#wil fry

[cinemaquiles]

Um dos piores de 2023: A Maldição do Queen Mary (Haunting of the Queen Mary)

#Haunting of the Queen Mary #Gary Shore #lenny rush #Alice Eve #Nell Hudson #Joel Fry #wil coban #Dorian Lough #Luca Barbarossa #Angus Wright #Tim Downie #Jim Piddock #horror movies #queen mary #Youtube

[iconic--trash]

I was so not expecting to get anything for the pokedex but this is really cool actually lol

#wil talks #pokemon #pokemon violet #some of those guys were really difficult to get too lol #my fav was goldhengo or however its spelled- i named mine French Fry

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ SPARKSTONE

tw. blood kink, noncon, pain play, lashing/whipping, toji’s foul n mean, degradation, prostitution, daddy kink, kinda size kink as always w me heheghe wordcount. 4.6k

a/n. thank you a million to the loveliest friends who always keep me goin when i'm having a hard timEEE rhi, wil and dymmiEE thanK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR betaing ily so much ♡ i hope i did the big man justice he is so yucky n i love it,, also extra shOutout n love dym bc she gave me the vision i saw i came i had to have it so !! iLY ILY ILY

fushiguro toji x fem!reader

If you know one thing from your years hiding in the shadows of the more powerful, it’s that danger has a taste. It sticks to your skin, longing for an opening. And tightens around your organs as you swallow it down, setting your hairs on end. Instinctually, humans know danger when they sense it, and by that same measure, they’re usually smart enough to hide before they get found. You might be simple prey in the eyes of the strong, but you hate the feeling deeply, and avoid it where you can.

You’re always aware of eyes that trail you, and you can smell it in the air.

The burgundy walls and nice chandelier bloom like a flower when it gets dark out. It fits the business. Like moths to a flame, that warmth lures men with a promise of a warm body and expert secrecy, and usually that’s plenty. Luckily for you, most of them leave before their wives start to wonder, which means you don’t have to deal with the drunk and impatient by the time you come in for a shift by early morning. Your days are easy, if you pretend you don’t know what types of people stumble home from their rooms in the seedier back of the building. Smelling of booze and body fluids and most of all, sex. That’s how it is.

Sorcerers are people too, by your cousin’s words. He’s not wrong. By the types of people that come in and out of the doors day and night, he made a smart investment starting this place a few years ago, and you’re grateful to get to work here. There’s no place for small-fry cursed energy users out in the daylight— and you’re not exactly dying to lay your life down for others in the first place. It’s this, or even less savory jobs for those people like you, who see things that others don’t. You’re more than happy with a simple life sitting behind the front desk, and going home to crash before the grosser individuals have a chance to harass you.

Which is why your skin itches a bit when the soft cling of the bell sounds so late it’s early. You’ve barely had enough time to open the doors. For not the first time, there’s a soft buzz of a warning sign that greets you as you sigh. Isn’t 5 in the morning a little early for even the more degenerate types? You get up to hang your jacket in the back room as you hear heavy steps make it into the foyer, and swallow. The slight pulling of cold under your skin has your lips pressed tight, swallowing. They don’t ring the bell, don’t yell or break things, don’t even talk. But they also don’t turn to leave.

So you smooth your hands down your pants, and eventually walk back to your spot behind the counter. It’s still dark out, still has the uncomfortable pressure that lingers as you cast a quick glance around the room.

And all you see is eyes that pull a cold shiver up your spine so quick it freezes you in place. The dark figure is splayed out with his arms over one of the couches, but those sharp eyes don’t move an inch from you when you meet them. Narrowed in their cold, metal blue darkness, and all-consuming. The man is not young, not old - but definitely older than you, scarred and quiet, and you can’t help it- when that foul, dangerous taste wells up in your mouth in the form of saliva.

After only a few seconds, you grab the phone and ring a number one, taking it off the horn for your own safety. It rings as the man gets up with a sigh and walks towards you, only leaving the space of the desk between you two. There's a soft mumble on the other side of the call, but because the horn is pressed to your desk, you can’t make out exactly what’s said before the customer - you assume he’s a customer, judging by the foul sort of stench of death that follows him around - clears his voice.

Only a sorcerer can have that sort of smell, and no sorcerer would enter here if not out for one thing. You don’t normally do intake, you realize as your hand trembles just slightly. You leave the horn of the phone for a pen instead, and try to rid your throat of the thick block that pushes on your windpipe. “Welcome. How can I help you?”

The man’s hair is messy, lazy, much like his clothing is; and he takes a moment to look around before his eyes flick to the stack of notes before you, the phone, and then you again. “Ah, uhm. Are there rooms open this late? Or early, I guess.” He ends up saying, a bored sort of lilt to his deep voice. You can’t even meet his eyes, but you can feel the painfully intense stare that doesn’t move from you again as you put on your best smile.

“There- should be, yes. Hmm, let’s see. Do you have a preferred girl you’d like to see here today?” Your hand only stops shaking when you press the tip of the pen to paper, if only to give your hand something to do as you quickly flick between the pages of the book.

“Not really.” He runs his hand under his nose, before leaning both forearms onto the desk and invading your space too much. You barely resist the urge to jerk back entirely, and feel the heat travel between you two. See, you were never able to fight curses. But you did always have a good nose, and his presence is like maggots crawling around under your skin. It’s unbearable. Your lids flutter as you stop flicking, and just focus on not throwing up entirely. Every part of him stinks of rot, oozing danger enough to suffocate you.

You simply pick one of the names at random, and start digging through the shelf for the correct key as fast as you can. Your heart hammers in your chest like that of a hummingbird, and is almost loud enough to keep you from hearing him when he speaks again. You can’t quite bear to meet his gaze, but one look up at his mouth reveals a tiny sort of curl to his lips that’s just as upsetting as the stench that swirls around the room. Everything feels wrong, and you want to stop yourself from hurling your guts out over the table. The man taps his finger on the counter a few times. “Are you new?”

Your head shakes faster than you can think about the answer. It wouldn’t be of any use lying anyway. For some reason, you feel like he’d be able to see right through you. When you finally find the right key, you feel like a weight lifts from your chest, and you slide it across the stone towards him. “I always work the morning shift, I don’t do nights.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t need to say anything else. Only when you slide the paper form across the table too,  do you notice the call has disconnected - you’re not sure for how long - and you manage to force your eyes up to face him for just long enough not to seem impolite. But your blood still feels uncomfortable and itchy, even when he slowly picks up the pen and starts writing his name down at the top of the form. After a few seconds, he clicks the pen to his chin, and looks down at you with a coy smile as he straightens up. “Actually, what about you? You’re a skittish, little thing, and I have a bit of a hunger for something light and fresh today— I had the longest night ever.”

His scar pulls when the smile gets a bit more predatory, and you feel pinned in place like an insect under a magnifying glass when he aims the pen at you. “Looks like you’re a good listener, sweet girl.”

“I- I-” you start, stepping back until your back hits the wall and even then, there’s not nearly enough space between you and him, “I just work as a receptionist. I don’t do-” You might puke after all. Those eyes only seem to get wider when your bottom lip wobbles, and you feel the sick sense of glee he gets rather than see it. You don’t think -no, you know- you couldn’t take him in a fight, but still your fists ball up tight.

The lift dings though, to your relief, and a familiar face rushes out to give you an up and down. Your cousin’s got a bed head, deep grooves under his eyes as he jogs up beside you. “What the hell, you’re fine! When you didn’t respond on the phone I thought something might’ve happened to you.” You can’t say anything back, but you’re so glad to see him your mouth drops open and a little whimper comes out of your throat despite yourself. The young man frowns, before glancing to his side and - pauses. You can’t exactly place the expression he gets, but he must feel what you’re still feeling laced in the air, because he blinks a few times before taking a step back. “What’s this?”

“I was just telling him I’m- o-only a front desk worker,” you start, shuffling uncomfortably when those steely eyes find your body, giving you an awfully unsubtle once over. Pig. He doesn’t even bother to hide the way he’s undressing you with his eyes. Your cousin thankfully hums in agreement, and crosses his arms over his chest. “So-”

The brazen noiret doesn’t hesitate to nod though. And the confident tone from earlier doesn’t waver a bit. It’s like he’s barely inconvenienced by your statement at all. Like you’re playing hard to get. You’re not. "That's fine by me. But I’m going to be the exception.” Under his sloppy clothing, there’s no doubt he’s fit. He’s tall, and obviously wired with thick muscle that makes his shirt cling to his biceps, even more when he crosses over the furniture to reach a hand out to you, and make your shivers so much worse. “Come, little deer. I’m gonna have some fun with you.”

Your cousin places a hand on the other man’s shoulder though. “She’s not that kind of employee, sir. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, or else-”

“Or else what?” You swear you can feel a pin drop when his eyes finally move away from you, now at the other man. Your heart still beats wildly. “How about this, huh. You let me play with your little friend here, and I’ll decide not to kill you, her and then everyone in here for making my long night even longer.” He doesn’t even have to straighten up for you to feel like he means it. Even without flashing a weapon, or pulling out some fancy cursed technique, do you feel the increase in thick waves of tension; drowning you in that same, rotting stench of incoming disaster. You can’t ignore it, can’t do anything but gasp shallow, little breaths when he does round on your family, squaring up to him.

Though they’re both about as tall, the stranger’s built like a brick wall. He must know that, because he laughs. “I’ll be very nice to her, don’t worry.” His eyes tell everyone daring to take a peek that he doesn’t mean it, but at least you don’t flinch when he looks at you this time. Ah, that’s right. You really do hate sorcerers. The black haired man walks past to come grab your arm, and tosses the key you provided him earlier high into the air before catching it. It instantly is too tight, and hurts. You plant your heels into the floor, hang back with your whole body. You want to scream. Your other hand claws at his strong palm -wrung like a vice around your wrist- and you start to whimper.

“N-wait, let me go. I don’t work here like that, I- leave me alone, let me go!” You get pulled along anyway, like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum; he yanks you with barely any effort and sends you stumbling behind him. “No, I don’t want- aniki! Aniki, tell him- I’m not- I’m not for sale.” Hair whips around as you try to plead with the man left standing in the lobby, but though he looks guilt-stricken and apologetic, he doesn’t move from his spot. You don’t have a say in the way the man dressed in all black drags you behind, even when you try to make yourself dead weight and stop him. “No, no, no, wait, please! Kou aniki! Kou~ help me!”

You get it.

“Let me go! Let me go, pl-please! Hck.” Your voice breaks when wetness spills down to your hot cheeks. Really, you do get it. But the lamb still spooks when presented with the gun, even if it doesn’t run.

You’re sat on the edge of the bed as tears run down your cheeks and drip off your nose.

You can’t imagine it makes for a very appealing sight, but whether it’s indifference or sexual gratification, it’s clear your grief doesn’t matter to him. Toji, he said his name is, but you only know that ‘so you can cry it later’. It makes you sick - the sight of him makes you want to dig your nails into your own palms until you bleed. This is how it is for the weak everywhere, right? Sit and wait to die. As the cold embraces your body again, you sniffle, but wipe the tears away. You’re not a fan of waiting.

If he’s going to do it, better do it quick. Before you decide to start biting anyway. The dim lighting of the reddish room doesn’t do anything to warm the mood except make you even more aware of him as he kicks off sandals, slowly, demanding attention. He stares you down like a predator keeps an eye on his prey. The scent is still suffocating, but there’s a more alarming feeling blanketing your senses now. You’re scared. There’s nothing you can do about it, it’s in the goosebumps on your skin as he walks closer, and you scoot back onto the soft mattress to avert your eyes to yourself.

You’d rather go out kicking and screaming- but with your fear ran so high, you settle for the second best thing. “So, you’re not going to kill everyone, but just me, huh?” He’s taking off his belt as you ball your hands in the fabric, and force yourself to watch him under heavy lashes, with as much hatred as you can. “You like that? Scaring girls half your size?” You’re not sure either why you’re running your mouth. It must be the high of incoming death. “Does that make you feel powerful?” He doesn’t even pause, and pulls his shirt over his head to drop it aside too, then licks his lips.

After a slight moment of silence, he just shrugs. “Yeah. It does.” You scramble back until you reach the head of the bed, and pull your knees to your body. And the man crawls closer anyway, reaching to grab one of your ankles and drag you back. You don’t know why you’re struggling. It’d be easier if you laid down and died. As if reading your mind, he chuckles as he yanks you down until you’re spread out on your back, and pins you in place beneath his heavy body. “Don’t be so frightened. I’m not actually going to kill you.” He pushes over you, and makes sure you’re nose to nose when he talks next, basically drooling as you try to escape from him. “Just going to hurt you pretty bad. Don’t you like that?”

You struggle against him, but it’s not enough. He ties your hands to the bed painfully tight, letting the frayed edge of the rope burn into your skin each time you move- and proceeds to cut your clothes off with the knife that was hidden in his waistband. The torturous pace at which he does everything is almost worse, setting your entire body on end with anticipation. You thrash against him as he places a thigh either side of your body, and grabs your face in a large, rough hand. Once again you feel reminded that you’re really nothing in the face of someone more powerful. It’s frustrating. It’s annoying, and hurtful, and a migraine starts gnawing at your head as you glare up at him. And he almost pouts at you in mockery. “It’s cute that you’re trying so hard. You can cry, you know?” He leans in to lick along the shell of your ear down to your neck. “It’s going to happen sooner or later anyway. Why deny yourself?”

The hot touch of his tongue sears into your skin like it’s poison. You try to pull your wrists loose again, to no avail. The skin just feels achy and burning. “That’s really what you want to do, right? Cry for mommy and daddy to save you?” When he pushes back up to your mouth, laying his filthy lips on you again, you’re quicker than you think - and actually manage to bite him. It’s not enough to cause much damage before he jerks back, clenching one hand over your mouth to shut you up. But he runs a thumb along his bottom lip, and slowly starts grinning. Blood glitters on that finger before he licks it away, and raises his dark eyebrows at you. “Aren’t you brave…”

Before you have time to prepare yourself, that heavy palm meets your cheek, stinging it all over and rushing blood to the surface — it’s hard enough to pull real tears out of you, and your nose to start running as you bury your face into your arm. The sting spreads under the surface like fire. The low chuckle he lets out is mean and predatory, definitely when he takes that as an opening to start groping you through your bra, and soon that’s shoved up too to let him pet all over you. “Good. I don’t have to feel bad about all this, then.”

“Mh- hck-,” you whimper, trying to ignore the painful tugs he gives your nipples, pinching you. It still sends heat to your belly, and somehow that’s the most embarrassing thing of all. You hate him. More than anyone. “I-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I won’t believe you anyway.” He quickly whispers back, leaning in to force his mouth to yours and kiss you, tongue pushing against your teeth until you give in. He tastes like blood. His own, from the cut that’s not yet closed up; and he kisses like he’s trying to consume you. Rough hands knead and toy with your tits until you start squirming, before they glide down and make enough space to peel your panties down your thighs torturously slow. “Ahh, you look good like this. So pretty. Stay there.” He chuckles to himself as he gets up and you whine, not for him, but more his dragging it out. It’s not like you have a choice about staying…

When he comes back to you, something cold makes you jerk your eyes open. It’s something long and capped metal at the end, not sharp enough to stab you clean through— but it’s still hard and sharp and anxiety has you freezing below him. “Wh- what, what are you-” Would anyone even come help if you screamed? 

Toji slaps the thing into his palm a few times, before those mean eyes glide over you, and you find yourself crossing your legs tight to protect your most sensitive areas instinctively. The sound of the metal whipping through the air is more than enough to put fear into you. Your lip trembles when he gets back onto the bed, and mirth plays in his eyes. “This is going to hurt.” Then he whips his hand down and instantly, your eyes shoot open with pain. Blood splatters as he cuts you open, each impact leaving a cut and nasty thumping that will make a bruise, telltale sign of a cursed tool.

“Ack- no, no- please stop! Stop, stop, please! Please, it hurts! It hurts!” Your eyes clench shut, but tears well up and come out anyway, making tracks down your cheeks. It stings so bad, and after even just a few lashings, you can’t stand it. Everything’s glowing and burning, hot all over as your knees knock together. Another whip has you trying to pull your arms out harder, to no avail. You don’t want to look, but the pain in your hands tells you that the heat running down your arm must be blood. Didn’t he say he wasn’t going to kill you? “Please, please, Toji. I’ll do anything! Anything, please- j-just no more.”

“I refuse.”

“Please~” you sob, only opening your eyes to see how he stands bent over you with his tongue caught between his teeth, head tilted in curiosity like a dog. The whip is dripping red, hot blood down onto his hands, and though it seems impossible to have so much blood coating everything- it’s yours, right? He stays quiet for a moment or two, and the thick tears wobble over your vision. “Please, I don’t want to die. Please. Please. I’m -” your throat closes up when he leans his heavy weight down over you and hovers his lips over your mouth, “I’m beg-begging you.” One hand comes up to grab your face, and he buries his nose into your throat, where a wet tongue starts swiping along your skin.

The soft groan he lets out is foul, coming back up with his mouth full of your blood, and he grins. “Keep going. Beg like a good girl~” Then he dips down, forcing his tongue and the coppery, familiar taste into your mouth, melting his lips to yours as he hums. His strong chest meets your naked, pitiful form as one hand comes down to yank your leg up around him, and the kissing gets more distracting, warmer, deeper — you want him to stay just like this. “Keep talking,” he whispers again, lower this time, and when you’re opening your eyes his stained hands are back to kneading your tits. “You’re sort of cute covered like this, whining like a baby. C’mon.”

Red’s covering everything. Every cut on your body is searing and tight and painful, and he’s pushing his thumbs along the closing wounds as if he’s trying to leak every last drop out of you; but you can’t really feel it. It must be adrenaline you feel coursing through your veins like a drug, goading your heart into pumping so hard you can see it bounce through the skin. “Pl-please.” Your chest rattles, as he watches you. As he degrades you, lifting both your legs up to your chest to spread you for him. “Please, Toji. Please f-fuck me instead. I w- need you to.” He takes the knife used to cut off your clothes, and ever so slowly drags it along the supple inside of your thighs.

And though you jerk, and your jaw clenches while tears fall, you can’t help it. You’re shaking your head, but your pussy clenches around nothing. “Please, please, need you. I’m sorry, I want- I want it. I wan’it… daddy.” Despite the short inhale he takes, sharp eyes pinning you beneath him like the crying mess you are, it’s not his reaction that has you blushing, heat filling your entire face with that cottony feeling. You’re so fucking weak. It’s pathetic.

“Hah,” he snorts when watching you wiggle and cry, presenting your wet, little hole to him, “whiny brat.” His hand lands onto your pussy and it makes you jerk again, squirming against his strong grip, before he turns his palm to grind into your clit and his fingers teasing into the soft folds. The wet squelching doesn’t stop the stinging tingling down your entire body, but - it’s also so unfair. You can feel yourself drip as his thick fingers slide in and out of you again and again, pushing into your plush walls just right. “Call out for daddy, go on.” You don’t want to know how much of it is blood, or how much is your own body betraying you.

You don’t see when he takes off his boxers, now finally as naked as you are - but you do see it when he starts rubbing the head of his heavy cock over your slicked up slit, catching your clit every once in a while. He cocks one brow at you at your silence, and softly hums a deep, raspy breath. You really are weak. “Daddy, daddy, please- pl-hck- please put it in, I’m losing my mind.”

“Seems like it,” he mumbles back, a cocky grin reappearing right before he grabs himself by the base and leads his fat cock inside you with no further warning. He’s too big as soon as he shoves himself inside halfway, grabbing your hair as you wiggle against him. The other half is forced deeper as his cock bumps your walls, makes your pussy drool and clench, and your mouth hangs open as you try to keep from screaming. Your back lifts off the bed a few times, legs opening wider to make room for his thick thighs as he bottoms out and stretches you too thin. “That’s a nice noise.” He’s laughing.

You can’t relate. Your entire body feels wound too tight, legs locking around his glutes in the naïve hope for some reprieve— before he pulls back and holds himself above you. Scared pecs and arms flex when he pulls all the way out, only to thrust back in too deep and have you choking on it. It’s hitting so deep it leaves you speechless. “Make it again,” he gloats as he chuckles into your face, before kissing you again, and this time he bites your lip, hard enough to taste copper. Oh, fuck. You cling onto the ropes for dear life with your numb fingers, and try to wrap your legs back around him with a choked whimper; but you can’t.

You’re shaking, and your pussy’s clenching and sucking around him hard each time his hips meet yours and heavy balls smack against your ass. You feel like he’s going to fuck you through the wall. Drool’s mixed with the blood you swallow, letting his tongue melt to yours, and make you even more needy for air. Each pump inside you gushes more slick out of your cunt, lewd noises and ‘pap’s filling the room along with his grunts. And you only pull away to gasp, and get pulled down onto him again and again. “Daddy, daddy, I’m- gonna- cum.”

And he plants a hand on your throat to squeeze until your eyes cross, free hand going to hold your shivering thighs in place as he buries his cock deep into your plush walls. “Dumb, dumb girl- I don’t need- ugh- you to tell me that.” You’re folded double entirely as he keeps the rhythm entirely ruthless, and your belly starts tightening under your body jerks shut around him, crying out. You can’t even feel your hands anymore, and your breathing’s so shallow and confused you’re lightheaded. Your toes curl so hard you feel like you’ll pass out, but Toji doesn’t stop. Not even when hot ropes of cum fill the heat of your spasming pussy up and spill out— he doesn’t even slow.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

#kinktober #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.lashing #tw.noncon #tw.blood #tw.marking #tw.daddy kink

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

this one is very silly but i think it would be funny if the hermits work by cartoon logic.

geminitay pulls out a giant hammer and uses it to crush someone but they spring back up with a loud "BOING" sound.

grian is literally a wil e coyote skit where he sets up tnt and it doesnt work so he walks over and pokes it and it explodes in his face.

mumbo gets hit with a frying pan and immediately falls into a dead faint with his tongue sticking out and spirals in his eyes while birds fly around his head

Etho can get flattened by an anvil and be perfectly fine. Tango literally bursts into flames when angry. Zedaph can put on a little mask and become instantly unrecognizable. They're all cartoons!

-Mod Mleem

#hermitcraft #mod mleem

[georgiapeach30513]

Ok Jennifer i know who you are! Sooo while i was grilling myself in 38deg i put all the dots together and our Miss Peach is Chris E himself ladies and gents! Here, let me show you: Jen do tan? We know that casper the ghost never have the pleasure of being tan so theres that. Make up artist? Yup he likes his fundation on his face. Cookie jar? Whose in love with lotus cookie? Ransom. Whose Ransom? Chris. Writes smuts about Chris and his characters like a pro and is proficient in his kinks? Yeaaah the devil himself aka Chris. I could give you more but the sun is brutal so i will fry my becon and let you think about them.

Jeeezz i Sherlock-Holmes this so much i wil take a nap. Peace and love 🍑💞🥰

😳😳😳

You caught me! 🤣 I have heard it all! You all have been infiltrated and tricked! It is I! The real Chris Evans. I also go to Disney on a regular basis 😉

But the cookie jar refers to something else entirely 👀

What I will say is this, MUAs we listen and hear things 😂 plus I do know a lot of people, through all walks of life with my little business.

This still isn’t my favorite theory about me though 😂 I’ll save that one for another day. But here’s you a picture of a pineapple drink I had in Hollywood 😘

[thehistorynut19]

💌🎀🎡 from the sleepover ask game for Rau and Sento!

💌 How did you/your F/O confess your feelings to one another?

....u...uh

Am I going to die here?

It's a single thought that she has as she's laying in that lab, poison in her veins and carcinogenic materials stinging her heart.

I'm going to die here.

The gas makes it difficult to breath, even as Evolt gently caresses her cheek, gives her life.

Sento finds her by tearing down the lab with his own two hands, breaking the capsule and bringing her into his arms. He's warm, the sun to the moon and it's the warmest thing she's ever felt.

"Rau..." he whispers, nuzzling her cheek as a rabbit would, praying he could breathe life back into her dyinng veins.

"I'm here..."

Don't go where I can't follow, to that garden beyond

It's a few days after Rau became a Rider, going through the experiments hurt her yes but she refuses to let herself wilt away

A flower growing in the concrete despite all adversity.

She normally wakes up and cooks for everyone but since she had come back, the others have been cooking instead of her. She's kept trying to cook but Sento keot dragging her back to bed.

They've installed a "guard" in the kitchen and Sento's next. He fell asleep and woke up to see Rau cooking again and he's beginning to scold her but she places his fave breakfast in front of him, a tired smile to her lips "You need to go back to bed, Rau" its a gentle murmur from him as he stands and tries to usher her back to her room

"I refuse, actually" The poison in her veins made her own body work against her, when they found her the gas had made her comatose for a long while.

He's lost her once thanks to that snake and losing her again?

Terrifying.

"I can finally fight with you guys. I can protect you instead of just staying on the sidelines." Raus a fighter and he knows this, after all she had managed to poison evolt for a good while

"You're still recovering!"

"I'm fine!"

He catches her as she stumbled, dropping her knife and deathly hot frying pan.

"Rau please..."

I cant lose you

"...huh?" And they stare at one another because he had ushered those words unknowingly. "What...did you say?"

"I cant lose you!" He's shaking and almost close to a sense of tears, hugging her ou so close. "Wheb you were kidnaoped the world stopped and...I thought you were going to die while you were in the coma and I just...I love you too much to let you die because of this damn war"

And she presses her lips to his-

🎀 What’s your favorite thing about your F/O’s appearance?

His wil smile that he makes, his eyes turning into crescent moons~

🎡 What’s your dream date to go on with your F/O?

For SenRau its probably a botanical garden but also just hanging out together. They finally have all of the time in the world now, without war breathing down their backs and braying at their heels for food, scraps thrown out by them.

dare i say their ideal date is also their bed

#kiryu sento #s/i: rau #s/i stuff #dear lord this is a lot #spicy yo #SHUT UP SHUT UP NO ON LOOK AT ME

[leqclerc]

What I'm afraid right now is that Charles has no points and there are big chances of him getting that penalty and starting next race in p10. Which means he will probably end up behind Carlos in the next race as well. So it's two races with Carlos with more points. I'm afraid they start talking about team orders and first driver. We know Fred said something about having a first driver if one of them is ahead already in the first races. I know for sure the Spanish media and Sainz camp wil push this, but how will ferrari act.

Honestly I think right now Ferrari has bigger fish to fry (namely, figuring out why their car bluescreened with no warning when they were on for a podium finish.) Even though he scored 0 points to Carlos's 12 in this race, that's not an accurate representation of their actual performance, and I think anyone can see that. His pace and tyre management was far better than Carlos's - and once again there's data to back this up.

So you've got a case of Charles basically outperforming the car and "flattering" its pace with his driving. Max still considers Charles his biggest/most immediate rival, and Marko's flat out admitting that Red Bull could afford to ease off after Charles DNFed.

When considering a number one and number two you can't look just at the points gap with no context, you have to take the bigger picture into consideration, and everyone could blatantly see that Charles was getting pace out of that car that Carlos simply didn't have. I do remember Fred saying that, but tbf I don't think they were expecting a DNF in the first race, and if you take that mechanical issue off the table, it was Charles who was looking at a podium finish on merit, not Carlos. But yeah, I don't think that's the most pressing issue at camp Ferrari right now. When they analyse and hopefully sort out that technical issue and find themselves in a more comfortable position to actually have that conversation I would like to believe Fred will do the sensible thing. 🫡

#replies #anonymous #discussions and predictions

[accursed-worm]

hi hi! im the same anon who asked abt red flags recently on why wil flirted w/ q so much in the beginning + at what point did wil become scared of him! ty for the response it was really neat!! i would love to ask you another question but i can't really come up w/ one atm. so uhh i hope you don't mind me going on a tangent here and saying!! i absolutely loved and HATED that scene /lh in the recent chapter where quackity was looking for wil in his room and my fking man wilbur pranks him by hiding in the curtain and not responding and splayed himself across the sofa in a goddamn "draw me like one of your french girls" position when q found him. AND THEN WILBUR PROCEEDS TO INTERNALLY PISS HIMSELF IN FEAR YET AGAIN, WHILST STILL LYING ALL SEXY ON THE COUCH, WHEN QUACKITY IS UNDERSTANDABLY UPSET what a FUCKING bitch he is so impossible sometimes i get it asshole youre anxious and mentally unwell just SHUT your HOLE i need to fry him, no i need to fry tntduo up and feed them to my dogs gaaaaahh PFFFFT ANYWAYS. I LOVE YOUR FIC YOURS and venetapsis writing is superb!! i haven't much dsmp fics and recently i haven't read many fics overall recently and id love to find writers who write as cleanly and impressively as you two do!!

HELLO AGAIN this ask is so funny because wilbur is actually just Sitting on the couch. like my man is a jokester he’s a prankster but he did not take it THAT far. and i’m honestly just wondering now what actually gave you that impression because neither of us authors were writing it with that intent. and then also like… wilbur hiding behind the curtains wasn’t the prank or really all that intentional—he heard quackity knock on the door and then froze up out of fear, because he’s still so uncertain about his place in the casino. and then by the time he forced himself out from behind the curtain, quackity had already moved into the corridor, and only then did the idea of pranking him occur to wilbur. and a big part of the reason he did it was to test the waters, to see how he fits into las nevadas—to try and work out what new script he’s meant to be following. and there’s no sexy french girl posing to be found. but yes you’re absolutely right about tntduo. they need to be deep-freezed and then smashed into pieces. THANK YOU FOR SENDING IN ANOTHER ASK!! it was really great to hear for you again, if you do come up with any other questions please do feel free to shoot them in!! answering them is so fun there’s just so much to say about this fic.

#a hundred red flags too late #ask #strawberry anon

[biscuitblinkeu]

If you dont keep updating ill start to have five multiple breakdowns and then ill proceed to pet a white shark then ill proceed to bark at my neighbors dog ill start a gang war ill fry my teddy bear in the FRYING PAN ILL EAT FRIES RAW IM GONAN BURN EVERY TOILET PAPER IN THIS WORLD i wil have dementia if u dont update all im saying is omg!! I love ur pet chicken woof wofodoe ar ar fo wba bark abrk bifjens🐓🐺

-🐶

😂 PLSS don’t eat raw fries it’s horrible-! Don’t fry your teddy bear either! I’m about to cure you. Your update will be out this morning!

[umbloggerlammy]

tryed to buy my girl dinna with my spotify royalties and th cashier said i only had enough money to likc the ickyy goo on the end of the ketchup punmp befor they clean it and my beautiufl beautiful girlfriend had to hold me back frum doing it and i shook like a wet chiuauaua tryin not to ccry the whole time becuse she ended up paying and the chasier guffawed at me 4 tryin to order a singl french fry. anyway it was the most ive ever eaten (a burger) and i wil eat the other have over the course of 3 weeks. my girlfriend is so nice i wanna suc her di

[selormohene]

day 143 (thursday, november 23rd 2023)

I remember being an exuberant child. I'm told that I used to be very wilful as a toddler; I definitely remember being very independent-minded, even from a young age, and in particular I remember that independence of mind having made its presence felt in the practical domain, rather than merely in thought. I remember being very emotional as well. I particularly remember that I used to tell my friends I loved them, and I'm pretty sure I may have gotten in trouble for it. I think I got in trouble for a few things, mostly for no good reason.

Anyway, I remember being an exuberant child, being emotional and perceptive and sensitive and intelligent in all sorts of ways. I feel like that's all gone now, or at the very least it's buried so far within me that I don't know how I'll ever get it all back. But even to state things in those terms seems to suggest that all the things I used to be continue to exist within me, somehow, in an undisturbed state, and that what's keeping me from them is only so many accretions of unnecessary muck, or protective layers, or scar tissue, or whatever it is, and that all that would be required would be to clear it all away to bring me back to the person I was as though nothing had happened. But I don't know if that's necessarily true; it may be that all of what I used to be and value in myself has been subtly distorted and redirected rather than having merely been covered over, and restoration is, at least in principle, a lot more difficult than excavation. At its easiest it can amount to unknotting something that has been tied up, or straightening something that's been bent, but it might also involve something like bringing back to its original shape something that's been warped, which may or may not ever fully return to the way it was, and at its most impossible it might be akin to trying to reverse the frying of an egg, or trying to reverse the melting of an ice cube. The former is basically impossible, and as for the latter, you can, of course, freeze ice that has melted into water, but you'll never get the exact same ice cube back.

When I think back over the years there are a few things that I can remember having contributed to crushing my spirit. Every time I was shouted at for crying, for instance, something inside me was broken. It's curious that of all the negative episodes in my past many of the particular moments I remember involve precisely that. Every time my pleas to be seen, to be heard, to have my emotions acknowledged, were dismissed, every time I had to keep quiet and go along because there was no point in saying what I wanted to say, knowing that nobody was listening. You don't necessarily notice the impact that each moment has, although sometimes you do. But the point is that I feel as though the process of my growth into adulthood, such as it has been, has primarily amounted to so many cases of being beaten half to death, to the point where my range of motion has been severely limited, both as a direct result of the injuries I've sustained and out of the fear of sustaining further damage. Part of the problem is that the sorts of situations which would go the furthest to helping you return to who you were, at least insofar as they involve being around other people, are precisely those in which you're most vulnerable to being beaten down even further. At the same time I feel as though I've developed a form of detachment which has been both protective and, in a way, detrimental. It's like once you understand the cruelty, intentional and unintentional, the thoughtlessness, the selfishness, the inveteracy, that people are capable of — yourself no less than others — you either become consumed with bitterness, or else you completely shun the company of others, or else you ignore all of it and continue to place yourself in situations where you can be hurt, essentially trying to deny the sense of certainty that tells you that people are or can be flawed in deeply significant ways, or else having no sense of discrimination between reasonable and unreasonable people because your only real operating modes are to assume that humanity as a whole is invariably one or the other, or else you adopt a sort of forgiving, understanding attitude which seems to be nearly incompatible with genuine intimacy, because you've essentially priced everything in from the start, but to do so is incompatible with trusting that people will not disappoint you. Or else you adopt some sort of nearly incoherent combination of these attitudes, so that you're constantly stumbling through life, never quite seeming to get it right, and it's partly the incoherence of your attitudes and partly your never having quite figured out how to live well that would seem to explain why you still find it difficult to feel close to the people around you.

[the-firebird69]

and the war moves here too nowand slows in the eastern hemisphere due to tdaylight and they do

here they fromed up just now do so more now and it is on shorlty. and willtry it and go on it soon are cordoneed off and byo psuedo empire tons and more shortly they call a huge one and already ten percent in shortly it will be twnty and here ten yes shortly already five percent of morlocks own population soon

now we fight and get ready they are greedy try takng stuff atthis time. we move in here too straighten them out. shortly. and true psedo empire got him stuff. these hardly and it shows. times p soon for these here. tehy send ot tons and here they send out twenty as we said earlier and to the first ring. and soon huge huge numbers will flow to miami no. are cordoned off, they wil exhaust what tehy have and more and then try to come in and they will fry. and here will suffer get hit too. yes. shortly.

we see it need this out

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

[thecorerevealed]

Game-Changing Trade Alert: Denver Broncos Secure Kicking Sensation Wil Lutz

The Denver Broncos have made a game-changing move, acquiring New Orleans Saints kicker Wil Lutz in a trade that's shaking up the NFL world. Sources close to the team have confirmed that the Broncos traded a 2024 seventh-round pick to the New Orleans Saints to secure the talents of Lutz. This move comes after the Broncos released Brandon McManus earlier in May, and their search for a reliable kicker seemed uncertain with Elliott Fry and Brett Maher vying for the position during training camp. However, fate took an unexpected turn as Fry faced an unfortunate injury, leading to his waiver. Maher stepped up, finishing the preseason as the sole contender for the kicking role. His preseason performance saw him make 4 out of 6 field goal attempts, but a 52-yard attempt was frustratingly blocked in the opener against the Arizona Cardinals. Lutz, expressing his gratitude on Instagram, bid farewell to New Orleans with a heartfelt message, acknowledging the city where he spent the best seven years of his life. His excitement to join the Broncos is palpable, raising expectations for his impact on the team. Saints head coach Sean Payton had a strategic approach to the kicker situation, waiting to see how the roster cuts across the league would unfold. Lutz's name was in the mix, as Payton had expressed interest in monitoring various kicking battles. At 29 years old, Lutz has been a significant presence on the Saints' roster for five seasons under Payton's guidance. While he missed the 2021 NFL season due to injury, Lutz's performance dipped in the previous season, hitting 23 out of 31 field goal attempts (74.2%), the lowest of his career. However, he boasts a standout 2019 season, earning his sole Pro Bowl appearance with an impressive 32 out of 36 field goal conversions, including a remarkable 16 out of 20 attempts from 40 yards or more. The trade signifies a fresh chapter for Lutz and the Broncos. Meanwhile, the Saints are putting their faith in rookie kicker Blake Grupe, whose spectacular 59-yard field goal in practice turned heads. He showcased his skills during the preseason, taking on key kicking duties against the Houston Texans. With this significant move, the Broncos are set to redefine their kicking game, and NFL enthusiasts are watching with bated breath to see how Lutz's arrival impacts the team's performance. The news of this trade was initially reported by NFL Network, sending ripples of excitement throughout the league. In a twist of fate, the Broncos have secured a seasoned kicker who's ready to make his mark on the field and help the team strive for excellence. Read the full article

#DenverBronco #WilLutz

[im-green-salami]

hi Salami I wil become your local askbox gremlin now ANYWAYS currently pissed off at a Harvey's ad not for any logical reason just WHO THE FUCK DEEP-FRIES A PICKLE!? WHO?? WHO DEEP FRIES A PICKLE PICKLE DEEP FRYERS DNI YALL ARE WEIRD AND THEN TO SAY "It's a Canadian thing" INTHE SAME ADVERT EW NO YOU DO NOT DEEP FRY A PICKLE GET OUT OF HERE HARVEY'S YOUR BURGERS SUCK ASS ANYWAYS

What? Deep fried pickles??? Wtf who does that? Also harveys? I never heard of this fast food chain? And YEAH WHO DEEP FRIES A PICKLE???? WHYYYYY? ITS JUST A WASTE OF PICKLE!

#Any way you are wlecomed to be my local askbox gremlin #ask

[freshthoughts2020]

#wil fry #new york #ny yankees #yankees

[benwfishervision]

#evian christ #wilfry #wil fry #david rudnick #design #trance #graphic design