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harmoonix · 4 months

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✴ꪻꫝꫀ ꪀꪮ᥅ꪻꫝ ᦓꪻꪖ᥅✴

(Astrology Notes)

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🌟 - Aries/Capricorn/Libra/Cancer in big 6 (Sun, Moon, Rising, Venus, Mercury, Mars) = Cardinal energy they bring to beginnings, changes, create new foundations and balances the world

🌟 - Taurus/Leo/Scorpio/Aquarius in big 6 Sun, Moon, Rising, Venus, Mercury, Mars) = Fixed energy, they make it to happen, action, inovation, hardworking, complexity

🌟 - Gemini/Virgo/Sagittarius/Pisces in big 6 Sun, Moon, Rising, Venus, Mercury, Mars) = Mutable energy, they bring the endings, flexible, adaptable, chameloens of the zodiac, old and wise

🌟 - Moon in Gemini Degrees 3°, 15°, 27° really know how to express themselves, they talk so smoothly and with ease, very intelligent as well

🌟Venus in Cancer/Venus in the 4th house loves to give hugs. This is something they adore to do, giving hugs and receiving hugs is like a love sign for them

🌟Sagittarius/Gemini Venus may have multiple love signs because they can't stand to only one loving thing to show their love for their partners

🌟The Degrees you have on your IC can show how you may like to decorate your home

Leo Degrees (5°, 17°, 29°) = Definitely a lot of lights, maybe neon signs aswell, golden hour aesthetics, beige/yellow colors

Scorpio Degrees (8°, 20°) = I see them following the traditional vibes maybe with brown/black/white and even gray, maybe vintage style, dreamcatchers, posters with their favorite singers/celebrities etc

Pisces Degrees (12°, 24°) = Turquoise/Green/Emerald colors, they may have or love tank fish, aquariums, comfortable bed, maybe neon star stickers/moon neon stickers who shine in the dark

Libra/Taurus Degrees (2°, 7°, 14°, 19°, 26°) = White/Pink maybe even purple, flowers/butterfly stickers, maybe quotes stickers, always making sure their room smells good

Virgo Degrees (6°, 18°) = Beige/Gray/Yellow and light brown colors, definitely a lot of photos with aesthete places/sun/forests/lakes maybe even with their friends

Aquarius Degrees (11°, 23°) = Definitely a lot of trendy things in their room, combined/mixed colors, a lot of selfies with them or their friends on walls, organized room, fresh, futuristic, a lot of neon lights

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🌟 - Venus in the 1st/5th/10th/11th and 12th house may like cinematography, the art of the movies, acting, theater etc

🌟 - Uranus aspecting the Sun have an electric beauty, they're very outgoing with their friends and love the way they are

🌟 - Jupiter in the 6th house is one of the luckiest placements to have if you want to improve yourself/your mental health and your work because it will extend those things and give you so many opportunities

🌟 - Chiron in the 1st house natives are so pretty when they'll realize that being insecure about themselves is nothing wrong and is time to start to like yourself because you are very beautiful!!

🌟 - Pluto trine/sextile North Node natives have a high chance to go through some sort of evolution and transformation in their life, mostly developing in childhood

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🌟 - Uranus/Neptune in the 9th house is a very spiritual placement, it makes the native to be more aware of themselves and to explore their curiosity for spirituality

🌟 - Mercury/Gemini/Virgo in the 10th house makes the native to have a powerful voice in the world, their voice can influence others, they are also very Intelligent and strategic

🌟 - Libra/Taurus and Pisces/Scorpio Moons can be attracted to architecture, they will definitely explore the place's style first

🌟 - Moon/Mercury/Venus in Fire Houses (1st, 5th, 9th) are fiercely passionately in love, they can share a beautiful love language, intense, a sharp tongue

🌟 - Moon in the 8th house is one of the most mysterious placements for the moon, the native is fully aware of the things happening in their life and their own evolution

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🌟 - Saturn in the 1st/6th and 12th house can have issues with being organized or keeping themselves healthy, sometimes they can get too tired aswell

🌟 - Asteroid Sirene (1009) in the 6th/12th house house are embodying the Sirene energy in their lives everyday, sometimes even without realizing. This energy is so dangerous yet so pure

🌟 - Asteroid Karma (408) in Libra or in the 7th house can indicate karmic relationships, and karmic partners (meeting partners with the same hobbies/interests/haibts as your exes ?? ya that's a sign)

🌟 - Asteroid Hebe (6) aspecting Venus indicates a young beauty no matter the age, your beauty still shines over the years just like in your Childhood

🌟 - Valentine asteroid (447) in the 6th/8th house have a unique love language, they're very sacrificial in their relationships

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🌟 - Valentine in aspects with Eros (433) makes the native to be erotic in their relationships, they seek for love/romance and want the same from their partners

🌟 - Moon in Air Signs can find themselves liking more music styles/listening to more than one genre, 1 song can be rock and the next one can be pop and so on..

🌟 - A fire Venus will love you with everything they have, fire is represented by passion and power, sometimes they can be too clingy

🌟 - Scorpio Venus/Venus in the 8th house can experience attracting people with the same toxic habits over and over, that's why you'll need standards

🌟 - 5th house ruled by Mercury/Jupiter or Moon will put the communication as an important key in their relationships, without communication you have nothing

🌟 - I can already tell Moon - Pluto aspects people hate endings, they don't like when things don't end (and is worse when they end on bad terms), because their mind keeps thinking about it

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🌟 - I have Uranus quintile Venus and that aspect makes me to be very tranquil about the relationships and the people I'm with. No rush with Uranus

🌟 - North Node aspecting the ascendant (minor aspects included) have the lessons to discover themselves, that's the theme for life. Don't listen to x, don't listen to y..only to yourself

🌟 - I can tell Sagittarius/Leo and Scorpio Mars men like to walk around the house naked 😭💀, always forgetting their damn clothes

🌟 - Mercury aspecting Mars talk really fast when they're mad like they be rapping in the same, I have a 10% chance to understand them taliing when these natives are into a angry mood

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🌟 - Pluto aspecting the south node can indicate being abused in a past life, or bullied. I remember reading about it was something about the finding your own power within yourself in this life time .

🌟 - Ascendant aspecting Venus are so so so likely to be crushed on, just because their energy/aura is so lovely and charming

🌟 - Cancer & Libra Placements mood changes based on the weather/season I swear they can be so depressed in the winter/fall and so happy in the summer/spring

🌟 - Capricorn Sun/Moon/Rising had to get mature from a young age that's why they got the thing with "being wise being sassy" because they work for what they got.

🌟 - This is really serious like 12th house placements really need to prioritize sleep a lot, guys sleeping is actually healing it isn't just going into bed and closing your eyes

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✨ Beautiful space post ✨

✨ I hope you all have a good day today full of light, love and good vibes ✨💅🏼💅🏼💅🏼

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#astro observations #astrology #birth chart #astro notes #astrology observations #placements #astro community #horoscope #ascendant #venus #astro.com #astrolog #astro.seek #star #sky #sun #space #aesthetic

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perilusjax · 17 days

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Dp x dc

The Warrior of Hope

A spear thrusted into the creature, the weapon glowed a neon green. There were swarms of them all over the city. Standing in the middle was a lone figure. He wore greek styled armor with a pteruges. His muscular figure peaked through his unarmored portions.

A spear in one hand and a shield in another. He battled through the horde, not stopping for a moment. With a yell, the warrior slammed his foot onto the floor, a blast of ice speared into the beings.

Taking a quick breather, the warrior's head snapped up. A figure flying towards him at extreme speeds.

After a few seconds, the person slammed into the concrete, picking up dust and cracking the ground. As the person stood, they were a woman. Her flowing black hair was held back by a starred tiara. She was none other than Diana of Themyscara, also known as Wonderwoman.

She looked towards the warrior before her, the princess taking in the warrior before her. Yet before she could say anything, ice cracked.

Quickly turning around she socked the being Lunging towards her, sending it flying into others. She took a step back, meeting another body. Quickly turning her head, the saw the warrior in a similar position his shield raised.

Their eyes met, one a crystal blue the other an emerald green. They nodded in understanding, and the new allies began their battle.

The fought side by side, slaying the monsters surrounding them. Cutting through their enemies like nothing, they were completely in sync. They fought as if they were dancing, twirling around one another.

A bright flash spread throughout the battlefield, the creatures disappearing as it washed through them. The two warriors finally able to breathe in relief.

They sized each other up, taking in their appearance.

Diana barely reached his chest, the amazonian having to look up at him. His armor was well fitted, the cloth hugging his frame, while the armor left room for flexibility.

His amor was pitch black except for lines of blue scattered throughout. He wore a pair of leather sandals, the strappes going up his to his knees.

"Well met warrior, what is your name," Diana asked the man.

Looking down at the Princess of Themyscara, the man's cold eyes softened as if looking at an old friend.

"I am Elpis, Diana of Themyscara the spirit of hope and son of Nyx," the now revealed Elpis replied.

Diana's eyes widened in surprise not expecting such a warrior to be the embodiment of hope.

"It is an honor to meet you lord Elpis," Diana greeted the being with a bow.

"No need for the false subservience Diana, I am no Olympian. Now come, there are many who need the hope of heroes," Elpis said, dismissing her attempts to appease him.

The two began two fly, searching for citizens to help.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #danny is hope #Danny is adopted by Nyx #Danny is the reincarnation of Elpis #Diana and Danny become besties #Danny trained with Pandora #Danny loves to be in Nyx's presence #he can see the stars in her cloak so clearly its like the night sky for him #dcxdp #dpxdc #Danny gives the GL crew a small power boost whenever he is close

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moondirti · 1 year

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animalic (3)

← chapter two // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: he's got a plan that neither of you like warnings: enemies to lovers, predator/prey dynamics, biting, bondage, temporary paralysis, concussions, miguel is not nice, no use of y/n notes: this was supposed to be longer but the cut off at the original point was super awkward. this chapter is super exciting for all you fang lovers out there

You really can’t catch a break.

The city bustles with a verve rivalling your own, a kaleidoscope of luminescence dancing upon the glass facades of its skyscrapers. Their spires pierce the ink-dark cloak of night, and if you weren’t so busy running for your life, you’d stop to admire the way their aviation obstruction lights mimic the stars back home.

(Everything has a trade off, you suppose. You remember what it was like as light pollution gave away to reveal the cosmos above, the beauty of it lost upon your own grief.)

Now, it’s fear – clinging like a shadowy spectre to your heels. The pavement is unforgiving beneath you, each step sending a jolt of energy through your bones. Despite it, you can’t go any faster. Sidewalks crowd with the humdrum of everyday life – people filtering out from work and bodegas, dressed in a slightly odd fashion, their clothes a reminder of your unfamiliar landscape. Car horns blend into one another, providing an unsteady tempo to the race of your heart.

It’s disorienting, all of it. Times like these, you wish you’d been given the opportunity to hone your abilities. Stamina, flexibility. Web shooters in particular would have proved handy in avoiding the bustle of the ground.

Of course, he has that advantage on you too.

You can’t see Miguel, but you sense his proximity. It prods you, nipping at your flesh in a constant assault, intensifying goosebumps and raising hairs. Your spider sense usually doesn’t last this long, solely serving as a warning for immediate danger. Yet that’s just what he is, immediate. Dangerous. Predatory eyes track your every move, sourced from all directions. He’s everywhere; atop buildings, within alleys. Neon signs morph into twisted apparitions; serrated talons, red skulls.

How did he track you down so fast?

The day pass?

You wonder if he’d brought back-up – whether there are other spider-heroes here who trust in his noble cause. Your anxiety triples, and passerby’s begin to warp too. Their hurried footsteps now strike discordant notes, amplifying your isolation. You think you see some tense their wrists, or unbutton their coats, ready to reveal their tailored suits and ensure the capture you’ve managed to evade thus far.

It’s luck. It’s only ever been luck, and that fact changes depending on who you ask. You’ve never outsmarted him, never disabled him. You just so happen to have the power of being a pain in his ass.

Something itches at you, though. A nagging sense of foreboding. His presence in the past has spurred chagrin, annoyance, and – admittedly – arousal. But the genuine terror that lights your nerves now is new. Perhaps because you understand him, are far more familiar with his pride than most. The logical part of you can predict that he won’t let you off so easily, not after your stunt with the kiss. You won’t – can’t – get away this time, even if it damn well nearly kills him.

Any hope you had of a bargain dissipates, rolling back from shore and into the depths of an elusive sea. You jerk the rubber band off your wrist, throwing it into some undisclosed corner.

In a then desperate bid to throw him off, your path loses cohesion. Like a leaf seized by a tempest, you turn based on split-second instinct, weaving through the labyrinth of New York’s grid. Your body sways in frenzy, bolstered by pure adrenaline, which works to dim everything else. Your ribs haven’t fully healed yet – they’d taken a pretty bad beating upon your last fight with Miguel – but you can barely feel the ache as you focus purely on the task at hand.

Your determination surges, recklessness taking hold of your rationale. Veering abruptly, you just about collide with the racing line of cars that flow at a green light. In fact, you think you do. Your skin prickles, and a taxi runs straight through you, blearing a loud honk all the while. Some vehicles break off, drifting around your form at the last minute. In your peripheral, you can see the glowing red of your pursuers web, stretched across the gap between two apartment complexes.

Chest tightening, your breathing loses depth at the sight, shallowing to leave room for the distress that torrents up your system. You clamber up on the hoods of parked cars, using a mast arm pole to propel yourself forward. It’s a fruitless effort. You know it’s too late – have known it since he walked into that convenience, prowling in search of one thing.

(A lion only catches its prey a quarter of the time. But that twenty-five percent?)

Your ankle is the first victim to his hardwearing web, wrapped in the silk and pulled out from underneath you. The back of your head smacks into the concrete below, a high pitched ring reverberating through your skull upon impact. The collision sends a shock wave of pain throughout your being, and in that harrowing moment, everything stutters to a crawl. Spots speckle behind your clenched eyelids, metallic warmth flooding your mouth.

Well, fuck.

To add insult to injury, your atoms rip apart and splice into one another, a consequence of your abandoned day pass. The glitch aggravates the headache that begins to pound at you. You’d allowed yourself to forget how bad it could be.

The willpower that had just played a forefront in your mind steadily starts to trickle out, absorbed by your humiliation and the ground below.

“You really gonna give up that easily?”

Yes.

You make a point to never lie to yourself. In truth, you won’t ever get enough of Miguel’s cadence. Deep and resonant – it smoulders with a charred ruggedness. Commanding attention, rumbling like distant thunder, an unmistakable authority woven into each word. Yet, even amidst the rough contours, there lingers a softness, a subtle grace that soothes the edges of his threats.

(Sharp claws, sharp teeth, sharp cheekbones. Soft voice.)

More webs bind you, erupting from an unclear point to circle your legs, chest, and secure your arms behind your back. You’re diminished to little more than an aggravated caterpillar, ensnared in a spider’s web. And, just as his little game of bondage draws to a close, said spider stalks within view, splitting through the crowd that quickly forms around the commotion.

With his mask on, he stands as completely impenetrable. You, on the other hand, try to reduce your quivering the best you can, afraid of relaying how truly pathetic you feel.

“Maybe I’m biding my time.” You bite back, calling on a complete bluff. “I’m sure you know how good I am at that?” It’s a low blow. Even if you could control when and where to phase out, you wouldn’t get very far before he catches up to you again.

But Miguel doesn’t waver in his closing in – not until he towers over you, looking down at your incapacitated state. Space buckles under the gravity of his existence; you, too, can feel yourself sinking, drawn in closer by the credence that bubbles off him in flares. You wish you had a cover – your pair of makeshift goggles, a face mask, anything that could elevate you to a degree relative to his. But you’re bare, figuratively naked, and you’ve never hated him more.

He lingers, assessing you, weighing his options. The moment he turns to survey the mass of people who look on inquisitively, you wiggle upward into a sitting position, then throw your head forwards, aiming for his crotch. His wrist gets in the way, though, blocking your pitiful attack on his only defenceless area. Your forehead cracks against his dimensional travel watch, shattering its screen.

“Tu puta madre!” Miguel hisses, snapping back to survey the gadget while you begin to slink away. He seems to have an eye on you, however, because you’re tugged back just as soon as you make the effort.

Like a naughty cat. You shift uncomfortably at the thought.

“Are you gonna spend all night deciding what to do with me, then? I have plans, even if you don’t.”

“Plans. I have plans alright.” The low timbre of his threat slices you where it hurts.

With a calculated flex of his shoulders, he crouches down, gathering the webs around your arms. They serve as leverage when he hauls you upward, exercising his muscles – of which you’d suspected had been padding up to this point – with one swift motion. The world upends on itself, nausea enveloping your senses with its oppressive weight. It allows space for little else; not the uncertainty, not the trepidation. You divert all your efforts on keeping your scarce lunch down, accepting the possibility of a concussion by product of his less-than-refined manhandling.

The journey to wherever he takes you is not at all long enough for you to recover. Before you know it, he’s busting through the creaky door of an empty storelot, carelessly tossing you to the floor. Your vision doubles.

Yeah. Definitely a concussion.

Like you could afford one right now.

“You’ll stay, and you’ll listen.” He points an accusatory finger.

“Sure. Until I’ve had enough, that is.”

“And where would you go, exactly?”

“Nice try, O’hara. Like I’d tell you,” Snickering, you let your head roll to face the ceiling. The action sends you back to earlier, to the robbery you’ve been seeking to suppress. How careless you’d been, letting your fortune to date trick you into thinking that any collateral was safe too. You’d killed that woman. You. “Maybe I’ll fall right through the floor. That way, you’ll never have to worry about seeing me again.”

The notion makes him pause mid-pace, hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at you with what you imagine is the most earnest glare. The air bobs, suspended in static tension, a crackling constant that only unravels once he seems to make up his mind.

Marching forward, he drags you along with him to a nearby wall, upon which he then pushes you upward until you have to look down to meet his eyeline. Your bound legs kick forward, but the struggle hardly affects him.

“I didn’t want to resort to this.”

You assume he means treating you like a toddler does its shiny new toy, hurling you across this playpen of a city. “You really didn’t have to, then.”

He stays quiet, fists clenching tighter around you.

“I suppose we’re past the courtesy of letting the other recover from the last fight before starting a new one? My forearm is still fucked, thanks to you. Maybe if you’d given it some time, I would’ve proved more of a challenge today.” Your words, whilst never your most steadfast allies, betray you in lieu of this restlessness, tumbling forth with unruly incoherence.

Miguel's mask pulls back, the nanotech collapsing to just above his adams apple. Your mouth moves faster.

“Okay, I get it. The fate of the multiverse and all that. I’ll listen, whatever you want, but at least try and make the lecture original.”

His hand cups your jaw, tightening around your chin to firmly guide it upwards. Your throat stretches taut at the motion, its smooth expanse spread across the wall – an evening repast for a party of one. The imagery breaks down an all too sobering realisation into fragments small enough for you to register. His talons rest against your cheek, bordering perilously close to your waterline.

Traces of that patchouli aftershave hit you. His skin looks especially bronzed in the dark, highlighted at the edges from the phosphorescence outside. His curls droop where they’re plastered to a sweat slicked hairline.

You can’t help it. Your gaze flickers down to those plush lips.

Fuck. Fuck. It’d felt so good to kiss them.

Please let this just be a kiss.

“O-Or go with the… the usual, y’know. I don’t–”

Miguel lunges, sinking his fangs into the fleshy sinew of your neck.

Christ.

Your jaw hangs open, but no breaths filter in. Shock wedges itself at the site of his bite, implacable, steadfast as a barrier between logic and uninhibited emotion. Your reasoning plays no part in this, provides absolutely no valuable contribution to the series of reactions you undergo.

It’s physical, first. The cold slither of paralytic venom distends through your nerves, neurotoxins striking their functions, rendering them useless beyond the point of sensation. Which, you’d say, is the cruellest part. Miguel’s poison doesn’t stop you from feeling anything; not the puncture, nor the burn. You can truly feel it, trekking its graceful path to all muscles in your body, taking hold of the tissue, suppressing their vitality. Your back arches, your body doing its very best to fight what it cannot prevent. It cracks up your bone, down your spine. Your toes unfurl, fingers loosening to hang lamely at your side.

And, when you lose all executive authority over yourself, you’re pulled in to centre on his mouth again. His canines slowly retract, tongue taking their place. It’s warm – so fucking warm – and dextrous, covertly lathering the blood that beads down your nape.

Your last proper breath is wasted on a whine; a loud, keening, absolutely wanton whine. After it, you can do nothing but hold your flat inhales to cycle in as much oxygen as possible – diaphragm weak, your resolve weaker.

Miguel draws away, letting you slump to the floor, heavy and just as useless as a sack of flour. He wipes the excess carmine from his chin, kneeling to regard your glassy eyed stare.

“Fall through now, and you’re as good as dead.”

(You might as well already be.)

chapter four →

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vigilskeep · 1 day

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hello! you know a lot of dragon age lore so i thought id ask you— i saw a post earlier that was discouraging to me aa trans person where the op said that veilguard having top surgery scars in the cc goes against established worldbuilding. does it make sense for top surgery to be possible in thedas? thanks

my rule of thumb is that in a world where healing spells exist, there’s absolutely no logical, believable reason for it not to be possible. you don’t have to go back and provide sources about historical surgeries—which is something i personally know nothing about—for this to be true

like, i just can’t take this line of thought seriously. ohhh we can have floating cities and magical neon lights and spirit healers who can mend injuries just by passively standing next to you, but we draw the line as soon as it’s something that would make our trans players happy! it’s so transparent. do not listen to these people or let them discourage you

if you want to get into the worldbuilding potential of it—which is just fun to do—we can probably guess that for the top surgery scars to be as neat as they seem to look in the veilguard character creator, similar to modern ones, magical healing was involved. now i do believe that the chantry might get suspicious of body-altering magic, that magical power is hoarded by the circles in the south and the wealthy in the north, and also that “out” trans people are a minority in thedas. so i’m not saying that this is something easy for your average guy to get hold of. that’s where you can feed it into backstory. are they powerful and connected enough that they could find specialists willing to go beyond the ordinary? or do they have underground connections to hidden apostate healers, whose only priority is what helps (or perhaps just how much you’re willing to pay)? do they belong to a culture that might not be restricted by the chantry’s norms about gender or magic, like the dalish or the rivaini? or do they belong to a mage-focused community or order, who among themselves do whatever they like? endless options

some might be referring to a line in dai from krem, a trans man, where you can ask him about potentially changing his body with magic and he essentially says he wouldn’t let magic that could do that anywhere near his body, though when he was younger he might have dreamed about the possibilities. firstly, krem is absolutely not the gold standard for trans representation and nobody should care about being flexible from what bioware put out a decade ago. secondly, krem is a random mercenary who knows one (1) mage, who spends the entire time insisting she’s not a mage. i very much doubt he’s the no. 1 source for what might be magically possible in this or any regard

also ultimately, and i cannot express this enough, you can do whatever you want forever. it could be absolutely fundamentally impossible in-world somehow and it would still not be that serious to be “unrealistic” in the dragon video games. don’t let anyone discourage you from making the character you want to make. it being an option makes it canonically part of thedas, end of. they put it in the game and nobody bitching about it can take it out

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nobody-nexus · 4 months

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Finally... It's Here...

After being silent for a bit, I've got enough art to properly show off this AU that I've been DEEPLY working on...

I give you... The Amazing Digital Dance Rush AU.

Or- just Dance Rush for short

Dance Rush is an AU where the TADC cast is thrusted into a rhythm game instead of a sandbox game- this game making humans step into the shoes of performing idols, all working both against and with one another in order to get to the VERY top. Pomni is the newest idol for the game, and she now is determined to drop the whole pyramid of overworked misery while trying to figure out how the inner mechanisms of this place work, even if the truth is more horrid then one might believe....

================================================

This AU uses a lineless style as a way to make it feel almost cell shaded in a sense, but also as a new way to keep this AU fresh. The setting is neon Vocaliod and sci-fi esc in nature, giving off a feeling of futuristic but simple all the same

Now let's-

MEET THE IDOLS!

Pomni is our protagonist and the last to join the game. Inspired by DDR, her performances are based on dancing choreography by using her flexibility and quickness to adapt to her advantage

Ragatha is one of the six idols that Pomni meets as she tries to get more used to the world. Inspired by Project Diva, Rags is all about audience participation- her lovely optimism and charm making chants, encores, and singing along a breeze

Jax is the 'top' of the leaderboard, and another idol for Pomni to meet. Inspired by Just Dance, Jax's main this is... well... thirst trapping. He uses his body, dance moves, and other various body motions to make the crowd to wild

Gangle is one of the more unhinged members of the idol life. Inspired by Crypt of the Necrodancer, Gangle uses music to tell her stories. Her fans adore every moment (with her comedy mask of course)

Zooble is another idol, and the one that came before Pomni. Inspired by Beat Saber of all things, they're most known for their transitions and transformations, leaving their fans amazed by the grungier singing voice mixed with the eye catching transitions

Kinger is the idol who has been here the longest yet is the second to last on the leaderboard. Inspired by oddly enough Rhythm Heaven, he has the best singing voice out of the cast. This results in his medium fanbase adoring him

Caine. The real top of the leaderboard, and the most powerful idol in the game. Inspired by OSU- his perception of how performances should feel and hear is truly unmatched. How could one compare?

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Because I love this AU so much to the point where I have FAR too much information on it, I made myself an askblog ALL about this AU in perticular, and one I'll be reblogging every answer for

The askblog is @theamazingdigitaldancerush and I hope you go ask your questions for it there instead of in my main blog as to not clog up TOO many things

I hope the wait was worth it cause lineless is difficult to do all together. Plus I haven't even touched the NPCs yet- however that's a post for another day

I can't wait for you to see what I do next ^^

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homoquartz · 1 month

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thinking of light in dead boy detectives

the lantern light of edwin giving comfort to charles, and guiding him through death. the lantern light of charles, offering comfort to edwin and ushering him out of hell.

but there's also the lighthouse episode. angie's light as a lure for people whose hearts ache for love from someone who is distant from them. a guide to a cruel death.

the lighthouse itself casting occasional flashes over the group as charles beats the night nurse into the ocean. echoing the lights going on and off in the devlin house, bright when the horror is at its worst and dark when all is quiet

the lanterns in the forest episode, passed back and forth between them, to see the way apart from each other and back again. the cat king's chandelier, spotlighting him in the darkness, another lure.

in fact, the neon signs in his bachelor pad, the neon lights at the butcher, modern and novel to edwin, moments of forced growth when they are near

niko's colorful lights, demanding attention that will kill her, but also drawing in the best friends she has ever had

the lights of the afterlife, blue and red, one for edwin and one for charles, an invitation, a warning, a doorway.

the glow of kashi's ring on the night nurse's finger, reminding her of the virtue of being flexible, leading her to take a new path

the boys, reduced to their barest elements as two small orbs of light

niko, waiting in some kind of spiritual realm with the northern lights trailing overhead

#i had a rough day obviously #dead boy detectives #probably not intentional motifs but they are there

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gatheringbones · 10 months

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[“As history has shown, and as I was at the time experiencing, a strap-on can be sexy, but it can also be a failure and a threat. It draws attention to how contradictory and fragile our definitions of male and female are, and how tightly we cling to them, even in relationships between women, where gender and sexuality are more flexible.

I think it’s important to look at how this played out, not just in the history of straight men policing lesbians but in the lesbian community policing itself. In the 1940s and 50s a bar scene began to develop in cities across the country, marking the first time when lesbians, particularly working-class ones, gathered publicly and in large numbers. During this time a butch/femme culture developed that included strict codes of dress and behavior both in and outside the bedroom. Butch women slicked back their hair, wore suits and jeans, and were, generally, the “givers” of sexual pleasure. Femme women wore dresses and makeup and were the “receivers” of sexual pleasure. In some ways, this culture was liberating, as it represented a powerful, cohesive group aesthetic and safety in numbers. Especially for women who actually identified as butch, it was also a chance to finally adopt masculine dress without being seen as failed or dangerous but rather as sexy and loveable. For others this culture was a trap, pushing women into restrictive sex and gender roles in the same ways heterosexuality had. It is by no means the only lesbian aesthetic, but I think part of the reason it has stuck around for so long in the popular imagination as the way lesbians are is because it allows straight people to again see themselves as the center of the sexual world.

In either case, strap-ons were not widely used, or at least not talked about. In Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold, a book that documents the lives of Black and white lesbians in Buffalo, there is a pretty exhaustive set of interviews about sex acts and terminology, but no one mentions owning, liking, or even trying sex with a strap-on. Indeed, the one mention of a dildo is one of bewilderment as Vic, a self-identified butch, talks about her friend pulling her into the bathroom to show her the new strap-on she got. “Jesus, she whipped this thing out . . . I’m supposed to be butch and my face felt like a neon sign. I could feel the embarrassment. How do you admire a dildo? No seriously, what do you say?”

Butches in the book took great pride “in their own hands and their ability to please,” which “did not dispose them to think that a dildo would improve their lovemaking.” It’s interesting that they considered the dildo less potent and successful than hands. This could be read as displacing the power of the dick, but, coupled with the silence surrounding strap-on use, it also points to a greater fear about the lesbian body. How regulated and small it had to be to exist. How easily it could be diminished by something outside itself, or destroyed altogether.

In the lesbian radical feminist movement of the 1960s and 70s, there was also a great deal of attention focused on creating distance from dicks. Jill Johnston argued in A Lesbian Nation that the only true road to female liberation was the conscious “withdrawal at every level from the man to develop woman supremacy.” This meant that not only butch/femme dynamics but also penetrative sex were out. Anne Koedt developed the theory that the vaginal orgasm was a myth perpetrated by Freud in order to center male sexual desire for penetration, though her evidence for this was a study done by Kinsey—a man—that found the vagina was not particularly sensitive to touch. True orgasms, Koedt argued, only came from the clitoris—even though she interestingly also called the clit “the female equivalent of the penis”—so if women wanted to have enjoyable sex there was no need for penetration, only clitoral stimulation. Andrea Dworkin went so far as to call the penis “a hidden symbol of terror” and argued that “violence is male, the male is the penis.”

Dorothy Allison writes about the effects this had on herself and other lesbians at the time. “No one admitted to using dildos, wanting to be tied up, wanting to be penetrated, or talking dirty—all that male stuff . . . my lover wanted us to perform tribadism, stare into each other’s eyes, and orgasm simultaneously. Egalitarian, female, feminist, revolutionary.” In attempting to free themselves from the penis, in many ways radical lesbians ended up reinscribing the power of the dick and sacrificing the range of sexual pleasure they could experience in the process.

In a counter to this, the lesbian sexual outlaws of the 1970s, 80s, and 90s argued that dildos were actually great, not problematic, but primarily because they didn’t reference the penis at all. Some even argued that wearing a dildo turns a woman into a cyborg, not woman, man, or even human, just a body involved in the mechanistic movements of giving and receiving pleasure. While there is something freeing about this argument, as it gets us out from under the idea that we can’t talk about strap-ons and that a woman wearing a strap-on is only trying to make up for a never-ending lack, it still bypasses the sticky, complicated reality of the gendered/human world we live in and the simple fact that sometimes lesbians want strap-ons to look like penises.

All of this begs the question: can a dyke wear a dick and just have some damn fun?”]

amy gall, from my dick, your dick, our dick, from wanting: women writing about desire, 2023

#amy gall #lesbian literature #currently reading #saint vallous #history stuff

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