#I will prob be updating this

[randompolykin]

Intro Post

Welcome To The Storm.

i have been procrastinating making one of these for a while now so here you go.

I don't know how people can post their names on here, or their ages. Like what :0 I could not do that. (So if you need to refer to me, you can do so by my username) I do feel comfortable telling you this stuff:

The labels I use to identify my gender identity are genderfluid, nonbinary, transgender, genderflux, xenogender, fluidflux, and specifically genderspirit. At least that's the basics.

When it comes to sexuality/romantic attraction I consider myself frayromantic and neptunic, I am also aceflux.

I might reblog centaurworld, smg4, the amazing digital circus, wings of fire, or good omens related posts once in a blue moon.

i am a polymorph

Kintypes:

Catkin (black domestic and black panther, for type of panther Jaguar fits the best but a black panther on its own fits too)

Dragonkin (red western fire and eastern sky/water especially a tatsu)

Gray/part of a storm cloud, cloud

Military tank

Attack helicopter (I know, I know, but I'm serious /gen)

Wooden chair

Slinky

Cryptid (in general but I do have a couple specific ones too and I bet the more I look into cryptids the list will grow)

Cabincore

OCkin

Seraphkin (the type of angel)

Demonkin

bookstore and library kin

Old computer kin

Robotkin in general

A murder drone (from murder drones) not a specific one, just a murder drone

Vampirekin

The concept of tea/tea as a whole

Glamrock Freddy Fazbear

a sprollie dog

a silver fox

Although there are certain theories on why I am certain kintypes that I prefer and even act like it's set in stone, in the end idk whatever so just keep that in mind. also this isnt. theres more kintypes probably.

and maaaaannnny kinsiderings

Circutypes

(circutypes are identitie(s?) similar to the label cladotherian or more so ambitherian, but instead of being exclusive to types of animals is a species, it extends beyond that. The creator @batsbolts-andfangs created it to describe being a bat therian, bat plushiekin and a bat (related?) fictional character. But basically it's a label to describe one nonhuman identity that extends to/ is made up of other nonhuman identities that are a interconnected. This label fits me two times

The first on is less sure/put together than the second one

Mimic

Shadow being (maybe just shadows too idk)

This statue creature that's an original species might count idk yet

Questioning being a void but that might just be part of my fictotype.

A run-along

And now my second circutype that makes more sense!

Deer skull creature is what I consider the base name for it now what this includes is

A deer skull fictional character/monster the nowhere king (which is my profile pic!) which is from centaurworld

Two (OCs? Maybe just original species? I am still figuring out how these two identities work) that are deferent types of deer skulled original creatures

A leshen (and an ancient leshy) from the witcher (I have not interacted with the fandom or played the games, watched the show etc I just stumbled upon it looking for what this kintype was and it fit)

And questioning being a deer skull itself. If not then this is probably a para type or something?

I don't actually think I said all my kintypes but I dont care that much right now I need to get this post over with it's already two am

So here are my heart types:

Crow

Tortoise

Sloth

Ghost

Zombie

Clown

Fall

Halloween

Endermen

Rainwing (it's a type of dragon from wings of fire)

Nightwing (also wof dragon)

Questioning these being kintypes

Edit, I currently consider my wof types to be both kintypes and kithtypes, its confusing and I have no energy to look deep into things but I don't feel I need to honestly.

And am just saying that being a zombie and a ghost is kith, because I don't want to deal with things. Every thing else I know is def a heart type except clown, I ignore that one

Edit, I am now counting zombie as a kin type

I am also questioning being the amazing digital circus and my neighbor totoro (as in conceptkin)

Now onto other things you should know about me and some silly not as important but also interesting ones:

I am afraid of being wrong (mainly because I'm worried I am somehow hurting people by it)

I have trust/opening up issues

I struggle with imposter syndrome

I probably have undiagnosed anxiety of some kind but have yet to do research on it

I probably have long term depression. But I think ranting to Tumblr is helping a bit so RN I'm more on the emotionally numb side but still depressed I think.

I have associative synesthesia and the types I care to name are olp, grapheme-color and chromesthesia but I know of more things that are probably types with their own names that I have.

I'm a vegetarian (it's funny because a bunch of my kintypes are carnivores or really like eating meat)

I'm a furry and have this going on where I'm turning my animal kin and heartypes into furry OCs and fursonas but I haven't gotten far in it. I'm also questioning being my protogen oc

I'm a median system. But I don't really talk about that much here...

Uh I might post random art doodles idk tho.

Besides that mostly I'll post and reblog alterhuman stuff (mainly otherkin probably)

Also please ask me stuff!!! Curious on how I experience being an aesthetic? Want to learn more about my angel kintype? Etc, please ask!

Profile pic is my kintype, the nowhere king, with the genderfluid, frayromantic, and loveless aro flags. And my banner is light doodles of some of my kintypes

When it comes to a tagging system I am trying to make one but most of my posts from before this one probably don't follow it anyway here it is (altho I might forget to tag a reblog as reblog sorry if I do)

Also all posts with swearing in them will be tagged with #tw swearing

I don't usually swear myself but I will reblog stuff that has swears in them

#reblog (these are simply reblogs. Can be of anything. These will not have me adding my thoughts in tags or replies)

#my reply (reblogs with my reply/my thoughts on it/ad ons, also might be tagged with #my ad ones (if it's adding on to what the poster is saying specific vs a reply of anykind))

#my reply tags(or my tag replies) (same thing but in the tags specifically. Add on version is #my tag ad ons)

#not ah related (not alterhuman related, includes reblogs)

#not ok related (not otherkin related, alterhuman related posts that are not otherkin related are included here)

#i am a mess of kinsidering (a ranty vent post about my lastest kintype to question or re-question or be confused over want to classify an identity as beyond otherkin, etc)

#silly post time (silly posts, not reblogs. This would be me making a post that says "nom nom nom garbage" and # it with therian and otherkin tags. Can be ah, ok, and not related.) (if not ah or ok related I will put those tags in)

#silly reblogs (me rebloging these types of posts)

#serious post (speaking up about an issue or trying to spread the word about something important etc)

#serious reblog (same as ⬆️ but a reblog)

#positivity spreading reblog (rebloging a positivity spreading post. can include #my ad ones posts)

#positivity spreading post (a positivity spreading post originally made by me)

#term coining yay (coined terms not by me but that I have rebloged)

#oh me terms yas (term coining posts by others that have a term I want to use/represent me)

#save (posts I want saved for any reason.)

#saving this to show my friend in case their ah (I'm pretty sure one of my friends I alterhuman but I'm not sure so I'll show them certain posts and see if they relate)

#storm talk (talking about being (apart of) a storm

#little grey cloud rambles (rambles as a little grey cloud)

#more about me

That's all I can think of for now and it's already three am so I'm gonna add my user boxes and go to bed!

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage

18+ 3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, somnophilia, drugging, eventual smut. 1/8. gif AO3. directory.

Homelander was born with only one terrible poverty: loneliness. He's been starved of love his entire life, made sick by his hunger for it, but he believes you might have the cure. If you want to survive, you'll find a way to give it to him.

Homelander has never been able to understand people who bird watch. Of all the things a mundane person could do with their abysmally mediocre life, why devote what little free time they have to observing a creature even more dull than they themselves are?

Perhaps it's the gift of flight. By far, it is the ability of his that garners the most attention. Or maybe it's the power trip one experiences when observing something simpler and weaker than yourself for sport. The novelty of becoming endeared by their strange little behaviors and quirks. It's this line of thinking that eventually walks Homelander down the path of people watching. During his downtime, in the quiet moments he spends perched atop skyscrapers and apartment complexes, he finds himself watching the people miles below him scurry about like insects through a colony.

Over time, he begins to recognize regulars. People moving back and forth, day in and day out, no different than ants moving grains back and forth. He has to laugh. It's no wonder god abandoned man. Man is fucking boring.

Even the god they made for themselves thinks so.

To ease the monotony, he concocts little stories for the ones he recognizes. He imagines the kinds of lives they live outside of their commutes and the routines he observes. He names one of them Peter, and every day he invents a new reason Peter is yet again running late for his train. Because he's always late, Peter never stops for the woman selling street meat on the corner across from the station.

Homelander imagines that the meat she peddles is people, and that she's got her eye on that speedy little rabbit, Peter.

And then one day, he notices you.

It isn’t that you’re especially beautiful or noteworthy. Just like all the other busy little bees, you go about your same routine each and every day of the week. Sometimes you're in a rush, other times you enjoy your stroll. Regardless, you always find time to stop and give money to the same homeless man occupying one of the few alleyways protected by an awning. Sometimes you linger to chat, other times you can only stop long enough to drop something into his hands.

It isn't always money. Oftentimes you have food for him packed neatly into a little take-out box. Despite the packaging, it looks homemade. You always have a warm smile for him, even when you’re obviously frazzled.

To the rest of the world, this man may as well be fucking invisible, but here you are handing him a box of home cooked food like he's someone who matters. Homelander is the world's greatest hero, and yet some bum on the street is being fed with more love and attention to detail than he ever has.

It's a goddamn joke. More and more, it becomes apparent to him that you’re pathetically lonely. After a few days of observing you amongst the others, he starts trailing you more actively, forgetting all about Peter and his eventual butcher.

He wants to know more about you.

You live alone, working and cooking for only yourself and your stray pet. Sometimes you cook for your coworkers or the odd friend who stops by before leaving you alone all over again. He watches from a distance while you toil away, cooking more food than you’ll eat in a week for people you see for a fraction of each of your weekdays. It couldn’t be more obvious that you’re desperate for someone to take care of.

In a way, he can relate. 

Maeve has been more distant than ever, choosing to engage him only when there’s a camera present. When it’s only the two of them, she just drinks until he barely recognizes her. Madelyn has begun her “fertility journey,” words that set his teeth on edge, and has barely had a real moment to spare him as of late. The rest of his team doesn’t help abate his loneliness either; Marathon is a washed up hack who can barely sprint these days, Lamplighter is only ever interested in clubbing, the Deep couldn’t hold a conversation in a bucket, and Noir is a mute.

And so he soothes his solitude with thoughts of you. When he isn’t with you, he daydreams about it, imagining what life would look like if your worlds were to intersect. The more he learns about you, the more vivid his fantasies become, and the more intensely he aches when he still finds himself alone in his bed at the end of each night.

It spurs him to visit you more and more.

One particularly warm summer night, you leave your window wide open. He takes it for the invitation it is, drifting towards it under the cover of dark. Your screen is loose and pops out noiselessly. Not exactly safe, even if you do live on the fifth storey.

You just never know what might come lurking out of the shadows.

Slipping into your living room, he’s met with the sound of white noise playing from your bedroom. Is it the sound of the streets below that bother you? You’d never hear it from his penthouse a hundred feet in the air. You could leave the windows open all you like and hear only the roar of the sky, not unlike the ocean waves your phone is poorly mimicking.

He could take you to the actual ocean. A beach house far away from the buzzing neon lights and incessant honking and revving of traffic. Walking through your apartment, he makes his way to your tiny kitchen. The one in his penthouse puts yours to absolute shame, and yet the only thing in it that’s ever been used is the fridge. He’s certain he’s never opened the double oven or so much as turned on the gas range. Meanwhile, your kitchen is riddled with use, each cupboard stuffed with mismatched cookware and the like. It smells of grease and spices and love.

The sad irony of it is almost too much to stomach. You don’t belong in this cramped little sardine can. You should be in a proper kitchen. 

You should be cooking for him. The thought comes to him like a flash of genius. Of course. That’s the answer that will solve both of your little dilemmas. If he is a bird watcher then you’re a songbird snared in a net. It would be inhumane of him to leave you to die before you’re ever appreciated–ever seen–by anyone who matters.

You would worship him for rescuing you. His wealth and power would see each and every one of your material needs met with ease. You would never work for anything again. All you would ever have to concern yourself with was being loved and loving him.

He walks to your room with a hand pressed absently over his heart, cradling the anxious little bundle of nerves that have gathered there. He can tell by your breathing that you’re deep asleep, and yet he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he approaches.

His first time being so near to you after weeks of simply observing.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he steps towards you. The sound of him is masked by the ambient noise spilling from your phone, not to mention the fan you have pointed directly at your bed in a desperate attempt to save yourself from the summer heat.

You clearly weren’t built for this paltry life. Mary was no one before God chose her for greatness. Is that not what he’s about to do for you? It’s the will of a god that elevates you.

He kneels by your bedside, bringing himself face to face with you. Your breathing is even, each huff smelling faintly of mint. Your lips look soft, slightly parted in sleep. Everything about you is gentler, more relaxed than you ever are in the day to day grind of your life.

You could look like this all the time without it. He has the power to change your entire life with nothing more than a couple of numbers shifting from one space to another. Money has always been inconsequential to him, so abundant that it hardly means anything anymore. You, however, are ruled by it.

For the first time in his life, he recognizes the power in his wealth.

He brushes the tips of his gloved fingers along your cheek, down your jaw. He’s never used his hands so tenderly as when he traces your sleeping eyelids with his fingertips, imagining what dreams chase behind them and make them flutter.

You don’t stir. 

Emboldened, he follows the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, imagining how soft you would feel against the bare pad of his finger. Leaning in closer, he indulges in the warmth of your breath tickling his lips. You’re a sound sleeper, the thud of your resting heart beating steadily in his ear.

Closing his eyes, he bridges the distance between your lips, pressing his own lightly to yours. For a second, he thinks he’s woken you, that you’ve caught sight of him and your heart is drumming loudly in his ears. He draws sharply back, but sees that you’re still deep asleep, your features peaceful.

It’s his heart that’s racing, a thundering sound that blocks out every other noise in the room. He’s breathing shallowly, excited in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. There’s a flush crawling up his throat, and it’s at that moment he breaks out into a wide, wondrous smile.

There’s no question of it now.

He has to have you.

The plan to acquire you ends up requiring very little setup. If Madelyn cares why Homelander’s suddenly spending so much, she’s yet to make a comment. 

Bitterly, he thinks it likely that she’s glad to see him distracted. 

He starts preparation by appropriately stocking his kitchen; you’ll appreciate the supply of ingredients, he knows. The quality of what he obtains for you is leagues above what you can afford, as is the cookware. He buys you new clothes, jewelry, imagining every step of the way how you’ll look in each piece. How you’ll look as he takes them off. He’s seeking to upgrade your life in every conceivable way, like bringing a cat home from the pound and teaching it the meaning of luxury.

You’ll want for nothing. You’ll be so grateful to him. And you, the sweet and perfect little thing that you are, make yourself painfully easy to ensnare. You come home under the cover of dark like clockwork, perfectly oblivious to his approach. You’ve just managed to fish your keys out of your bag when his hand closes a kerchief over your mouth and nose, stifling your cry. His other arm slips around your waist, holding you steady. The cloth smells overly sweet, ether-like, and though that scent has no effect on him, you respond to it almost immediately.  “Shhhhshhshh,” he soothes, letting the anesthesia do its job. Fuck, you feel good in his arms, back held tight to his chest, your delicate hands prying at his wrist as you kick, claw and scream–albeit muffled–into the cloth. He holds you with ease, keeping you close to his body, angling you in such a way that you won’t hurt yourself.

Despite your tenacity, you fight a losing battle. Your efforts grow weaker and weaker as you lose your grip on consciousness. He hushes you all the while, encouraging you. “That’s it, let it go. I’ve got you, I’ve got you...” Finally your head falls back against his shoulder, your face lolling into the crook of his neck, the rest of your body falling slack in his arms. He pulls the cloth away from your mouth, tucking it into your bag for now. He turns his head to yours, lips barely ghosting along your forehead. He takes in a deep breath of you, his eyes falling shut. Beneath the sickly sweet smell of the chemical mixture he knocked you out with, he can smell the remnants of your perfume. It’s not his favorite fragrance, but the underlying warm scent of you is intoxicating. He’ll collect whatever belongings you decide you want with you when he returns, if anything, but he doubts you’ll miss much. Your stuff will seem like a heap of rags and garbage by comparison. He’s looking forward to how the perfumes and lotions he’s bought you will smell on your skin, and how you’ll look in the clothing he’s picked for you. He adjusts you into a bridal carry in his arms and gently kicks off from the ground, holding you firm to his chest. The city is beautiful at night, a landscape of stars mirroring that of the sky above it. He’s always loved it here, and yet he’s shared it with a painful few.

Madelyn never lets him take her to the skies. Maeve had been wowed initially, but she had quickly grown disillusioned with it. With him.

You’ll be different. The trip back to his penthouse feels agonizingly slow, but he maintains a lesser pace to keep the wind from rashing your skin, savoring the featherlight weight of you in his arms at last. He lands deftly on his balcony, stepping through his open reinforced glass doors. After laying you down in his bed, he takes a moment to slip off your shoes, setting them aside. He eases your purse off of your shoulder, and places it on the nightstand. After sprawling a thin blanket over you, he takes a step back and puts his hands on his hips to admire the perfectly domestic scene he’s set.

Slowly, he breaks out into a smile. His bed swallows you up, makes you look small and lonely. He’s the missing piece, of course. He’s already looking forward to seeing himself complete the picture in the mirror above you. He imagines coming home to you like this, curled up in his–no, your shared bed, blanket pulled up over your shoulders to block the chill left by his absence.

Oh, how you’ll miss him when he’s gone.

You’ll have nothing and no one to concern yourself with except for him. No burdens, no dread, no stress. You’ll live in peace and security the likes of which you can scarcely imagine, spoiled rotten by the bounty of all that he is.

Neither of you will ever be lonely again.

Tilting his head slightly, he listens to the sound of you. Your breathing is shallow, the beat of your heart steady. Normal people don’t realize it, don’t have the capacity for it, but a heartbeat is as distinct as a fingerprint. Over the years, he’s learned to read them as such. He’s memorized yours. There isn’t much for him to do in the time that you’re asleep. He knows precisely how long you’ll be out; the anesthesia blend he gave you was straight out of Vought’s lab, and the dose he gave you leaves him with at least an hour before the two of you meet properly. The anticipation is enough to make him giddy. For all that Homelander knows about you, there is plenty he does not. The externals of your life have only provided him so much, but that will come in time. He didn’t bother with perusing your social media accounts, not being particularly proficient in them himself. 

Besides, he wants getting to know you to be an organic experience.

He remembers to take your phone out of your bag and dispose of that rag he used to dose you while he’s at it. He unlocks your phone the way he’s seen you do a dozen times before, and spends some time ensuring that no one will be expecting you anywhere any time soon. All it takes is one quick email and you no longer have a job. A few social media posts later, you’ve informed anyone who might think of you that you’ll be enjoying an impromptu sabbatical in Europe.

The power of technology. After that, he pops your phone into the safe behind one of the dozens of portraits on his wall.

When he hears you starting to stir, renewed butterflies start fluttering about in his stomach. You have no idea that your entire life–no, your entire perception of reality–is about to change. No more dodgy commutes, no more living paycheck-to-paycheck. You’ll be free to admire the world from the lap of luxury–his lap, to be specific. You make a quiet moan, the chemical fog wearing off gradually. He moves swiftly to your bedside, primed with a welcoming smile, hands on his hips. “Riiiise and shine, sleepyhead,” he coaxes, leaning forward at the waist. Still disoriented from the drugs in your system, you stare at him as if you’re dreaming. He doesn’t blame you. In almost every other reality, there’s no explanation for the fact you’re seeing America’s favorite hero, the Homelander, standing above you. He knows the side effects of the drug have left a strange buzzing in your ears, and that your tongue likely feels heavy and cottony. He’s already got water for you on the bedside table. “Home…lander?” You manage to get out. His smile broadens. That’s the first time he’s heard you say his name. You look cute like this, bleary-eyed and needy. He’s grown accustomed to seeing you as a put together provider, self-sufficient and tending to the needs of those around you, but rarely your own. Seeing you unraveled feels like a secret intimacy for him alone. “The one and only,” he preens. Now that you’ve seen him posed valiantly by your side, he takes a seat on the bed next to you, reaching out to brush his gloved knuckles along your forehead. He attributes the slight flinch to your drug addled confusion. Poor thing. If he’d had an alternative to using a sedative, he would have preferred that.

Not that it matters now. You’re finally here.

( chapter two )

[woiwais]

Luffy week: Day 1 & 2 | Smile and favorite outfit :]

[oaksapling]

decided i didnt like her last makeover so here's nicky version 289 or something

[infamous-if]

I've posted 3 things on Patreon as the first bulk set for July. Thank you for being patient with me as I juggle this and finishing chapter 3!

IRIS CH2PART 2 POV SCENE (4K) (band tier)

SEVEN FIRST DATE (MC POV) (6K) (fan + band tier)

SEVEN FIRST DATE (SEVEN POV) (8K) (band tier)

PLAY HERE

[humming-fly]

Happy to report I have finally started listening to Malevolent and to no one's surprise I am already obsessed (I'm almost done with s2 atm please don't send me spoilers yet sdlkfj)

I'll skip over my usual formality of having one normal art post before diving into shitposts let's not waste anyone's time here

[raayllum]

—Tales of Xadia, Callum's bio

[benzgarfield]

bbenzalert IG update September 4, 2024

Happy Birthday Benz 😊

[lillibuds]

@toastysandhamwich 🫡

[ladybugsimblr]

Random project 2185: Making Simlish versions of old magazine covers. Step one of updating the magazine clutter recolor I did many moons ago while avoiding thinking about other projects on The List™️, story tingz, gameplay and learning to make poses.

[gaylactic-fire]

The Zelda movie needs to be silly, but not in a "haha so quirky" modern Disney princess kind of way. It needs to be unabashedly goofy and weird with the same genuine sincerity as presented in the games. It needs to have plot points and or characters that make you go "huh??" in the most endeared way possible. It needs to have serious moments that are unintentionally whacky as fuck. I won't accept a Zelda movie that takes itself completely seriously unless they're pulling some Oscar winning story out of their ass (which won't happen). Don't ever let them take the silly out of Zelda

[intotheelliwoods]

Start here! <- <-

Haha I posted this thing at such a weird time, but I am really happy with this update :)

[puppetwoman17]

⚠️BRIEF BUT NOT INDEAPTH DISCUSSION OF R WORD⚠️

Okay I just need to put this here because I cannot stop thinking about it(which is what tumblr is for so yeah).

There’s this one Captain Marvel fanfic I read that’s unfinished. I can’t for the life of me remember where I read it or the name, but it was def memorable.

Basically Cap is accused of r wording a younger female hero(who I think ACTUALLY did it to him as Billy but never said anything) so the League gets worried that he’s been touching the YJ team and throws him out. Cap hides, not transforming and staying as Billy as a manhunt for cap begins.

Constantine is the only person who knows who he is and begs him to reveal his identity, but Billy won’t do it. He’s not mad at the JL for what they did, to John’s annoyance, but he’s still traumatized(I think there’s a scene where Aquaman beats tf out of him, like I said it’s been some time).

I’m just sitting here, thinking about Cap going into hiding and Billy just growing up watching everyone who doesn’t know absolutely hate his hero persona. There are wanted posters around the world. Heroes regularly try to find him. The few times he’s mentioned by one on the news it’s with total disdain.

His sister and Freddy are completely outraged by this but Billy can’t help but be understanding. It’s not like he HAS to be understanding for him to be a morally good character. He just keeps thinking in favor of the JL. He tells them that, realistically, no one’s going to NOT believe someone when they make such claims, especially if the apparent perpetrator looks like he could throw a tank. ESPECIALLY x2 if the person who made the claim is a teenage girl.

How would Billy live his life, only being able to help from the shadows? How would magic users cope with KNOWING, but being unable to say anything because it’s the ONE time their champion has ever given them an order? How would it feel like for the JL and YJ? Believing that they did the right thing, but still feeling a gaping hole in their ranks?

They’d chant that it was right, it was right, it was right. But why does it feel so wrong?

Would the JL ever find out? Or would Billy have to gain the courage to tell them? Or would someone else entirely spill the beans, whether to use it for their own gain, or just be so completely tired of their self-sacrificial champion?

How would the JL react? How guilty would aquaman feel? How horrified would they feel when Billy starts defending them instead of asking them to step a few paces back? How would they feel if he began ostracizing himself if he went back to work with them? Not being able to look anyone in the eye?

Now you can see why I can’t stop thinking about it😅

[k0ri0]

[START] [PRE] [NEXT]

I am so sorry its been so long, i lost motivation to continue this for a bit BUT IM BACK, just know updates may be lesser quality or sparse bc ive got my final year of school next year and shit is gonna be BUSYY (yayyyy)

but anyway take this small sliver

[mothscotch]

art style crisis doodles (+ drawings i forgot 2 post (sorry goalie

bearded ghost design by kekamao its genuis

[simelune]

amelia ulrich, a hexblood witch — reimagined.

funnily enough, i also found a picrew i did of her back in 2020 !! she's def changed lol... but she's still just as unhinged!