how horrifying you are

local pigeon steals hearts and $10,000 worth of government information

The Red Sponge: Spongebob’s Role in Enforcing an Oppressive, Capitalistic Society

Every millennial who grew up watching “Spongebob Squarepants” has come to the same horrifying conclusion: you have turned into Squidward. No matter how buoyant, how cheerful, how optimistic you were as a child, there comes a point where you begin to identify with Squidward more than any other character in the show.

You could explain this phenomenon with the disillusionment and cynicism of growing up, or the burdens of being a teenager in a post-John Hughes society. There is, however, an even simpler answer. Spongebob is an allegory for Karl Marx’s The Communist Manifesto. The show revolves around Spongebob, the hardworking proletariat, accepting a low-level fry cook job and enduring Mr. Krabs’ exploitation with a grin on his face.

The face of compliance

It’s not hard to draw the parallels between Mr. Krabs and the bourgeoisie. He’s a cheapskate who underpays and overworks his employees for his own personal gain. Mr. Krabs famously ripped off his own arms (claws?) to retrieve a dime that fell down the drain. He took his workers on a boating trip to retrieve his millionth dollar from the jaws of a giant clam. He has zero regard for his employees’ safety and almost routinely puts them in danger for his own benefit.  Mr. Krabs’ daughter, Pearl is an extension of the bourgeoisie archetype. She’s vain, self-centered, and largely unaware of others’ misfortune. She lives in a bubble, obsessed with clothes, makeup, and celebrities — because she has the leisure for such frivolities.

Remember when Pearl gentrified The Krusty Krab

Speaking of living in a bubble, Sandy is not exempt from analysis. Sandy is quite literally shielded away from the rest of the world. She represents the intellectual elite, using her privilege and higher education to jeopardize working class jobs and further the industrial revolution. Her endeavors into space mirror the Cold War-era “Space Race,” capitalism versus communism. Her voyage ends on the moon, just like the U.S.’s did. On top of her scientific record, Sandy is independent and self-sufficient, exemplifying capitalistic ideals of individualism.

If Sandy is the intellectual elite, then Patrick Star is just the opposite. Patrick represents the bourgeois caricature of the working class that capitalists want you to buy into. He is ignorant, undereducated, and lazy. He lives under a rock, likely because he can’t afford anything else — although he doesn’t seem to mind. Patrick appears to deserve his poverty because he does nothing but sleep, yet he also seems at peace with his lot. This idea of the happy, unproductive bum simultaneously vilifies and justifies the proletariat. “See, they’re poor because they just don’t work hard enough! In fact, they like being poor!” Patrick Star is arguably one of the most offensive cartoon depictions of this generation.

Blatant vilification of blue-collar workers

Spongebob, on the other hand, represents the ideal proletariat. Spongebob is hardworking, humble, and endlessly optimistic. He’s a lot like us before we realized the inherent evils of a capitalistic society. Day in and day out, Spongebob gleefully works a minimum-wage job flipping burgers with no hope of promotion. He’s a cog in Mr. Krabs’ greasy machine, but he doesn’t even realize it. He just continues to skip to work every day, chanting “I’m ready!”. Ready for what, Spongebob? Ready for the bourgeoisie Kool-aid he’s been absorbing through his poriferous sponge body.

Spongebob is the ideal worker, and as children, we aspired to be just like him. The very first episode of Spongebob showed him getting his first job as fry cook. According to the show, the very best achievement you could receive is being gainfully employed. Not only employed, but tirelessly productive and efficient to maximize your manager’s profits. Spongebob famously served busloads of anchovies at a never-before-seen pace. It wasn’t enough that Spongebob could perform his job well; he had to go above and beyond his duty in order to seem valuable. These are the principles we instilled in the youth of today. What went wrong?

Back, finally, to Squidward. Squidward isn’t like Spongebob or Patrick. He isn’t satisfied in his low-level employment. What Squidward seeks is artistic satisfaction and world renown. He covets the success of his employer without achieving the work ethic necessary for someone of his class to ascend. Squidward has realized that the cards have been stacked against him at every turn, and resigns himself bitterly to the clutches of capitalism. If Squidward were less jaded, he could be the catalyst to prompt full-scale class warfare, perhaps ending in a communist utopia. Unfortunately, Squidward’s defeatist personality and egoism prevents him from implementing social change.

Mfw I realized I will never dismantle oppressive power structures that infiltrate our economic landscape

That is why we are all Squidward. We’ve uncovered the limits of capitalism and realized that hard work may not always pay off. We’ve begun to notice the oppressive economic and social structure that infiltrates our everyday life. We yearn for something higher, but feel that change is out of our reach. We become bitter, combative, self-deprecative, and cynical. There’s a reason Squidward is the unhappiest character on “Spongebob.” Not only for faults of his own, but for his own rotten luck. The show subliminally punishes Squidward for his views, hoping to prod viewers back towards Spongebob’s blithe, unfounded optimism.

Their efforts were to no avail. Millions of millennials are finding themselves disillusioned, realizing all along that Squidward was the reasonable one. He had a right to protest Mr. Krabs’ vile working conditions, and his sarcasm was merely a coping mechanism for the injustices placed against him. Squidward is the dissatisfied proletariat, and we identify with him more than ever. The difference is, we have the energy and collective power to succeed where he could not. Together, we can rise up and defeat the bourgeoisie, establishing an egalitarian society that does not prey on the lower classes. In the words of Spongebob, “I’m ready.” Are you?

What if we are both the Space Orcs and the Space Hippies of the Galaxy?

I absolutely love the idea that humanity will turn out to be the Space Orcs of the universe with our innate violence and toughness but what if we turn out to be the space hippies as well?

Like every other species that has reached Space fairing status has slaughtered every predator, every dangerous insect, every poisonous plant ….even viruses  and bacteria have been exterminated. Basically everything that can be a threat to them on their planet has been removed and it’s functions in the cycle of the planet have been replicated through scientific means. Sanitizing your Homeworld  like this is considered a mark of progress and civilization. Only barbaric species have natural dangers on their world. In advanced societies only lifeforms which are useful are allowed on your planet

And then we appear on the scene and although we are intimidating and and violent the other species welcome us. And then on our first meeting the alien ambassador notices a beautiful painting of a jellyfish on the Captain’s wall

“What an intriguing creature. Is it native to your planet? What is it function?” asked X’thio of the Kril

“Oh this? Yeah. The Box Jellyfish. Nasty piece of work. It’s poison targets your pain center and you literally spend weeks in excruciating pain. You can die very easily if you don’t get help quickly. My third cousin got stung by one. She said it was so painful it made child birth look like a fun day at the park“

“These things still exist on your world!? How horrifying. We would gladly help you exterminate them if you don’t have the capability”

“Exterminate them!? Mate we are trying to save them. They are severely endangering due all the pollution in the ocean!”

“What!? Why?”

“Well we used to throw out a lot of garbage  in the ocean and….”

“I understand how pollution works. Why would you want to save such a horrid creature?”

“Well  isn’t it obvious? It’s because it’s endangered. Besides they barely killed any people. Now snakes..let me tell you about snakes. There this snake that climbed through toilet and bit my uncle right in the…….”

And that’s when the Ambassador knew that they wouldn’t be leaving their Embassy on Earth

Peter: You beat people up and charge money?

Bucky: Yeah.

Tony: Sad, isn’t it?

Peter: How much would you charge to beat up Flash?

Tony: [horrified] What?

Bucky: How much you got?

Peter: Thirty bucks.

[Bucky nods in acceptance]

Tony: That’s good, this conversation is over.

candles

(this is for sen she killed me)


It is summer. Outside the inn, the cicadas have quieted and it’s the crickets that take over, white noise, white music, lulling the boys to sleep. The breaths of heavy sleep can be heard alongside the whir of the fan passing over the room. It smells of tatami mats and Kaminari’s feet, one foot poking Bakugou’s upper arm. His snores sound like whines, just irritating enough that Bakugou’s resting face is that of a scowl.

He considers shoving Kaminari, or more likely, kicking him, but that would require moving, and all four limbs are distant from Bakugou, heavy as concrete and unmovable as the komainu guards that stood outside the inn. He should be sleeping. He needs to be sleeping. Tomorrow, the training camp begins.

Still, there’s the expectant air of something about to happen–the moment before a match is lit, a breath held in until lungs burst, a pause of silence between songs. The room is scattered with pillows and blankets from a pillow fight two hours ago, and the room is heavy with a sense of contentment, apparent in the way Tokoyami cocoons himself in his blanket and Midoriya rests a hand on Iida’s chest. Shouji’s arms splayed out wide and Aoyama with his eyemask on.

Bakugou is wired–restless energy from the pillow fight? Fresh, summer air? Or the tension of training camps past, of being stolen away by villains in the dark.

Bakugou sits up, cards his fingers through his hair.

There’s a beat of silence, and then, “You’re awake?”

Todoroki’s voice is barely above a whisper, dream-like and soft, volume concealed by the sound of the fan. A breeze passes over Bakugou, making his hair flutter. Two sleepers over, Todoroki’s hair ruffles, too. He sits up.

“Go to sleep, idiot,” Bakugou hisses. “I’m not staying up.”

“You feel it, too.”

Bakugou holds his breath. He lets out a louder sigh than he intends. Lying back down, he turns his back on Todoroki. “Doesn’t matter. Night.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickles. He hears the telltale sound of a comforter being pushed back and the gentle thumping of movement across the mats.

If I close my eyes and go to sleep, he will go away, Bakugou thinks.

He manages to ignore Todoroki for a grand total of three minutes before he shoves back his own comforter and sits up, teeth pulled away from his gums. “What.”

Todoroki is sitting seiza at the foot of his bed. “You’re awake,” he says.

“‘Cause I can feel you breathing down my neck, shitstick. Take a hike and get out of my bed.

“We should welcome in summer together,” Todoroki says.

“Do you actually ever listen to people?” Bakugou asks.

“I used to do it with my sister,” he says. “I’m too restless to go to sleep. So are you.”

“I’ll have you know I love sleeping,” Bakugou says. “Get tucked in real fucking tight, snug as bug in his own fucking rug, away from creepy sleep-watchers and their weird-ass ideas.”

“You feel it,” Todoroki says. “Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s breath catches. “I told you not to–even if it’s dire–”

Todoroki holds up one finger, and a tiny flame lights from the end of it. Bakugou flinches. The candlelight reflects in Todoroki’s odd-colored eyes, shiny as glass. It lights a dull glow across molten, scarred skin, bumpy and rough-around-the-edges as the scar’s owner. It casts a shadow across the shape of Todoroki’s mouth, just too close to not-not-smiling to make it hard to look at him.

“Fine,” Bakugou says.

“Repeat after me,” Todoroki says. “Welcome, cicadas.”

“Welcome, cicadas,” Bakugou mutters.

“Welcome, crickets.”

“Welcome–this is so fucking stupid.”

“Just do it.”

A grunt. “Welcome, crickets.”

“Welcome, fireflies.”

“Welcome, fireflies.”

“Welcome, watermelons.”

“Welcome, watermelons.”

“Welcome, sunburn.”

“Welcome, sunb–you’re fucking with me. You’re actually just fucking with me. Is this even a family tradition?”

Todoroki really smiles now, one edge of his mouth turning up and his eyes crinkling. Bakugou moves his glare from Todoroki’s face to the fire at the tip of his finger.

Suddenly, the light goes out.

“Wh–” Bakugou starts.

“We have to seal it,” Todoroki says. “Seal the welcome.” His voice is much, much softer. Bakugou leans forward a little to catch his words.

“Seal it? How? Wait, why the fuck do I care? It’s bull–” Todoroki’s fingers feather along Bakugou’s jaw and he jerks away upon contact, heart racing. Todoroki’s hands hover in the no man’s land between their bodies for a moment. When he moves forward again, leaning forward on his knees, Bakugou doesn’t move. His fingers settle along Bakugou’s cheekbones, pinkies curling under his chin. The callouses on his fingers make Bakugou’s skin tingle. They’re not soft hands, but the hands of a hero and a hard-worker–someone who poured blood, sweat, and tears into his craft.

Through the moonlight that seeps into the room, Bakugou can make out the smile on Todoroki’s face. “We seal it with a kiss.”

Bakugou’s heart stutters. He scowls. He didn’t remember giving it permission to do that.

He feels Todoroki’s exhale as he breathes out. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” Todoroki says.

Bakugou’s hand has found its way to his shirt, clutching at the material over his chest. He doesn’t remember telling it to do that, either. “This is stupid,” he mutters. “This is stupid, you’re stupid, this whole thing is,” he takes a breath, “fucking stupid.”

Todoroki presses his forehead to Bakugou’s, their noses brushing. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” he says again. And then, “Please.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Bakugou thinks, and he pecks Todoroki on the mouth lightning quick.

“There,” he says. “Sealed.”

“Okay,” Todoroki says.

“It’s just for your stupid summer tradition,” Bakugou says. “That’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Which is still bullshit, by the way.”

“Okay.”

“And it doesn’t mean anything, so don’t go telling Deku about…whatever.”

“Okay.”

“And–” Bakugou says, but the words are slipping from his mind because Todoroki’s thumb is on his bottom lip and he can feel the puff of Todoroki’s breath not even an inch from his mouth and Todoroki’s eyes are half-lidded, and it’s all just very warm, and without really giving it much thought, he’s kissing Todoroki.

Todoroki’s fingers are rough but his mouth is soft, none of the sharp words he wields when he picks fights with Bakugou, a choice insult thrown in like a dagger to the side, no, this–this is the smile he wears when he’s helpful to a classmate, the brush of his hair against Bakugou’s palm when he swipes at him while dueling, the press of his cheek on Bakugou’s shoulder when he falls asleep on him on the train.

This is I know you and I have yet to know you and I want to know you, the questioning tilt of Todoroki’s head and the suggestion of tongue. They don’t French but they do kiss, the sound sweet as a cricket’s song when they part. Bakugou thinks he’s in a fever dream, even though the height of summer has yet to arrive and the fan still blows cool air across them every now and then. He feels that if he stops kissing Todoroki he will wake up and it will have never happened.

When Todoroki parts from him, he whispers, “Welcome, summer.”

Bakugou whispers, “Welcome, summer.”

Dating Jonathan Byers Would Include

@kurtwxgners


  • Photos. Let’s just get this out of the way here and now.
    • Photos of you, photos of the two of you, photos of you with his family –
    • According to Jonathan, there can never be enough photos of you
      • Well, he never outright says it, but you can assume such from his actions
    • Depending on how you are with getting your photos taken, there can be a mix of what kinds of pictures of you Jonathan has an abundance of
    • If you enjoy it, you model and pose quite a lot. There’s plenty of goofy pictures of you that were done to make him laugh
    • If you detest it, he tries to respect your wishes. Honestly, he does. But sometimes you just look so beautiful and natural and that profile of yours looks so right in this lighting and just –
      • *click* “… Did you just take a picture of me?” “I’m sorry..!!”
  • Meeting *because* of said profile looking great in lighting
    • You were honestly probably just getting some reading done while walking to your car/the bus/however you get to and from school. Jonathan happened to look your way, saw you, and became incredibly smitten
    • Normally he’d just take the picture he wanted with or without the subject’s awareness and move on with his day. With you, however… He felt different about doing that. Almost ashamed in himself if he did it without your awareness, or even permission
    • Nancy looks in the direction Jonathan has been staring at for nearly an entire minute and immediately knows what’s going on, suggesting that Jonathan just go talk you
    • Of course, Precious Picture-Taker™ is too shy to do it, so Nancy tries another route: Gently pushing him towards you until he’s about halfway to where you are
    • He was about to give up and walk away but you looked back at him just before he could. Poor soul froze and could feel his heart beating so fast it felt like it was encased in ice. Meanwhile, his face was growing warmer by the second
  • Jonathan was incredibly tongue-tied when you asked if you could help him. Nancy had to step in and say he was doing a senior project for photography and that you seemed to fit the criteria he’d told her about
    • His face said “What?”, his eyes said “Panic!”, but his heart said “Thank you, St. Nancy.”
      • After you two became a couple, you would occasionally tease him about how shy and cute he was being over “little ole you”
  • Him making you breakfast
    • It’s already a part of his regular routine, so if you spend the night at the Byer household or arrive there in the morning on the weekends or even school day, you can trust that there will be a fourth plate laid out and stacked with food for you
    • If he goes to pick you up in the morning to go to school, he packs you a bag with a breakfast burrito or breakfast sandwich
  • Being involved in a two-headed mother hen of a relationship
    • You’re protective of your lanky prince, always trying to get him to sleep more, making sure he’s dressed warmly in winter when he goes out to take pictures
      • You’ve stood up to many bullies and unsavory people on his behalf, much to his dismay (and much to his poor heart’s horror)
      • This includes his father, whom we will discuss later
    • Jonathan, however, is virtually the same with you. In fact, he might even be even more of a mother hen!
      • If you’re begging him to put on gloves and a scarf, he’s darn-well making certain that you’re doing exactly that – even when it’s not that cold out
        • God help you if you sneeze …
      • He carries a mini first-aid kit in the glove box of his car not long after you two begin dating, which he’s glad to have done after you once got a splinter during a walk
      • You’re pretty sure he just plain likes feeding you because even beyond packing you breakfasts (which he makes because he thinks you aren’t being healthy enough), he’s always offering you snacks or has some on standby
      • Jonathan isn’t a confrontational person, but he will throw fists if somebody speaks ill of you
        • (To be honest, as upset as it makes you to see him hurt, you need to admit that there’s something attractive about seeing him get animalistic
      • Clarification: Jonathan is definitely the bigger mother hen
  • Developing a big sis-type relationship with Will and his friends
    • You learn a bit about Dungeons and Dragons for his sake before realizing it’s pretty fun. You want to join the group at some point, and agree to do so after Mike’s current campaign is over so that you don’t feel like you’re intruding
    • You inherently become protective of Will and make it your vow to mess up anyone who dares mess with him
      • Jonathan quietly appreciates this
  • Joyce adoring you and always ready to save a spot for you at the dinner table. The Byers household ultimately becomes your home away from home
    • She’s just so happy that her eldest son not only has a significant other, but one who treats him properly and embraces his oft ridiculed characteristics
    • (However, if you spend the night or anything, she still would prefer his bedroom door stay open. Just an involved mother’s preference)
    • She always makes sure you go home with a plate of something
      • Since Jonathan is the photographer, there aren’t too many photos with which she can embarrass him with – doesn’t mean that there aren’t any at all, though
  • The first time you meet Jonathan and Will’s deadbeat father, you try to hold your tongue. However, the keyword here is “try” because you ultimately failed
    • The moment that bastard uttered a single word about Joyce and/or her boys, you were hot as a studio light
    • You were cussing and screaming and calling out as though you were getting paid for it, growing hot in the face
    • Meanwhile, Jonathan stood there for a few moments, completely gobsmacked: Even when faced with ridicule back in Hawkins, he’d never seen you so pissed
      • When he finally comes back to reality, however, his instincts kick in and he gently ushers you away.
      • He can’t tell why his face is red: It’s not embarrassment, he decides, but maybe it’s a little closer to shock, pride, and … excitement?
  • Double dates with Nancy and Steve
  • Nobody telling you about the Upside Down or anything that happened until at least a year into the relationship
    • You’re not exactly upset that such information was withheld. How could you be when you’re too busy being horrified at the trauma everyone has surely gone through
    • As a result, you become a lot more affectionate towards Jonathan, always nervous that somewhere deep down he’s still very much frightened over his experiences. Speaking of affection, though …
  • PDA being a very quiet, tame thing between you two
    • Jonathan, being the closed off person that he is, isn’t necessarily going out of his way to show PDA in the way that most of your peers are.
    • At most, he’ll peck you on the lips or hold your hand. But in every peck and every hand-holding moment, you can feel the growing love he has for you, never allowing you to doubt his intentions even once
  • In private, Jonathan still exhibits slight hesitancy to show bigger, more emphasized forms of affection towards you, often fidgeting when you two are sitting together and watching a movie
    • He may need some encouragement or a clear sentence where you consent to him wrapping an arm around your shoulders
    • Once you get him cuddling, though, Jonny’s as comfy as a kitten in a sun spot.
      • Nothing will stop him from nuzzling you and quietly sighing with content
      • The boy loves neck kisses, giving or receiving. He won’t do the former as often due to his shyness, however. But you rarely let this stop you from placing a quick peck on his own neck to receive a slight shutter or him turning his blushing face elsewhere
  • Jonathan can’t help but feel like any nickname he gives you sounds awkward falling from his mouth.
    • At most, he’ll call you “sweetie” or “honey” but he often winds up sounding so unsure or clumsy about it that you can’t help but giggle about it
    • You, however, go nuts with naming him things and he doesn’t seem to mind: Jon-Jon, Jonny, Jon Boy, Jo-Jo, Baby, My Tired Puppy, Jon-Bon, Stieglitz, Picture Perfect, etc. (After 1983, you begin referring to him as Jon Bon Jovi sometimes)
  • Blasting The Clash from his room when you’re over or when it comes on the radio in the car
  • Jonathan becoming so used to your bizarre comments and conversation topics that he’s barely phased by them anymore
    • He plays along with them, even offering genuine input when you ask for it
    • He never wants you to feel like you’re too strange or your thoughts are invalid – he knows that feeling all too well and would never wish that on anyone he cares about
    • As such, he invests himself into every conversation you have, even if he may not have any real thoughts on the subject matter. But if it’s important to you, then he at least needs to make an effort
  • Helping him prepare his portfolio for his NYU application
    • Jonathan was honestly a little nervous about telling you that his dream school was NYU – most wouldn’t imagine a shy, quiet guy from a town like Hawkins to be able to make it out of the neighboring cities, let alone to such a prestigious school in a big city.
    • His little heart did an entire gymnastics routine of shock and complete glee when, after he told you, you gained expression on your face and told him that you needed to start immediately to create the perfect portfolio
    • In the end, a great portion of the photos wind up including you in them or some aspect of you or something Jonathan later admits he finds symbolic of you
    • You want to ask him why, but you kind of already know: You’re his muse, simple as that
  • Enjoying just that: Life with Jonathan (when it’s not involving the Upside Down or whatever else is out there) is simple.
    • Not in a bad way, but in a sweet way, the kind of way that makes you think of cute diner dates on Friday evenings, walks for ideas for photos on Saturdays, baked pies for Sunday dinners.
    • The sweet feeling of holding hands as you walk down Main Street, making idle chitchat
    • Life with Jonathan feels like you’re eternally wrapped in one of his sweaters – which, much of the time, is plenty true
  • Always being so proud of him and knowing that you two are a team, be it for fighting against the supernatural odds, or for fighting against the more difficult parts of reality
    • He’s your weary-eyed prince, you’re his knuckle-bearing, fire-tongued princess

how much you wanna bet lucretia was absolutely HORRIFIED when her journals were broadcast across the multiverse?

and like i don’t mean in a “oh no they’re getting closer to stopping me” sort of way, i mean in the sort of way that i, as a writer, would be completely mortified and disgusted with myself if 100 years of my writing was suddenly implanted into everyone’s brains. please let her rewrite that she can do better cycle 32 was an experimental year, and she has NO idea what went wrong with the cycle 76 journals-

Only Way To Live - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 4818

Warnings: Kinky Filth, NSFW, 18+, Oral (Female Receiving)

Notes: Honestly, I’m kinda mixed about this entire thing? I don’t think it’s as good as some of the other stuff I’ve written. The idea was so good for this too! I got the idea from an episode of Attack of Titan while I was in my slump. So, please, any feedback ya’ll have would be appreciated.

Keep reading

Imagine you’re sent to a summer camp for women...

Imagine you’re sent to a summer camp for women after your family believes you need to learn some responsibility. It seems like all fun and games at first, most of which you want no part of, but eventually you hear of an intriguing rumor - anyone who swims in the lake over the ridge never comes back the same.


It’s really stupid, you think, but as the days grow hotter and the days longer you’re really considering ignoring the rumors and warnings and just going for a quick dip.


Especially with one of the cute camp counselors that you’ve been eyeing, sure that he’s been checking you out too. Eventually you convince him to start fooling around with you and it’s great, that you’re feeling a little more daring as you invite him out for a swim.


He tells you its forbidden, and you pout but let him kiss you some more, now more then ever determined to show all these damn campers what a stupid rumor it is.


That night after the lights around the camp have gone out, you sneak out and head over to the lake, grateful of the full moon as it makes it easier to see. When you get there its almost eerily silent, the lake a perfect glass mirror reflecting the night sky.


You strip down to your bathing suit and slowly wade in, shivering just a bit because the water is actually a bit warmer than you expected, but not unpleasant. Being a strong swimmer, you wade out until you can’t feel the bottom, laying on your back to look up at the sky. This isn’t so bad, you think. Its nice and peaceful here.


Then a branch snaps.


You whip your head toward shore and see someone standing there, your heart starting to pound. “Whose there?” You call, trying to sound brave, but it comes out more scared then you’d like to admit. The person steps forward and it’s your camp counsellor friend. He’s looking at you strangely, not with his usual smile. You call out to him.


“Come on in, the water’s great!”


Surprisingly, he just nods and starts to strip off his clothes, all but his boxers as he wades out into the water. The moonlight reflects a bit oddly off his eyes, which seem to glow as he swims out to you, catching you in his arms.


“See, I knew it would be fine. That rumor was such-”


He cuts you of with a shake of his head. “You really should have listened,” He murmured, his voice sounding distorted. “Now we can really have fun.”


You tried to pull away. “Wha-?”


Just then, something began to slither up your leg, cold and slimy but thick and strong. You let out a yelp but when you tried to kick it away another grabbed your other leg, forcing them apart.


“Something’s got me!” You cry, but as you watch as he slowly sinks lower, his eyes a bright green before he slips under water and then your bathing suit bottoms are being ripped from you as something much warmer starts lapping at your folds. Despite how horrified you are it begins to turn you on, and though the things are still holding you, you start to push into it, aching until it presses inward, making you moan.


It starts to thrust into you, seeming to grow larger and thicker each time which doesnt make sense, and you reach down to feel it but instead of finding your boyfriend’s hair all you can grasp is a long thick thing, same as whatever is holding your legs. You let out a cry as whatever it is starts pounding you deeper, jerking you a bit up and out of the water, and you try to reach down to pull it out, only for two more of the things to grab and wrap around your wrists, actually pulling you into its thrusts.


You’ve become nothing but a moaning mess then, begging it to stop but also feeling so good that before you know it, you’re cumming hard and fast as it fucks you through it, making you scream in pleasure.


It’s only as you’re coming down from the high that you realize its not letting you go.


It’s stopped but the thing inside you is pulsating - suddenly bulging bigger still as it presses against your opening, and then slowly inside- roughly the size of a baseball, whatever it is is round and squishy but feels amazing, pressing right against your sweet spot as it squeezes up your loosened vagina and then pops into what must be your uterus.


Oh god, its happening again.


The second one is bigger, slipping just that little bit easier into you, making you bite back a moan as it settled against the other, but before you could get used to it another one was coming, and though you tried to fight it off and stop it by clenching your muscles, this one had more force behind it and actually made you gasp as its mini watermelon size sent a shock of arousal so sharp through you your legs shook.


After that, you stopped fighting it, moaning and trying not to cum as this thing pressed more and more of the large squishy balls into you, the weight of it slowly starting to tug you under water. As you struggled to keep your face above and not inhale the water you saw two eyes emerging in front of you, the eyes of your boyfriend - who was smiling with really pointed teeth.


With a scream, you jerked away and managed to break free of the things holding you, almost going under but bobbing just above the surface as you swam madly for shore. It felt like forever before you felt the ground beneath you, taking a step and stumbling as the weight of you seemed to drag you down. When you finally managed to crawl up the beach, you realized why.


Where once you had a nice flat belly a massive one stuck out before you, so large you could barely crawl on your hands and knees out of the water, your belly dragging on the ground. You barely got out of the water when you turned to look and felt those things tugging on your legs again, yanking you back.


“And where do you think you’re going, my lovely? I still need to fertilize those eggs.”


Though you dug in the dirt to try and drag yourself away, the long tentacles you could finally see in the moonlight finally flipped you over, spreading your legs and giving your boyfriend easy access to swim up between them and grab your hips.


Though you couldn’t see it, you certainly felt the long thickness of him plunging into you, easily bigger then even the other one and making your eyes roll back in your head as it jostled the mass of your belly. He fucked you until you came again, and again, clutching at your boobs that had started to swell in size - and begged him to cum in you until he did, hissing as he came wave after wave into you, your belly swelling even larger as the eggs were soaked through with cum.


Shaking and panting hard, you could only stare up at what little you could see of the night sky, clutching at what you could reach of your belly, feeling each and every large egg bulging against your skin. Every time you breathed you could feel them shift, jostling for space when there really wasn’t any. You were so preoccupied you barely felt it as your boyfriend slipped from you, but you did when he slapped a hand down absently on your belly and it nearly rolled you over, the weight of the eggs nearly crushing.


He laughed at your lack of mobility, his hands grabbing for your wrists as he slowly began to drag you back into the water. You couldn’t fight it even if you wanted to, letting him drag you in until your lower half was underwater, and then he was climbing over your massive belly, smirking down at you as he started to push down on your heaving, distended stomach.  


“It will take a day or so before anyone knows you’re missing, but that’s more than enough time to pump a few more clutches into you..maybe even bigger ones.”

[From the author that brought you Keeping up with the Joneses, the Milk Maid Keeping Full, Your Alpha’s Betas giving you more, and a few others, here’s some Seaweed.. from your friendly author Soup.]

terezisexbuttpyrope  asked:

Bruh, can I request Shiro and his s/o fucking in the Black Lion?

*thinks about Shiro dirty talking in public*

*busts an ovary*

p.s: this also has to be the most dirtiest thing I’ve ever written, and I’ve been working on a bdsm fic for 2 years  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

nsfw under the cut cause this is some filthy shit

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i have the sudden, overwhelming desire to write a body swap fic where Graves and Newt are on the receiving end of a miscast spell and have to suffer the admittedly hilarious consequences

I will fucking flip a table if it turns out that Amanda Brotzman going “full Rowdy” means that she’ll be able to sense people’s emotions and feed off their psychic energy somehow.

Signs as Sylvia Plath quotes
  • Aries: I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.
  • Taurus: I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery mountains, trees, people.
  • Gemini: The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
  • Cancer: Please don't expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.
  • Leo: Kiss me, and you will see how important I am
  • Virgo: What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.
  • Libra: How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into.
  • Scorpio: I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.
  • Sagittarius: I want to talk to everybody as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night...
  • Capricorn: If I didn't think, I'd be much happier; if I didn't have any sex organs, I wouldn't waver on the brink of nervous emotion and tears all the time.
  • Aquarius: I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.
  • Pisces: You are a dream; I hope I never meet you.
8

I don’t want your fear. I want your love.

Dan Keef your Bobbie s (Actor!AU)

(written by: @mayoffnaise❤ )  

“Bro, you’re fuckin’ ripped and I know you know that because all you wear are tight ass v-necks from the ladies section at Forever 21." 

Keith felt a small blush creep up to his cheeks. First because he still couldn’t handle a compliment from Lance let alone anyone else, and second because he hit than nail on the head with Keith’s wardrobe. "It’s not about that though." 

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Punk (Chap. 2)

Originally posted by kryzx

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 1805

Warnings: Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….

A/N:  I hope you like this chapter, for some reason I enjoy it a lot though it’s not much.  I have a three day weekend coming up so hopefully I can continue working on my fics.  Thanks for your patience and I LOVE the feedback :]


 

Natasha Romanov was many things: ace assassin, hotshot hacker, super spy.  Pleasant in the morning?  No. Not one of her virtues. You might as well have poked a sleeping bear with a pointy stick; their reactions were generally the same.  Though the bear was more likely to let you live, come to think of it.  But desperate times called for desperate measures.

 The red head cradled her mug as she shuffled back towards the bed with eyes half open.  You took that as an invitation, though it probably wouldn’t work on vampires, you’d have to remember that should the time come.  You kicked the door shut and plopped onto the bed where a half-naked Clint was slowly entering the world of consciousness.  You signed “good morning” to him once his confused expression grazed from Natasha and back to you.  He grinned puckishly before speaking aloud, “Is it my birthday?”

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