#safe alternative

[shokujin-art]

I love how Solomon in NB is simply this old man being happy, acting as if you two are moving in together like a young couple. I live for him 😭✨💖

[ghostbite0]

gyomeow and mewchiro ... he does not want the kitten to be cold

[egberts]

we got this "toy sack" for cats that's just a soft but crinkly bag with a stiff wire around the opening and my god. the boys love it.

[puppetmaster13u]

Thinkin’ of This Au where Jason ends up collecting all of the de-aged liminal class which causes his plans to spiral. And am also thinking if he found them even earlier, before he made his big debut with 6 heads in a duffle bag, back when he was a mere whisper. Y’know, something minor the bats seemingly didn’t have to worry about. 

Like he still has his goons, even if less than he would because he is still taking over the underbelly, it’s just far slower because suddenly he has like, twelve small children to keep safe along with defending the alley from these government goons. 

Like I want the GIW to full on build files on this (to-them) half rabid ghost prowling crime alley whenever one survives to retreat and lick their wounds. Not a lot, mind you, but enough to notice a pattern. Enough to figure out when their lost specimens are not with the very dangerous ghost. 

Enough to catch the babysitting goon off guard, to overwhelm them with numbers. 

Enough to take his children. 

And Jason has seen those labs, he’s torn apart several, but they aren’t in Gotham anymore, they’re goneGoneGone and he needs to get them back. They’re just babies, they’re his babies, and he’s not going to let them be cut into again. 

And there is no warning on the Watchtower when the Zeta activates. There is no alarm when a hulking figure enters during their weekly nearly full-team meeting. A figure that could pass as both human or not, with sparks trailing behind barely restrained movements as they get ready to fight this masked intruder. 

“Diana Prince, Wally West, Clark Kent, John Jones, Arthur Curry.” There’s this deadly calm as he speaks, because otherwise he would only be feeling rage. “I know each and every one of your identities, and if you don’t help me everyone is going to know them.” 

[cybernovaa]

[fuzzythoughtspup]

All babies are valid, no matter how different your regression looks ☠️ 🐻🎮

[descendant-of-truth]

What I think would be interesting to see is for Sonic to course-correct so hard on what he understands his flaws to be that it functionally paralyzes him from making decisions

Like, he needs to listen to others more, so now he's diverting all of his brain power into paying attention to the conversation at hand. except that his internal dialogue of "okay focus, concentrate, listen to what they're saying, am I paying enough attention am I doing this right" ends up drowning out some of what they say anyway

He made too many assumptions about what Nine wanted, so he keeps double-checking with the others over every little thing to the point that it's annoying. He can't be rushing ahead all the time, so he keeps screeching to a halt and second-guessing his every move, so he actually becomes less helpful in fights

I just want to see what a Sonic that stops playing to his strengths out of fear looks like

[happy-and-gay-tortoise]

My dad is a punk, my mom is a punk, my uncles are punks, my godfathers are punks, my godmothers are punks, and you think I have an ounce of conformist blood in me? No. Elitists go fuck yourselves I'm gonna wear a fucking tail if I want to, I'm gonna wear a fucking basic fit if I wanna, I'm gonna wear 5 Chokers if I wanna, I'm gonna wear kandi if I wanna, I'm gonna mix subcultures (clothing) if I wanna, but I will ALWAYS be a punk, because my values, my music taste, and my safe space do not change. I love yall, and no matter who you are I'm proud of you for making it this far. Don't let elitists anywhere get to you, as long as you are genuinely trying to learn and be a part of ur community you are valid, and I love and support you.

-xoxo, ur local queer punk rock tortoise owner (/-\)

[thefanciestborrower]

The Devouring of Prometheus

Ohh boy this fic has been over a year in the making and by golly am I proud of it. It was mostly an attempt to imitate Mary Shelley’s writing style while adding more classic lit vore into the world cause oh boy do we need it. This fic is a little darker than my usual fluffy stuff because. You know. It’s Frankenstein. But everything is still safe despite what Victor thinks. Anyways, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Warnings: Contains soft, safe, unwilling vore, mentions of digestion, mentions of dying, mentions of cannon character death, minor injury, and vomit

Characters: Victor Frankenstein and the Creature

Word Count: 2,830

Mankind has no greater fear than that of being devoured. It is an instinctual fear, engrained deep within our very beings from the moment we are born, as it is in every living being, and yet it is perhaps one of the most uncommon fears to experience in its true, unaltered form. We are quite familiar with the notion of being killed and eaten by a wild beast, since such a thing, while not terribly common in the more civilized parts of the world, is often talked of in books and by explorers returning from long voyages to strange, wild lands. It is a threat to be sure, but perhaps not the most fear inspiring one. A hungry lion might indeed pounce upon you with his teeth and claws bared as if to shred you to ribbons while you lay awake in agony, but in truth he is far more merciful than even most men and will end you swiftly with a bite to the neck before he ever starts to feed. The fear of being eaten in this way, then, is diluted by the promise of a swift death at the claws of a creature who bore you no more malice than you do a butchered duck. 

The terror of being consumed lies not in the act of consumption, but in the method. Stories full of giants and ogres who devour men whole and alive fill the countryside and take captive the minds of all who hear them, filling their dreams with images of gnashing teeth and slavering mouths, capable of sending a grown man down, kicking and screaming, in a single swallow. I must confess I never heard much of these tales growing up, aside from a few Clerval was so fond of telling, and when they did reach my ears, I simply scoffed, laughing such frightening images away in the clear light of day when nothing could seem more ridiculous. They were children’s tales, I thought, simply meant to frighten and entertain, for nothing, man or beast, could swallow whole a living man. Oh, how I wish I had been right. 

He came for me in the night. I was asleep, or nearly so, when a sudden noise at my window startled me awake. At first I assumed it to be the scratching of a branch or perhaps even some night creature making its rounds through the garden outside. After all, I was far more unfamiliar with the Oxford landscape than my dear friend Clerval, who had spent much of his afternoon exploring the grounds, so I felt there to be no need for concern. Indeed, I had nearly turned over to drift back to sleep when I saw his eyes. Those wretched, sunken, yellow eyes staring as if into my very soul through the dusty window I had neglected to lock in my naivety. I might have screamed had fear not grasped my throat and strangled my voice, and though I longed to run, terror turned my legs to lead and forced me to watch as the fiend pried open the window with a delicate ease that seemed almost laughable compared to the rest of his hulking mass. I pulled my sheet up to shield my chest like a child might, entertaining fantasies that perhaps this was simply a nightmare, and if I remained still in my bed then he would be unable to harm me, but when he began to climb through the window with the elegance of a lion stalking his prey, eyes never once leaving me, panic settled over my heart and I realized this was no mere conjuring of an overworked mind. The beast was here, looming over me in my chambers as I trembled in bed with naught but a thin sheet and even thinner night clothes to protect me. 

“Devil! What do you want from me!” I cried at last, terror loosening her claws from my throat. “I have not forgotten our agreement, so why do you insist on tormenting me so!” 

I received no reply, the beast more than content to simply stare at my trembling form. Perhaps he enjoyed how weak I must have appeared before him as his eyes flicked over me, almost sizing me up for reasons I could never have comprehended in that moment. Cold and yellow as they were, I could see an inkling of some mysterious emotion behind those eyes, but it’s identity I couldn’t say. Nor did I care. My thoughts were quickly preoccupied as he advanced upon me, padding forwards like some great and terrible cat, until he stopped just shy of the side of my bed, so close I could have reached out and touched him. 

Again, I saw that strange emotion flicker behind his dead eyes, but before I had time to ponder it he wrapped his hands around my chest and lifted me from the safety of my bed with terrifying ease, like one might lift a small child or a doll, and while I screamed and writhed in his hideous grasp, his hold only tightened. My ribs creaked and complained under the pressure and my cries became strangled and choked. With a ghastly popping sound he opened his grotesque mouth, jaw hanging at an angle too wide for any human to achieve, and to my upmost horror he quickly stuffed my head inside with the terrifying efficiency of a ravenous beast. The slimy muscle of his tongue lapped against my face and my body convulsed in disgust as I desperately fought not to be sick. Revolting as my situation was, I did not wish to add my own vomit to the mix, even if it might have disgusted the fiend enough to free me. 

I could see nothing but darkness, each desperate gasp for oxygen only supplying me with the barest sliver of foul air. Teeth ringed my neck like a terrible collar, and for a moment I entertained ideas of those teeth, the very same I had picked and sorted by hand, crashing together to sever my head from my body like some terrible executioner. Before my thoughts could spiral much more in this direction, his grip changed and I was suddenly shoved against the slick, fleshy opening of his throat. My blood curdled and, with a sudden, crushing pressure, my head was crammed downwards in the most painful manner which caused me to cry out in despair. My skull felt as though it would shatter, and I screamed a horrible, terrible shriek of agony and terror as my shoulders were crushed down after me, the tight gullet of the beast threatening to break them into splinters. My vision swam, stars of pain and lack of breath sparking and dancing before my eyes, and though no light followed me into my hellish prison, I could still see the blackest pitch wavering at the edge of my vision, threatening to drown me in its inky embrace. For a moment I wished it would, if only to keep me from the terrible suffering I knew lay before me, but fate is a cruel mistress and before I could sink into that comforting ocean of darkness a terrible pressure bloomed upon the crown of my head and forced me into an open pocket of stinking, putrid air. 

Coughing and gaging I struggled to draw even a single breath. My ribs, now horribly compressed, creaked and shuttered terribly under the pressure of the creature’s throat, and though my legs still flailed outside, and my hands desperately scrambled for a hold on what I felt to be his chin, I did not dare move the length of my compressed torso for fear of inflicting more damage upon myself. Another painful swallow jolted me down, my face jamming roughly into what I presumed to be the bottom of the creature’s dreadful stomach, and the grotesque flesh not only yielded to accept my presence, but did so with an almost pleased sounding groan, if stomachs can be pleased, as if I really were simply a morsel of food to be consumed and forgotten. The sound filled my heart with a terror I’ve never known, and I cried out, though my voice was quickly silenced by the slick flesh as more of my body was squeezed through that terrifically tight ring of muscle and forced to bend and twist to fit my new prison like some sort of contortionist. 

I know not how long it took the devil to consume me: the darkness of my surroundings and constant pain dulled my senses and left me disoriented to the point where I no longer could even tell up from down. I remember no longer feeling the cold air on my body after some time, my entire being now encased in sweltering heat, and searing pain as my legs were crushed down against my ribs. Finally, it was all over. My entire body had been fully compacted into the creature’s stomach, and although this new development was arguably a much worse position than my previous one, I was far too preoccupied with gulping down precious lungfuls of oxygen to care.

Then, all at once, the reality of my situation came crashing down upon me and with the fervor of a cornered beast I began to lash out and fight, twisting and turning in the confined space in hopes of causing my captor at least the slightest bit of discomfort. 

“Fiend! Devil! Release me at once!” I panted, gnashing my teeth in fear and anger. “This is no way to treat any man, let alone your maker!”

I had no doubt that he could hear my cries and feel my struggles, confined as I was, and yet no answer came. Despite the nature of my location, I was completely and utterly alone, for what man pays attention to his food after he’s eaten it. Again, I tried to call out, to plead for release as I fought against the smothering flesh, and again I was ignored, save for a light pressure against my back from which I hastily jerked away. It was his hand; I knew it instinctively. The brute was no doubt relaxing after so fine a feast of human flesh, and that touch was nothing more then the satisfied gloating of a predator now sated with a filling meal that would last him far longer than any morsel of bread or wine. I was merely something to be enjoyed, digested, and forgotten.

 How many more, I wondered, would be lost in the same way once I had perished. Clearly my current location indicated my captor had grown fond of the taste of human, and with a heart wrenching shudder I suddenly realized I had no way of knowing wether I was the first victim of the monster’s appetite, or if he had already glutted himself with other gentle country folk, just as he had done to me, and I was now resting in their grave. The thought was too much for my already distraught and troubled soul, and the disgust which filled me suddenly became too overwhelming to sustain. With a thick heave I proceeded to retch onto myself, my sick mixing with the beast’s own bile, and I sobbed bitterly for my home. 

“Oh, my dear mountains and precious lake. Will I truly never again delight in your sweet air and radiant beauty? Am I to perish so far from all that is fair and wholesome, without even the cold stars to bare witness to my demise?” I lamented; my voice thick with the grief of a man who believes he is to die isolated from everything he once held dear. 

The spongy flesh seemed to mute my voice effectively as a heavy curtain might, and my words fell upon deaf ears, for no reply came from my creation. My captor. My killer. Was I really to meet my end as nothing more than a meal? My last breath tainted by the stench of bile and vomit? The pressure to my back returned, and although the touch revolted me, I was far too exhausted from my fear and the quickly thinning oxygen to do more than twitch in protest. What difference would it make anyways, my fate was already sealed.

Each breath I drew grew more ragged and gasping with every passing second, my panic having done nothing but quickly use up what little air I had in the stale cell, and in some fever, I realized that, although my air was quickly thinning, I had not yet begun to feel the slightest tingle of digestion. Oh, what sweet twist of fate was this! I still would meet my end as nothing more than a morsel of food this was true, but I would be long since unconscious and perhaps even suffocated before acids truly began to work on me and thus spared the sensation of digesting alive. It was a small assurance, but so consumed was I by grief and terror of my fate that even the small mercy of a painless death brought me comfort. It was more than a man like me deserved after all I’d done. The innocent blood on the creature’s hands stained mine as well, and I thought bitterly of poor darling little William and dear Justine. Their blood has been spilt on my account, and yet, while their deaths had been horrific tragedies, I took solace in knowing they had left the world far quicker than I would, and that I would be seeing them again soon.

My vision swam before me, and with one last shuddering sigh I slumped against the slick walls, no longer attempting to catch my breath, for what would be the point in trying to breathe when there is no air left to fill my lungs. The stomach clenched around me with a disgusting squelch, smothering and squeezing my helpless form as it worked to knead what I presumed to be caustic acids into my sodden clothing and soft flesh, preparing for the undoubtably difficult task of liquifying my un-masticated body. With a gasping, barely audible sob I pressed a trembling hand out against my churning prison walls, cursing my creation and praying my end would be swift. Then the darkness engulfed me, and I knew no more.

Due to the circumstances in which I had fallen unconscious I fully expected to never wake again, so when I started awake some unknown amount of time later in the very bed I had been snatched out of, I could seldom comprehend what was happening. My first thought was that my horrendous experience had been naut but a dream; an apparition brought upon me by the dreadful task I knew I would soon be required to complete. Then I became aware of the disgusting film of sticky, foul smelling sick coating my body and the dull, yet throbbing pain in my ribs, and my blood ran cold. It had been no dream. My creation truly had assaulted me in the night, swallowed me whole and alive, and, by some miracle, vomited me back out before his digestive system could process me. In fact, aside from my ribs, which were badly bruised, I appeared whole and unharmed. Not even a drop of acid had singed my clothes, and my skin was fair and unblemished as it had always been. I pressed a hand to my cheek as if to make certain of my unharmed state, and then, to my own surprise, I began to laugh. It was not a mirthful laugh, but rather one of incredulous shock and relief as I grasped at my warm and unharmed skin. So certain had I been that those final moments filled with slimy blackness and foul reeking air inside the creature would be my last that the cold air of my room and the sting of my nails against my face might well have been gifts from Heaven itself. Even now I marvel at my incredible escape and wonder what could possibly have prompted the monster to give up as filling a meal as I surely must have been. I do not think I shall ever know, but judging from the healthy nature which I possessed upon waking, I can only assume he realized he could not process me as he intended and his body expelled me, though wether such an expulsion was voluntary on his part I still could not say. Nonetheless I knew I was no doubt incredibly fortunate to have survived such an encounter and my resolve had the been strengthened. Where before I had postponed my promise, I vowed to not do so again, for who knew how long the wretched beast would be content to wait and leave me and others be. As soon as I was able, I would set to work creating another who would contain his terrible urges and put this dreadful encounter behind me forever. 

[nyahkmenrah]

A collection of incorrect NATM quotes

Bought to you by my exomemories

Octavius: for the love of Jupiter Jed, you are a COWBOY. HOW did you manage this?

Jedediah, tangled in his lasso: I don’t know help

Ahk, wiping makeup stains off his cheeks: haha it’s fine, I’m fine, everything is fine

Larry: Ahkmenrah I mean this in the nicest way possible, you are the most mentally fucked up person I know

Larry: Jesus Christ how do I get a bunch of ancient people mental help?

Nick: therapy dog

Larry: we’ve got Rexy for that

Nick: two therapy dogs

Larry: no

Nick: therapy cat then

Jedediah: Pardner with a ‘d’ is friendly, Partner with a ‘T’ is romantic

Larry: so you DO like octavius

Jedediah, just now realising he’s been using T with Octavius: … listen

*the end of Ahk’s first night out*

Larry: you should probably get back into the sarcophagus befo-

Ahk: if I have to go back in that thing I’m going to start crying

Larry: … ok that’s definitely a trauma response

Sacagawea: three separate people have accidentally called me mum tonight, I feel like I should just adopt everyone at this point.

Jedediah: ahk you gotta hide me

Ahk: why?

Octavius, in the distance: GET YOUR ASSLESS CHAPS BACK HERE COWBOY-

Ahk: you broke something didn’t you?

Jedediah: …maybe

Jedediah: I was a gay cowboy before it was cool, before brokeback mountain made it trendy

[goblinkingsart]

Peaceful mornings with you

[flamccinno18]

Here in the cAI User AU Community, we love to touch grass. Do join us in touching grass!

[sandytrish008]

Another fanart batch I did based on Noelle Holiday from different alternative universes, including princess noelle by @holidayking102, umbrashard by @itrosaic and princess bubblegum noelle by @deadend-tmblr

[paperbackribs]

isekai where Vecna dominates and only Steve is left behind, he falls into an open portal to the Upside Down and lands in a dark kingdom ruled by a mysterious king.

but it turns out that dark only means not the expected, and one by one Steve finds the kids and Robin again, engaged in being weird and wonderful versions of themselves.

and he finds himself in front of the powerful ruler of this realm, a queerly mystical place that embraces all of those that need refuge, and Steve finds himself falling for this version of Eddie that shelters them all

[grimoirering]

and you are only a body, only a bleeding heart

[angleofmusings]

not “stop that! you’re a bad kid for chasing this other camper and jumping at them” but “hey, can we use our words to ask each other what kind of play we both want to do before using our hands to start playing?”

kids are incredibly impressionable and it’s so so so crucial that you make a clear distinction between “this behaviour isn’t okay, can we do [other thing] instead/first?” and “you are badly behaved” because only one of those is actually going to help anyone (including the child you’re talking to) and it sure as hell isn’t the latter