#but please be nice :)

[portlandwithyou]

[i-need-food-plz-guys]

hello!! this is my first post and the first time i’ve drawn full body/multiple people i really hope i did okay 😅

[sephoria-paige]

The Story of Marabel’s Past

**This is my OC for Hazbin Hotel, Marabel. Character reference sheet/design coming soon!**

TW: mention sexual abuse, imprisonment, and generally bad times for this poor character

Part I

In her childhood, Marabel was a sweet and curious child. She was born in the southern United States to a mother who came from a long line of witches, and a father who worked on the railroads. Marabel’s mother made her young life whimsical within the walls of their quaint cottage. She taught Marabel how to properly plant seeds, care for them, and eventually she taught her daughter how to harness her magic- enhancing the growth of whatever she may plant. Marabel enjoyed having a small garden of her own, growing various flowers of several different colors, and perhaps a vegetable if she was lucky. Marabel’s mother showed her many small wonders, magical party tricks, and how to befriend the creatures of the earth. 

Tragedy struck the family when their mother died during childbirth; Marabel was only eight years old when her father, herself and her five other siblings stood at the funeral for their mother and infant sister. To say their family struggled to make ends meet would be an ignorant understatement. It became increasingly more difficult to put food on the table for six hungry, growing children.

Marabel’s older brothers eventually joined their father on the railroads to help make what meager money they could. Their father resorted to something truly unthinkable after a couple particularly rough weeks when the foreman caught a glimpse of a picture of Marabel, the eldest daughter. Watching her childhood home slowly shrink in the distance, with tears silently rolling down her cheeks, would be a memory she would not soon forget. 

The carriage took her away to a train station, where Marabel marveled at the large mechanical beasts before being hurriedly ushered onto a train bound eastward. The railroad foreman secretly dealt in the trade of children on the black market, making a profit off her by selling her to a couple who claimed to be burdened with infertility. The couple brought her to their home where they housed two other boys who Marabel discovered were the couple’s biological children.

She was given a couple sets of ragged dresses as it was made clear she was here to work for the owners of the house. Her days ran unbelievably long as they exploited her for manual labor, household chores, and anything else they could think of. The meals they allowed her were bland, lacking any fresh ingredients or proper nutrition. As difficult as life became after her mother died… This house was truly one of horrors. Many nights she stared into the unwavering darkness in the witching hour, wondering why her father had sold her. Had he not loved her enough to keep her and make something work? Did he know where she was now? She spent many sleepless nights fruitlessly attempting to accept the reality that she would never know why. 

The woman was harsh and unforgiving. She scolded Marabel often with lashes and isolation if she was especially furious- those days Marabel was given only one bland meal a day. She knew not what the man did for work, but whatever it was it took him out of the house. When he did return his cruelty matched that of his wretched wife. Abusive, irrational, unrelenting. There were days he returned particularly cross, and if Marabel was within his sights he dragged her out to the barn where no one could hear her protests, and he forced himself upon her, defiling her. The years of abuse taught Marabel that it was in her best interest to detach herself from her nightmarish reality. During the unspeakable acts she endured she would imagine herself anywhere else to bring her a modicum of comfort. 

In the good moments she found solace in the forest nearby the house she dwelled in. Recalling the memories of her outdoor adventures with her mother, growing flowers and living in harmony with the woodland creatures. Over time, Marabel befriended new small creatures- one white rabbit in particular that would appear whenever she would escape the house in search of refuge in nature. 

Marabel learned to be obedient in the eyes of her abusers, perceptively noting certain particulars that would incite their wrath, consciously avoiding them for her own well being. There were plenty of times her efforts were fruitless, as nothing seemed to truly protect her from their cruelty. In her young naivety Marabel found herself craving their praise, almost as a last-ditch effort to make her life easier- what little control she could muster. She miserably tried to present herself as docile and obedient, showing them the ‘good behavior’ she thought they wanted, which became wholly confusing when the man of the house would steal her away to ravish her young body. Conflicting emotions raged within when her thoughts raced and sleep evaded her- she came to question her very existence in this hell.

After a particularly stressful day of verbal abuse from the woman and an ill-fated encounter with the man of the house, Marabel escaped to her sanctuary in the forest, but as soon as she was just beyond the tree line she fell to her knees, clutching her chest. The uncontrollable feeling of panic grew as she heaved each breath- despair, self-loathing- Mara felt disgusted when she saw her reflection. All she could see was a shell of a person- a person whose body was nothing more than a commodity to the people who owned her. In the weeks and months following, these feelings would return to haunt Marabel, forcing her to adapt when she could not manage an escape to her woodland haven. She hid behind corners, finding nooks and crannies in the house to hide away, even if just for a moment, never truly getting accustomed to the near-constant anxiety. 

As Marabel grew into an older teenager, she began a ritual of sneaking away some nights. The nights she was able to sneak out, she would prepare by slipping valerian root into the nighttime hooch of the man and woman of the house. At first it was to guarantee time to visit her modest sanctuary, spending time with her woodland companions to bask in the moonlight, miles away from the property she lived on. Many months passed until Marabel thought of something truly daring. She had stolen a map from the house, locating a city a few more miles away from the house, away from her sanctuary. Distance be damned, Marabel had made up her mind to prepare for her next adventure- the biggest one yet, for it was too good to pass up. Each time she made her escape thereafter she would add more valerian root, masked by the alcohol in their cups, and traveled farther and farther, becoming more familiar with the land as she ventured. 

One night Mara found herself on the outskirts of the largest city she had ever seen, wandering until a smallish building caught her attention, bustling with loud music and echoing crowds of people. She had never seen such a place before, and her curiosity got the better of her as she located a small window on the far side of the building. Trying her best to appear discreet, Marabel peeked over the edge of the window, her eyes immediately drawn to a stunning blonde woman singing on a stage in front of a small band, who was just outside her spotlight.

The music was loud and lively; the voice of the blonde woman complimenting the instruments perfectly as Mara stared, enthralled with her beautiful singing. Her face flushed as she continued watching, butterflies fluttering within her as she noticed the woman was quite attractive in her sparkly dress. With all her attention on the alluring performer, Mara failed to notice she had caught the attention of a patron of the bar. 

He eyed her curiously as she watched the show, oblivious to his prying gaze. A moment of distraction pulled his attention away long enough for her to disappear by the time he turned back to look for her, for she had vanished as mysteriously as she had appeared. The patron man discreetly excused himself from the bar, rounding the corner of the building in an attempt to follow the strange girl. Alas, he was met with an empty clearing, and she was nowhere to be found as he was left lingering, wondering who she was. 

Marabel returned to the farm after her long journey back only to be blindsided by an outcome she had failed to account for all the nights she made her escape. The man and woman of the house were awake and furious when Mara walked through the entrance door in the hours of the early morning. The punishment was severe- two weeks in isolation. Under the farmhouse, separate from the house they lived in, was an unfinished basement area with a rusty cot in the corner to serve as a bed, cuffs welded onto the headboard and footboard.

There was no light in the basement where Marabel was trapped all day and night, subject to the perverted whims of the man and eventually his sons later on, for the first time ever. There was no escape from their indulgences; even when they left her alone all she would do is ruminate in her thoughts, feeling suffocated by the darkness. Eventually she began to feel anger- anger toward the cruel people who bought her, anger toward her father for selling her, toward the world for allowing all of these horrible things to happen to her, toward her mother... for dying and leaving her all alone. 

She paced the room back and forth, back and forth, balling her fists in a rage-induced fit of despair– she lashed out into the nothingness– a momentary relief from the strife she held within her. It wasn’t enough. The hatred she harbored spilled over her threshold for restraint as she screamed into the abyss, clenching her fists until she felt the familiar slick of blood running down her skin. Her mind swirled; she sank to her knees, holding her head in her bloody hands as she contemplated her sanity. However there was too much adrenaline coursing through her to sit still as she opted to stand once again. Blind with the desire to lash out, she swung into the darkness once more– only this time she was astonished by the flame that left her fingers, scorching the stone wall that she had narrowly missed. Marabel froze, shock written on her face as she stared in disbelief, the last flicker of flame dying at her bare feet, swallowing the room in shadow.

She had never produced anything like fire before. 

A pang of fear shot through her core as the discovery of this power sunk in. For once in her young life, Marabel felt she had a chance to have some power of her own. It also wasn’t too bad to be her own self-sufficient heater during the cold nights. From that moment on, Marabel leaned into her anger, giving herself permission to harness the energy that came with it, for it made her feel truly powerful. Her anger and resentment fueled her flames when she practiced in secret– even after her eventual release from the basement. 

One day she saw her chance. It had been months since her last escape that landed her in a fortnight-long punishment. The man and woman of the house had returned from a rare night out together, drunk off their asses. They, as well as their sons, slept like the dead that night as Mara tiptoed around the house, igniting small, flammable items as she made her way to the front door. She ran as fast as she could towards the forest, only occasionally looking back to see the light of the fire grow brighter as it engulfed the first floor of the house.

As soon as she felt she was safely away from the growing fire, she turned to admire her work. If she focused she could hear the frantic screams filled with fear as the family woke to the fire creeping outside their bedrooms. Marabel rested against a large cypress tree for a while, watching the structure collapse and the screams die out. The happiness she felt as she realized she was finally free of their torment was all too fleeting as she sighed, turning her back to the destruction she caused. 

This was hardly the end for her as she started on her journey of newfound freedom, not once looking back. She had vowed to live life for herself; that she would rely on no one beside herself. 

Her conviction was strong, and she spent several weeks out in the wilderness alone, fending for herself somewhat easily. Until one day, she heard strange noises coming from the direction of a clearing in the woods– finding a group of women dressed all in black, candles burning in their palms, standing in a circle around a severed goat’s head, pooled in blood. Marabel watched from the shadows as they performed what seemed to be some sort of ritual– right up until the moment she was blinded by a bag thrown over her head, her captor dragging her towards the clearing she had been spying on. 

“Who is this? An outsider?”

[number1spongebobfan]

Feel free to give constructive criticism or feedback on my art/writing. I'm always looking for ways to improve.

[natsuneages]

I was bored so I rebooted my old Danny Phantom OC, Gie. I'm not a great artist, but I miss Danny Phantom and her story. I wanna make her again.

In her background Gie is more phantom than human bc an accident in Fenton's house (She was soaked, her outfit is a raincoat and the electricity make her like a Cloud). Danny feels bad for not have saved her. He feels it's his faut, so he promised to help her to be 100% human again.

Gie's powers are insane to her to control and she's loosing more and more her human form every time she tries fight. But she feels pressure from Danny's friends (She wanted them approve her)

Anyway, Vlad being evil said he can help her, it's not hard to her being manipulated by him in so many despair and not being liked by anyone for her mistakes (at least Danny gives some support) She change side, now she's in Vlad's hands.

* I know her story is generic, but it's something from 2012. I was about 14.

*She loves Danny, yeah.

*I don't know how to draw or speak English, but only 2 friends care about DP and I'm struggling.

*please, be nice. You can ask something about this oc, but I can't remember anything about her.

*Maybe she can forget her love for Danny and Fall for Valerie...

[chipmunkweirdo]

I’m gonna make another one with a bunch of 2.0 hints but….

You know how people bully others for things they see in themselves but refuse to admit or realize are there?

Yep. That’s Alvinnn Alvin regarding Alvinnn Simon.

The proof is in the pudding.

[angryikalgo]

I made a Trigun Stampede playlist! First track is the OP and the last track is the end theme. All songs in between correspond to episodes with 3 songs per episode (tracklist and EP guide under the cut).

Run Time 2 Hours 44 Min

Music genres include;

Post/Prog Rock, Metal, Emo, and Math Rock Instrumentals.

This one goes out to FIRICHERRY and Touma AMV on youtube. Your AMVs inspired this.

Feel free to let me know your thoughts on the playlist or the series! Love and Peace 🤞

[keep reading]

OP TOMBI – KVI BABA

- - -

EP 1 (Noman's Land)

Let's Go – Stuck in the Sound

Fear – CommonWealth

Deafening - Solence

- - -

EP 2 (The Running Man)

Corrode - Dearest

RatKing – Boston Manor

Synthetic Sympathy – Trash Boat

- - -

EP 3 (Bright Light, Shine Through the Darkness)

3days – Mitchel Dae

Are We Brothers? – Paper Rival

Lux - The Surrealist

- - -

EP 4 (Hungry!)

Native Tongue – My Kid Brother

The March – The Dear Hunter

Wormhole Traveler – I Built the Sky

- - -

EP 5 (Child of Blessing)

Becoming Closer to Closure – Of Machines

Try – Olly Steele

Fall Away - BANTAMWEIGHT

- - -

EP 6 (Once Upon a Time in Hopeland)

Almost Human - Maraton

Sword - Sufferer

Writhen - Soen

- - -

EP 7 (Wolfwood)

Everything Will Rust – Misery Signals

001 – Lop Abuse on Somebody

Open Water – Assuming We Survive

- - -

EP 8 (Our Home)

Waltz for Lilly – 3nd

In the Garden – Red Vox

Bloody Shirt – To Kill a King

- - -

EP 9 (Millions Knives)

Human Target Practice – Hail the Sun Teratology – The Physics House Band Camp Adventure – Delta Sleep

- - -

EP 10 (Humanity)

In Shallow Seas We Sail - Emery

Shelter – pg.lost

Ensom – Parting Gift

- - -

EP 11 (To the New World)

Killed by an Angel – Sunny Day Real Estate

Our Father is Missing – From Indian Lakes

Early Grave – The Contortionist

- - -

EP 12 (High Noon at July)

Singularity – Black Orchard Empire

Anything – From Indian Lakes

Stranded – Red Vox

- - -

END

Hoshi no Kuzu α - Salyu

[baby-boy-of-hellsite]

who should we send in asks about the au to? y'all seem to be splitting it pretty evenly

well, either of us would adore the asks. but i'll end up tagged. idk who you sent the asks to, just talk about ideas!

[jabberwick]

Human Bill Cipher

(Based on Alex Hirsch's "canon" design)

And just to be clear, writing dissertations at me justifying why he should instead be a conventionally attractive twink will involuntarily cause me to draw him with even fewer teeth.

[hundredsofsmallbirds]

it's not fucking omegaverse im just birds

[spicynectarines]

this is how i feel about any Warriors character

[thefourhorsemenoftheapocolypse]

Mom used to tell me that giving people second chances is like giving someone a second bullet because they missed the first time. When I was younger I didn’t quite understand what she meant.

Now I understand…

The walls are alive with shadows as the flame consumes the flower. The one he gave me. I watch the petals that once meant so much to me burn down to the stem. The memories of our time together run through my mind as I watch my last memory of him die in my hand.

I used to be an emotional person. The smallest of things used to send me into an emotional spiral. But things are different now. The eyes that once shone bright with childlike innocence are now sunken and cold. All their life was stolen from them.

Now all that is left are the thorns. I pick them up and hold them in my palm. Weakened by the heat of the flame they crumble easily when I crush them. When I crush my past self.

[fandomworkers]

[captainfern]

boyfriend’s best friend simon

(18+ smut, fem!reader, infidelity but your boyfriends a cunt if that makes you feel better)

—•—

you don’t know how this happened. you don’t know when this happened. all you know is that it is happening, and you really don’t want it to stop.

simon’s everything that your boyfriend isn’t. has everything that he lacks. communication, understanding, selflessness; commonsense, emotional intelligence, a big cock,

the list goes on, frankly.

but here you are, your bedroom sweltering around you, swimming beneath distorted waves in your vision. convection currents radiating from your conjoined bodies.

simon’s hands were large and calloused on the soft fat of your hips, fingers toying with the taut lines of stretch marks passing onto the thick of your upper thighs. his hands gripped and pulled and moved you against him, slamming you up and down, grinding you against him.

he was leaned up against the headboard of your bed, head cocked back with dark, hungry eyes glued to your body and a coy smirk plastered across his face. the way he looked at you, gazed you, admired you as if you were some kind of prize, had your stomach in knots.

maybe you were a prize. after all, he was balls-deep in his best friend’s girl, and he didn’t have a care in the world. didn’t have a care in the world that his cock had chubbed instantly when she opened the door to let him in an hour ago.

you panted above him, thighs burning, shins pressed into the warm sheets of your bed. you were hesitant to be on top, to perch your body weight across his pelvis. your boyfriend never assured you it’d be okay, just agreed with you and fucked you flat on the mattress. simon was different.

“what? think i can’t handle myself a girl like you, eh?” simon had uttered, looking you up and down. a prize. he was also knuckle-deep in your pussy by this stage, two fingers scissoring you open. “oh, sweet girl, you have no idea.”

and now you were here. straddling simon riley, the formidable ghost that you’d seen only occasionally with your boyfriend. a recluse of a man, a mountain of a man. was always kind, always respectful.

an army dog, a government mutt. always so obedient, and so polite. well-trained and well-mannered. clearly, until he had a pretty bird like you stretched across his lap. a prize.

“yeah, ride this fuckin’ cock, baby,” simon grunted, helping you fuck yourself down onto his cock. his thick, fat cock— a cock that hit you so deep, stretched you so wide, that the joke of ‘is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?’ had died on your tongue because, holy fuck,

he could use it. he knew what he was doing. you should have guessed it with the way he spat on your cunt ten minutes into you letting him into your flat; the way he licked the glob of spit from your wet folds and fucked it into you, tongue warm and searching. you also should have guessed when he rubbed at your clit with his thumb while stretching you open on his fingers; the way he moved them at just the right pace to make you come twice in a row. now:

“s’all yours, baby. s’all yours,” he uttered, pushing his hips upwards to meet your downwards movements.

your tits bounced with each of his thrusts, the mattress creaking beneath you. the sheets were bunching, the heat in the room thick and molten. liquid, drowning you.

you gasped, air in your lungs. you were not drowning, just fucking delirious with the way his cockhead knocked up towards the plug of your cervix.

panting, you clutched at his shoulders. broad and muscular. you could feel the difference in texture where skin ended and scar began. a few times, your fingers wandered upwards, and you drew the tips through his hair. once cropped, now grown out. scruffy, rugged,

handsome. sweat beaded on his forehead, turning the lighter strands dark, sticking to his skin. between the filth he spewed from his mouth, you could hear him grunting and moaning. you wished he’d moan louder. maybe once he stopped talking it’d be different. but you weren’t sure how soon that would be.

“fuckin’— look at the fuckin’ state of you. such a pretty girl. such a pretty— fuckin’— girl,” simon groaned, thrusting up into you. the force made you hiccup around a long moan. simon smiled, triumphant. “look like a dream takin’ all o’ my cock, sweetheart. perfect little pussy letting me stretch her open, huh?”

“simon,” you moaned, and that wasn’t the first time you’d said his name tonight. but he acted as though it was.

a dog with a bone, simon flashed a wicked grin, canines showing, and redoubled his efforts in pushing his cock in and out of you, rutting against your body.

“yeah, baby, i’m here. your simon’s righttttt here,” he said, grinning, as he took one of his large hands and placed it over the mound of your belly, pressing gently and squeezing you there. he couldn’t actually feel his cock inside you, but the added sensation knocked an airy moan from your chest, your eyes rolling. simon hummed, pleased as he fucked you. “‘m reaching so far, aren’t i? so deep. bet your lad couldn’t reach up here, could he?”

you whimpered, and you wanted to whimper a ‘noooo’ but it died in transit. instead, you whimpered, like a wounded dog, as his cock hit that perfect spot inside you. it made you want to scream.

you continued to bounce against him, his thighs pressed close to yours. he fondled you, squeezed your hips while you both worked each other towards release.

“simon,” you pleaded, breathless. “oh, fuck—”

simon wanted so badly to beam with pride. but he resisted, cocking his head and watching the way your greedy cunt sucked his cock in with wet squelches at each upward thrust.

“you feeling good, sweet girl?” he asked, tone warm and honey-sweet. well-trained. then, “this cock making you feel good? he followed with an obvious lilt. mutt.

you replied with a yes, that trailed off into a high-pitched moan when simon’s thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing against it and beginning to draw small, tight circles.

“thaaat’s it, baby. sing for me.”

“siiimon,” you mewled, body tiring but stomach growing tight. bubbling hot, molten like the atmosphere of your bedroom. the knot in the base pulling tighter and tighter with each nudge of his cock against your g-spot.

your cunt was soaked around him, dripping out onto his pelvis and onto your bedsheets. making a mess.

tight, velveteen walls clutched at his cock as your climax built. gripping tight, holding him against you, keeping him with you. wet and warm and the closest to heaven a non-religious man like simon’ll ever come close to.

“beautiful,” he suddenly whispered, eyes on your face now. “beautiful girl.”

well-trained. damn, your boyfriend wasn’t even close to being this well-trained. he was more used to chewing you up like a toy, and heading off to do god knows what once he’d finished. once he’d satisfied himself.

you weren’t a toy for simon. just a prize. much different than a toy, for your information.

a toy is something you play with. a prize is something treasure. savour. and with the way simon revelled at the silky feel of your pussy against his bare cock, he intended to savour you forever.

“you wanna come?” he asked softly, but you knew the soft tone wasn’t going to last. not with the way his eyes glinted, his soft abs flexed, and his mouth curved at the corners. “can feel this pussy startin’ to make a fuss. so desperate for it, isn’t she?”

personifying your pussy. a new one, but one you weren’t entirely afraid of.

so you answered. “yes. simon, please—“

simon quickened his pace, thrusting deeper. your flesh rippled, thighs and stomach and tits moving with the sheer force of his movements. he grunted and panted, eyes drooping, fingers tight in your hips, chasing his own high too. he still had a hard-working finger drawing sharp shapes across your puffy clit.

“go on then. come all over my cock, sweet girl. show me what i’ve been missing out on.”

the tension in your body grew and grew, sweat accumulating across your skin. shiny, dewy, completely ethereal, you hurtled towards release with wind in your sails. sweating, hot, on the brink of overstimulation, you let your mind go fuzzy. you had a heartbeat in your clit. you could feel the stickiness of your inner-thighs. you could hear simon,

“come for me, baby.”

the coil snapped as if on cue. maybe you were the well-trained dog in need of a new collar.

your release rocked you off balance, and you slumped forward, ready for simon to catch you. he did, of course, leaning you against his chest as your body shook, twitched, jerked with the force of your orgasm. it travelled through you like electric shocks. an electrical current that fizzled out after a few long seconds, and left you boneless against simon’s chest.

he was close behind you, his balls drawing tight, tip leaking inside you, flared head now ruddy and red.

he moaned. “god, baby. feel so good around me.” a speechless moment, filled only with pants and— moans. simon moaned loudly, eyes snapping shut as his orgasm quivered inside him. bees trapped in a glass jar.

“just needed a proper cock to split you open,” he said suddenly, voice deep and rich. “pretty girl like you needs a big cock to keep her happy.”

rutting, in and out. desperate mutt. canines flashing, grip tightening, moans increasing. military stamina you hoped wouldn’t last all night. a working dog, too, this man. god, what a man. not perfect (you wouldn’t want him to be), but pretty fuckin’ close right about now.

“simon,” you whined, desperate.

he groaned deeply. “oh yeah, fuck, that’s it, baby. say my name— yeah, say my name when i come inside you.”

“simon…”

“that’s it, baby. that’s it. fuck, m’so close. m’so close, baby, keep going.”

“simon, please—!”

“mhm, thaaat’s it, fuck,” simon moaned, then shoved his cock as far in as it’d go (making you gasp and choke on a loud moan) and then came inside you.

you felt the heat. more heat, more liquid fire. molten. lava. you were drowning again.

he filled you, cum painting your insides as he moaned out your name, whining as his head flopped backwards, his large hands keeping you firmly in place.

then, everything stilled. your heartbeat clanged loudly in your ears, heavy in your rib cage. your puffy clit beat in tandem with it, and your hole fluttered around his cock, now still and plugging his release inside you.

for the briefest moment, as you lay against simon’s chest in the warm, sex-laden air of your bedroom, you thought of your boyfriend. the man you should’ve been doing all of this with.

but the thought was merely a linger. it flitted away, brushed aside by simon’s lips, that came to rest against your tacky forehead. he peppered a few kisses there, rubbing your hips, arse and back soothingly as you fizzled down.

“pretty girl…” simon whispered softly, hugging you to him. “my pretty girl.”

his prize.

he always thought his mate was a bit of a prick, anyway.

[saintdri]

I'm pathologically fearful of sharing art I do for work online anymore but this just simply means to much for me not to commemorate it so I'm taking advantage of my surge of courage this morning.

Anyway here's some cover art I made for the 10 year Anniversary editions of the Raven Cycle for Owlcrate

[artificialhaunts]

He's been here the whole time!