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#and i wanted this to be done tonight
tarantula-hawk-wasp · 2 months
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Sacrificial Lamb
another little symbolism moment with my oc inquisitor maera modeled on 'innocence' by William Adolphe-Bougueraeu
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nightthinker-08 · 6 months
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what if Pomni and Ragatha were to kissith
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Two woman kissing in Caine's Christian Digital Circus? I think not!! This isn't hate towards Caine at all btw xD he's actually one of my fav characters! But I just thought it'd be funny if the person that coded his censors was an old fart or somethin lol Anyway don't expect me to reply to an ask with a comic or even a drawing like this often. The idea just popped in my head n wouldn't leave till I made this-
Also because I'm not a monster, here's the uncensored version
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radioroxx · 2 months
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maybe perhaps… a clover and kanako being silly… smiley face :)
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uhhhhh ehe yeah + star babysitting
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sebastianswallows · 21 days
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Dreamed of you
— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader
— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit sister is sent to kill Feyd. She hesitates as she watches him sleep, all the way until he wakes up and catches her.
— WARNINGS: none, just reader simping for one cute boy
— WORDCOUNT: 1k
— A/N: First of all, this isn't necessarily movie!Feyd, it's more based on the books, but I love him in all his forms. I wrote this in a bout of madness this evening, and it's just a love letter to how beautiful and soft and sad Feyd canonically is. That is all.
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A shadow in the corner moved. The door shut behind her with a hiss. Outside, the chanting of his name resounded like a distant wave. Feyd. A myriad of emotions raged inside the way that sylphic syllable was said. So mangled and intense were they that she could hardly tell, even after weeks of being on Giedi Prime, if the feeling in their voices was that of fear, or love.
He had won another battle in the arena tonight. Half-fight, half-play, all a spectacle of violence kept elegant and grim with the flourished motions of his blades in inky black and white. The celebrations were kept modest afterwards. This was no birthday.
His chambers smelled of sweet sweat and bitter blood. It filled her lungs as soon as she stepped in. He slept now, quietly, in a surprisingly small bed. As she approached him, dagger in hand, she realised it was not so small — he just took little space on it.
He slept huddled to one side, his body curled within the black sheets as if he were in a womb.
The na-Baron was an arresting sight, like a work of art left interrupted. His marble-white arms hugged a pillow to his chest, and from beneath a curve of silk draped over him, the corner of a knee peeked through. The soft line of his eyes revealed a dour bend in sleep, delicate dark lashes resting like butterfly wings on his cheeks. His full lips, decadent and lustful, were pulled into a pout. She wondered what he was dreaming of.
Beneath this impressive amalgam of his features, from the dainty to the sultry to the broad shoulders and strong arms, he was just a little boy. Motherless and far from home, preyed on by his uncle, worshipped by a distant crowd. Useless, now that the Atreides line had ended and a child had been secured from him by Lady Fenring.
The Kwisatz Haderach would have to be reached through other means, and from a bloodline less volatile than that of the Harkonnens. They had proved uncooperative, hostile — the Baron, his nephews, even Lady Jessica. Born to be an asset, they made themselves a threat. That was why Feyd-Rautha had to die.
She stood over his black bed.
The guards outside were dealt with, the courtiers were asleep, and the drunk and maddened crowd outside would not realise what happened until it was too late. This was the result of years of planning, months of preparation, and weeks spent on that polluted planet pretending to be one of the new interrogation trainers.
Torturing was not her forté, but there were worse fates than cutting men’s tendons clean or gouging out their eyeballs. All the “noble” prisoners were already long dead before she got there. Failed Harkonnens was all that was left. And all men bled the same.
She stood over his black bed with a knife.
“He must die,” she thought to herself, an angry frown blooming on her brow. Her body was already rebelling. “The Reverend Mother demands it. He must die.”
She stood over his black bed with a knife. And faltered.
The blade shone silver in the low electric light, hanging like a teardrop from her fist. Her body refused to move.
Should she really kill him now? Perhaps she should wait for him to turn on his back. What would it hurt to look at him a second more, just another, and another…? He was a good fighter, no matter the arrangements of the arena. Would it not be ignoble to slay him this way? Generations of genetic planning had culminated in him, and to let it all go now...
Her mind’s motions, the fleshy resistance, it all came to nothing in an instant, blown away like snowflakes on the sand. There was a change in the air all around them, a stillness where unconsciousness was before, a presence, like a horn blown through a storm in the lighthouses of old, sounds swallowed by sounds, an impact of cells in the air blooming into a single point of light. Feyd-Rautha opened his eyes.
She only caught the hint of an impish smile before she backed away as quickly as an indrawn breath. Her back hit the door and her hand scrambled for the handle, but he was upon her with the same speed he applied in his gladiatorial fights.
How could she have missed the signs that he had woken? Had his breathing even changed?
“Got you now,” he purred against her cheek, “Bene Gesserit.”
She bit back a scream, her skull pressed against the metal door, and with clenched teeth, she began a sharp command — the Voice. But her anger overwhelmed her and Feyd’s lips swallowed the words she hadn’t even finished speaking.
“Let me g—”
He kissed her like a lover. There was a passion in him that his ostentations of brutality had not yet killed and she found herself moaning, instinctively pleased with the full and masculine presence that swallowed her being — as if it wasn’t a murderer who had caught her just now.
His breathing was steady, as if he had planned all of that. From beyond the thick folds of her dress, she could feel his naked flesh. They clung to him, her clothes, as if they wanted to embrace him. His left hand held her fist, the blade trapped within their entangled grip. The other held her jaw, tilting her face high enough for his lips.
“I knew you’d come,” he breathed, pausing to rest his mouth on hers. She could taste ink on her tongue — the final traces from the coating on his teeth. “I dreamed of you.”
So that was how he knew. That was why he pouted in his sleep.
“Will you kill me?” he whispered.
She could feel it on her cheeks when that boyish smile of his grew.
“I have to,” she said, and her own voice betrayed her, sounding terribly broken.
“Try,” Feyd grinned.
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grxceful-ly · 11 months
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peter bringing mayday with him to do spider stuff because yeah, he had things to live for before--but now he has a child and he is going to raise this child and be there for her and maybe if she’s there, strapped to his chest, he’ll be more careful. he’ll consider his life almost as precious as hers. maybe bringing mayday to work is a precaution. 
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cloudrumble23 · 7 months
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Evan woke up gasping, his shirt plastered to his back and his hair stuck to his face. He rubbed the tears from his eyes quickly to focus on the clock. 5:48 a.m. An ominous feeling spread through his entire body, but he took comfort in reminding himself that nothing bad could happen while Fredbear was watching over him.
The fabric of his plushie was worn and stuffing was sticking out between some of his joints, but Evan couldn’t bear to part with him long enough for proper repairs to be done. Father always said it would take a few days to fix the plushie if he wanted it done properly, and Evan would never accept a poor repair job, so instead of giving up the bear for repairs, he just kept Fredbear as he slowly deteriorated more and more each day.
He didn’t feel too bad about it though; Michael had done the exact same thing to his Foxy plushie, and he’d had his toy much less time than Evan had. Evan swapped out the destroyed plushie with his own, but Michael hadn’t seemed to notice, even as the original plushie’s head fell off somewhere, making it impossible to repair the poor fox.
The vest was coming a bit loose, but Evan ignored that. Fredbear didn’t need the vest anyway. It wasn’t his identity any more than Foxy’s hat was, and besides, no one remembered that Foxy even normally came with a hat. He squeezed the small bear, humming softly to himself as he waited for 6 a.m. to arrive.
Evan walked cautiously down the hallway to the kitchen, his guard still up from his unpleasant night’s rest.
“You stink,” Elizabeth complained. She was already in the kitchen eating her cereal while Michael was pouring his own bowl.
Michael rolled his eyes. “Welcome to reality Lizzie. People sweat and have body odor.”
“You never stink in the morning,” she retorted as Evan set Fredbear on the counter before climbing on it to reach the cabinet.
“I put on deodorant. Ev, get off the counter. I can get that for you.” Michael grabbed another bowl from the cabinet and filled it with cereal as well. “I’ll get Evan some when I go to the store, okay?”
“You better,” Elizabeth grumbled into her cereal.
“Plus, it’ll be fine. He’s probably going to shower before we leave for school anyway.”
Elizabeth scowled at that. “But then I won’t have time to do my hair.”
“Then I’ll do it.” Michael rolled his eyes again. “You talk like you have a terrible life, Liz.”
“Maybe I do!” Elizabeth snapped, shoveling more cereal into her mouth.
“Good morning to you too,” Mother said, yawning as she walked into the kitchen. “Are we having cereal for breakfast today?”
“Yes Ma’am,” Michael said, grabbing Evan around the waist to drag him from his spot on the counter. “I was planning to go to the grocery store today to pick up a few things.”
“No nonsensical things we don’t need now, Michael. You know how your father hates that sort of thing.”
“Of course,” Michael’s voice sounded stiff, but he maintained his politeness. “Do you want some cereal as well?”
“That’d be lovely, darling.” She sat down beside Elizabeth. “You children are so wonderful.”
Evan felt himself finally starting to calm down. Today was a good day. Mother and Michael were both in a good mood, a rare occurrence, if he was being honest with himself. Elizabeth’s mood was always sour, depending on who she decided to blame for her problems, but she was manageable. He just hoped they didn’t see his Father before school. That was the one thing that could ruin the peaceful moods of his mother and brother before they left for school.
“Do you want to go to the store with me, Evan?” Michael said abruptly after they’d all finished eating. “So you know where to look for deodorant next time?”
“I guess so,” Evan replied quietly, hoping that was the right answer.
It must’ve been, because Michael smiled faintly and ruffled his hair. His expression faltered, and he made a face though. Michael wiped his hand on his pants. “You really need to shower before we leave though, Little Man. Lizzie was right, no offense. You are kind of gross this morning.”
Evan shrugged. He didn’t want to explain the nightmares, assuming it would put Michael in a sour mood. He didn’t want to ruin the moment.
“Fredbear’s not looking too good lately either,” Michael mused. “Want me to stitch him up for you?”
“Huh?” Evan blinked up at his brother. “Fredbear’s fine.”
“His stuffing’s going everywhere-“
“He doesn’t need anything. He’s fine!” Evan scooped the little bear into his arms, and Michael raised his hands in surrender.
“Fine, fine. If you change your mind, let me know. It would only take, like, 30 minutes, tops.”
Evan didn’t reply to that. Instead, he changed the subject. “I’m going to go shower.”
“Okay.” Michael almost sounded disappointed. But that didn’t make sense. Normally he was happy to be rid of him. Especially so near his birthday, when his friends would be coming over all the time.
On the walk to school, Elizabeth wouldn’t stop gushing about how wonderful her hair was. She practically begged Michael to make it a more regular occurrence, but Michael just shrugged. Evan could see the smile on his face though. He knew it was only a matter of time before Elizabeth got her way.
“Mike!” one of Michael’s friends tried to call him over, but Michael ignored him.
“Come on, you two gotta get to class,” he said softly, putting his hand on Evan’s shoulder to direct him away from the other kid. With a startle of surprise, Evan saw a faint frown on Michael’s face. Maybe he’d had some kind of fight with his friends? Evan couldn’t ask about it, just in case.
“You can’t ignore us forever!” one of the boys shouted angrily while Michael guided Evan in the direction of the store after school.
“Just keep walking,” Michael muttered. He seemed very tense, and Evan wasn’t sure he could do anything to reassure his brother. He just did as Michael asked, hurrying along so they could get out of range.
A few short minutes later, they were walking into the store. Evan felt odd. He’d never been to the store without his parents before. Normally, he and Elizabeth only came when Mother was looking for something specific, or when Michael was sick, and Father was going to the store instead. Being here with Michael was… different.
“They don’t get it,” Michael whispered, seeming to forget who he was talking to.
Evan blinked at him, but Michael didn’t elaborate until after they’d filled the basket with necessary groceries and Evan’s deodorant.
“Everyone expects so much from me,” he mused. “My friends seem to think I have to give them every second of my attention. Mother thinks I have to be responsible all the time. Father…” Michael shook his head. “Even Uncle Henry assumes things. It’s awful, Ev.”
“Maybe it’s just because they like you so much,” Evan said quietly, hoping not to upset him.
“Nah. They expect me to disappoint them. Aside from my friends, anyway. It’s just so stupid. All this shit I have to put up with.” Michael froze. “I mean- Just forget I said that.”
Evan giggled involuntarily, surprising them both. “You’re not seriously apologizing for saying ‘shit,’ are you?” Evan asked. “Kids say that all the time at school.”
“Yeah, but if Mother or Father catches you saying that-“
“Who’s going to tell them?” Evan blinked innocently up at Michael.
He groaned. “I forgot how insufferable you are.”
“Only when I can be.” Evan grinned, feeling secure in his behavior. “Let’s get home. I have homework to do.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Michael shook his head, but the faint smile Evan had seen that morning returned.
“Want to watch T.V. with me?” Michael said when he walked into the kitchen.
Evan guessed he was finished with his own homework, considering his confidence in the way he sat beside Evan at the counter.
“What are we watching?” Evan replied, continuing his notes while Fredbear observed them both.
“The Immortal and the Restless,” Michael said with confidence. “And, it’s not even scary, so you won’t wet yourself when we watch.”
Evan shook his head disparagingly. “I got scared watching a movie with you one time-“
“It gave you nightmares, Ev! I got in so much trouble for that, you know.”
“Then why offer to watch something with me again?” Evan asked before realizing what he was implying.
“I-“ Michael sputtered. “C’mon, man.”
Evan put his pencil down and stared at his brother. He wasn’t getting angry, which meant Evan could actually ask serious questions without fearing consequences for it. “You spend all your time making fun of me, and teasing me, and scaring me, and making me miserable. Why should I trust that you actually want to watch something with me?”
Evan expected a lot of potential reactions to his comments. Yelling, maybe. What he didn’t expect was for Michael to crumple in on himself. “I… Look, it’s not…” Michael swallowed harshly. “I can’t say anything to justify my past actions. You have every reason to be weary. But maybe I’ve changed, Ev. I want to spend time with you. I’m tired of pretending all the time, and I-“
“You’re not kidding,” Evan said softly. “Were you exaggerating this morning, then? When you said it would only take 30 minutes to fix Fredbear?”
“What? No. It’s a bunch of little fixes. You just gotta have the right thread. And if we hurry,” Michael glanced at the clock nervously, “I know Father has thread in his office.”
“You…” Evan blinked. “You’d do that for me?”
“I gotta prove my point somehow, don’t I?” Michael jumped up from his seat. “I’ll be right back.”
Evan turned back to his homework, no longer able to fully comprehend what was happening here. Was Michael genuine? Was he really trying to be a better brother? Evan honestly had no idea, but the best way to find out was to wait until the summer, when Michael was always really nasty usually. For now, though, he’d settle for help repairing Fredbear.
Michael returned, out of breath and a little bit shaky. “We only have a few hours before Father is supposed to be home.”
“Lucky you said it wouldn’t take very long,” Evan said softly, expecting a contradiction.
“Still frightening to think about,” Michael replied. “Okay, I got this.” He threaded the needle and looked at Evan expectantly. Reluctantly, Evan handed his brother the battered gold bear.
Michael set him up gently on the kitchen counter, tucking the stuffing back where it belonged as he started his row of stitching. Evan knew the seams had been originally on the inside of Fredbear, but Michael had tried explaining that he couldn’t fix Fredbear like that. He’d rolled his eyes actually, saying that doing it that way would take a sewing machine and a trip to the workshop, something Michael was not willing to do without permission.
So Evan had to accept that the repairs would be visible, but at least Fredbear would be ready to fight off another night of terrors.
Evan didn’t mean to fall asleep against Michael’s shoulder while watching the show. In his defense, he didn’t have a clue what was going on, and Michael was too busy watching to explain it to him. Evan ended up giving up on the show to study his brother’s face. It surprised him how energetic Michael seemed while watching the screen, but then, Evan guessed this was one of his rare moments where there weren’t expectations dragging him down.
He stirred as Michael carried him upstairs. Confused, Evan blinked sleepily at his brother. “What-“
“Shhh, go back to sleep,” Michael said softly. “I just want to make sure you’re not going to have nightmares.”
Evan always had nightmares. That was the general idea of everything going on. He hated the idea of disappointing Michael, especially after how nice the day had been, but he couldn’t control his dreams. Not now and certainly not ever. He couldn’t even remember a time when he didn’t have nightmares every night. But he had a feeling Michael wouldn’t be swayed in this, so he just nodded against his brother’s chest and closed his eyes again.
Evan didn’t have any nightmares that night. Or at least, they weren’t nightmares he remembered. He woke up that morning with Michael curled protectively around him, like Michael was afraid of something happening. Evan wasn’t particularly worried about that, though.
For the first time in years, he felt content and safe.
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pineappical · 6 months
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happy sexy halloween 🦇🐺
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volivolition · 1 month
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with kisses like these, who needs magnesium?
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temeyes · 7 months
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quickie w/ cpt mactavish b4 i write stuff
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goobiestar · 11 months
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WHIRLPOOL ART THEN AND NOW!!!!
2021 - 2023
My style has changed a LOT lol
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frostedpuffs · 2 months
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the anticipation before getting a tattoo is nerve wracking. it's like, i am so excited that im shaking, but i also might throw up. this is going to hurt so bad. but it'll be a good pain. and it'll be worth it. it will be so sexy
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stalebagels · 3 months
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Hot Ones: Strike Force Edition
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Kimmel: *passive aggressive harmonica noises*
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John: *contemplating every choice he's ever made*
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Seth: *ascending*
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phantomrose96 · 7 months
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Obsessed with the death imagery around Sampson btw. Smelling like a dead rat, skulking like a ghost. The last survivor of a dead world, only he's barely surviving, certainly not living. The idea of these cultural ascetics is super cool but feels unfathomably sad to me.
(938 Seconds Per Second)
-slams hands on the table- YES.
YES.
Sampson is a detached limb of a dead body. He's a lopped-off finger dropped in formaldehyde and declared "See! The flesh persists!" of a body that has perished.
There are many ways to be tragically and beautifully dead in metaphor. Sampson is not that. Sampson rots. He's off-putting. He disgusts. He's isolated and alone and just... exists half-dead and half-rotten, has to exist, no one is allowing him the dignity to deboard the ship, and live the rest of his human life, and die a human death as the last death of his culture.
He dies more, rots more, when Carson steals and destroys his tome, because Sampson is nothing but the aimless vestige of his culture, alive only to keep it alive... and what is alive? No one is learning the culture. It's not spreading. It's not growing. It's not being studied and remembered and appreciated. ...It's just Sampson, whose only duty is to persist, and persist as long as long as long as possible... as if infinite persistence is the same as life...
Carson was not joking when he said Sampson would kill himself in the wake of the cargo getting ransacked. Carson was dead-fucking correct to think Sampson would kill himself. Those cultural artifacts are all that Sampson stays half-alive for. They're all he is. If they were stolen on his watch, ostensibly by his own fault... Carson was dead-fucking correct.
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bokatan · 5 months
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finals are done at this point so I can actually work on shit that I want to work on- here’s a little sketch wip I’m playing around with between other projects
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asanjou · 3 months
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playing around with a canon universe version of my gerojim gijinka from the swap au... his vision isn't very good :(
(feat reverse jeramie!)
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cowboyshit · 3 months
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