#ouroboros anon

[my-castles-crumbling]

Anon Advice Asks - May 3rd

clandestine anon (new), phone anon (new), chesh anon, guess anon, ouroboros anon

clandestine anon

Hi Cas! I’d say I’m new here but really I’ve been borderline obsessed (in a good way) with your blog for about 6 months. But I’ve never asked anything yet… I’ve read your boundaries for asks and am pretty sure this follows them so I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but I really don’t have anyone to talk to about this and you seem really nice. Anyway, I’m under 18 and live with homophobic/transphobic parents. I’m a BOY and I’ve known that for a few months now (internalized transphobia kind of held that back a bit, though). But no way can I tell my parents. They only allow my hair to be shoulder length or longer and will teach me how to be a ‘good wife and mother’ but the thought of being a wife or mother makes me sick. They sometimes make me (and I mean literally force me to) wear dresses. I’ve gotten away with wearing some boys t-shirts but that’s mostly because they’re more ‘modest’ I guess. I’m not physically abused in any way but I’m coming to realize I’m being emotionally abused about every day.  I know it sounds kind of stupid but the fic Clandestine that you wrote helped me a lot. Wow this got a little long (sorry) but really I was just wondering for any advice or something. I live in a very transphobic city so I don’t have pretty much anyone. I don’t mean to stress you out or make you uncomfortable but I just needed to get this out, preferably anonymous.

Hi <3

I'm so sorry you're dealing with this and I wish I could do something more to help, but I hope you know that you deserve to be accepted as you are and I am here to vent to anytime. I hope as you grow older, you're able to find people who love you for you, and places you feel comfortable in. I promise that as you that not everyone out there will be like your parents

Sending so much love, and please let me know if there's anything I can do! <3

___

phone anon

Hi cas

So I hope I don't sound super privileged now but yesterday my phone broke. I am pretty mad about it because I only had it 2 years but the worst thing that I didn't save one of my favorite games and now I need to begin over.

and I had such a good alliance, I did write the leader before my phone broke how someone out of our alliance kicked me from something and now it seems as if I just leave so I wouldn't be caught liying🥲

I tried to find the alliance but I don't know on which server I was😭

Sorry for venting but I am just so frustrated with myself.

Thank you for reading

Hi!

No, I'd be frustrated too! That's a social outlet for you, and it's hard that you have no way to fix it. Accepting that lack of control isn't easy, and it's natural that you'd be upset and angry.

Plus from a logistics pov, it's SUCH a pain in the ass to replace a phone and set up a new one.

___

chesh anon

Hey, chesh again, sorry, i just felt like i was falling apart and there was no one i could talk to.

I don't know what to do. I'm losing someone, and i'm scared they don't care, im afraid ive fucked it all up. I just feel so lonely, all the time, i never say a word and i feel like no one wants to talk to me. Because im never the person ppl want, and that's not on them, but gods it hurts, everything hurts. If i talk i hurt ppl, and maybe they're better off without me. I've just never felt this lonely. i don't even want to go into school, it's not anyones fault but mine. My mom says my expectations are far too high. I don't know i don't know. I feel like i gave my all for so little in return. And maybe i'm the problem i seem to be in everyone else's head but my own, i know i feel things more deeply. I just want them to text me. I just want them to hug me. I just want to talk to them without feeling like i'm doing everything wrong. Like i'm never the person they want to be with. I wish i didn't have the word "paranoid" going round my head, telling me i cant talk to anyone because thats what i am, paranoid maybe its all my head. I think im the problem. I don't know what to do, maybe ive ruined it all. Because they haven't brung it up, so maybe theres nothing wrong i just feel isolated and alone and i just want to be fixed. I just want to be good enough that ppl will be there for me. But im all messed up like the pieces of a jigsaw that never fit together

And (redacted), how do you tell someone that after all that work its going back like a landslide?

Thank you,

Chesh x

Hi <3 as far as the first part of your ask, I don't think it's unfair to want to be someone's first choice. It's unbelievably lonely to feel like nobody prioritizes you, especially since like...you can't force that. But I think you ARE allowed to ask for reassurance. You're allowed to ask people to remind you they care. If they get mad, then they're not very good friends! You deserve reminders that you are loved, because you ARE.

And the second part...you tell someone you need help, because it's a very brave thing to do, and anyone who really cares will be SO proud of you for doing that. Its not bad or weak to need help. It's not bad, or a loss. Asking for help is a WIN, because you're working hard to stay healthy, and recognize what you need <3 And the people who are proud of you for doing that are the people who you should stick to.

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guess anon

HI CAS!! it's guess anon - not sure if u remember me cause i havent said anything in a while

Today i had my trial shift for a job at a cafe - its the first place that actually gqbe me an interview. Theu told me they arent quite sure that i wss suited for the original role bht invuted me for front of house trial. And it went SO WELL!! I should hopefully hear back by Tuesday.

Also, i wrote a song last week! Hahah there is so many uodqtes, we'd be here all week if i were to type them out.

Hi! That's so exciting about the front of house job! You have to keep me updated, I want to know if you get it! And I'm so jealous you can write songs, I tried once but I'm horrible at it. I'm glad things are going well for you!

___

ouroboros anon

DM me

[defiledtomb]

Just saw the new Leith snippets, I am soooo unwell about them 😭 Baby I don't care how unsettling you are post time skip, you are still the loml <33333333

your pathfinder (and me) when Leith turns up looking horrific, monstrous, aggressive, damaged beyond repair:

Here. Have another peek from ouro.

[percheduphere]

Super serious question for your meta analysis skills: If the Avengers met the TVA crew, how quickly do you think their intimidating view of Loki would go out the window?

Ex: Casey being told Loki was a villain: “I mean, he was kinda a jerk when he threatened me and then later stole my juice but calling him a villain seems a bit much.” OB: “Really? He’s always seemed nice to me!” B-15: “Eh, he’s kinda like Mobius, can be a threat but usually a nice guy.” Avengers: *Wondering if there’s some TVA rando named Loki*

Hi Anon!

I am so so sorry it takes so long for me to reply. I finally made it to yours!

I actually wrote a lil' CONSIDER scenario, in which Loki introduces Thor to his friends. While not the same conditions as what you are querying, I think the effect would be very similar. That is: Loki is really just a pussycat!

That said, the Avengers' reactions would vary depending on who they meet first. It honestly would not take long at all before Loki's villain persona just falls apart. They'll probably wonder how Loki managed to be such a thorn on their side to begin with (*cough* Thanos *cough*).

If they start with Casey, he'd probably say something like: "Oh, yeah. He threatened to gut me like a fish once, but other than that he's actually pretty good guy!" O.B., like you said, would be similar. And because he's a ray of sunshine, he might respond, "Loki is Mobius's friend, and any friend of Mobius is a friend of mine, too!"

But things start to get really hilarious once we get to the B-15 and Sylvie.

If they start with B-15 (Verity), she will just laugh in their faces. Or she will look at them all judgy, as if to say: "Really? This magic gremlin gave you all a hard time? Mmkay ..." Kinda like this:

Sylvie would probably laugh in their faces, too, likely commenting on Loki's shit plans.

If the Avengers met Sylvie and B-15 together, they would just ... bend over their knees cackling. They'd have to wipe the tears from their eyes from laughing so hard.

And then, of course, we have Mobius.

I think he'd be somewhere between Casey & O.B. and B-15 & Sylvie, with a heaping of: I love him. He's great. He messes up a lot and feels bad about it, but that's what makes him adorable. If something happens to him, I will turn into a soggy piece of crinkled paper.

So Mobius's reaction would be a little bit of this:

A touch of this:

And a sprinkle of this for good measure. Because Mobius loves Loki and literally has ZERO pokerface when it comes to him:

Once the Avengers watch Loki and Mobius playfully bicker, it's all over. It's proof Loki's domesticated.

Hope that answers your question, Anon!

[slowd1ving]

hehehehehe I'm making fanart for ouroboros soon...

*rubs hand together like a scheming villain*

sneak peek of me figuring out how to draw Ratio statue

OH MY GOODNESSS????????? HELLOO?????

this is cool as HELLL AHHHHH!!!!! you don't understand how much this means to me bro this is the first fanart i've received of any work; absolutely honoured and bowled over by this piece-also this looks so good already 😭😭🙏🙏!!!!

*rubbing my hands like the fly on your wall* bro this made my whole year (and next one too)

will be printing this out and just gazing at it while i write the ending lmao

no but seriously this is so sweet and awesome tysm!!!

[mogwaei]

dark timeline mao my beloved

WHICH DARK TIMELINE, THERE MIGHT BE MULTIPLE (you're correct tho, it's got me in a chokehold too)

[tkfluff-fanatic]

you should draw postal dude please. please

FUCKING L AVE ME ALONE.

[orangetintedglasses]

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

( JGDSLKGDSJ wE DON'T KNOW YET )

[theanontrain]

"Ouroboros realizes something about its tail."

[my-castles-crumbling]

Anon Advice Asks - January 29th

Kate Anon (new), best friend anon (new), torn anon (new), shy anon, ouroboros anon (new), thoughts anon, intrusive thoughts anon

______________________

Kate Anon

Hi Cas! Hope you're doing good!

Just here to rant!

Okay, so first some backstory. Last summer I went to a camping were you do all sorts of courses like dancing, art, theater, and more. There were not a lot of people my age, but I befriended this girl, lets call her Kate. Kate and I started hanging out, she was super nice and honestly very pretty. We talked a bit and found out we lived very close to each other, and she was moving even closer to my house after the summer. We even found out we knew the same people, and I did theater at the place she danced. So it were all crazy coincedences. We alse befriended some other cool people, but they were a bit crazy, and Kate turned out to be just like them. They would vape and smoke and drink late at night at a campfire. Kate offered me multiple times to sneak me out of my tent and to take me to the campfire. She was super nice about it, respecting that I didnt want to drink or smoke or anything like that. But we did become more distant because of that. At that camp I also met another girl, lets call her Anne. Anne is a year younger then me but super sweet. Anne also lived super close to me and lived in the street Kate was going to move to!

After the summer me and Anne stayed friends, while me and Kate just said hi when we saw each other, but thats it.

But today, like ten minutes ago Anne texted me asking if I had Kate's number. I said I didn't and asked why, turns out Kate's mother passed last week and was burried yesterday. I dont know how she passed but I think it must have been an accedent, bc shes divorced and she just moved. Even thought its not my place I am very worried about Kate, knowing her drinking habits. We havnt spoken since that week in the summer, so the worst I could do is start bothering her now when she only needs close friends. But I feel terrible for her because she did not deserve to lose her mom, no one does. She has just moved, with these plans of decorating her new room, she just started living in this new chapter, and now her moms dead. I can't do anything to help, because this really isnt my place. But I hate not knowing anything and worrying she's going to do something stupid and overdose on drugs or alcohol. It's weird, bc in one week we did a lot and shared a lot about our lives, and I really want to help, but I shouldnt and I feel so powerless, bc for some reason I keep on feeling that there must be something I could do for her, but I can't.

Sorry for the long rant, hope you have a nice day.

Hi <3

Ugh this is awful, I feel so bad for Kate. Honestly, if you have her number, I don't think there's anything wrong with texting her and saying you heard what happened and you're there if she ever needs to talk. Like...showing support isn't a bad think, I think?

But yeah it sucks when these things happen and there's not much you can do. I hope that she has a support system in place that can look out for her.

___________________________

Best Friend Anon

my best friend is dating a toxic person and i feel bad because they seem to really like eachother and i don't have the heart to confront my best friend about that girl behaviour because of how happy she makes her. I'm lost at this point.

Hi <3

So...as someone who has been the person dating the toxic person...I think it's so hard because like...you don't want to push your best friend away by being like "wow your partner is an asshole" but also you don't want to keep letting it go on.

Honestly I think the best thing to do is ask questions, and remind her that you're there for her. Ask questions like "Oh, is saw your gf did x. How did you feel about that?" Like...don't let it slide but don't be confrontational or judgy. And then when she says whatever she says, just remind her that you're there for her, no matter what. Heavy on the no matter what.

_____________________

Torn Anon

hey cas I’m scared of politics. and illiteracy. and history repeating itself. and propaganda. and I kind of just want to hole myself in and ignore all of it. what should I do? I’m just focusing on studying and doing better at school and talking to my friends but gods am I scared of what’s happening. (no need for an anon name! love your stuff<3) I’m happy personally. I’ve called the people I love recently. I’m trying out new things. I don’t know. I feel torn.

Sorry with this new system I had to give you a name!

I think you're right to be nervous, but it sounds like you're doing what you can- you're studying, you have a support system, you're staying educated. There has to be a balance between knowing what is happening, and putting yourself and your growth as a priority. It's okay to prioritize you, your mental health, your growth and education. Do what you can to stay in the know and use your voice, but also don't overwhelm yourself. I think that becomes a problem when you don't do what you NEED to do- like vote, if you are able. But there are going to be some times in your life when you just don't have the stamina to give all of your energy toward changing the world, and that's okay. YOU matter, too.

________________

Shy Anon

Hey cas!

These past few months have been hectic I'm ngl. My parents had a huge fight resulting in them almost getting divorced my sister's mental health has been declining and my other sister is diagnosed with a health condition and my finding out my brother has a speech impediment!

I just really wanted to vent to someone because I don't have a therapist because I'm underage and my parents don't believe in mental health kind of therapy and say I'm completely fine

But other than that life has been okay I guess

I'm just worried I might be coping in anyway that could affect me years later

Do you have any healthy coping techniques you wouldn't mind telling me?

All the Hugs And Kisses

XOXO

- Shy Anon

Holy shit, that is a LOT! Honestly, the way of coping that works best for me is creative expression- writing, singing, drawing, painting, etc. But I know some people do better with talking or getting exercise! I think the idea is to just get the emotions OUT in a way that doesn't harm you. If you haven't tried any of these, maybe try each one by one and see what feels right to you?

______________________

Ouroboros anon

Hi <3

I'm not gonna copy your ask here because if the topic but I think you'll know it's you. First, I'm so sorry this happened, and I hope you're still enjoying your vacation!

As far as tumblr, please keep blocking- both the tags and the people. Block AND report because that shit isn't okay.

As far as you, I know you already know this but I'm going to say it anyway. The things you are describing are a VERY slippery slope. Yes, you say you'll just do it for a little while, but you and I both know that the likelihood of 'a little while' turning into a deadly problem is VERY high.

Trust me, I absolutely know how hard it is. I've been struggling with my body image my entire life. But please please understand that the 'solution' you are describing is NOT a solution, because it doesn't fix the fact that YOU are hurting. And you do not deserve to treat yourself that way.

Please know I care about you, and I know you can make the right choices. I also think it might be a good idea to talk to a school guidance counselor or doctor about this- you deserve to feel happy with yourself.

Sending love <3

______________

Thoughts Anon

Thoughts anon here.

CAS MONA LISA IS A DUDE.

Did you know that? I did not know that (before today that is).

So we all know da Vinci right? He's our fave Italian artist he served cunt he made a painting of our beloved babygirl Mona Lisa...

But! Scientists analysed Mona Lisa's face and found that she bore STRIKING resemblance to one Gian Giacomo Caprotti da Oreno, better known as Salaì, our OTHER fave Italian artist who served cunt and was also da Vinci's favourite student.

He was also da Vinci's muse AND lover but no one can prove it and it's irrelevantttttttt...

Okay I lied it's very relevant.

So da Vinci drew a LOT of... Ah, EXPLICIT sketches of Salaì (18+ who?). I just think that this proves that Salaì was da Vinci's muse at the very least (if not a lover) but idk that might just be me...

And ALSO. 'Mona Lisa' is an anagram for 'MON SALAÌ' which literally translates to 'MY SALAÌ' if it wasn't obvious SO SEDATE ME CASSSSSS

Literally what the fuck this shit is true love if I've ever seen it even though nobody can prove it but who CARES we live in delulu land all the time da Vinci x Salaì is CANON and the art is PROOF because when you fall in love with an artist you can never truly die and UGH.

Anyway, all this to say...

Me 🤝 shipping dead gay wizards from the seventies 🤝 shipping dead gay Italian artists from the 15th and 16th centuries

(Also no trauma dumping whaaaaaaaattt?)

Idk I just missed you so I thought I'd bombard you with this piece of info you may or may not already know

Okay I had a lowkey obsession with DaVinci a while back and I thought they decided Mona Lisa was a self portrait? But honestly, this is a MUCH more fun explanation.

Canon ✅

__________________

Intrusive Thoughts Anon

hi, its intrusive thoughts anon

its funny how the way my gender gets the most affirmed by my friends just saying the weirdest things to me?

like ny friends and i were discussing man buns (i think ive told you this before) and my friends insisted they look terrible, but i said one could pull it off sometimes and one of them said yeah, you do.

like giggling squealing kicking my feat.

and then last week or so, ny friends were over and i was making cinnamon rolls (fucking hate that shit). when i had to roll out the dough, i rolled up the sleeves of sweater and then ny button down and my friend said you know you look like an actual fuck boy right now.

like, i would never play like that but🫣🫣🫣

also once my bsf and i were just talking and we'd just been talking about religion and stuff and she said, i know its wrong for ne to say so, because god created everyone perfect but sometimes i genuinely believe you were born the wrong gender.

like tehe.

i swear nothing gets me happy emoting like these little comments do. and i unfortunately very rarely happy emote.

ALSO mind you this is a cousin who is not very um... ally like. like shes not homophobic but also not. sometimes i think she's bi and shes trying to divert attention off that by saying homophobic stuff (ive caught her litr just drawing the bi flag ON MY LEG MIND YOU, and we also actively simp over women when we watch stuff together. but she has also been now, half way unrequited inlove with a guy for tue past year and he recently said her name during a game and she lowkey went "i didnt even know he knew my name😍😍" LIKE WOMAN GET UPPPPP but thats all besides the point)

so basically i was changing right (not fully just my outer layer) so at this moment, i was in sweats and a tank top and i was about to put a sweatshit on top to sleep. and she said you know you look like those masc lesbians on tiktok. at first i took the compliment but then at night i was like wait.... WHAT ARE MASC LESVIANS DOING ON HER FYP??? but yk what, she should do her and i hope she comes out to me cz i can come out to her cz im too scared to do it first.

but yeah, these little compliments give me sm gender euphoria.

also once a guest came over and i was sitting eating breakfast and watching ny phone, after i was done my grandmother called ne to greet th guest and she literally goes like oh this is [my birthname], i thought this was [my brothers name] LIKE LMFAO YOU THOUGHT MY 5'3" ASS WAS MY 6'2" BROTHER???? LMAO WOMAN L. M. A. O.

yeah its times like these that i feel like hmmm maybe im not as far into the closet as i think.

also when ny friends were over, my mothers friends (my TEACHERS) were also over and they were all so surprised that i have short hair. and that was the lingest my hair had been for like 2 years lol. and one of them said that she thought i had extremely long hair and ny History teacher just shook her head.

i feel like my history teacher sometimes sees me more than my other teachers cz once ny mother showed pictures of my photoshoot i did eith ny two plushies (iconic photoshoot if you ask me) and my physics teacher said that shed never have thought that i liked those things... or coukd smile that big and was that playful (it was a very unserious photoshoot) and my history teacher said that no, its pretty apparent because nobody else would lie doen on the floor just to cut some paper, and that i just have clear boundaries.

SPEAKING OF WHICH!!! one of the teachers at my school told my mother that sometimes when they try to joke with me they feel embarrassed because i just look at them confused like why sre you joking with me? we're not that frank?

and i was like its not even that, im genuinely just confused because i dont know what the appropriate way to respond is?? like if its an actual joke id laugh, but i cant with subtle shit??? its so hard to figure out what to do. kike pls dont talk to ne if you dont know me.

like this teacher (the one said that) once when i was filling my water bottle told me that she saw a girl on a scooter in the morning and thought that ut was me. she laughed a little and smiled and i just stared at her because i was genuinely having an internal meltdown about wtf to say.

when i came home, i told my parents and ny mother said that i couldve laughed a little or smiled, but ny dad said i was 100% right in ny reaction because genuinely how the fuck did she expect ne to react. like thank you for once dad.

also this one teacher told my mother that when she looks at me she thinks i was to kill her??? like no. shes actually one of the two teachers i actually like.

either these teachers are hella dramatic or i actually need to work on my resting face.

anyways this is so rambky, i dont even know where this started but i just wanted to rant to somebody and i dont have anyone physically or otherwise whod actually listen (like besides you) and i was going to start to become a mad man if i continued talking to myself.

good bye and tysm for reading all this. and do please lmk if youre team cinnamon or team i fucking hate cinnamon because in the latter which is a disappointment because everybody ik adores my cinnamon rolls (im virtually sending you some)

tysm!!

idk if i mentioned but its intrusive thoughts anon and its 11pm and i just had coffee which may explain why im rambling...

Hahahaha I feel like sometimes people can just tell without even knowing themselves, you know? And then other times, people can tell, but they either don't know if YOU've realized yet, or they're trying to be tactful.

But I am team cinnamon. I am so sorry, I am a slut for cinnamon buns and I am not ashamed.

[defiledtomb]

I was wondering if you'd be willing to offer free content in the near future on Patreon/Tumblr. I know you've mentioned Tumblr is a bit overwhelming. And that's totally understandable. This isn't a critique or anything. I used to support every month but the few content updates are always posted for paid members. I was hoping (I'm sure i'm not the only one) To get some free updates here and there. I hope you're doing okay regardless. Have a good day.

I totally get where you're coming from, and I hope you know where I'm at too-- currently I'm working two jobs, searching for an apartment and getting through a separation that for all intents and purposes is just like a divorce with its own legal processes and emotional turmoil. In Sweden you don't have to get married to be in a legal relationship. Anyway, I am also just now getting back into ouro development and the Patreon has been for people who want to support me during this transition, it's completely voluntary! If not for Patreon, I would declare a hiatus, so I hope you understand that I update patreons as a thank you for their help. If I gave those updates to everyone, what would be the point? Besides that, I don't want to share my innermost feelings and my personal journey in public but keep it with those that are in the inner circle of my dev journey. But! I will resume public posting as soon as the new public demo is out! And answer asks and engage with the crowd once again, rest assured<3

[hivemuthur]

Hello, I am here to be freaky and gross, buuut... since we had Viktor keeping reader's underwear... what if we had reader keep something of Viktor's? Like a garment or a pen... perhaps using it for comfort and... other activities... (you know what I mean.)

And of course Viktor finds out one way or another and things get even freakier.

Hi Anon! Reader keeping something of Viktor's? ✅ Using it for... something? ✅ Viktor finding out and things get freakier? ✅ Here's your fic!

I Think That He Knows

viktorxfem!reader explicit! freaky Reader, but Viktor keeps up. Some disgusting yearning, mutual pining, scent kink, clothing theft, a little bit of soft-dom Viktor, grinding, underwear smelling :v I've set this during the last year of uni.

word count: 4K

author’s note: Okay, in an unexpected turn of events we have a sniffer Reader, sexting will come though, I promise! I dedicate this to @crimsonlegend, the official president of cravat appreciation club :v This was brainstormed with @rennethen, my beloved wife! I would bathe in this man's sweat and I'm not even exaggerating.

—

Eyelids heavy enough that no match could keep them open, you sink into the chair, chin cradled in your hand as your gaze idly follows the movement of Viktor’s pen through the tight crack of light. The hour is late enough that the library should have emptied, yet neither of you moves to leave.

It’s a constant battle of wits—tonight’s opponents: your endurance versus the unbearable longing. An ouroboros of torment, where the more endurance you have, the better you can perform restraint—but once it slips and gives way to that slow, dreamy state of mind, the longing overtakes, unguarded. Soon, your eyes slip—up, up his hand to his elbow, tracing the line of his arm, all the way to the ultimate bane of your existence: his neck.

Your absolute woe—the space on Viktor’s body seemingly crafted for your whiffling nose, or your lips, or perhaps even your fingers, if you dared be so bold. His cravat is loosened. The collar of his shirt gapes at the throat. You can see the little notch where his neck meets his shoulder. The tendons shift when he swallows. His pulse flutters visibly under pale skin, and your eyes—traitorous things—keep returning to it.

He stays focused, scribbling something in the margin of a notebook, lips pursed, jaw working as he thinks. All the while, you are being siren-called by that sliver of skin. The curl at his nape is slightly damp. A wisp clings to him, more memory than hair.

You almost gasp when his fingers creep into the periphery of your vision—curling around the knot and pulling, unspooling the fabric. His collar gapes further. You’re nearly cross-eyed trying not to look. His voice comes soft, distracted, like steam easing from a kettle:

“I think I’m missing something… are you still with me?”

“Huh?” You jerk upright a little too fast, the sound catching in your throat. Heat flares up your neck as you scramble to recover. “Yes, yes. Just… tired.”

He hums, unconvinced but not unkind. Rolling the cravat in his hands, he flattens it with absent fingers before placing it neatly on the table between you. “Will you endure a little bit longer, or would you like to wrap up?”

“I will do my best.”

“Alright then.” He pushes himself up from the chair, movements careful. The rustle of paper and creak of wood. He pauses to stretch—his shirt pulling just enough to make your eyes follow—and then gestures vaguely over his shoulder as he turns. “Give me a minute.”

You stay frozen. A statue of want, carved from hunger and too many nights of watching that cravat loosen thread by thread. His absence leaves the table hollow. The shape of him lingers, ghost-heavy.

Your gaze trails after him, stalking the shift of his shoulders until the shelves consume him. He turns into the mechanical engineering section and vanishes behind cracked leather spines and oil-scented paper. The click of his cane follows—a metronome ticking down the seconds of your resolve.

This is the real trial. Not exams. Not thesis deadlines or sleepless nights with textbooks and too-little coffee. No—this. The simple distance of a metre and the war of what’s yours to want and what’s not yours to take.

Your fingers twitch in your lap, then still. Again, they twitch. Then rise—hesitating over the cloth like it’s a wound that bleeds heat and memory. The cravat lies there, spent and spiralled, soft silk. It smells like him, you know it does. Like soap and starched linen and something warm beneath it all—him. His skin. His neck.

You imagine pressing your face into it. Just once. Just once. Just for a second, a breath, to inhale and be full of him.

You imagine more. The cloth curled in your fist under covers. You imagine sighing into it, open-mouthed and shameless, tongue thick with the ghost of him, hips rolling to the memory of his voice in your ear saying your name.

The cane clicks again—closer now and time snaps tight around you. Without another thought, you move—one decisive sweep. The garment disappears into your bag and your hand falls flat on top of it. Palm burning, heart frantic.

When he returns, he finds you exactly where he left you—almost.

The rest of the evening blurs—notes skimmed, pages turned without reading, the crackle of a candle nearing its stub the only measure of time. Viktor offers you a few more questions, a few more thoughts, but even those seem fainter, abstract, like echoes bouncing off stone. Finally, after one too many silences and a glance that lingers too long on your face, he exhales and concedes. “I suppose it’s late. Let’s get back?”

You nod, heart clanging like a bell in your chest. Is he truly tired, or has he noticed something? Are your cheeks so hot he can feel it radiating from you like nuclear fallout?

The two of you walk in tandem through the dim corridors, footsteps soft and wordless, until the path forks between dormitories. He gives a nod, a small smile, and vanishes around the corner.

As soon as he’s out of sight, your pace doubles. You shoulder the door to your room open, hand already plunging into your bag, rifling down until your fingers brush fabric. It’s there. Still warm. Still real.

Too late for regrets. The door clicks shut behind you. You lean against it, breath hissing from your lungs in one long, trembling sigh.

The cravat comes out soft between your fingers, its fabric catching faint on your skin. You bring it up slowly, hesitant but past saving. It smells—oh, it smells like Viktor. Like clean skin and warmth, the base note of him after hours, worn into the fabric. You press your nose into it, mouth open, breath ragged, and draw the scent in deep. Indulgent. Shameless. Almost a relief, this closeness, like you’ve peeled the ache from your ribs and pressed it into your palms.

Your thighs shift. Heat pulses low and heavy. One hand remains clutched in the silk, the other—well, it moves without orders. Trails down the slope of your stomach, dips between your legs. The contact is electric, almost too much at once, overwhelming. You lean back against the door, knees soft, head tilted. The moan tears itself from your throat without warning, his name catching on it like a hook. “Viktor.”

And that’s when it happens. The knock—sharp, unmistakable—lands like a stone on water.

You jolt, tear your hand away, nearly drop the evidence of your crime of passion. As if burned. As if caught. As if the door is suddenly too thin to contain the guilt blooming in your chest.

Ruling out the impossible you shove the cravat down your vest pocket, clumsy, almost uncaring, though you care greatly. Wipe your forehead, your mouth. One deep breath. You creak the door open.

The impossible stares you in the face. Viktor stands there, hand hung in mid-air, as if about to knock again. He is flushed. Not winded—flushed. Lips parted, eyes sharp with something that has no place in polite friendship. Cheeks dusted pink like the ink spill of an unread letter. He sees you.

And your face, gods, your face—you feel the heat claw up your skin like it’s trying to drag you down. Because he knows. Somehow, he knows.

"Forgive the late hour," he begins, voice rough, not quite steady. "But have you seen—"

Then he stops. His gaze dips. There, traitorous and proud, a white tongue of silk peeks from your vest pocket like it was never meant to hide. Viktor’s eyes glaze over. He takes one step forward, measured. Then, oh—reaches.

You flinch, try to cover your face, fingers fumbling for shame. But he is faster. Cane propped aside, his hand swallows your wrist, gentle but unwavering, and peels you open like folded paper. He plucks your right hand from your face, not missing a beat. You brace for a reckoning. An autopsy of your sins right here, at the threshold of your room.

But he has mercy—he steps inside and swings the door shut with a quiet kick. Then he lifts your hand to his face—and inhales. A low sound slips from him, all breath and gravity, like it costs him something. His lashes flutter shut.

“I heard you,” he whispers, tracing your fingers with his lips, and you wince—try to flinch away, but he won’t let you. “But I didn’t think it possible.”

He stands so close now you can feel the shift of his breath. One hand holds the forsaken cravat, already creased and warm from your grip. The other still wraps around your palm—evidence of everything you were doing just seconds before he knocked. He lifts the fabric slowly, brushing it along your cheek. You lean into it without meaning to, a quiet sigh escaping as your eyes flutter closed.

“W-what?” you whisper.

“Do you like me?” he asks then, soft but direct, as if the answer will change something vital in him.

You open your eyes, startled. “Viktor—”

“Don’t be ashamed,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his voice low and coaxing. “I like you. But I could never figure it out. You’re so private.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

You laugh, dry and breathy. “Oh, that’s because I’ve been working very hard for you not to notice.”

“Why?” he breathes. His brow knits, vulnerable in a way that’s rare for him, and utterly real. “I like you too.”

You hesitate, heart thudding. “Well, we’re friends. Have been for five years. It’s not something you throw away on a whim.”

He lifts the cravat, trails it down the line of your jaw like a ribbon threading through skin, voice quieting. “Where is the whim in here?” he whispers, and finally—he brushes his nose against yours. An inch left. Maybe less.

He leans in—and you panic, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer weight of this moment, this nearness you’ve longed for so painfully. One hand shoots up and covers his mouth.

“Are you sure?” you whisper, eyes wide, your palm trembling against his lips.

Viktor’s gaze softens. He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he reaches up, gently takes your hand from his face, and brings it to rest against his neck—right there, at the hollow you’ve obsessed over in silence. His skin is warm, his pulse skipping hard under your fingers.

Then he gives it another try and this time there is no barrier. It’s slow lips at first—startled, searching. But it catches like flame to dry grass, all dry mouths and barely restrained hunger. You breathe through your noses, his hand rising to cup the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. His lips press and pull, not sloppy, but wanting. The kind of kiss that knows it will be followed by more. The kind that curls your toes and sends your thoughts skittering from your head like marbles spilled on a floor.

You sigh into him. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer, until your bodies meet fully, chest to chest, heat and want shared through nothing more than breath and fabric and need.

When you part, it’s only because you have to. Both of you gasping, mouths red, eyes glassy. “Do you like me?” he asks again, quieter now. Barely more than a whisper. And it just snaps.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes. gods, yes—I like you.” The words tumble out as your hands clutch his shirt, tugging him back in. You pepper his face with kisses—his cheeks, his jaw, his mouth again. “And you smell so nice,” you add, laughing wetly, a little breathless.

His answering laugh is quiet, and full of something so tender it makes your knees weak. “You smell nice too,” he murmurs, voice husky with heat and something else—relief, maybe. Or disbelief that this is real.

You don’t make it to the bed, neither of you suggests it. Your mouths mould together again somewhere between the doorway and the reading chair by the window, knocking into each other with the gracelessness of hunger. Kisses stretch long and deep, tongues pulling sighs loose and slackening your limbs. Hands fumble at shirt hems, tugging clumsily, not knowing when to part, unwilling to. You trip together, Viktor stumbling slightly as you both move, and you press your mouths hard to stifle the laugh.

And then—there. That holy place. You find it, finally. The space between his shoulder and throat, right where skin softens and heat pools and scent gathers, strong and damp and him. You nose in with a ragged breath, lips parted, tongue brushing salt. A tremor shudders through him and his arms tighten around your waist.

He peels your shirt up and over your head. You return the favour, dragging fabric over his arms, slow so you can watch the flex, the planes of him bared inch by inch. His skin is flushed pink, his chest dusted faintly with hair. His mouth finds your neck in kind, and when he sucks there, teeth scraping just enough, your spine arches like it’s seeking higher ground.

Your hands drift south, undoing the button of his trousers with ungodly urgency. But he pulls back, breath catching, one finger lifting. “This first,” he murmurs, glancing toward his leg.

You freeze, chest hitching, face blooming with heat. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t be.” He smiles, quiet and sure, and bends to unbuckle the brace. It drops to the floor with a dull clink of metal and leather, and he steps out of it, free, all yours.

After that, it’s a shared undressing, wordless. Fingers hooked into waistbands, trousers pushed down thighs, underwear peeled away like sunburnt skin, like secrets.

When you both stand bare, the moment stills—his cock rests flushed against his thigh, undeniably lovely. Reddish and full, curved slightly, veined with that same lattice of want you’ve traced in his throat, his hands, the backs of his knees.

Your fingers follow the sharp cut of his hips—those v-lines taut with restraint—and he groans, low and sharp, when your hands reach back and cup his ass. Clothes scatter underfoot, forgotten, as he lowers into the chair and pulls you into his lap, one hand guiding you with a desperate grace.

With thighs spread to straddle him, knees bracketing his hips, you’re both breathless already, mouths swollen from kissing, your hands tangled in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Viktor sits back, spine curved into the hollow of the chair, eyes half-lidded and dark, so dark you wonder how you’ve ever looked away from him.

When your centre settles against his, it’s not quite contact. Just the barest brush—heat meeting heat, wet meeting hard flesh. His cock flexes beneath you, the slick of your lust catching on the head as it nudges forward, cradled against the seam of you.

The chair creaks, and your breath shakes. You rock once, slow. Not even pressure—just presence. The glancing slide of him through your lips, not entering yet. And the sensation is so maddening it borders holy. A private heat, the flushed ache of your cunt meeting his cock like they’ve been aching for it across lifetimes.

Viktor’s hands tighten on your hips, and he groans low. Then, wordlessly, he reaches past you—down to the crumpled heap of his trousers on the floor, fingers searching. You pause, watching him, throat tight with wonder.

When he lifts the pale cloth, it dangles from his hand with a subtle weight—his boxers. “Let’s see,” he says, voice cracked with heat, “if you like how all of me smells.”

He moves slowly, delicately. Draws them up from your shoulder, grazing your collarbone. Trails them up your throat, letting the cloth whisper over your skin. And then he cups your cheek with them, brushing the edge under your nose. And oh—he was right.

It hits you all at once, that scent: Viktor, concentrated. The sharpness of his soap, yes, but buried beneath that something else—warmth, salt, the tang of skin, and beneath it all the soft rot of a body worked hard and yearned for even harder. A hint of sweetness where the fabric kissed the crease of his thigh. You inhale open-mouthed, greedy, shameless.

Your lashes flutter. Head tips back, eyes roll. It is like the cloth itself could render you undone, this second-hand closeness so intimate it borders obscene. A gasping little sound slips out of you—almost a sob for how much you want him.

Viktor watches you with eyes so dark they’ve swallowed the light whole. “Such a filthy girl,” he says, and the phrase drips from his tongue like honey, like he’s discovered a rare fruit he plans to eat with his fingers.

You exhale, laugh breathlessly, unsure if you’re laughing at yourself or at how good it feels to be seen like this. To be held in the soft mouth of his attention and not spat out.

He tucks the cloth beneath your chin, leans in close, and presses his lips to your jaw—open-mouthed, awed.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, knuckles white with want, pinning his hand to your cheek as you press the worn cotton there, breathing him in like you’ll never get enough. Your chest heaves, eyes fluttering open then falling shut again, lashes trembling as the scent floods your skull. Hot, heady, raw. It rolls over you like a fever.

You rock against him slowly, purposely, hips tipping forward in a stuttering rhythm. It’s instinct more than thought—seeking friction, chasing it. The heat of his cock against you, separated by so little, maddens. The slide of skin, the dull pressure, the way your bodies know what to do even as your brain hiccups and stalls.

Viktor groans, strained, hands coming to frame your hips, leaving the holding of his underwear to you. His fingers grip just enough to ground you, thumbs dragging along the jut of your pelvis as he matches your rhythm—helps it. Encourages it. One hand slips around to your lower back, drawing you in tighter with each grind.

His gaze never leaves your face. Watches the haze take you, drink you in—your parted lips, your unfocused eyes, the way your breath snags every time your clit catches on the ridge of him just right. He’s wrecked with it, shaken.

“So pretty,” he rasps, barely audible. “So… gods, what were we doing all this time?”

You whimper something that might be his name. Might be a prayer.

“I should’ve known,” he breathes. “Should’ve followed my nose.”

He leans in then, mouth against your jaw, your cheek, the place behind your ear that makes you shudder. Kisses and breath and heat, all around you, and you keep grinding, brazen, gasping, the fabric still clutched to your face like a reliquary. Your thighs tremble where they frame his, and the heat builds dizzy behind your eyes.

Your arms wind around his neck, fingertips finding purchase in the damp curls at his nape. You drag your mouth open along the column of his throat, just above his pulse, your breath steaming where it lands. “You smell like life itself,” you murmur, devoted, drunk on him. “I love it.” A kiss to the hollow below his ear. “Gods, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Viktor makes a sound—half-choked, half-swallowed. His hips shift beneath you, cock sliding slick through your slit, caught and cradled by your wet heat. He doesn’t push in, no need or no time. The drag of him, hot and heavy against your cunt, is enough to make your thighs quake. Enough to make you keen into his mouth when he kisses you again.

You feel full. Not inside—no breach—but everywhere else. Full of him, of his heat, of his scent. Of the warm, persistent weight of him gliding slow against you with every movement, every breath. His chest pressed to yours, heartbeat thundering where your ribs touch. His breath ragged in your mouth. He’s in your blood now, everywhere, omnipresent.

His hands cradle the back of your neck, thumbs stroking up into your hairline. “Closer,” he mutters, hoarse, voice buried in your skin. “Closer—” as if he doesn’t realise you’re already pressed heart to heart, stomach to stomach, slick joining you where you grind, slow and soaking.

Your bodies melt together, no seam between them. Sweat pearls at your temples and runs down the line of his spine where your fingers trace him blindly. The soft sounds of it—flesh, breath, mouth—fill the room in waves, each crest heavier than the last.

You feel the twitch of him—urgent and uncontrolled—where his cock slides along, dragged by the rhythm of your hips. His stomach is tight beneath yours, muscles drawn taut like string, trembling between the bars of want. The vein in his neck rises under your mouth as he tips his head back, jaw slack, lips bitten vermillion.

“I can’t,” he gasps softly, “I won’t last—”

“Kiss me,” you whisper, panting against his cheek. “Please.”

Viktor obeys instantly—like it’s the only thing he’s ever longed for. His mouth finds yours, warm and trembling, the taste of him the last spark you needed. It breaks something in you—a breath caught sharp in your throat, a tightening low in your belly—and then the snap.

It overtakes you in a long, flooding wave. Your muscles seize, thighs arresting his hips, spine arching. Your moan is swallowed into his mouth, open and dank, tongues clumsy with the rhythm of your shuddering body.

He gasps when you tighten above him—not inside, not quite—but the friction, the warmth, the slick rush of your release pouring onto him is enough. He moans out your name, his cock twitching helplessly where it’s caught between you. You feel it, hot and sudden, the spill of him striping his belly, thick and wet between you both.

Still, you move. Slow, drawn circles of your hips, chasing every aftershock, dragging your folds through the mess of it until Viktor shudders and groans—“Please,”—high and wrecked, trembling under your weight.

You kiss him through it. Through the bliss, through the overwhelmed whimper. Through his lashes fluttering and the flush climbing to his ears. You kiss him like he’s the only thing keeping you afloat, and he kisses you back like you’re something sacred.

There’s no line anymore between where he ends and you begin—just sweat and sighs and the unbearable sweetness of finally, finally having each other.

You don’t move far. Just shift your weight enough to nuzzle into his jaw, his cheekbone, dragging your face over the slick of his skin. You’re gathering him: his sweat, his scent, the salt-heat of his body, rubbing it into your own like a fevered benediction.

“I want to smell like you always,” you murmur, voice hoarse with truth. “Everywhere. On my skin, in my sheets, under my nails.”

Viktor’s breath catches, soft and stunned.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” you go on, fingers slipping into his hair to pull it back, so you can kiss the line where his jaw meets his throat. “How long I’ve stared. Dreamed. Gods, Viktor. I just—”

“I think I know,” he interrupts gently, one hand rising to cover yours, to press your palm deeper to his chest, right over his thudding heart. “I just wish I knew sooner.” Your eyes close. The confession hums between you, warm and bright, like the filament of a bulb not yet burned out. When you open them again, you’re still in his arms, still tangled in the sweat and spent longing of what used to be wanting—and is now it’s yours.

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (1 – 15 March 2025)

We have been absolutely spoiled by how many amazing one-shots we got these last couple of weeks, thanks to both the Necro Tomarrymort Fest and @a-fem-tomarrymort-fest. Check out their AO3 collections—there’s art there as well! 🤍

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Tomarrymort Completed Fics

The Trouble with Treacle and Tea by cassiopeiassin (M, 18k, complete) 

Tom Riddle is a genius. Once a lowly, mudblood orphan, now the promising star of Cornelius Fudge's political advisory team with a growing circle of loyal, pureblood followers to boot. Everything is on the up. And then he sees Harry Potter, auror-in-training, duel. For Tom, everything always goes wonderfully and absolutely to plan... until it very much doesn't.

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Tomarrymort One-Shot Must Reads 

One Shot | Grounded by uninspyred

One Shot | death will not do us part but he will bid the devil to ruin by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | Thou art a wickedness by @mosiva

One Shot | obscene worship by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts

One Shot | The Mortician by @virgil-anon

One Shot | A Sunny Afternoon by @ictyn

One Shot | I Can Only Love You Dead by @blackseatwenty

One Shot | Voldemort's Blue Bedroom by @chaos-bear

One Shot | sakura snow by @rowena-rain

One Shot | Alone with You by lemonchase

One Shot | east end by @1300marshall

One Shot | To be Saved by @cyandenial

One Shot | Draped Over My Altar – Your Blood, My Bones by @hikarimeroperiddle

One Shot | Pushed too far by lemonchase

One Shot | red as blood, black as night by @blackseatwenty

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Tomarrymort Ongoing Fic

Chapters 9 through 16 of thimble of the banshee by @houndsofheaven

Chapter 15 of Strings of Fate by @solelyseeking

Chapter 26 of What In Me Is Dark, Illumine by @telelli-writes

Chapter 20 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapter 23 of the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3

Chapter 1 of the devil wears sorority letters by @aitafrog

Chapters 4 and 5 of The Fledgling and the Fawn by @allthesmilesxo

Chapter 6 of Follow where she goes by @mosiva

Chapters 1 and 2 of penance by @cindle-writes

Chapters 18 and 19 of Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 3 of Seaforth by @kippipies

Chapters 21 and 22 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapter 17 of flour power by @kozzieberks

Chapters 16 through 22 of the whole wideness of the night is for you by The_Side

Chapter 1 of Apokatastasis by Lytri 

Chapter 10 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 13 and 14 of Part Two - To Grow a Heart by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 1 of Ouroboros by @allthesmilesxo

Chapter 7 of Dream a little dream (of me) by @cenedrariva

Chapter 15 of Reckless Cartography by @meles-merrivale

Chapter 2 of i see you (you see me) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

Chapters 10 and 11 of Fool me once by @holaolla1

Chapter 7 of Goodbye Evergreen by @v33r00

Chapter 2 of love you down to the bone by @aitafrog

Chapter 2 of Thursday’s Child by interloved

Chapters 4 through 7 of Amortentia by Nati_the_Alien

Chapters 13 and 14 of the taste of autumn upon your lips by @kozzieberks

Chapters 1 through 4 of Hold me as I drown by @smolangryslytherin

Chapters 17 through 18 of The Weight of Gravity by @pagesinmylife 

Chapter 4 of a pound of flesh by @ictyn

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[mank1ndsbadhab1t]

Three weeks have passed since the anon incident with Habit and his true form.

One random day, Evan wakes up in Ouro's bed, with that big fluffy monster right across from him. Habit opens his eyes, not to see Ouroboros, but the face of his vessel with Suki cuddled into him.

Ouro.. is nowhere to be seen. Nowhere to be found in the house. He's gone.

@syclic

A genuine yell escaped Evan, making Suki jump up at the sudden noise. He typically wasn't that hard to scare, blame it on witnessing enough shit to last several lifetimes, but waking up to that thing staring at him was not on his agenda for the day.

Habit jerked its head upward, the patchy uneven fur on its form rising to make itself seem even larger. Evan. Wait, Evan? Habit looked down, staring at itself in confusion. Another bought of bullshit magic? Fucking Hell.

"FUCK YOU STARING AT, ASSHOLE?" Habit barked, glaring down at Evan.

"Your fucking mound of fur, maybe?" Evan spat back, tired and still a tad groggy.

"OH, SUCK ON A RAILROAD SPIKE, FUCKWAD," Habit snarled, nose twitching. Ouro, where the fuck was he? His scent is fainter than usual. It didn't say another word to Evan, just leaving the bedroom to hunt down Ouro.

The human sat back, petting Suki gently. His chest felt lighter, for some reason, like something good had happened for once.

"OURO? FUCKING OURO. GODDAMMIT WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Habit clawed through the entire house, trying to find the bastard, but he was nowhere in sight. Goddammit.

[anonymouse-soup]

Hi guys, I'm Anon and I make aus. :D

I really love Forsaken aus! Like Ivy's Forsaken Swap AU (Go check it out!! Ivy's the GOAT)!!

Anyways this au would be my take on the forsaken roleswap au

I will develop this au depending on my motivation or if anyone's interested! But right now it's just intrusive thoughts guiding my hand to draw.

"The ouroboros is an ancient symbol, eternal, cyclical, inescapable.

Life devours death. Death devours life. A snake eating its own tail, shedding skin after skin. Over and over again."

Survivors turned Killers. Killers turned NPCs. NPCs turned Surivivors.

And so it begins again.

The cycle has just started. Won't you stay and see as things unfold naturally?

[daryltwdixon]

okay, i know the chances of a direct answer are low (which is fair!!! keep your secrets that’s your right!!!) but i just have to ask. what’s ouroboros about??? could we please (optionally!!!) get a little hint? the title alone intrigues!

oh my GOD anon it’s been my hyperfixation for months I’m absolutely obsessed and in love with it.

I’ll give you some baby hints: soulmates, alternate timelines, I’ll find you in every lifetime, with a hint of inspo from Dante’s inferno! It’s different than anything I’ve ever written and I’m so excited to show you 😭

Editing to show you this because maybe it’ll give you more of the vibes

[starlightwoofwoof]

um teehee i got a little too silly and wanted to try to figure out which of the Miraculouses could go to each Toon??? so i listed them all down and started looking for patterns and stuff

(by the way, i'm the anon that suggested Silver Fox for Rodger. hi again)

now, there's 29 Toons in total as of v0.6.3, so not everybody is going to get one, obviously. i've decided that i'm going to go ahead and exclude the dogs as well as put the Christmas Toons on the sidelines... idk might change that but i really just wanted it to be the primary roster

i also don't have all of them done. lol. it's certainly a thought exercise

SO HERE'S THE ONES I DID HAVE FULL IDEAS FOR. THAT ALREADY HAVE NOT BEEN COME UP WITH. AS FAR AS I AM AWARE.

- I don't know if you're a Shellevision shipper or not, but that really doesn't matter because either way, Vee just seems so good for the Cat Miraculous. I MEAN. she's green and black and can even already have a tail depending on how you interpret her microphone attachment

- Astro's blanket is cool and blue so why not give him the Peacock Miraculous? he can really be making dreams come to life with the Amoks and Sentimonsters.

- Sprout should get the Turtle Miraculous specifically because its trait is Protection. and he's Overprotective. yes that is my only reason.

(i wanted all the Mains to get one of the Cool Top Level jewels hehe)

- Teagan looks like she'd be a really good fit for the Bee Miraculous, i mean, she's classy and fancy and already has a feather boa. Bees are fuzzy. and honey tea is yummy :)

- I saw you already had a doodle for Mouse Miraculous wielder Toodles, and even though she is extremely young to be using one, her superhero name needs to be Dupliceight. i don't make the rules that's just how it has to be

- Scraps and Goob should get the Tiger and Dog Miraculouses respectively because the other cat one has already been taken and the Dog Miraculous literally represents Adoration. doesn't that fit Goobert Gooberson, Lover of Hugs so well???? also he chases his nonexistent tail in his dreams according to the new dialogue between him and Astro

- Yatta should get the Monkey Miraculous because it is Chaos and she is Chaos. its quality is literally Derision, and have you seen Xuppu? they would get along so well

other note i had:

i like how Glisten, using the Snake Miraculous, is called Ouroboros, because it both represents infinity– perhaps how mirrors facing each other reflect on themselves forever, or even could symbolize the sort of loop that is perfectionism– as well as, somewhat more importantly, wholeness.

Wholeness can be defined as soundness, health, or well-being in body, mind, or spirit; the quality of being or feeling complete and not divided or damaged.

Glisten feels incomplete and greatly dissatisfied with himself for not meeting his own (unreasonably high) standards, and after he's Akumatized, has this almost quite literal division in his mind of Polished Perfectionist haunting him (in a way that is painfully accurate to actual internal perfectionism).

Wholeness is, in a way, a counter to perfectionism: it is achieved through acceptance of limitations, and by doing that, quite paradoxically, those limitations can then be transcended.

By wielding the Snake Miraculous, Glisten is being helped on his way towards recovering from being Polished Perfectionist... by literally being given a Second Chance :)

(i'm looking way too hard into this bro)

omg

you know what- I love all of this actually

here- I drew them heheheh

okay where do I start uh- I’d say I’m more of a FossilCleaning kinda person but I definitely agree with the whole Vee = Cat thing

……. also I know I named Peacock! Astro after a completely different kind of bird but loooooook I tried being creative here- 🥲

I guess I don’t really have much to say about Turtle! Sprout and Bee! Teagan other than I agree- but I tried to make Honey’s skirt look like a flower cause bees like flowers :] (also this is my first time drawing Teagan!! YIPPEE)

I didn’t draw Mouse! Toodles, cause y’know, I drew her before but omg that name is genius I’m stealing it /silly

I think Tiger! Scraps is really cute heh- and Goob has his tail now!! (he’s gonna chase it around as soon as they’re done fighting whoever they’re fighting lol)

I was also kinda just- not sure what to do with Yatta, but I drew her with Xuppu anyway lol

okie soooo about Glisten

I honestly really like the whole symbolism that comes with him becoming a hero, I feel like I don’t think about things in my AU that much, but yeah- (you should thank whoever gave me the whole Snake! Glisten idea though!!)

heheh that whole Second Chance connection always makes me smile every time I think about it :] 💙✨

uh I don’t really know what to put for this part so uhhhhhh here, have Perfect as a yippee creature (he’s constantly stuck in my head plz help-)

oh yeah if you guys have any rambles like this you wanna say about my AU, plz tell me!! I love hearing silly rambles about my AU :3