#messed up little meow meow

[theeio]

im ill

[mblue-art]

BAD SANSUARY // [14] tears for owl-bones's event !

"...Killer, it just looks like I have running mascara."

"it's such a look though."

messy kisses and post-nuzzles

[libras-interactives]

THEM ........

(Drawn by the wonderful @ladybugkisses !!!! Srsly look at her blog, her Lackadaisy art and comics are *chefs kiss*)

[freetobeafcknriot]

no one:

me, instead of adulting: no, see, it's the ben-ness of it all for me. *draws a venn diagram* okay so. blorbo... *points at umbrella!ben* little meow meow... *points at sparrow!ben* and scrunkly *points at the common area between them.*

[melverie]

I thibk if Luci was a teen he woukd have listened to rock

He does give off that vibe!! And at the very least we know that Lucifer at least owns one (1) rock record ever since the 'Lucifer the Demon of Rock' devilgram

My personal headcanon is that after that devilgram, he realized he actually enjoyed the genre a lot and secretly started to listen to more and more rock. So now whenever the brothers go out for karaoke and he accidentally had one to many horns of Demonus, he exclusively sings his heart out to rock songs. He knows all of the lyrics by heart too and he's putting on the performance of a lifetime every single time, but the others know better than to record any of this, so unfortunately you had to be there to experience the full glory of it :(

That's also part of the reason he doesn't want to sing in front of Diavolo. Can't let anyone know that the Avatar of Pride listens to anything but the most exquiste classical music

[lovesickeros]

Ur writing is just soo!! mwah♡♡ I just read pt3 of " Even the God's bleed " and I- I can't I just love the way you write all the characters ( especially Furina<3 ) but like I can't wait to see where the story goes and ugh I'm so excited 💖 💗 ( remember to take care of urself pookie )

(/@^@/) ~*♡☆♡♡°~

well good news then bc ive already started pt 4 so there (hopefully) won't be a 2 month wait time between chapters this time.......at the most I'd give it a week, maybe

[seadhna24]

you know the hyperfixation on fox is real when you start talking about him like this

“yea this is commander fox from the coruscant guard! no sadly he doesn’t have a lot of screentime, oh, shot fives? yea but listen he was just in silly goofy mood ok? the caf machine was broken and he didn’t get his morning caf- listen he didn’t mean it ok, wait, listen-“

[ozzieinspacetime]

Sometimes I think about the first Doctor pre An Unearthly Child and I'm like. Okay so he had dubious looming/parentage, slept in a barn most of his childhood, killed a boy with a rock, killed two of his friends in an endless toy dimension after having a breakdown over a flower, got expelled, got married to a woman older than his kithriarch, passed his exams (finally) on the third try, had 13 kids (somehow???), fell out with every single one of his ex best friends, did something bad enough that the president ordered his own brother to assassinate both him and his granddaughter and he ended up running away to keep her safe. And also one of his companions from like 1000 years in the future was there and its implied that the universal concepts premeditated the whole thing but whatever. And it all happened within like 300 years.

All I'm saying is its no wonder he kidnapped Barbra and Ian if that's what we're working with

[ahalliance]

smth about 10 being 904 yrs old in day of the doctor then 906 in the end of time fucks me up

[stonerzelda]

Im happy to have a fresh-ish take on a story idea ive had for a bit now but i rly need 2 work in my character design skillz cuz i have bad sameface syndrome. Everybody looks exactly the same and its lame and annoying yet character creation is arguably my favorite part -_-

[siixkiing]

Me: Cons of dating Macaque; he is a bastard Me: Pros of dating Macaque; he still a bastard BUT he is your loveable bastard now.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Hello. Hello Quil. I have drawn Gethen. In the short time that I have left you, I have become hardcore rooting for him in the PLMM poll. May mine art convince you to vote for Gethen? I wish to rally the brothers and fight the fight that is true 😔

-Heathen

I cannot promise I'll fight Gethen, my apologies. I've gotta vote for who's the most problematic, pathetic, and rather messed up in the head and it might not be him; Gethen might meet his match and I'll have to vote against him. I don't know if we know enough about him to call him pathetic and messed up, but I will keep you and your art and propaganda in mind when the fight comes <3

[scare-ard--sleigh]

okay so art gallery date thoughts are that j is my boy obvs but WHAT is he doing here. it's interesting. he's so out of place.

damian and Joseph are obviously not close;;; I, in fact, spent this date getting the vibe that damian hates joseph, which does make sense bc damian is so close with Mary.

hugo being surprised thay joseph would paint boats means that not only does he not know that joseph HAS a boat, he's never been in joseph's fucking living room?????

Damian and Hugo are clearly closer to each other than joseph and either of them so who invited him lmao was this a fucking double date or something.

EDIT: one of the last things that's said is "see you around!" and joseph responding with "you will whether you like it or not--we're neighbors!" like????? was that sass??? did he like run into them and talk about going to the art walk himself and find out they were going and got A Vibe when they said "oh i guess we'll see you there then?" ???? (which means that joseph was planning on going to the art walk on his own, which is um. sooooo fucking sad????)

[synonymroll648]

IF LORE UPDATES APPLIED TO PEOPLE I WOULDVE JUST GOTTEN ONE OF MY HAPPIEST LORE UPDATES TODAY

[dmitriene]

cw: hybrids, dubcon (?), trapping, knotting and things.

dog hybrid simon riley that tries to mount you, it's not his fault, it's his owner who's responsible for bringing a sweet, docile kitten in the house that already has a big dog, he's never showed his affection to any possible animals around, even to his own specie, how he should, but upon meeting you, soft, supple thing with groomed tail and fluffy ears, he remembers he has a cock to stuff and breed.

you expected him to scent you and then forget about you, after all, he's a scary dog, and the man that took you promised that he's lazy and wouldn't even bat an eye at you, but as soon as your feet touched the floor, simon bumped you down on the parquet floor with his whole, heavy weight, pressing his rugged mug between your legs, huffing out a terrifying, pleases groan, his tail wagging left and right.

it's led to you almost clawing his eyes out, hissing and scurrying as far away from him as possible, threatening that you'll slice his face if he'd try it again, defensive little thing, a sight that pulls a lopsided grin to his pale lips, making your fur stand up on your ears and body, forgetting about trying to make up friends, knowing best than talking to this horny mutt.

yet simon plays it off, acts as apologetic as he can, tucking his excited tail between his burly legs, lowers his ears down, almost manages to do these honeyed, puppy eyes when he passes you across the house, getting under your fur, by helping you, giving you his sleeping place while the owner orders a new one for you, even stoles some treats for you from the kitchen.

anything, just to lower your awareness of him, making you warm up to an unruly mutt and feel comfortable with and beside him, pushing his inappropriate behavior to pure curiosity, seeing that he ain't trying to do something like that again, even through there's a sleazy murkiness to his eyes you can't piece together, until your heat doesn't hits you.

you come to him willingly, padding from your bedding to his, where he's all sprawled out, deep asleep with rumbling snores, and your mind to hazy to comprehend what's happening, why it's so hot, why you're all leaky between your furry, supple thighs, plopping beside him with loud, needy purrs, as you rub against his whole body, ass perched out with your pretty, curving spine.

simon knew you'd come, waited for your heat to struck, for you to seek him as your comforter, nuzzle your adorable face with whiny mewls in his thick palm, he's not a patient dog, and he won't torture you by acting like he's asleep, so he rises and tugs you close, pressing you into his bed, making you arch sweet and sharp enough to present your needy, fluttering hole, messy with dripping slick.

he eats your pussy properly, messes his whole maw with your slick and creamy cum, nose pressed in your silken, soaking fur, while he flattens his rough, thick tongue against your puffy folds and bumpy, swollen clit, slurping down on you when he nudges at your slit, licking further to your clenching hole, stuffing you with at least something for a short time, preparing you for his knot.

you welcome his chubby cock properly, your hole tight, yet so slick that simon is able to sheathe himself along your rippling, pulsing walls in couple of squelchy slides, flicking his finger against your throbby, little bud of nerves, looking at the way you purr and meow in pleasure as he stretches you out, filling you so full your soft, little tummy bulges out from his girth.

simon will knock you up, knot your tight pussy nice, making you claw at his wide shoulders while he slobbers over your fluffy, plump tits, rough tongue torturing your perky nipples, suckling wet kisses on your tender body, that would be even more so after he'd make sure you're pregnant with his chubby pups, as you keen his name and plead him to breed you.

ears pressed tight to your head, flicking at each pound of his engorged, fattening cock in your leaking hole, rutting his thickening tip against your cervix, your spongy spot rubbing against his veiny shaft rapidly, making you writhe, turning his wide, muscular back in a mess of bleeding crescent scratches, as your long tail wraps around his leg, brushing against his thumping one, accepting simon's popping knot with pitchy meows and gushy hole.

your pregnancy would be an owners problem by the morning, when he'd stumble across you tucked against simon's solid chest, purring in your peaceful slumber after being sufficiently filled with loads of potent, thick cum, morning air filled with guttural, protective growls and clogging scent of sex, and it's seems like it's wouldn't be easy to make simon stay away from you from now on.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[bi-writes]

hiiiii I'm new to your page but i would like to ask you what would've happened if simon mail-ordered a bride?

mail-order bride

you stare down at the address on the card, blinking as you reread the house number and look back up at the cottage in front of you. the numbers match, but you just need a few more minutes before you knock on the door.

you're not holding too many things. you have one suitcase with the entirety of your belongings at one side, the cat carrier sitting on top of it. on the other side, you hold a bundle of papers. your immigration papers, all shiny and new, your birth certificate, and your new british passport.

when you look back down, you swallow as you read over your name. it's odd, to see something new in the section labeled SURNAME.

Riley.

you've never met him. this isn't legal, it can't be, to have all of these things. he must be someone important. someone they value. or maybe, they are just too afraid to say no to him.

the front door opens, and you freeze on the spot as you see someone duck their head to step outside. they're wearing a mask, covering their entire face except for their dark eyes, but it's hitched up over his nose as he holds an unlit cigarette between his lips.

he stares as he sees you at the end of the steps. he frowns, looking you up and down.

"weren't supposed ta be 'ere for a few weeks."

your eyes water a little, but you only manage a shrug.

"i-i..." you meet his eyes. "i-i couldn't stay there any longer. i didn't have anywhere else to go."

he tucks the cigarette back behind his ear, slipping the mask off. it reveals a tousled mess of short blonde hair and a terribly scarred face. his eyes dart to the little carrier sitting next to you when he hears a soft meow coming from it.

"said no pets."

your lip trembles.

"please," you whisper, and his lip twitches as he fights off a scowl. you imagine he must not have much practice in hiding his emotions. he comes down the steps anyways, coming closer, and you pick up the carrier as he snatches the suitcase off the pavement, making his way back inside. you follow him, naturally.

when you close the door behind you, you're surprised at how quaint it all is. nice brick fireplace, a soft carpet (no shoes allowed is what he snapped at you), and wonderfully furnished to make the place cozy, warm, lived-in. there's throw blankets and accent pillows. there's pictures on the walls, paintings, yellow corner lights to give everything a soft glow. the kitchen is beautiful, with lovely colored tile and wooden cutting boards, a drip-coffee setup in the corner and worn cookbooks stacked neatly by a stainless steel toaster. there's herbs growing in little pots sitting on the windowsill above the sink, and there's a cast iron pot decoratively resting on the stove.

it's spick-span clean. there's no specks of dust or splatters left over from bacon grease. there's papers pinned to the fridge, lists to remind him to buy whole milk and sliced bread and call about the internet bill being charged twice again.

you set the carrier down on the couch, unzipping the top. a little curious black head pokes out of it, and you reach in and pick the cat up under its belly and drop it onto the floor. immediately, the cat spreads its front paws, claws sticking out as they begin to knead the carpet and use it as a personal scratcher, the prick, prick, prick sound enough to draw the giant man out of the bedroom with a hard frown on his face.

he points at the thing and shakes his head.

"keep tha' thing off the fawkin' counter," he snaps at you. he purses his lips when he sees you still standing there, afraid to even move. he comes closer, the cat scurrying off, and he yanks your coat and scarf off, going to the hang them up by the door. "can unpack tomorrow. need t'make somethin' ta eat."

you move immediately towards the kitchen, hoping he keeps a stocked fridge, but he puts out a big hand and stops you, stepping in front of you.

"the fuck are y'doin'?" he asks, and you blink up at him.

"you said to make dinner...s-sir?"

he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.

"y'listen t'this," he murmurs. "women don't lift a fuckin' finger in this house, y'hear?"

you nod, and he reaches up and palms your throat, cupping your jaw.

"and my wife doesn't call me sir," he mutters. "it's simon."

you soften a little. "i-i'm sorry, simon."

"don't apologize," he grits his teeth. "did nothin' wrong."

when a fresh set of tears comes down your face, he wipes them away with ease, calloused thumb swiping over your cheeks and quieting you. he puts something into your hands, a velvet box that he must've gotten when he went to put your suitcase away.

"y'r a riley now, yeah?" he murmurs, and you tilt your head at an angle, and your foreheads brush together when he bends low to speak to you. "act like it."

you lean up on your toes (he's so fucking tall), and you kiss him softly beside his mouth. when he moves his head, your lips brush against each other, but he pulls back to make his way to the kitchen. you hear the gas stove light up, and a few minutes later, there's a familiar smell of onions hitting hot olive oil.

you take a seat on the couch, smiling to yourself, wiping your eyes as you curl up there. you flip open the box, sighing shakily when you see the rectangular diamond and matching gold wedding band. when simon comes back in to give you a mug of tea, you take it with your left hand, and his eyes flicker when he notices the new jewelry there, so pretty, so new.

mine.

when he pads back into the kitchen, the cat blinks up at him slowly, green eyes bright as they sit on the counter.

simon walks past it, saying nothing at all.