AHHHHHHHHHHHHH - Blog Posts

Stfu I’ve never heard the voices omg why do they sound like that

remember when 4kids legitimately tried to skip an entire arc by turning laboon into an iceberg

well you do now

Another Damon headcanon, BUT AT WHAT COST?????? 😢😢😢😢😢😢😢

YOO OKAY W TAKES😭 (i love /hate kai) but fellow jean lover ??? 😼😼😼 omigosh also,,,,, may i request jean and or damon reacting to a reader blackened hcs LOL

NO WAY YOU SAID "I LOVE JEAN" AND THEN ASKED FOR ANGST. DISRESPECTFUL 😒 YOU'RE GETTING DAMON. HERE, DAMN.

Damon Maitsu:

You can just tell when he's starting to think it's you by his speech pattern

He might even shed a tear after he points you out

He would've tried to just wait for you to confess but it's going to end up that way if you don't

Like think about it, he didn't get along with anyone due to his own ego (whether or not the prologue statement was true), he lost the one person he was starting to somewhat consider as a friend, and now he loses his partner?

It would take everything within him to stop himself from asking "why would you do this?" while completing the timeline of the case

He really just doesn't want to believe that he lost someone again

He wonders if you did it because he wasn't a good partner but he's too stunned to ask and he'll probably never know

He wouldn't be able to watch the rest of your execution once he actually sees you start to get seriously injured. He'll genuinely have to look away

He would be so hurt. Every time something good or bad happens, he would ask himself what you would think about it as if you just went on a trip and aren't actually dead

He went back to 0 in terms of him being closed off. All that development left with you

As much as he hates what you did, he loved you, and that would leave him conflicted until the end of the game

OMGG 😭😭😭

damon....my socially inept little hater....

can I have some general affection hcs for him please 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

the more I write about him, the more I like him, oddly enough

Damon Maitsu:

He's one of those people that would see something off with your hair/clothes and fix it without you asking

You could be mid conversation and he just says "wait... but keep talking" before he moves in to adjust something

He might flinch if you do the same (he'll let you but he just isn't expecting it)

He usually gives you a kiss on the cheek as a goodbye

If someone points it out, he might back off of that habit for a bit, but he might still do something subtle like squeezing your hand instead

He loves it when you lean your head on his shoulder. He might pout a little but he will NOT move you

You might find him absentmindedly playing with your hair or the end of your sleeve from time to time

This man is a STARER

If he's not talking to you he's looking at you

His favorite time is before bed when you're cuddling and you two just talk about people

Literally his one moment of peace is when he's hating with you. Even if you aren't hating, he gets to see your perspective on things and he loves that

The conversations aren't always about people either. He might bring up something really random and philosophical (babe your talent is showing) instead

For some stupid reason, I didn't bring up his gift giving habits before

If he knows you like something, you're getting it or something that relates to it sooner or later

And you know he's gonna act all nonchalant but he loves the attention you give him after lmaoo

Only five chapters till it's over, I feel ill

AHHHHHH

BTW GUYS, NEON VOID JUST FINISHED ON AO3 AND IF YOU HAVEN’T READ IT YET THEN YOU GOTTAAA AHHHH

YOU’RE TELLING ME I JUST HAPPENED TO FINISH MY YEAR LONG, 27 CHAPTER, 150K+ WORD FIC ON RISE’S ANNIVERSARY????

MY PLAYLIST JUST DID A THIMG AND I HAVE TO SHARE SO TUMBLER YOUR IT.

Ballad of Jane Doe played followed imeadintly by 'dont lose your head' from the Six sound track.

The irony

𝕆𝕦𝕣 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

Summary: You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

Author's note: This is totally getting a part 2. Or maybe a series we'll see. 

Warnings: dark, absolutely no regard for the rule of two, sorta a vent fic (venting that these two are so fine and I can't get them out of my mind), slightly fluffy.

The empire's warships have a tendency to blur reality. The interiors of their large hulking exoskeletons house endless corridors and makeshift chambers. Vast, endless arrays of space. They've been optimized for housing droids, clones, and artillery. Not for escape, not for an endless search of a freedom that has long since eroded. 

Calling yourself anything but desperate would be a lie. Your feet run to the chorus of your broken heartbeat. The need for freedom, the need to escape spreads through your body like a poison. You know it'll end up killing you, either from exhaustion or by their sabars. But you have to try, you have to run. Even if you've left fragments of yourself in the warm bed the three of you sleep on. Even if you forgot your heart under Anakin's pillow and your soul still lingers in Maul's warm embrace. Maybe freedom is worth cutting off pieces of yourself, if only in the hope that someday they might grow back. 

There's something wrong with the corridors you're sure of it. You've never been one for directions, instead relying on the holo screens and navigation systems to lead the way. Mirror images as far as the eye can see. Identical, plain. Nothing substantial to store in your memory. There's something ironic about this situation, a punchline that doesn't quite land. You half haphazardly tug on the skirt of your nightgown, desperate for anything familiar. You're not sure why.

You remember how Anakin called you pretty this morning, still hazy, still clinging to the sensation of slumber. Perfect blue eyes too dazed to look at you. Really look at you. The chosen one gazes at your ghost, your ethos. the perfect doll he and Maul had morphed you into. Behind you

 Maul pulls you to his chest. Hand running up and down her side, trying to resurrect you into his dreams. It's only when Anakin's eyes close, seeling the shimmering blue orbs, that you crawl out of bed and into the unknown. 

You're lost, abandoned in absolute desolation. The marble tiles bleed frost into the soles of your feet. Somewhere in the distance, you feel a disturbance in the force. Too far away to matter, yet leaking with a potent rage that burns. It's hope you think, albeit pathetically, maybe it's better to capitulate this pointless crusade and wait for the Sith lords to find you. The crash comes just as you're about to stop. You bump into him, falling in the process. All armor and steel. The Stormtrooper's mask is off giving you a clear view of his scarred face. His eyes flash, some dreary emotion too obscure to read, he offers you a gloved hand, something human something casual. 

You stare frozen. 

When exactly did you stop comprehending human idiosyncrasies? 

When exactly did you start reading every interaction as a threat? 

He's a monster, you think, just like the ones you've been warned about. Lectured time and time again by both Anakine and Maul. Monsters pry on little girls, especially ones who wander off on their own. Monsters lurk behind unsuspecting walls, ready to pounce when their prey approaches. You wonder if, the definitive definition of "monster" could be passed on to the two Siths who call themselves your lovers. 

There's blood, too crimson to be real. Metallic aromas wafted through the air. You've only now noticed how close the disturbance in the force really is. Close enough to distinguish itself. To reveal that, in actuality, it's not a disturbance at all.

 It's two...

Something cold yanks at your forearm. Pulling you to your feet. for a split second, your nerves calm. The familiarity of the cybernetic arm grants you a heavy ease. Anakin pushes you over to where Maul is standing. Golden eyes burning holes through the stormtrooper's armor. 'He didn't do anything' you long to say. But the words wisely die on your tongue as Maul grips your shoulders. Anakine's saber is lit, stabbing through the soldier's armor as if it were flesh. As if killing him where as easy as killing a rogue thought. "You're quite a foolish soldier for daring to touch that which belongs to your commanders. Even more imbecilic for so much as looking at emperor Palpatine's disciple." 

Maul's grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes never once leaving the bloodshed. One of his hands instinctively roams to your belly, then slides down to your thigh. Rubbing it ever so gently as his claws pierce your soft skin. You close your eyes trying to make yourself smaller. You hate how his touch grounds you. How the familiarity plucks at your heartstrings. When he touches you like this you wish you would forever rot in his arms.

"'I'm sorry" You don't know why the words come so easily. As if they've been itching to spill from your tongue. Maybe it's easier to say 'I'm sorry' rather than 'You've broken my perception of love, of reality and now I can only find comfort in your darkness.' "Hush" Maul's anger spills with every syllable. His claws dig deeper, earning him a pained hiss from his doll. 

"You're not sorry, in fact, you rather enjoyed this didn't you? Running away making us chase you down, I never thought your species would enjoy being the prey so much, little one." Anakin walks over, saber seethed at his side. His every step promised pain, retribution. He's angry, furious. They both are, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll end it all today. 

Maul's chambers have always been a testament to Dathomir, bathed in deep scarlets and endless ebony. You wonder if he's homesick for a place he's only visited in his worst ephialtes. After the incident in the corridors, they drag you back to the Zabrak's room. Neither bothering to say a word. Merely permitting their rage to engulf you, subduing you into submission. It's an unwelcome surprise when they begin to prep for the day. Throwing on their black cloaks, prior to choosing your outfit. An abnormal affinity settles across the room. Too unnerving to go unchecked. 

They dress you each morning, a ritual you think, some attestation of love that's never been quite right. Maul drapes you in velvet dresses. Each one harbors a sui generis softness that sits erroneously across your skin. Their opulent sensation only brings forth feelings of aversion and despair. Their softness an ode to your imprisonment. 

the dresses come in shades of crimson, detailed sometimes in black, sometimes in gold, and sometimes in a frigid blue that sends shivers running up your spine. 

Anakin fusses over your accessories, why they feel the need to dress you so extravagantly daily is beyond you -as you've come to realize many things are- On days when Anakin's hubris reaches its apex, he bathes you in gold. Astonishing glittering collars across your neck and Kuat bangles hanging from your wrists. When he's sober from his pride he chooses black diamonds. Simple and exotic. scintillate and opaque.

Allusions to the dark side.

A hidden reference that crawls inside you. 

Once, back when you'd been sure defiance was still an option. Back when callow hope still dared to flow through your veins. Back when you'd been a jejune, stubborn thing. You had refused to wear one of the dresses they'd bought. Adimant in your refusal until Maul had stuck out his hand. Summoning the Force to remind you just who held the supreme authority here. 

The Force had strangled you, clawing hungrily at your neck. You felt your bones caving in on themselves, watched with exacerbating hysteria as your feet abandoned the floor. He'd only released you when he was sure you were near death's adorned door. Permitting you to molder on the floor akin to a ragdoll. 

Anakin had chastised you after you'd conjured enough strength to sit up, gasping greedily for air. He'd broken two fingers that day. One still harbors a small scar.

A Promise ring. 

An augury.

There are days, few and far between. When they've deemed you've been behaving adequately for long enough. That they permit you the choice of which dress you'd fancy wearing for the day. It's a rare event, reserved as a special treat. You think it's their way of proposing variety, giving you the illusion of choice. Making you feel a little less smothered. 

Today is not one of those days. Today, you feel them pick you apart, only to reassemble you in their image. Drowning you in extravagance. A reminder, one whose deprecating nature weaves itself within your muscles. You, little girl, are nothing more than a doll. And dolls should know their place.

No sooner do you feel the final lace fasten across your back, that Anakin is tugging you outside the door. Metal arm clasped around your forearm. 

Maul follows behind molten gaze locked on your face. The hallways bend to their will as if the walls themselves quiver with their presence. You recognize this corridor, recognize the frigid forlorn. 

There's something wrong with Emperor Palpatine's throne room. It's surreal, makeshift. His real throne lays somewhere cold, somewhere even his apprentices don't dare wander off to. The ironclad throne has never felt right. Never felt like it held any real power. Just terror, just dread, just hatred. But here it is in all its glory. Left to two apprentices who'd rather treat it as a toy than a sacred place.

 Anakin dramatically throws himself onto the throne. One leg thrown over the armrest as he leans against the other. His other leg planted firmly on the ground. He keeps you steady on his thigh. Torturing you with his distant, disappointed look. Maul stands in front of you. His eyes liquid gold melting into you. You see the galaxy in them. Hear it whispearing secrets meant to be forgotten. It's Anakin's voice that rattles you from your disjointed thoughts. 

"You caused us so much worry angel" he's being nice. You don't trust that. There's something sinister plaguing his words.  

"You know Ani, she may cease escaping if you'd cease to spoil her." Maul leans down, gripping your chin and squeezing. " The brat forgets her place, merely cause you'd rather coddle her than discipline her." 

Anakin glares, a shift in his eyes, blue bleeding into gold. "Hmm, Maul, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Kenobi right now."

"Why's that? Did the old fool tend to also point out your shortcomings?" 

You wonder who this Kenobi is, as you watch the Siths' exchange crude childish vitriols. Maybe he'd make a better lover than the two men you have the misfortune of being adhered to. 

They never could truly see just how similar they were.

Two sides of the same coin. 

One born of copper, the other, black rose petals.

Subconsciously you reach out. Grasping Anakin's robotic hand, fiddling with the panel, peeling it away to gain access to the wires and circuits. You have a bad habit of ripping things open. Anakin learned this the first time he kissed you and you tried to gnaw at his chest with your nails. Not in malice, but rather to satisfy a ravenous curiosity. A raging need to open him and see just how he ticked. You'd wished to perform an autopsy on his soul. Rip him open and devour all his secrets. Back then you'd wondered if you could kiss sunrises into Anakin's eternal night. Strip him of bleak blackened skies and introduce him to stars and a moon that shines. He'd only vaguely permitted it. Opting to pluck the stars lying within you. Swiping them for steel and lava and other mundane things that fueled his incessant rage. 

Anakin's head dips, lips pressing on your jugular vein. "You're ethereal" Anakin mubbles against your skin, like the dying prayer of a collapsing star. He's so pretty when he kisses your neck. Biting away pieces of you. Stealing your light for himself. 

"Princess" Maul seethes venom pelting from his words. You realize you'd been ignoring him. Something he's not too fond of. "What in the stars was going through your pretty little head?" 

 he looks like he'd love nothing more than to wring your pretty little neck right now. "I just..." your words feel heavy. Tiny bullets polluting your tongue. It feels so cruel to say when you know just how much they love you. "I just wanted some freedom. Just a bit of space." 

"Dumb little angel" Anakin chastes. You lower your head in embarrassment watching Maul kneel in front of you. He cups your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your head. "You can never escape us beloved".

 "I love you," says Anakin. All you hear is, I'll haunt you, I'll break your ribs one by one so that I may possess your heart. Maybe they mean the same thing. 

"And I'm pretty sure if Maul could feel normal emotions like everyone else, then he'd love you too." You can't help but let out a giggle as Anakin throws his head back laughing. A rare melodious sound, that causes your heart to skip a beat. Maul merely rolls his eyes before pecking you on the lips.

You trace your fingers across Maul's chest, feeling the pummelling of two hearts. A double heartbeat. Two melodies entwined, You wonder who he harbors in those hearts. One for love and one for family. You nip at his bottom lip. Ushering the blood into your mouth. He tastes of Ichor and smoke. Of sadness and rage. From behind you feel Akanin bite into the hollow of your flesh. Leaving traces of himself upon your skin. 

"Our pretty little problem" Anakin mumbles. 

You're a problem, a vexation draped in velvet, an unsolvable equation. Trapped between a love that seethes through your body like a toxin. Engulfing you until your mind relents. Maybe it's easier this way. Easier to say 'I love you' without the double entendre. 

You do love them.

A rather arduous conclusion to reach.

Maul and Anakin.

Palpatine's apprentices. 

Your lovers

Yeah, that sounds about right...

💜💜: @athanasia-day @hotpinkboots @jenn-patterson-69 @nickiiiixoxo-blog @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

ok wait, reblog if you’ve cried at least once because of math, doesn’t matter which grade i’m trying to prove something 

Runaway Bride

~Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count: 3165

Content warnings: arranged marriage, readers parents are mean, gender roles, patriarchy standards, arguments, super feminine wedding gown the whole 9 yards wedding stuff there, panic attack, kissing, leon driving (shits scary okay)

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!!!

Keep reading

drew Hugo in a gay blanket bc of smth me and @blondebitch7k were talking abt as a joke (guys im speedy and obsessed with Hugo in case you couldn't tell)

IM SO LATE TO THIS BUT HOLY FLUFF RENNY MY HEART HATH BEEN BLESSED🙌 I absolutely adore how you drew dear luigi and polterpup!! I can honestly see this as a sticker and straight up WANT it as one!!!😍✨ You did incredible bud thank you so so much for this incredible gift you are one heck of a friend and I’m so grateful for our friendship!!!❤️❤️❤️

Luigi and Polterpup!

A holiday gift for @mena-2001 , featuring her favorite Super Mario character Luigi + Polterpup!

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if Danny got seriously hurt.

Bonus comic:

Vlad is embarrassed to show any kind of paternal concern for Danny's safety. But he does care, more than he shows.

Additionally, Danny starts going to Vlad whenever he has medical concerns. Between stumping doctors or going to your archenemy (who actually knows what he's doing)...the latter works better.

On that cowboy shit again (pls click for better resolution probably ♡)

If ever a man was deserving of a blow job it’s Joel Miller

A/N: joel x f!reader. blow job duh.

He comes home at odd hours and sometimes he doesn’t come home at all. It’s not even your place–it’s his. His shitty room with four walls and a peach couch sprouting stuffing. It’s not a Joel couch. He probably would have had a La-Z-Boy. 

You wait. You wait and listen to the radio. Get really well acquainted with the 80’s catalogue. You're his ears when he’s gone. It really isn’t a job, but it’s the small things you can do for him.

***

“Move over,” he mutters in a low voice. It’s the middle of the night, his hands are cold as he pushes you to the edge of the mattress. You’re an inch from rolling off before his strong arms wrap around your waist and haul you back to his chest. 

“How was today?”

“Shitty.”

“Did you eat?”

He mumbles something noncommital into your hair and squeezes you, sealing you to his front to leach your warmth.

You trace his scars that drag across his forearm. You prod the dry skin, sunspots and freckles. His mouth is nearly latched to the nape of your neck, his breath puffing evenly. He’s exhausted, which isn’t a surprise. He works day in and day out in addition to all the illegal shit he’s running. 

He’s always running. 

***

In the morning, you push him onto his back. The sun filters through his windows, spouting through moth-eaten curtains. There are dust motes in the air. The smell of dirt and Joel, which is something like sawdust and gunpowder. Wood finish. The interior of an old car. He grunts when you slide between his legs, docile because he's still threaded with grogginess. He slept in his clothes, and you take care as you gingerly remove them. 

He does peek one eye at you to make sure you aren’t some creep who’s slipped into his room to take advantage.

"It's me," you grin, and he blinks before shutting his eyes again. Typical.

You like to study him like this. He’s ruddy and baked from the sun. He’s all scrapes and silver-dark hair and his middle is soft from age. He's unnaturally strong, but some parts of him just don't tighten anymore.

Your gaze flickers from his face to the sparse hairs at his chest and then to his groin. You touch his cock, skating your nails over the shaft. It twitches, hardens almost immediately. You lower your head and take him into your mouth.

Joel stiffens, jerks a little as his knees come up and his hand flies to your scalp. “What’re you–”

You release him for a moment. “Relax, baby. Let me do this for you.”

His eyes are still foggy and unfocused, his brow furrowed so deep it might crack his skin. He’s so serious all the fucking time and you’d wish he’d just unknot himself for once. Loose the strings that bind him so painfully to his past.

You settle onto your knees before you wrap your lips around his cock, swallowing him down until the head hits the back of your throat. You gag, drool bunching around your gums as you clench the inner walls of your mouth. 

He does not expect that because he arches.

“Fuck,” he growls. “Jesus–honey–”

You place one hand on his belly and the other at his balls. You tug them, massage their weight just as you draw back enough to dip your tongue into the slit at the tip of his cock. A rumble burns through his chest. The hand on your head tightens. 

You hollow your cheeks and utilize a deliberate suction. After fucking Joel for months, you understand the things he likes: roughness, a dash of pain, and the promise of filth. You ease off before you return with a vengeance. You gently scrape your teeth along the frenulum, soothing the graze with a lick. It’s a sloppy blow job for sure, but that’s what he needs. His brown eyes stay locked on your own, his pink tongue sweeps over his lower lip as his hips buck against your chin. A muscle in his jaw spasms and his heels are digging into the mattress. He looks incredibly young as if you're seeing a Joel invigorated with his old youth because you're sucking him off like a porn star.

“You’re fucked,” he groans, head tipping back as he shudders through another round of you playing with his balls while deep throating him. “You’re so so fucked, sweetheart.”

You watch his belly tense, the tendons in his arms and throat snap to attention as you escalate the pressure, gag a little louder, stroke him faster while he stares at you with incredulity. 

You? This? Where the fuck did you learn how to suck dick like that?

“Shit,” he hisses as you feel him swell, his cock is pulsing in your mouth and against your palm like a living thing. His fingernails are scratching beneath your hair. He’s breaking….

And then he does.

He goes all stiff and hot before you feel the warm rush of his spend salt your tongue and throat. You nearly choke on it before you pull away, hand subtly pressed to your lips. You try and leave the bed, but he's already sitting up on his knees. His cock red and hanging between his legs, all flushed and wet with your spit. 

“You’re dead, girl,” he husks as he beckons you toward him. “Get back on here and turn the fuck around.”

He’s kind of smiling.