#.mother 1

[pe4nutastic]

What was it worth?

[ A kaleidoscope of sickly red lines stretch out across his torso like spiderwork, deliberate and perfectly formed yet undoubtedly denotative that something is horribly wrong if his hunched (and pitiful, pathetic) posture, hand clutching tightly at where a heart would be situated if his physiology permitted it, were any indication.  There’s some odd sense of tightness about his current state which keeps him frozen to the spot, mouth opening and closing as if to say something… only to be swallowed up by a strange continuum of sharpness tingling throughout his body like electricity, hot and relentless, unlike anything he had known before.  He’s utterly paralyzed by this state and unable to act as a result, much less make much sense of what’s happening as his mind slowly begins to unravel like threads in clothing.  And yet something sticks out anyways.  The exact trigger behind it.  One which, even through his best efforts, invades his mind, permeating through every consecutive crack that has appeared within long before manifesting externally.  Something which he had thought to be long since extinguished within his heart.

Despair.  Crushing, unsympathetic, and rending despair.

Something which had always tiptoed around the corners of feigned confidence and ironclad will–the very same will which had enabled for him to fulfill his pre-determined role and associated duties to perfection, as if never tainted by humanity to begin with–but never quite managed to break through until glimmers of faded light.. of a warm memory long since past… had managed to peer through the monochromatic and numb emptiness of his mind.  And even so, it did not come in a big dramatic burst but rather as a quiet resignation.  Of desolation and insatiable emptiness; a hole that could never be filled in his ‘heart’ after her death.  One which, upon receiving a rather severe scolding from his superiors, only grew until he could no longer contain it.  Until he could no longer tolerate it, bursting at the fragile seams of his imperfect mind.  Until he had to do something to rectify his original failure.  Anything to make the incomprehensible pain stop.  Anything to erase this feeling now that it cannot be suppressed as easily.  Anything to be useful again.

Desperation.

And so, he had gone against the orders of his superiors–to return back to the home-planet for reevaluations–and with the future-predicting power of the Apple of Enlightenment, instead constructed a plan to guarantee victory.  One which even fate itself would not be able to distort.  One where he would create the optimal winning conditions and eradicate the blight of humanity for good.  After all, he was just a tool programmed to fulfill military functions until the eternal bend of time itself.  He owed it to the ones which had created him to do at least this much.  To prove that he was useful –that he still had value.  But, it was all for naught.  Feverish delusion at best.  A deranged fantasy.

This ambition and dedication.  Value and purpose.  What was it really worth?

More sickly red cracks spread across his exoskeleton, across his neck and through his face to the left ear, lowered in part shame and part agony.  The Chosen Ones are inching closer and closer to victory.  Advancing in ways he was certain that they could not and closing in fast, just as the Apple of Enlightenment had originally predicted.  Even after everything he had done… they were destined for victory.  His hands curl in, against the pain of movement, into tight balls while his tail–littered with a patchwork of red cracks on its own–sharply taps against the darkened ground within The Place That Time Forgot.  He could not overcome the gears of fate.  It’s over.  

All the sacrifice.  The depths he had sunk to in order to realize his machinations.  The price others had paid for his goal.  What was it really worth?

He went against the will of his species for nothing, choosing to try again rather than returning back to the home-planet to be scrapped as he should have. Another crack, this one thicker cuts to his right ear.  He spent all this time preparing and ‘setting the stage’ for destroying the Chosen Ones for nothing.  Yet another crack, stretching harshly down his back.  He betrayed his own mother for nothing.  And several more cracks, spreading like an infectious disease to his other appendages with a sickening snap, like crushing bones.  The Psion species.  Maria.  No matter what receives his loyalty or efforts, he cannot succeed.  He cannot ‘win’.  Only fail, with no consolation other than the notion that he cannot possibly be–and in fact, should not–hurt because he is a Psion.  An empty shell animated by psionic energies with no will of its own.

All this pain and emptiness.  Desolation and despair.  What is it really worth?  What is It really Worth?  WHAT.  IS.  IT.  REALLY.  WORTH–

The thought is abruptly cut off and erased in an instant, another crack piercing the hollow shell containing his very essence and power albeit this time, etching out a hole through which tendrils of a seething and brightened red start to ooze out like pus out a badly infected wound, feverishly weaving too and through in the still air of the cave and cutting through the darkness with a disturbing glow as its shell promptly shatters with a resounding splinter, jagged pieces falling to the ground with a hollow clatter.  And with that, that overwhelming and suffocating–crushingly so–sense of despair wraps around him like a ghostly hug, one that is tipped with conflicting fragments of a few other emotions.  Emotions and the pain felt which grow in strength, feeding on the last vestiges of his disordered and decaying mind with ravenous vigour as its integrity plummets at a sharp drop from before.

–what had he been talking about again?  He can’t recall.  And as the seconds tick on by, even the inquiry on the matter to himself seems more and more like a distant memory, the corrupted essence gradually gushing out his exoskeleton at an increasingly enthused pace, twisting and churning into contorted impressions of his physical appearance as it does so.

What was it?What was it?What was it?What was it?What was it?What was it?

He can’t remember anything.  It hurts.  Nothing comes through.  It hurts.  Everything seems fragmented and murky, the only clarity coming through in haunting glints of the poisonous concoction of emotions which had come rushing through the moment his will had broke.  It hurts.

Despair.  Hatred.  Regret.  And… something else.  Destroy the pain.

A kind of desolate and chalky dryness.  One that is impossible to remedy.  Hunger without a biological mechanism for it.  Thirst without dehydration.

He’s starving for something.  Desperate for something.  Plagued with a hole (somehow) that cannot be filled.  An empty spot, collapsed in on itself and broken as it may be… stuffed with pain as it may be… remains hollow nonetheless.  

It hurts.  It burns.  Destroy.

His very essence is cloaked in a sensation that is fundamentally unfulfilled.  Lynched with a longing for something.  It hurts.  A deep and passionate desire plucked from the long-since rotten core of his heart.  One which needs to be satiated, but will never be, like lines that can never intersect.  Destroy.

The line is gone.  Parallels do not intersect.  It hurts.

What was it worth?What was it worth?What was it worth?What was it worth?

Another cut.  Another sharp drop in mental integrity and even the remaining vestiges of consciousness, tiny and fragile as they were, are too erased as his corrupted and twisted form fully establishes itself in a nightmarish effigy.  Only one thing remains.

Everything hurts.  Destroy.  Destroy everything. ]

[cidnangarlond]

[s-aint-elmo]

part 2 of my pining falin agenda aka I STAND WITH MARCILLE THAT DRESS WAS CUNT

part 1

(ID in alt text)

[looniie-balloonyy]

“kill them with kindness” WRONG. pk starstorm 💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟✨✨✨✨🌟🌟🌟🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐💫💫💫💫💫🌟⭐️⭐️💫💫💫💫⭐️⭐️🌙🌙🪐🪐☄️☄️☄️🌙🌙🌙⭐️⭐️🌟

[autismmydearwatson]

Every time I watch Dune I forget about it but I'm foaming at the mouth over how Paul has a vision of himself as a powerful, respected, divine figure with millions worshipping him and he just says "Somebody help me"

[letsduneit]

thinking about paul saying "we're harkonnens. so this is how we'll survive. by being harkonnens" and about jessica saying "your father didn't believe in revenge" and paul replying "yeah well i do" and how things can die even as they continue to draw breath and how the harkonnens really did kill off all three of the atreides that night not just leto

[cutielando]

Lactation kink with lando to help him sleep🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

lactation | l.n.

warnings!!: lactation kink, nipple play, titty play, sloppy handjob, grinding

my masterlist

He couldn't help it.

During your pregnancy, he couldn't help the awe he felt whenever he felt your breasts in his hands, so swollen and full and ready to feed his child.

He found you insanely sexy even before pregnancy, but imagine what he felt once you were swollen with his child, your curves and beauty even more appealing to him than ever before.

He loved you, every little part of your body, but your breasts would always top the game.

You would often complain about them, saying they were always sore, heavy and swollen.

"Lan, my boobs hurt so much. Can you please help me?"

Absolute music to his ears.

Once you gave birth, the phrase gave him even more of a rush. Because of you breastfeeding your little girl, all of your shirt had wet spots where your nipples were, the excess milk always finding its way to your shirt.

Lando went feral every time he noticed.

He didn't know why he found it so hot, or why it stirred such a reaction out of him. Maybe because it reminded him time and time again that you were the mother of his child, that you gave him the best gift he could have ever received.

"You look tired" he stated one night, coming into your bedroom after he'd put the baby to sleep.

You sighed, running your hands down your face and then putting them on your breasts, who were once again swollen and full.

"I always look tired. Besides, the baby didn't eat all that much tonight so I'm swollen again" you grimaced as you pressed onto your left boob, wincing at the pinch of pain you felt.

Seeing you massaging the boobs that he had become so obsessed with got Lando going, once again. He licked his lips, his jeans gradually straining against his crotch as all the blood traveled down to his cock.

"Want me to help you out?" he asked, and you nodded without a second thought.

You didn't think much of it. In fact, you would be lying if you said the sight of Lando massaging and sucking on your boobs didn't make you wet and craving for him. Your hormones were going crazy when you were near him, whenever he would touch you where you needed him the most, but nothing made you as wet as him sucking the milk out of your boobs did.

"Lay back for me" his husky voice said, quickly working to discard every last piece of clothing from his body.

Your breathing quickened as you watched him get naked right in front of you, your hands unconsciously flying to your shirt, taking it off and throwing it somewhere on the floor next to Lando's clothes.

He slowly stalked over to you and laid down next to you on the bed, his fingertips slowly inching upwards across your body to where you needed him the most.

"So beautiful" he whispered once his hand reached the underside of your boob, leaning down and pressing a kiss to it. "And full" another kiss. "And all mine" you gasped when he wrapped his lips around your hardened nipple, his other hand gravitating towards your other boob, playing with your other nipple as he started sucking on your left one.

You gasped at the sensation of Lando stimulating your nipples, the pleasure coursing through your veins like adrenaline. Nobody had ever made you feel like Lando has, the reactions he got out of your body and the things he could make you feel sometimes made you think you were living a fairytale.

But in moments like this one, with his tongue running over your nipple and his hand twisting and pinching your other one, milk oozing out of your breasts and into his awaiting mouth, you knew you weren't dreaming or imagining anything.

"Oh God" you moaned out quietly, not wanting to risk waking the baby.

Your moans did nothing but spur Lando on, the driver more determined than ever to please you out of your mind. He sucked harder on your nipple, the milk filling his mouth and making him moan out.

He was incredibly hard in that moment, his cock poking at the side of your thigh. With your eyes still closed, you reached out with your hand and wrapped your arms around his rock hard cock, feeling every vein pulsing with need against your hand.

You slowly started pumping his length, using the oozing precum as lube to lather him up. He started sucking you with more drive while you were jerking him off with a passion.

"Please, baby" Lando whimpered out, unlatching from your left nipple for a second before diving in to your right one, his hips now grinding against your hand.

You moaned out at the intense feeling of Lando sucking on your boobs, squeezing his length while pumping it faster and faster.

"Oh God" Lando moaned out all of a sudden, his grip on your boobs tightening as his hips started grinding faster against your hand before he stilled, ropes of cum painting his stomach and your hand.

You both panted, hearts beating out of your chests. Lando slowly let go of your boobs, pressing a kiss to each of them before he fell back on the bed next to you.

"That was amazing" you breathed out, making Lando nod before getting up to go to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Once you finally caught your breath, you found your discarded shirt on the floor and put it on, getting under the covers and waiting for Lando.

A minute later, he emerged from the bathroom, turned off all the lights and got under the covers with you.

"Thank you" you whispered, cuddling up to his warm body and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Anything for you, mama" he pressed a kiss on the top of your head, settling in bed and closing his eyes.

You both drifted off into a deep slumber, Lando happy and content as your milk kicked in and allowed him to finally get some rest.

Who knew that was all he needed?

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[lucidpeech]

Jaheira in vintage HC Dior 1998, with.. a special someone? 👀 (yes, same collection as Shadowheart! that collection just has so many gems)

[valyrfia]

charles and his grid kid <3

[kittykatninja321]

I understand where the “Jason should get his own city” people are coming from but I could not disagree more. Gotham is his wire mother. And you know how Jason gets about his moms

[pe4nutastic]

So back in November 2023, I drew a few Giegues, mainly focusing on his differing facial expressions and ofc one with a little jacket (from a different continuity established on Discord about two years ago). Figured that I'd share these since I still rather like 'em.

[notyourmusebby]

charles and his in laws in monza, interesting

everybody knows they are married and expecting

[celaenaeiln]

At the dining table for breakfast

Jason: Heh.

Jason: Hahahaha.

Jason: MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Bruce: *raising the newspaper up higher*

Alfred: *placidly pouring coffee into Bruce’s mug* Did something interesting happen, Master Jason?

Jason: Alfred, I am about to have the perfect surprise for that bony a-Tim. The perfect surprise for Tim.

Alfred: *putting away the bar of soap he pulled out of nowhere* Is that so? Please do be careful not to make a mess here. The waxing was just done in the dining room.

Jason: No problem, in fact-

Tim: *entering sluggishly*

Jason: In fact…in…fact…Megamind, what are you doing here?

Tim: ……..hm?

Jason: What are you doing here?

Tim: eating??

Jason: You-why are you coming from the right side bathroom-weren’t you going to use the upstairs one on the left?

Tim: oh. Dick was already in it so I decided to use the other one.

Jason: what.

Tim: what.

Jason: No. Hahahahaha. You’re joking…nononono-god, Tim, WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID?

Tim: ????????

Jason: You-

Dick’s voice thundering from a floor away: JASON!!!!

Jason: *staring blankly then running forward and smacking Tim on the head* It’s all your fault!

Tim who hasn’t slept or had coffee or know why something he doesn’t know about is his fault: ???? WHAT DID I DO?!

Jason: *running past and leaping out the window* See you later, losers. Bye, Alf.

Disappearing seconds before a blur of wet skin, white towel, and neon pink hair rushes past and follows him out the window.

Tim:

Bruce:

Tim: ……Did you have breakfast yet?

Bruce: …….Hrmgh.

Alfred: *tutting* I just had the floors done. Master Bruce, would you mind redoing them? I’m afraid I must catch the mailman before he gives treats to Titus again. He’s leaving crumbs all over the entrance.

Bruce: What about Ti-

Bruce: *glancing back to see a lone leaf float in and drop slowly to the ground*

Bruce: ………

[coochie-sniffer3000]

[polarsirens]

Reality shatters.

[deadbaguette]

Mothers doomed to bury their children I will protect you

Messing around with some Thetis designs (ignore Achilles STILL don’t have a design for him, the only thing ik is that he has the eye colour of his mom)