#soon I will have nothing to post

[annykuh]

I think Leo and April like to dress like cowboys

[bugcitie]

[bulbabutt]

i think its weird that arcee is like. a core member of transformers groups now, cuz it makes her stick out like a sore thumb being the token girl when at the time she wasnt exactly supposed to be? she was part of the second generation of characters (even though I know the movie was being made first)

like it seems like modern stuff tries to do this with her

which just shows off how much that design doesnt fit and comes off like it was made to be "i am THE girl. you need no more girls we have made the one girl”

but when she was actually designed to match the movie crew, a bunch of more futuristic (the far off year of 2005) cybertronian vehicle transformers with her rounded shapes and pastel colours and she isnt even the only pink one because hot rod is also pink, albeit a much darker pink

(leaving ultra magnus out cuz he was designed to be a brick holding optimus doesnt count)

the point like yeah shes still the only girl but its less egregious when you look at what she was actually supposed to match. i dont think shes designed perfectly but i think its weird that because shes the most recognizable girl transformer she has to be pulled away from her crew and forced into a group she doesnt share the design philosophy of (let alone for her character its sad like... are those not her friends? she’s not allowed to hang out with her own friends anymore cuz she’s the only girl who’s marketable? sad)

it’s extra weird when you realize there’s this crew who were the original girl transformers shown on screen

they’re not perfect either but I like that they have the same busy more squared off shapes and more strong colours, and I just think if they got added in arcees place you could have a less skewed view gender binary for the robots

there’s also the part where it would be cool to have more than one girl in a group, but again arcee with her iconic leia space buns head fits in aesthetically better with the movie crew

[choccy-milky]

🔞NSFW comic🔞

just seb being insatiable when it comes to clora 😇 refractory period?? whats that?? never heard of it

[ TWITTER ]

[ POIPIKU ] and a lil extra doodle:

(aka seb and clora if contraceptive potions didnt exist LMAO.... girl would just be preggo 24/7)

[jhuzen]

do you have any thirst hcs for grandpapi neuvi? if you do pls share i’m so hungry 🤲

hydro dragonussy [m.reader]

hello hello, guess who’s back to writing again? this is a warmup because i struggled hard in continuing my kaveh request wip and a buncha scenarios for sick reader w genshin men and jing yuan all at once. on second thought… i think i really shouldn’t have written everything all at once. not to mention i’m trying out quotev to publish my yandere oc/m.reader stuff for fun. + yes that is the title. it’s either that or crybaby old man dragon thirsts. you pick.

𖦹 nsfw, neuvi is a virgin old man, underlying mentions of reader being an attorney (we all know i have a bias for them anyway, have you seen my workload series? lmao), switch male reader, switch neuvi, though we’re heavily leaning on bottom neuvi for this one, honorable mentions of cockwarming and thigh fucking, brief mention of double penetration (reader receiving), gentle and rough sex, implied dacryphilia (you), breeding, fontaine rains whether or not he’s sad, his tears are the rain and i will drink them like a hungry eremite in the sumeru desert.

Let’s face it, Neuvillette has no time outside of his work as the Iudex of Fontaine, he’s constantly buried underneath those paperworks, and on top of that, when he’s not tackling mountains of cases, he’s out in the opera, presiding trial after trial when the Oratrice can already do the same thing for him.

So when you appeared in his life all of a sudden, he was new to all sorts of things. In his long life as a dragon, he has had little experience in what you can offer to him. He’s awkward for the first few moments of your relationship.

It’s the same to sex — you’d have to take initiative in every single little thing, show him the ropes like the good commander you are, and he obeys with no complaints. He sees that you enjoy it, and if you’re good at it and you’re willing to teach him, he is an obedient patient.

Old man’s heads are very clumsy at first, teeth scraping against your length while he slowly but surely bobbed his head. He’s slow, but he treats your little guy with so much care. Looking up at you with tears pricking at the ends of his eyes as he tried to please you as best as he could. Obligatory weather report — it’s a light drizzle in Fontaine.

But when you give him head, Neuvillette squirms, it doesn’t matter where he is, he could not keep himself still. It’s always obvious that even you cannot bring yourself to blow him semi-public in his office, just because you’re afraid a poor innocent little Melusine would come inside and see their beloved leader squirming around traumatize them. It would also be bad for his image if you guys get caught, so… sexy times are inside the comfort of his possibly huge home as much as possible.

Sex with him is slow and intimate, very romantic. What did you expect? He’s from Fontaine and they apparently love to romanticize things. Whether or not who’s on top when you guys are doing it, they are a lot more languid in style, like a moment of relaxation between the two of you.

A switch, though preferably a bottom. Yes, that’s right, old man Neuvillette likes to be serviced. He likes it when you’re the one filling him up so good. It’s hot and heavy, just the way he likes it.

He’s a tired man, so he’s definitely a pillow prince— no, a pillow king. He lays there and takes it like a good boy, only gazing at you with those soft eyes, hazy with love and lust while you continued to push into him. He takes your hand in his every time you enter him and he always squeezes your hand tight the deeper you go in.

Call him romantic and a basic man, but he lives for missionary. He wants to see you while he feels you stuff him full of your cock. He only writhes in the beginning while he tries to adjust around you, squeezing you tight inside him while his breath stutters, trying to take you in all at once.

If he’s the one in charge, it’s all the same, he’s gentle with his actions, though, honestly, he’d rather have you ride him instead. He likes to see you in all your glory, with you rolling your hips in such a needy manner while he kept you grounded, holding onto you as he caressed your thighs. It’s perfect for him.

Oh yeah, and this goes without saying — he’s a dragon, so he has two cocks. Fitting him in is a sport on its own, but you graduated with a major in fucking dragons, so you’re good. He’s a bit thicker on the side too, so each time you take him in, you could feel every inch of him, and every throb of his cocks is a heaven sent feeling that courses through your insides.

Please be gentle with him, he is an old tired man who hasn’t had a break. He is so vanilla that it’s boring but his cries are worth it.

He’s a very quiet man too, his moans are shy and light, a gasp here and there and a tiny whimper with every increment of speed adding into your thrusts.

Neuvillette is definitely the type to squirm and get away from you at first, but you just need to keep him still and hold him down by his thighs before you plow into him. He likes it though when you do it, it reassures him that you want to do this with him and that you’re not letting him go no matter what happens.

Another weather report: a good light rain. Not too heavy.

Now that all the sweet stuff is out of the way, rough sex is not as often as the usual vanilla one, but it’s not completely an uninvited guest between you two.

If you fucked him rough and hard, Neuvillette will cry and break. His poor pristine and unmarked body, filled to the brim with your greedy bite marks and hickeys, glowing red and bruising dark purple that leaves him embarrassed when they’re still around if you somehow managed to weasel in a rough session in the morning before he goes to work and you will be reprimanded for it once he’s home, no exceptions.

“No more of these obvious markings,” he’d say with a stern tone, only to end up face down on the pillow with his ass up while you found a loophole and devoured his entire back instead.

He hates that he can’t see you when you go rough on him, because it’s normally him ending up with his face buried into his pillow while he laid on his stomach, his hips being held up by you while you ruthlessly pounded into him without even an ounce of mercy.

He hates it, but at the same time, it does help with keeping his noise down because when you’re doing him so roughly, Neuvillette wails, he cries hard, with those pretty tears of his not letting up. He’d scream to the high heavens and were it not for the fact that your hand was forcing his head down into his soft pillow, the entirety of Fontaine would hear it.

Again, Neuvillette is a tired old man, so something so rough definitely leaves him drained, you’d constantly have to hold him up halfway through your little session.

Fucking him while he’s on his side and his one leg hooked over your shoulder is a great compromise, with how you can both still see each other Neuvillette can immediately turn his head to hide away into his pillow when he realizes he’s being a little too loud on his own good.

He’s definitely the kind to force himself to be quiet. If you fuck him without anything for him to bite into to hide his loud noises, he will cry and be embarrassed through out, barely even managing to cover his own mouth with his hand without an ounce of struggle while his body jerked up and down, following through every harsh punctuated thrust that you made into him. Weather report: Fontaine has a storm.

Neuvillette cries his heart out every time you go rough, full on sobbing and it is such a turn on. The way he makes garbled noises while he would protest into your roughness, hand gently pushing into yours while he asks for you to be gentler and go a little slower, only to cling helplessly into his pillow when his pleas fell into deaf ears.

His tears are just… divine. He cries so prettily and he does it with unwitting grace and class — somehow, he’s just innately beautiful in every thing that he does. There is no such thing as an unsightly sobbing to this man.

Neuvillette makes this soft noise in between a whimper and a gasp every time you hit his prostate spot on and he just shudders in delight, his breath shaky until he can barely think straight.

Gentle or rough, he’s definitely into breeding. Neuvillette has a breeding kink and anyone who thinks otherwise will sink deeper than Khaenri’ah. Stuff him full of your cum and he’s a happy and satisfied man.

It’s not just the feeling of your hot seed pumping him full that pleases him, but being around the Melusines, treating them like his children despite them being just his subordinates has definitely gotten this old man all too paternal. He likes the premise of being able to build a family with you, and he will nurture your children with all his being.

Thigh fucking? Thigh fucking. Though it’s rare, only when he’s really tired but still aches to please you, and even you’re too lazy to move a lot.

Bother him when he takes work at home by making him cockwarm you. He could not concentrate at all — squirming and squeezing around your cock so deliciously while you teased him about getting his work done.

Has definitely tried wall sex with you, with his back against the wall while you held him up. May or may not have happened at the opera after a heated trial when he ruled against your client and you were pissed your streak of wins on that week crumbled into dust. It’s neither your fault but the client’s, but you’re a sore loser and Neuvillette is a stoic judge.

Call him daddy while you fuck into him and he will break, he’ll go slack, his mind numbed when a rush of dopamine just infiltrated his brain every time you’d call him that.

And after all that, aftercare is a must. Treat your dragon well. He did so much for you, and you broke his old man back after fucking him into oblivion. Clean him nice and well, kiss his tears away, and wrap him tightly in a blanket while you hold him.

[bruciemilf]

There's something deeply touching about Jason knowing he'll never be the kid Bruce saved again, but still maintaining some quirks, mannerisms, habits, pieces of young Jason Todd. They're small but cut deep.

Jason, when he allows himself to stay at the manor as a tiny indulgence, still acts like there's a barrier of lasers protecting Alfred's cookie jar, just so he and Dick would have an excuse to compare leaps.

He's still waiting for the lights to fall asleep so he could visit the library and get angry at Tim, or Bruce, or both, twins in audacity, for dig earing the pages they knew he'd read.

Of course Bruce finds him because he always looks for him, ridiculously fluffy pink robe that Selina bought him sagging on him.

He ignores the ball of sadness exploding in his stomach as he realizes Bruce is the one looking up at him now. It feels like a robbery, premeditated and calculated, " Jaylad, you have to nap."

" Bruce, I am a grown ass man, you cannot fucking tell me to NAP--"

There's an unspoken type of authority that surrounds gentle parents. Is Bruce a gentle parent? Well. He doesn’t need to hit Jason to get what he wants, that's for sure, " Excuse me?"

"...Just one more page?"

Bruce is also very weak for them, thought. "..Fine. don't tell Alfred."

When Dick proudly shows off his patrol record for the week, all preppy and shiny besides Bruce at the kitchen table, Jason hears it all the way from the couch.

Damian is a very sore loser when it comes to Mario Kart, he learned, " Todd! TODD! Come back here and taste DEFEAT! FIGHT ME LIKE A WOMAN, COWARD!"

" So yeah, 40 arrests are pretty good, I'd say,--"

" 40? That's adorable, I got 70. On a broken leg."

Bruce, suddenly spooked, turns to him, " You had your leg broken on patrol?!"

" A broken leg? Awwww. Killer Crock almost bit my face off, but hey. Nice of you to try."

"Waylon bit you?!"

" At least I'm not a COP!"

" YOU'RE STILL A COP?!"

" I'm working on it, okay?!"

But the biggest thing? Jason's so unflinchingly clingy on Bruce; When they first meet this 'Justice League' Batman joined, Jason requested to be there. A robin caricature, but he doesn't trust any of them.

Aside from Diana. Diana's always the exceptions.

" This is Superman, " Bruce may think that little blush goes unnoticed, but it certainly doesn't. " And this is my ba-- This is Red Hood. I trust him with my life."

Don't cry don't cry don't cry Jason chants in his head.

Superman extends his hand and a honey sunshine smile, " Red Hood?! Oh, I've heard so much about you. We have to work together sometime. Share stories about this one here."

He heard about the guy's X Ray vision. He hopes that if he does take a peek, he sees the sinister pull of grin on his lips, all teeth and no niceness, " I'm more of a hugger."

" Oh. Uh... Sure. I love hugs."

Jason makes sure to whisper, " He doesn't kill but I do," before pulling away. Then he turns to Bruce, going from standing at his full height to relaxing a little bit,

" I want bat burgers on the way."

Bruce hums and signals for him to lean down to get his head petted. Jason does. Even if he's embarassed.

[svnflowermoon]

hey btw before you start being angry at the 10 year old sephora kids and the ipad kids, remember that we should feel bad for them. because the world has failed them. it is not these kids faults that the world is so focused on materialistic things and that their parents don't know how to talk to them. that is the fault of social media and bad parenting. i said what i said.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #94

Danny falls through a portal to the DC world from a natural portal that opened up while he was in mid fight with Skulker a fight that began at Vlads where the creep put a collar on Danny that kept him in ghost form, Vlad thought he’d force Danny to reveal his secret to his parents by taking away his human form. Looking around he’s in a dark city with dark smog colored skies. Unfortunately he’s stuck here as the portal closed leaving him trapped. He tried to find help but no one can see him in his ghost form. He starts tailing the vigilantes of this world and eventually follows one onto this space station through this tube (possessing inanimate objects sure comes in handy). He wasn’t expecting for the random British guy in a trench coat to see him.

[1driedpersimmon]

Had some progress the other day :)

[chirpsythismorning]

Yeah a teaser dropping on ST day would be cool. But can we agree that a DNA board reveal would be infinitely better?

[linterteatime]

a lil redraw(? Thingy i did for fun + some quick doodles of strawberries 🍓꫶ֺ໋

the original image, from browneyedrose.com✌

[frostfishy]

this fucking game !

uncolored below cut

[michaeljoncarter]

sorry, i'm still hung up on how bad the writing for sarevok was in bg3. it's not even just "he's so out of character!!" bad. that is just straight up not him. literally who is this man, what the hell is he talking about, and what has he done with the actual sarevok because nothing he says makes ANY sense like....

just as one example of how wild the contradictions/retcons are, this is how bg3 has him recount his resurrection in bg2 -

and this is (parts of) how it actually happened -

like??? it's so bad and weird and dumb and for WHAT???

[bizlybebo]

sorry im still dead and will probably continue 2 be…. take this as penance

[solarisfortuneia]

here's a silly something that was going to be a thing of its own but i thought it was much better as a blurb <3

“kaeya,” you call, running your fingers over a midnight blue t-shirt with a cat and the word ‘meowlicious’ embroidered on it in silver. “come take a look at this!” 

hearing no response, you turn, only to find kaeya’s hoodie-clad figure next to the hat section, where a wide variety of them sit on display. the trolley sits to the side, abandoned in favor of a ridiculously colored hat that now sits on his head.

“what?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye. “you don’t think i look handsome like this?” he poses like a model on the runway. with his midnight-colored hoodie, white sneakers, silver earrings, eyepatch and rainbow beach hat, he makes for a comedic sight.

the price tag dangles over his eyes, the cherry atop this absurd cake. a smile spreads across your face and laughter bubbles up in your chest.

“you look very handsome,” you tease. “i’d definitely pay—” you reach for the tag and flip it over. “five ninety nine for you.”

“is that all i’m worth?” one hand flies to the center of his chest in feigned astonishment. he catches your wrist with the other when you begin to move away. “i was under the impression that i’m worth far more than a meagre five ninety nine.” 

“oh, you are.” you flick his forehead playfully. “but the standard rule of department stores is that i pay what’s on the tag.” you stick your tongue out at him, intertwining your fingers with his. 

“touché. it looks like you’ve struck a bargain. take me home, then, my love.” 

“we’ve got to pay for our stuff first, my love.”

[ozymandian-hymn]

no because see if we're talking c!tntduo, especially c!wil,

for me its always "almost" with these freaks. almost acting on it, almost closer than they should be, almost, almost, just enough to make c!wil feel alive and more. arm's length. unhealthy distance or lack thereof. get the blood pumping and yank himself away at the last moment. leave them both wanting like some fucked up starved kenneled animal, like stretching a rubber band, like hunger-thirst and the omnipresent want. you get me? the bassline, the base note of this story is wanting-needing-wanting. and

let's look at who's on the table today. just one half, sorry, c!Wilbur. i sanctify and canonize him now as the patron saint of almost-there. one must imagine Tantalus happy. hold onto that sentence for me while we go through this.

his hand slams the button and he almost leaves a mark; his poignant point was additionally steamrolled after this fact and no one even bothered to give him a proper burial, a proper memorial, because who mourns a fucking costume, a typecast homicidal maniac?

he almost won. he almost got it. he was almost happy. they were almost free. he almost proved a point to big Q. he was almost seen. he was almost understood. he almost made up for his wrongs kind of maybe not quite probably not, but he almost, he almost, he almost,

he almost forgave himself?

(kind of maybe not quite probably not.)

he was almost loved he was almost seen as human it almost wrapped up perfectly it almost had a cherry on top but, again, the thing about desire is it's stronger when it's not totally satisfied. c!q holds him with a desperation and he digs from q's gaze only an understanding of himself. this is not a two way radio.

the cherry on top is that this is his penance now, his stupid little ending no one likes. for what? for failure? for being the sly motherfucker he is? for being too stubborn and too arrogant to take up quackity's offer and, by extent, always always keeping him at arms length always leaving them both oh so fucking wanting?

he's now in the middle of bum fucking nowhere with no one who loves him with no one who knows him with none to show for how he clawed through the thirteen years of limbo except some scars and claustrophobia and a longing loneliness haunting him. there are no winners here, no trophies no grand ending. he ran off from his problems, as always.

congratulations, mr. president, you are now some unknown gas station clerk. another costume to wear, another character to play, forbidden from exiting stage left and being, what, himself? as if, honestly.

there is a want there, if you squint. does quackity want him to open up so he could close the distance, say what is always stuck in his throat, or taxidermy him like a trophy?

is this love, or fascination? is this affection, or obsession?

i think even under the gaze of someone that completely matches his freak and considers him not untouchably demonic but simply unpredictable i.e. c!quackity you could never find what he is. if you keep taking off his costumes there would just be more. if you keep taking off the mask his face would contort to more. if you're something so used to being forgotten you wouldn't even bother being yourself because who would even remember that? you keep peeling off his mask, facade after facade, and at some point you'd just be digging at dirt. you can't solve this puzzle, only pick it apart and ruin it

of course he can't be honest and open up, there's nothing in there. it's all a play, an actor, a lesson in dramaturgy. he'll open up when he's cold and dead on the operating table.

i am looking at c!quackity elbow-deep in the actor-metaphors on the operating table and i am asking: was it worth it? did you get what you seek, what you *wanted* from him? is this your idea of being closer than arms length? will you keep this as a trophy, too, that you have finally understood the misunderstood?

remember the bassline: want. need/want.

is the stage too big for c!wil or is he too ambitious. is the world too wide and his flames too dim? did he waste his shot, one piece of lead against leviathans? is he so lost in his own layers and layers of costumes he couldnt ever find himself again even if he begged to? i would ask "why, despite everything?/why, when everything was done?/why, when you tried your best?" but then he'd be asking the same question with a pinch more desperation and buddy neither of us has the answer here

there it is again, then, a stalemate of the omnipresent want.

the want to get-what-you-want (the hands grasping at the retreating water and reeling fruits / the hands grasping at burning flags and broken swords / the hands grasping at poker chips and glossy cards)

the want to understand (i push my thumbs into this caricature of actors and only façades split)

the want to be understood (c!quackity looked at him like he was human, through it all, and under q's gaze he was alive)

one must imagine Tantalus happy.