#I love all these suggestions guys! MORE!

[greykolla-art]

I love your art so so so much! For an OFMD suggestion, how about Ed waking up beside Stede after they've reconciled and not believing Stede is real?

Oh your MIND! I wanna kiss it!🌹

I was watching Please Like Me (s2 e9) and a character said something similar to this, it just felt very cute and real. ❤️

[paintedcrows]

Totally Normal Trigonometry Things

[moeblob]

I love them! So much!

[energ00n]

Howdy! First off, ABSOLUTELY LOVE this whole AU of yours, it's so fragging cute and so amazing!

Secondly, will we get to see Bumblebee or Eilta anytime soon? It's fine if no, I just think it be funny to see Bee somehow become apprentice under one of the 13 Primes(money is on Micronus) just because he made Micronus laugh or something, lol. Not sure about Elita though, lol

You're so kind, thank you!!!

I have been avoiding asks about Bee and Elita (there are a lot) because nothing is set in stone yet. Tho I have been thinking that Bee is in the High Guard academy and Elita will either be Solus' or Maximo' apprentice (one anon said she was his distant descendant in one continuity and I think that's cool)

[starleska]

Rolando x Reader headcanons? You know you want to 😤

oh my god YESSSSSSS i would be delighted!!! 🙈🙈💖💖💖 warning, this one is a teensy bit NSFW, of the 'Rolando would quite like to devour you, mind and body' variety 😉 tws for canon-compliant fearmongering, fearplay, invasive behaviour, mild body horror and and general monsterfucking 👀 (i mean, y'all saw the episode, you know what you're in for-)

Rolando x Human!Reader headcanons 🐟💖

🐟 the people who darken the door of the One Star Wonder are always at the end of their tether, and Rolando wouldn't have it any other way. each one is more pathetic than the last: delicious morsels dripping with depression, anxiety and jealousy, and their bubble-headed selves all caught up in their oh-so-human concerns. Rolando greets each one with the same greasy charm, yet he makes sure to flavour his guests with just one too many inhuman gaffes. an incorrect turn of phrase here, a flash of too many teeth there, and before long, he has successfully unsettled his meat. so the night You step over the threshold and greet him with a warm, unknowing smile, he grinned right back, sure of a particularly tasty meal.

🐟 "Well, aren't you a precious little thing!" Rolando cooed, working in a lascivious gaze in the hopes of making You squirm. You stammered out a flustered thanks, and asked him if he had a room for the night. Rolando was dizzy; he could smell the indecision on You like pheromones, those little top notes of apprehension and fear, and it was all he could do to not clamber into your brain right then and there. "I've got just the room for you, dear, right at the back. And don't let anyone here give you shit under my watch. How abouts I escort you there myself? I'd hate for some filthy pervert to gobble you up along the way." before You could protest Rolando slipped around the desk, pressed a spindly claw into the small of your back and ushered You down a damp, ill-lit hallway.

🐟 as he guided You under the broken lights, Rolando's piscine gaze drank in the contours of your form. he'd played carnal games with humans before—desperate creatures that they were, their strangled whines as pleasure bled into pain never failed to amuse him. yet he'd never been so struck by the beauty of your kind. "So, what brings you to my malign establishment?" Rolando asked, as he carded his fingers through your hair. You shivered, but didn't pull away...a response which confused Rolando, but gave his Infestor heart a quiet thrill. You told him that you'd been kicked out of your home, and electricity shot down his back. he couldn't wait any longer. "Poor love...how could anyone be so cruel? Don't you worry your pretty little head. Tonight...you're all mine." 🐟 the few remaining lights in the hallway burst, and Rolando slipped into the blackness. You cried out in confusion as something cold and wet seized around your ankle and yanked You to the floor. chilling laughter echoed around the hallway, where it reverberated off impossible dimensions, like the hotel had yawned open to swallow You. "Oh, aren't you a hoot?" Rolando cackled. "Such fear...such excitement...what a delectable combination." Rolando's yellow-green eyes flashed in the dark, and the deathly edges of his teeth glimmered with saliva. You tried to run, but he dissolved into the dark and snatched at your shadow, tripping you with ease. Rolando's inky, gelatinous form drooled up your side and pinned You to the floor by the wrists, neck, and ankles.

🐟 "Running ain't the smartest move, sweetheart..." Rolando hissed, "...but boy, is it fun!" his monstrous tongue curled around your earlobe and invaded the delicate flesh of your ear itself, lapping in a way far too wet and obscene. You curled in on yourself, trying to make yourself small enough to escape, but Rolando's invertebrate form slipped between your joints and stretched out your limbs until it hurt. one dirty yellow light flickered into life above You and illuminated Rolando's sickly smirk. "Golly," said Rolando, putting his head on one side. "By now, normally I've got 'em screaming and wailing...but save a few sweet little sounds, you're quiet as a mouse." he wrapped himself around your face and breathed a blasphemy against your lips: "If I didn't know better...I'd say you're rather enjoying this." 🐟 a litany of protests tumbled from your mouth, but all they did was make Rolando laugh harder. "Don't deny it, sugar! I see everything tucked up inside that nasty little brain of yours...and fear ain't winning this race, honey." a nail as sharp as a blade tucked itself under your chin, and curled, tilting your face up to his. in the dark, Rolando's smile gleamed with bad intentions. "Tell you what...how about we play a game? You try to keep those lovely lips of yours shut..." a slight sting, and Rolando draws back his claw to admire a rivulet of blood. "...and I see how long it takes to make you scream."

[stump-not-found]

Sorry if this has already been answered, but does Ford celebrate his birthday? I know its pretty hard to keep track of time when its ... nonlinear in the multiverse but I feel like Bill would know. And to ford every once and a while Bill demands his attention and he comes back to the pyramid to the wildest (worst) surprise party. The cake is human skin, candles are those really long wisdom teeth. Ford hates it.

i'll call out that a main plot point of chapter 4 is the fact bill gets ford presents on his b-day so yah its a regular thing, but they celebrate the day after his b-day

first birthday together bill probably does the skin cake thing but ford just rolls his eyes and sighs . bill almost fucking shoots himself after that response

[blueskittlesart]

i cannot believe that there are people who still get upset about ship loyalty in 2024. i’m just putting my little guys into situations can you chill

[milquetoast27]

Subtext in The Creeping Man

I find that this story of Arthur Conan Doyle's Holmes canon features some of the most complex subtext we've had aside from A Study in Scarlet. But rather than being complex early-on because of our lack of knowledge of the characters, it is rather complicated by the fact that we both know too much and too little of their relationship. This story, with astonishing subtlety, conveys the cooperative relationship between Doyle's two characters — the nuance in their limits and strains, but also the joys that they work to reach, together. It emblemises the beauty of the Canon, where it all ties back to the joy and complexity of human understanding and belonging.

This story opens in "those latter days" (1903, near to Holmes's retirement) where Watson describes their relations as "peculiar". The word certainly feels like a euphemism from the ever-polite Dr. Watson, when it is soon made clear that their relations were far from amenable. Watson has become one of Holmes's "concentrated habits", and apparently is as good as a piece of funiture, as all of Holmes's remarks would have been as "appropriately addressed to his bedstead." It's given through snapped sentences; "I was a whetstone for his mind. I stimulated him. He liked to think aloud in my presence." This "irritation" and discordance between them is extremely concentrated in the early pages of this story, but drags through it, as well. Take, for example, the "laconic" (or perhaps iconic?) message:

"COME AT ONCE IF CONVENIENT — IF INCONVENIENT COME ALL THE SAME. S.H."

Watson gives us the original of Holmes's telegram to demonstrate to his readers just how "long-suffering" he is. A true exhaustion is apparent in how he simply shows the telegram, rather than politely referring to it. Compare this with the unendingly civil telegram sent to Watson in The Boscombe Valley Mystery, and you can see the great shift that has taken place in their alliance.

"HAVE YOU A COUPLE OF DAYS TO SPARE? HAVE JUST BEEN WIRED FOR FROM THE WEST OF ENGLAND IN CONNECTION WITH BOSCOMBE VALLEY TRAGEDY. SHALL BE GLAD IF YOU WILL COME WITH ME. AIR AND SCENERY PERFECT. LEAVE PADDINGTON BY THE 11.15."

While long-term and intimate relationships will remove need for over-courtesey, there are two very different reasons for why Doyle has shown both of these telegrams at a point in time. This accumulation of Holmes's ungrateful behaviour not only imparts Watson's utter despondancy, but also, importantly, Holmes’s — and this is something that Watson's ever-perceptive and intelligent heart does not fail to miss. It is important to note that this story nears Holmes's retirement, where he acknowledges that he has been "sluggish in mind". There is no doubt, then, that the great detective is out of his prime. Hence the temperementalness, taking his Watson for granted, and a heavier reliance on those "narrow and concentrated habits."

Despite the turbulent roads of their life, we see Watson's undying devotion co-exist with it. Past all the irritation, Watson closes, "Such was my humble role in our alliance." It is more than clear that he consciously makes the decision to remain at Holmes's side, to be his ally. Such has always been Watson's role in their alliance. His "humble" service extends to his practice as doctor and soldier. His pride is in his duty to others, and to Holmes as his assistant.

There is something that shines through Holmes's unsocial behaviour when we look closely at the text.

I sank back in my chair in some disappointment. Was it for so trivial a question as this that I had been summoned from my work? Holmes glanced across at me. "The same old Watson!" said he. "You never learn that the gravest issues may depend upon the smallest things."

We know from the Canon (opening of DANC and RESI) that Watson's emotions are like an open book to Holmes. This 'sinking in some disappointment' is not missed by Holmes's 'glance'. "The same old Watson!" he says, and I feel it important to note that he compliments one of Watson's most distinguishing features; his stability and fixture — the "one fixed point in a changing age." Yet, we may miss these details, because Holmes, ever in his own insecurity, must back-hand every praise with a teasing chide. We could say that an attempt was made to cheer Watson up, though not very successful.

Developments continue, as Holmes tryingly says "I had hoped to have a longer chat with you", then parades him with compliments before their client, "Dr. Watson is the very soul of discretion". But mixed indications continue to come as he flips back to patronising language; "You will appreciate it, Watson, when"—. Doyle further cements Holmes's particular unbecoming behaviour on this day as he further also annoys their client, who speaks in a "tone of reproach" when Holmes does not listen, and is "clearly annoyed" at irrelevant interruptions — to which, Holmes only smiles in, what I believe, is pure self-importance.

Here we find a shift — a greater effort on Holmes's part, a second round of appreciation for Watson's stability, even when his opinion is faulty. "Good, Watson! You always keep us flat-footed on the ground". He's then included in his bubble; "We were gradually coming to that conclusion, were we not, Watson?", and even a sordid attempt at bringing Watson with him on the bait of the Chequers in 'Camford' where "the port used to be above mediocrity and the linen was above reproach." (Which he follows up on!)

And, despite these attempts, their connection still does not rekindle. Watson is clearly irritated still with the inconsiderate easiness with which Holmes was able to leave London, leaving only difficulty on Watson's end to join him. It's an indicator from Doyle that nothing's remedied, yet.

Here is an interesting passage for study.

"Have you the effrontery necessary to put it through?" "We can but try." "Excellent, Watson! Compound of the Busy Bee and Excelsior. We can but try — the motto of the firm."

Burstive praise from Holmes at the merest utterance of a phrase — a phrase which has only ever been used one other time in the Canon; the previous story, The Problem of Thor Bridge. This suggests it may be some small motto of Holmes's, though one not often seen in Watson's records — this makes his use of the phrase a very Holmesian approach. This participation, no doubt, is nothing but a delight for Holmes, who is trying to restring their relationship, and continues to overenthusiastically affirm Watson's sturdiness.

Yet it's made clear that superficial praises are not a true apology, as we see signs yet again of Watson's dispassion. As they sit to their meeting with Professor Presbury, Watson writes:

Mr. Holmes smiled amiably.

This sentence may seem unassuming, but be assured it is one of the coldest in the Canon. This usage of "Mr. Holmes" is entirely unique within the Canon. In other times, when Watson has used "Mr. Holmes" or "Mr. Sherlock Holmes", it has been when speaking directly to his readers, since they would be using the honourific. This moment is the only exception, where Watson has intentionally used "Mr." to create distance and convey undesire for intimacy with Holmes (rather than any professional effect). Why has Watson used the line here? Well, Holmes is 'smiling amiably' — in a way that forces a friendly manner, one that attempts to create a good impression with Professor Presbury — which also didn't work out, by the way. Considering all the superficial means up to now employed by Holmes on his companion, Watson no doubt feels cheapened and no more important than Holmes's investigative objects; as if his trust is just as easy to gain as anyone else's, with nothing but an 'amiable smile'.

We are shown time and again that Watson isn't pleased with Holmes's desultory attempts at reconciliation, until finally, a shift happens. One that is not identifiable in the text, and so is reasonable to assume happened unpenned. We find Holmes acknowledging that "Dr. Watson has his patients to attend to", when before this information seemed completely irrelevant to him. Holmes even sent Watson a "short note asking [him] to meet at the train"! The greatest change is when we finally have Watson using "my friend" and "my comrade" for the first time in this story. Now we see Watson taking real excitement in the case, in the "assurance of [his] comrade". Self-teasing also makes its way into their dialogue as Holmes cries "Oh, Watson, Watson, what a fool I have been!" The emphasised address seems to suggest an apology for something more. It's as if he cries 'Look how wrong I have been Watson, how imperfect and daft I can be!' It's adorable, really.

All semblances of reproach towards Holmes disappear as they steal together in darkness, come to the dénoument of their adventure, as Holmes philosophises on science and nature, and described admiringly as "the man of action". Our story ends in a light-hearted resolution, as always.

"There is an early train to town, Watson, but I think we shall just have time for a cup of tea at the Chequers before we catch it."

To conclude, this story presents so much so subtly in its pages; a reflection of the small, nuanced and unseen processes between human beings, but those which we must be attentive to in order to find fuller understanding between each other. Yet, there is still much uncertainty in my inferences; which also shows the uncertainty of language and communication. We simply must be clear of ourselves, as we can only assume Holmes and Watson were, off-page, for them to have found that resolution, rather than fleeting smiles and compliments. Arthur Conan Doyle, with this story, further cements the triumph of bonds and connection, perhaps far more than any other of his stories.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

These FFS inner demons are very “disco elysium skills” reminiscent. I NEED to meet that cast! Also freaking awesome work to you and your buddy :]

May it be an open secret that one of my inspirations was Disco Elysium. I think they could party together.

[commandertartarsmoocher]

This is not an AC/DC reference

Two versions because I think both are neat!

[feroluce]

So this ficlet-ish thing was inspired by @hydrachea, nsfw super genius extraordinaire, but also by the fact that in addition to Boothill's left eye being cybernetic, I like to hc even the parts of him that look human aren't fully natural. I mean the dude eats bullets, after all. I think he should also have vents in his mouth so he can literally blow smoke/steam, it would look super cool. Think Father Gascoigne or Studio BONES' Todoroki. We as a fandom deserve that!!

So anyway, of course, sometimes these vents get blocked up and need to be cleaned manually. Thankfully, Dan Heng is super helpful ☆

Like there's one day where Boothill is lazing around in the archives, fresh off a bounty and happily soaking up the luxury of the Astral Express after however long he's spent tracking his prey through all the dust and dirt with almost no rest.

Boothill likes it in the archives. It's not silent, but it's quiet. There's no music and only muffled voices from outside, but there's the hum of all the computer systems. It makes for a nice place to hide away and recharge when he's just finished exhausting himself.

And besides, Dan Heng is there.

Sometimes the two of them talk back and forth, but today it's mostly quiet...except for-

"I didn't know it was possible for you to get sick."

...Except for Boothill having to constantly clear his throat. That's the thing about your mark trying to flee into the desert. You either go after them and get sand everywhere (and even worse, sticky sand once it gets all bloody) or you wuss out and lose out on the bounty. Personally, Boothill likes being able to afford to eat.

"Grit's stuck in a vent somewhere, 'n' the usual maintenance ain't gettin' it. I'll prob'ly have ta manually dig it out." But later, when he's not laid out half asleep on Dan Heng's extra futon. Usually after a chase as long as this one took, he can shut down for almost a full day. He doesn't want to get up yet.

Something shadows over him, and reflex demands Boothill's eye open. Dan Heng steps around him on his way to some drawer built in the wall on the other side of the room or something. Boothill closes his eye again.

From under his hat he hears the sounds of rummaging, drawers sliding open and shut, the swish of a long coat. The shadow returns.

"Sit up, just momentarily. I have something to help." And Boothill groans a tired don't wanna, but he does it anyway, he hauls himself upright into a kneel. And then he sits up a little straighter because he realizes Dan Heng is standing right over him.

Dan Heng tells him "open your mouth," and Boothill's jaw pops open without his permission, without even a second thought, and hey, what protocol in there ok'd THAT?!?!

Before he can really unpack whatever the heck that just was, though, Dan Heng murmurs for him to say so if he needs them to stop, and then he's sliding a long, hard rod down Boothill's throat, tipped with some soft little brush he probably uses for all his fancy archival equipment.

Dan Heng tells him the handle of the brush is straight and can't be bent, he needs to move his head to be able to reach the vent in his throat. Boothill hums affirmatively; he can't do anything else with his mouth occupied.

Dan Heng's free hand holds him by his jaw, tilts it up slowly but firmly so he has to look straight up at him.

Boothill feels dizzy.

The cycle of blue blood through his artificial heart whirrs just a bit faster, his temperature sensor pings an internal alarm to warn for imminent overheating. Boothill curls his fingers into the guard over his knee as Dan Heng carefully brushes at the dust irritating him. All other sounds- the hum of running equipment, the occasional beep from the computers, the noise of the crew outside of this room- seem to pull away, until all Boothill can focus on is the steady and measured breathing from the man above him.

"Almost done."

Thank the aeons, maybe one of them likes him after all.

"Your tongue is in the way... I'm going to hold it down, ok?"

Nevermind.

The fingers holding his jaw curl around his chin, thumb slipping past open lips to dip into his mouth and pin down his tongue. One of his teeth catch on the digit, breaking skin just enough to bleed a drop where he can taste it. Dan Heng doesn't even flinch. Another temperature alarm pings off in his brain, then another, then another.

Boothill has never been shy about eye contact but oh, god, it nearly kills him when dull green irises flick away from their task and look down right at him as his mouth is held open. He quickly squeezes his own eye shut for some relief.

With his vision cut off, the rest of his senses automatically recalibrate to compensate. He can hear every breath even more distinctly now, every soft inhale and exhale, feel the strain in his neck, the softness of the brush, the hard floor beneath his knees, the hand holding his jaw and the fingerprints that feel like they should leave burns in his skin, the taste of Dan Heng heavy on his tongue-

Forget it, eye open, eye open!!

"Alright. There's one last pebble stuck."

Boothill had been trained to endure torture, back on his homeworld. It was part of being in a gang, part of being a bounty hunter.

Somehow, keeping himself quiet and still as Dan Heng inches the brush even further down the back of his throat is a profoundly similar experience.

The seconds tick by, Dan Heng's brow furrowing, face growing ever more concentrated and Boothill struggles not to watch him too closely, fights down the noise that suddenly tries to escape him as the brush withdraws-

"Swallow."

Stars and aeons, Dan Heng is going to be the death of him.

Boothill swallows. He feels it when the movement finally dislodges the loosened pebble from his vent.

His face feels shockingly cold now bereft of touch, even though Dan Heng's hands are always cool. He asks to see, and Boothill's mouth is already open again to show him, even as he belatedly realizes he could have just told him it had worked.

"Good." There's the slightest smile on Dan Heng's lips as he finally, mercifully, leans back out of his personal space, goes to put away the brush. "That should feel better now." Boothill spends a moment dizzy and dazed, feeling the need to blink spots out of his eye even though his vision is clear. He still hasn't moved off his knees.

What the fudge.

[reksink]

Comms for Delightful Friends 💚

[blorbobutworse]

More Teen Dad Logan AU:

he's around 20 when this happens, having gotten his GED at 18, and taken a year off to settle more into normal life and bond with Laura.

I think he would actually love community college. There's a ton of different people of a ton of different ages. Firefighters, other single parents, other young people, even retirees.

I also imagine he takes up boxing, as advised by Charles, to get him to talk to other people. The fact that he's good at teaching is quickly discovered, and he finds himself with a part-time job.

I also believe the best degree would be something technical, like welding or autobody. Hell, he might even work towards getting a degree to work with Motorcycles since he likes his so much.

Now, imagine: he's finished his classes and he's going to go home for lunch before heading to the boxing gym, when he gets unfortunate news: Victor can't keep watching Laura, because his Evil math professor threw a project on him that was due that night, and his groupmates were all non mutants, and thus not allowed into Xavier’s.

Logan explains the situation to his boss, planning to just head home and stay there, to which his boss just responds: why don't you just bring your kid?

He's a little unsure, because for all his talk about how much he loves Laura he's also tried his best to keep his work life and personal life separate.

Still, making money and getting to take care of his kid sounds good. Victor agrees to stop by the workout center to drop her off.

He picks her up with one arm like a piece of luggage, and slings her diaper bag over his other shoulder. He breathes, nods to Vic, and turns He walks into work, and there is a beautiful, ringing moment of silence-

and then everyone attacks them.

See.

Here's the thing.

Despite Logans young age, his demeanor and experience sort of led everyone to believe he was in his mid twenties, early thirties. So, they sort of thought he was going to bring around a kindergartener, maybe a preteen.

Not a toddler.

And, Laura is adorable. She has tiny little low cheek dimples, Logan's piercing blue eyes, an her hair is a light mousy brown. Even cuter, she was already giggling hysterically from being carried around like a fancy dog.

This, obviously, means that the entire room of grown men are immediately turned into a pile of goo.

Logan's swarmed by roughly 30 guys, all trying to say 'hi' to Laura first and show her 'all the cool stuff; they can do. This ends up ranging from an older man squeezing a heavy grip machine, to the seventeen and nineteen year old doing handstands. Lo just freezes, pulling his daughter closer to him in an aborted motion to protect her from the wave of people surrounding them

Finally, Logan's boss manages to wrangle (ie. scream even louder than Sabretooth himself) everyone away from the baby and back to doing their lessons.

The next half hour is pretty typical. Logan helps people on their form, does a guided fight, and assists the older man unwrap his hands after his practice.

Then, seventeen year old boy, a redhead, and nineteen year old. a brunet, are muttering in between each other for a minute after their lesson. Eventually, they flit over to Logan to ask. He's waiting for something to do anyway, with Laura in his lap as she plays on his phone.

Logan agrees to watch over their match, and calls for them to start.

In less than twenty seconds, something seems to change. The brown haired boy says something that obviously irritates the seventeen year old. He twitches, and then thumps the other boy with a punch to the gut that sends the nineteen year old strait to this knees, where he gags.

everyone in the room stops to look, and it's only then when they realize that Laura just saw that.

They think she's going to be frightened, maybe even burst into tears. She's little after all, she must be scared or at least freaked out.

Instead, she throws her head back and cackles in a way that would be terrifying if she wasn't three.

....it was still a little terrifying.

(Logan chuckles too, but that's mostly because he knows she's copying sabretooth.)

[ur-fav-alien]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mortal Kombat - All Media Types, Mortal Kombat (Video Games 2023-) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kitana/Raiden (Mortal Kombat) Characters: Kitana (Mortal Kombat), Raiden (Mortal Kombat), Small roles:, Mileena (Mortal Kombat), Tanya (Mortal Kombat), Li Mei (Mortal Kombat) Additional Tags: Fluff, Very light smut, these two cuties being cuties, Romantic Fluff, Kitana sneaks Raiden into Outworld and the two of them have a fun little date!, virgin Raiden... I mean we all knew right, Mileena and Kitana being sisters (meaning they hate each other/j) Summary:

This fic is inspired by @lu_cider on twitter! check out their piece! https://x.com/lu_cider/status/1828927937506083193

Kitana being a princess and military leader, and Raiden being a farm boy and earthrealm's champion results in a lack of rebellious nature between the two of them. So, when Kitana passes by the portal gate and an idea pops into her head... why is she to say no to it?

[bitternace]

WHY ARE YOU SO EVIL!!! /POS. ATTACKING YOU.

Xemnas and Xigbar for 37 if that number hasn't been done? If it has, how about 74?

no puedo pedirle lo eterno a un simple mortal // ay, todo lo que he hecho por ti.

[ID: a mostly black and white drawing with a purple overlay of xigbar and xemnas shown from the hip up on the left side of the image. the background is black and has some diagonal lines with a bit of transparency on the right side. the shadows are harsh, with only a bit of light falling on their faces.

they stand before each other turned to the audience. xigbar, holds the handle and the middle of No Name before him, head tilted down as he looks to the audience. xemnas stands a full head taller behind xigbar, his left hand held some distance below the bladed tip of No Name, his left eye is covered by his fringe.

xemnas visible eye is painted ochre with a white pupil, while xigbar's eye is white and gold. The eyes on no name's handle and the gazing eye on the blade are a vibrant cyan. the caption reads the spanish lyrics "i can't ask a simple mortal for a forever" and "oh, everything i've done for you." /End ID.]

close-up under keep reading.

[spotaus]

So this might seem like a weird question, and this IS going anonymously because of it BUT

How many characters in New Age would be able to describe the taste of human flesh.

I feel like with the provided backstory, Killer could be a candidate for it, and I wouldn't be surprised if Nim had some sort of whim at some point even though I'm pretty sure you said they were vegetarian but I could have hallucinated that or smth

You can very much ignore this if you feel uncomfortable with it, btw. I just find this interesting

Hi anon, this ask is unhinged abd I love it SO dearly, please feel free to send more if you get the urge 💖 this is actually something exciting I hadn't even thought about! So... let's see who all I can list off for this idea...

-> Killer. Like u said Anon, I think he IS the most likely candidate! I don't think that it's a meal he'd have eaten often, nor would he openly joke about it, but I think that somewhere like the Temple where he was raised, or on the streets after he left Chara (the Black Market wasn't picky-) would be where it happened.

-> Nim. Oh. Yeah. She would've, I'm sure. (Also tbf I have no idea if I said that or not, my memory is SO bad, I'd probably have to check w/ Ancha lol- but for this let's imagine she's not.) I don't think anyone would be able to convince her if she knew what it was up-front (she thinks humans are lesser, but kinda in the way ppl don't usually think of brown bears as a food source?) But she's definitely had it before. 'Exotic cuts' that she never bothered to fact check lmao. Fancy and expensive, so she bought them!

-> Dust. Now, this one is a little weird, but I have good reason! Dust has a reputation to uphold when he's a crime lord, and has to get along with leaders of other crime branches to keep his power AND keep the lines running. One of the other kingdoms (which I'm establishing is basically full of shape-shifters which eat human flesh) was a prime source of income for Dust because they had a LOT of animal meat they weren't harvesting. In meetings, well, sometimes the meal involved the dishes of that kingdom, so human flesh! (He will NOT admit it didn't taste bad.)

-> Fresh. And no, not for the reason he'd normally know lmao. I think that Fresh's connection with the beasts (which I now realize are kinda stand-ins for his furby collection-) leads some of then to bring him gifts! And he lives usually out in the wilderness so a hunt is a hunt, y'know? Monsters are off-limits but like. If the beast brings him *just* the meat? He takes his chances abd hopes it's not People. (Some of it is, and he knows it, he could definitely identify it if given to him 🙏)

-> Reaper. He's not proud of it anymore, but back in the day when he was the general? Bringer of Death? Yeah, he ate a guy once. Used it as a fear tactic against their enemies, which in his defense DID work. But he wouldn't do it again. He would recognize the taste tho!

Soooo..... 5 of the New Age characters would be able to describe the taste of human flesh! (At least for the main cast lol-)

I do have honorary mentions though.

-> Ink: Has bitten people enough to *probably* have an idea of the taste.

-> Geno: Tried to do it "for science" when he was in the academy working on decay magic. (He reversed the decay enough that the flesh was fresh, he was curious!) He was told that if he did they'd suspend him, so he missed his opportunity :(

-> Cross: Can't tell you about the taste of flesh, but human blood used to get into his mouth all the time when he worked in his old kingdom, so he could tell you about that instead!