#so it feels good to hit post finally

[deoidesign]

.

[merrysithmas]

paul "if john was gay i wouldve known he wouldve hit on me!" mccartney

🤝

john "im not GAY but i constantly hit on paul. it doesnt appear to be coming across. that must mean he's straight too" lennon

/youre bad at it and he's bad at it and that's gay love in the oppressive 1960s straight hegemony baby!

[moe-broey]

Back to what I do best (bare minimum Putting My Guys In Situations shitposts) 😌

Inspo under cut!!!

[trans-leek-cookie]

im going to be honest. Curly and Jimmy shipping beyond any like. Moral or whatever bullshit. It's fucking boring.

Wowwww the abusive man uses his power over another man- specifically Mainly when he's freshly injured and heavily disabled and reliant on the people around him for survival- to abuse him?!?! This is crazy. Unheard of, even. A disabled person being abused, now THATS interesting!!! It's like there isn't even a whole woman in the game

[novorehere]

Bite-Sized Tidbits:

A snapshot/character of what life might look like with the seven avatars of sin. Contains a lot of fluff, a little angst, and soft/safe vore with you and the seven Obey Me! brothers themed around their respective sins. I’ve been working on this on and off for quite a while now, so I hope you enjoy.

Written for Vore Day, 2023

—

—

Pride

“I can give you your punishment now, or we can wait until later.”

The edges of the demon’s lips crept up into the beginnings of a smirk. All without breaking his gaze from the stack of documents which he straightened against his desk with a tap tap tap.

“However, I will be leaving for tea with Lord Diavolo as soon as my work is finished. So unless you’d like to spend the evening with Barbatos’ chiffon cake, I’d recommend making up your mind in a timely manner.”

Both of you knew very well that “punishment” wasn’t the right word. Lucifer’s infrequent office calls were less of a punishment and moreso a game, an unspoken routine in which you continuously tested the Avatar of Pride’s patience by indulging his younger brothers’ schemes.

It was a game that toyed with the balance of power, one where you pretended like he couldn’t just shrink you down whenever he wanted and that you couldn’t order him to stop with a single word. It was a game that indulged his pride, one that Lucifer would always win in the end.

It was only a matter of minutes before you were seated in his gloved palm. His ruby eyes lording over you with a gaze that anyone else would find annoyingly high-handed. But after playing his game for so long, to you the affection hiding behind them was obvious.

“Are you ready then, my Lamb?”

He was the morning star, eldest of the seven rulers of the underworld.

Yet despite all of this, Lucifer knew it was you who had him utterly wrapped around your little finger.

—

Greed

Reclining his head against the arm of his couch, the Avatar of Greed kissed his fingertips in mock satisfaction at the burp that rolled up his throat. A barely audible complaint of “gross” only caused him to chuckle and pat his stomach triumphantly.

“Maybe ya shoulda thought about that before bein’ so damn filling.”

A sound like “Guh” escaped the demon’s mouth as a swift kick to his liver interrupted his musings.

“Oi! The Great Mammon’s gonna start chargin’ 10,000 Grimm for damages every time ya do that!” Ya oughta learn some basic respe-”

And there it was, the familiar flutter of tiny fingers rubbing circles into him from inside. Perhaps it was your way of saying sorry… though more likely you just wanted to shut him up. It was annoying how easily you could reduce him to a blushing mess without uttering a single word.

“Hey… ‘s not fair. You’re playin’ dirty…”

Mammon rolled onto his side in an uncharacteristically gentle motion. He couldn’t help sneaking an indulgent glance at the scene reflected in his mirror. There he was, splayed out amongst piles of his belongings with his shirt ridden up and his belly rounded in his lap. If any of his brothers saw him like this, he would never hear the end of their teasing. But luckily for Mammon, not even you could know the way his face became soft as he teased a finger around his navel too gently for you to feel.

“Why’d ya stop? C’mon, now… keep goin’.”

It didn’t matter how much Mammon gambled away or how many centuries it had been since he’d hit the jackpot at the casino. When he was with you, Mammon felt like the luckiest demon in the three realms.

But sometimes it was hard to put it into words. Which is exactly why he treasured moments like these, the moments where his greed got the better of him. The moments where he could steal you away to be his and his alone.

After all, it was much easier to express how madly in love with you he’d become when he didn’t have to meet you face to face.

—

Envy

“You know, this is just like that one scene in ‘My Life as a Shut-In Reincarnated as a Worker in the Shopping Mall Dimension’ where Prince Alfonso goes to the food court kingdom and-”

Leviathan groaned, burying his face into his body pillow as if that could somehow hide him from the voice in his middle.

“You can’t use my own otaku tactics against me, it’s… *hic-* it’s not fair!!”

Your muffled laughter reverberated off the walls of his bathtub, accompanied by the occasional hiccup and the tip of a serpentine tail nervously thumping against porcelain.

He didn’t mean for his horns to sprout from his head when you tried to leave his room that night. He didn’t mean for a serpentine tail to wrap around your ankle, wordlessly begging you to stay. And he certainly didn’t mean for his stomach to loudly vocalize the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind the entire night. What was this, some sort of tropey romance manga?

But here he was, face as red as a bouquet of queen of jealousy and stuffed to the (decidedly metaphorical) gills in his own bathtub. The Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, reduced to a blushing, hiccuping mess. And he had nobody but himself to blame.

But really, how could he have resisted? Especially with the visions of what could have happened instead playing through his head on repeat. Asmo whisking you away to some club filled with normies who could actually hold a real conversation, Mammon snatching you up for an unauthorized night drive in his Demonio 666 Lexura, Beel getting a little too peckish and… he couldn’t bear to think about it.

Leviathan knew wanting to be your one and only was unreasonable. He knew that he was a terrible, horrible friend for thinking these thoughts and becoming so troubled at the prospect of anyone else showing you affection. After all, no one would want to be with a gloomy shut-in that wasn’t worth the scum in Henry’s tank-

But as soon as they had come, the negative thoughts washed away like a speck in the ocean as you snuggled closer to his hand, a muffled voice reassuring him that there was no place you’d rather be tonight.

—

Wrath

“With a flourish the detective tipped his hat to the dame, as he disappeared into the evening fog like the curls of smoke which danced from his pipe…”

The demon’s inner monologue was cut short as a violent squirming sensation roused him from his novel. Your ears detected the unmistakable sound of a huff and a book closing, muffled by layers of flesh and fabric.

“Restless as ever, I see…”

Normally, Satan would be more than offended to have his attention ripped from the pages of a good book. But this time the annoyance that swelled in his chest turned not into rage, but affection as the fire settled in his stomach and melted away… You tended to have that effect on him.

It was a relatively new sensation. Having been birthed from wrath in its purest form, emotions such as happiness had to be taught to him by his brothers. And for that Satan was thankful- he had long since accepted them as family. But as a human, you were a better teacher of peace than any demon could be. Though a cat curled in his lap was a close second.

The blonde sighed fondly, gazing down at the bump in his sweater.

“…Would you like me to read aloud to you? Perhaps that will help you settle some.”

Pulling the covers up a bit higher around his navel, he tucked them in snugly around his sides. A rare smile crossed Satan’s face as he admired his handiwork. The man reached over to his nightstand, finding there exactly what he was looking for in the dim light. A paperback atop the haphazard piles of hardcovers strewn about, placed there with care as not to crease the art on the cover he knew you loved so much.

With both of you tucked in for the night, it was easier than ever to melt into the gentle rumble of his voice.

“Our story begins in a world of monsters…”

—

Lust:

Asmodeus knows that true beauty comes from within. How could it not, when the skin of the human that emerges from his lips always feels so much softer and smoother than before? He makes sure to bring it to your attention every time, doting over how the glow of his inner beauty rubs off on you so easily. Despite everything, he thinks you look so gorgeous lying in his palm. Layers of mucus, tired bags under your eyes, and all.

But sometimes it’s hard to feel beautiful inside or out with wings dyed black and pointed horns replacing the light of your halo.

—

A delicate, painted fingertip wipes a stray bead of drool from your face. The other hand is busy at your head, gently combing the tangles from your still-damp hair with the tiniest heart-shaped hairbrush. Asmodeus had been ecstatic the day it arrived, practically bowling over Levi before snatching the Akuzon package from his arms with a squeal.

It was a ritual at this point, the way he pampered you after letting you out. Swaddling you in a soft, lilac-scented hand towel warmed by the gentle breeze of his hairdryer, wiping you clean as he hummed a familiar tune.

“Baby, you want my love


No matter who you are


I want you to show me


I fell in love with someone


Besides myself for the first time”

He didn’t need to be the “Jewel of the Heavens” with you as his jewel, a precious pearl to tuck away beside his heart where all the things he loves live.

And he had so, so much love to give.

—

Gluttony

Beelzebub was on the verge of snapping when you came to him.

He was breathing heavily when you found his monstrous, horned silhouette hunched over the empty refrigerator. Frightened eyes were glazed over with a hunger that threatened to swallow you up with their very gaze. His mouth opened in a silent plea- perhaps an apology for eating your favorite pudding- but it was drowned out by the roar of his stomach.

Sometimes it felt as if no amount of food could put out the fire that raged within him. The burning sensation could only be briefly dulled by each cooling mouthful that slid down his throat. But then it was gone, claimed by the emptiness inside him that demanded “more.”

But you… you were different.

Simply being around you made him feel full, and for that he was ever grateful. But sometimes he needed more than a feeling. He needed to be sure you were there, to know that you were alive. To feel the weight of that missing piece that left him the day that he fell, your warmth reassuring him that his choices were the right one.

But despite what he needed, he still required your explicit permission to take it.

“Can I…?”

“Of course.”

With your words, Beelzebub gave himself over to his gluttony. He didn’t mind the demon he had become, as long as his strength could help protect you. Or perhaps you were the one protecting him? He wasn’t sure. But one thing was for certain.

No demon in hell could devour you as lovingly as he did that night.

—

Sloth

Beneath the attic room comforter, an incoherent mumble could be heard from a demon-sized lump in the sheets.

Belphegor rolled onto his stomach as he nestled deeper into his nest of blankets. It didn’t take long at all for a lazy smile to crawl across the Avatar of Sloth’s face. Even though you were undoubtedly squashed in this position, he could still feel your tiny hands working their magic just like he had asked.

Oh, how you spoiled him rotten.

It was hard not to with the way Belphegor expressed his desires so plainly. To borrow your jacket to use as a pillow, to keep quiet to Lucifer about skipping classes, to stroke his hair while he lay on your lap. The others weren’t too thrilled with your coddling, but Belphie couldn’t care less.

After all, they had gotten so much more time with you than he had. They got to know you, to love you, to taste you… all before you even knew his name.

Belphegor was the Avatar of Sloth, not envy. But there was once a time when the unmistakable tingling warmth of his twin indulging in you left the bitter aftertaste of jealousy on his tongue. It was a strange feeling, his brother’s affection for a human. One that, until recently, he couldn’t quite understand. And at the time, he had no desire to.

Nowadays the sensation was far from unwelcome. But ever since that night at the castle when he gifted you his pact, Belphegor had found that he much preferred having you all to himself in person. All to himself…

A small yawn escaped the youngest’s mouth as mind wandered to his twin. Could he feel it too, he wondered? The phantom weight of your touch?

…Perhaps he’d ask Beel about it later. But for now, he had a very important nap to get to.

—

Neither of you were conscious enough to know it, but that night as Beelzebub carried his brother down to his own bed and tucked him in, he whispered not one, but two good-nights.

[thevioletcaptain]

so i got some really great feedback on the final draft of my star trek strange new worlds spec and i'm hoping i can ride that high through next week when i'm starting my second-last class in the tv writing program. mostly posting this so i have documented proof that i am in fact a good screenwriter so that when i inevitably start second guessing myself i have a post to beat myself over the head with.

[cuteniaarts]

2 hour rough drawing of Ehuang, my precious Green Opal child who I don’t draw nearly enough <3

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Hello friend i am so happy to know that at least one (1) person is out there still talking about Promised Neverland because I just recently fall ass backwards back into it and I am going INSANE about the Everything!!!! I’ve managed to get my hands on physical copies of the first ten volumes. Do you have any physical copies of the manga?

Heyyooo welcome back 😎🤝😎 TPNtumblr is tiny but the tradeoff is it's usually pretty chill and cozy. |3

And I do! I own all twenty volumes plus Kaiu Shirai x Posuka Demizu: Beyond The Promised Neverland with the epilogue chapter in it, along with the art book twice. I also have the blu-rays, which for the first season I think are pretty nifty for the box art alone, in addition to the interview booklet that comes with it.

In regards to merch, my favorites are probably these little Ohiruneko figures of the trio and the exhibition trio plate, but I also adore the album art of the OST, the endings of the first season, and the ending for the second season (still genuinely cannot believe that last one is real), and as a trio enthusiast for aesthetic purposes I'm very happy to own copies of the first and fourth light novels. For unofficial stuff, my small smattering of doujinshi.

[lemongogo]

hi

[girlfox]

━

[mastersoftheair]

Sorry but am I the only one that thought that episode…sucked? Like it was straight up bad. Horrible pacing, no wrap up of all the random characters and plot lines they’ve thrown around all season (the tuskegee airmen, Westgates spying, literally all the guys beside like the main 4). (Seriously it makes me so mad that the three redtails got all of 5 seconds of screen time, almost no lines. Literally what was the point of introducing them other than to pretend the show was iNcLuSiVe) Even at the end of BoB and the Pacific you get a much better idea of what happened to all the remaining guys. In this they’re like what happened to DeMarco or Hambone or Brady or (insert character here) we don’t know! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The concentration camp scene felt shoehorned in compared to how it was done in BoB. Unless that actually happened to Rosie (which i haven’t heard anything about) but it was just like.. ok? It all felt so rushed and emotionless to me. Maybe I’ve just fallen out of love with MoTA but it’s been downhill for me since episode 6 or so.

i already made a little (read: long) post-finale write-up here, where i talk about the use of the tuskegee airmen, l'sandra, and overall editing/pacing issues i felt the show had. but i don't agree with the notion that adding the redtails was in any way insincere or trying to halfass being "iNcLuSiVe", i just think they suffer from this show's obvious time constraints. and to summarize what i wrote in my linked post, there's a limit to what white writers/directors/producers can do when creating a story about black people. there are some stories i'd feel uncomfortable with them telling on their own, truth be told. dee rees wasn't the sole nonwhite director, but she Was the only black one. i think she did her job well given the limitations and i appreciate that they let her direct those episodes, rather than leaving it up to a team of white people trying their best to tell a black story.

the worst i can say about the finale is that it didn't feel like That strong of finale, tho i wouldn't go as far to say it "sucked" or call it "straight up bad". i liked it plenty, it's just the weakest of the hbo war finales imo.

as for the concentration camp scene, artistic license was taken with both shows. unlike what's seen in the BoB, easy company wasn't the first to arrive at kaufering, and there's 0 mention of the all-japanese american 552nd who helped them liberate it). similarly, rosie rosenthal did assist in liberating those camps, though it would've been after the events shown this episode. idk if he saw one in that up-close way seen in this episode, but he could've (i should research this when i have time). plus, it would've felt weird Not having him acknowledge them at all. "shoe-horned" is an odd term to use here imo, as both scenes more-or-less center a jewish character (BoB's liebgott and MotA's rosie). the former show has survivors the characters can help, the latter shows no one left to help. the former has all of easy company there, the latter has rosie there all alone. rosie's scene felt deeply personal in that way. at the end of the day, both scenes are communicating different things. that doesn't make one better than the other when they aren't trying to be identical. (disclaimer, i'm not jewish, so i'd be interesting hearing from the perspective of someone who wrt whether or not they felt it was "shoe-horned")

i can understand if you've disliked the show post-episode 6 (and episode 6 was a very strong episode i'm ngl). eps 7 and 8 were weaker in many ways, even to me, so i get it. everyone's entitled to their own opinion (i'd be a hypocrite saying otherwise). just understand that this blog is run by someone who overall enjoys this show despite its flaws! basically, i encourage you to take this energy and make your own posts.

[woodsborostabathon]

pondering the kirsch siblings orb yet again and you really cannot convince me that quinn would not have been moving like depression era bella in new moon from the moment she even FOUND OUT richie was moving to modesto...

[honestlytrulycompletelysteady]

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[chilewithcarnage]

somebody on twixtter said they haven't started Fionna and Cake because it's gives 2014 Tumblr vibes and unfortunately I gotta agree

[sskk-manifesto]

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[giantkillerjack]

Ya know. I spent most of my life with horrible painful soul-crushing social anxiety.

And after about 25 years of continuous hard work, suddenly, people started pointing out - to my utter bafflement - that I had, in fact, achieved my lifelong dream of being charismatic. I'm 29 now; I feel comfortable in most social situations, and it is a very rare person whom I cannot make laugh.

I am, undoubtedly, finally, charismatic.

But do you know what I found?

I found that now that I have an understanding of which social rules serve which functions -- Now that I have an understanding of just how much damage my awkwardness was doing to people, well,

I found that, actually, my awkwardness never really hurt anyone at all. People were just judgmental dicks to me about it.

Now that I have the skill-level to (most of the time) creatively vocalize what is in my head as soon as I think it and without fear, I can confirm once and for all what I had always suspected:

I was worth talking to when I was quiet.

I was worth talking to when I was awkward, and when the words in my head took time and patience to hear, and when most of my jokes didn't land. I was worth talking to the whole time.

So I just... I hope that if you've ever wondered whether you are worth communicating with, the answer is yes. Absolutely yes. Each of us has a soul worth sharing - and if you and I were talking, I would happily wait for you to speak (or communicate in other ways) without condescending, and I would never shame you for that harmless awkwardness that so many people feel the need to violently stomp out.

You are worth talking to. You just are. And you deserve people who will speak to you with kindness, with patience, and with the basic immutable respect owed to all people.

(I talk about this with some frequency, both on tumblr and in real life. At some point, maybe I'll gather all my thoughts on the matter into one post. At some point, I wrote about my personal experience trying to build my social skill. But I felt the need to say at least a little bit tonight after seeing this other lovely post, and I'm glad I did. It will happen again.)