#LITERALLY CAME TO ME IN A DREAM

[keystrokecascade]

A voice cut through the grey.

Starting resuscitation.

It sounded almost distantly familiar, but she panicked when the IFF module didn't give an immediate response. A mental command, flicking the mass accelerator out of her left arm and… no confirmation. Her heart raced.

She tried bringing up her scope. Night vision. Thermal. No response.

Patient is experiencing spasms, requesting restraints!

Preparing for combat she braced for the euphoric cocktail of drugs that were about to be delivered into her system when the adrenalin spike was detected, starting to shake as the hit never came.

Running down the list of cockpit commands in a fervour, begging for feedback. HUD. Lights. Even the camera washer. Her mind hovered over the last two mental commands, one that would start an emergency eject that should work on the last remaining dregs of backup power, the other would deliver a fatal shock of electricity to the base of her neck. She weighed them evenly; if she was taken down by an EMP and being cut out, ejection would be certain death anyway.

Patient at risk of harm! I need help here!

With a determined mental nod she triggered the eject, trying to tense herself up and opened her eyes.

Instead of the inky-black comfort of the cockpit she was immediately overwhelmed with light. Nauseated she tried to throw up only to have a thin string of drool dribble down her chin. As things came into focus she was hit by a second wave of nausea. Sluggish motor inputs felt like twice the response time she was used to. Multiple ocular inputs overwhelmed with more visual feedback than she had with the mech's single TGP and laser rangefinder.

Finally she saw arms being held down. Not her arms. These were pale, thin and fragile things, twitching and shaking as someone held them down by the wrist. Knowing when she was beaten she sent the final mental command. Nothing. She was still here as she fell limp, her eyes catching a bare chest rising and falling in exertion out of the bottom of their field of view.

Seizure has subsided, testing reflexes.

Feeling started to return as blood pumped through her body. Not hydraulic oil or coolant. Blood. Right. The arms and chest were hers and the sound of her panicked breathing suddenly cut through the tinnitus, her body retching again.

Something loomed over her, blocking out the light before a pinprick blinded her again, waving back and fourth before winking out, consumed into the overhead blur again.

"Pupils slow to respond, suspected brain damage."

The voice, lacking any static from transmission, was right above her. She was just processing what had finally been understood when she felt a prick in her left wrist.

"Administering sedative for MRI."

Her nervous system jerked only to find muscles that wouldn't contract, paralysed as her mind once again faded into static.

[dykemd]

call me pastry bag the way i fill her pussy w cream

[mcpiejeff27]

A Cardfight!! Vanguard OC (THAT WAS REVEALED TO ME IN A DREAM)

"I found a meme which said that 3AM dreams just hit different, and it can't be any truer for my case."

In my dream, I was watching Vanguard on the family room TV. I think it was post will+dress season two; when the Uniformers were at their peak. But during that episode, I saw an unfamiliar character.

Her name is "Fuka" as I remembered. She looked like Kumi from the G era, except her hair was longer and tied into a high ponytail. Her attire seemed off too; and by off, I mean she dressed like that one edgy Yu-Yu in the DSR version of Vairina Esperaridea (you know exactly which one).

The picture above is my effort of interpreting what she looked like using picrew.

Her deck consisted of candy/dessert-themed cards (I swear, the only audible word I heard was "Jellybean"), so I'm guessing she used either a Pale Moon-centric Dark States deck or Lyrical Monasterio.

That's not even the weirdest part. That goes to the fact that she was beating Sophie Belle's ass; a clear image of Astroea zoomed-in in desperation as her mask breaks. Obviously, this seemed like utter nonsense since Raika will probably be the one to beat her ass (y'know, for redemption/revenge lol), but if I see a character even remotely like this one and plays an important role... then I don't know what to say.

So, yeah. I don't know what to take from this. I'll propably make a proper OC out of her and make her so-called "candy" archetype real somehow.

[xyliaxart]

I had a lovely dream last night. I was in a school gym doing like an obstacle course and they were throwing things at us that were supposed to be scary including a big bat and a little bat. and I caught the little bat and just kept it cause it was so cute it looked like this:

it was so round and fit in my pocket. I gave it scritches under its little chin

[worminterface]

i have an oc story finally <3

[yiirlzsinked]

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Actor Au!

Where Batman and Co. are the most popular TV series and they’re currently filming Jason’s death.

Only Bruce goes so deep into acting he breaks down for real upon the part where he arrives at the warehouse and digs through the rubble for his child.

[numinous-scribe]

DpxDc Prompt

Danny, for whatever reason, has somehow wound up in a texting chain for the Injustice League. How this happened, or why the Injustice League even has a texting chain is beyond him. He didn't realize at first that it was the Injustice League messaging because it was usually a bunch of vague stuff and he just thought it was spam. Until he started connecting dots to dates, times, and locations of attacks related to the villainous league. So Danny starts taking notes and drops anonymous tips to the Justice League.

Only, the villains eventually catch on that they have a leak, and after finding a phone number that shouldn't be there, Danny receives a very direct message: The villains know about him, and they're coming.

If it was just him, he could manage. But the worst of the worst are coming for Amity Park and Danny is just one kid with more experience fighting ghosts than humans. It's time to drop his anonymity and ask the Justice League for help.

[teethkid67]

lunch break :P

bp!tubbo and tommy sharing some rations in pogtopia for @sixteenth-day-event prompt "kindness" :3 i think about bptubbo risking his stupid skin to feed his loser bestie&co often

[doctorsiren]

Meet the people of Woodward Ranch! To most West Virginians, the place is just a normal animal sanctuary, but to those in the know, it’s a cryptid conservation ranch :)

Wyatt Woodward is the grandson of the man who used to own the ranch (I haven’t figured out that guy yet so…). His grandfather passed and left the ranch to Wyatt in his will, despite Wyatt only having met the man once or twice when he was little. Now he’s tasked with running the place, as well as grappling with the reality that monsters, cryptids, and the supernatural are very very much real

Lucy Lovejoy is a farmhand / wrangler on the ranch. She grew up living there and is miffed that Wyatt was given ownership. She believes she’s entitled to it because she actually knows the place and Wyatt didn’t even believe in the supernatural until he came to the ranch

Dr. Herschel Finch is the ranch’s science boy (that’s probably not the official title) and he does his magic + science stuff to keep the ranch safe as well as be the resident cryptid expert. He’s very chaotic neutral and would probably kill someone…yknow…for science! Nobody really quite knows his history, despite him telling lots of strange backstories about his past.

Denny is a feral little orphan werewolf girl that lives on the ranch and has deemed it her home. She causes trouble for Wyatt because he’s easy to mess with, but she’s also the one (other than the Mothman) who sees him as family the fastest

The Mothman is one of the cryptids who regularly stays at the ranch. He was Wyatt’s grandfather’s favourite, and so Wyatt quickly becomes the new favourite of the Mothman. Just look at him 🥺 he’s so,,,🫶

Bonus:

Cryptoria is Finch’s ex-wife. Nobody on the ranch has actually met her, but Finch’s reasoning for why they got divorced was that “she was evil”. They question why he didn’t take that into account when marrying a literal demon, and also why that was the dealbreaker, seeing as he’s not one to be opposed to some evil from time to time, but he doesn’t elaborate. He does explain, however, that she tried to kill him. Despite that, he also actively laments the relationship, clearly missing his hot demon wife. Cryptoria divorced HIM because she found him annoying. They’re soooo toxic for each other. They’re the kind of exes that simultaneously hate each other but would totally make out again if they had the chance.

[herbarimoon]

Drown

[fatedroses]

More than just the Demon.

[tigerr-cherry]

LESBIAN BLAST UR NARILAMB

[d4rk-x-w0lf-17]

yes i'm still trying to cope after the finale

[gothgengargirl]

The Works

You came to the new salon mostly on a whim. It was a Sunday, so it’s not like you had anything special in mind for the next day. Just work. Boring, dreary, work. But you thought that feeling pretty might help the work week go a little more smoothly. Give your colleagues something else to talk about besides meetings and progress updates. You wanted to feel seen for once.

For such a nice place, it was a pleasant surprise that you were able to get a walk-in appointment. Fern’s Grove, it was called. Cute name. The ceilings were high, and the place felt remarkably open and airy for being just another building in a strip mall. A fountain bubbled away cheerfully, a variety of exotic plants growing alongside it. The air was even perfumed, floral and berry-like, but in a way you couldn’t quite place. And the woman at the counter, who set your bag in a drawer and got you settled into a astonishingly comfortable chair, was gorgeous. Everyone who worked here was gorgeous. If this was how they took care of themselves, you felt like you were in good hands.

Your cosmetologist came up to you just as you were getting settled. She was just as beautiful as everyone else, maybe more so, with her dramatic cat eye makeup, purple hair and generous curves. She handed you a laminated list of your options, and you could hear her whistling cheerfully in the background as she got her instruments together and you looked over your choices. Hair cut, hair color, hair extensions. Face wash, moisturizing treatments, full makeup. Permanent makeup? That sounded intriguing. Manicure, pedicure, they even offered waxing services (presumably those were in another room). And one thing at the bottom stuck out to you, drawing your attention like a light in the darkness.

The Works.

“I’ll take The Works, please,” you said, almost instinctively. You wanted to see what this place could do.

“Sure about that, doll?” Her voice was sweet like honey, with an edge of something in it. Condescension? Anticipation? Both?

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, then, The Works, coming right up. Lift your arms.”

You did so instinctively. You were always good at following directions. And you thought you knew what was going to happen. She would put an apron on you to protect your clothes, you would talk about what cut and color you wanted for the hair, maybe get your shoes off and your feet soaking for the pedicure.

That’s not what happened.

Cables descended from that high, airy ceiling, and wrapped themselves around your wrists. You tried, briefly, to pull away, but you were held in place. Like a puppet on her strings. Clamps emerged from the chair to do the same to your ankles. You were stuck.

A momentary wave of panic was replaced by a curious fear, as you could feel something seeping from your new restraints. Soaking into the skin of your wrists and ankles. It felt GOOD. Like you were being polished from the inside, like all of the tension in your body was replaced with pleasure. And as you sank back briefly, She placed something over your head. A visor. You tried to close your eyes, but the flashing colors shone through your eyelids, and you opened them out of curiosity. And once they were open, you never wanted to close them again.

At first the messages were simply soothing. Telling you to relax, to sink, to accept all of the new feelings in your body. And there were new feelings. You couldn’t see anything but the swirling colors, couldn’t hear anything but the whispered suggestions from that set of headphones that must have come on just after the visor. But you felt good. Hands nimbly massaged your scalp. The waves of whatever it was from your restraints spread all the way through your arms and legs, making them feel limp and loose and silky smooth and perfectly plastic.

Plastic?

Perfect. Plastic. Puppet.

Pretty. Programmed. Plaything.

This was what the suggestions in your head were saying now. And you kind of liked the sound of it. On some level, you knew that you had work in the morning. You were a Busy Woman With Important Things To Do. But you always hated it. There was another way now? And at least for this afternoon, you could enjoy being a

Perfect

Pretty

Plaything

...

Time passed. You couldn’t tell how long. Minutes? Hours? Days? Time felt less and less meaningful, paying attention to the sensations running through your body. It was almost like an orgasm, but orgasms came and went much faster than this. This was a slow build, leading to a great flowing tide of ecstasy. You didn’t want it to stop. You never wanted to stop being a programmed plastic puppet.

But then, as suddenly as it started, it ended. The visor and the headphones were pulled off. The restraints at your arms and legs snapped open, your arms dropping into your lap. Your hands moved automatically, one of them grasping a breast, the other rubbing at your crotch shamelessly.

As your eyes focused again, you were amazed with what you saw in the mirror. She… you… was different. Your clothes didn’t fit the same way—blouse swollen and buttons open, skirt disheveled and riding up over thicker thighs. Your mouth was hanging open, lips larger than they were before, and your tongue was hanging out. It was pierced! A blue gemstone sitting in your pretty pink mouth, its color matching your new long nails, your thick eye shadow. Your gleaming metallic hair. And the place on your neck that didn’t even look like flesh anymore. It was seemingly embedded in your skin, blue circuits tracing out from a thick black band.

A Collar.

You didn’t even look human anymore, did you? You looked like…

A Doll.

“What do you think, hun?” said the voice behind you. The voice you now instinctively knew as Owner.

“I don’t think. I just obey.” Automatic.

“Good girl. Stop touching yourself.”

You did, immediately. Arms limp at your sides. Awaiting further instructions.

“What are you?”

“I’m just a doll. An empty-headed plaything.”

“Excellent! And what do you want me to do next?”

“Please…” these words felt like they were escaping from your soul. They were your soul. All you had left was this one thought.

“Please play with me”.

You saw Owner’s luscious mouth open into a wide toothy grin as you said that, watching her and you in the mirror. And then you didn’t think anything else. Not for a long while. Dolls don’t think, they just obey.

Good Doll.

[ronanlynchbf]