#might change some things if i draw the others

[aesethewitch]

Ambient Spells

The idea of the ambient spell isn’t so uncommon. My use of the word “ambient” may throw you for a bit of a loop. An ambient spell is any spell that permeates a space in an unobtrusive way. They affect the area surrounding their vessel and require little to no maintenance or upkeep. They’re long-term workings that require varying levels of effort to put together and cast. Depending on what exactly you need, they can be as simple as setting out a bowl of salt or as complex as crafting a home decor piece from scratch.

I always recommend making ambient spells that are self-fueling. I often refer to them also as “set it and forget it” spells. They’re the crockpot of spellwork — work up front for a slow burn output.

Chances are that you’re already aware of or even know how to create ambient spells. Any spell that affects the vibe of a room, for example, would count as an ambient spell. Lighting incense specifically to invite in positive energy counts. A ward that sucks up baneful magic and transforms it into blessings also counts. The primary idea of an ambient spell is that it’s making a change to your environment in the background. It’s the cool breeze in summertime, the subtle piano at a fancy restaurant, the scent of fresh-baked cookies fading as the day goes by. Positive, but not overt.

When to Use (or Not Use) an Ambient Spell

By their nature, ambient spells are fairly general workings. They can be quite powerful, of course, just like any other spell. The thing to keep in mind is that they’re not ideal for targeted magic.

For example, I wouldn’t create an ambient spell to banish someone from my life. I might make an ambient spell to make an area unwelcoming to them, or to anyone who would do me harm. The unwelcoming vibe might discourage them from coming around, sure. But it may not work outside of the area the spell lives in; and it may not get rid of them for good.

Similarly, an ambient spell might make a good general ward for keeping out loud, unwelcome spirits, but it wouldn’t specifically cast out the one particular spirit who’s been causing problems. It might discourage their behavior, but it wouldn’t necessarily get rid of them. A concentrated, single-use banishing spell would work significantly better for that purpose. Afterwards, an ambient spell can keep the area clear of that spirit’s influence.

I also wouldn’t use an ambient spell to draw in specific success. General success or money, absolutely — whatever wants to come my way is welcome, via a basic money bowl set up next to my wallet. But if I specifically want a promotion or a particular amount of money, I’m not going to leave that to the ambient money spell. I would craft a spell specifically for what I’m looking for.

When deciding what kind of spell to cast, keep this idea in mind. An ambient spell is best for behind-the-scenes results that happen without your concentrated effort. When you want something specific, a more targeted spell will work better nine times out of ten.

Creating an Ambient Spell

It’s possible to create an ambient spell with nothing but energy work. However, I often find that these fade quickly and don’t lend themselves well to self-fueling. They tend to need more active upkeep than I prefer for a spell that’s meant to be set and let go. I recommend choosing an appropriate vessel of some kind to contain the spell to help it last longer.

How do you decide what’s an appropriate vessel, though? And how do you set one up? How do you make a spell self-fueling? Let’s start from the top and go in order.

Identify the Purpose

Decide what the spell will do. This is going to define the components and the way you’re going to cast the spell. In my experience, ambient spells work best when they’re given a single purpose. For example, I wouldn’t make a spell that’s a ward and a cleanser and a spirit welcome mat. It dilutes the purpose. Choose a single, clear motive for the spell.

Choose a Vessel

Now that you know what your spell will do, it’s time to decide what it’s going to look like. The vessel you choose should reflect the spell’s purpose in some way.

An open bowl works well for absorbing energy. Why? It’s open. The face of it is open to the room, ready to take in whatever kind of energy you assign to its contents.

A closed jar, on the other hand, would be good for repelling. It’s closed off and sealed — a one-way road going out of the jar and into the room to clear it.

A wreath hung at the door could serve a lot of purposes, depending on what it’s made with. I would use a wreath as an agent of transformation or as an energy emitter to release a certain energy into the space.

A stone makes a solid vessel for protection or grounding. I have one on my working altar to help keep me in the moment and create a good environment for working magic.

When you’re choosing your spell vessel, keep in mind how visible you want it to be. Certain vessels are going to naturally be more obvious than others. A wreath, for example, is hard to miss — but it also just looks like nice home decor. A jar full of herbs and things would be more obviously a spell, but they can be small and easily hidden.

I have both obvious and hidden ambient spells peppered around my home for varying purposes. If you’re keeping your practice a secret, you’ll likely want to keep your spells more obscure or hidden. But if you aren’t, and you can make the choice of whether you want the spell to be in plain sight or not, consider the effect you want the spell to have.

If you want the spell to absorb bad vibes, baneful magics, the evil eye, or other negativity, a hidden spell might serve you well. Hiding the vessel somewhere means that whoever’s casting against you may not expect the resistance. On the other hand, if you want a vessel that allows friendly spirits to visit you during the holidays, a beautiful centerpiece on your dining table that’s charmed with spirit-friendly magic might serve the purpose.

Choose an Energy Source

Ambient spells need to draw energy from somewhere. Think of it like a battery. The ingredients you put into the spell may provide a temporary charge, but if you want the spell to be long-term, it needs an input. How will your spell recharge itself?

If you want the spell to be shorter-term, only a few days or so, then you can skip this step. But if you want an ambient spell to last a while, like a ward or vibe-adjuster, you’ll need to think about this carefully.

Like when choosing the vessel, the energy source should match the purpose of the spell. For example, I have a simple room refresher spell set on a table that’s central to my home. The purpose of it is to take anxiety and negative thoughts to turn them into positivity. I set it up so that the act of walking past the bowl swirls the air around it, and therefore also the energy around it. That kinetic energy fuels the bowl’s magic and keeps it going. I don’t have to actively recharge the bowl or its contents, because we walk past it constantly.

Another example would be an ambient spell to help you do the dishes. (Whether that’s remembering to do them or finding the motivation for it is up to you.) The fuel for the spell could be the act of walking into or past the kitchen, running water elsewhere in the home, or even cooking or eating.

The energy source could also be something like lighting a candle next to or over the vessel on a schedule, if you prefer. This would add an upkeep step, of course, and wouldn’t be my first choice. The only ambient spell I do this with is my money bowl, and that’s because it’s tuned to be able to shift focus from day to day depending on what exactly I need (commissions versus tips versus discounts, etc.).

Setting Up an Ambient Spell

Decide where you want to place your spell’s vessel ahead of time. If you have pets or kids, make sure you put whatever it is out of their reach. If the vessel is something like an uncovered bowl, you’ll want to be sure that it isn’t going to get knocked over. Similarly, if it’s made of glass, you don’t want it to fall and shatter. If your vessel needs to be hidden somehow, determine where you’ll keep it. It would be smart to make note of where the spell is and what it looks like in your grimoire or spell notebook just so that if you forget about it, you can identify it later on down the road.

After you know where you want to put it, it’s time to choose ingredients and fill your vessel. The components you decide on should, obviously, match your goals.

Casting an ambient spell is much the same as casting a regular spell. The only thing to keep in mind is that an ambient spell has a sort of prolonged release.

Upkeep and Care of an Ambient Spell

For the most part, ambient spells should require little to no upkeep. With that said, you should still do routine check-ups on them. I include them in my regular rounds when I check on my wards and various protections, but you could do yours whenever it makes the most sense to you.

Depending on how you decided to fuel your spell, you may need to do a bit of feeding. Whether that’s lighting a new candle, refilling a cup of water, mixing around a pile of herbs, or giving the vessel a little shake, do so anytime it feels like the spell’s energy is flagging. It may take some practice in sensing energy to know exactly when a spell needs refueling. This is partly why I suggest creating a schedule to check in on the spell; ambient spells are a great type to practice sensing spell energy, since they’re typically long-lasting and may wax or wane depending on the day.

If your spell is fully self-fueling and it doesn’t seem to be working anymore (or at all, even from the start), it’s time to take it apart. Discard disposable components according to your practice’s tenets. Cleanse the rest for future use. I would suggest washing your spell vessel alongside magical cleansing.

A Ready-to-Use Example

Here’s an extremely simple example of an ambient spell I use in my home to keep the main living area light, fresh, and conducive to getting work done. Since both my partner and I work from home, it’s important that our areas have an aura of focus.

Materials:

- A small bowl, preferably green or brown - Enough salt to fill the bowl halfway - A few pinches of dried rosemary

Instructions:

1. Ensure the bowl is clean and dry. Pour salt into the bowl until it’s halfway full. 2. Sprinkle dried rosemary into the salt and stir. 3. Instruct the spell, in whatever way makes sense to you, to exude focused but calm energy into the space. 4. Place the bowl in an area that is frequently trafficked. 5. Leave the bowl in place until it no longer provides a fresh, focused energy to the space. Dispose of the contents, clean the bowl, and reset the spell.

Notes: - This spell is powered by movement specifically, because both my partner and I work from home, and we pace when we’re having a hard time focusing. The spell draws in the energy from our pacing and the frustration we’re putting out to fuel itself. It then transforms and releases the energy as calm, focus, and productivity. - I suggest a green or brown bowl because this spell is meant to work for our jobs. Green for success, brown for grounding. Personally, my bowl has both colors. - When instructing the spell, you can speak to the bowl, write a petition, do an incantation, or whatever else you like. This is the most personal part of the spell, and it’s what makes the thing Go. It’s up to you to decide how it’s going to work.

Final Thoughts

I would hesitate to call ambient spells “low energy” spellwork. While they can be low-energy-friendly in the long run, and they can be extremely simple to set up (such as the one I described above), they aren’t always. Ambient spells do require an up-front energy cost. Even so, I find them very rewarding and useful.

Folks who visit my home often comment that it’s an inviting, friendly, good-natured space where they can leave their worries and anxieties behind. That’s on purpose. I’ve got ambient spells in place that eat up anxiety and spit out positivity. I’ve got ones that repel hexes and are charged by sunlight. All of these spells are long-lasting and well worth the effort it took to create them.

I hope this little guide is useful to you! If you’ve got questions, feel free to send me an ask. I’m happy to ramble about ambient spells or other types of magic as much as you’d like.

And if you did enjoy this post, consider dropping a couple dollars in my tip jar! Supporters of all types (tips, commissions, shop purchases, and memberships) get early access to posts like this, sometimes up to two weeks early, and every bit helps me keep the lights on.

[chilschuck]

Can i request for chilchuck react to reader who like to daydream and after he tell the reader he is married, the reader keep spacing out more often out of sadness and they also try to avoid interacting with him much so she can move on. But laios and the other think it's normal since she always avoid interacting with people ( the reader interact with chilchuck more after falling in love with him )

Do you think he will notice? (ಥ﹏ಥ) (ಡ‸ಡ)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAHHHH ANON this is such a good concept and made my heart hurt…… i ended up adding some comfort to it because if you’re like me, you need it after reading angst!! :”)))

— OF COURSE: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ sfw + hurt/comfort! might be a lil ooc, lol.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 941

✦ i hope this turned out okay!! i made it shorter than my other drabbles by accident but it felt good to end it where it did. i kind of changed the prompt a lil but only because i wanted to give you guys some love from chil still. (;;;w;;;) i’m honestly worried this turned out bad…. hhhhh. i’m so sorry if it’s not what you wanted. ;;; i still hope you enjoy!!! <333

He knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t difficult to see that you had started avoiding him. Even your gaze refused to meet his own for longer than it had to. Your constant spacing out and stares at the floor said all he needed to hear: you were upset.

It only seemed to get worse when you overheard his talk about reconciling with his wife, any hope you had shattering into a thousand pieces in front of you. From then on, you didn’t smile unless you felt you had to. The thick silence you left in your wake was suffocating, and Chilchuck wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

The other members in the party took it as if you were being your usual spacey self, and didn’t draw any attention to the issue. This only made Chilchuck feel worse; he definitely noticed the change.

You used to hang back with Chilchuck and talk with him constantly, sharing little tidbits about yourselves or chatting mindlessly. Things seemed to come easily when it came to you... Too bad he only realized this now.

The smiles you gave him, the eyes full of affection, the lingering touches… It stung that they were no longer a part of his everyday life. Instead, the sadness that ate at you only bled through to your face, into your actions, and into your silence. It was unfamiliar and unbearable at the same time… Especially with the way you’d closed up further.

Chilchuck wasn’t stupid; he knew you harbored some sort of feelings for him. He wasn’t sure if that made this hurt more than it would otherwise. You were obviously distancing yourself from him, further proving his point that inner party relationships were trouble. Yet, there wasn’t any anger or resentment in his chest towards you. If anything, this was a misunderstanding between the two of you.

Calling your name, he approached you almost apprehensively. The recoil you gave made that familiar sharp pain in his chest reappear. Blurting out an excuse, you made your presence scarce. And just like that, you left him alone again.

Of course he noticed. If anything, he hoped that it was all some sort of miscommunication. Sure, he wanted to reconnect with his estranged wife, but… That’s what they were: estranged childhood sweethearts that grew apart. Along with their love, their relationship changed. Things weren’t something he could fix, and his old flame knew that too. But he hoped more than anything they could sort through their differences and still be at least friends.

Of course you didn’t know. There was no way for you to know, or have known his true intentions. Like everything else he tried to bury deep down, you were fading from his life. Chilchuck couldn’t seem to let this one go, to let you go.

So he chased after you. For once in his life, he decided to not swallow these feelings down. He knew there was only so much he could bury, only so much he’d want to bury. You didn’t deserve that, and he needed you to give him those smiles again. To give him those gazes full of adoration and those tender but fleeting touches…

You didn’t pull your hand out of his immediately. Instead, when he called your name again this time, you turned. Chilchuck swallowed.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Surely there was a better thing to ask at this moment, but your lip quivered nonetheless. A deep sigh leaving you, your gaze met with the floor again.

“…So it’d stop hurting.” Was all you replied, the weight of those words knocking the air out of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but you raised a hand to silence him.

“This is for the best... I hope you understand.” Your voice used to never sound so broken. It was soft in a way that he’d never heard before. You had truly given up on this, and he can’t say he blames you. He’d have given up on himself, too.

But he can’t let himself fall into that same cycle of self-pity. Not again, he assured himself, reaching up to grab a fist full of your top and pulling you down to meet his eyes. “Let me explain this to you. Please. I… I’m not going back to her because of the reason you think.” Chilchuck hadn’t heard himself this pleading in so long. He felt pitiful, and he suddenly remembered why he doesn’t like being vulnerable.

You couldn’t stop your head from nodding a yes to his request, that spark of hope trying to ignite once again in your chest. Trying to snuff it out, you waited patiently for him to continue.

And so he did. Baring it all to you, he decided this would be another step towards being more open with himself. Maybe you’d see him as pathetic for this, but he tried to piece the words together as congruent as possible. The feelings he had for her distinguished with the years spent apart and even some of the time spent together. This whole time he’s been sure that he just wanted to right the wrongs he did, and move on. Hopefully with you, when all this was over.

Of course you said yes. You listened, and with every word that left him, the flame within you rekindled. You weren’t sure what to say for a moment, besides giving a light laugh in relief. Even Chilchuck exhaled a brisk chuckle, scratching the back of his head in nervous habit. He’s not sure he could ever get used to this whole “telling your true feelings” thing.

But for you, he’d try.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune!! <333

[pr-incey]

For a while—after being exposed to the antiship movement, because goodness knows I didn't care about this when I was younger—I wondered *why* fiction and reality were so different in my head. Why I could happily see things depicted in fiction that would make me sick to my stomach or upset me to tears just from thinking of it happening in real life. I couldn't come up with a reason for this for a while, which caused me distressed and made me worried that I might secretly be a terrible person after all.

But I've done some thinking and I've figured it out. Or, rather, I've returned to the mindset that came so easy to me in the past and probably did to a lot of people before the well was poisoned.

When I see a fictional character, I don't see a person. I don't see a person like *me*, anyway. I see a person within that piece of fiction's universe; a plane of existence that is wholly different from my own. Lines and colour, words on a page, virtual drawings being played sequentially at a speed that simulates movement. Sure, the written passage, 'He had eyes, ears and a mouth' is a representation of what *I* am, and what other people around me are, but it is fundamentally a plane of existence that is *alien* to me.

An alien is something that is decidedly not human. I feel empathy for other humans because I can relate to them. I have no desire to hurt them because I either know what it is like to be hurt in that way, or I can imagine what it would be like. I know the harm it would do to them, which illicits a reaction of disgust and apprehension in me. 'That's terrible,' I think, which simply kills any desire to cause any harm to a real person or do any disgusting actions.

This is why predators are such terrible people. They are fully aware of the harm their actions will cause and then go ahead with them anyway.

But with a fictional character, it's different in these ways:

1. First of all, we have to remember that they AREN'T human and so whatever I feel towards them cannot accurately mirror whatever I feel towards real flesh and blood individuals. They're projections of humanity from OTHER people in whatever medium they choose, but fictional characters are—and I cannot stress this enough—NOT HUMAN. If I pull off the head of a Barbie doll, does that mean I have the desire to behead someone in real life? Does it mean that I MUST have the urge to behead someone in real life, because a barbie doll is a 'representation' of a person? Your answer, I'm hoping, is no. Because Barbie is not human.

2. And because fictional characters are not human, I don't have empathy for them. Not REAL empathy, anyway, the type that stops the desire to cause harm. When I 'violate' a fictional character, it illicits at most only superficial disgust because I know that character will not live with the lasting consequences of my actions. They're a projection, a facsimile.

So that might bring you to another question, 'Even if they're not real, why would you WANT to do that to them, anyway?'

That I can't answer. The human brain is weird. Sometimes, people have dark urges. If a kid tosses their Barbie onto the ground and seems to take pleasure in it falling, can that accurately say they want to push a real person onto the ground? If someone seems to enjoy a violent video game like GTA where they can run people over and shoot them to their heart's content, is that a surefire way to know that they want to do those things to real people? I wouldn't say it is. Would you?

The final thing to remember is that it's not completely black and white. A serial killer might have been 'inspired' by a violent horror story, whereas the actual author of that story is a nice, well-adjusted individual. People with the desire to hurt actual humans might make do with projections, but it does not change the fact that they actually want to HARM people. The fiction didn't make them want to do that. They already did, and probably would have even if they didn't discover said fiction. And horrible people CAN make their own 'projections'.

Generally though I believe it is obvious when someone is just playing with dolls, and when someone is exhibiting an actual desire to hurt somebody.

[manorpunk]

3️⃣

History only makes sense in retrospect. 

Take, for example, the decade-long period of the French Revolution, or the decades between World War I and World War II. A decade is like a blip to the casual historian, a mere moment, so short it was nearly one-dimensional, like a line separating the before from the after. Those who lived through it, however, must have spent years wondering each morning whether their current government and/or life would still exist by lunchtime, and even when the dust finally settles, that’s not really a feeling that one can easily forget. People can only draw neat, dispassionate little lines around such events when they no longer live in its shadow, and the shadow of the Polycrisis still loomed menacingly over the American League.

There were some who were eager to move on, who would say that progress is always disruptive - the old must be dismantled to make way for the new. Others would say that it was one thing to have a controlled demolition, and an entirely separate thing to wake up one day to find that your electricity and plumbing were no longer working, and the government was not going to help you because its existence was tenuous at best, and all of the sub-contracted third-party subsidiaries who actually did the work of repairing power grids refused to take responsibility with your piddly little suburb because they were too busy trying to keep the lights on in places that ‘actually mattered.’ 

The causes of the Polycrisis were many and varied, hence the name, but a certain pattern had emerged in retrospect - climate change caused natural disasters, natural disasters destroyed infrastructure, destroyed infrastructure caused economic collapse, economic collapse caused political collapse. Casual historians might note how that pattern echoed the fall of most empires going back to the fall of Rome. But it was never supposed to happen to America. The blessed antipodes were not supposed to be like everywhere else. They were supposed to be where the lights always stayed on. Always.

Well, sometimes.

As the US federal government shrank, retreated, and finally collapsed, new states sprang up soon after. New England, Tidewater, and the Free Imperial New York drew their lines along the east coast; Cascadia created itself and formed a personal union with the Californian Commonwealth on the west coast after the Jefferson Rebellion was put down; and the Texaplex Megapole asserted its authority over Texas and neighboring states promising protection against Norteño incursions. The Great Lakes Republic formed shortly and reluctantly afterwards, becoming a sprawling Germany-esque collection of mid-sized cities jockeying against one another.

The rest of America, its vast and abandoned plains, its hollowed-out mountains and sinking coasts, became ‘the manors,’ places where power had devolved down to the newest class of rural gentry: fast food franchisees, car dealerships, beverage distributors, and the like. They were small-business tyrants and petite-bourgeoise corporate middlemen who had spent their lives wishing for the government to hurry up and collapse already so that they could live out their fantasies of being petty kings, bandit chiefs, and lords of the manor (hence the name). They would not give up their fantasies without a bitter and bloody fight.

Also, Orlando had become the microstate of Disneystadt, the Founderist equivalent of Vatican City.

Also, the western side of Appalachia was now a khaganate.

Perhaps one day people would see it as something like the French Revolution or interwar period, as a goofy but brief period of liminal turmoil wedged between two separate worlds. Here is how some of her contemporaries saw it:

“They elected fucking Spongebob president,” said Cornelius Mammon, the pale and wraithlike governor of New England, seated at one end of a long semicircular table, lined with chairs along its curve, all facing a gigantic wall-mounted screen on the far end of the room. ‘Old money’ seemed inadequate to describe the austere and sunken appearance of Cornelius; he was more like undead money. 

On the one hand, New England was populous, urbanized, relatively geographically sensible, united by a distinct and storied culture, and had been poised to shrug off the Polycrisis and carry on as normal. On the other hand, Boston and Philadelphia.

“Here I thought things were going to get back to normal,” Cornelius continued hoarily, “and now she’s going to rename the White House to ‘the Fun Zone.’ This is why democracy was a mistake.”

“Normal?” Young Oldman, governor of the Tidewater region, scoffed. He had a calculated plain appearance, revealing little about himself. Even his skin was a beige ‘off-white’ color that made people guess whether he was biracial or Middle Eastern or just a white guy with a tan. Ruling over the former head of the imperial American government and its intelligence apparatus, Young had learned to play it so close to the vest you’d need a seam ripper to get any answers out of him. He always kept his mouth shut.

Well, sometimes.

“Would that Sunny were some unwelcome intrusion of oddness into an otherwise august body. Have you seen the other nut bars we’ve been packed in here with?” Young jabbed a thumb at his neighbor, Vinny Vidivici, mayor of Free Imperial New York, who looked like a clogged shower drain that had gained sentience and put on a suit.

“You folks ever been to New York? We exchange money for goods and services there. Greatest fuckin city in the world baby,” Vinny said.

Young nodded and silently daydreamed about hunting him for sport.

“Personally, I think Sunny is just some GLN cabalist with a voice modulator,” said Johann van Gekkehuis, the pasty, gravelly-voiced, flannel-wearing governor of the Great Lakes Republic, with a bushy copper beard and a receding hairline, “have you ever seen her and Harold in the same room?”

“Yes,” said Young. Just because he played it close to the vest didn’t mean he couldn’t mess with people, and Johann was easy to mess with.

Johann had made his bones as a podcaster and had a natural talent for disguising all manner of conspiracy theories and ostensibly playful bigotry as good old-fashioned hard-nosed socialism. But being a conspiracy theorist wasn’t fun anymore. There was no point. The globalist puppet-masters didn’t hide in shadowy backrooms. They had HR departments, they had newsletters, they sent spam emails demonstrating the ways they controlled and surveilled every moment of your life, and that was so much more demoralizing than keeping it secret.

Behind Johann paced a meticulously handsome black man in a crisp navy blue suit, his eyes hidden behind a large pair of shades. He nodded to himself as he walked and talked into his headset. He was Michael McCoy, governor of the Piedmont region. Piedmont, encompassing the eastern half of Georgia and the Carolinas, was one of the newer states, and its constituents had carried the extra burden of rebuilding and reorienting themselves after the race war. They finished what the Northerners had started and then abandoned, two hundred years ago almost exactly, Northerners who decided they would let millions of black people linger as third-class citizens rather than hang even a few openly seditious gentlemen. But not Michael McCoy. Enough with being respectable, enough with being nonviolent, enough with taking the high road. Michael McCoy wanted blood.

That was a lie - Michael McCoy was an agricultural manager who rose to prominence shortly after the bloodshed had ended thanks to a series of excellent ad campaigns and his public image as a squeaky-clean family man. He simply enjoyed a victory lap as much as the next guy. And maybe wanted a little blood.

“Listen,” Michael said into his headpiece, “I’m not saying we need the change to be permanent. I just want it to be called ‘N[redacted]land’ for like a couple hours, then it can go back to being Piedmont. We don’t even have to tell anyone else about it.”

(Certain words have been redacted in the interest of not saying them. If you wish to see racial slurs, they can be unlocked by submitting proof of relevant ancestry to your local department of reclamation).

He listened through his earpiece, then scowled. “Why? I’ll tell you why - because then Sunny would have to say it on camera, and that would be fucking hilarious. See? You laughed, you get it. You want to know what would happen. It’s - listen, just - yeah - no - if - alright, alright, fine,” he sighed, “no name change. It’s staying as Piedmont. Y’all pussies.”

The atmosphere of general grumbling was interrupted by a choir of air horns blaring the opening bars to the Star Spangled Banner. The massive screen at the far end of the room turned itself on, revealing a towering Sunny Roosevelt with a long red dress and a thin, fuming smile.

“Hi! Wow. I heard all of that,” she said.

Michael McCoy took off his headset and looked up. “Miss Roosevelt, I have an urgent request-“

“No. Let’s get a few things straight here-” Sunny began.

“No, let’s you get something straight,” Cornelius fumed, jabbing a bony finger at her and half-standing up, “you have no power over us. You’re a fucking mascot, and we are the directors of-”

“Michael, slap him,” Sunny said.

Michael turned, grinned, and dutifully slapped Cornelius across the face in one smooth unhesitating motion. Cornelius was stunned into silence, looking between the two of them, not sure who to fume at. Young bit back a smile. Sunny pounced on the momentary silence.

“Okay, thing one - people actually like mascots. They do not like a bunch of rich old ghouls who are three minutes away from eating each other alive. Thing two - I’m so much more than a mascot. I’m a widely-beloved celebrity with millions of psycho-sexually obsessed followers hanging on my every word. So, what do you think that means for the next person who pisses me off?”

Nobody said a word, but as they pondered the threat of a weaponized legion of John Hinckleys, there was the sound of several sphincters involuntarily clenching (for the curious, it sounded a little like jumping on a rubber mat).

“That’s what I thought. You see this?” Sunny pointed at her own face, “this is Angry Sunny. You get Angry Sunny because you weren’t niceys to me. If you are niceys to me, you get Happy Sunny, and you want Happy Sunny. Happy Sunny will get you re-elected. Angry Sunny will kill you. Am I understood?”

There was a nervous, shifting silence as the east coast branch of Neo-Congress began to digest their new situation, except for Michael, who was hoping he would get to slap someone again.

“Am I understood?” she barked.

There were guilty, mumbled agreements. That would have to do for now. Sunny snapped her fingers. Her red dress became shorter and frillier. A blue collar lined with white stars appeared on her shoulders. Even the lines of her face became softer and more youthful. Happy Sunny clasped her hands together and smiled radiantly.

“That’s great! I’m so glad we got that little whoopsie-doodle figured out, and I’m sure it won’t happen again. I’m looking forward to working with all of you towards our common goal of making America… well, extant again.” 

[onebadnoodle]

starfire sketches. might draw designs for the other titans idk

[lunarharp]

hi

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Art vs Artist 2023!! 💥 I didn't expect the year to be so colourful... but there is a Severe lack of purples. Anyway, it was a literal struggle trying not to add Pavitr art because he keeps infiltrating every month T-T

Happy to say I'm proud of the art evolution! Thank you Spider-Verse for pushing me outside the box and really embracing the fun and whimsical style of Mumbattan. Who knew mimicking old timey comics would be so much fun?

high quality versions of the above images under the cut!!

i fuckin love this clip i want it tattooed on my soul

[scoliosisgoblin]

doodles, idk

[seagull-scribbles]

destined to be up here forever...

[jrueships]

why is Jare kinda hot lol like even in that video w kyrie i was thinking he sounded so silly but he looked good doing it!

do you forgive him for this because i dont

[the-trans-dragon]

Hehehe >:3 got a kissie and some headpats from a pretty girl >:3 muahahahahahaha >:3

[heartlessmonsterlover]

[hyperfixtime]

adding Azz^2 made the scene too messy but I had to add him in, so he's the topic of conversation :D

[ladyaster]

I’ve seen some people politely ask why there’s a lot of love for PermafrostShipping going around and like I dunno about the rest of you but I just saw a meme of them while I was delirious at 4 AM and at first I laughed but then I went “BUT WHAT IF-” and now I’m in too deep. Please send help.

[t1taniumninja]

hmmm

[bigfrogdraws]

based off those two cats you know the ones