#but she also doesnt know my irl name

[moeblob]

Right and his work menaces (Brent and Karen).

I don't remember last I mentioned it but apart from crude nicknames to people (except Chris), he also just puts them in his phone really weird (except Chris, who is literally in his phone as Chris). And I bring this up because in Right's phone, Karen is saved as "Lawful Obligation".

[kissingarthurclaus]

Happy Mexican heritage day, by the way! Thanks to my whitewashed-ass mom I didn't grow up with that much of the culture, but I'm proud to be a part of it nonetheless!! 💖🇲🇽💖🇲🇽💖🇲🇽💖🇲🇽💖🇲🇽💖

To celebrate I'm gonna imagine showing my f/os things from Mexican culture where applicable > u <

[princesshair]

.

[sumarmz]

Thinking about how I've told my online bestie that I will make out with her and roleplayed a whole alpha omega marriage divorce abortion thing (I, the omega came out as an alpha and she tried to kill me but I said I was pregnant so she couldn't)

But yet idek her favourite colour

[brainrotzora]

recent ffxiv livetweeting. spoilers through the end of arr patch quests btw.

[melancholiaenthroned]

deeply weird interaction with the life labs technician today where she started by telling me how i shouldnt be afraid to write my name in the margins of the requisition and how my chosen name was cool. immediate pivot to complaining about how a coworker is "forcing" her daughter to transition and how some trans people pick completely stupid names, probably because their parents are forcing them. and i cant go anywhere or meaningfully disagree because i havent eaten anything since 9pm last night and shes actively draining my blood

[asmogorna]

Ok so for the last couple days ive been ill in the head about The Black Parade as mcr's alter ego/characters and i wanted to share some thoughts i had so far :3

It doesnt align with the canon lore that we have (i didnt really use it for reference at least) so it can be viewed as some sort of an au

I dont know if im gonna give them new names that just sound similar to the names of mcr themselves, so for now i will be referring to them by the names of the band members

So far I've been thinking about the typical "chosen by fate" scenario, where the characters lives lead them through a path for a specific cause

So

Post WW2 England

5 kids under their own circumstances witness a big parade (I will be doing some research and see if it could be some kind of victory celebration parade? It's just that I'm not sure if England had those. Not that I'm aiming for historical accuracy atp it's simple curiosity)

The kids get heavily impacted by that event and carry on (ha) that memory throughout their life

Now to the specifics of the characters cus by God they all gave me a headache

Heads up: they're all british orphans lol

Frank and Bob are students/residents in a Christian orphan school, and later on in life are priests in the town church

The reason why is that they both have badges on their uniform with crosses that could be associated with christianity

(I couldn't find any info about what exactly certain design details could be referencing, so ig it's up to interpretation)

The military theme in Gerard and Mikey's costumes will be explored on later (Mikey's medal could be either The Victoria Cross or The Distinguished Flying Cross, and the symbol on Gerard's shoulder is most likely the Order Of The Garter star)

And I couldn't figure out what to do w Ray, because I'm not sure if his uniform design details reference anything specific 🤷🏾🤷🏾🤷🏾

Now, Gerard and Mikey lost their father to war, and their mother passed away when they were both very young

And after that they ended up in the same orphanage as Ray, befriending him and finding out about their shared passion for music

This doodle was made abt that specifically <3

Later on in early adulthood they decide to start a cabaret band, in which Frank and Bob both join them later, deciding to leave their priest lives behind (partially because iirc both of them kinda fanboyed their way into the band irl lol)

After receiving little recognition, the band decides to take a train to America, to try their luck there. With a lot of hope and determination

That, sadly, doesn't last for long, for the train crushes with no survivors on board

The group crawls out of the collapsed train in their no longer physical forms. Yet, even after their death, they still have a desire to move forward. And that desire, though thoughtlessly, forces them to go forward. The souls of all the other people who lost their lives to the train accident follow them, through the landscape that no longer feels like earth

They then reach the end

Walking in one by one people disappear, finding their own peace and meeting their own finish line

After it's done, The Black Parade now have officially made themselves into what they're supposed to be. Gaining a new purpose and a new sort of life

I got too poetic for my own good here I fear .. anyway

Their job now is to lead the lost and the forgotten to the afterlife

They could be referred to as some kind of a grim reaper, I guess

I'm still thinking about adding more to the story, and maybe I will change some things, but so far this is all I can share really !! I hope if you've read this far you found this entertaining .. this is all for the satisfaction of my urges so I might or might not have too much fun w it in the future :3

The story was mainly inspired by this specific post from Gerard himself, because i liked the concept a lot ..

Also

She's gonna be here as a separate character too probably...... Cus I'm self indulgent and I love the ideas bubbling in my brain

[pippenpaddlopsicopolisthethird]

Write twins better in three easy steps!

I meet so many people who act so stupid about this to my face, and I basically never see a set of identical twins that are well written in fiction, so here's a couple tips about identical twins. Mostly as a reference for writing them, but also so you can tell people to stop acting like an asshole to any twins you might know IRL.

FACT ONE:

Identical twins are two separate people.

Not one brain in two bodies

Not a hivemind that can read each other's thoughts

They don't speak in unison all the time (but might answer together if you address them as a collective and not an individual)

If they date they don't share the same partner

Can't be counted as one person for the sake of entry admission, airplane seating, employment, school tuition, or voting

Have their own names, even, and would prefer you use them instead of calling them both by the same collective name

I am eternally mad about We-Go from Kim Possible

FACT TWO:

Identical twins don't struggle telling themselves apart from each other. Your difficulty telling them apart is not something they have ever experienced themselves.

They understand the difference between looking at themself in the mirror and looking at their twin.

Yes, even as a young child.

No, they didn't have to learn the difference between a mirror and their sibling.

They never believe their twin to be themself.

They don't struggle to see themself as their own person.

They don't feel like they're looking at their own face all the time.

They don't have constant thoughts about how their sibling looks similar to themself.

The scene from The Parent Trap where one "twin" says 'OMG why do you look just like me??' just isn't realistic

FACT THREE:

Identical twins are, as a rule, not trying to actively deceive you and are sick of people assuming that.

Your difficulty in telling them apart does not mean they are trying intentionally to trick you or make you mess up

They also aren't trying to scare you or murder you and they won't like you if you tell them you're afraid of them

Dating a twin doesnt mean you're going to be parent-trapped (and if you can't tell your partner apart from their sibling, that's not a good look on you)

Some twins just go with the assumptions everyone else is making about them already and play into the stereotype, especially as kids

Literally every fictional pair of identical twins are tricksters already. Come up with something original.

Twins can still be compelling characters without leaning on these tropes

Writing a compelling pair of identical twins doesn't have to be hard if you either write them like other siblings, or understand that the stereotypes that circulate in fiction are some of the biggest issues they struggle against. Here are some good examples of compelling twin plots that I can think of, though not all of these characters are twins or identical:

Mabel's fear at the end of Gravity Falls that growing up meant that her brother would grow apart from her

Stanley Pines struggling to measure up to his parent's favoritism of his brother throughout childhood, but still dedicating his adult life to getting him back when he went missing

Ty Lee running away to join the circus so she could have an identity outside of her parents' curated "matched set" of siblings in AtLA

Vash and Knives in Trigun '99 experiencing the same childhood traumas and interpreting them differently, coming away from them with opposing ideologies in adulthood

Hikaru and Kaoru's trauma over being told they were interchangeable and their desire to find someone who would treat them as individuals in Ouran High School Host Club

[bonkbobl]

happy to please

ROOSE BOLTON X READER

a/n: this is set before anything bad happens in the show, maybe like early season 1 or even before. i know in the books there was domeric and i considered mentioning ramsays kinslaying but decided to just go with the show, which, my impression is that domeric just never existed and ramsay grew up at the dreadfort being cared for by roose. this fic comes from the book quote about him growing fond of walda bc she actually liked sex with him and buddy never experienced the loving touch of a woman with his past two wives

summary: roose bolton had two wives before you. so he thought he knew what to expect during the bedding but nothing could have prepared him for those sweet little noises and the way you writhed

warning: smut!!! roose bolton is very awkward and not very romantic, forced marriage but once you see roose irl you're like oh... wait guys hes kind of hot nvm im down

It was high time the Lord of the Dreadfort took another wife to try for more heirs. A bastard born to a Millers Wife was hardly a suitable option. The goal-driven Lord Bolton wanted a speedy affair and not too much fuss about it. When word was sent out that the “Dreadlord” was seeking a hand in marriage, the response was not sparse.

Several offers to meet Northern Lords’ “most beautiful” daughters landed on Roose Boltons desk. But Roose didnt want the fuss that came with that. There was no need to fret about which girl was the most desireable, only which prospect bred the most advantage.

You came from a semi prominent house, a large advantage was the fact that you had no siblings to succeed you and your uncles were all bordering on geriatric. Because of this, your father was eager to broker a marriage between you and any Lord to start producing more options for the succession of your house — you came with a heavy dowry.

All negotiations occurred on paper and before you’d learn anything about your husband, your father has your servants packing your belongings up into carriages. You were on your way to the Dreadfort

Dreadful name for a castle, you thought to yourself. Perhaps that set the tone for the marriage. You should expect nothing but that —dread.

The entire journey, you did not utter a word to your father, so upset that he’d gone behind your back to do this. You had been stubborn, growing up. You’d met several Lords from minor houses through the years and you turned all of them away.

They weren't handsome enough, weren't noble enough, weren't gentle enough, weren't firm enough. That one was too loud, too annoying, to full of himself, not sure enough of himself, too meek, too weak. There was always something. But you were never forced to. Not until now.

Perhaps it was the fact that your father finally listened to the whispers of those around him, telling him that if he doesnt marry you off soon, no lord would want an old bride. You think thats most likely. Theres also the fact that House Bolton was an extremely powerful house, your liege lord for centuries. They stood only beneath the Starks and the Crown.

When you stepped down from the carriage to greet your husband to be, you steeled yourself. You didn't know what to expect. You knew he was around your father’s age, which wasn't exactly a comfort.

But you met his cold eyes, your expression softened considerably. Your father had grown plump with unkempt hair on his chin. It was patchy and uneasy to look upon. His hair was also receding quickly as the years passed.

The years were kinder to Lord Bolton.

Giving a curtsy, you surrendered to his examination of you, suddenly feeling nervous. You found yourself hoping he liked what he saw because well… Lord Bolton, you think, immediately appears to be, well, lordly. He looks physically fit, cleanshaven, intimidating features. His stare was hard on you, and you almost shied away thinking he was, in fact, unhappy with you, but glancing back, you realized that he may be one of those men with a permanent hardness to their stare.

You mainly hope he isn’t cruel to you.

Lord Bolton nodded, then spoke, “My lady.” Taking your hand and pressing a courteous kiss to it, he continued, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You swallowed, trying your best to keep your gaze even. His voice was so smooth and deep… The kind of voice that you’d want reading to you in the darkness at night.

He’s everything you think a man should be, in appearances. The boys who wanted your hand in marriage would stumble about their words and it was endearing in their own right, but here, under his lordly gaze, you felt more willing to you resign yourself under his protection.

“Happy to please you, my lord,” You said softly, curtsying.

Roose’s eyes looked you up and down for what felt like the millionth time but he couldn’t really help it. He hadn't expected you to be the beauty you were — that wasn’t why he was marrying you — but he got lucky, it seems. You were a shy thing, barely able to meet his eyes.

Roose looked at your father, standing far away from you, awkwardly staring out into the wind and avoiding engagement. It wasn't difficult for him to make out that perhaps you might be unhappy to be here. If theres anything he can recognize, its a tense familial atmosphere.

But he watched you smile and speak your courtesies, sweet and polite. Yes, you would do just fine. You were perfect, he’d even dare to say, he was delighted by you.

You would make him rich, and it seemed like you had enough understanding and commitment to duty to not make a fuss about anything that may be unpleasant to you. He just hopes you’re fertile so that he doesn’t have to pain you unnecessarily with too many attempts.

“I’d like you to meet my son, Ramsay,” He brought his son forward.

You smiled politely at him and allowed him to kiss your hand, “My lord, it’s lovely to meet you.” You hoped it didn’t show that you were a little wary of Ramsay. It was hard to ignore the rumors of the Bastard at the Dreadfort. But you’re happy that you are not to be his or his fathers enemy.

“As it is for me to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

Roose allowed a smile and began directing you to your handmaidens, who would lead you to your temporary room.

As far as first meetings go, it might have been awkward but it wasn’t completely unbearable. You’re grateful for it.

—————

When it came time to wed him, Roose made it clear that there was to be no bedding ceremony, and you let yourself relax, smiling to yourself gratefully. It was a tradition spreading all the way from the Wall to Dorne, but you really didnt know why. The thought of being stripped and groped by all the men in the room rained dread upon you.

Instead of being carried to your room by many men, you were led there by your husband, who you were growing more fond of in each moment. Sure you barely knew him, but he was handsome enough.

Not just handsome enough, you’d say that if there was to be a ball with all the Northern men and women, you would have stared at him in the corner of your eye all night hoping he’d approach you. He reminded you of those scenarios that you’d read about only in books.

He also seemed to be respectable and a gentleman, which comforts you greatly. The fact that he chose to forego the bedding was something you hadn’t expected but it certainly made you more amenable to whats to come.

It started sort of mechanically and passive. Your husband poured you a cup of wine for your nerves, and you exchanged some words about the ceremony and he watched you drink it.

Then when he deemed you relaxed enough Roose asked, “Did your septa teach you about what happens during bedding?”

You nodded, “My septa, yes. And I had read a book once that contained some details that she had left out, so I actually know more than many would assume,” You rambled out.

Roose tilted his head questioningly but gave an amused sigh and a nod.

It was true, you did read a lot. And one of those books included a scandalous romp between the main character, a man, and a whore. Your father found you reading that and burned the book but he couldn’t burn it out of your memory.

It was part of why you might have had such a high standard for the men who had approached for your hand. The men in the books were confident but not arrogant. They could please their women properly because they knew what they were doing but also knew to listen. They were powerful. Possessing a subtle dominance that was too nuanced for younger men to understand.

Roose exuded dominance. This brand of dominance.

It excited you just as much as the memory of those pages.

“Good,” He said, “Then I have little explaining that I must do.”

You watched him stand and offer his hand to you again and you took it, letting him help you up and to the bed.

Roose couldn’t really understand it, but he identified nerves stirring inside him at the thought of bedding you. Its been a long time since he’s taken any wife to bed and he is aware that most of the time, its only really pleasurable for men.

His past two wives would lay there, passive and unmoving, waiting for him to have his fill before quickly getting up to clean themselves.

He really intended to make this as easy for you as possible and wait a week to try again. After that, perhaps he’d take you every few days until you came to be with child. Ever methodical about everything, of course he thought of how to go about this.

Roose helped you with your dress, coming up behind to aid in unlacing it. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with taking out the pins that had been keeping your hair up.

You wanted to be comfortable, Roose was pleased to note. He was glad to know you were thinking of your comfort. Making this as easy as possible. You were a girl who understood what needed to be done, a good quality to have in a wife.

His past wives understood to an extent, as well, but not without at least a little bit of whining and whinging.

With your hair undone and your dress unlaced, you took it upon yourself to shrug it off your shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Roose watched you, gracefully doing your duty, a small smile coming to him.

You surprised him quite a bit, actually. Especially when you turned to him, a little shy about your exposure, but confident enough to pull him in by his collar and kiss him for the first time.

Your lips moved shyly against his, and Roose returned your gentleness. Each thing you did made him ever more curious about you. The two of you continued to mold your lips to each others as he worked on disrobing himself. He could sense the hesitation and curiosity behind your lips movements.

All the better. He'll let you do as you needed to feel more comfortable.

Very quickly, Roose had taken off all his clothes and the moment you realized your husband was bare and ready to finally take you, you parted from him. His eyes opened slowly to see you staring up at him with those big eyes and he held your gaze as you edged backward onto the bed, situating yourself at the edge of it. Then you laid yourself down, splayed out for him.

Roose watched you get ready for him, wondering what he did to score so lucky with such a sweet, innocent, eager little wife.

He pressed the tip of his length to your slit. The edges of your pussy lips were dry but as he moved the head of his cock through your folds, some moisture coated him. Roose paused because you mewled and turned your face to the side, eyes closed, hands bunching into fists in your sheets.

His cock twitched against you as he watched, something that hasnt happened since Roose was a teenager with his first wife.

It moved him to push inside. He watched your lips part with heavy breaths, eyebrows coming together as your breaths turned into soft whimpers. He had to pull out after a certain point and push back in, further. You whimpered, grasping the sheets harder.

Roose found himself completely and utterly hypnotized by you, watching your face, turned to the side, eyes pinched shut, gently chewing your bottom lip.

“You’re very reactive,” He muttered, catching your attention.

You turned back to look at him over your rising and falling chest and giggled, running your hand over your forehead, “Yeah, I… Nothing has ever been inside like this so... I’m reacting.” A coil in your stomach twisted as he pushed even deeper and your lips puckered, letting out an "Ooh..."

Roose chuckled at the first sign of a little bit of sass in his wife, amused at your playfulness during what most would deem to be a serious moment. Roose typically disliked those who cracked unnecessary jokes in inappropriate moments, but somehow it seemed appropriate in this moment.

Your hand came down to grab his and you guided it to your thigh. You felt your husband bottom out inside you after not too much struggle or pain and you laid there happily. You were happy to take his gentle thrusts. Your cunt grew wetter and sloppier as he fucked you.

He filled you well, and it felt good to be full like this. You wanted him to touch you… You wanted him to move more. Faster, harder. You just wanted more of him.

You breathed a heavy sigh, squeezing around him, trying to coax him into moving in you.

“Roose,” You whined, squirming beneath him. Your legs came to wrap around him and guide his movements in you.

Your husband gasped at your shameless neediness, responding quickly to your coaxing movements. You felt like heaven, squeezing so tight around him. But it wasn’t just the pure sensation of a cunt enveloping him it was the fact that your heel remained pressed against his lower back, pulling him toward you. It was the fact that little whimpers kept tumbling out of you, meanwhile you hid your face as if you couldn’t keep them in. It was his name, falling from your lips, in between the whimpers.

And then you whimpered, “Harder.”

An appreciative hum rumbled in Roose's chest, his eyes focusing even harder on you. You shuddered to look at him. His smolder could easily be mistaken for a glare and you'd hate to be a man in any other situation, on the receiving end of such a look.

Here, it just made you more excited.

You cried a loud, unrestrained moan when he gave a sharp thrust, his cock angled upward and hitting a deep spot within you. When his cock touched that spot, it felt as if a little burst of pleasure had come from it and melted into the rest of your body, the coil in your tummy tightening deliciously.

His pace slowly increased, as did your pleasure. You writhed beneath him... At times it almost felt like pleasure was too much, like you were about to tip off some edge, and you had no idea what could be found once you made it over that edge other than just even more, blinding pleasure. You didn't even know if you could take it.

But you had nowhere to run. So if you had to find out what was waiting for you over that edge, so be it. You fought to hold your legs open as much as possible but your thighs would sometimes beg to close, unused to the intense stimulation. And most of the time, you kept your eyes closed and your face turned to the side.

Roose stared down at you, burying himself in you over. And over. Watching as each time you had to succumb and give yourself away to the sensations. It sparked something primal inside him, and truly for the first time he felt an animal-like instinct that often came to be the failing of many great, even-minded men.

He felt lust. Inspired by the image of your body tightening and twitching as he plunged himself deep into you.

Grabbing your waist, he fucked you faster, snapping his hips at a faster speed while he used his strength to pull your pliant body into his.

It wracked your body from head to toe, a long, loud whine, pulled from your throat, enunciated by each meeting of his balls against your ass. Your hands shot up to grasp to anything you could find on the bed but all it found were more sheets. You buried your face in the soft flesh of your arms.

Roose slowed and gave you some hard, defined thrusts, grunting as he did so. You cried out each time and then managed to blink your eyes open and look at him, eyebrows still knitted together, hair a tangled mess under you, and your lips red and wet from your chewing on them all the time.

And then your husband rediscovered the energy to plow into you again.

You held your tits this time, to keep them from bouncing uncomfortably.

He growled, adjusting so that your legs were put over his shoulder before continuing. That felt amazing. But even more amazing was that he decided it wasn't enough, climbing on the bed and pushing you further up on it. He maneuvered his leg, planting a foot next to your side.

That. That had you crying out, damn near sobbing. At least, you wouldn't be surprised if anyone passed your room and mistook it for that.

Soon your body was twitching uncontrollably under him and Roose was sighing loudly, shocked by just how tight your cunt was gripping onto him. Your moans grew weaker and breathier and your body tensed to a peak before you seemingly began to come down from it.

Your breaths remained heavy as you attempted to catch yourself, small aftershocks of convulsions and shaking taking you. He was still fucking you just as hard and your body was oversensitive to the stimulation.

But thankfully you didn't have to endure the pleasurable torture too much longer. Roose released you with a few hard thrusts and deep groans.

He stilled in you and dropped his head in exhaustion, staying buried deep inside, as he attempted to catch his breath and recover and you stared at him, also trying to catch up with yourself.

You lowered your legs to the side though and in the process, his penis slipped out of you, quickly softening. You don't know what possessed you to do so, because there was really no need to, but you brought a hand up to your husbands face and moved it so you could stare into his eyes.

His soft, exhausted eyes met you, the strong hardened exterior that you saw on him at your first meeting, melted off.

Cautiously, you closed the distance, molding your lips to his again.

Roose kissed back fervently this time, no longer hesitant and letting you take the lead. His domineering hand coming behind to cradle your face.

Your eagerness had surprised him in the beginning. But once he'd entered you, it was as if a switch had turned on for both of you. He'd expected you to bravely take on the duty that all women had to endure but he'd never expected you to take to it so well, craving more, wanting him.

Roose had never been the type of man to think about, much less want to be wanted. But his cock nearly twitched back to life, remembering. You pulled him in with your legs, asked him to fuck you harder, you came, and even afterwards, you wanted more.

When your lips finally parted, he stared, evaluating you with a new lense, a lense of true fondness. It was something that — Roose wouldn't ever dare say out loud but — it was something that could even develop into something deeper than a vague fondness or physical attraction. Something like love.

You pressed one last chaste kiss to him and smiled widely, asking, "Is that what every night will be like?" You asked, "If so I think you'll make me a very happy lady."

Roose couldn't think of a proper, clearly worded answer, so he just pressed his lips to yours again, hungrily. A very happy lady indeed. And he'll be happy to see you happy.

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐔𝐏!❞

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ eren armin jean reiner n levi ☆ various aot men as dads!!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ fem!reader (referred to as mom or mommy), black aligned reader but as per usual anyone can read

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: y'all thought i was playin when i said had 2 other pieces huh...well anyways heres my 2nd official revamp entry!! erm i hope u guys like it cause i lost like 3 hours of sleep over this. (its bhm you have to like it or else) stay hot!! 🎀🎀

eren yaeger 🌸

2 words. girl dad.

this man was born to have an army of girls surrounding him at all times (but he's not necessarily complaining in this case)

you two's daughter is a very passionate and outgoing child and eren totally embraces that

he's deeply involved in his child's life, sharing stories about the world and instilling a sense of curiosity (aka giving her bad ideas)

he was an outside and play in the mud kid so he is all for letting her have free range to express/play how she wants

and he's a sucker for your little girl so he usually gets roped into her shenanigans

when you come home and the house is quiet you know those two are up to something nefarious 😭😭

"eren, why the hell does my kitchen look a hot ass mess?"

"she wanted to make a cake, babe!"

i can see your daughter playing sports (soccer specifically) and he is 1000 the dad that yells at the ref.

"did you see that [name]!? that brat just pushed her over l, why didn't that bastard call it!?"

will get down and dirty for his girls. no matter what

emphasizes the importance of freedom, encouraging your to pursue her dreams no matter what.

actually the most supportive ever??

your daughter wants to play 10 different sports? he's buying all the equipment no matter the cost. she wants to be the next picasso? he'll buy her brand new art supplies and be her model.

just hes so just....*sigh*

armin arlert 🌸

my man, loml, my day 1, my soul mate my everything (he was my first anime crush i will be projecting on this one argue wit ur mama)

he is definitely a gentle parent to your little boy who's just a shy little dude

armin knows what it feels like to be that shy and quiet kid so he's very patient and understanding

him and your son are practically carbon copies of eachother minus his curly hair (which he got from you) but you think its adorable

speaking of hair HE TOTALLY LEARNS TO BRAID/DO TWIST

he knew taking care of your son's hair was going to require extra effort because of his texture but he doesnt care and learns anyway (sob sob)

him and your son are attached at the hip and wherever one goes you typically find the other.

they spend many quiet moments together and obviously armin reads him multiple stories before bed.

i can totally see y'alls son being an artist/artistically gifted

you can find him and armin sprawled out on the floor with paper and various art supplies as armin nods along to the nonsense coming out of your son's mouth

"mhmm, oh i see! i think that color looks great there too."

meanwhile you're in the corner just sobbing and dying of cuteness in your house

much like eren he teaches his son the values of curiosity and freedom, even if his son is a little more reserved

he wouldn't ever force him into doing anything he doesn't want to, but encourages him in the small things

i also fantasize about living by a beach with armin so ik he takes y'all to the beach at least 3 times a month.

every single time he goes he carries his son on his hip as the explore the beach in search of shells and other treasures to take home.

"you like this one buddy? why don't we give it to mommy as a nice present, yeah?"

i can't write too long or imma short circuit but i will be expanding on this because i love armin so much

he's so neat :]

jean kirstein 🌸

jean, as a dad, is like a mix of cornyness and seriousness

on the one hand i can totally see him making the stupidest dad jokes while you and your daughter are just like 🧍🏽‍♀️🧍🏽‍♀️

like the irl personification of "im not a regular mom, i'm a cool mom"

but on the other hand he's just like my dad where he can turn anything into a life lesson and you have to sit while he scolds your daughter for at least 30 minutes

it's all out of love tho

he thrives in a lighthearted atmosphere at home and spending time together is a huge thing for him

he is a bbq/camping dad and no i will not take criticism on this

jean takes pride in teaching life skills, from fixing things around the house to imparting practical wisdom (even though it isn't always wanted 💀)

your daughter will likely be well-prepared for the challenges of the world. he likes to think he's the reason she has a good head on her shoulders.

speaking of which, your daughter is very much sassy...(jean swears she gets if from you but we know the truth)

shes the first one to have something smart to say and its gotten her in trouble quite a few times with jean...but theyre besties.

balances tough love with genuine affection, cause he definitely mellowed out as he got older but knows when to put his foot down (unlike eren. what who said that??)

your daughter knows she can always count on him. ♡

reiner braun 🌸

AURGGYGHH I LOVE THIS MAN

anyways as soon as your son was born he only knew one word.

panic.

specifically timeskip!reiner. i can only imagine him as a worrier and a helicopter parent up until your son is like 6-7.

"rei, if you don't let that boy go play with the other kids!" "[name], i read that a slide has 82 times more germs than a kitchen sink. i won't let him be exposed to that."

it's just like *sigh* but thanks to you he eventually mellows out.

y'alls son is a really kind boy. like stupidly nice. damn near a pushover. (but we love him)

while you're ready to fight the other parents (or kids) who hurt your baby, reiner is actually more gentle in his approach

he's clearly a big strong guy but he's very gentle in his approach when it comes to seeing his son cry or just in general

reiner, as a dad, is the protector. he's vigilant and caring, instilling a strong sense of security in your home

your son feels safe knowing reiner is there to shield him from any harm.

seeing talk all soft to y'alls son makes you go sksmwkwmwka he's so man...

"hey, me and mom love you very much. you got that bud?"

balances strength with gentleness. offering a listening ear and encouraging open communication.

he wants his son to know he'll always be there for him since he never really had a father growing up

safe to say your son grows up feeling understood and supported by both parents ♡

levi ackerman 🌸

for sure the strictest dad on this list.

from the moment your daughter was born he had her on a schedule that was planned meticulously.

like hour by hour he knows what's going on and you're just there like🧍🏽‍♀️

"i read a consistent schedule helps with her brain development." "...."

as she gets older he calms down a little. but like only the smallest little bit.

however! levi, although strict, is a fiercely devoted dad

this just came to me but he's the dad where if you our your daughter syas you like a snack one time he'll buy a lifetime supply until you tell him otherwise

despite his stoic exterior, Levi has a soft spot for his child's well-being and takes pride in their achievements, no matter how small

your daughter is a dancer. fight me.

even if you can't make it, you see him in the audience at every recital with a soft smile.

"you did great. yes, i recorded all of it for mom to see too."

ngl he is very rule oriented but 9/10 he bends begrudgingly for your daughter (she looks like you, so he can never say no.)

he values discipline and order but also knows the importance of showing love and appreciation.

like reiner he didn't grow up with the best father figure (if one at all) or anyone to really give him confidence growing up.

your daughter never doubts that daddy loves her and thinks she's the best ♡

he also is so skilled at doing hair?? probably better than armin.

ponytail, bun, twist, braids, you name it, he can do it. (has put you shame on multiple occasions)

teaches self-reliance and responsibility, ensuring his child is well-prepared for life's challenges.

expects excellence but also provides unwavering support

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 2nd piece done!! why was i fighting for my life during jean and reiner's....but i actually really wanna expand on dad!armin and dad!levi so maybe i'll give all the kids names sometime in the future. i tried to finish this is my ap chem class and my teacher almost took my phone 💀💀 but expect more soon cause i am on a roll! 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

[cherubispunk]

CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world! 

playlist 

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. ��Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Caine, Kinger, Pomni and Jax dating chubby!fem!reader who is veery insecure like she was bullied irl before and now feels awkward about herself in relationship or smth like that anyway thanks!!!! ik jax will prolly be an asshole tho dats ok

Various TADC characters x chubby!insecure!reader

I'm so mad for sleeping on kiss their music is so good

Characters: caine, kinger, pomni, jax

Notes: reader is fem, jax's part isnt sweet in comparison to the others, written on mobile

CWs: bullying and body issues

CAINE

Has no real tastes, you're the first person hes ever really dated so hes still learning what he likes and doesnt like

What he does know he likes if YOU!

Oh? you're insecure? that's not going to last long so long as you're his partner/friend, hes going to be showering you in praise and compliments

And he would do it regardless of what you looked like

Doesnt really understand why anyone would make you feel bad for the way you look, especially given you're in a digital body

He may be able to understand if you explain, and rest assured hes going to be so so confused on how anyone could be so mean to you of all people

KINGER

Hes also reassuring like Caine, but hes not as upfront and hyped about it- if I'm wording it right.. hes not going to be right in your face about it and screaming his praises from the roof tops

Hea much more one on one and personal when speaking about his love for you

Holds you as well, even if it's just his hand he makes sure you're both physically connected when he assures you that hes in love with you and thinks you're beautiful

Leaves you notes and poems for you to find... hes..

Not the best at writing poems but the effort is endearing

Very loud when standing up for you, he will not let anyone say anything mean about you when hes around

POMNI

Shes a little awkward about it but it's not for any bad reason or any reason that it's your fault

She just thinks you're so pretty and she doesnt want to day anything that would make think otherwise or feel worse

So so careful about her wording that she may come off as disingenuous but if you press her about it it becomes clear that shes sincere

You both talk about your own insecurities, both before and currently as you are in the circus

She looks at you with those wide huge eyes she gets sometimes

Pomni boggles its canon guys and she does it to her girlfriend/j

JAX

I feel like he would lighten up as the two of you get closer but the idea that the dynamic starts off with him as best teasing you and at worst actually saying/doing mean things leaves an off taste in my mouth...

If this were prior to episode 2 one could argue that he may spare you but given that hes fine with blackmail and leaving an entire kingdom to be eaten alive, I dont think hes above making.. comments

Like do I think hes going to call you every ugly name in the book? No, but some of the things still sting

Do NOT breathe around him if you're insecure

Easily the only one who wouldn't be able to have a normal/decently healthy relationship because of how he starts it off

[reorientation]

zyn anon. sorry to spam your dms, i just have some updates i can't really share elsewhere lmao. only one of my irls know im fucking this boy but she doesn't know it was for nicotine pouches lmao

im not even "exchanging" my "services" for zyns anymore. i didn't like them at all, but id still occasionally ask for a tin or two here and there. to not let it get to his head ☺️. a month and a half later im just doing it for free 😒 he makes jokes now that im not even fucking him for product. and jokes that he got me addicted to him instead. so you were right about me becoming a budding addict for a straight mans cock.

we never had a convo about us being official, but he made it clear early on that he wants to be the only guy fucking me rn. i asked if he sleeps around with other girls, and he said he doesnt need to when im so eager for him. :/. he calls me his girlfriend in front of his roommate and gamer friends, too. but not to people we know mutually.

he's also a lot more affectionate now. we've been on an actual date, it was surprisingly romantic and really sweet, and not just me blowing him in his car. though I did after but that's not the point.

i pretty much dress exclusively femininely outside of our programs unisex uniform, i used run errands in boymode but im not even doing that anymore. i have a chosen name that can be shortened into something kinda feminine sounding so he just calls me that. even in front of classmates who dont know i have a pussy, and one that hes been inside of. and the "nickname" is catching on with our classmates too lol.

z anon. forgot to include the update. sorry, i ramble a lot.

i skipped my last two T shots ☺️ im still waiting on my iud appointment in a few weeks. unfortunately this also means i havent really been letting him inside me as often, since im still really scared of pregnancy especially this early on in this weird situation. i am blowing him a lot though lol. it's a win win for me since being on my knees for him with his cock down my throat is so damn hot, especially when he's kinda fucking my face and pulls my hair during it. but fuck its probably been at least a week since his cocks been in me and i miss it. a lot lol. hes so manly and strong, i miss how feminine i feel when im under him. his body would just inadvertently pin me in place, im painfully aware of how small and feminine i am in comparison to him. how truly heterosexual it all is.

but i cannot trust myself bro like i know even if i insist on him using a condom ill end up asking for him to take it off. if he doesnt outright refuse. and like it's so difficult because that turns me on more. i know ill end up having his dick in me sometime before I get my iud, i just gotta be responsible and power through the demons.

im still dysphoric through this situation, especially since stopping T and the fear of like. the few times hes cum in me before havimg a little more serious consequences. despite taking plan b after each time. but the horny part of my brain has never been happier. whenever i feel like backing out, i send him nudes or text him smth risky just for extra self encouragement. but he's on a camping vacation thing rn with his family, and the service is shit and i miss him 🥺 even outside of sex.

like I want to become his girlfriend, truly. and that would have me become a girl for him. which basically means becoming a girl fulltime. i guess that would actually just be going back to being a girl. all for a straight boy 🤦🏻

its hugely dysphoric but kinda nice, like a part of me hates how he's so much bigger and way more masculine than me without any effort, even outside of us having heterosexual sex. i get so dysphoric that he's taller, bigger, way stronger and just so clearly male. but apparently, i enjoy being a girl for him more than i hate it.

(Previously)

You know, Anon, this is awfully romantic.

I mean, listen to yourself. You got into this as a whore, offering to suck his dick for discounted nicotine pouches, but now you're pining over him, and wanting to be a proper girl so that you can be his girlfriend. You're definitely still a whore, but you're a whore with a heart of gold.

Not a smart whore, though. So scared of pregnancy, but you stopped your T before getting on real birth control, knowing that you can't stop yourself from begging for his bare cock. You're so desperate to be a good girl for him that you're consciously ramping up the risk of having his baby, just so that you can return to full femininity a little sooner.

You know, I got this anon after your last ask:

They're not quite right, in that this first update doesn't include a pregnancy announcement. But it's been a bit since you sent me this, and reading what you sent me, it's not hard to imagine you having already gotten started on the path to being a cute little baby mama to your straight boyfriend.

But even if you haven't... You're never going to be able to forget what this was like, will you? Losing your virginity to a straight man, and so easily losing your identity with it. Being pinned down by him with your legs spread and his bare cock in your pussy. The simple force of a man on top of you, and how simple it was to slip back into womanhood and welcome him in.

[pjsk-headcanons]

*VERY DEEP INHALE* nIIIIIIIIIGGGGHHHTTCORDDDDDD i am so excited im gonna be yapping so hard. prepare yourself aaaAaaAAAAAA

n25-> kanade (unit leader), tsukasa, shiho, akito (great lineup am i right)

n25 -> midnight dream|space

-cue kanade backstory as usual. sorry i think mds is not gonna have any of a better time than canon niigo. oops hehe (drops a ton of angst on them sorry they are my favourites)

-while uploading a melody to some anonymous website, she notices people talking about a different artist in her old uploads. she checks the artist out, listens to a few songs. follows the artist, named SUTA. (all of the nicknames have meaning ;) however, something seems. off.

-this happens again with an artist called nasake. kanade doesnt think much of it.

-a week or two pass when she gets a message in nightcord from SUTA. they want to pair up. kanade agrees reluctantly to call with them to discuss the partnership. during the call, kanade says she wants more people in the group (namely nasake because of the "weird feeling" and because oh my god this guy is kinda loud. its midnight and he so loud my ears)

-yknow what happens. nasake joins the partnership out of curiousity and recommends another artist that they should invite because the music sounds similar.

-kanade listens to their songs. gets the same weird feeling. agrees.

-said artist (called aimai) happily agrees to the partnership and they join a few calls, never talking. they make some demo songs.

-after everyone else logs off, kanade works for a little longer. miku heyyy oh miku wh

-enters sekai. its called house SEKAI. keyword house not home ;)

-insert "i need to save them" stuff i cant think of dialogue

-next day, kanade asks them to meet up because she "needs to get more cup noodles" (actually trying to observe their irl behaviour)

-meetup happens

-kanade resolves to save them. the rest are oblivious to what theyve gotten themselves into

kanade = K

tsukasa = SUTA

shiho = nasake

akito = aimai

all of these have meaning. also i think its funny that akitos nickname is similar to his VAs

okay i did some quick changes to make this work (and because i love bullying my favs)

-okay. remember akitos "good boy" persona? *cranks it up to max* oops so basically its his entire personality because i feel like it doesnt have enough exploration in canon. basically like more than canon mafuyus "good girl" persona.

-also. never went to rad weekend and continued soccer. still does soccer.

-shinonomes and hinomoris live in a very cough tense situation. shiho is like 10x more distrustful than in canon because of the childhood friends thing. also shizuku and ena...uh we dont talk about them

-tsUKASA TENMA. probably a little less loud than in canon and is a lot more serious. still aiming to be a star. is overbearing and worries over saki a lot (much to her dismay)

-tsukasa does the editing and occasionally the composing, shiho does the art(cause akito dont wanna you loser)and sometimes recreates the instrumental, akito does the lyrics (they all need equal amounts of saving this is not gonna be a mafuyu-akito focus)

TRUST RANKS

kanade - tsukasa -> "so loud...so serious?", "hospital encounter" (yk 💀), "prioritizing your health over mine" (please take care of yourself tsucaca and kanade)

shiho - akito -> "distant feelings", "i dont have any siblings" (lying), "dreams long extinguished" (auououuuauu)

tsukasa - shiho -> "my sisters old friend?", "not knowing you felt this way", "aiming for rekindled friendships"

akito - kanade -> "inside, outside", "heat haze rescue!" (reference to my imagined event of when kanade gets heatstroke and the rest of mds has to take care of her), "to relive past memories"

kanade - shiho -> "instrument pros", "family predicament", "burning resolve" (anon try not to bully kanade challenge impossible)

tsukasa - akito -> "orange hair 'buddies'", "troublemaking senior", "the real me?" (koughsghshhgggh)

dONE WITH THE LORE WOOHOO. SEKAIPOSTING NEXT AND PLAYLISTS AFTER...MAYBE SOME MORE CROSS-UNIT TRUST RANKS...also to anyone who reblogs in the tags i see them and you guys are literally the best

have a great day mod 👍 see you next time!!

🌐 anon

.

[literallygeeway]

intro post!!

name: just call me caleb

age: dont wanna disclose but i am a minor so please dont be weird!!

pronouns: he/they idk

gender: kind of just unlabeled rn it hurts my head too much to think about

sexuality: also unlabeled. i kind of just like anyone in any way it doesnt really matter idk (but i have a beautiful beautiful gf :3)

favourite artist: my chemical romance!!!

other favourite artists: bikini kill, mommy long legs, mitski, bratmobile, cat valley, hell baby, dazey and the scouts, wet leg, skinny girl diet, the muslims, voodoo church, crass, chumbawamba, panic! at the disco (specifically afycso)

other artists i just generally like (yes i love music): sonic youth, le tigre, the julie ruin, pierce the veil, x-ray spex, pleasure venom, olivia jean, necromancy, catholic spit, picture me broken

hobbies: music (i can play bass, guitar, drums and piano), writing, photography, filmmaking, cinematography, drawing, making bracelets (though i need to do it more often)

some other stuff i like also includes: heathers the musical (off broadway) (its the only musical i really like), studio ghibli, the sims 4, omori, undertale, deltarune, stardew valley, ddlc, mouthwashing, doctor who, the umbrella academy, arcane, the owl house, bojack horseman, adventure time and scott pilgrim (the tv show, movie and game - i havent read the graphic novel but want to)

more stuff under the cut - dni, fun facts and some more stuff :3

fun facts!!!

my favourite colour is dark red

my favourite food is sushi

im learning japanese and french

my favourite movies are parasite, everything everywhere all at once and isle of dogs!! my favourite tv shows are i am not okay with this and the end of the f***ing world

i love wes anderson movies!!

i had two fish called flamey and sir bubbles the fishington when i was younger but they both died so i flushed them down the toilet

i collect bottles and cans (mainly ramune bottles and like three cool cans but still), funko pops (i have two gerard way funko pops - the black parade with the facepaint and revenge red tie) and vinyls (mcr, mitski, bikini kill, the muslims and wet leg)

dni!!!

basic dni like homophobic, transphobic, ableist, racist, pro-isreal, islamophobic, etc

mcr haters!! /hj

shipping irl people unless its a joke

transmeds and terfs

people who think trans men cant present femininely and trans women cant present masculinely (im a trans-ish guy who wears skirts sometimes so suck my toe)

people who unironically think gerard way is a trans woman... guys he's said they use he/they pronouns and if he was a trans woman he would probably say something!!

please interact!!

mcr fans

riot grrrl fans (not problematic)

alternative people!!! (emo, punk, goth, scene, decora, etc)

just cool people in general :3

other stuff:

no need to use tonetags with me, dont worry about it

i use !!! and :3 and stuff like that a lot, and i also swear more than the average human should

im alternative but dont have a specific label as i dress in a mix of ways and listen to many different genres of music :3

on here i'm mainly gonna post about mcr, so if you dont like them you probably wont like most of the stuff i post :<

i will probably edit this as i think of more stuff to add and as my interests change but yeah <3

pinterest: literallygeeway

instagram: killj0ysneverd1e (i only use it to look at mikey way and frank iero's stories)

fav user: @darkermylovex (go follow her rn she is awesome!!)

I DID NOT MAKE THE PNG THAT APPEARED EARLIER!!

current song obsessions:

okay thats all, have a great day, bye bye :3!!!!

[infernothechaosgod]

I haven't seen your oc's yet! Who are they, do they have reffs? 👀 How many do you have?

RAAAAAAAGH MY OCS MY BELOVED BELOVED PRECIOUS LITTLE GEMS

yeah I have a few there and there, plan on making more sometime

first we have pallea whom I desperatley need to draw more since shes one of my faves and she gonna stick around the most, Im gonna be honest prepare to see more of her, she's a bit of a trickster, always trying to get on everyones nerves and only geniuenly succeding on mickey, they have a bit going on between them and like I said I need to post more abt my girl TOT

pallea my beloved, also just throwing it out there, I did NOT name her after pellea the dish I did not even know that existed before making her I remember I was naming her the same way I name alot of my ocs when they dont have irl names and I just took two words and smashed them together, I also wanted a character to have word PAL in the name for puns, I didn NOT name her after the food TOT

then we have my another very beloved oc RAMONA LOSALL

when it comes to her I accualy don't wanna post too much abt her bc shes exclusive for a project I am not even NEAR touching anytime soon simply to not work on whole 4 big projects at the same time like that would just straight up kill me lmao, but she beasictly starts out as a femme fatale untill it turns out shes as good of a detective as mickey and the two of them get into some cases together

designing her was really fun and I am SO proud of how she turned out, I've been meaning to draw more characters in the rubberhose style that fits in with mickey and others that does have more unique features since I am one of the very few people who accualy do mind the same face on every mouse character that isnt just a big snout, shes got much much smaller and in head ears, her eyes are highlighted and big also her pupils are square and my fav her snout is in a diff shape its curved up and goes more thin as it ends that is that one design i am SO proud of omg

also fun fact, she accualy started out as a redesign of ingrid from old mickey comics but writing just kept going and going and redesign was redesigning

then we have "elenor"e exe.24 who guess what were just calling elenore, I don't have that much drawings of her and I NEED to redesign her...again bc I dont like how her body turned out as in its not rubberhose enough imo

ofc my art doesnt do full on noodle hands and thin arms and legs and stuff but it never went on the level where I was like "hm looks like my normal human build" untill it came to drawing her, the issue with the rubberhose style is that you will have just awful time while trying to design a curvy character , anyways shes a robot and I can see that you can see that shes inspired by mimi the pin up girl like shes in the photo i can see that you see but ye just like ramona she started out as a redesign of an already existing character in this case mimi and things got out of hand again, she's apart of the "neon city" and works in the entertainer industry [while activley fucking up the entire system when no ones looking]

then we have amelia who's in something im accualy working on right now so im not gonna tell you much abt her character and will more focus on her design

shes a weasel! her design was my attempt at using shape language more in my art witch i think you can obviously see since shes beasicly a one giant triangle with soft outsides, I tried my best to give her light colors that don't melt together too much and Hopefuly succeded TOT

but I can tell you she would either instantly choke sylvester shyster to death or would sing him lullabies to bed and theres no inbetween

ignore my minor highlighting mistake

making this post made me realize I have no drawing of the bear workers outside of this witch makes me heartbroken im so sorry, but long story short there construction workers who ended up working for sylvester while hoping someone litellary anyone else is willing to hire them so they can leave that weird rat man alone and behind them

[thats just one of them but theres arounf 6 and there all diffrent types of bears I just have the bear one down like I said I need to draw more of them omg]

I have few more but I just don't have their drawing on my laptop and also there not as important as the ones above and I don't have as much to say abt them since there still in baking stage

Exept Riots/roxane shes still being baked despite having a design for like few months by now, I don't have much to say abt her exept the fact im also proud of her design I just like it alot and wanna show off despite bad quality

but THANK YOU SM FOR THE ASK OH MY GOD I'VE NEVER BEEN ASKED ABOUT MY OCS BEFORE AAHHHH THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!! <3<3<3<3<3<3