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oxydiane · 11 months

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we talk a lot about how sasuke and naruto are so crazy about each other but there’s never enough attention on how the rest of the naruto cast Also thinks they are two fucking lunatics. like we are not alone on this. you have jiraiya telling naruto he needs to not go and chase a mf who tried to snatch his heart out his ribcage and naruto is like no i’d rather be a fucking moron for the rest of my life honestly. you have naruto leaving a mission and saying sory i cannot stay i need to go home and wait for sasuke and the fucking platypus looks at him ???? like he even had me confused where are you goin g to wait? ? why are you saying that like sasuke is coming back the fuck did i miss??? you have the kage summit arc which is just a whole bucket of ice being dropped onto you because you come in and immediately get slapped in the face by naruto letting himself be beat up because he won’t tell them where sasuke is??? like he has any fucking idea where sasuke is. and sai tries to make him come to his senses like naruto??? naruto WHAT ARE U DOING. it’s so bad they need an intervention. right after that naruto faces the raikage and gets on his knees saying i know my almost boyfriend almost killed your brother but i promise it wasn’t on purpose he was just being silly please don’t put a bounty on his head a war will literally ensue. and like. there’s LAYERS to this. 1. even RAIKAGE is like BOY what are you doing. STAND UP. 2. at this point you can count the people who like sasuke on the fingers of one hand like WHO is gonna start a war over him… naruto out there moving a war against a whole country by himself over his bf ok you go girl i guess. after this it gets even worse like gaara has to go up to him and be like SASUKE DOWSNT CARE ABOUT YOU. HE DOES NOT WANT YOU. and naruto just slaps his hand away in front of his family like rude?????? ignoring anything it is hilariouuusssss and then sai is like sorry. sakura lied to you they are actually off to kill sasuke and naruto gets a panic attack so severe he passes out. like i am not joking it was so bad his friends tried to kill sasuke behind his back. and then naruto escapes bedriddenment (is that a word?) after passing out from his panic attack to run and make sure NOBODY kills sasuke. like he’s on a RUSH leaping those trees he’s a boy on a mission. then after he gets there he’s like kakashi DO NOT TOUCH HIM. they launch themselves at each other bla bla gay monologues did you see what was in my heart and then. and then naruto is like. wait sasuke. and sasuke waits like sorry that’s such a little thing but it’s so funny to me like sasuke was just acting a lil murderous crazy manic wtv but naruto told him to wait and he waits. ok good boyfriend. anyways moving on naruto is like do you get it sasuke. if we fight again we will BOTH DIE! (everybody gets a ?????? bubble) i am the only one who can shoulder all that hatred. i will CARRY THE BURDEN OF YOUR HATRED AND WE WILL DIE TOGETHER! and . absolutely Everybody in that room just goes ???????????? what the FUCK is he TALKING ABKHT. everybody except sasuke. sasuke smirks and he’s like sure. they just talked about dying together and meeting each other in a different life where they’ll be free of their burdens and they’re just Fine and all ok smiling at each other and everyone is so fucking confused. like the entire supporting cast is with us side eyeing sasuke and naruto and thinking what in the everloving FUCK is WRONG WITH YOU????????

#it’s 4 am again #and i am thinking about sasunaru again #soo talks #sasunaru #narusasu #sns #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto shitpost #rant #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #pro sns

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

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I can't stop thinking about Eddie having a massive bitch fetish for mean girl Steve, especially after they get together.

Like before, sure, he was just as much in King Steve's thrall as every other high school girl was, even if it was a secret he had planned on taking to the grave. Every time he'd hear him make a snappy comment to one of his friends or say something particularly cutting when he talked back to the teachers was enough to make Eddie flush.

But now that they're together it's even worse than high school Eddie could imagine. Because Steve Harrington is protective as fuck and when you mix that with being gay in small-town Indiana with a boyfriend whose the town pariah for murders he didn't commit, you get a lot of opportunities for bitchy Steve.

The check-out lady at the grocery store scoffs when she sees them holding hands? Steve's jumping in, "Wow Linda, guess you're not a champion for love huh? Is that why your husband left you last year?"

An ex-jock and current gas station attendant makes a comment about how Eddie should be in prison? "Weren't you the guy who shit his pants at Carol's party freshman year? Honestly, I feel like that's a worse social crime than anything my Eddie ever did."

An old teacher comments on how he's not "surprised" that Eddie never graduated when they run into him? "I guess that just goes to show how shitty of a teacher you were doesn't it? He passed his GED test on the first try, maybe you should just think of a different career option?"

He has an arsenal of embarrassing stories and tidbits for almost every person in Hawkins, courtesy of his near-daily gossip sessions with his mom. Even when they move in together, those don't stop, they just switch to weekly three-hour phone conversations. (The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?)

And Eddie loved how willing Steve was to stand up for him, he did, really. But every time Eddie had to bear witness to Steve tearing someone down for his benefit, it felt like he was losing his mind.

He'd flush, go bright pink, get weak in the knees, everything you would expect from a love-struck sixteen-year-old girl, not a twenty-one-year-old drug dealer. Half the time he had to drag Steve to the nearest unoccupied space just to kiss him, and the other half he was too busy trying to hide a humiliating hard-on.

Eddie keeps that specific obsession to himself, but he knows he doesn't have much time left before he figures it out. There are only so many impromptu make-out sessions mixed with snide comments before Steve puts two and two together.

And Eddie just knows that he will never let him live it down, which will only add fuel to the fire if he starts doing it on purpose to tease him. Steve already had him wrapped around his finger enough as is, he didn't need another thing to make him realize just how gone for him Eddie was.

No, this one was going to stay with him, a secret that he'd actually manage to take to his grave.

Or so he thought.

#steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie headcanon #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #bitchy steve #love him #good person mrs.harrington #who is also a gossipy little bitch #i have a less sfw version of this concept on here somewhere #stranger things

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gremlingottoosilly · 2 months

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König with a reader who in general perfectly falls into his desired stereotypical feminine housewife trope, but her personality is kind of tomboyish? And by that I mean she is literally a teenage boy in a grown woman’s body. Unironically calls him bro and everything.

Perfect wife alert??? Konig would obviously love any woman who is living with him and not trying to murder him in his sleep, but having a pretty housewife darling who will greet him with breakfast in bed and some unfunny immature joke about his mom because she was feeling silly?? Is he in heaven?? He gets to cuddle you in the morning, and you'd just say "no homo" all the time, so he gets into weird logical constructions on whether or not he could be gay while loving and being with a woman.

You're making him confused all the time!! He was trying to cover his crude army jokes at first, with no mentions of blood, sex, and other unpleasant things - hell, he was trying to not even curse in your presence, only occasionally letting himself go in German because he didn't want to make the lady feel uncomfortable...and then you drop the pan while trying to cook some cute little pancakes for him, and you construct such an obscure and elaborate mountain of profanity, that Konig just...stares in awe. You literally just taught him at least three new curse words. Good for you. Konig doesn't really understand a lot of Gen Z memes, but he loves the way you could twist some immature joke into a reason to suck him off by a kitchen counter - just the way you initiate sex is almost perfect, making him desire you more and more. You're a perfect girlfriend to show off to his friends - you're cool and funny, playing videogames with them and tossing yourself over Konig's lap without a care in the world. You tell him a your mom joke, and he genuinely laughs for the rest of the weak, every time he remembers it.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #cod x reader

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running-with-kn1ves · 3 months

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Can you do a yandere killer clown that has been following you all night on Halloween

A/N:I wrote this a long time ago and hated it at the time but it really wasn't as bad as I thought! Hope you all are having a wonderful 2024 :>

Synopsis: A suspicious "killer clown" has been stalking you on Halloween to your dismay. Is it really just a costume?

CW: murderous clown, clownery, slight in-depth stabbing(death), stalking, intimidation, general fear

Word count: 2.7k

“Nice costume, man!” The echoed memory rang hollow inside your bobbing head. “I bet the black helps hide all the blood, huh?”

At the time you mischievously brought a hand to your mouth, shielding it from the eyes of curious and terrified children who mersmerisingly watched you joke to the killer clown. The masked figure hovered in front of you, staring blankly from behind the blur of white and red. The figure didn’t move, didn’t alter to his dominant hand with the bloody knife that rested in his palm.

You were met with silence as your comment passed; dark, invisible eyes watched you through the small eye-slits of the clown’s mask. Its elaborate makeup donned diamonds under and above each eye hole, a spongy red nose covering the mask’s nostrils. Though, you could still hear whoever was underneath, breathing-- the air pushing against the silicone. Painted black lips covered the faint outline on the masks mouth, detailed to almost look feminine. However, the broad shoulders underneath the harlequin patterned suit made you think otherwise.

You gave an amused smile, letting the figure keep in-character as he watched you slowly pass. A whiff of reeking gore and thick blood came across you as you walked away; a thought of ‘maybe you should have honked the clown’s nose for good measure’ crossed your mind, but the smell made you think otherwise. If he was dedicated enough to cover himself in pigs blood, who knew what else he’d do to you to stay in character.

Your mind ran in circles as the heels of your feet ached, your subconscious desperate to know what you said that made it all go wrong, or what made it go too right with this costumed killer clown.

Because here you were, walking down your neighborhood’s sidewalk with flickering light posts barely brightening the road in front of you as you sped passed your front door for the third time. With a dirty hand mirror gripped in your sweaty palm, you faced it slightly below your shoulder, hoping it was low enough that the shadow behind you couldn’t see it. You caught a glimpse of the red-speckled plastic mask and dazzling crimson hair of the clown behind you. Shutting the pocket mirror immediately, you picked up your pace again for whatever time again that night-- you've lost count. But it didn’t matter, the masked freak always seemed to be just a lamp post away, gradually getting closer with a joyful pep in his step.

After your first interaction with him at a lame Halloween festival, you then saw him again at the gas station right across your friends’ street, and once more at that same friend's costume party. You thought it must've been a coincidence to see him inside the gas station, only witnessing the back of his crazy dyed hair that looked too attached to be a wig; talk about being dedicated to the bit. Maybe he gets paid for being a scare actor? You didn't know, you didn't get the chance to ask before he ran out at the sight of a police officer perusing the candy aisle. Too bad for him, it was only a prominent gay dressed up in a sexy uniform.

But there he was again that night, peeking behind your friend's bedroom window that you sat across from. Seeing him there nearly made you shriek, jumping up enough to spill your drink all over the guy next to you. When you tried to explain, the clown had disappeared, only to show up mere minutes later from the bathroom window while you tried to rub beer out of your costume.

Seeing him the second time was nearly as startling, but you managed to keep your reaction to a minimum, merely glaring at the bloodied clown from behind dark glass. You threw your cup at the window, hoping to scare him off or show that you weren’t worth fucking around with, but he… didn’t move. Through the tiny hole in the mouth of the mask, breath came through, just slightly fogging up the glass. How the hell did he get up here in the first place, weren’t you on the second floor??

You turned away, hoping to just turn the light off and that’d be the last you’d see of him; but a thump on the glass told you otherwise. Another thump, this time almost with a clinking crack. Your hand still resting on the lightswitch; you nonchalantly looked back to see a familiar knife jabbed against the window pane, small cracks growing as he twisted it further into the window. Your hope of giving an apathetic reaction to deter him did nothing, gloved hands coming up to squeakily draw a dark red line on the window.

A threat? Maybe he's trying to apologize? What was he going to write-- you wondered if it was worth even sticking around for. But instead of words, the red line was finished with another, creating a small, dripping misshapen heart on the bathroom window. You slammed down on the lightswitch and shut the door quickly at the sight, making your way down the stairs.

He had to be one of your friend’s frat-guy pals, someone who went out of their way to terrorize on the nights of halloween in unassuming grocery stores or parties like this one. Someone here at this party who was just fucking with you-- that’s just what it was.

But now, hours later on the dark pavement of a street that looked so unfamiliar at night, you were starting to second guess yourself. The sweet whistling of what could only be from the clown behind you grew louder, squeaky shoes mimicking your steps and seeming to pick up in pace. You did the same, nearly jogging as you saw something moving in the distance. It was oddly pale and hunched over, going faster than you could run.

It was a biker! Some random fucking guy on his bike at 2 in the morning! You assumed this was what people meant when miracles roamed the earth, waiting to be found.

“Hey!” You shouted, running towards the speedy white demon as you blocked the middle of the sidewalk, hoping the guy would see you waving at him. But his stare was blank, not focusing on you nor the sidewalk in front of him. All he did, was bike.

“HEY! Can you please help me--” a pair of white wireless earbuds were nestled deep in his ears, immune to your shouting. Once he came cycling up close, almost too close, you realized he wasn’t stopping. His eyes completely looked past you, swatting you away with a sweaty arm as you stumbled into the street after narrowly avoiding his bike.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, watching him ride away as you threw your hands in frustration. You stopped to watch as the clown stepped to the side to give the incoming biker a clear path. This guy was just going to go past like everything was fine, not paying attention to the person in distress right in front of him, OR the creepy ass harlequin clown he was approaching. You gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and turned around, beginning to walk again as you hoped maybe the new distraction would stop your bloody walking partner.

But a sudden thud against the sidewalk caught you off guard.

Did he really ride into the clown?

No, from behind you, the man’s bike laid twisted with spinning wheels in front of your hunched clown stalker. The man was grasping his side with one arm, having fallen on top of his bike as his hand shielded from above.

Well, that's kind of what he gets for biking at the witching hour. And for not helping someone in distress! Karma's a bitch.

You hadn't noticed where the gore-striken clown's weapon had landed during the whole ordeal, not even thinking of it until a wet 'shlink!' and violent howl was released. The biker held his raised wrist with a shaking cradle, looking up at the knife that was just pulled out of him.

And just as the knife was removed, it was slammed back in with great inertia and skilled positioning on the clown's part. A wretched sound left the biker's throat, along with the odd crunching that came with him being pushed farther down onto his minimalistic bike.

A great red gash split onto his forehead, leading to the knife's metal stem that seemed to make peace with its new home inside the biker's skull. One of his earbuds popped out, crashing onto the sidewalk as blood flecked into his left eye. He seemed to look at the fallen earpiece, no longer acknowledging the knife now pushed as far as it could stab.

The clown seemed to stand back, watching the creation of his short few motions. He let out a whistle similar to an animated sigh. Comically, he wiped invisible sweat from his brow, looking over at you.

Your feet began to shuffle backward, grating against the rubble on the road as your hands flew to your mouth with an intensity that made you lose breath.

The mask seemed to look at you with no emotion, blankly watching with a sad smile as the clown stood simply. With the silence of the street, the stillness of the wind, you could hear faint breaths from across the street. They were soon replaced by a muffled whistle beneath the plastic, the clown's eyes dark and unseeable behind it. But the tiniest speck of light, a teensy reflection from the streetlight showed the human eyes of someone…unpredictable.

He stopped, only to give a high-pitched whistle as he pulled his steel weapon out of its created hole and rammed the knife back into the cowering biker, this time his chest receiving the treatment. The clown pulled it out again, only to prepare in the same position, raking up the bikers chest with the blade once more. Each time, he whistled and heightened it to mimic the sound of the knife flying through the air, only to crash down into a body of meat. He stopped once the knife made a connection to the skin, only to begin again.

You stood in grotesque awe, mouth ajar as you tripped over the sidewalk's curb. If it wasnt clear already to your record-broken mind, you needed to leave, now. You knew the guy was a creep, someone wayy to into the “murderous killer clown” trope but now, shit was a little too real. You began to run, making your way around the rest of the block without a care of whether or not he chased after you, finding your home. You needed to get inside, somewhere with locked doors that would be a barrier too thick for him to cut down.

Sweat and tears blinded you as black road filled your vision, along with your dim phone screen. you pressed the all too familiar three numbers on your phone. A nine, and two ones.

You waited for the shrill gurgles and distant whistling to stop from behind you, to hear a human voice pickup from the screen against your ear; which thankfully came after about two consecutive rings.

“Hello!?” You unknowingly interrupted, hearing the end of an “your emergency?”

“Hi-- uh, some freak has been following me and,” You were cut off by a grating voice, one slightly deadened and distant.

"Now that's just being mean."

Your heart jumped as you ran, dread settling inside you as the voice hummed in disappointment.

In the distance you could see the familiar front porch of your home, only about five houses down.

"You've got..to be…kidding," you huffed out of breath, elongating your stride to look like a wild runner as you sprinted to your driveway.

"Clowns are universally beloved; maybe you're the freak; considering you picked me I'd say you already had questionable taste."

"How'd you-- but I called--" You huffed, yet the clown cut you off.

"You really shouldn't leave your phone unattended in a room full of people…who knows when a devious comic of a murderer might strike! Especially one so handy in manipulating technology." You could practically hear the animated pose he struck along with the words. "So, having fun yet?"

You didn't answer, or rather couldn't from the lack of oxygen in your throat. All you could do was focus on running; but that's alright, because the freakshow on the other side talked enough for the both of you.

"We'll I hope so; in fact, you know I've chosen you to be my last man standing. My final girl," He paused for dramatic effect "My, surviving victim of tonight's excursion… you'll be a grand commemorating prize to bring back home, to be sure. You're just lucky that buddy boy back here took your place-- if he hadn't, I can't say I'd have been able to restrain myself enough to keep you alive until we got back home."

What the fuck was he going on about? What did it matter anyway, your sides were cramping so twistedly that it and your upcoming mailbox were all you could manage to concentrate on.

An infectious laugh cracked over the line, running from one ear through the other as you ran with your phone gripped tight. Looking down at your smudged screen, the caller ID read a simple “Unknown number.” You tried pressing the end call button, only for your screen to remain frozen. The caller screen almost looked like a screenshot, holding your phone captive as none of the buttons managed to work. The on/off button clicked and clicked, not altering the white screen.

“Ahh I can still see you running down there… trying to hang up on me while sprinting is hard, huh? Just make this easier and stop where you are, save me the trouble of having to play this hide and seek game for tonight. I promise if you make me play, I'll win."

You stop for a moment to catch your breath, turning around to see neon red hair in the distance and a black outline, the red diamonds on the clown's suit blending in. He still stood next to the fallen biker, holding something to his ear.

You wheezed out a laugh, throat beginning to close up.

"Oh yeah?... I'm halfway down the road, bitch! Once I get inside it's.. gonna be over for you. I don't, I don't know what the fuck this is-- but you're not gettin away with--with anything!" You held onto your knees, heaving into the phone as your chest burned. The silence on the other line was hardly noticeable as the sound of blood rushing through your ears and your heartbeat drowned everything else out.

"...Don't say I didn't warn you, doll."

The phone without warning went dark, line cutting off as the caller screen went missing.

Through blurry eyes you saw the clown lower his hand that was once at his ear. With a short moment of stillness, he stared at you. That stillness, morphed almost automatically into a full-on run. The pitter patter of squeaky rubber shoes on the gravel was adrenaline-inducing, filling the silence of the dark street besides the heaving of yours and the clown's breath.

"Oh fuck…" you murmured, turning around to begin your sprint once more.

As long as you could reach the house first, open the door with your keys in time, lock the door-- you'd be fine. You didn't have another phone in the house, but you'd be fine-- you'd just, at least be safe. From him.

But speaking of keys, where were yours?

You ran your hands over and over the pockets in your clothes, feeling nothing but the scraps of empty candy wrappers in your pockets. Where the fuck were your keys?!?

Finally, the grace of your front door made its way directly in front of you, your exhausted legs running up the short porch steps. You hadn't given even one second to looking back at your fellow runner, panic of losing your keys and the upcoming door occupying your mind. You jiggled the door handle, banging against the door with your shoulder as you let out a panicked exhale.

You could hear him getting closer, hear the labored breathing and chaotic deep giggling muffled by silicone.

The sound of heavy shrill footsteps stopped-- but beside your rapid heaving, hot breath covered the side of your shoulder. Wet red locks touched your ear, a deep inhale came to grace the top of your matted hair.

Four fingers covered in a frilly, harlequin-patterned glove were thrusted in front of your face, jingling your precious keys in their grip.

"Looking for these?"

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sanguinesky-if · 5 months

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Sanguine Sky

DEMO [Public] [Updated 24/02/2024] genres: romance, modern-fantasy, supernatural, mystery, dark-fantasy.

Sanguine Sky is a work-in-progress modern dark-fantasy interactive novel. The story is heavily focused on romance, characters, and relationships.

The story rated 18+, contains mature and distressing content that may be triggering to certain individuals. It is recommend to check the full list of warnings before you proceed to the story. Please exercise caution and take care of yourself.

Word count [Public]: 47k words [excl. code] Word count [Patreon]: 92k words [excl. code] [Updated 14/04/2024]

You are a detective, tasked with investigating mysterious murders that have taken place in your normally quiet and peaceful hometown, Fallenmor.

With two victims confirmed already, the initial one being your former mentor, Detective Bergmann, the situation couldn't seem more dire. Or so you thought until you received the news of another body, a possible third victim, discovered at the police station. In your very own office.

An accident, a mere coincidence, a straightforward warning, a looming threat, or something entirely else… Whatever is happening, you feel it affecting you, awakening something both significantly familiar and distinctly foreign inside of you.

If only you knew that this was just the beginning… Things could have been different.

But back then, in your ignorance, your singular concern lay with a pressing question: if you failed to find the murderer, who would become the next victim?

➤ Play as male, female, non-binary or trans; straight, gay, or bisexual.

➤ Customize your appearance and shape your personality.

➤ Take on the role of a detective, immerse yourself in the work of the police station.

➤ Embrace the mystery of your existence, or reject that inner sight of you.

➤ Seven romance options to choose from. Select their gender, be shy or bold, or focus on your goal without pursuing anyone.

All ROs are player-sexual and gender-selectable [M/F].

Kyle / Keira Moreno

Your colleague, a police inspector, and one of the rudest people you have ever met. Sharp and stern, K is surprisingly perceptive, and they use it to really see you. The good, the bad. Everything. Appearance: icy blue eyes, dark red hair, very pale skin.

Alexis 'Lex / Lexie' Conlan

Your best friend, and also your former partner from times when you were just a patrol officer. With a heart of gold and an approachable attitude, L always chooses you over the others. Appearance: forest green eyes, copper hair, beige freckled skin.

Morgan Schoivell

Your other colleague, a highly-skilled lab technician. M is rather reserved when it comes to emotions, and after almost a year of working together, M is still a walking mystery for you. Appearance: dark brown eyes, ash blonde hair, light skin.

Roderick / Rebecca Reyes

The commanding agent of the Criminal Investigative Division (CID) team sent to catch the killer. Overbearing and ruthless, R has their own way of getting things done. Appearance: gray eyes, blonde hair, pale skin.

Theodore 'Theo' / Theresa 'Tess' Vazquez

Another member of the CID team. With a cocky smile, T is full of flirts and sneering comments, regardless of the occasion. T has no doubts about what they want and isn't afraid to vocalize it. Appearance: dark green eyes, black curly hair, rich brown skin.

Isaac / Iris Brailsford

I looks the most mature and approachable of CID's fellow agents. Looks can be deceiving, though. Working behind the scene and watching from afar, I carries all the scars within. Appearance: hazel eyes, dark brown hair, olive skin.

Sebastian / Selena Goldstein

Someone new and temporary, S has a velvety voice and a perfect smile that doesn't reach their eyes. You're not sure if your paths will cross in the future, but something tells you S can't be trusted. Appearance: black eyes, long black wavy hair, bronze skin.

Other notable characters:

Your twin-sister: Your sweet, kind, caring, and gentle twin sister. She always tries to be there for you, and show how much she appreciates you, no matter what. Chief of Police, Kendrick Nash: Your boss, who is not handling his job so well after the recent death of his husband, Klemens Bergmann. Detective Klemens Bergmann: Police chief's husband, who happened to be a senior detective and your mentor. He was the first victim, murdered under mysterious circumstances.

A full list of warnings is available in the demo before beginning of the story. I recommend to check it before you proceed to reading. Please take care of yourself.

Thank you for your interest ♥

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #choicescript #dashingdon #choice of games #hosted games #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #if: intro #if: wip #romance #supernatural #dark fantasy #modern fantasy #mystery #cyoa #if intro #if wip #ss about

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 6 months

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Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast: Bahumia):

She's a hot elf with mushrooms growing on her. She has 1 level of barbarian. She's bisexual. She shapeshifted into a dragon and ate a god.

how tf does the post not mention Moonshine’s giant boobs her greatest asset

Moonshine has canonically gone down on a woman for a solid hour without asking for anything in return. Moonshine edged a dryad just by kissing them. Moonshine faced down someone being controlled to kill everyone in his path and told him if he still wanted to hurt her, she would take his blows as a friend. Moonshine makes jambalaya for her family and friends. Moonshine mispronounced someone’s name for a month and that woman still wanted to hook up with Moonshine. These are just a few of the reasons why Moonshine is sexy.

shes illiterate

canonically huffs dirty water from a bong

has big tatas

wears a belly chain with a demon trapped in it

almost became the queen of hell

ate a god

turned into a pregnant moose & gave birth

Amber Gris (The Adventure Zone: Ethersea):

Middle aged woman who punches sharks to death. My hero

If you love me you'll vote for amber gris I swear to everything holy on earth amen

Amber is butch, instant win

Amber Gris has a negative charisma modifier and she pissed her pants on purpose in order to trick a guard and knock him out. She tied up a dude. She once killed an evil magic shark (they're out for murder. not like real sharks) by punching it and then picked it up and smashed it into another shark, also killing it. She talks in a southern accent. She calls people guppy because it indicates a lack of respect. She has a big pair of magical green arms that come from her stomach. She got a fancy jacket and immediately ripped its sleeves off. She has a gay thing going on with one of the political leaders in the city. She gets in fights with people and doesnt do vulnerability and tries to lay low and not get in any social trouble she doesn't have to. She jumped through a portal into a new world because she could. She's now the god of said world, alone with only afformentioned political leader, who was previously possessed and she had to fight. She spends her time in a bar called the Cloaca. She calls people she doesn't like claspers, because it means shark penis. She and her friend, an old man named Uncle Joshy, sneak attack each other and yell VIBE CHECK! She tries to talk fancy to impress people and she's really bad at it (verily).

She’s everything and more. She’s irreverent. She punches sharks for a living. She becomes God. What more do you need in a butch.

amber gris propaganda: she is straightup the physical embodiment of "women want me, fish fear me." also she's an appalachian post apocalyptic sea captain. that's just objectively cool.

Art of Amber from @cookie-nom-nom.

#Round 4 #Moonshine Cybin #Amber Gris #Not Another D&D Podcast #Bahumia #The Adventure Zone #TAZ Ethersea

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driftwood-fireflies · 2 months

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okay we all joke about the stabbing scene being an obvious metaphor for penetration and yes yes it is i know. but really. REALLY. in scream, the knife is a phallic symbol. (to me ! < this is your one and only disclaimer that this post is my opinion lol)

there's so much to dig into when you think of it in those terms - of course all the penetration but also the subtler things. the very intentional way it's stroked clean after every use, the way they handle it so gingerly and softly (see: stu's handoff to billy, billy's gesticulating with it perched precariously between his fingers) until the moment they get to use it for its intended purpose, at which point they become rougher, more animalistic. the way billy sucks the tip of it.

you could even argue that the way the blade is shaped lends itself to the metaphor. it's a buck 120, with a clip blade. now, i wont get into the different specs and purposes of blade shapes, but i will say that the clip blade is meant for hunting - specifically hunting that requires precision in tighter spaces. i dont think i have to explain how the symbolism carries over.

and i mentioned this briefly, but the way billy gestures with the knife is also so apt when you view it from this lens. i thought it was comical at first the way he let it, essentially, dangle in his hand while he waved it, and you can see how unsteadily it bobs and sways in his light grip. up until the point of action, you could almost call it flaccid. well, as flaccid as solid steel gets.

and yes, lets please talk about the penetration actually. this might be my most deranged explanation yet, but i want to attempt to explain WHY the penetration is a sexual innuendo, as opposed to vaguely gesturing at it and telling you to come to your own conclusions - because, to me, it's more layered than "phallic object went inside someone."

its apparent that billy and stu's favorite method of murder is gutting. they specifically note as much in the opening scene, namely that they "want to see what [casey's] insides look like." and how else to better carry over the metaphor? the senses of sight and touch are so inextricably linked to the point that many people can identify what an object looks just by feeling it. all that to say - if your phallic symbol doesnt carry over that sensation of touch, they cant feel through the blade, then your next best option is to express the same mechanics of a sexual encounter through sight. penetrative sex is, of course, the act of feeling someone's insides. in this context, seeing is the same thing, really. in this way, the act not only of penetration but of stabbing and gutting specifically, is tantamount to a sexual encounter.

anyway tl;dr scream is a gay romcom and the knife is a big penis.whatever

#if anyones counting this is my second post analyzing an iconic horror movie weapon and comparing it to a penis !#anything can be a metaphor for dick if you really try hard enough #i believe in us #scream #scream movie #scream 1996 #billy loomis #stu macher #billy x stu #stu x billy #billystu #stuilly

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cats-obsessions · 4 months

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Fellas, is it gay if you look out upon your nearest and dearest, forgotten accomplice's home whose name is sickeningly familiar and this song plays in your head?

Do you think Gortash stood on his balcony, not knowing why but drawn to stare at the abandoned building Durge called camp?

Anyways, the song triggers even if you haven't romanced anyone in your camp, and while of course it is totally up for interpretation, I'm interpreting it as durgetash. I mean, beyond the obvious urge to spill and potentially drink blood:

"I feel your breath upon my neck. A soft caress as cold as death […] Your blood like wine, I wanted in Oh darling, get me drunk and make me feel

Their memory is unclear, but the feeling isn't:

"I feel your heartbeat in my soul. Our futures bound, our bodies know."

What can't be remembered is still held within their body, and another version of that line changes to "our endings bound", which is only true of a few people- Durge can complete the game alone, but their ending is always shaped by their decisions surrounding Enver, the brain, and Bhaal.

Their endings are intertwined, they are each other's only equal, but Gortash's can only end one way (fight me, Larian)

"My only one, There's more to do, if we can only live. The clock won't stop and this is what we get".

Durge being hopeful to live, at least to finish what needs to be done- but some of their old guilt reflected in the prayer of forgiveness could be seen reflected here as well.

"It's not my fault I'm not to blame These ain't my sins I broke my chains"

Whether sins here refer to their sin of admiring the chosen of Bhaal or the sins of murder forced by their father's hand, they very much did and might have continued to break chains since being tadpoled. Paired with 'get me drunk and make me feel', it almost reads more like it isn't their fault they fell for him, he tempted them and gave them all they needed to feel, to be a person for the first time.

Full lyrics below. There's so much more you could pull from it (And yes, I know this will also trigger if you play as Tav, but it has such a unique flavor for Durge)

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I feel your breath upon my neck A soft caress as cold as death (cold as death) I didn't know you well back then I blame it all on luck and vain (luck and vain) Your blood like wine, I wanted in Oh darling, get me drunk and make me feel

It's not my fault I'm not to blame These ain't my sins I broke my chains There's more to do And I still want to live (live)

I feel your breath upon my neck A soft caress as cold as death (cold as death) I feel your heartbeat in my soul Our futures bound, our bodies know (bodies know) Your blood like wine, I wanted in Oh darling get me drunk, invite me in

It's not my fault I'm not to blame Thesе ain't my sins I broke my chains There's morе to do If I can only live (live)

I can't go yet Don't let me die I'll never stop Until I'm done But just tonight Maybe I'll rest in peace

I feel your breath upon my neck A soft caress as cold as death (cold as death) I hear your heartbeat in my soul Our endings bound, our bodies know

I can't go yet Don't let me die I want to live My only one There's more to do, if we can only live The clock won't stop and this is what we get

#I just triggered this song for the first time #I am frothing at the mouth #It is genuinely so #durgetash #and it makes me imagine Durge approaching Wyrm's rock with an anticipation they don't understand #they dont know why theres butterflies in their stomach #or why theyre nervous like they've done something wrong #theyre just vibrating the closer they get because their body knows- their soul remembers #enver gortash #the dark urge #durge #dark urge #goretash #the dark urge x gortash #cats thoughts

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inklore · 9 months

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love lies

premise: the love you have for your fiancé is a farce that you’ve perfected for three years that has gone unnoticed by everyone, except her.

pairing: villanelle x (f)reader

word count: 1.7k

contents: cheating, fingering, choking, sort of knife play, getting off to the talks of blood and murder, dirty talk-ish, they’re both a bit unhinged but that’s ok.

note: this is an au obviously so take v’s character as you will and not as what’s canon ok, but cheers to my gay ass finally writing for her!

haunted hoedown day one.

The fake smile that you know has to be hurting the blonde’s face from being held for the entirety of the night makes something in your stomach curdle.

Makes your nerves sit on edge at the agitation, the secrets, and the lies that the smiles hold. That the owner of it is hiding. She deserves applause for keeping up with the act. The nice neighbor. The befriending of the nice couple who just moved in next door, getting close to the soon to be wife who left all her friends and troubles behind to move to Paris with her fiancé.

A move you agreed to.

A move you imagined would bring you and your fiancé closer. Would change that pit in your stomach that has since become a gaping hole every time you planned for the wedding. Planned to spend your life next to this man you only seemed to love when he was suffering.

When he was vulnerable. Brow pulled down in sadness. A cut done by a kitchen knife while he was cutting vegetables that you pushed down on harder than you needed to while cleaning it. When you accidentally put the wrong salve on it, just to watch him wince and squirm.

That look in his eyes when you were on top of him and you wrapped your fist around his throat to watch that sheen in his eyes question if you were going to let go. The last hitch in his lungs before you cut the air flow off completely.

“I just get really into it, I'm sorry.” You had told him when he asked about it after the first time, and who was he to take away from the pleasure of the woman he loved?

His ignorance was bliss.

But it was also tiring. Creating that gaping hole that the love he poured out to you ran through endlessly where it should have made you whole. Full. Better.

And yet you agreed to wear the ring he saved up to get you. Followed him across the ocean.

Your ignorance was a farce you didn’t know how to get out of. A farce that you’ve perfected for three years. That has gone unnoticed by everyone.

Except the blonde to your left.

The blonde, who had almost lost her touch on pretending to care about whatever was coming out of your fiancé’s mouth the longer the night went on. The longer her eyes caught yours. The longer her knee had pressed into your inner thigh after leaning herself further against the table—giving a look of fake eagerness—the more she pushed her legs between your open ones.

Your look of warning made her fake smile twitch into her real one—devilish, mischievous.

But now both smiles are gone and the two of you are standing in your kitchen, and you’re thankful for the dishtowels in your hands that are keeping them busy with drying because you know her resistance is running thin.

The patience she’s had all night that has threatened to come out in the possible slip of her false accent—the accent you only found to be fake when she cornered you in the entryway of your flat, her lips against yours, your name sounding better in her rigid Russian accent than her fake French one.

Your hands had gone from being in her hair to pushing at her shoulders, removing her from your body not because of the lie but because you needed the excuse to stop this, where every part of your being was sighing in relief from finally giving into the tension. To finally being touched by someone you actually desired.

You may not have loved your fiancé, but starting a torrid affair with your new neighbor didn’t seem like the right way to get out of your current situation—something you eventually learned was the exact opposite.

“I’ll be your dirty little secret, if that’s what you’re into. If it makes this easier for you. We both know he’s not your type.”

And if there was an award for reading someone completely through to their core and being right, Villanelle would win, and you’d be the loser.

“He is a very annoying chewer.” She breaks the silence, “did you know this when you accepted his proposal?” Your silent raised brow is enough for her to put her hands up in defense. “It was just an observation.” She sighs, picking up another dish, “a very annoying observation.”

Your mind scatters to scrounge up something that sets your nerves on edge about Villanelle. To what? Stick up for the man you don’t love? Or to try and prove to her that you actually do have feelings for the man who’s in the next room carrying on with his night happily, thinking he just had a great dinner with his soon to be wife and their hospitable neighbor who’s definitely not fucking his fiancé?

But there’s nothing to prove to the woman who can read right through you.

Who’s gotten off at the palms you’ve both wrapped around each other's throats.

You can’t disguise yourself in front of the queen of them.

It’s a losing game.

A game you’re not interested in playing, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself to.

A game you should play. To resist this woman and the detrimental feelings she brings up. The feelings that fill the void inside of you with the toxic waste of your shared fucked-upness.

Your eyes catch the glint of the knife in Villanelle’s hands. The way her fingers run along the blade to clean it. The tight grip she has on the handle. The confidence she has in knowing she’s not going to slip and cut herself—like she’s held worse in her hands and done worse with it.

The sight—the thought—makes you swallow harder. Makes those dark feelings and thoughts light something deep in your stomach that has you aching. That has your eyes looking up through the doorway towards the room where you know your fiancé is.

“I could do it, you know, quick, painless. He wouldn’t feel a thing.” Her accent is thicker when she’s whispering. When she’s this close, leaning into your side, breathing against the shell of your ear.

Her words make your grip slip, the glass in your hand tumbling into the sink, making you jump; making your thighs press together, your lungs forget how to take in air as you envision the blood that would stain your rugs, that would stain Villanelle’s skin.

“Everything okay in there?”

His voice is like a cold shower to the heat burning through your nerves like wildfire.

“Yes!” Villanelle pipes up in her fake French accent, “just a case of slippery fingers.” Her laugh is short and looks misplaced with the lack of smile on her face. With the fire that’s burning in her eyes when you look up at her, that glint of something you’ve yet to see but know is within her. That you know is within you. That has always been within you if you’d just dived deep enough to face the inevitable instead of letting her touch, kiss, fuck it out of you.

He’s still talking, saying words your ears—and your mind—refuse to register as Villanelle grips your waist and pushes you against the counter.

The knife still in her hand, the tip pressed to your breast bone, more distracting. More worth focusing on. Stealing all your attention and breath, even as she’s replying to him. As she’s keeping up with surade like her eyes aren’t burning through you. Like you can’t see how heavy she’s now breathing. How the sheen in her eyes is the complete opposite of someone who is weak, and it turns you on even more.

“It's worse when I push it through slowly.” Her breath ghosts over your lips as she whispers, as she leans forward, the tip of the knife presses further into your skin, making your breath catch at the sting. “I would do it so he would have already bled out before he knew what had happened to him.” The edges of her mouth rise in a soft smirk, “or would you rather me show you? So you can understand how it feels and do it yourself. You would look so good doing it.” The arousal in her voice that leaks through in the rough kiss she presses to your mouth is just as intoxicating as her words.

You don’t have time to mourn the loss of the blade at your chest when she moves it to press the two of you closer, to grip the sides of your neck to keep your lips on her mouth. To give her easier access to lick and bite into and against your open mouth, willing—needing—all she is giving to you.

When her hand slips up your dress, your thighs spread to give her access to where the both of you need her to be. To the cotton of your underwear and past the elastic band, to that ache that has you wet and warm and throbbing against her palm and fingers.

Her middle finger presses against your clit, your gasp concealed by her lips, your fingers digging into the side of her shirt.

“God, you’re so wet.” Her finger leaves your clit, the heel of her palm flush against it as she pushes a finger inside of you. “Is this all for me or for wanting him dead?” She teases and smirks when you can’t answer because you know you’ll do it too loudly.

When you both know the answer already.

If the two of you were alone, if you weren’t trying to be quiet—to stop the inevitable of your fiancé finding out or worse happening to him—you’d want Villanelle to keep talking. To coax you to your orgasm with her teases and remarks. To drop down to her knees and bury her face between your thighs until you were begging her for more, and then begging her to stop when she gave you too much.

But you’re not alone, and there’s only so many gasps and pants she can swallow down. Can lick out of your mouth with her tongue, thanks to her skillful fingers.

Thanks to the palm around your throat and the thumb pressing against your pulse point.

“One day I will kill him, and you will be mine.”

And as you come with her name breathed into her satisfied smirk, you believe her.

You want her to.

You know she will.

#villanelle x reader #villanelle x you #villanelle smut #killing eve fanfic #villanelle one shot #villanelle fic #villanelle fanfic #killing eve one shot #villanelle imagine #killing eve fanfiction #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #villanelle x y/n #villanelle astankova #hauntedhoedown

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gayelderstourney · 9 months

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OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 1

Propaganda:

Fiddleford McGucket/Stanford Pines:

lab "partners" who broke the laws of physics and nature together but it went horribly wrong and one of them got stranded in alternate dimensions and the other wiped his memory so hard he went mad. 30 years later and they were finally able to reunite during the apocalypse. even though both had changed so much they wanted to forgive each other and move forwards

if fiddauthor isn't real then why is there only one bed in the bunker. if fiddauthor isn't real then why did they go stargazing and talk about wanting to start a family. if fiddauthor isn't real then why "my partner" and "my fiddleford". if fiddauthor isn't real then why does fiddleford subconsciously hang out around the shack decades after he stopped living there. if fiddauthor isn't real then why does ford have dreams about him every night. if fiddauthor isn't real then why did fiddleford leave his son and his failing/failed marriage to go live alone in an isolated cottage in the woods with his best friend from college. if fiddauthor isn't real then why is ford's ideal world one where he gets to work with fiddleford for the rest of time. if fiddauthor isn't real then why "life would be a nightmare without them" and "it's the most meaningful thing in the world". if fiddauthor isn't real then why did alex hirsch change that one scene in the book to sound less gay. if fiddauthor isn't real then why did fiddleford make his laptop password ford's name. if fiddauthor isn't real then why did they hold hands while hugging. if fiddauthor isn't real then why "i could have sworn that as he joyfully played, i could see the age lift off his face, and see the fiddleford who had been my friend so many years ago". IF FIDDAUTHOR ISN'T REAL THEN WHY DID FORD'S MORE HONEST RETELLING OF THE PORTAL SCENE FEATURE HIM GENTLY CRADLING FIDDLEFORD IN HIS ARMS

Xehanort/Eraqus:

they had a divorce scene where xehanort blasted eraqus in the face with no remorse which permanently left a scar and in the novels when he sees xehanort again (who is literally lying and manipulating him in the given scene) eraqus like. tenderly and lovingly smiles and touches his scar like WHAT

First of all. Eraqus is going gray but doesn’t look insanely old but as proof of age I’d like to say that he’s very close to Xehanort in age in Dark Road, the prequel in which they are teenagers, and Xehanort in the main time frame is extremely visibly old and was included in Retirement Home Rumble so Eraqus probably just aged extremely well. They’re trauma bonded through all their friends getting brutally murdered back when they were teens and the two of them were the only survivors (Dark Road was MESSED UP). I’m not sure if they entirely qualify only because they’re like the super divorced elder gays here but they’re definitely old men and definitely yaoi (noncanon but their end in KH3 was so so gay) so I’m submitting them anyway. Anyways the plot of Birth By Sleep was a weird divorce struggle between these two estranged lovers in which Xehanort manipulates Eraqus’ kids in a weird darkness plot because he went evil mode without his husband around to stop him. They have a decent amount of material being gay as their younger selves but that’s not what’s important here WHAT’S IMPORTANT HERE IS THE END OF KH3 when Xehanort’s evil plans were almost finished and then Eraqus appeared out of his basically-son Terra’s hair as a ghost. And talked it out like some kind of mid-battle relationship counseling. Then they put their arms around each other and Xehanort accepted defeat/death/whatever and they just??? faded into sparkles??? smiling at each other??? after like 11 games of buildup to this final battle??? They’re so Divorced Old Men Yaoi your honor

I hate these bitches but nobody does old man yaoi divorce like them. Inseparable "pals" until the tragedy happened, eventually sending them on two separate paths. Eraqus worried that xehanort would fall to darkness, refusing to see that he already had. Xehanort pushed all his feelings away, trying to see eraqus only as a tool for his goals. Xehanort literally stabbed eraqus in the back, killing him. Eraqus forgives him.

in birth by sleep eraqus is voiced by mark hamill and xehanort is voiced by leonard nimoy so in a way their friendship turned enemyship turned always still cared abt each other represents the love/hate relationship between star wars and star trek fans

they’ve been best friends since they were young, Eraqus just pointedly ignores how blatantly evil and DarkTM Xehanort is and then Xehanort murders Eraqus, then later they just casually move on to the afterlife together??? listen I want to shred Xehanort apart with my teeth but these old men are so incredibly gay for each other it’s insane so I HAVE to submit them

#polls #round 1 #tournament poll #gay elders tourney #gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #fiddauthor #kingdom hearts #xehanort #eraqus #xehaqus

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warriorcatsofficialfacts · 11 days

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Can you share more about the ableism in warrior cats? I always hear it talked about but I haven't read it since I was a kid so I don't remember.

this is a complicated thing to discuss bc on some level the ableism in warrior cats has its roots in the sheer amount of value this cat society places on physical strength but here are the like. basic bullet points i guess

1. use of ableist slurs

the terms "cripple" and "lame" are used in the books, both of which are insults to the physically disabled, cripple being considered an active slur most physically disabled people agree ablebodied people shouldn't even say. i Have had one person defend this by pointing out that the characters who use the term cripple are using it As a slur: it's meant to be a depiction of jayfeather as a protagonist experiencing ableism

i countered this with pointing out that mentally disabled people do not have to worry about opening up a warrior cats book and having to read the pov character be called the r slur, nor do gay people have to worry about opening up a warrior cats book and having to see the pov be called a faggot or a queer. The issue is not the use of ableist slur itself, but instead the fact that it is the Only instance of a character being called an irl slur or curse word. i should not have to explain why it's not appropriate for books to contain slurs when they're not even allowed to say Fuck. if these were books where real life bigotry and bigoted terminology were used frequently and not only for physical disabilities, i would see no issue with jaypaw being called a cripple by two ableist jackasses

however even with that out of the way there's still the fact that disabled characters are referred to as Lame more than once, not by an ableist character, but by the Narration. that's not a character being a bigot, that's the Books being bigoted

2. disability as a plot device to serve abled characters

the most obvious instance of this is snowkit (who i often call a "walking hate crime" for this exact reason), but it's fairly consistent that disabled characters almost never solely exist for their own sake, but always to say something about the abled people around them or have an impact on those people

snowkit dies to traumatize his mother, his deafness being directly related to his death. jagged peak is made a paraplegic to demonstrate clear sky's cruelty to even his own family. briarlights paralysis is routinely shown through the lens of other people debating or discussing her worth and impact on her. cinderpelt loses movement in her leg both to emotionally impact fireheart and to be yet another person who's life has been impacted by tigerclaw. brightheart is permanently disfigured so that bluestars cruelty towards her can act as yet another step in her progression to madness, and so that firestars renaming of her can establish him as a more benevolent leader (sort of patching up his predecessors wrongdoings).

there are a few exceptions, crookedstar in particular is pretty good.

3. arc one exclusive: disability or disfigurement as a sign of menace

i generally say arc one is the best on ableism simply because it treats disability as a Fact that Will inevitably happen to all warriors (this is why basically Every elder is disabled). but there is one thing that. I think people forget? A Little?

Outside of elders, there are a decent number of arc one cats who are described as being disfigured or disabled outside of thunderclan

if i'm remembering correctly, these are crookedstar, brokenstar, deadfoot, and clawface. only two of these cats (crooked and dead) are intended to actually be Disabled (even though brokenstar has a SCI if you know how cat spines work), but all of them are meant to be visually disfigured, with brokenstar having an obviously deformed tail, and clawface having distinctive facial scarring

it's probably pretty easy to figure out why i'm bringing up broken and claw, since. they're both murderers. but here's something that's easy to miss:

crookedstar is rather consistently antagonistic in arc one and deadfoot is explicitly considered to be intimidating by fireheart. deadfoot is the least egregious, he is a deputy afterall so it makes sense fireheart is menaced by his presence, but crookedstar is very much like. he openly declares he intends to take over windclans old territory along with shadowclan. people tend to forget but riverclan is Mean in arc one, Crookedstar Included.

that's 4/4 of the non elderly disfigured characters in arc one who are meant to be somehow intimidating at best, and menacing, antagonistic, and evil at worst. not great numbers. btw the reason i'm not counting cinder and bright here is because those are previously abled characters who then Become disfigured and disabled, meanwhile these four are introduced as disfigured and/or disabled, which is a bit different from a meta perspective.

4. outside of arc one, a universal perspective that disabled characters cannot be warriors

now, this isn't really a Thing in arc one. there's only One character who is explicitly made to stop being a warrior because she's disabled, and even then it's not that she Couldn't be a warrior: her broken bone healed wrong and warrior duties would be constantly painful for her.

however after arc one there are very few New disabled characters at all, and all of them are medicine cats or elders. longtail is blinded and almost immediately retires (even though that doesn't seem super in character for him), jayfeather tries his best to be a warrior despite the complete and total uselessness of everyone around him but is eventually forced into medicine cat duties by god anyway, briarlight is genuinely just a medicine cat in all but name, and if you count shadowsight (which. honestly i don't think you should) he's also a medicine cat

i just. feel the need to point out that arc one specifically had brightheart get taught how to be a warrior by her abled boyfriend but somehow none of these cats could accommodate Themselves. I guess accommodations only exist if you're Half blind or have an abled boyfriend to save you from your own body

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homunculus-argument · 9 months

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Random worldbuilding from The Unfinished Book:

While there is no unified, clearly defined LGBT community, the people who would by our definition fall under that umbrella are heavily associated with religion. While the general cultural assumption is that everyone is at least a little bit bisexual - the idea that almost everyone hypothetically could encounter a woman so handsome or a man so beautiful that they'd go gay for them is aknowledged well enough to be a common theme in poetry and literature - being queer is more or less considered a way in which various gods "earmark" their own.

This is considered a matter beyond obvious - there are whole creation myths of how the gods who created the world grew annoyed about how all the humans they made were too busy having and raising their own children to properly focus on worshipping their gods or caring for society at large, so the gods saw fit to create people who would rather love their own sex, or not desire marriage or children at all, to ensure there are some whose hands and minds are free to focus more on the gods.

The Empire tolerates any and every religious practice that doesn't threaten the state, break other laws or cause public disturbance, so while there are some major gods whose temples are in almost every city, the pantheon of gods whose existence is aknowledged is essentially infinite. The churches, temple organisations and schools of various major gods, goddesses and ambiguous divine entities and their devoted priests and servants aren't simply there, but play a part in society and politics, as bankers, historians, librarians, curators, doctors and educators. Some run orphanages.

One big, major player in the field is the order of the Moon Goddess. They don't literally worship the moon, the moon is simply the symbol of the Goddess, whose realm is the perfect logic and structure of the universe, which cannot be touched or even properly comprehended by the fallible and imperfect human mind. Their philosophy is that there is no such thing as a question without an answer or a thing without purpose, and anything that appears so is simply beyond human grasp. While there are Moon Priestesses who aren't trans women, they are few and far between, and still less rare than trans women who aren't priestesses.

This is considered an example of how clear and logical the Moon Goddess is - the dysphoria of AMAB people is culturally regarded as them feeling a calling, a call that cannot be mistaken for anything else, a puzzle with one logical answer that they must personally find and embrace, which cannot be disputed by any mortal force, and can only be denied and repressed for so long by the Chosen Subject before they accept it. Becoming a Moon Priestess isn't an "I don't know what to do with my life so I might as well do this" choice in life, it was a choice that was made for you before you were born.

In the book, the protagonist encounters a trans man on his journey and they travel together for a while. After discovering the nature of how Terrel is, the protagonist isn't baffled by the idea that trans men exist at all - mainly he is unfathomably relieved that this small and boyish youth who drinks, gambles, fights, fucks and commits murder like a grown man is actually older than himself and not, like, thirteen - but astonished that Terrel isn't religious, and doesn't consider himself "chosen" by any god. He just is, and as far as he's concerned, the gods have nothing to do with it.

Also it suddenly makes a lot more sense that his name translates to "son of a hyena bitch", something that no woman would name her own child. He named himself, and his mother is a huge bitch.

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skaiplana · 2 months

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Read Harrow the Ninth. Went insaner. Read As Yet Unsent. Shitpost and thoughts:

- God's name is John. He makes dad jokes.

- I am glad this is a universe where God can be: a) killed b) fucked. We have empirical evidence

- on that note, let's do dios apate minor three but make it a foursome with me baby. Let me get that ancient pussy and/or dick

- rip Mercymorn that woman served cunt was a cunt and talked!! In an amazing! Way!! Do you think she would fix my scoliosis?

- rip Augustine he was a cunt too. Trying to send god to hell is iconic. Of course Ianthe would kill him.

- Mercy and Augustine... they hated each other. They worked together to kill god. They had a suicide pact. They wanted to be burried next to each other. They died only a few minutes apart.

- Ianthe that gay little pathetic snake.

- CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN THE 'GALL ON GALL' JOKE I DONT GET IT

- GIDEON (2) IS BACK!!! NOW WITH MORE FUCKED UP PARENTAL ISSUES!!!

- is Gideon (2) biologically Mercy's or Wake's kid? I thought she was Wake's because everything Mercy made died but I've seen some people say otherwise

- so like. Wake is evil virgin Mary. Gideon (2) is space lesbian Jesus.

- Gideon (1) is OUT, Pyrra is IN! What that entails I do not know but she seems cooler than him

- how do you get in affair with a commander of your enemy. How do you not use a condom or like kill your sperm. Why were you afraid it's your kid Gideon (Pyrra?).

- when John asked if Harrow and Ianthe are using protection what did he mean. Is he implying that there is a possibility of pregnancy? Is he concerned about infections and stds? They could just cure those? Is he saying that there are like dental dams somewhere on mithraeum

- Harrow. What can I say? She did a diy lobotomy. She's haunted. Every woman wants her. She's in love with a dead body. She made a soup out of her own bone and tried to murder someone with it. I want to hug her

- yk I'm starting to think that the Emperor Undying is a wretched liar a dick and a colonizer. Just a hunch.

- now I don't believe anything he's ever said and I'm thinking that Harrow probably did open the tomb

- Camilla is alive and well!!! Sex Pal is almost alive an fairly well!! Can we get him out of the bones

- Coronabeth is realizing how fucked up the nine houses are! Deuteros is not!

- Abigail!!! Magnus!!! I'm glad I got to see more of them. Abigail is actually so cool I want them to adopt me

- the actual Dulcinea! She's so cool too

- the alive Protesilaus being a poet udhdhehhehe and Ortus having internal beef with him

- Ortus is an interesting person now! Also the way everyone likes his poetry except for Harrow is peak comedy

- they actually summoned Nonius. Then he killed ghost Wake. Then they made a dnd party and went to to fight the Resurrection Beast and they WON I guess. These series is a comedy

- I actually understood everything most of the time except for some obscure words (please explain gall on gall tho)

#the locked tomb #locked tomb #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth

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i-magines · 1 year

Text

Wildest Dreams: Chapter 3

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, fem!reader, eventual drinking and drugs, a little smut but nothing crazy (yet), a bit slow burn but not really.

word count: 1,509

Over the first month, your friendship with Pedro only grew stronger. You were afraid once the production set was moved to the country, he was going to just disappear, as you were no longer roommates. You’d be lying to yourself if you said he didn’t make you feel anything, especially with how charming and flirting he was. You both had shared a lot of personal stuff over smoking joints and you were already used to hanging out together after a day of filming. But today things were going to be different, because the producers had organized a little happy hour for the crew.

Speaking of them, you had asked Pedro to keep your friendship on the low, at least during the job. You knew what everyone would say and think, mostly about you alone, so you were looking after yourself. He understood that and apparently didn’t care to be sneaking out like a teenager to spend some time with you.

“There you are”, Pedro happily greeted you on the corner of the happy hour room, about two hours into the event. “I almost didn’t get the chance to see you today. How’s everything going?”

At this point, you were certain the director hated you, but thank God he was the only one. Everyone else seemed to really like you and your work, which helped a lot with your anxiety.

“He spent the day trying to drive me crazy… Again”, you told Pedro. “You?”

“I would definitely rather be directed by you, if I’m being honest” he said in sympathy. “But yeah, it won’t take long for me to tell him to fuck off. Super nicely, of course.”

You both laughed. You could see he had been drinking and so did everybody in the room. Somebody turned up the music and Pedro dragged you to the improvised dance floor. You danced for about half an hour, until you saw him going to talk to Donna, one of the producers. They seemed friendly— too friendly, if somebody asked your opinion. You noticed it before, how close they acted sometimes, but at the end of the day, it was none of your business. Flo, the make-up artist that got you the job, got your attention and you walked to her.

“What’s up with that face?” She shot you the question. Flo was in her mid 40s and you got to know her in your first gig, since then she was always trying to connect you with people. You really liked her and, most importantly, trusted her. “You looked like you were about to commit murder on the dance floor. I know Dave is giving you a hard time, but honestly he is doing this to every single soul.”

“I was just wondering, is Donna taken?”, you asked as if you had no intention behind it.

“Yeah, I think so”, she told you. “Why? You gay too?”

“Someti— wait, what?” You stared at each other for a few seconds. “Is she?”

“As far as I know”, she said simply. “And by that I mean I’ve known her for about 10 years now. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, you didn’t. I mean, good for her, right.”

You decided you need to put your shit together now on. You excused yourself and went to get another drink — you can be a new woman tomorrow. You took some shots and got a drink to hold while you watched everyone dancing and having a good time. You tried to force yourself to stop thinking about your crush on Pedro.

“I need professional help”, you whispered to yourself.

“And why is that?”

“Shit, Pedro!” You jumped, realizing he was right by your side. “You scared the shit out of me, you shithead.”

“Wow, language, sweetheart”, he laughed at your reaction, putting his arm over your shoulder. “What are you up to?”

“Not much, just enjoying the free drinks”, you replied, also enjoying the proximity of his body. “I can see you’re enjoying them yourself.”

“Nah, I’m thinking about getting out of here, people are starting to get too drunk and God forbid I witness anything I can’t unsee”, he was being playful and seemed happy when he got a smile out of you. “Care to join me? Or you already have plans for tonight?”

“Yeah, you know me, Miss Popularity herself”, you both laughed. “Seriously, though. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Is it okay if we leave together? Considering your privacy policy”, he whispered in your ear. Only if he knew how weak that makes you. You just nodded. “After you, mi princesa.”

Fuck you, Pedro Pascal, you thought as you made the effort to move your shaking legs. Two options: first, he had no idea of his effects on you, or second, he did know that and he just liked to torture you. However it is, you were not willing to make a move to figure it out.

The location of the shooting was a huge farm, so you walked together through the open field, towards his cabin. You got inside and took your shoes off.

“Hey, mister ‘I’m just a common worker as everybody else’, tell me again why exactly you are the only one with a private hot tube”, you teased him. He laughed. “Is it because you’re such good friends with Donna?”.

“So that’s what it was about back in the happy hour?” Pedro looked deeply into your eyes. “Such a jealous little girl, uh?”

You looked away, embarrassed. You can’t deny your brain formulated that sentence, but the alcohol spilled it out your mouth.

“Answering your question, I’m not really friends with Donna, but her partner is one of my closest colleagues in the industry”, he said in a patient tone. “And you’re welcome to use the hot tube whenever you feel like it.”

You could feel your cheeks burning. Fuck.

“I didn’t mean to— to be honest, I don’t even know what I meant, so don’t mind drunk Y/N”, you breathed out strongly.

“Why don’t we forget about it and instead go chill in the hot tube?” He offered you a smile. Pedro was so easy to deal with, always trying to make you comfortable. “I have more of that nice whisky you like.”

You quickly put on your bikini in your room and head back to Pedro’s cabin. You could hear the happy hour turning into a party on the back, as you joined him inside the tub. You did your best to not stare at his toned, tanned body. He was smoking a cigar and handed you a glass.

“You know what’s funny”, he started, you already knew you wouldn’t find it funny at all. “This is the second time I see you in a tub.”

“Well, fuck you very much sir”, you held a serious face before letting a smile scape. “That was traumatic.”

“Why is that? I would say you made quite an impression”, he laughed, something different sparkling in his eyes. “Would it bother you if I said I still think about it?”

You felt your body hot, as if the water was on boiling point.

“God”, you whispered. He never took his eyes off yours. “I don’t know what to say, Pedro.”

“It’s a simple question, sweetheart”, he replied, coming a little closer. You got chills all over your body. “Honestly, I don’t know if you only see me as this friendly, older, disgusting man—”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” you cut him before he could finish. “Feel free to think about whatever you like.”

“Good”, he said quietly, his body even closer, but still not touching yours. “Tell me what you were doing on the tub that day, sweetheart.”

“I-I was, uh,” you felt like you were about to explode, your brain trying to process if this was really happening. “I was touching myself.”

“Finally, princesa”, he let out a deep breath against your neck. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to hear you say this, to be sure my memory wasn’t fucking with me.”

He touched your waist with his hand, putting the cigar away with the other one. You felt delirious.

“What are you going to do now that you know?” The question popped out of your mouth.

He grabbed your arm to move your body, making you sit on his lap. Face to face. He was hard as fuck.

“I will take you back to your cabin, give you a goodnight kiss…” He made a pause. His stare was deep down your soul. “Come back to mine and think ‘bout you while I mind my own business.”

He was dead serious.

“I’m too horny to go to sleep”, you cried to him, all your blood concentrated between your legs. You moved on his lap, rubbing against his cook.

“Trust me”, he said as his hands firmly held your hips down, making you stop and yet feel him ever harder. “I feel the same way.”

He gave you a little forehead kiss.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

CHAPTER 4 AVALIABLE NOW

TAGLIST: @kyuupidwrites @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @vivibabiez @ivyohmy @sebastianstansimp @tubble-wubble @28cnn @3zae-zae3 @technicallysassyfox @bellatrixyoass @mandolover86 (edit: i’m not sure why i wasn’t able to tag everybody i’m trying my best here)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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