#more design musings from the other blog

[miupow]

beeeestie i am a new follower aaaand im just in love w ur blog 😩❤️

plllllsssss talk about husband!skz, i just cant go to sleep without this on mind 😫😫😫

you can include nsfw if you are comfortable with

˗ˏˋ ★ ― HUSBAND!STRAY KIDS HEADCANONS .ᐟ

╰┈⪼ ot8 x fem!reader ✦ fluff + smut , NSFW minors do not interact !

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 。。。public sex , unprotected sex , creampies , breeding kink , marking , public sex , spanking , bondage , dom/sub dynamics , brat tamer minho , sex toys , shibari , oral (f. rec) , squirting , voice kink , oral (m. rec) mention , orgasm control , pet play sort of

notes from lia。ouuu husbant. my favorite genre of skz.. hehe thank u for the follow!! i hope u enjoy this.. it makes me so happy to hear that u love my blog ^^

SFW :

husband!bangchan who acts like he's your sugar daddy on top of being your husband. you could ask for the entire nation of korea and he'd try his best to give it to you. anything you want and more, it doesn't matter the price; chan just loves spoiling his baby girl. designer bags and jewelry, pretty clothes and expensive dinners... you don't even have to ask.

husband!minho who loves to cook with you, even though he acts like he doesn't. when he's complaining about you being in his way and making snide remarks about your culinary skills, it's out of endearment instead of actual irritation. he just finds it so funny when you throw your own retorts back at him, pouting in that way he adores so much <3 he just loves riling you up

husband!changbin who loves to work out with you! he sees it as a bonding activity, something for the two of you to do together to spend time with eachother. he helps you with all of your stretches, you spot eachother when you need to, exchanging kisses inbetween sets <3 holding his feet while he does sit ups, kissing u every time he comes up hehe

husband!hyunjin who views you as his greatest muse. his favorite subject to draw or paint is your pretty face, your smile his favorite to photograph. he shows you some of it, but most he keeps for himself-- for his eyes only, to admire when he's away on tour and he misses you.

husband!jisung who has an endless amount of inside jokes with you from all of your years together, showing up in gag gifts and one-liners that make you double over in laughter. ji loves to make you laugh, it’s his favorite sound in the entire world <3 he’s always doing something silly in hopes that you’ll give him a pretty giggle, smile and roll your eyes, make his heart skip a beat in his chest ~

husband!felix who treats you like a princess, maybe even a queen— he all but worships the ground you walk on, forever gushing about how beautiful and amazing his wife is <3 the honeymoon phase never ends with him, you’re still as disgustingly in love with each other as you were when you first started dating. he calls you all sorts of sappy pet names, giving you kisses everywhere he can reach, always needing to be touching you even if it’s just holding your hand

husband!seungmin who still acts like a tsundere even when you’ve been married for years lol. he complains about you being lazy but he’ll never let you lift a finger, he groans about you being needy when he’s the one always reaching for you and demanding ur attention >< you love him just the way he is, and he loves you more than he’ll ever care to admit. it’s so obvious that he adores you cos he’s always looking at you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, eyes lit up like you hung the stars yourself <3

husband!jeongin who wants to spend absolutely every moment he can by your side, and he hates being away from you for any reason. a perfect day for him would be glued to your hip, from when you wake up to when you go to sleep, his favorite person and his partner in crime, his ride or die… he’d take you with him on tour if he could, but he’ll settle for being on facetime 24/7 while he’s away lol

NSFW :

husband!bangchan who can't wait to start a family <3 he figures that now you're married, it's only natural to start trying for a baby... fucks you hard and fills you up every night, fully intent on getting your belly all swollen with his babies… so much cum it’s spilling out of your hole down your hickey-marked thighs, chan pushing it back inside with his thick fingers talking about making sure it takes…

husband!minho who will put you back in your place when you’re being bratty. he will not tolerate his wife having an attitude with him!! he’ll put you over his lap and make you count in an instant, or tie you up and torture you with your favorite vibrator for hours, and he won’t stop until you’re crying and begging for his forgiveness <3 he doesn’t care if you’re out in public or out with friends, he’s whispering threats in your ear, and if you still don’t stop he’ll grab you by the wrist and drag you back home.

husband!changbin who can't help but find your workout wear incredibly sexy, the way your leggings hug your ass and curves, the way ur sports bra pushes up ur tits.. and he knows you find him sexy too, in his tank top and gym shorts, sweaty muscles all out on display.... he's drooling over you while you're drooling over him, and you can both only take so much... its not uncommon for the two of you to end up fucking in the gym showers or in the locker rooms, sometimes even getting touchy in the weight room if it's empty!! changbin slapping and gripping on your ass cos he can't stop himself from touching anymore, and you grind back onto his crotch to feel his erection... his fat dick splitting you open in the showers, his thick buff arms holding you up against the cold shower wall with your legs apart..

husband!hyunjin who loves to tie you up, more than any of the other boys. it’s like an art form to him and he takes it very seriously, buying expensive rope in pretty colors, taking immaculate care of it.. he loves to take pictures of his work, the intricate knots that bind you in place or suspend you from the ceiling— you look so beautiful like that to him, his perfect tied up angel for him to admire and destroy <3

husband!jisung who is an absolute pussy fiend… he could spend all day with his face buried between your legs, talented tongue making you cum over and over again until you squirt hehe <3 he’s not satisfied until his entire face is drenched with ur arousal, dripping slick from his nose and chin, and then he wants to fuck you until you can’t walk ! and you better believe he’s going in raw, because why would he wear a condom when his ring is on your finger? you better be careful, because jisung wants to fuck every day and every night… you wouldn’t mind if you got pregnant, would you? because he definitely wouldn’t

husband!felix who thinks it’s so cute that you find his voice so hot. all he has to do is whisper some dirty words in your ear and you’re blushing and squirming like a virgin… he just can’t help but do it all of the time. deep aussie accent mumbling about how he’s going to ruin your pussy when you get home, or about how hard and needy he is for you to take care of him <3 his hand on your thigh dangerously close to where you need him most… he loves to rile you up until you can’t take any more, till you snap <3

husband!seungmin who loves his wife submissive and needy <3 he won’t let you touch yourself without his permission, just because he loves to listen to you beg, so desperate and dependent on him … he’s trained you to be a perfect pup for him, down to the collar he likes to have you wear. you’d do anything to hear him say “good girl”, wouldn’t you?

husband!jeongin who loves to fuck in public !! getting head in the park, balls deep in your pussy in a bathroom stall, fucking under a blanket in the dorm living room, loud movie covering up your sounds. the riskiness of it gets him so hot, the idea of getting caught slutting you out in a dressing room, closet, break room… maybe it’s because he’s so possessive, that nasty freaky part of him relishing the idea of showing off to others how you belong to him… and he loves watching you stumble around with cum dripping down your legs from under your skirt, disheveled and redfaced desperate to hide what you and your husband were just up to…

[hana-no-seiiki]

yandere fashion designer (lian) x reader (another tethered hearts blurb)

check out the other blurbs for th posted in my blog ! lian and xue my beloveds mmm

“You were never just a muse. You were the canvas.”

At first, it was flattering—how Lian always asked to measure you himself, how he insisted no mannequin could ever capture your proportions. You thought it was just part of his genius, his eccentricity. He was a rising star in the fashion world, after all. Cold to everyone but you. Precise. Visionary. A little strange.

But the dresses started coming faster. Custom silks in your favorite shades. Coats lined with phrases only you had ever said to him. A gown stitched with red thread that never came undone, no matter how hard you pulled.

Lian doesn’t just design for you. He designs around you.

His cold dead black eyes track every movement, memorizing how fabric folds over your skin, how seams touch your waist. There’s no distance between you and his work—no boundaries.

And one day, when you try to wear something that isn’t his,

he rips it from your body with a smile.

“Don’t you understand?” he whispers, breath warm against your ear.

“No one else is allowed to shape you. Only me.”

working on a reference sheet/doodle sheet(?) for lian so i can draw him more consistently. although since he’s a fashionista he’ll be having multiple outfits in the official game

need me a man who’ll do couture for me istg

[ghostedgwen]

all by design | p.parker [part one]

notes : I am back to writing for peter parker of course because before anyone else - this blog was created originally for him, my originally muse - that somehow fits well into this fic lol - reqs are open <3

warnings : college au - no superpowers, no spider-man, dorky peter parker who's an introvert, reader is a mastermind pulling strings, cute working on project stuff - photography shit I pretend I know things about

You only signed up for photography to dodge a boring science class, but somehow ended up choosing Peter Parker as your muse — soft-spoken, brilliant, and criminally overlooked. He’s awkward, you’re accidentally obvious, and a late-night project might just turn into something a little more.

I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork, the dominoes cascaded in a line. . .

Peter Parker always sits in the third row.

Same grey hoodie. Same battered notebook, filled with stickers - so very random. Same cheap black coffee in a reusable Stark Expo travel mug that he never seems to finish.

You notice, of course. You notice everything about him - in a maybe not-so creepy way.

It’s hard not to, when you’ve been quietly, shamelessly harboring a thing - not a crush, you insist, because that feels juvenile - for him since week three of Intro to Photography.

Not that he talks much. He’s the type to melt into the corners of the classroom, to let others raise their hands and perform their answers like auditions. But he listens, scribbles tiny notes in that notebook of his, mouth quirking when something makes him laugh - a soft, rare thing that you’ve started cataloguing like your own private gallery.

Photography, for the record, wasn’t supposed to be your thing. You picked it to duck out of another semester of mandatory econ electives - something about composition sounded better than graphs. But then Peter Parker sat three rows ahead of you, quietly fascinating, and just like that: you had a muse.

Not that he knows. Of course he doesn’t. You’ve only submitted one piece with him in frame - his silhouette against a window, mid-laugh - and titled it “Unnoticed Light.” Langley gave it an A. Said it felt honest. You couldn’t exactly say "thanks, I’m secretly in love with the boy who never finishes his coffee.”

Most people overlook him - they don’t see past the hoodie, the fading bruise on his jaw from god-knows-what, or the way he keeps his head down when he walks. But you do. You see how he flinches at loud noises, how his fingers twitch like they’re always itching to fix something.

You see the careful, considerate way he offers to carry the overhead projector without being asked. You see how he lingers by the windows for better light when photographing portraits - how the shots he turns in are always somehow achingly human.

You wonder if anyone’s ever looked at him that way. You doubt it.

You do, though. From behind your camera lens. From across the quad. From the third seat to the left, where you’ve started sitting every Tuesday morning. Two rows back. Just close enough to hear when he mutters his answers under his breath.

You’ve spoken to him exactly three times. Once during critique week (“I liked your framing”), once at the vending machines (“They’re out of pretzels, by the way”), and once when your professor handed back graded papers and he’d gotten a B. You saw the way his shoulders slumped and told him, softly, “She grades hard. That’s basically an A in Langley-speak.”

He looked at you like he hadn’t expected kindness.

You remember that look too well. It's the reason you’re about to make this project pairing very conveniently work in your favour.

But that comes later.

For now, Peter Parker’s in the third row again, fiddling with the strap of his camera bag like it’s a nervous tic, and you’re trying very hard not to smile at nothing.

You overhear Langley mention the project pairings two weeks before she announces them.

She’s in the hallway, talking to one of the TAs - something about how she “might just let them pick their own partners this time. Less hassle.”

You’re not proud of what happens next. Scratch that - you’re exactly proud of what happens next. Because it’s not cheating if you’re just. . . influencing the environment. Like the weather. Or the Wi-Fi. Or even better - fate.

It starts with small things. Like moving your seat up one row so you’re just behind Peter now - not that anyone noticed as the seats in class were never fully occupied.

Laughing just a little louder at his dry jokes when the professor asks for class discussion.

The first time it happens, you’re not even subtle. Langley makes some sarcastic comment about how half the class probably doesn’t know what ISO stands for, and Peter mutters under his breath, “In Spite Of everything, I’m still here.”

You snort before you can stop yourself.

He glances back, startled, and you catch the flicker of a smile tugging at his mouth like he hadn’t expected anyone to hear. You almost neglect to note how perfectly matching his hair and eyes were, a rich shade of brown - might be worth something later.

“You get this stuff?” you ask him after class, tapping your camera. “Because I’m faking it at an award-winning level.”

Peter shrugs, bashful - hiding his surprise at your approach. “I mean, mostly I just mess around until it looks right. Which. . . I think is technically a method?”

“That’s what I’ve been doing, too,” you grin. “We’re either geniuses or complete frauds.”

He laughs - a low, surprised sound - and runs a hand through his curls like he’s trying to hide behind them. “Honestly? I’ll take either.”

You start leaving class at the same time he does. Linger a beat longer by the vending machines. Let your shoulder brush his once in a while when you lean over to look at a picture he’s editing on his laptop.

And okay - maybe you start timing your exits so you’re walking next to him through the quad. And maybe you offer him a gummy worm from the bag in your pocket one afternoon, and he acts like you handed him a priceless family heirloom.

“Wait - are these sour?” he says reverently.

“The best kind.” you give him a toothy grin.

He grins. “Okay, you’re officially the coolest person in this class. Sorry, Langley.”

When Langley finally announces partner selection, she lets people volunteer first.

Which is when you strike.

You wait exactly four beats after Peter glances around the room, clearly hesitant to make the first move.

You raise your hand, smile easy, and say, “Can I work with Peter?”

Langley nods, scribbles your names down. Peter looks up, slightly surprised, but doesn’t question it.

“Uh - yeah, cool,” he says, blinking behind his glasses. “That works. Definitely works.”

There’s a faint flush on his cheeks. You don’t know if it’s from attention or from you - you enjoy it anyways.

You don’t ask.

You just tuck the moment away like a lucky penny, warm in your pocket, and look forward to what comes next.

“So,” you say, casual as you can manage. “I was thinking. For the project. I want to photograph you.”

Peter blinks. Stares. “Me?”

You nod. “Yeah. You’d be perfect.”

He fumbles with the zipper on his backpack like it just forgot how to function. “Uh - I mean, I thought we were supposed to do something, like, theme-based?”

You lean back on your hands, legs folded on the library carpet, and look up at him with a little grin. “Exactly. And I think you’d be perfect for the concept I’m going for. It’s about presence. Softness. The way someone’s energy fills a space. I want to capture someone who doesn’t realize they’re being seen. Someone. . . quietly magnetic.”

Peter swallows.

“Magnetic?” he echoes, a little too cutely for your poor heart.

You nod again, and oh, you’re really laying it on now, aren’t you?

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You have that face people want to look at. Even if they don’t realize it right away.”

Peter’s mouth opens like he wants to argue, but he just sort of… makes a noise. Halfway between a breath and a squeak.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. It’s not mean-spirited - you’re just so fond. It’s hard not to let it show.

“And your eyes are insane,” you add, like you’re checking off a list. “They catch light like no one else’s in this class. You’ve got that kind of timeless thing going on - a little bit James Dean, a little bit boy-next-door.”

Peter is frozen. Absolutely shellshocked. Like he cannot compute being complimented this much in one sitting.

“. . .You’ve definitely thought about this,” he says eventually, voice a little hoarse.

You shrug, suddenly aware of your own heartbeat. “Maybe. A little.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Peter scratches the back of his neck, and for a terrifying second, you wonder if you’ve ruined everything - if you came on too strong, if the room has tilted a little too far in the direction of intentional.

But then he smiles.

It’s a tiny thing. Just the curve of his lips, shy and secret and so unbearably sweet - so Peter.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “If you’re sure you want to. I mean, I’m not very - photogenic. Or model-y. Or whatever.”

“You’re perfect,” you say before you can stop yourself - nevermind the fact you're still yet to confess the submission you previously made of him.

Peter flushes deeper. Looks at his hands. Smiles harder.

You pretend not to notice - you could almost get a degree for that.

You give him directions to your place later that night.

It’s a short walk from campus - tucked above a trendy cafe and across from a laundromat that always smells like jasmine detergent and cheap cologne.

Your aunt signed the lease for you before you even applied to uni, saying, “Every artist needs a sanctuary.” The space is way too nice for a student. Hardwood floors, big windows, blackout curtains, high ceilings with exposed beams. A dream for any art student, really.

Peter looks around when he arrives, clearly trying not to be impressed.

“This is yours?” he asks, dropping his camera bag by the door.

You nod. “Technically it’s my aunt’s. She travels a lot. But yeah. Mine for now.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You live here alone?”

“Yep.”

“That’s. . .” He spins in a slow circle, taking in the space. “Kind of incredible.”

You flash him a grin. “You’re welcome any time.”

He snorts. “My roommate would kill me if I tried to turn our dorm into a studio. He thinks personal space is sacred. Meanwhile, he clips his toenails without a care for where they end up.”

You laugh, motioning for him to sit. “Okay, yeah. You’re banned from trying this in your own place.”

He sits down on the little velvet couch, awkwardly tucks one leg under the other, and glances around like he’s waiting to be told what to do.

You set up the lighting as naturally as you can, trying not to show how giddy you are about this. About him, here, in your space, letting you see him like this.

When you look through the viewfinder and frame the shot - Peter in profile, warm lamplight brushing his cheekbones, sleeves pushed up to his forearms - you think, Yeah. This was always going to happen.

Even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“Okay,” you murmur, adjusting the tripod slightly. “Just relax. Don’t think about the camera. Think about. . . like, what you’d do if you were alone. Not sad alone. Normal alone. Like. . . chilling.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “That’s incredibly specific and somehow still not helpful.”

You snort. “You’re doing fine. Just - don’t pose. Or, like . . . do. But make it look like you’re not posing.”

Peter gives you a look. “So. Be naturally unnatural.”

“Exactly.”

He huffs a laugh and leans back against the couch again, arms loosely crossed, head tilted like he’s considering something far off in the distance. It’s candid. Or close enough. His expression softens when he exhales, and you click the shutter without thinking.

“Better?” he asks, eyes flicking toward you.

You glance down at the preview on your camera screen and nod slowly. “That’s a good one. You’ve got a very - contemplative face.”

Peter mock-gasps. “So I do have a face worth photographing?”

“Oh my god, I’ve been saying that for weeks.” you say feigning shock.

He grins, and you snap another shot.

Then he shifts slightly, arms raised to run a hand through his hair - and the motion hikes his pullover up just a little, revealing a sliver of lean stomach, the faint outline of muscle.

You blink.

And, well.

You’re only human.

“Okay, wait,” you say, squinting as you lower the camera. “Why are you, like. . . secretly ripped under there?”

Peter freezes. “What?”

You gesture to him, accusatory. “You look like you code for twelve hours a day and live off granola bars and Red Bull, and then - bam! Surprise abs?”

He splutters, desperate to deny your words. “They’re not - abs. It’s just lighting.”

You tilt your head, smug to have caught him in such a predicament. “Is it?”

He covers his face with his hands. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

You laugh, unapologetic. “I absolutely can. I’m the artist. I get to be pretentious and weirdly flirty. It’s in the rules.”

Peter peeks at you through his fingers, blushing like crazy. “Okay. But for the record, I am not ripped. I’m. . . jacketed.”

You blink. “What?”

He drops his hands, now grinning. “Like. . .I’m not shredded. I’m cozy. Secretly jacket.”

You laugh so loud it echoes a little off the brick wall.

“God, you’re stupid,” you say fondly - his nose crinkles at that.

“Thank you,” he replies, mock-solemn.

You take three more photos while he’s still laughing.

After that, it’s easy.

You trade the high-watt lights for the soft glow of a desk lamp. The vibe settles - less photoshoot, more afterglow. You both move through the space without talking, cleaning up wires and lenses, folding backdrops, checking batteries. It’s comfortable. Not quite domestic, but something adjacent to it. Something you don’t have a name for yet.

Peter hands you a lens cap without being asked. You unplug the extension cord and wrap it neatly over your arm. Somewhere outside, a car honks, and someone yells about fries.

You stretch your arms over your head, then glance at him over your shoulder.

“Wanna go get burgers?”

He pauses, halfway through packing his camera, and looks at you like you just offered him front-row tickets to a space launch.

“Like. . . now?”

You shrug. “Unless you’ve got somewhere better to be.”

He considers you for a beat too long. Then smiles. It’s a little crooked. A little shy. Unreasonably cute.

“Burgers sound perfect.”

It’s nearing 12:30 by the time you stumble into the diner - one of those charming, grease-stained spots that’s open 24/7 and never quite empty. The fluorescent sign outside flickers with effort, casting pink and blue across the sidewalk like a hazy, nostalgic film scene.

Peter holds the door for you, his camera bag slung over one shoulder, and the warm smell of frying oil and vanilla milkshake syrup hits instantly.

You both slide into a booth, you facing the window, Peter across from you, cheeks still pink from the cold night air.

The waitress doesn’t bother with a menu.

“Two burgers, two fries, two chocolate shakes?” she asks with a raised brow, pen poised.

Peter blinks. “Wait, how did you - ”

“You two look like the type,” she says flatly, then walks off without another word.

You grin, biting back a laughter in the case she takes it the wrong way. “She gets it.”

Peter gives you a mock-scandalized look. “Do we have a type?”

You lean back, stretching lazily in your seat. “Apparently we do. Chocolate-shake-at-midnight type.”

He smiles at that. “Not the worst reputation to have.”

By the time the food comes, you’ve already kicked your shoes off under the booth and Peter’s talking with his hands like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. The diner’s mostly empty except for a guy asleep by the jukebox and a girl aggressively typing on her laptop in the corner.

The conversation shifts easily once you start asking questions. Like you’re in your own little bubble.

“What made you pick computer science?” you ask, tearing a fry in half, dipping it in your milkshake and eating it. He watched you in mild amusement.

Peter shrugs, sipping from the milkshake. “I’ve always liked puzzles. Logic. Building stuff from scratch. It’s. . . satisfying, I guess.”

You nod. “You seem like someone who enjoys solving things.”

He blushes a little, then grins. “Okay, my turn. Why photography? You’re too cool to be doing this just for credits.”

You laugh, throwing a half fry at him which he barely dodged with a chuckle. “Flatterer.”

Peter raises his milkshake in a silent toast.

You consider your answer. “Honestly? I started it because it got me out of a required science elective. But then it kind of… stuck. I don’t know. Something about freezing a moment - turning it into a story. I liked the control of it. The quiet.”

He looks at you like he understands. Like he really gets it - he studies you for a moment.

“That makes sense,” he says. “You take it seriously. You see stuff other people don’t.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like what?”

He glances down at his fries, then up at you again, his voice quieter now. “Like me.”

You go still for a second.

But you’re not ready to crack open that door yet, so instead you lean in with a crooked smile and deflect like a pro.

“Back to the game, Parker. Favorite color?”

He laughs and says, “Blue. Like - not sky blue. Like hoodie blue.”

You blink, surprised. “That’s specific.”

He shrugs. “I know what I like.”

You twirl a fry between your fingers. “Okay. Favorite movie?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “I’m gonna say The Iron Giant. It makes me cry every single time and I’m not even sorry.”

Your heart clenches a little. Of course it does, it is so like him - ever the softboy.

You smile. “That’s a solid answer. Top tier sad-boy comfort flick.”

He grins. “Alright, your turn. Most irrational fear?”

You pause dramatically. “Birds.”

Peter blinks. “What?”

“They’re twitchy. Beady-eyed. I don’t trust a creature that can fly and still chooses to steal fries off the sidewalk.”

He’s laughing before you finish the sentence, full-body and warm. You sip your milkshake just to hide how proud you are of that laugh.

The questions keep coming, softer now, more personal.

Siblings? No - just you. Just Peter.

Favorite smell? His is old books. Yours is rain on pavement.

Do you believe in soulmates?

You both pause on that one.

Peter looks at you, eyes darker in the dim light, fingers stilling around his straw - chocolate milkshake all drained from the 50s diner style cup.

“I think. . .I used to,” he says. “Then I stopped. Then I started again. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

You hum. “That’s fair. I think I believe in . . .finding someone who feels like home. Even if it’s not fate. Even if it’s a choice.”

He nods, like that sits right with him. “That’s a good answer.”

You smile. “I’ve got a lot of those.”

“I know.”

And he says it so soft, so genuine, that you forget how to chew for a second.

It’s past 2AM when you finally wander back out into the night, bellies full, fingertips salty, the streetlights casting halos around you.

“Thanks for tonight,” Peter says, voice warm.

You bump your shoulder against his. “Anytime.”

And you mean it.

You’re not in love. Not yet. But something about tonight feels like the first chapter of something that might be worth writing down.

to be continued. . .

part two | masterlist

[anim-ttrpgs]

I get that being an indie creator is difficult, especially when your competition includes industry monoliths, but it's starting to feel like half the word of mouth about Eureka is attached to long-winded pedantic posts about how the popular thing is bad. Seeing this project become rooted in spite instead of the passion that brought me in has me starting to regret backing it.

I’m sorry you feel that way. If the content of the A.N.I.M. tumblr blog doesn’t suit your tastes, you can still keep up to date on our progress via the Kickstarter updates we put out every month, free of the personal musings and philosophizing about TTRPGs as a whole.

I do have a whole lot to say on the subjects of passion, spite, and the “most popular thing,” though.

Passion and spite go hand-in-hand. I would not have been driven to create Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, a TTRPG that does investigative gameplay really well, if not for existing popular TTRPGs like Call of Cthulhu doing it badly. The desire to improve upon obvious flaws is something that drives most of all of my creative work. That passion you were drawn in by is the spite you’re complaining about now, if you were drawn in by somebody’s love of clean spaces, you shouldn’t be surprised that they hate dirt and grime.

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy isn’t good just because I have passion, it’s good because i examined what came before in the artform, looked at where it succeeds, and more importantly where it fails and sucks and why, and sought to make targeted improvements there. This is, like, how all art and science evolves and improves.

Next, I think that most of the “long pedantic posts” about how “the popular thing is bad” you’re referencing are actually posts by @thydungeongal that I reblog, and if you think those posts are just pedantic and only criticize D&D5e because it’s popular, I think you may have a misunderstanding of tumblr user thydungeongal, the content of the posts, or the relationship between D&D5e and the wider industry and artform as a whole.

First of all, she is passionate. She doesn’t even have a financial incentive to pay living expenses like I do, she’s posting only because she cares. (She isn’t a part of the A.N.I.M. team, she’s just a friend of several of us.)

Next is the fact that her posts tend to be more about the toxic play culture and lifestyle brand of D&D5e more than the actual content of the rulebook. When she talks about the content of the rulebook, she’s actually really positive! More positive than the rulebook deserves a lot of the time in my opinion. The main thing is the super toxic play culture cultivated by WotC marketing.

Pathfinder, Call of Cthulhu, Lancer, Mothership, Monster of the Week, these are all TTRPGs that are much more popular than our team’s projects, and even though you’ll see me criticize many design elements of Call of Cthulhu from time to time, and I just plain personally don’t like Monster of the Week, you won’t see me or thydungeongal rail against any of these games the way we talk about WotC, D&D5e, and its playerbase.

The thing is, as a monopoly, Wizards of the Coast and the small A.N.I.M. team are not simply in competition, we are in a war of extermination. The tactics and force of arms employed by WotC are not simply to harmlessly promote themselves and get more customers for it, but rather to destroy the entire population outside of themselves and the entire ecosystem to boot. Their tactics aren’t so much focused on bringing people to them as they are preventing people from going to anyone else. If it was just a popular game like any of the others I mentioned, it wouldn’t be a problem, but WotC with their flagship D&D5e are maintaining that popularity not by providing anything to their fans, but by hiding the existence of any other alternatives, and where they can’t do that, they are constantly, in so many words, redefining what a TTRPG even is to exclude any other game.

One of the main ways they do this is by encouraging a complete detachment from the rules, encouraging DMs to do all the work of providing a one-man-show experience, and through these things teaching the massive playerbase of D&D5e, created by its more conventional massive marketing budget, that the content of TTRPGs does not matter, and if the content of TTRPGs does not matter and they’re all basically the same one-man-show, there’s no need to go through the effort of checking out any other ones besides the D&D5e you’re already familiar with, even if it doesn’t suit your needs. This is the very first thing taught to basically every new person who enters the hobby, who then go on to perpetuate it themselves, and often raise a stink when that teaching is challenged. When it comes down to it this is what pretty much every @thydungeongal post that gets reblogged on this account is about. It’s not that they’re popular, it’s that they salt the earth.

Anyone who doesn’t want to see that sort of discussion can follow the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Kickstarter page, or our itchio page, for updates instead, but anyone who doesn’t want TTRPG developers and enthusiasts to complain and rail against D&D5e and WotC, well, you might as well tell the Lorax to shut up about the lumber industry too.

And when you see your entire home getting destroyed around you by a massive, nigh unstoppable force, how chipper and positive can you really be about it?

[rcsea]

𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐄*

Multimuse version of 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑* and 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘*.

✧ Features: A more in-depth carrd design prioritizing information, so you'll have plenty of room to write all the important stuff. Highly customizable but may require more patience when editing due to the amount of unique elements. Tested to be mobile friendly but that may vary by device. Contains a customizable sticky header, a page for guidelines, two variations of a muse roster depending on if you want to use a more complex or simplified roster, a bio page that you can optionally use (and duplicate for other muses), a page for connections & a page for npcs. There are small quad-style image galleries in different sections, and there should be plenty of room for you to resize images to fix the block style of presentation when your text runs over. If you have any issues or questions about editing the carrds, you are more than welcome to ask me here on my tumblr and I will try my best to help you!

✧ Terms of Use: Like / Reblog if you use, please. Do NOT use this for illegal content or to promote hate (this includes "burn books" and callout / vent blogs). Do NOT remove the credits or make them invisible somehow. Edit as you wish, but no matter how much you change it, do NOT claim it as your own!

✧ Price: $6 for early access , now FREE / pay what you want as of February 9th. If you want to help a girl out with a tip, I'd greatly appreciate it 💗 ( Important Note! This template requires Pro Lite or higher to use due to the number of features included ! )

【 DEMO ✧ DOWNLOAD 】

important info below the cut, please read !

1.) The default muse roster is the gallery style one with images. The simple one does not display in the demo. If using the template, if you want to use the simple roster instead of the more complex one, change the link at the top navigation from "#muses1" to "#muses2". You may want to delete the entire section of the roster you don't end up using to save space.

2.) If you choose to use the bio page for your muses, you need to make copies of it with unique sections. If you have a lot of muses, you may need to make a separate carrd just for your bios to save space and loading time. To do this and use the bio template in this carrd, use this template for a second carrd then delete everything else beside the bio, create new sections as needed (don't forget to add the section breaks), and link to the second carrd from the first. If you need more in-depth guidance with this, I will happily help you.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Scribblenaut

Debut: Scribblenauts

Scribblenauts is a game about everything! Everything's in there! Well, a lot of things are. They don't have Earthworm! What's the deal with that? Trying to summon an Earthworm will spawn a Tapeworm instead. I know it's a lot of work to add so many assets to a game, but I would really expect Earthworm to be added before Tapeworm, you know? It's a much more beloved worm. But I'm not complaining, just musing! Most games don't even get one tapeworm. I don't even get one tapeworm. Some people get all the luck!

It's very possible that you could have played Scribblenauts before, yet have never seen this character. And yet, this is The Scribblenaut! Is this who this is all about? No, it's not. But once upon a time, it would have been!

The Scribblenaut, as we know it, is a design that was originally worked on with the intention of being the game's protagonist. The Scribblenaut would have traveled across planets, helping their inhabitants, hence the name! This kind of roboty astroguy is a very Me design, so of course I would have been just fine if it ended up being the hero! However, the game's concept shifted, and with it so did the design. Any semblance of a story was removed, and you know what they say! "All's well that macks well"!

They say this because now Maxwell was the protagonist! While I love Scribblenaut, Maxwell is a really great design, and a great main character. Human and relatable, though with a rather eccentric outfit, and an iconic little smirk. This kid has the ability to do anything, you'd better believe he'd at least be MILDLY cheeky while doing so!

And that was the end of Scribblenaut (character)'s story, over before it ever actually began. Like it was absorbed by a twin in the womb. But this was only the beginning of its implications!

This here wispy-doodle is called monstermagic! It's formatted in game with an @ in front, but I don't want to ping some random blog that has not posted since 2014. (On that note, 2014 is closer to this blog's creation than the date of this post's publishing is!) Monstermagic comes from the monstergun, and these things have weirdly formatted names because they are not meant to be used by the player, who cannot type @ signs using the in-game keyboard. With some sufficient sneakery, though, the player can spawn these objects, including monstermagic, which transforms a human into a random monster on contact!

Why is this relevant? Because Scribblenaut is one of the possible monsters! This is no mere human in a suit, this is a CREATURE, some kind of alien or robot or who knows what. That's awesome! The one downside of the design was the implication that there might be a boring old human in that suit, but we know that is NOT the case! It's even in the "Mythical Creatures" avatar pack in Scribblenauts Remix, alongside other creatures, such as Mime.

Despite this, there is still the implication that one can Become a Scribblenaut. The 100% completion reward in the first game is the Scribblenaut as an avatar, as if Maxwell finally attained this elusive rank! Though, it seems like over time, this concept faded away, and "Scribblenaut" took on a less formal definition, with Maxwell's entire family being referred to as Scribblenauts. Perhaps the real Scribblenauts were the random kids who stole our identities and relegated us to mere cameos along the way...!

[meo-eiru]

Hi hi! I just found your blog and I am so jealous of all your art! It’s so pretty! Like omg I want to pick your brain and talk art.

Onto your OCs. I love Silas, but I’m obsessed with Elias atm. How would Elias react to a darling who is a photographer? But not just any photographer but they get just as obsessed with Elias as he does them. MusexArtist ship that gets fully twisted. They push Elias for more modeling work, but keep certain photos just for themselves. And when they finally begin dating they take candid pics ALL the time. How would Elias react to seeing photos of himself when he didn’t even know he was being photographed? Like sleeping, throwing a tantrum, pouting, but darling makes him look even more gorgeous. How would Elias react if darling took the camera into the bedroom? Video or regular camera they are capturing Elias at his most vulnerable, saying that they want him to see himself as they do. Idk I kinda love the idea of two yanderes falling in love. They keep each other working and in magazines, but they get jealous of one another and somehow it just works.

Hope you’re doing well!

Yes yes yes I love this

Another post where I talked about Elias with an equally obsessed darling

I think Elias would bounce well with a yandere photographer darling. He would love that your eyes are watching him even when he doesn’t know it. Similar to him with a fashion designer darling he would probably eventually start getting jealous and wouldn’t want you to photograph other people. But if reader is using him and him only as their muse and showing that to the outside world with those pictures he’d feel more reassured

Omg imagine if this was one of those private pics darling took of him. I love the idea of them dressing him up in different stuff like that and taking those suggestive pics.

Elias would be into getting those types of photos taken in the bedroom as long as you keep them private and it doesn’t disturb the actual sex. He would love love love that you keep your eyes on him that much and save those moments like that. It really makes him feel like a special doll who exists for you. He would love looking at the pictures you take as well because it would feel like seeing the world from your eyes. It’s like he gets to enter your brain and experience the world from your shoes. And he thinks the scenery your eyes see is beautiful.

[chestnutisland]

I'm not sure what to say so I'm just gonna type out what comes to mind, the news of Akira Toriyama passing away came as such a shock that I needed a minute to process it, even now it's still surreal to me.

We lost a legend, a wonderfully creative soul who made an impact that reached far and wide. His works have been a part of my life since I was a teen, I'm so much older now. It hurts but his legacy will live on, his hard work and dedication will not ever be forgotten.

For me personally, I thank him for giving me an outlet, a creative muse, and inspiration. Drawing dbz fanart and taking inspiration from his other character designs is what shaped me into the artist I am today and I'm forever grateful for the journey.

The DBZ fandom gives me such joy still to this day. I remember reading the OG DB manga in Dutch, faithfully buying the new issues when they came out. I remember bonding with my middle sister over the anime, we would sit in front of the TV and comment on things we noticed in the episodes we watched. I remember discussing anything and everything db-related with friends and classmates and later on online friends.

I remember the early days of shipping fandom, the early days of K18 and I'm so humbled to know some of us are still here from back then and how far we've come. How much more support there is now. I remember making this blog because I missed the old fandom rings and websites and wanted to share more positive Krillin content and by extend more K18 content. This blog is very dear to me and it's all been made possible because of one man and his wonderful ideas.

But I'm most thankful he gave me one of the best characters in Anime/manga in my humble opinion. A character I can relate to in so many ways and who's helped me through some of life's ups and downs. Krillin is special to me, he's always been my favorite so I just had to sketch something to show my appreciation.

Rest in Peace, fly high on Nimbus, and watch over us from beyond, Toriyama-Sensei.

[finchly-tintinnabulation]

- Scout's Honor - Part 2

Original Ultramarine (Aristaeus) x GN!Reader

<<Prev = Next>>

Tags: Exposition (specifically about rut cycles), shameless fluff, cuddling

Thank y'all so much for the kind words on part one!! @daily-shenanigans784 performed necromancy on her blog so I can thank her for the beta reading and freak matching! I'm not entirely sure if there's a process for a tag list but for the time being just message/reply me if you want to be tagged for the next part :D

- - -

Scout Sergeant Telion had given you a brief explanation and a rather scuffed up dataslate before a brisk escort back to the serf quarters, leaving you bewildered and with an unexpected day off from your duties. At least that gave you some quality time with the pamphlet-like dataslate to piece together what your life was becoming. 

The Adeptus Astartes were designed to be the living weapons of the Emperor, blades honed and sharpened to defend his beloved mankind with unwavering loyalty. It was common knowledge amongst baseline humans that the Astartes were sterile, not engaging in romantic or sexual pursuits, but apparently the whole truth was a bit more granular. 

Bio-augmentation left Astartes in possession of their original facilities (you mused to yourself that it must be easier to relieve oneself on the battlefield that way), but with their sex drive heavily curtailed. The physical desire, the itch to be scratched with intimacy had been all but eliminated. With the exception of the rut cycle. 

A surge of hormonal activity, amplified by the trans-human processes of the creation of a space marine, resulting in regular periods of extremely amplified drive accompanied by the potential for intense bonds with baseline humans. Perhaps it was purposeful, the will of the Emperor leaving in a subconscious drive to protect those that would otherwise be seen as beneath them. However, allowing that all-consuming bond to form was where problems began. 

Bonds in the otherwise controlled workings of a space marine chapter had proved to be extremely disruptive in the past. On top of a single-minded loyalty to a bond that would distract from his duty, an Astartes separated from his ‘mate’ would exhibit extreme signs of distress. 

The Ultramarines had preventing bonds perfected into protocol, the senior Astartes’ enhanced senses quickly detecting the beginning of their cycles and preventing baseline contact until the recruits had better control and their cycles occurred much further apart. 

You had been an error. It was inconvenient, but the Ultramarines had learned to salvage these situations as well. Sergeant Telion had instructed you to remain in the serf barracks until further notice, but you would soon be moved into Brother Aristaeus’s quarters. You would accompany him to everything. Meals, training, sleeping. The part that worried you was combat. 

Yet somehow, facing the battlefield wasn’t the thing haunting your mind as you sat on your bunk. It was Aristaeus and those big brown doe eyes of his, dazed and glassy and staring right up at you. 

Undoubtedly the encounter had scared the wits out of you, but knowing that in hindsight he hadn’t been in his right mind made your chest ache. Both of you were at risk because of a stroke of misfortune and miscommunication, and if things played out poorly it could leave the pair you mind-scrubbed. Or worse. You had little to lose other than your life now, but Aristaeus was so close to becoming a battle-brother. It wasn’t fair to either of you. 

So, despite Telion’s recommendation of staying put, you found yourself creeping down the barrack halls in the dead of night, stockinged footsteps silent against the marble floors. You were no scout, but you’d made a living out of going unnoticed, so you slipped out of your quarters and through the fortress-monastery until you stood before the Astartes’s room. 

And there you stalled. Their senses were so enhanced, surely the rest of the recruits would hear you knock? Calling out seemed equally inadvisable. 

Thankfully, your angel appeared. The door slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss just as you began losing your nerve, revealing a hulking shadow lingering in the doorway, the reflective glow of eyes far above your head. 

“Brother Aristaeus, I hope I didn’t wake you.” You dipped your head in a bow, voice barely louder than your breath. “…I wanted to ensure you were well.”

“…You were concerned about me.” By the Throne, his voice… those bestial huffs and whines had done no justice to the soft, sonorous baritone that seemed to lilt like a hymn. Quiet and calm and speaking of sanctuary, for a moment you felt the illogical urge to melt into a puddle at his feet. 

“Yes.” You tried to swallow; your mouth was suddenly very dry. “The fact you’re speaking to me bodes well.”

The massive shadow stepped forward, and for a moment you were rooted to the spot, your instinct to take flight escaping you. Then you saw his eyes, warm and honey brown and clear, looking upon you with curiosity. Maybe even a touch of awe, though you were sure you were imagining it. With the caution of someone scooping a butterfly up off the ground, he gingerly gathered you into his arms and retreated into his quarters. 

“How is your neck?” You shivered at the proximity as his lips brushed against your ear, tender in a way you didn’t expect. 

“Iced it hours ago. You’re deflecting.” The door slid shut, leaving you in darkness with the exception of the dim glow of incense at the bedside and its reflection in Aristaeus’s eyes. He lingered in the center of the room, silently holding you to his chest. 

Did he not know how to respond? If he felt as afraid as you, was he not permitted to say so? Before you could give it a second thought your hand was feeling for his jaw, reaching up to bury your fingers in his hair. The effect was immediate as his shoulders slumped, taking a few wobbling steps towards his cot and sitting heavily and letting out a low trilling purr. Your other hand joined the first, experimentally stroking his clean shaven face until he took a deep, shaky breath and seemed to settle.

“Ah. I’m sorry…” Achingly soft, he bent to nose at the top of your head, his voice unsure between shuddering inhales. “I know not what came over me— that is, I didn’t expect to be so… overwhelmed. I think it’s better now.”

“Tell me. I don’t know how you feel, but you didn’t seem to be… all there.” Nails scraping lightly down his jaw, your eyes strained to try and make out his face in the dark. “I want to know.”

The tiniest whine squeezed out of the space marine’s throat, impossibly small and fragile for an angel of death. Aristaeus pressed his lips to your forehead, seeking closeness rather than a kiss, a sensation that made your chest warm.

“...I thought it had run its course. We had trained through the height of it, it was hard to wear armor with the heat and the itching but the drills helped to numb things.” He mumbled into your hair as if expecting someone to be eavesdropping. “Thought I’d gotten used to it…”

He’d been near the end of his cycle. Shit. Your stomach clenched with guilt, leaning against his solid mass and taking a steadying breath. “And then… me?”

“Mhm.” Aristaeus’s hand found yours, gently grasping your fingers to run his thumb over your knuckles, the gesture tentative and curious. “Catching your scent was— it felt like I didn’t know how long I had been walking through a desert, acclimated to the sun and the sands. You are the oasis that made me realize I was dying of thirst. It was as if I didn’t know what I needed until that moment, and then in your presence… I could hardly think.” 

“Throne, I’m so fucking sorry.” Squeezing his hand with a vicious surge of shame, you turned your face to press it against his chest, gritting your teeth. There was little a mere baseline human could do to possibly protect an Astartes, and yet you felt as though the responsibility of holding the scout’s heart in your hands was a burden you would shoulder. “I promise, you’re going to become a battle-brother. I won’t hold you back. I already know how to shoot.”

“...Okay.” He murmured, shifting back to lay on his cot with you held to him like a beloved stuffed animal. How quickly you had become accustomed to his presence would have been alarming, but there was safety being hidden away from the world, tucked against Aristaeus’s torso. 

“It’ll be fine. You’re going to do fine.” You both needed that reassurance, so you spoke partly to yourself. Although you doubted the emotional availability of a living weapon, his presence was doing more than enough for now, settling your frayed nerves. Gingerly you turned in his grip, craning upward to press a proper kiss to his cheek before settling back into his arms, to which he dutifully shifted to accommodate you.

Using his bicep like a pillow, you listened to the even waves of Aristaeus breathing you in, soaking in the warmth radiating from him like a space heater. Your robes were thin and the cot was little more than a large metal shelf bolted to the wall with a mattress pad on top… and it was the most comfortable you’d been in a long time.

Being spooned by a space marine wasn’t something you had previously imagined, and yet it was much nicer than whatever subconscious expectation had formed in the back of your mind. Perhaps power armor didn’t exactly make for the most inviting nap spot. It just felt so cozy and peaceful. Absentmindedly you ran your fingertips up and down the scout’s arm, feeling the light prickle of goosebumps as you traced veins and tendons, circling the rims of his neural ports and counting the strong thrum of his pulse. 

You weren’t sure when your eyes closed, the room already dark and absorbing you in the feeling of the body resting behind you. It was only when you jolted out of your doze did you realize it had happened at all. It was very late and you were far too comfortable to keep yourself awake like this.

“Aristaeus, I should go back to the serf quarters.” Shifting forward you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbow, and that was as far as you got before the scout’s thick arm snagged you around the middle and pulled you back to him. “I’ll be back in the morning, come on.”

Squirming had already proved to be little use, but you tried anyway, huffing and pushing at the forearm over your stomach. “Hey, I mean it. Please?” All you got in response was a whine and a brief squeeze. You sighed. “If it makes you feel better, you could walk me back to my room. How’s that?”

Aristaeus finally acquiesced, slowly and reluctantly pulling his arm back and sitting up on his cot, waiting for you to gather yourself to your feet before taking your hand to lead you through the dark and back out the door.

[anunkindncss]

LONG-ASS, BAT-SWINGIN’ PSA FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD TRASH DAD (YES YOU MAY REBLOG ME):

i swear to the gods above and the internet demons below, if i have to see one more round of the same tired, petty, high school drama energy in the rpc i am going to start throwing metaphorical furniture. or a bat. maybe a literal bat. someone get me a bat.

we’re gonna talk about a few things i do not understand and am rapidly losing patience for in this little roleplay community of ours. sit down. hydrate. bring a snack. or don’t. i’m not your mom. but i am pissed.

1. BLOCKING PEOPLE BEFORE YOU EVEN KNOW THEM. what are you doing. no, seriously—what are you doing. look. blocking is valid. it’s important. it’s necessary in many cases. but if you are blocking people for… following you? reblogging your promo? writing the same muse? because “they gave me weird vibes” after doing absolutely nothing to you? i’ve got news: you’re not setting boundaries, you’re playing judge, jury, and executioner of vibes you made up in your head. you do not need to block someone just because they exist in the same space as you. curiosity is not a crime. following someone because you share muse interests is not a threat. no one’s out to steal your thunder. we’re all just feral writers clinging to shared hyperfixations like they’re life rafts.

2. THE GREAT REBLOG WAR OF 202X. i promise you, reblogging a post from the person you saw it from is not a personal attack. yes, i agree: try to reblog from the source when you can. it keeps things clean. it helps with credit. we love that. but if someone reblogs from the person who popped up on their dash? that’s not theft. that’s how this damn website works. you’re not losing notes. you’re not being disrespected. you’re seeing a feature function the way it was designed. if it truly matters to you, say it nicely in the post itself. don’t vaguepost. don’t softblock. don’t act like someone pissed on your fic just because they hit reblog from a mutual. some of you treat content circulation like a sacred ritual and lose your minds if the incense is lit out of order. breathe.

3. DNI LISTS THAT ARE LONGER THAN MY WILL TO LIVE. listen. i get it. truly. safety and boundaries are critical. you do not have to interact with everyone. you do not have to let everyone into your space. that’s not what this is about. this is about the weaponized, condescending, high-horse energy of DNI lists that start with “no minors” and end with “people who write canon characters with feelings i disagree with.” what happened to just… blacklisting tags? scrolling? having a spine and a filter? you don’t need to turn your blog into a digital moat. you can just curate your experience quietly. because let me tell you, no one is reading your DNI list like a legal document. they’re reading it and thinking, “damn, this person seems exhausting.”

4. SHITTING ON OTHER WRITERS FOR WRITING THE SAME MUSE DIFFERENTLY. you are not the official licensed owner of your muse. you are not the final word on interpretation. people write characters differently. that’s the beauty of it. that’s literally why roleplay is compelling. because it’s your take. your lens. your experience. if someone writes a softer version of your muse, or a darker one, or a more chaotic one—you can just… not follow them. you don’t need to snark in the tags. you don’t need to start drama in discords. and for the love of god, you don’t need to talk shit behind their back like we’re in some HBO drama. this is tumblr. it’s a hellsite for niche gremlin creativity and emotional trauma bonding. act like it.

IN CONCLUSION, BEFORE I GRAB THE BAT: this place could be so good. so freeing. so collaborative. As a matter of fact... it actually USED TO BE. but y’all keep trying to turn it into a gated community with HOA rules, secret vendettas, and self-appointed sheriff energy. let people exist. let them write. let them breathe. drink water. block quietly. tag your triggers. let go of the need to control every facet of your dash and your mutuals. and for the love of everything sacred and unholy, stop making people feel like they’re one wrong FC or meme reblog away from exile. we're here to write weird little stories and explore weird little feelings through the faces we like and the words we care about.

stop making that feel like a crime.

-Trash (overthepettyandunreasonablebullshit) Dad.

[wisteriasonthemoon]

Do coincidences strike twice?

oh yeah, my replay. I got distracted. I was in chapter 1, at the very first free-time event

this is a great place to start blogging about it again, because there's a question that has been bugging me that Kokichi's event provides great context for. I would like to call upon fandom collective memory for a potential answer

in his FTE #1, Kokichi claims that he and Kaede have met before, but she's forgotten about him. after Kaede questions him, Kokichi goes into a very short story about how they supposedly met. he then rescinds his claim

Kokichi: Hmmm, let's see. We met... Kokichi: ...under hostile circumstances similar to this. Kaede: Huh? Kokichi: You sheltered me while I was on the run from my enemies. With your piano skills, you managed to raise enough money to fund my escape... Kokichi: But then I betrayed you! I sold you out to my enemies and you were swiftly killed! Kaede, thinking: Th-there is no freaking way any of that is true... Kaede: That was all a lie! Kokichi: Yup, it sure was! We met each other here! I can't believe you fell for that, Kaede. You're such a sucker. Kaede: Geez... Kaede, thinking: Yeah... This is the sort of prank a kid who wants attention would pull.

because of the fantastical and vague nature of the story, Kaede dismisses him without much consideration and some agitation, yada yada, Kaede leaves annoyed

okay, context established. smash cut. tumblr town time now

so, there's this DRV3 theory post from 2021 by tumblr user fit-artichoke8738 that I really enjoy. well, I say theory post, but it doesn't attempt to conclude anything about the game or its' mysteries. it's more of a musing connection between two background details: the DICE logo and Kaede's research lab door

for those of you who didn't click the link, basically, Kaede's research lab door resembles the right half of the DICE logo. or, to put it another way, the right half of the DICE logo resembles piano keys. like this

that's it, that's the whole post. fit-artichoke8738 doesn't further speculate. which is all well and good, because although nobody points it out in the notes, the right half of the DICE logo is ... the "C" and "E" in DICE ...

... probably??? right???

which means this could easily be explained as an artistic coincidence. both are black and white, composed of common shapes, and the devs might have not been thinking about the similarities given all the time and work that goes into creating a game like DRV3

I have an addition though. is this *also* an artistic coincidence

IS IT?

did the devs consciously choose to write Kokichi doing a "you were my ally once! psych!" rug pull on Kaede in his first free-time event with her and then they just. spilled paint and accidentally made this design on her shirt

a design, btw, that I am aware is officially listed in the DRV3 in-game gallery as her former high school emblem. it also names the school as "Shining Star International High School". it's a reference to Seisa International, a real conglomerate of International schools in Japan, or so claims the danganronpa.fandom wiki

the only post I can find of similar speculation is from 2020 on VK, a Russian social media, where someone else pulls "LIE" out of the same emblem, just without utilizing the whole thing

and jokes aside, I can guess why this isn't talked about much. this is a background detail, the framework that most people (seem to) view the truth of DRV3 is through Tsumugi's game-show explanation, and there are several ways to dismiss the "DICE" reading, including but not limited to the fact that Kaede has a very inconsistently rendered emblem between her cut-scenes and sprites

but I expected to be able to *find* that dismissal. like "oh. that's weird. ANYWAY." kind of posts. nada. am I missing them??? where are they??? I'd love to understand where the logic for current DRV3 interpretations comes from. the lack of theory discussion these days makes that difficult for me. might as well start with what happened with this idea, since I'm interested in it

if anybody knows, that would be cool. and with that out of my system. I'll resume replay next weekend. maaaaaybe tomorrow

[justuraverageweirdo]

SAGITTARIUS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

If you want to see the other designs, just look at the tag #gladiator au on my blog <3

Virgo is next, and then Aries! Design rambles under the cut.

So Sagittarius is actually connected to a lot of centaurs in Greek mythology. Ancient Greeks, I love you for giving me SO much to work with. The sign is masculine, so he/him. Sagittarius is primarily associated with Chiron, also known as the trainer of heroes. He trained Achilles, Patroclus, Heracles, Jason, Perseus, and many more. After Chiron was in extreme pain due to a poisonous arrow Heracles shot him with accidentally, Zeus immortalized him in the stars. He is also associated with Crotus, a son of Pan and Eupheme, who was very skilled hunter. The muses had Zeus place him in the sky to demonstrate archery. I gave him a bow heavily inspired off of a model of Odysseus’ bow, which is known to be extremely hard to string and even harder to shoot. I did this because I like to think Sagittarius is literally the only person in the entire universe who knows how to actually use that thing, let alone have the strength to do it and aim precisely enough. I originally tried to do for him what I did for Aquarius and Cancer and color pick from his planet, Jupiter. However it didn't turn out too well so i just settled for an online color pallet, with some additional colors I added myself.

Let me know if you have any feedback!

[egrets-not-regrets]

Pearls

Sirass gets some help from Alcyon in his search for a gift for his date.

Author's Notes: Alcyon decides to be helpful. Thanks @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Sirass.

I decided to write a few fics for Mermay 2025 in Of Fin and Feathers AU based on @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan's Mermay list. Thanks Susan for letting me use your list!

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @legionsofthehungry

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

@cruelmeltryllis , @insanity6666, @anothermeforcompany

Sirass was patrolling with a fellow chaos mer, Alcyon. The older Iron Warrior mer noticed Sirass had been slightly absent-minded as of late and the distraction showed when the younger mer kept arriving late at their designated meeting points on their patrol route. 

“You are distracted. There are no enemies around and you’ve arrived late to our meeting points twice already. What caught your attention?” Alcyon demanded, having had enough of being held up for the third time, his tail flicking in irritation. 

Sirass gaped then gritted his teeth. He really had no excuse. As much as he wanted to keep his business with his potential bonded human to himself, he needed help with acquiring a gift for her. Sirass weighed his options.  It was only a matter of time before word got out with Malaran already knowing. At least Alcyon was tight-lipped, he didn’t need everyone knowing that he couldn’t decide on what gift to bring for this first official meeting with the diver he rescued and get laughed at. 

“Sirass!”

He blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

Alcyon sighed, “You are bonded, aren’t you?” Though Malaran mentioned this to him, the old Iron Warrior Mer easily recognized the signs of a newly bonded mer. He was familiar with the feeling. The constant distraction by thoughts of his bonded and desire and instinct to reunite with her. And judging by his brother’s slightly more defensive posture, Alcyon knew he was correct. 

Sirass frowned, “Malaran told you, didn't he?”

“Yes. And you are making it very obvious.”

Sour-faced, Sirass grumbled, “I should’ve known. Whether or not she is my bonded still remains to be confirmed. That mer has a bigger mouth than a humpback whale.”

Alcyon answered with a dead-pan voice, “That is why I don’t tell him everything.” He changed the topic, “You are looking for something. Your bonded is human and she is currently on land. So what are you looking for?”

Sirass bristled slightly at Alcyon’s insistence to keep calling that human his bonded but he wasn’t about to complain. He wanted to get through this as quickly as possible. “A gift. For our meeting. I need to find something valuable, but not so flashy that would attract too much attention from other humans.”

Alcyon listened quietly. 

“Pearls then.” He said with finality as if he made a decision. 

Sirass thought about it and it made sense. Pearls are small, naturally beautiful, not too obvious and can easily be kept hidden if needed. Kind of like his human, he muse, his lips curled in a small smile. Sirass shook his head. He shouldn’t think that far. He turned to ask Alcyon, “Where do you find pearl-producing shellfish?”

The older Iron Warrior mer gestured to him and commanded, “Follow me. Do not breathe a word of this place to anyone.”

Sirass followed Alcyon southwest towards a sunlit grotto off the coast of a small isolated island. Inside were multitudes of oysters of various species growing on the rocky surface. Among the oysters were scattered corals and anemone. Looking over at Alcyon, Sirass saw that the other mer was scanning the oysters with his augmented lens. The older Iron Warrior mer opened some oysters and picked out a lustrous pearl with a delicate tool, then reinserted a seed-like fragment. Others, he simply picked and put into a pouch he carried. He showed Sirass how to harvest and reseed the oysters, how to pick ones most likely to have pearls, and what to do to keep the oyster reef healthy. 

After a while, Sirass asked Alcyon, feeling somewhat perplexed, “Why do you cultivate this oyster reef? There must be other areas where you can find pearl-producing shellfish.” It’s easy enough to find more with the aid of his augmented lens. 

For a moment, he saw Alcyon’s expression soften a little before he replied, “Getting rid of boredom mostly. My bondmate and my son enjoy eating these oysters, and the pearls are valuable for trade. It is worth maintaining this reef for this reason.”

Bondmate? His son? Alcyon, a family man? Sirass thought, has their bond grown so far along? He knew his brother was very attached to his bonded harpy, but he didn’t think Alcyon would be inclined to also accept her son along with her. Then again, there was his loyalist brother, Erriox, with his ever-growing gaggle of Primaris scoutlings that he and his bonded adopted. It seemed that bonding truly changed his brothers and he’s not sure how this bond will change him, or whether or not he would like it. 

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

I was supposed to be working on the next piece for the estewizard AU but the other worlds were fighting for my attention, so I thought why not include a bunch of them in the drawing. You can think of it as Mateo messing up a spell and accidentally bringing together the multiverse

Solo pictures and short introductions to the AUs under the cut

Puppet (Elena) AU

This AU diverges during Shuriki's seige of the palace. Elena's amulet is found by Esteban before Alacazar. Wanting to comfort the panicked boy at least a little, Alacazar explains that Elena isn't dead and they can easily free her if only they get Shuriki's wand... and that's when the devil spoken about shows up and strikes Alacazar down.

Elena is freed from the amulet by Shuriki and Esteban after a few weeks/months. She's brought to the palace and inofficially kept prisoner by the threat of hurting her family - her family in the painting of course, she's one step away from hurting Esteban herself at any given moment. At first she tries to rebel against Shuriki, free herself and her kingdom from this invader but soon she realises that she can actually achieve more by working with Shuriki rather than against her. Of course, only in minor things, only temporarily, only to keep her pleased so she doesn't harm Avalor more...

Estewizard AU

After 41 years Elena has become the second (or third, depending on if you ask her or Esteban) person in the kingdom after the queen herself. She's officially given the crown to Shuriki a long time ago and now focuses all her efforts on making sure the citizens of Avalor are safe and have nothing to worry about. It would be easier if her shitty cousin didn't try to undermine her efforts every step of the way.

A little glimpse on how much she's changed under Shuriki's influence could've been seen in this little ficlet.

The inciting incident is similar to the previous story, Esteban finds the amulet before Alacazar and learns from him that Elena is trapped inside, but here they both manage to escape from the palace. Esteban joins Alacazar on his journey, with time becoming his apprentice and then a full-fledged wizard and taking over the mission. He builds a whole legendary persona of the Last Wizard of Avalor, while in reality using the Amulet's powers more than his own. After Elena was freed he took over as the royal wizard, continuing his mentor's legacy and taking Mateo on as his apprentice.

(I explained the whole story in greater detail in various posts under the #estewizard au tag on my blog)

To King or not to King AU (tkon)

If the name of this AU reminded you of the To Queen or not to Queen episode, you'd be correct since this AU started with me being dissatisfied with that episode XD I was thinking how I would write a story where Elena grapples with the question if she'd be queen if she didn't have to and skipping now over all my musings on the episode, this story was born. Technically it's not an AU but a canon compliant post canon story where an alternate reality is created in universe.

A powerful wizard realised that the best way to take over the kingdom is to get rid of the royal family. But killing them or locking somewhere would inevitably lead to them seeking vengeance, no, to properly get rid of them she has to keep them happy - and separated. And so each member of the royal family had fake memories implemented and was put into a new life.

Here we see Francisco as a travelling musician/vigilante, accidentally passing by Avalor City. Only the wizard didn't consider that her spell didn't work properly on everyone and this Francisco doesn't have any memories prior to the morning he wakes up on the outskirts of the city, neither the fake nor the real ones.

(Also technically Elena and Esteban are more important figures in this story, but I didn't want to repeat characters)(and designing Francisco was a lot of fun.)

Guapoverse

One of my older stories and because of that probably marked by the most dramatism. One could argue whether it's an AU or simply a post canon story, since the plot takes off around 3 years after Coronation Day, but because of how many liberties I took with the story I prefer to call it the former.

As the general Gabe took it upon himself to improve safety in all of Avalor, not just the capital and to do that he sends his best men to all parts of the country to research the social situation, warn of possible dangers and set up new posts. During one such expedition, Rico stumbles upon a sketchy plot which could potentially put the whole kingdom in danger...

Having lost contact with one of his officers and not experienced in any matters that big yet, Gabe looks for guidance. With Francisco dead, most records of the military under Castillo rule lost and Shuriki's general having disappeared with all the most important archives soon after Elena's return, Gabe turns to the one man he knew to be a successful general - unfortunately that man is currently stuck in a magic sword and has been for the last few centuries.

They strike a deal, Gabe will share his body and Guapo will share his experience and if Gabe successfully brings Avalor out of this crisis, maybe Guapo can finally be released from his magical golden cage.

Now, the picture, after 5 more years the dark cloud of civil war is entirely in the past and Avalor is peaceful once more. As for Gabe, he got to settle down with the love of his life who finally accepted the whole possession deal and though there are still many years and many adventures before him, he can already safely say that he found he earned his star. And Guapo? With the doors to the Spirit World now open to him, he decided to stick around a little longer, he got attached to this kid (and someone has to take care of his fashion sense.)

A little snippet from the guapoverse has actually already appeared on tumblr here.

Neither of these stories really has a firm canon or much in terms of finished pieces but I still love these concepts and think they're great fun even just to muse over. Feel free to send an ask if anything piqued your interest and hey, maybe I'll even know what to answer! And if not we'll brainstorm together

[ramp-it-up]

Girls Who Wear Glasses

The Cleo Era | Muse Masterlist

Summary: Ari gets your glasses dirty.

Word count: 1.6 K

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model!Reader

A/N: Muse Monday on a Wednesday!!! I just got some new glasses and I... Well, this is the result. This is a part of the Muse vers, but can be read as a standalone. Enjoy! (And if you do, or if you don't, let me know!)

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Art Curator Ari. Plus sized model Reader, menace mommy Muse, Editor-in Chief Muse; brat Muse, dom Daddy Ari, glasses kink, rough oral (male receiving), cum play, the glasses get dirty, SIZE KINK, wall fucking, allusion to shower sex.

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

Editing the magazine confirmed two things: you were a stickler for detail, and you needed reading glasses.

At first, your vanity flinched.

Briefly.

Then the fashion brain kicked in.

Your editor Trixie had a field day.

She put out the call, and by week’s end, your desk was flooded with designer frames. They were all fire, but the ones that stopped your heart came with a note from Virgil himself.

Limited edition Louis Vuitton. Matte black wire with tortoiseshell tips: clean, sharp, and seductive.

You brought them home the second they arrived.

After riling Cleo up to crash-out levels, tickles, giggles, and a shared mango popsicle, you handed her off to Ari and slipped into the bedroom.

Off came your pencil skirt and heels.

On went his button-down, black lace panties, and thigh-high socks.

When you stepped out, the lights were low, and the nursery glowed gold.

Ari was in the rocking chair, humming something soft, holding Cleo against his chest. One hand curved over her tiny back, and she was nearly out, her face nuzzled into his shirt, and her breaths slowing into perfect little puffs.

He didn’t look up right away.

But when he did…

His eyes dragged over you from the socks, to the lace peeking out beneath the hem of his shirt, to the hint of breast and the chain he'd given you for your anniversary. And finally, to the slim LV frames perched on your nose.

“How do they look?” you asked, voice low and playful, wondering if he’d even register what you were talking about.

Ari didn’t even pretend to play it cool.

His gaze dragged back down, then up again, lingering where the shirt barely brushed the tops of your thighs.

“Fuckin’ edible,” he murmured, eyes hungry now.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

You tilted your head and smirked.

“I meant the glasses, Ari.”

That pulled his gaze back to your face. Finally.

He looked at your face properly, the realization finally settling behind his eyes. And then his mouth curled into that crooked, filthy little smile that made your stomach flutter.

“Well,” he rasped, his voice deeper now, “you look like a librarian I’d corrupt in a heartbeat. Like I’d bend you over the nearest table and fog those lenses up.”

You tried to keep a straight face and failed, then grinned as Cleo stirred in his arms. He adjusted her gently, without looking away from you.

“You like them?” you asked, more sincere now, lips parted, your cheeks warm.

“I love them,” he said, eyes darkening.

“But I’d love anything on your face.”

You let out a shocked little laugh.

“Ari...God, you’re filthy.”

“And still not done,” he murmured as he rose, holding Cleo close. 

He kissed her head, whispered something soft, and gently lowered her into the crib. He gave her one last glance to make sure she was out.

Then he turned toward you.

You were waiting in the doorway, leaning against the frame, glasses low on your nose, shirt open just enough to make him come closer. When he reached you, his mouth brushed your ear.

“Those little glasses make you look like you follow instructions,” he rasped.

“But that lace?” 

His fingers tugged at the hem of the shirt. 

“That tells me you don’t plan to.”

You bit your lip.

“That’s not what I meant…”

“I know what you meant,” he said, eyes dark and glittering. 

“And I gave you the truth. You’re my favorite problem. One I don’t want solved.”

You started backing out of the nursery as Ari followed you, eyes locked on yours and predatory.

“So,” you whispered, letting the shirt fall open completely. 

“You were saying?”

He moved even closer. One hand braced beside your head, the other gripped your jaw. His mouth hovered just above yours.

“I was saying,” he murmured, “you walked out here knowing I couldn’t touch you when I wanted to. And now you want me to be calm?”

His hand slipped inside the shirt, thumb roughly rubbing your nipple, leaving it aching, then dragging down your body to the waistband of your panties.

“Ari…” you breathed.

“You wore these,” he whispered, “knowing I’d lose my mind.”

“Maybe I wanted you to.”

“You look like you want to be ruined,” he growled, “with your hair wrapped around my fist and those pretty little frames sliding down your nose while I fuck that beautiful face.”

Your knees almost buckled.

“You’d mess up my glasses?”

“They’re cute,” he rasped.

“But I told you. I’d love anything on your face.”

You sank to your knees without a word.

He watched you the whole way down, his chest rising and falling harder now.

You adjusted your glasses and looked up at him like you were his dirtiest fantasy in thigh-highs and nothing else.

He swallowed hard, his knees weak from how gorgeous you were, but he didn’t say anything. He groaned and pulled himself from his sweats, already hard, wet, and aching.

“Open,” he whispered, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip.

You did. 

Your lips parted and your tongue stuck out as he slid his broad crown as deep into your mouth as it would go. Your hands gripped his thighs as you licked and sucked his girth.

You worked him slowly and sinfully, your tongue swirling, eyes locked on his, the glasses slipping with each glide of his hips.

You looked obscene like this.

Messy and beautiful, like your mouth was built to take him. Almost.

You were Ari’s Head Master, sweet, filthy, and fucking perfect.

He couldn’t last.

Not with you on your knees, glasses fogged, mouth slick and trying to swallow everything he gave you. He came with a growl, spilling his cum thickly across your tongue, your lips, your neck.

Your glasses caught the rest, little drops that painted them prettily.

Everything you couldn’t swallow dripped from your chin. And when you looked up at him, you looked like a filthy little angel.

“I just wanted to know if they looked good,” you said innocently.

“They look better dirty,” he said, voice rough, reaching down to pull you to your feet.

“But I plan to get them much dirtier.”

He dragged you up like he couldn’t stand being apart from you another second. Your knees barely had time to lock around his waist before your back hit the hallway wall.

Your glasses were crooked now. And your lips were still swollen from sucking him off. You were adorable.

Adorable and hot.

He reached up, adjusted your glasses, and then grinned.

“They stay on.”

Ari looked feral as he tugged the shirt down your arms, baring your breasts to the cool air and his hungry stare.

The sight earned you a delicious sound from deep in his throat. Then his mouth was on you.

His tongue swept inside your mouth, tasting himself on your lips, groaning when you moaned into him like you needed more. Your fingers gripped his hair because you needed something to hold on to.

His hands gripped under your thighs, lifting you without breaking the kiss. You hips ground down to where he was already hard again, dragging delicious friction through his sweats.

“You think I’m done with you?” he whispered, lips brushing yours. “Think I’m not gonna fuck you stupid against this wall?”

“God, Ari,” you gasped. “Yes. Yes, please.”

You kissed his neck, sucking just below his ear as you whispered, “I just wanted to know...”

He lined himself up and slid inside you in one thick, devastating thrust, the angle deep and sharp, making your head thunk softly against the wall as your mouth dropped open.

He was so damn thick.

Your body protested for a split second, then gladly lubricated and accepted him. You were gasping, helpless, and clutching his shoulders as he started to move with rough, controlled thrusts that hit the deepest part of you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Your glasses slipped; you didn’t care.

He growled against your throat.

“Look at me.”

You tried, but your eyes were half-lidded, mouth open, glasses fogging again as the heat built impossibly fast. He slipped his hand around your neck, his thumb tilting your jaw up.

“Look at me when I fuck you like this. I want to see those eyes. Want to see how wrecked you get behind those perfect little frames.”

The dirty glasses made it all hotter, messier, and more unbearable.

But Ari fucked you through it.

And you felt everything. The grind of his hips. The drag of his cock. The stretch, the ache, the overwhelming fullness. Your head fell back with a whimper as he slammed deeper.

“You look so goddamn pretty in these,” he panted.

“Riding my cock with fogged-up glasses like you were made for it. Taking it like the good little filthy girl you are.”

Your orgasm hit fast and brutal.

You clenched around him, nails digging into his back, body trembling as you reached for that peak. He fucked you deep and hard, all while kissing the air out of your lungs. He fucked you through every aftershock until you were shaking against the wall. 

Then he, hooked your knees around his arms and dug even deeper, pushing you over the edge again until your vision whited out, your cries muffled by his mouth. And when your pussy milked his cock again, glasses tilted, shirt hanging open, he lost it right behind you. 

He stayed buried inside you for a long, shuddering breath, holding you close, his forehead pressed to yours, hands gripping your ass in his huge paws.

“I ever see you in these glasses in public,” he whispered, “You better get someplace private. Fast. You understand me?”

You nodded, boneless and buzzing.

He kissed your cheek, let your legs slide down to the ground, and held you steady with one hand as he gently adjusted your frames again with the other.

“Still look perfect,” he murmured.

You smiled.

“Thanks for your review,” you whispered. 

“I have 28 other pairs at the office.”

Ari groaned.

Then he threw you over his shoulder, causing the glasses to fly off somewhere behind you as he headed toward the shower.

Because Ari absolutely wasn’t done with you.

[chocopretzelcookie]

it's finally done!!! i made my own version of Black Sapphire for this blog~ he just has some subtle differences from his original design, but i'm pretty proud of this hehe >w<

he will be a secondary muse and i'll be writing more stuff with him and Choco Pretzel :3c his bio will be added to the pinned post later (don't mind the watermark, i'll be posting this drawing on my other socials lol)

also i have a second version of this reference, showing how he looks when he goes berserk + headcanons for it, so content warning for angst/more intense imagery (?) below the cut:

Headcanons for Berserk Black Sapphire ;

multiple colored eyes w/colorful tears; same colors as his staff's demon eyes. the pupils look like mini radio wavelengths, sporadically shaking

his hair turns white and his skin turns a fuzzy ashen grey; the texture similar to TV static

an aura of black smoke and small poisonous bubbles surround him

Black Sapphire was originally going to have a secret boss battle, but the devs scrapped the idea. the data/code was still attached to him though somehow, so he's extra careful about keeping his darker side in check + not letting his negative emotions get the best of him

more stuff tba thru interactions / asks ~