#☽ ⎢・outfit aesthetic

[sobremesarp]

character wardrobe from @poundcakecrm

[satansstellium]

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Astrology Observations ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

⭒❃.✮:▹Venus Signs and Neediness ◃:✮.❃⭒

Aquarius & Capricorn Venus signs want to feel needed but don’t ask for attention. They will act aloof when they actually just want their person to tell them how they can’t live without them. This is Saturn at its finest.

Leo & Cancer Venuses love attention and will ask for it. They are the type to straight up demand that you cuddle them. They will return the affection ten fold but love how much you love them. Luminary energy.

Pisces & Sagittarius Venuses are very go with the flow. They don’t necessarily need you all over them, but they like to be around you and have you express that you enjoy their company.

Gemini & Virgo Venus signs love to talk about their day with you. They are expressive and will tell you when they want attention and when they need their space. Can be put off it they think someone is not giving them their full attention when they want it.

Libra & Taurus Venuses love attention, but are low key about it. They will fish for compliments, especially about outfits/aesthetics. They liked to be called pretty but if you compliment their style that’s even better.

Aries & Scorpio Venus signs love to give attention, rather than receive it. They will shower you with affection and compliments and not expect much in return. If you do return it they may blush (Aries) or deflect (Scorpio).

[moonselune]

Dark!BG3 | My Doll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion,

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The grand chamber was bathed in the soft glow of opulent chandeliers, their light reflecting off the richly adorned walls and luxurious fabrics that draped the room. The scent of incense and exotic perfumes filled the air, mingling with the muted tones of classical music that played faintly in the background. Minthara’s personal quarters had been transformed into a private salon for the evening, a space that had become a shrine to her taste and power.

You stood at the center of this lavish room, surrounded by a flurry of activity as servants and attendants bustled around you. Minthara herself was a striking figure, her presence commanding attention as she watched with an air of anticipation. Her eyes, dark and gleaming with a mix of authority and affection, never left you as you were transformed into her perfect vision of elegance.

The first outfit was a deep crimson gown, its fabric rich and heavy, adorned with intricate patterns of black embroidery. As you stepped into the dress, the weight of the fabric felt like a reminder of Minthara's control.

The gown’s skirt flared dramatically, brushing against the floor as you moved. The bodice was fitted tightly, emphasizing your form, while a high collar added an air of regal sophistication. The color scheme was unmistakably Minthara’s: red and black, the hues of her dominion.

Minthara stepped forward, her gaze sharp as she inspected you from head to toe. She circled around you, her fingers trailing lightly over the fabric, adjusting and smoothing with practiced precision. Her touch was both intimate and commanding, a constant reminder of her ownership.

“No, no,” Minthara said, her voice a smooth purr of discontent. “This won’t do. It’s missing that certain… finesse.”

With a flick of her wrist, she signaled to her attendants, who quickly began to assist you in changing. The crimson gown was removed, and you were draped in the next ensemble: a black dress with a daring slit that exposed more of your skin than the first. The neckline plunged dramatically, and delicate red beading formed intricate patterns across the fabric. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but Minthara’s approving smile made the discomfort bearable.

Once again, Minthara’s scrutiny was intense. She examined you with a critical eye, her expression a blend of approval and dissatisfaction. “Better,” she murmured, “but still not quite right.”

The process repeated itself, each new outfit showcasing a different aspect of Minthara’s aesthetic. You wore a gown with a high-low hemline, the skirt cascading in layers of black tulle and red silk. Another time, you were adorned in a tailored suit that highlighted your form with its sharp, clean lines and dramatic red accents. Each outfit was more elaborate than the last, each adjustment made to ensure you embodied Minthara’s vision perfectly.

Hours passed, the constant changing of clothes becoming a test of endurance. But you remained calm, accepting each new ensemble with grace, knowing that this was part of your role in her world. Minthara’s delight and satisfaction with each iteration made the process easier to endure.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of fittings and adjustments, Minthara declared that she was satisfied. She clapped her hands, summoning the attendants to finalize your look.

They brought out a final accessory: a bejeweled collar, meticulously crafted with red and black stones that formed a delicate pattern around your neck. At the center of the collar was a pendant engraved with Minthara’s initials, a mark of your complete subjugation to her.

As you looked in the mirror, you saw yourself fully transformed into Minthara’s vision. The reflection was a striking image of her colors and style—red and black. The collar around your neck was a permanent reminder of your place, a symbol of your devotion and submission. Your hair was styled to perfection, complementing the overall look and adding to the aura of elegance and obedience that you now embodied.

Minthara stepped behind you, her fingers gently brushing against your shoulders. She leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear.

“There,” she whispered, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now you are truly mine, a perfect reflection of my desires and authority. You look magnificent, my little doll.”

You turned to face her, meeting her gaze in the mirror. Her eyes were alight with a mix of pride and possessiveness. With a final, approving nod, Minthara offered you her arm, guiding you gracefully towards the door.

“Come, my dear,” she said, her tone both commanding and affectionate. “We have a gala to attend, and I want everyone to see just how perfectly you are mine.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

In the opulent, dimly lit chamber of the cloister’s grand tailoring room, Shadowheart was immersed in the meticulous task of curating the perfect uniform for you. The room was adorned with luxurious fabrics and ornate furnishings, reflecting the wealth and power of her position.

You stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a sea of garments and accessories that Shadowheart had deemed essential for your transformation. The process was more elaborate than you had anticipated, and her patience seemed to stretch as thin as the fabric she was scrutinizing. With each new outfit, you felt like a doll being dressed and undressed for the amusement of its owner.

Shadowheart’s eyes were sharp and discerning as she examined each piece, her expression a mix of contemplation and exacting standards. She would approach you, draping fabrics over your shoulders and adjusting the fit with a practiced hand. The clothing ranged from dark, elegant robes embroidered with intricate patterns to high-collared tunics and flowing skirts, each adorned with symbols of Shar that spoke to her influence and control.

The first few outfits were a blur of material and adjustment. You tried to remain compliant, but the process was exhausting. The layers of heavy fabric and constant changes began to wear on you, and your patience grew thin. As the hours wore on, you found yourself growing restless and defiant, your attempts to express your discomfort evident in your body language and terse replies.

Shadowheart noticed the shift in your demeanor with a frown. Her patience was equally thin, and she was determined to have you fit the perfect vision she had in mind. With a swift, practiced motion, she summoned her magic, her hands glowing with a dark, malevolent light. The room seemed to shiver as she cast her spell, an incantation that infused the air with an aura of command and control.

You felt the magic’s effect almost immediately. A soothing, yet unyielding calm settled over you, dulling your restlessness and rebellious thoughts. It was as if a weight had been lifted, but it had been replaced by a compelling sense of submission and compliance.

Your previously defiant posture softened, and a serene, pliant expression took its place. The resistance that had marked your movements was replaced by an obedient, almost docile demeanor.

Shadowheart observed this transformation with a satisfied smirk. She approached you, her eyes scanning your now receptive form with a critical yet approving gaze. “

There we go,” she said, her voice laced with both authority and satisfaction. “Much better. Now, let’s see how you fare in these last few garments.”

She continued her meticulous work, dressing you in a series of uniforms designed to reflect both your new role and her unyielding control. The garments were tailored to perfection, each piece accentuating your form and adhering to her strict standards. Shadowheart was a master of her craft, ensuring that every detail was flawless.

Each time you grew slightly restless or attempted to voice an opinion, she would subtly adjust her magic, reinforcing your compliance and soothing any rebellious thoughts. The process became smoother as your resistance faded completely, leaving you a willing participant in her vision.

After several hours of rigorous fittings and adjustments, Shadowheart finally declared herself satisfied. She stepped back, her eyes gleaming with a sense of accomplishment as she surveyed you in the final ensemble—a striking combination of dark, elegant fabrics and intricate embroidery that marked you as a perfect reflection of her influence and authority.

“You look marvelous,” Shadowheart said, her tone carrying a blend of satisfaction and possessiveness. “You are now the embodiment of my will and the symbol of our cause, my love."

You nodded, your movements smooth and compliant, a stark contrast to the defiant spirit you had shown earlier. The transformation was complete, and as you gazed at your reflection, you could see the results of Shadowheart’s meticulous efforts—an image that perfectly represented her authority and your newfound role. Shadowheart approached you, her fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

“You have done well,” she said, her voice softening with an almost tender edge. "Come, let the cloister see us in all our glory."

As you followed her lead, the uniform you wore became a second skin, a symbol of your submission and her dominance. The process had been grueling, but the final result was a testament to Shadowheart’s unwavering control and your complete integration into her world.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

In the opulent chamber that served as Gale’s domain within his realm, the ambiance was a blend of divine grandeur and meticulous attention to detail. The walls were adorned with shimmering tapestries depicting scenes of grandeur and ambition, and the air was filled with a faint, otherworldly glow that highlighted the majesty of the space. The large, ornate mirror in the center of the room reflected the elaborate setting, its surface gleaming with enchantments.

You stood in the center of the room, dressed in a simple yet elegant attire chosen for this occasion. Gale was preoccupied with perfecting the emblem that would symbolize your role by his side—a symbol that would embody your essence and his divine vision.

His attention to detail bordered on obsessive as he fussed over every aspect of the emblem, his eyes never leaving you as he examined the designs and elements that would represent you.

“Hold still,” Gale instructed with a tone of authority that brooked no argument. “The emblem must capture your essence perfectly. We cannot afford any mistakes.”

You did as instructed, feeling a mixture of apprehension and patience as Gale maneuvered you into various positions. He adjusted your posture, making minute corrections with an almost artistic precision. His fingers traced delicate patterns in the air, and his gaze was intense, as if he were trying to extract the very soul of your being.

Gale’s attention to detail was meticulous. He moved around you, occasionally stepping back to assess how you appeared from different angles. His eyes flickered with a blend of concentration and creative fervor as he compared the emblem’s design against your form. He muttered to himself, adjusting the insignia’s elements and ensuring they harmonized perfectly with your presence.

At one point, he repositioned you with a gentle but firm touch, guiding you into a new stance.

“No, no,” he murmured, his frustration evident. “Your posture needs to reflect the ambition we’re channeling. Stand taller, and hold your gaze with conviction. We need to capture the essence of your power and my divine influence.”

You complied, striving to embody the posture and poise he desired. The process felt almost like being sculpted, with Gale as both the artist and critic. His scrutiny was intense, and his corrections were precise. He adjusted the fabric of your attire, smoothed out imaginary wrinkles, and reoriented you to align with his vision.

Time seemed to stretch as Gale continued his work, his focus unwavering. He made several adjustments to the emblem, testing different designs and placements until he found the one that resonated with his divine sense of perfection. Each adjustment was accompanied by a thoughtful hum or a quiet exclamation of frustration when something didn’t meet his exacting standards.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Gale stepped back with a satisfied smile. He took in the final result, his eyes gleaming with the pride of a creator who had achieved his vision.

“There,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of triumph and relief. “That is it. The emblem is perfect. It captures your essence and embodies the ambition we both strive for.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, observing the emblem’s intricate design—a symbol of your role beside Gale, reflecting both his divine nature and your connection to him. The emblem glowed subtly, an ethereal representation of your union with the God of Ambition and your place as his muse.

Gale approached you, his demeanor softening as he gazed at you with an affectionate pride. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your face in a gesture of tender affection.

“Thank you for enduring this process,” he said. “Your patience and poise have made this moment truly perfect.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The lavish chamber was a stark contrast to the anxiety that churned within you. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and a grand chandelier cast a warm, golden light over the room. Astarion had spared no expense, the luxury surrounding you only amplifying your unease. This was the fourth tailor he had summoned, the others having met a grim fate for their perceived failures.

You stood in the center of the room, feeling like a mannequin as the tailor’s assistants fussed over you, taking measurements, adjusting fabrics, and pinning samples of the latest creation.

Astarion, lounging nearby with a glass of fine wine in hand, watched with a critical eye. His presence was as commanding as ever, his pale skin glowing in the candlelight, his crimson eyes tracking every movement.

The tailor worked in nervous silence, his hands trembling slightly as he presented the latest outfit for Astarion’s approval. It was a finely crafted piece, the fabric shimmering with a subtle, ethereal glow that hinted at the magic woven into its threads. But as soon as the tailor held it up for inspection, Astarion’s expression darkened.

“What is this?” Astarion’s voice was cold, his displeasure evident. He set his wine glass down with a deliberate clink, rising from his seat with a fluid grace that belied the menace in his movements.

The tailor stammered, his fear palpable. “M-my lord, I thought—”

“You thought?” Astarion interrupted, his tone laced with disdain. “You thought you could present such a pedestrian creation and pass it off as worthy of my beloved?”

You flinched at the edge in his voice, knowing what was to come. Your nerves were already frayed from the endless fittings and the constant fussing. You had tried to remain patient, but the compulsion he had placed on you was wearing thin.

Astarion turned to you, his gaze softening for a moment as he noticed your discomfort.

“Ah, my dear, I can see you’re growing restless,” he said, reaching out to gently caress your cheek. His touch was tender, yet he reimposed the compulsion with force. “But we must ensure that everything is perfect. You deserve nothing less.”

You nodded slightly, feeling the magic of his compulsion tighten around you, forcing you to remain still. The anxiety gnawed at you, but there was nothing you could do but comply. Astarion’s attention snapped back to the tailor.

“This will not do,” he declared, his voice cold once more. Before the tailor could react, Astarion moved with blinding speed, his hand flashing out to grasp the man’s throat.

The tailor gasped, his eyes wide with terror as Astarion lifted him off the ground with ease.

“I will not tolerate mediocrity,” Astarion hissed, his fangs gleaming in the dim light. With a swift, effortless motion, he snapped the tailor’s neck, letting the lifeless body drop to the floor.

You swallowed hard, the sight of yet another death turning your stomach. This was the fourth tailor he had killed, all in his relentless pursuit of perfection for you. You felt a mix of horror and resignation, knowing that this was the reality you lived in, a reality shaped by Astarion’s obsession with you.

Astarion turned to one of his servants, who had been standing silently by the door, awaiting orders.

“Bring in the next one,” he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion. The servant bowed and hurried out of the room, leaving you alone with Astarion and the body of the tailor. You glanced at Astarion, who was already smoothing his hair back into place, his demeanor calm once more.

He noticed your gaze and smiled, though there was a hint of something darker in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he said, his tone almost soothing. “We’ll find the right one soon. I promise.”

You forced a small smile, knowing that there was no other choice. Astarion’s devotion to you was absolute, but it came at a cost—a cost you were forced to bear as he sought to mold you into his vision of perfection.

As the door opened again, and the next tailor was ushered in, you braced yourself for another round of fittings, knowing that you would remain still and compliant, just as Astarion wished.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The sun had barely risen when you found yourself in the grove, surrounded by the soft chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. The scent of fresh earth filled your senses as you knelt beside a wounded fawn, carefully tending to its injuries. The little creature’s eyes reflected a trust that warmed your heart, even as the dull ache from your own wounds reminded you of the previous day’s events.

Halsin had insisted you rest, but staying cooped up inside felt suffocating. You needed this—needed the quiet, the peace, the distraction of caring for the injured animals that had always been your solace.

As you gently applied a salve to the fawn’s leg, a shadow fell over you. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The air grew heavier with Halsin’s presence, his towering form casting a long shadow over you and the garden.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice was low, a mixture of concern and frustration, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You continued your work, trying to ignore the tension that had suddenly filled the space between you.

“I’m just helping,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “The animals need me.”

“They can wait,” Halsin said, his tone firm. He stepped closer, and you could feel his gaze boring into you. “You’re supposed to be resting. You were hurt.”

You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I’m fine, Halsin. I don’t need to be coddled like a child.”

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a gentleness that belied the strength behind it. He pulled you to your feet, towering over you as he looked down with a mix of concern and stern authority.

“You’re not invincible,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. “You need to take care of yourself.”

“I am taking care of myself,” you argued, trying to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you from moving.

Halsin’s eyes flashed with an intensity, and you knew you were treading dangerous ground. He had always been protective, but since the incident, that protectiveness had grown into something else—something more controlling, more suffocating. He was treating you like a porcelain doll, terrified that you would shatter at the slightest bump.

“You’re acting like a child,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “You’re hurt, and you’re out here risking further injury because you refuse to listen.”

“I’m not a child, Halsin,” you shot back, your own temper flaring. “I can take care of myself, and I don’t need you hovering over me every second.”

He sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation, and released your wrist. For a moment, you thought he might relent, but then he cupped your face in his large hands, forcing you to look up at him. His expression was stern, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“You will rest,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “And you will do as I say. I won’t lose you because you’re too stubborn to take care of yourself.”

The authority in his tone was undeniable, and you felt a surge of defiance rise within you. But just as quickly, it was smothered by the reality of your situation. Halsin wasn’t someone you could easily defy. He was strong, powerful, and his protectiveness—however suffocating—came from a place of genuine care. You knew that resisting him would only lead to him tightening his control over you further. With a reluctant sigh, you nodded, your shoulders sagging in resignation.

“Fine,” you muttered, the fight draining out of you. “I’ll rest.”

Halsin’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with relief. “I just want to keep you safe.”

You stood there, trapped in his embrace, feeling a mixture of emotions—frustration, resignation, and a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name. It was easier to give in, to let him protect you, even if it meant surrendering a little more of your freedom. The alternative was a struggle you weren’t sure you could win.

As he held you close, you wondered how much of yourself you would lose in the process of keeping the peace.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The grand chamber was bathed in soft, golden light as the sun filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the ornate furnishings and rich tapestries. The scent of oil paint and fresh flowers hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of the perfume you wore. In the center of the room, you sat perched on a velvet chaise, your posture rigid, as the painter worked diligently at his easel, his brush gliding across the canvas with practiced precision.

Wyll stood beside you, his gaze critical as he observed the progress of the portrait. His sharp eyes missed nothing, and you could feel his presence like a weight on your shoulders, even though he had yet to say a word. The painter, a nervous-looking man with a thin mustache and trembling hands, kept glancing at Wyll, clearly anxious under the scrutiny of the Grand Duke.

“Hmm,” Wyll finally murmured, stepping closer to you. His fingers brushed your cheek lightly before he tilted your chin slightly upwards, adjusting the angle of your head. “You’re looking a bit too stern, my dear. Try softening your expression.”

You obliged, relaxing the tension in your face and offering a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You knew that Wyll was enjoying this—reveling in the control he had over every detail of the portrait, and by extension, over you. It wasn’t the first time he had treated you like a doll, something to be posed and positioned just as he liked. But today, there was a particular gleam in his eye, a playful edge to his actions that made it clear he was having fun with it.

“No, no, this won’t do,” he muttered, stopping to adjust the drape of the fabric around your shoulders.

The gown you wore was exquisite, made of the finest silk and embroidered with delicate patterns of gold thread. But it wasn’t quite right for the image he wanted to create.

“Perhaps something more regal,” he mused aloud, turning to the servants who stood waiting in the corner. “Bring out the crimson velvet. I want something that matches their hair, something that will make them stand out even more.”

The painter hesitated, his brush still in mid-air as he watched the scene unfold. You caught his eye, offering him a reassuring smile, even as you resigned yourself to another round of adjustments. You could see the unease in his expression, the way he bit his lip as he glanced between you and Wyll, but he remained silent. No one dared to contradict the Grand Duke, especially not when he was in one of these moods.

The servants quickly brought out a new gown, a rich crimson velvet with intricate gold embroidery. Wyll personally helped you out of the first gown, his touch lingering on your skin as he peeled away the fabric. He took his time, his movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring the moment. Once you were dressed in the new gown, he stepped back to admire his handiwork, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Much better,” he declared, his tone laced with approval. “Now, let’s try this again.”

You returned to your position on the chaise, feeling the heavy weight of the velvet gown settle around you. The painter began anew, his brush moving quickly to capture the new look. Wyll, however, wasn’t done. He continued to fuss over every detail—the angle of your head, the position of your hands, the way the light caught your hair. Each time he made an adjustment, you complied, holding your pose as still as you could, though the strain was beginning to wear on you.

But you could see the joy in Wyll’s eyes, the way he seemed to relish in this exercise of power and control. There was a playfulness to it, a lightheartedness that you hadn’t seen in him for some time. So, despite the growing discomfort, you decided to indulge him. Just this once, you would let him have his fun.

Finally, after what felt like hours of repositioning and adjustments, Wyll seemed satisfied. He stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as he studied the portrait taking shape on the canvas. The painter’s hand was steady now, the initial nervousness replaced by a focused determination to get everything just right.

“Perfect,” Wyll murmured, his voice soft with admiration. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re perfect, my love.”

You smiled up at him, though your muscles ached from holding the pose for so long.

“As long as you’re happy,” you replied, your voice tinged with a forced mix of amusement and affection. He chuckled, a warm, rich sound that filled the room.

“More than happy,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve made this portrait something truly special.”

As the painter continued his work, Wyll remained by your side, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. You knew that this was more than just a portrait to him—it was a reflection of his power, his control, and the deep bond between you. And for today, you were content to let him have that.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

So sorry to the nonnie that asked for this one, your ask got eaten by my inbox :((

But it is here now !!! Hope you guys enjoyed it - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[bxtxnx]

hi! i just found your blog and saw all of the comments about fashion for placements and was wondering if you could help me figure out the right style for mine if it’s not too late! it’d be greatly appreciated 💗

sag sun, aqua moon/rising, and scorpio venus!

Hi!

With a Scorpio Venus, your style needs to be sophisticated, edgy or daring. You need to stick to darker colors and wear outfits like leather jackets+black jeans, buttoned shirts+fur coat+formal pants or a daring little black dress. Emo and goth styles are also an option when you have a Scorpio Venus.

With your Sagittarius Sun, you can make your style a bit preppy and go for a dark academia style as that is an ideal combination of Scorpio and Sagittarius qualities. With your Aquarius rising, you can go for some bold pop of color, like bright, neon yellow on an all-black outfit or you can play around and combine different aesthetics, like wearing a black lace shirt under a leather jacket. ☽

[thatstonedwriter]

Better Love Story than Twilight

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Content; vampirism, romantic relationships, gender neutral, references to blood, some suggestive themes

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There's so much Loona loves about you. The vampirism is a fun perk, though~

First and foremost: Fangs. They're undeniably attractive and in Loona's eyes, you are undeniably attractive. So for her, its like a biblical experience every time she sees you.

You one for carnage and wanna help I.M.P with assassinations? Even better. Not only does Loona get to admire you all day, she gets to see you absolutely eviscerate your enemies

Loona is big on aesthetics, and no matter what yours is, she's going all out. Not to the point where it's too much work or draws too much attention, though. She just wants to be a badass power couple

Due to your aversion to sunlight (no matter how severe), it's likely you'll be spending nights together. Personally, I think Loona is a bit nocturnal. She seems like the kind of person who enjoys the solitude, quietness, and privacy that comes with staying up when everyone else has gone to sleep. If you go to bed early, Loona's happy to allow you to sleep on the bed or on her lap/shoulder while she scrolls on her phone. She just really enjoys the quality time with you.

Do you need blood? If you do, Loona has her ways of acquiring it.. just don't concern yourself with the details. Or the ethics. If you already have your own or happen to not need it as often, that's okay too. It just means the stuff Loona got is your emergency supply.

Loona will always be concerned about your safety, especially if you go out during the day. Everything you could need to keep yourself safe and comfortable has been provided. Loona always carries a change of clothes (that include long sleeves and pants), an extra umbrella, and pain meds, vitamins and water in case you get anemic or have headaches. Safe to say, she carries a backpack with everything you could need... just in case.

Of course, as awesome as vampirism can be, there are definite drawbacks. Loona loves helping you pick outfits.. but because you don't show up in photos or the mirror, Loona can't show you how amazing you look. To make up for it, she tells you. Constantly, so that you never forget it.

As an homage to the platonic version of this post: Blitzo can't really stalk/keep track of yall because you both have heightened senses. It's pretty frustrating for him, but oh well.

[jazz-apple-jones]

Hi hi, it’s Jazz :) 🍎💕🦔

I have decided to finally become active on Tumblr, this is my introduction post.

This blog is gonna be for my art but we’ll see what happens. Maybe the occasional brain blast or random thought will make its way on here. Idk how reblog culture works so I’ll either reblog everything or nothing.

⭐️ I draw on Procreate

⭐️ I’m 19 :)

⭐️ Most of my art is on Insta (Jazz_Apple_Jones)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

About me…

• Call me Jazz

• I speak English and a good amount of Spanish

• Pronouns are they/them/she/her

• INFJ-T

• Ace-spec <3

• Anxiety disorder, buckets of fun

• Catholic-ish, lover of Jesus. To clarify, I’m not a bigot or a creep I promise 😭

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DNI list: ⛔️

• R@cism in any capacity, block me

• Colorism in any capacity, block me

• Ped0s (or whatever other label they give themselves, idc, block me)

• F*tish posting, block me

• G*re, block me

• Proship posting, block me.

• Blogs with strictly NSFW, block me. If you’ve got the occasional spicy art post you’re probably fine

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

My fandoms: 💃🏽

- Lego Monkie Kid

- Disney/pixar animation (not immune to its charms unfortunately)

- Nicktoons Unite (and related fandoms)

- Dan & Phil

- My Little Pony

- Gorillaz

- Tangled the Series

- Vat7k

- Gravity Falls

- Sanders Sides

- Hilda

- Roleslaying w/ Roman

- Miraculous ladybug

- Trolls

- Bluey

- Welcome Home

- Various Webtoons

- My own OCs

- DSMP (for the lore and nostalgia, not for its creators!! Ranboo is chill tho)

- Percy Jackson (haven’t touched this fandom in a minute tho)

- Harry Potter (I know we hate JKR but I don’t touch this one much either)

- I’m in a bunch more fandoms but I don’t actively post all of em

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

My likes:

• Drawing (obviously)

• Writing stories n making OCs

• Pretty wrapping paper

• Pretty stationary

• Cooking

• When I pour soda and the condensation bubbles touch my nose

• Sandwiches

• Fandom edits

• Self-inserts

• DND

• Puzzles

• Satisfying keyboard sounds

• Those plants that hang from strings

• My dearly departed doggy :(

• The smell of the pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney

• Pirates in general

• Muffins (best pastry)

• Cartoons usually made for children

• Putting lots of posters and prints on my walls

• Using “n” instead of “and” when I type, I dunno why

• Fall and Winter aesthetics/activities

• Markers

• Scented candles

• Makeup (casual, sfx, cosplay/costume, you name it)

• The occasional cosplay

• Live events

• Going to the movies

• Parties

• Travel

• Fun outfits

• Rain

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That’s all for the intro post folks :)

[whumps-and-bumps]

Xenophobia - The Date

[CW: depression vibes, kidnapping, drugs/sedation, dehumanisation, bbu-adjecent, vomit mention/bodily fluids, branding, death mention] [Masterpost/Contents] [Previous] [Next]

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･. :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Xen checked themself in the mirror for what could have been the fiftieth time. They didn’t have many outfits to choose from, but they did the best with what they already had, since a shopping trip for special date-night clothes was out of the question. They squeezed into their newest jeans instead and their softest plaid shirt, and ended up fiddling and tucking and untucking and smoothing everything out for far longer than was strictly necessary. They hoped Salia wasn’t planning on taking them somewhere upscale and posh. The last thing they needed was to be made to look like as big of a fool as they felt.

They checked their phone for the time, and ran their hand through their hair once more before finally turning away. They were clean, they were doing their best, and this was the real them. It was all they could do.

There were multiple points on their walk to the park where they nearly stopped and turned around, but by some miracle Xen made it to the bandstand a few minutes early nonetheless. They had made sure to leave plenty of extra time for this exact reason - that, and there was always the possibility the walk would make them sweaty and stinky and that was the last thing they wanted to be on a first date. They still couldn’t quite believe Salia was interested in them; whilst it would never cross their mind to think such things about other people, they couldn’t find a single thing about themselves that they genuinely liked. Their face was too round, their body too chubby, hair too flat and they swore up and down that their shoulders had a weird slope to them. At least they tried their very best to always be kind and helpful to make up for it, but turning up to a first date with an offensive smell about them would not make things easier.

At this time of year it was thankfully still pretty light out, so Xen was totally at ease sitting on the steps of the bandstand as they waited for the mothfolk to arrive. The evening air was still warm, the setting sun lighting up the clouds with magnificent orange and pink hues – it was the a perfect atmosphere for a romantic date. The only other people in the park were a couple of dog walkers off in the distance, heading up the hill and presumably home for dinner. Xen’s stomach rumbled a little as they wondered what Salia had planned – they hoped it was a picnic.

A few minutes after six and with still no sign of her, their nerves had turned into a vibrating swarm of anxiety in their belly. They told themselves it was normal to be late – nobody else obsessively counted down the seconds on the clock  – but they couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that Salia had stood them up, that she was always going to stand them up, and that this whole thing was all a big joke. Maybe she was nearby, watching but never intending to approach. Maybe she was laughing with her friends, taking a video of the pathetic nerd who sat there waiting because they dared to think that somebody might want them-

“Excuse me, you’re Xen, right?”

They stood up immediately, their joints clicking and all the blood rushing to their head. Through the brief dizziness, they saw that the pink mothfolk that had approached them bore a striking resemblance to Salia, but was clearly not her; he was decidedly masculine in appearance with his short cream hair styled back and gelled, whereas Salia’s had been fluffy and messy and soft– or at least it had looked that way in her photos, and Xen would have passed it off as her profile just being filled with older pictures if their general aesthetics weren’t entirely different too. Salia had consistently presented herself as sweet and rosy, preferring big sweaters and fuzzy socks over elegant fashion. The man before her wore a designer tracksuit and a gold chain. Only their wings were exactly the same, both a shimmering pink and yellow that reminded them of macaroons and ice-cream. He wasdefinitelystill cute, though. 

“Oh, hi! Yes, I- um, Salia, right?” they replied in greeting, not wanting to be rude. Genders changed all the time, this could be a recent thing, and it wasn’t like it really mattered. 

He laughed, though, and they felt stupid. “No, no. She’s my sister.” He held out his hand for Xen to shake, and they took it. “She asked me to come along with her to meet you – you know how dangerous online dating can be these days. We wanted to make sure you weren’t some weirdo.”

Xen laughed too, still shaky with surprise and a little relief. “Of course! I totally get it, don’t worry,” they said brightly, giving him a firm handshake and hoping they weren’t too clammy. He wiped his hand on his tracksuit afterwards and they died a little inside. 

“She’s actually set up a little evening picnic for you both, but realised at the last minute it probably wasn’t a good idea to meet a total stranger in the park after dark on her own,” he explained with a smile. He glanced over Xen’s shoulder and tilted his head. “Are you okay? Did you bring anyone with you too?”

Warmth filled Xen’s cheeks as they shook their head. They didn’t have anyone to bring even if they’d wanted to. “Nah, I think I might have been a little too trusting,” they grinned instead. “Things like that don’t really happen to me – like, weirdos just don’t seem to take much of an interest. Thankfully.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Okay… Well, if you’re happy to follow me, I’ll take you to where she’s set up and leave you two lovebirds to it?”

“Please,” Xen breathed out, trying to release the tension that was building in their shoulders from this awkward conversation. ‘Things like that don’t really happen to me’ – god, they sounded so pretentious and conceited. They couldn’t blame her – either of them- for being cautious. Online dating was bloody terrifying, and Salia was beautiful. They dreaded to think how many times things might have gone wrong for her, how many close calls she might have had. They checked their mobile was still in the back pocket of their jeans with a little pat and joined her brother on the path, ready for him to lead the way. At least he seemed lovely.

It wasn’t far to go – after a few steps, Salia’s brother veered off the little path and led them towards one of the many copses in the park. A single, quiet alarm bell started to ring in the back of Xen’s mind but they shoved it away. They knew this place. It was just a few trees and a couple of bushes in the middle of the green – not some mysterious, endless forest with nobody around for miles. They used to climb these exact same trees all the time - thick branches both ran low along the ground and high into the sky, making it the perfect playground. They should probably figure out what kind of trees they were one day. They also knew that inside the cluster of trees was a small clearing, the dirt well-packed and flattened by thousands of other visitors over the years. The more they thought about it, the more perfect the spot seemed for a romantic picnic – it was intimate, not isolated.

“She’s set up just in there,” her brother was saying, the two of them having made idle small talk on their way over. He paused just short of the trees, gesturing vaguely at the easiest route inside. They could kind of see a patterned picnic blanket through the leaves and branches, but hesitated anyway – that stupid alarm bell was still going off in the back of their mind. They wished it would go away. It was probably just nerves! This was it, this was the real first date, and the butterflies in their stomach were just from anxiety, not an awful gut feeling. They should stop assuming the worst of people all the time.

“Thank you,” they said instead, giving him their best smile back. “Are you, uh…”

“I’m just gonna say goodbye to her before I leave. I’m not staying, don’t worry,” he teased, holding a branch out of the way and motioning for them to hurry up. That wasn’t what they were going to ask, but whatever. He probably had places to be. Before they could let themselves chicken out for good, they ducked under his arm and pushed their way inside. Deep breaths. Stay calm.

It was a lot darker in there than they thought it would be, with the sun now so low in the sky. Once they were clear of the first layer of branches, they had just enough light and time to process that there were three figures stood around the picnic blanket instead of one, before a large pink hand grabbed their face from behind and dragged them to the side.

He covered their mouth and their nose to keep them quiet as they cried out in surprise, and a split second later a sharp pain stabbed them in the side of their neck. He shushed them, easing them onto their knees as their body weakened but grabbed a fistful of their hair to force them when they resisted. Still, Xen kept trying to wriggle free – they needed to run, they should have already run, they should never have come at all - but they were losing feeling in both their arms and legs too quickly, and their vision turned spotty and dark. They couldn’t see. They couldn’t breathe. His hand clamped down even tighter over their nose as the three strangers closed in on them, securing their wrists and ankles with zipties whilst they were too scared and disorientated to fight back.

They could just about feel a warm, wet mouth bite down on the inside of their wrist before it went fully numb. A scream bubbled up their throat but died as quickly as it began, muffled by the hand and choked by tears. “O positive,” a voice said distantly.

With everything now in total darkness and their body useless, the last thing they felt before they went under was the sting of a second syringe.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Maybe it had all been just a dream – a horrible stress nightmare before their first date. That was more likely. 

Things like this just didn’t happen to people like them.

Xen’s mind was too cloudy still to think clearly, but they often felt like this when waking up in the morning. It wasn’t unusual for them to drift in and out of a hazy dreamland. No amount of convincing themselves otherwise would change the truth.

Their body hurt. When they tried to open their eyes, they still couldn’t see; they tried to sit upright, but their arms and wrists were bound tightly to their sides with what felt like packing tape. They were hot and clammy, their skin sweating profusely - but even if their legs hadn’t similarly been bound together, there were no blankets for them to kick off the bed. They were not at home. This was not a dream.

Strong hands rolled them over and over on whatever surface they were laid on, rolling them up in some kind of plastic; it took them a moment to place it before they groggily realised it was bubblewrap. They tried to open their mouth to speak, to ask what was going on, to beg for help or freedom or even just to cry out - but it was taped shut and stuffed with cloth. As soon as they realised, panic finally hit them like a tidal wave and they began hyperventilate. 

They were drugged.

They were bound.

They couldn’t breathe.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The next time they came round, they no longer had any hope of it being just a bad dream. The sensations were far too real: the tight blindfold of bubblewrap and packing tape around their face, the rumbling of large wheels over old tarmac, the musty smell of sweat and plastic and piss – they were still groggy, but it was visceral. They fought hard not to panic again. Their mouth was still taped shut, breathing calmly and through their nose was their only option. Freaking out would only make it worse.

Despite being blindfolded, their head was still spinning. Every bump and pothole sent spasms of pain up their spine until they couldn’t figure out which way was up and which was down, and when the vehicle swerved around corners they slid around like loose baggage. Sometimes they hit things that were soft, sometimes they hit against the wall. They tested their ability to move, hoping they may be able to brace themselves at least a little bit when the next slam came; but although the paralytic Salia’s brother had given them had now worn off, they were bound far too tightly to do much more than twitch their fingers and toes.

Salia’s brother…

Tears welled up behind the blindfold. How could they have been so stupid? 

After what could have been hours, the vehicle finally turned for the last time before slowing right down to a crawl. After a brief stop and a pause, it then slowly began to reverse - if the muffled beeping was anything to go by. It was parking. They had arrived. This was it.

The engine was turned off, leaving everything eerily still and quiet until Xen heard the unmistakable sound of the rear doors being unlocked. Light just about hit their eyes through the plastic and tape as they swung open and a blurred figure climbed inside; they quickly squeezed them shut again, their breathing picking up and their body starting to shake in its wrapping. The newcomer didn’t notice. They likely didn’t even care. They began to unload the back of the van, calling over other people from outside to help them get everything done faster.

“Brace yourself, this one’s heavy.”

“Okay, take it through – yeah, through those doors there.”

“This one’s a wriggler, make sure you get a good grip on it and don’t let go.” 

The voices were barely audible through all the layers of plastic around them, but before Xen could process what they were saying there was a grunt and a heavy thud, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Someone berated someone else for potentially damaging a product, another person yelled for them to stop talking and keep working, but despite the noise all Xen could focus on were the soft groans and whimpers coming from the dropped body. 

They were not alone.

They were not alone.

It was an awful comfort, knowing that someone else was going through this hell with them. Were there a dozen others? Were there more? They had no way of knowing.

The footsteps came closer again. They shouted out around the gag the best they could whilst someone grabbed their legs, quickly slinging them over their shoulder like they were no more than a sack of potatoes. Struggling had no effect either, so they tried screaming again - but with the fabric stuffed into their mouth they may as well have kept silent. It didn’t matter. Nobody was listening anyway.

They were carried unceremoniously into the building that contained their fate, only aware they had crossed a threshold when they heard another door open and close. It was impossible for them to tell how much time had passed since that stupid date – it was light out, so it was probably the following day but with the amount of drugs in their system it could just as easily have been a week. Their mouth was dry enough that they weren’t able to drool on the gag anymore, and the hollowness in their stomach could easily have been from fear instead of hunger. It was only as they became properly coherent and awake that they realised – in abject horror - that their lower half was sticky and damp and disgusting. 

Everything was still contained within their clothes and the bubblewrap, but now they were aware of it, the smell hit them like a sledgehammer. So, it had clearly been long enough that at some point they had emptied themselves. Whilst unconscious. They must have been in that van for days – unless the drugs had something to do with it, of course, which was still very much possible. If any part of them had previously had the strength left to feel hungry, it was definitely wiped out now.

Xen had no idea when they had last been given cocktails of drugs, but it was clear nobody had bothered to administer more for a while now. The further inside the building they got, the more awake they felt, and the faster their terror was catching up with them. They wished someone would stab them in the neck again. If they had been allowed to stay unconscious, then they wouldn’t have to know what was happening to them - they wouldn’t feel any of that anxiety or fear, they could just slip away into the light when their time came. As long as they were awake and sober, they would be forced to actually experience everything. They would be forced to feel.

The person carrying them tossed them onto a table with a thud. Xen groaned as they were rolled onto their stomach; though winded, the bubblewrap had actually protected them a bit from the force of the impact - just not the shock of it. A hand then pushed down onto the back of their head, holding them firmly in place – instinct took over, and they thrashed around in a desperate attempt to wriggle free. Despite their best efforts and garbled pleas, a small blade was pushed into the bubblewrap at the top of their neck, and the stranger slowly dragged it down length of their spine. Curiously, though, they made sure to only cut the wrapping and tape. Xen wasn’t so much as nicked, they realised -

They were being opened like a fucking parcel.

Their efforts to escape didn’t earn them so much as a reprimand. They writhed around the best they could, but with their arms and legs bound so tightly together, they felt like a worm trying to crawl from a bird. They probably wouldn’t ever be thought of as anything more, now.

The stranger continued to remove the rest of the bubblewrap, turning them over and cutting away as needed then discarding the scraps in a nearby bin. The tape around their limbs was unfortunately left intact, but at least they could feel air on their skin again. The last of the packaging to be removed was, of course, the plastic over their head. It was a miracle they had still been breathing at all – despite all the disgusting smells, they couldn’t help but to inhale deeply as soon as their face was free. It only burned a little.

Xen blinked up at the person – a werewolf, they realised - that was handling them. Their eyes were still blurred with tears, but they wanted to at least put a face to whoever was deciding their fate. As he worked, he looked at them with such indifference that Xen had no doubt he’d done this hundreds of times before and not once recognised the horror of it. They expected him to be ugly, maybe; ugly and cruel and haggard, like a true cartoon villain, but he was just some guy. Someone they might have passed on the street a thousand times without a second glance. 

Now that they weren’t blindfolded by tape, they could see they were definitely in a warehouse or processing facility of some kind. The footsteps of workers echoed on the metal floor, conversations and screams alike bouncing off walls and high ceilings until they all muddled together in wall of noise. Was that good or bad? This wasn’t some small-scale, underground trafficking ring – this was planned. Industrial. Organised.

He left them laying on the table for a moment, stepping aside to retrieve something from a tower of metal drawers nearby. They couldn’t see what was in his hand, and he turned them back onto their stomach before they could get a better look. He brushed away the hair at the back of their neck, forced them still again with one hand firmly on the back of their head, and pressed whatever he was holding just below their hairline. At first it felt cold against their skin – like a smooth pebble, barely an inch wide, being rocked from side to side. They realise as it grows impossibly hot that it is not a stone. It’s a brand.

The fire consumes their entire body, and burns all rational thought away. 

The pain spreads down their back from where it touches their neck, white-hot and brutal, burning some kind of arcane symbol or crest or number into their flesh. They think they might be trying to scream through the gag, but they can’t quite tell. Their throat is sore, and they think they might puke, but can’t hear anything over the ringing in their ears. They writhe as much as they possibly can against the hands and the tape and the stone. It doesn’t help.

Another atrocious smell joins the assault on their senses. Their skin was melting, confirming to the shape of the brand, and when the werewolf finally pulls it away it sticks to it like melted plastic. They’re dimly aware that if they do throw up, as much as they want to, they’ll choke. This can’t be how it ends, drowning on their own vomit, right? It just can’t. Their future had always seemed fairly bleak, but not this bleak.

In a moment of weakness (albeit not the first, and definitely not the last), Xen thinks of Salia. Their virtual conversations had been so sweet and hopeful – they hadn’t quite dared to think it through, but if they’d worked out, maybe they’d have been able to move out of their Dad’s place and make a real life for themself. She had been Xen’s chance at a good life, and a future so good is impossible now. For a moment, they selfishly wish that Salia was there with them, even if she couldn’t help – but that’s when it finally sinks in. 

Of course she isn’t here. She never existed in the first place.

Shame and humiliation burn their cheeks as they realise how badly they were fooled. It made so much more sense now, all of this did – they were so stupid. How hopeless and desperate must they be, not just to still wish a figment of their imagination was there to help them, but to have believed anyone would want to be their friend in the first place? 

Tears drip down Xen’s cheeks again, hot and wet and salty. They may be stupid, they may be disorientated and confused but they still know what this place means for them. Whether it happens now, suffocating on their own puke, or in a few hours or days (or weeks, or months, or years), when a monster drains them of all their blood, they are going to die. They are going to die unloved. Unremembered. Unimportant.

They stop struggling. It’s probably better to just accept their fate, isn’t it? Rather than make the inevitable more painful. They are going to die either way.

“Where’s this one going?” A bored voice cuts through their thoughts. The werewolf picks them back up, slinging them over his shoulder like they’re nothing. “Butchers? It’s got enough meat on it.”

“No. Brandeschi’s placed an advanced order for a couple dozen, he’s sending a rep over to pick some out. Take it to Prim to get it cleaned up and sorted out. They’re not gonna buy one that smells this bad.”

Although that name means nothing to them, it still sends shivers downs Xen’s spine. Best case scenario, they would be put to work – used for their free labour on a farm or in a factory. Worst case scenario is pretty much everything else. They could end up a in a brothel, as breeding stock, as blood or meat or spare parts – they’d heard stories, read news reports about what humans were allegedly forced to do in North Irades, and now they were going to find if it was all true.

They hope they’ll be killed quickly, rather than drawn out over weeks or months. Keeping them alive only to be fed from was a pathetic existence – an electric shock and a slit throat would be a kinder death than being hooked up to a machine and slowly farmed for their blood until their body eventually gave out.  Unfortunately, it’s not like they have a choice in the matter. 

The werewolf carries them away, past more tables with more humans being unpackaged and branded, and down a stretch of corridor. Under the sounds of muffled screaming, they can hear people begging, too – some furious and fighting, others desperate and wailing, all of them terrified. Xen understands every last word they say, but it’s like they’re all speaking a different language. The monsters here just do not care.

Monsters.

That term has never felt more literal.

[Masterpost/Contents] [Next]

[gyaru-boy]

Where I find GAL Clothing in the US

As a person with some pudge its really hard to go on ebay and find gyaru clothing that fits. So here are some websites I shop to find clothes that fit :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Forever 21

If you already know the sort of look you want to put together, and you're a good fit for their size chart Forever 21 is a really good store to find pattern pieces. They have Leopard prints, they had a hibiscus collection a while back, and even have some pop culture collections like their most recent hello kitty and friends collection! Typically they run small on me, I'd go a size up or 2! Also check out their plus sized section!

(The link for the Grey Leopard Holter top because tumblr is stupid and wont let me link it.)

Hottopic

Good for cheap alt pieces, pop culture pieces but also adorable accessories! Lots of their clothing is cheaply made and runs small so i only typically shop here for accessories. If you shop here i say shop 2-3 sizes up (i really feel like im getting choked in their shirts so i do this.) and check out their plus sized section.

Shein

Cheap clothes, Its a bit dicey but i think you can find ANYTHING on Shein! Pattern pieces, Statement pieces, I really love just scrolling through and finding cute fits! Be sure to check your size charts! I'd order a size up most times but sometimes thats not possible on here.

(Links for the floral/tropical skirt and leopard print over-shirt. )

Juicy Coture

I LOVEEE juicy!!! It's great for Ora Ora gals, and just athletic/comfy gals. It's a great, cozy alternative imo. Personally I believe this brand sizes as expected, However i kinda like their tops being a bit snug on me in the chest (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄) But also they have some mega cute pendants and accessories and some killer perfumes too!

(Link to Juicy Charm Bracelet!)

The Kawaii Factory

I have never personally purchased from this shop however they have super cute clothes however their size chart has the same issues that Shein does where each piece is different. However I fit into some of these size charts?? So I could see myself shopping here. They have a lot of what i think would be HimeGyaru and Kogal.

(Link for the cardigan/vest i think would be perfect for kogal! )

Thrift Stores/Ebay/Amazon

I think we put a lot of emphasis on all of these specific looks and while that is important to the aesthetic i think it really makes us undermind base layers, and basic outfits that are enhanced by our statement pieces and patterns as opposed to getting lost in our outfit. I really like buying generic looking clothing and making it flashy with our makeup and statement pieces! Maybe thats not new information but i think a lot of new gals overlook that.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:~~:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:~~:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

All in all I know a lot of these are common stores and i've probably not shared anything new as someone who is *also* new to gyaru, but i know how much i get in a huff about not perfectly fitting an aesthetic and i wanna share accessible ways for people (like me) to find stores right under their noses that might be selling the pieces theyre looking for.

[cottagelivingwhims]

Sim Download #5

SIM DOWNLOAD - YESENIA ORTEGA

I did a complete & total overhaul of the girl w/ the doll-head earrings. If you check out my before & after post & you'll see a comparison.

She was an old sim from 2019 which is why I gave her an overhaul the after is her that I created very recently I simply just used my 2019 sim as a base to revamp her. I know I keep creating almost all of my sims w/ freckles & moles I'm obsessed w/ them I think they are a very beautiful facial feature on a person. I've grown really attached to this sim throughout the years so please take care of her.

download: (sfs) \ my EA Gallery ID: icyforoccasions

not included in DL: my CAS background ver. 3

ღ Small fun facts about her:

-her favorite colors are purple, pink, & black.

-I had an idea of making her a huge "celeb rock-star" type story-line.

-her old name was Miya Woods before I changed it.

-she is Pansexual 💗💛💙.

-Yesenia is left-handed.

-her zodiac sign: Cancer ♋

-her aesthetic (grunge, alt) 🖤🦇☾☠︎︎☽.

you can make her story-line any way you want to, even change her name, outfits, look completely. I only included fun facts\story lines because I've had her for a long time I created her back mid-2019.

(As usual I only included one everyday outfit.)

cc & tray files included.

if something is missing or any other issues please let me know.

Please read the txt notepad file that I included in her download its important & should give you all some insight.

DO NOT TAKE STEAL MY SIM(S) & TAKE CREDIT OR RE-UPLOAD THEM AS YOUR OWN you can change my sims (names, looks, traits, outfits, & makeup) however you wish. JUST DON’T STEAL & IF YOU USE MY SIM(S) AS A BASE ALL I ASK IS TO GIVE ME CREDIT/TAG ME FOR THE SIM BEFORE UPLOADING (this is the only requirement that I have, PLEASE respect it.) This is all I ask.

TOU NOTE: TO THE CC CREATORS IF THERE IS ANY CC I HAVE UPLOADED IN MY DOWNLOADS FILE(S) THAT YOU WANT TAKEN DOWN OR PERSONALLY REDIRECTED TO YOUR SITE/PAGE TO DOWNLOAD FROM INSTEAD. PLEASE KINDLY LET ME KNOW. I MEAN NO DISRESPECT. I LOVE & RESPECT ALL CC CREATORS & ALL OF YOUR HARD WORK.

[xnoctivagusx]

 ✧*̣̩☽   A RESHIELDED EVENT : : lunar new year . *.⋆

RAVEN ROTH attends the 2025 LUNAR NEW YEAR festivities wearing a traditional blue HANBOK along with combat boots and a rather familiar looking green hoodie. Black backpack on back, no way is she going to misplace any of her loose items.

[babyboybear]

ABOUT! ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

I’m Bear! I’m 19, and regress to about 4-6! My regression is both for fun and as a coping mechanism! He/Him only! I’m a trans man :3c

No community, I just post whatever! Let me know if I accidentally violate your DNI, I’ll delete anything I reblogged!! I am 100% SFW, though I use the term “littlespace” to describe my regression! I AM NOT PART OF CG.LRE/C.GL, do not interact if you are!!! I have a CG/partner!!! I call him “Daddy” and he’s the bestest

I’m autistic and ADHD!

DMs are open! I’m always down for new friends!!!

ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ DNI! ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

NSFW, if you sexualize agere (no DDLG/ABDL/Ageplay), kink, proshipper, anti-mogai, anti-blm, republican/conservative, anti-lgbtq+, ace/pan/mspec gay exclustionist, MAP/pedo and supporters, TERFS/transmeds, bigots! Basically, if you wouldn’t show or explain your blog to a child, don’t interact with me!

If you make me uncomfy, I’ll block u!

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INTERESTS!

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I draw a lot! Mostly when I’m big tho! When I’m little, I prefer arts and crafts, coloring, and painting!

I love video games when I’m big and when I’m little! Favs are Pokemon SWSH, ACNH, Minecraft, Slime Rancher and Sims when I’m small! I like all those when I’m big too, plus Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Fallout 4, Skyrim, Witcher, Destiny, and a TON more! I’m more than happy to talk about them all :3

I’m an avid plushie lover and collector, I have hundreds! I sleep with 7 in bed with me, even when I’m big! They make me happy :D

My absolute favorite little shows are MLP:FIM, Hilda, the Pokemon anime, Little Witch Academia, Gravity Falls, Bluey, and Sailor Moon! Fav big shows are the same, plus a LOT of horror movies (especially Friday the 13th and the Scream movies!), Ouran High School Host Club, and Madoka Magica!

My favorite colors are yellow, pink, and blue mostly! Also black, gray, and red!

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#aes: aesthetic stuff or pics that don’t fit in any of the other categories

#art: art of stuff that isn’t its own tag

#ac: animal crossing stuff!

#boards: outfit/mood boards

#bluey: bluey stuff!

#food: what it says on the tin! also serves as a blacklist tag if need be :3

#mc: minecraft stuff!

#mlp: my little pony stuff! all FIM era stuff, that’s my fave

#pkmn: pokemon stuff!

#stim: stimboards and gifs i find stimmy

#stuffies: pictures of stuffies!

#toys: exactly what it sounds like, toys i think r cute!

#wishlist: stuff i want! mostly a frame of reference for future purchases

#quwu: queue tag

[my old blog is @baby-boy-bear]

[bxtxnx]

Hey so I wanted to participate to your ask game; nd I was wondering what aesthetic should I adapt to to attract more good things in my environment

• Aries rising/Capricorn MC

• Scorpio sun

• Capricorn moon

• Scorpio venus

• Leo mars

Hi!

Dark and edgy. I know it might be a bit cliche, but it's the Scorpio vibe and you have both the Sun and Venus there.

There are a two different routes you can go with this. The first is the rough and edgy one, the other is the heavy and sophisticated one.

Option one is edgy styles like goth, emo, punk and other similar styles. Ripped jeans, leather jackets, skulls, chains, spikes and other similar stuff that match the vibe should be part of your outfits.

Option two is the sophisticated, old money type of vibe, since Scorpio is related to extreme wealth. Sharp suits or slacks and a buttoned shirt paired with a big heavy Rolex-type of watch.

You can also make use of animal prints better than anyone else.

These styles will not only look best on you, but they will also bring you more attention (because of the Sun), connections and other benefits (because of Venus).

If there is an event or day in which you want to be recognized, form an important connection or make money, wear something black or something with a skull or a snake on it, to get those Sun and Venus working.

If there is a competition you are a part of or something that you want to win, wear something gold or something with a sun or a lion on it, to attract some of that Martian drive and affinity for victory, since your Mars is in Leo. ☽

[iamdoruzz]

follow me on pinterest !!!!

i have a lot of aesthetic board for example: aesthetic photos, poses ideas or outfit ideas, aesthetic wallpapers, cute hairstyles and nails, make-up inspo, tattoo inspo, in conclusion i have the board of motivational quotes.

[kitten-and-crow]

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[bxtxnx]

Hiii love I hope you’re having a wonderful night! I was curious what fashion style best suits me with my placements!

Leo Sun 7

Pisces Moon 1

Aquarius Rising 1

Mars In Pisces 1

Saturn In Cancer 5

Mercury In Virgo 7

Venus In Leo 7

Jupiter In Leo 7

Pluto In Sagittarius 10

Neptune In Aquarius 12

Uranus In Pisces 1

Hi! Thanks!

With a Leo Venus and Sun, your style needs to be bold and dramatic. More is always better for you and you always need to dress to impress. You're not meant to hide behind plain and simple outfits or blend in with the crowd. And with an Aquarius rising, you need to stand out even more and experiment with different things.

High fashion street style is one style that will look best on you. Think about what you would wear to a party or when you go out to a club. That's what you can wear in your day-to-day. However, don't stick to just a simple dress or a monochrome pantsuit, because they will be underwhelming on their own for you. Pair different things and colors together. And don't be afraid to experiment with putting different aesthetics together.

Thanks to your Aquarius rising, you can go for a bit of an androgynous look, as long as it's still dramatic and attention-grabbing.

Bold colors, interesting patterns, gems, sequins and glitter are all things you can wear with ease and look great.

Don't forget the accessories. Never go out without some accessories (only allowed if you go to the neighborhood grocery store :D ), even the best outfit can feel a bit empty and fall a bit flat for you without some accessories, so even if you go easy on them, just add something, even if it's a simple pair of earrings and a small ring.

Even if you go for something simple like jeans and a T-shirt, a nice handbag, nice jewelry or something dramatic like a fur coat will elevate your outfit. ☽

[bxtxnx]

Hi B!

I hope it’s ok to ask your opinion on what style would best suit me as I’m not quite sure where you had posted the rules (sorry).🙈

I’m a cancer sun (10H), libra moon (2H), cancer venus (10H) and Virgo rising. What aesthetic(s) do you think would best suit me? Thank you for your time and lovely posts💕✨

Hi!

With a Cancer Venus and Sun, you can go for various styles as long as they aren't too strong. You can keep your style slightly casual or slightly sporty, the key is to not go all in on such aesthetics.

You need to wear comfortable clothes that don't hinder your movements. You can go for vintage styles or things that you would see on a fairy-core moodboard. The grunge style also seems like a great fit for your Cancer Venus because the style looks moody, yet comfortable.

As a Cancer Venus, blue is your best friend, so make sure to use keep various shades of it in your wardrobe. Silver and pearls will also be great addition to your wardrobe and jewelry box. Look for things that have a soft glimmer or sparkle to them (key word: soft) and things with sharp edges on them like rings in the form of a nail (like the Cartier Juste un Clou ring) or an item with a little bit of spikes on them.

Hoodies and sweaters are a must have as a Cancer Venus, because they are some of the most comfortable tops you can wear.

As a Virgo Rising however, keep your style a little more clean. Don't go too wild on patters or bold designs. Avoid color combinations that are too bold. If you want to wear something that is neon pink for example, keep the rest of your outfit simple and in a more toned-down color so the pink can serve as an accent. You can also create outfits with just one color, like wearing light pink from head to toe or two complimentary colors, like grey and blue. With your Virgo rising, you can also implement some casual and business-casual outfits. ☽