#Diabolical

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hey guys! just dropped him to say that charles xavier is a screamer in bed wait what who said that omg!!!

obligatory mention of charles xavier's soundproofed walls is Obligatory

[queefsencen]

KRIS THIS IS INSANE ???? WHAT THE FUCK

i think she should be allowed to flood a 3rd city maybe probably

[mylifeingotham]

[yourfatherjustinmcelroy]

Rewatching the first few episodes of fhjy because i guess i have nothing better to do and the way you can see how kibblespilly was supposed to be a counter to riz is so fucking funny. Its all there from the very beginning- the attitude, the tactics, the way she interacts with the party and everything- this is supposed to be riz's counterpart to run against him for student body president and have a terrible battle of wits and barbs

But in a twist that is perhaps THE most befitting to her ideal story of running against the boy she chose to be her antagonist, the intrepid heroes just straight up not taking the bait resulting in her instead having to go toe to toe against her idealized perfect rival's aggressive near-flunkie unsubtle chaotic friend is SO FUNNY.

Like I know some people are disappointed we dont get the riz vs kipperlily presidential whatever, I know it doesnt make tons of sense in that specific narrative way. But the fucking hilarious meta that even this didnt go her way is so funny. Because instead of rogue sneaking and behind the shadows plays and spy vs spy shit, we have just outward schoolyard taunts and shit like kristen exploding and jumping over the school and the exact kind of play that baits kipperlily into rage every single time and its so fucking funny. Kristen runs naked through the school and does party stunts and is STILL BEATING HER. She even clearly constructed her party to mirror the bad kids perfectly and craft each of them their own nemesis/counterpart and for the most part it like kind of worked EXCEPT FOR HER.

It must drive her fucking crazy that her cute little plot of rogue vs rogue didnt pan out at fucking all despite ALL the signs pointing to that making the most sense. This was something she just couldnt predict, couldnt mastermind. She got up onto that metaphorical stage for a debate and instead was met with a clowning act. Its so funny. I love fantasy high. Nothing you could have done would have changed this, fourdogs. You never had any power at all.

[excitementshewrote]

[al-911]

The ominous machine fills you with dread, as your captors lead you into the interrogation room.

As they intricately and securely fasten you to it, in a position that makes you feel tremendously vulnerable, they explain.

You must clamp the strange gag in your mouth tightly, to prevent water flowing from the tank above you. This tank is a counterweight, keeping you from sliding backwards.

You see, behind you are two electrical contacts positioned to make contact with the soles of your feet. There are many, many nerve endings in your soles... a few minutes of the pulsing, crackling current has been enough to break many, MANY hundreds of prisoners like you. Not one woman has been able to keep her mouth shut during her tortures on this device...

They apply electrogel to your soles, and you squirm imperceptibly (the restraints are very tight) as they intentionally tickle your toes.

Ironically, keeping your mouth shut is all you have to do to avoid the torment. Well, the electrical one...

You grimly bite down on the gag. You'll never talk, you tell yourself.

You did not, however, reckon on them continuing to tickle you. Skilled hands, armed with unbelievably ticklish tools, explore every inch of your helpless legs and feet. You realise the purpose, and attempt desperately to maintain pressure on the gag, laughing through clenched teeth... but you feel your teeth slip, and hear running water multiple times.

You know you are sliding backwards. You know your feet will touch the contacts. If you could only keep it together...

[reenaki]

A very late personal birthday gift..~

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Jess Pedigo - Satanism - Diabolical Religion of Darkness - Christian Crusade - 1971

[needa-hyperfix]

Just stating facts… +2 for turtle neck in warm weather

[luvscharlos]

Carlos: thank you, my love

Charles: No problems sweetie

[strawlessandbraless]

Why give Dean Winchester an oral fixation and a panty kink only to fatally impale him on 9 inches

[tekitothemagpie]

The difference. Part 1.

Even in flashbacks they're whitewashed.

[peachymaryobrien]

"You can't be traumatized by a picture"

The picture:

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Diabolical 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, extreme profanity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Billy Butcher

Summary: your neighbours has some strange friends.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A loud bang wakes you up. You lurch, heart thumping, and look around the dim room. It’s barely morning, somewhere between late and early. You yawn and lay back, staring at the ceiling as you try to convince yourself it was nothing. 

It is nothing. There’s only silence. Still, you can’t relax. If you don’t make sure, you’ll just lay there awake. So you get up and sigh. 

You rub your eyes as you shuffle through the shadows and enter the main room of the apartment. You flip on the light as you pass the switch and look around. Nothing in there but from what you heard, the noise was muffled, yet loud enough to give you a start. 

A long droning slithers beneath your door and sends goosebumps across your skin. Your eyes widen and you hug yourself as you face the door. You approach it as you hear the same noise. You realise as you get closer, it’s a groan. But what or who is it? 

You look out the peep hole but see nothing. Yet you can still hear it. You back up and pace restlessly. You shouldn’t open the door. Don’t do it. But it won’t stop. You won’t sleep if you have to listen to that all night. 

You go into the kitchen and grab a knife. You doubt you need it and even if you do, you don’t think you could use it. Still, it’s good to be safe. 

You go back to the door and slide back the chain. Slowly you twist the latch, not wanting to alert anyone if they are out there. You inch the door inward and slowly reveal a booted foot on the carpet, and another, and a pair of legs. A whole body. 

The groan rolls out again between a cough, “Hughieeeee.” 

The man who calls himself Butcher raises his fist and hits the door across from yours. You cringe and grip the knife tighter. He’s not your problem but why can’t you shut the door. You watch him as he drops his arm and snorts, turning his head to spit onto the carpet. Ew. 

You see the red tinged in the glob and step into the doorway. You lean over to see more of him. The bridge of his nose is split and there’s a gash above his eye, right along his forehead, and a giant splotchy bruise spreading across his cheek. 

Not you problem, you tell yourself again. But you know he’s not going to stop and Hughie isn’t going to answer. You lower the blade to your side and tiptoe forward. 

“He’s not home. He left with his girlfriend,” you say. “So you should leave.” 

He flinches and his blue eyes flick up, “eh, it’s her royal majesty, innit?” 

You scrunch your lips as you consider him. He looks in rough shape but you’re not sure you should care. You sway on your feet. 

“Are you okay?” You ask. 

“As if you care, love,” he scoffs and shakes his head, his eyes drifting dizzily. He grabs his forehead and winces. 

“It’s decency,” you shrug. “Should I call an ambulance?” 

“Fuck off,” he growls and slaps his hands down at his sides. He drags them back as he tries to push himself up only to wobble and fall back down. You know what the bang was now. 

“Right, well, I don’t think it’s safe for you to be laying here--” 

“Safe? Love, do I look safe to ya?” He cackles. “You just give me a hand up and try not to gut me on the way up.” 

He reaches for you and shy away from his large hand. You look at the knife in yours then stare at his bloodied fingers. You slowly take his hand. You use all your weight to leverage him into a sitting position. He groans again and cradles his ribs with his free arm. He cough thickly. 

“Right then, on my feet.” 

He bends his legs and grunts as he nearly yanks you off balance. You lean back and do your best to anchor him. He stands but only for a split second before he staggers and his shoulder collides with the wall. 

“Goddamn, I swear. Them supes...” his voice trails off and his gaze finds you again. You let him go. “Eh, then, what ya out here gawkin’ at me for then? I’m interruptin’ yer beauty sleep then, ain’t I, queen shit?” 

You blink. He looks rather pathetic like that. He can barely keep himself up against the wall, there’s no way he’s getting to the stairs, let alone out of here. You sigh. 

“You know, you don’t need to be rude.” 

“Ain’t rude, love, just don’t say what ya want me to,” he snickers and gives his crooked grin. 

“Well, you could try that and I could clean you up? But I understand if you’d rather wallow out here until your friend gets back, when that is.” You back up and turn to your door. “Either way, good night.” 

He’s quite as you push inside but you can’t shut the door as he stumbles forward and slaps his hand against it. 

“If I say please and thanks you, mind my manners,” he grits, “is it a deal?” 

You already regret your kindness. You only offered because it’s the right thing to do. You thought he would just laugh and slump back down to the carpet. You face him. You can tell he doesn’t have much of a choice. 

“Boots on the mat,” you gird him as you push the door back. 

[overleftdown]

i finally got around to watching archie madekwe's interview with in creative company and it was astounding, for one. i geeked the fuck out. there's so much to talk about.

his and emerald's understanding of farleigh's character on such a deep level, not just what was on screen, but in his past and in his thoughts... gagged! i was very interested in his interpretation of farleigh's family; archie considers farleigh's mother as a kind of enigmatic fallen star who behaved more as a friend than a parent. archie describes farleigh's childhood as overly mature and neglectful, with the character having to experience more mature and adult situations than he might've in a different family.

another important thing archie touched on was the power dynamics between oliver and farleigh, and how threatening they appeared to each other. archie believes that farleigh didn't truly understand the genius of oliver and how intricate a game he was playing; that never stopped farleigh from observing oliver at any opportune moment. eventually, farleigh had a deeper understanding of oliver's sinister obsession with felix, as well as the way he manipulated the family. this is why, in the karaoke scene, farleigh doesn't bite the bait that oliver offers him. he's not grateful for oliver's sympathy or companionship; he's appalled that oliver would even have a personal conversation with him in the first place.

the dynamic archie describes between felix and farleigh is also really interesting to me. he discusses the transactional nature of their relationship, but also how deeply farleigh loved felix. there was also the need to learn exactly how to behave amongst the cattons; when to pull away, when to fade into the background, where to assert or insert yourself in a situation. farleigh is, above most other things, an observer. the nature in which oliver behaves in the early summer, how clumsily he navigates conversation, incited a lot of judgement from farleigh. part of it was the knowledge that oliver didn't quite fit, didn't make sense among the cattons.

archie talks about how self-serving the majority of farleigh's socialization is, at oxbridge. his opening line is entirely intended to cater towards the people he is walking with. there has always been a need for farleigh to adapt, observe, overthink. in this environment, love is neither unconditional nor reliable.

the biggest difference i've clocked between farleigh and oliver is the way they play the game. farleigh plays his own cards, he analyzes what he's seen, and acts accordingly. whereas oliver integrates, injects, and manipulates. farleigh is playing poker while oliver is playing chess.

i'm an actual blabbermouth.

[silverskye13]

helsknight and either 10 or 13? i have the playlist open and i think those would be good songs for drawing prompts

Good! Some fight! I was hoping you'd amuse me I thought, you'd just lay down and die, so please, excuse me

Diabolical -- Welsknight

Revisited my very first designs for these two for this one! Welsknight's armor is Ottoman inspired :3