#her hair ????? i'm dead

[beanghostprincess]

She's ethereal

[marieaqua]

Fuckass Ginger Lesbian Chart: The Remaster

A character design trope I've noticed

(I included Vi only because I've seen multiple people describe her hair as red even if I don't agree with that description)

(I know that Bo doesn't have a canon sexuality. I hc her as a lesbian and its my chart)

(I still need a fuckass butch and the Ultimate fuckass ginger lesbian)

(I called this the remaster because I had an original chart that I made years ago and have since lost. Also fuckass is used lovingly here <3)

[thestarswillguide]

It's criminal how long I've been holding this in, but guys....

SHE'S SO HOT!?!?:

[rad-roche]

tough as nails, but water-soluble

[fooltofancy]

then and now ~

wasn't actually gonna do this due to feeling. weird. about literally everything rn, but! out is through, etc.

once upon a time baby mode was a cat. i think i started playing in like. 2019? the first time? did not last, because i am classically bad at mmos. started playing again just before ew, because bnuy. anyway, baby mode, cat edition, first -> last

did love the hell outta that stupid little cat, though.

baby mode, bnuy edition didn't become ilya til like. well after i finished ew, but despite that the only real changes he's gone through are eye and haircolor, lmao. i have a brand. 😔

might be an actual guy, now, but he's still a meme.

lil art journey below the cut, 'cause i know it's not about that but that's where the actual guy. is. so.

mostly though he's just gotten. broader. didn't quite manage to untwink that man, but i tried. almost 2025 and i still don't know where his ears go.

[deservedgrace]

i didn't realize how much like... "the thing that is obviously happening isn't happening" is almost just as exhausting and demoralizing and frustrating and scary as the thing itself for me. i didn't realize that aspect of things was weighing on me almost as much as the thing itself until now

[moe-broey]

Miwabiwis.......

I actually do like her official outfit! I just... had a deep need.... put that girl in a nightgown and slippers RIGHT NOW‼️‼️‼️‼️ Also it is admittedly so much easier to draw 🧍

I did try to keep in line with most of her official look though! Or add more emphasis to little details, like the red berries... other details I added, like the bloomers, keep the roundness of her og dress! BUT ALSO.... they are just so cutes.... I imagine they're made of rose petals...... I was also thinking angelic motifs. With the dress shape, and the smaller wings shaped as such!

[owl127]

Can youuuu…mayyybe…please write something containing a 🗡️ character and a jockstrap. Ugh something about jockstraps, mouth guards, and feminine girls doing masculine things is so hot🥵

read on Ao3

Reading @lexa-griffins talk about wanheda’s dagger got me inspired, so… *throws confetti in the air*

Lexa’s boots kicked dirty on her way to the bus stop.

“Lexa!” The cries behind her continued, along with the annoying click of cleats against asphalt. “Lexa, wait!”

Ignoring the girl running after her, Lexa climbed onto the bus without looking back. The driver looked her pursuer and rolled her eyes, signaling for the dirty athlete to hop into the campus bus.

“Thanks, Carla!” Lexa heard, and of course she would be friends with the bus drivers, because apparently, Clarke Griffin is very friendly with people. Girls in particular.

Lexa looked straight ahead as Clarke Griffin, captain of the soccer team, president of the debate club, LGBTQ+ alliance vice-president, and a fucking player sat next to her. Clarke swore at the mud tracks following her and lowered her socks with a long sigh.

“Lexa—” Clarke tried, but Lexa mmf-ed and turned her back to the alpha. “Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re the one tracking mud on school property.”

“Brittany is like, nothing, she’s—”

“Have you slept with her?” Lexa turned to look into Clarke’s eyes, searching for honesty, trust, anything that would make the last three months she dedicated to this woman worth it. She found honesty, yes, but regretted it immediately.

“Not recently!” Clarke defended. “She likes to cheer in every game, and she keeps saying we’re seeing each other, but Lex, I haven’t been with her since before I met you!”

Lexa squinted her eyes, watching a bead of sweat forming on Clarke’s forehead.

“Okay, maybe once after we met, but we weren’t exclusive back then!”

The logic part of Lexa’s brain argued that Clarke had a point, and even Lexa had been on a fruitless date after she met Clarke. Had she thought about Clarke all the time? Totally. Did it in the end it help her see she was actually into the charming athlete? Yes, but irrelevant at the moment, since now the unreasonable part of Lexa’s brain kept replaying Brittany’s voice: “And that’s Clarke, number 10. She’s the captain. She’s also delicious.” A pink tongue over lipstick gloss had accompanied that statement, and a graphic image of that girl on her knees for Clarke had made Lexa escape the match as soon as she could.

Clarke had seen the iteration from the sidelines and had abandoned the bench in obvious pursuit.

“Are we exclusive?” Clarke asked when Lexa refrained from commenting. “I… I thought we were.” The girl swallowed, setting her face in the same hard angles as when she kicked a penalty. “I want us to be,” she said, extending a hand between them.

Lexa signed and took the offered hand in hers, feeling how warm it was, despite the fall leaves rushing past the bus window. She loved how warm Clarke’s hands were, a dichotomy to her always freezing extremities. Lexa mumbled something, and Clarke leaned closer, asking, “what was that?”

“Maybe I overreacted,” Lexa confessed, the almost empty bus a witness to the fact. “I hated seeing that girl talking about your dick like she owned it.”

Red crept into Clarke’s cheeks, making its way to her ears. “Well… she doesn’t,” Clarke said, one hand around Lexa’s waist. “You do,” she whispered, and Lexa’s face flushed with heat. “I want to be exclusive. If there’s any girl out there bragging about my dick, I want it to be you.”

“How romantic.”

“You’re into it,” Clarke argued, her bright eyes following Lexa’s scarf until it hid inside her jacket.

Logic once more piped up in Lexa’s mind that the girl had a point. The thong she had worn to celebrate Clarke’s game dampened with proof.

“You didn’t bring your phone or anything?” Lexa asked. “You just ran after me?”

“Of course. I couldn’t let you go looking pissed like that! And Octavia will pick up my shit.”

“So it’s not the first time you abandon your team celebration to pursue a girl?”

Panic flashed in Clarke’s eyes and Lexa felt merciful. “I guess from now on you’ll only be doing this for me.”

“Yeah.” Clarke kissed Lexa’s cheeks, sighing in relief. “My apartment is not far from here,” she said, the kiss lingering. “And I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

“Oh.” Lexa’s heart picked up, her cold hands warming up in her fingerless gloves. “If it’s out of desperation, we need to stop.”

“You’re so kind.”

With Octavia and the rest of the team still back at the football complex, there was no reservation for stripping as soon as they stumbled into Clarke’s apartment. The spare key with her neighbor was worth it (the assistant professor had looked the couple up and down and threw the key in their direction before closing the door and turning her TV colossally loud). Clarke’s shirt and cleats didn’t make it to the hallway, and Lexa’s pants puddled by the bathroom’s door. Lexa pulled the athletic shorts down and met the hard resistance of a jockstrap cup.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?” she asked, drumming her fingers on top of the hard carbon fiber.

“Right now it’s pretty uncomfortable.” Clarke chuckled and kissed Lexa’s neck hard enough to bruise. “But that’s your fault.”

Lexa focused on Clarke’s high ponytail next, letting the blonde tresses free under the white light. “Yeah,” Lexa said, “it is.”

“Feeling possessive, huh?” Clarke nipped at the soft skin under Lexa’s chin while stepping out of her shorts, completely nude. Clarke moaned at the hands exploring her broad shoulders, digging into her trapezius, and scratching her deltoids. Lexa admired Clarke’s curves, but she salivated at her muscles.

A moan froze in a gasp as Lexa felt for Clarke’s erection, now free from the confines of jock straps and tight, athletic shorts. “Very possessive,” Lexa said, moving her hand in deliberate slowness, pushing eager hips back when Clarke tried to increase the pace. “You can be the leader of your team, but here” — a strong squeeze that made Clarke whine — “I’m captain.” The exhale on Lexa’s shoulder was nothing but a moan.

“Fuck,” Clarke said, her head surrendering to Lexa’s biceps as she mercifully started moving her hand.

Clarke smelled like sweat, and heat, and vetiver, and Lexa had it all for herself. She inhaled deeply, her brain creating a new pathway for that scent of love, need, and lust. Lexa prided herself on being an omega in full authority of her body and desires, but as Clarke groaned on her neck, Lexa surrendered to the primal need of control.

“Come for me, babe,” she said, softly albeit with a command, and poor Clarke followed like a trained puppy.

Lexa held her close as Clarke trembled, expending the last of her strength over Lexa’s olive skin. When Clarke’s knee threatened to buckle, Lexa guided the exhausted girl under the hot shower stream.

“I’m sorry.” Clarke mumbled as water covered her mouth. Lexa distracted herself with shampooing Clarke’s hair, and the fresh scent of mint and vetiver filled the fogging air.

“About what?”

Clarke turned to look Lexa in the eyes, all half-lidded and yawning. “I’m sorry for not being clear about being exclusive before. I was afraid.”

Lexa nuzzled the shampoo suds away from Clarke’s cheek. “Afraid?” she asked.

Clarke hugged her under the water, their wet bodies molding together. The water soothed Lexa’s skin, but Clarke remained her major source of warmth. “I was afraid you’d say no.”

“How could I not?” Lexa kissed her girlfriend — seemed safe to call her that way — until they were out of breath. “I hate sports, and you got me outside in a chilly morning just to watch you kicking some balls.”

“It’s one ball.”

“Whatever. Come here.”

Clarke obeyed, her hand sliding down beautiful curves to elicit a moan from Lexa. She responded in kind, hardening between them.

Octavia was pissed when she arrived home from their game and there was no hot water.

[kingdomoftyto]

....... WAIT. IS THAT LORD MONOCHROMICORN???

[rhysintherain]

@blackjackkent's liveblog of BG3 has inspired So Many Thoughts about the Emperor and Raphael and how they compare as characters.

It's come up that the Emperor's character writing could be intended to portray very different motivations based on how the player character responds to it, but personally I don't think that's it. At its core, I think the Emperor is being honest about its motivations: it only wants to survive. What it's not saying is that it will do anything to achieve that end, at the cost of anyone in its way. And the best tool it has to do that is the protagonist.

Its conversations with the protagonist always remind me of abusive relationship dynamics. it plays nice as long as that works, and changes tactics when nice doesn't get what it wants. It constantly reminds you that you need each other, that you couldn't survive without it, that it is the only one you can trust. It offers moments of vulnerability to lure you in, then tries to cut you off from any allies or courses of action it doesn't approve of.

The thing about abusive relationships is that they only turn violent and confrontational when the abuser doesn't get their way. Violence is a last resort, and most abusers prefer to manipulate people without it. Some people go years without discovering their abuser has the capacity for violence, because they never confront them on the control they exert.

And that's exactly how the Emperor relates to the protagonist. If you never question it, never choose a path it doesn't like, you never get pushback. As long as you play by its rules it has no reason to change tactics, because what it's doing is working.

It's only when the protagonist's aims clearly don't match its own that it resorts to threats. It's only when you call the Emperor's bluff, tell it you know it doesn't care about you, that it shows you the truth about its relationship with Stelmane.

Because the truth is, it only cares about its own survival and freedom. And it's very skilled at the game it's playing. It has a profound ability to judge what the protagonist needs to hear, and show them what they want to see. If you want to see a friend who transcends what a mind flayer is supposed to be, it plays that part flawlessly. If you see through that, it has other methods of control at its disposal.

And the Emperor is brilliantly written as a manipulator. It can convince you that it's been on your side all along. It leaves just enough doubt that you might never know the truth. It preys on trust, and exploits the protagonist's willingness to believe in the inherent goodness of people. It expresses trust and vulnerability to the protagonist, anticipating that they will return that trust in response, regardless of whether it can be trusted.

And the cool thing about Raphael is that he's a very similar type of character. He also knows that being nice gets you further than being dangerous. The difference between them is that Raphael isn't quite as good at it: he has a temper, and is quicker to drop the mask. He has an ego that won't let him tolerate even the slightest resistance without breaking character. He believes in bribery over trust, and it makes his act easier to see through. The protagonist can express the same doubt in both of them and get threats from Raphael and disappointment from the Emperor, which pushes them away from one and towards the other.

And one of the striking things about BG3 is the sheer range of dangerous people it throws at your party. You have the tyrant queen, who took power through betrayal and maintains it through disinformation. The power-hungry boss, who offers what you want only until his rise to power is threatened. The abusive parent, who sees his children as possessions who exist to entertain him. The political climber, who treats his loyalists as pawns in a long game of personal gain. The sadistic elite, who's never had to hide her cruelty to those she controls because that's what authority means in her social circle. The loving father, who cares so little for the rest of the world he'd burn it all down to keep his daughter safe.

It's all excellent writing, but the Emperor might be the masterpiece. You can play out the whole story without clearly seeing how it fits the pattern. It can be your loyal partner, standing at your side and protecting you from all those dangerous people.

But it doesn't have to be. If you question its protection and loyalty, it can also be your worst enemy, determined to use all your shared struggles and deepest secrets to tear you apart.

[pics-pizza-peace]

Stranger Things Trolls I thought up a couple years ago <3

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

babygirl supreme

[twpsyn-who]

I haven't watched an episode (1) of dead boy detectives. Don't know who Edwin is or how he looks.

Somehow I ship the guy with the Cat King now.

[hypnopossum]

the fact that miku is my comfort character will always be so funny to me...like she may be the most basic vocaloid for me to love, but shes my bbgirl!! i became a vocaloid producer in part bc i love her so much!!!

[ajn-illustrated]

Me when Veronica

Concept i guess: I think Veronica could totally get some use out of her old clothes.