#i tried to make it appeal to other ppl

[gh0sthands]

magic whumpee experimented on (fantasy setting)

magic whumpee kidnapped and experimented on by whumper. whumpee has magic in their very blood, and whumper wants to know how it works. they purposefully antagonize the whumpee to test how their magic responds to emotions, particularly stress.

whumpee is poked and prodded with needles, their blood stolen from them. their body cut open so whumper can try to understand how the magic flows through their body.

whumper gives whumpee something/uses their magic to keep whumpee asleep, because whumper's primary objective is science, not torture. but when whumper realizes that whumpee's magic is dormant if they're unconscious, whumper has little to no qualms about experimenting on a conscious whumpee.

if whumper gets tired of whumpee's screaming, they simply cast a silence spell over them. then adds more restraints to keep whumpee from moving.

when whumper isn't experimenting on them, whumpee is kept in a cold, dark room, chained to the wall. they are given the bare minimum of sustenance, in the form of a small magic pill that keeps them fed. and that whumper forces down whumpee's throat.

then, one day, while whumpee is lying on the table, they think they hear someone. someone besides whumper. and whumper notices, too. whumper leaves whumpee on the table with their body cut open, to go deal with the intruders.

except whumper never returns. whumpee hears the fight somewhere in the building. they think they recognize caretaker's voice.

and then caretaker runs into the lab.

"gods," caretaker's tough exterior breaks down as they sob.

whumpee is too in shock to move their body, but their eyes meet caretaker's. caretaker has never seen such fear.

"i've got you baby," caretaker mutters, focusing all of their energy into healing the gaping wound. gentle yellow light shines from caretaker's palms, and with focus, the wound begins to stitch itself together.

whumpee whimpers, and caretaker says "i know, i know, I'm sorry baby, i'll make it as quick as i can," and one of their hands finds whumpee's own.

caretaker's magic isn't enough to fully heal the wound, but it's enough to get whumpee stable. caretaker sheds their cloak to cover whumpee's still naked body. they've seen whumpee's body before, but right now, whumpee deserves some privacy.

then, caretaker finally works on the restraits. one by one, caretaker yanks the leather straps off, and finally, finally, caretaker picks up whumpee from the table, heading straight for the exit.

"whumper's dead," team leader says, catching up with caretaker. "how's whumpee?"

"stable, for now."

"let's get going, i'll treat them once we're safe" medic says.

whumpee can barely process that any of this is happening, but they're in caretaker's arm now. they know it's real. they know caretaker (and team leader and medic) will keep them safe.

whumpee lets themself fall asleep in caretaker's arms.

[krbk-notebook]

hey @real-life-cloud @thatsgaybro @lyricalvicki @tempestaurora @sweetietenya @greyladyblue @moumjn

we‘re either mutuals on my main (@pecuirlig), on here, or you follow this blog — and it looks like we all like krbk ! :‘)

first of all, feel free to decline <3

would anyone be interested in making a little krbk discord group or something? :‘)

as a casual fun hangout spot for people of similar ages (i think we‘re all 20+, most early 20s?), for talking about krbk (& maybe other ships/characters/shows etc too), sharing or talking about fics, or art, or whatever we want :‘)

i know i‘ve wanted to have a space like that for years tbh lol, since i haven‘t had the luck to meet anyone irl who‘s also into fandom or specifically krbk, back when tumblr group chats were a thing they weren’t very lively lol, and the krbk discord groups i‘ve checked out so far haven‘t had active members my own age.

i would be super happy if any of you might be interested too ! :‘) but i will continue to suffer alone lmao if you should not <3 (/lighthearted)

(btw— i‘m super open to other people joining this too, so please do feel invited if you are 20+ and you want something like this too ! i just only @'ed these people because there‘s been Some interaction between us already. not having @'ed you doesn‘t mean you‘re not welcome :‘) !)

[lexirosewrites]

Vague role reversal for slick sunday wherein Eddie is a popular top of the food chain alpha, while steve is on the peripheral as an omega

O!Steve might have rich parents tht aren't around, but he's struggled to read at the same pace as his peers for years, numbers sometimes get mixed up, he's seen as strange for his interests, & ppl tend to overlook him in a room which is what he's convinced himself he prefers. He might read slowly but he retains nearly everything he reads, he's very good in history class, he's got an emotional intelligence unmatched. In this AU Steve is the founder of Hellfire, he doesn't DM entire campaigns only one shots or short little jaunts but he owns every book & has a lot of knowledge abt the rules. Steve has taken German every year at Hawkins high & that's how he meets & forms a bond w A!Robin. She joins Hellfire only to sit around & eat snacks & heckle the DM on the behalf of the players. While he's socially vulnerable he's often left alone from physical bullying bc his parents had him attend first a karate class then an aikido class since he was 12 in Indianapolis so he defends himself well.

A!Eddie on the other hand presents as an alpha early, he starts developing the physical strength associated w an alpha, he's a faster runner than before, he joins the track & field team, he becomes the plug for weed & pills once he's a sophomore in highschool, he laughs loud & doesnt necessarily stop the worst of the bullying but is still a gentleman to alpha & beta women & all the omegas, even Steve when he rarely notices him. He dates A!Nancy Wheeler, invites her to a small bonfire in the woods near the trailer park, B!Barb comes along, Barb goes missing (is killed) after everyone breaks off in couples to make out/have sex, season 1 happens pretty much the same for Nancy except Steve's role/redemption is Eddie

Will Byers goes missing & Steve approaches fellow bottom feeder B!Jonathan Byers w condolences & the statistic tht when a child goes missing its more likely to b a family member, when Jonathan goes to confront his dad Steve & Robin tag along. When tht leads nowhere Steve & Robin r told by Jonathan to not get further involved. Wills fake body is found. Then season 1 happens pretty much the same with Steve & Robin only having a peripheral involvement.

Season 2 happens, Billy tries a few times to corner Steve but Hellfire r protective especially Robin, & Steve uses aikido to throw Billy around by using his mass & inertia against him ending the confrontation by giving Billy a broken nose, Billy ends up giving up bc he gets more concerned w dragging 2nd year senior Eddie down & harassing the vulnerable black kid Max has been seen with, season 2 ends w Steve having to repeat senior year and Eddie has to repeat for the 3rd time despite Nancy's attempts to help.

Season 3: Steve doesn't get entirely cut off but his allowance is reduced by A LOT, steve & robin get summer jobs at Scoops Ahoy. Dustin goes to Eddie with the transmission but neither speaks Russian. When their caught talking abt it not so subtly while indulging in ice cream at Scoops Ahoy near closing Robin straight up calls all 3 of them out while stobin lean against the counter judging them. Dustin is a smart ass but when Robin reveals she's a polyglot the 3 start to include her, ignoring Steve & Steve convinces himself he isn't hurt. Then Steve hears music in the transmission & as they're all walking out he has the eureka moment of the ride. Season 3 happens & stobin still end up as the ones trapped by the Russians except Robin does her best to divert their attention to her in this AU, they get drugged & rescued by Dustin Erica & Eddie

Billy dies. Max has very mixed feelings abt it while Steve is relieved bc Billy had continued to harass him all summer

Idk how season 4 goes but I do know we get steddie & buckingham even if Vecna isn't defeated

idk why omega Steve being at the bottom of the food chain is so appealing to me, but it is and then the idea of alpha Eddie eventually pursuing him is so much more fun!

[tanadrin]

This is maybe a mundane observation but it’s interesting to me the way a system of extensively theologians divine reward and punishment not only distorts moral reasoning in undesirable ways, but renders it incoherent. It’s one thing for your Iron Age society to deal with the problem of evil by saying the scales are balanced by divine fiat after death. That is a pretty appealing patch to the patently unjust experience of living in the world. But the theological elaboration of this rule under more elaborate soteriologies—including with the endless temptation to use them not just as a comfort but as a tool of politics, and harmonizing them with traditional cultural narratives—produces unintuitive results: things which carry no obvious moral valence have to have it added, or their moral valence has to be heightened (or even inverted!) against intuition, in order to keep the elaborate framework in which they are now embedded functioning. Concrete example: it is very, very funny to me when evangelical Christian literature tries to end with some big moral lesson, especially when it’s explicitly proselytizing literature, that makes no goddam sense unless you are already deeply steeped in the evangelical theological worldview. Like those Chick tracts that end “The WORST sin, little Timmy, worse than lies or theft or murder, is man trying to set himself up as God!” Like… okay, pride is bad, your potential convert may be thinking. But what does that even *mean*? How is that relevant to *my* life? And why is pride(?) a worse sin than murder? Catholics also have a problem where they do this with sexual ethics: the occasional Catholic theologian has gotten themselves so twisted about they end up arguing masturbation is worse than rape. That’s pretty repellent to modern moral intuitions! That’s gonna be a real hard sell to anybody who is not the particular flavor of hopped-up-on-natural-law Platonist that you only find in the deep crevices of Catholic theology. And this makes a nonzero amount of sense: most efforts at proselytization seem to me to really to be efforts at boundary maintenance, with the occasional convert as a secondary benefit. But I do wonder if deeply religious types ever notice that—never mind just having very different values—they actually struggle to even communicate their own values effectively to ppl in other contexts they’re in dialogue with.

[sushiwriterhere]

foggy

summary: "Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were lightly fogged, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them."  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: bob floyd x f!reader word count: ~2.9k warnings: idiots pining, car sex (lol), hangman being hangman, no use of y/n.  notes: Inspired by me thinking about Bob's glasses getting all fogged up. y'all i wish i could apologize for this but all i can think abt is this man and how someone once said they wanna chew on him like a polly pocket.. anyways please let me know what you think ! no beta we die like men tagging: @sebsxphia @theharddeck - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like luv bob soooo pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed

You were usually far more behaved than this, really. You paid attention in your classes, did your work, showed up on time to your job–kept it all together. But there was something about him, about Bob, that just made that tiny part of you want to be reckless. And he had no idea. 

There he was, along with the rest of the group like every Friday, sitting and watching them play pool. They’d hoot and holler, order drink after drink, and he’d sit and laugh along with his peanuts and his Shirley Temples or lemonades. And it made you want to jump his bones.

It was a smidge ironic that as a bartender his non-alcoholic drink choices were part of what got you going, but what could you say? A man of multitudes and contradictions was appealing, and Bob was just that. Best weapons system operator around, shy as all hell, and damn smart. He always tipped generously, never put his phone on the bar, and had interrupted more than one creep on a mission to try and ruin your Friday night (flirting is for tips, not for keeps!). 

But any time you tried to move it past your brief interactions, he always slipped away. You figured it wasn’t necessarily on purpose— he seemed to be friendly otherwise, just probably not interested. So you resigned yourself to the occasional small chat when making drinks or he came in while the Hard Deck was a bit less noisy—and ever so often, finishing while imagining just what it would feel like to have his body pressed up against yours. 

And this Friday began like every other. You came in right as lunch ended, and busied yourself with prepping more limes than you ever wanted to see again in your life. There were glasses to be stacked, napkins and straws to be refilled, and liquors to be restocked. Patrons would start trickling in around 5 or 6, with the majority starting to filter in around 8, clearly coming from dinner or work. By 9, the Hard Deck would be packed to the brim with fighter pilots and other people from the nearby base. 

Your favorite fighter pilots would make it in at 8:45 pm every Friday, like clockwork. They’d take over the pool table with a direct eyeline to the bar, and stay till the early hours of the morning, sometimes till closing. Rooster usually bought the first round if the weather was nice, Hangman would when the weather was shit. More than once you’d tried to discern a pattern beyond that, but they seemed to have some sort of system. 

Bob would always buy his own drinks. 

He’d make his way to the bar, smiling gently at you and waiting patiently while you fielded other customers. Then he’d place his drink order and ask for a refill on his cup of peanuts, and stand there humming something to himself while you poured him a drink. Tips came in cash, straight into your palms and always paired with a soft smile that made your knees weak and your pulse hammer.

Tonight was no different. He ordered his lemonade and handed you cash with a warm smile before returning to what appeared to be an increasingly hostile and heated game of pool. Sitting on the sidelines, he seemed to just be content observing the madness. 

When Hangman approached the bar during a momentary lull, you expected it to be for another round. Except he leaned over the counter conspiratorially, and crooked a finger at you to beckon you closer. 

“I have a secret to tell you, only it’s not really a secret.” He had a coy smile on his face like he was about to tell you he’d taken a cookie from the cookie jar. 

You really wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you had to admit sometimes Hangman was entertaining and you figured your shift would at least be somewhat more lively with his antics. So you just shifted closer to him while maintaining an eye on the bar in case someone needed anything. 

“Do tell.”

He pointed a finger back towards the game of pool just as Rooster sunk a shot and Phoenix high-fived him, “You see Bob over there?”

You narrowed your eyes. You definitely didn’t like where this was going. While Hangman was all huge ego on the outside, you knew he wasn’t really like that on the inside, so it made you suspicious that he was deciding to pick on Bob. Usually it was all in good fun, but you had a soft spot for Bob and you really didn’t want to be caught up in any hurtful gossip.

“Play nice in my bar, Bagman.” You said, scrubbing a bit more aggressively at the countertop than you meant to.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m playing very nice, I’m being a wingman instead of Hangman tonight.” Wingman? “Bob over there, has a very big and bad crush on a certain someone.” 

You hoped this was some sort of prank, because Hangman had one perfectly manicured finger pointing at you. You felt your face go bright red. 

“That’s not playing nice.” God, why was this happening? 

It was one thing to harbor your little crush on Bob, to let yourself check him out while you were sure he wasn’t looking, it was another to have Hangman mock you by telling you that Bob liked you back. 

“He really thinks he’s being subtle,” Hangman continued as if he hadn’t heard you speak, “But he refuses to let us buy his drinks whenever we’re buying a round just so he can talk to you. I swear he spends more time up here or staring at you than he does hanging out with us.”

Saved by a customer, you let your attention drift away from Hangman and what he’d said to you. Even though he lingered, leaning on the bar, you tried not to focus on him. 

What did he mean Bob had a crush on you? That couldn’t be possible. A few weeks prior you had almost asked Bob out to dinner after not charging him for his drink, hoping that that would be enough to start a bit of flirting. 

Instead the WSO had placed enough cash to cover his drink and a very generous tip on the bar and stammered out something about needing to get back to the game of pool him and Rooster were losing. So you took that as your hint. 

Ever a patient asshole, Hangman was still there after you finished making drinks. Clearly being decently drunk wasn’t enough to keep him from being a pain. He just kept looking between you and Bob and not saying anything. 

“You’re scaring other customers.” You wanted this to end, the observation, you wanted to get out from under his knowing gaze.

He flicked a cherry stem at you, and without flinching proceeded to make you feel like you were officially the world’s least subtle person, “It’s not hard to see that you and Bob wanna jump each other’s bones, I think once you get it out of your system you’ll be perfect for each other. Just have to get over that first hurdle.”

And with that, Hangman walked himself back over to the rest of the group. You stood there in stunned silence trying to process exactly what just happened.

-

Like you said before, you were usually far more behaved than this. But nevertheless, you now found yourself pressed up against your car in the corner of the Hard Deck’s parking lot, Bob’s lips on yours and his hands on your waist. 

Anyone could see. Hangman or Rooster could step out for a breath of fresh air, maybe even a drunk cigarette (no one was allowed to tell Mav), and see you pulling Bob’s shirt out of his standard-issue khakis and running your hands over his stomach. You had always known he was hiding some serious muscle under his uniform. Someone could see you, weak in the knees for the quiet, but beautiful, Bob. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said quietly against your lips as you scratched at his back and trembled in his arms. “We shouldn’t–shouldn’t be doing this out in the open. You deserve better.”

Was it wrong that him being so respectful made you want him to ruin you all that more? What you wouldn’t give to be in your, or his, apartment right now, protected by four walls and free to strip and see all of him. But for now, you’d have to take the cards you were dealt. 

Grasping behind yourself, you yanked the back door handle against yourself, feeling the door give against you and open slightly. You pushed Bob off you gently, just enough to pull the door open and grab his collar to pull him into the car with you. He made a choked off sound, and you honestly weren’t sure if it was because of you grabbing his shirt or if he was surprised. 

“Wait,” He managed, and you froze, “I... Will you sit in my lap?”

You were going to die, here and now, with him almost hovering over you, his eyes wide and pleading. For a moment, time seemed to turn into something syrupy as he slid fully into the car, shut the door, and pulled you into his lap. 

You both sat there for just a moment, panting and staring at each other. Maybe you owed Hangman an apology for doubting his wingman skills, but you weren’t sure you wanted to inflate his ego more than it already was. 

However, he did deserve some credit. After he had dropped that bomb on you, Bob had come over and asked if you were alright, claiming he’d give Hangman a talking-to about whatever he said that had clearly upset you. You just stood there staring at him, until he started to squirm slightly under your gaze. 

It was in that moment you had blurted out, “I have a crush on you.”

He had stared at you for a split second before he whispered, so quietly you weren’t even sure you were supposed to hear it, “Oh my god, I want to kiss you so badly.” 

It had taken everything in you not to drag him across the bar and press your lips into his. Instead, you managed to tell him that you had your thirty minute break in five minutes, and to meet you in the parking lot by your car. It was probably the most reckless thing you had ever done.

So that was how you ended up in the backseat of your car, Bob’s tongue running along the seam of your lips, whining slightly when you opened your mouth to feel his tongue glide over your teeth. You could tell he had his feet firmly planted on the floor by the steady rhythm of his hips against yours. That part of his actions seemed so confident, so assured in comparison to the slight tremor in his hands against your hips, but you wanted him to let loose a little, show you just how much he wanted you. 

The car rocked gently with your movements. He was panting as his forehead leaned against yours, and he let out a particularly high pitched whine as you grabbed him by the back of the neck to force your lips together again.

“Been thinking about this, about you,” he ground out as you both pulled away again to catch your breaths, “See you every Friday and Hangman, ah, Hangman makes fun of me.” 

You groaned at his confession and twisted your hands into his neatly combed hair. Honestly, you couldn’t judge his hesitancy, for god’s sake you thought he barely liked you as a friend. Plus, you’d firmly asked more than one patron to leave when they tried to be too forward. Bob was never too forward. 

“Been, fuck! Been, trying to be a gentleman.”

You didn’t want him to be a gentleman, you wanted him to ruin you. Grabbing his wrists, you shoved them under your shirt and sighed as he got the message, rubbing your nipples over your bra. 

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, rolling your hips against his more firmly. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered as his lips marked a path down your neck, mouthing at your collarbone as he tugged the collar of your shirt to the side.

“Bob...” You could feel the heat in your stomach building, the familiar tingle in your fingers.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” With one hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles, and the other dipping into your bra, the flood of physical sensations was almost too much. 

You moaned into his mouth and shuddered against his grip, raking your hands through his hair and feeling just how much he liked the sensation of your nails scraping against his scalp when the rhythm of his hips stuttered.  

When you came it felt like a star bursting in your chest, everything went fuzzy around the edges as he rocked you in his lap and you rode out your orgasm. It felt like Christmas morning, your birthday, and every party all rolled into one. You shuddered as he kept your hips moving against his, clearly close. 

But you would have none of that.

Still trembling from your own release you unbuttoned his khakis with shaking hands and reached in to grasp him. He stared down at your through lightly fogged up glasses, clearly shocked. 

“Fuck, wait, are you sure—!” Was all he managed to get out before you were on your knees, doing your damndest to swallow him down.

He came with a choked shout, one hand on the back of your head and the other clawing at the worn leather of your seats, grasping for something, anything to keep him tethered. For a moment you stayed on your knees, reveling in the feeling of what had just happened. 

He was a fucking vision from this angle. His usually perfectly done haired was wild from you running your hands through it, his khakis were haphazardly open and his softening cock was laying against his stomach where you had rucked his shirt up. Breathing wild, his chest rose and fell quickly, and his fingers resting on the seat twitched in a matching rhythm to the ones in your hair.

Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were fogged up, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them. 

You wished you had a camera to capture the moment. 

The moment was broken when Bob reached down to pull you back into his lap and move his lips softly against yours. It took you a moment to register that he was whispering sweet nothings to you–a combination of thank you, and all sorts of compliments that made your chest ache. 

A sudden alarm sound made both of you turn in opposite directions at the same time, smacking your foreheads together. Suddenly any sexual tension had completely dissipated, replaced by both of you melting into laughter. Leave it to you and Bob to top off humping in your car like teenagers by giving each other concussions. 

“I need to get back to work.” You whispered as he inspected your forehead for any lasting injuries, “That was my alarm.”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, as if he was savoring your final moments together. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow? Do this part right?”

“I’d love that.”

-

You almost made it to closing without anyone noticing that you and Bob had both conveniently been gone for most of your meal break. But the crew crowding the pool table was far too observant for their own good. To his credit, Bob got himself almost fully back to his normal appearance, and you slipped into the bathroom to make sure you were presentable again. 

“You should say thank you to people who do nice things for you,” Hangman was back, toothpick hanging loosely from his mouth as he turned a sly grin in your direction, “I’ll take a beer in compensation, though.”

Pretending not to know what he could possibly mean, you continued to clean up. “Making sure all your cups are on the bar by closing is not exactly free beer material.”

He scoffed and stole another garnish, “You might think you’re slick but Bob’s been staring at you uninterrupted since you got back from your little break.”

“According to you he stares at me regardless.” Sorry, Bob.

“Yeah, but now he stares at you all mopey, which means you must’ve gotten the other stuff out of your system–”

You threw a piece of ice, the universe granting you with perfect aim for once, and watched as it hit his collarbone and slid down his shirt. He jerked backwards with a hiss. 

“Okay! Just take your beer and shut up.” Why did he have to be like this?

“Why thank you sweetheart, consider your debt settled.” With a wink, he was gone.

If you were honest with yourself, you probably would give Hangman a thousand free beers just to see Bob in the backseat, glasses foggy, and staring at you like you hung the moon. But he didn’t have to know that.

[desire-mona]

siiiigh. todd autism headcanons because im projecting.

(using they/he/she pronouns for todd in this post. will explain but also if u dont agree i dont care, tw for alcoholism. time period is vague but autism hasnt existed as a legitimate medical diagnosis for all that long, so keep it in mind i guess.)

- cannot for the life of him stand welton's blankets. so itchy, just thin enough to not warm you up enough but still make you sweat, not long enough to cover your entire body. yes im making the blanket line in their poem about actual blankets, a boy needs to vent somewhere.

- beyond terrible temperature regulation, ALWAYS just a little too hot which is made worse by her sensory issues when it comes to wet fabric. constant slight agony and it never really goes away. theyre about 5 minutes away from crying about how uncomfortable they are at all times.

- had god awful handwriting until high school, like his teachers could BARELY read his handwriting it was Bad. OOOOOH OH MY GOD THERES A TRAIN GOING BY I CAN HEAR IT HONKING this is a really ironic thing to be pointing out rn but its sooooo worth mentioning. its still honking this is fun. 🚂. anyway. her parents made her spend an entire summer fixing her handwriting bc that was like the One thing her teachers criticised. its Fine now but their motor function simply doesn't deliver in the handwriting department.

- had a VERY INTENSE special interest in aquatic life + marine biology growing up, like read every book about any ocean animal in any library intense. his parents eventually forced him to abandon it because its "not a good career focus" but he still perks up when anyone mentions fish. once talked neils ear off about the biodiversity of coral reefs for roughly 2 hours, neil took her to an aquarium for their first date. rip todd anderson you wouldve loved spongebob squarepants.

- looooves pets, namely cats, but they have Too Sweaty hands all the time so any animal fur sticks onto their hands and just feels. so awful.

- had a brief period in his 20s where he was definitely an alcoholic, started as a social drinker but got too addicted to the feeling of not having to adhere to social conventions quite as hard, especially around other drunk ppl. eventually went sober after they realised they just Cant Stand the feeling of a hangover anymore. autistic ppl r more likely to develop a dependency on alcohol if we do start drinking. just btw.

- gets a Pretty Expansive vocabulary after actually starting to pursue literature. sometimes his family lightly teases him about using big words but it confuses the hell out of him. its just a word she thought would apply best!!

- soooooo obsessed with what other ppls idea of them is, both in an anxious way and out of genuine curiosity. would never ask ppl what they think of her bc she thinks thats 1) very broad 2) seems compliment fish-y and 3) just gonna lead to "i think ur great/ nice/ whatever filler compliment." but the dream is to sit someone (neil) down and just ask him every single question possible about how he perceives him.

- asks a billion clarifying questions about anything someone asks him to do, gets anxious about how many questions he's asking, tries to just figure it out, freaks out about the possibility of getting it wrong, ends up doing the thing perfectly. weekly occurrence.

- never fully grasped the appeal of religion (most definitely grew up catholic or christian or Something) just bc she could NOT let the lack of proof go. ALSO not an atheist bc the vastness of space scares them out of it. religious beliefs r a weird topic for them.

- suppresses a good chunk of his stims in public bc One total time someone looked at him weird while he was chewing on a sweatshirt string and he was like i gotta stop NOW. eventually develops tics and has to mask THOSE in public too. dear god someone let this girl unmask. also i started ticcing while writing that bc my body does this great thing where i only tic when im reminded of the concept of ticcing. its great and totally doesnt make me think im faking them (faking for who? dunno bc it usually happens when im alone)

- DOES in fact stim around neil bc NEIL STIMS TOO!!!!!!!! joyous day when they found THAT out! gets vocal stims of random lines from whatever play neil is practicing for. YEAA ART THOU THEEEEREE was a vocal stim for a solid week and a half which made neil VERY excited (autistic neil. how i love u autistic anderperry)

- velcro is The most evil vile disgusting material to ever grace this mortal realm. he hates it more than anything ever and i mean that fully. the feeling of BOTH sides, the noise, how easily it comes apart, she hates it all.

this is the gender part

never really viewed gender and gender roles as anything to adhere to beyond the fear of punishment if they dont. finds any social convention relating to gender to be Really dumb and meaningless, bc gender isn't (scientifically) real in any capacity, so why treat it like that? for the longest time just shrugged and said "eh, i guess im a boy" bc thats what she was used to being told, and didn't feel particularly drawn to agree OR disagree. eventually realised on a late night that Wait. i dont Actually care what i am. like yeah im a Male i guess but also im just me. my brain doesnt have a gender and i basically am my brain, right? and then never really thought about it again because that's genuinely how little he cares. adhering the most to canon with that mindset, she never really tells anyone (for obvious reasons on top of the overall apathy) and just lets the he/him happen to her but. in my dream world? agender they/he/she todd anderson. and this is MY blog so those are the pronouns im using from now on. i will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl very often view gender differently than allistic ppl, will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl are more likely to be trans. autism!!!

also yes that entire paragraph is just my view of gender, change the pronouns and the todd mentions and its just me. what of it.

[saintblk]

*ೃ— INDULGENCE | ROY HARPER + KALDUR’AHM

warnings: foul language, drug and alcohol use, mfm intercourse, dubcon (reader is drunk + nonconsensual creampie), threesome, p in v, double penetration, manipulation of you squint, unprotected sex (use protection pls!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (all gender neutral), roy x kaldur (established relationship), college au — gender neutral afab reader, considered to be black + thick

word count: 3.9k

note: RAH ITS FINALLY OUT. i been wanting to finish this for sooooo long:0 if there are any pronouns please don’t hesitate to let me know ! i proofread like three times but there is a chance that i may have missed something. lmk what you think! i might do a poly drabble/series if ppl really like it🙈i think this was more for me than anyone else but enjoy;3

had to repost cause it wouldn't show up in tags the first time:(

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

YOU WERE OUT of your element — that much you knew. in your three years of college, never had you been invited to a frat party and it seemed convincing yourself you weren’t missing out on much finally paid off. because you truly could not see the appeal of the environment before you. it was hot–no, humid. the entire house stunk of sweat, alcohol, weed, and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. the air was charged with hormones and filled with so much smoke you weren’t sure how there was enough oxygen. not to mention, the amount of times you nearly threw caution to the wind to fight the third guy who used the tight space as a reason to grope you.

it had to be a lie when people talked about how fun and crazy a party was. a ruse to rope other people in to make a big house feel like a small, stuffy room. the reason for your attendance that night and your very best friend was donning a screwface that went quite well with her dark red dress as her gaze stayed attached to the man who’d invited her. he had one hand wrapped around a bottle of beer, and the other around the neck of the girl he was sucking face with.

“i told you, he’s not serious about you.” you tried to reason with her over the loud music. “let’s just split and you can forget about him-”

“fuck that. i’m gonna stay and show him exactly what he’s missing out on,” she decided before eyeing the crowd of people. “you can chill, grab a drink or something.”

rolling your eyes, you make your way to the drink table and find mini bottles of tequila. packing several of the untouched bottles into your shoulder bag, you make your way to the more quiet, mellow staircase. finals had just ended; a reason for this raucous soiree, though you much rather spend the night and every night over the summer break locked up in your room, binging trash reality tv shows. you supposed you couldn’t expect everyone to be like you, to not want to spend their night trying to get around multiple people all standing in the same hot room, acting on impulsive desires and liquid courage.

you blew a raspberry and scanned the room once again, catching sight of your friend grinding on a man you hadn’t seen before, and you were sure she hadn’t either. certain you were going to have to keep an eye on her so she didn’t get into anything potentially dangerous, you leaned your head against the nearest wall and got comfortable. eventually, you’re joined by a couple who decided the steps behind you were as good as the privacy of a bedroom. you could hear the man whispering empty promises to his female companion. how he was serious about her and only her, with each one of her complaints shushed so he could continue his inebriated ramblings. after downing three shots and placing the empty bottles on the floor beside you, escape came in the form of the 6’3 hunk who happened to be in your poli-sci class. kaldur’ahm smiled warmly at you, taking note of the exhausted look on your face.

“are you enjoying yourself?” he asks anyway, standing in front of you so as to not block the staircase.

with a scoff, you look down at your perfectly manicured toes in a pair of heels you couldn’t help but think were being wasted on this event. it wasn’t as though you could ever look kaldur in the eyes anyway. kind soul that he was, he still managed to intimidate you with his build and height, and the only time you could appreciate his god-given looks were from afar when he wasn’t looking at you.

“i’d literally rather be anywhere else…” you drawl while fishing another nip of tequila out of your bag.

though you can’t see it, too busy avoiding his gaze, he feels bad. despite living in the very house, he could never really keep his friends from throwing insanely wild parties that always ran too long.

“would you like to join me upstairs? roy thinks it’s quieter there but i don’t think there’s a difference.”

a smile comes over your face, and without meaning to, you let your eyes flick up towards his. when he offers his hand you don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t take it until you catch sight of your friend, pressed up against the guy she was so ready to swear off not even an hour earlier. you open your mouth to argue that you should keep an eye on her only for her attention to shift for a moment towards you. the thumbs up she gives you is encouragement enough, and you keep yourself from rolling your eyes when you place your hand in kaldur’s.

he guides you through the bodies littered up the staircase and standing around the rooms none of the guests were allowed to go in. his skin is warm and surprisingly soft and you inwardly swoon when he squeezes your hand. you find that the once booming music becomes a low thump on the walls, matching the bass when he leads you into his room. still loud, but not enough to egg on the headache plaguing you. sure enough, roy greets you with one of his lopsided smirks while he busies himself with rolling a fat blunt. the involuntarily bashful smile you respond with reminds him of the reason why you’re really there and why kaldur had gone downstairs in the first place.

“hey pretty,” he greets with a quick once over of your figure. “you look like you been drinkin’.”

you shake your head and fiddle with your fingers, anxious under his gaze while he lights his blunt. “m-mm, i’m fine.”

“do you have to smoke in here?” kaldur griped as he approached the redhead.

“what, you gonna be mean to me in front of company?” roy shot back smoothly. “i’ll even let you take the first hit since you clearly need to relax.”

kaldur waves him off and bats away the hand that reaches towards his waist as he walks towards the couch on the other end of the room. you take the seat beside him and take out your phone to let your friend know where you are and to call when she’s ready to leave.

“be careful,” you hear roy warn. “kal gets pouty when he’s tired.”

“i’m not tired and i don’t get pouty,” he bites out much to your amusement.

“no? you weren’t just being fussy about wanting me to get ready for bed?”

fed up, kaldur simply sinks in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. while thinking about how adorable their dynamic was, you notice roy’s gaze lingering on you again. it was no secret that he was just as attractive as kaldur and when the fact began dawning on you is when you began reconsidering your presence in their bedroom.

“you don’t look too happy yourself.” he gets up and plops down on the other side of you. “what’s got you down, sugar?”

your lips twist as you recount your night up until then. somehow, you suppose under the influence of alcohol, you don’t seem to notice or care how close the two men have gotten. roy’s arm found its way on the back of the couch and kaldur was sitting close enough for his knees to be knocking against your own. the cannabis from roy and the sweet vanilla just barely filling your nose from kaldur give you a heady feeling, the mixture of their scents nearly as intoxicating as the liquor in your system. somehow it’s just as hot as it was downstairs and your heart is starting to thump erratically in your chest.

“your friend is an asshole-”

“don’t say that.” you chide just before emptying another bottle. “she just really likes this guy.”

“she abandoned you,” kaldur joins.

at the thought, your shoulders slump and your eyes get just a little glazed. with a maudlin mind, you can’t help but consider their words ringing true. did she really care about you? about the fact that you were extremely uncomfortable at parties? social butterfly that she was, couldn’t she have taken one of her other, far outgoing friends? you sniffle a little, overemotional and perhaps a lot more drunk than you thought you were. but they’re both there to place strong hands on your thighs in consolation; squeezing and rubbing maybe a little too close to your hips, you’re too far gone to care. perhaps part of you knew what they were up to, how sleazy they both really were. but to have been wanted by two very hot guys at the same time was a bit uplifting in the moment. you turn to roy first who moves your braids back over your shoulder.

“y’know, we can make you feel better.” he husks and caresses your cheek.

you can feel kaldur’s breath fanning against your ear now as he hums an agreement. it sends goosebumps down your arms and an insatiable fire up your spine. a soft, breathy moan slips past you, encouraging him to press his lips against your throat and draw out more of your saccharine sounds. the upturn of roy’s lips against the corner of your own is what makes you close your eyes in anticipation. your eyebrows are furrowed and your hand is clutching desperately to his shirt, he’s sure there’ll be strains and wrinkles on the fabric. but he thinks it’s all worth it to see you practically on the edge of tears for a single kiss. when he finally does kiss you, it’s a quick, soft peck that forces a whine to erupt from you.

kaldur rolls his eyes at the sight, “stop toying with her. give her what she wants.”

“nuh-uh,” he snickers. “not until she asks for it. tell me what you want, y/n.”

“w-want you to kiss me,” you gasp when he nips at your jawline teasingly. “plea-please, roy.”

“so well-mannered,” he hums sarcastically. “think you should be rewarded for that?”

you nod frantically, just as he wraps a hand around your throat. you watch him wet his lips, following the movement of his tongue before he starts to pull you closer. roy kisses you once, then again, and finally presses the fervent kiss you so richly deserve on your waiting lips. you moan approvingly as you lean into him. all the while, kaldur’s exploring hands dance towards the jewel between your thighs. unconsciously, you spread your legs further and further until he has his hand up your dress, palm pressed up against and cupping your heated center. your moans are muffled through roy’s mouth, as you buck your hips to feel something, anything.

“so needy…i’m willing to bet you haven’t been touched in so long.” kaldur husks, slipping a finger past your damp panties to rub your throbbing clit.

a choked mewl fills the room as delirium begins to seep into your brain. he lets you grind against his fingers, frenzied and fiending for release. roy pulls away from your lips in time for kaldur to slide two fingers into your sopping cunt. the both of them relish in the sounds they’re drawing out from you while they work on marking up your neck. your senses go into overload when another set of fingers begin rubbing on your clit again. between the tongues dancing on the skin of your neck, clashing with one another every so often, and the assault on your lower lips, you’re being driven crazy by the two men.

your climax arrives like a wave crashing against your body, incapacitating you and forcing your every thought to be nothing but fuzz and static. the party has long since flitted from your worries; it’s simply you and two people who want you more than anything in that moment. the garble of nonsense you spew makes roy chuckle as he plants hot kisses up your jaw. kaldur is still going with slower strokes despite the way you burst on his fingers.

“look at the mess you made,” he breaths and pulls his fingers into your view. they’re coated in your essence, though neither of them seem to mind when roy tugs his hand towards his mouth.

you watch with glossed eyes, filled with arousal as he licks kaldur’s fingers clean. the lewd act has you clenching your thighs together to sooth the returning ache between them, only garnering kaldur’s attention once again. with a hum, he cups your chin with the hand covered in a light sheen of saliva and turns you towards him.

“was that not enough?” he inquires, gazing deep into your eyes and you can’t find it in you to look away. “do you want more, angel?”

all you can do is nod before leaning up for a kiss. his lips are soft and sweet and make you feel like you’re floating in the air. while kaldur’s tongue delves into your mouth, roy is helping shift you on the couch. you let them move your body as though you were nothing but their plaything, and soon enough you’re seated in kaldur’s lap with your back pressed against his broad chest and your legs spread. with your head twisted to continue locking lips with him, you don’t notice roy kneel on the floor in front of you until his hands come in contact with your thighs again.

simultaneously, kaldur’s hands flit from your waist up to your chest. tugging the straps of your dress down and allowing it to pool at your waist, he cups both your braless mounds and begins to massage them. your panties are removed next, abandoned somewhere behind roy. both you and kaldur pull away to watch roy press hot, open mouth kisses on his way up to your pearl. his hair tickles the skin near your knee but that’s soon forgotten when his lips come in contact with your labia. your mouth falls open with a sharp gasp, and for a moment roy considers drawing this out. but just the sight of you, in his boyfriend’s arms, pretty, and waiting and so very patient, he doesn’t think he could deny you of what you want any longer.

his tongue laps vigorously at your clit, only moving down to fuck your hole every so often. he groans at the taste of you, determined to make you cum again so he could share the taste with kaldur. your mind struggles to focus between the pair’s actions, only to allow pleasure to take over and blanket your senses. while roy indulges in your soaking cunt, kaldur pulls your head back so take your lips into his own.

you moan into his mouth with each of roy’s actions but kaldur doesn’t mind. he swallows your lewd noises, snaking his tongue past your teeth and seeking out your own pink muscle. calloused fingers tweak and twist your nipples before one hand begins to slide downwards. with your ankles locked behind roy’s head, the ginger struggled to feast the way he intended to. that was the case until kaldur spread your pussy lips for him, giving him full access to every part of you.

when your second climax approached, roy didn’t bother slowing down. he nipped and sucked on your clit relentlessly, watching with gleaming eyes as you were overcome with an earth shattering orgasm. you shook and thrashed in kaldur’s arms, whining as roy continued to abuse your overstimulated parts.

only when he needed to breath did roy come up from between your thighs. reaching up past you, he cupped the back of kaldur’s head and pulled him down. you watched hazily as the two met for a sloppy kiss. the taste of you on roy’s tongue found its way onto kaldur’s taste buds. he groaned, deep and low before delving his tongue into roy’s mouth.

“taste so good,” kaldur mumbled before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“think you’re ready for more?” roy inquired as he gets up and rids himself of the white marina he’s wearing. you nod dazedly much to his disappointment. “use your words, pretty.”

“yes, wan’ more.” you blurt, “please gimme more.”

kaldur leans into your ear, lips brushing against the cartilage. “get on your hands and knees, angel.”

you do as he says without hesitation. before long you find yourself looking up at an equally naked kaldur while roy, who also stripped himself of the rest of his clothes, inspected your backside. a wad of spit fell from his mouth onto your swollen sex and his hand followed to spread his saliva. just as a moan fell from your mouth, you felt something prod against your bottom lip. looking up, you noticed kaldur easing his girth into your mouth. quickly, you began to suckle on his tip before he continued pushing into your mouth. he filled every crevice, pushing past your uvula and hitting the back of your throat.

“you can take us both, can’t you?” he asks, so soft you can’t bring yourself to do anything but hum an agreement.

as if on cue, roy’s thick mushroom head eased it’s way into your cunt. he parted your gummy walls, suppressing the noises building up in the back of his throat. your walls were quivering and warm and sucked him in like you wanted him to stay inside you forever.

“fuck…” he grunted, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. “f-fuck baby you’re so tigh-tight.”

incapable of replying, all you could do was let your eyes roll back and take both men. ecstasy enveloped all three of you, encouraging you to chase the high you all desperately craved.

so when roy’s hips began to stutter and his movements slowed down, you took it upon yourself to fuck him back. it only proved to help when kaldur found purchase on your braids and began thrusting into your mouth. the recoil from his movements were strong enough to help you send your backside into roy’s hips.

“bein’ so good.” kaldur grunted over you only to pull himself out of your mouth. “but i need you to look at me, angel.”

while he slapped himself against your lips, you managed to drag your eyes back up at him. the pleased hum he let out only sent you further into an oblivion you didn’t want to find your way out of. the simple thought of being able to satisfy both men seemed to take you to rapture and beyond.

with kaldur in your throat, all that told of your orgasm was the garbled noises you made around him and the way you clasped around roy. he groaned as you gushed around him, soaking the both of your thighs and the couch underneath you.

“already?” he snarked, pulling out as kaldur’s movements slowed. “what d’ya think kal — should we give y/n a break?”

“not yet; not until i get to be inside them.”

sea green eyes bore into your’s, making the depth of your abdomen twist with need. the hand that held your braids slid down to caress your face and ran a thumb over your bottom lip.

“you’ll let me do that, won’t you angel?”

an eager nod soon has you trapped between two large bodies, incapable of remembering what exactly led up to this. with kaldur below you, holding your legs open, he pushed into you until he was bottoming out. roy, who stood before you, took a step closer and placed his tip against kaldur’s shaft. the red headed man slowly worked himself into you.

“w-wait, i can’t–” you squealed once it dawned on you what roy was attempting, and proceeded, to do. “s’too much!”

“‘course you can, baby.” he grinned down at you. “y’said you could.”

the stretch came with a slight burn since your body had never experienced any of this before. your innocence was what previously kept you from indulging in desire, and what now allowed you to welcome it all the same.

you could barely breath as they lay inside you, granting you the chance to get used to the feeling. surprisingly, disregarding all the patience he possessed, kaldur was the first to move. with an unrelenting grip on your thick thighs, he thrust upwards, eliciting a groan from roy and a gasp from you. roy was quickly following suit, he and kaldur both eager to please you and one another.

you were soon reduced to a mess of nonsensical noises and high pitched whines. every touch sent a wave of heat through your body; it was too much and not enough all at once. sweet release came and left and came again, but it did not stop both men from fucking you like they were possessed. in that moment you were nothing but an object to them; a hole for them to use that happened to have a pretty face. and you were treated as such.

you had past the point of fucked dumb, incapable of doing anything but wailing from the growing intensity of every orgasm that followed. tears danced down your cheeks and attempting to form the simplest thought was fruitless. all that remained in your mind was the everlasting feeling of lust and gratification.

trapped in hedonism, both your companions increased their relentless pace. each of them were far too occupied chasing their own highs to worry about you. roy, who had wrapped a hand around your neck, kept his eyes closed as he approached release. meanwhile, kaldur nipped and sucked on your neck while thrusting into you from below. his grunts and deep groans reverberated against your skin, eventually filling your head along with roy’s guttural sounds.

“taking us so well,” kaldur praised in your ear. “ we should keep you around, huh? you want that angel?”

after receiving nothing but whines and moans in response, kaldur canted his hips and ground himself up into you. you shrieked in ecstasy, gushing around both men for the nth time. the only difference however was the feeling of roy pulsing against both you and kaldur.

the latter shifted his attention to the red head, “make them ours roy. cum in–”

your protests cut him off and came in the form of incomprehensible babbles that made it all the more easier to ignore. leaking from his tip, roy thrust inside once more and emptied his load inside you. kaldur was prompted to do the same, biting down on the nape of your neck as he finished off with one final stroke.

even when they pulled out, you still felt filled to the brim. the cum slowly seeping out of you was testament to that feeling. the two men who had just finished rearranging your insides stood over you, looking down at their work. their sexual magnum opus lay on their couch, breathing heavily and still attempting to come down from several orgasms.

kaldur took it upon himself to get you cleaned up and into some fresh clothes while roy returned to smoking his blunt.

“should we drive them home?” he inquired, watching kaldur gently wipe the tears off your face. “or were you serious about keeping them around?”

“have you ever known me to joke about anything, roy?”

chuckling, roy took one final drag from his blunt and proceeded to join them in bed after putting it out. you soon find yourself pressed between their bodies once more. this time it’s in an embrace that warms your aching muscles as you surrender to lethargy.

2023 ©️ all rights reserved by saintblk (me) | do not copy, repost, promote, or translate any of my works without my permission

[talentlesshuman]

i came to know your art from the illustrations you're doing for OL2 and just now your chinese miku was in the previews of the artists of tumblr tag and omg!! i love it so much, your style is adorable 💝 hope you have a great day, i just thought that was a fun coincidence

Aw thank you!! That makes me feel good :3 glad you enjoy my work✨❤️

I really love my chinese miku design but i gotta mention i didn’t grow up in china and I’m just chinese american! But some things i thought were missing from other chinese miku designs that i loved about the original brazillian miku were :

1) the incorporation of the flag (its very charming, and immediately recognizable!) and making a pretty simple design. A big thing i see with miku designs are beautiful and intricate, but they’re not very easy to recreate!

2) the modern/contemporary vibe of the character. A lot of international miku designs have beautiful traditional clothing, which is great! But i think the appeal of being something modern is that the people actually living in those places can see themselves in them. The original brazillian miku had flipflops, sports jersey, and a bikini! Which i don’t think are traditional clothing, but is emblematic of ppl who live there now!

This is where I lack experience, since I didn’t grow up or live in china, I don’t know the culture of casual popular fashion in china. For this reason I chose to incorporate some traditional chinese clothing aspects (tang dynasty suit and minguo aoqun) and altered the fit with some of my modern preferences :)

3) the recognizable personality in the miku! I feel one of the reasons the brazillian miku got popular was because of the confident/cool/laid back/somewhat chaotic personality she was given! I feel like a lot of mikus with beautiful traditional clothes have a very elegant, soft, happy personality, which is nice! But not super memorable. I wanted my mikus to stand out, so i tried making them very food focused 😋😋😋 I hope to draw more of them interacting to make that personality come out stronger!

I set out with these three goals in mind, but also I was greatly inspired by this DECO* miku design! I couldn’t get it out of my head when I saw it. if it weren’t so complicated + incorporated the flag, I would’ve taken it as the chinese miku from the get-go. The color palette reminded me of mahjong tiles, so I included the mahjong suites onto the sleeve of my design (as well as the panda). Its just so cutee.

Also, as an asian american, the biggest thing for me to see in media to make me feel represented is black hair and eyes, which is why I included black roots/dyed hair of my mikus. I recognize most of the cultures out there also have a majority population of black hair/eyes, but this was just a personal thing for me :)

As a final note, my friend @reidiantdawn who is also chinese american drew a chinese miku too! Featuring miku in hanfu, a popular traditional chinese garb.

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to lay out all my chinese miku design thoughts! This isn’t what you asked for, but I sure love to yap!

edit: ALSO with regards to my chinese-american miku, I went with a take-out box shirt design because chinese american takeout is pretty integral to american culture! Growing up, i saw that most people around me only recognized chinese culture through our food! :P There are jokes about that out there, but this is honestly probably one of our biggest cultural exports. The rest of the fashion is mostly like.... i guess just things I would've done if i were more confident lol

[eggyboyoart]

I was gonna post a vid on tiktok bc I have more followers there but i'll post it here because-

When I die, I wanna be reincarnated into Redacted Tumblr as a beautiful Lasko/Gavin spicy fic-

Anyway, I drew the D.A.M.N. boys + Imperium AU :D Please look at them, its late and I'm tired.

I also have a speedpaint of them on my yt (eggyboyoart) so if you wanted to look at that as well, I would be rlly happy :))

(TW: Spoilers for Imperium AU)

I wanted Lasko to look super light and soft and cloud-like while also being kind of elegant?? He looks so poofy :D

I hc that he takes rlly RLLY great care of his hair, like- mans has a 23 step routine to keep it untangled and soft :))

The hair routine also helps him relax and de-stress after a long day

I also headcanon that he wears a lot of light, soft sweaters with a button up underneath for that academic soft boy look

In the Imperium AU, he got the scar across his eye from a wayward daemon who tried to attack him in the D.A.M.N. daemon haven.

He wears his hair tied back into a low pony tail to seem more 'professional', bc my mans is the ACADEMY PRESIDENT :D

Imp! Lasko wears a black suit with a white button up and either a red or light blue tie (gotta keep it professional when you're tormenting daemons and chasing after uninterested freelancers :|)

IDK why but whenever I imagine Damien (original timeline), its always with rlly short hair

idk I feel like if he had long hair, it would make him too warm around his neck and that'd make him uncomfortable and grumpy (well, more grumpy than he usually is anyway)

gotta keep the neck open for air flow (and easy access-)

I think he wears a lot of sleeveless clothes (tank tops, sleeveless hoodies, etc and shorts bc of the heat

Damien is a chronic khaki shorts wearer, I'M SORRY-

Imp! Damien is royalty so obvs gotta keep it professional

I feel like he would have other priorities than cutting his hair so it mostly just gets slicked back out of his face

The scar on his neck is from a failed assassination attempt (our boy damien stays livin', unlike Angel-)

I feel like he still wears sleeveless shirts but also wears a fur cape (like, one of those white ones with the black spots with the red velvet) which seems counter intuitive.

I am relieved to say that Imp! Damien doesn't wear khaki shorts :D silver linings, guys-

I wanna start this off my saying, Imp! Huxley might be one of my favourite characters

Hes just, such a piece of shit and I don't want to change him, I want him to stay exactly how he is, thats the POINT-

Freelancer bought him neon jewellery for his lip piercings and he screamed when he got them

also a sweater wearer like lasko but he likes his sweaters to be oversized, but because hes just big, his sweaters are like blankets for regular sized ppl

he has his hair kinda long-ish bc freelancer enjoys playing with it and he likes making his friends happy so he keeps it kinda long just for them-

Imp! Huxley is a piece of shit and we love him for that

He doesn't have friends so his hair is shorter

He probably wears tactical gear/uniform bc he is an enforcer, but its all like a dark green which looks rlly good on him

no neon piercings for Imp! Hux as much as I hate to say it

GAVIN OUR FASHION ICON-

He knows clothes like he knows freelancer's body- IN AND OUT. Hes got that shit LOCKED DOWN

Freelancer gave him the heart glasses as a gift

Gavin never saw the appeal of piercings until freelancer said they would look hot on him, REALLY enjoys all the different types of jewellery

Probably wears patterned button up shirts (with as many buttons undone as possible) with skin tight jean/leather pants

Imp! Gavin dresses like hes homeless, theres no time for fashion when you're trying to survive in an dystopian magic world where everyone hates you :P

I hc that when a Daemon gets low in energy/emotions, they can't keep their 'glamour/human form' up so they forcibly have to take on their more daemonic traits (horns, coloured eyes, markings, tails, claws, etc)

and bc of the shit hole that the Imperium AU world is... :|

I also hc that only sex and sadism daemons have coloured sclera

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love chapter 9

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter ten ♥ summary: just some cute interaction shit, him references the beginning paragraph of chapter four. ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (now it's in the stage between queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: 4.1k ♥ pinterest board ' it has outfit inspo in it now ♥ notes: alastor picks up reader, the ending is ambigious but THEY DON'T HAVE SEX THEY DON'T HAVE SEX I SWEAR. ♥ also: i wanna thank the two ppl who actively comment / reblog my posts bc you keep my motivation up and on tumblr for someone who does niche shit like me sometimes it's like posting into a void of people who don't gaf so I'm grateful for you two, off topic but my sweetheart is incarcerated and i talk about this show/story so much he asked me to print it out and send it to him so in a few chapters i'll show his review LMFAOOOO

"You look so handsome," you sign before running your fingers across his poofed ascot and feeling how his chest moves as he breathes. The flicker and yellow hue of the fireplace stretch over the walls and against your body. He steps forward and looms over you, gaze downwards, hands crossed behind his back. He lets you pamper him so.

You tilt your head, getting a good look at the outline of his angular face, and he mirrors your movements, keeping his eyes on yours.

"Alastor," you tap your thumb against the side of your head, "if you swear your loyalty to me you're going to let me dress you like you dress me, but only for today. Let me humiliate you just this once."

But to you, it's not humiliation. The white lace ascot is tucked into a button-up similar to the one he already wears, hidden behind a brown vest. Instead of his red overcoat, you've fitted him into brown, as you call it, "morning coat." He shouldn't be so stubborn; it's still a tailcoat. The floral vest makes him want to vomit, especially since there's no single breast pocket. He's lucky you didn't force him into shorts.

Still, his hands remain locked behind his back, putting no effort into responding. Your face has an unforgettable expression; you're pretty proud of yourself. The switched roles are having you giddy, whether or not he decides to wear the outfit outside this room. You dress modestly to your living self, as he intends to with himself, but if he tried to warp your sense of style into his generation, you will return the favor. He's dressed as modest as he prefers, with a dash of upper-class flare.

"Look, we're matching decades. It's not that bad, is it?"

The silent treatment is the most childish thing he's pulled in a while.

"Is it the vest?"

He shivers when you touch it, no matter how light your fingers press into the thick fabric. Are you doing this on purpose? Testing your luck?

He half-listens, half-focuses on the look in your eyes. He's lost himself, truly. There's an undeniable eerie similarity: 'You had lost your mind' is how he described you—how hypocritical. There's something else keeping him locked in your eyes.

His outfit does not fit his aesthetic but perfectly matches your outfit. He's scared that if he looks down at the two of you together, the word love will be truer than he originally intended.

Your late-18th century scooped neckline, lace outlining every curve, how dare you, is more appealing than he ever imagined. Every portrait he's seen in museums could not portray how gorgeous the intricately silky dresses look on a woman as exquisite as you. The coffee-colored fabric with deep green layers on the hips screams royalty. Is this your ideal appearance or how you appeared when you were alive? A special glow emanated from the dress when the fireplace's glimmer reflected off the pale flower pinned next to your collarbone. You were born for compliments.

Consideration is what keeps you two from clawing at each other.

You turn away, ultimately giving up on trying to garner a reaction from him, pulling open one of the drawers on his bookshelf, already far too comfortable in his room. He relaxes his arms.

You pull out a hairbrush, turning to him. Did you hide that when he wasn't looking? Your cocky smile answers his internal question.

"I'm making myself at home," you tilt your entire body by the waist when you sign, your smile remaining its tone. The intense conversation the two of you had nights before had boosted your confidence by an unmeasurable amount. You now enter his room without him, folding your night clothes and placing them in the corner of his desk. A few pairs of your shoes stay next to his door. The pins you use to keep your hair up when you dress closer to your generation sit on his bedside table. And he allows all of it.

The red dress stays draped over his lounge chair.

He palms his hand towards you, waiting for you to give him the brush. You keep it in your grasp, signing. "It's not for me."

His spine straightens. "No."

"Let me."

"No."

"We can make a deal."

Though sparking his interest, he still shakes his head and keeps his fingers in the same shape. "No."

You put the brush handle in your mouth, using both free hands to scold him. "Don't be such a baby, Alastor, come here. I doubt it will even do anything to your hair, it'll just be fun."

"And what makes you think I would ever let you do that?"

"Because you like me, and I'm serious, I feel as if the only way I can get you to agree is if we make a deal, you selfish man. So let's make a deal. What do you want me to do?"

His head tilts slightly. His eyes circle your face, landing on the brush still between your teeth. His cheeky smile widens. "How about this? You get to brush my hair, and in return, I get to ask you a question. Simple enough, wouldn't you say?"

You bite down a bit, your eyes blinking with uncertainty. Your emotional response gets pushed away. "Fair. I do love these games you play. Now come here."

You motion him to approach the bed, striding over. He waits until your hand stops moving before stepping closer, looking down at you before sitting in front of your body. "Be gentle, my dear."

That's his last response before you climb on the bed behind him. If you scoot any closer, your knees will straddle him. Your eyes fall to your thighs, where you genuinely consider being so close to him. Not now.

Your fingers find their way to the back of Alastor's head, the coarseness of his nape leading to a softness. He jolts, mind going to calm himself with a deep breath. His eyes narrow, flickering around his room, trying to find something to cling to. He lets out a quiet huff of air.

The bristle goes through smoothly. There's nothing to this activity except you trying to conclude why he likes sitting you down and doing the same. You avoid his ears, knowing well his distaste for them. You've never wanted to touch them, and you aren't going to start now.

Seeing him in the position reminds you how much you adore him from behind. He seems so vulnerable. It takes everything in you to not run your hands across his shoulders and down his back. You've only touched his shoulder blades while hugging, so what do they feel from this angle? Your eyes explore his body while your hands stay working.

You don't notice when he reaches behind him, bending his hand to run his knuckles next to your thigh. When you don't react, he presses his nails against the bottom of your leg, a warning, and your hands stop.

Chest to back, you peek your head over his shoulder. He tilts his head slightly, nose close to yours, meeting your eyes in a side-eye. From this close, you can see the individual hairs of his eyelashes and the deep shade of his eyelids.

"You're very pretty, Alastor." The signs come absentmindedly, hardly visible to him. You don't even look at his eyes when you say it; your gaze goes from his face to the front of his hair. His smile wavers.

As if you hadn't said anything, you slide off the bed and stand before him, altering his bangs and seeing more of his face.

When you finally meet eyes again, you're brought back to reality by his sly gleam.

He puts a finger on your speaker, pushing you back just a bit, giving you room to see his hands. "You're flattering me, my dear. Careful, or someone might think you have a crush."

"How horrible that would be," you just give him a casual grin. The hairbrush goes back in your mouth while you manipulate his hair from the front, aimlessly adjusting his locks, simply fidgeting. A part of you wants to stay here, your hands on him, standing over him. He's so docile sitting in front of you. When you take a small step back, his stare follows your face, his bright red eyes gaining your attention. He has to look upwards to meet your eyes.

Without an ounce of self-control, you reach forward and place your hands on his cheeks, thumb brushing against the soft fuzz on his cheekbones. The tips of your fingers are lost in his hair, and your palms' temperature gets corrupted by his warmth.

His eyes widen. You hold his face with a firm grasp. You're holding The Radio Demon with a firm grasp. He should kill you for this. But instead, he takes a steadying breath and tries to smile wider. "What are you doing, my dear? Trying to make me lose my composure?"

Your hands fly back, teeth piercing the handle of the hairbrush. You step away from him. "Don't be weird, jeez." And with a racing heart rate, you tuck the brush back into his drawer. Not even a few seconds go by before he places a hand by yours, making you jump. He leans his body into your vision.

Both of his hands lift, fingers loose, his signs smug. "But we're not done yet, remember? I get to ask you a question."

You calm your face, your demeanor slipping into an overlord's professionalism. You turn to him fully. "Right now?" You've both returned to normalcy: him looming over you, staring down through his monocle. He is hovering so generously that it's hard to think.

You give him a slow blink. "Yes, go ahead. I promise honesty."

For a second, he considers asking a more invasive question, something personal. But he decides it would be unfair to catch you off guard. "Darling... I'm curious. Did you know you sing when you sleep?"

Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls open. Sing? You've never been told that before. He continues before you can find words, recognizing he caught you off guard anyway.

"It comes through here," he taps on the speaker. "I can hear it clear as day."

When you still don't lift your hands, he shrugs with glowing eyes, taking up the space for conversation with his own signs. "Oh sweetheart, you looked shocked! Are you surprised by that information? Were you not aware? Isn't it strange~? What do you possibly dream about?"

"I haven't the slightest clue." And then you look away, tired of the interrogation, leaving him by the dresser as you approach his bed again, sitting down before falling backward. Your feet dangle off the edge by your knees. What can you even make from this information? It's been so long since you've been alive that you have no recollection of any details. Perhaps you were a gorgeous singer, or perhaps you were still Deaf but dreamed of fame. There's not even a way for you to find out. It is hardly surprising you would acquire any emotion other than peak uncertainty.

If he was trying to respond, then you couldn't tell. He made no effort to get your attention. But by the slight bounce of the mattress, he sat down hard enough to let you feel his presence. He stares at your fingers, how the rest limply against the mattress, and fights a battle in his head to not touch them. He loves your fingers, the beautiful way they wiggle when you sign something teasing, and how they grip his hair whenever he wraps his hands around your waist. Very enticing, welcoming.

You only look over when another bounce comes, and Alastor is lying by your side, on his back, just like you. His eyes flicker over your softened gaze.

You can almost read his mind as you interlock your fingers with his, only loosely, enough for him to pull away if he wanted to with a mere flex of his hand. But he stays there, not tightening the grasp and not inching away.

You give him a small smile, lifting your other hand. "Do I sound good at least?"

"Sweet like honey."

"That's good," you say, wanting to end the conversation by looking back at the ceiling, but something in you tells you to stay looking at him. His hair spreads across his blanket, almost blending in with the shade. The back of his head will definitely need brushing now, and your smile grows at the thought.

His claws wrap around the joints of your fingers delicately, and his rough gloves prickle your skin. Fingers with remarkable penmanship are fingers that would tear you apart without hesitation.

You lift your other hand again weakly, signing with the ghost of your second. "That means a lot coming from you."

His smile grows, other hand lifting, and with the purest form of fluency, "What does that mean, my dear? Surprised that the Radio Demon can be so honest?"

"Definitely. Darling, you're a pessimist."

His fingers grip your wrist, pulling you closer to him by the hand. With one hand pinning yours, he puts his weight on that elbow to prop himself up. "A pessimist? Me? I beg to differ, sweetheart. I'm just a realist, I see Hell for what it is."

You let him grip your hand, holding you in place, and you hide a laugh. As if you'd run away.

"Every pessimist says that." Time slows. The two of you had plans for today, but they seemed to melt away. You'd rather spend eternity in this moment, him wearing clothes from your era, leaning over you, hand on yours. "So cliche, my love."

Alastor gives you a roll of his eyes. My love. You've called him that before, but with you laying so close to him, the words strike his heart. He doesn't overlook the twitching in the corner of your lips, the teasing amusing you more than him. He mentally prepares to grab your face but fights the urge and pulls away to respond. "Ah, but says the one getting close and personal with a man like me, using words like 'my love' and 'darling.' You're the cliche one."

You let out a childish laugh before you can stop it. You wiggle your wrist, getting your hand free enough to wrap your fingers in his. "That's fair, you win."

He pauses. He lets out a deep hum. Seeing you laugh and knowing your happiness affects him sends waves of contentment through his entire body. With a few deep breaths, he pushes the biased feeling aside, playing it off with a purposeful flicker of his ears and a bend of his neck. "What can I say, my dear? I always win."

"How I've always loved your charisma."

He finds himself unable to do anything but stare into your eyes. He takes a few seconds to cherish your features. The position you both find yourself in is casual, and though he struggles with the emotional pull, he doesn't leave your touch. His signs are small. "My charisma? You flatter me, my dear."

There's a comfort in his eyes that is foreign to you. It's a bit terrifying. How is somebody so evil finding such peace with you? Alastor feels his breath catch in his throat when your eyes cushion against his stare. Something within him aches in response to your affection. He wants to look away but can't tear his vision from yours. He squeezes your hand almost automatically. He doesn't know how to deal with the sensations your kindness gives him. You are practically perfect and here with him, tolerating him. For once, words fail him. With a shaky breath, he simply looks at you with a bewildered expression.

"Alastor?" You whisper, almost to yourself, before you return to signing. His breathing had quickened, his eyes locked on yours as if he couldn't look at anything else. You furrow your eyebrows. "Do you want to sit up?"

His pupils dilate at the sound of his name. He nods mutely. "Uhm... yes. Yes, I do."

His eyes never leave yours as he sits up, wholly memorized by the sight of you. The fact that you are willing to be so close to him and that frail tone of voice screams weakness in a way that he loves. But you are bolder than most, which will always remind him of your status. He can't name a time when you've openly feared him.

You sit up with him, nervously keeping your eyes on his, put off by his adamance. Throughout the years you've known each other, he's always offered you kindness, but this is different. This is sensual, personal. Your heart rate increases.

You pull your hand back, trying to gauge whether he wants you to stop touching him.

He watches your hand slip away, and a quiet panic sets in his stomach. He doesn't want this moment to stop. Not this sudden. The thought of losing the feeling of your hand in his breaks him. As if on instinct, his hand shoots out, gently grabbing your wrist. His eyes widen as if surprised by his own action. It takes him a second to remember how to sign.

"Wait... wait a minute, darling. Please, just stay close."

"Okay..." You fingerspell. Your eyes widen. The desperation in his bewildered eyes provokes nothing but caution. Is he just touch-starved? Or does he want this touch from you? You make sure to stay close, to not pull away. The warmth of his body gives you goosebumps; he's much warmer than you are. He had taken your wrist in his hand. What is he doing?

You are so close. Almost unimaginably so. Alastor doesn't dare move a muscle, afraid he will ruin the moment. He swallows, gathering every ounce of courage he has. Slowly, gently, he pulls your wrist forward, moving your hand close to him. "Stay here. Please."

"Alastor, are you okay?" Your eyebrows furrow. Your hand stays in the air while your brain searches for a follow-up question. What happened? Did I do something? "Do you... want a hug?"

What a strange question. A hug? Are you pitying him? His ears threaten to fold back, but he holds his breath. If he wanted a hug he would have taken one from you. But his hands move before he can stop himself. "Yes... yes, a hug."

With another okay, you pull your hand away from his grip and wrap your arms around his torso. He knows immediately where your hands are going to find themselves. You grip between his shoulder blades, head laying against his chest. Your head rests against his silky ascot. His breathing moves your upper half. His hands tremble when he gingerly wraps his arms around you, keeping you secure against his body. He has to resist the urge to press his chin against the top of your head and hold you with all his strength. He closes his eyes, imagining how pliable your body would be if he broke all of your bones in his grip.

After a few seconds of glancing around one side of the room, you press your chin against his sternum, looking up, eyes only able to capture the edge of his jawline. Your music gives you away. Should you wrap your arms around his shoulders? Run your fingers through his hair? Those thoughts go ignored as you stay in place, waiting for him to move.

But you don't have to wait long.

He can hear your quiet breaths, feel your face against him. When you move your head, even though the movement is small, something in him breaks. Without thinking, he adjusts his arm to grip your waist, the other finding its way to the back of your head. He pulls your head back so he can look you in the eyes. Your lips part, and your breathing quickens. Your body language shatters all your composure. You can practically collapse against him and give your life to him. In this moment, if he asked for your soul, you'd say yes without hesitation.

You're so kind, so sincere, so vulnerable in his arms. You trust him and look at him with such intense eyes. His claws dig into the fabric of your dress, his fingers gripping you like a lifeline. He refuses to remove a hand to say anything.

But you wiggle a hand between the two of you, signing with only three motions. "Are you going to kiss me?"

The words hit him like a truck. Heat flushes in his chest. He almost forgets sign language; his eyes are locked onto your fingers as you touch them to your lips. You had asked if he was going to kiss you, to kiss you. The thought is almost too much. Without a second thought, he removes one of his hands, not caring for the little to no space between you two. "Yes, I am... may I?"

And with a bright smile, "You may."

Your hand rests on his cheek, he leans into your palm. He wants to say something witty, or clever, or charming but instead he just presses the smallest of kisses on your lips, multiple of them, each equally experimental. Once he pulls away, he cups your cheek, brushing his thumb over your lips.

The feeling of a pair of lips against his is new, but not unwelcomed. His mind tells him to push your body into his and ravish you right then and there. Instead, he focuses his mind on your chest as it moves up and down, your music drowning his senses. The people outside will surely be able to hear it. An explanation will be needed. He presses his forehead against yours, and you lean forward, practically nuzzling each other like cats. He doesn't dare to shut his eyes, even though you close yours. Your smile is addicting and beautiful; it would be lovely and stitched into permanence.

The soft moment is broken when he grips your chin, pulling you to meet his gaze. His signing is low but obvious. "You're going to be the death of me, my dear."

"Then we shall die together." You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss, trapping him in. There's no reality where you continue fighting the urge to press yourself against him. Though not sexual and not perceived to be, you have been daydreaming about this moment for decades, and you won't let it go to waste. He makes an unheard, involuntary noise when you pull him forward into another kiss. You're maddening. He reciprocates, interlocking his fingers around your waist. Your nails pull at his hair, and he clenches his fingers. He's positive you can feel his heart, just as he can feel yours through the pulsing of your speaker. An almost embarrassing shiver courses through his body.

When his body starts to tense, and his hands grip so hard that he causes himself to bleed, he pulls away, fighting against your grip. His fingers release, and he takes a quick step back. When your eyes misjudge his actions, his hands lift. "My apologies, I'm afraid I need some air."

You place a hand on your chest and feel your beating heart. "That's okay."

He slackens the knot of his ascot, pulling it loose with one movement, releasing his neck and removing it from his body. You think he will grab your hand when his claws reach you, but he pulls your speaker out of you, silencing the giveaway. With it being tossed on the bed, his hands go to your thighs as he lifts you, your dress puffing up around his arms. You gasp, hands reaching his nape again, and he lifts his head and presses kisses against your neck.

The breath you release is loud, giving away his actions more than your music ever could. His ears even wince at the sound. How salacious of you.

With his tongue dragging up your skin, he gets a good taste of you. Perhaps one day, he'll make you his meal, and the two of you will be together forever. But that thought will be put on the back burner.

"Oh, my dear," he whispers into your neck. "Aren't you a special one?"

When your fingers tug tighter, he lifts his head, meeting your eyes.

Without speaking, your lips mouth four words. "I love you, Alastor."

His open-mouthed smile widens, tongue dragging across his teeth. His following words go unread by you. "Good girl."

.

.

.

.

anyway wedding day outfits from her culture but it's them. my friend said his fav thing about them is that "alastor is with someone whose titties are out 70% of the time".

[allureasdiary]

Currently ppl I've been using as muses & inspos:

• Rihanna

• Aaliyah

• Nicki Minaj

• Beyonce (in 2000s)

• Kendrick lamar

• Sharpay Evans

• Marilyn Monroe

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The main take away from all these ppl listed above is that they embody a certain self concept that I've felt called to embrace this year. Key themes such as standing up for myself, following my intuition & calling more, tapping into my dark feminine, enter my heiress/queen era, embracing leadership qualities, reflecting on my influence/how my character may impact others, not going back on my word aka standing on business, use negative energy as motivation.

Recently I had an encounter with an anon telling me something negative, I didn't give it much energy only a little however that alone made me feel something inside. A form of power when I did that. It felt good to stand up for myself and not just take the disrespect. Ive found myself feeling more positive when i did things i wanted to do rather than settle on what others wanted me to do. For example, me cleaning my room I share my room with my little sister which I despise honestly 🤦🏾‍♀️(currently manifesting new family btw), i had held off cleaning it because i felt as though since the mess is from her she should be the one tk clean it which only made me more irritated because i knew she wouldn't. Well i finally took things ibto my own hands and cleaned it all myself, I found myself not only feeling more vibrant but happier when I cleaned it the way I wanted it really reduced my stress. It's the same with my self care routine, when I did it the way I wanted a weight was lifted off my shoulders. It's only when I feel like my decision of how I may feel best is overshadowed and trampled over by outside opinions is when things tend to go south. I've felt the need more and more to break from boundaries and social norms and do my own thing without everyone else in my ear telling me what I should and shouldn't do.

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Rihanna:

○ When it comes to rihanna, recently I've found her rawness really drawing to me. Especially when she was younger. She isn't afraid to say what she wants. Recently she did a photosgoot and i was super drawn to it. She continues to embrace her rebel "bad gyal" image and I've found myself relating to it. As someone who has always been label the "good girl" the dark theme has been truly drawing to me. Even if it isn't just dark colors, but the regal sex appeal, the rawness, the unfiltered chaotic energy, it's very magnetic to me. She also falls in the vixen archetype, which is one of the archetypes I have from the feminine archetype quiz.

Aaliyah:

○Now...I'm gonna be 100% honest, Aaliyah definitely wasn't someone I'd think I'd relate to at all. I didn't know her 100% well celebrity wise since I grew up with ppl like nicki, Rihanna and beyonce. However after doing research on her here and there and taking notes on how she was as an artist and person I've found I've related to her more than anything this year. She carries a mystic air about her that in today's artists you can see many tried copying and replicating. She was quite literally the world's it girl and even now ppl still talk about how amazing and sweet she is. I love how she didn't tell everything but told alot about her. She respected her own privacy majority of the time. Also I connect alot with her aesthetic of having like a tomboy look but it still looks really feminine in a way. She was a trendsetter at its finest and was soft spoken as well which makes me like her even more.

Nicki Minaj:

○ Ms. Nicki minaj, nicki Lewinsky, nicki da harajuku barbie!! She has been my #1 inspiration and muse when it comes to a high self concept. Despite the things that's happen in her personal life and seeing how her career has transformed over the years one of the main takeaways I can see is that since day 1 she never stopped affirming that she in fact was the #1 queen and that there would never and will never be another one like her, after her, can't even replicate her. Even in her old songs she quite literally prophesied and solidified her position as the queen of rap for years to come. Regardless if you love her or hate her u quite literally can't deny it since no one in this world has done what she's done even the ones that's tried to, failed. She is the definition of having true passion in what she loves, having unwavering ambition and drive to keep going despite all odds going against her. She also had this motherly energy towards her fans that I appreciate especially in her early days. She's always loved the barbs and continues to show gratitude. Learning from that I could take away to always be humble but don't ever let anyone step all over u either. Also she's probably the best I've seen when it comes to self branding yourself. Literally the situation with ice spice is a perfect example with the wigs and flow she did. Nicki has curated her aesthetic and brand so well that literally even the littlest change on someone such as pink or bangs or ankle inched black bussdown hair is associated with her and her brand. Now nicki herself may not have created these things and yes there were ppl before her who have worn pink and long hair but none of them actually made it there BRAND their STAPLE PIECE it may have been a moment but it wasn't a LOOK and that's what nicki did. After learning from that currently I've felt to go in the direction of making my own "princess self concept", a smaller version of her "queen" like nature. (Since rn I don't feel like much of a queen at all and see myself as a baby queen, a princess. Its not time yet)

Beyonce:

As a fellow virgo she too has perfectionism and I myself am a perfectionist. I 100% respect her work ethic especially when it comes to her performances. She continues to wanna top herself and not settle no matter the heights. Another thing is her gold aesthetic that I've felt more and more drawn to. It just screams royalty, that's something I've felt more and more called towards as well. She literally turned herself into a star amd made sure she shined the brightest. I love older vids of her where she always wanted remain as honest as possible and u could even see on some of her facial expressions when she knew some stuff was bs or just wasn't up to par. For that I have to respect that and her heavy keen eye to detail. She tolerated zero room for disrespect and this could be seen in her bow down record and though she said no name all the hit dogs hollered.

Kendrick lamar:

○Now I'm ngl, after the drake and kendrick beef its made me have a ton for respect for him as an artist but it also made me do some digging back in his old music. After doing proper thorough listens, I noticed his humble character and down to earth nature. After the battle, I was really drawn to his straightforwardness. He didn't play any internet games and didn't sugar coat either. That leads me to my self concept. More and more I find myself feeling good when I just start telling ppl like it is, where my boundaries are, where I am with this and that person. Not only does it makes things less confusing for the both of us but it shows that there is just some things that I'm not ok with tolerating and I will say it as many times as needed until u realize that. I also took note of how in his music he tended to talk about actual issues especially within the black community. As someone who expresses myself through art, that is something we have in common. Using our forms of art to heal ourselves and those around us by connecting through our problems and fixing them. For example, his song father time was him talking about his daddy issues ans his wife telling him he needs therapy. Though the song was technically about the men, as a growing young woman with daddy issues I related to the song heavily. This is the same with his unreleased song prayer where he continually used examples of separating the art from the artists and how we as ppl shouldn't be idolizing the celebrity and then stop when we see them doing something bad, the main point is that they are no better than us regular folks and still do bad things and make mistakes also, however those mistakes shouldn't be a reason u should stop loving there art entirely because if that was the case then no celebrities should exist because they've all done something bad in there lives just like we have. For that, I can takeaways the power of not just being aware of others faults but our own as well. He even admitted himself he still has healing to do and that's something I can relate to. The value of not staying the same and growing into your highest self definitely adds to me working on a growth mindset rather than a egotistical narrow minded one.

Sharpay Evans:

○ I'm ngl when i was younger i hated her. I thought she was egotistical, arrogant and messy. Now that im older i can see that she wasnt 100% that way at all, she was confident in herself and knew who she was and was literally oblivious to anyone who didnt like it. She had her own signature to everything as well thats how u knew it was sharpay whether u saw cute kitten heels, glitter ink pens or fur. Even on graduation she stood out with her signature SE hat. And her fashion was always top tier and iconic regardless of how stressed out she was from gabriella she didnt allow herself to go a day without looking good.

(Honerable mentions to Regina George, Elle woods, Cher Horowitz. My fav blondie girl bosses)

Marilyn Monroe:

○ Last but certainly not least is Marilyn Monroe. I think I've connected to her on a deeper level not just because of her manifestation story but also because I have the best connection to her when it comes to the way I feel about beauty. Beauty and being in the spotlight is something I highly struggle with, simply because it's something I daydream about so much whether it's imagining me getting plastic surgery or just me waking up one day with my dream life. Knowing that even someone who's considered the most beautiful woman in the world felt insecure in herself as well made me feel almost more human with myself and how I look and act. I did research on her years ago and found old vids of how she would talk about how much she'd study herself from her mannerisms to the way her hands moves to how she sounds to her facial expressions and so much more to give off illusions of things, even in her iconic walk I think she trimmed one of her heels to give the illusion of her hips swaying. She literally studied and curated her entire persona until she became who she is known as today. Even then I saw a few later vids of her and how sad she seemed in the eyes. This not only taught me more on self branding but also the importance of self love as well. I have a feeling had she lived a bit longer she may would've grown deeper into that. However something I could take away was the importance of enhancing your qualities of yourself the best way you can and that's exactly what she did

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Anyway that's all for now darlings I have so many things in store for the future and I can't wait to share them all with u guys!! Xoxo, Allurèa

[homriette]

Hi, I just wanna say that your art is fantastic! The colors pop and look so nice! Your OC arts are nice as well, but if you could spare a little time, I’d like to ask a question.

Do you have any tips for drawing and/or making OCs? i’m sorry if this is a bit of an odd question per se, I’d just like a few tips on OC making, that’s all. :)

Thank you very much for liking my art! Let's see...I'm not sure if I'm the most indicated person to respond to this, but I will anyway lmao.

I guess one of the important things for me in drawing ocs is try to make them different from each other. I want each character to be able to carry themselves, regardless if they are important or not. I like when ppl can see my (big) repertoire of ocs and pick their faves bc that means hey! they are different enough to cater to different tastes and that's cool. That doesn't mean I try to appeal to everyone but I think it says smth about how each oc can have their own "thing" I guess

I really like color coding when it comes to ocs and their differences, so I play with that a lot lmao.

I don't have the most varied style but I still try to vary my ocs quite a bit, body types, hair types , even eye styles! I feel like is very fun and very good for stylization practice.

(I feel like my latest magical girls are a bit of a example of that. I tried to vary their shapes)

I always start with a concept idea but I like giving the concept a twist " Oh . she is a witch. Ok. What if she was the mushroom witch, or she was the witch of dreams" thinking about a concept and attributing that to an oc kinda helps me with what would their design might look like or be based on and then that evolves into their personality, and then even a story!

One example is my frog witch. Overall she was just that. So I designed her with things I associate frogs with. A raincoat, water lilies, mud, bright greens etc... However I worked on her personality and story , where she is a magical student, and is the reason why she has a school uniform underneath. She is also very clumsy , so I wanted to give her a bit of a naive/innocent look

Idk if I'm making sense, but I hope this suffices. Overall I think drawing things that you like and wanna see is the most important thing of them all !! By no means I'm an expert on this topic but thanks for the question ^^ I would put more ocs examples but then we would be here everyday LOL

[cocogum]

Hating on Ending D will get you nowhere.

Don’t underestimate it.

One thing that pisses me off about this stupid fandom were the reactions of the killugon fans once they heard about Ending D.

Nah cuz let’s talk about it.

These ppl are seriously acting delulu rn.

They weren’t too much before but now it’s just ridiculous.

I’m starting to see a reaction pattern here through this plausible ending:

1) Some are saying that Togashi said this as a joke therefore, he’s just fucking with us and hasn’t actually revealed anything.

2) Togashi will never use this ending because he scrapped it.

3) Togashi said that his personal favorite ending was Ending C but he said that the majority of the fans will hate it. So it doesn’t mean that he’s super ecstatic by Ending D.

4) This ending is way too shonen and cliché for him to actually use. Since it’s so basic, it doesn’t scream his style. Therefore, even if the ending happened, it wouldn’t feel real.

5) The fans who like this ending are problematic and homophobic.

I’m so sick of hearing these same things come out of their mouths so let me just clearly explain why this is all ridiculous:

1) Why would Togashi ever joke about something like his plausible passing and the work he’s been working so hard for which started in 1998?? The dude has never once joked around with the questions he received about hxh. He’s also been the type to spoil some people through interview questions too so if we follow your logic, that would mean he would’ve also lied about the fact that Kurapika and all the phantom troupe members would die.

2) We shouldn’t act so hasty when it comes to this ending just because it got scrapped. Togashi did say that he took it out from the endings he was planning on using but it doesn’t change the fact that he: a) actually took his time out of the day to think about the idea in the past and b) said that he’ll use it if his time runs out and if he can’t come up with a greater ending better than the three ones he already got.

3) Yes, it’s true. Out of the three ones we got, Togashi’s favorite ending was the third one, Ending C. So what? He said he kept it around simply because it was his favorite.

That also means he’s not so into Ending A and Ending B. An author doesn’t have to specifically use their favourite ending to end their series. They have to think about what the audience and what the majority of the reactions would be like to the ending they came up with. So since he estimated that only 10% of the fandom will like Ending C and 90% of it will hate it, there’s a very high chance he won’t even attempt at using it for the ending. Also, we have no idea what the ending is about.

4) The ending may sound basic and very shonen-like but so was Yu Yu Hakusho’s ending. Or rather the ending of the main character Yusuke. If you don’t happen to know, Yu Yu Hakusho was Togashi’s old work and in it, the main character Yusuke comes back from his adventures to marry a girl named Keiko, his childhood friend.

5) Did you ever stop to think that maybe some people just didn’t like killugon? Shocking, I know. We just plainly don’t like it. It doesn’t make the most of us homophobic or problematic in the least, stop trying to shove that dumb idea onto other killugon fans’ throats. Some of us are just not into yaoi and have tried to get into it but just don’t see the appeal (i’m personally more of a hetero and yuri fan) of it. Also, some of us would be delighted to see more female characters taking more major roles in hxh. It would be refreshing to see since the main cast is all filled with males while the females usually take minor roles like mothers, instructors, teachers, supporters for some male characters, (ex: Mito, Kikyo, Abe, Noko, Palm, Bisky, Coco Loo, Coco from Heavens Arena, Melody, Alluka) or are just in the background most of the time (ex: Canary, Amane, Tsubone, Shizuku, Machi) (wow these almost sounds like SHONEN ROLES FOR WOMEN).

[15chickens]

hello oc havers in my computer: i am here to show you UNVALE :D

unvale is a new(ish) character storage website similar to other websites you might know- but with no waitlist or join codes!

it's for sharing + storing your ocs (and their art, writing, traits/stats, and the worlds they're part of!!!) and one of the best parts of this websites appeal to me personally was that unvale is entirely anti ai/nft :)

(nemo art by bee! the rest of my ocs are credited on my account)

i personally use unvale to store my main characters- they've got longer profiles on google docs/other websites, but because unvale keeps things uniform across all oc pages, its been a tidy way for me to enjoy my ocs in the context of the story i'm making about them, and share them with people who don't need to see my mountain of pretty html layouts (LOL)

the banner images everyone has are cool, too! they're 1024x1340 in can you're joining up and need to know >:)

i know i've mentioned unvale a few times before, but this is a bit of a longer introduction!! if you're interested you can sign up here!

unvale also has a discord! staff are active there if you've got questions, feedback, opinions, or issues- or submit a ticket onsite:)

LET ME KNOW if you sign up!! i know a bunch of ppl im mutuals with (and beyond!!) on here have ocs/have TRIED to ask me about my ocs before, but my asks are so broken i never get to talk about them D:

[priceforrottenjudgement]

I didnt want to be negative about natla, i didnt want to hate it, i was really really rooting for it at first, even when the original creators exited the project i was still being positive about it.

On its own this is a good show. Ive seen ppl criticise acting or cgi, but i thought both of those were good. The casting (with one exception) is amazing.

And thats what makes me so mad, the show really had all the requirements to be great, but in their idiotic attempt to appeal to "Fans of got" they committed the exact same mistake the got writers did, namely thinking they can or need to improve the original.

Natla is chock full of unnecessary little changes, but these changes add the fuck up. Taking away so many of kataras lines or actions and giving them to someone else? Removing her anger about sexism, but not the sexism itself? Aang can fly? Aang didnt run away from his Avatar duties, taking away a big part of his character development? Cutting out ALL the slapstick humour? The weird ass first 5 minutes? Fucking making us watch the airnation genocide? And thats just ep 1.

Also why why whyyyyyyyyyyyy the fuck did it need to be dark and gritty?? WHY. they said they wanted to appeal to the original audience and got Fans, like, i dont even have words for this, why??? Why even try to adapt atla when you plan on fundamentally changing the vibe and style of the original Show, why not just pick literally any other grimdark fantasy instead??

I feel so bad for this cast, they truly deserved better, but the producers of natla clearly only had profits on their minds and tried to 'widen' the intended audience by adding dark and edgy shit (as if the og atla Fans werent enough) while also removing amything deemed too controversial (the sexism discussions, character flaws, putting sokka in make up,...). Also "show dont tell" is dead i guess.

This sucks man, i wish the cast all the best and a successful career, but i skimmed through reviews of the show and needless to say i wont watch more than the first ep. This is genuinely disappointing.

Again, on its own this would be a great show, but as an adaptation of atla it falls completely flat bc it misunderstands whst made atla so good to begin with. Youre ofc free to enjoy it, but dont accuse ppl who didnt like it of being haters or purists or overly critical, bc i really really wanted to enjoy this, i wasnt gunning to hatewatch the show :/

Man, fuck grimdark adaptations, all my homies hate grimdark adaptations.

[stuffyflowers]

re: "give me a character" ask thing

can we get your breakdown on martlet :0

- how I feel about this character

I LOVE MARKET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Um I’ll keep this part short since I’ll prob ramble on the other ones but yea. She is so awesome she is so me (if I was cooler) I love her martlet the markeps the martk yeah yeah yeah

- all the people I ship romantically with this character

there aren’t really any mart ships I feel strongly abt,,, but I do enjoy martlet/moray when it occasionally shows up in fanworks ig. Voice of reason x voice of reason <3

-non romantic otp

HER N CLOVER NO CONTEST. She cares about them so much it makes me ILL. Even if clover kills dozens of monsters, she still wants to see the goodness in them, believe they can change and have a violence free childhood in spite of what she has been told about humanity all her life (even if clovers actions appear to reaffirm what chujin told her. even when hating humanity and doing her job would be the easier option). She stays by their side when no one else will in the flawed pacifist ending, she’s the one who organises their memorial in the true pacifist ending,,,, SHE MAKES THEM VISIBLY SMILE WHEN SHE FISTBUMPS THEM,,,,, augh

- unpopular opinion

I never know what 2 put for these questions bc unless it’s a universally divisive character, the opinions that are considered ‘unpopular’ really just depend on what corner of th fanbase ur in. I guess a constant I see w martlet is ppl just undervaluing her role in the story and ESP her relationship w clover. I really do think mart is clovers favourite person and their bond is at the heart of the game, particularly evident by each routes ending focusing on her confrontation w them on the rooftop. Martlet and clover stopping ceroba together, martlet wanting to adopt clover and lead them away from violence, martlet being the final stand against clover and, as she observes, being the only monster they needed to find a deeper justification to kill (bc everything about her appeals so heavily to who clover is deep down). It’s why I kinda roll my eyes at the popularity of final boss/zenith starlo stuff, it feels like ppl just want martlets role pasted onto him despite that undermining his character arc what who said that

- one thing I wish happened with this character

I wish we got to see inside her house!!!! It would be so cosy in there esp with that unused peaceful home track playing. I need to know how she lives. I also wish we got to see more interactions w her and star and especially ceroba before the final battle in pacifist. I find it so funny that one of cerobas battle texts implies martlet is her friend when basically their only interaction prior was ceroba breaking her out of jail only to immediately abuse her trust to take clover away from her. I’ve said it so many times and I’ll say it again the martlet and ceroba dynamic has sooooo much potential!!!! They’re both strongly associated w justice but while martlet demonstrates this value alongside her kindness and reason, ceroba tries to achieve her idea of justice through manipulation, cruelty and tunnelvisioned plans. Do you get me!!!!!!!