in case. Also it wont stop me anyway.

So, the ratings begin!

• Twirly Whirly Hedgehog

A slightly weighted hedgehog. Comes in blue and pink.

1: The spikes up top spin. 2: The texture is rubbery and honestly pretty nice. 3: the weight is on the bottom and this allows it to wobble on a hard flat surface. Also good for just holding depending.

Overall, this one appeals to me myself a lot when it comes to fidget options. The spinning and texture are quiet and good for using secretly in a jacket pocket in public with one hand. So what if hedgehogs aren't an animal I'm crazy for? This one is fantastic.

My rating: 9/10

• Switchy Scorpion

A scorpion with a clicky tail and buttons on it's back. Comes in light blue and orange. NOTE: I replaced the ORIGINAL tail with my OWN wacky tracks because the original tail was shorter AND squeaky. Took some force with scizzors down in there to pry the original tail off. Be careful if you try this.

1: Buttons on it's back have a tiny bit of resistance and a decent click. 2: Its claws can be clicked once inward and outward with a click, moving each eye. 3: Its legs are made of a slightly softer material than the body and can be moved a little. 4: The tail when you first get it is squeaky and a little awkward to mess with. Thus why I replaced it.

Other than me modifying it, the rest of the toy is pretty alright. The claws are fun and the buttons are fun to press over and over with two fingers. The "being able to modify it in the first place" was cool imo.

My rating: 6/10

• Squish 'n' Fish

A rubbery fish with a squishy interior where a bubble is. Comes in blue and yellow.

1: Its tail stretches decently. 2: when squeezed, a bubble comes out of its mouth, and there's a small squiggly worm inside that I have trouble getting out in every squeeze. 3: The top fin can count as a fidget as well.

Completely rubbery and bouncy, it had a texture I myself despise when I first opened it. It took washing multiple times before I was comfortable touching it, and it still slightly repels me due to that faint powdery texture that some people dislike with stretchy stim toys. Could be my imagination but. With the bubble squish, it takes force from me personally, so I'm honestly not too crazy about this one other than its design.

My rating: 3/10

• Jiggles Jellyfish

A rubbery jellyfish with a noticable hard interior frame. Comes in blue and pink.

1: The buttons on the back have resistance and good clicks and honestly feel nice to me. 2: The tentacles can be stretched enough to where you can see where they are connected to the toy. 3: The sides of the body can be pressed inward with two fingers, making the hard inner frame more noticable. 4: The fringe on the head works as a small fidget.

Again with the same texture issue as the fish. Took multiple washings and if I can get rid of the feeling completely, I'd personally feel more inclined to use this one. If I wasn't paranoid about that feeling, I'd be using it more. Also, it's fun to place it on a flat surface with tentacles out in all directions before softly tapping it and watching it wobble.

My rating: 5/10

• Squiggly Snake

Hard bendable snakes that work similarly to tangles but with more resistance and sharp angles. Come in yellow/teal, pinkish purple/teal, and glow-in-the-dark (green and teal) in the 5 pack.

1: Similarly to a sharp-angled tangle, the body can be twisted around in different shapes with no noise. 2: The tongue can be pulled out a little but I would advise not pulling too terribly hard. 3: The head can be spun around with a nice clicking sound. 4: The eyes can be spun around with a softer clicking sound.

Another one I personally like. Not only do I enjoy snakes, but also, the clicking and various movements you can do with this one are nice to me. Though it's not as easy to move the body around as it is a tangle, it still does a good job at being satisfying. The clicking also sounds so good.

My rating: 8/10

• Clickety Cat

A conveniently fidget-cube-shaped cat. Comes in orange, purple, metallic (light blue), and glow-in-the-dark (blue).

1: The tail can be spun with little resistance and a satisfying clicky sound. 2: The mouth can be pushed inward and come out extended. It can then be made small again with another push. 3: The feet can be spun with your finger in a proper place while pushing. 4: The ears can be moved back and forth, moving the eyes as well.

Cats are a favorite animal of mine, and that, plus the tail and feet specifically, make this one of my top 5 favorites of my 9 squirkies. Though the feet aren't as easy to spin as the classic spinning part of a fidget cube, I still enjoy it. And the tail also is pleasurable, if you don't mind the noise.

My rating: 8/10

• Pop Tube Pup

A dog with two plastic ends and a pop tube making up its body. Comes in brown, white, metallic (orange), and glow-in-the-dark (light blue).

1: The pop tube body extends a small amount. 2: the ears can be moved up and down with a barely audible click. 3: the tongue can be clicked into place either up or down, moving the eyes.

The colors and tube are nice, though in my opinion that's all this dog really has. The ears are entertaining but not as much as parts of the other animals. I personally am also worried about the tube body breaking, mainly because I have bad luck with pop tubes breaking in half.

My rating: 4/10

• Cheeky Pop Monkey

A small square monkey with a backside like a pop-it. Comes in purple/pink, brown/yellow, metallic (blue/pink), glow-in-the-dark (pink/orange), and golden metallic (1/3 chance in mystery pack)

1: Both cheeks can be popped inwards with soft pop sounds. 2: The ears can be moved towards the back, popping the poppers back outwards. 3: The tail can be rotated similarly to the cat but with more resistance and a louder sound, moving the eyes.

Actually very satisfying to me. The being able to pop and un-pop the backside so easily is very handy, and the tail is good as an occasional fidget requiring a little force. The popping part of course really sells this one and is the main focus, but despite there only being 2 main stimming methods, what it has is nice in my opinion.

My rating: 7/10

• Curly Chameleon

A compact chameleon with a silicone-like tail. Comes in green/blue, pink/green, and glow-in-the-dark (light green/pink).

1: Pressing on the back ridges, which are plastic, makes the tongue stick out. 2: The tail can be uncurled before quickly retracting back into shape. 3: The eyes can be spun with a soft clicky sound.

This ones surprisingly high on my personal list just for the tail alone. Quiet and fun, and the tail part can be used in bed with less threat of waking up a nearby sleeping partner. Cute and appealing to me, I love the tail texture.

My rating: 8/10

~~~~~~~~

BONUS: How the glow-in-the-dark squirkies look in the dark:

Uh edit: I couldn't add another image to this but left this title in here, so if anyone wants glow in the dark info, I could add it to a reblog.

OVERALL RESULTS:

Fun and neat little toys, I love the hedgehog, snake, cat, monkey, and chameleon the best. When it comes to fidget options with shopping trips and such, the hedgehog would be the one I'm most likely to take in public. The fish is my personal least favorite, but is still cute and it enjoy it more if the bubble came out easier and the texture wasn't at all powdery feeling.

This was fun to do, and I hope that whoever reads this review was at least entertained. And if it helps someone pick their favorite, I'm happy to help!

Also feel free to let me know if you want me to make reviews like this for any other fidget/stim toys I show that I have!

#squirkies #squirkies fidget pets #stim toys #fidget toys #mine #stim toy review #fidget toy review #chameleon #cat #monkey #snake #dog #fish #jellyfish #hedgehog #scorpion #tw hands

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that-one-weird-simp · 7 months

Text

KNY Monster AU

Yeah, i made another AU... Lol also some of these designs will not be based on their canon.

The monsters are the demons.. Hashira are the researchers... More on them later..

Muzan: he is basically his finale form, just the teethy mouths on his body replace his mouth on his face, his ears are pointed and his legs are animal like, yes he does have his Tentacles.

He has a tail that looks like a spinal cord with a blade at the tip of it. He has spikes at the base of it, his hands and feet are more animal like.

His calls are growls and screeches like a banshee.. His diet is raw animal meat and fish. But only certain species of Invasive fish or else he won't eat it.. He pick, the fish also have to be fresh water.

He must be fed 400 pounds of meat twice a day, or he'll get bitchy and screeches till someone feeds him.. He needs 800 pounds daily cause he burns alot of calories from how active he is.

His containment contains a shallow to a 20 foot deep pool, long grass and spider lilies to keep him calm (also his favorite flower) ropes of cable and chains for him to climb on.

He is is like a ferret.. Crackhead then a power nap.. Then more crackhead shit..

Behavior: oddly very playful, friendly and doesn't mind if any of the researchers, he would just be curious and check them out before doing his own thing.

Kokushibo: Basically his monster self just the weird ass appendages all over him are split into two rows on his back, His mouth is normal but he can unhinged his jaw like a snake and his hair is still in its nice pony tail, he does have two horns, but the right one is bigger then the other.

His is shirtless and he has thick furr from the waist down, his legs are also animal like and he has big cloven hooves. he has a thick based tail with a wipped thin end with some furr tuff at the end of it and its about 2 ft long while is tail is 6 feet long. He keeps his normal hight.

The noises he makes.. He is like a cheetah.. He meows and purrs, he can also chirp too..he did have a twin yoriichi but he unfortunately gotten deathly sick and passed. Other then that he is like an orange tabby cat..playful and loves it when you pet him.

His containment contains really long grass, a fresh water pool with some dummies so he can practice his hunting skills. He is a speed demon so everyday they would release him into a speed way type of room for him to run around and go wild in.

He also needs 800 pounds of beef daily. 400 pounds twice a day

Douma: he has a more disturbing appearance. His ScleraI is black, while his irisis are still rainbow with a slit pupil that is also black. His spine is visible and basically is sticking outof his bosy and is made of ice, same with his boney tail with a stinger at the end of it, his mouth is not normal.

Thats what his face looks like..

He needs to eat as much as kokushibo, he burns allot of calories crawling around in the vents that are present in his containment. He has to be kept in cold temperatures, he is pretty isolated so he gets bored and lonely easily, the researchers are making him a new location so he isnt so lonely. His diet constists of fish and pork, so 800 pounds of pork in the morning, 800 pounds of fish at night. He needs the calories for climbing and crawling at a fast pace.

He is very friendly around females, males don't faze him much, he tries to charm them and cuddle em.. The researchers are currently trying to find someone who is willing to spend the time with him.

He still wears his canon cloths but the back is ripped open for his patruding spine. his legs are animal like but are built for climbing and crawling, his claws are built like that too.

His calls are a number of shrieks and screams.. Basically a distressed demonic cat that is high on crack..

Akaza: he has the skull of a mountain lion, he does have long fluffy dear ears, the rims of the ears are blue. His blue stripes are made of fur, he still does have his hair but it trails down his spine and along his tail. His tail is thin but long. Like a crocs tail. He is a Quadruped and his he has paws.

His calls are like a lions mixed with a snow leopard. His containment contains things he can climb on, punching bags for his hunting skills. a pool so he can swim in. And a grass patch so he can role in it. He is neutral around others, doesn't mind anyone much.. Unless its kyojuro who is responsible for preparing the food..

Bro is all over him liie a touch starved puppy. He is disappointed when he has to leave to feed the others. He is not picky about his food he will eat any kind of meat. At least 200 pounds a day.. 100 pounds in the morn and 100 at night.

Hantengu and his kids (clones):

All of them are quad and bipedal. Each of them have animal skulls as their faces. Urogi should be obvious..

Urogi: hawk skull, his wings are fused with his arms and he does not have the pearl belt around his waist and he has the hawk tail feathers

Karaku: fox skull, ears are long and torn, his fox tail has the leaf shape at the tip (like his fan,also they are all naked but have fur down there waist and arms and have the feet of the animal they represent)

Aizetsu: cougar skull, the tip of his tail is the tip of his spear thats in canon.

Sekido: bear skull.. Nothing much to say about him..

Zohakuten: he is ligit just a nightmare fuel wooden dragon that slithers around.. Like the traditional japanese dragon

Hantengu: he is just a wooden goblin creature that just cowers in the corner and is close to dying of old age.

They eat together and need the same amount of food... 4 tons of beef daily. there exhibit is currently in repair cause urogi decided to be a shit and reck the AC because it gets hot. So they are in a empty temporary.. Room...

Gyokko: nothing much changed about his second form he just has more monstrous features and has a croc like face and his colors are different, he is more piebald with a gradient of blues and purples. His also has betta fish fins at the end of his tail.

Gyutaro and daki: gyutaro was almost a successful experiment, he is a mix of a utah raptor, but he doesn't have the feathers just some spikes that replace them.. Instead of a pony tail on the top of his head its actually a low pony tail. He has his original torso, but his arms and legs are ones of a utah raptor.

Daki, or ume. Was almost successful.. Her genetics were mixed with what were supposed to be Kaigaku and Nakime.. She was given clothing but she is almost fully human, she can eat human food, but her behavior and biology is different..

We don't have an enclosure for them yet since we are still doing testing.

Enmu: He is an interesting one.. He has a lion like nose, half his face is metal, both sclera are black, but he kept his blue irises. His pupils are shaped as X's. There is fluff along his right arm and metal on his left. He has long fennec fox ears that are really fluffy, he has Quadruped legs, one leg is fluffy while the other is metal.. We took some pictures for reference.

The little hairs that grow from the back of his head.. They were replaced with his ears.. His tale is a long, thick table cord attached to a grappling hook like device.

His enclosure is full of metal scraps and things for him to climb on.. He eats the metal scraps and we refill it once a month.. He screams as comunaction.. Like a baby snow leopard and a fox.. he has screaming matches with rui since the enclosures are next to each other..

Rui: he is the only one that is 95% successful.. His structure and everything, no mutations or any monstrous features.. But his biology still needs work and his vocals.. He sounds like a fox mixed with a cat.. He does haves screaming matches with enmu.. We do put them together, they seem to get along well..

*NOTE: all of the creatures shown are in the juvenile stage. This is not their final form and may mutate further*

This was one of the reported documents we found in the ruin building.. It seemed to contain immataions of beloved characters from the series kimetsu no yaiba.. Or known as demon slayer.. We have received information that the substances and technology used to make these creatures, also made the half the staff.. Their names were

Iguro obanai Shinobu kocho Kanea kocho Kanoa Tsyuri Mitsuri konroji Kyojuri rengoku Gyomei Himejima Muichiro tokito Yuichiro tokito Senami shinzugawa Genya shinazugawa Giyuu tomioka Tengen uzui Tanjiro kamado Nezuko kamado Zenitsu agatsuma Inosuke Hashibira

There has been video footage of the staff getting infected by the same substance used to create the demons. Since there is no trace of them we can assume they are all on the loose.. No doubt that the staff are also mutated creatures as well..

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wellactuallynark · 1 year

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Part 1 of 2 of my new Nark Oneshot

Nick and Lark were walking the perimeter of D.A.D.D.I.E.S. HQ when they received notification of an acolyte at a state park nearby. The other guys were home resting after a previous run in with a different acolyte yesterday.

Lark tosses the van keys to Nick who catches them and throws them back. “We’re taking my bike, Songbird.” Nick says, winking, before heading towards his motorcycle. Lark grumbles before jumping on behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Nick revs the engine and peels out of the parking lot.

——-

This acolyte was probably the ugliest they’ve seen in a while. It was a stocky blob, skin like the texture of freshly opened spam, with spikes on its back like a porcupine. Two long tentacles come out from its sides, swinging wildly uprooting bushes and small trees.

Unfortunately Lark was the one with the ranged weapons, so that’s who it targeted. “I think it has a crush on you.” Nick mocks, rolling out of the way of a tentacle.

Lark reloads his gun and catches his breath. “Nah I think Vanessa is trying to get rid of me so she can have you all to herself.” Nick turns, cackling at Lark. The other man no longer stood beside him.

“You can’t just name something before you kill it, Lark! That’s breaking some serious moral rules!” Nick calls over the sound of fighting. Nick lights his Katana, stalking towards the creatures back.

The thing had Lark cornered by a cliff. Nick screams, throwing his flaming katana like a javelin. It spears through its armpit. "Hey Vanessa! Fucker! Over here!" The acolyte bellows, spit flying in all directions. He glances just long enough at Lark to make sure he could get away, before turning on his heel to run.

Something whizzes passed his ear so he pivots back around to dodge. He doesn't even have time to move out of the way when more spikes are shot his way. He thinks he gets away free until he feels the heat in his thigh. His hell fire burns the impaled spiked to ash but leaves a gaping, gushing hole in its place.

Nick pulls out his handgun, courtesy of Lark, his last line of defense. Something in his gut twists, something felt very wrong. Like there was something inside him that wasn't supposed to be there. A shockwave sends Nick careening into a tree, his vision spinning. If he squints he can vaguely see blood squirting out of his leg with each heart beat.

“Lark!” He yells over the ringing in his ears. Nick doesn’t hear a response and can’t see far enough to look so he tries to make himself as small of a target as he can behind the tree.

Nick tries to lower his flaming hand over the gushing wound to cauterize it, but the fire goes out in self preservation. Nick is cussing when Lark drops to his knees in front of him. Lark pushes his hand away before wrapping a field tourniquet around his thigh.

By now you’d think Nick could keep up with Larks trained movements, after all they’ve been through together. Nick can barely string a sentence together.

"Bite." Lark commands shoving a bandana towards Nicks sweaty face. Nick quickly bunches it up and stuffs it in his mouth.

Lark bends over his legs preparing to tighten the tourniquet. Nick fists the back of the other manes shirt in his hand. "Try not to burn me kay?" Lark says. Nick bites back a retort as Lark begins twisting. Immediately his hand releases the shirt, fire hot pain shoots through him in waves as Lark keeps cranking it tighter. By the time Lark sits back, both of Nicks hands are gripping the dirt below him. Fists resting in the middle of their own charred circles.

Nick barely has time to catch his breath when Lark shakes him. "Nick-" he hears cut through the blood rushing through his head before getting muffled again. "-ur dad." Nick groans and lists to the side. Lark grabs his shoulders, something soaking into his shirt before he lightly taps Nick on the cheek.

"-icholas." Lark coaxes sternly. "You need to open a portal to hell."

"S'not... my..name." He grunts, mouth dry.

Larks face softens. He clears his throat. "Nicky the spikes were poisoned, we can't get to exfil." Lark holds the back of his neck. "It hit an artery. You need to portal so you don't lose your leg. Do you understand me?" Larks eye earnestly search his own.

"...portal." He moans.

Lark nods, running his hands through Nicks sweaty hair. "Yes portal. Now." Nick can barely lift his hand to conjure it. Lark mumbles praises to Nick as he pulls him into his chest. Nick coughs at a tickle in his throat, falling into a coughing fit. He's gasping by the end of it.

"Nicholas?" Jodie questions, peaking through the portal. He calls for Glenn as soon as he sees Lark with a collapsed Nick foaming at the mouth. Glenn grabs Nicks legs, Lark grabs him under the arms, and together they carry Nick into hell. Jodie hurriedly closes the portal behind them.

Lark pushes Nick onto his side, forcing the foam from his mouth to flow onto the floor. Nick groans and grabs for Larks arm. Lark flinches back hissing in pain before recovering. Glenn cuts Lark a look at his burnt forearm before offering his own- immune to hell fire. Glenn tilts his head back to Nick. Lark takes the hint and lowers his face to Nicks line of sight.

"You're alright Nicky. Your dads are here to help." Lark speaks steady, he wipes Nicks scorching forehead before releasing him. Everything's out of focus for Nick but Lark. His bearded face sits in front of him like a beacon. To him, sounds were fading out to static, his lungs were held in a vice grip.

Lark turns to Glenn, "It was a Doodler Acolyte. It got him through the leg, looks like it grazed his side too. The spike was gone when I got to him but those remained." He says gesturing to the black veins coming from the wound. "I put the tourniquet on a few minutes ago, it- the spike, it hit an artery. I've never seen him drop like that." Lark clears his throat trying to pull himself together.

Near Nicks legs, Jodie's hands hover over the wound. "Poison then. I can heal him but you have take the tourniquet off." Lark nods, looking back at Nick, who's eyes are glazed and unfocused.

Lark stands and moves to his right side, closest to the wound. Jodie's eyes catch on Larks blistering forearm and he grimaces. "Best you release it and back up."

Logically it made sense, emotionally? Not so much. Granted this is the safest place for Nick to be right now, surrounded by people who would give their own lives for his. "On three?" Jodie asks, looking at Glenn who shifts to pin Nick in his arms. Glenn nods and Lark puts his hand on the tourniquet.

"One.. Two.. Three." Lark releases the tourniquet and puts his hands up away from Nicks body. Nick let's out a short, strangled yell that leads into an exhale as Jodie casts Lay on Hands. Nicks whole body catches fire for a brief second before he collapses against Glenn. Jodie sits back, looking only slightly more tired than before, hands covered in his sons blood.

"I vote not to do that again. Anyone else?" Nick mumbles eyes half lidded.

"You're grounded." Jodie says, picking himself up off the ground.

"I'm an adult Jodie, you can't do that anymore."

"My Hell, my rules." Jodie walks to the kitchen.

Lark raises an eyebrow at Glenn who just shrugs. "You heard the Narc. Why don't you guys get cleaned up and then come back down for dinner so you guys can tell us what the fuck just happened."

Lark locks forearms with Nick and pulls him up to stand. Lark shifts to hide his burned arm behind him. Nick just grumbles and sends a lazy salute in Glenn's direction before tugging Lark towards his room.

#dndads #lark oak #lark oak garcia #nark #nark h/c #nark whump #nicholas close #nicholas foster #trying to resist the urge to write whump without plot #is that so wrong

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