#{ the stars are talking } ooc

[feroluce]

I love the fact that the Silvermane Guards are essentially just a very devoted "We Love Gepard Landau" fanclub, and I desperately need for all of them to get into ship wars about it behind their Captain's back. The soldiers are all split into several factions:

Some of them ship him with Sampo 🛡💣 (enemies to lovers/hateship enjoyers; this does not necessarily mean they like Sampo- in fact it's more like most of them want to sic their Captain on him skzjsmdm)

Some of them ship him with Bronya 👑🛡 (knight and princess trope enjoyers and also a sorta-kinda "that is our mom and dad" type of deal; this faction gets riled up and ridiculously hypes Gepard up to Bronya every time she comes down to the frontlines mskdkxmd)

Some of them ship him with the trailblazer 🛡💫 (the smallest and newest faction, but steadily gaining!)

Some of them ship him with Pela ❄🛡 (workplace romance enjoyers; Gepard once charged out into the Fragmentum alone to save Pela from an expedition gone horribly wrong, and when this faction saw Gepard carrying Pela back princess style they threw a whole party)

Some of them ship him with Dunn 🛡🗡 (also workplace romance; Dunn is very flattered by this because yeah wrong Landau, but wow, the troops really think he's good enough to woo the Captain, what an honor)

And some of them ship themselves with the Captain 🛡❤ (yumejoshi enjoyers; this faction throws a massive group effort every Valentine's Day and are also all very supportive of each other)

The final faction is an odd one, because they're defined not by who they ship their beloved Captain Gepard with, but rather by who they don't ship him with. Their name is generally shortened to the A.B.S. Group- Anybody BUT Sampo 🚫💣 DKSZJJSMSOZ

[misteria247]

It's honestly a wonderful time being alive as a Rumiko Takahashi fan in this day and age. Like we're being fed so well.

[tryagainstarlight]

Heya yall, writer here! So uh, I got HELLA sick,,,, not from burn out no, I'm fighting off of a couple infections so my body hates me at the current moment.... It might be a bit before more content shows up so I can rest, just letting yall know so you don't get worried when it doesn't update for a few days </3

But hey! I'll take this time that I'm hella proud of you guys getting Starlight this far! And there's... A lot of you... But yeah!

Tl;DR: Sick, taking some time off to get better :>

[nymdraws]

geordi and data read a 21st century visual novel

[paintedkinzy-88]

Lust's bro coming home after a date with his bf only to find a large golden noodle curled up around Lust both asleep. Blue in the kitchen cooking and Ink in his half form doodling surrounded by half a dozen sketchbooks.

Stfu that’s actually hilarious hold on—

Warning for. Suggestive topics in the background, I suppose. It is Underlust. I tried to keep it PG, but also I’m very tired so eh ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Writing jumpscare boo

“Sans, I will be completely honest with you. I do not know what I am looking at.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to describe it, either. Papyrus’ brother has always been an… interesting character, to put it lightly. And he doesn’t mean that in any negative way! Stars knows the Great Papyrus would never settle with normal, especially in the world they live in. “Normal” here was extravagant, in-your-face, and exceedingly too personal. It had to be, unfortunately, for all of their survival.

Sans, however, found a way to be all of that, but so much better. He knows everything and everyone, flaunts his stuff like there’s no tomorrow, can party with the best of them and put on incredible shows every other night at Grillby’s. He’s memorable, in ways Papyrus just cannot understand, but deeply admires. And above all else, Sans is respectful.

Sure, he is the biggest piece of fruit on the grapevine, collecting gossip like it’s a national treasure, but he knows when to share and what to keep to himself. He’s become a safe space for many monsters, for better or worse, able to pick apart their walls and façades like they’re just a big game of Jenga. Papyrus has seen him do it too many times to count. He’s able to pick out the one monster in the crowd that’s clearly trying to drink away all their feelings for the sake of a party, and coerce them into cutting off their tab, talking it out in the bathroom, and going home for the night with newly smeared makeup. Whether that was with or without Sans coming along depended on the monster and the mood.

In other words, he was a reliable “mom friend” at a party, despite often having a few drinks himself.

But, more importantly, Sans has a personality beyond just sex and drugs. It’s something only people that manage to get past his pelvis have the opportunity to see. His room is filled with space memorabilia rather than the hottest magazines. He had a secret lab instead of a dungeon. He’d rather have a good burger and a soda than any of the tangy drinks and edibles that were so often found in everyone’s homes. Heck, his hobbies revolve around “star” gazing, pranks, and just making people laugh.

He encouraged Papyrus to live by his heart rather than by the lust flowing through his magic, unlike every other monster that wants him to be “down for anything.”

More than all of that, Sans was impossible to predict. He could honestly tell you the secrets of the universe one moment and then hit you with a water balloon the next. He made life in the Underground interesting and infinitely more tolerable.

That is to say, this scenario that Papyrus has currently walked into has certainly taken the cake. Multiple cakes, even.

There were currently three skeleton monsters in his living room, not including himself. One was standing in the doorway of their kitchen, in an outfit so unlike what he is used to seeing around Snowdin. A blue bandana is wrapped around his neck, hiding his neck and collarbone, with sturdy grey shoulder pads underneath it. His shirt covers his entire ribcage, and his pants are baggy and tucked into noticeably-not-high-heeled boots. On top of all of that, he has an apron on that says “Reach for the Stars” with multicolored stars littered across it.

In front of the couch, surrounded by an insane amount of paper, pencils, and other art supplies, is a skeleton of much similar structure to the other one — if you chose to ignore the horns, tail, and bare wing bones. He also has a scarf around his neck, this one brown and covered in writing and black splotches. His tan and white long sleeve shirt also covers much of his torso, but at least it’s a little more form fitting. His pants are flowy, however, but there are some sort of black leggings underneath them. He has no shoes, and Papyrus doesn’t see any near the door that aren’t already supposed to be there. A little strange to be barefoot in Snowdin, given the weather, though he supposes the folk in New Home or Hotland may enjoy the aesthetic?

The final two are by far the strangest part of this scene. Which is quite amazing, considering one is his actual brother.

Sans, in a rainbow hoodie with a purple star on the chest that Papyrus has never seen him wear, is currently in the center of a rather large, yellow, lizard-like… beast? Monster? Was that a monster?? Papyrus has never met a monster like this before, and he’s met a LOT of monsters in his time in the Royal Harem, before meeting Mettaton. Perhaps Undyne would know them? Or, actually, if they were a monster, maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised that Sans knows them, since Sans seems to know everyone in the underground far better than he probably should.

Either way, this was a very… Innocent yet weird moment to have walked into. Not that Papyrus was necessarily complaining. He hated to walk in on anything else.

All of the skeletons present (aside from the large one, who seemed to be asleep. Were they a skeleton monster?? Their pseudo skin seems very similar to his and Sans’ ecto bodies) are now staring at him, sockets wide and bodies frozen, like three children with their hands caught in the cookie jar. Even Sans himself looks surprised and confused, as if seeing his only other house mate within their very house was an unexpected turn of events.

Finally, the one in blue whips his head around to look at his brother, brows pinched downward. “Lust! You said he wouldn’t be home for another hour!”

He’s holding a plate of tacos in his hands. That’s perhaps the most normal thing in this entire scenario.

“Uh, yeah,” Sans replied, surprisingly. Why on earth he’d reply to such a cursed word, Papyrus had no idea. “He shouldn’t be back until, like, six somethin’.”

Papyrus distinctly remembers saying he’d be home at four-thirty sharp, actually. It figures that his brother would remember incorrectly, though he supposes it didn’t matter since he was technically correct. “It’s actually six twenty-four, right now,” he informed them, crossing his arms. “I had to stay later than normal because Mettaton needed help brainstorming new and exciting questions for his game show this week. Obviously, I was the best person to ask.”

Sans nodded, as if he expected this response. “Yeah yeah, hold on.” He shuffled around a little bit, reaching down towards his pants pockets. The large skull that laid on his stomach huffed unhappily, to which he simply patted their forehead with a soft “sorry, Dream.” Finally, he pulled out his phone and clicked it on.

A small purple phone Papyrus has also never seen before.

The horned skeleton on the floor snorted, propping his head on his hand. “Lusty, I think that’s the phone I gave ya.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh my stars,” the blue one groaned. He ran his free hand down his face, finally setting the tray of tacos down on the nearest table. “How did you mix that up?!”

“I’m sorry! They look similar!”

“The multiverse one literally has a star keychain, how did that slip your mind?!”

“You try havin’ two phones!”

“I literally do, you absolute doofus—“

“Yo, guys, don’t wake the baby,” the horned one scolded playfully, gesturing to the lizard-skeleton-thing. Which, if that WAS a baby, Papyrus was terrified to know what the parents looked like.

Though, knowing how rare children were, he supposed the skeleton was joking, now that he thought about it.

Great. Another comedian then (he says with all the fond annoyance, of course.)

“Excuse me,” he speaks up once again. They all turn back towards him, almost completely in sync. Terrifying. “I’m sorry to interrupt… whatever this is. But I would like to know who the heck you all are and why you’re in my home? How do you know my brother exactly? And are you all skeletons?? I didn’t realize there were other skeletons like us. And, more importantly, WHAT and/or WHO is THAT?”

He gestured wildly to the yellow being, sockets pinning his older brother down. Sans at least had the decency to look apologetic.

He should be, for keeping such cool and not-ravenous friends to HIMSELF.

“… Any chance I can convince you this is a dream?” Sans tried with a sheepish grin.

“Absolutely not.”

“Damn.”

“I can explain!” The skeleton-dragon-monster popped up from the ground happily, tail wiggling like a boney snake. Now that he was up, Papyrus noted that he was even shorter than his own brother. It was quite cute.

The blue one ran both his hands down his face now, though Paps swears he can see the corner of his teeth perk up a bit.

“Okay, so, I’m Ink!” the little one started, pointing to himself and then to his friends, “That’s Blue, Dream, and you know Lust! Kinda. Not AS Lust, but whatever. We’re all best of buddies, and we’re just hangin’ out today because Dream hadn’t seen Lust in a while and he really likes Lust’s hoodie, and when a piece of your hoard calls to you, ya just have to answer.”

“Mhm,” Papyrus nodded, utterly perplexed and not understanding a good portion of that entire explanation.

“A hoard is a dragon’s, like, very important personal belongings?” Sans tried to explain. “Like… a collection of… actually, never mind, it won’t matter in the long run and it’s hard to explain. Just know that Dream sees my hoodies and blankets and pillows as his own, and they’re very important to him.”

This is going to give him a headache. “So he needs to. Snuggle them. While you are in it.”

Sans snorted, patting Dream’s head again. “I mean, I don’t have to be in it, but it makes the experience better for both of us.”

Fair enough. He would much rather be cuddled up to his boyfriend than dealing with whatever-this-was.

“Anywho!” Ink paused. “Where was I?”

“Introducing us and failing to explain why we’re here,” Blue offered unhelpfully.

“Right! We’re alternate versions of your brother—“

“Oh my Stars, Ink.”

“And we all defend the multiverse together, but we’re also really close! Like family, not friends-with-benefits close, to confirm—“

“Oh my STARS, Ink—“

“— so we like to hang out in each other’s universes when we’re not fighting world-ending bad guys, and today we just so happened to be here for… whatever reason I may have already forgotten. Anyway! I gave Lust a phone to use across the multiverse, and it has the time of the Doodle Sphere on it because that’s consistent across the multiverse, but that also means it’s different from YOUR world’s time, with timelines and resets and all of that, so we confused the two.”

There was a long pause after Ink finished rambling, smiling happily up to the taller skeleton in the room. Before he could really register any of what was said, however, Blue muttered a little, “Technically, Lust confused the two, not us.”

This, of course, earned him an indignant shout from his brother, and—

Okay, yeah, no.

Papyrus nodded multiple times, clapping his hands together and pressing them to his teeth. “I have no clue what’s happening here,” he stated plainly. “I’m going to assume this is just more of Sans’ weird time-space shenanigans and… and I am. Going. To bed. I think.”

They all blinked at him quietly. The dragon-thing shuffled peacefully, sighing and rubbing his head against Sans’ chest. He looked comfortable, and incredibly soft as well. Perhaps when Papyrus had more motivation to understand what was in front of him, he’d ask if he could pet the large creature.

Breaking the silence, Blue gestured to the plate of food beside him. “Do you want a taco before you go?”

“… Sure. Why not.”

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[nofacednerd]

the Lower Decks/SNW crossover really dared to ask the question of what would happen if Starfleet’s most autistic soldier got thrown right in the middle of his special interest

[lion-buddy]

i really hope they’re both just freaks

[altairpyxis]

Kallus and Shin's first meeting (Vent)

Kallus: A reunion, how nice. It's been so long since I've seen everyone back in one place again since the Battle of Lothal. Shin, was it?

Shin: I guess... how did you end up tagging along with them?

Kallus: ...Let's just say, they helped me open my eyes to the bigger picture. They took me in, but I still feel unwelcome to others sometimes.

Kallus: You had something on with Sabine, don't you?

Shin: *blushes* no what are you talking about we only just talked shit about our masters leaving us at one point, all during the time we were stuck together. Although her master just accepted me, I don't know, it still doesn't feel right.

Kallus: I get that. The healing takes a while, but we'll get there eventually. On another note, you had a change of heart after getting stuck with Sabine, yes?

Shin: ...how did you know it happened during that time for us?

Kallus: How do you think I ended up with Garazeb?

*The ghost crew approaches Kallus and Shin, totally not to butt in.*

Zeb: So you and Shin started dating after getting stuck together huh? Where have I heard that before?

Sabine: Please shut up.

Ezra: You four need to get separate rooms I feel like a fifth wheel wtf

[angry-space-ginger]

“This feels a bit shameful for me to admit, but I have been moonlighting at a cabaret on Canto Bight as a singer.”

Hardly Shameful, as long as it has not been impeding on your duties, which evidently it has not. You are a talented singer. Though I would of course suggest possibly looking into other Venus? Perhaps I could arrange something more official, though I understand if you would want this kept discreet. Mine own musical escapades are a strictly private matter I would be most interested in hearing one of your performances.

Though I do want to ask to make sure you’re getting rest. The Order doesn’t need you exhausted.

[cunty-rex]

The Star Wars Original Trilogy Characters according to my boyfriend (theyve never seen the shows or movies):

-Luke: Daddy issues

-Leia: Daddy Issues

-Chewbacca: Grrrggreguggh

-Han Solo: Gun pose png

-Darth Vader: Root of daddy issues or sumn

-r2d2: Robot :]

-Yoda: What the fuck are you?

-Ewoks: gremlin teddy

-Boba Fett: The other guy

-Lando: YOURE BLACK?? & "every franchise has the token black"

The Prequels | Bonus:

[threestarsaboveclouds]

do you think you'll reach ascension :?

It is against my nature as an iterator to ponder such questions. We iterators were specifically designed to be unable to ascend; our job is to guide the lesser creatures of the world toward ascension. Seeking personal ascension would distract from that imperative.

Our creators intended for us to be a gift to the world; discovery of a true Solution would release all creatures from the ties of the Cycle. We must iterate upon possible Solutions to the Great Problem until one is found.

I am… aware… that some of my peers have abandoned this duty, but I personally wish to continue my work for as long as I can. My creators built me for this purpose, after all.

@chaoticallycam

My creators found their own Solution. We iterators were left behind, tasked with locating a method of ascension that is truly generally applicable; a great responsibility. It is an honor to be trusted with such an undertaking.

Some have expressed resentment towards our creators for choosing to abandon their progeny. They helped us as much as we helped them; to leave us behind would be unfair, even selfish.

I would be lying if I said I did not occasionally feel bitter about my creators' choice. We all do. In particular, denying us the ability to safely modify ourselves seems to be a major oversight. However, it can be argued that the implementation of the self-modification taboo speaks to the confidence our creators had in us to solve the Great Problem.

Given infinite time, if thousands of iterators are working on the Great Problem, the law of large numbers states that eventually the Solution will be found, if it exists. However, we do not have infinite time; our machinery is destined to degrade with age. Our genetic taboos serve to eliminate distractions so that we may all converge on the Solution more efficiently.

To an extent, I can understand why some iterators chose to abandon the Great Problem. If a Solution that satisfies the Triple Affirmative does not exist, it would be pointless to even try.

Some would argue, however, that Sliver of Straw's transmission of the Triple Affirmative signal proves that the Solution does exist, but all attempts to replicate her methods have failed. Sliver of Straw's broadcast is a contentious enough topic on its own, so I will not discuss the details here. All I will say is that I think our time is best spent on issues other than Sliver of Straw's apparent death.

I digress. In truth, I don't know if I personally will reach ascension. None of us know. I prefer not to dwell on such matters; they only serve as a distraction.

As for my creators... I am happy for them, I suppose. Their departure does make my work easier in some ways.... and harder in others. They would often turn to me for guidance, as I did to them. We were in constant contact, and while I sometimes viewed their presence as a bother, I enjoyed being able to help them. My creators helped me as well; in their absence there are many things I am no longer able to do.

Without them, I feel.... empty.

Alone.

....

Well... not anymore, at least.

I appreciate your communication.

[misteria247]

Did y'all hear? About Ranma 1/2 getting a remake?? I've been so stupidly giddy since I've found out about it first Urusei Yatsura and now Ranma dreams do come true.

[symph0ny-0f-destructi0n]

if you were a car you would be a dave mustang

I actually don’t love the look of modern mustangs. I really love the design of ‘69 mustangs. But I don’t like the really bright colors. A dull blue would look nice.

I also like the look of ‘80 mustangs. Specifically hatchbacks. The colors look nice on it. But they aren’t really different from ‘79 mustangs.

but overall my favorite mustang is a good old ‘69

[maimedaffair]

no but genuinely why are almost 700 people following me.

[themosthatedbeingmoving]

Really obsessed with the detail that Lucifer's fire makes everything darker as if absorbing the light, like he is the light bringer so it makes sense he can absorb it too.. taking away the light bringing in the darkness .