stuff i want to reblog but not on my main

This clip of Hoffman specifically has me by the throat. I can't get enough of it.

Pyramid head my sweet little man 🥰😍😳😌 this ones a little short hope you don’t mind

WC: 336

Warnings: not much really very soft

Pyramid Head ‘The Executioner’ x gn Reader

The Nearness of You

Rain falls on the rusted metal of his great big head piece. You're not sure if he's got a head underneath it, nor do you think you'll ever know. Sometimes, he tries to take it off. He groans in pain. Long sorrowful bellows. You think of them and squeeze his hand a little tighter. His palms are hot, but not sweaty somehow. He runs so hot and out here in the rain, you cling like saran wrap. Out in the Midwich courtyard, you sit on a bench with him. His knife leaned on it, you at his side. You're not sure what makes him like spending time with you either, you realize. To be truthful you've never known much at all about him. Just that he's got a pyramid structure over his head and the body of a muscle builder. That he likes to chop things. Not much at all. You also knew he was warm.

“How are you so warm? I'm cold out here,”

The executioner does not feel the cold. At least, he does not allude to it. He doesn't get goosebumps, does not shiver. But you, a poor, soft, mortal cant help those things. Even when your arms aren't bare like his. He is confused. You tell him this because you want… His warmth? Should he retrieve more fabric? You hold his hand so close to you, he knows that you do not want him to leave. Ultimately, he decides to pick you up in his gloved hands. You startle, but ease over his lap. He grumbles, you can hear it inside of the metal. Your fingers touch his chest a little and he holds your small hands in his own, tucking you under his helmet.

“Thanks,” In response, he pulls you closer, as you soak up his body heat like a sponge, listening to his rumbles through his chest and up through his diaphragm. “Aren't you a cuddlebug?” He grumbles, inflected almost like a question and you press into him some more.

i don’t wanna make susies suggestive or anything since it hasn’t been confirmed if she’s a minor yet or not so i’ll try to stay on the safe side ahdhsh

got this done cause an anon threatened to suck myers off if i didn’t smh

idk how to characterize amanda since i’ve never seen the saw movies rip :(

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Joey:

GAWD DAMN

Ngl he was kinda into it.

Of course he didn’t make that known, but you knew something was up when Joey wasn’t even trying to fight back. That didn’t really stop you from squeezing your thighs around him anyways, which he very much enjoyed. Of course he was caught off guard at first, and was actually pretty surprised, it didn’t stop him from immediately realizing just how provocative the situation is.

Mans was on the ground for a whole 5 minutes just reveling in the fact he had someone’s thighs around him. In this realm too? It’s like a reward for doing well in trials. Joey loved every second of your thighs around him, and he won’t be afraid to admit it. Atleast around his friends he’s not.

Silently hopes you do it again. He WILL make sure the opportunity presents itself. Like Frank, he’s a little perv. I’m sure you’ll catch onto that at around the 5th time when he just stands infront of you waiting. You ask him about it outside of trials? He’ll just say he was thinking about something else. Obviously he zoned out.. when your thighs are wrapped around him..

Susie:

Agh! Get it off! Get it off!

Susie doesn’t know what’s going on and quite frankly she does not want to know. All she knows is that your nether regions are in her face and she is not fond of it! Please get off of her!! And stop squeezing her face.. She’s blushing and she doesn’t know what to do!

She doesn’t wanna talk about what happened.. Atleast not to her friends. She’s really embarrassed and now she’s scared to go near you because she doesn’t want you strangling her with your surprisingly strong legs. Well atleast you get a free escape when you have her as your killer!

Miiight(?) tell her friends if it’s still on her mind. What kind of sorcery did you curse upon her? Did your legs possess some sort of power to plague her mind with thoughts of that trial. She doesn’t know. She just knows that she’s always a mix of scared and flustered when she’s near you now.

Amanda Young:

The hell? What are you doing?!

Amanda is not impressed, nor is she happy. She’s lucky she has a pig head on, or else she’d be having cooch in her face. Usually it’s something she wouldn’t complain about, but when it’s in a trial? That’s kind of embarrassing, and Amanda doesn’t like getting embarrassed. It ruins her reputation..

You’ll hear a little squeal as she falls to the ground. Alright now you’re getting it. Amanda will not let herself be used like a domino just so you can escape! You’re going to have a trap put on your head, and you will not have a good time the rest of the trial. Yes it was just because you decided to use them thunder thighs on her. She don’t not appreciate being vulnerable like that!

Honestly she really does it just to hide the fact that she kinda liked it. She just didn’t like the fact that she did in the first place. And she did not want those stupid emotions taking over

Kazan Yamaoka:

Not even sure you’ll have a chance to get your legs around him before his quick reflexes snatch your legs and just about snap them. There is almost NO way you will be able to pull off such a stunt unless Kazan was already distracted. It’ll take a while before you even get close to getting him to the ground.

When you do? Kazan will not be happy. He is not happy that you managed to make him feel this way. He is not happy that his body reacted the way it did. He’s overall just not happy that you’re a snack in his eyes. You managed to get him on the ground, and now he’s kinda turned on. Like what the fuck reader?? Why would you do such a thing to this man?

This was a process lol

a bunch of Dan comics, pls a bonus headcannon attatched sksks

Dan wearing blue-light-blocking glasses since he stares at a screen 24/7

Dan being for real

OKAY HEADCANNON TIME- ITS KINDA CRACKPOT BUT HEAR ME OUT AND TAKE WITH A GRAIN OF SALT:

"She was always like this... but not like... like THIS..."

Yeah... Dan's quest messed me up and I'll never be the same... :'(

Also closeups under the cut:

You arrive in Hawkins as an adult with a reason to stay unnoticed. Henry Creel notices you anyway. He’s already hunting—but you become a complication he didn’t plan for. Henry x Fem!reader

Word count: ~2,700

Chapter contains: ◆ high tension, ✧ light fluff, ❖ intimate moments

You didn’t come to Hawkins looking for trouble.

You told yourself that as your car rolled past the familiar “Welcome” sign, paint chipped, letters faded. You told yourself it was temporary. A few weeks, maybe a month. Just long enough to help your sister get back on her feet. Long enough to make sure the house wasn’t going to swallow her whole after everything that happened.

Long enough to leave again.

The air felt wrong the moment you stepped out of the car. Not dramatic—just… heavy. Like static pressing against your skin. You shook it off, popped the trunk, and grabbed your bag.

“You okay?” your sister asked from the porch, her voice tired but trying.

“Yeah,” you lied easily. “Just the drive.”

That night, you lay awake on the pull-out couch, staring at the ceiling fan as it clicked unevenly. Hawkins was quiet in a way that felt unnatural, like the town was holding its breath. Every so often, the lights flickered, barely noticeable, but enough to make your pulse jump.

That was the first night you felt it.

The sense that someone was listening.

You met Henry Creel two days later.

It wasn’t dramatic. No thunder, no slow-motion recognition. Just a quiet, almost mundane moment that stuck to your ribs like it belonged there.

You were in the Hawkins public library, flipping through old newspapers. Your sister said it helped—knowing what had happened, putting names to rumors. You weren’t convinced, but it gave you something to do during the day.

“Those won’t tell you the truth.”

The voice was calm. Low. Too close.

You turned, startled, and nearly collided with a man standing just behind you. He was tall, dark hair neatly parted, eyes sharp in a way that made you feel like he’d already seen more of you than you’d offered.

“Sorry,” you said automatically. “Didn’t hear you.”

He smiled faintly. “Most people don’t.”

Something about that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re new,” he added.

“Visiting,” you corrected. “My sister lives here.”

“Unfortunate place to settle,” he said, glancing around the library as if it were complicit in something. “Hawkins has a way of… lingering.”

You studied him. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I am.”

There was a pause. Not awkward—charged. You realized you were still holding the newspaper open, fingers tight around the edges.

“You looking for something specific?” he asked.

“Patterns,” you said before thinking. “I guess.”

His eyes sharpened. “Careful. Patterns look back.”

You laughed under your breath. “That’s ominous.”

“It’s honest.”

He extended his hand. “Henry.”

You hesitated just a beat before taking it. His skin was warm. Too warm.

“Y/N,” you said.

The moment lingered longer than necessary. His thumb brushed your knuckle before he let go, like it had been intentional. Like everything about him was intentional.

When he turned to leave, you watched him go without meaning to.

And when he paused at the door and looked back—just once—you felt it again.

That static hum under your skin.

You ran into Henry everywhere after that.

At the grocery store, standing in the aisle like he’d been waiting for you to notice him. On Main Street, walking just slow enough that you caught up. Outside the school fence, gaze distant, unreadable.

You told yourself it was coincidence.

But coincidence didn’t explain the way he watched you. Like you were a puzzle he hadn’t decided whether to solve or destroy.

“You’re avoiding something,” he said one evening, when you found yourselves sharing a bench outside the diner.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I know you well enough for that kind of observation?”

“I know people,” he replied. “You carry responsibility like a weight. Older sibling.”

Your stomach flipped. “That obvious?”

“It’s in the way you look at the town,” he said. “Like you’re bracing for impact.”

You leaned back, arms crossed. “What about you?”

His gaze lingered. “I’m looking for… potential.”

The word landed strangely.

A waitress passed by, breaking the moment. When you looked back at him, his expression had softened just enough to seem human.

“You shouldn’t stay long,” he said quietly.

“Why?”

“People get hurt here.”

You scoffed lightly. “Bit late for that.”

He watched you closely, like your reaction mattered more than the answer itself.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that Henry had already marked his targets.

The kids. The ones who slipped through the cracks of Hawkins, carrying grief like an open wound. They were loud in the way broken things always were.

Usually, he didn’t hesitate.

Usually, there was no distraction strong enough to pull him away once he’d chosen.

But then there was you.

Your mind wasn’t loud. It wasn’t fractured. It was steady, layered, full of memories that weren’t rotting—just heavy. You thought of your sister first. Always. You thought of leaving. Of staying. Of wanting something you couldn’t justify.

You were infuriatingly grounded.

And you kept getting in his way.

He’d feel it when you were near—his focus slipping, his connection thinning. The noise dimmed when you spoke. When you laughed. When your eyes met his and didn’t flinch.

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

It did anyway.

The night the power went out across half of Hawkins, you found Henry standing outside your sister’s house.

You nearly dropped your keys.

“Jesus—Henry,” you said, heart racing. “You scared me.”

He looked… off. Jaw tight. Eyes darker than usual.

“I needed to see you,” he said.

“At my sister’s place?” you asked. “That’s not creepy at all.”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “I apologize.”

You studied him. “Are you okay?”

He hesitated.

“No.”

That honesty caught you off guard.

“You want to come in?” you offered, surprising yourself.

Inside, the house was quiet. Your sister was asleep upstairs. You led him to the kitchen, lit a candle when the overhead light refused to cooperate.

The flickering glow changed him—shadows pulling at his features, making him look older. Tired. Dangerous.

“You should stay away from me,” he said suddenly.

You crossed your arms. “That’s twice now you’ve said something like that.”

“And yet you keep inviting me closer.”

You swallowed. “You showed up.”

“Because you make it difficult to focus,” he said.

The air thickened. “On what?”

His gaze dropped to your mouth.

“On my purpose.”

Your pulse hammered. “And what’s that?”

He stepped closer. Not touching. Not yet. The heat between you was unmistakable.

“To end suffering.”

You let out a quiet breath. “That sounds… extreme.”

“Pain is inevitable,” he said. “But release isn’t.”

You tilted your head. “You talk like someone who’s tried to carry the world alone.”

Something flickered—anger, maybe. Or recognition.

“Touching me is a mistake,” he warned softly.

Your voice came out steadier than you felt. “Then stop standing so close.”

He didn’t.

You reached out before your fear could catch up, fingers brushing his wrist. Electricity shot up your arm. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes closing briefly like he was restraining himself.

“Y/N,” he said, voice strained. “You don’t understand what you’re interrupting.”

“Then explain it,” you whispered.

His eyes opened. Intense. Hungry. Conflicted.

Instead of answering, he leaned in—just enough that your breath mingled, lips almost brushing.

It wasn’t a kiss.

But it was close enough to count.

When he pulled back, his hands were clenched at his sides.

“This can’t continue,” he said.

You nodded, though every part of you disagreed. “Okay.”

He left without another word.

The candle blew out on its own seconds later.

The next day, rumors spread. Another incident. Another kid hospitalized. Another near-miss that felt too close to home.

Henry avoided you.

And it hurt more than you expected.

Until he didn’t.

He found you behind the old high school gym, the air buzzing faintly. His composure was gone—hair messy, breath uneven.

“I tried,” he said. “I really did.”

Your chest tightened. “Tried what?”

“To ignore you.”

He closed the distance in two strides, hands bracketing your hips, not rough—but firm. Grounding.

“This is a distraction,” he said against your ear. “A dangerous one.”

You swallowed. “Then why are you here?”

“Because when I’m with you,” he admitted, voice low, “the noise stops.”

That did something to you.

“Henry,” you whispered.

His lips brushed your jaw. Barely. Enough to light you up without crossing the line.

It was intoxicating. Terrifying.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.

He froze.

“I have to go,” he said sharply, pulling away like he’d been burned.

“Wait—”

He looked back, eyes glowing with something unreadable. “You should leave Hawkins.”

“And you?” you asked.

His smile was sad. “I can’t.”

He vanished into the trees, leaving the air crackling in his wake.

You stood there long after he was gone, heart pounding, knowing one terrible truth:

You weren’t just distracting a monster.

You were becoming part of the reason he hadn’t finished what he started.

And in Hawkins, unfinished things were the most dangerous of all.