#crabby descendants

[hannahhook7744]

The Seven Dwarves' Wives In My Au;

Queen Delightful Bergmann.

Bashful's wife.

Queen of Jollywood.

Aurelia Bergmann.

Dopey's wife.

Gold digger and stay at home mom.

Renée 'Fay' Lenore Dubois Fae, aka Fairy Godmother.

Grumpy's ex-wife.

Former Headmistress at Auradon Prep and Current President of Auradon University.

Busy Bergmann.

Doc's wife.

Stay-at-home mom.

Nifty Bergmann.

Sleepy's Wife.

Worker at Port Royal Curios and Curiosities.

Hotsy Bergmann.

Sneezy's wife.

Model and construction worker.

Doleful Bergmann.

Happy's wife.

Psychologist.

(Last four were made with this picrew . Thanks @igetthedisneybox for the help).

[meraki-sunset]

Assuming Calliope and Caliborn's sprite is just Chartreuse and Crimson again, that would mean you've covered every possible blood color that could be added to the Hemospectrum through canon sprites, except for one: What would your take on a troll or two ascending through Karkat's sprite be? Where would Silverbloods be on the Hemospectrum? Can't really go off of hue since gray doesn't have one, so right in the middle maybe?

The concept of a Silverblood is interesting, sounds like a mirror blood to the goldbloods. I think they would be placed in the middle of the hemospectrum, not being able to be claisfied as lowblood or highblood, just a true midblood.

I guess it makes more sence if the silverblood sprite is a mix of Karkat and his lusus Crabdad

Since he prototiped him before entry. Maybe in some timeline he died and Crabdad prtotyped with him while trying to help him.

This would give us KarcrabSprite, who if he ascended and became a normal troll, would look kinda like this

Karkat would have white hair due to his lusus component, just like CSAU Tavros, and so would his descendants. Crabdad had a secondary pair of eyes, which Karkat would get, and would be reflected on the silveblood's as extra eyes, always smaller than the original eyes. Another detail is that Crabdad had big fangs and multiple spikes on his body, and this would translate on the silvebloods having multiple horns, around 4 or 6, and also having big fangs even as grubs

They would also retain Crabdad's ability to breath underwater

In personality they would be "crabby", kinda short tempered due to their crab lusus side, but this lusus side also makes them prone to raise their own descendants like the jades do and unlike the rest of the bloods. They're very protective of their friends and families.

Their lifespan is the same as a limeblood

[mt-lowercase-m-derogatory]

Was anybody going to tell me that the taxonomy of crustaceans as monophyletic is now known to be incorrect, and the true monophylum accurding to modern science is named PANCRUSTACEA and INCLUDES INSECTS???

In other words, CRABBY FRIENS AND INSECTS ARE MORE CLOSELY RELATED TO EACH OTHER than to Millipedes (and Centipedes, which count as Myriapoda)!!! In addition, Millipedes, "crustaceans", and Insects are all more closely related to each other than to the following:

Spiders, Scorpions, Mites, Ticks, Horseshoe Crabs, Sea Spiders (they're so weird and gorgeous luk at em), Eurypterids (Ark players know), Velvet Worms, Tardigrades

What the fuck (that's not an animal)

EDIT: I realized that none of that really explains the craziest thing. See, "monophyletic" means something that includes one ancestor species and all species descended from it. Crustaceans are only monophyletic if you include insects. That means...

That means there are groups crustaceans that are more closely related to insects than they are to anything else we call a crustacean

[kneesheee]

when descendants fanfic writers remember the main characters’ family members >>>>>

Hadie - Mal’s half brother

Uma has sisters; unknown how many

Jade - Jay’s cousin

Diego - Carlos’ cousin

(Ivy - Carlos’ cousin from 101 Dalmatians: The Series.)

Anthony Tremaine - Dizzy’s cousin, Chad and Chloe’s stepcousin

The Evil Stepgranddaughters - Dizzy’s sisters

Gaston Jr, Gaston 3rd - Gil’s brothers

Harriet, CJ - Harry’s sisters

Ariana Rose - Audrey’s cousin

Derek - Doug’s brother

Gus, Hapson, Cheerful, Shy, Doc Jr, Bashful Jr, Crabby, Gordon, Sleepy Jr, Snoozy - Doug’s cousins

[vaya-writes]

Not Quite A Life Debt - 3

A handful of f reader insert scenes with m demonic love interests. Fluff, hurt/comfort, and smutty shenanigans that lean kind of poly.

You (kind of unnecessarily) tried to save Ludwig’s life. Out of pity, he lets you crash at his place for a few weeks after. It probably wouldn’t be so bad, but he doesn’t live alone. Reader stays with the triplets until she gets back on her feet. Smut, family shenanigans, and possibly even romance ensues.

Mervin is kind of crabby after his heat he gets sick. You begin searching for employment. And Ludwig helps you out on a high pain day. 5900 words.

Content warnings for this chapter include: mild isolation, some blame from the resident pride demon, pain and sickness during menstruation, the briefest and undescribed animal death (Obie eats a pigeon), and smut.

Smut warnings include: consensual fingering and groping whilst menstrating, brief joking/discussion of menstural oral (does not actually occur), soft stuff that turns a little rough, unintentional and unplanned breath play (hand over mouth), nonconsensual biting (from both parties), dry humping, semi-public sexual stuff, lack of aftercare because of an interruption.

Divider by firefly-graphics. Characters by @eldritch-spouse.

Masterlist - A03 - Previous

You get used to living in Perdition.  

Well, it would be more accurate to say you get used to living with Ludwig and his brothers. You’re not allowed to leave the house by yourself; the triplets make no secret of the fact that they live in a bad neighbourhood – a bad ring, as Ludwig puts it.  

It’s frustrating, but you don’t doubt them. It only takes a few brief tours around the area for you to understand. You attract stares everywhere you go. Leers, really. And watching what demons do to each other (both strangers on the street, and the brothers among themselves), you hate to imagine what they might do to a human. 

It’s as if everyone here speaks several additional languages that humans just aren’t fluent with (literal infernal aside). Greed. Hunger. Violence. The first time you watch Mervin and Ludwig descend into a proper argument, you’re horrified. Nothing you’d seen at home – and you were no stranger to domestic scraps – could prepare you for it. Teeth and claws and broken furniture. Mervin draws a gods-damned weapon. You’d seen people fight before. But not like this. You’d dismissed yourself and locked yourself in the spare room the first time it had happened.  

Obie had dragged the two upstairs by the horns and made them apologise for scaring you. 

It’s not the only thing you notice. You don’t put your finger on it for a while. It takes several outings with the triplets, several more incidents and scraps before you start to suspect another key difference between demons and humans.  

It has something to do with their priorities. Their sense of self. Their interactions within a community. Humans aren’t selfless, by any means. But bonds form fast between them. Connections are quickly made, common goals are easily worked towards, and interconnectedness is practically built into our genes. The human instinct for empathy, to help those around us, to lean on each other for support – it's as if demons lack it.  

It truly is survival of the fittest for them. You suspect that if a demon can’t survive alone, they won’t survive at all. You see it in the way they think of themselves first. How Obie might reach for your food, before hesitating. Or Mervin opens his mouth to speak, before thinking better. That consideration, cohesion are learned traits. Conscious choices to practice, and not instinct.  

It scares you more in strangers. That the curiosity is not the first thing demons look at you with, but hunger. You’d feel like prey if you didn’t watch them do it to each other too. Like every person is a mark; looked at with the question ‘what can I gain from using you’ before asking something more basic, like ‘who are you’.  

Long story short, you don’t mind keeping to the house. 

The first time you go anywhere without them, it’s to Sloth, to stay with Katia. The circumstances are odd. Mervin had just come back from one of his extended trips. He’d strode through the door, seen you in the lounge and frozen for a moment, before stamping straight to his bedroom, and shutting the door with a slam. Ludwig had come home early that day and explained that Mervin was sick and needed the house to himself for a week. 

It didn’t make sense to you. But what did you know? Mervin was almost never around. You didn’t know what he was like when he was sick. Still, the hesitation when Ludwig had explained the situation, the look he shared with his mother when he dropped you off at her place – it led you to suspect that a key piece of information was being kept from you.  

It fills you with paranoia. But Katia is lovely. Spending time with her helps ease the anxiety in your chest. Most of her hours are spent at work or sleeping, but the moments of lucidity she spends with you are enjoyable. She shows you how to cook a few new meals. Lets you go through her photo albums and look at baby pictures of her sons. On the weekend she even takes you clothes shopping, and for the first time in almost a month you feel at ease, wearing clothes that you’ve chosen for yourself.  

When Katia returns you back to the common ring, Mervin is still home. He’s currently your least favourite triplet, but you make an effort to smile. “Feeling better?” 

He scowls, and you’re surprised at the amount of vitriol in his expression. “As if that’s your business.” 

You try not to visibly deflate. 

Katia tsks and frowns at her son. She pats you on the back. “He’s just embarrassed, sweetie. Don’t you pay him any mind.” 

She gives you a peck on the cheek before leaving, and sound of the door closing sends a wave of dread through you. You really don’t want to be alone with Mervin. 

But when you turn his expression has softened. If only marginally. He tilts his head. “She likes you.” 

You’re not sure what to say. You shrug as you take your shoes off. “We had fun.” 

You feel his stare on you, even as you cross the room. You head towards the kitchen, hoping for something to eat.  

“She bought you clothes.”  

His tone is almost accusatory. You can’t help but flush, shame starting to weigh on you. “She’s very kind.” 

To your dismay, he follows you to the kitchen. He crosses his arms and watches when you pull out the materials for a sandwich. Uncomfortable, you ask, “Do you want one?”  

He scoffs. “How long are you going to keep eating our food? Wearing our clothes?” 

You don’t let it show, but his words strike deep. You’re more than aware of the position you’re in. You cast your eyes towards the task at hand. Prepping food. “I don’t like it either. But it’s kind of hard to find a job when I’m forbidden from leaving the house.” 

He crosses his arms. “Excuses.” 

 “Did you want to escort me to Earth every morning?”  

“Now you’re asking us for transport too?” 

You’ve had enough. It’s either cry or snap. And you are not going to cry in front of Mervin. Instead you slam your knife to the counter.  

“I didn’t ask for this. I did not ask to be shunted from place to place my whole damn life. I’m sorry if that inconveniences you,” your tone is in no way apologetic.  

He’s silent as you leave. 

Immediately upon returning to your room, you regret the encounter. The last thing you need to be doing is antagonising your benefactors. But still. Ludwig was the one who invited you here, and if Mervin has a problem, he should be taking it up with his brother. 

-- 

You finally get a new job.  

It’s not without its difficulties – transit mainly. One of the triplets has to take you through a series of rifts. One to Earth. One to continent you hail from. Another to a large town. Ludwigs talks about establishing a proper route, about using the most stable rifts, and being prepared for a disruption to travel if any of them close. There’s a lot of jargon you don’t really understand. But he gets you back to Earth. Back to ‘gainful employment’.   

Mervin straight up refuses to be your escort. He’s not around enough anyway. Ludwig handles it most days, but Obie is always available to fill in when Ludwig is busy elsewhere. Neither seem to mind your spotty hours. You tell the triplets when you start and finish, and they’re usually able to have you delivered on time. 

Sometimes you take an afternoon for yourself. Spending time in a human city is good for you. You visit a library. Buy yourself necessities. Even do some grocery shopping. Nobody seems to fault you for it, and Mervin certainly complains less when you start bringing home your own food.  

And so you fall into the new routine. Working four to six days a week. Ludwig or sometimes Obie walking you there, chatting about your day or your plans. Finally starting to feel at ease in their home, now that you’re less of an imposition.  

You’re a shift worker, usually working mornings at a cafe. Your customer service is without fault and you know how to use a coffee machine. It was enough to get you the job. That and your eclectic resume. 

There’re still moments that throw you off. Behaviours from the triplets that take you by surprise, or the occasional week when you’re banished to Katia as one of them comes down sick with something. The three of them are rarely united about anything, but they all seem intent on keeping you in the dark regarding that odd ritual. 

One morning you wake up and are immediately torn over whether or not you should go to work. It’s a little late to call in. And Obie had already promised to take you. But your underwear are saturated with blood and your gut is torn up in cramps. Your period isn’t usually this bad, but you can already tell that today is going to be a hard one. 

You decide to suck it up. It’s just a bit of cramping. Of pain in your joints. Sure, it’s nauseating, and it takes a few minutes before you can stand and walk without limping. But you’ve done this before, and you can do it again. You didn’t survive this long by flaking out of work when things got tough. 

You almost miss the odd look Obie gives you as you head downstairs. Perhaps you mistake it for sympathy. You wear a grimace and make no effort to hide your discomfort. Still, Obie doesn’t say much on your way to work. He seems distracted, focusing his attention on the details around him, often picking up items to chew on.  

You try not to gape at the number of small things that disappear as you pass. A handful of bark flakes from a pot plant. A table number at an outdoor cafe. A pile of junk wrappers from his pockets. (Garbage from the pavement. A handful of leaves and twigs and flowers from any trees you pass. An actual bird that doesn’t have the fortune to flee in time.) He’s not hidden his gluttonous habits from you, from what you can tell, but today he consumes far more than usual. You wonder if he’s unwell.  

You put it out of mind when you get to work, saying your goodbyes and clocking in for the day.  

You don’t last long. It’s probably only an hour or two before you’re curled up on the couch in the break room, banished there after the manager spotted you limping. She tells you to go home. You’re torn between humiliation and gratitude. You send a message off to Obie.  

Unwell. Can you bring me home early? 

He sends you a thumbs up and you’re left to wait. 

His behaviour on the way home is almost distraction enough from your pain.  There’s pretty much always something in his mouth; this time he’d brought food from home with him. You watch curiously as he pulls out several sticks of gum when his food is gone. He only chews for a moment before he’s swallowed them too. It’d almost be funny if he didn’t seem so distracted. Ravenous to a degree which you’ve never seen. 

“Are you alright?” You ask at one point. 

He finally glances your way. Shrugs. “Smelt something tasty.” 

The explanation makes sense, if a little understated. You give him a sympathetic nod.  

Obie drops you off at the door before mumbling his excuses and leaving.  

You make a beeline for the lounge, planning to lay down and watch some tv. You grimace as you round the corner – Ludwig is already sprawled across the couch. 

“Is there room for me?” 

“Thought you had work?” He doesn’t quite straighten, but he does change his angle, leaving enough space for you to squeeze in beside him. 

Carefully, you do. “I was sent home sick.” 

Ludwig tenses and turns your way.  “You smell like blood.” 

You grimace.  

You know that demons have superhuman senses, and that such things are normal to them. But you still can’t help but feel self-conscious around them. Every time your heart speeds up, or your breath hitches, you have to wonder if anyone notices. If anyone overanalyses it. If they can tell when you forget to wear deodorant or can smell your lunch on your breath.  

You’d go crazy if you let yourself worry about it too much. After moving in with the triplets you decided to believe that they might notice these things, but they likely wouldn’t care. The same way you’d react if you saw a customer with a large zit, or a coworker having a bad hair day. You choose not to make a big deal about the things people can’t change. 

But if Ludwig is going to bring up the little details, if he’s going to speak without tact, why should you? 

“Probably because I’m bleeding from my vagina.” 

Ludwig winces. “Oh. Oh.” He snorts. "Guess that explains his behaviour.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

Ludwig gestures to the door. “Obie. Your blood. The smell.” He shrugs. “Delish.” 

Your nose crinkles. “Gross.” 

He grins. “I thought humans loved the blood drinking gimmick. Ya’ll go mad for vampires.” 

“Pop culture aside, I doubt many of us want to consider period blood in that context.” 

“Why? Blood is blood.” 

Your lip curls. “It’s different. Different composition. Different texture... Full of waste products... I really don’t want to think about it.” 

“I’ve seen that demon eat literal garbage. I don’t think he’s worried about your waste products.” 

“Don’t say it like that.”  

He doesn’t get a chance to tease you further, straightening when another series of cramps has you tucking your knees to your chest, gripping your abdomen to ease the pain. 

“You alright?” 

Your reply is hoarse. “Just peachy.” 

He touches his hand to your back. “What usually helps?” 

“Heat pack. Pain killers.”  

“I can have Ob bring some home. What else?” 

You clutch a cushion to your chest and rest your head against the couch end. “It’s fine. It’s just pain. I don’t want-” you stop. Restart. “You don’t need to do anything else.” 

Your eyes spring open when Ludwig grabs a fistful of your hair. Starts tugging on it. Gentle tugs, reminiscent of schoolyard teasing. Until a sudden yank that leaves your scalp stinging. 

“Ow!” Impulse has you slapping his hand away. “The fuck is your problem?” 

His voice doesn’t hold a drop of concern: fastidiously sweet. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” The tone drops and becomes resolute. “You should let me make it up to you. Tell me how to make you feel better.” 

You scoff at the ploy. “There’s nothing to do. Unless you want to spend the next few days waiting on me.” 

He pinches your cheek. “What, you want some coddling?” 

You swat him away again. “Your words, not mine.” 

“Hmm.” He rearranges himself. Before you have a chance to protest, you’re pulled between his legs, your back to his chest in an awkward embrace. “How’s this?” 

Your eyes are wide open now, and you’re stiff with surprise. Ludwig hadn’t struck you as the cuddling type. 

You’re still formulating a reply when he wraps an arm around your midsection, his forearm coming to rest against where your cramps are strongest. You note the heat, normally oppressive, seeping through the back of your shirt to relax your muscles. 

“That’s... that’s actually great. Fuck.” 

His chest rumbles with a laugh. 

You frozen, still unsure how to respond to the proximity. You haven’t been hugged in... a long time. 

 He pinches you again. “So what’s this shit about you imposing?” 

“I didn’t say-” 

“You implied.” He adopts a higher pitch, in mockery of your voice, “’You don’t need to do anything, being here is enough because I’m so sad and pitiful, wah.’” 

You mumble out a curse. “I don’t sound like that.” 

“You going to answer the question?” 

Your nose crinkles and you cross your arms. This isn’t a conversation you want to have. “I don’t like relying on other people.” 

“Obviously. Why?”  

You shrug. “I don’t want to wear out my welcome.” 

There’s a silence before Ludwig sighs. His fingers tangle in your hair again, this time to scratch at your scalp. It feels nice. 

“Are you always like this, or did Mervin say something?” 

You scowl, not pleased to have been read so easily. Your silence is answer enough. 

“I’ve lived with those two for decades. Believe me when I tell you that you’re a perfectly pleasant housemate in comparison. You’re tidier, quieter, more polite-” 

You shrug off his words. He’s not wrong. But years of living precariously has instilled into you a deep wariness of getting comfortable.  

“-and I told you that Mervin would talk shit.” He pauses, just enough for smugness to creep into his tone. “He likes you, you know.” 

You huff. “Doubtful.” 

“Yeah, he’d never tell it to your face, but I know my brother. And he’s said some pretty interesting things when you’re not around.” 

You almost turn to check his expression. Your stillness has probably given away your interest.  

“I don’t believe you.” 

Ludwig shrugs. “Believe me or don’t. But I know he likes you.” 

You chew on your lip, considering your recent interactions with the demon. If he likes you, he isn't very good at showing it. 

“Not as much as Obie though.” 

You get the distinct impression that you’re being teased. It’s hard to be mad with Ludwig kneading your shoulders, but still, you feel ill at ease. “You’re just making fun of them.” 

“I’m serious. Why else would he be so jittery today?” 

“You said that I smelt tasty.” 

“Do you think everyone smells good to him?” 

You scrunch your eyes closed. Lean your head back to rest against his shoulder. He’s starting to give you a headache. “How would I know?”  

“I guess you wouldn’t. Good thing I'm here to keep you informed.” 

You roll your eyes. “That’s such a Mervin thing to say.” 

He crinkles his nose. Flicks you on the forehead.  

And despite yourself, you start to relax. It’s incremental. You’re still uncomfortable. You’re in pain and leaning against an absolute furnace of a demon. But your muscles loosen, and your breathing evens.  

You could probably sleep off the worst of your cramps if Ludwig stopped fussing. His ministrations aren’t particularly disruptive, but they do hold your attention. He squeezes your shoulders. Presses the flat of his palm above your mons, where the pain is worst. Gently scratches at your scalp and massages the back of your neck. 

You haven’t been just touched in a long time, and there’s a walled off piece of you that stirs to life at each point of contact.  

When he wraps his hand around your throat, the heat and firmness of his grip nearly have you melting. It’s enough to have you forgetting yourself, and you let out a hum of satisfaction. 

“You know, I’ve heard orgasms relieve pain.” 

Reality slams back into you, leaving you hyperaware of how you’re draped across Ludwig’s lap. The work he’d put into relaxing you is completely undone as you thrum with tension. Your mouth shuts tight with embarrassment.  

Your jaw is stiff when you reply. “Are you coming on to me?” 

He huffs a laugh. “Maybe. I guess.” 

You struggle to process. “Weren’t you just telling me that Obie liked me?” 

“Mm. You do have a knack for charming my family.” 

That doesn’t answer your implication. “Wouldn’t he be upset?” 

Ludwig shrugs. “First come, first served. And if he really has a problem, I don’t mind sharing.” 

You almost sit up, thoroughly scandalised and shocked.  

Almost. 

Ludwig is silent. Patient. Awaiting a response. Or perhaps just content to watch you reel. 

You take a breath. Try to consider his suggestion.  

It has its appeal. You haven’t gotten off in a while. Long enough that just sitting in Ludwig’s lap is enough to set your heart racing. But thinking about any form of intimacy ties your stomach up in knots that have nothing to do with your period. 

“I don’t want to fuck this up.” You’re thinking of your position here. Your welcome, and the things that could change if you were to start a casual fling.  

His lips brush your ear, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck. “No strings attached. I’m just offering to help out a friend. Relieve some pain.” 

“Get your dick wet?” 

His hand creeps upwards, dipping under the hem of your shirt. It's hard to concentrate on anything else. “Not even.” 

You bite your lip, frozen with consideration. Anticipation.  

You like Ludwig well enough. He’s handsome, even. Rough around the edges, sure, but disarming with his occasional teasing and laid-back behaviour.  

“No strings attached?” 

“None.” 

“No further expectations?” 

He lets out a huff. “You can say no.” 

You shake your head. You’re not opposed. Just wary. Scared, even. 

But if he’s being genuine- if you have nothing to lose from accepting his help- 

Your knees fall apart and you relax further into Ludwig’s grasp.  

Then why not? 

“Okay.” 

Given permission, his hand disappears beneath your shirt. Traces the contours of your stomach. It almost tickles, how gentle he’s being. Something you hadn’t expected. With his free hand he squeezes your thigh. What limited area he can reach in this position is subject to deep, massaging touches.  

It helps to relax you, until your head is lolling back and your muscles are going slack again. And at first it seems like he’s content to just explore. Mapping out your abdominals. Your ribs. The underside of your breasts.  

He thumbs at the bra and tsks.  

“That can’t be too comfortable.” 

You hum your agreement. 

“Are you attached to this bra?” 

You shrug and shake your head. It’s just a plain white bra, one of multiple you own. 

“Good.” 

You’re pulled out of your lull by the sound of tearing cloth. Air touches your breasts, and you realise what he’s done. 

“You shit-” 

He grips you by the jaw, movements taking on a hint of force. Impatience or desire, you’re not sure. But your words are cut off when he crushes his lips to yours, tongue invading your mouth. 

The tips of his claws dig into your flesh where he grips your thigh. The sudden intensity has you reeling. Fuzziness closes in on your thoughts, enough to keep you pliant. There’s a part of you that’s indignant about the bra. The rough treatment. But mostly, you just want to see what he does next. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles against your lips. “Wanted to see you. Feel you.” He emphasises with a squeeze of your breast. 

He goes back to kneading your thighs and you can’t help but squirm. You need your pants off. Now. You need to feel him against your skin. 

Impatient, you unzip them. Manage to shimmy them down to your ankles before giving up. But Ludwig gets the idea. 

Teasing, he runs a single digit up the inside of your thigh. The point of his nail prickles against your skin, hard enough to hurt. 

You can’t stop your hips from twitching. The shuddering intake of air. Your murmured little, “Fuck.” 

The sound must do things for Ludwig, because he stills. Then takes hold of your throat, nuzzling your neck and grinding against your back. You become aware of his erection.  

“You sound good,” he says against your ear.  

He palms your core and huffs a laugh when you shudder. “Feel good too.” 

You’re wet. When had that happened? Slick to the point where it’s too easy for him to stroke you through the cotton. It’s impossible to miss when he runs a claw directly over your clit. 

You buck, biting back a little groan. It’s getting harder to think. To control yourself. 

Ludwig chuckles at your response. “Someone’s keen.”  

You want to retort, but only manage a whine in response. He’s not wrong. You can’t remember the last time somebody touched you like this. 

Almost as if to punish you, his hand leaves your underwear. You do whimper this time, when he takes hold of your throat. The grip is solid, but not choking. Enough to scare you. Thrill you. But still light enough to keep you at ease. Even if you wish he’d go back to stroking your clit. 

He presses his lips to yours again. Starts to knead and squeeze at your breasts. 

You protests slip away as he fondles you. The pain too- you're too preoccupied by the cold air on your chest. The scrape of claws against your skin. At the hot breath on your face, the kiss with entirely too much teeth, and the tongue that keeps stuffing into your mouth.  

He’s more intense than you’d expected; the hand around your throat drifting up to grip your jaw. He ignores your attempt to break away for air. Steers you back towards him, insatiable and eager. The heat of his skin turning the kiss sweltering. Sweaty. Almost too warm. Too crowded.  

But damn if you aren’t into it. 

Finally you grab him by a horn and yank his face away, desperate for air, for an inch of space. 

It doesn’t deter Ludwig. He just reaches back towards your underwear, pressing kisses against your neck instead. Sucking hard against the tender flesh of your shoulder. Relishing the gasps he draws from you. Rubbing between your legs again. 

You’re deeply embarrassed by the way your underwear are starting to stick to you. It has you torn, the desire to be touched combatting your reluctance to be vulnerable. An instinctual compromise has you covering your face.  

“None of that,” Ludwig intercepts you by the wrist, pinning your arm to the couch. “I want to hear you.” 

You’ve no choice but to let your head slump back. It’s an effort not to clench your jaw, to let your body relax. To allow your composure to fall, and a string of soft gasps to escape you. 

It’s a blessing when he pulls your underwear aside. The cold air shocks you out of your self consciousness. Pulls you out of your own head a little more. 

There’s a moment of tension before he touches you, your knees spread as far as you can manage, trying not to cant your hips with how desperate you are for friction. 

He doesn’t touch your clit straight away. Your control breaks pretty easily, and you find your hips leaving the couch, seeking out his touch. 

He huffs a laugh against your ear, stilling his hand and waiting for you to settle.  

With the softest little huff you do, nearly vibrating out of your skin with the effort it takes to keep still as he places his hand on your mons. Strokes across your vulva. Spreading you open and exposing your wetness to the air. 

“If I’d known we’d be doing this, I’d have filed down my claws." 

You become hyperaware of them. Tense. With anxiety, with anticipation. Part of you is afraid of pain. Of a possible misstep. But mostly you just want to be touched. 

Ludwig flexes his hand. Rubs you with the pads of his fingers quite harmlessly. His free arm wraps around your chest and holds you in place when he finally touches your clit.  

You arch at the touch, inhaling shakily.  

It’s nothing fancy. It’s not like you haven’t touched yourself the same way before. 

But the breath on your neck, the change of scenery, the erection pressing into your back- 

“Shit,” you murmur.  

Then you’re coming against his fingers, far too quickly. 

Ludwig clamps a hand over your mouth. Your moans come out muffled; still entirely lewd. You grip his forearm, nails digging into his skin as you arch against him.  

His chest rumbles at the contact and he grips you tighter, grinding against your ass. In a moment that both startles you and extends the aftershocks of your orgasm, you feel teeth clamp down on your shoulder. Hard, jagged, just shy of breaking the skin. 

Your moans turn into whines and you buck against him. He only grips you harder, hand skewing enough to cover your nose too. You’re not getting any air, and while part of you panics, another part of you melts. Light headedness kind of feels nice when your heart is pounding and pleasure is still rolling through your being.  

Still, all things in moderation.  

Soon you can hear your heart in your ears and your chest is aching for air. Your wriggling doesn’t dissuade Ludwig at all, but you desperately need to breathe. You could probably communicate this to him, could probably just tug his hand away from your face. But your limbs aren’t really back under your control yet, so instead you do the next best thing and bite him. 

“Oh- f-fuck.” 

His hand leaves your face as he grips you by the hips. Holding you in place as he grinds against you, lowly groaning against your shoulder.  

He stills. 

You both pant heavily in the following silence. 

“Did you just...” 

He relaxes back against the couch. “Oops.” 

“Ludwig!” 

Your embarrassment at how quickly you came is immediately washed away. You turn to stare your disbelief, but Ludwig isn’t even looking at you. His brow is raised, and he’s looking up towards the doorway- 

The front door opens. 

“Hey, sorry, I forgot my phone-” 

Obie only takes two steps into the room before his head whips towards you and he freezes. 

You’re still hazy, and for a moment nobody reacts. Then shame rushes in and you’re yanking your shirt down, clamping your knees shut. Your mouth opens, and you want to speak, to explain, but nothing comes out. 

Ludwig wipes his hand on his pants and snorts. “I guess you caught me... red handed?” 

Eyes wide, you turn to him, incredulous. How can he be joking right now? 

A noise escapes the glutton. The sound of air- a hiss or perhaps a sharp inhale.  You don’t have a chance to identify it further before his brows crease and his shoulders square. He reaches towards the wall, blindly groping for the first object in range.  He rips a poster from its place. And stuffs it into his mouth. 

Ludwig straightens. “Really? You’re going to be like that?” 

Obie's jaw sets. He swipes one of the t-shirts hanging off the back of the couch – one of Ludwig’s. And swallows it whole too.  

Ludwig sighs. “C’mon man, that was a collectible.” 

Incensed, Obie continues, grabbing at knickknacks across the room and stuffing them into his mouth. You notice all of them belong to Ludwig.  

You’re surprised that Ludwig doesn’t move from his spot. Doesn’t act to stop his brother, only grumbling at each disappearing item. 

You wince at the crunch of ceramic as Obie chews on a mug. Otherwise you’re still frozen in place, not sure what to make of the scene. 

“I told you he liked you,” Ludwig mutters. 

“You did what?” Obie says around a mouthful of pottery, his voice shrill. 

“What? It’s not like you were being subtle.” 

Before you have a chance to blink Obie is striding across the room. Mouth still full of ceramic, he starts to cuss Ludwig out, reaching out to grab him by the shirt, heedless of your proximity.  

Ludwig just keeps smirking. 

You wriggle out of his lap, unnerved by the prospect of being caught between two warring demons. Still jelly legged, you yank up your pants and stand, not wanting to be anywhere near them if they’re going to have it out. 

But you stagger.  

Pain flares through your abdomen and a hiss escapes from between your teeth.  

Obie and Ludwig fall silent, still. Before- 

“I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?” and “Hey, we didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

They both miss the mark, but share twin looks of remorse. 

You shake your head. “Just period pain. Standing hurts.” 

They reach for you at the same time.  

“Did getting off help? Do you want more?”  

“Have you had any meds? Or some food to settle your stomach?” 

The fretting is short lived however, when Obie pauses and shoots Ludwig what you can only assume is his version of a glare. 

“Seriously? That was your excuse?” 

Ludwig shrugs. “She needed a little pampering.” 

“Pampering. Is stuff like a foot rub. Or brushing her hair. Or carrying her bag. Not sticking your fingers inside of her!” 

You bite your lip at the statement. You’d convinced yourself that a short fling with Ludwig wouldn’t be a big deal. But Obie might be right. You’d done it in the house they shared. In a space they shared. After having been told that the glutton had feelings for you. 

It really was a dick move. You should have considered what might happen if you were caught. Taken things to a private room. Turned him down completely. Anything but what you’d done. 

Obie and Ludwig don’t look like they’re going to come to blows. But you don’t want to stick around and listen to their bickering. It’d only embarrass you. Guilt you. 

“I’m going to lay down,” you mutter, heading for the stairs. 

The pair fall silent.  

Obie follows you upstairs. You really hope he won’t stop you. You don’t know what to say. 

“Hey.” 

You do your best to wipe the discomfort off your face before turning to face him. “Hi.” 

His cheeks are red, and he twiddles his thumbs, before stuffing his hands into his pockets. And pulling them out to fidget again. 

“I- uh. There’s chocolate. In my room. If you want some.” 

Standing there, pain creeping up your back, loose bits of your bra hanging limp under your shirt, and a mess of blood and slick in your underwear, you try not to grimace. 

“That’s sweet of you Obie.” You’re tired. Tired of being perceived and fussed over. Of being embarrassed. Of feeling gross. But you get the feeling that if you blow Obie off right now, you might damage something irreparably between you. “Normally I’d love some, but-” 

“I’m sorry.” 

You blink. “Huh?” 

“I wasn’t trying to shame either of you. I was just... jealous. Mad. That he made a move before I could. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

It takes you a few moments to decide your reply. 

“I need a shower. And to change.” 

His face falls and he steps back. Forces a little laugh. “Oh. Of course. I’ll just be-” 

“I’ll come by after? If you want?” 

He stills, as if surprised by your reply. The embarrassment leaves his features and he straightens, “Yeah, okay. I’ll just tidy up a bit. See you in a bit?” 

You drudge up a smile and reply before turning back to your door. “See you in a bit.” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Oh Rollo, you may think Raven is naive in her thinking, but I believe it takes a strong heart to be willing to see all sides of a person as a writer looks at the different facets of a character. Perhaps you should go out and have lunch with her, have a chat about your opinion on heroes and villains in stories. Should be enlightening to you.

[Referencing this post!]

Will Today be the Day?

"I refuse to dine in the cafeteria."

Rollo had made it clear where he stood on the matter as soon as lunch hour came around. He cited a great many things to support his decision: the noise, the number of bodies crammed into one room, his stomach's delicate constitution.

Raven raised an eyebrow at his claims, but tactfully avoided questioning them. This was as polite as Rollo was going to get about wanting a moment of peace and quiet away from the mages he so despised—she had to cherish it.

"You can't tour the campus on foot and skip a meal in the middle of it. It's not healthy," she had told him. "If you won't eat in the cafeteria, then stay here. I'll fetch you something that's hopefully palatable."

He'd been waiting on a bench for a little over 20 minutes now, eating up almost half of the allotted time for lunch.

What is taking her so long? Rollo expelled a sigh into his handkerchief. Perhaps he had overestimated one simple-minded bird's abilities to gather food. If I wanted it done properly, I would have done it myself.

As the remnants of that thought fizzled out, it was replaced by the awareness of approaching foot steps. Quick-footed but light, as if their soles were barely touching the ground. Almost flighty in quality.

Rollo looked up—and there she was, Raven jogging at him with a paper bag overflowing with breads. A light sheen of sweat crowned her brow, and her cheeks were colored apple blossom pink from exertion.

She halted before him, bent over with one hand on her knee to collect her breath.

“Rollo-senpai!! Thank you for waiting,” Raven gasped out. “It was a war zone in the cafeteria today, everyone clamoring for the best food items…! But fortunately for me, the ghost chefs gifted me with whatever they couldn’t sell and yesterday’s leftovers. They’re a little stale, but still perfectly good!”

She thrust out the paper bag. Loaves and rolls of varying shapes, sizes, and textures peered out from it.

Rollo slowly nodded in approval. “I see. How prudent of you to save bread that would have otherwise gone to waste.”

He reached for a croissant—and at the same time, Raven plucked a sesame seed studded bun and tore it in half, then into even smaller bits. Rollo stared. She scattered the crumbs at her feet, paying him no mind.

“… What are you doing?”

The girl smiled softly. "It's everyone's lunch time.”

Then, turning away, Raven cupped a hand to her mouth and released a trilling song. It was a wordless tune, just a few cheery, rising notes.

The eager flapping of many pairs of wings filled the air. Moments later, a plethora of birds descended from the skies. They spread out—at Raven’s feet, on her arms, in her hair.

Rollo almost choked on day-old croissant.

“Wh-What in the world…?!”

Some birds started pecking at the crumbs. Others—mainly the ones nesting on Raven—twittered in greeting. She giggled and twittered back, her tongue twisting into forms Rollo couldn’t comprehend.

"You're proficient in animal languages,” he said faintly.

“Just the avian ones,” Raven clarified. “… Oh, and they say hello. Mr. Pigeon mentioned you seem irritable.”

Rollo frowned—not taking well to the comments. Instead of returning the greeting, he asked, “Why are you supplying the local vermin with food? You feed pests and they’ll return for more, be it rats, raccoons, stray dogs or cats, or… birds.”

There was a collective gasp from the flock, even the ones with their beaks crammed with crumbs.

“Shhh, don’t listen to him. He’s just a little crabby today,” Raven cooed to them. “He’s not usually like this.”

They stared back doubtfully.

“… Okay, he’s usually worse.”

“You shouldn’t enable them,” Rollo continued sternly. “Whatever it is you’re telling them, it must be something foolishly naive.”

“Nest in his hat,” a blue jay declared, “or in his ugly hair. That’ll teach him.”

“No, no, poop on his shoes. Humans hate that,” a dove suggested.

“Want us to peck his eyes out?” a robin offered.

“I’ll eat his liver,” a canary said sweetly, “like the eagle did in the tale of the Fire Thief.”

Raven shook her head at the needlessly aggressive birds. She knelt, letting the birds on her flutter or climb down to join the others, then took a seat herself beside Rollo. A moment of silence elapsed before she spoke again.

“If I recall correctly, the people in the City of Flowers look after community goats. The stories say that goats will come to help you in your time of need—and that’s where the tradition comes from.”

Rollo snorted. “You think songbirds will come to your aid?”

“I’m not being nice to them expecting something in return. I think… with the passage of time, something that started off with a reason behind it just becomes natural and routine. Something genuine.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Not everything has an answer,” she replied mysteriously. “… In any case, this is our lunch period so we should unwind rather than spending it worrying over the details.”

“Your feathered friends look like they want to commit murder,” he commented stiffly.

“Maybe they wouldn’t look like that if you hadn’t insulted them to their faces?”

“The offer’s still on the table,” the peck-happy robin piped up.

“Hmph. I don’t understand why you indulge these pitiful creatures as you do. There is nothing to be gained from associating with them.”

“Maybe you see it that way, but I don’t.” Raven folded her arms and tilted her head to one side. “I like to think of it like this: every living being is the protagonist of its own story—but because of that, it also makes them a supporting character in other peoples’ stories. No one is a hero or a villain by default, they only become that through the lenses of other’s stories and interpretations. That’s why I try to give the benefit of the doubt and second chances.”

She waved a hand at the feasting cluster of birds. “Animals too, are protagonists and supporting characters. They lead their own lives, tell their own stories, and uphold our own as well. They deserve to be treated with the same dignity as you or I.”

Rollo grimaced. He could no longer get his croissant down—not comfortably, at least.

“… You may see yourself as a savior, but others may think differently.” Raven placed a hand on her chest. “But redemption is not yet out of reach. Even villains can have happily ever afters, and not necessarily at the cost of ‘turning good’. Fairy tales have evolved beyond the black and white binary.”

Rollo eyed her warily. The birds all seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation for his response.

“… You speak like the heroes with bleeding hearts from those very same stories,” he said at last. “You think yourself superior?”

“Not at all. I’m simply an outside observer. I can have faith and make wishes upon stars because I can see the potential overflowing from each and every character.

“What a childish way of viewing the world. It’s a fool’s dream.”

“But a dream nevertheless—and if it can be dreamed, then it’s a very real possibility.”

“Hmph. Has anyone ever told you that you have the imagination of a child?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Rollo-senpai."

“Of course you would.”

"You have a strong imagination yourself." Granted, it typically involves mages being extinguished in a blazing hellfire but that’s neither here nor there.

Raven shrugged and stuck her hand into the bread bag and rummaged around in it. She retrieved a slice of milk bread and chomped down.

“… Are you really going to spend your entire lunch griping? Let’s enjoy this moment. It’s not everyday when we have such good weather and unique company.”

Rollo said nothing more—the strained conversation was over. Pointless and unfruitful, as he had suspected it to be from the very beginning.

Sitting side by side, they munched on bread and avoided eye contact for the remainder of the period. Bird watching and drinking in the day together.

[purplethingpoetry]

More Of The 7D/Descendants AU Again bc I honestly can't stop posting about it-

So since I've done most of the Sons' Families, The only family I haven't done yet is Grouchy's Family, So I'm just gonna post it here.

----

Grouchy's Family:

Grumpy - Father.

Giselle - Mother. (Yes- I'm aware she's a goat- I KNOW-)

Crabby - Older twin Brother.

Snappy - Crabby's older twin Brother.

---

So those are all of the Sons' Families. That's All I have for now. I might change the names of certain family members names because they honestly sound kinda bad lmao-

[captaindibbzy]

My biggest weakness in writing something set in America is that Hispanics and Latinos are a HUGE demographic in the US and that just does not exist in the UK. Like, they're just white people.

I'm 97000 words in to this fucker and I just fucking... forgot that Americans have a HUGE cultural divide that is just not on my radar. Spaniards don't come here. We go there. Usually when we're old and/or drunk. White Brits are a plague on Spain. We descend on Ibeza like a battalion of pissed up wanks every holiday. White Brits get crabby about Polish People and Muslims.

I have no idea how Latino names work... My entire understanding comes from American TV/Film :|

At least I recognised it in the first draft. Just got to remember it for the rewrite.

[mothgoddesss]

SKYTOBER 2022 ILLUSTRATION SERIES.

WEEK 4 (OCTOBER 23RD - 31ST). WEEK 1 | WEEK 2 | WEEK 3 | x

The final week to my Skytober IS! Despite having not been able to finish this until mid-November, I managed to complete all 31 days!! That is a huge accomplishment, as I've never been able to complete a prompt challenge like this at all prior. Keeping things on the (more) simpler side, but allowing myself to have fun with different art utensils kept things interesting and helped pulled me through.

If I may be honest, as much as I wish to, I don't see myself participating in Skytober again for 2023, as I wish to find a prompt challenge centering around unique prompts that can bring out some character (like an OC-tober or something). But we'll see!

Art captions below the cut!

23 FAVORITE COSMETIC: "Despite not having much aesthetic expression, she shines so brilliantly - piercing through time, space, and beyond … our Primordial Moth." It's the moth hair that distinct her to me from the rest … my beloved little goddess.

24 GONDOLA RIDING: Tapushea pays a visit to Telfoso and Sir Elder, when she noticed an additional third person with them, who hadn't been mentioned. "Wait, Telfoso … who - is that with you and Mr. Elder? Her hair isn't white … is she not from SHAYAMIN entirely?"

25 BEST SKY MOMENT: "No longer do I live a life of isolation and contempt. I will now walk in both darkness and light, by your side …. adoring you for all of eternity."

26 RUINS: "Welcome, Kidde. I've been waiting for this moment …. the day you become mortal." When Kidde descended onto the mortal realm, she did not land in Isle of Dawn.

27 FIRST FLIGHT: "Brother … HERE I COME-!" With his willpower burning brighter than ever, Elder-kun breaks out from their underwater prison. He will do everything to save his brother … and stop him.

28 CELEBRATION: I didn't get to properly celebrate Kidde's birthday (16 AUG), so I did some of that here! Inspired by art nouveau.

29 CRABS: "Dasha loves her little crabbies~! Take care of them, I will." Dasha, a taller moth, has found great joy in owning two friendly pet crabs.

30 ELDERS: "WAIT YOU MEAN THERE ARE MORE ELDERS THAN JUST ELDER-KUN??" - my friend Roland.

31 MISCHIEF: Is it true that one can fly on a broomstick during the month of Halloween? Kidde decides to test it for herself, while Baybei comes back bearing candy via Trick-or-Treating!

[3ofpents]

Lady of the Sands

Played a one-off DnD campaign with my partner, @ark-shifter, and my sister-in-law. I'm not very good at drawing people, but I got so attached to my character I felt compelled to draw her.

This is Pagu. She's an aasimar (basically descended from DnD's version of angels, celestials). I did a bunch of research into the different kinds of celestials before for a different character, so I know there are celestials that are specifically anthropomorphic and that the aasimar descended from them can inherit some of the animalistic physical traits. But I can't remember what they're called now or if there are, technically, canonically, aquatic types. We're not a rules-strict household, though, so we just assumed that there are and I ran with it.

Pagu's celestial ancestor was hermit crabby, hence the shell for hair, black eyes, and weird coloring. Of course she's a druid (honestly my favorite class anyway). She lives alone in a small cottage by the beach. Well, she did live alone, but she adopted a dog (not pictured) and a water weird (pictured) during the campaign.

"Lady of the Sands" is what the people in the nearest village call her. I decided to interpret "aasimar hide their identities to go around amongst humans performing good deeds" as the in-world folk stories about them. So when people encounter someone who's obviously an aasimar (like Pagu), they assume that all the aasimar wants in the world is to find a way to help them. Pagu can't actually do much to help people, she's just a beach hermit who has an affinity for nature. That doesn't stop people from asking for her help, though, and in fact the village has turned her into a bit of a tourist trap, advertising her to adventurers as the Lady of the Sands who can bless them, their equipment, and/or their journey. And when she tells them that she can do no such thing? Well naturally The Lady is very picky about those she helps and she can see into the very hearts of the people seeking her blessing and you simply must not have been worthy enough.

It's totally a scam.

Anyway. I think she came out better than I thought she would, but I still need to work desperately on actually drawing people.

In the meantime I had SO much fun drawing the background. Figuring out how to make the waves look natural; getting the texture on the cottage right; I even had fun with the billowing curtain and the drying line. I think I just like drawing scenery, guys.

[heartinhands]

The witch pouts for a moment over Cam's cool attitude. "Mu." When she'd first descended upon her, Beatrice'd thought that she would be a fun one to break with all her crabby eyes and glowers. But, surprisingly enough, the Human had offered nothing but respect to Beatrice from day 1. Odd to not have to fight for it. Contrasting with Battler's stubborn performance in the parlor, Cam is like a breath of fresh air, her cranky demeanor almost sweet in comparison to the anti-magic vitriol Battler spews even as he giggles and cries and shouts. Cool rock versus blistering storm.

Is this how Lambdadelta feels when talking with her? It's nice -- to be in control of SOMETHING. The gameboard is Beatrice's and Beatrice's alone, but the gameboard is also an empty world with pawns to inhabit and knock over and kill and revive. Cam has a will of her own. Wishes and desires. Cam has magic, even if she doesn't understand how to use it. Controlling that output feels empowering, especially after the years Beatrice has spent locked up and powerless in a homunculus's body.

Teacher and Maria have always said witches should make people happy. So even if Beatrice's role is ultimately to bring despair to the Ushiromiyas of 1986, maybe...well...maybe she can be a bit selfish and act out that role with someone who doesn't exist in that scope. Behind the curtain, so to speak. A crumpled up draft. Beatrice can only hope Cam's wish doesn't amount to something like that too.

"Ahhh, that redhead...He's got quite the personality!" Beatrice cackles mirthfully. " 'Is there a Device X?' 'If I just spin the chessboard around ooooone moooore tiiiimeee!' 'It's uuuuuseless, it's aaaalll uselesssss...!' Really, all he does is use the same arguments over and over again. I confess it is a little tiring to face such an unimaginative opponent. These closed rooms are simple matters for me and my magic, and yet I must face the same 'deductions' every twilight." How many times will Beatrice have to say It's a closed room, so no hidden entrances or exits exist?

"But rituals are important for magic. The tedium is sacrosanct too, you understand. For without those mundane things to put your hope into, a miracle cannot interrupt the routine, and therefore magic cannot take place. You will do well to remember this."

Her eyes don't exactly widen, but beneath her bangs both her brows arch. It's not what she was told--Then again, why should her patron ever let her read her own mail? Better yet, why should a witch ever communicate in a straightforward manner? Whichever reason, it matters little. Cam is here now, being seen through by the Golden Witch herself and invited to watch. There is little other magic as impressive to her; Very little else intrigues her so greatly. Cam is not a witch--She's much more akin to a piece, one that functions as a tool rather than a character in a role.

Personal invitations are new to her. "Thank you," she cups both hands around her teacup, scarred knuckles curling around delicate china. Her voice is always flat and it hardly shifts now. There's a small touch of acknowledgement in it now, though: Of the offer that she knows is being given now, whether it's revoked later or not ( for witches are a fickle breed ) , and of the opportunity that observing provides. It's worth more than any of that gold the Ushiromiyas below spend their hours arguing over. In a show of the most warmth she can manage, Cam dips her head for a moment and smirks.

"I've been told my face might be stuck this way," she sips her drink again, shrinking slightly into her own space. It's respectful more than anything else. Not fearful. The inky pit in her heart is a squall in and of itself. Hardly anything can temper it. "I'll enjoy watching your game much more than I look to be." Which is to say, I hope I didn't offend you. There are very few beings she'd say anything like that to. That high regard is in her tone, too, but never crosses into extreme compliment. She's not a kiss ass. "How is the little fool doing?" Cam flicks her gaze toward the board again--A glint of understanding mirth in them for less than a second. A blink.

[hopeheired]

+ @cecaelian

“just ignore crabby. he’s, well, crabby.” it’s not his actual name, though. just a nickname that’s, unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on one’s point of view - stuck. “i think you’re absolutely marvelous. as a captain, as a pirate, and as a woman. i---y’know, i’m glad you and harry found each other. had each other.” hope swan-jones knows true love when she sees it. “anyway, all this to say, i hope we can be friends? i, uh, don’t really have many of those.” because her magic makes people uncomfortable. but that’s a story for another time. truly.

[auradcne]

descendants SENSE8 AU    •     5 / 8 sensates

↳      “ sometimes i look at myself in the mirror, and i don’t know who i am . ”

[melodyofthevoid]

*Emerges from submerged forest

Any words of wisdom you have gathered over the years?

*Descends into the depths

Try to pay attention to the cues that your body and mind give you, even if they're unhelpful. They, like you, are creatures of habit and when they want things will signal you.

Do you find yourself getting crabby at various intervals? You might be hungry without realizing it. Is your brain running in circles? You might need to step away from social media. Body feeling restless? Take a walk, or try to get active for a bit.

Feeling really hopeless about the world? Try to make one person happy. Make a difference even if it's just telling a joke that makes someone smile. Feeling irrationally scared, or anxious? Treat yourself with kindness, like you would a friend who's panicking.

I will say that it can take a while to learn what is needed, and it may be wrong sometimes (been there done that). But being more in tune with your needs is a way to avoid some of the frustrations of existing. Sometimes.

[hannahhook7744]

Turns out Artie is 12.

List the book and lesser known AKs and think what would their personalities be like.

(I'm only gonna do the ones mentioned by people who worked with descendants. And any kid seen for more than a couple of seconds in wicked world is disaqualifed immediately because you can see their personality. Also I know crabby isn't a girl in canon but since no one ever corrected me, you all have to deal with a female crabby).

Li Shang Jr—he's a lot like his mom but has his dad's temper and overprotective-ness. And he's really inti music and a great boyfriend.

Elle (wheel chair girl)—she's the adopted daughter of Eric and Ariel. And she's a lot like her mother, and gets along with her better than she does with her dad. She's stubborn and hopeful and always tries to remain optimistic. And she's creative.

Taylor (One off tourney kid who I assume is Tarzan's kid)—he's as wild as his dad and as smart as mom, and an animal on the field. He's good with animals and socially awkward but a good friend and boyfriend to have.

Derek (Doug's brother)—he's a weightlifting selective mute who's dating Diego de vil. He's multi-talented, multilingual, and very smart and ambitious. And a protective older brother and cousin.

Miguel (random tourney kid)—he's Milo and Kida's kid. He's smart and nerdy like his dad but sporty, athletic , and stubborn like his mother. He never gives up and loves learning about other cultures.

Brendan (random tourney kid)— One of Lottie La Bouf and Lars Westergaard's kids. He's kind like both of his parents and a bit snobby but he's a good friend to have and one of the few people in the Westergaard family who's not afraid to stand up to his uncles and grandparents. He's protective and helpful and supportive and day Dreamer.

Li (another tourney kid)—assuming he's Longwei's kid, he's the complete opposite of his dad and very resentful that he got stuck with a girl's name. He goes by Lie and is very mischievous, playful, and smart. He's the life of the party and one of the best players on the field. Also assume he's mixed.

William (another tourney kid)—he's Wendy's middle child. And a mixture of her, Michael, and John. He's smart like John (and his older sister Jane), playful like all of them, resourceful, parental like his mom, brave like his dad, loving like his older brother and uncle Michael, and very very athletic though he doesn't look it. He's also good with kids and animals and doesn't hold anything against the vks that their parents did.

Akio (another tourney kid)—he's Edna mode's son. He's eccentric and wants to be a hero but he's also heavily into sports and building traps and designing. He'd get along with Evie and hate capes. He's very big on the no capes rule.

Ruby (Flynnpunzal's kid)—artsy girl who's afraid of dating at first. She's cautious and knows how to defend herself. A lover of the arts. She can name almost any piece you show her. She's friendly and loving but very introverted.

Aziz—friendly kid. A good thief like Jay. Athletic and accepting. Smart and competitive. A bit off a show off. Good at giving people the slip. Observant. Playful. Ladies' man. What more can I say?

Ariana Rose—ever watched mean girls? She's basically Regina George and is totally awful to Audrey. She's hauty and snobby and loves rubbing everything in Audrey's face. She's Isabella but an actual bitch. No misunderstanding about it. And unlike Audrey, she has no reason to be. She's the perfect golden child. The one Leah always compared Audrey to.

Bobby Hood—Mischievous, playful, protective, fun loving, quick, smart, clever, cunning, brave, dashing, a ladies man, a bit slow at times, nature loving, athletic. Bit of an attention seeker. Good leader and friend. Sarcastic. Snarky. Loyal. Stubborn. A bit noisy. Totally in love with Tiger Peony.

Tiger Peony—kind, nature loving, sweet. Smart. Natural born leader. Activist. Feminist. Loyal. Stubborn. Protective. Multitalented. Good at stealing the show. Sassy. A bit noisy. Mysterious. Sarcastic. Intune with herself, her feelings, and nature. Good at giving advice. Has a thing for Bobby Hood.

Herkie—Slightly dimwitted sweet heart who loves art and sports. Doesn't know his own strength half the time. Protective. Kind. A bit noisy. Good at misdirecting people. Loves pranks and food. He's a good chief and fighter but also if you need a distraction, he's your guy.

Artie—a fun-loving, hyperactive, playful pre-teen who wants to be just like his dad when he grows up. He loves pranks and sword-fighting, and climbing trees.

Pin—Cocky. A bit of a smart ass. Mysterious. Noisy. Smart. Playful. Creative. Bad liar. Funny. Protective of his family. Good at carpenting. Loves amusement parks. Doesn't trust easily. He's a smoker and a mostly honest guy. Ambitious. Knows how to get what he wants. Think Richie from It mixed with August from ouat and Donkey from Shrek. Also a prankster.

Opal—bit of an odd girl to outsiders. She's brave and confident and never shies away from being who she is. She's a good musician and advice giver. Loves her friends. She's loyal and smart and Intune with her heritage. Bit of ambivert who learns more towards the introvert side. Witty as well. Good dancer. Friendly. Bit of a pacifist but will fight when necessary.

Arabella—she's an open, loyal, and friendly outgoing girl who reminds people of her aunt Ariel in many ways. But she's also assertive and a party girl. A free spirit who doesn't like to he held back and isn't above being sneaky to get what she wants. She's a rebel and advocate and activist and the life of the party. No party is the same without her there. Also had a bit of a corruption arc.

The Tweedledum and Tweedleedee cousins—mysterious introverts who stick mainly to themselves and other Wonderlandians. They're mischief and meek when together and totally different people when not. Rarely seen without one another.

Clarina Potts—motherly, friendly, sweet, a bit bossy, good cook, good babysitter, a cheerleader, preppy, social, a bit dirty minded, playful. A model student. She's a lot like her mother tbh. She also wears a pan on her head as a hat.

Yi-min—she's temperamental like her father, loving like her mother, loyal like her parents, a good fighter, can stand her own ground, brave and determined, doesn't like hip hop, bit of hippie. Good strategist. Fun. A foodie. A blogger. A theorist. Good at deduction. Helped Lonnie out in school of secrets. Good with cameras.

Hap—hippie, doesn't always think things through, a romantic, socially awkward, a cheerleader, takes after his dad. Talkative. Party boy. Not very academically inclined. Calls his car baby. You know the type.

Anxelin—goth artsy girl who's quick on her feet, snarky, sassy, sarcastic, and good at stealing. Loves her family and friends but is a total introvert.

Bashful/Bash—shy musician who worked for Diego's band for awhile. He's a nature guy. Bit of a hippie. Works at a flower shop. Mysterious. Doesn't have a lot of friends. Introverted. Bit of a lone wolf..

Gordon—likes Ivy de Vil. Smart ass. A bit dimwitted. Protective middle child. Takes awhile for him to like and trust people. He's strong and works at the docks. Doesn't mind feminine things. Will do anything to make his girl and younger cousins and siblings smile. Bit like Ward from season 1 of Shield but not evil. He speaks his mind. Has a good sense of humor.

Sleepy Jr.—a geeky nerdy insomnia stricken drama club, gamer student who falls asleep everywhere. He loves movies and works at the movie theater. Kind and friendly and playful. More confident than Doug.

Shy—his name is deceiving because he's actually rather outgoing and social, and popular. He's on about every sports team at Auradon Prep and he's rather confident, even when he shouldn't be. He's not also not as smart as his younger brother (or Doug) not that he'd ever admit that.

Snoozy/Creeps—He's an anti-social poet who wants to be a teacher when he's an older. He changed his name to creeps because he hates his old name. He's also good at fighting and is rarely ever asleep. He's academic and in college.

Doc 2/Raphael—he's a snobby college kid who is currently trying to become a doctor. He always acts like he's all that and is a bit of a smart ass. Thinks he's better than he is. But he's also helpful and is always the first to rush to his cousins/friends/siblings' aid.

Cheerful—he's brave, confident, kind, likes goofing off, smart, stickler for the rules. Friendly. Always tries to save as many people as he can. He's a volunteer fire fighter. Athletic. Fun loving.

Gesundheit—a bookworm toy maker who is loyal, playful, kind, sweet, friendly, and smart. Completely introverted. Makes dirty jokes constantly. Quite the swearer. Which shocks people. He's good at playing innocent too.

Crabby—a moody, ambitious, hardworking smart aleck with a temperament who wants to be a social worker. She is a former class president and girls inc. member who knows how to get what she wants.

Tyrone (tourney player)—Tiana and Naveen's son. Best friend of Brendan. He's hard working like his mom and playful and flirty like his dad. He's a sporty guy, knows how to play the banjo, and he loves crocodiles and fire flies. Hates frogs though. He has a thing for Freddie. He's interested in voodoo, not that he'd ever tell his parents that. Bit of a show off. Kind. Sweet. Kind of bossy. Prefers Jay over Carlos. He's afraid of being turned into a frog.

[montereybayaquarium]

tfw a crustacean

This post features our supremely late take on the recently viral concept of carcinization, where multiple decidedly non-crab crustacean lineages have convergently evolved distinctly crab-like forms—like this California king crab descended from hermit-crab-like ancestors. Tl;dr If you're feeling crabby that's just how life goes sometimes