#WHOO this was fun

[brandwhorestarscream]

Like miner Jazz with big bad Soundwave? Is fun pairing

Dude Soundwave is sinful with his mouth! Please imagine him lounging leisurely on the berth with Jazz shyly straddling his face. He's never... done this before, so he's nervous! Asks what he should do, where he should put his hands, is Soundwave sure this is OK?

Soundwave responds by retracting his mask, grabbing Jazz's hips, and pulls the little miner down so his valve is flush against his mouth. Soundwave wastes no time slipping his glossa between his valve lips, and Jazz keens, thighs tightening around his face and yipping up to the ceiling above. He grabs the headboard of the berth and hangs on for dear life, moaning and wailing as his valve is devoured. Soundwave eats him out like a mech possessed, or perhaps like he's starving, glossa laving at the walls and practically fucking his tight little hole with his tongue. Jazz is a mess, moaning like a whore and shaking, condensation beginning to collect on his visor. He's struggling not to drool as Soundwave works him open.

He's not at all prepared for the other mecha's glossa to extend suddenly, plunging deeper than he thought possible and going right for his ceiling node. He spasms and nearly falls over, valve contracting around his tongue and flooding with lubricant, helm thrown back and a rivulet of oral lubricant dropping from the side of his mouth. "Yeah- yeah! OhmyPrimes, h-holy Primus-!" The last straw is when Soundwave brings one large finger down on his anterior node, rubbing his clit in circles just as he activates his sound system, sending pulses and waves of sound directly up into his valve, vibrating the walls and deep bass thrumming through every sensitive nerve ending. Jazz overloads with a howl of pleasure, flooding Soundwave's mouth with his transfluid, hips rolling to chase the sensation and trying to force the larger mech's tongue deeper inside him. Dry sobbing in ecstasy, his fingers leave scratches behind where he'd been desperately holding on, and he'd have collapsed and fallen over had Soundwave's huge hands not come up to his waist. Effortlessly lifts Jazz off and lays him down on the bed, still twitching and squirming, optics rolled into his helm and tongue starting to peak out of his mouth as he rides the afterglow for all its worth.

Pressing a kiss to his forehelm, Soundwave moves down the berth, parting his little thighs and settling between them. He's not done, not by a long shot... he'll have to make Jazz cum on his tongue at least twice more before he's ready to take his spike.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

no more fan-ta-sizing about it! everything's already changed~

[gabetheunknown]

I'm really curious because these foods seem to be hated ✌️ more for me

pls reblog, if it bothers you that I ask for a reblog, this is not the social media for you bitch boy. Gimme the numbers

[starry-bi-sky]

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.  

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 

It is a fast dream. 

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 

—---  

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom. 

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

[cookiesandbiscuits]

Okay, okay, this looks really fun so I'll do it too!

My MC Camellia was walking to her café when a flash of light enveloped her. Once she opened her eyes, she was standing inside a hall with several stone chairs in front of her. There were also several men looking at her direction.

The aura they give off were very different. Coming from a lineage of a babaylan family, she knew the men were not humans, although she doesn't know what kind of creatures they are.

Used to being whisked away to the Spirit Realm because of her "friends", she calmly asked them why she was brought there. She was dumbfounded when she learned that they were, in fact, the creatures her lola warned her and her sisters about: demons.

Still wary of them, she accepts the offer of being an exchange students, thinking that she'll be in danger if she refused. What she didn't know was that decision will change her life drastically.

I like talking about my ocs and I like hearing about other people's ocs, so let's talk about them because why the hell not ( part 1? )

Question, what was your MC doing right before they arrived in the Devildom for the 1° time? I'll start: Magnus was peacefully sleeping inside a bus while making their way home when they got summoned & pulled inside the Council Room, falling on the floor ( ouch ) in front of the brothers and Diavolo.

[fate-defiant]

🦋~I want you to kiss me, I want you to remake me I want to drown in this moment of captivation~🦋

(I fucking did it dear god that was so many fucking layers)

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Aaaaaah I know I've been talking abt this art for like 3 days but I FINISHED IT HEEHEE 💖💘💖💘💖💘💖 The thought behind this was Cherry was getting mugged during their walk back to her apartment cuz Townsville be like that, and this is the moment Mojo swooped in to her rescue (How did he know it was happening? He deeeefinitely wasnt spying on them lol) ANYWAYS ENJOY If you want more thoughts look at my tags!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖

[[🧡 Reblogs and comments are all seen and very appreciated!! 🥺 Tag list below the cut, check out my pinned for my taglist form! 💙]]

@absentmoon @ava-ships @bee-ships @beetleboyfriend @berryshipbasket @canongf @clawfull @cloudyvoid @derelictdumbass @dissonantyote @edencantstopfallininlove @final-catboy @flowering-darkness @gible-love-nibles @nagirans @hoppinkiss @hotrodharts @hyperionshipping @iwishihadfangs @iyamifucker @judetama @lex-n-weegie @lficanthaveloveiwantpower @little-miss-selfships @little-shiny-sharpies @loogi-selfships @mandrakebrew @mintpecks @mothfinite @mrs-kelly @nameless-self-ships @orbitingaroundyourlove @nerdstreak @paper-carnation @p-i-t-s @qilinkisser @reds-self-ships @rexscanonwife @rotten--cotton @ship-trek @spacestationstorybook @squips-ship @toogayforthistoday @winterworlds

[hatkuu]

currently thinking that if pc had a pet cat, they'd most likely DETEST kylar.

you know how animals have a certain sense for danger? your pet gets that with kylar. always nipping and hissing and scratching - never sweetening up like they usually do. you'll plead to kylar that they're not normally this rude! it must just be taking them a while to warm up to him!

your pet never accepts kylar, and always manages to crawl into the empty space on your lap when he visits. staring at him with a glare so harsh kylar can only sit beside you and sweat, rubbing his sweaty palms against one another.

your fuzzy little friend's aggression reaches it's peak in the dead of night - yowling at your bedroom window, hackles raised with claws digging into the fuzz of your bedroom carpet. it's a struggle to coax them back to bed, cooing and petting the stiff fur on their back. their eyes never leave the window, no matter how you hold them and shush their panicked meows. it's concerning, given that you know animals have far keener senses than people do.

however, despite all of the blatant red flags, when kylar visits the next day with an array of deep, red-crusted scratches up his forearms - you're none the wiser.

[lavenoon]

@naffeclipse have a bloodstained fool in his natural habitat <3

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

[omnicom]

Pokeshipping Week 2023

Day 7: If Misty was with Ash During His Realization in the Series Finale

(Apologies for the late posting, literally worked on it all day today till now. Yay for lateness! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧)

So, technically, I didn't follow exactly to the theme. I put in a little addition of someone who was just as integral and would be alongside them had the show kept the OG group together. Hi, Brock, good to have you here in all our OS Trio glory!

I think Misty (and Brock) would've been supportive and happy for Ash for figuring out what his dream actually means for him. How he defines what makes a Pokemon Master, how he quantifies it. They probably also would've told him that those are some lofty goals to hold himself to, but given his stubbornness ("couldn't you guys call it 'persistence' or 'determination' instead?") it doesn't look as impossible of a goal as some others might make it out to be.

Misty: "As for me, I still dream of becoming the world's greatest Water Type Master!"

Ash: "Oh yeah! And I'm sure we'll make our dreams come true!"

Brock: "Ooooh~ Congrats, you two! I can't wait to see you guys achieve them!"

And that's a wrap for Pokeshipping Week 2023! Thanks to everyone for their likes, reblogs, and comments! I appreciate all the love and compliments, it really humbles my heart to receive all this. Thank you, again. 🥰

Art © Crumpled-Hakui

Like what you see? Want art like this of your own? Check out my art commission post here and send me an email or private message! Thanks for stopping by!

[kojotei]

Repostober, Oct 31: The Night Horror, 2019

[paigeyssims2004]

Oh yeah, we have...wacky-whoo-hoo-pizza man and motivating dumbass for a brother (jk I would let him step on me)

~ C R E D I T S~

@plazasims @joshseoh @raccoonium

[stormy-blossom]

Immortal Volo is funny concept in my version of the Pokemon universe because this man has the audacity to be alive in the same time as his history buff great granddaughter.

[randomfoggytiger]

Thank you for the tag, @baronessblixen-- went about this slightly different than the rules-- shuffle on a repeat playlist, post the first 10 tracks, and tag ten people-- because I don't use playlists.

I decided to select an OST, randomly generate a number, and list the corresponding song below:

"Posh!", Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

"Symphony No. 3, Op. 55 (Eroica): I. Allegro con brio", Beethoven

"Chin Up", Charlotte's Web

"Eric to the Rescue", The Little Mermaid

"How Can I Refuse", Barbie The Princess and the Pauper

"Stroll Through the Sky", Howl's Moving Castle

"There's Always Tomorrow for Dreams to Come True", Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer

"Climb Ev'ry Mountain", The Sound of Music

"I Dreamed a Dream", Les Miserables

"La Esmeralda", Pugni

Tagging: @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @amplifyme, @suitablyaggrieved, @dd-is-my-guiltypleasure, @cecilysass, @aloysiavirgata, @perpetually-weirdening, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @settle-down-frohike, and I think that's over ten, so I'll stop~.

[cjskribblez]

Day 19; Hybrid

[dent-de-leon]

OH NO HE LOOKS SO COOL I LOV HIM--