#BORN PRETTY Nail Glitter

[streetkittyclaws]

🌸🪐alien fairy nail art🪐🌸

*heavily* inspired by @yaduga on IG

((used ibd building gel + Born Pretty gel DR-02 + Beetles mirror chrome powder + Saviland topcoat + encapsulated glitter chucks, moss, flower petals in 3D nail gel))

[rednotebooksworld]

A Fae MonsterFucker Mini-Fic, as a little treat~

Androgynous “pretty Boi” Fae Monster looking for a suitable Mate.. and one Human girl looking to snag herself a Fae husband because she grew up with the old tales of women being whisked away by the terrifying but gorgeous “neighbors” of the old wood~ who were supposedly never seen again, unless someone caught a glimpse of her fully pregnant when walking with her Fae lover..

She’s not to fond of the nosy towns people that live down the hill, her Aunt’s a known Fae fucker too, so can you really blame her for not seeing a down side to this?

The Human girl who lives with her kind but sassy “mouth of a sailor” Auntie, spending most her days in the garden (in perfect view of the forest) while singing songs of Fae Lovers and twirling in her short dresses as she waters her favorite flowers.. knowing the Fae love to dance and spin in circles~

Her aunt smirking at her niece playing up the innocent role, knowing her little plot is working as she notices the circle of mushrooms growing under her niece’s bedroom window.. a Fae Lover has chosen her already.

The brooding Fae who watches the human girl with longing possessive eyes, waiting for the chance to show himself, to trick her into being his and his only.. All he needs is her to willingly give her Name to him, and make a deal~

The Fae seizing his opportunity when he sees her in the woods alone for the first time, a sad look on her pretty face..

He relishes the look of awe in her eyes at his appearance.. a long slender framed body with pale green skin, sharp black nails on his fingers, sharp teeth in his charming smile, long ears, large glowing golden eyes and dark green hair flowing around him in waves as leafs and flowers adorned his locks like gems, dear-like antlers glittering like opal moonstones resting above his brow like a crown, and flowing robes of thin green silk that fell off one shoulder and left little to the imagination.. a splendid sight to be see for sure~

“Sweet, lovely thing~ why the tears? Tell me what ails you.. and I shall make all pleasant as warm honey with your heart~ for a price~”

gently he held her chin up with a single finger, grin turning wide as a Cheshire as she grasped his larger hand softly in her own with pleading doe eyes and rosy cheeks~

“M-My aunt.. she’s sick.. she’s all the family I have.. I.. I don’t know what to do.”

He knelt down as his figure cast a tall shadow over her, as he realized she wore only her lace nightgown, My how perfect she looks gazing up at him so intently like that..

“Give me your Name, my dearest, and swear to me and me alone your first night.. and your first born~ I shall see to it your Aunt recovers and lives all her days healthy and strong… perhaps a long life as well~”

He could feel how she trembled at his words.. but he had yet to see any fear in her as her gaze turned heavy, giving up Her Name to him without hesitation..

“I swear it~ you may take my heart if it pleases you, my lord~”

He growled as she spoke those delicious words to him.. how sweet.. how delicious…. How curious was she~ a fine Mate for him indeed~

He slowly laid her down on her back as he hovered over her, his long luscious hair falling around them as he kissed her tenderly with honeyed passion, her precious moans tingling his ears as he raised a slender hand up her legs, lifting her dress skirt, only to rip her underwear clean off!

He could smell her arousal burning his nose, how sweet and inviting a scent as he bit her lips and grasped her breast as he shoved two fingers in her wet pussy and started stretching her wide with his fingers.. using his fingers to fuck her with skilled precision, only pulling his lips away from their kiss as she cummed on his hand.. her red lips gasping for breath~

“Tell me, my delicious little human~ what sickness has wrought your dear Aunt, that you would have me RAVAGE you~ make you MINE and Ruin you to any other pathetic male that would dare look at you~”

He quickly shoved his thick cock into her tight and dripping pussy right as she opened her mouth.. a guttural shriek the only thing she could muster as he slammed into her three times, filling her till they were hip to hip.. though he refused to move again till she gave him an answer~

She hastily wrapped her arms around his neck, roughly kissing him with pure hunger as she then gripped his horns and intwined her legs with his.. he froze at the look of predatory lust in her eyes.. My what a new and interesting development this turned out to be~

She weekly fained an innocent look, though she no longer bothered to make it convincing..

“Oh~ terrible allergies I’m afraid~ I feared she might never breathe properly again..”

His Golden eyes turned black as his Cheshire grin returned with glee at hearing this.. she..

SHE.. TRICKED.. HIM??

Ooooh ho ho ho ho~ A Mate this clever and patient was truly worth the wait~ he’ll be sure to reward her for that one~

He began pounding her at full force, her head rolling from side to side against the grass below as her grip tightened on his horns~ shoving his face into her neck he started to fill her with his seed~ Breeding her for as long as he desired.. after all.. thay made a deal. He will have her first Born~ and every single child he fucks into her pretty womb after that~

“Clever little Mate~ you wanted to be Bred like this? Didn’t you.. to be made a Fae’s Bride? Answer me! MY MATE! Or else I won’t fuck my brood in you~”

“Y-YES!! YES!!! Oh Yes!! I-I want this!! Please~ Breed me! MY LOVE!! P-PLEASE!!!!”

He purred at her, declaring her Love to him, to a Fae~ before he even finished Mating her~

He decides to do what not many of his kind do anymore.. Truly claims a Human as his one and only Mate~ instead of just Fucking her once.. he’s Fully going to be Breeding her to completion~

His Mate.. His Bride.. His Breeding Mother.. HIS… she’s HIS!!!

By the time she walks out that forest~ her legs tremble with every step, her dress dirty, stained with grass and the smell of sex, though it takes some time to realize she DID NOT in fact spend just a single night with her Fae Lover.. in fact he was Breeding her for a full week straight, and not long after till she starts to notice a new point at the tips of her ears..

She turns around, Smiling lovingly out at the edge of the forest as she rubs her barely round belly.. the Golden eyes of her Love grinning back at her~

Her Aunt soon emerging from their home to congratulate her, as she herself just returned from spending a few nights with her own husband…. The very kelpie that lives in the lake just behind their little cottage…

“… So.. your uncle wants to know if you invited your new Husband over for dinner? Or is he just going to keep fucking you in the woods??”

The girl turned to smile mischievously at her Aunt, unfazed by her later question..

“Yes! I did, He’s coming by a little later, he wanted to grab a few flowers for the baby first.. and also yes he will~ he’s a truly remarkably skilled Lover~ among other things~”

Her Aunt started cackling as she lead her niece inside for a nice warm bath, and then some tea and fruits for the growing babe.

“Oooh~ got a feisty one did you? Good girl! Perhaps that taste runs in the family after all!”

Sheeeesh! This is so good 😭

Hot too 😏

Claps for you 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[houseofhyde]

“aemond, i’m out shopping…”

pairing. modern!aegon targaryen x fem!reader synopsis. ...but you’re under aegon and he’s not stopping. ( read part one here ) warnings. modern au, best friend's brother!aegon, drummer!aegon, fuckbuddy!aegon, references to alcohol & drug usage, smut ( aegon is giving switch vibes ngl, f oral, fingering, m masturbation, pussy pronouns bc aegon straight up talks to it like it's a sentient being independent of the reader, exhibitionism, hair pulling, sweat kink?, spit as lubrication, cum tasting, one single slap, mentions of sex toys & tribute pictures, dubcon but only bc the reader protests even though she doesn't mean it ) word count. 5.2k hyde’s input. my modus operandi is making a silly smut fic ( that involves aegon or aemond fucking around with their brother's love interest ) and then ( quite some time later ) writing a part 2 that accidentally trips and falls into a whole load of plot that simply must be further explored, and then oh no! a series is born! the horrors! read on ao3.

Aegon Targaryen is no stranger to waking up naked in a stranger’s bed.

It’s an occurrence that’s marked his formative years, truly. Drinking hard, partying late. Crashing harder, waking later. Last night's clothes strewn across the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen floors, an arm gone numb with the weight of the head that rests upon it. Hair of black, blonde, brown, red, blue tangled on the pillow next to his own. He’s never been picky with who he takes to bed. A warm body is a warm body, and Aegon Targaryen is but a creature of cold blood searching for some reprieve.

This, however, is new to him.

Awakening to unfamiliar walls still dressed in last night’s clothes and laying completely alone. There’s a pounding in his head that beats at his skull, harder than his foot kicks a bass drum. The smell of cheap liquor sticks to his skin — vodka, or tequila, or rum; he can’t pinpoint which he drank more of. The spot next to him is empty, cold to the touch as a hand stretches across the mattress, searching for some sign of life.

Last night is a blur of nicotine in his lungs, glitter in his hair, and far too many broken drum sticks. He needs to stop snapping them over his knee at the end of every solo. The band had been playing at some new bar, that much he does remember. Then, their set finished, and the drinks began to flow, and more than once he was called into the bathroom for a sniff of snow.

When things can’t get worse, they often do.The scream of an alarm clock, somewhere to the left of him and completely out of arm’s reach. With a groan and a grimace, Aegon’s rolling over, tangling himself in floral sheets and, there he finds the damn noise-maker, sitting pretty on a nightstand, living in the space between a pile of well-read books and a scented candle burnt down three quarters of the jar it lives in. An ashtray filled with trinkets, and earrings, and necklaces, and a single cigarette butt, sits right next to a phone, a glass of water, and two unlabelled white pills, one simple note attached. 

Went 4 run. Don’t burn down apartment.

Aegon can’t even get offended by the comment. He once set Helaena’s carpet on fire, with nothing but a bottle of nail polish remover, a box of matches, and a whole lot of morbid curiosity. More than once, he’s left a pot on the stove and come back to find flames engulfing it. In a world of pyromaniacs, Aegon is a pyro-misfortunate, too typically present when things go up in flames — literally or figuratively.

Right now, the only fire is in his head, and the safety of water lies within a glass. His fingers scramble along the bedside table, grasping at straws to pick up the two pills. As one presses into the palm of his hand, the other slips off the edge. He tries to catch it as it falls. It has the opposite effect, the pill he’s captured slipping through the crack between his fingers and crashing against the floor, exploding in a powder of white. The other tablet is in no better state.

He could cry. He almost does, as he throws the upper half of his body off the bed, dangling down to scrape up the salvageable remnants of his pain relief.

“Every time I think you can’t get more pathetic, you prove me wrong.”

The voice of Aegon’s salvation.

You appear to him, an angel in the doorway. Upside down, clad in a sports bra, running shorts, and mismatching socks, your skin glistening with its own sweat, backlit by the unforgiving shine of an afternoon sun. And it’s all a hallucination, no doubt, because Aegon has not so much as heard from — never mind seen — you.

Not since that last Sunday you’d spent kneeling on his van floor.

He thought your words were nothing but a bluff. This can’t happen again. It was a bluff every other time, a silly thing to comfort the part of your conscience that feels it owes Aemond some kind of unwarranted loyalty, only to then forget about it the next time his text buzzes in, a misspelt nmeed you, or lemmesee you 2moro, or ur pxssy my mouth pls? lighting up the screen. Nearly a month since he watched you slip out his van door, it seems the only way to see you is in a come-down, hungover state of delirium.

But you’re moving towards him, and crouching down to grasp the tablets he’s left to perish, and sitting him up right, leaving his limp body to collapse back against the bed — your bed? A hand racks itself through his disjointed hair, a momentarily soothing touch, until it tightens into a fist and tugs at his roots, angling his head till his blues meet your eyes. A moan slips its way past Aegon’s lips, the delicious burn at his scalp waking his easily aroused mind.

“Look at you,” you practically spit your disgust at him, but the pity in your stare lessens the blows of your anger-laced voice. Your voice, oh how he’s missed it. “There’s a little more life in those eyes than last night, but, god, you look like shit.”

“Hmm, love it when you degrade me, baby,” he says, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips. “Gets me so hard.”

You recoil within an instant, hands off him like he’s a flaming ball of fire and you’re a barrel of oil, impending doom awaiting when both casualties collide. Aegon chases after you, however, and so you don’t make it far, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you down into the sheets with him.

Twisted limbs, wrinkled sheets. You weakly thrash against his hold, his arms tighten around you. Burrowing itself in the crevice where neck kisses shoulder, Aegon’s face seeks the refuge of darkness and burrows itself in the smell of skin, your skin.

“Ew, Aegon!” A cry from above, his warm tongue slivering out the cavern of his mouth and dragging itself along a patch of sweat stained skin. Salty, sweet, musky. Everything he likes, everything you. “Let me go, I’m all- You’re making me sweat all over my sheets!”

“Well, that’s no fun,” the pout practically drips off his voice, giving away his expression as if you can’t already feel it pressed right up against your neck. Mind of their own, his hips grind against the leg trapped between his, the swell of his waking cock slowly making itself known. “I’d rather make you sweat, without the s.”

“Weat,” the cooling damp of your skin soothes his burning headache, the perfect remedy to last night’s cocktail of bad choices. Undulating hips, setting an unsteady rhythm that nurtures the hardness between his thighs, feeds its growing hunger slowly. Too slowly. Too long since Aegon last felt you, since Aegon last felt anything. “You’re saying you want to make me weat.”

“Wet. Sweat without the s,” seizing the opportunity, he takes it upon himself to grab a hold of control, flipping you onto your back with a lack of elegance that can only be justified by his hungover state. With your earlier protests still echoing in his mind, you seem to have no issue spreading your legs and making a space for him between them, inviting the Targaryen boy to drape himself over you, face in neck, crotch against crotch, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. “Phonetically.”

“Wow, that’s a big word for you, Aegon!” Despite your grinning mouth and facetious words, deft fingers slip into the crack between your bodies and work at the buckle of his belt, worn leather leaving speckles of itself on your fingertips. “Did Aemond teach you it?”

“Ha, ha.” His hands pinch at your side, an unseen eye-roll at the mention of his younger brother. Perfect Aemond, always finding a way to make things about himself, even when he’s not in the room. The cut feels a little deeper when you’re involved, the only thing of Aemond’s that Aegon has ever dared try take for himself, a sick prize in the depths of his perverted mind. “Who needs big words when you have a big coc-”

The doorbell rings and interrupts him.

Both of you freeze, hands burrowed in hair and fingers tracing over flesh. Aegon’s quick to recover, dragging his attention back to the shape you make up beneath him, a sight that brings him physical ache. He lets his gaze wander over the length of your torso, over the slopes and curves and dips of your body, and hooks his thumbs under either side of your nylon shorts. 

“Ignore it,” he says, relishing in how easily the tenseness in you melts away as your eyes find his again, stiff muscles melting as easily as candle wax.

Layers of clothing shed away, his liquor-stained shirt now a pile of cotton by the door, your shorts tossed blindly over his shoulder. He sinks back down, your own limbs following suit, folding beneath his on-coming body. Mouths find one another, like a moth finds a flame, and refuse to part.

Aegon’s missed you. He won’t say it, but he feels it. In every brush of his tongue against your own, and every spine-tingling touch your hands drag over his naked back, and every breath he pulls in stained with the smell of your shampoo. It’s too overwhelming to think of, and so he forces himself to focus on a far more pressing matter: his fingers dipping beneath the waistline of your panties.

As thumb meets navel, a phone screen lights up on the bedside table.

He tries, so desperately, to chase your mouth as your head flees, and one less hand, five less fingers touch his skin, reaching out to grasp your buzzing phone, the name on the screen rousing contempt within him.

“Don’t answer,” he’s pleading, even as he watches your thumb swipe up on the green. “Please, don’t.”

Your eyes refuse to meet his own, you put the phone to your ear.

“Aemond,” a sucker punch to the gut, a name that reminds him of the pounding in his head. Aegon recoils from you, resting back on his haunches, the pathway to your thighs a trail laid out before him. “Hi, sorry.”

He wants to admit defeat. Crawl off your bed, scoop up his shirt, lace up his boots — wherever they are. Spare not even a fleeting glance as he takes his leave, let you stay focused on the brother that clearly owns more of your attention than him. And the worst thing is, Aegon cannot pretend this feeling is rational.

Aemond is your friend, your best friend. The one you call when you need saving, the one who pulls the weight of your textbooks out of your arms and into his own, the one who wins a smile out of you like it’s as easy as breathing air. Whereas Aegon can’t even claim he’s losing the race to his little brother, because he’s not even on the same track. 

Unfortunately, defeat just isn’t in his nature.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m,” his hand on your knee, you don’t even flinch. Still won’t even look at him. The hand smooths up your thigh, a light squeeze of flesh as it reaches halfway. “Not in. Aemond, I’m out shopping.”

He snorts back a laugh and, finally, your eyes are on him. Wide, panicked, and pleading for silence.

Aegon ignores it.

Fingers dance up the expanse of your thigh, a pleasant hum rumbling out his chest at the warmth of your skin. He can hear his brother on the other end of the line, unintelligible words blending with the familiar sound of his voice. He can almost picture Aemond, a wrinkle free shirt and tailored trousers, looking up at your building from the entrance, phone pressed to his ear and frown creasing his forehead. The image stays fresh in his mind as his fingers smooth over the soft skin that melts your thighs into the curve of your hips, and sneak their way under the elastic band of your panties.

He pulls at it and releases, watches the way it snaps back down onto your skin. A foot weakly kicks at his side, that stare of yours growing deadlier.

“Are you okay? What happened?” God, the way you want to comfort Aemond, it makes him sick. Or maybe that’s just his hangover. Yeah, that makes more sense.

All is forgotten, for a moment, as he traces over the slope of your mound, finger flexing to press against your clit, hidden out of sight beneath damp cotton. You try to play it cool, like his touch doesn’t faze you, but Aegon’s too quick to notice the hitch in your breath, the way you seem to take a moment too long to reply to his brother.

“Can’t you try to speak with your professor about it, Aim?”

The nickname you speak has Aegon laughing again, a facetious chuckle he presses into your knee, spine curved as he bends down to kiss it. Another kick, this one hits his ribs. Like a saddled horse, it spurs him on, tells him to move faster, touch you more.

It’s hard to pick which sight gets him harder: the peeling back of your panties to reveal the mouthwatering view of your cunt, shining with slick and inviting him to dive right in, or the way your faux composure crumbles, for an instance, back arching reflexively and teeth pressing down against the pillow of your bottom lip, your eyes glued right on his.

“That’s bullshit,” you seem to remember Aemond’s still there, ranting along his own woes in your ear. Again, Aegon wonders if he’s outside. “You’re literally the top student in your year. Hell, you’re probably one of the top students on our whole campus.”

Aegon can’t even disagree. Resident brainiac, the younger Targaryen has always been the overachieving student, winning every useless award and wearing every golden medal. And maybe, were you not two feet below him, dripping wet in nothing but a sports bra, he’d be interested in hearing where this conversation goes, find out what exactly his do-no-wrong brother has fucked up enough not even his flawless grades can save him. His finger is dipping into you before he can even let the thought repeat itself.

“My poor girl,” he mutters aloud, eyes glued on the pretty sight between your legs, hypnotised with how the digit disappears into your pussy, all the way in till knuckles kiss the pillowy soft lips. “So tight. Has mummy not been taking proper care of you, hm? Not letting someone stretch you out, fuck you real good like you deserve?”

“Would you shut up?” You hiss from the pillows, interrupting his reunion with his best friend. He curls his finger up, gently, pressing into the spongy wall of your cunt, just to delight in how easily the animosity flees your eyes as they roll back. Only to shoot wide open again, pressing the phone tighter against your ear. “Sorry, that wasn’t aimed at you! There’s- There was just some creep harassing me about the queue. Yes, I’m okay. No, you don’t have to come get me.”

“This is a private conversation,” Aegon’s free hand pinches the skin of your thigh, that devilish grin of his unwithering as he watches the subtle grind your hips give, fucking his finger deeper into the heat of your cunt. Even in anger, you want him. “Think I need to give her a present, something to keep her nice and stuffed,” he draws the word out, slipping a second finger into you.

You squirm away, for a moment, but his hand chases after you and you’re giving right in, at his mercy, one hand clutching the sheets, the other keeping the phone pressed tight against your ear. Two pumps of his fore and middle finger, until he lets them drift apart, a gentle stretch to your clenching walls.

“Or is my baby more of a Rose toy kind of girl, huh?” Whether on purpose or on instinct, words fall louder each time he opens his mouth. The very same mouth that’s leaning down to meet you in a gasp-worthy kiss, lips pressing sweetly against the throb of your clit, tongue coming out to play in a flurry of three kitten licks, all the while he works his wrist into a dull ache, each thrust forcing his fingers deeper than the last. “Something to soothe this little clit and something to fuck this tight pussy, is that what she needs?”

The hand on the mattress finds his hair, a harsh tug that has him parting with a few strands. He doesn’t care. In fact, he hopes the near-white locks get lost in your sheets if only to be found by a curious Aemond next time he can’t be bothered masking his way home and crashes at your place. What he wouldn't give to see the look on his brother’s face, holding up the hair to see it’s not even half the length of his well-groomed, pin-straight hair.

You’re talking again, doing your best to keep your voice neutral and your breathing even, hand still tangled in Aegon. He half expects you to pull again, kick him again. Tell him to focus on getting off of you, instead of getting you off. But you don’t do that. No, actually, you’re pulling him closer, keeping his mouth pressed to your soft skin, making sure his tongue continues to dance along the nerve-buzzing runway of your cunt, lapping up the taste of you till he’s sure it’s going to seep into his DNA, alter his genetic make-up so you’ll always be a part of him, even when you’re apart from him. 

The throb between his own legs is growing, pulsing your name in morse code. As much as he wants the sweet release of flipping you over, arching your back, and feeling your walls clench around the girth of his cock, he’s too attached to the taste of your skin, head burrowing itself deeper, nose smushed against your clit as the tip of his tongue knocks at your slit, soaked fingers spreading your lips open. His own desire will need to find a different method of salvation.

A free hand, switching between gripping at your waist and squeezing the meat of your thigh. It departs from your body with a muted hesitation, a momentary pause before it shrugs away his empty belt buckle and fishes out the lever to his zipper. A swift tug, his pants loosening their snug fit around his hips, leaving his fingers with the freedom to dip beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and grasp at his aching cock.

“Mhmm,” you almost moan, disguising it as an agreement to whatever his brother is saying to you now. In turn, Aegon lets himself give into it, moaning loud enough for the two of you, letting the sound vibrate into your soaked cunt. “Sorry, repeat that, I- I can’t hear you.”

Shameless as he’s always been, he lets his cock spring free from the confines of the nylon material, standing to attention and slapping against his lower stomach, the tip already dribbling with pre-cum.

“See how much I’ve missed her, baby?” This time, he’s talking to you, lips in a wicked grin, shining with your own wetness. Brushing dry fingers over the mess he’s made between your thighs, a mix of spit and arousal, he relishes in watching how easily you get his fingers soaked. One curl of three fingers, pressing teasingly at that spot he knows too well, then he’s pulling away, extending his hand out towards you. “Spit. Now.”

Your eyes watch his, wide and impatient. The cool air must be soothing, he thinks, brushing against your now abandoned pussy, yet he doubts you find any solace in it. You’ve always been the kind who wants to melt, not freeze.

Phone angled away from you, Aemond’s voice still pouring out its speaker, you lean forward and let it drip: a string of spit.

Basking in the proper attention you’re finally giving him, Aegon wraps the newly soaked hand around his cock, letting the head of it slap back against his torso before he really puts the mixture of your fluids to use. Tight fisted, lips parted, he finds himself leaning back on his haunches, free hand splayed out behind him and holding the weight of himself as he puts on a show for you, stroking his cock. The bed beneath you both creaks as he lets himself fuck up slowly into his hand, a cacophony of pretty moans and desperate whines filling the space between you. Can Aemond hear? God, he hopes so. 

The sight of your own hand snaking its way down between your legs is enough to remind him of his mission, the whole reason he’s not given into his want, his need to bury his cock inside you.

You barely brush over your clit before he’s slapping your hand away with a tut, a non-verbal protest as his lips reunite with your cunt, the hand between his own legs beginning a new pace, stroking over his hardness in rhythm with the strokes of his tongue and the speed of his fingers pumping into you.

Hang up, he wants to demand, but he’s got a mouthful of you and he intends to savour it until the end.

“Aemond,” your teeth bite down on your lip in sync with how his own drag over your clit, a silent warning against saying his brother’s name again. Next time, I’ll bite harder, he’s promising, only partially wishing you’ll tempt fate. “Shit, sorry, I have to go, I’m- yeah, next in line.”

Not even a goodbye.

Your thumb presses messily at the red button, the caller ID fading off your screen as the phone fades away into obscurity, left to get lost in the sheets as you give him what he’s been missing all alone, the sweet melody of moan, after moan, after moan falling from your lips, fingers pulling once more at the tresses of his hair.

“Hmm, d’ya think he can hear us, baby?” A nano-second, lips parted from your skin, his eyes flickering to the open window. “Think he’s out there waiting on your doorstep like a loyal hound, while you’re letting me get a taste of heaven?”

You’re close. He can see it, feel it, taste it, each stroke of his tongue greeted with a fresh wave of your sweetness. Both of you are a mess of unintelligible noises, hips rising off the mattress, and thrusting into open palms, sullying yourselves in the paint of pleasure. 

He calls your name softly, whiplash against the intense feeling swelling within you.

“Let me see it,” he’s begging, no shame. Glassy eyed, hungover, pussy drunk, wishing you’d give him the one thing he’s been missing all these weeks without you. “Cum. Go on. Cum for me. Please.”

The chord of tension snaps and at last you’re an uncontrollable mess beneath him. Eyes rolling back, back arching up, thighs shaking with a force of nature, the prettiest cries of his name. He’s there with you, the whole time, tongue, and mouth, and hand coaxing you through the maze of lust that consumes you in your orgasm, guiding you safely to the end.

You don’t calm with ease, still trembling as he places one last chaste kiss against you before he lets his face rest on the warmth of your thigh, smearing the stains you’ve left upon him onto your own skin as he continues bucking into his hand, each thrust more desperate, erratic, pathetic than the last, chasing the fast-approaching end.

Until your hand tugs at his hair and he’s frozen beneath your gaze, mouth hanging open, chest heaving in shallow breaths, hips stuttering as he fails to fully control his urges, the tip of his cock blushing red with angry desire, desperate for release. He’s awaiting your dismissal of his own touch, waiting for you to replace it with yours, remind him of just how well you know his body. Your hand does meet his skin, but not how he expects.

You slap him.

A sting in his cheek in the wake of it, and a rush of blood to his groin, eyes rolling back for a split second. “Hmm, next time hit me harder. Promise I won’t break.”

“How could you do that?” You heave out, no doubt intending your voice to hold more power, but it’s weak, and breathy, and turning him on even more. “Aemond was- He could’ve- Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

“If it’s any consolation, you tried. Haven’t answered my texts in weeks,” he’s aware he sounds desperate. Because he is. Or is that just his hangover again? “Would think you’d died or something, if I didn’t have to hear your name come out of Aemond’s mouth everyday.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s the one in the wrong.”

A blanket of silence engulfs you both, heavy and uncomfortable over your sweaty bodies. His hand still sits tight around the base of his cock, begging for attention, but he can’t bring himself to move.

Not until he knows you’re okay.

“I’m sorry,” the shape of it is foreign on his tongue, scarcely said and never with a speck of honesty. “I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I just- I guess I just thought if you remembered how I could treat you… thought if I could just make you feel good, you’d-” He cuts himself off, words hardly making sense in his own head.

You heave a sigh, smooth your hand down the side of his face that still stings. “You don’t just make me feel good. You make me feel better than anyone else, and that’s the problem. First man to touch me, and now all the others can’t compare.”

Aegon is a fiend for praise, so used to words of disappointment and looks of disgust. But then one day, he dove between a woman’s thighs and heard her calls of pleasure, listened as she praised his efforts, revered his good job, delighted in his skills upon the mattress. It’s no wonder he began to find solace in the pleasures of the flesh, the first and only thing he’s done right in his life. 

“You let others touch you?” A silly thing to get hung up on, yet he can’t let it slip away. The hand around his cock skates forward, stroking slowly before smoothing over the sensitive tip with the palm of his hand.

You nod your head.

“Sometimes. Guys can get touchy at frat parties, but I’m sure you know all about that.” He doesn’t bother to negate it, he knows you know him too well. No doubt Aemond shared every anecdote of Aegon during his short-lived frat days. A hiss slips past his lips as he continues the slow caress of his aching length. You clear your throat. “Stop denying yourself. Just cum, it’s okay.”

Sometimes, he can follow orders.

Especially one like this, that leaves him reaching once more for the sweet relief of release, wave after wave of it rolling down his spine as his hand works himself to completion.

“Can I,” he stutters over a moan, cutting himself off and getting swept away in the rapid currents of reignited lust, each touch more frantic than the last.

You finish the thought for him. “Cum on me, Aegon.”

White, thick, hot. Rope after rope of his spoils spill down onto your naked skin, a painting so beautiful he almost wants to picture it and sell it on as modern art. It’s better than anything Aemond’s ever made with his easel and brush.

Time melts away into nothing, fading to obscurity as he floats on cloud nine, body weightless, mind rested. Tingles down his spine, up his thighs, on his face where you still touch him, thumb smoothing over his cheek.

A giggle pulls his mind back into his body.

“I told you this wouldn’t happen again, and now look at me!” Your tone is softer than earlier, even if your voice has regained its usual energy. “God, I just might be the biggest idiot.”

“Don’t say that. You’re smart,” you shoot a sceptical look his way, wanting to negate him, but he doubles down. “You are. Don’t forget I know your best friend, I hear all the shit you’re achieving on that campus. You’ve got me beat, at least. Couldn’t even make it past my first year before I dropped out.”

“I look like I belong at some conceptualist’s art exposition on tribute pictures.”

“I could give you a real tribute picture,” his eyes are glued to yours, even as he swipes a finger over his cum upon your lower belly and brings it up to his mouth, teasing his tongue with the salty taste. “Just need my phone camera, a nice big cheesy grin from you, and a printer.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, I will.”

Throwing a leg off the bed, he tests his stability, hand reaching down to tuck his limp dick back into his trousers and zip the fly up halfway. Despite the dizziness that threatens to cloud his mind, he manages to get his second foot on the ground.

“I’ll leave you to your shower, sweaty,” he calls over his shoulder, making his way over to the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” He could almost coo at you, wide-eyed gaze, legs tangled in floral sheets. You’ve sat up, and don’t seem to care about the way his cum drips down you onto the bed. All you care about is him, even if it's just for a moment, and Aegon has to physically stop himself from stumbling back over and engulfing you with his body once more.

Instead, he leaves you with a shrug and a simple explanation, “you fed me, now let me feed you.”

By the time he’s got eggs cooking on the stove and bread warming in the toaster, the sound of running water fills your apartment. A familiar buzz rings out, leading Aegon over to where his phone lays, buried in the cracks between your couch cushions. The screen lights up.

One missed call - Mother. 

Unlocking at the sight of his face, he swipes up on the screen. It opens onto a chat log. Your chat log. His stomach drops as he scans over the messages, dreading what inebriated-Aegon had gone and texted.

Needyou - 04:47 am

Plase - 04:49 am

Thinik Imgonna K Hole in nnnnn bathroOm - 04:52 am

All three messages are in blue.

Beneath them, your reply lives in a muted grey bubble, yet it somehow has his eyes watering. Maybe he just needs to turn the screen brightness down.

Send me your address. I’ll be there ASAP - 04:53 am.

The pop of the toaster scares him out his own skin. He turns his head only to curse under his breath. Flames engulf the small frying pan, the food within charred black. He gives a gentle call of your name.

“I hope you like your eggs well-done.”

+extra hyde.

so, how are we feeling? do we want more of these two weirdos ( affectionate )?

i stopped doing taglists a while back bc i lowkey always forget about them but @481theralicat dmed me a while ago asking to be tagged if i ever wrote a second part to drummer!aegon and that message was partially what gave me the motivation to finish part 2, so i feel like the least i can do it tag them. i hope you enjoyed it & the wait was worth it <3

[anonymous-dentist]

On April 25, Cellbit finds himself crashing onto a tropical island filled with the weirdest goddamn people he's ever met in his life.

(On one side of the glass is Cellbit. On the other is a man in a red hoodie who takes one look at Cellbit and winks before rushing to talk to the other trapped Brazilians.

For a moment, Cellbit swears there's a spark- a literal pink spark in the air directly between the two of them where they had locked eyes, and he swears that the man's eyes glitter the same pink just for a second.

But that's ridiculous. It's probably a concussion. Or something.)

On April 26, Cellbit wakes up to a heavy pain in his chest and back and a foreign weight to his limbs as he tries rolling over in bed. There's a pressure behind his eyes, all... all two of them.

Cellbit's eyelids twitch unhappily as a ray of incoming sunlight hits them from the window.

He hisses, and that's when he notices two very important things:

He doesn't have two eyes. He knows the familiar discomfort of keeping one's eyes closed when they're ready to open, and he can recognize the fact that this discomfort is multiplied by goddamn two. That makes... four eyes.

He isn't in his own bed. He went to sleep without a blanket or a pillow, just his hat and his jacket because, big surprise, spending most of the day in a cave didn't get him any luxuries besides a sore back and a definitely-not-dead child.

Cellbit opens his eyes, all four of them, and he's only a little surprised to see that he is not, in fact, in his own house.

"What?" he croaks.

He grimaces. Sore throat, almost like he'd been screaming in his sleep. Nothing he isn't used to, but it doesn't feel right in this body. In... whoever's body this is.

He pushes himself so that he's sitting up and against the wall. His chest pulls with every movement of his arms, muscles twinging in pain, and it almost reminds him of the War, almost. (He caused wounds like this, anyway. He didn't get hurt like this. He was too good.)

He looks down. Spider-Man boxer briefs. Naked chest, huge scar cut across the middle of it over his heart. Hairy legs, bruised arms and knuckles.

Vaguely, he thinks that he recognizes the house. Kinda. Sort of. Maybe? But he'd only seen the outside, and it would be crazy if his soulmate turned out to be that guy.

But, well. There's only one spider hybrid on the island that Cellbit knows about. Maybe there are more, but he's pretty sure that he met everyone yesterday. (He thinks; he was pretty distracted by the whole what the fuck I have a child now??? thing.)

Cellbit should be happy. And he kinda feels like it, in a distant way. But it's with a sense of numb fear that he grabs Roier's communicator off of the bedside table and opens a new message with... himself? His comm. That Roier has. Because he's in his body. At his house.

[iRoier whispers to Cellbit: I think we have a problem]

-

When Cellbit had finally officially turned 16 years old, Bad sat down in the middle of a warzone and told him that, one of these days, he might wake up in the body of one of his enemies.

"What?" Cellbit had grimaced, blood coating his face and crusting under his nails. "Why? Is that a new origin or something?"

Bad shook his head. "No, you goof. It's a soulmate thing. You know. Soulmates."

And that's when he realized that Cellbit's amnesia really was, in fact, amnesia. Of course he wouldn't have remembered his parents giving him the Soulmate Talk, Cellbit- at the time- didn't believe that he even had parents. ("I was born from blood, and to blood I shall return," he said when Bad tried asking, so Bad stopped bothering after a while.)

And so it fell to BadBoyHalo to give Cellbit the Soulmate Talk.

"When you turn 16, the universe assigns you a soulmate," Bad had explained. "And when you meet that soulmate, you'll both switch bodies with each other overnight. It'll only last 24 hours, though, so it should be fine if you meet your soulmate out here."

Cellbit had blinked, confused. "What? Ew, no."

Because, as romantic as the idea of soulmates sounds, Cellbit was a 16-year-old boy. Why would he give a shit about his soulmate when he could be thinking about, like, blood and violence and stuff.

By the time Cellbit was arrested, he had finally warmed up to the idea of having a soulmate if only because having someone assigned to him by the universe meant that there'd be someone on the outside willing to break him out of prison and help him get his revenge on all the fuckers who had dared try and mess with him while he was in there.

But then, after prison- after everything, Cellbit had realized that maybe he wasn't meant to have a soulmate, after all. Why would he? Why would the universe be so kind as to give him someone to care about who would actually love him back? Who would like him back?

Whoever his soulmate might've been, Cellbit had always hoped that they were dead. They'd be better off dead than stuck with a monster like him.

-

By the time Roier makes it to his own house, the sun is high in the sky and Cellbit has managed to find a a shirt and a pair of shorts to throw on on top of his underwear. (On top of Roier's underwear?)

Bobby is still asleep upstairs, Cellbit thinks. At least, he hasn't heard anything from him. Should he be worried?

But then Cellbit looks out the window and watches his body trip over itself on the dirt and faceplant, and, well, Bobby can wait.

Roier's body is... heavy as Cellbit pulls a pair of shoes on. It doesn't want to cooperate, but that can't be right, it's supposed to be natural. Or something. Cellbit thinks. Maybe.

So he doesn't actually know how soulmates work, but it's supposed to be natural, right? That's how he remembers Bad explaining it, but he also remembers Bad having as much emotional awareness as a rock.

Vaguely, he wonders if the problem isn't with the fact that it's Cellbit being in Roier's body but that it's because it's Roier's body and that this is just how it is for Roier all the time. But that's none of Cellbit's business.

(Yet.)

(Maybe.)

(Eventually?)

(Turn the detective brain off, fuck.)

Whatever!

Cellbit runs out the door and goes to help Roier up. He isn't hurt at all as Roier swears at him and grumbles and pushes himself up onto his knees.

"I'm fine," he insists. "See?"

He gestures towards himself with a sharp-toothed grin, eyes squinted shut, and, wow, it's weird for Cellbit to see himself smile. His body doesn't really... do that. It's unnatural. Kinda creepy, like looking into a fucked-up mirror.

Cellbit offers an awkward smile in response, and it hurts. Not his face, no, his soul. Well, not his soul, because that would be silly, but some weird little part inside his Everything stings and pulses with a dull, throbbing pain so sudden and harsh that his throat chokes up and tears threaten to well up in Cellbit's eyes.

With a shuddering breath, Cellbit drops his smile and his eyes. He looks at the ground, and he says, "Uh. We should talk inside, maybe?"

He doesn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and walking back into Roier's house. He does hold the door open, though, remembering that Roier's house has that weird security thing on the door that keeps everybody but him out.

"Your legs are too short," Roier complains as he brushes past Cellbit and walks into the house. "I keep tripping over shit."

"...I'm sorry?" Cellbit offers. (He internally smacks himself. No, stupid, why is he sorry? He can't control his genetics, fuck!)

Roier waves him off. "Nah, it's fine. It's just for today, right?"

He sits at his table with a groan, eyes slipping shut and head tilting over the back of the chair. He looks so... calm. Which means that Cellbit's actual real normal face looks calm, and that's weird. He doesn't do calm.

Hesitantly, Cellbit joins him at the table. He sits directly opposite him, leg bouncing nervously, hands clasped in his lap.

And then? Silence. Absolutely nothing but the slight rattle of the table as Cellbit's (Roier's?) knee bumps against it and the quiet sound of snoring from upstairs. (So Bobby is still asleep. That's normal, right?)

Cellbit glances at the goggles still firmly on his body's head.

"Thanks for keeping them on," he lamely says.

Roier hums a question mark and cracks an eye open, following Cellbit's gaze. He smiles, then, small and clearly fake.

"Hey, man, it's fine," he replies. "It kind of hurts, but it's fine."

Cellbit winces. "I mean, you can take them off! It's fine, it's just us."

Roier shrugs, but he doesn't move to take the goggles off.

Quiet again.

This is... fine. It's fine! Cellbit's soulmate is just a guy who probably maybe dislikes him, that's all. It's nothing he wasn't expecting from his soulmate, he knows how he is as a person. Roier is probably just disappointed, that's all.

"We don't have to do anything, you know," Cellbit says after a moment.

He looks back down at the table as Roier sits up to look at him.

Cellbit wrings his hands together, fingers hooking together and pulling-pushing and they throb from the bruises, and where did Roier get them, anyway? From the pattern, Cellbit would say Roier had punched something, but here are also small cuts indicating the involvement of glass, and-

(Detective brain. Off.)

"I mean, it's crazy, right?" Cellbit laughs weakly. "Us, soulmates? We don't even know each other."

"I mean, yeah, but that's normal, I think. You don't know your soulmate until you meet them, that's how it works."

"I guess? But-"

"And!" Roier interjects. "I know you better already! You sleep with your sword and you have cat ears, that's more than I know about half of my dates!"

Cellbit winces at the mention of his ears, but he manages to huff out a quiet laugh. He even feels himself smile, though it hurts bad enough for him to force it away after a moment.

"Okay," he breathes, and he looks up to meet Roier's (his own?) eyes. "So... it's fine?"

"What the fuck do you think I've been saying, pendejo?" Roier exclaims. He reaches across the table and lightly taps Cellbit on the forehead between his top set of eyes. "I know my body isn't deaf, so start listening."

He sits again, continuing speaking before Cellbit can say anything:

"I don't know you, and that's fine. You don't know me, and that's fine. You threatened my son yesterday, and that's fine. I'll threaten your son to make it even."

"Hey!" Cellbit protests.

Roier ignores him and keeps talking. "We're stuck on this island, Cellbit. We aren't allowed to leave. If we try, Osito Bimbo shoots us. So that gives us plenty of time to get to know each other."

Cellbit's eyes widen in alarm. "We're what?"

He thinks he remembers somebody mentioning that to him and the others yesterday, but there was so much going on that he didn't really register it. Prison, again? At least it's open-air this time...

Roier shrugs his concerns off with a literal wave of the hand. "So see? It's fine. We'll figure each other out, and then we'll kiss and have sex and stuff. Right?"

"Um," Cellbit stammers, the tips of his ears going red. "Maybe just the kissing part."

"Sure, sure. Point is..." Roier stands out of his chair and leans across the table, reaching down and pulling Cellbit's hands out of his lap. He holds them and looks Cellbit in the eyes and gravely asks, "...Cellbit, will you be my soulmate?"

Cellbit rolls his eyes and gently pulls his hands away. "I don't think I get a choice."

"Aw, come on! You're no fun," Roier pouts.

"There, that's a third thing you know about me."

"Shut up, what the fuck?"

And as the argument continues, the weight in Cellbit's heart slowly starts to lift. Just a little, because it's just the beginning, but maybe... maybe having a soulmate won't be that bad, after all.

-_-_-_-

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading! Please reblog maaaaaaaybe with a comment or a tag and tell me what you think! Or send an ask, I'm fine with anything!

[emodaryls]

Cg!Daryl agere alphabet

Alphabet credits to... me!

A - activities [what is their favorite activity (or activities) to do with you?] He loves coloring more than he'd admit. It keeps him busy for a while, and he's not even the one who's regressing. If its not coloring then he'd like watching movies with you. Having you cuddle into his side, maybe you fall asleep.. its peaceful.

B - baby talk [Do they like to talk in a baby voice when interacting?] Based on how he talked to Judith when she was born, yes, probably. It wouldn't be an all the time thing though, and it would also depend on your preferences. If you don't like people using baby voices with you, then he wouldn't use it.

C - cuddling [Do they like to cuddle with their regressor?] yup!! especially during movies and nap time. It makes the both of you feel all warm and safe. He will usually let you sit on his lap and rest against his chest or he'll wrap an arm around your shoulder and bring you in close.

D - dress up [Will they play dress up? what would be their favorite outfit?] He'll play dress up if you nag him enough. His favorite outfit is probably when you "did his makeup", put a party hat on him, and tried to fit him into a tutu. You also wanted to paint his nails a glittery pink but sadly he didn't let you. He did let you give him "tattoos" with a pink glitter pen, though.

E - entertainment [What is their favorite movie, show, or book to watch/read with their regressor?] Hm... i think he likes to watch Popeye. I also think he found a bunch of those A Little Golden Books to read to you. For example, the Baby Animals, the Spongebob books, Disney, The Wait-For-Me Kitten, etc.

F - forgiveness [How forgiving are they when their regressor makes mistakes? How fast do they forgive?] He'll forgive you, definitely . He'll get upset at times, but he won't take it out on you, he never will. He reminds himself that you're bound to be a little more clumsy (depending on your little age), and that you don't do it on purpose.

G - gentle [How gentle are they with their regressor?] VERY gentle! Daryl dreads the thought of possibly hurting you physically or mentally. He will be very careful with you, careful with how his words come out. Sometimes he may unintentionally be a little 'smart' with his words, but he'll correct himself if he sees that the way he worded it upset you.

H - hugs [Do they like to huggies?] Yes!! He would love to hug you, to hold you tightly in his arms. He gives really warm bear hugs.. it would feel safe and be soo comfortable!!

I - imaginary [How imaginative are they?] Imagination probably wouldn't be one of his strong points, but it's not like he has no imagination at all. He can get pretty creative with thinking of storylines while playing with toys. Might get repetitive at times, but he tries!!

J - jokes [Do they like to joke around?] He jokes sometimes, but again, he watches how he words things so that he doesn't upset you. He'll make non-harmful and not distressing jokes and pranks sometimes, things that will make you both laugh.

K - kisses [Do they like to give (platonic) kissies? Where is their favorite spot to kiss?] Yeah!! I feel like he loves to kiss your forehead and hand, also the top of your head. His kisses would be soo gentle and sweet!

L - lullaby [Do they sing lullabies to their regressor? What is their favorite one?] Hm.. not really sing, but maybe hum. He'd like to sing "go to sleep" (idk what its called.. my mom would sing it to me thats all i know) and hum "rock-a-bye baby".

M - morning [How do they spend mornings with their regressor? (when regressed)] He'd gently wake them up (or let them wake up on their own, whichever they prefer), and make their favorite breakfast!! Depending on their little age he may warm up some milk in a bottle too. After breakfast, he'd have them brush their teeth and get dressed, then they can do whatever activities they have planned for the day!!

N - night [How do they spend nights with their regressor? (when regressed)] He'd make them dinner, help them brush their teeth, and if they need it, help getting into their PJs. Daryl would tuck them into bed, making sure they're comfortable and cozy, their favorite plushie in their arms. He'd plant a kiss on their forehead and tell them goodnight and that he loves them. If his regressor prefers to sleep with him or for him to stay beside them until they sleep, he'd happily do so.

O - overprotective [Are they more overprotective, underprotective, or somewhere in the middle?] I think he'd be a bit overprotective. He wouldn't let them out of his sight, he probably wouldn't leave them with someone else unless he ABSOLUTELY trusts them 100%. His regressor's precious to him. He would never let anything happen to them.

P - petnames [What are their favorite petnames to use for their regressor? (ex: darling, sweetheart, little one)] Little one, kiddo, sweetheart. Things similar to that.

Q - quality time [How much time do they usually spend with their regressor? Do they live with them or visit?] He would likely live with his regressor. He'd spend pretty much all day with them, except for when Daryl's on supply runs or similar things. He likely wouldn't let them go, he hates the possibility of anything bad happening to them.

R - regression [Do they age regress as well?] He would, having a rough childhood himself, he would want to regress as a way to cope and heal his inner child. I feel like he would be a flip, mainly being a caregiver.

S - snacks [What snacks do they feed their regressor?] Their comfort snacks, baby/toddler snacks. (Self projecting a bit... baby teething biscuits, yogurt melts, those star puff baby snacks i forget what they're called)

T - tea party [Do they enjoy playing tea party? Will they play with the toys and/or stuffies as well?] He'd secretly love it. He would absolutely play with the toys and stuffies.

U - understand [How well do they understand their regressors needs and emotions?] He would absolutely understand, being a regressor himself. He would try his best to accommodate to their needs and wants, learning how to deal with their emotions.

V - visit [What are some of their favorite places to visit with their regressor?] In Alexandria, the lake and some grassy area is enough for them, just getting out and getting fresh air, maybe having a picnic. For a no apocalypse au, parks, movie theaters, amusement parks/carnivals, toy stores... stuff like that.

W - warmth [Do they provide physical warmth to their regressor, such as giving blankets or cuddling? Do they make their regressor feel warm and secure, mentally?] Yes and yes! He'd love to cuddle up with his regressor, especially before bed or to comfort them. Daryl seems really fatherly, and i feel like it would be reaallly comforting to have him as a cg.

X - (e)xtra [Additional headcanons?] When they both regress, they would spend a lot of their time napping together and snacking watching old childrens shows or movies, with the occasional coloring in between.

Y - yummy [What are their favorite meals to make for their regressor? Are they good at cooking and/or baking?] He'd make simple meals, maybe microwavable. For breakfast, maybe eggs, pancakes, or french toast. Lunch, Grilled cheese, dino chicken nuggets, pizza rolls, soups. Dinner, spaghetti, mac and cheese, chicken tenders.

Z - ZzZ [Do they take naps with their regressor? What are some sleep habits of theirs?] Definitely. Some of his sleep habits would be things like holding his regressor close the whole night, being super clingy. Sometimes he might even unintentionally hog the blanket... Thank u for reading <3

[wolfiafuntime]

Trick-or-Treat Trip

Headcanons in which you go trick-or-treating in the human world with Lucifer, Mammon, Asmo, and Beel

Published: November 24, 2023

Words: 880 (205 per character save for Beel; his got a bit away from me)

Pages: 2.5 (0.7 per character)

Lucifer:

 Neither of you know how you managed to convince him to go Trick-or-Treating with you. Let alone go up to the Human World to do it. But you did!

 You spent the majority of Halloween day getting into your costume. Because Lucifer was coming, he had made sure that whatever you were going as would be one of the best. 'One of' because his costume- a Vampire one- would also be the best. It was something you couldn't deny after seeing it.

 Before you left, you set up a candy bowl with the classic 'only take one' sign. And to make sure that other trick-or-treaters complied, he cast a mild curse on the bowl that would scare anyone who tried to take more.

 The actual trick-or-treat trip was very fun. While Lucifer didn't (he refused to--) bring a candy bag of his own, it didn't matter. You were just glad he came, and glad the various people you visited gave you candy. You had gotten a pretty good haul by the end of the night, with the only 'bad' trick-or-treat-ee giving you money. Lucifer smiled as he imagined what Mammon's reaction would've been if something like that happened for him.

Mammon:

 Free candy?! Sign him up! It doesn't matter if you asked him this a few days before Halloween, or a few weeks. He's going to demand that you summon him, so you two can go shopping for the best pair of costumes. If you do summon him, know that he'll refuse to leave until Halloween has passed. And that, unfortunately, won't happen, because Lucifer is going to come and drag him back to the Devildom in a few hours. Maybe several, if you can talk the first-born into it.

 But don't worry! You can just summon Mammon again when Halloween actually comes. You'll spend the day watching horror movies-- something the beloved idiot suggested himself-- and getting dressed up in your costume(s).

 He'll be so jumpy during the trick-or-treat trip. Every fake hand that jumps out of a candy bowl. Every person pretending to be a manikin. He'll even be scared of the kids screaming with joy! You laughing at him won't help; it'll only fluster him. But don't worry, all fear and embarrassment will leave him when you get to that one house that gives out crappy presents. A toothbrush?? Seriously?!

Asmodeus:

 Isn't surprised that you invited him to come, but that doesn't make him any less excited. Similarly to Mammon, he's demanding you summon him, so you can go costume shopping together. But there's no way you guys are dressing as anything scary! Why? Because those costumes require masks, blood, atrocious makeup, and/or ugly outfits.

 You summon him again the morning of Halloween, you guys spend a good few hours picking between the costumes you bought a few days prior. These consist of a nurse and doctor, a maid and master, and a princess and knight. (Can you guess who's who?) After choosing, you spend the rest of the day getting dressed up. When you're finally done, Asmo sets up a bucket of nail polish next to your bucket of candy. He's got a pretty sign for it two, covered in glitter and hearts, asking for only one to be taken.

 He isn't jumpy like Mammon when he gets jumpscared, but he'll still jump into your arms. He, of course, preens from any compliments he gets, and always tries fishing for more. Gets so salty at any crappy treat-givers, and will definitely use his charm on them.

Beelzebub:

 A night of constant candy? With you? That sounds like paradise to him. You're gonna have to remind him to get a costume. And you're probably gonna have to do it a couple times, because every time he goes shopping for one, he gets distracted by food sales. But don't worry, he'll manage to hold off his hunger when you tell him that only people in costumes get candy.

 The day of Halloween, it doesn't take him long to get into his werewolf costume. So, depending on what you're going as, and how many details there are, he'll probably be waiting for you to finish. He could help you if you want? If not, then he'll be munching away on the bags of candy you bought for him. And on that note, you're gonna have to command him to stay away from one of the bags if you want to set up a free candy bucket. Because it'll be long gone by the time you leave.

 Actually trick-or-treating is pretty peaceful and fun! His bag remains empty throughout the night, because everything that goes into it goes into his stomach shortly after. As for the crappy-treat-giver? You warned him about them, but he still goes into a rampage. You have to command him to stop and walk away, and he only calms down when the next person gives him some more candy.

 On the bright side, you think the fake "treat-giver" is going to be handing out actual treats next year.

[kittysdiary]

Kitty’s Guide to Fall/Winter 2023

You’ve all LOVED my season guides so it’s only fair that I continue the tradition and make a fall/winter guide for 2023! In this guide I’ll be going over important topics that will outline what the kitty energy is going to be for the cold + cozy season. This guide will give you a month to prep for a bombshell fall/winter! 🍂🥧🎀

Kitty Energy This Fall/Winter

For this coming season I’m definitely going for that off duty supermodel look. Bombshell curls, doe eyed lash extensions, brown lipglosses and warm toned neutral eyeshadows with a pop of glitter. Layered looks are a must for these up and coming cold months. This years color palette will range from pink, cream, browns and dark denim.

Beauty

Pressed matte powders

Charlotte Tilbury + Patrick Ta are the makeup brand vibes for this up and coming season

Brown lip liners and neutral pink glosses

Long + fluffed lashes. Go for lashes with that seductive cat eye look!

New body butters, face creams, hand creams and face masks that draw in moisture. Weather change can cause dryness + irritation so focusing on products that hydrate is a must!!

French tip nails + toes

Fragrances with warm notes. Ex.) vanilla, cinnamon, spices + cashmere.

Valentino Donna Born in Roma Intense, Dior Poison & Mugler Alien Goddess.

Bellami hair extensions

Hair colors -> blonde, chestnut, deep chocolate brown + jet black.

Messy buns, high ponytails, curtain bangs + sleek styles.

Fashion

Fur coats + fur details that give off trophy wife energy.

Sterling sliver and pretty gold accessories

Bow details

Victoria Secret silk pajama sets + slippers

La Perla and Agent Provocateur lingerie pieces

Tote bags or top handle bags. Find bags with lots of space so you can fill it with travel sized lotion, moisturizer and hand sanitizer.

Knitted cashmere sweaters with a turtleneck to look elegant and cozy.

Velour tracksuits

Fuzzy lounge wear sets + lounge cardigans to wear around the house.

Ear muffs

Pearl + diamond statement pieces

Fluffy slippers

Pink, cream, brown, black + dark denim.

Cheetah and leopard print staple pieces

Small + thick gold hoops

Gloves with a fur trim

Ankle boots + luxurious high heels. Flats for busy days when you’re on your feet like at work.

Essentials

Booked spa, hair and nail appointments

Cozy comforter + blankets

Car maintenance

Snow boots

Invest in bubble bath soaps, bath salts + candles for a relaxing night in.

Buy new calendars, planners + stationary.

Purchase new dishes, silverware and mugs for holiday hosting.

Holiday decor

Thick tights, leggings, leg warmers + undershirts

Uggs

Thermo cups

Cold/flu medicine

Umbrella

Tea + tea brewer

Lip balm

[erstwhilesparrow]

hey. you said you would cut my nails? you said my nails were getting long and you were going to make the lights orange and soft so it wouldn't hurt when you touched me. you said you'd put your arm across my back like how they tie down cargo on a truck. you said i could sit pretty and still beside you. you didn't say it out loud but you were going to do all this because i put my chin in your lap and breathed so quietly you could feel me there and keep pretending not to.

you said first, just one thing: i had to do what you asked me to do. i licked your hands. you asked me for the sun in my jaws, scorching clean my dirty tongue. you were asking me for a fire being born on the other side of the world. can you blame me for knowing i wasn't going to give you what you asked me to give? twenty years is a long time for a thing like me to manage. is it any surprise i'm a little ragged, a little less than your broken-in tool? i made a good kid when i was one. consolation prize: when you kill us both, i'll lick your hands again.

now i've found my back, my bed; here i am choking on myself in the dark. you've betrayed me and it's only fair, since i've failed you. i have my teeth around your ankle and you have the cold eye of whoever you want to invite through our door. here i am using fangs, thinking, put me down, put me down. here you are going for my throat like you hear it too. lined up on the walls are the glittering vases of our promises. look, how they howl when they break and something crawls out, the little miseries crying until it's not just us but the whole cramped house: going down, down, down.

[mlink64]

Girl-Dad Hongjoong

Yes I know you can do this stuff with a baby boy too (and you bet your ass Joong would) but I'm dying at the thought of Hongjoong being an absolute simp for his little princess and hiudhsvubi

Now that that's out of the way...

Crying when she's born and he gets to hold her for the first time

His eyes swimming with all the memories he wants to make with this tiny human

Always having heart-eyes for his little girl...always

He could be changing a soiled diaper and still have heart eyes

Just staring at the baby for hours, completely in awe that he helped bring her into the world

But also getting super anxious as 'what if's swirl through his head

Channeling all his fears into incredibly heartfelt songs that he sings to her as lullabies

Sitting at a tiny little table wearing a toy crown and earrings while his baby girl serves him imaginary tea with the cutest little tea set ever (that Hongjoong totally personalized for her)

She would be the most well-dressed toddler istg

Always looks forward to their cute morning ritual of him picking her outfits from a big-ass closet (seriously, this man would LIVE for buying and customizing baby clothes)

But like, if she wants to wear bunny ears or smthin with whatever chic outfit Joong picks out she will and he'll let her

Probably even encourages her to pick out wacky, unique pieces to add some pizzazz to the fit

Daddy-Daughter dates!

Gives her flowers, takes her shopping or to see a movie or something, always getting ice cream on the way home

Mans is wrapped around her finger so tightly you have to force him to leave whenever y'all drop her off somewhere

He will 110% cry on her first day of school

He's like the classroom mom to end all classroom moms

Definitely the Dad that all the teachers and other Moms (and Dads) are in love with...every single one

Like, you know the scene in "The Game Plan" where the Rock's character is sitting in the dance studio and all the moms are like lusting after him? Yeah...every day

Then when she gets older it continues, only now her friends are crushing on her Dad too (DILF Hongjoong anyone?)

But ofc he doesn't even notice, too engrossed in watching his baby do her thing

Going all out for Daddy-Daughter Dances

Buys her a new dress and accessories, making sure he has pieces to match, giving her a cute little corsage that he probably made (or at least designed) Himself

Protective!Dad Hongjoong 24/7

It's not much of a problem when she's little, but when she gets older and boys (or girls) and crushes are a thing watch tf out

I feel like he would have like a sixth sense for judging peoples' characters and if someone gives him a weird vibe he'll keep a closer eye on them

Never says "I told you so" when she comes to him in tears when someone is actually a shit human

Just makes some tea and brings her blankets or plushies or something

He WILL hold a grudge against anyone who hurts his baby girl

Even if she forgives and forgets...he will not...

Tries not to spoil the shit out of her but honestly can't help it

Always buying pretty gifts for her, plushies, jewelry, clothes...the list goes on

Tries to foster a love for music and the arts from a young age

Piano lessons, dance classes, etc.

Always wants to do crafts with her and probably having a whole art room that's more often than not covered in glitter and ribbon

Hyping up everything she makes

Always wearing the things she makes for him

Literally styles outfits around pasta necklaces and decorated ties

Family trips to the nail salon to get matching manicures

Dancing with her standing on his feet

Gets more excited for dino nuggies than she does

[maitanii]

ABOUT TIARAS AND BIKES [inui seishu]

inui seishu and his daughter!

He had raised her well.

Between motorcycles and tiaras. Always placing a piece of broccoli on her plate even though he gagged when he saw that vegetable. Buying the same heels that he owned but in miniature and with glitter. He had raised her well, but it hadn't been easy.

Akane did ballet when she was little. Inui remembered when his uncles gave her the first dancing shoes. The passion for dance lasted for a year before moving on to other hobbies. But Seishu remembered those afternoons where his mother tied her hair into a bow and made sure that no hair was left out of the hairstyle. It seemed easy back then. Now, with the small body nestled between his legs, he realized how difficult it was for a little girl to maintain a proper hairstyle.

Her daughter's mother had asked her to be ready when she came to pick her up. But it was not easy. It wasn't easy because Akari insisted on having a crown in her hair until she got to the auditorium. It's not like it was his fault either. Draken bought her a different crown from the shop across the street every time the girl came to hang out at the shop. At just 5 years old, she had a collection she could wear until he was 30 (although Seishu would have to get over the fact that her little head wouldn't stay the size of a football forever).

"That's it." Turning her head, she came face to face with her father. Seishu smiled before brushing away the cupcake crumbs that decorated the corners of her lips.

"Am I pretty?" she asked smiling.

"Precious," he replied, returning the smile.

The girl jumped from his legs and ran to the other end of the workshop.

“Uncle Ken, Uncle Ken, look!" Draken set the wrench aside and turned. "I look like a princess!"

Ken Ryuuji was once one of the most feared men in Tokyo, but to Akari, he was nothing more than the coolest guy in the world.

"Oh!" Nailing his knees to the ground and putting a hand to his chest, Draken closed his eyes "My eyes… my eyes cannot see with such beauty". Akari's laughter echoed off the dirty walls of the workshop.

Her mother had always hated that place, despite it being there where she met Seishu. She just wanted to exchange a bill for coins to buy tobacco and she ended up meeting the father of her daughter. They didn't have a bad relationship. They just didn't get along. His only relationship was Akari. And their only conversations were about what Akari had in her backpack. It was enough. And Seishu was happy about it. They had both had had a few partners after Akari was born, but never anything serious.

His dream was not to be a single father. The thought of being a father hadn't even crossed his mind. But being 24 and taking some foolish decisions made a permanent responsibility appear in his life and that woman's. He did not hesitate for a second to accept his role as a father and sign joint custody. When he first held Akari, he didn't even want to touch her face. Perhaps his calloused fingers would scare her. Now he let her get on his motorcycle from time to time (always while still being supported by his arms).

The sound of the entrance bell brought him out of his thoughts. She watched her daughter's eyes light up before rushing to grab her backpack. She ran into her mother's arms and hugged her tight. Draken smiled at the scene before greeting the newcomer and getting back to work.

Seishu slowly approached the entrance watching how the two interacted.

"Did you get the tutu?" he crouched down so that he was level with Akari. The girl turned to leave her backpack ajar so that her father could see inside it. Among the thousands of stuffed animals she was carrying, a small piece of pink cloth was peeking out. Seishu made a satisfied noise before giving the girl's small shoulder a squeeze.

"Sei, you'd better put yourself in a conspicuous place next time." Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, the woman took her daughter by the hand. "Last time she didn't stop crying until she saw you at the end of the room" Giving her a thumbs up, he left the door open so the two of them could get out. As they said their goodbyes, Seishu watched as the two figures walked away when the shorter one turned and ran towards him again.

"I love you so much dad"

He had raised her well.

-

And he was late. He was very late.

The shirt he thought he had ironed had grease stains on the sleeves, so he had to borrow one from Draken that was too big on his shoulders. He thought he had enough gas in the car but it didn't make it to the auditorium on the other side of town. Parking the bike in an off-limits parking lot, he removed his helmet and combed his hair as best he could in the rearview mirror.

The clock said 4pm, and it would take two minutes to get to the place.

Running as far as her legs would carry him, he pushed open the glass door to the auditorium and rushed inside. The parents were still looking for a seat. He saw his daughter's mother accompanied by a friend in the first row. He decided to sit in the corner of the third row, having to fight a bit with some grandparents to let him pass.

When he finally sat down, he noticed a huge figure next to him. Looking up, he saw his coworker and friend looking at him with a lopsided smile. Holding a cell phone in his hands, Seishu felt like he had a guardian angel. Moving a seat to the side, Draken sat down.

"The last time I missed a recital she kept reminding me of it for a month," Ken commented. "Besides, I don't like to see her angry".

Seishu nodded, watching as tiny people began to fill the stage as the lights went out.

Between those white leotards and pieces of pink fabric, he saw the blonde bow with some strands of hair sticking out. The pout on her lips was visible as her little neck stretched and moved from side to side. Seishu thought about raising his hand, but the last time he did it almost caused a fight with other parents (and would have punched them if they weren't with little kids). Draken saw how Akari was on the verge of tears and decided to act.

Was there a sound more audible than a father sneeze? Yes, a cough from Ken Ryuuji.

Seishu noticed how all the bodies on the chairs turned their heads and tried to hide the smile that appeared on his face. Akari went from surprise to happiness in a matter of seconds, her small green eyes disappearing behind cheeks that rose as she smiled.

He took out his phone and looked at his wallpaper for a few seconds. Akari dressed in his work overalls was an image that would always be his weak point. The photo was blurry because the camera on his mobile was not of much quality back then. But his memories were sharp, so he didn't care too much about the graphic picture. Unlocking the phone, he hit the camera app, rested his elbow on the armrest, and started recording.

From time to time he would meet his daughter's eyes and nod to tell her to pay attention to the dance. And Akari always smiled.

One day she would get tired of tutus. And pizza Fridays. And Barbie movies. And the eternal afternoons in the workshop. And who was he going to lie to, one day she would get tired of him.

But she still enjoyed motorcycles. And to dance. And listening stories about aunt Akane. And school. And the color pink. And of him.

He had raised her well. And he would continue to do so forever.

tag: my dear @6-022-10-23 🤍

[streetkittyclaws]

🐆🎀these r sooo cute n girly🎀🦓

nail inspo came from a picture a saw on twitter~

((used born pretty gel polish + shoyum jelly gel polish + saviland top coat))

[reedipop]

"Hey guys my name is Princess Glitter Cupcake Sparkles Diamond Pink Purple Galaxy. I am a princess from outer space in the rainbow galaxy and my mom gave me this necklace so I could remember her before she died in Afghanistan to the wrath of Genghis Khan. As you can see, I’m a baddie and I wear pink and purple and also pink baddie nails. My skirt is made of silver from all my money because I’m rich. I was born with my hair rainbow and I am so pretty and all the boys and girls want me. But I have to chase them away with brooms because I only have one person that I love and his name is Nagito Komaeda. And if you try to take him from me my alpha will come out and we don’t want that pookie schnookie wookie. And we’re getting married February 30 so don’t try anything. Anyway my eyes are rainbow so I can read minds so don’t try to keep secrets from me because I’ll find them out and tell everyone you lie just like my seventeenth ex boyfriend Kokichi Ouma."

[parttimestudentfulltimehuman]

The simultaneous rejection and embrace of womanhood

The idea for this theme derived from my set of photos with my mom as the main subject: high school-senior-mom, wedding-day-mom, and after-I-was-born-mom. It demonstrates her growth into womanhood wonderfully, and as a girl who’s stepping into her 20s, I’m on the path of discovering what womanhood means to me too.

Berthe Morisot, Woman at Her Toilette, 1870-1880. Oil on canvas.

Impressionism

Mary Cassatt, Mother and Child, 1905. Oil on canvas.

Impressionism

Faith Wilding, Peach Cunt, 1971. Watercolor on paper.

Contemporary Art - Feminist Art Movement

Carrie Mae Weems, The Kitchen Table Series, 1990. Photography.

Contemporary Art - Feminist Art Movement

High school-senior-mom, 1996. Photography.

Family artifact

Nancy Spero, 'Sheela-Na-Gig at Home', 2000. Handprinting and printed collage on paper, installation with underwear and clothesline.

Contemporary Art

Wedding-day-mom, 2002. Photography.

Family artifact

After-I-was-born-mom, 2003. Photography. 

Family artifact

Sa’dia Rehman, Divine Guidance, 2010. Sculptural installation.

Contemporary Art

Marcy Chevali, With a Little Pink Spot, 2013. Scuptural installation.

Contemporary Art

Fleabag (TV Show), 2016 - 2019

Hester Finch, Motherhood & Pregnancy. Soft pastels on paper.

Contemporary Art

WHEN I SAY THAT WE ARE ALL TEEN GIRLS

by Olivia Gatwood, 2019

what I mean is that when my grandmother

called to ask why I didn’t respond to her letter,

all I heard was, Why didn’t you

text me back? Why don’t you love me?

And how can I talk about my grandmother

without also mentioning that if everyone

is a teen girl, then so are the birds, their soaring

cliques, their squawking throats,

and the sea, of course, the sea,

its moody push and pull, the way we drill

into it, fill it with our trash, take and take

and take from it and still it holds us

each time we walk into it.

What is more teen girl than not being

loved but wanting it so badly

that you accept the smallest crumbs and call

yourself full; what is more teen girl than

my father’s favorite wrench, its eternal loyalty

and willingness to loosen the most stubborn of bolts;

what is more teen girl than my mother’s chewed

nail beds, than the whine of the floorboards in her

house?

What is more teen girl than my dog, Jack,

whose bark is shrill and unnecessary,

who has never once stopped a burglar

or heeled on command but sometimes

when I laugh, his tail wags

so hard it thumps against the wall, sometimes

it sounds like a heartbeat, sometimes I yell at him

for talking too much, for his messy room,

sometimes I put him in pink, striped polos

and I think he feels pretty,

I think he likes to feel pretty,

I think Jack is a teen girl.

and the mountains, oh, the mountains,

what teen girls they are, those colossal show-offs,

and the moon, glittering and distant

and dictating all of our emotions.

My lover’s tender but heavy breath while she sleeps

is a teen girl, how it holds me and keeps

me awake all at once, how I sometimes wish

to silence it, until she turns her body and

the room goes quiet and suddenly I want it back.

Imagine the teen girls gone from our world,

and how quickly we would beg for their return,

how grateful would we be then for their loud

enthusiasm

and ability to make a crop top out of anything.

Even the men who laugh their condescending laughs

when a teen girl faints at the sight of her

favorite pop star, even those men are teen girls,

the way they want so badly to be so big

and important and worshipped by someone.

Pluto, the teen girl, and her rejection

from the popular universe,

and my father, a teen girl, who insists he doesn’t

believe in horoscopes but wants me to tell

him about the best traits of a Scorpio,

I tell him, We are all just teen girls,

and my father, having raised me, recounts the time he

found the box of love notes and condom wrappers I

hid in my closet, all of the bloody sheets, the missing

socks,

the radio blaring over my pitchy sobs,

the time I was certain I would die of heartbreak

and in a moment was in love with a small, new boy,

and of course there are the teen girls,

the real teen girls, huddled on the subway

after school, limbs draped over each other’s shoulders

bones knocking, an awkward wind chime

and all of the commuters, who plug in their

headphones

to mute the giggle, silence the gaggle and squeak,

not knowing where they learned to do this,

to roll their eyes and turn up the music,

not knowing where they learned this palpable rage,

not knowing the teen girls are our most distinguished

professors, who teach us to bury the burst

until we close our bedroom doors,

and then cry with blood in the neck,

foot through the door, face in the pillow,

the teen girls who teach us to scream.

Hester Finch, Burning Nudes. Soft pastels on paper.

Contemporary Art

Nothing New, 2021. Taylor Swift ft. Phoebe Bridgers.

Installation view of Sanja Iveković: Works of Heart (1974–2022) at Kunstalle Wien, Vienna, 2022, showing Ženska kuća (Women’s House). 1998–ongoing. Mixed-media installation.

Contemporary Art - Feminist Art Movement

[gianninnaa]

is that giannina castro ? a freshman originally from anaheim , ca , they decided to come to ogden college to study music . they’re the influencer on campus , but even they could get blamed for greer’s disappearance .

basics

name: giannina castro. nickname: g, gia, gigi, nina. date of birth: june 5th 2003. age: nineteen. zodiac: gemini sun, leo moon, taurus rising. gender: cis woman. pronouns: she/her. sexuality: bisexual. hometown: anaheim, ca. major: music. trope: the influencer.

personality

positive traits: ebullient, grandiose & affable. negative traits: profligate, fickle & superficial. character inspo: jackie burkhart (that 70’s show), emma mountebank (the quarry), sharpay evans (high school musical), daisy jones (daisy jones and the six), serena van der woodsen (gossip girl), hanna marin (pretty little liars), haley dunphy (modern family), alexis rose (schitt's creek) – some more than others. likes: lip gloss, moscato, sweet candy scented perfumes, glitter, being adored, lively parties, having someone to take pictures for her in public, white chocolate, shopping, the feeling of having your hair and nails both freshly done, cats, validation. dislikes: dirt, spiders, being ignored, walking home alone after a party, super drying matte liquid lips, the combination of chocolate and orange, fireball. habits: dots her i & j with hearts, twirls her hair when she thinks, shamelessly takes photos in public, still writes in her diary, if you hold her hand- she will swing it while you walk, blows bubbles whenever she has bubblegum, laughs when she's nervous. skills: batting her eyelashes to get whatever she wants, writing songs, figure skating, symmetrical winged liner, cheerleading, can make conversation with anyone. flaws: tries too hard, gossips, switches sides when it suits her, compares herself to others, takes no being like very very personally, changes to be what she thinks people want from her. aesthetics: becoming the ideal and losing yourself in the process, the battle between girlhood and godhood, perfume clinging to silk sheets, a lonely mansion on top of a hill, clinking of champagne flutes, the future is covered in roses, late nights spent dancing under the moonlight, girlhood forfeited in lieu of greatness, laughter like sodapop, venus in her scallop shell, multiple hearts but not one is capable to love, shooting for the stars because the earth is not enough, the chaos of a lively city, warm as the sun and burning as bright, childhood dies with thundering applause.

physical appearance

faceclaim: jenna ortega. height: she's 5'1, but she's always wearing some kind of heel or platform. even casually, she's got a cute lil pair of chunky white platform sneakers. she says being taller makes her legs look longer, so she'll never give it up. hair: the cutest little curtain bangs bc i love them!! she's very very on trend. all the little braids and space buns that have come into fashion are so gia. heat styles her hair every day. makeup: she doesn't go Crazy on her makeup. she has a stupid long skin care routine to make sure she always appears as flawless as she wants people to believe she is. light weight foundation that lets her freckles show through. winged liner and half lash is a staple. gloss > lipstick any day,, but like a tinted gloss. she's still fun. fashion: gia doesn't have a set style of her own. she just follows the trends. back in the day, trends lasted a little longer. now?? all those micro trends? girl buys a new closet like every month.

connection to the trope

giannina’s life has been in front of the camera since the day she was born. every talent show or dance recital recorded by her parents. photos from every first day of school, birthday, school dance, and everything in between. it was just another part of her life. like every other teenager growing up in the ‘10s, gia had social media. none of it was out of the ordinary until 2019. giannina’s tiktok account was mostly just slice of life content. messing around with her friends, outfit checks, lip syncing to her favourite song. she got a decent amount of follower from simply being attractive one the internet, but she didn’t really start to blow up until she started posting her songs. originals, covers – they started the career gia has now. the more she posted, the more followers she got. though she'd like to say she worked hard to get where she is now, that’s not really true. she just got lucky. her rising stardom was basically an overnight change. at least, that’s how it felt. suddenly, there were brand deals, teen choice awards, invites to red carpet events, record deals. it was perfect. original songs became a bigger part of her platform now that she was actually able to start releasing singles. more vlogging / day in the life style posts to show all the glamorous things she was doing (with a touch of “i’m just like you!”) get ready and unready with me. gia constantly has her phone on her; insta stories, tiktoks showing her life here at ogden. she’s a social media princess, and she intends on getting even bigger. ( career inspo – charli d'amelio, loren grey, nessa barrett )

connection to greer

her relationship to greer is one big “ what could have been ”. at least, that’s what gia says to anyone who will listen. two ships in the night, greer unfortunately going missing right before giannina’s freshman year. all she could do was mourn the ‘big sister mentor’ figure she’d never get to make greer. the truth, however, was a little less simple.  when looking into ogden college, it was impossible to miss whispers about their very own golden girl. gia didn’t attend that party just for greer– she isn’t crazy– but when they found themselves in the same room, gia couldn’t let the opportunity pass. everyone would be swarming her when school started. even though giannina knew she could command an entire room’s attention, she didn’t want to lump herself in with the pathetic crowd begging for salvation. she approached the other girl at the party, champagne flute in her hand like an offering to some goddess. they hit it off the way gia knew they would. by the time she was walking into college, she’d already be royalty without having to try. who knew so much work and planning went into seeming effortless! it was all perfect until the news broke about greer going missing. while many people believe gia would operate on some kind of “there’s no such thing as good or bad attention, just attention!” mindset, that couldn’t be further from the truth. greer’s drama seemed messy and complicated, so gia severed all ties. forgot every word they spoke to each other (the drinks flowing definitely helped). all greer ever was or ever would be to gia is an almost. hmm, if only she remembered to purge her insta as well as her memories!

headcanons

💓 tba!

wanted connections

𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪 💓 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 — young, wild and free; that’s always been the goal. you’ve both met your match. though you probably bring out the worst in each other, you have so much fun when you’re with them. something that burns this bright is bound to burn out quickly, but it’s going to be one hell of a ride until you crash! 💓 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 / 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐚 — tba! 💓 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 — someone that followed gia on social media before she came to ogden. 💓 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 — in the eye of a hurricane, there is a quiet kind of peaceful. they bring out this kind of stability in gia. they don’t force her into it or make her feel bad when she has those days she feels like she can’t slow down, they just embrace her regardless. gia knows she always has a safe place to land, whether it’s controlled or a crash. 𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑪 💓 “𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐞” — point blank: gia is a bit of a fake. though she's charming to most, this is someone that just sees right through her act. they don't buy any of her fake kindness. 💓 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐚 — tba! 💓 𝐞𝐱-𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 — tba! 𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑪 💓 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 — it’s hard not to fall for someone like gia. handing affection out like candy, it was only a matter of time before someone took her seriously. sometimes it escapes her mind that some people flirt for love rather than fun. other times, she truly were just being friendly and now has someone pointing the finger and saying she led them on. 💓 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 — tba! 💓 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 — there was a small talking stage between them, but it ended- or more accurately, fizzled out- when gia stopped responding to them. could be on bad terms/hurt/upset by it or neutral/not caring. 💓 f𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 — similar, but gia friendzoned them. could be mutual friendzoning, could be bitter, anything!

[dreampedia]

♡ ┋ hirai momo. cis woman. she/her. lesbian. ⇝ hey, isn’t that akimoto mio? i think that the 28 year old from tokyo, japan works as dance instructor at alister's dance hall & studio and daycare worker at moon & sun daycare, but outside of that people describe them as pink and pink and even more pink; glittering hearts and all things lovecore; the scuffing of high-top trainers against the varnished floors of a dance studio; bodies moving, illuminated by the flickering city lights; dripping strawberry ice cream and shimmering pink lip gloss. i hear they are overemotional & easily distracted, but they are also known to be friendly & passionate. consider giving them a visit at their home in delilah's den gated community and get to know why they’re called the daydreamer.

the names above are written according to their native japanese format (surname, first name). to clarify, this character's given name is mio!

IMPORTANT LINKS: pinterest.

TW: suggestions of possible suicide

BASICS

Mio LOVES the colour pink! Maybe an unhealthy amount. She strongly believes that everything is better off being pink. It's her favourite colour.

However, she actually tends to dress mostly in blacks and whites but she'll definitely make room for coloured (usually pink) statements and accent pieces like her jackets, certain accessories and maybe even her shoes. She tends to go for a sort of athletic street fashion look. Pink, shimmery eyeshadow and lips are a Mio staple.

She has a pet cat, a cream and white tabby named Cream.

Mio has never been in a proper, long-lasting relationship and has mostly had a few short-lived flings. She doesn't sleep around (not that it would matter if she did) but it's just never turned out that way. However, she's a hopeless romantic at heart. Her ideal type is someone cool who might make her swoon a little. Also, as stated above, she's a lesbian. It's not something she has always been super open about but she's using her move to a new place to be as open about herself as possible.

Mio's a very energetic person who loves to help people but this means she's also very adept at getting in the way.

She loves doing cute nail art! She doesn't personally wear fake nails for practicality reasons but she likes painting her nails. She's entirely self-taught and pretty good at it!

Honestly, Mio is a muse I've been writing since 2016 -- seven years this February -- so I have a lot of thoughts about swimming around in my head but, for some reason, they're not coming to mind right now soooo hopefully you'll learn more about her through interactions! <3 I've updated her with an Anchorage-specific backstory though!

BACKSTORY

Mio was born in Tokyo, Japan as the second of two daughters. Her parents were an ordinary couple, still married to this day. Her sister, Rei, was born two years before Mio and was the subject of Mio's admiration for many years. Though very different in many ways, the sisters had always been close. In terms of money, her family were comfortable. Not wealthy but they weren't struggling either.

From a young age, Rei was trained in ballet and it was obvious she had a bright future ahead of her. She was the apple of her mother's eye and was very much pushed to pursue ballet as seriously as possible. Mio, on the other hand, was given a little more freedom. She shared her sister's passion for dance but was much more interested in styles like street and hip-hop. Her parents allowed her to pursue these passions but the price of her freedom was that they weren't anywhere near as invested in her efforts. Mio didn't mind too much, she loved her family.

As the years went on, the pressure got to Rei. It got to be too much and it broke her and she ran away from home. Mio was fifteen years old at the time and it threw her whole world into question. Her beloved sister was gone. But Mio was nothing if not compassionate and understanding. She never blamed Rei for leaving. Their parents’ expectations quickly shifted onto Mio and so she became a sort of stand-in for Rei, fulfilling their dreams of having a daughter who might find success as a dancer. It was evident that the suddenness of it all had been too much and they were far from ready to let go of this superficial goal. It didn't bother Mio at first and she even liked the extra attention but, before long, it became impossible to ignore the feeling of being a replacement. They hadn't wanted a dancer, they'd wanted a ballerina.

Once she graduated from high school, her parents used the money they'd set aside for Rei to send Mio to a dance university in Tokyo. It was around this time that Rei returned, looking like she'd been through Hell. Mio never found out everything that happened to her sister but she did accept her with open arms. But Rei never stayed long. For two years, she came and went, slipping through the cracks like a shadow. Eventually, she stopped showing up at all and Mio was back where she'd started. Mio's studies brought her to the States. She spent a few years in Los Angeles, finishing off her dance training and learning English before returning home to Tokyo again.

She would spend another few years in Japan, joining a dance crew and working actively as a dancer. She'd earned herself some attention for uploading dance covers online too. Everything was going well for Mio. She had a decent apartment in the city, she had her dream job, she had a cat that she loved. She was happy. But, one day, a letter came for her in the post. A letter from her sister. The letter itself was simple enough. A generic note to let Mio she was still around and to ask how things were going. But there was a note at the end, one that Mio couldn't ignore. 'Have you heard about Anchorage in Alaska?' she'd asked, 'People go missing there all the time. You could go there to vanish and nobody would even question it.'

Mio took this as a sign that she needed to move back to the States and find her way to Anchorage. She moved there with her little cat in tow, taking up residence in a hotel for a couple of weeks. There was no sign of Rei but Mio had already resolved to stay, now moving to a little cottage that her cat would likely prefer. At first, she told herself she was staying for Rei. If Mio had shown up too early, Rei might still come and if Mio had shown up too late, she wanted to stay as close to her sister's possible resting place as possible. However, there was something else keeping Mio there.

All her life, Mio has wanted to help people. She was always preoccupied with checking up on people, occasionally to the point of being a little annoying. Given what sort of place Anchorage was, she felt guilty about the idea of leaving. It seemed selfish to run off just because it was a little scary. Besides, she'd grown to like the people here. If nothing else, Anchorage was a fascinating place.

Mio has been in Anchorage for about a year now. She's still active as a dancer, practicing whenever she gets the chance and uploading her choreographies online for people to see, but she's since taken up a second job as a daycare assistant. She knows she can't really do much to help the people of Anchorage but perhaps providing the children born into this strange environment with a sense of calm and safety was a good place to start.

[blackshadowswriter]

✨️ If you get this, answer with ten random facts about yourself, and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications. Anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog ✨️

Lol, thanks for tagging me, @arabianflowers!!!

Ok, let's see, I'm a pretty boring person, but let's go:

I am a huge mythology nerd, specifically Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Norse mythology. This makes me a huge fan of all the books Rick Riordan wrote, but if you asked me if I liked the PJ movies, I will throw hands over the utter terribleness of those films.

I only crush on fictional men, and I have learned that my type is ✨hot, badass guys with long-ish dark hair. Also, most of my crushes are old enough to be my dad, which is weird.

I cannot shape my eyebrows correctly even if my life were depending on it. And my two eyebrows will never be symmetrically plucked no matter how long I've spent on them. Maybe cuz I have super shaky hands. As in shaking when I'm writing math problems out. Nail art is impossible for me.

I cannot do eyeshadow properly. I either look like a glitter bomb exploded over my eyeballs or a racoon with eyeliner. You know that scene in CATWS where Bucky shoots Nick Fury and Steve runs after him, and there's that one shot of Bucky with smudged eyeliner/eyeshadow? That's me whenever I try eyeshadow.

I'm Asian, specifically Chinese, but I was born in America (I'm a total ABC), and both my parents were born in Hong Kong and left before China took over.

I'm pretty good at math. I did Kumon as a kid (if you're Asian, you'll know this), and I got an award for doing 11th grade math as a 5th grader even though I didn't understand half of what I was doing because Kumon doesn't explain whatever the fuck polynomial functions are, and I only understood it like several years later.

I'm the biggest procrastinator you'll ever meet, but it works for me. I once started an entire persuasive essay like five hours before the due date, and I still got a perfect score. I shouldn't be proud, yet here I am. Although I did recently learn leaving all assignments to do Friday night when they're due gives me stress acne, and I broke out yesterday.

I've never been diagnosed for it, but I think I have some form of social anxiety. Whenever I have to talk or meet people I don't know, I get really nervous and can't speak. Especially when I'm there to learn something I don't know, I get very self conscious cuz I always think I'm doing worse than everyone else. I'll be very awkward and quiet, but once I feel comfortable with you, I'm loud as fuck and you'll never have another moment of quiet with me.

I have a super dark, very edgy, and pretty shitty sense of humor that only I laugh at and worries most people. My humor probably makes me sound like a serial killer and offends 90% of people, so I've learned to stop making jokes.

I have issues. And one of them is that I think being dark and depressed makes me sound cool, but I can't help it.

There you go, 10 very random facts about me. I probably sounded like a psychopath after that, but yeah. Let me know what you think!