#I literally can’t get them out of my brain

[1425fivefive]

Just saw your kink prompt list and my brain went briefly offline because your writing + any of the kinks on the list? I think i'll literally spontaneously combust.

I'm literally on my knees and begging for Landoscar + 17 (breeding). Alternatively Landoscar + 12 (forced feminization), 21 (wet + messy) or 24 (inexperienced partner).

I read these 4 kink prompts and my brain went 'YES' particularly loudly.

Literally any of the above and I will be the happiest Elf on the Shelf!!

breeding for landoscar (with a lil bit of feminization as a treat)! (for the kink prompt asks)

Oscar needs to find whatever McLaren employee thought it was a good idea to hand Lando a baby and tell them to never do it again. Babies should be banned from the MTC. Banned from anywhere within five kilometers of Lando’s vicinity. Because now that Oscar’s seen Lando with a baby—the way Lando’s eyes lit up, his delighted grin, how he couldn’t stop trying to make the baby laugh—Oscar can’t stop thinking about anything other than knocking Lando up.

Oscar’s not an idiot. He knows they’re both men, knows Lando can’t get pregnant. But it doesn’t stop Oscar from imagining it. Lando’s taut stomach swelling with a baby. Their baby. His tits getting heavy and full, perfect little handfuls. Milk dribbling from his nipples, Oscar licking it up, dragging his tongue over the sensitive buds.

Oscar decides not to mention it, figures Lando will probably be more than a little put off by Oscar telling Lando, a man, that Oscar wants to get him pregnant. Instead, Oscar contents himself with digging his fingers into Lando’s belly while he fucks him, kissing Lando’s neck, telling Lando how pretty he is, how perfect, how well he takes Oscar’s cock. Whenever Oscar comes, he stays in Lando a little longer than usual, fantasizing about making it take.

After a few weeks, Oscar figures Lando hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. That Lando thinks Oscar’s just being his usual, adoring self.

But Oscar fucks Lando in front of the bathroom mirror in Lando’s hotel room one night, one hand resting on Lando’s belly, the other squeezing Lando’s pec.

“Gonna fuck you so full of me,” Oscar moans, meeting Lando’s eyes in the mirror. “Get you so fucking full of my come.”

Lando whimpers, tipping his head back against Oscar’s shoulder. “Please, Osc. Want you to.”

“Yeah?” Oscar pants, grinding deeper into Lando. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Please,” Lando whines, hand coming up to grab at Oscar’s hair, tug him closer, deeper. “Make me full. Wanna feel you.”

Oscar feels delirious. He rolls Lando’s nipple between his fingers, drags Lando back on his cock, groaning at the sight of Lando’s dick flopping with each thrust of Oscar’s hips, dark and flushed.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Oscar breathes. “Make yourself feel good.”

Lando whines and brings a hand down to his cock, rim tightening around Oscar.

“Yeah, Lando,” Oscar moans. “Just like that, good girl.”

Oscar doesn’t even realize what he’s said until he sees Lando’s mouth drop open, whole face going red, rim going ridiculously tight around Oscar.

“Oh, fuck,” Oscar stutters, thrusts slowing. “I didn’t, uh—”

Lando shakes his head so fast he looks like he might give himself whiplash, whining, “No, no, I liked it, please, Osc, you can—”

“Jesus,” Oscar groans, sinking his teeth into Lando’s shoulder, fucking in hard.

Lando cries out, cock blurting pre-come over his fingers, his tight little body shaking in Oscar’s hold.

“Yeah, Lando,” Oscar breathes, voice strained. “Make yourself feel good, baby, that’s it.”

“Oh,” Lando gasps, turning his head into Oscar’s neck, hand flying over his cock. “Oh, oh, oh—” He breaks off on a shaky moan, spilling all over his fist and the counter, panting against Oscar’s neck.

“Fuck,” Oscar groans, fingers tightening on Lando’s stomach. “God, Lando, that’s—”

“Osc,” Lando whimpers, starting to tremble from oversensitivity as his orgasm peters out.

Oscar starts to pull out, planning to come across Lando’s arse and thighs, but Lando throws a hand down to Oscar’s hip, keeping him in.

“No, please,” Lando begs, fucking himself back on Oscar’s cock. “Want you to—” He breaks off on a moan, eyes fluttering. But he opens them again, meets Oscar’s in the mirror. “Want you to fill me up,” he whimpers. “Want you to make me yours.”

Oscar’s panting against Lando’s shoulder, fucking him hard, deep, fast, lost in Lando’s eyes.

“Come in me,” Lando whispers. “Want you to give me a baby.”

Oscar comes with a shocked moan, whining and whimpering, spilling inside Lando, palm flat against Lando’s stomach, imagining Lando getting swollen and big with their baby.

“God,” Oscar moans, pressing in deeper, trying to make sure it takes. “God, Lando, fuck—”

“Yeah,” Lando whines, grinding back. “Yeah, Osc, please.”

Oscar gives Lando exactly what he wants. What they both want

After, Lando pulls them to the bed, drags Oscar’s hand to his arse and guides two of Oscar’s fingers to where he’s fucked open and puffy, wet with Oscar’s come.

“Want to keep you in,” Lando whispers, urging Oscar’s fingers inside.

“Fuck,” Oscar gasps and slips his fingers in, swallowing Lando’s whimper with a kiss.

When Oscar pulls back, he asks, “How’d you know?”

“What? That you wanted to knock me up?” Lando asks, smiling lazily.

Oscar huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”

Lando’s grin widens, and he tips his forehead against Oscar’s. “You’re easier to read than you think.”

Oscar’s chest aches, everything going soft. “Nah,” Oscar whispers. “Think you just know me too well.”

Lando tucks himself tighter against Oscar, letting out a pleased little hum.

[onyx-is-a-loser]

!! SPOILERS !! Arcane: Season 2, Episode 7 (LONG A- BRAINDUMP)

Found this in my drafts and it’s kinda too funny not to post (sorry if it makes no sense, I was very emotional)

LITERALLY the most emotionally violent thing I’ve ever experienced and I NEED to talk about it:

OKAY so like, Ekko wakes up in this dream world where everything is perfect and I’m like "aww cute, it’s like a Hallmark movie," and then 2 SECONDS later “WAIT NO, THIS ISN’T REAL, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO ME” because the moment he gets comfortable, the show’s like, “LOL nope, here’s reality, have fun with the trauma, buddy.”

THE CONTRAST. THE JUxtaposition of dream vs. nightmare?? I can’t breathe.

I’m screaming because Ekko’s dream world is all golden light and perfect and everyone is alive, and I’m sitting here like “YES, PLEASE LET HIM LIVE IN THIS ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WHERE HIS FAMILY DOESN’T DIE” and then reality is sharp and cold and cracked and I’m CAN YOU PLEASE NOT JUST SHOVE THIS MUCH PAIN INTO MY FACE???

The clock motif is an entire thesis on grief and time, why is this show so goddamn smart?? Ekko’s dream world is a pristine clock, but the real world is “lol no time doesn’t work that way, here’s a broken, rusted piece of trash” and I’m sitting here like, YES, tell me more about how time is a construct and I’m crying because none of us can go back and fix things. THANKS, ARCANE, FOR THE PAIN.

ALSO

Powder in the dream world?? She’s soft and innocent and I “holy SHIT this is the Powder we could have had, this is what she could have been if everything wasn’t so messed up,” and then I blink and she’s Jinx again, chaotic, explosive, neon nightmare fuel, and I’m just lying on the floor like "why do I do this to myself." I LOVE HER DONT GET ME WRONG BUT I ALSO WANT HER TO BE HAPPY

And don’t even get me started on Ekko and Powder dancing like it’s some kind of tragic, beautifully animated nightmare. I’m crying, I’m sobbing, I’m screaming, because this is the kind of thing that could have been real if the fate of their world didn’t DESTROY THEM. Who hurt you, Ekko? WHO HURT YOU BOTH??

The soundtrack in this episode is too much for me to handle. It starts off all soft and whimsical like “oh, this is nice, everything’s fine, I’m fine,” and then—BOOM—reality hits and I’m curled in a ball crying because it feels like every note is punching me in the gut. (This will definitely be a separate post)

There’s just so much GRIEF in this episode. Like, Ekko doesn’t want to leave the dream world because it’s everything he ever wanted, and honestly, I GET IT. Who wouldn’t want to live in a universe where your worst trauma never happens?? But then he HAS to leave because it’s not real, and reality is just there, waiting to crush you like a hextech bomb.

And I swear to god, the entire episode is a metaphor for “it’s not your fault, but it still hurts, and you can’t change the past, and that’s the worst part.” So yeah, I’m just sitting here trying to figure out how to recover from this emotional rollercoaster that is literally breaking my brain.

Arcane is a work of art, but it’s also a weapon of mass destruction. And I am DONE.

[f4ggydog]

I am once again mentioning feral werewolf shauna shipman (I can't get enough)

I need to be sedated.

It took some time but I came back swinging anon!!!

shauna truly couldn’t get off enough of your taste and smell. she would kill a thousand people in the world if it meant she could get a hold of you permanently. shauna’s talons carve symbols of adoration and lechery into your skin. every bite she takes while she’s pumping her cock into your tightening hole leaves a black and blue illustration of her love. shauna would etch letters into your skin every night that fell upon you two if it meant never letting you go under any circumstances, no matter how dire.

but tonight wouldn’t be more merciful to you compared to the other nights. there was never a special occasion that caused for shauna to be tender and take care of you like a glass statue. you weren’t fragile in her own devilish eyes. no, you could take it. and you fucking would.

shauna grabs onto your hips and pulls them back, using them to steer you like a horse. the sound of ‘plap, plap, plap’ fills the room and both of your ears. shauna lowers her head, using the opportunity to roughly bite into your neck, tugging the skin between her teeth and fucking you like a beast in the night. cause she literally was a beast. your smell alone could make her cum spurt out instantly.

“you’re enjoying this too much,” shauna growls. “for someone being fucked like a piece of meat.”

“just keep going,” you whine and grab the sheets. “you’re so fucking big, baby. can’t handle it.”

smacking sounds persist. your body jerks and your stomach’s in knots. shauna’s cock feels so close to your cervix that you wonder if your brain is tricking you into thinking this is pleasure. fucking christ, did you really deserve to get used like there was no tomorrow?

shauna slams you into the bed and lands a hard slap on your ass. another flies down after another, sharp sounds hitting your skin and the wiggling of your body following the blows.

“don’t get fucking lazy on me,” shauna taunts. “my cum might go in your hair instead of your hole if you don’t stop your movements.”

you didn’t quite understand. didn’t your squirming cause more difficulty? shouldn’t she be perceiving it as less obedient? or maybe she really does enjoy the challenge of taming you?

“w-what if I cum before you?” you try to retaliate, knowing it’s a losing battle. who the fuck are you, thinking you can compete with shauna shipman?

“you’re a goddamn brat,” shauna howls, her orgasm nearing and the tidal waves already beginning to crash. “you’re lucky if I even let you cum tonight. i wouldn’t get so brave with your mouth.”

“you know your orgasm triggers mine,” you snort. “and there’s no way you’ll hold back this time.”

“fuck. you.” shauna punctuates each word with a thrust, her cock twitching and her balls straining. “oh fuck off, you little shit. fuck, im gonna breed you so good.”

then shauna gets an idea and pulls out of you. you whimper loudly at the loss of her penis, but she snatches you by your hair and turns you around. shauna forces you onto your knees and pries your mouth open, her nails raking your scalp.

“if you want to talk so much,” shauna snaps. “i’m gonna find a better use for your mouth. open up, doll. you don’t deserve to be knotted just yet.”

[agent-yolk-writes]

A Nightmare in Devildom (Obey Me/Nightmare on Elm Street concept fic)

Basically what it says on the tin. A "what if MC was a survivor of freddy kreuger's torment before the events of OM" concept fic.

This is was of those weird ideas I came with this during the early covid lockdown period where my insomnia got really bad to the point where I was borderline delirious. I meant to get this out during October for spooky season vibes but after three Octobers came and went and Obey Me isn't getting any more updates, I figure I throw it into the pit before that happens. No beta we die like obey me as a franchise, I guess!

If this inspires you to write something similar, please let me know! If you want me to write more...please reconsider!

And, of course, happy holidays!

AO3 Mirror Link

Good lord, I look terrible. You thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror. When was the last time I got some rest?

Other than looking more visibly tired, you look...older. It was the face of a nurse finally coming home after back-to-back double shifts. The bags under your eyes could only get so dark, but thankfully you knew a demon who had so much concealer and foundation lying around that he wouldn’t know if a few went missing. 

You knew you shouldn’t be continuing this habit, but you can’t help it. Despite living in a mansion with the most powerful demons in Literal Hell(!!) in the past few weeks your brain is still not convinced that you’re safe from Him . Would he still have the balls to terrorize you still? Does he even know where you are? Surely he’ll just know when you disappeared without a trace, but you can’t afford to find out for yourself. 

As much as you wanted to tell the brothers, you didn’t want to drag them into this mess. After all, this problem only started just weeks before you were brought here. It came without warning, and suddenly it turned into a bloodied hurricane. To think He was the one that killed your friends and classmates back in the human world…you regretted not being able to do more for them until you were in His sights.

This opportunity with the exchange program was either a saving grace or a divine intervention, and you’re not going to let that chance slip away from you. You have the whole year to work on magic and potions and anything else that could possibly drive Him away if not kill him for good, and you highly doubt he’s going to forget about you. Knowing how to do magic is one thing, but putting it to memory is another. This wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t so damn tired. You’re trying so hard to pay attention in class, but you just end up more focused on trying to keep your eyes open lest you allow Him to strike at your most vulnerable. 

However, there is one possible solution. The only problem is that you needed to form a pact with his other brothers before he could even consider helping you, that slothful bastard. Belphegor knows how tired you are and how you would do anything for a safe and peaceful rest. There was no point hiding it from him as you were with the others. Oh, how you envied the way he could sleep the day away in his little prison cell…you could just punch him if only you had the strength.

…

You really didn’t feel good about the multi-layered lie you found yourself webbed into to get the pacts in the first place. You recently got Beelzebub’s pact, putting you at the halfway mark. He looked so happy about your ‘plan’ to impress Lucifer enough to have him make up with Belphegor that it made your stomach churn in shame. Is it really okay for you to do this? Wouldn’t it be easier to tell the truth? Out of all the brothers, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for lying to Beel.

But what if Lucifer points his finger at Belphegor if you bring it up before you’re able to finish explaining? Would it destroy all the progress you made? Would you make things worse ? If they draw parallels that your deprivation is somehow related to the seventh-born’s sleep-related powers…only Lucifer would have an answer different from the other five. That’s why you have to keep up this facade for as long as you can. That’s why you need to stay awake. To find a way to protect yourself as well as the others. 

Your new friends at Purgatory Hall, bless their hearts, were none the wiser. Considering two of them were actual angels, you would’ve expected at least Luke to confront you with tears in his eyes about your health at least a month in. He makes a big talk about how you should never trust ‘those demons’ before having lunch with Beelzebub. Sometimes you think Solomon is giving you weird looks whenever you make eye contact with him. It’s probably the sleep-deprived paranoia, but you hope it’s nothing. You’ve been getting away with it for this long, so what? 

Tomorrow you have to stay over at Diavolo’s castle as part of an exchange party sleepaway camp or something. If you’re lucky, you can have a room for yourself. You don’t pack your go-to methods for staying awake until right before everyone heads out.

~

The steaming heat of the boiler room did not warm the chill in your bones one bit. 

You should know the inner workings of this hellscape by now. It was His favorite hunting ground, after all. However, something seems different this time. Everything felt…a bit shifted to the right, in a way. On top of that, there’s no sight or sound of Him anywhere. No taunting catchphrases, no spooky teleports he’s fond of doing, not even the shilling sound of his claw on metal when he’s close. This is probably his new trick, you think. Lulling you into a false sense of security before-

You turned around, involuntary flinching as you braced yourself to be hit. Only to process seconds later that nothing’s coming. In fact, there was no sign of life behind you in the first place. Damn it, he really was playing with you at this point. As soon as you let out a sigh of relief, you heard someone screaming from the other side of the room. You couldn’t tell who they were, but that’s not going to stop you. You ran towards the sound before you let the dread wash over you. 

“I’m coming!” You yelled at them. “Wake up! He can’t hurt you if you’re awake!” You were so focused on tilting your head up to project your voice to the other person that you didn’t realize you hit a dead end until you ran into a wall of pipes. “Oh, god damn it!” You cursed, pivoting on your foot to turn around and run even faster. 

What happened next happened too fast. You didn’t know where you were going. Everything is starting to blur together. A pipe managed to burst the same second you turned your head to follow the noise, immediately blinding your vision with steam and a “Shit!” jumping out of your mouth. The suddenness of it all made you lose your momentum and you feel yourself stumbling forward. You didn’t have time to brace yourself for the sharp object that’s going right through your- 

You wake with an audible gasp, hands going up to your throat. The sound of your racing heart and your uneven breathing replace the sounds of pipes and steam. You looked around in the darkness and could barely see two bodies sleeping in their respective beds. Ah, that’s right. This is the first night of Diavolo’s retreat, and you find yourself paired to a room with Asmodeus and Simeon. In an attempt to pretend you’re asleep ended up having you fall asleep for real. You couldn’t help but think how pathetic you were for letting your guard down for one second and falling into His hands again after so long all because you were waiting for someone to finish their 20-step overnight skin routine.

With a shuddered sigh, you carefully slipped out of your bed and into the hallway in hopes you could clear your thoughts without disturbing your roommates. 

Thanks to the occasional jittering of a Little D doing their nightly duties, the halls of a demon lord’s castle don’t feel as haunted as you would think. The lights were dimmed but not out completely, which gave way for the moon to shine in as its own source of light. Had you been carrying a candle in a brass holder you would’ve thought you stumbled into one of those old gothic novels. You didn’t have a real destination in mind, but you made sure you remembered which room you were assigned to just in case. 

At some point during the night, you ended up in one of the lounge rooms, curled up on a couch facing the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, and looked up at all the stars. It has always been a comfort for you. You even began reading about them in an attempt to stay awake back in the human world. You thought you could recognize some of the constellations, but there are always a few stars here and there that turn it into an unrecognizable shape. At least you have new material to read about when you’re back in your room at the House of Lamentation. 

The soft calling of your name from the door broke your serene silence followed by a, “Is that you?”

A small gasp managed to escape your throat before you were able to put your hands over your mouth. You curled into yourself at first so whoever it was can’t see your head poking out from the back. After a few seconds, it finally clicked as to who it was.

Sheepishly, you stick your head out. “Hi, Barbatos.” You said, voice croaking in unexpected use. Even though it was dark and his figure obscured, you could make out that he was holding some kind of tray. “Am I not supposed to be here? I’m sorry. I’ll go back and…”

“It’s fine.” He assured you. “I heard someone walking around, so I’ve taken the liberty to brew some chamomile tea for them should they feel restless. Would you like some?”

“...”

Tea does sound nice, but the fact that it was chamomile made you hesitate. At the same time, Barbatos just made it, so it would be rude to let it go to waste.

“...That would be nice. Thank you.”

He made his way over to the other side of the couch. Part of you wanted to sit up and be proper when drinking, but even thinking about adjusting your posture makes you tired. Still, you make an effort to reach over to take the tea cup from the butler’s hands. Barbatos took this opportunity to start talking. 

“This is your first time spending the night at a castle, I presume?” You made an affirmative noise as you sipped, not wanting to point out that it’s not just any castle you’re sleeping at. “I reckon slipping in a new bed right as you got settled in would put anyone’s nerves on edge.”

You put your cup down as you replied, “I guess you can say that.” 

He looks at you quizzically. “Is something amiss? I’ll inform the Young Master right away.”

“It’s…It’s fine, Barbatos. Thanks for worrying.” You took another sip before letting out a sigh. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping, you can say. I get…these really bad nightmares that make me stay up for days on end. They were so terrifying and real…I kept wondering if I was losing my mind. I’ve tried every remedy in the book to stop them but…” You stopped to let a yawn out. “Sorry…As I was saying, I tried everything the doctors thought could help me. They even brought in a priest thinking it was ‘dream demons’ or something.” You paused, replaying the last thing you said. “Are dream demons even a thing here?”

“They are a form of lesser demons, yes.” The butler answered. “They’re relatively harmless as individual beings, but can pose a threat in large numbers or if they get close to a human.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” You told him bitterly. 

“If it brings you any comfort, just know that they’re not powerful enough to be able to enter the human world on their own. Only certain powerful demons have the authority to travel to that realm directly. Such as the Young Master and Lucifer, for example.”

You couldn’t help but huff out air through your nose in relief. Suck on that, Pastor John. 

“...So yeah. Just before I was summoned here, they put me on a clinical trial for a medication that…reduces? Suppress? It, like, stops giving me dreams entirely, and they work. Forgot the name though. And I coincidentally ran out just before I was transferred here so…yeah.” Your eyes looked over to the butler. “Sorry I didn’t mention it earlier, I guess. I keep getting roped into whatever the brothers get themselves into that I never really had time to check on myself.”

Barbatos didn’t respond immediately. You were too busy concentrating on balancing the tea on your stomach to spare a glance over to your nighttime companion to see what kind of face he was making. Would he make one? Shouldn’t he have known of this malady when your file was being processed? Maybe, because of their biology, demons don’t worry about these kinds of conditions. You mulled around internally in a tired haze before realizing that your eyes were slowly creeping shut. With a soft sigh, you moved the plate to the nearest table and stood up slowly.

“Anyways, thanks for the tea. Compliments to the chef.” You couldn’t help but let out a big stretch followed by an even bigger yawn. “I’ll head back to bed now. No guarantee I’ll sleep though.” You let out a huff that was supposed to be your attempt at a dry laugh. “You should get some rest too. Big day ahead, y’know? See you in the morning.” And with that, you exited the room and into the dim hallway.

The small smile Barbatos had dropped as soon as your back was turned to him. It was no secret that your time as a transfer student was being hindered by your lack of sleep. Even your recent medical file was perplexing in figuring out the cause of this disorder. It’s not genetic nor was it caused by a major traumatic event. Perhaps it’s something else? You did mention dream demons, after all, albeit it was more of a speculative idea that was brought up by your doctors in order to get a man of the cloth involved. It definitely couldn’t be Belphegor’s meddling, he thinks. He wouldn’t know about the human’s arrival.

It looks like he’ll have to do some digging after this exchange party concludes. He might need to start gathering evidence now while the human is still here. Diavolo will need to get involved, there’s no doubt about that. He would do anything to ensure the health and safety of the exchange students, after all. 

~

When everyone converged for a tour around the castle, some had noted that you looked less sluggish than usual. You simply waved them off, making up an excuse about the mattress not being up to human standards. Hopefully, you didn’t offend the demon prince when you said that. 

Still, you can’t deny that you feel a little well-rested. You did remember trying a method where you close your eyes for 15 minutes, wake up for another 15, close your eyes again, rinse and repeat. You usually had an alarm for this technique, but you didn’t want to disturb Simeon or Asmodeus as much as you already did slipping in and out of bed. You didn’t think you were able to keep track, but you did somehow, give or take a few minutes. Now you can actually pay attention to that cute little demon acting as the tour guide, explaining the intricate history of all the subjects painted on these beautifully crafted portraits. You couldn’t help but smile seeing Diavolo puffing his chest in pride when the Little D started talking about his father, the current Demon King. 

(But when it was mentioned that he's been sleeping at the bottom of Devildom for millennia you couldn't help but feel jealous. The most powerful being of all the realms is casually sleeping the decades away while you don’t even get the privilege of an hour of uninterrupted rest.)

You looked at the other paintings decorating the hall. Some plaques are written in what you can only presume is some kind of archaic language that only demons would know. If you could understand at least a part of it, then maybe you can get a deeper understanding of these pictures. 

A gentle call of your name and a not-so-gentle clap on your back broke your weak concentration. You tore your eyes away to meet Diavolo’s gentle gaze. “I see that her beauty managed to draw you in?” 

You blinked, trying to process what he said. “I-I’m sorry, whose beauty? I was…too focused on figuring out what the plaque said.” You managed to blurt out, causing the prince to chuckle.

“Oh, that? It simply reads ‘The Queen of Devildom’. In other words, that’s my mother.” His gaze turned to the painting, but you stayed fixated on him. He continued by adding, “This painting and some vague memories are all I have of her. She passed away several centuries ago when I was still an infant. My father would always talk about how…” And he continued to drone on from there. It wasn’t his fault, and you were genuinely trying to cling on to every word he’s saying because it’s important to him and you wanted to leave a good impression. On the other hand, the bleariness in your eyes started to cloud your vision again as a result of your lack of sleep. So you avert your gaze back to the painting unintentionally so you can wipe it away, biting your tongue to restrain the yawn that comes with it. Part of you hopes that Diavolo thinks that you’re speechless and moved to tears.

That thought quickly vanished when you opened your eyes to the painting. 

There was a choking noise, and you almost didn’t realize it came from you. It felt like the world around you completely disappeared, and only you and Him were the only inhabitants. 

Devildom seemed to freeze over the moment you made direct eye contact with the painted eyes of your tormentor. His scarred face did nothing to hide that cocky smirk he loves to wear. He’s holding up his bloodied claw to you in a way that couldn’t be anything else but a taunting gesture, as if he knows what he’s doing to you. His other hand wrapped around the back of a bloodied woman. By the way, the painting is framed, you assumed she was supposed to be sitting. Unfortunately, you know that’s not the case here. Her head dipped back, obscuring her face from you. You assumed she was originally wearing either a white or a similar light-colored dress, but that didn’t matter as it was dyed by the blood seeping out of that four-lined wound in her chest that you knew all too well. Just the sight alone made you reach for your hip where an old wound dimly throbs at the clothed contact. 

You didn’t dare move your gaze. You needed to keep an eye on him. 

“Hey…!”

You knew it. This opportunity to fly off his radar and find a way to kill him for good while he’s not looking was too good to be true.

“...!”

How did he even get here? Did he follow you down when you got summoned? What will he-

“...!!”

Time seemed to resume the second someone grabbed onto your shoulders and turned you around. You wanted-no, needed to keep an eye on him. Sadly, you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. Instead, you were forced to look at Diavolo's worried eyes. You didn’t even let him get a word in before you began panicking. 

“What have you done?!” You yelled. You pointed to the painting behind you. “Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you!”

“Protect us from…who?”

“Him!” You pointed to the portrait.

Only the painted eyes of a woman stare back at you.

It was too late for you now. The moment you allow yourself even to think you’re away from his control, you end right back into his hands. 

Nowhere is safe, not even in hell.

A maniacal laugh fills your ears as everyone crowds around your panicked state.

[quibbs126]

So I just feel like sharing this other idea that’s been rattling through my brain, and blaming it on late night madness (even though it’s not, but telling myself that makes me feel a little better)

Anyways, so basically the whole concept stemmed from the idea of cross-faction ships having kids, secret or otherwise, and them being worried what Megatron might do when he finds out, only for Megatron to literally be unable to say shit about it because he too has a cross-faction secret kid that he’s not told anyone about

So uh, yeah. That’s the idea. Secret megop kid that was born presumably shortly after the war started out and the two had their divorce

Not really that different in overall concept from that skystar kid idea I had that one time. Well sort of, but whatever

Megatron definitely knows about the kid but I’m not sure Optimus does. I’m leaning on no for comedy purposes. Basically Megatron had the kid, and for one reason or another (whether it be he didn’t want to raise a kid, didn’t want to raise Optimus’ kid, didn’t want someone to exploit this potential weakness, didn’t want the kid involved in the Decepticons or war, or a mix of some or all), basically just yeeted the kid out of there as soon as possible. The Decepticons either never knew or it’s been so long they forgot about it or something

Don’t know what they’re doing now, but there just is a child of the leaders of the Autobot and Decepticon factions just running around, and no one knows

The main way I can see comedy/trouble brewing in this scenario is them deciding to join the Autobots and working with Optimus Prime’s team. So like, Megatron knows the kid is there, but can’t say that he knows them or how, or why he’s particularly concerned with this random Autobot’s well-being. Another layer to the situation would be if Optimus doesn’t know the kid is his, but they get along great and Optimus is like “you know this bot is like the son I never had” and the kid is like “wow Optimus is like the dad I never had”, all the while being unaware

Though I’m also debating the idea that Megatron also wouldn’t recognize the kid, since it’s presumably been millions of years since they last saw each other. He just knows he and Optimus have a kid somewhere. Though then the situation might become less comedy and more angst if he attacks the kid and only realizes afterwards that it’s his and he didn’t recognize them. Or maybe you could keep the comedy by having him too just be unaware when the kid is right next to him, potentially just in an alternate scenario where the kid joins the Decepticons instead

And yeah, I think that’s about it. One of these days I’m gonna have to actually make one of these fankids. I just have to figure out how to combine designs and such, particularly with the helms since the rest I can tweak for alt mode purposes

But how does one combine Megatron and Optimus’ helms in a satisfying way? Hmm

[rachelamberish]

Idk if its cinemasins (and i only say that bc my parents to my knowledge do not watch cinemasins) but that kind of culture has ruined our ability to enjoy incredible art i think. Everybody takes shit so literally. I came out of nosferatu gushing about how much i loved it so much that i was nearly crying and the first thing of substance my parents said about it was “i don’t buy that nosferatu would have been tricked like that in the end. He even had the book that told him how it was gonna happen! It doesn’t make sense”

like holy fuckk. i love them! but it got me thinking how “analytical” commentary of that genre is just so lame. No one latches onto high concepts anymore and gets swept up by themes and spectacle and the passion and emotion that is so lovingly crafted in high-art. It’s all about literal details of a narrative and whether you could follow it every single step of the way. And if you can’t, you get frustrated and throw your hands up and walk away from it instead of challenging yourself to either attempt to understand what you can or even just suspend your disbelief.

And it’s so pervasive in our discourse now, online, critical reviews, everywhere. Like really. Y’all get so stuck on the surface-level minutiae that it blinds you to everything else. Nothing about the experience that resonated with you emotionally. No other compelling thoughts or interesting questions it made you ask. Just literal caveman brain “it don’t make sense” shit. And you’re so stuck on it that it prevents you from having meaningful connections with the media you consume.

Anyway i wish we as a species cared about nurturing our love of the humanities more and i wish that media wasn’t so drowned out by volume with shows and movies because (and im about to sound really pretentious but i don’t give a fuck) most of it is slop with an overreliance on churning out plot and narrative to keep its audience engaged rather than engaging them by challenging them to think for themselves.

[scampdoodle]

“I promised you.”

[obsessive-clown]

I’m sorry but just imagine Art the Clown with a person/partner who is neurodivergent and usually ALWAYS hyperactive and energetic.

Like, when he pops into their house randomly for fun to visit them because they’ve established some sort of weird alliance through unsettling glances and slow blinking, they’re always pinging and bouncing around the room, going 90 to nothing. And then he decides to stay the night one time and BOOM he witnesses a random burnout/exhaustion episode and just thinks his silly person is BROKEN.

(I made this doodle of art and my sona this morning, this was originally going to be an ask but I got anxious 💚)

He needs to take them to the repair shop, obviously SOMETHING malfunctioned!!

[luzisahomosexual]

The foxes just won another game. Neil waddles over to Andrew to celebrate using his racket cos he’s so exhausted. When he gets there, he smiles at him before falling to the floor. Without a word, Andrew sits down in front of him. They both sit there silently, staring into each others eyes with their foreheads pressed together.

And that’s how the press and fans started speculating about their relationship😋

[quietwingsinthesky]

journey’s end au where the doctor tries to kick everyone off the TARDIS and they just go, ‘???? no?’ and won’t leave. can’t be stupid and think everyone will leave you when they won’t get out of your house.

[toniodarling]

Being schizophrenic is so fucking stupid like. Okay I know walking alone when it’s dark is scary. But you know what’d make this even scarier? They’re there, they’re everywhere and they’re especially behind you. I know you can’t see them but what if they’re there lol

[rist-ix]

https://www.tumblr.com/rist-ix/749015401700229120 not you reblogging this when you ship bloom with the man who murdered her family 😭

Bloom's into ppl who slay! Hope this helps :3

[kelpermoosee]

I need to draw Booigi real soon, the lack of them is making me itchy

[rainbowpufflez]

Fine, I’ll admit that I like Lysandre 😔

[apollo-just-ice]

Original Fiction

Fictober Day 13 - “that’s not the point”, a vague bittersweet angsty kinda fic about my beloved Willow and Pyg