Sweet Pea the man that you are
https://www.wattpad.com/story/412098786?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=Scardett
Idk what this is but I've got three chapters going on it so far so enjoy it?
taylor price
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tannertan36
One Nice Bug Per Day
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YOU ARE THE REASON
Stranger Things
KIROKAZE
Jules of Nature

blake kathryn

Andulka

⁂
i don't do bad sauce passes
tumblr dot com

Discoholic 🪩
trying on a metaphor

Origami Around
Not today Justin
🪼

oozey mess
seen from United Kingdom

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@jillonkalus-bonkulus
Sweet Pea the man that you are
https://www.wattpad.com/story/412098786?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=Scardett
Idk what this is but I've got three chapters going on it so far so enjoy it?
Remus and Sirius with their doc martens. James with his high top converse. Peter standing impatiently next to them because he's the only one who can get his shoes on in less than ten minutes.
#Peter only betrays them because james and sirius discovered the thigh high converse
#remus never wore docs again after waiting with Peter for james and sirius to put those shits on
soul breathing grim reaper esque demon slayer f!reader but who to pair her with?
sanemi
giyuu
kyojuro
other???
Finland has a goal to improve the lives of its citizens, not just the shareholders.
Working three jobs is to survive is exactly how capitalism creates billionaires.
End homelessness by providing housing.
And end rent price gouging for those who are barely staying housed!!
Remember kids
It's estimated 40-60% of all homeless people in America are employed
And they still can not make rent
I'm nearing an official schizo diagnosis (the paranoid album) and I've decided to be like that one dude and go for runs at night while listening to scary sounds to test out how well the meds work
Demon Slayer fic 1.1
So this is going to be pretty graphic at times so here are the warnings ig: self harm; child sa; suicide; pedophilia; violence; blood; weapons; language; non proof read; sanemi; graphic; death; smut; fluff; angst; fighting; f!reader; lmk if I missed any please this is my first fic like this
1.1
The cool breeze brushed its rough lips against Shinazugawa's face, dragging its teeth against his scars until they tightened and itched. The young wind hashira sat on his haunches, the bottom few inches of his haori now a sluggish brown and wet from the quickly decomposing leaves that had clung to the rooftop in hopes of never being stepped upon after their death; like that turned out for them, poor little leaves. Shinazugawa had had his ears pulled back in a desperate attempt to hear movement in the suspiciously calm night, straining as to compensate for the deafness of his partner of the night, the flame hashira. Rengoku kept his breaths close to his nose so as to not disturb the quietness, waiting for words of confirmation, remembering those of his crow describing many disappearances throughout this small, unprotected town; several being lower level corp members. It was not often that more than one hashira was sent upon the same mission, but there were whispers of a lower kizuki being the culprit, and the Master was not in the mood to take chances.
A wave of voices so soft the wind almost kept them a secret made Shinazugawa's head whip towards its direction. Without a word, both hashira slithered through the streets, rooftop to rooftop, following only the feelings in their bellies, instincts pulling them further and further into the dark. The moon seemed to shy away from the alleyway the two men dropped into, settling into the wall until they were almost cyprus themselves. The grumble of strained throats and cheers was much too quiet for it to be natural, and with a quick glance between each hashira and nothing more, they agreed this could only be the blood art of a demon. Rengoku gestured quickly to his partner, who nodded once, and both men moved in sync to respective opposite ends of the building, knowing there must be at least one way to enter. Each found a door as they had hoped, and of course, against each door learned a figure: too calm yet too antsy, too confident yet inattentive, both setting off red flags in the harshiras minds, the instinct of not looking at a real person flooding their bodies. Silence filtered through the air, then the drop of two heads and their bodies against the ground, then silence once again.
As Rengoku stepped through the North door he became very confused very quickly, as the door led not to more demons, but instead to a small group of men waiting impatiently for something the flame hashira had yet to see. Some of the humans seemed as though they slept in a plank position, with firm arms and bulging backs, pacing with heavy footsteps, more than one punching the air repeatedly. Others sat quietly, skin dark from years of working outside, bodies slim with working muscle. The rest Rengoku would not convince himself were men, but instead boys, scrawny from lack of anything in life, including experience, individually tapping with a foot or fingers, eyes darting back and forth between the door the flame hashira had just entered, a second that led to the cheering, and a third that led to deeper silence.
"What is this place?" Rengoku addressed the crowd, his normally booming voice kept at bay as the flame hashira softly closed the door behind him. The men hesitated to answer him, making quick glances between each other as if the slayer would draw his sword and slaughter them all just for speaking up.
"A fight," one of the men cleared his throat, "King of the Hill style."
"Yeah, yeah," a boy continued, "Winner gets the money from all of the entrance fees."
"And the losers?" Rengoku questioned lowly. The group looked at the third door, the one holding the silence, eyes holding bags of kittens above a rushing river before darting to either the hashira, the floor, or back and forth.
"It's a big crowd tonight," an older man confirmed.
Shinazugawa was not confused when he opened the South door, in fact he knew exactly what he was looking at as soon as his eyes met the red strained barbed wire surrounding a small, circular arena. Hot, sweaty bodies rubbed against his as the wind hashira pushed through the energized crowd, cheers and wet smacks filled his ears painfully. The room pulsed, hearts and breaths melding together in a mix that gave Shinazugawa a headache almost instantly, shortening the fuse of his temper. He had not wanted to go on this mission in the first place, still recovering from a blow to the head from the last, and now a room full of disgusting, slimy men watching and betting and yelling as two people fought with bare fists in the elevated stage, clothes and skin catching on the wire fencing if they danced too close, was the last thing he wanted to deal with. He had to hand it to whatever demon was leading this slaughter, as its blood art keeping the noise of the building's secrets was very effective. The wind hashira moved closer to the center of the room, attempting to locate the aforementioned demon, all while keeping an eye out for any sight of his partner. Just as he reached the edge of the arena, the crowd forced him back, moving in one motion as one of the fighters, a young, tanned boy no older than 16, fell face first into the barbed fencing, blood splurting onto the crowd. Shinazugawa sneered, wiping the wasted blood from his cheek, cheers and money passed around him. The fighter's opponent grabbed him by the hair and lifted the boy from the wire, dropping him down onto the floor of the arena before backing away, hands braced above their head as though preparing for another enemy. Three figures moved fluidly into the arena through a hole in the fencing: one walking towards the standing fighter, the others dragging the limp body of the boy back through the hole and into the back room that they came from. The fighter lowered her hands slightly, eyes watching the demon approaching her carefully, feet still planted in a fighting stance, as it grabbed her gushing hand closest to it, and lifted it into the air in victory. Jeering, the demon scanned the crowd, watching money exchange hands, until its eyes met the wind hashira's, and its grin fell.
Pushing away the unbothered men beside him, the hashira drew his sword, readying his stance, but hesitating as the demon gripped the girl's wrist tighter. The men around him shouted at the slayer, backing away in unease at the young man with the sword, but too drunk to do anything further. The demon's voice boomed throughout the room, "The fights are over for tonight, come back tomorrow for the third round."
The crowd grumbled but filtered through the door into the cool night, neither the demon nor the slayer moving a muscle. The remaining fighter's eyes darted between the two, sensing her position as a hostage, but not daring to provoke either party. The hashira took a half step towards the stage but the demon tutted, twisting the human's arm back painfully, forcing her to kneel on the ground in front of the barbed wire. Shinazugawa growled lowly.
Wiping his blade clean on his haori, Rengoku looked over his shoulder towards the men and boys that had huddled into the furthest corner of the room after seeing the flame hashira draw his sword against the two unsuspecting demons that had entered the room from the second door. Some of the preparing fighters had already fled, willing to risk their lives for some cash, but not against a slayer. Rengoku turned back to the bloodied teenager at his feet, the boy's face still gushing, and quickly knelt to feel his pulse at his neck: weak, but still steady. "Please, don't go anywhere, and take care of this boy until I return," the hashira instructed, two of the men creeping forward to drag the fighter towards the group. Having caught a glimpse of the silver and green nichirin blade through the crack in the door left behind the now dead demons, Rengoku knew his next job was to investigate the third room, as Shinazugawa could handle himself very well. Rengoku crept toward the third door, sensing death and doom, and took long, slow breaths to steady himself. Keeping his sword unsheathed in preparation, the hashira slid into the room with ease, immediately covering his mouth as to not breathe in the foul air any more than he already had in that split second. The room was mostly a large, deep pit in the floor, filled with a handful of mangled bodies, some alive, some succumbed to their injuries and various bite marks along their exposed flesh. The living looked up at the flame hashira in fear, expecting the worst, but he only laid on his stomach on the floor next to the pit, reaching his free arm in in an attempt to help the previous fighters out. One by one, Rengoku pulled the few men out of the pit, their bodies groaning in agony, before leading the group out towards the prep room, looking back towards the still warm corpses left in the pit once, before silently shutting the door. The preppers and losers stared at one another for a long moment before the teenager from before began to weep, hot tears mixed with hot, but now drying, blood.
"Let her go," the wind hashira demanded lowly, sword steady in his hand.
"I don't think I will," the demon teased, running his hands through the girl's (y/h/c) hair that had begun to fall from her bun. "Since my friends have yet to strike you down, I assume you got to them first, meaning I have no dinner now." He punctuated his sentence by grabbing the fighter's hair's roots, tugging on it sharply, forcing a wince on her face.
"Let her go now," Shinazugawa spoke slowly, daring to drag his feet closer, "Or I will cut off your hands." The fighter, taking advantage of the hashira's distraction braced herself on one knee, planting her bare foot on the floor under the lowest barbed wire strand. The demon opened his mouth to retort, but was interupted by being thrown over the shoulder of the girl he was holding, the fighter using the purplish demon as a shield for the majority of her body as the pair toppled into the fencing. The demon howled in pain and rage as he struggled against the wire, metal stabbing into his flesh as the girl untangled herself from his hold, further pushing the demon into the fence. Rolling to her feet back into the middle of the ring, the girl held her arms up once again, like she was preparing to fight any other opponent, not a bloodthirsty demon that she just pissed off.
The wind hashira froze in shock, missing the opportunity to slice off the demon's head as he freed himself from the wire, but he soon realized his mistake as he no longer was able to reach the demon or the girl without being maimed himself by the fencing, and climbing through the hole in the other side of the arena would take time and vulnerability. This he was willing to risk, but as he began to move around the circle, the demon lunged at the girl, who pulled back just enough to go down with the creature while still maintaining the momentum to flip the pair so that she was on top, pining the demon by it's elbows with her knees, already split knuckles wailing on its face. Shinazugawa watched on as the demon grabbed a hold of the fighter's fist and flung her back with its inhumane strength, only to be met by a swift kick in the stomach as the girl once again bounded to her feet, planting herself just in time to come nose to nose with the purple demon. The two began exchanging punches, each connecting and missing some; the demon was strong but the girl was much faster and smarter, although she was exhausted from the previous king of the hill battles. That was until the demon, unfair as they all are, used its blood demon art to surround the girl's head instead of the individual rooms, throwing her off balance as the ringing in her ears overwhelmed the rest of her senses.
Now able to hear the fight from the main room, and recognizing the noise as fists hitting flesh and not a sword cutting through, Rengoku burst through the Northern door of the room ready to save his partner, only to make confused and concerned eye contact with the white haired man from across the arena, both sets of eyes darting from fellow hashira to the fighters struggling and back again. Rengoku, not knowing of the events that had just transcribed, moved immediately, slipping through the hole in the fencing, haori catching slightly against the metal, and sliding towards the pair on the floor, the demon now holding the girl down, ready to slowly tear apart her flesh with his sharp teeth. The tearing of fabric alerted the demon of the second hashira's presence, allowing it to dodge the blow to the neck Rengoku had attempted, nichirin sword instead instead slicing the demon's right arm clean off. The demon let out a bellowing scream, giving the girl the upper hand, allowing her to slide the demon from off her and into the rows of sharp metal surrounding them. Rengoku, understanding now why his partner had been so slow to act, stood awkwardly by as the young girl he believed he had just saved grabbed the second row of barbed wire with her still bare hand and wrapped it around the head of the demon that was profusely bleeding out from its missing appendage. With her luck, however, the demon was able to stick its remaining arm up between his neck and one part of the wire, barbs now cutting through only half of the neck as the girl hunkered down and pulled sharply as though she was playing tug-of-war with a sumo wrestler. In one last attempt to be difficult, the demon looked in the eyes of the girl who he had been wishing so much to have for dessert for the past few weeks he had been in town, and spit a thick lump of phlegm onto her face. The girl's eyes closed in disgust, but her grip did not loosen. The wind hashira was not so subtle, however, as he stepped up behind the trapped demon.
"Aaaannnd," his sword swung with ease through the demon's neck. "That's enough of that."
~2.5k words
Guys I have a fan on ao3 I'm so happy
However I am not allowed to get too popular on any platform because my fiance does not know about any of it and he does have full access to my phone and laptop he just hasn't ever snooped and he is not ready for what's on this page
Guys I have a fan on ao3 I'm so happy
Flowers and Storms chapter 2
word count 1.6k
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” The nymph smirked. “Win?”
It growled lowly, attempting, for once, to keep hold of It’s temper. “No, how do you control everything all of the time? I try but Earth-beings are too unpredictable.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t speak to me that way just because you lost.”
“What way?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know how you do it?”
“I don’t know what you mean, do you?”
It paused, confused. Anthrecea smiled, opening her eyes to look at the being next to her. It scoffed, realizing her meanness, and turned away from her, pulling It’s knees up toward It’s chest, softly rocking in thought. Anthrecea, still grinning at her second win in a row, looked away from the pouting monster, and instead focused on the little chipmunk chittering at the nymph, looking for food to gift to her soon-to-be young. The nymph complied, of course, willing a handful of blueberries to grow from her palm before offering it to the small creature. The chipmunk came when beckoned, weary of the observing interstellar being, but hungry all the same. Anthrecea’s grin of triumph melted into a soft, wistful smile, remembering and missing how calm her life in the forest before the monster’s appearance was. Anthrecea waited until the expecting chipmunk scuttled off again before beginning, “I don’t try to control everything, I just boost it in the right direction. If I could control everything, there would only be one of me and I would be Mother. But I can’t, so I’m not, so there’s more of us.”
“You make my head hurt.”
“We have more in common than I thought then.” The pair chuckled, then fell into silence once again. Even though the beings could survive being quiet, it was only because the rest of the world was filling it. The birds whistled to each other in the morning sunlight, the flowing creek created a constant, low hum, the bunnies stomped in frustration and thumped as they ran, the crickets cricked in the nighttime; round and round and round, the sounds of the world circled. “Since I won the game I get my prize.”
The Eater of Worlds sighed heavily, “Yes, well, what do you want?”
The nymph pondered for several moments, not planning this far ahead in her scheme. “I want you to admit that you do not have to eat every day.”
“But I do.”
“But you don’t.”
“I don’t what?”
“You don’t-” The nymph exhaled sharply, finally looking into the eyes of the now grinning monster next to her. “You haven’t eaten all this time and you haven’t died, the shame, so no, you do not have to eat every day and yet you do. That is not very conservational, you know.”
“I know,” The creature admitted. “But if I don’t try, then how else will I get you to fight with me?”
“You’re impossible.”
“No, I’m bored,” It declared. “And lost. And curious.”
“You’re lost?” The nymph asked, now curious herself.
“Ah, ah,” It’s grin became incredibly wider, now back to It’s usual monstrous self. “You already got your prize, you have to win another game to ask another question.”
“You asked a question even though you didn’t win the game.”
“Yes, but you answered willingly.” The nymph rose, tired of arguing, tired of fighting, tired of the world and of the consumer who rose along with her. She stepped with grace, a mossy path trailing behind her with each step. The creature took care to step on the moss only, liking the way it squished under It’s shoes. The nymph, taking notice, waited until the pair were surrounded by the dense, blossoming trees before willing a large, sharp root to grow up into It’s foot as it came down, the root traveling up into It’s leg, then through obturator foramen of the pelvis before escaping through the skin of It’s abdomen, wrapping around and around It’s waist as a lock to the ground. The interstellar-being howled in surprise and pain, grasping for the sauntering nymph without success. “How dare you! You’ll pay, you’ll pay, you’ll pay!”
“I’m sure I will,” Anthrecea acknowledged, not turning back. The monster struggled against the restraint, only causing it to tighten further. The nymph could have done worse, she could have put It in a Venus fly trap, but she knew the first blow should always be the most unexpected, and she had used such a fly trap before. Anthrecea moved smoothly between the trees, skin flashing in the sunlight, the circling stalk of the creatures now in reverse. “I want to play another game.”
“No, you don’t,” It growled. “If I win, you will hate the consequences.”
“‘If’ you say?” Anthrecea smirked, already winning. “I’m willing to risk an ‘if’.”
“I move slowly but I’m dead, I leave then I’m back, I’m clear then red then clear again, neurotics love me,” It snarled slowly after a moment, already planning It’s revenge.
“Neurotics love you, alright.” The nymph agreed.
“What am I?”
“A riddle.”
“Wrong.”
“A monster.”
“Wrong.”
“The Eater of Worlds.”
“Stop teasing and answer the fucking question.”
The nymph smiled, closing the distance between her and the entrapped being until their faces were only a few inches apart, noses brushing as she spoke. “A fingernail.”
“Yes,” It agreed, then paused, confused. “Who won?”
“I think it was a tie,” Anthrecea concluded.
“You know I don’t like ties,” It warned.
“Well that’s too bad,” Anthrecea smiled warmly. “Because it seems like you’re still all tied up.”
“I’m starting to think you like that silly little fact.”
A faint tinge of pink forced itself over the tips of Anthrecea’s pointed ears. Opening her mouth without any luck of a retort, the nymph instead turned away, sauntering through the trees with a not-so-brisk pace. It snarled, struggling against the trap of the stupid, silly girl It has to deal with. If only she would just die, then It could consume the world like It wanted. No questions, no feelings, no games, no feelings, no traps- no feelings? Yes, just boring hiding among the stars, eating when possible, and escaping the wrath of God. That is definitely what It wanted to go back to. No feelings. Just loneliness and hunger. No feelings.
Twisting and turning It’s body, the creature drug itself loose from the vines entrapping It, thorns tearing at flesh and meat and bone without mercy. Following a nymph is always easy if you can tell the difference between death and life; a skill born into humans and other Earthly creatures, of which It was not so they had to learn such a thing. The hunter slashed through the misty forest, blood leaking and splurting, following rage and the dancing trail of its prey: greener moss on some trees here, a blue flower within the red there, a group of ants celebrating over a sprig of fungus on a living tree. Anthrecea, of course, had known the monster was bound to escape eventually, and had settled in a pond, skin melting into clay and mud, bones darkening and snapping into sharp rocks, hair twisting and curling into the water creating mini waves to lap at the bodies of small frogs, watching as It howled in frustration. The one thing that the young nymph could not transform was the beating of her heart, a steady thud thud thud thud against the ground; It could not tell the difference between a nymph pond and a living pond, but by God could he feel the thrumming of blood cycling through the valves in a heart. The monster stopped, breathing ragged in an attempt at control, turning in a slow circle to locate the girl, “I know you’re there, my deer.”
The forest had silenced.
“I can taste your fear,” It hummed. “It tastes so sweet, but if you don’t come out I bet I can find something sweeter…. The fear of one of the village children perhaps?”
The ground rumbled beneath the creature but It refused to let it faze them.
“How about another game?” It offered, growing impatient. “A game of tag perhaps?” The ground continued to rumble, but the rising form of the forest nymph from the small pond caught It’s attention instead, water dripping down her face and chest and hips as she watched the monster in curiosity. Anthrecea moved towards the creature slowly, cautiously, until she was near nose to nose with It.
“Do I get another prize if I win?” The girl asked.
“If?” The nymph’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, of course.”
“But tag is endless,” Anthrecea concluded. “I thought you didn’t like ties.”
“There is a chance for an ending,” It breathed out. The pair watched each other for a moment, neither wanting to make the first move. With a blink, the ground beneath the monster crumbled away, revealing boiling, bubbling tar ready to suck and lick at the flesh of the world-eater. It’s eyes widened in shock, grasping at the legs of the nymph without hope, as she had already stepped back in anticipation, a smirk growing on her face. “You bitch.”
Anthrecea knelt by the pit, leaning forward until her nose brushed It’s, breathing in the smell of old blood that had rusted into It’s clothes and teeth, and the new blood being boiled by the trap she had so carefully laid several steps in the game ago. Tucking a pink water lily behind the pale ear, mostly held onto by the orange hair that stuck straight out of the monster’s head, the nymph spoke, breath mixing with the devil, “You’re it.”
Just putting it on the record I was scrolling Instagram reels when a reel of a drag queen showed up and she said "your Instagram account is being deactivated because-" and was cut off by the app closing and not letting ne back on with a phone notification saying insta was "updating please try again later"
Anyone have this happen reach out I wouldn't have really noticed if it was any other video but coincidence I think not
james and sirius
I'm a wolfstar fanatic but that doesn't mean I won't admit james and sirius are the freakiest friends ever to exist
Their bathroom is two toilets facing each other so they can hold hands while pissing and have a face to face convo while shitting
Lady and the tramp everything possible
Sirius cleans james' glasses by taking them off his face, licking each lense, and rubbing them on his shirt before putting them back on james and james doesn't even blink
Practice kissing each other in preparation for lily and remus
Eat off each other's plates/silverware
You can't tell me there hasn't been at least one full body wax of sirius done by james
Padfoot has 100% bit Prongs on the ass
Cuddle
Cuddle as james + padfoot
Cuddle as prongs + padfoot
Have showered together
Tengen when he is sick is the most awful patient and dramatic bitch to ever live and I mean bitch with a hard B
"It'll be okay, when I get better we can go out for brunch, right? I'll get better, and have brunch" like a damn soldier bleeding out in a battlefield writing to his wife
"Just let me die already"
"Baby it's just a cough"
"JUST LET ME DIE ALREADY"
Remus: *wakes up naked in the shrieking shack*
Sirius, also naked out of solidarity and French girl posing beside him: So... about last night ;)
Sirius sees Remus' struggle of using his wand and his cane at the same time so he learns how to make a magic cane that works the same as his wand he just has to tap it on the ground and gives it to Remus for Christmas full homo
Obanai: please sit on my face
Mitsuri: what if I suffocate you?
Obanai: that's what I'm hoping for
Mitsuri: ...
Lets be real honest Tengen Uzui's estate is filled to the brim with art there is no way that there is not some poor (as in I feel sorry for them not as in broke because he is literally funding their entire lifestyle like a Renaissance patron) artist whose entire life is now dedicated to painting and sculpting and drawing Uzui's wives as goddesses and Tengen as the slutty slut slut he is