#perhaps i will do two silly little posts for u

[icebride]

@mercurywitch / starter call.

★ : it's been quiet lately. miorine finds that she's been in something of a haze - and then the memories had flooded in. there's so much she wants to talk to suletta about, and it feels like there's just not enough time in the world for any of it.

or maybe here there is too much time. it gives her too much time to think by herself, alone with a whirl of emotion and stress and regret and guilt that is overwhelming. what happened to the world they left behind? what happened to everyone else?

when she spots suletta, all she does is rush forward, the only audible sound the clack of her shoes upon the tile floor, and collides with the other girl with a force that would have probably knocked anyone else over.

not suletta, though. miorine keeps her face buried in her chest to hide any stain of wretched emotion from bubbling up to the service. this is her anchor; suletta is a safe place now, she realizes.

'don't question me right now.'

[dandyshucks]

the difference btwn irl and online perspective on creativity is so funny to me and idk if I'll ever get used to the stark contrast of it all.

IRL when I mention that I draw and write, people act like I'm some super talented creative genius(???). they don't seem to understand the concept of OCs, and if I try to vaguely touch on my DL project they get visibly overwhelmed no matter how simple I make it for them, and eventually they settle on just insisting that I need to publish traditionally and monetize on it. they don't seem to have the ability to understand the concept of zines and immersive storytelling through non-traditional means.

but then i get online and I'm just another drop in the ocean and always a very mediocre drop at that LMAO, I constantly fight with myself to feel like there is any sort of value to my stories and art, and there's hundreds of people doing the sort of thing that I do but even better than I could ever dream of doing!

it's just so strange going from interacting with this online to IRL, I feel like I'm getting whiplash from being largely ignored or scoffed at online (which I'm fine with btw lol I grew up with that in my family and now I get nervous when I get too much attention) to people at the centre treating me like I'm some kind of artistic genius who cannot be understood because I'm too far above their level 😭

[nightlyrequiem]

hello there silly billy! How ya doin??!? 🥳

okaaayy short desc i know but could u do hcs of Valeria with a whiny, bimbo-esque type reader? Those shopaholic, blonde, pink-loving ladies xp ggrrr im found dead i love femmes

Im not sure if u do hcs and stuff like that so, if not, turn this into a oneshot or smth :3

Hello hello! I'm doing just well thank you for asking :) I hope you are dong well as well!

I love headcanons! Even though I haven't come up with many just yet. I also love femmes. Maybe I'm just being biased though :3

Also, this is like the third or fourth time I've mentioned a bedroom having soft pink bedsheets in my writing. Everyone must have soft pink bedsheets.

Valeria With a Bimbo!Reader

You are Valeria's prized possession. I think you two met after you had just moved to Las Almas. Maybe you worked at a bar, as an exotic dancer, or even just a simple grocery store cashier. It doesn't matter because as soon as Valeria caught sight of you she knew she had to have you.

It wasn't hard to woo you. You were already so bubbly and friendly that all she had to do was dangle some pretty gifts in front of you. And you, an eager, materialistic thing, could never even hope to resist the charming wiles of a rich older woman. You quit your job soon after you started dating Valeria. You were too pretty to have to have to live paycheque to paycheque.

You're into all the stereotypically feminine things. Dresses, skirts, makeup, one of your favourite hobbies is shopping and you're favourite colour is pink. If you aren't naturally blonde, Valeria will pay whatever she needs to so you can go to your monthly (Or weekly, I don't know how often someone has to go in to maintain blonde hair.) hair appointments to keep your hair golden. You've started trading in the heat of a curling iron for old fashion curlers to give your hair a voluminous lift. It drives Valeria wild when you walk into the bedroom in your little silk robe with the curlers in your hair. You whine and complain when Valeria messes it up during more heated moments. But how can you blame her? You just look so delicious.

I said it before, but I'll say it again. You are materialistic. And there is nothing wrong with that. Valeria doesn't have the time nor energy to go out with you every time you want to go shopping. Drug money and digital bank accounts don't really go hand in hand though so you're just carrying around thousands in cash.

You spend hours walking around stores and malls. Buying more clothes than you need. You're so generous though, sometimes you'll buy some pretty pink lingerie sets to show off to Valeria. Sheer garments with lacy trimming, soft silk, things with straps. Valeria likes the way you look in them, but she thinks you look even better out of them.

Valeria likes to choose your outfits. Short skirts, shorter shorts, flowery pink blouses, low cut tops that show off your chest, Valeria loves it. Sometimes she'll go through your closet and choose something for you to wear the next day. You'll wake up with the outfit neatly folded on the chair of your vanity.

Your bedroom was lackluster. You didn't really have the funds to do with it as you wished. But Valeria quickly fixed that. You got a new, bigger bedframe with feminine, coquettish detailings. Soft baby-pink bedsheets, a new high-end vanity with built in lights so you can take your time comfortably doing your hair and makeup. Girlish wall decor. You eventually moved in with Valeria but that didn't stop you from girlifying her bedroom. You leave your own decorations and sometimes purposefully leave a bra or two on the floor. Just to mark your territory.

I mentioned in a different headcanon post that Valeria's favourite colour is pink. her nails are canonically pink. probably my favourite detail on her game model if I'm being honest. Anyway, perhaps they're pink because you painted them. You wanted matching nails. If you like to wear fake nails, you tried to convince her to get a matching set but she didn't enjoy the feeling of them. Regardless, her nails ended up the same colour as yours!

It's not just her money that you're after though. No. Valeria is a busy woman, but you cling to her like a burr. Propped up in her lap like a little doll with your dramatic hair and pink, girlish outfits. Constantly pining for her attention. Dragging your long nails along her scalp and distracting her from her work. Annoying little thing. How could she possibly resist you with your glossy pouted lips and shimmery eyelids. Your favourite thing second to shopping is spending long hours with Valeria while she works. She recently bought a small couch for her office so you can be more comfortable.

Once again, Valeria is a busy woman. As much as she adores you, she can't spend all her time with you and sometimes goes long periods of time without talking to you. This is something that irks you greatly. You often get on her ass about it. Starting small, petty arguments as a way of expressing your feelings. Valeria always apologizes by buying you a pretty little gift and your back to peppering her face and neck with kisses in no time <3

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Bastard’s Mistress ~ A Don John x Servant!Fem!Reader Fic

So I caught the don John brain rot this weekend…very contagious, 10/10 recommend. This might be @scarlettspectra ’s fault, from all her beautiful gifs she’s been posting!😆 I didn’t go full Shakespearean here but had some fun with the syntax. I apologize in advance. Reader is properly deferential for the time, but she’s got a little spunk.😬 

Warnings: the line between dubcon and noncon here is VERRRY thin. I don’t even know. So if that bothers you do NOT read this! What else. Period correct misogyny and degradation. Corruption. I’m so bad at itemizing these things. Please take care. If u have squiks i probs wouldn’t read this…

You are a chambermaid in His Excellency don Alejandro’s hacienda. It gives you a certain distance from things, as you come and go, doing your best to keep the country house clean and stay out of sight. But don Alejandro’s bastard, the fire-eyed boy with such a burning contempt for the world, has always seen you. 

When you were young children, don John would play with you all, the offspring of the servants who were too young to work. Not because he enjoyed your company, but because he delighted in ordering you all about. Luckily in those days he ignored you as often as he tormented you. 

Then there was a time, when the two of you hovered on the precipice between childhood and adult responsibilities, that you had almost been friends. Or at least, not enemies. He, the bitter outsider with the privileges of a full blooded son, but none of the standing. You, unmoored in your fatherlessness, the fever having taken your sire when you were just a babe. 

Don John goaded you into shirking your chores one day to go play in the hills. He’d only taunted you a little, as you played your silly games, which mostly consisted of him manipulating you, ordering you to do this and that, always testing just how far he could go before being met with rebellion. It was still better than working your hands raw in the laundry. “We should run away,” he’d said in that devil-may-care way brash young boys have, so sure the world is destined to fold for them. You, however, had begged to go home, for all it won you. Upon returning your mother absolutely tanned your backside, and you never associated with Don John in such a familiar way again.

You saw him around the grounds, of course, as you scurried from one backbreaking chore to the next, and as he went through the motions of learning how to become a gentleman. Amidst his riding lessons he would wink at you from astride his fine black horse, but the cruel turn of his mouth never failed to halt you in returning it, even if your heart quickened in your chest.

That did not mean you didn’t think of him later though, on your lumpy cot of straw, as urges began to awaken in your body that was well on its way to becoming a woman’s. You saw his face at night, so achingly handsome you could hardly contain your longing. It felt like madness, and so you shoved it down in the deepest dungeon of your heart, as far as it could go. 

It was not helpful, or good, the times when young don John passed you in the halls, and you felt that he would like to just eat you up. He would tug at your apron strings with a smirk before striding on to whatever lark he plotted for the day. The unholy feelings just a look from that man called up in you had you reaching for your rosary–and late at night, when all others lay asleep, between your legs.

You’d felt a certain relief when he went off to war with don Pedro. Even though your heart ached for the inevitable change, a part of you hoped he would never return.

As it turns out, your hopes were not to be realized. He has returned to his father’s country house, on the tails of some scandal in Messina. His temper is even fouler than you remember. His scowl, crueler. He has met with some disappointment, out in the world. You hope he will not take it out on you blameless servants.

Perhaps that is too much to ask of the upper caste.

You feel his eyes upon you again, as in the old days, but different. There is a weight in his gaze that makes you uncomfortable in your own skin, as though it no longer fits upon your own bones. It makes you ache for something no pious unmarried girl should yearn for, something you cannot name, only feel in the darkest hours of night when you lay awake on your mattress of straw, your sinful fingers exploring the bud of flesh between your legs.

You decide don John carries the flames of Hell in his burning dark eyes.

You dream of him, as though he has possessed your flesh in your sleeping hours.

He corners you one day, as you are changing the linens in one of the many airy rooms of the hacienda. You eye him warily, as he shuts the door, his large and forbidding form blocking your exit. His dark eyes upon you are black as night.

“What a flower you have blossomed into, y/n,” he muses, stepping slowly into the room with the measured calculation of a predator stalking prey. “No longer the knees and elbows girl I remember.”

“You…have also changed, my lord,” you offer cautiously. No longer the awkward, rail thin youth, his shoulders have the breadth of a man who rides a charger and wields a sword. You have tried not to notice.

“How so?” he fishes, canting his head with a smirk.

Your face feels as though you have caught on fire. “You are…taller,” you offer, winning a cruel little chuckle.

“Oh? I do like the sound of that. What else?” Another step closer, his booted heel clicking on the floor, and you are veritably boxed in between the walls and the oversized bed.

“My lord?” you stall, mortified.

“Did you miss me, y/n?”

This question also takes you aback, and perhaps that is why you answer honestly.

“Sometimes.”

“Well. That is more than any of my relations here will bother to claim,” he answers bitterly. In that moment you still see a boy just striving, yearning for his father’s recognition. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but you always felt bad for him, in a way.

“Did you hear the happy news? Don Pedro has taken a wife, and opts to dwell in Messina,” snarls don John with a mocking brightness.

“How…fortunate for him.”

The man before you makes a sound that suggests he barely restrained himself from spitting upon the floor in his half brother’s name.

“Indeed.” He takes one more step, and you know you are done for, your heart in your chest. There will be no escaping now. “What of you, fair y/n? Assumed the yoke of marriage yet?” The disdain in his words hangs bitter in the air.

You are tempted to lie, but know no good should come of it. “No, my lord,” you answer, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“How fortunate for you.” 

Perhaps in your fear, you forget yourself. “John, please–”

He moves to strike, and you are but a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, quick but not quick enough to evade him. His arm is like a band of iron about your waist, lifting you off the floor in his fury. He slams you down–albeit upon the feather mattress–a luxury you’ve never experienced for yourself, your back accustomed to scratchy tick straw.

“Insouciant wench! How familiar you are, to address me so.” He sounds so cruelly delighted by it, wedging his lean body like a knife between your legs, his narrow hips locked against yours. When you attempt to sit up he easily pins you down, his large hand spanning two of your wrists with ease, his other pressed lightly over your throat. You can hardly hear, hardly think, over the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. He can surely feel it in your pulse, fluttering against his fingers. You are filled with fear–and the sharp ache of desire, God save you.

“Please, my lord…”

He makes a low sound in his throat, his lips tracing your jaw. “Please what, pretty maid? I have a mind to make a meal of you.”

“Please…don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? That is up to you, my dear. I will have you. Sweetly, or by force, tis your choice.” Your heart lodges in your throat. Your mother warned you about this, time and again. Men are dogs and gentlemen the worst of them. Never let them catch you alone.

And in your darkest heart of hearts, you know that a part of you hoped don John might do just that.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, surprisingly gently for such a villain, but you attempt to turn away. It only wins his annoyance, his large hand turning your face back to him. Before he can press his mouth to yours you say, “You merely seek to make sport of me in your boredom here. It is not right.”

He laughs at that. “Sport, I shall make,” he muses, hiking your skirts above your thighs. “Let us test the truth of your righteous outrage?” Boldly his fingers climb the trail of your leg, to the apex where he finds the damning evidence of your treacherous loins. “My lovely girl, so wet for such a reluctant quarry.” His long fingers dip inside your weeping center, and the sound you make does not resemble protest at all. He smirks down at you like the very devil. “And a virgin my little rabbit is not.”

Javi the stableboy took care of that for you, in a quick and disappointing tumble in the hay. His touch…had felt nothing like this, if truth you tell.

Ashamed, and burning, you look away. Tears trail out of your eyes, and a part of you wishes it shall just be over soon. He frowns at the shining tracks of water upon your cheeks, a menacing scowl that makes your eyes screw shut tight.

“Do not seek to engage my sympathy or my better nature, for you know I have none,” he growls above the dip of your throat, his lips searing as a brand upon your chest. 

“That wasn’t always true,” you dare, winning naught but a growl from this ravenous beast of a man above you.

“You are the only one who thinks so.” For the barest moment you see a flash of vulnerability in his eyes–the ghost of the memory of the boy he once was, there and gone like ripples in a pool. It is as though this second of softness spurs him on in his deed, as though he must shove it aside to enjoy his sordid pleasure.

Clever fingers tear at the laces of your stays; you are freed to breathe, but you are bared to his hungry gaze as he tugs down your shift for his delectation. “Such lovely fruits, just ripe for picking,” he muses, cupping your breast in his hand, suckling upon a nipple.

You never knew how such a thing could make your insides clench, your sinning cunt tightening in its aching emptiness. Your hips move against his of their own accord, your legs wrapping about him as you mindlessly seek some relief from this madness. He withdraws with a dramatic pop, laughing at your body’s treachery.

“You are a fiend.”

“Pray, tell me,” he taunts you.

“I hate you.”

“Is that any way to speak to your master?”

He is enjoying this far too much.

“You forget your place, don John, as ever.” 

That is when he slaps you. Not hard, nay, your own mother has hit you harder, but it certainly gets your attention. “I will rule here someday, y/n. Have a care with that tongue. I can think of better uses for it.” His piercing eyes fix upon your lips, a moment before he falls upon you, kissing you as though he means to devour you. You tense, thinking to bite him for being so cruel, so conniving, for just using you for no other reason other than he can.

He plays a very dirty trick on you, though.

That dexterous hand slips under your skirts again, swiping up your slick before circling that small nub of flesh that causes you such great tumult and shame. You moan into his mouth, and you feel him smile wickedly against you.

This man is the very devil, you are sure of it.

“Now who is ready to forget?” he taunts you, rubbing you in slow circles that drive you mad, make you writhe for the unbearable tightness coiling between your legs.

You can only manage a small cry, words escaping you. You’ve never felt anything like this, not at your own hands, and certainly not with Javi the stableboy.

“Please,” is all you can manage, and you’re not even entirely sure you know what you’re begging for.

“I like to hear you beg so sweetly.” He reaches to free himself from his breeches, his swollen tip hovering at your entrance. “So beg, wench, what favour is it you ask of me?”

You should entreat him to leave you be–you should beg for his mercy. But the delicious weight of him atop you, this dastardly man whose touch is such sweet sin–you are not sure you wish for him to leave you be. Your whole life has been such a march of drudgery. Even just the possibility of feeling something that is not pain or exhaustion makes you willfully forget every lesson your mother ever taught you, every fiery sermon the Padre ever flung down from his pulpit. Tis easy to renounce the Devil, until temptation has you in its clutches.

“I know not what to ask for,” you answer cautiously, and that at least is true.

Don John smirks down at you, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. 

“Ask for my cock, you stupid girl, and if your quim pleases me perhaps I may be moved to share in the spoils.”

“Yes.” You strain your hips towards him, craving that satisfying, stretching burn of a man’s first thrust. That, atleast, you know something about.

“Yes, what?” he taunts you, delighting in your torment as he holds himself just out of reach.

“Yes, my lord,” you whimper, hating yourself as much as him in that moment. “May I have your cock?”

His smile widens in his devilish delight, almost showing teeth. “Remember that you asked for it.” But he taunts you no further, his thick head penetrating your weeping hole, the fullness of him stealing the very breath from your lungs. He groans once fully inside you, burying his face in your neck. 

“I’ve always known you would have the sweetest little cunt in the sierra,” he growls against your skin, and he begins to thrust.

If there is one thing you have always known about don John, it is that he loves to hear himself talk.

“You are mine, little maid,” he goes on, filling you so deeply you fear he must be in your belly. You are not sure you like it, and you only whimper in answer, straining for a better angle against him, seeking that certain friction that made you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, understanding what you seek very well. You whine, turning your eyes to the ceiling. You know you are a mere peasant, and you know you do not own anything, much less yourself. Yet some small defiance rises in you, for his demanding tone.

“Perhaps I shall, if you make it so.” 

You wait for him to strike you again, but to your surprise he smirks with a sort of dark delight, only turning your gaze back to his with a rough hand upon your jaw. “There is the saucy wench I remember of our youth. Do you remember how you used to defy me?”

You don’t very much, recalling that he usually always emerged the master and victor of your games.

“No, my lord.”

“You do not recall striking me with a stick, in defense of a hapless bird?”

You blink, finding it rather unfair of this man to expect you to command the capacity to think in this situation. But then you do recall. You had all been small children. The boys sought amusement in throwing rocks at an injured sparrow. You had taken exception to it. 

Don John had sworn he would tell his father and have you executed.

You’d cried for days, but the sword never fell.

You’d nearly forgotten all about it, perhaps willfully burying the memory out of shame and fear. Mostly fear.

The bastard had deserved it.

He never forgot a slight, it seems.

“I always told myself I would have my revenge for that,” he tells you with a smirk, pressing his thumb into your mouth. You try to shrink away, but he has you like a fish on a hook. “Suck,” he commands you. You do not understand why those jetty black eyes boring into yours, paired with that unyielding tone, makes your needy cunt clench around him, only that it is extremely satisfying to see his eyes flutter closed, even if just for a moment.

You do as you’re told.

He uses your own saliva against you, reaching between your legs with that spit-wet thumb to touch you again. 

You forget everything else, but the carnal heaven that is his clever fingers with his manhood inside you. The sounds the two of you make are barely human, as you strain and writhe against each other, chasing your release from this hell. Those full lips made for sin devour you–his mouth on your breasts makes you see God, a searing pleasure crashing through you in a spine-cracking rush. How can something that feels so wonderful be so forbidden? Only then does don John truly let himself go, the sound of flesh striking flesh filling the room as he takes you with all his pent up fury. It is not long before he roars his release, filling you with ropes of his hot seed, his powerful body trembling in its tangle of limbs with yours.  

For just a moment you wished would last, his fingers lace with yours rather than pin you, his head heavy on your chest as he catches his breath. Yet when he lifts his gaze to you, his eyes gleam with their usual malevolence. 

“You will come to my chambers tonight,” he orders you. “For I am not finished with you yet by half.”

When your mouth opens–indeed to give protest–he silences you with a hard but heart-melting kiss, his long fingers tangled unforgivingly in your now loosened hair. 

“Do as I say, servant girl. Though if you don’t, I may enjoy making you.” That proud mouth ticks as he seems to imagine it, that fire igniting once more in his mesmerizing eyes. The thought simultaneously makes your blood run cold–and a thrill of desire run raucous down your spine.  

This man is the very devil. You are as sure of it now, as you know when the household goes to sleep, you will find your way back to his merciless embrace.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen act with their younger s/o

requested by anon: "hello !! can i request svt with a younger s/o? thank you !!"

notes: younger s/o counterpart to this post!

masterlist

seungcheol, wonwoo, woozi, mingyu

hmm very protective i think!! vv willing to be the Bigger and Older person out of the two of you and naturally inserts himself in that role whenever it looks like someone older than you is intimidating you or acting out towards you. goes "is this person bothering you 😡" and like he just looks so serious and terrifying that the other person immediately backs down. is definitely willing to explain things to you if you don't quite get them, but also defo needs stuff explained to him sometimes haha especially when you're playing games w the other members bc like. wtf is jeonghan actually doing??? 

jeonghan, joshua, junhui, minghao

dotes on you so so badly. you need something? wanna eat something? wanna do something? just tell him okay he'll get you anything you could possibly need. you're literally the most adorable in his eyes, can do no wrong. you're a lovely angel and he's going to take your side in any argument ever bc HOW DARE someone say that his darling did something bad??? pinches your cheeks as a form of affection basically all the time. he takes one look at you and just starts grinning so hard. is just. a lot whipped for you okay

hoshi, dokyeom, seungkwan, chan

is, like. DELIGHTED that you're younger than him. gets to pretend to be all grown up and wise but honestly you already know that he's just an utter child on the inside. i think that having a younger s/o also gives him an excuse to act all silly too which he absolutely adores. goes all baby and whiny and it's just so hilarious for him bc he has you next him doing the exact same thing and making mingyu glare at the two of you, disgusted. probably doesn't mind acting like the younger one in the relationship either, doing aegyo and pouting and whining for kisses from u if you're paying attention to something other than him

vernon

vernon, however, is a little different. he's like… an amalgamation of the other bullet points. protective, caring, sweet and cute and silly all at once. but really. if i'm being really honest, he'd act that way no matter if you're older or younger than him, because all that matters to him is that you're you, and he loves you, and if he loves you then he's doing all of this and more. perhaps he's a little more careful with you, a little more doting, but other than that he's still just going to act exactly the same if you're a little older than him

request guidelines

reactions tags:

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[rv3rblog]

hey champ you up for writing a gaz x omega male reader when they were teens? not asking for smut (as kids shouldn’t have sex), but just some cute stuff between the two when they were like high schoolers or something, even as still just friends. perhaps they just presented and the reader just asks gaz to sent some stuff for him , idk how your abo things work

sorry for wasting your time and thanks for your attention

omg no u r not wasting my time !! i have so many thoughts abt alpha!gaz u dnt understood. dnt hesitate to make requests !!

alpha!gaz x omega m!reader

warnings: abo rambling and military inaccuracies

word count: 1k

i want to say that you presented first between the two of you. i think that presenting is like another form of puberty, so you’re around 14/15 when it happens.

when first presenting i think you only develop your scent/mating glands and your body develops the same way it does during puberty. another thing is hormones and instincts.

when you first present you build a nest, your first couple of heats aren’t sexual but instead filled with the need to be surrounded by the scents of your pack/family. you build a nest with some article of clothings of your family but it feels wrong, incomplete. it confuses you so bad until your mom chuckles a little and asks if you perhaps, want something of kyle and you do.

you text kyle, still unpresented and ask him to come over with something of his for your nest.

he comes over so fast because he can basically feel how distressed you are. he comes with a couple used shirts and he even offers to scent you (even though he hasn’t presented yet)

kyle presents a couple weeks after you, 2/3 weeks to be exact.

alpha ruts, like an omega’s heat isnt sexual at first but instinctual. he’s more possessive with his things (and you) as well as always butting heads with other alpha’s who want to court you but he drives them away.

“he’s my omega, not yours. fuck off.”

you of course, don’t notice. a little too overwhelmed with being able to smell everyones scent because for the first three months of presenting y’all aren’t allowed to wear scent blockers (patches).

because the ruts and heats aren’t sexual, teens are required to still go to school because they aren’t physically hindered. so, imagine a bunch of teens.. basically on steroids bc of their hormones.

kyle, who is extremely possessive over you, scents you constantly, always nuzzling against your scent gland and you do the same to him.

you both have a crush on each other it drives everyone around you guys insane, im so serious rn.

like i said in the first alpha!gaz post, you guys are toeing the line between just friends and courting.

he’s constantly giving you gifts, scenting you, around you like a guard dog up until the point he leaves for basic training.

always calling you his pretty boy too.

kyle nuzzles against your scent gland as soon as he sees you. his lips against your neck as he continues to scent you. he whispers against your forehead, calling you his, his pretty boy, his sweet omega.

and you’re as equally possessive. one day you overhear another omega talking about wanting to give kyle a gift to see if he’d be open to courting and you snarl at them. it catches both of you off guard and you get flustered and walk away.

kyle can sense your mood dropped, your scent not as sweet but more sour. he nuzzles against your head, whispering and asking what’s wrong and you confess that a classmate wants to court him and that it upset you.

(which sounded silly to you as soon as you said it)

kyle smiled softly, now knowing that you were just as possessive over him the same way he was over you. he scents you and whispers against your head.

“don’t worry darlin’ no one can take me from you. ‘m yours and only yours.”

never really hits you that he means it.

also, he never calls you by your name. even when yall where just kids it was always some variation of a petname.

sometimes, the two of you stay on the phone at night.

you’re whispering as you hold the phone against your ear, curled up in your nest. somehow, kyle can tell something is bothering you even through the phone.

“what’s the matter pretty boy?”

you huff out a breath and nuzzle deeper into your covers.

“come on pretty, i won’t judge you.”

you mumble it against your blanket and he tilts his head and asks you to repeat yourself.

“…my nest doesn’t smell like you.”

and like, realistically it should smell like him. especially since you always smell like him but for some reason it doesn’t and it upsets you.

he chuckles a little and smiles sweetly, “i can give you another shirt pretty boy, would that work?”

and yeah, he’s like really cocky about it. enjoys seeing that you smell like him even though he hasn’t personally scented you yet.

this man is always calling you his. i know i said it before but his personal favorite things to call you?

“pretty boy” “sweet omega” “pretty omega” “darling” and the rare (very rare one he reserves for your heats) “baby boy” (or when he extremely possessive)

now, moving on to when he enlists? bro you are so fucking devestated. your omega screaming at you that your alpha is leaving you :( your scent sour whenever kyle brings it up :(

and it upsets him so bad to see you upset

“what’s wrong daring? talk to me.”

but the things is, you don’t. you’re a little too stubborn to admit that you’re gonna miss him and your little fantasy. the thing is he already knows.

“i’m gonna be fine. i promise.”

he scents you deply before he leaves the first time. nuzzles against your scent glands, gives you his bedsheets and shirts he wore recently.

you add the bedsheets to your nest. when he leaves you don’t leave your nest for a couple days.

he calls you when he can.

“i miss my pretty boy.” he whispers against the phone. “i miss you a lot, my baby boy.”

(he’s pouting as he talks to you)

when he comes back from basic training and spends a while with his family he bee lines to you. everyone around thinks you two are courting and he doesn’t correct them.

“my pretty boy, missed you a lot.” as he scents you.

he can smell your scent sweeten as he scents you and it drives him insane. playfully nips at your neck like when yall were kids.

overall, before officially courting you two drove everyone insane bc yall r so in love w one another and were already basically courting. like everyone at ur school knew better than to try to court either of you bc yall wld snarl at them or growl !! love sick teens who just presented <3

[e77y]

i love LOVE ur writing (& understand that sometimes things take a while.. lol i haven't posted in months) BUT i would love to hear about some things ur working on. or even just ideas u have.! obviously i am obsessed w grant (partially bc of how u write him actually haha ) but i would also love to hear abt any dndads fics in general ! ^_^

AHH TYSM!! This is so so sweet :’) I really love how you write Grant too! like sooo much. And I would love to hear about any of your ideas/drafts too actually 🙏

And YEAH as always there are a billion DnDads fic ideas (and lots of D20 stuff rn too) swirling around in my head haha, but I haven’t had a lot of time or energy for fic writing in a long time :( It makes me so sad bc I really WANT to but I just. can’t 😭 This semester in particular has been kind of draining creatively, because I’ve been doing a lot more creative writing in my courses/extracurriculars, which has been SUPER cool (I’m getting some published work and performances out there!!) buuuut sometimes a girl just needs to write his silly fanfic yk? 💔

ANYWAY ramble aside.. I think the main thing is that I really want to finish the final chapter of that one incomplete Scary/Lincoln fic I have. The annoying thing is that I’m like 70% done with it and have been for like a YEAR, but then I hit perhaps the most intense patch of writer’s block I’ve ever had 😭 Sighhh. I need to sit down and finish it someday soon bc I hate leaving it unfinished, but I also really truly want to revisit it. Perhaps this summer 🤞 which is. scarily soon omg. I still have so much left to do this semester 😭😭

But ofc the BIG project I want to work on is my Silver Linings series. I have three additional planned fics (shorter than the first part): one about Grant’s high school years (9-12th grade) with a focus on his friendships with the other guys (and also Andy lol); one about Grant and Marco reconnecting when Grant moves back to San Dimas for his librarian internship the summer going into his Library Science MA (so they’re like 23 or 24-ish?), and one concurrent with the original fic (set in 8th grade) but from Darryl’s perspective instead of Grant’s that looks more into Darryl’s relationships with Carol and the Oak-Garcias and his own mental health. I have ALL of them outlined, albeit not super thoroughly, but I can barely get through the first like 100 words of any of them before I get frustrated and overwhelmed by the scope of the project haha. I think it’s bc Silver Linings was originally something I went into not thinking I was even going to finish, let alone post, let alone write MORE chapters of and actually complete them all 😭 so I wasn’t so intimidated as I am now. Since I want my additions to the series to be at least half-decent yk

Some other DnDads things… there’s a big Wilsons-centric character study (who would’ve guessed HAHA) about dance that I really want to write. Because lots of them have some connection to dance! Darryl does his secret dancing classes, Grant and Marco do ballroom, Lincoln also took dance classes, and even Scary “when the beat drops, I can’t stop” Marlowe lol. I have a bunch of vignettes outlined for it. Same for a Darryl character study I want to do bc that man IS aromantic and I have a million little anecdotes I want to write about, but it’s such a Big thing that it’s daunting

Hmm what else brb opening my Google Docs ummmmmmm lol the first thing is a very silly crack-treated-seriously explicit Henry/Mercedes draft that I started for a word randomizer prompt challenge thingy. They are having bizarre hippie crystal sex. There is also a Nark one which is kinda crazy for me but the concept is um. It just works best with these two characters. I’m not gonna nsfwpost on main since I’m not gonna tag this post or whatever but like LOL. I might actually finish that one soon…? Would be an insane comeback to fic writing 😭 but I have actually been working on it for funsies so

Apart from that, I’ve got lots of oneshot ideas floating around. Mostly Grant angst or Darryl angst or Lincoln angst HAHAHHAA but also a healthy dose of Lark and/or Sparrow angst. No super interesting concepts, but maybe I’ll look closer or remember something good and rb this with more stuff. AND also a huge polydads (yes I am including Ron in this. Ron is always included. to me 🫶) teacher AU that I don’t think I’ll ever write anything for, but I do have a loose plot for it and teaching positions for all the dads hehe. Otherwise, it’s been mostly D20 Fantasy High stuff (specifically Riz- and/or Fabian-centric angst bc obvi. also lots of Fabian/Mazey stuff bc I like them. and I like dance as a lens through which to examine relationships and gender roles within them) and also um…. my superrrrr old fandoms that I’ve been revisiting for nostalgia’s sake 🫣

Okay sorry for the massive ramble omg I just realized how much I’ve typed? And it’s like. not even really coherent at all. But thank you for asking omg!! And for always being so supportive about my writing (and in general)! :’D ❤️❤️

[oceanlipgloss]

MILK

BELPHEGOR.

+ warnings: angst, strong language.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Milk helps put souls to sleep. Mouths like to drink it hot. White that once clouded clear glass with twists of steam slithers down throats and pours into stomachs. It’s been that way since old times and the dawn of history, perhaps—a tradition in many households.

As a general rule, children love their nightly pint of hot milk. As grown-ups, many of them cherish it. The liquid had followed them, after all, flowing behind them into good ol’ dull adulthood.

Now he, normally he never needed silly methods like that. No ‘sleep-helpers’ for him, thanks. His organic chemistry championed the slumber department.

Just not that night.

In those star-flecked hours, he just couldn’t sleep.

Dry flakes of milk dotted the glass to his right. Under the lamp’s light they had looked like a blueberry mix: violet freckles, lavender stars, purple planets.

Even with his head in her soft lap, her fingers in his uncombed hair, and the exhaustion slowly glazing the inner chambers of his veins, he couldn’t make himself doze off and away.

Maybe his body would not surrender to sloth because of her presence.

He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, but his brain was as alive as an electric wire is: a curly leech pulsing with its own sort of glimmering currents and glistening life. There was an entire galaxy in his mind. A milky way.

Something was flicking blurry nightmares at his soul.

His tired eyes watched. Fake planets moved lazily above him, in a perfect circle, almost as though they were doing their own ritual. The ringed one in the middle had to be the oracle. No one knew anything about the little magical meeting. It was amusing; even still objects can do things they want.

He thought of fairy dust.

His head was spinning. He felt dizzy. Not physically. Something inside him was twirling around itself, spiralling. Would anyone understand? If he tried explaining. Would they know what he meant?

One hour, two hours, three. After each other they passed. He could hear her soft breaths. His fingertips pressed against her cheek. Pillow-soft. Someone else would’ve compared it to a marshmallow. A dent formed between her brows. His skin was cold.

Counting stars was too romantic. Rosy. He was in a black mood. Back to the classics: he began to count sheep.

One pink sheep, two pink sheep, three...

Everywhere in the universe, creatures resort to many of the same things, it seems.

It wasn’t that late when the answer came to him. He hadn’t ever lost it, not really. He hadn’t even needed to look. It had been there all along, the thing nagging at him. It crawled to him by itself, on its own hands and feet. It was a fear.

Again he remembered that, years from now—hopefully many, many years from now—on a sleepless night like this, he would be yet another insomniac lying in his bed or on the floors.

Alone.

That night he just couldn’t sleep well. He dreamt of fading stars and planet collisions.

Hot milk helps put souls to sleep, does it? Fuck hot milk. It didn’t do shit, did it?

+notes: I honestly didn't want to log in, but I like to post fics the day I write them on 'cause I don't write dates down next in my notes and instead use Tumblr as a sort of accurate timeline to keep track of when I wrote something/last wrote anything at all my AO3 dates have mostly not heard of accuracy (transl.: since I'm somewhat writing again now, this may very well be repeated). Anyways *quietly sneaks u 100mg of existential horrors*

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[shizuchansmilk]

heyyyyyy i’ve seen your heiwajima parents art, and i really love your designs! <3 i wanted to ask, do you perhaps have any headcanons that you might like to share? o.o the novels BARELY mention them at all :( i’m scraping for content

DO I!? OH HONEY... DO I 💔💔💔

here's a quick doodle of them as well as a thank u for this ask bc uGH i adore them too (they are barely mentioned and basically everything i like about them i came up with in my own silly little head). this is a pretty long post so do continue reading under the cut if you'd like! ^^

gosh idk where to even begin okok. unironically girlboss and malewife. in my mind kichirou is kinda goofy, the more laid-back parent while namiko's the stricter one despite generally being a pretty quiet person in general.

shizuo definitely gets his temper from namiko i think, and while arguments wouldn't at all be frequent it'd basically be up to kichirou or kasuka to calm them both down whenever they happened ToT

i think namiko has an artistic sort of hobby like painting. don't ask me for any reasonings i just feel like she does, and this passtime eventually rubbed off on kasuka a little since i recall he likes painting too? she'd specifically paint landscapes, her favourites being beaches and the sea. because of this though she tends to spend a lot of her free time a little secluded. sometimes, especially as children, she'd let kasuka and shizuo watch her paint and let them try out their own stuff too, but since shizuo's immense strength became apparent he sort of began to feel like he wasn't as welcome as he once was in a studio full of her fragile hard work so he harbours a sort of reluctance doing any of that anymore.

speaking of, namiko would worry about shizuo. a lot. maybe TOO much in fact. she'd frequently scold him for getting into fights and things like that, and because she's his mother i don't imagine he'd really retaliate. he'd be real pissed off and slam his bedroom door (off it's hinges😭) in a huff, sure, but there's no way in HELL he's pulling a stunt like almost throwing an entire fridge at *her*. she'd be the one dragging him to the neighbours houses and making him apologise for kicking the entire bonnet of their car in or meeting with the head of school because shizuo threw a chair into the wall. idk i kinda get the impression that their relationship is a liiittle strained because their personalities kinda clash but they love each other really. whenever something's bothering shizuo i feel like namiko picks up on it pretty quickly and does little things like make him his favourite dinner or grab a cake from the store on her commute to cheer him up.

kichirou on the other hand is big on sports i think, and listen he DEFINITELY taught his boys how to play baseball. only narita can tell me otherwise like until it's outright disproven this'll always be canon to me. i feel like he's the golden retriever to namiko's black cat in the sense he's a lot more outgoing and talkative and relaxed than her, albeit maybe a little more oblivious. i imagine he was really impressed and boastful about how strong, like a real athlete, his eldest was until the property damage and hospital bills were on the rise.

i feel like kichirou would be pretty attentive to kasuka. like oh he's kinda quiet is he making any friends at school? that kind of thing. where namiko stresses over dealing with shizuo i think kichirou would kind of overthink anything going on with kasuka.

despite namiko being the more temperamental of the two i think kichirou still gets really defensive whenever he catches wind of people talking smack about his family. like you can make fun of him all you want but the moment you get a bad word in about his boys or god FORBID his wife i feel like it's on sight. i don't think he'd go as far as getting into a fight about it but the sudden drop in light-hearted attitude to a very cold and dead serious "haha the hell did you just say?" would be enough to shut most people up. perhaps kasuka gets his acting skills from him, as in being able to switch up at the drop of a hat. otherwise i feel like kichirou's really friendly, though again maybe a little oblivious, probably has met shinra's dad before and thought he was a cool guy but maybe just a tad strange (a sizeable understatement).

in essence, think like phil and claire from modern family or mr and mrs fox from fantastic mr fox. that's basically the dynamic of them i have in my head =w= i might have more HCs but this is all that's coming to me rn. again, thanks so much for the ask!!!! ToT💕

[imjustgoose]

Oh yeah, Earthwomb!

I said I'd post the first chapter, didn't I? I'd like to share this with you, the piece I wrote for my advanced fiction class that I credit my Honours eligibility to. Earthwomb was going to be my thesis, but I look a different route. Because of that, I think it's perfectly fine to share this with you. Ignore the slight mistakes, I wrote most of it on lots of RedBull

TW: Gore, pornography use and masturbation.

Btw, the ladies on my table all loved the wanking scene. We all workshopped our stories together, so I credit part of this to those five amazing folks. ECVSY, y'all were the best!!! Go under the cut, if you dare :3

Part of the joy in agriculture was the large amount of free time Canar would get, as nothing viable had grown in the planet Earth’s soil since 2062. The lack of any significant results gave him plenty of time to zone out in his apartment, where he could stare at the news all day with a caffeinated drink, only when he wasn’t doing his pointless job.

His job was a touchy subject, as agricultural science was considered to be a lost cause that somehow managed to pull plenty of funding each month. Sponsors affiliated with corporations he had never heard of seemed to love sticking the company’s name to their roster of worthy causes, because growing life was nice to think about when customers wished to purchase new timeshare properties or flavoured protein pills. Canar’s job was nothing more than a pretty label to make a brand look good, since even in a professional science facility, nothing would grow. He took it as a really sad sign that the final plan of saving organic life had failed. The people Canar worked with would comically refer to his efforts as ‘fruitless’, but when it became the company slogan for the yearly custom coffee mugs, he was itching to quit. Despite all of the disdain he held for the industry, Canar still kept going.

Canar had a strange ambition about him, fuelled by the typical tale of childhood wonder. He recalled the story of his grandparents seeing a plant in an Earth Museum once, flattened and eaten at by Earth invertebrates, but nevertheless, it was a plant. Since before his pursuit of education, he had kept the holocard of the plant stuck to his childhood bedroom wall with tape, a symbol of life in the ancient form that his friends would sometimes comment on, but never discuss further. It took years of tedious studies to land his position at the Department of Agricultural Studies on Stellum Nexus-C at the young age of 139. Stellum Nexus-C was a nice enough planet for Tremulons of his age, but Canar was intent on doing more than just paying bills and surviving.

Hygiene products, food and household necessities were all he purchased outside of the never-ending cycle of bill payments to simply exist without being apprehended by payment collectors. A hobby or partner to occupy him was certainly out of the question, since Canar was always too exhausted from work and late-night cooking shows. The culinary programs after midnight were his only true weakness, manifesting in his workplace as Canar held a metal watering can with tired hands that wobbled from the splashing water. His once-golden skin was mottled with blue veins and a pale complexion, turning a slight green from the extra effort to keep the can steady. Forgoing food with little sleep was a silly mistake on his behalf, as Canar felt extra frail and cold. Perhaps he could pass as an old Koibeld female and claim a pension, since he was green enough to look like one. If only he weren’t so tall…

A beat passed and the hobbling ceased when his eyes fell upon a little fleck of green poking out from the white soil in his sixth planter. Canar set the watering can aside and crouched to observe it closer. The most innocent little sprout gazed up at him with two open leaves as if to say “Hello! I am here and I am alive!” Canar ignored his first instinct to press the call button on his interactive laser pin, feeling an odd new urge to touch the sprout. He held his breath for a moment, feeling like a mighty giant in the presence of such a tiny thing that he could crush with ease. Instead, it yielded easily to his slender fingers, so beautifully friendly and softer than anything. Just for a moment, he basked in its large presence that made no logical sense to him, just because it was so small and did not utter a sound. So very small and so very perfect.

“Hydrogene Filadiatri,” his flora scanner droned. The computer in his wrist had told Canar the name of his little friend in less than a second after he had scanned it. A common garden weed in ancient times, but oh so precious to the modern world. The climate-control machines were quick to blow warm air into the greenhouse, causing the sprout to move in a way that made Canar bristle for a moment. Logic seemed to flit across his mind in quick succession, making room for lapses in judgement that made him think ‘plants can’t move, why did it move!?’

Chloroplasts.

Life.

Warmth.

Innocence.

Leaves.

Beauty.

Heartbeat.

Joy.

Stem.

Roots.

Canar felt so many words and emotions with each second he spent staring at his sweet baby. There was no doubt about it, Canar grew a life by himself, in a uterus made from soil and questionable fertiliser. In his eyes, the sprout’s leaves fluttered and reached for him, transforming into something that yearned for his embrace. He imagined it to coo and babble, for it to paw at his chest, face, hands, heart. Canar would nurse it with rain from a stainless steel breast, swaddle it in a blanket of fertiliser, kiss it with sunshine and sing to it, for it was all his. Nobody else could know.

Except the cameras…the cameras would know!

Rather than lob the nearest object at the security cameras like he wanted to, Canar took a breath to regulate himself. It would not bode him well to suddenly start vandalising the facility, so he took his work tablet and opened the security tab. Luckily, the camera footage could be reviewed and deleted remotely, as Canar felt a new sense of unease when he left his baby’s side. An invisible tether had latched onto his flesh, pulling him towards the plant like a hitched workbeast.

‘Beast’ was certainly the word that Canar would use to describe himself, feeling his logical mind dull in favour of the primal instincts that began to compel him. They forced him to sit by the plant as he moved segments of footage into the recycle bin before they could be uploaded to the main security panel on the top floor. Each time segment had to be dragged across the screen and deleted manually, as the period before deletion would be too much of a risk to leave. It was tedious enough that Canar slumped his head to the side to rest it near the sprout, his eyes flickering up to it occasionally. It would work with time, all he needed was some patience and an excuse for overtime.

Canar made sure that he had time to visit his usual convenience store on the block adjacent to his apartment. Staying after-hours at his workplace to delete any evidence of the sprout had meant the rail commute from work had run without him, causing him to settle for a public shuttle a bit further from the facility. The price was fine, but it made for a slow and boring trip. Streets full of androids were far from the ideal distractions to keep his mind off his sprout.

He had to force a deep breath down his pipes at the thought of it. His baby was all alone in the lab, buried under soil to avoid detection from any snooping coworkers. Her absence gnawed at Canar like nanobots chewing through his vertebrae, with thoughts of the sprout overriding any other topic that would flitter across his mind. It was exhausting inside of Canar’s head, aching from the tight bun he had to wear. Always so clean, always so-

“Sorry, but we have a rule against loitering,” a voice finally broke through the throbs of his scalp. The young girl standing behind the counter had pointed to a sign, explicitly stating ‘no loitering’ with an illustrated android looking particularly grumpy. Canar’s brows knitted in confusion, not recognising the worker that was in the place of his only friend. Canar deduced that the usual shop worker was the closest thing he had to a friend, but their only encounters had been through Canar’s patronage as a customer.

“Many pardons, just…I have a lot on my mind today,” Canar responded dimly before snaking through the aisles in a practised pattern. As was his typical Monday tradition, his favourite nutrition pills, caffeine drinks and laundry cubes were placed neatly in a shopping basket held by the crook of his elbow. Canar liked carrying the basket in his elbow, it made him feel like a character in a vintage audiobook, selling food items in a peaceful market with a lowly companion barking at his heels. Had he not left his Augmented Reality.Chip at his apartment, he’d activate his unique brain chip and switch to his favourite visual reality setting during his shopping trip, transforming the derelict store into rows of market stalls in warm fields of yellow. Most people in the 27th century would coast through their miserable lives with AR.Chips in their heads, whether they chose rolling plains or the deepest oceans to explore. Canar only had one, as they were usually expensive and sold at select shops that he didn’t care enough to visit. It was no matter, the morning market was all he needed to enjoy in his down time.

That was… until Canar saw the new row of explicit AR.Chips behind the cashier, glowing in a unique green light that made his skin feel clammy and his throat tight.

“Was that all for you, today?” The girl asked, placing Canar’s essentials in a bag.

“Uhhh, no, wait. How much for…one of those?” Canar pointed to the AR.Chips along the wall, advertised with flickering arrows and liquid droplets depicted through colourful neon tubes. For a moment, the cashier grimaced, likely disgusted by Canar’s degeneracy, before masking it with a blank face.

“It’s two-hundred credits per chip, but they’re all the same content. The model they used is an android, so it’s cheaper than most,” she was quick to explain, as if she were reading from a script.

“That’ll be fine. One of those, please.” Canar felt relief from his ability to keep his voice from shaking. As the girl turned to pluck a chip from the display, a familiar pink light glimmered from the side of her temple. Canar didn’t blame her for the simple colour-altering chip in her head, feeling like his life would have been easier if his own AR.Chip was permitted at work.

Upon purchase, Canar walked at a quicker pace than usual to his apartment, setting his grocery bag down on the table and fumbling with the green chip in his nervous hands. His usual AR.Chip lay forgotten on the sofa as he peeled the plastic away and placed the new chip in a glass of water. With a shaky breath, he sat on the couch and looked over at the holoscreen that took half of the room up. One room was all Canar thought he would need as a young Tremulon, which was a thought he came to regret after years of disgusted University friends. Litter and the suffocating smell of sweat built up quickly in a boxed room, a common state that Canar had crushed after the seventh failed hookup in his final year. Woe be unto any spilled caffeine drink that dared to disturb his realm as an adult.

Once soaked, the disgusting chip fit into the side of Canar’s head easily. When his vision began to brighten from the new software, his hand scrambled to grasp the bath towel he had fished from the laundry hamper. He figured that self-indulgence could be a bridge to his normal thoughts again, just to stop trembling at the sight of the colour green for a few seconds. Canar would be normal, he had to be normal.

Following a firm hold that he hadn’t deviated from since he was younger, Canar moved his hand in time with each bounce from the virtual woman in his lap. His thoughts became less and less green as his arousal grew, looking between the woman’s orange tusks and her perfectly oiled bust. It was working! Canar huffed a sigh of relief and moved faster, ready to climb the peak and be lulled into sleep peacefully. He gripped the towel with a shaking hand, ready to finish at the sight of his virtual companion opening her mouth to reveal her tongue.

Her long, green tongue.

Canar screamed in fright, images of the sprout suddenly assaulting his vision. When the model began to grow sprouts from her eyes and mouth, Canar hastily ripped the chip from his skull, throwing it to the floor and using the towel to prevent his blood from spilling everywhere. The rough texture of the towel against his slick hand grounded him for a moment, bringing his mind away from the chip and back to reality. His depository organ throbbed in unspent rage, remaining untouched to go limp for the rest of the night. Shaking sobs bobbed in Canar’s throat as the sprout had rooted itself in his brain once again, his body moving on its own to clean the blue blood stains that escaped the towel.

[fictionkinfessions]

actually. last regretevator kinfession for a bit (i am sending them in quick succession) but i wanna send out a little bit of memories/messages to the people i remember.. like party invitations <:3

Infected, I hope ur doing alright!! whatever was messing with you I hope you got better <:3 as far as I know (as of posting this) I don't think I ever got to see you skate, but I knew you were real good at it just by the way you were knowledgeable about it and super into it. And hey, I think whatever u do u can persevere through it. ur an awesome sk8tr dude!!1! tackle the world with a skateboard and undeniable swag!!!!

Split, wherever you are, my biggest wish is that you're peeling okay, hehehe! I hope you're still making those silly puns and making the world around you smile, as always!!

Bive, I don't remember much about you as of now, but from what I vaguely remember, you seemed really happy around Split. Maybe you two have met again in this life, and for that, I say "YIPPEE!" but if you haven't and you want to find her, I wish you the best of luck :] OH!! And whatever you put your mind to, whether it's finding something or anything of the sort, you can do it!! <:3

Mark, from what I recall, you were super nice. I've had the joy(? curse? whatever one perceives it as) as being a southerner in this life. Now I get to truly experience drinking sweet tea and eating cornbread at family reunions as intended /lhj /silly :3 But seriously, you were hardworking and fun to talk to. Whatever you do, know you can do it OAK STRONG!!!!!!!!! /ref And get through it!!

Unpleasant, keep doing what you're doing!! I don't really have any thoughts about what I remember my Unpleasant being, but this specific one is more targeted towards any general Unpleasant kins: I'd imagine that you can get through anything. The majority of the fandom may Quite Literally Be against you But . Push through it, because your memories are your memories and you are you. You're still a person to be treated with respect. dont let what the fandom says get 2 u!!!!!

Wallter, I remember talking with u sometimes and you were really kind!! Very informative and polite and I'd like to apologize for giggling and not telling you about Pest pickpocketing you on the way into the elevator.. I was totally in on it... so sorry about that!! You didn't deserve that at all... but I hope perhaps we can laugh about it a little at least in this life :3

Pest, I wanted to save you for last because I knew I was gonna talk a bunch and be sentimental (YUCK! i know /silly) but I'm so glad I got to share a timeline where we were best friends and I got to know you. Wherever you are, I hope you're having the best time of your life, whether that be partying or in a quiet space where people don't bother you. Thank u for all the memories and apple pies we got to bake <:3

If ur name isn't on here, then I don't remember u quite yet!! Sorry!! I'll be sure to come back with another message with u when i remember!!!

-Poob/Party Noob (regretevator) (#🕹️👾🎸)

s

[enbyandyy]

hiiiii just wanted to ask u for funsies. do u have any hopes or predictions for the next life series (perhaps a team up or two that you'd like to see...). or do u just wanna scream about it coming up like i do /pos :D

I wish asks showed you when they were asked LMAO so uhh sorry if this is late!

The main thing I'm hoping for is skyblock but I've been wanting that for literal years so I doubt it lmao (full posts here but it's long warning)

in terms of teams hmmmm I don't really have specific people more like specific vibes if that makes sense, eg ethos and the insanes/pos. what I mean by that is like I love the vibe of etho who is a little silly goofy and someone whose REALLY silly goofy (eg Joel or bdubs) so basically anyone who can match that vibe. Also the vibes of team ties were incredible as well as the clockers (ngl I love that whole series limited life MVP wooooo)

and predictions? hmmm

scar goes ape shit just cause he can

cleo has a proper villain arc

Lizzie is in the series (mostly just me praying)

the boogyman returns (again mostly just a pray)

hmmm that's really it lmao the skyblock one is really my MAIN hope

(btw yippee thank u for the asks I love asks yippee)

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

Alternative Chapters 3 & 4 of v3

Cute idea for how to promote a friend's AU: airing how I made them cry with my suggestions when they asked for ideas

Read Vespertin-y's Clockwise talent swap AU https://vespertin-y.tumblr.com/post/721299444787740672/clockwise-talentswap-lore-pt-1

Ves: ack. what do i dooooo for the ch3 motive i cant just use the necronomicon again can i

that depends, who do you want to act on a motive?

Sini: Kirumi or Gonta would probably make good chapter 3 culprits in my opinion

Ves: kirumi is the ch1 killer. gonta...oooh i haven't decided how to handle the survivor/adventurer thing with him yet. maybe survivor but it's for surviving the wilderness instead of dr??? ough i ought to get rid of himiko at some point for tenko angst purposes

Himiko could be the collateral second kill of ch3

Ves: yeah…maybe she just walked in on body hiding shenanigans? ohhhh tenko would be SO mad YOU KILL HER ALMOST-GIRLFRIEND AND NOT EVEN FOR A GOOD REASON THE AUDACITY

just what I had in mind

Sini: That cute moment between her and Gonta at the end of chapter 3? Yeah, forget that here

Ves: i think that i will let artist kiyo throttle anthropologist mugi with a garotte wire. as a treat. revenge for a past life i quite LIKE anthropologist mugi but what can ya do

Sini: Keep it to two victims and two culprits >: )

Ves: wouldn't gonta be SO fun as a survived killer though…hmm i am going to make all of kokichi's favorite people into murderers and bully him into not viewing the world so black and white

Sini: Your bestie is a murderer? Well, he’s still alive. What you gonna do about that? What do you think of that, huh?

Ves: your bestie is a murderer so is ur boyfriend HITS U WITH NUANCE STICK

okay, so Kiyo kills Tsumugi, perhaps frames Himiko like he tried to in canon, and Gonta accidentally kills her in a confrontation?

either early in the investigation, or Himiko first found the body and was seen running away by Gonta (aka Hyioko being the main suspect in ch2 of sdr2 type beat)

Gonta doesn't mean to hurt anyone, but. He's stronger than he thinks and Himiko was freaking out since to her, he might as well have been the killer, she hasn't seen anyone else out and about either so she'd try to get away from him

so it'd be just like knocking out Shuichi in canon, except, well.

Ves: that's so SAD fuckkk gonta :((((( tenko would lose. her. mind.

still rotating the possibilities of what Kiyo's in-game motive could be, I want to say that it's still a crime of passion, Tsumugi does piss him off with something

Ves: making him lose control of his own strength like that is the meanest thing ive ever heard. i might change it to him accidentally chasing himiko somewhere dangerous bc that's SO sad ACK I ALREADY DID THE ACCIDENTAL TRIPPING MURDER IN CH2 THOUGH WAILS yeag i haven't quite figured kiyo out yet… i think strangulation works better with a premeditated crime, what with him coming up behind her…but the clay cutting wire WAS just sitting around in his lab. hrm. mb she angie's herself by coming across him plotting a crime, that seems like the easiest option and i do want moogi to be an observer-type character, always watching in the background

maybe she gets too nosy not really on accident, too much accidents around here she ends up knowing too much not a plan, but a secret, a motive to get out, personal, and she wants the tea, it's scorching hot, you're going to burn yourself, Tsumugi

snhdfghf yeah…got too silly [pensive emoji] she just wanted to knowwww she's a little Too fascinated by people and with someone with as many secrets as korekiyo that is Not a friendly trait oh maybe that's the motive!! secrets, like in thh ch2

Ch4

so the deaths are ch1: Maki, Kirumi ch2: Ryoma, Miu ch3: Tsumugi, Korekiyo, Himiko ch4:??? ch5: Angie, Shuichi ch6: Kaito plot armour: Kiibo, Tenko, Kokichi

Kaede and Rantaro, is it fate? the only other option is Gonta

Ves: AH FUCK HOW DID I DO THAT BY ACCIDENT

congratulations

I mean, you could Sakura Gonta since he's definitely not doing fine

but Kaede doing nothing for the whole game is a little ooc, girlie takes the matters in her own hands

boy's not coping after ch3 either way

Ves: i was looking through my past randomizers and found a ch5 where kaede kills himiko after being tricked into thinking she's the mastermind…i could move that up to ch4. but why himiko..

Himiko's dead already tho

Ves: idk i haven't committed to that yet,,tricking kaede into thinking rantarou is the mastermind feels. cliche

what if she thinks Gonta is the mastermind since he got away with murder

Ves: what kind of fucking machine would bbygirl have to build to take out GONTA poisonous insects???

she's just setting up a trap still, a wrong person could walk in it, she sets it up at Gonta's lab but Rantaro walks in for something

Ves: NOT AGAIN [sob emoji] THAT'S SO FUNNY ACTUALLY SHSL UNLUCKY RANTAROU REAL

yes, she releases something venomous in his lab, little buggie just wanders off

or it does get Gonta, cause. He would be so devastated when he finds out that he was the one supposed to die. Literally so much worse for him than dying

Ves: HOW DID THIS WHOLE THING TURN INTO GONTA BULLYING I CAN'T HAVE HIM ACCIDENTALLY KILL SOMEONE AND HAVE SOMEONE ELSE DIE IN HIS PLACE THAT'S OBSCENE my poor son [sob emoji]

back to Sakura arc, he finds out about the attempt without anybody getting hurt

Ves: i'll figure it out in the shower probably update: i took a shower and didn't figure it out [pensive emoji]

Sini: Maybe keep the idea of Gonta killing Himiko and Kaede killing Gonta, and then have Rantaro die because he broke the rules in some way? You could pull a Mukuro on him

I got another idea too, what if Rantaro kills Kaede if you were to use the card key motive again, what if he gets ahold of it, frustrated just like others with Angie insisting they just don't use it and stay there forever when it could be an exit or used to reveal mastermind's identity, so he steals it from her and finds out about the end of the world, so he snaps, "we should have died with everyone" kind of thing, Kaede is the easiest target to start with (if Himiko is already out) since she's weaker than him and trusting (unlike Ouma)

Sini: What if….You mixed the two? Like, Kaede is the one in Rantaro’s place, whose character throughout the game has been kind of regressing as time has gone on. Growing more pessimistic and untrusting. She would also be eager to know if the key could reveal the mastermind’s identity in any way, since she’s been looking for them since day one and growing more paranoid and bitter about it. Once the key card motive is revealed, she steals it from Angie and parallels Gonta in that she believes the others should all die. She could still kill Gonta because she finds him suspicious, and if he’s not, then he’s actually a pretty easy target to lure. She also might want to kill him because she believes it’s what he deserves after what he did (in that case, the character regression would be very real). Or, she could go full Gonta, and believe killing Gonta is best because he was the nicest of the group and has already gone through sm pain that he deserves to die first/not through execution. I feel like Kaede would definitely be the type to take the burden of living if she had to

having more time in the game Kaede's whole preaching cooperation and trust would slowly crumble away, seeing how in canon she was trying to reassure herself as much as the others at the start and failed to, coming to conclusion that she needs to do something herself, that Shuichi's plan is not enough, that she's not going to hope Kaito's group comes up with something. Here she had time to simmer in it and get so much worse

and I'd love to see that, let her run out of positive things to say, hang outs to distract herself with, mantras to fall asleep to and hopes that all of that was a bad dream. She can't keep waiting for something to happen and then the next thing that happens is another murder instead of the awaited rescue, to get out she is going to make it happen

guess, she was wrong when she got there, maybe you can't trust people, maybe they're all out for blood, maybe somebody else is already planning her demise

Sini: Yeah…. And there’s no point. The world is destroyed There’s no home to go back to She might as well take a chance at killing the one person she can suspect as the mastermind

she regressed so far that she reached the pg Kaede mindset, no faith in humanity, they're all capable of murder, perhaps they're there because they deserve it

Sini: YES! If even Gonta can kill…Nobody is safe. Nobody can be trusted She kills him with the poisonous bug, but the others wouldn’t know that until ways into the trial. They might think it’s classic poison. Calling back to canon chapter 4 with the poison left on the seat. Both are diversions

if they all die, then there will be no more humanity, no more cruelty, betrayal after betrayal, it'll be over

Kaede humming "no children" by mountain goats while picking out a poison to plant on the crime scene

Sini: Imagine for a moment Kaito is framed, again? Cause he’s the ultimate detective, the poison might’ve came from his lab

Sini: Also, this would hurt Kokichi sm. He’s already been questioning himself with the reveal of Gonta being the second culprit. He’s alive and he doesn’t know if he can even look at him anymore… His feelings on the matter conflicting with one another. And then to later find that he’s dead? O O F

framing Kaito is a good idea, but also what if she staged it as a suicide, really take Kokichi out of investigation with a gut punch imagine he said some shit to Gonta after the 3rd trial he'd blame himself

Sini: So I was thinking with this that maybe Rantaro doesn’t vote for Kaede in chapter 4 because if the world is really destroyed, then his sisters (if still lost in this au) are most certainly dead. However, I don’t think he would do that unless he was 100% certain that the world was destroyed. He’d have to see it for himself to truly believe, as he has his doubts on the legitimacy of all this. So what if in chapter 5, if they all see the outside world and later become depressed, TW Rantaro actually commits to killing himself? He’d do it in front of everyone so that there is no case to solve. The guilt and grief he’d feel….He’d see no point in living anymore. He might even feel guilty for not being able to be useful in preventing the murders or doing more to uncover the truth. He’d consider himself a failure in every way. Maybe he does so through breaking another rule? Again, typical Mukuro, but just done on purpose

no 4th survivor, huh

Ves, reading up after leaving for a bit:

well first of all i think im never leaving you to babysit an au again. second of all AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA kaedeee :((( also rantarou :((((( also gonta :((((((- you did not leave anyone untouched huh

Sini: HEY! IT’S UP TO YOU! Rantaro doesn’t have to die, that’s just if you want to keep the survivor count the same as in canon

Ves: i think im gonna up the survivor count…maybe by making ch3 a single murder? nnnn. kaede killing gonta is sounding real good though Sini: She could still do so, just maybe it’s as simple as Gonta is an easy target and he’s the nicest so he should be spared an awful death

Ves: NSHJDBGHSGDD….she said fuck ALL YALL except for you gonta you're an angel and we're all glad you're here- i think abt the gonta&himiko scene where he asks how he can help and she tells him he radiates so much mana he can just stand there and it'll help her simply Having A Gonta Around does wonders for magic

Sini: IT DOES But man, that just reminds me how sad Gonta killing Himiko is If you make it where just Korekiyo is the culprit, maybe have him kill Himiko instead. That way we can have the Tenmiko angst, just reverse. Also, we’d get Tsumugi as a survivor, which I think has potential. Let Tsumugi have a character arc!

that would made ch4 weaker, but ig that would mean Himiko getting Angie'd since he only had a motive to kill Tsumugi?

Ves: i think maybe. do something to make gonta think of it as his fault even if he didn't directly off someone

but think about Kokichi's character arc

Ves: AH FUCK I FOROT ABT THAT maybe he kills kiyo???? no execution on a technicality bc kiyo killed first,,

then he'd get executed cause monokuma wouldn't have anyone else to execute? Like Celeste?

Ves: there wasn't the first come first serve rule in that game though "Rule #15: If two different murders by different murderers occur at the same time, only the one whose victim was found first will be the blackened." do i have to HIDE kiyo then?? what vague wording

and in ndrv3, Monokuma only introduced the rule in ch3, knowing what happened to sow distrust but Gonta wouldn't want to get away with murder, so he wouldn't hide the body

Ves: but i also wanted to have more survivors :[

Sini: Mind you, Kokichi can still have that moment to himself cause Shuichi exists. But Gonta being a killer could do wonders for his character as well. If you have it where Kiyo kills Himiko and Gonta kills Kiyo, then it’s very likely Gonta could still get executed cause he’s the only culprit left alive.

then stick the the og idea, you can save Rantaro instead of Tsumugi

Ves: so like. himiko runs away from the crime scene, gonta tries to catch her, breaks her spine like a rabbit at the vet?

nothing's going to have the same impact, this is good because it's Gonta and she isn't even the culprit and he doesn't get executed

this is what hits the spot for character arcs for Tenko, Kokichi and Kaede (her last fucking nail) and anything else would be softening the blow, that's no what DR is about, hit them with the hammers

Ves: you're right and i hate it ○|￣|_ kokichi doesn't make up with gonta bc of his own pride and then gonta FUCKING DIES, and that feeds nicely into his forgiveness for shuuichi…i see the vision

(edited by Ves)

and to finish it off, my take on the Themes in the AU:

what an interesting theme for the entire season it paints, the power struggle, having people who try to define and control you, use you for entertainment vs the abused, overcoming, getting from under the shoe SWINGING, finding ways to be their own person. Tenko's crisis would fit in nicely, and have parallels with Kaede's arc downwards. They both start as leader types that might come over a little bit too strong, Tenko loses faith in herself, Kaede loses faith in people, Tenko gives up on leading and falls in step with others, Kaede gives up on others and starts acting on her own, behind their backs. Kaede wants to make the decision for everyone that life's no longer worth it. Angie wants to decide what's best for everyone. Kaito wants to decide their lives, treating them like puppets. But their lives are their own. And true leadership is guidance, not force. Shuichi is the tragic example, showing how important having community is to be able to stand a chance against abusive authority. well, for M1-U it might be more dying on her own terms at best, would be cool if she self-destructed after getting hauled-off to the execution of found a way to make the execution go differently than Monokuma intended

Sini: Shuichi had access to community but couldn't truly be a part of it due to how Kaito controlled him. You could maybe contrast that with Kokichi who goes through a positive arc of letting people in and teaming up with others more. Him representing what a good leader could look like

it was too little, too late for Shuichi

Sini: OOOOO! YEAH! That's perfect! She died doing her own thing and by her own hands OH SHIT! That's actually really poetic. Cause in canon, Kaito is the one who died on his own and not by Monokuma's hands. Now he's the villain who got beat by his own alternative actions

Ves: haha loser get thematically reversed

[extravalgant]

(leans in your askbox like someone leaning around the corner)

Excuse me but did I hear correctly that uhm... .. . . you wrote something about Duncan? Duncan GruncanWuncan? And that you might post that? (holds out both of my palms like a starving child) Could you perhaps.. . . .. maybe spare me a glance? Just a silly willy little peak? Bit of aaaaaa preview?

(nah I'm just playing you don't got to if you don't want to LMAAAOOOOO but if you ever do post that thing about Duncan I would LOVE to consume that 👀 because I love Duncan and I love other people's writing a normal healthy amount)

ITS ALRIGHT BAHAHA I WAS GOING TO POST IT EVENTUALLY!!! nothing too long or big since it was just a couple musings i did about the necromancers in game when i was on my break at work >_^

i have written about him here and a bit here if u do wanna see more heehee hoohoo

since its so short i can share it right here and right now but some parts of the responses (particularly morganthes) might be wrong or i misremembered something just on the basis that i was too lazy to go back and double check LOL

necromancers always have something to prove

malistaire drake, who sets out to prove that the dead can return — that love would conquer all, that he could make deities older than him, older than the current spiral, bend to his whims and wishes. 

morganthe, who sets out to prove that she can master astral magic, that if she can't, then she'll force it to. to prove to merle ambrose that she's still the capable young wizard that was proud of her, once upon a time. that she didn't deserve to be casted out by her peers and stripped of the magic she loved so dearly. that she could spin a better spiral, weave a better world. 

duncan grimwater, who sets out to prove that he is useful. that it's not just the wizard (now savior of the spiral, now arcanum scholar, now arcanum liaison) who has the potential to take their magic to new, greater heights. that he is loyal, that everyone deserves second chances – that he wants someone, anyone, to look at him and see the potential for something more brimming underneath. that he is worth all the effort.

malorn ashthorn, who sets out to prove that if there is no one else to turn to, then he is there. to prove that his stay at the end of the path, where the old death school used to be, was purposeful. to guide and shepherd new and fresh novices, to become the gentle hand that nurtures the knowledge of death and the way it is taught. to stay as a constant, in everyone’s life.

and you... what were you trying to prove? it seems that everywhere you turned, someone was always doubting your intentions. shadow and necromancy were two sides of the same coin, parallels in the way they demonstrated their magic. shadow took and took and took, and all necromancy wants is for you to feel safe, to feel secure. even if it means taking it from something else.

[intertexts]

(if it wasnt about jrwi my bad) COMPLETELY agree w the dissatisfaction post. i feel like ppl bitched when there wasnt any planned patreon campaigns for that stint between ts and tmk and now there are theyre... complaining again? i get missing riptide and not being interested in the new stuff (i personally have noyt been the biggest fan of wl and have not caught up) but like. they have a planned return. it may be a little bit away but bitching over More Stuff is not the way i think

yeah it seems silly 2 me !!! like....... again, i've been an ap show guy for years and a podcast guy for years but i still haven't seen riptide + got into pd in... march? so i really don't have any skin in this specific game. but obviously there's reasons why the main campaign isn't back yet? long-term campaigns take time and so much creative work and brain space & it's... like... a lot of people don't know the "add two weeks to any projected deadline" rule of thumb. it's so easy to overpromise a date and then go ohhh fuck that's not enough time LMAO. jrwi is a barely midsized amateur ap show where everyone at the table is also doing many other things. breaks and different scheduling and such are like... normal, & all their mini campaigns have been fun and well done i think!! i feel that going "well the ap show podcast is producing ap shows but not the ones I WANT so obviously it's going downhill..." is silly. i dunno.

+ i also get the white complaints but i will not lie with u. perhaps controversially i feel that is. normal? like,,,, look at i dunno. dimension 20, critrole, dndaddies, high rollers, whatever mainstream mostly white ap shows ur into. consistently, players will play characters of corresponding ethnicities for one of any like. handful of reasons that feel obvious to me. like obviously there is much to discuss there-- why don't white folks feel comfortable portraying characters of color in live actual play? there r like a billion answers off the top of my head with varying degrees of "okay well that fucking sucks" to "yeah i mean i guess i get that." (the ones that feel most obvious to me in relation to actual play-as-improv actual-play-as-theatre etc is "same reason it feels weird when white folks play characters of color in theater." [not making any statement of judgement either way for that specific one btw] & "scared of Portraying Something Badly and Not Doing It Well in front of a fairly large audience" [also something i feel conflicted on because 1) u can always make ur characters nonwhite. it is always allowed. but also 2) lived experience as a person of color will almost certainly always be different than lived experience being white and that Should inform a well developed character!! kill the ambiguously brown/"ethnic" character complex.]) u know? but it is certainly a much broader and field-wide related topic of discussion & not a "j/rwi being uniquely stupid white boys" one.

[spw-art]

If you have OCs... could you perhaps make a masterpost-link thing with them that I could save up to check them out/save to go back to if I forget anything on them? (Bonus points if u have potp/dragon ocs smiles)

ALSO your art slaps hell yeah 💪

Looks at you with big wet eyes. My tag #my oc should have all of em.

POTP is a universe in which I feel like it’s both difficult and impractical to make an oc for unless they exist before or after the story.

I fucking love dragons I haven’t drawn any dragons in so long. Besides Pokémon dragons.

And now I’ll see if I can remember all the tags of all my ocs. Or at least the main ones.

All of the links will just lead to their tag.

Harte Sekioka - Pokemon breeder and ex-magma admin from an amino roleplay that took place in 2017. Currently he’s used in a roleplay with friends because I didn’t want to make a new character for it. Just went ahead and decided he’s 20 years older now. Self-proclaimed sexmaster. Annoying. Single father of two. Should not be a father.

Claudia - A Ditto masquerading as a human from Harte’s universe. She’s helped him out with speeding up the process of selective Pokémon breeding. She’s also extremely important to Harte’s universe’s Team Magma.

Sif Saph - My BG3 character, I haven’t been able to play BG3 in forever. Not much info on him besides he’s the cousin of my first ever D&D character, Sif Krymsul. And he has blue dragon ancestry on his father’s side. Really really really hoping to draw him more I miss him so much.

Divo Success - Pokémon oc. He’s the platonic idea of a cowboy the same way The Stanley Parable’s Narrator is the platonic ideal of divorce. He hasn’t even seen a cow in his life. But he does have a gigantic horse that everyone is afraid of for her Stamina Iron Defense Body Press swagger. He has weird fucking abilities that allow him to be a western movie character. Every time he rides away on his horse it’s into the sunset. No matter what time of day it is. He can always appear in a cloud of dust or smoke. He operates entirely on rule of cool.

Daylight Under Outsmouth - A Call Of Cthulhu campaign that unfortunately never came to fruition. It’s about a universe being consumed by an oppressive darkness with the center of its terror being Earth. Things keep getting darker. Stars disappear from the sky. Aliens and extradimensional creatures find their way to earth as refugees. I reaaally want to make a comic or something with the story.

Aoife and Padraig - Characters made for my friend’s series called Analog Files. They’re the same person from different worlds. They’re married. They’re fucking weird. Aoife is dying of Cool Guy Cancer that’s turning her into a bug and then into a pile of flesh. She wants to be studied while she dies. Padraig loves studying her. They’re great.

Legally Distinct - A glam metal band made up of monsters from Universal Monster movies. I had made them for Art Fight, they’re quite silly, they have so much sex and do so much drugs. And rock n roll of course.

Nigellians - A type of creature made of music, glamor, passion, and magic. They’re born of human creation. Think of Eddie the Head if he was less powerful and less aggressive and more of a little fairy spirit.

Herb - An utau made by my friend NyxQuentiam who is voiced by me. I need to record a new voice bank so badly. He’s an artificial angel who harvests energy from other angels by killing and blending them. He then goes to the angel black market to turn mortals into angels: a high he should not be doing. But whatever, he’s having a good time.

Ward - Cringefail rich boy accidental racist fire genasi who sucks. Used him in a D&D campaign until it fizzled out due to the DM being weird. I don’t think I have much stuff with him here (I think it’s just one post) but he’s my beloved little shitstain. His sword is incredibly blunt. It does bludgeoning damage. He’s whining the entire time he’s adventuring.

Those are the main guys. Hope that helps! :)

Always feel free to ask more questions! Yippee yahoo yippeeeee