#Which I'm p sure turns ten next month. GOD.

[shima-draws]

WAIT YOURE A MOTHER 3 FAN TOO????? BEST BLOGGER ON THIS WEBSITE FR FR

NJDASNJKDAS YEAH YEAH for the few people who have known me long enough to know my Origin Story. I actually joined tumblr ten years ago as a Mom 3 ask blog :") It literally was the Start of my online presence here and I hold it so near and dear to my heart 🥰

[queenofbaws]

hello hello my friends!!! just a quick little update from yours truly - and a few snippets, of course ;)c

things continue to be strange and chaotic here, and as a result, my brain has decided to be...strange and chaotic :P i've been trying to stick to one project at a time and just soldier through, but said chaos is making that rough, so i'm trying to just get words down as they occur to me, regardless of what project they're for. so, much as i'd like to say "keep your eyes peeled for an [x] update soon!" the reality is that i have...no idea what's going to hold my attention for the next ten minutes, hahaha.

what i will say is i currently have three ongoing projects that are priorities, and those are like wringing blood from a stone, of mummy men & bathtub soup, and the tale(s) of the champion - so i've included little teaser snippets of those below! as always, thanks for your patience, your well-wishes, and for reading!!! i hope you and yours are doing well, and that you're being extra kind to yourselves now that we're entering the winter months <3

like wringing blood from a stone

“Holy smokes, you sure take ‘protect and serve’ seriously out here, huh? Thirty minutes or your arrest is free—is it that kinda thing?” His head was spinning too fast to make a lick of sense out of that; luckily, Diane wasn’t having the same problem. “Believe it or not, he was already here. Kaitlyn, this is…” she paused just long enough to meet Chris’s gaze, but he couldn’t for the life of him read what he saw there in her eyes. “…uh, well, meet Sheriff Hackett.” “Sheriff Ha—oh.” Then, with more feeling, “Oh. I…huh, wow, really? I don't think I would've guessed that.” Chris shrugged. “We get that a lot. Turns out there were only enough handsome genes for one sibling in this family.” “Yeah,” Diane sighed, “and it’s a crying shame it’s Bobby who got ‘em all.” That broke the tension instantly. Chris and Travis both whirled to stare at her, expressions incredulous. Gently nudging Kaitlyn’s shoulder, Diane nodded towards them. “See?” she asked. “Now you can tell they’re related.” “Wow, you’re not wrong! Weird.”

of mummy men & bathtub soup

“Oh good God, Alex. This is obviously some kind of dumb joke—” “Did you find something?” Ashley asked suddenly, looking up from the table. “Something that felt like it was…I don’t know, um, hidden? Not just lost or left behind but actually hidden?” Even knowing it was bullshit, Conrad had to admit…Brown had been well cast. A finger of dread slid down his spine in a lover’s caress, making him shudder; Alex and Julia, less sure of the truth behind this whole debacle, did a little more than that. Fuck, he watched the color drain from JJ’s face like she was some kind of cartoon character, and Mr. Big Bad Med School Bro wasn’t doing a whole hell of a lot better, by the looks of it. The spell broke when Julia whirled on Alex. “Did you say any—” she froze, turning on him then. “You told them! You told them, didn’t you, you little shit weasel?!” Chris sat up straighter. “Shit weasel?”

the tale(s) of the champion

“Which one,” she repeated. “It’s the first thing Varric said during his questioning, did you know that?” The smile in her voice made its first appearance, quirking the corners of her mouth into a shape subtle enough that the Inquisitor felt as though the two of them were in on some secret joke together. “Cassandra asked him…well, demanded of him, I suppose, that he tell her everything he knew about the Champion. And he responded by asking her—” “Which one.” She watched Leliana’s smile grow. It wasn’t by much, but it was there all the same. The sense of being in on a joke grew right along with it. “Now, she probably thought he was poking fun at her…and in all likelihood he was, but of course we know now that there was so much more to it, don’t we?” Leliana rose from her table with the grace of a ghost, each fluid movement reminding her in no uncertain terms that, spymaster or not, agent of the Divine or not, the woman opposite her was, at the end of the day, a bard before all else. “Cassandra is skilled in many, many areas, Inquisitor, as I’m sure you’ve come to learn. Certainly she’s without equal on the battlefield, but when it comes to…reading people, let us say…” Again that inscrutable smile grew. “Well…suffice it to say an answer like that would’ve caught my attention, had I been the one questioning him.” “But you weren’t.” The last word came out strangely choked—she hadn’t been able to decide whether or not she’d wanted it to be a question.

[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓.

— 3.0k words

eijirou kirishima | hard dom + dubcon jic + f!reader + exhibitonism + face-fucking + dumbification + car sex + more! minors dni.

"Made me come all this way...it’d be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it."

"No, no, no, no, no—c'mon," you cry as your car engine spits and sputters to a stop in the road, coughing like an old man with asthma before it's dead for good. Jamming your heel on the gas pedal, you twist your key in the ignition, but there's no use. You're fucking stuck.

You sigh, before slamming your forehead against the steering wheel. It's hard enough to sting, and the blaring horn startles all unsuspecting birds in a five-mile radius, but you could care less. Stuck in the middle of the woods at one in the morning, AAA membership-less with nothing but the clothes on your back and the vehicle you came with. Short cuts are a fucking myth.

Mina's the only person you can think of calling—because frankly, she's the only one who'd know a mechanic who could help at this time of night if one exists. Which you doubt. Severely.

"[Y/N]?" Mina answers, semi-urgently. You wonder if you startled her out of a good sleep, but knowing the night owl, her evening is just beginning. "What's up?"

"I'm fucking stuck in the middle of nowhere," you groan, banging your head against the back of the seat though you know she can't see you. "Car's not working."

"Oh no," she coos, and her pity is useless. "Do you have AAA?"

"No. Do you have a mechanic?"

"A mechanic...at one am? I don—wait," she interrupts before you hear something akin to rustling sheets. "I might have a friend who could help! But don't get your hopes up girlie, he's a heavy sleeper."

You shrug, shaking your head. "At this point, I'm desperate."

"Alrighty!" Mina confirms, and now all you can do is fucking hope her friend pulls through. "I'll give him a quick buzz and then send his number over, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," you breathe, relaxing (somewhat) with your chin against the steering wheel. "Thanks, girl."

"Of course!" she cheers, and you wonder how someone could have so much energy at this time of night. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," you snort. "I might need it."

Riiiing! Riiiing!

Eijirou's had a long day.

A pipe busted at the auto shop today, resulting in an immediate flood—meaning they had to get everything that could possibly rust out as quickly as possible, aka everything in the goddamn shop.

So, yeah. He's had a long day, and when he's finally able to get under the covers and go the fuck to sleep, Mina calls him with this.

"Hey...Eijirou, buddy, best friend—"

"Mina, I love you, but what do you want?" Eijirou grunts into the phone, voice worn and ragged from limited sleep and his terribly long day. One am is never an appropriate time to call anybody, but he figures something has to be up—Mina's not the type to call in the middle of the night.

"Um, well. My homegirl’s kinda stuck in the woods with car troubles—"

"The woods."

It takes Mina a second but she hums in confirmation, and Eijirou can see her head nodding from where he lays. He sighs, rolling on his back to blink up at the ceiling. "Yep!"

"What is she doing in the woods at midnight?"

"I don't know!" Mina exclaims. Eijirou runs a hand over his face. "I just—please, Ei? She doesn't have AAA or anything and it's really, really late. All you have to do is hotwire her car or something, right? It's not like she totaled it or anything."

And dammit. Eijirou hates being a nice person.

"Just give me ten."

Mina practically gasps out a thank you, "You're a lifesaver Ei! Really! I—"

She's interrupted by the buzz of his phone—this time, from an unknown number. Eijirou raises an eyebrow, "That her?"

"Should be!" The pinkette says. Eijirou's feet finally touch the floor and it's painfully cold. His bed has never looked more appealing, and that's counting all those instances in high school. "Thanks again, Ei!"

"Yep," Eijirou says, popping the 'p,' before clearing his voice and switching the line. Customer Service at one am, here he comes.

"Red Riot Auto Repair and Services, how may I help you?"

All he receives is a grunt on the other end of the phone: "My car won't turn on."

Eijirou waits for you to give him a little more to work with, but it's clear that's all you have to say when you ask hello to ensure he's still on the other end of the line. Runs his hands through his hair, he silently prays he won't have to leave the house to get your car to work.

"Did you try jiggling the key?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid," you huff, and Eijirou's eyebrows fold in exasperation. He insists you do it again though, and hears the weak splutter of your engine through the phone with a heavy heart. "'S fucking useless."

"Did you try tapping the battery terminals?"

"The battery whatsitals?" You say, too loud and smart-mouthed for the very thin amount of patience Eijirou harbors. He reaches for his hair tie, satisfied enough with the messy bun he makes on the first try.

"Just send me your location," Eijirou sighs, moving for a jacket before snatching the keys to the shed. He'd rather just get this over with than beat around the bush.

Luckily, you're not far. 

"You drive that thing?" is your first comment, and Eijirou can't even appreciate your beauty before your first words shatter your image completely, and he's slamming the door to his truck with rolling eyes, rusted toolbox heavy in his hand. "It looks like Mater from Lightning McQueen."

Eijirou just stares at you for a second, just to see if you're really serious, and resists the urge to scoff when it seems like you are.

"It's a truck," is all he says, before marching around you and to the task at hand—your car. "Pop the hood."

You huff, but you listen, and Eijirou wastes no time in getting to work. You watch with your elbows balanced on the rim, curious but quiet, and that allows him to get in the zone enough to realize there are countless problems with your car.

"When was the last time you took this thing into the shop?" He probes. You click your tongue, eyes tracing the outlines of the trees as you search for an answer. That's never a good sign.

"Um...never?"

"And how long have you had it?"

"A few years," you nod, and Eijirou drops his head.

"It's a miracle you made it this far in the first place," he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. What the hell is he going to do now? There's no way your car is moving anywhere tonight. You frown, jamming your hands on your hips.

"Well? Are you going to fix it or what?"

"I can fix it," Eijirou says with a shrug, closing your hood. "But not tonight."

"What do you mean not tonight?" You badger, breathing down his neck as he hikes back to his truck to set the toolbox down. There's no reason to carry it if he's not going to need it.

"I mean, your car's going to need a solid six months before it can run again, Sweetheart."

When Eijirou turns, you're much too in his face for his liking. He can practically feel your breath against his chest, and it has him rolling his eyes, leaning against his truck with arms crossed.

"Yeah, okay, but I need it to run tonight," you explain, gesticulating so wildly Eijirou fears his own chest may fall in the cross-fire. "Like, I need to get home tonight."

"I can't—" the redhead sighs, running his hand over his face. You're terribly difficult, and if Mina had given him a proper warning he probably wouldn't be here in the fucking first place. "Listen. My shop is out of commission for the next few days 'cause of a flood. I can work on your car or whatever, but it'll take a sec, so the most I can do is drop you at a hotel down the road or somethin'. Sound like a plan?"

"No," you growl, claws and all, and Eijirou wishes for nothing but death. "That doesn't sound like a plan! I don't know you, what makes you think I'll get in a car with you?"

Oh. My. God.

"Then you can spend the night in your car and have Mina come get you in the morning," he huffs, stomping over to the driver's side of his truck. "So it's either you're gettin' in, or I'm leaving ya."

With that, he slams the car door shut, shoves his key in the ignition, and counts to fucking ten, and on nine and a half you're flinging open the passenger door and bouncing in the seat, arms crossed over your chest in indignance. You don't even look him in the eye.

"Seatbelt," he warns. You tut.

"I don't need a fucki—"

"Put on the goddamn seatbelt."

You don't say anything, but he's satisfied by the click that follows. Eijirou shifts into drive and you two take off.

"The seat's so uncomfortable."

Not even twenty feet.

"Suck it up," is all the pity Eijirou has to offer. He's preoccupied with trying to get from this side road to a main road with, you know, actual civilization. The road is unsteady—unsteady enough that a bump sends the both of you flying towards the roof of his car, and naturally, you have something to say about it.

"Y'know, for a mechanic, you're not a very good driver," you say, and it has Eijirou's fists tightening around his steering wheel. His patience wears down until it has the height of a penny, and Eijirou worries for when it shatters because he has no clue what he'll do if it does.

"And it smells a little funky," you continue anyway, eyes wandering around the cabin aimlessly."Kinda like cheese. No offense."

Eijirou pulls over at that, teeth grinding. Is he really going to snap over cheese comment?

“Is this a condom?”

Yes. Yes, the fuck he is.

"Get out."

"Um—excuse me?" You blink, eyebrows raising in offense. "You're kicking me out. Because I found a fucking rubber?”

Eijirou glares your way and he's sure you can feel him radiating fury, and that's enough to convince you to hop out of the car without another word. He follows, slamming the door behind him.

"Okay? Now what?" You growl, and Eijirou loves it—the false display of confidence. Because he knows it won't take much to break you once he gets you under his thumb, and you'll look so pretty once he does. Cocking his head to his side, he tells you to come here without having to open his mouth. You follow.

"Now, on your knees."

You splutter at his request, rolling your eyes as if he wasn't being serious. Though you shut up once you hear the clink of his belt, lips widening in revelation, and Eijirou thinks you'd look much prettier with your mouth full.

"You made me come all this way—it'd be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it," Eijirou says, and the way you shiver implies that you like this more than you let on. He coos when you say nothing, "And for the first time today she's got nothin' to say. See? You're improving already."

He gives you a second to move. When you don't, he lifts an eyebrow. "Knees, Princess."

You do and Eijirou groans at the view, palming his hardening cock at the sight of your bambi eyes blinking up at him—and it's a pretty one, at that. Leaning against the door of his truck, he grunts, "Take it out."

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his boxers and Eijirou shivers upon contact with the cool air, but the warmth of your palm makes up for it. You spit on his cock with a curled lip and it's nothing short of crude, before you're swirling your tongue around the head and taking him as far as you can possibly go.

"Uh-uh," Eijirou tuts, grabbing you by the hair to pull your mouth off his cock. "We got at my pace, Sweetheart."

"Why?" You pout with a curled lip. Eijirou scowls.

"Because," he says, before stuffing half of his cock down your throat, "I'm gonna put that big fuckin' mouth to use at my pace."

With that, Eijirou thrusts into your mouth, using the grip he has around your hair as leverage. Your throat is impossibly warm and the way you choke has him keening, and that's enough for his hips to start picking up mindlessly.

"Shit—what a dirty fuckin' girl," he says, smirking when you moan around his cock. "You like this? You like sucking off a guy you just met?"

Your eyes flutter at that, nails digging into his thighs, and it nearly has him cooing. When you swallow around him Eijirou's hips stutter and he grunts, "In public, no less. Anyone could drive by and see you taking my dick down your throat...but you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want the world to know how much of a slut you are."

Your hand falls between your thighs and Eijirou grins like the devil as he watches you touch yourself on the dirty road, desperate just because knows how to push the right buttons. That's enough to have him caving, demanding you rise to your feet and get in the backseat of his car.

"Hands and knees," Eijirou urges, his body towering over yours from behind. It's not long before he's pinning your wrists to the windshield with one hand and using the other to land a harsh slap on your ass; harsh enough to make you jolt forwards from the force.

"Such a pretty ass," he coos before slapping it again, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip to muffle the sound. "And it's all for me, ain't it, Princess?"

You nod, but Eijirou spanks you again—he's looking for an answer.

"Y-Yeah, yes, all yours just—" your hips wiggle in search of his cock. Eijirou chuckles, leveling his lips with your ear.

"Want me to fill you up, Princess?"

You gasp out a yes, nodding vehemently. The redhead finds he likes you like this much better, chest rumbling with arousal. "Yeah? How bad?"

"B-Bad, please, I need t—fuck!"

Eijirou stuffs you full with one thrust, and even he needs a moment, freehand searching to hold onto your hip while his grip tightens around your wrists. You quiver under him, and he swears he can feel your gut contract around his cock, eyelids fluttering when you grind against him.

"Holy shit," Eijirou finds himself wheezing, not expecting you to be so tight. You drop your head against the cool windshield, whimpering like the pretty little thing you are, shuddering as he pulls out before ramming himself in again until he's balls deep. You scream, back arching from the angle.

And fuck. It's impossible for him to stop after that.

"Fuckin' look at you," Eijirou chuckles, body practically caging you against the seat, "Drooling all over my window like a slut. Fuck, you really know how to get a guy goin' huh?"

“Pull—pull my hair,” you request, words from his pistoning hips. Eijirou tuts and rips your hands off the window in favor of pushing your head into the seat, not making a move to yank on your hair once.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making demands, Princess," he growls before his hot palm cracks against your ass, hissing from the way you tighten around him when he does.

You whine at that, pushing into him the best you can. It only spurs his hips on faster, and Eijirou lets go of your hands in favor of grabbing your face instead, groaning at the sight of the tears shining silver from the moonlight. He likes the fact that you can't do much but gasp and rock against him, your hands falling to clit to finally push yourself off the edge.

He looks at you and all he sees is his dumb little thing, who can't do anything, let alone get her car to work, and that's when Eijirou realizes he doesn't want this to be as much of a one-time thing as he initially thought.

"Gonna...gonna cum," you slur, cheek mashed flat against his window. Eijirou fucks you into the door of his truck, pace quick and bruising, as his mind thinks of all the fun you two could have together—all the fun he wants to have with you.

"Cum, Sweetheart. Make a mess of my cock and my leather seats, yeah? Show me how good I make you feel."

You tighten around his cock, tight, and that's enough to send him spiraling into an orgasm of his own, hips stuttering to a stop as he fills you up. Though his hips never stop, not until you're coming around his cock with a broken moan, curled toes digging into his car floor. He watches you catch your breath, splayed across the seat, with a sudden realization that he feels much lighter, but doubts it was the sex that did the trick.

"You fucked your anger out now?" You wheeze, breaking the silence, and Eijirou snorts.

"I—yes," he says before his eyes trail to the scratch marks around your hips and thighs. "Are you...okay?"

"Never been better," you toss your arms in the air like you're on a rollercoaster but lack the energy to scream. It's cute and it had the redhead re-evaluating everything, wondering how the day could start so shitty and yet, end so well. "Are you okay?"

His eyebrows furrow, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you shrug, and Eijirou finds it hard to stay focused when you look like that. "You asked me, so. Everyone needs a post-sex check-in, ya know?"

Fuck.

Fuck, yeah he's definitely keeping you.

[mr007pennyworth]

Let's play a game - Headcanon

[v; give me one more night to ruin my life again] - Paintball.

"Okay so I gotta tell this one...it was my fault, after all so, it's late 87' I think when this happened, we were in southern Germany, and both squads, that was about, 70 men, we had to take it in turns to be off-duty, anyway, my lot go first, I got given Lt Colonel around this time too, I was off to join the SAS in about six months-"

" I decided we needed a team-building exercise after a lot of fighting had erupted over the past week because many lads failed the exam to get into Major and were all feeling a bit stressed out about trying it again. So, one afternoon I'm out with Gareth, walking about this farmland and I see a sign, there's a paintball grounds, and there's me thinking, why not, we got the full tactical gear, we could even use the smoke bombs, we just need to make three teams and we're good to go, Gareth said to me, 'no, bad idea, they'll target me like a bull", I'll get to that bit in a second, So, we go back and everyone agrees to play"

"The next morning, we've got three teams, it's uneven for a reason, there's, myself, and three other Lt colonels, making up one team, then the Majors & Captains and below that, all the Lieutenants"

"So, we split off to three corners of the grounds, we got head sets the lot, it was a real show of who can use what they know in a game where none can get killed right? I mean, they learnt a lot about stealth fighting here, I mean, Gareth, god, right so, my team were Green, Major's and Captains were Red and Lieutenants were Yellow"

"Within about, half an hour, I'd shot down, six yellows and two reds, but I was very surprised I'd not seen Gareth...I chose to hunt about a bit, Lt Colonel Matthews and Mcgregor were just hardcore standing on a deck and shooting at whatever moved and shouting insults which helped to be a great distraction, a few more yellows down, I found a place to hide, it was a small cabin, I reloaded and sat waiting to see if I could see Gareth go by, took over an hour, I was bored by this point, I could hear the younger men screaming every time they got hit and god the stuff...I swear I heard someone at some point screaming 'he shot me in the dick'"

"Men had bruises left right and centre, even in full gear..."

"So, I get up thinking I'd just seen his coat, I'm leaning in the window with my gun up trying to spot him again but he's gone, anyway, it's about ten more minutes and I saw him again, I pretty sure he saw me because he dived and I missed...so, I pull back from the window thinking right, I'm going out there and I head for the doorway...like an idiot, I'm not watching my back, way on earth I didn't, I think I was a bit over-excited about trying to get Gareth when I hear a creak..."

"The pain...of being shot EIGHTEEN TIMES...dear lord"

"I looked over my shoulder and there he's climbed in the fucking window and fires, three in my back, two in my arse, one in the leg I turn shocked and he just keep shooting, god, I had bruises on my bruises, I managed to run for it, but he was following all the way back to my side of the barracks. We hadn't made a rule to be out, so you could be shot as many times until you ran out of ammo, or you tapped out, that was an option too, many of them caved early on, in the end, there was about...fifteen out of thirty-four left standing, only one of them, only one of them without a shot mark...and it had to be Gareth. How the hell, he'd done it I don't know...I shot him in the arse in retaliation after I noticed. But, yes, I mean, I won't lie, Gareth got Major two years before he should have, why, because four Lt Colonels got shot in paintball and this plucky young Captain didn't get even one mark on him. He deserved it, he'd finally had the one moment to show off just what he was capable of and he did, I've still not forgiven him for the dimple in my left butt cheek, he shot me straight in the arse with no hesitation...fucking proud of him, he managed to evade thirty-four players in that game, and shoot me...Mcgregor never let me live it down"

@dontcxckitup

[karls-writing-space]

『 Backstory 』

➵ Any TWs? :

➵ Subtle Mentions of Transphobia.

➵ Beau Romano - his deadname being Bianca - was born a year after his older sister, Faye. He lived with his semi-wealthy parents, Camilia and Dylan Romano in Manitoba.

When he was in second grade, Beau began to have a big sprout of creativity. He had drawn pictures of people and anthropomorphic animals, and create small little tales about these people/animals he has drawn. He Drew more and more of these as time slowly passed, and he enjoyed telling stories about these drawings. This had grown into a hobby, and something he enjoyed thoroughly.

His older sister came out when she was nine that she felt like a girl and that she was attracted to girls. Now, their parents are very accepting people and proceeded to assist and support Faye - who was formerly known as Lovino - get what she needed to transition.

Beau happily cheered on his big sister on, supporting her and showering her with love. He celebrated her transitions and her relationships happily, happy that he had such a prideful older sister.

By the time Beau was ten, he had begun to experiment with his sexuality by feeling some weird way towards a guy in music class. He talked with this guy more and more, and these feelings continued to grow.

After a couple of weeks, he felt the same way towards a girl in music class too. The feeling for the boy stayed, but now he had feelings for a boy and a girl.

One day, while walking to school with his mom, he heard two girls behind him talking about the people they liked. One of the girls had said that she was Bisexual, to which little Beau tugged on his mother's sleeve and asked what "Bisexual" meant. The woman explained that it was when someone liked two or more genders.

Beau put that into thought, and not even a minute later, he exclaimed "I'm Bisexual!"

His mom smiles and ruffled her son's - then daughter's - head. While Beau was still a kid, and she thought that Beau didn't know what he was talking about, the boy knew exactly what he was talking about.

Those feelings of the boy and girl faded over time. When Beau was twelve, he had fallen for another person. There had been this really cute girl in class who enjoyed drawing, and boy, what a talented artist she is.

Slowly, but surely, Beau began to fall in love with this girl, and spent time with her. Months went by, and the two had fallen in love.

The girl had confessed to Beau, which he accepted.

These two were a great, healthy Lesbian couple at the time. They were both very happy and loving. Beau had welcomed his girlfriend into the family, to which they welcomed with open arms.

The relationship lasted for two years until they fell out of love. The spark was gone. Their breakup wasn't nasty - they awkwardly stated that they lost that romantic spark on both sides. Beau had turned thirteen at the time. Beau and his ex-lover are on good terms to this day.

Once puberty hit, Beau looked at the body he had at the moment. He didn't quite fit with how it was. It made him feel like he didn't fit in a girl's body. He wanted to cut off his developing melons. So, he decided to talk to Faye later that evening, whom had fully transitioned. She was a beautiful woman. As he talked to her about what had been up, Faye stated that Beau could be Transgender, and even gave him a few articles on Gender Dysphoria.

Weeks of looking into gender identities later, Beau took the label "Trans Male" and used it to describe himself. With encouragement from Faye, he came out to his parents, who accepted him. He didn't want to transition as quickly as Faye, and wanted to take it slow. Testosterone and binding first.

As he grew older, Beau got bullied for being a Transgender Bisexual man. He was experiencing Transphobia from a few of his fellow peers. He knew that not everyone would accept him for being who he was, but this hurt quite a bit. Being bullied for this wasn't fair - he had every right to express himself! - but nooo, people were idiots.

His love for writing had grown more and more over the years. He began to write little stories that he presented in school and posted online. People loved his little stories. Whether they were fanfiction or characters and universes he had created in his head, they received a lot of positive feedback. Sure, there were haters, bullies, trolls, and rude people in general, but Beau didn't pay attention to them too much.

Beau had gotten top surgery when he was fifteen. He had been on testosterone for a year, and he had been binding for that time being. He loved his new, flat chest. Sure, he would have a scar on his chest from the surgery, but it didn't really bother him. He was happy that his tibbies were deleted. Now he could feel like a guy somewhat.

During the time passed from fourteen and fifteen years old, Beau had been watching a show known as "Total Drama" with Faye. The show was appealing to the young teen. The risky challenges were entertaining, most of the cast was likable, and it was really entertaining for the young boy. He'd talk about joining the show every now and then and would think about what his label or cliche would be on the show.

Timeskip to now, Beau and Faye are sixteen and seventeen respectively. After watching an ad to audition for the next season of Total Drama, Faye looked over at her little brother.

"Hey... You should audition to be on there!"

Beau, liking the idea, auditioned for the show. Once his audition was seen, Beau was invited to be on a season of Total Drama.

『 Voice Claim 』

『 Miscellaneous Facts』

➵ Theme Song

➵ Quotes

"O-Oh, hello...!"

"I'm Beau. It's nice to meet you!"

"It's too people-y in there. I-I'd like to stay right here."

"He's... Kinda pretty."

"Are you lonely? I could hang out with you if you'd like."

"I-It's not a diary! It's just a journal that I put my writing and ideas in."

"Sorry, I'd rather be by myself. I-It's nothing personal -- I j-just don't like large groups of people."

"Sorry... I'm rambling again, aren't I? Sorry about that..."

"He's a... He's a man. And I'm just a boy."

"Ciao, bello..!" (Hello, handsome..!)

"Aren't you guys a little too old for a bedtime story?"

"Fine, fine. Once upon a time, there were a few guys on an island who needed to go the fuck to sleep. G'night, guys."

"What do you mean that 'isn't a good bedtime story? I think it's a brilliant story."

"Fine... There was once this God named Fóllame de lado-"

"Hey - do you wanna fuck around with the others?"

"H-Hey! I apologize for interrupting what you were doing, but... I'd like to confess something if that's o-okay? Look, I'll cut to the chase. I... love you, dude. And not in some bromance way. Like... I have romantic feelings for you. I love you so much I could scream it to the world..! I hope you f-feel the same way. And if you don't? That's p-perfectly fine."

"Good morning, mio amore."

"Sorry, but could you like, shut up for five seconds? Thanks..."

➵ Ship Names (OC X Crush or OC X OC)

Duncan x Beau = BeauDun/ BeauCan

DJ x Beau = BJ / BeauJ

Alejandro x Beau = AleBeau

Mike x Beau = Meau/Bike

Lightning x Beau = Blightning/BeauLight

Topher x Beau = Beaupher / Beaupher

Shawn x Beau = Sheau / Bawn

➵ Random Facts

• If they're comfortable, Beau calls his male friends "Bello" (Handsome), and his female friends "Bella" (Beautiful).

For Nonbinary folk, it depends on what they prefer.

•Beau has learned how to play the ukelele from Faye.

•He would actually like to go windsurfing sometime!

• Speaking of his sister, she's a well-known acrobat/performer for her age. He admires her for being so talented in such a thing..

• His sister is an extrovert, and more outgoing than Beau. The two are opposites,,but yknow, opposites attract!

•Beau prefers to write stories that are/include horror, action, and supernatural/fantasy. He can write romantic stories, but he doesn't prefer writing things like that.

•He has written some shitty fanfictions when he was younger. He will share them among his friends and laugh at what he wrote.

•The languages he speaks are:

• English

•Italian

• (Some) Spanish. [Italian and Spanish are similar language-wise in a few ways. That, and Beau just wanted to learn Spanish.]

• Respectful boi when it comes to Pronouns, Names, People's likes and dislikes, etc.

•Beau has some family members that live in Italy. He has gone to Italy to visit them numerous times.

• Beau doesn't believe in soulmates. He thinks that it's just some fairytale thing that people believe in. He wants to love someone on his own accord - not someone who the universe was like "Oh, let's put these people together.".

♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

[ckret2]

I'm probably a little bit late for the hype, but for your radiosnake fic, was sir pentious being behind on current technology because he was just really heartbroken or bc he was somehow cursed? Sorry, sometimes i'm bad at understanding, so i wasn't sure if the karma bit meant that there really was some kind of supernatural intervention or not

It is never, ever too late to talk to me about one of my fics! People talk to me about stuff I was writing over a decade ago and I love it, you're good.

It's neither one, actually. He isn't too heartbroken to keep up, and he isn't cursed. He just lost so many resources that he can't keep up with new technological developments any more.

Long explanation below the cut!!

... god I think tumblr just, fucking deleted the cut. If there isn't a cut below this line I APOLOGIZE I tried to edit it back in, tumblr sucks.

Like, say in '64 someone comes into hell with knowledge of how to make a new weapon that's gonna change the game. Sir P's got a web of like a hundred informants who know they're gonna be rewarded when he has power, so he finds out about the weapon in three days and can snatch up the soul that knows how to make it in under a week. He's got a dozen mines from which he can extract the raw materials needed to make the weapon, so that takes a week; dozens of engineers working under him to figure out how to replicate the weapon based on the newly dead dude's half-remembered math, so that takes a week; and Sir Pent himself, the mastermind of this operation, has no more pressing needs to attend to--his airships are defending his turf without any need to call him in for help, he doesn't have to worry about collecting supplies because they have control of all the materials they need, nothing's disrupting their supply train in the sky, etc--so he can turn his whole attention to improving on this weapon, and he's done so in a week. So only a month has passed between this weapon entering hell and Sir Pent becoming not only the only person that has it, but the only person with the next generation version of it.

Compare: a new weapon enters hell in '76. After getting his ass stomped by the Radio Demon a decade ago, Sir P's lost most of his allies because they no longer have faith he can conquer hell (and even if they do, they don't want to risk getting on the Radio Demon's bad side—they don't know why he attacked Sir P, how do they know he won't attack his allies?) so he's got like, five informants. It takes him a month to find out about this weapon. If another overlord finds out about the weapon first and snatched up the weapon-maker, then Sir P has lost all opportunity to replicate it until the other overlord has made and started using it and he can get his hands on a copy to reverse-engineer, by which point this weapon's probably already on the way to being obsolete.

But say he DOES somehow get to this soul before anyone else: he's got like, maybe one or two mines under his control, so it takes a lot longer to extract the necessary raw materials, and that's assuming those mines have the materials this weapon needs. He might need to attack other factories or warehouses to steal the supplies he needs—and these factories & warehouses are probably being guarded by people armed with weapons he hasn't had a chance to replicate because a different overlord snatched up the weapon-maker before he ever heard about them, so they might overpower him, might even take out one of his airships. But say his raids succeed; they could take a couple of months, between planning and carefully executing the needed attacks.

It could take a couple more months for his heavily reduced number of engineers to figure out how to replicate the weapon, especially if it's outside their fields of expertise and he needs to find and recruit someone new to help—and what if he can't recruit anyone, because Sir P is no longer a top overlord that people will want to work for?

Meanwhile, Sir P is busy viciously defending his now very small turf with only a couple of airships at his disposal, AND he's got to plan and lead the raids for supplies, AND he's got to find and recruit new followers, AND he's got to organize repairs and do damage control if another overlord takes an airship out... so it might take him ANOTHER month to get around to looking at the designs himself and seeing if he can improve them. And maybe he's so stressed and overworked and tired he can't think of a way to improve the weapon.

So six months have passed and they have a rushed weapon that they might have had to make with shoddy stolen materials... and in that time, maybe someone with a weapon designed to overpower this one has died, and Vox has already snatched them up and made that weapon in a month, and so Sir P's new weapon is worthless before he uses it. Now he's six months behind.

Except he's not JUST six months behind. All his airships—which are his main bases, his main weapons, his main defenses, and his main transportation all in one—got blown up in '66, so he probably spent all of '66 and probably the next few years airshipless while he tried to rebuild them. Except while he tried to rebuild them, other overlords were stealing his turf because he had no airships to defend it—if he hears a facility of his is being attacked fifty miles away, he's powerless to go defend it. He's got no airships he can send to fight off the attackers. He's got no choice but to lose it. And that happened over and over, and he lost the very facilities he needed to rebuild his airships. So now it's gonna take twice as long to build half as many airships. And during all those YEARS he's trying to rebuild his airships, he's NOT going to be able to expend resources on keeping up with the latest weapons tech.

So in '76, he's not actually struggling to snatch up the newest weapon maker; in '76, he's finally built five airships, and they're all running on '66 technology. How is he going to even BEGIN replicating '76 technology if he completely missed out on learning about the '70 technology it's based on? By the time he's learned about '70 technology and is ready to face '76 technology, it's now '78.

Oh except another overlord who knows he's currently weak and fears what a threat he'll pose when he's strong again goes and crushes all his airships and now he falls behind five years again as he rebuilds AGAIN. And at this point Sir Pent is getting desperate, so he starts making stupid rushed mistakes in a scramble to gain some ground. (Stupid rushed mistakes like charging into Cherri Bomb's turf right after an extermination, or stupid rushed mistakes like aiming a giant cannon at Alastor just because he happens to be there.) And those stupid mistakes lose him more airships and set him back AGAIN.

It's an endless cycle. He lacks the resources to catch up with the latest developments; without the latest developments, he can't get the resources he needs.

History lesson! The fact that Sir Pent was a top overlord for so long was part luck and part momentum. When he died in 1888, he was THE first supervillain. In life he had no peers, and in death he had no peers. He was THE ONLY ONE who knew how to make the weapons of mass destruction he made. He was the ONLY human soul that could make a machine that could slaughter hundreds. The only ones stronger than him were fallen angels and proper demons (not souls who had died, but entities like Lucifer or Stolas) who had proper borderline-godly powers.

In 1933, the Radio Demon took out the power of a vast majority of those proper demons, and that's what buoyed Sir Pent up to being in a position where he could start conquering hell properly. Again, in '33, he was THE ONLY human soul who could do that. (Except, perhaps, Alastor himself, but he has no interest in claiming turf.) Other human souls began gaining power the way he had—both in the living world and in hell, there were people specifically following his example as a supervillain—but he was doing it first, and he was doing it with a lifetime (and afterlifetime) of experience. By the 60s, there were other human overlords around who'd gained some experience and were now just as good at him... but they didn't have his resources. He had a head start on them of decades. So all of them were the ones taking six months to make a weapon because he held all the supplies and personnel they needed to make the weapons. That's the primary reason he was ahead of them. Yeah, he's brilliant... but his overlord opponents are all brilliant too in different ways. The difference was, he's brilliant AND he had ten factories already.

(And it's worth remembering that he also had the Radio Demon, who's basically a walking tornado, on his side for fifteen years; so every once in a while one of Sir Pent's enemies would just have an entire facility mutilated by this dude. Not only is that a powerful weapon to be wielding, but who's gonna wanna go work for one of the guys that might be targeted by the Radio Demon?)

So! That's why Sir Pent fell behind and stayed behind. No heartbreak, and no curse. Just mathematics. Just resources. He stayed ahead because he came into hell with more resources than anyone else and stayed behind after Alastor reduced him to less resources than everyone else.

As for the "karma" section in the fic—not one single word of that scene reflects what's happening in hell in the slightest. Every single word of that scene reflects what's happening in Alastor's head. Fifty years after screwing over Sir P, he feels so miserable that he feels like he's being specifically punished. After seeing how massive and unintended the consequences of his actions are, he feels like he must be some kind of walking curse designed to torture Sir Pent.

On the one hand, seeing everything that's happened to himself and Sir P in the last fifty years and describing it as "karmic punishment/our assigned tortures in hell" is a reflection of how cataclysmically sublimely unhappy they both are. He's like, I'm so damn miserable it's GOTTA be divine punishment because nothing else could be this awful. On the other hand, it lets Alastor push some of the blame off of himself (because this REALLY IS all his fault!) and onto fate instead, like, oh, I couldn't have avoided this, it's our divine punishment. And if it's divine punishment, then there's nothing he can do to change it, is there? There's no point in trying. There's no need for him to say "I'm sorry" and try to make up for his mistakes. Because they aren't really his mistakes. He's just acting out some sort of karmic role. Right?

(And remember that a chapter earlier he was waxing poetic about how hell's not actually a bad place, really, he and Sir Pent deserve to be in hell together because it's the place they'll be happiest. :) :) :) Like, that's a direct contradiction to his "karma" theory. In both cases, neither scene is saying true things about the nature of hell—it's just Alastor's speculation based on how he currently feels.)

The logic fueling his "Sir Pent and I are each other's assigned punishments and there's nothing I can do about that but grin and bear it" is the same logic fueling his "dead sinners can't be redeemed, they had their chance in life and wasted it, now they're in hell forever" to Charlie in the pilot. The message behind both is the same: we can't and shouldn't be forgiven for our past mistakes; why bother trying to make up for them?