#Mojo muses

[littlequeenies]

July 11, 2011 - Jay Mehler and Lee Starkey attend the Mojo Honours List, London, Britain.

Lee's jaquet is decades old! :D

[nascentwaves]

"Machines designed to reap destruction and annihilate populations can never be impartial or considered 'sentient' to the same degree that organics or even synthetics are. Committees that gawk about ethics regarding those unfeeling hunks of metal must really be confident with the notion that their algorithm droids can be something more than slaves and killing machines.

"Ironic that these same committees tend to use their own droids to 'maintain order' on worlds in their grasp...their body counts are way higher than mine ever will be~."

[clawedevil]

Tag Dump because I'm tired of not having my tags handy.

Also NSFW headcanons because i forget my headcanons. I have headcanons but I only write smut when the stars align and two blood sacrifices have been made in my honor so no one needs to know these.

HIM's eyes go black when they c*m.

They are a nonbinary-shapeshifter but they prefer to have a pen*s.

Head game is insane.

They are EXTREMELY vain so when it comes to talking during its usually stuff like "you like my *blank*" "i know it feels good when i *blank*"

Believe it or not, HIM is a switch. They have no preference for either though. It's really just whatever they feel like at the moment.

They love to leave marks in visible spots.

Finally, the tags:

ooc. ｢ monster fucker simulator. ｣ ic. ｢ lace a lie with truth none is sweeter. ｣ him. ｢ creature most vile. ｣ mojo. ｢ prove yourself worthy to a worthless cause. ｣ musings. ｢ delights of pain and pleasure. ｣ headcanons. ｢ to kill a god. ｣ aesthetic. ｢ luxuries of devil to make angels weep. ｣ style. ｢ dipped with gold and blood. ｣ self promo. ｢ fall in decay. ｣ promo. ｢ succumb to your weakness. ｣ desires. ｢ the taste of the forbidden  ｣

body. ｢ all the better to eat you with. ｣ fc. ｢ evil always seeks to tempt. ｣ answers. ｢ look to the heavens and pray to devils. ｣ jojoisnomo. ｢ beautiful disaster i’ll eat you. ｣ mojo and him. ｢ own me i'll let you play the role. ｣ rebelpuff. ｢ what's the most you ever lost ｣

[wolpertinger-prince]

Idk if I can actually call myself a Powerpuff Girls fan just show me the monkey.

[allthingsglittergold]

Mojo has Sheer Force. His bite strength must be absolutely horrific.

The highest recorded bite force in the world comes from the Saltwater Crocodile at 3700 PSI, and the Nile Crocodile is estimated at 4-5000 PSI. I imagine Mojo absolutely has a stronger bite force than that given his size and the fact he's a monster, and that's before Sheer Force is added in.

He might not be able to lower your defence with Crunch but he sure can bite you clean in two with it.

[lunarxdaydream]

♬ - For a smaller playlist (3-5 songs/pieces) that inspires the mun to write in general. 

( music headcanons )

♬ - For a smaller playlist (3-5 songs/pieces) that inspires the mun to write in general. 

1. Honeymoon Un Deux Trois - Luca Kaneshiro 2. 星 菫 (Star Violet) - Ali Project 3. L'Amour Looks Something Like You - Ali Project 4. La Llorena - Ángela Aguilar 5. Pequeña Ciudadana - Juan Fernando Velasco ft. El Puma

bonus: La Nave del Olvido - José José

It took some time trying to narrow these down without having them being solely piano pieces. I do play so that may be why I'm a little biased to it but the traditional guitar is a great weak spot of mine because of my dad. In fact, #5 is very special to my heart because my mom would sing it while my dad played in every party. Nowadays, I sing it with my dad instead alongside one other song. The bonus is a song I heard growing up my entire life (even Ema heard it growing up) so this is a classic in our household.

Also another little fun fact with #5, it is a traditional song from Ecuador that we call a pasillo. It's a traditional genre in Ecuador and something that I listened in all our parties aside from the classics in Salsa, Meregnue, Rancheras, Baladas and etc.

|| @arcxnumvitae ||

[madanimalscientist]

Ok the joke about Bobby guest judging on Drag Race was funny but you know which mutants would absolutely slay as DR judges? (besides Jumbo Carnation who is kind of an obvious choice)

Emma Frost - style icon, I feel like she and Michelle Visage would get along really well actually

Roberto Da Costa (on either the US or Brasil, or por que não os dois?) - style, money, sense of humor, could probably win an X-Men reading challenge (def would do the best out of the New Mutants)

Storm - she is Mother

Northstar (on DR Canada) - Olympian, queer icon, and it'd be cute for him and Kyle both to guest judge

Betsy Braddock would be fun on DR UK as a guest judge given former model + now a superhero (tho I think Meggan would be hella fun to see on it, especially given her love of media)

Nightcrawler would be great at judging an acting/comedy challenge given his background and sense of heart/humor and also he's a total thirst trap and the queens deserve that. As do the viewers ;p

[winterfollows]

Me: I did so much writing today, oh wow!

Also me: added two whole replies to the queue

[my-t4t-romance]

this album of dead kennedys covers by various artists goes SO HARD and I'm thinking of making a patch of the cover art for The Jest (denim battle vest)

my dad really liked this one in the 90s I'm so glad he found it again

[sungpeach]

a look at sung's apartment

soft pastels in pink > yellow > purple > other colors

doesn't have the Biggest apartment. two bedrooms, the second is pretty small just to be used as a makeshift studio/guest room when needed

one bathroom that Is pretty nice though. values skincare and relaxing with a good bath and all that shit so he wants it to also be a comforting place

kinda messy but tries to keep it cleaner in the living room/kitchen

that applies to the style too. it's more like white with pops of pink yellow n purple

bedroom is a pastel nightmare filled with his heart's little desires, which mostly means full of so many knick knacks, pictures, fan memorabilia, and stuffed animals

loves fluffy rugs, rugs are Everywhere

he's cultivated his cute and pastel aesthetic over the last few years and really really loves his home. it makes him feel safe and warm and cozy

that said he sees a cutesy item anywhere and wrestles with himself on whether it's a necessary purchase (it almost never is and buying it only occurs maybe 5% of the time, but to be FAIR he sees a lot of cutesy shit so that's still a decent amount of things)

[misc-muses]

@timeless-stories replied: Marsha: Why would you want an enlarged forehead?

"To make room for my big brain!"

[dcymcres]

quick little post to say I gtg and get ready for work 2nite!! but I enjoyed making starters, so pls go like my starter call. it's in my ooc tag somewhere lol. have a great evening & I'll be back later. ♡

[arcielee]

Okay, shoutout to the wonderful @hightowhxre for her tags.

I agree with @helaelaemond that Tom would be a victim of the Female Orgasm is a Myth era, but I also believe he could be converted.

Imagine those beautiful fingers curled within your cunt, his brow knitted with his focus, rapt to your breathless direction as he is determined to see it through to your completion. And then... as he is three knuckles deep, he feels the Coochie Clench, he feels the pulse of your heartbeat with your peak, and he just lights up like...

He would become a believer.

pls grace us with a ranking of the ewan mitchell characters from best fuck to worst fuck

enquiring minds NEED to know

ok well you need to reblog this with what YOU think too!

From best to worst in my opinion in terms of what I think they're like in bed, and how they'd meet my needs:

Osferth (always learning, always improving, tender and kind, adaptive, appreciates respite in the middle of a good pounding sesh, easy to laugh with when things don't go to plan)

Billy W (pussy eating champ three years in a row, whimpers, surprisingly good soft dom when he's in the right mood)

Aemond (Helaena taught him well, can be rough and possessive, can be gentle and adoring depending on which side of insane he is at any given time)

Michael (gets better over time, terrified of what's between a woman's thighs for the longest time. Quick learner but gets frustrated when he doesn't get it right the first time. Character most likely to induce awkward pauses that can be difficult to recover from)

Abraham (huge daddy energy, might not last long himself but can go for rounds and rounds and rounds until you're done too, definitely would spit in your mouth and make you swallow - bonus points in my book)

Tom (doesn't know the complexities of making a woman come, so whilst it is a fun experience, he'd probably assume the female orgasm is a myth and if he doesn't make you come, he doesn't think that it's his fault. Still fun to fuck)

Ettore (assuming its consensual, he probably still does wild things without asking, just following whatever he wants to do. Selfish, too aggressive when fingering, bites when he goes down)

Genyen/Sean (doesn't wash his foreskin, thinks doggy is the best position, thinks aggressively pulling hair is sexy, watches way too much porn to have a realistic understanding of sex)

[thekristen999]

It has been a while since the Muse and I have spoken. I started a fic last month that I didn't jive with, so I put it on the backburner. Now, I feel like I've got a little mojo back and I might complete a one-shot for a friend that I'm actually happy with.

Here's a snippet from my competence kink fic. :)

..

Being obsessive was one of Buck's things. It was how he was wired, solving equations to occupy his brain, analyzing things to the tiniest detail. It was a coping mechanism, yes, a sign of anxiety most definitely. But sometimes it was a puzzle unto itself.

Eddie frequently occupied his thoughts, which was nothing unusual. However, he couldn't pinpoint the cause of his latest fixation, what was drawing him into Eddie's orbit now, consuming all his mental energy.

"Are you attempting to blow up Eddie with your mind?" Chim whispered during one shift.

Buck made a concerted effort to stop staring, to clear his mind of anything but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, to the extent that he spent the remainder of the next two shifts alternating between the gym and the roof.

It didn't help.

..

tagging a few people who might be interested:

@mellaithwen @exhuastedpigeon @dangerpronebuddie @hippolotamus

@tizniz @fleurdebeton @ci5mates @elysynn

@spotsandsocks @verylazyanimal @andavs @the-likesofus

[allthingsglittergold]

All of Gold's team are terrifying. Like I need to stress that for most other trainers that aren't Champions, any one of them would singularly class as an 'ace' by every metric.

But obviously his actual ace is his Feraligatr, Mojo, given to him as a Totodile by Professor Elm before he had him run the errand to Mr. Pokemon's house (which then turned into an entire five-year long Pokemon journey).

Mojo is the epitome of 'a trainer resembles their Ace'. He's calm and polite (knowing full well he's big and scary) but also isn't remotely shy about letting his feelings known in his own way. He's also the first to stand up for any percieved injustice or slight, just like Gold is.

Mojo has also grown significantly since he evolved; almost a foot in height (taking him to 8'2) and likely won't ever stop growing. Like all Feraligatr, this top-heavy nature means he's more comfortable being on all fours and he'll usually trot around like that outside of battle (or sometimes in battle).

With the exception of Winnie, Mojo's moveset is the most diverse and ever-changing out of Gold's lineup though it will often be physical based with a smattering of special moves as needed.

And, finally, Mojo is the eldest brother out of the clutch that also contained @missingstarter and @silveratonement's Feraligatr (though the difference is only by 10-20 seconds).

[arcielee]

This is... the best response. 💜 Mojo, my darling, I just adore you with all my heart.

A love that burns.

Summary: Aemond is a man obsessed and you are the object of his unwavering devotion. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1037 Warnings: Canon book Aemond, manipulation?, sexual themes, oral (female receiving), p in v, absolute depravity and murder. Author’s Note: This is a reader insert, but with the third person perspective, it is a bit Alys-coded but better? (Hopefully) A big thank you to @bhxrdy and @itbmojojoejo helping me fix some mistakes and for helping me choose the title 💜🦝 This story is dedicated to the wonderful, the talented @aegonx who gave me prompt #371 by @creativepromptsforwriting. She also made my nifty banner for my blog, so I owe her everything. I am always happy to attempt any requests, I just cannot promise a timely fashion, as it is more whenever the muse strikes. Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @sylas-the-grim @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @hb8301 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9

He was a dragon incarnate with the blood of Old Valyria knitted within the ichor that coursed through his veins. Aemond was proud, tall and lithe, his broad shoulders held back despite the burdened weight of his reputation that preceded him–Aemond the One-Eye, Aemond the Kinslayer, but those utterances only rolled like rain against the scales of Vhagar; he was unbothered, unharried, especially now his role within the kingdom elated with the title Prince Regent, and with it the Conqueror’s Crown to wear. 

The metal and rubies held a weight that now grounded him, reminding him of his purpose, and he went to reclaim Harrenhal with the intent of killing every Strong bastard. 

Here is where he had found her, an eerie calm amongst the chaos, silent despite the cries of mercy as each person was brought to the courtyard and slain. She had watched, unblinking, with an expression that was akin to when Aemond had watched his nuncle take the head of Vaemond Velaryon in the Throne Room a year prior; it had been a moment that kindled a bloodlust that thrummed beneath his skin, a vengeance that could not be forgotten. 

That night, when she was brought to his quarters, she greeted him like an old lover, a sweet kiss pressed to his lips, her soft murmur, “I have been waiting for you, my prince.” 

She came from a noble house without the wealth of Westeros, but revered still and old, old enough to carry the blood of the First Men and its mystical properties. She had followed her sister to Harrenhal when she was chosen to be the next wife for Ser Simon Strong.

Both were now dead and she did not seem to care. 

“Then why did you choose to accompany your sister?” Aemond had asked her after; it was that intimate exchange shared in their bared embrace, nestled on sex soaked linens with her plush thighs serving as a pillow.

Her fingers thread through his silver hair. “The Isle of Faces,” and she smiled, as if she were stating the obvious; she leaned forward to give a chaste kiss to his lips. “I came to listen to the whispers of the weirwoods.” 

Behind closed doors he was intoxicated by her proximity, with an unbridled lust that replaced the blood in his veins, as if she were the very embodiment of his siren call. They fell into one another, and he felt something that burned within him, something that perhaps was always there and only now  ignited by her soft touch, by her gentle pull that brought him flushed against her chest. 

Aemond would worship her through the night, drinking her very essence until the brim of her overstimulation, until he saw her lashes clumped together from her unshed tears, and only then would he shift his weight between her thighs, flushed and slick from her peaks. 

He would move to press his heady cock, heavy and wanting, against her silken folds, and despite their many nights together, she would still feel split open, aware of the ridges and the veins of his thick member as he sheathed within. Her soft gasps came in response to his thrusts that would begin again the crests of ravishment that warmed her blood; and he would not stop his pace until she was a mewling mess, until the lewd sounds of skin to skin mixed with her cries of release, until his name was a repeated reverent prayer that spilled from her lips. 

Aemond hummed her praises, his hot exhale against the curve of her neck. “The gods made you for me alone,” he would breathe against her lips and they would part in a silent cry, her skin pebbling with pleasure. “You were made to take my cock, and you do so well.” 

His words brought her to the precipice and when she felt his hot pulse within her velvet walls, her own clenched in response to chase another climax with boneless ambition, with a sobbed release as the air tore from her lungs but she was breathless to reclaim. Only then would they curl into each other’s arms, their skin aglow with the intimacy shared, with the soft murmurs and quiet exchanges of lovers in their post-coital haze.

“I will have your son,” she promised him. “I can already feel the flames warming my womb.” 

She was always at his side, devoted, everpresent, with a severe gaze that served as a balm for the Prince Regent in the most twisted way. They called her his Blood Queen as she seemed to encourage a sadism that pulsed beneath, speaking that the gods knew what had to be done and that he was the vessel of their actions, always encouraging him to listen to the beckon of the blood of Old Valyria. 

Aemond became a man obsessed and she fed into his depravity; she spoke with such conviction and he believed her every word, her every prophecy. When she would take a boat across the waters, he would remain on the shore pacing like an animal caged, while Vhagar roared overhead, the wind beneath her wings causing turbulent waves that crashed against the lakeside. 

She returned as her namesake with blood that covered her hands and her dress; she would whisper what she saw to him alone, of what was to come and what needed to be done. On one such day, she spoke of the betrayal in the Riverlands, of those who had chosen to ally with the Blacks and their false queen. 

Aemond called for Vhagar and they climbed aback; she was knitted against his backside with her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades, and she could feel his rumbled command, “Dracarys,” to rain fire below them, scorching the very earth. She hummed her contentment, the scent of sandalwood and smoke, a scent that intimately belonged to the Prince Regent. 

Her arms curled around his slim waist and he looked down to see her small hand pressed against his chest. Though the histories would recall all the ugly things they had done, in this moment, as his palm reached to cover hers, all he thought was how their entwined fingers were so beautiful together. 

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