#i just want some of the cool shit i do to result in scars so i can brag about it

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

Listen I feel you on the tofu burn thing okay. I had a huge gnarly burn on my left tit once and it scarred pretty cool. Unfortunately, it was acquired during a very stupid naked drunk pizza baking incident which is a little less cool.

my other non-surgery scars are from things like "making pancakes" and "my manager at zellers got me with a box cutter" so i feel the uncool scar origin pain already tbh

[lightless-flame-official]

gerry keay (classic flavor):

skinny. not in a way most people notice off the bat, because he's quite tall and very good at looking big, but leitner hunting burns a lot of calories and he's been chronically underfed for most of his life

eye tattoos on each of his joints, placed there by supernatural means as a protective ward against other powers

his hair always looks like shit for several reasons, including but not limited to:

- he doesn't like to dye it when his mother is around, both because of the vulnerability of the position and because he doesn't like to be Perceived by her while doing anything he actually. ya know. enjoys. this means that it has a lot of time to fade and his roots grow out.

- if she's around too often for a stretch of time, he has to find a local business he hasn't already been banned from and rinse it out in one of their sinks. this leaves it looking understandably patchy and rushed.

- the dye he uses is cheap as hell -- having his own money is an occasional luxury which cannot be taken for granted.

- he just. generally doesn't take care of himself and his hair suffers overall as a result. he doesn't shower often enough and when he does he uses precisely one (1) type of soap. and it's like. if they have irish springs bar soaps in england then it's that and if they don't then it's the closest equivalent.

he isn't actually like. goth. as we would think of it.

black clothes don't show bloodstains and they made him feel safe edgy and dangerous as a teenager.

we're talking thrift store jeans purchased when he was 16 an never replaced. maybe some band tees. boots for marching into a den of hunt avatars.

the leather jacket is also secondhand and while yes he does feel very badass and cool in it it's also a practical piece. good for fighting. especially when the people you're fighting might have claws or want to set you on fire.

sewing needle piercings with visible scarring around them.

he just generally looks. kinda sick all the time? again, not something that usually registers because he's also good at being intimidating but if you're looking for it there's all kinds of evidence of chronic sleep deprivation and malnutrition. he looks unhealthy, concerning.

gerry keay (tmagp):

goth. like, real goth. like buying from thrift stores still but more often and having fun with it now.

we're talking fishnets. we're talking eyeliner. we're talking black lipstick. we're talking absurd and impractical jewelry. we're talking dabbles in lacy skirts and definitely owns a corset. and yes he still wears a leather jacket but exclusively because it feels cool and badass. he's goth babey!

no longer skinny. precise body type is whatever your heart tells you is true but three square meals agree with him and he's gained a very noticeable amount of weight.

the hair dye is still not professional, his roots grow in occasionally and it's still a bit patchy, because he's still doing it at home, but also. he's doing it at home. it's fun, and he has fun with it. the dye is better quality. gertrude helps him with touchups. black is still a favorite but he's dabbled in other colors, dark purples and greens and blues.

loves to be covered in stuff. when he's baking, he will intentionally smear flour on his black pants and make it look accidental, and when he paints he doesn't wash his hands. this is partially so he can see the evidence himself, and partially because he wants people to notice it and ask. he wants to say, "oops, i was baking earlier, i must've wiped my hands on my pants."

he still has shitty irresponsible piercings from when he was a teenager. the more recent ones are more professional.

his tattoos are pretty and useless. he designed most of them himself.

there's color in his face. sleeping gets a little easier every night.

[watarfallar]

Do y'all want more of this or something else for next time?

Mumbo: There's beer in the cooler. Lizzie: What about for the children? Mumbo: You can get water from that water fountain and use it to water down the beer. Joel: Why don't we just give the kids water? Mumbo, angrily: I suppose you could do that!

Gem: You know, I always wanted to be somebody. Scott: You probably should have been more specific.

Lizzie: I'm a witch. I mixed some herbs and crystals together and now my cat knows the f-word.

Ren: It's locked. You got a lock pick? Grian: Yeah- Gem: *kicks in the door*

Joel: Whose turn is it to give the pep-talk? Martyn: *sighing* Scott. Scott: Fuck shit up out there, but don’t die. Impulse: *wiping away a tear* So inspirational.

Skizz: Pros and cons of dating me. Skizz: Pros. You'll be the cute one. Skizz: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

Judge: Does the defendant have any special requests? Tango: Death penalty. Skizz, from the gallery: Tango, it’s just a parking ticket. Tango, whispering into the mic: Please kill me.

Gem: You’re overthinking this. Jimmy: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Gem. What if I’m underthinking?

Mumbo: Hey, Cleo? Can I get some dating advice? Cleo: Just because I'm with Etho doesn't mean I know how I did it.

Pearl: What's your most controversial video game hot take? Grian: The pursuit for photorealism in games is a fruitless endeavor that only results in bloated file sizes that take too much space. Etho: Mario is a woman and just really butch.

Scar: Bad news—Impulse locked themself outside of their own house. Scar: Good news—we didn’t have to wait around for a locksmith. Scar: Bad news—Mumbo finds it very concerning that I know how to pick locks, and tried to unlock my Tragic Backstory(TM). I was too embarrassed to admit that the reason I learned it was because, at thirteen, I figured that was the kind of skill that would impress cute guys/girls/enbies. Scar: Good news—a cute guy/girl/enby saw me do it. Scar: Bad news—it was Grian, and since they’ve already seen me fall out of several trees, cry because I saw a fawn that was just too damn small, and knows I can ride a unicycle, they’ll never think I’m cool no matter what I do. It’s too late. They know.

Jimmy: Truth or dare? Grian: Dare. Jimmy: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room. Grian: Hey Gem? Gem, blushing: Yeah? Grian: Can you move? I'm trying to get to Etho.

BigB: Isn’t it weird how we pay money to see other people? Skizz: You mean movies? Ren: Concerts? Scar: Prostitutes? BigB: Wha…N-no, I mean glasses, what the fuck-

BigB: I truly hate it here <3 Scott: Now replace “it” with “women”. Not so funny now, is it? Jimmy: Now replace “it” with “women”. Not so funny now, is women? Tango: Now replace “funny” with “women”. Not so women now, is funny? Mumbo: I’m having a fucking stroke. Jimmy: Now replace “stroke” with “baby”. Congratulations!

BigB, about Jimmy and Tango: My god, would you two just get a room already? Tango: Excuse me, BigB? BigB: You both just keep agreeing about horrifying things and relishing everybody else's misery. So seriously, when's the wedding? Jimmy: ... Lizzie: I ship it! Skizz: CAN YOU NOT?

Grian: Are oranges named orange because oranges are orange or is orange called orange because oranges are orange? BigB: Which came first, the orange or the orange? Impulse: Orange was first used to refer the fruit 1280 years ago but was not used as a color until 1000 years ago. Scott: What was the color called before then? Pearl: There was no color, duh! Everything was black and white!

Gem: So we're gonna read what we wrote down so we can tell everyone in the class something about ourselves. Impulse: Okay, my name is Impulse but you can refer to me as Lord Farquad. Gem: Okay that's not happening- how about you! Ren: I'm Ren and I like the movie White Chicks! Gem: ...Okay... whatever, I respect that. Bdubs: My name is Bdubs and I hate this place, it actually sucks here... Gem: Okay... and you... Scott: *nervous* Uhhh my name is Scott and my favorite color is... math.

Impulse: Eugh, Ren. Bdubs: Remember when they tried to kill us because I wouldn’t marry them? BigB: They’re always trying to trick me into giving them my house! Mumbo: One time I caught them stealing my moisturizer…

Bdubs: Mumbo, let’s go! Mumbo: Oh, yeah, about telling Mom and Dad, I was thinking about writing maybe a letter. Bdubs: Okay, you know what? That’s it, you had your chance. Mumbo: What-? Bdubs: Mom, Dad, Mumbo smoked pot in college. Mumbo: You are such a tattletale! Mumbo: Mom, Dad, you remember that time you walked into my room and smelled marijuana? Well, I told you it was Etho who was smoking the pot but... It was me. I’m sorry. Bdubs: And Dad, you know that mailman that you got fired? He didn’t steal your Playboy’s, Mumbo did. Mumbo: Yeah, well, hurricane Gloria didn’t break the porch swing Bdubs did. Bdubs: Mumbo hasn’t worked for a year! Mumbo: Bdubs and Etho are living together! Bdubs: Mumbo married Grian in Vegas and got divorced AGAIN! Pearl: I love Jacques Cousteau! Grian: I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle! Gem: I wanna gooo!!

Scott: “I miss you” is the nicest text you can receive. Impulse: “I bought a monster truck.” Cleo: You’re both wrong, it’s “I have too much money, you can have some.” Gem: “I got you pizza.” Scar: Fools! I present to you this: “Bdubs is driving to your house right now.” Impulse: “Bdubs had too much money so they’re driving to your house in a monster truck with a pizza that they got for you.” Scott: “…Because they missed you.”

PLUS A BONUS HERMITCRAFT ONE:

Xisuma, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here. Impulse: Hey. Scar: Hi. Grian: Hello. Mumbo: Hey! Xisuma: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only! Gem: We were out of Doritos.

[tblsomedoodles]

Have a Mikey Info dump too!

Look at my Cringe Son! I love him and all his stupid shirts! : )

ANYWAYS! Info dump!

Mikey, of course, was found by the foot. (I think just a standard foot ninja that brought him to the shredder like "i found this weird turtle dog thing? it looked useful, maybe so i brought it back with us.") Shredder doesn't think much about about it, not realizing Mikey's a child/sentient, and just sends him to get trained with the attack dogs or whatever weird creatures he wants to keep on a leash.

A 12 yo Karai, however, gets attached and very quickly learns he can speak. He tries to tell her his name, but he's a tiny tot who mispronounces things still, and upon him trying to say "Mikey", Karai hears "Michi". Thus starts calling him Michi, which is close enough for him to respond to.

Karai convinces the Shredder to let her take care of Michi, which he agrees to b/c sure let the child have a pet to train. A month or so later, he catches her training Michi in ninjutsu, and to his surprise, Michi is doing well? At which point he decides, that Michi is still Karai's responsibility, but that he would train him in ninjutsu like he does Karai.

So Michi learns directly from the Shredder alongside Karai. He still has a prankster streak but Karai keeps him out of trouble for the most part. (she doesn't really keep him from doing the thing all the time, she usually is able to blame it on someone else tho. She's protective of him b/c that's her little brother that she's basically raising.)

They were in Japan for most of that time, but when the Shredder moved to New York, he left Karai in charge of the Japan branch and took Michi (age 12) with him.

Michi loves exploring NYC and does so any chance he knows he can get away with it. This is how he meets Splinter again.

He likes Splinter, automatically trusts him and it helps the rat has some really cool stories to tell.

He spends a year meeting up with Splinter, listening to his stories, relearning about his family and what not. (splinter keeps asking him to leave the shredder but it takes a while for Michi to understand why.)

In the end, there's a big incident that all but makes Michi leave. He questioned one of the shredder's decisions or something like that (having gotten far too used to asking questions with Splinter) and without Karai to essentially shield him from the results, he gets into Trouble™. he was going to be punished for it, but Michi escapes before he can find out exactly what (not without injury though. Shredder himself causes the scars on his shell and chin as he leaves.)

He goes to Splinter, scared and confused, and Splinter patches him up. He goes to meet Leo while he's healing, and Splinter tries to convince Michi to stay with them there, but Michi would rather stay with Splinter.

After leaving the Shredder, Michi slowly adjusts to life outside the foot. He starts wearing weird clothes b/c it's fun, discovers comics and video games, just essentially discovering what it's like to be a teenager. by the time he meets Donny again, (age 15) he is very much a cringy teen (positive) and is enjoying it. He can still kick ass tho, and is stelthy as shit, even in bright orange, but yeah. he's also readopted the nickname Mikey by then. He responds to either, really, but his family mostly just uses Mikey while Karai uses Michi.

edit: Links for Donny, Raphael, and Leo's info dumps

edit x2: Mikey's pronouns are officially 'Any.' : )

[aritany]

what's the origin story for dgdss? if you don't mind 🥺

oho! well. as it happens, i love telling this story.

if you want to know how my childhood best friend writing a short story about me ended up leading to me getting a big 5 book deal, read on.

tw for reference to self harm and some...... unpleasant commentary (not mine) about it later on, folks.

so.

i was homeschooled until my very last year of high school (yes, like mean girls, except my mean girl dominated the first 15 years of my life and that last year was just blissfully chill) and like many homeschooled children, i was a part of a co-op.

cool, right? it's like School Lite™ where you put a group of feral children in a classroom, except you're all varying ages and grade levels, and also, nobody in the room is an accredited teacher, and nobody seems to have an issue with this.

my mom and her mom were best friends, and we were born around the same time, so naturally, we were best friends too from birth, and we were part of the same co-op all through my elementary and junior high school years.

anyway. i won't air all of the dirty laundry regarding our early friendship, because the whole book deal thing doesn't touch it, and i also think there's no need to be pointing out the behaviour of an Actual Child in retrospect. all you need to know is that we were best friends, our relationship was fraught, and by the time we hit 12-13 it was to the degree that people started telling me, hey man, this is Very Strange Behaviour and You Might Be A Victim, and i had to go do some introspection.

the introspection led to the general conclusion oh shit, but we stayed friends, because obviously. when you're 13, breaking up with a best friend is literally The End of the world, and anyway, there was a lot of good in there too, right?

right?

anyway, things took a turn when we were about 14. i struggled heavily with mental illness and self harm as a closeted religious teenager (who'da thunk?) and i confided in her about a small fraction of what was going on, because she was my best friend. i didn't tell her details, because even then i knew what i was experiencing was heavier than was probably appropriate to burden another kid with (and i stand by it!), but she knew the gist.

several Tense moments resulted, one of which was the day she pointed out self harm scarring in front of other people and asked me what happened, ran away, and refused to talk further about it, so i had to talk to her mom, who told me i should apologize to her, considering my mental health struggle had been so difficult... for her.

yeah, you know the type of people we're dealing with, here.

she was determined to undermine me in front of our mutual friends. anything to make me look worse, in one way or another. anything to step just a little higher. if i was interested in something, here's a public dissertation on why it's a dumb thing to be interested in. if i had a crush, forget keeping it a secret, and forget the notion that it's normal, because it's not, it's stupid, and shallow to have a crush in the first place. if we had a similar interest, here's a dressing down about how all i ever do is steal the things she likes (even if i liked them first).

needless to say, by the time the whole deal with the short story is going down a few short years later, we're on the rocks.

let me set the scene. we hadn't seen each other in several months, due to the On The Rocks of it all, and were meeting up for coffee while our moms were also getting coffee. hashtag classic homeschooled behavior, etc.

we're catching up, and she tells me she needs to apologize for something. i am, as you might imagine, agog, considering the rarity of apologies from this girl. she tells me she wrote a short story and submitted it to her university journal to be published, and that in hindsight she thinks she should have asked for my permission first.

i am, obviously, suspicious. to her credit, she gives it to me to read through and then leaves to go do christmas shopping. it's a muddy-ish faux-deep piece about a narrator who has a best friend struggling with mental illness and self harm.

(oh, you might say. to which i say, yeeeeah.)

in the story, the narrator depicts the struggle of trying to care about somebody who is in pain, referring to the best friend as 'cariad' the whole way through, which is just so weird i'm not even going to touch on it. google it if you'd like. the line that i still remember (and will probably remember until the day i die) is the one where she describes her cariad as feeling the need to use a razor as a microphone.

i honestly don't recall what i said when she eventually came back, but i contained all of the aggression of a piece of pocket lint at the time, so i imagine it was along the lines of oh. yeah, okay. [insert image of the saddest wettest cat you've ever seen]

i never saw her again. we went our separate ways, and that was that. we never talked about it.

(the one upside of it was that my mom, with whom i have a Notoriously Contentious relationship, was outraged on my behalf. that was the first (in many years) and last (ever) time we were on the same side of a battle, so, you know. silver linings.)

but the real indignity of it to me was that my friend never really knew. i never really told her about what was happening in my head. she never knew why i was hurting myself, or how bad it got, because i did everything i could to keep that to myself, and at the end of the day, she thought it was all for attention to the degree she wrote a transparently biographical account of it and chose razor as a microphone as a phrase on purpose.

dead girls started as a way to process the complicated feelings i had about that friendship and then obviously ultimately became a whole different creature in the process. i wanted to write about how it felt to go through that never having had another close friendship to compare it to, and how confusing and nauseating it was to have other people point out shitty behaviour.

it became about healing when you can't get closure. how do you move on when you'll never know why somebody hurt you?

nothing that happens in the book is based on real life events between us, partly because i'm not a hypocrite, and partly because if your work can be traced back to your personal experiences, perhaps you should do what you can to be kind.

'my julia,' as i like to call her (she is not named julia, because, oh my god) is nothing like julia hoskins in appearance or general personality. but the way she made me feel? oh, that's all there. nora feels it the way i felt it.

i wrote dead girls back in 2020, and got agented with it in 3 weeks of sending my first query. we got a book deal for it with a penguin random house imprint 1 year later to the day, and next week it's going to be out in the world, and i'm not going to lie, it feels really damn good.

also, her short story got rejected by her university, because it was bad. so you might lose some, but you win some, too.

[literaticat]

A couple years ago, this editor told my agent they were taking my book to acquisitions. Then they ghosted us. They just got promoted, and I’m over here like… would it be wrong to ask my agent to email and say congratulations and also WHAT HAPPENED? That project never sold, and I really wanted it to… but that seems kind of desperate, right?

WELL OK A MIXED BAG OF EMOTIONS HERE!

I would not suggest you do that. I mean at the end of the day, you kinda KNOW what happened -- she didn't buy the book.

Presumably, since she liked it enough to bring it to acquisitions, if she could have bought it she would have, but *something happened* that made it not work out. What was that something? It could have been ANYthing. The acquisitions board just didn't want to move forward. This happens all the time. Maybe another book with similar themes did really poorly for them last year and they are scarred. Maybe the sales director had a bad experience with an author who has your same first name. Maybe Pizza Rat busted into the office and gave everyone food poisoning on the day of the meeting and they were all too ill to think clearly. I don't know -- and it doesn't matter, actually. The result is that they didn't move forward. If they had wanted to, they would have.

Should she have ghosted? ABSOLUTELY NOT. Should she have communicated clearly / given you resolution? OF COURSE. And yet, here we are. What are you gonna do? (Well, probably NOT WORK WITH THAT PERSON because wtf, but hey.)

For your agent's part -- I'm betting they were chasing this editor for a while, and it's SO annoying and stressful to deal with a black hole editor. If I'm the agent who that happens to, where the editor just truly, fully GHOSTS -- I'm tearing my hair out for a while, then I have PTSD -- and then eventually, probably one of two things happens:

For some reason we are thrown into one another's paths, at a conference or a cocktail party or she's assigned to a different book of mine or *something* -- we are cordial, because like, it's work, we're people, and I probably gently razz her a little about the incident, and she explains whatever weird shit went down two years ago and apologizes for ghosting OR maybe she's just cool enough that I'm convinced that she's OK actually, it was a random fluke that won't be repeated, and while that doesn't FIX the situation, at least I have some kind of closure and we move on and I try again with something else down the line, and yes I probably do write to say congrats but I probably don't mention the incident because we've moved on, and let's face it, I still have to keep sweet with most editors and can't be raking them over the coals for flukes that happened two years ago,

OR, this is a repeated pattern of behavior that I have witnessed or been trapped in multiple times, its her M.O., in which case, if she's actually NICE and GOOD at her job just not always great at communicating, I've developed a callus and just know that about her, and I warn any author who wants to work with her that this is the case, but I still DO submit to her on occasion because hey, when it works out she's great actually , and yes, I'd probably write to her and say congratulations but I would have let the incident from two years ago go because I know it's fruitless to bring it up --

OR, she's actively awful and a life-ruiner*** as well as being a bad communicator, in which case I've probably developed a hardened shell of animosity and never want to work with or speak to that person again -- in which case, no, I'm not writing to ask what happened, I don't give a good goddam what happened, I hope she chokes on her promotion.

*** there are very few editors that I would put into this category -- but there aren't ZERO.

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

My (second) take on Miles and Gwen’s future kid

My art skills are still not the most impressive, but hey, is not the same face as Angelica and is decent, so i will take what I can.

Some fun facts about him!

The name was Miles idea; Gwen wanted to prioritize Miles' idea for a name, since Angelica's was really her idea; however Miles wanted to prioritize both someone important that they lost.

He hates his name, he feels he is just being compared to these guys he never really met (or not the version he is named after at least.) It also made things confusing in a few occasions.

At some point when he was a kid, his grandpa Jeff joked with calling him junior to make things easier, and it kind of stuck. He is called Junior around friends and family for the most part.

He has dark brown hair, blue eyes, and is a few shades lighter than his sister. He can pass as white.

Aaron indeed, uses glasses. Since the society had people from the future and such, Aaron was able to get on the eyes of his mask to act in the same way glasses would.

While a lot of people peg him for a nerd thanks to his glasses, he is really laid back and jokes around a lot.

Despite technically being the "baby" in the house (being just a couple of years younger than Angelica), he feels he is just on his sister shadow.

Jr is kind of clumsy, if his healing factor wasn't as good as it is he would be covered in small scars all over the place; he wasn't allowed on missions until much later than his sister's for that reason.

HATES being compared. Aaron constantly feels he is measuring up to someone, "You look a bit like your great uncle", "Your sister can answer while barely looking at the blackboard and you make these type of mistakes?"

Can make friends with anyone, knows how to blend in and get people in a good mood.

Had a thousandth hobbies on his short lifetime, he never stuck with anything for him to be great at something, but it gave him a lot of passive knowledge in different things, as well as being kind of a jack of all trades.

Wishes to be a great hero like his dad and mom, but they don't let him do much because of his clumsiness and not really being good at combat.

Teachers dislike him because they see him as a good for nothing and a class clown. In reality, a lot of times he mix stuff up or made a mistake, and decided to play it as a joke to avoid feeling humiliated. Hasn't revealed that to someone for who embarrassed he is.

Extremely jealous and bitter towards his sister; because she can be amazing in school, an incredible hero, and has jack shit interest in either of them.

(He doesn't know it, but Angelica is actually really bitter towards him; because he makes friends everywhere he goes and people like him; while she tends to be more awkward and standoffish. The type of girl who is in a corner and you think she may look cool, but is panicking thinking how she knows no one.)

Likes to do small magic tricks for funzies, it was a way for him to keep his hands busy with something, and it can be very amusing.

You can clearly see where I was going/being inspired with Angelica and Aaron, but I couldn't help it. Just like I couldn't help with the cliche of siblings who are jealous of what the other have, is just fun.

Oh boy, I wish Miles and Gwen good look with these kids; specially since I was considering Aaron being tempted to get a Symbiote, and the results of that are as good as you can imagine.

[tehjai]

consummatum est: tav x astarion, rated E

(Also on AO3 for your reading pleasure: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53214340 and requires login) Tags: M/F, Dirty Talk, Missionary Position, Penis In Vagina Sex, First Time, Astarion's Scars

Another expansion of an in-game love scene. Ariane has been a monastery ward until the tadpole, and while she's learned a lot of things, she's never gotten laid before. Astarion is offering, so.... why not? The party's winding down and it's time to get some. Let it never be said that she's not curious and enthusiastic.

“I don't think you want to talk.”

Astarion was correct, of course; Ariane had practically bolted for the treeline as soon as the last of the revelers had finally passed out in their cups.

Her bravado was failing; she knew he was full of shit, but her curiosity had been piqued and he was a highly attractive specimen of an elf. That was all the knowledge she had. The monastic order she'd been raised in was housed in Baldur's Gate; as a result they were more worldly and less ascetic than most of their peers. Nonetheless, a monastery was about as far from a den of debauchery as one could get.

She didn't want to talk, but she was only dimly aware of what she did want. All she knew was that she wanted it very much. But she had to be forthright, as awkward as it all was.

“I … no. I don't. But you're going to need to give me some hints as we go.”

“Hints, darling? We're alone. In the forest. I think our intentions are quite obvious here.”

“That's not what I mean. Remember how… I was your first? Well, now you're mine.” She managed to hold Astarion’s gaze for a few seconds before staring intently at the forest floor.

Everything fell quiet.

She felt cool fingers brush against the back of her hand, and glanced back up to find him looking at her with a soft smile on his face. “I'm very flattered that you… chose me.” His fingers traced up her arm as he stepped closer to her.

Suddenly her breathing came quicker and that dim desire sharply manifested into a shiver up her spine and a pleasant heat between her legs. “It's not… a problem?” Ariane held his gaze, trying to look unbothered.

He took her face in his hands, running a thumb across her lower lip. “Not at all. You have exquisite taste. We're going to have a wonderful time, darling. I'll see to that.” Tilting her chin up, he met her lips with a soft, hungry kiss, hands wandering again until they rested on her hips, pulling her closer still, until she had to wrap her arms around his shoulders to stay steady on her feet.

A quiet, restrained moan escaped her and she could feel the heat rushing to her face even as she unashamedly clung to him, returning the kiss as best as she could manage, using him as a sort of guide on what to do. The sensuality of it was astounding and it brought a smile to her face.

“Ah, there she is,” Astarion chuckled, his lips wandering along her jawline. “You're not the celibate sort at all, are you?”

Ariane shook her head, finding her footing and letting her hands wander along the planes and curves of his bare torso. “I was never ordained. That leaves pretty much anything open,” she admitted, “but I just never had an opportunity–”

“And now here you are, seizing what you want. To be known. To be tasted.”

She nodded. “What do you want?”

For a moment the vampire looked taken aback; his normally sharp eyes going soft and round for the time it took her heart to beat thrice. Then he grinned a rakish, fanged grin that made her visibly squirm with repressed desire and whispered in her ear: “What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours and mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

Ariane knew Astarion was posturing; he laid it on thicker than the late-night mist that gathered around the roots of the trees. Yet something in his words, something about the naked lust in his striking red eyes spoke to her. “That sounds…yeah. We're on the same page.”

He lifted her into his arms, then – she held on reflexively until he had her backed up against a tree and his kisses were hungry and bruising and his delicate and inviting hands were all over her and she was lost in sensation. In him.

This was an awakening of sorts, in the arms of a theatrical undead man that she'd taken to being the food supplier for.

And it was obvious to her that he knew it, too. He stripped himself down and grinned at her again, a cheeky expression, showing fangs. His next words were spoken lowly and punctuated by his tongue trailing over the tip of her ear. “That's what you want,” he said, his hands moving to the hem of her shirt and dipping underneath to trail cool fingertips against her breast, “isn't it? To lose yourself in me?”

Ariane could only nod as he undressed her. All of the discipline and control in the world would not have prepared her for the onslaught of sensation and natural reflexes that overtook her now: his tongue on her ear left her gasping; her skin pebbled under his touch, nipples hard against his palms passing by; and another stoic, half-stifled moan left her while he backed her up against a tree, lifting her straight off the ground.

“Truly, I just want to have fun… to know–”

“Oh, darling,” and here Astarion’s theatricality put him flush against her body, “we're going to have a lot of fun.”

The man was still full of shit, but something about her, or the situation, or something else she couldn't discern seemed to have him aroused - she could feel his cock, hard and heavier than she'd expected, pressed between the two of them.

Instinct took over again: reflexively, and with a playful yet shaky grin of her own, she rocked her hips forward. Astarion let out a surprised hiss at that, and Ariane smirked, a little victorious. “I'm a quick learner,” she whispered. Then she pushed herself away from the tree with a free hand. The two of them toppled over into the misty, damp leaves, and Ariane was left straddling Astarion, who blinked in surprise and then smiled so broadly his fangs caught the moonlight.

���You absolute minx.”

She blushed as his hands moved around her, giving her ass a teasing squeeze. “I take my cues from the best,” she said airily, rocking against him again, gasping as his cock slid teasingly against her folds and she realized how wet she was. It was rare that Ariane's body did something she could not control.

She craved more. Astarion leaned up again, his cool, smooth lips slowly warming against her inexorable heat. Hurriedly, she let down her hair, sweeping it to one side and showing off her neck to him.

“But I want you to show me everything.”

Tilting his head, her vampire paramour turned the tables; he moved with such quickness and unexpected strength that when Ariane found herself on her back with her thighs spread and Astarion between them, so terribly close to being inside of her, she let out a yelp.

“I am the best,” he said, running his tongue alongside the side of her neck. “May I?”

Ariane did not expect what happened next. She nodded, breathing a much-too-needy-sounding “Yes,” and then he had his cock hilted inside of her and his fangs sinking into her neck.

The combination of the hot, novel sensation in her cunt and that pleasant icy numbness in her neck sent her reeling; she clung to Astarion, whose thrusts were surprisingly gentle, gasping with pleasure at the sensuality of it all. He fed for perhaps a handful of minutes, concluding with a soft lick over the wounds he'd left, and then he kissed her again.

She could taste her own blood on his lips and found that she liked it.

“How does it feel, darling? With my cock inside you?”

“Incredible,” she admitted. “I didn't think it'd be this….easy.” She felt full, and strangely grounded.

“Well,” he grunted, “you were ready for me. It's supposed to be easy if you're doing it right.” He reared up slightly, his thrusting still a gentle, slow rhythm while his hands roamed her hot brown skin, grabbing each breast in turn and sucking on her nipples until they were rock-hard and glistening in the moonlight.

“I –” Ariane swallowed thickly. “I'm not used to things I can't control –” That was the truth of it; her entire practice, the manipulation of ki, the source of her usefulness despite all her inexperience - it was predicated on her having absolute command of her body and mind.

This - he - was breaking all of that. And she was aroused, fascinated, and desperate for him to take her there again.

The grin on his face told her that he was more than aware of it. “Then you must have wanted me badly to get as wet as you are.” Astarion was pressing his chest to hers again, cradling the trembling monk in his arms. “You yield so wonderfully, darling. Do you want more?”

“...there's more?” Even the promise of it sent a pleasurable twist down her spine and she could feel her hips rising to meet his, completely on instinct, all the while her cunt fluttering around him. “Oh–”

He quivered between her legs. “By the Hells, Ariane, you're tight–”

“I told you–”

“It's not a bad thing, darling. Merely makes me want to ravage you.”

She couldn't demur her way out of this; he was still fucking her, slow and gentle, but when he spoke, she could feel herself getting wetter. She couldn’t even pretend that the idea didn’t hold appeal, and elected to be honest. “...maybe I came here to be deflowered and debauched.”

“Well, the first is merely a technicality that we’ve already solved. As for the second, shall we see what makes you scream for me?” And then he withdrew from her, kissing her forehead gently before settling with his head between her thighs. For a few agonizing moments, he simply looked her up and down, a thoughtful expression on his face, before breaking the silence with: “Tell me, Ariane, do you at least touch yourself?”

She felt heat rising to her cheeks. “...yeah.” She had, a handful of times, in the lead-up to this whole scenario. But it wasn’t like this.

“Show me.”

“What?”

He lifted his head sharply, using his hands to spread her thighs and keep them open. “Touch yourself,” he urged, “right now. I want to see.” Astarion’s crimson eyes locked with hers and once again Ariane was acting on instinct and want. Two fingers. Right on target. Quick, furious circles against her clitoris and Gods was she wet. She stared at him, watched his eyes break from hers to stare at the sight of her, still pinned down by him but able to rock her hips in time with her stroking. He glanced back up into her eyes and grinned, fangs poking out to rest on his lower lip.

“Well done,” he intoned. “Now, love, don’t stop –” Lifting her hips, he entered her again, using the angle to hilt himself, gasping at the inviting warmth of her cunt, chuckling when she arched toward him as though he was capable of going deeper. “What a sweet, greedy thing you are.”

Ariane threw her free arm around Astarion’s shoulder, cupping the back of his head in her palm, using that as leverage to fuck him back, all the while her fingers rubbed clumsily against the soaked apex of her folds. “It’s good,” she whispered. “It feels so good–”

The vampire let out a pleased hiss through gritted teeth. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice a sultry purr, “it does. Show me how good, darling.”

She was breathing so heavily that it came in ragged pants, and her eyes were a little bit glassy as she focused on him, still lightly gripping her thighs. Twisting out of his grip, she wrapped her thighs around his waist and scratched her fingernails along his scalp - he moaned when she did it. “You first.”

“What would you have me say? That you’re a beautiful woman to behold?” Astarion’s voice went dangerously, seductively low and his words were uttered in time to his slow, steady, but still teasingly shallow thrusts. “That it thrills me to be the first to be inside of you? All of this is true, Ariane.” A pause. “But if I’m to ravage you, you delectable little treat, I need to make you scream for me.”

“Then fuck me harder,” she grunted, lifting her hips up to collide roughly with his, her still-frantic fingertips sandwiched between them. “Give me something to scream about–”

“You’re delightfully naughty, my love.” His expression grew dark, and then he finally worked into her in earnest, drawing all the way back and slamming into her deliciously wet cunt until he was balls-deep and doing it over and over again. “Let them know what you chose to do tonight, and who you chose to do it with.”

“Astarion–” Something was brewing inside of her, all of the sensations seeming to peak. “There’s– I’m–” She stared up at him, awe peeking through her glassy-eyed stare. “What are you doing to me? I love it–”

“You take me so well, darling. You’re about to come on my cock. Don’t fight it. Let go.”

She did, her hands leaving her body and reaching to grab greedily at his ass, screaming his name into the night like it was a prayer, and all the pleasurable feelings came to a head, growing and growing until there was a precipice and she stepped off of it and –

The ki in her body seemed to let go like a bow string placed under tension and she was left a quivering, wet mess below Astarion, who was grinning down at her with his fangs showing again. “What a sight,” he remarked, slowly withdrawing from her and sitting back on his haunches to watch as Ariane laid there on her back, chest heaving, staring at the night sky.

She was within herself and outside of herself at the same time; what her vampire paramour had pulled out of her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Ariane closed her eyes, intent on taking a deep breath and continuing this wonderful night –

When she opened them next, the sun was rising and the night was over. An odd, incomplete feeling came over her. She'd had the experience she was after, but had he?

“Good morning,” Astarion was a few paces away from the pile of rumpled clothes they'd left in their wake, standing shirtless, arms raised, palms out, basking in the sun as it broke through a clearing in the trees.

“I…didn't intend to fall asleep,” Ariane said sheepishly, looking around for her shirt. “Sorry for cutting everything short.”

He laughed. “I had every intention of running you ragged. I just didn't think it would be so easy. Seemed like you needed the rest, so I left you to it.”

“You stayed the whole time?”

“Of course. Leaving you in the woods would be so gauche.”

That he would wait for her to wake struck her as oddly tender. There was heat in Ariane's face, and as she shrugged back into her tunic, her eyes fell over the vampire's back, into which was etched something. “Did you have a good time? I think back on it and it was like you weren't really there–”

“Oh, darling, you were marvelous. It's true though– I was holding back. I didn't want to go too far.”

She nodded; it made sense to her, given that the last time he'd gotten too excited about feeding from her that she'd died. The extra sensation of fucking him certainly had her losing control, but she didn’t have the same kind of hunger he did. “Those scars, though. Interesting. How'd you come by them?”

“A gift from Cazador,” Astarion muttered. “Some kind of poem. He did it all in one night, and made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Ariane couldn't help it; she gasped, internally cursing herself for being too self-absorbed to even notice them until morning. They were hauntingly beautiful, but everything in his tone suggested he didn't ask for them. “I…see.”

A few moments passed of awkward, tense silence between the two elves as he stood there with no shirt and she stood there with no pants. She was technically a maiden no longer but she was still entirely as odd as she'd ever been. This sort of revelation seemed like something she should comment on, but Ariane couldn’t find anything to say, and instead offered a sheepish smile and a nod.

“That’s probably enough pillow talk,” Astarion's voice was quiet but no less dramatic and it was a kind of normalcy that broke the tension. “We should get back before the tieflings drag us into another mess.”

“Right. Let me get my pants, then.”

[angst-ideas]

List of Good Omens Angst/Whump Ideas That Have Been Stuck in my Head (+ bonus fluff/humor section!) —————————————

(Part one : ur here

Part two: TBD)

This first part will be mainly Aziraphale centric! yes I know who doesnt love a good hurt Crowley, but i think there are SO MANY missed opprotunities for hurt Aziraphale, so of course I have taken the liberty of shouting my ideas to the world in hopes some other deranged soul out there hears my pleas and makes these into actual stories. (That sounded way cooler in my head…) If you want me to do a part two for Crowley please let me know! As always my ask box is also open for requests for any other fandoms or scenarios youd like, and if you do use these please tag me on tumblr or my ao3 account "Bangsty"!

(ALSO FORGOT TO MENTION, THIS MAY CONTAIN BOTH SEASON 1 AND SEASON 2 ASPECTS IN CERTAIN PROMPTS, SO SPOILER WARNING)

—————————————

•Aziraphale getting injured protecting Crowley

lets start off easy! We all know that our good buddy angel can neglect his own well being for the sake of others, especially for Crowley. Imagine Crowley getting into some sort of trouble, and instead of Crowley getting hit, Aziraphale takes the blow for him, resulting in what can be a small but worrying injury, to maybe full on discorporation (might be a little extreme but hey! we love that stuff here) its then up to Crowley to get Aziraphale out of that situation and make sure he lives to tell the tale.

-little extra point if Crowley blames himself for Aziraphale getting hit, even when it was literally the angel that flung himself infront of crowley, wings fully spread just taking the fucking hit like a champ

—————————————

•Crowley realizes Aziraphale is in trouble because he feels it spiritually/from his Crowley sense (idk what its called give me a break)

ok I gotta admit, Crowley being able to sense Aziraphale has always made me smile when reading fanfictions, having Crowley be going on with his daily routine and just suddenly sensing Aziraphale distressed or hurt is an amazing concept

-Extra points if you write both Crowley and Aziraphale's POVs (preferrably 3rd person)

—————————————

•Crowley coming to terms to what he witnessed while body switched/swapped with Aziraphale

when Crowley is pretending to be Aziraphale during the execution event, Gabriel is a fucking ASSHOLE, I would love to see more fanfics where Crowley afterwards thinks back to what he heard and saw, and just SEETHE, maybe he talks to Aziraphale about it but he basically just goes "oh what? pff thats the tamest shit ever Crowley smh" which angers Crowley even more!

—————————————

•Aziraphale with secret scars/lots of scars

AZIRAPHALE WITH SCARS IS SO UNDERAPPRECIATED, we get so many of aziraphale noticing crowleys scars, why not write it the other way around! Aziraphale is supposed to be this divine entity that is nothing but pure, so what if crowley either notices aziraphales pantleg/shirt sleeve rides up, or maybe crowley walks in on aziraphale changing his outfit and just sees the scars on him, catching crowley off guard

-Extra points if aziraphale explains where some of the scars came from, if aziraphale gets slighty flustered/nervous when called out, and/or if crowley is just infatuated with them and finds them super cool/pretty :)

—————————————

•Aziraphale getting his wings severely damaged

We love ourselves some wing whump! But one thing I’ve never seen is Aziraphale getting injured while in flight/mid air, but it doesn’t have to be that! Seeing Aziraphale struggle to mend himself while trying not to get overwhelmed at what happened is a very rare treat to see in fanfiction (cuz most of the time it’s also tagged with something like “hardcore sex” or “mpreg” ((NOT TRYING TO JUDGE IM JUST SAYING)) )

-Extra points(?) If Aziraphale doesn’t flinch as much as Crowley thought he would, and he just explains that “heaven prepared him for pain like this” which sets off some THOUGHTS in Crowley

—————————————

•Aziraphale revealing his “true” angelic form while in a moment of weakness/vulnerability

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THE THOUGHT OF AZIRAPHALE HAVING A MORE “BIBLICALLY ACCURATE” OR “ELDRITCH HORROR” FORM OMG!! I was so sad when I only found ONE small comic about it and ITS NOT EVEN FINISHED :((( so I’m definitely adding this!! Maybe Aziraphale gets injured or cornered while in a moment of extreme stress, hell maybe Crowley gets close to being injured in a moment and Aziraphale just gets so incredibly overwhelmed with emotion that he just- let’s loose, of course though it’s incredibly tiring to use that much power at once, so afterwards he would just be EXHAUSED

-Extra points if Crowley had no idea what Aziraphale looked like truthfully! And is either absolutely terrified when he first sees it, or is shocked that Aziraphale was even capable of being that powerful…

—————————————

•Aziraphale falling unconscious when injured

HEAR ME OUT OKAY I KNOW THIS SOUNDS BORING AND GENERIC!!! Aziraphale is one that is constantly seen being bubbly and full of energy, he’s constantly on the move whether it’s working at the bookstore or doing his angelic duties, it’s all Crowley has ever known! So seeing Aziraphale actually pass out/get knocked out while injured is very jarring for Crowley, some might even say worrying (though he would never admit it). There’s so much writing potential in having Crowley tend to Aziraphales wounds and just having to wait for him to wake, ‘why isn’t he talking? Why isn’t he moving?’ “I miss you….please come back….”

-Extra points for going into insane detail on what Crowley does while he waits, what he’s thinking, how he treats Aziraphale, etc.

—————————————

•Crowley walking in on Gabriel “punishing” Aziraphale

This one sounds weird I know, because this typically only happens in fanfiction where Gabriel actually comes down to the book shop and beats the hell out of Aziraphale (lmao), and typically it’s just Crowley always walks in after it all happens, what if he walked in while it happened? I like the concept of knowing he probably can’t do anything about it, and maybe shifting into his snake form to not alert Gabriel of his presence, and then immediately after he leaves just BOLTING to Aziraphale, Aziraphale is all apologetic about him having to see that as he’s weakly pushing away Crowley in attempts to look fine (boy you are bleeding a river stop tryna look okay), but the scenario and how Crowley reacts is up to you!

—————————————

-Bonus Time!-

First one ever on this blog! I normally will do bonus times if I think of a few concept that aren’t e x a c t l y angsty/whumpy, but I like them so much that they just HAVE to be mentioned

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Aziraphale swearing infront of Crowley accidentally

When I heard Aziraphale say “fuck” right as he’s being discorporated, it was by far one of the best timed fucks I’ve ever fucking heard in my life! Ever since then I fell in love of the idea of Aziraphale having another slip up (doesn’t have to be full on discorporation though) but this time, Crowley is in the same room as him, let the endless shock and teasing begin!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Crowley first realizing he is actually in love with Aziraphale, like, legit legit, not just a tiny crush or “oh he’s cute”

I love the scene in season two between Crowley and Nina, I just wish we got to see what Crowley was exactly thinking/feeling during that, but that’s hard to make in a film so why not write it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Crowley just in general, staring at Aziraphale, imagining the things he wants to do to him

(NOT THAT WAY YOU FUCKERS)

Now that we got that out of the way! Whenever I read fanfic and I see Crowley looking at the little details on Aziraphale it makes me so happy, I love seeing those fanfics where Crowley just watches Aziraphale be himself, or while in the moment of a fight/encounter he notices everything he loves about Aziraphale, and he’s just imagining holding him close….holding his hand gently….just in general doing everything he’s ever wanted to do, but never had felt it be appropriate to do because he’s a demon. He’s not supposed to feel love! He’s not supposed to wanna cup someones face and just lightly kiss them….but god does he wanna do it so bad.

-Extra points for DETAILS PEOPLE DETAILS!!!!

-Also extra points for super flustered and nervous Crowley when he realizes what he’s thinking!!! This is a must omg please

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

—————————————

Random end note: I notice people seem to HATE writing the nursing back to health part of the fanfic, let me tell you something right now hesitant writers: ITS SO MUCH BETTER WHEN YOU WRITE IT (I get so pissed off when people skip the obvious wound bandaging and moments of panic the other person goes through, especially when its like "it all fades to black" and then we're suddenly in the next scene of them being awake, like COME ON JUST CHANGE THE POV OR SOMETHING AND GIVE ME THOSE JUICY DEETS) If you do use these prompts AND write this part, I WILL KISS YOU ON THE MOUTH, I WILL MARRY YOU (AND TO THOSE ASEXUALS ((which i also am)) I WILL BAKE YOU A 20 FOOT CAKE)

That is all I can think of for now!! please like, reblog, and comment (I love reading comments!) if you have any requests for me to do please put it in my ask box or comment! And if you do end up using these ideas for something please tag me! I would love to see what you do and I would totally reblog it! Thank you!!!

My Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bangsty/profile

[daemon-in-my-head]

7 and 9 for the new ask, hit me w/ those genesis stories ✌️

Thank u sm for asking! Don't mind if I do (though this might get very fucked up at some point, just a heads up lol)

7. Is their personal story represented in their overall design? Do they carry any mental scars or physical alterations from the shit that happened to them?

Yes, so goddamn much. Essentially every 'milestone' in his life is in some way represented in his visual design and most definitely in his behaviour.

He's got the scar on his cheek/nose from the time before Bhaal, or more specifically from getting his ass handed to him in training sessions to join a Paladin order. And well seeing how he is a Sorcadin, yeah the training did work out longterm too. The change to red eyes was a result of the urge fully manifesting and the pallid/sickly pale skin is the result of prolonged exposure to the shadow curse. He pretty much looks sick and not the way an elf should, cuz arguably, he isnt, is he? He was someone artifically created, someone whos majorly fucked up and his mental health is rotting in that corner over there, so he looks that part (bonus he uses the only sorcery type that can be artifically learned as opposed to normal sorcery that is always passed down.)

Overall he's gained a lot more scars over his time, his hair started growing lighter before he got white streaks/completely white hair due to the stress of simply existing in that way. And while his original eye colour kinda returns, it's only for one eye. Cuz even if ya redeem yourself, being created from bhaals flesh and essence kinda prevents you from wholly getting rid of him, so one eye remained red. Which he eventually gauged out cuz yeah that man is 1000% definitely sane and learned how to cope with his emotions properly. The remaining eye is also pretty fucked up thx to Orins homemade lobotomy, which honestly was pretty important to me cuz yeah he survived the story, survived bhaal, but it fucked him up and left very permanent scars he'll have to learn how to deal with (but he won't.)

The struggles with his past, his own existence and his own contradictory nature are very apparent in his design as well as his behaviour and it was important to me that he's that way fucked up failure kinda guy. Also the fact that you can't go thru the shit he had to endure and come out of it looking the same or being the same. He's bruised, quite broken, definitely lost most of his sanity but he did get to reclaim some agency and some parts of the person that was seemingly eradicated when Bhaal first took over. Life changes you, time changes you, and if you're a Bhaalspawn shit usually grows worse with time, so it makes sense his looks also grow from pretty boy to broken doll and that his controlled nature grows more unstable with time and experience (cuz ya can't loose basically everyone you ever held just a sliver of affection for and come out of it being cool, that mans obsession just grow exponentially worse).

Tldr; very fucked up man, physically and mentally a rep of struggle with your own mind and being a broken child ig. Loss and grief and the unavoidable change resulting from it as overarching themes and I wanted them to show in every way possible.

9. How much did Bhaal influence their design or personality in the end? Did you research lore to purposefully get the resemblance or do you just go with the flow and what feels right for the story you want to tell?

I'd never spend hours researching Bhaalist lore, naaaaah, who do u think I am....? He usually wears the priests robes. Straight up.

But cuz he's a rebellious little fuck the look is messy, with 1 sleeve just hanging from the belt that's barely tying the purple cloth together. Whenever he's not wearing that it's just simple black clothes and an old coat he brought from 'home' or fancy shit (though white/red colour scheme to contrast Gortash) whenever he needs to drag himself to deal with the patriars.

As for personality, oh boy. He loves Bhaal. Truly. Bhaal is his creator, his father, the reason he exists. And he absolutely loathes him because he's the reason for all the pain and suffering he needed to endure. He controlls him like a puppet and forces him to discard even the tiniest bit that's left of his person, but even so Bhaal is also the only reason he got to enjoy the youth he had and meet the people he met. Without him he may have never come to exist in this time period. Every choice he makes can be traced back to this twisted mindset. He's worshipping Bhaal while actively rebelling against him

I will one day get to finishing a ref! Maybe.

[sharpth1ng]

Brush should I get top surgery with or without nipples

Legit I have so many thoughts on this. Alright:

SO. No nipples looks really cool. Alien/ken doll vibes, lots of opportunities for chest tattoos. I want to touch the chests of men and creatures without nipples. Also if you want the look of nipples there’s really good medical tattooing available so you could get your nips tatted on.

In terms of nipples- I got double incision with nipple grafts (I had a big chest before, needed nip resizing for that shit to look good) and I will be honest I had horrible anxiety that my nips were going to fall off so consider your anxiety and how much you want to deal with it.

Partly I got nipples because I wanted to maintain sensation, but to be honest I don’t have a lot of sensation in that area (not none and imo it was worth it for me but it’s not like they were before). I also chose to get nipples because I wanted piercing and they would have had to be surface piercings without nips, which are a lot more vulnerable to piercing rejection.

Also consider how important it is to you that your nips match- first off even cis dudes have nips that don’t match, but you can never be totally sure how surgical results and scarring will go. It can help a lot to look at your surgeons results to get a sense of how even their nips look. But with some techniques and some types of bodies you can get uneven results. As compared to nipple tattooing, which can give pretty consistent and predictable results.

I also just want to say my nips aren’t perfectly even, on is a little more oval than the other but it doesn’t really bother me. As I said it’s not the end of the world and cis dudes don’t have perfectly semetrical chests either.

So yeah tldr: how do you want it to look? Do you want to try for nipple sensation (knowing that nerve regrowth varies)? Do you want nipple peircings? How important to you is it that your nipple results are predictable? And how much anxiety do you have about nipple grafts and the possibility of rejection (it’s not common but it can happen)

At the end of the day I think both look rad as hell and it really depends what you want!

Also- just so y’all know you can always feel free to ask me for advice and stuff like that about top surgery and hormones. Obviously it’s not chill to ask any random trans person on the street but I don’t mind making myself an educational resource for y’all.

[kariachi]

Three bajillion years ago I wrote a fic touching on Mike's extra mouths.

Wasn't happy looking back, so I redid it.

~~

One by one, he counted and recounted the bones in the back of the hand, running his thumb over each in turn. There was probably a word for them, he probably could have asked and got an answer right there, but he didn’t really give a shit. What he cared about was that they all seemed to be there- there were no missing, no extra, none out of place. For all intents and purposes, it was a perfectly normal hand, more scarred than most with scratches and punctures- as its owner was prone to be once the makeup was off and you paid attention- but still just like that of anyone else who hadn’t lost a finger or something along the way.

Then, you turned it over. On instinct his thumb moved to trace the palm lines that weren’t there, ghosting over the trails they would have left on anyone else before he caught himself. It wasn’t that the palm was flat and featureless, but that its features were notably different. Subtle lines, like those leading to the thumb, radiated out from the center of the palm, where a small divot betrayed just how different this all was. Far from the most obvious sign that, whatever they might have been, a normal, non-mutant human the owner was not, but more than the likes of him ever had to deal with. Seemingly minor enough to slip by, but a trait that once one person noticed everyone else would look for forever, even if they didn’t know what was hidden underneath.

Technically, Kevin himself didn’t know for certain.

His thumb brushed against the skin to the side of the divot in a loose circle as he considered the best was to ask. A needless endeavor, it seemed, as with a huffing sigh Mike almost didn’t fidget beside him. Just slightly the divot unfurled before the resulting opening began to gape wider, wider, wider, until it took up the vast, vast majority of the palm. Looking into it was like looking into a pit, one lined with rows of large, sharp canine teeth. Each had to be a good half inch or more in length, eight to a row- as he’d guessed from the bitemarks the bastard left everywhere- and with

“Okay, I’m impressed,” Kevin said, eyes wide as he turned Mike’s hand in his own for a good view. He got quick chuckle in response. “I figured about the first set, but four? What do you use the other ones for?” Mike shrugged.

“Not for anything, to be honest. They don’t even move forward if you pull one out, they regrow where they are.” He hemmed a moment. “There was a period during the third grade I picked up chewing pencils but it didn’t last long.”

“Yeah,” Kevin snorted, “there’s some places you just don’t want splinters.”

“And in your back gums is one of them,” came the confirmation with a nod. Humming, Kevin continued his inspection. He could honestly say he’d never seen anything quite like this on anybody before. Oh, the eternal pit mouth he’d seen on one species, but Gourmand had nothing on these as far as he was concerned. It was, as he’d said, impressive.

“Does it- If you flexed your hand…?” Rolling his eyes in a way that far more amused than anything Mike did so, the mouth contorting as he did so that his frontmost teeth clicked gently against their neighbors. The other rows seemed unaffected. When he was done, he held the whole thing flat and shut his teeth together on their own. Kevin gave a low whistle.

“That’s really cool.” There wasn’t a way he couldn’t say it out loud, or judge the way Mike preened when he did. He’d grown up with few enough people honestly being impressed and positive about his powers, that he wasn’t about to withhold it from somebody else. Even if it was the local dipshit.

“They’re also venomous,” Mike said. Over the course of a long heartbeat Kevin dropped both their hands, turning to him with a creased brow and open mouth.

“Seriously?” Taking back his hand, Mike nodded. Kevin released a single ‘huh’. “I wondered how you got people falling over you like that, didn’t know if it was tied to the biting or not.”

“Why,” Mike asked, raising an eyebrow at him with a frown like he was an idiot, “would you not assume it was tied to the biting?”

“I didn’t know you, you could just like biting people,” Kevin said with a shrug. Mike glared, muttering something like ‘fucking moron’ under his breath.

“The teeth in my extra mouths are venomous,” he said slowly, “it makes creatures need to be around me.”

“Handy.” Especially when one considered his original modus operandi. Mike only gave a half nod though.

 “When you’re a teenager looking for attention and easy meals. Less so when you’re a toddler.” With an empty huff of a laugh, he shook his head. “I gained quite the reputation before I got old enough to know better.” Kevin could only nod to that.

“Didn’t we all…” There was an unfortunate tendency for people without powers to assume anyone with them was actively trying to cause trouble if they misused them, no matter how young they were at the time. Back in his hometown people had still been judging Kevin for frying a conveyor belt at the store eight years later. But, the mess that was their standing in society was a whole other topic, one that was too heavy to go into then and there. So, Kevin put a smile back on his face, tilting his chin as Mike. “So, energy powers, super strength, and you’re venomous? And I thought I was the jack of all trades around here.” A bit of tension easing away, Mike chuckled.

“You have more variety, I’ll give you that,” he said. “It’s just that my powers are better.” Snorting, Kevin tried and only just failed to scowl at him, socking him in the arm.

“I’ve kicked your ass before, Morningstar.” A flash of a smirk came in return.

“Only as many times as I’ve kicked yours-”

[bells-of-black-sunday]

His bronzed fingers stroked through inky tresses as they lounged upon pale crystallized shores - far away from the bloodied fields of the European countryside; instead the landscape was draped in silver outlines. Haruko glanced downward at Tarhos with lazy eyes, his expression softening while his gazed traced over the scars and contours of his companion's face. Ah - what thoughts ran through Tarhos' mind when he looked at Haru?

Did he feel anything?

It isn't as though it mattered. Haru wanted to offer him freedom, not at the cost of his autonomy - not if Tarhos thought he'd have to somehow pay him back somehow. Regardless ... At least there was peace here. He was sure that was one of the greatest gifts he could offer. He had found the Knight dripping in sanguine poison and bruised beyond what any human should be able to withstand. He had been beaten down over and over - until any semblance of flickering dignity was extinguished by his own blood.

The skies endless navy reflected in the pools of his iris, gleaming stars shimmered across each wave of color and glistening hue - the expanse of sea and sand, however, seemed pale in comparison to Tarhos. How could anyone or anything match what he saw inside of him? Haru found himself staring down at the man's head in his lap, his eye widening in focus as he remarked the peach sunburn reddening the Knight's cheeks; pure unadulterated intensity. That's how he always was: a burning inferno incapable of fully fizzling out. And not even the cool azure of Tarhos' returned stare could drown it.

How far had they gone now from the Knight's home? Where did he like best? Surely these white beaches and clear waves doused in moonlight had to be at the top. If not just for the fact he was holding him with a tenderness he wouldn't dare share with anyone else; he only hoped Tarhos was smart enough to figure it out. Lust was easy to talk about - a fleeting wisp of an interaction that resulted in nothing but a night of pleasure. Love was - if that's what this was - ... much harder to discuss. It held risks. Maybe too many. Fucking up this wouldn't only result in his own heart breaking, but Tarhos' too - he'd lose a friend, an ally, someone he loved to listen to. There was no way he could risk it first.

"It's nice here. I love the crew but - heh - they are crazy shits sometimes. I'm glad we could be alone for a little while, I feel like I haven't seen you at all since that storm came through." He had, but the ship was in chaos and everyone was on desk trying to keep the damn thing from capsizing. Not the best 3 days. "Is, I imagine, is a lot different than those shit and gore covered fields of your home? Or is it too warm for you?"

Pirates

The night was calm, though compared to the past three days both of them had, standing in the middle of stampeding cattle would still be calmer. He swore he got a few new scars just from the boat trying to fight him on what it wanted to do, but.... this was nice. The gentle roar of ocean waves that fell into a gentle lap once they met the shore. The knight never imagined he'd enjoy things like this so much. He usually hated the ocean. Being packed on a ship to head to some foreign field to fight for whatever noble needed their dick stroked that day. Tarhos always swore he got sick after, like the very idea of being so far from his few comforts made him ill and ate him from the inside out.

This. This was different. It was something he chose to do. Haru was someone he chose to follow and he'd yet to regret it. Not when nights of raiding turned into passionate kisses behind closed doors.... even if he knew he could never have him. He'd resigned himself long ago to knowing the captain would never hold the same affections. He flirted with men and women alike, Tarhos just so happened to be his favorite. He much preferred being his favorite dog than anyone else's even with the melancholic taste it left in his mouth watching Haru sleep. Tarhos knew he'd leave as soon as he found someone to settle down with and all he could do was cherish the moments he had.

He never had the luxury of enjoying other's company, this was new. Probably the only thing that scared him was that he craved his touch. The way the captain's fingers stroked his scars and traced his jaw like he were something fragile to be treated with care. The knight never got to feel that way with anyone else. His eyes slowly fluttered open to look up at Haru hoping his gaze didn't betray his emotion like it had done many times before. How badly he wanted to kiss him and be held close.... he didn't want to ruin the moment.

"Hm?" Haru's voice caught him off guard freeing him from his thoughts as he focused back into reality. Ah- right. Where he came from before this man became his home, "....I liked the fields. Both gore covered and not. When spring would hit it'd light up in color from the wildflowers and animals. I used to dream of dying that way... sinking into the earth and finally being one with it. I think I'd make a beautiful patch of flowers." Despite how grim it was he had a soft smile, closing his eyes and leaning into his touch like it was the last thing he'd ever feel.

"This is nice too though.... It feels like the few times I'd been to Greece. Without the statues. It's warm and it feels like summer most months, but the sea keeps it from being unbearable and it almost gets too cold sometimes below deck when we're sleeping. I miss the fields sometimes though... Just the spring. The flowers and everything, I don't need to repeat it. The ocean starts to look the same after a while, but there's good company. I couldn't imagine leaving, not now." The words died on his tongue, the ghost of a confession lingering unsaid.

He didn't need to ruin the moment.

[canadianlucifer]

Hi, I don't know what your shipps are, but could you answer the 5, 6, 35, 37 and 43 asks according to your preference?

Before getting into this, I’ll list all my ships in case anyone’s interested!

I actively ship hidekane, nishikimi, and seiakimon, while some “yeah they’re cool, I’ll take it” ships are houtata, yoritouka, and furutui. I’m not entirely opposed to any ships that involve the characters already listed (ie, touken or houjizawa), people can ship what they want, they just aren’t for me.

With that out of the way, let’s get into it! I’ll be doing seiakimon because I feel like they’d get the most interesting results for these questions and they don’t get enough attention.

5. Do they argue often? If so, what do they argue about?

Not super often, but a bit more often than your average couple. It’s always either extremely trivial or a genuinely big deal, no in between. Maybe it’s about using cool white vs warm white lightbulbs in the house (Akira bought hot pink lightbulbs to spite them both), maybe it’s about Seidou continuing to kill and eat violent ghouls instead of letting the TSC take care of them since he could be labeled a violent ghoul too while Amon has already gone fully vegan thanks to Kimi’s synthetic foods

6. How do they make up/apologize after an argument?

Seidou sulks for a while and it take a lot for him to admit it when he’s in the wrong. When he does and goes to apologize, it’s either a quiet mumble or a shout while shoving a gift towards them. He likes to give them either a cool rock he found or a keychain or something.

Akira gives the complete silent treatment but is quick to apologize if she’s in the wrong. She’ll give a formal apology first and then a… better apology later that night.

Amon hates the tension an argument brings and will apologize immediately no matter if he’s in the right or wrong. He wants to be close to his partners while they want space so he’ll pretty much do all the chores in the house and stand by patiently until they’re ready to talk.

35. Is their relationship a secret? If so, why?

Not really a secret, but they’re not open about it either. If someone asks them if they’re in a relationship they’ll say yeah and not elaborate. They all like to keep their private life private but will be honest if anyone asks

37. Who’s more emotionally sensitive/cries more often?

Well, that would be Seidou but I have a mean little headcanon that his tear ducts are scarred to shit bc of 2 years of RC suppressant injections so he physically can’t cry. He will sob into a pillow though.

Next would be Amon, he pretends he’s unaffected when his feelings are hurt but then locks himself in a dark room for an hour and cries quietly.

43. If they picked out outfits for each other, what would they look like?

Akira would pick some actually good outfits, like she’d pick colours that look good on them and styles they’d enjoy. She’d pick some casual but nice clothes for Amon, like a v neck and jeans with a nice hat. For Seidou, she’d pick a grey sweater and some black yoga pants, something simple and comfortable. Anything to get the both of them out of those dirty old cloaks.

Amon only really knows office clothing like suits. He’d probably choose a violet suit for Akira and black vest with a red dress shirt for Seidou. Something neither of them really expect, but neither dislike either.

Seidou would pick some slightly out-there outfits. For Amon, you know those Victorian white ruffly blouses? Yeah, that and high-waisted skinny pants. Akira on the other hand would get a leather jacket, a tank top with a skull on it, black jeans, and sunglasses. She had never considered that style before, but instantly fell in love with the leather jacket and wears it everywhere now.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

hey! I just wanted to say I love your fic A Fresh Start SO MUCH !! the writing is just *chefs kiss* and the slow burn is just long enough to be agonizing but in literally the best way possible, it’s written SO WELL AND I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH DUDE !!!!!

I love your fic so much, and for the past couple of days I’ve been kicking around the idea to ask you: is it ok if I draw your character Nima from A Fresh Start? I just love her so much and she’s one of my favorite side characters, and I was hoping I could ask if it was ok if I could draw her? She’s just such a fun character and I really like the idea of drawing her pink(?) skin and other details, and if I could draw her, do you mind providing any details about her? Like maybe some references, any outfit she wears, or just any sort of spare details you have about her?

anywyas, tysm, I love your fic a LOT and have a good day !! <3

ps. if you have an anon list going, I wouldn’t mind going by ⭐️ (star) Anon :)

THE SOUND THAT LEFT MY MOUTH WHEN I READ YOUR MESSAGE WAS INHUMAN. ABSOLUTELY YES YOU CAN DRAW NIMA HOLY SHIT IM SCREEEEAMING.

Okay. Deep breath. Holy moly. Alright. Guess what, my friend? You just opened Pandora's box. You asked for spare details but I'm about to ramble for DAYS. Nima's got a full history and backstory (b/c I'm obsessive about this kind of stuff) that I haven't been able to explore in the story to the degree I want SO NOW YOU GOTTA SUFFER THROUGH PARAGRAPHS OF INFORMATION.

Just swear to me that you'll send me the finished result because I neeeeeeed it. You think I'm insane and feral now? Just you wait. Okay. Now, info dump waiting below.

So mentally the closest face claim I have for Nima would be the actress Seo Ye Ji (as in if Nima got to ever see the silver screen that's exactly who I would want hired to play her lol).

Nima is pretty average in height, and she's built firm. Not a body builder by any means, but you can see the strength in her arms and shoulders from the multiple years of working in a garage doing heavy lifting and being hands on. Her skin tone is a more pastel shade of pink, like a soft bubble gum pink, but her lekku both have a sprinkling of freckles all over them in a darker shade of pink. Her eyes are a dark brown, and she has freckles across the bridge of her nose and on her cheekbones that match the ones on her lekku.

Nima has no tattoos or piercings, she's terrified of needles. Markings of note though, she has a collection of scars along her arms (burns and cuts) from her work. Nima has a bad habit of getting excited when working on a project she's excited about and in her excitement she'll forget to wear gloves or cover her arms in the proper gear.

When she's working, Nima wears a pair of navy mechanic coveralls to protect her skin when doing more dangerous work, but as said previously, Nima has a bad habit of shrugging out of the upper half to tie the arms around her waist leaving her in either a plain tank top or sports bra. She does it to cool off, but often forgets to zip the upper body part back up before getting back to work. While on the job, there are three things she always has on her: a pair of work goggles either resting on her forehead or hanging around her neck, an old pair of work gloves she's kept forever despite their disrepair, and a matching set of dark brown work boots. All three were gifts from her father when she got her first job as a mechanic.

When Nima's not working, her style is all over the place. She prefers pants and shorts to dresses and skirts and tends to lean toward large, loose fitting t-shirts that she'll tuck into high waist shorts or pants. But, she's also a big fan of oversized hoodies, cardigans, and flannels for when the weather gets cooler.

I attached some random pictures I found on pinterest of things I could picture Nima wearing.

AGAIN DON'T FORGET TO SEND ME THE ART PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU🥺⭐️

[toehwa6]

So just hurt myself pretty bad this kinda sucks

Last time I did it there was 8 and this time I was like well I wanna do more so I’ll do ten

Then I did 12

And I had some cig leftover

So I just went fuckin crazy

Super sucks fr

Well I guess anyway

Super disappointed I was freaking out and fucked my pattern up

Idk if that’s weird to say

Super sucks idc

I was talking to my therapist about this because he couldn’t really understand why I did this shit

I was like

Well at first it was to make the bad feelings stop

Or because I was sad or something

But the last two times have just been because it feels good

I explained it in two parts

The first is the build up

The anticipation and anxiety you get because you know what’s coming

And the build up until that moment

Then there’s the pain and that feels cool

I compared this to getting a tattoo and the anticipation/excitement that comes with it

But the second part is the pain after

I explained it to working out or lol getting a tattoo

The next few days of my arm just fucking hurting feels amazing

Idk super weird

I talked to my friend about it and she agreed so it didn’t make me feel too bad

She used to cut as a kid, then stopped. But she got a tattoo and was like yo that feels exactly the same so I shouldn’t get tattoos

Now she’s getting tattoos to cover up her scars

And I be talkin to her fr and she says it feels amazing

I get it

Idk what it is about it fr

I told my therapist it’s the same exact feeling of when I’m hungry

It’s so weird

Idk

Idk why I’m doing it fr

Wish I didn’t

But I can feel in my head that I don’t wish I didn’t. I want to do this forever

Shits addicting I guess

Yo what actually sucks is I’m the only motherfucker who’s old doing this shit but started when I’m old

Hard to relate a little bit

And omg bro these SH subs are fucking crazy I don’t relate to anything in there

The memes about it made me sick

Also all this shit is about cutting

I explained to my therapist and my friend why

In my aspie mind I go, okay. So cutting is really dangerous, and if you fuck it up you could die

In my mind I was like

Yo I don’t think this is a trial and error situation lmao

So I just burn myself with cigs

People say that’s worse because of infection, but I’ve been doin this shit for a minute and if you know how to keep it clean and not pop the blisters you’re good

Bro this shit is crazy under the blisters when they pop

I went to a cubing comp recently and was really worried about bein around kids

But it went super well. Didn’t even think about my arm when I was there

It was honestly so nice

I have to go to PT in like a hour so gotta fuckin deal with that

I had some that were open wounds so I had to bandage them, and my PT lady was like oh fuck you good?

So I just said yeah bad test results and kept it movin

Bro I covered those up with a big non stick bandage

Ain’t no covering this shit up man

Fuck

Why the fuck do I do this shit

Dawg my shit looks absolutely fucked right now

Fuck

I just looked and it’s super bad

Fuck fuck fuck

Oh jeez we’ll just gotta deal with it

Fuck

Fuck fuck fuck

Yo where the old people at help a brother out

Who’s even reading this shit

Oh yeah, ME

Sometimes lol

Alright I’m gonna go try and cover this ttyl