#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ꒰꒰ “𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒” ꒱꒱

[angel-selfshipper]

Me, just getting back from a long break and feeling slightly disconnected from the community: “Ya know what would help in this situation? Reblog game time!!!!”

ANYWAYS you can feel free to reblog this post with a picture of your F/O, S/I, OC, excetera + a color scheme + a theme and and I'll make them a moodboard!

You can feel free to send as many as you'd like (Litterly, go insane with the game) but please only three requests maximum per REBLOG :3

CURRENT STATUS — OPEN

EXAMPLE ONE — Hobie Brown, grayscale, punk !!!

EXAMPLE TWO — Nico Di Angelo, muted colors (mostly green), creepy outdoors spaces !!!

EXAMPLE THREE — Will Solace, bright colors, medic // doctor aesthetic !!!

[angel-selfshipper]

“𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄”

A/N — This particularly imagine was loosely inspired by a post that was made by my lovely mutual @cosmic--luka <3 /platonic

The night is quiet—so quiet you can almost hear the world's soft breathing, the sound of the ground being wrapped in the soft embrace of the night sky. Outside, the wind whispers untold secrets against the windowpane, but inside, within the softness of the bedsheets against your bare skin, there is warmth. A warmth that seeps into your bones, that cradles you in something softer than the finest of silks.

That warmth is them.

Your F/O is pressed against you, their touch a grounding presence even in their sleep. Each breath they take is slow, rhythmic, rising and falling in perfect harmony with your own. They hold you like it’s instinct, like their body was sculpted from marble to fit against yours. As if the universe itself had always meant for you to end up here, just like this, tangled together in the quietness of the night.

They shift slightly, just enough for their breath to ghost over your skin. A light shiver rolls up your spine, but the heat of their presence chases it away before it can settle. Their face is tucked against the curve of your shoulder, their nose brushing your skin as they nuzzle closer—like the mere inch of space between you is too much, like they need to be impossibly near even in their sleep.

Then comes a sound, so soft you almost miss it. A sleepy little murmur, words slurred with exhaustion yet carrying a weight that sinks deep into your chest.

“Love you…”

It’s barely more than a sigh, a whispered confession against your skin, warm and unguarded. Their lips brush lazily over your shoulder—whether intentional or a dream drunk accident, you can’t quite tell. Maybe they don’t even realize they’re actually speaking to you, lost in that space between waking and sleep where fheir love spills out in unfiltered fragments.

“Love you sooo much it hurts sometimes...”

Their voice is low, thick with exhaustion, vibrating softly against you. Another soft shiver curls down your spine, but this time, they notice your slight movements. Their arms tighten around your body in response, almost as if even in their sleep they refuse to let you go.

Their fingers trace lazy shapes against your hip, the movements nonsensical... you think theirs ment to be hearts.

“I can’t…” A breath, a sigh, then a shift, their body molding closer until there isn’t a single bit of space left between you. “I can’t even explain how much.”

Their voice is barely a whisper now, dissolving into something softer—a hum, a quiet sound that vibrates against your skin like the faintest of purrs.

You murmur their name, and for a moment, they stir. Heavy lidded eyes blinking up at you, unfocused, sleepy—but your voice is enough to pull them back, just for a tiny moment.

“Mmm… love you.” Their words melt into the night air, like it’s the only thing they need to say before the lull of sleep claims them once again.

And as the night stretches on, you stay wrapped in each other's arms—tangled in warmth, in quiet touches, in a love so deep, it lingers even in dreams.

[angel-selfshipper]

Hmm, don't know if this is any good but I figured I'd post my latest Doll // Gravepunk art here anyways (˶˃⤙˂˶)

[angel-selfshipper]

Doll was cradled against Hobie’s chest, its gloved fingers gripping the fabric of his vest like a lifeline. Hobie’s laugh—that gravelly laugh that made Doll's eldritch heart do flips inside it's ribcage—rumbled through his chest, vibrating through Doll’s own like the soft lullaby of a sleeping cat.

“Oi, you alright there, luv? You’re clingin’ to me jacket like I'm off to war...” Hobie chuckled as his calloused fingers thread through Doll's dark brown hair.

Doll whimpered softly, curling impossibly closer, as if trying to squish its way into his chest and take refuge in the space between his bones. “I-I don’t wanna hurt my Hobie,” it whispered, voice trembling like wind chimes in a particularly harsh storm.

“You’re just—just so perfect, and warm, and ALIVE in ways I'd never thought to know, and I want to squeeze you until the world itself explodes from the pressure, but I just can’t, I mustn’t really—what if I squish you like a tiny bug? What if I squeeze too hard and you pop like a balloon?!”

Hobie snorted, brushing a calloused thumb across the squishy skin of Doll’s flushed cheek. “Pop? Dollface, I’ve been smashed through brick walls and dropped from 20+ story buildings. I'm pretty sure I can handle a lil’ cuddle from my eldritch horror.” He grinned—that adorable little punk smirk that only Hobie seemed able to pull off...

“Come on then, give me a biiiiig squeeze! Let’s test your squishin' levels, yeah?”

Doll’s brown eyes blinked up at him, surprised, lips pursed into a soft little pout. “You promise you won’t die?”

“Promise,” he said, leaning down to press an incredibly love filled kiss to its temple. “Even if that did somehow happen, I'll just come back to haunt ya! It'd be proper romantic... The eldritch horror and its ghost~”

A soft relieved giggle escaped Doll’s lips as it gently flopped its face down against Hobie’s chest. “Don’t be so silly, Hobie!!!”

Doll paused for a few more second before teasingly whispering, “It would obviously be the punk ghost and his eldritch~”

FUN FACT — Doll actually talks different when speaking to others vs when speaking to Hobie (That's why it's answers were so sophisticated in the ask game and with Hobie it's more playful)

[angel-selfshipper]

[angel-selfshipper]

💠 although they're from different sources if doll would have an opinion on kazumi for fun /nf

but if not let's hear about spider noir since he's also on the list😌

@starryskyships

DOLL'S FEELINGS TWORDS KAZUMI . . .

This answer will be... quite a bit shorter than you may have wished, simply for the reason that I have only ever been allowed to glimpse Kazumi’s universe for a mere handful of minutes when visiting my friend. Time—so fragile and easily broken in my gloved hands—never does seem to stretch quite enough when observing such precious little things.

Yet even with the shortness of my visit, I can confidently say... it is an achingly sweet little world in which he dwells. It does honestly reminds me of an abandoned toy chest, forgotten by the world yet still warm with the echo of children's laughter long since passed (Do excuse my poetics...)

Kazumi himself strikes me as... something special. Something born from a god’s daydream—crafted not by clumsy mortal hands, but by a spirit with careful devotion and just a pinch of chaos. I believe the name of the god who wove him into existence is Sky, yes? Such a beautiful name for a being who would craft something as equally beautiful.

Now... his relationship with his chosen love does feel a bit strange to me, though I suspect that is a simple failing of my own design. You see, creatures like me—Eldritch if you will— know no way to love that does not mirror the ancient devotions given to long-forgotten gods. Anything more "human" than that is rather foreign to me...

And yet, when I watch Kazumi and his darling yellow boy—Zenitsu, yes? I can see the threads of their souls twisting and tangling together. Not perfectly smooth, no... there are lovely little knots where fear and trust have collided. But even the most sacred tapestries have their flaws, and oftentimes, those imperfections are what make them most holy (Possibly not in the way people want but I believe it works perfect for them <3)

Kazumi has found his mate in Zenitsu just as I have found mine in Hobie... And though my kind may never truly understand the mortal symphony of love, even I can recognize the sweetness in the bond they share.

TAGGING: @starryskyships

[angel-selfshipper]

💠 now I've got to know what doll thinks of miles👀

@starryskyships

DOLL'S FEELINGS TWORDS MILES . . .

Miles Morales is... fascinating.

No, fascinating is too small, too breakable of a word. Miles Morales is a symphony of colors and warmth, stitched together with trembling hands and feverish desperation.I have a tendency to watch him move through the world, to watch the way the dark red thread binding him to his brother tangles, chokes, and weaves like a living thing—and my soul aches. Not from sadness, no—I do not understand sadness the way mortals do. Instead, I ache from wonder.

There is something terribly beautiful about the way Miles clings to Michelangelo, and how Michelangelo clings back, like shipwrecked sailors too stubborn to admit their going to die on their sinking ship.

It’s mesmerizing. Their bond is not clean or pure or sweet—it is wrong in a way my being finds comforting. It reminds me of a dirtied porcelain doll cradled too tightly by small, trembling hands. It reminds me of whispered prayers to silent gods, of devotion so deep it drips from the corners of your soul when you look at them.

"Codependent," the mortals say, "Toxic," they hiss behind trembling hands. But I can see it for what it truly is—holy.

In Miles Morales, I see something raw and unfinished, like wet clay still waiting for the right hands to mold it. In Michelangelo however, I see the frantic artist, desperate to leave his fingerprints on every inch of that clay before the world can take it away. Their endless, spiraling loyalty is a masterpiece—one that sings in the secret language only creatures like me can hear.

Miles is everything soft and sharp all at once. I find my platonic gaze constantly drawn to him without understanding why. Maybe it is because Miles’ heart hums at a frequency that resonates inside my hollow chest. Maybe it is because I—a being who was never meant to be mortal—feel an uncanny kinship with things that love too hard, too wrong, too much.

I wish to cup Miles Morales in my gloved hands and simply watch him—watch him until I understand the very essence of his being, watch how he and his brother bruise each other and call it love, watch how he stands so small against a multiverse that demands too much of a child—and still smiles like he’s the one holding all the strings.

I don't exactly love Miles, not in the way I love Hobie. No, no, no... my regard is something colder, something deeper. I want to etch his name into the soft meat of my non-existent heart, to place him in a crystal casket alongside all the other sacred things I enjoy watching.

Miles Morales is one of my favorite offering, other than Hobie of course—the one I watch with a cracked, trembling smile, the one I cradle in thought when the hollow place inside my bones grows too loud. The one I adore for being beautiful in the way rotting roses are beautiful—decay and devotion, intertwined.

And the way Miles loves his brother? The way Michelangelo would burn the entire world for him? It is sacred. It is divine. It is perfect.

TAGGING: @starryskyships

[angel-selfshipper]

Angel!! Hopefully u see this, *carefully puts this in your hand and runs away*

Completely forgot this was in my inbox until right now and for that I offer your my utmost apologies :(( ANYWAYS TO ANSWER THE INVITE... awwwwwwww!!! This whole thing is absaloutly adorable—Like I saw the invitation and did a little happy squeal because "ONE OF MY FAVORITE MOOTIES INVITED ME TO THEIR SELFSHIP WEDDING?!" and I was, like, super duper honoured <3 (← /platonic) I will most definitely be attending this most wonderful of matrimonies!! Gonna bring an adorable little wedding gift and tissues to contain my ugly sobbing (← /pos) . . . I do wonder if we're aloud to bring a +1 though . . .I would bring Nico + Will because they're my forever mains but that's tencically two people

[angel-selfshipper]

What if Michelangelo had given Miles a card from his "starter" tarot deck when they were younger (Around 10 and 14)?

What if, after carefully considering each card, Michelangelo decided that the only one that truly fit both him and his baby brother was "The Lovers"?

What if Miles had kept that card with him all these years, tucking it away somewhere safe for only his eyes alone to look at and remember the sentiment of his big brother.

What if Michelangelo—scatterbrained as ever—had long since forgotten? But Miles never did. Because, in truth, he was just as obsessed as Michelangelo was.

What if, one day, Michelangelo was flipping through one of Miles’ recent sketchbooks, idly admiring the strokes and details, when something slipped from between the pages?

What if it was a singular, well worn tarot card, falling from the spine like it had been waiting to be found.

What if Michelangelo picked it up, running his fingers over the familiar design, his touch lingering as memories flooded back?

And what if, in a voice barely above a whisper, he traced the curve of the card and in the most absaloutly awestruck voice Miles had even heard come from his big brother he mumbled "You... kept it?"

[angel-selfshipper]

After several days (18 to be exact...) of trying to work on any of my selfships that aren't Hobie x Doll I am afraid to say that they're still the main two my brain wants to focus on 4ever /lh

There's obviously nothing wrong with having a main selfship, it's just I have a irrational fear that if I keep talking about only one of them people are gonna hate me and then throw rotten tomatoes at me well booing (Veeeerrrry unlikely but the human brain doesn't follow logic /silly)

[angel-selfshipper]

“𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐁”

CONTENT WARNINGS — Age gap, drinking, dubious consent, grooming, heavy flirting, implied sexual // romantic tension, jealousy, manipulation, possessiveness, power imbalance, sibling incest, slight aggression, toxic relationships, underage

The party was a blur of too bright lights and base you could feel deep within in your bones. Bodies swayed sensually, grinding together in sinful desire.

Michelangelo Morales, just like at all the parties he dragged his poor little brother to, was at the center of it all—his charismatic personality making people swoon over him left and right.

His body was propped up against the incredibly overcrowded bar as though being surrounded by all these people was second nature. His lanky form was draped in a cropped black and red Spider Man hoodie that barely covered his stomach along with a pair of ripped jeans that hugged his thighs just right.

A lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—a warning, a promise. As for the poor bastard Michelangelo had chosen to be his toy for tonight? He was already eating out of the palm of his hand.

Not that any of that really mattered in the long run.

Michelangelo wasn’t flirting because he “cared” or happened to find this random guy attractive… He didn’t give a single fuck about him, honestly. This act was all for someone else—someone who was watching him from the other side of the bar like a hunter stalking its prey: fists clenched, jaw tight, and looking like he was one second away from snapping.

Miles Gonzalo Morales...

His baby brother. His absolute sweetheart. His whole fucking world.

Michelangelo took an excruciatingly slow sip of his drink, letting a bit of his fruity cocktail spill past the corners of his lips before licking them—deliberate, teasing. He made sure Miles saw every flick of his tongue, every shallow breath, every calculated shift of his body. He knew his little brother like the back of his hand—he knew exactly which buttons to push without going too far.

“You’ve got real pretty lips~,” he purred, dragging his heavy gaze over the guy’s mouth with exaggerated interest. The poor thing—a college kid, someone much closer to Michelangelo’s age than Miles—turned bright red, stammering out something unintelligible that kind of sounded like a thank you. Michelangelo didn’t even bother catching his name.

Poor bastard would never amount to anything close to what Miles was in his eyes. He was just an extra toy to make his baby brother jealous.

And judging by the way those dark eyes narrowed in on his every move, it was working.

Michelangelo flicked his gaze toward Miles. Oh, was the poor boy absolutely pissed. Not just annoyed—no, this was full-blown, murderous rage simmering just beneath the surface of his dark brown skin.

Good.

“Y’know, I’d just looove to see what else you’ve got going on, babe!” Michelangelo continued with his bratty little act, his voice practically dripping with false interest. He leaned in, tilting his head to the side in such a way that let his dark hair fall against his shoulder... The poor college kid never stood a chance.

Michelangelo barely had time to savor the moment of flustered embarrassment before the small amount of space between him and the college boy disappeared in a rush of movement.

Miles was there.

The guy didn’t have any time to react before he was shoved aside like the background character he probably was. Michelangelo had one singular second to think he'd won before a rough grip closed around his wrist—so tight he swore it was going to bruise (wouldn’t be the first mark he’d gotten from Miles, but still).

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Miles hissed, his voice much lower than usual and so deliciously threatening that it sent a shiver up Michelangelo’s spine.

Michelangelo grinned, that lopsided, lazy smile he always wore when teasing his baby brother. “Flirting.”

Miles’ eyes narrowed with barely contained rage. “With who?”

Michelangelo teasingly walked his index and middle fingers up Miles’ arm, relishing the way his baby brother melted ever so slightly despite himself. “No one important.”

“That right?” Miles’ voice dropped an octave, dangerously quiet against the pounding music of the bar. “Didn’t look like ‘no one’ to me.”

Michelangelo exhaled a soft laugh, letting his hot breath ghost against Miles’ cheek. “Oh, hermanito,” he teased, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous~”

Miles’ grip tightened around the older boy’s wrist.

DING DING DING! Michelangelo just hit the jackpot of flustered little brothers~

Michelangelo leaned in, the tips of their distinctively similar noses practically touching. “That dumbass college kid? Didn’t give a single fuck about him.”

Miles let out a soft growl low in his throat, his free hand coming up to tug on the collar of Michelangelo's hoodie, pulling them down to his level and forcing them to make direct eye contact. “Then why on earth would you do it?”

"You really wanna know why I did it?" Michelangelo teased, his voice thick with something dark and wicked. His lips curled into a full smirk as he whispered, "Because I love watching you lose your mind over me."

Something in Miles SNAPPED.

One second, Michelangelo was basking in what he assumed was his own triumph—the next, he was being dragged through the club, past drunken bodies and blinding neon lights. Miles’ grip never loosened, his pulse pounding like a drum against Michelangelo’s skin.

Michelangelo barely had time to catch his breath before he was slammed against the brick wall of the alleyway, Miles’ forearm pressing tightly against his chest and pinning him in place.

“You think this shit is funny?” Miles seethed, his breath hot against Michelangelo’s face.

Michelangelo grinned, the pointedness of his sharp canines flashing in the dim light of the alleyway. “I do, actually—thank you for asking.”

Miles’ hands curled into the fabric of Michelangelo’s cropped hoodie, holding onto it like he was absolutely terrified to let go.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Miles muttered, looking up to meet Michelangelo’s eyes.

The older of the two boys leaned down, a cocky smirk on his face, his voice dropping into a soft whisper. “And you love it.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

Miles crahsed their mouths together in a kiss that was all passion and heat, completely desperate in a way neither of them would ever be able to say aloud.

Michelangelo melted!!!

His baby brother’s lips were soft, his touch warm against his skin, his unconditional love completely undeniable. He smirked against Miles’ plump lips, fingers threading into the tight curls at the back of his brother’s head, pulling him closer... closer... closer...

Possessive. Consuming. Needy.

Exactly how Michelangelo had conditioned him to be.

And Miles? He wouldn’t give it up for anything in the multiverse.

[angel-selfshipper]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐄"

CONTENT WARNINGS — Eldritch horror, body horror, graphic violence, death, resurrection, religious themes (barely), emotional breakdowns, brief mourning, desperation, possessive // obsessive Love.

The world around them was burning down to the ground.

Flames similar to that of a million suns swirled like smoke through the collapsing buildings of Earth 138, curling through the air with the elegance of a dying revolution’s final breath.

Sirens wailed loudly off in the distance—far too late to matter. Bits of dark soot and rubble crunched beneath Doll’s shoes as it stumbled through the ruin of its lover’s latest battle, cradling Hobie Brown’s lanky body against its chest.

“No, no, no, no—” Doll whispered , the words sharp as a wind up music box being wound far past its limit... Its lacy white gloves were soaked an ugly crimson color... Hobie had bled and bled and just kept on bleeding...

And still—he smiled that annoyingly cocky smile that he just knew Doll loved so much. The absolute bastard... Even now he was smiling.

“Oi…” His voice was wet, wrong, the sound of lungs that were slowly being filled by their bodies' own blood. “Don’t go lookin' at me like that, dollface.”

“Stop talking,” Doll rasped, voice fraying at the edges like a beautiful lace blouse being chewed on by hundreds of moths. “Stop… breathing like that. You’re not supposed to breathe like that!”

“I told ya—m' not immortal.” Hobie’s hand reached up as his thumb brushed weakly along its porcelain cold skin, a ghost of his adoration still clinging to his touch even in his last moments. “Always knew I’d have to leave eventually…”

“NoNoNo, you’re not allowed to just leave me like this...” Doll rocked back and forth, knees sinking down deeper into the jagged edges of the shattered pavement, shadow curling around its form like spilled ink. Wrong... Twisting... Alive...

“You were always too soft for this,” he murmured, long lashes fluttering down in a way that Doll could almost pretend was just because he was going to sleep. “Didn’t deserve you.”

His body fell limp against Doll's arms, a breath escaping his soft lips—but no sign of a second one being inhaled back in.

The fire around them was quickly snuffed out like something much too large for the human mind to comprehend had blown it out.

Doll didn’t scream.

It simply stared down, its face blank of any human emotions, as if it was trying to convince itself that this was all some sort of wretched nightmare. Its human glamour began to crack, the beautiful mask of its chosen form rapidly slipping.

Then the air shifted ever so slightly... A soul began to rise from the limp body still clung tightly in Doll's arms.

The soul shimmered an absolutely stunning golden color, burning bright as the North Star even in his death. Hobie Brown's soul...

“No.” The words were not whispered as a prayer but spoken as a command.

Doll clutched his dead body tighter for a second longer, face contorted in something far too sharp to be simply grief. It gently pulled its blood-stained gloves off before lifting its fingers in the air—its voice seemingly echoing off the walls of reality itself.

"Come back.”

The soul paused for half a second—the golden light flickering back and forth as if being pulled back and forth by two opposing forces—just enough time for the sky itself to tear open.

It wasn’t meant to go like this—the heavens tried their best to tug him back into their grasps and reclaim him, take him up to the paradise where he could have everything he wanted... except Doll.

Doll would not allow such blasphemy to befall its love— instead chosing to rip him from heaven's grasp and tug him back down to its arms.

With the devotion of something so terrifyingly in love, with the violence of a forgotten god awoken by the feeling of unimaginable grief, Doll shoved Hobie’s soul into his unmoving chest—ribs cracked like wood hollowed out by termites, his flesh split open from the pure force of it all.

Hobie gasped—his lungs seized as he tried to breathe. Blood rushed through his body. His eyes snapped open in defiance of even the laws of life and death itself.

“FUCKIN’—” he managed to choke out as he looked up at his Eldritch lover. “What in the bloody hell, Doll?!”

Doll held him tighter, skin humming in a language the universe had long since forgotten, body shaking violently like it had tilted reality off its axis (perhaps it had.)

“You’re back,” it whispered out like a prayer, voice breaking as if it was crying without tears. “I fixed it. I brought you back.”

“Me ribs,” Hobie groaned, grimacing at the sickening pain in his chest. “Pretty sure you broke every one of my fucking’ ribs—what the hell—”

He looked up at its face, really looked at it, even though it wasn't even human at the moment—His eyes holding something similar to reverence along with something similarly dreadful.

“I'll fix it later! But for now, please just... Just stay with me. Please, please, please, don’t ever leave again.”

“Did you… drag me out of death?”

Doll smiled.

Blood clung to its face from where it had held him close... Its many eyes shimmered with something not quite holy but not quite unholy either.

“Yes,” it said softly, a love smile blooming on what Hobie assumed to be its face. “You are mine alone, Hobie Brown.”

He managed to wheeze out a wet laugh, half disbelieving, half knowing. “You terrifying fucking’ nightmare of a partner~”

“I had warned you of such,” Doll whispered, brushing a soft kiss to his bloodied lips, “if anyone touched you—not even the gods your fellow mortals worship could dream of stopping me.”

Despite everything, Hobie Brown lived—torn from the sharp jaws of death itself, cradled in the arms of something that would break the very laws of existence to keep him breathing.

He let his eyes drift shut again, this time not from death but from the pure exhaustion of it all.

“Guess I’ll stay with you forever after all,” he murmured, cheek pressing into the now somewhat human crevice of Doll’s chest.

Doll said nothing, simply choosing to hold him tighter as its own eyes fluttered closed and its body tiredly slumped down against its love's.

[angel-selfshipper]

💠 + Peni Parker!

DOLL'S FEELINGS TWORDS PENI . . .

Oh, oh, oh... if only you could understand, if only mortal words could even begin to wrap themselves properly around the way it feels when I look at little Peni Parker. I can barely stand it in all truth, the way my whole being strains toward hers, the way my very soul aches with the need to cradle her existence inside the hollow of my chest — the way one might cradle a newborn star, burning and brilliant and so heartbreakingly small.

Peni, my sweet girl, my darling child... her heart stitched together tighter than even the most delicate seams of my own lace gloves, fighting monsters a thousand times her size without even a flinch, without even a whisper of fear. When I see her, my vision blurs with tears—not the soft tears of humans, no, but the kind that fall when universes spill over the edges of space, the tears that soak into the dark places between the stars.

Peni Parker is hope itself—stitched into flesh and machine and spirit. And oh, I would tear apart whole universes, unmake the same gods I once thought of as friends, just to coax that little smile from her lips — the one she thinks no one sees. I would gather her up, wrap her in endless silk and lace and the fragrant promises of summer storms and cemetery fov, and I would swear it, with every inch of my wrong, wrong, broken eldritch body: no harm shall ever dare to glance her way so long as I draw breath.

Peni is not simply just a mortal. No, no, she is a cathedral built of resilience, an anthem sung into existence with a voice so pure it shakes even the hollow, ancient bones inside my being. When she laughs—that rare, absaloutly breathtaking sound—it reaches my ears like the the same music that sings withinth my soul, the kind still bravely singing in abandoned homes where even the dust dares not settle.

I of all things, who have seen worlds wither to ash, who have watched mortals crumble into snarling madness at the mere brush of my gaze — I look at Peni Parker and feel something disturbingly, dangerously mortal. Love. Love so profound, so vast and tangled that I fear, sometimes, that it might shatter the delicate porcelain of me if I dared to hold onto it too tightly.

And I swear it—oh, I swear— don't you dare, don't you even dream of raising a hand, a word, a mere thought against her. I would forsake every whispered prayer stitched into my mouth, abandon every softness I have ever nursed, and show you precisely what I am made of. Something older than kindness, older than cruelty, something raw and ancient and merciless. I would peel your soul apart petal by petal, like a rotting flower placed against the gods graves, until only your regrets remained.

Sometimes, when I hold Hobie's battered jacket close, pressing the broken spikes and worn safety pins against the false-skin of my body, I imagine it—a strange, strange family. Hobie, who rages against the world's cages; me, a thing that was never meant to exist; and Peni, burning, stubborn, bright—a little star refusing to go out even in a sky with no others.

You are precious, Peni Parker... You are sacred to me. And I love you with a terrible, endless, mortal love—the kind of love that even other Eldritch would turn away from, too awestruck, too frightened to look it in the eye.

[angel-selfshipper]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Hiiii my name is ANGEL .ᐟ I love love love my fictional others ₊ ˚ ⊹

— This blog is mainly centered around all things selfshipping but will occasionally have some posts that fall into the non-selfship catagory . . .

— I am personally fine with sharing all my fictional others but do understand that no everybody feels the same! If we share a non sharing f/o of yours you can feel 100% free to block me and rant all you want on your blog.

— tagging system // more 2 be added

╰┈ ❥ CURRENT MAIN(S) - nico di angelo, will solace <3

[angel-selfshipper]

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → WHAT IN HELL IS BAD?

Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Lucifer, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Sitri, Leraye, Paimon, Belial, Astaroth, Zagan, Amy, Bimet, Eligos, Valefor, Foras, Glasyalabolas, Barbatos, Orias, Bael, Naberius, Amon, Stolas, Marbas, Morax, Buer, Gamigin, Dantalian, Phenix, Ronove, Beleth, Andrealphus, Gusion, Bathin, Agares, Vassago, Jegudiel, Armisael, Michael, Rashiel

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → MY HERO ACADEMIA

Mezo Shoji, Koji Koda, Rikido Sato, Tenya Iida, Hanta Sero, Shoto Todoroki, Momo Yaoyorozu, Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Mashirao Ojiro, Yuga Aoyama, Denki Kaminari, Izuku Midoriya, Mina Ashido, Fumikage Tokoyami, Ochaco Uraraka, Kyoku Jiro, Toru Hagakure, Tsuyu Asui, minoru mineta, Hitoshi Shinsou, Tomura Shigaraki

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → DEMON SLAYER

Inosuke Hashibira, Mitsuri Kanroji, Obanai Iguro, Giyu Tomioka, kokushibo

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → RIORDANVERSE

Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Cabin Seven, Apollo, Persephone, Hades

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → HELLUVA BOSS

Asmodeus, Fizzaroli, Blitzø, Stolas, Moxxie, Millie, Belphegor, Sallie May, Emberlynn

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S

Moon, Sun, William Afton, Michael Afton, Elizabeth Afton, Evan Afton.

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → COOKIE RUN

Burning spice cookie, pure vanilla cookie, shadow milk cookie

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → JUJUTSU KASIEN

Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Toge Inumaki, Choso

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → MARVEL

Logan Howlett, Wade Wilson, Eddie Brock, Venom,

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → HAZBIN HOTEL

Cherri bomb, Alastor, Rosie, Vox, Vellvete, Valentino

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → ANIMAL CROSSING

Tom Nook, Timmy Nook, Tommy Nook

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → THE COFFIN OF ANDY AND LEYLEY

Andrew Graves, Ashley Graves

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → SPIDERVERSE

Spider Noir, Miles, Hobie

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → SHOTA ONI

Yuu, Tsubaki, Higa Tooru

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → DanDaDan

Momo Ayase, Okarun

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → STARDEW VALLEY

Sam, Gus, willy, leo

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → ASSASSINATION CLASSROOM

Koro Sensei

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄 → IT (2017)

Pennywise

[angel-selfshipper]

running to your inbox w these questions bc I was literally just thinking about my moots and music an their ships. v curious about both of their responses bc hobie is a musician so there's lots of opportunities for wooing, infodumping and all sorts of fun!! but what type of music does an eldritch horror like? (that sounds like a setup to a dad joke🤡)

ramble over, here are the prompts:

🎤 - A song my fictional other would dedicate to me while singing karaoke!

🎙️ - A song my self-insert would dedicate to my fictional other while singing karaoke!

💿 - A song taken directly from my yumeship playlist!

🎫 - A song by an artist my fictional other and I would like to go see perform live together!

🎤 — 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐎𝐊𝐄!

🎙️ — 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐎𝐊𝐄!

💿 — 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐘 𝐘𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!

🎫 — 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑!

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 — 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄?