#vessel simon

[scribbledghost]

I've gotten firmly sucked into the SIeep Token pit so I present you: Simon "Ghost" Riley who is a vessel for... something. He's not quite sure what - it's not as though he's ever been particularly religious. But he constantly gets the distinct feeling that he's not alone in his own body. That something else can control him whenever it deems fit. Something old.

He becomes his moniker - a ghost. Something that's not quite there but tangible all the same. At first, it's business as usual; he uses his new "gifts" to help the 141 complete their tasks, gliding into places he shouldn't be able to get to, phasing in and out of reality when he risks being spotted.

Then one day, when he's on leave, he spots you. And something shifts.

Whoever - whatever - is riding in his meatsuit with him all but drags him to you. Thankfully he still has enough presence of mind to phase out of existence before scaring the daylights out of you.

But the entity residing in his body has demands. And one demand is that he follow you home. Simon is a strong man, but even he's powerless against the eldritch thing in his bones.

Though, part of sharing a body with an ancient deity is also sharing its emotions (whenever it happens to have them, which is not often). Simon feels deep affection settle into his gut as he hides in the shadows of your home. A protective aura surrounds him as you sleep.

Why this Old God has chosen you, an average civilian human, to be so enamored with is beyond Simon. But he doesn't question it. He simply goes along with the being's desires - especially as time goes on and Simon begins to lose track of where the deity's wants end and his begin. The being's desire to protect you and care for you melds with his own.

You still can't see him. Not yet. He's very purposeful about that. There must be a right time, right place, right circumstance. But you can feel him. A light brush across your cheek, a sudden ease of your anxiety out of nowhere, a presence at your back as you sleep.

Simon will protect you. He will care for you. He will love you.

Whether it is because the creature using his body as a vessel commands it, or because of his own free will, he isn't sure. He supposes it doesn't matter.

[mr-malumm]

Cringetober day 20: tumblr sexywoman!!!!!!

Golbetty my beloved

[theshortstack]

something about masked men…like damn

I would let them run me over for fun

Still learning about these so

[betweenstorms]

Alright, hear me out, Simon Riley working for Sleep Token as their head of security.

Let me explain.

His life had always been defined by precision and control, by the kind of discipline that didn’t falter in the face of chaos. But retirement had come swiftly and unceremoniously, a necessity more than a choice. The regimented life of the SAS had ended, leaving him adrift in the civilian world, and that felt far more alien than any hostile territory he’d ever set foot in.

Somehow he found himself in the chaotic underbelly of the entertainment industry, a space filled with the metallic clatter of stagehands, the distant roar of soundchecks, and the pulse of a metal band steadily climbing the ladder to global fucking acclaim. And hell, the stage lights, the screaming crowds, the thrum of bass reverberating through his chest, none of it had ever factored into the life he’d imagined for himself.

But life had a funny way of taking plans and shredding them into something unrecognisable.

Simon still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here.

When he left the military he thought he’d bury himself in some quiet corner of anonymity, far from the public eye. Civvy life was cruel to men like him, and for months, he drifted between meaningless gigs, his skill set too sharp for ordinary work, too lethal for the mundane.

Then came the call.

Sleep Token’s manager had been a contact of a contact, someone who knew someone who’d served with him, someone who’d heard about him through the strange network of ex-military types finding unconventional second careers. The irony hadn’t been lost on Simon when he was first approached. A band draped in anonymity, each member masked and named only by cryptic titles, needed security. And who better to protect them than a man who’d spent his life hiding behind his own mask?

Fucking unbelievable.

Somehow Simon had ticked every box without realising it, and before he knew it, he was standing in a smoky room, hands tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans as he sized up the bloody Muppet Show who would earn his salary.

He’d scoffed at the absurdity of it back then.

It wasn’t his scene. Far from it.

And yet, something in him, a combination of pragmatism and the faint flicker of intrigue, told him to give it a shot. He was financially screwed anyway. And the pay was good, much better than what he earned as a high-ranking officer, the anonymity suited him just fine, and the job, strangely enough, kind of aligned with his skill set. Therefore, after a few days of mulling it over, he said yes.

Simon had learned to adapt quickly. This job—head of security, an overqualified bodyguard as he liked to call it—had its own rhythm, distinct but no less intense than the one he’d lived before.

Venues became his battlefields, and he mapped them with a soldier’s precision. Potential threats were assessed the way he’d once scoped out enemy positions. His vigilance rarely wavered, whether he was walking the perimeter of a festival or standing stoic in a dim corridor as Vessel rehearsed another one of his verses. To Simon, these kinds of threats were laughable compared to the ones he’d faced during his service, however, it wasn’t without its challenges. Crowds could be unpredictable, and fame had a way of drawing out the unhinged.

He took to his duties with the same precision and discipline he’d honed in the SAS. The members trusted him implicitly, and that trust was something Simon didn’t take lightly. They called him Riley and treated him like a constant, the way you’d treat the sun rising or the tide coming in.

Reliable, steady, unshakable.

At first, the job was simple enough. The usual security gig, albeit with a touch of bloody theatricality. However, fame has a way of turning everything upside down, even for someone like Simon.

It started subtly.

Fans started to notice him too. At first, it was just a handful of comments on social media, like “Who’s the guy in the black balaclava?”, but it grew from there. They were fascinated by him, by the idea of a masked man guarding a masked band. He was an enigma within an enigma, and the internet just loved enigmas. It wasn’t until Lynsey Ward, one of the backup vocalists, shoved her phone in his face one day that he realised how far it had gone.

The backstage in Paris hummed with a peculiar kind of energy and anticipation that Simon had grown accustomed to since taking the job. It was a strange but one of a kind lifestyle, this one, filled with hurried footsteps, clinking equipment, and the muffled roar of soundchecks vibrating through walls. Simon lingered near the members as they cycled through their usual pre-show rituals.

IV sat in a corner, his mask tilted upward as if in contemplation, while Vessel sprawled on a battered sofa, his makeup halfway done, face a patchwork of metallic hues. II drummed his fingers idly on his thighs, the rhythmic taps almost lost beneath the din, while III sat near the makeup station, enjoying the rare moment of downtime between soundcheck, preparations and the main show, reading something on his phone.

Simon leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his black balaclava masking his expression but not the faint lines of tension in his shoulders.

His sharp eyes swept over the room, mentally running through his usual checklist again that concerned necessary security measures. Entry points, exits, personnel movements, everything was accounted for, everything secure. The monotony of the job had become second nature to him, though he still approached each night like it might unravel at any moment.

Lynsey sat nearby, waiting for her turn in the makeup chair. She was scrolling on her phone, just like almost everyone in the room, one leg crossed over the other, her posture relaxed but her smile mischievous. Simon didn’t notice her at first, he had his priorities, but her voice cut through the quiet hum of activity like a knife.

“Riley,” she called out, her tone playful. “You’ve got to see this.”

Simon didn’t move.

“Busy,” he muttered, his voice low and even.

Lynsey ignored him entirely, already rising from her seat and crossing the room with her phone in hand. “Come on, just watch,” she insisted, shoving the screen toward him. The glow of the phone illuminated her face, her grin widening as she anticipated his reaction.

Simon sighed, an irritated, tired sound that came from somewhere deep in his chest.

“What now?”

Reluctantly, Simon uncrossed his toned arms and stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. The screen showed a video, a quick montage of him, no less. Snippets of him walking through crowds, standing by the stage, his balaclava catching the light just so as if he were a character in some fucking noir film. The background music swelled dramatically, and captions popped up over the footage, saying “If I ever get kicked out of a venue, it better be by HIM. Imagine getting manhandled by those arms.”

Simon blinked, his frown deepening beneath the mask.

“The hell’s this?” he asked, his tone flat but tinged with suspicion.

“It’s a thirst trap,” Lynsey said, as if that explained everything, her laughter barely contained.

Simon stared at her blankly. “The fuck's a thirst trap?”

Lynsey cackled, delighted. “Oh, you’re a relic, aren’t you? It’s a thing on TikTok. People post these little edits when they fancy someone. And let me tell you, mate, there are loads of these floating about. Like, ‘look at this mysterious bloke, isn’t he fit?’ That sort of thing.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “TikTok?”

From across the room, III chimed in, his grin wicked as he leaned back in his seat. “Nowhere to hide, Riley,” he said, his tone teasing. “You’re a proper celebrity now.”

Simon huffed through his nose, a sound that carried more weight than words. He glanced at the phone again, now firmly lodged in Lynsey’s outstretched hand, the screen flashing more of his edited movements cut and spliced into dramatic slow-motion. He stepped back slightly, folding his arms across his broad chest once more, muttering something about “kids and their bollocks” under his breath as he did.

Lynsey quipped, her grin only widening. “Face it, the internet’s gone mad for you. They’ve even got a hashtag—‘#SecurityDaddy.’”

Simon flinched, his head snapping back toward her like she’d just admitted to committing a war crime.

This made IV join the fray, a water bottle in hand as he ambled over. “Oi, show us the goods. I wanna see what’s got good ol’ Riley in a strop.”

Lynsey eagerly turned her phone to IV, who leaned over her shoulder, squinting at the screen with a wide grin already forming on his painted face. The video played again, the dramatic slow-motion edits of Simon walking through a crowd, his balaclava catching the stage lights as though he’d been directed by a Hollywood cinematographer.

IV let out a sharp laugh, nearly choking on his water.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of black paint on them. “‘Security Daddy,’ they’re callin’ you? That’s golden.”

Lynsey snorted and held up another video. “Oh, you’ve got no idea. Look at this one, ‘If he told me to leave the venue, I’d say thank you.’ And here’s another, ‘Is it weird to want to be tackled by him?’ You’ve got your own bloody fanbase, Riley.”

Simon’s gloved hand scrubbed down his masked face as if he could physically push away the madness unfolding around him. “You lot are takin’ the piss.”

“This one’s my favourite,” Lynsey said, clicking on yet another video. The screen lit up with a heavily edited montage of Simon in action—his eyes scanning a crowd, his broad shoulders cutting through a sea of fans, the flash of his gloved hand directing someone to stand back. The video was captioned with “I don’t know his name, but he can ruin my life anytime.”

Vessel, who’d been silent for most of the exchange, finally sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded their head of security with an amused expression. “It’s the mask, mate,” he stated. “It's like catnip. People project onto what they can’t see. You could lean into it, y’know. Like us. Give the people what they want. Maybe throw in a wink next time you’re standin’ by the stage.”

Simon sent Vessel a look so sharp it could have peeled paint off the walls.

II, who had been leaning casually against the wall next to them, joined in with a huge grin. “Yeah, might as well embrace it. You’re part of the act now.”

Simon’s glare intensified. “You wanna end up wearin’ your fuckin’ drumsticks where the sun don’t shine?”

II raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin never left his face. “Don’t tempt me.” 

The banter escalated quickly after that.

The room practically buzzed with the gleeful chaos that Simon’s presence had unwittingly unleashed. IV was now scrolling through the comments on one of the fan edits, reading them aloud to the room with unbridled glee, each of them taking the piss out of him in the way only people comfortable with each other could.

Strangely enough, it reminded him of Johnny, a familiar mix of camaraderie and mischief that tugged at a memory he hadn’t expected to surface. It stirred an unexpected pang of nostalgia in Simon, a faint echo of Johnny’s effortless knack for turning every moment into a laugh at someone else’s expense—usually his.

“He could snap me like a glow stick and I’d thank him for the privilege,’” II read out loud, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, this one’s pure gold—‘Not to be dramatic, but I would sell my soul just to hear him say ‘move along’ in person.’”

That did it.

Simon unfolded from the wall with a deliberate grace, his imposing presence rippling through the room like a cold wind sweeping across still water. The breadth of his shoulders, the unyielding lines of his form clad in black, cast him less as a mere bodyguard and more as some silent, vengeful sentinel. His shadow stretched across the room, swallowing the laughter as it reached II and IV, Lynsey’s phone still clutched between them.

“You’ve had your fun,” he rumbled, his voice steeped in the kind of authority honed through years of barking orders in the SAS. “Now knock it off, before I confiscate that phone.”

“Go on, Riley,” IV shot back with a grin, entirely unafraid. “Confiscate me next.”

Simon didn’t dignify that with a response.

He turned away from them, a quiet dismissal, and walked toward the door. His hand reached for the handle, his gloved fingers brushing against the cool metal. But just as he was about to leave, a voice cut through the air again, the familiar, teasing tone of III echoing in the now-muted chaos of the room.

“Don’t forget to give us a little twirl on your way out, Security Daddy.”

Bloody hell.

If this gig didn’t kill him, these muppets just might.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

[microwaveable-squish-cheese13]

🪐 comfort.

something else little !!

WARNINGS: none, js fluff

sometimes he feels like you are his very own, personal sun.

his entire world- his universe revolves around you and only you. when he wakes up beside you and sees the way the sun shines on your skin, kissing each and every freckle and scar that adorns your beautiful skin.

each sunrise and sunset is filled with you and only you.

your eyes are the only thing he could ever need. the feeling of your skin against his drives him crazy. and what makes it all so much better is the fact that you're all his.

no one can touch you but him.

the fact that his heart beats every day only for you is what drives him to do what he does everyday. the way you trace his scars and kiss his face like you'll die if you don't. the way you sob into him when night rolls around and your life is just too taxing...

he loves you. is that so hard to imagine?

he adores you.

his entire being is dedicated to you.

you own the breath in his lungs, the blood in his veins and the skin on his bones just the same he owns each and every inch of you. you are the only sound he hears. the way your voice calls his name when you can't open the goddamn jar of peanut butter just does something to him.

every time he thinks of you he wants to cry.

how did he deserve you? a monster such as himself paired with the being he sees as earth's very own goddess plucked straight from the paintings of old.

the way your body feels against his in the middle of the night... the way his hands cradle your body as sobs tear from your throat and out into the quiet night..

you are the only thing he sees. his eyes only land on you. when he thinks of perfection you are what comes to mind.

when you come home and lay in bed, watching the fan spin beside him as you babble on and on about your day. if it were anyone else he wouldn't give a single fuck.

but it's you.

you are the one he wants to spend the rest of eternity with. you could very well have cut his heart out and spit on it and he'd have thanked you.

you are his sun, his moon, his stars, his entire life and body and universe.

when he blinks he sees you.

you are the only feeling under his fingertips he would kill to have. his hands running over each curve and dip and imperfection you have to offer is his entire life. the way you look up at him and just smile would make any man crumble- and that's exactly what he wanted to do.

crumble into you and stay there for all of the rest of mother earth's life.

check the tags for who this would go with !!

[honestlydarkprincess]

will you be calling?

[beelzebubgaylord]

MY BABYYYYY

@vessel215 I hope this triggers your soul.

[sittinalone]

I completely fell in love with sleep token no joke

[vesselai]

Okay listen I love petrigrof. They're so tragic Yuri coded but also it's fucking insane that Betty jumped through a portal, left Simon ALL ALONE while he still could've been saved from the crown or Betty could've fixed it, because the future Simon seemed fine and not crazy. Like does anybody think about how fucked up that was. They're both like. Deeply flawed people and that's the point of adventure time that everyone is deeply flawed and fucked up and you can grow for it but holy shit Betty wtf.

And then she proceeded to push her DYING HUSBAND off of the flying rug. And fly off to fix the crown she was just running away from.

I'm sure there's some shitty stuff about Simon I could find or that'll be revealed in fiona and cake but nobody talks about how deeply fucked their relationship was from the start and how codependent they seemed to become somehow

[scribbledghost]

More Vessel!Ghost cause y'all seemed to enjoy him. Inspiration: "Mine" by Sleep Token.

Mine.

The Deity's voice echoes in his head as Simon keeps vigil over your sleeping form.

Mine.

He wonders if you know you've been claimed by something older than the earth you walk upon. He wonders if you know the collision course you and he are on, crashing into one another, carefully orchestrated by the Deity that commands Simon's body.

You've begun to see him during your waking hours. Not fully, but you've begun to get glimpses of his form in your peripheral vision. Wisps of ethereal smoke, a vague approximation of a human silhouette. Simon wishes he had the courage to appear fully. To truly complete the bond he's managed to form with you without being paralyzed by his own mind. But the thing housed in him holds him back for now.

Despite keeping Simon's desires at bay, the Deity offers him certain advantages. Certain abilities to aid him in performing its will.

He meets you in your dreams.

He scares you at first, this much is evident in the way you react. Simon isn't sure how he appears to you in this moment - if he's more human than vessel, or if he's some amalgamated thing, caught between mortal and supernatural. He supposes the way you startle at the vision of him indicates the latter.

When he speaks, the words are not his. The voice emanating from his throat sounds like his own mixed with a thousand others.

"Do not fear me, heart. I will not harm you."

It echoes through the empty space.

"...What are you?" you ask softly.

Simon considers the answer. Of course, the Deity is in control here, filtering his desires into something more palatable for it.

"Yours", it eventually answers through Simon. "As you are mine."

His body moves of its own accord, reaching a hand to you. Simon notices that it's completely blackened, flecked in starlight just beneath the skin.

You hesitate.

"I won't hurt you."

This time, the Deity lets its vessel speak for himself.

And you take his hand.

[sugaredbloodcells]

:3 >.< xD :o) for whoever u want!!

:3 - Who was your first f/o?

none other than steve harrington! i don’t really remember if there was one before him, but he’s the first i strongly started making up “if we were dating…” scenarios with.

>.< - Do you have any xenogender/microlabel headcanons for your f/o?

(basing this off of like… asexual being a main label and something like demisexual being a microlabel. is that how microlabels work?? a lot of my f/os have these though so i won't go into great detail, so feel free to ask about specific ones if you'd like.)

stu: omnisexual (someone who is attracted to all genders where gender plays a role in one's attraction) and apresromantic (someone who experiences romantic attraction only after another form of attraction is felt).

i feel like stu is equally attracted to men and women (i won't be mentioning nonbinary people, sorry), but he knows there's a notable difference between his feelings with each. with girls, he's softer and more romantic, plays the role of a very stereotypical movie boyfriend. he loves it! he does! he just doesn't feel that same way with other boys. with those relationships, he can let out rougher sides of himself, like playfighting or knifefighting if the other agrees. he does not have to be so gentle, he knows men can understand his emotions better, at least the rougher parts. he overall feels more comfortable with men in an emotional sense.

and on the apresromantic side of things, he has to have some kind of other feelings first, like stated before. he has to have a friendship with them (platonic attraction), or think that they look really cool (aesthetic attraction), or would want to be physically close to them (sensual attraction), or would want to date them after they hook-up (sexual attraction). he can't just want to date someone based on very loosely based things. he may be a whore, but not that much of one!

stevo: heteroflexible (someone who is primarily hetero but may occasionally be attracted to the same gender) and reciprosexual (someone who only experiences sexual attraction when they know the other person is sexually attracted to them first).

stevo mainly likes girls. he had never thought of this before bob's death, but afterwards of it, while figuring himself out, he started to realize not all boys think about kissing pretty boys sometimes. he started to realize that during punk shows or parties, he'd rarely see a boy in the crowd that he thought was pretty in the way a girl is pretty. when he'd lay to go to sleep at night, he would wonder what it would've been like to kiss him, maybe hook-up with him in the bathroom, like he had done many times with girls in the past. yeah... he figured out that wasn't the case for a lot of men.

i'm basing him being reciprosexual on the fact that we only saw stevo be with sandy after they were already together, meaning she probably wanted him first? at least, that's how it happened to me. and with brandy, he said something like "so... you like me?" which to me, means he needed the confirmation for he himself to feel anything. this is even more supported because they end up kissing after this. if he feels this way romantically, he definitely feels this way sexually too. he needs to be wanted first.

tim: hyperromantic.

i see him as the clingiest motherfucker to ever live. he hangs off of his partner (me). he cannot live without being attached at the hip. he's fully draped over me 24/7. and he wants to makeout at any given chance, right in front of people. he doesn't care who sees, he just wants the closeness all. the. fucking. time.

vessel: favperromantic (someone with bpd who only experiences romantic attraction to their favorite person) and hypersexual aro (someone who is hypersexual AND aromantic).

vess becomes obsessive very quickly, which is why he only feels romantic feelings for his favorite person. the obsession and dependency were already there, so it was almost like it was a matter of time. his bpd largely effects his romantic feelings in this sense, it can mend or break him in the matter of moments. the goods are really good and the bads are the end of the world worthy. moods are very dependent upon his fp, obviously, so romantic gestures make or break this as well.

this man has a hiiiiiigh sex drive... like holy FUCK. a lot of his thoughts are taken up by sexual acts, even if he means them in a loving sense. he loves to think about how he can pleasure, how badly he always wants to make his partner feel good, begs them for it quite often. but with being favperromantic, this places him on the aro spectrum, so therefore he's hypersexual aro.

ian: hypersexual.

based on the "sex" in the movie, i think he's very experienced in what was asked of him. he either thinks about these things a lot, or he acts them out a lot. he loves creating scenes, whether real or in his head. it's a happy place for him, somewhere he feels the most himself. he needs this, needs it to be a rather large part of what he needs from a relationship, or multiple sexual partners, or hook-ups, or needs from himself.

simon: hypersexual.

when does simon not think about sex? it's almost like an obsession to him. he adores sex, adores it. much like ian, he loves to create scenes, real or in his head (he much prefers them to be real, he feels a bit pathetic to get himself off to such things). it feels euphoric for him, a place to fully put himself into, a good mold for him. he hates fitting into boxes, but sex is a box he doesn't mind. it gets his feelings out in all the right ways, ways music can't do for him even.

trait: demifluxsexual (someone who is demisexual but has fluctuating sexual attraction based on emotional connections. they can still have an emotional bond with another person, but the fluctuation and intensity of their sexual attraction is uncontrollable).

has a weird relationship with sex in general. she often feels almost completely asexual. i think their demifluxsexuality is more like being acespike with demisexual being added to that.

astarion: hyperromantic.

look at him and tell me he is not hyperromantic! do i need to explain this? he dotes on his partner constantly, it's unrenlentless praise. all he wants is for his darling, his pet, his sweet, to know exactly how much he adores them. he never grows tired of it, not once. he doesn't let up on it. he lets them know loud and clear just how appreciative he is that they've chosen him to love, to care for. even through disbelief, he doesn't go ungrateful. this isn't to mention how much he melts at any praise or recognition back. he will gladly accept compliment after compliment. he loves attention from his love, any at all that he can get.

art: favperplatonic (someone with bpd who only experiences platonic attraction to their favorite person).

art deals with the struggle to have any type of attraction to anyone at all. i mean, unless you would consider wanting to murder someone a type of attraction? besides, that's for his own enjoyment anyways, it's not like he picks anyone for any specific reason. so, the closest thing he can get to a type of "attraction" is through his fp, which is something that's hard to understand with his lack of attraction. though, his fp extends off of who a safe person is for him with his avpd.

glenn: coeoromantic (someone who will only experience romantic attraction to someone if they developed that feeling upon meeting them the first time, it's similar to the concept of "love at first sight").

basing this off of his relationship with maggie. he legit fell in love with her the first time he saw her, that's enough evidence for this alone!!! he loved her on first meet alone, and those feelings only grew after getting to know her more.

xD - Who would be your f/o’s favorite Creepypasta and why? What about yours?

admittedly i do not know creepypastas like… mostly at all. i only know a few by name and appearance. so these will be made on basic knowledge! sorry for being off character!

art: laughing jack. i watched this art timelapse video on youtube a couple days ago of laughing jack and i immediately thought "art would love this guy!" and it's totallllly not because they look vaguely similar. art isn't vain! (lying)

vessel: based on the photo used on the website i'm referencing right now... vess would like seedeater. very creature! or zalgo.

simon: very basic... would like slenderman i think! he could get into that one slenderman game i think. i can imagine him playing it and me giggling whenever he gets jumpscared. him pretending to not be scared would be funny and also him yelling when he dies would be funny too.

wade: would also like slenderman! he thinks the concept is kinda a little lame but deep down is like "yeah... it's kinda cool" would like splendorman more.

:o) - What or who do you think your f/o would kin?

art: THE JOKER! this totallyyyyy isn’t because art’s actor loves the joker and it’s a dream role of his. totally not based upon that at all… but i do think art would see himself in the joker. could be a special interest to him kind of deal.

vessel: kins cryptids, ghosts/spirits, cats, sometimes dogs. he's very creature in the woods. it was the life he was meant to have.

i am severely blanking on this one, sorry!

:^* - Who would be your f/o’s favorite character from My Little Pony and why? What about yours?

adding this one on my own because i really want to answer it! again though, i do not know mlp like… mostly at all. i only know basically the mains by name and appearance. so these will be made on basic knowledge! sorry if this is very off character!

simon: APPLEJACK!!!! he would fucking haaate to admit to this, but the pony with a cowboy hat has his heart.

vessel: twilight sparkle! he likes that she's purple. would be sad none of the main ponies use red in a good way that he would like better.

stu: rainbow dash (gay!!!!!!)

steve: fluttershy... finds her reeeeeally cute <3 he would love her so much, thinks she is the cutest thing ever. has argued with both erica and dustin about which pony is the cutest.

astarion: rarity!!! he thinks she looks fancy and cool, so he thinks she's the coolest because of fancy. blame his vampire-isms!

art: rainbow dash! or maybe pinkie pie? he would point at the tv and grin at me, then look at the tv, then back to me making heart hands at the character while tilting his head to the side all lovey. is very cute about it, to be honest.

wade: sooooo pinkie pie. like COME ON! he calls yukio this so...? and he loves yukio. it's affectionate.

I FORGOT TO ANSWER MY FAVORITE!!! my favorite is rainbow dash! that pony is transmasc as fuck <33

[countessofbiscuit]

worship 💀

sleep of duty or something …

tattoo asset by the amazing @sleepyconfusedpotato

[maelstrom007]

I've got the @ghouljams Fae!au brainrot, and I needed to write more about my OC Mal. This time, featuring ghoul's OC Love, and Fae!Ghost. Thank you so much for letting me borrow them! I hope I do them justice, and they're not too out of character. While it's implied that Mal already knows Witch (I think their friendship started well before this) I thought this was an interesting way to bring Mal into the darlings and 141's sphere of influence.

I hope you enjoy!

Mal stood at the far wall of their crafting space, studying their old leather bound notebook. It was an account of every project they’d ever undertaken here at the shop, filled to the brim with notes. Currently, it was open to the last commission on their list for this quarter, someone wanting a garment that would fill them with confidence after a particularly difficult time in their life. Before them stood several cones of yellow and orange cotton that they had dyed with this intention in mind. Now to decide what it would become. Mal closed their eyes, imagining the customer in their head, how their shoulders had hunched and neck sunk involuntarily. They needed something to straighten up, bring some height back into their frame. A jacket would do them nice. 

Mal took the cones to their warping board, a square frame with pegs hanging on the wall, and readied the yarn. Before they began Mal closed their eyes once again, taking deep breaths and pressing their bare feet firmly into the floor as they grounded themselves. Once they were settled, they imagined in their mind what their customer would look like in this new jacket. How their face would be full of warmth and joy, how much taller they would stand, the swagger and spring in their step as they walked. Mal let the feeling wash over them, filling themselves up with the giddy confidence. Full of energy, Mal began the warping process, tying an orange yarn to one peg and wrapping it around sequential pegs until it was as long as their fabric needed to be, then doubling back and following that same path back. 

Maintaining this confident headspace Mal continued on, occasionally switching between colors to create a shimmering ombre across the warp. This warp will act as the vertical threads when they weave the fabric later on tonight. Already they could see the gentle halo radiating off of the threads as the intent gets buried deeper and deeper. By the end it’ll be radiant like the sun. 

The slight jostle of someone attempting to open the front door made Mal accidentally skip a peg, breaking them out of their concentration. Immediately the halo of the current length they were working on dimmed, forcing them to backtrack and do their best to bring themselves back into the confident headspace. They didn’t really care if someone was at the door, there was no reason for anyone to be there and thus no reason to give them the time of day. Pick up was always reserved for the last week of the month, and they hadn’t pulled aside the heavy curtains hanging from the gutters that prevented humans from seeing the shop, and warned Fae from entering without an invitation. No, those get pulled when Mal’s commission list was empty and ready for new customers. Which it wasn’t. 

The jostle returns again and only a well timed breath keeps the bubbling anger from making its way into the warp. They tied it off and stepped away with a sigh. They couldn’t afford to keep having their concentration disrupted by the mystery person at the door. 

Opening the door reveals a girl, smiling brightly, “Hey, I think your doors locked.”

“It’s not,” Mal replies. Not in the physical sense anyway. Witch’s wards are strong and clever like that. Although they will have to check up on the curtains outside. Nobody should have been able to find their shop with them pulled shut, although now there was a clear section that was pulled to the side where the girl seemingly forced her way through. Those damn Moth’s were probably nibbling on it again. 

The girl stares at them for a moment, as if expecting them to say more. Evidently the silence becomes too long as she presses on, “Aren’t you going to let me in?” 

“Why would you want in?”

“Because you’re a business? And I’d like to do business here?” The exasperated look on the girl's face is enough to set Mal’s teeth on edge. 

“Pushy aren’t you?”

“Yes. Now come on, I want to get something nice for my boyfriend and he’s going to pick me up any minute now.”

Something about the girl’s big, insistent eyes made Mal’s resolve crack, “Fine. You’ve caught me in an indulgent mood.” Mal turned around, walking back towards the counter, “What are you thinking of?”

When the girl didn’t immediately follow they turned around again, only to see her seemingly stuck mid stride, foot unable or unwilling to touch the hardwood floor of the storefront. Curious. The girl seemed perfectly human to them, but looks could be deceiving. 

“You’re welcome in, for this transaction,” her foot fell with a solid thump, and she continued walking in as if nothing had happened.

“So I’d like to get something for my boyfriend.”

Mal settled in and flipped their notebook to a new page, “So you’ve said.”

“Yeah, well I know that he likes to cover up a lot, but recently his gloves have been falling apart and what with Winter coming up I don’t want his hands to be cold-”

As the girl talked, Mal kept a close eye on her chest, watching for any tethers that shone brighter than the others. Humans, and sometimes Fae, had a hard time deciding what their real intent was for a gift, and sifting through their tethers was always easier than getting it out of them through words. Except that the more this girl talked, the more her chest started to light up like a god damn christmas tree. She was tangled and pierced and snared on so many hooks it was almost distressing, and one in particular burned so bright it almost hurt Mal’s eyes to look at.

“Excuse me,” Mal interrupted her, “but may I?” they said, pointing towards the brightly glowing tether at the center of her chest. 

“Uh, sure,” she said, slightly confused but trusting all the same. 

Reaching out they gently snagged the tether with the tip of their pinky finger. Even with that small amount of contact all they could think of was LOVE LOVE LOVE. So much love, and passion, and desperation, and protectiveness. 

Within the next second, Mal’s ears popped as air that used to be in the space behind the girl forcibly vacated in favor of someone apparating there in its place. Mal stumbled back, eyebrows raised in shock as the absolutely massive fucker came into focus. Piercing brown eyes peered out through a pale white skull mask, with one hand wrapping protectively around the girl's chest and the other landing solidly on the table creating an effective barrier between them and Mal. 

“What’s wrong, Love?” The man's voice was deep, and although he was addressing the girl, (the capital L was obvious in his tone) his eyes never left Mal’s. 

“Well I was going to get you a surprise gift, but I guess that’s not happening anymore.”

“Why were they touching you.”

Mal straightened, “I received permission, if that is your concern. I was only attempting to see what her true intent was for this gift.” Despite the way he was glaring, Mal could tell this man didn’t think they were a threat, at least not physically.

On closer inspection the guys gloves did look as if they were threadbare, ready to fall apart if a stiff breeze came through. He was fae, no doubt about it, and even his human form commanded respect. Mal could see the shimmery effect of the fae’s obscura, hinting at a much larger and much more. . .sinister silhouette. They could do better, break up the outline of his body like camo on a soldier's fatigues, but something told them that he wouldn’t appreciate being upsold at the moment.

“And what was my intention?” Love looked almost giddy to know, leaning over the counter top with a manic grin on her face. 

Mal quickly looked between Love and the man, trying to gauge the pro’s and con’s of this whole interaction. 

“Go on,” he said. 

“Well, it seemed like Love here wanted to stake a claim on you. To possess and protect you as much as you do her.” 

Like a seesaw, Love rocked backwards into the man's embrace, wrapping her arms up around his neck and giggling, “Yeah, I guess I am a little obsessed with you.”

For once he looked a little bit out of his depth, and once again Mal almost had to shield their eyes from the sun that seemed to light up between the two. Jesus these two were co dependent as all hell. 

“So,” Mal said, desperate to get this conversation over with, “any design you want in particular?”

“Oh, right, I think his gloves should be dark black, with white details that look like finger and hand bones. And can you make them really warm and soft? Am I asking for too much? You’ll tell me if it’s too much right? Also-”

Mal dutifully took notes, not even attempting to get a word in edgewise as Love rambled on. Briefly looking up, Mal saw the masked man curled contentedly around and over top Love’s much smaller form like a mountain sized cat. It was hard to find him intimidating now that his eyes were full of love and adoration. 

What a strange pair indeed.

[itwasntaphasema]

MASTERLIST

Smut-💋

Angst-🖤

Fluff-🧸

Request-🎀

I mostly write angst and fluff.

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Vessel (sleep token)

Desire -💋🎀

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Alex turner

Are you tired of me? -🖤

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Leon Kennedy

Coming soon…

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The Umbrella Academy

Im not taking any requests currently but be free to ask simple questions or ideas.

[microwaveable-squish-cheese13]

✧.. information !!

ੈ♡˳ : hello!! my name is eden and this is my blog! i'm a july leo annnndd my favorite color is red, my favorite animal would be deer or like cats or something idk

ੈ♡˳ : my interests currently are outer banks, call of duty mw2, avatar (big blue people, not the last airbender), stranger things, hazbin hotel/helluva boss, jujitsu kaisen, marvel, challengers, sleep token, good girls, dune, harry potter, arcane, across/into the spiderverse, moon knight, the umbrella academy, annndd young sheldon !!!

ੈ♡˳ : i write for ... simon "ghost" riley, könig, art donaldson, steve harrington, viktor, literally any of the jjk men, miguel o'hara, loki laufeyson, bucky barnes, five hargreeves, paul atreides, marc spector, steven grant, vessel, ii, iii, iv, jj maybank, jake sully, or neteyam :)

ੈ♡˳ : i write angst, fluff, and whatever else besides smut bc idk how to write that .. 😻

ੈ♡˳ : aaannnnddd requests are open!!

.. and that's it !! goodbye for now, lovelies !!! ..

[dhampiravidi]

if Simon sang, he'd either have the voice of Corey Taylor (Slipknot) or Vessel (Sleep Token)--