Don't Drop That Soap, Simon . . . ! đź§Ľđź’“

Don't Drop That Soap, Simon . . . ! đź§Ľđź’“

don't drop that soap, simon . . . ! đź§Ľđź’“

More Posts from Distinguishedsaladphantom and Others

Weaknesses part 5: complexes

Note: this is jokes!! Please don’t take my cartoon pathologizing too seriously!

cw: some daddy kink level stuff

Gaz has a soft spot for girls who suffer from oldest sister syndrome. Girls that are a little world weary and too grown up at too young an age from caring for others while not having people to rely on. He just loves how pleasantly surprised you are literally every time he does something helpful that you didn’t ask him to do. Doing the dishes. Spackling that hole from the picture you took down. Refilling the air in the tires. Bleaching the bathtub. Very small things— but you’re so used to being the only one who can stay on top of things. Literally the high he gets from telling you to sit down and relax is unparalleled.

Soap is, quite frankly, into girls who grew up thinking they were ugly. It’s a terribly selfish, but he likes telling you all of the dirty things he thinks of doing to you, how he feels like someone’s knocked him upside the head when you enter a room in a new outfit, how he has to take a cold shower every time you’re going out to some event and he gets to see you dressed up. Honestly, he has to take the cold showers pretty regularly. Seeing how you’re flustered, and you don’t 100% believe the things he says— so he has to put in the time to make you believe him. You’re the kind of girl boys would dare each other to ask out in middle school, and now Soap has the absolute pleasure of convincing you that sometimes you make him so turned on that he thinks he’s about to throw up.

Ghost likes outcast girls. He likes how you eye him with a little bit of suspicion when he chooses to hang around you. He sort of gets this idea in his head that he’s the only one that can handle your eccentricities— handle you. That other people are afraid to approach you but he’s not afraid of anything. That his interest in you is because honestly, he has a much more refined palate than any of the shitheads you’re surrounded by. And you know what? He likes the idea of you as a couple being the scary, freak ass couple. Two lone wolves becoming mates.

Price likes former gifted students. He loves that you’re talented and quick, yes, but he also can’t help but get excited by all of that pressure that’s on you— that you put on yourself. He gets to be the one that relieves it. He’s the one that gets to lavish you in praise, and he’s also the one who gets to pin you down and force you to take it easy for a little while. He loves gently handling any mistakes or missteps, rationally perceived or otherwise. Because he can tell no one’s ever bothered to treat you so gently, have they, sweetheart? They’ve just been content to push you to your limits and have you run yourself ragged because you’re special. You are, he won’t deny it— but you’re also a little thing that hasn’t seen enough nurturing, in his eyes.

König loves so called “high maintenance” girls. Girls with high standards who know what they want, who have gone through some partners that couldn’t take the heat. He gets a very unique sense of control out of it— knowing all of your rules, rituals, likes, dislikes. Like Ghost, he likes thinking of himself as the only person who knows how to handle you— that everyone before him has just been unworthy of you. That he is strong where others have been weak. And you know what? It’s not rotten work. Not to him. Not if it’s you. He’s just built different.

Nikolai… I’m just going to say it. He likes girls with daddy issues. He kinda throws his whole self into relationships at times, and he likes it when he can be your everything. Your love, your friend, your hero, your source of approval from an older man. And he loves a brat. Because he knows you only act that way because someone didn’t pay attention to his special girl in the past. You’re testing him— daring him, unsheathing your claws to see if he’ll flinch and he never will. He’ll endure it all and chip at your defenses until you’re the soft, satisfied, sweet girl he knows you really want to be. Lavishing you with praise and attention, bragging about you to anyone who will listen. He wants you to have a complete breakdown because you’ve been holding it all in and putting up walls for so long that you don’t even know how to cope with being in the arms of someone who will always catch you when you fall.

Can't stop thinking about the brothers calling MC "master" since that new teaser trailer came out. The game is called "One Master to Rule Them All." It's always been called that. This massive potential has been right in front of our eyes the whole time.

Lucifer, who only uses it in private when he's feeling particularly devilish. He wraps his arms around you, looks you right in the eye, and asks, "how does my master feel today, hmm?"

Mammon, who has an empty wallet and the urge to gamble: "Maaaster! Can I borrow some cash? I can, right? I'm your first, after all. I'll just take it from your wallet."

Leviathan, who wants to go to an anime collab cafe but is too anxious to go alone, so he begs you: "Please! Master! It's only open this week and I just have to collect all 24 limited edition cafe coasters! It'll be easier if we go together!"

Satan, who catches you when you stumble and jokingly asks, "are you okay, master?" He likes seeing the little sparks of wrath in your eyes that mirror his own.

Asmodeus, who thinks the word is hot and enjoys your reaction when he comes to steal you away from other people by saying "hey! I need to speak with my master. I'll be borrowing them for a while. I'm sure you don't mind."

Beelzebub, who hungrily stares at the food in the fridge with your name on it. He knows he needs to butter you up to have any chance of success: "Hey master, are you gonna eat that?"

Belphegor, who uses it at the most unexpected times. He texts the group chat, "does anyone know where our master is? I can't find them." It sets off a long chain of messages. "Master's not in their bedroom?" "Master? Haven't seen 'em." "Did you try yelling 'master!' and seeing if they respond?" "I saw master getting something to drink about an hour ago." "Master, are you reading our messages? I know you are." "I can't believe master is ignoring us." Several crying emoji are sent in quick succession.

Solomon and Barbatos, who witness the brothers doing this on occasion. Solomon turns to the latter and says, "You never call me your master. Want to give it a try?"

Barbatos looks at him with barely repressed revulsion. "I only have one master, and that is the Young Master. If you ever make such a joke again I will have you tried in court for lese-majeste."

While standing in line trying to get some food in the southern Gaza Strip, he yelled at the journalist Fakri Ibrahim, saying: 'Send this picture to Israel and the world.'

While Standing In Line Trying To Get Some Food In The Southern Gaza Strip, He Yelled At The Journalist
It’s So Toxic

It’s so toxic

Still Collecting The Full Alphabet Of The “live, Laugh, Love” Variants If Anyone Has Some Good Examples.

Still collecting the full alphabet of the “live, laugh, love” variants if anyone has some good examples.

Bonus if they can fit the “We can’t ___, _____, ____ our way out of this.”

Warm Winter Mornings and Cold Summer Nights

Summary: Captain John Price of the 141 adopts a stray. It goes about as well as one would expect. Part 1 of many

Warm Winter Mornings And Cold Summer Nights

Lying on a flattened cardboard box, with nothing but a flimsy, worn-down cloth draped over their tiny body, a young child rests in the frigid cold. They are curled into themselves, knees drawn close to their chest, arms tightly hugging their shins—most likely trying to preserve warmth.

The child is awfully small; he doubts they are older than ten, give or take.

Now, here comes the dilemma.

It was supposed to be a quick trip to the store—there and back. His list consisted of chicken, green onions, and garlic—and it definitely did not include a stray kid.

Breathe out. Breathe in.

The movement of their chest is subtle, barely noticeable in the dark.

It’s only a matter of time before they succumb to the harsh, unforgiving winter night.

Today is a special day. Christmas.

Snowflakes drift leisurely to the ground in the form of fluffy, white pom-poms, shrouding the concrete below in a blanket of soft cotton.

Children should be safe in a house, surrounded by the warmth of their family and celebrating the holiday. But this one is not.

Instead, they’re curled up on a sodden piece of cardboard with a sorry excuse of a blanket in a filthy alleyway. Scared. Cold. Alone.

Yes. Alone. Just like him.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming need for comfort, for family, that he had been feeling. Maybe this young, scruffy stray was the last puzzle piece he has been missing.

A kid. He’s always wanted one.

After all, he is a lonely man, and he has been lonely for a long, long time.

So, against his better judgement, he enters the dark alley.

The child immediately stiffens, sitting up and pressing their back to the brick wall, trying to make themselves smaller. Narrowed eyes stare at his approaching figure, wary and prickly, ready to defend if need be.

He crouches down, resting on his haunches to make himself appear less threatening. Now, he has the chance to get a better look at the kid.

White, translucent puffs of air escape from their mouth with every exhale, and he can hear the tremble of their breaths as their small lungs fight through the biting, frigid air. The tips of their ears and nose are tinged red, numb from the cold—god knows how long they have been out here.

“Hello, little one.”

A smudge of dirt on their cheek, rags for clothes, and a deep cut on their right calf that definitely needs attention—but he doubts they trust him enough to let him get close.

For now.

“I’m John Price.”

He reaches out his hand, palm facing upwards and fingers curling slightly at the end in a natural, casual manner. The gesture is meant to be warm—inviting—but they flinch and cower away, their gaze sharp, brimming with distrust.

Undeterred, he continues to extend his hand.

“Let's get you out of the cold, yeah?”

Hear me out

Transmasc Satan

:3

I mean this is just 100% me projecting onto one of my biggest kins

BUT LIKE IEIJRJDN

Imagine him staring into the mirror!! And his thoughts are going vrooooom

He lacks a personality. He's horrified (in an angry way) when he acts like Lucifer so he pushes it all down,feeling frustrated.

He's not good enough.

Does he even mean anything?

He's not even the gender he wants to be.

And yk transition is easier for demons in my hcs!!

Simeon, I Want You!!!

Simeon, I want you!!!

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22 years old 🇵🇸

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