#to bang it out real quick

[nexttothelamp]

...

[hotvintagepoll]

me looking at all of the results: you people have no taste

also me: *is aroace*

this is rough and doesn’t include every orientation, but:

[ottosbigtop]

remembered the everything about Penelope Pointer and was hit with a vision . Aughhh

[starscream]

guess where i am in my reread

[wyrmwynd]

Makoto Kagutsuchi Did Nothing Wrong

[sweetvelaryon]

he doesn't know how they did it. he didn't want to believe it. every nerve in his body was screaming and raging. he knew killing the sweet realms delight, the supposed Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, her son would come for them. Aemond was on his knees beside a wounded Aegon and his little girl, Jaehaera clutching his hand. kneeled in front of the Iron Throne, blood spurting from his eye socket after Jacaerys ripped his sapphire out. revenge for killing his brother, Lucerys. although he expected more. he doesn't know what he would do. the said bastard stood in front of them covered in blood, dirt, and ash, the smell of smoke hung heavy in air.

he doesn't know how he got in. there was no warning. nothing at all. Stark men surrounded the three of them and in Jace's hand were two crowns. one was Aegon's, the other his late father's, Viserys.

"all of this," Jace spun around the room to the iron throne, "for that fucking thing." it was dark and raining outside, lighting and thunder echoing in the Throne Room.

Aemond didn't expect Jace to put on the Conqueror's crown, walk up the steps, and sit on the iron throne. fear shuddered through him as he as Lucerys appeared behind the throne. his hand wrapping around a blade, causing blood to spill on the throne, so tight his knuckles turned white. he didn't even flinch at the pain. he wore his colors proudly of black and red, also covered in blood and ash. Jace held up Viserys crown and Luke grabbed it. placing it on his head the room seemed to echo with a pulse of acceptance. two brothers who now ruled.

"shall we begin?" Jace asked.

Luke's eyes stayed on Aemond. he was going to ruin them beyond repair for the pain he put his family through.

[arihi]

For the prompts: tentacles 😵‍💫

The setting: a dimly lit bedroom. Our protagonist on the bed, her limbs helplessly held apart by invisible strings she can’t even see, never mind fathom. She pulls at her restraints uselessly, the soft, yet firm hold unrelenting as it forces her into a stiff, vulnerable position.

It’s all she can do to look down at her body, thank god it hadn’t bound her by the throat. The entire night she’d been plagued by sensations with no explanation, no proof of which to see - but for the first time, she notices a change. Her shirt is being lifted up.

Her pleas fall on deaf ears. From the way tendrils seem to trace down her stomach and up her legs, her restraints are living, but give no indication of any higher intelligence.

Higher than pinning her down and pulling up her shirt, at least.

She’d been feeling them underneath her clothing all night before she’d even gotten into bed. She knew they didn’t have to remove her shirt for any pretense of access.

She knew they’d only done it to humiliate her. To prove she was completely at their mercy.

Tears spill and soak the pillow by her cheeks. She makes no attempt at wiping it; she knows her hands are all but frozen in place.

Almost resigned to her fate, the tentacles actively pulling the fabric aside and touching her with feathery-light ministrations, she exercises the only control she has. Looking around the room, as if hoping for any clue.

She doesn’t see them, but she does see their shadows by the dimly lit lamp in the corner of the room.

Suddenly, hope shines through the despair. She ignores the distracting sensations and reaches as hard as she can, fingers barely touching the tip of the lamp’s remote on her bedside table. Excruciatingly, she pulls it closer little by little, until she’s able to press a button. If the lights are off, the shadows will disappear - and perhaps, the tentacles will as well.

*click*

The lights are off, and the shadows are gone. In blind, desperate stupidity, she’d enveloped herself in the same darkness the tentacles drew themselves from. Perhaps if she’d thought about it with a clearer mind, she’d have realized she would only be condemning herself. Perhaps if she’d been patient, she’d realize that the tentacles could only go so far because of the small source of light in her room.

Perhaps, if a thin, dark tendril hadn’t already found its way through her ear and made itself comfortable in her brain, she would’ve had any other lucid, conscious thought to prevent it.

But if that were the case, she wouldn’t be having so much fun now, would she?

[firstfcllen]

OKAY BUT DO YOU SEE THE VISION

very rough design but i wanted to give her design that would stand out ( and also make her chubby but thats just fun ), but her hell name is Snivel ( because she be sniveling, big cry baby ) as a broken halo as bit of a mockery of where she's supposed to be. having the worst time in hell.

[bittersweet-mojo]

I’ve never felt so alone (Felt so Loved)

so that episode huh

[segemarldoodles]

October 14 candy

[personinthepalace]

Day 8 in NY: The Play That Goes Wrong!!! aka our last show

[just-in-the-nickleback-of-time]

Some robot, alien, hostile planet, Evil Human: *is actively trying to get The Doctor and his companions killed horrifically*

The Second Doctor:

[hopefuture]

“please, baby—” [ from zatanna. ]

Spicy Prompts

They were making quite the habit of this. Her just so happening to be in the area and visiting the ranch for a quick hello. He, in turn, keeping things perfectly civil and gentlemanly-- until, gradually and certainly, they very clearly weren't.

It always started off so innocent, a lingering gaze here, a passing brushing of the hand there. A game of duck duck goose, daring the other just go a step further, keep their gaze for a second longer.

And, as everyone knew, Ma' Kent didn't raise no quitter.

Another day, another cracked wall in the barn.

His strength meant that she weighed nothing under his fingertips, having propped her up against the barndoor with a single hand, fingers buried deep inside of her. " Not yet, darling." His voice is sweet, oh so sweet, palm firm against her pelvis, rocking her up and down at a steady, agonizingly slow, rhythm.

" You still owe me for the last barndoor."

[inkykeiji]

clari. yes.

i love him toooooo anon!!!!!

tw: incest/pseudocest, toxicity, coercion words: 422

sigh he would be such a good big brother, such a stern big brother, wouldn’t let you get away with anything (*/ω＼*) you can never get a single thing past him, can never sneak out to see your friends or that stupid boy he hates so much, can never surreptitiously slip past him when you’re stupidly intoxicated, can never smuggle something you definitely shouldn’t have, something he tells you no good little boy or girl should ever possess, into your room without him noticing immediately.

he’ll promise not to tell mom n dad if you promise to stay his precious baby sibling—his and his alone—forever and ever and ever <3 but he keeps all of these incidents stashed away safely between the folds of his brain, always ready to conveniently whip one out and dangle it over your parents’ heads, held precariously between a slim forefinger and a thumb, the moment you step a fucking toe out of line, the moment you do something nii-san doesn’t like, something nii-san doesn’t approve of.

it’s for your benefit, he promises you, after you inevitably appear in the threshold of his bedroom door (just like you do every night, just like you have been for years now, routine and right on schedule) with tear-glazed eyes and a twitching nose, begging to know why he’d do such a thing, why he’s so mean and cruel, yet running into his arms the moment he holds them out for you, makes a space for you, pats his thighs and draws you into his clutch.

nii-san only ever wants the best for you, he tells you as your chest stutters with poorly stifled sobs (shh, be quiet, we don’t any anyone to hear, now, do we?) and warm salt water seeps into his neck, dampening the collar of his worn t-shirt. and if you have to learn the hard way then he will teach you the hard way. it’s up to you, really.

except it doesn’t feel like a vow of sincerity, doesn’t feel like a choice you get to make. it feels like a threat.

dread unfurls stinging and sticky in the pit of your stomach, but you nod and hum and agree anyway, clinging tighter to your big brother as his palms rub soothing circles into your back and hushed praises drip syrupy sweet from his lips, a sick type of thrill jolting your blood, because you want to be good for him, his good little baby, always and forever.

[revvethasmythh]

Neon Moon for the wip meme please 🌝

My Relvin/Vadran fic (may I actually finish her sometime soon 🙏)

-

The sky was truly dark by the time Relvin made his way back into town. He’d eaten something quick just to quiet his stomach and then proceeded to spend a good ten minutes staring at the front door, steeling himself to go back out. Relvin didn’t like town. Relvin didn’t like people. And Relvin especially didn’t like strangers. Nothing good came from ‘em. But here he was, on his way to go meet one.

The bar wasn’t crowded. Relvin couldn’t tell if that was normal or not—he hadn’t been by in nearly a decade, excepting one time two years ago when he got so blind drunk he’d woken up in the bushes outside his house instead of in his bed. It was the first time in years he’d been late to work, and when he finally had arrived, Master Faramore was waiting for him with a steely eye and a pocket full of questions about what in the hells had gotten into Imogen. Relvin hadn’t had any answers and eventually Master Faramore seemed to give up out of pity. For his sorry state or for his daughter, Relvin couldn’t be sure.

Walking into that door was like walking in to a room full of memories, none of them much worth remembering. Drinks with friends that he no longer had from a decade ago. Dropping by to chat with someone real quick before running back out because he had a little girl on his hip. Rowdy nights with Liliana on his arm, live music and drinking and dancing and laughter.

It was nothing but a room full of ghosts.

[x-v4mp3y3lin3r-x]