#they're more ruined but the core is the same

[maegalkarven]

No but I'm obsessed with the situationship where Durge and Karlach are friends, Durge and Gortash are lovers and Gortash and Karlach can't stand each other.

Also,depending on Durge, the Durgetash reveal can be messy af with both Durge and Karlach reacting violently, Karlach at the fact what her friend is the architect of that mess and Gortash's lover and Durge at her and the team's reaction.

Bonus point if Durge is loyal to Gortash to a fault bc they went against their Father's direct wishes bc of the affection towards that man, and everyone having an awful time dealing with it.

[cainite-bite]

Here’s my gaming hot take;

im so saddened, and sick and tired of the fact that so many games are being flooded with chuds who want to turn everything competitive and don’t know how to fucking have fun

“I only play to climb ranks/win for a team/will scream insults if you aren’t in a clan” thats fine and dandy but you keep joining matches and staying in matches with like 9 other players who do not give a flying fuck and would rather not deal with your howler monkey ass screaming at the top of your lungs when you die once and decide to rage quit. Most people don’t care about your K-D or the fact you’re in some superficial and stupid clan full of other fragile egos. Learn to have fun instead of compensating for the fact you never bothered to practice anything else to become skilled in and can’t make your parents proud of you with literally anything (and thus screaming at others to take it out on them).

And I hate the fact that devs, sometimes much to their own detriment, are trying to cater to the merry little band of shrieking donkeys by gearing up all their shit for just that and trying to pretend the casual crowd isn’t there

[bunnys-kisses]

hey bunny !! can i get butter tart + soufflé with mai tai + sparkling water with oscar piastri please ?? extra service dom osc if you can pls🥰

-🗞️

bakery menu

want to submit your own fic? then check out the menu! there's something for everyone and i hope you enjoy it! if you have any questions please feel free to message me, i'm always happy to help! as for this lovely order, thank you for ordering! i love this combination, it's so cute. just a side note, i always find it cute that people request oscar in some of the most gentle situations. like various other drivers can vary depending on the order, but i find oscar the most consistent with like softer fics. which is fine! no judgement, i guess it just speaks to how he is in a way, haha. but thank you!

butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + soufflé: ("i'll be gentle.") + mai tai (loss of virginity) + sparkling water (gentle sex)

cw: smut/pwp, first time, virgin!reader, gentle sex, service dom!oscar, oscar takes your pleasure seriously, missionary. protected sex (smart oscar)

"i have an idea." oscar said one night, him curled into your side on the couch. his lips pressed against your temple, "i know you've been wanting to lose your virginity already. so tonight, let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

you froze, your eyes wide as you looked at your boyfriend. it wasn't that you didn't want to lose your virginity. it was just hearing your boyfriend ask in such a forward way made your core throb.

oscar noticed your expression and said quickly, "unless you don't want to! that's fine too! i just thought i'd ask!"

you took his hand and linked his fingers between yours and said, "oscar... let's do it." then smiled at him, "let's ruin ourselves for everyone else." and you watched oscar light up

oscar led you to the bedroom. you had slept in the same bed multiple times, he had even fingered you on two occasions, but it had never been like this. it wasn't that your virginity was some guarded secret or you were saving yourself for marriage.

you just wanted to sleep with someone you were in a relationship. you thought getting out high school would make that easier since you were in a bigger city now and had more confidence. but the sea of men who wanted a quick fuck was a huge turn off. so, you just never lost your virginity. and oscar was the total opposite of them, he wanted to make sure you felt no pressure to have sex with him.

"you don't owe me anything, i want you for all of you. not just your body." he said as he held you hand while you were out getting coffee. it was so endearing that it made you want to have sex with him. it wasn't about hooking up, oscar piastri loved you.

you started to get your clothes off while oscar found an unopened box of condoms from his desk drawer. you jokingly asked, "should i be worried?"

oscar looked over and went a bit pink in the face, "oh no! they're new. um, i thought that they were better to have then not having them. we have to be safe." he shook the package and smiled. it made you giggle.

"don't worry." you said as you got your socks off, "i was just wondering if you were hoping to get lucky tonight."

he replied, with such honesty, "well i am lucky every time i get to see you." then gave you a smile. you were a bit gobsmacked by his comment as he went back to the bed. he then started to undress as well.

you wanted to cover your face as you said, "thank you, oscar. thank you so much." and he leaned in to kiss you on the cheeks.

"no thanks needed." he said as he took a hold of your shoulders for a moment then kissed you on the lips once more. he eventually got his jeans off, and soon after you were both naked in bed. the light in the room was bright with the night sky coming in through the large windows of the room.

you felt like the center of oscar's world as he looked at you. he smiled at you before he gave you a sweet kiss.

"one last time, do you wan-"

you took him by the face, his boyish good looks made your stomach twist in knots. you were nervous, but excited. to be so close to him. you said with certainly. "yes. i want it."

he replied, "alright. i'll be gentle, i promise." then pulled away to grab one of the condoms and get between your legs. he could feel the excitement in his chest too. he would've loved to make love to you months earlier, but he wanted to make sure that you were okay with it.

sex is only fun with all partners are willing. and he wanted you more than willing. he got the condom on, he could feel the heat staining his cheeks. he said softly, "i love you."

you held one of the pillows on his bed up against your chest as you held onto it tightly. oscar angled your hips and said, "i love you too." before you felt his cock get into you.

oscar took his time, no rushing it. he shuddered, like ship breaking ice. oscar was the first person you'd ever have sex with. and it made his heart leap. while virginity was stupid, it touched a nerve in a part of his brain. it was a little erotic that he was your first. but as he kissed you, he knew that he loved you. he wasn't a virgin killer, he was your boyfriend.

"everything okay?" he asked as his gaze met yours. his breathing was already growing, it all felt so good. it made everything in his brain light up in the best was possible. he had some sexual experience, but to be this close to you was a feeling he had been searching for. happiness, lust, love, overwhelming joy, the thump in his chest as he softly moved against you.

you nodded and looked up at him. you smiled, you felt painfully in love. he respected you, was kind to you. he looked at you with such joy. you thought about his additions to small collection of cat themed knick-knacks the he picked up for you his travels. the late night phone calls and the homecomings. how he perked up when he saw you, the time he jokingly called you "his soul" in an interview and when you saw the clip of him saying that you almost spat out your coffee. oscar adored you, and that made you willing to sleep with him. because he respected you just as you did. a mutual admiration and love of one another.

"you're stunning, gorgeous. wow." he felt more heat in his face, "i don't think i have enough words to describe you. they should come up with new words."

you giggled and placed your hands over your face for a moment. you smiled widely under your hands as you said, "oh my god."

oscar had his hands on either side of you. his check close to the pillow on your chest. he said as he moved against you, "don't hide yourself. i want to see your face. c'mon."

you took your hands away and held onto the pillow once more, letting him move against you. his cock hitting all the right places. you said, "you always know how to make me feel loved."

he kissed your forehead, "of course. that's the goal." then started to move a little faster. the pleasure moved through both of you. you clenched your legs around your boyfriend's waist as you tried to meet his thrusts.

this felt good. there was no other way to put it. oscar loved it as did you. your pretty nails dug into the pillow as your boyfriend humped against you. it wasn't a heavy pace, just enough to make you both turned on.

"i love you."

"i love you too." you responded as oscar leaned in and kissed you on the lips. your heart fluttered as you moved with him. it felt incredible and oscar was inclined to agree. a perfect fit for one another.

"i love you." he said

"i love you too." you said again.

you soon clenched tightly onto the pillow you were holding onto. you moaned into the fabric of it as he continued to move against you. this was unlike anything you ever really felt. even toys didn't make you feel this good. it was like a current running through you. you felt fuzzy in the head but wide awake as all of it came to a climax. you let out a sweet noise that made your lover hot all over.

he watched you as he continued to move. to see you reach climax only made him want to move faster. to reach his own so close behind yours. he was proud he made you cum, that was a sign of honour in his eyes. that he knew how to make you feel good. and that he'd learn how to make you feel even better as time went on. a lady deserves to finish first. and oscar was happy to do his best to bring you to climax. he pulled out despite wearing a condom. he stroked his slick cock in the condom into his finished. his back hunched for a moment and fire licked his stomach.

you looked at one another and soon oscar's lips were on your once more. his softening cock got hard once more as you two moved in the bed, lips and hands on one another. something clicked between the two of you, you liked being intimate together. you liked having sex, it was fun. and when you pulled away from the kiss and panted out, "again. please."

oscar knew that he was in no position to deny you. <3

[daosies]

how they love you

xavier, rafayel ♡ gn!reader

warnings: major xavier and rafayel story spoilers, reader is the protagonist from the game (but gender neutral), rafayel is his own warning (hes a bit of a freak)

notes: im writing this like i understand xavier and rafayels lore (i dont. all i did was read up on reddit and the wiki before going straight off the dome.)

"xavier," jeremiah calls incredulously, "you're staring."

"no, i'm not," xavier lies straight through his teeth. his periwinkle eyes trail after you like they're bound to you, held together by a red string that knots at his irises.

(maybe they are.)

xavier blinks, resting for but a moment before his gaze returns. it'll always return—xavier thinks he does a lot of that. return.

"at least try to pretend," jeremiah remarks, tender expression betraying his incredulous tone. despite the fact that xavier is loitering in philo, posing a hazard to the nearby flora with his intense aura, jeremiah can't bring himself to say anything more.

xavier is in love—but that's not right, jeremiah thinks. xavier has always been in love. he loved you back in philos, in all your incarnations and the ones thereafter. xavier loved you when you sparred against him, when you rose to the throne, and even when you suffered and while everyone was against you, he loved you then, too.

jeremiah supposes that it's only right that xavier loves you now. because xavier loves with his whole being, it's not just his eyes that follow after you, but rather, his existence.

xavier follows you despite the era, traveling centuries back and staying just to catch a glimpse of you, to glimmer, ever so slightly, in your incomparable radiance.

we could go back, jeremiah thinks, conjuring up the possibility despite his nerves telling him not to. we could go back to philos. the core within your heart holds infinite possibilities.

if xavier wanted to, he could obtain your aether core, and that would be enough to return to the future—where you still exist, sure, but more importantly (to jeremiah, at least), where philos exists.

("we will not kill them," xavier muttered darkly, "do not bring this topic up again. i will find another solution.")

(and that was where jeremiah went wrong. because to xavier, philos is nothing. you have always been the whole, vast universe. you are the most important thing in this life, and the many more thereafter; and to xavier, no future matters except the one you exist in now.)

so, he did. he tried, at least. xavier scoured the ruined earth for protocores that could mimic the same capabilities of yours. he lived through centuries on earth, fighting for existence despite knowing that the answer lied, as it always has been, in you.

when your incarnation appeared, jeremiah never once doubted xavier's judgement. while the other backtrackers under xavier's command went mad, trying to harvest your aether core to return to philos, xavier fought—but more than that, actually. xavier loved.

xavier loved, no, loves, so fervently, so profoundly, that he killed the backtrackers who had tried to harm you. you are not the same incarnation that he loved back in philos, but the fact that it's you is enough for xavier to rid all doubts.

and jeremiah thinks that, despite xavier's desperate intent to return back to philos, he wouldn't mind living here on earth with you now. jeremiah has noticed that the fervent expression his captain once wore has dwindled into something more mellow, into something tender.

something like the looks he'd send to you from afar, chasing you across school rooftops and coexisting in between the clashing of blades—xavier loves.

and love has made him content. and love has made him present, when he never was before. when all he could do, prior to your incarnation's existence, was think of returning to philos.

(how could he return to philos when you're right here?)

"[name]," jeremiah calls, feigning ignorance to the way xavier glares at him, the captain's tender expression suddenly dissipating into nothingness. ouch, jeremiah thinks, mouthing to xavier, "you don't have to make it that obvious you don't like me."

"yeah?" you reply, glancing up from the foliage. xavier reaches over the many shelves of flora—much to jeremiah's dismay—before parting them to get a good look at your face. xavier smiles. jeremiah's jaw drops.

"did you find something you liked? you said you had to get a bouquet for a friend, right?" jeremiah asks, egging xavier on.

"a friend?" xavier echoes, not even bothering to look at the florista behind him.

"oh, yeah! i'm choosing a bouquet for this one guy—" jeremiah sees the way xavier's expression goes blank, lips thinning into a line whilst his periwinkle eyes, somehow, manage to retain their enamored look.

ah, jeremiah realizes, it's 'cause captain is still looking at them. of course it is—why did he expect any other reason?

although xavier remains silent, jeremiah knows that the only thing running through the captain's mind is: guy, guy, guy?!

"a guy?" jeremiah queries, deciding to put xavier out of his misery.

"yeah. he worked with my grandma when she was younger, but i have to deliver it through one of my friends because he lives in the arctic..."

"that means he's old," jeremiah whispers, loud enough for only xavier to hear. the captain glances away.

at least try to hide that look of relief, jeremiah thinks incredulously. still, it's fun to see xavier like this: with his tense brows easing up, his thinned lips turning slightly upwards. when xavier loves, he does it with his whole being.

it's in the way he slips in between the aisles of flora in order to be next to you. in the way he carries the vases of flowers for you despite knowing you're perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

when xavier loves, it's evident in the way his cold, indigo eyes melt into hues made of periwinkle. it's in the way his touch, hardened by years of training, melts into something as light as a feather. it grazes past your face, brushing a stray leaf away.

"how much will it be, jeremiah?" you ask, preparing your coin pouch. jeremiah feels xavier's glare piercing his skin.

i know, i know! is all jeremiah thinks. "for free. don't worry about it!"

"huh? that can't be right... these are a lot of flowers, jeremiah."

"it's okay, [name]," xavier interjects, resting a hand over yours to prevent you from getting your money. "he owes me a favor, and i never buy flowers. so it's best used for your bouquet."

again, xavier lies fluidly through his teeth.

"are you sure...? you could buy a couple flowers, xavier! you know, to decorate your room?"

xavier shakes his head. "i'd forget to water them, probably."

liar, jeremiah thinks. for his own safety, he opts to keep his mouth shut, observing the situation with a suppressed smile.

xavier can't even be bothered to hide his infatuation—when he does so much as look at you, his world comes to a halt, his attention fixated wholly on you when usually it drifts off into wonderland.

when he does so much as hear you, or perceive you, or exist with you, xavier shrinks into nothing, permeating wholly into your skin, melting into your bones and becoming a part of you.

forget his title as captain, or lumiere, or crown prince—xavier becomes yours. and that's all he needs to be.

somehow, jeremiah thinks that xavier is more than just a lover.

he's love itself.

rafayel taps his foot impatiently. with his arms crossed, his gaze darts back and forth between the clock and the door, brows furrowing once he realizes you're nowhere to be seen.

"ugh, that bodyguard!" he cries to no one. "always making me wait for this and that.... puh-lease, like i care!"

rafayel turns around and starts heading into the art museum, lips curled into a pout whilst he glances occasionally over his shoulder. eventually, he stops, still trying to discreetly scope out the premises.

they're still not here?! is all he thinks, reaching for his phone with newfound passion. rafayel tries calling you a couple times, somehow getting more and more offended when you don't pick up.

he then resorts to spamming your texts, his phone flailing around in his hands from the onslaught of his madness.

"you think this is just a game, huh?!" rafayel texts. "fine, it is! whatever! not like i care!!!!"

when you don't respond, he blinks owlishly in disbelief, staring at the screen with his mouth hanging agape.

no way they ignored me! rafayel thinks, somehow even more offended than before.

but the irritation nestled in his stomach morphs into worry, and the worry contorts into yearning. oh, rafayel thinks, staring at your contact name for far longer than he'd like to admit. what if something happened to them?

rafayel's imagination eggs his yearning further. what if you're waiting for him somewhere—with nothing but him on your mind, of course—tears spilling from your eyes while crying his name? what if you're injured, clutching your wound whilst thinking of him—and his killer looks—wishing you could see him right now?

oh. rafayel's imagination eggs his yearning further. oh, what if they're injured? he thinks, his fingers beginning to glide all across his phone's keyboard, spamming you like a madman whose lost all sense of reason.

"you don't have to show up," he starts texting, but quickly deletes that sentence. "text me when you see this," he manages to send, hand coming up to fiddle with some stray strands of his wisteria hair.

he feels his heart thrash against his chest like a fish out of water, his skin beginning to feel stuffy while he grasps at his shirt, crumpling the pearl fabric under his hands. what if you're hurt? what if something happened to you? what if you're leaving, and he isn't able to catch up?

rafayel hates waiting. he turns around, heading toward the exit of the museum, ignoring the looks of confusion from the people who just watched him enter and clutch his head manically.

again, rafayel's imagination runs wild, feeding him delusions and convincing him that he's your knight in shining armor, saving you from the clutches of despair. obviously, after he saves you—with his killer looks and killer moves—you're going to grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness, hoping that he'll spare you so much as a glance for your impudence.

he tries to ignore the way his ribs begin to constrict, the way his chest begins to ignite with agonizing pain. not again, is all he thinks, rushing out of the museum. not again.

rafayel loves you. sometimes, he hates to admit it. sometimes, he knows it's fact. rafayel loves you—how could he not? you are bound to him, no, rather, he is bound to you.

rafayel is bound to you, yet even then, he struggles to keep up. he follows you hopelessly into every incarnation, trailing after your existence like a drowning man at sea, gasping for air and a wisp of your presence. he had you, once. and what a twisted thing love is, to give him so much hope and radiance, that he can't possibly fathom to live without it now.

rafayel is hooked on you, drinking you in greedily with his eyes, searching for you desperately amidst the tides. rafayel is hooked on you, he's left in a constant state of wanting more, more, more, even though you don't feel the same. even though you're perfectly okay with leaving him, oblivious to the effect you have.

you have carved rafayel's being, forcing his hands to be a perfect fit with yours, forcing his eyes to only ever hold you. you've dismembered rafayel's bones, taking apart the shafts and forcing yourself in, your existence running through his marrow, your existence running through his veins.

sometimes, rafayel hates what you've done to him. he hates how he's reduced to a spectator in your presence, the way he's destined to love you despite all you've done to him.

rafayel hates the way you go around, saving everyone, saving everything, even though he was the first. he was your first victim, your first lover, your first everything.

and you've forgotten. and you've forgotten. how could you? sometimes, rafayel envies you. he wishes he could be as blissfully ignorant as you, he wishes he could rendezvous around the world, unaware of what he's done before.

(how could he? how could he ever forget you? how could rafayel ever be anything more than what you've made him?)

he laughs bitterly to himself, running a hand through his hair when your caller id shows up on his phone. rafayel half-considers letting you go to his voicemail, but oh, the way his heart constricts, the way his hands instinctively move to answer.

rafayel isn't like you—he has a heart, first of all—he's made of memories, made of century-old pacts and vows that have haunted him across lifetimes.

rafayel isn't like you, because, first and foremost, he loves. he loves you. he loves you! and oh, how could he not? how could he ever forget what you've done for him? how could he ever forget what you've done to him?

(and yet, he loves you anyway. rafayel loves you, despite the way you betrayed him, despite the way you forgot. rafayel loves you, not only because he was made to love you, but because it's you. does he need any other reason?)

just before your call gets forwarded to voicemail, rafayel picks up. he swallows thickly, letting his yearning drip down his throat, permeating into his organs whilst he says, dreading the way his voice cracks, ever so slightly, "ahem. what took you so long, huh?!"

your voice glitches on the other end. rafayel feels heat rush to the tips of his ears, feeling the way you sound so close to him. he presses the phone closer to his head.

"sorry, rafayel! i was busy,"—rafayel scoffs at this, so is he, you're not special—"but i'm coming right now! just wait for me, okay?"

"ugh! no, i don't wanna! i'm leaving! did you hear that? i'm," rafayel trails off, pausing for extra emphasis (hoping that you'd care enough to interrupt him), "i'm leaaavvii—"

you hang up. rafayel gasps, staring at the end screen with a flabbergasted look.

"no way! ugh! nobody respects me around here! making me wait... who do they think i am? a waiter? the waiter?" rafayel mutters incredulously to himself, sending glares towards anyone who eyes him weirdly.

still, he remains put, crossing his arms with a pronounced frown whilst sunset eyes scan the area, looking for your familiar motorbike.

rafayel waits. begrudgingly.

then again, he supposes he does a lot of that when it comes to you.

he opens your contact one more time. "some bodyguard you are!!!" he texts. "i could be dying right now and you still wouldn't pull up, huh?!?!"

"i'm dying! i'm dying! heeeelllooo?! i'm dying!" he spams. the familiar whirring of a motorbike appears, and rafayel glances up from his phone, horizon eyes growing wide.

rafayel hates the effect you have on him, the way your sudden appearance can bring tsunamis to a lull, the way your sudden appearance makes an utter fool of him.

still, rafayel lets you get away with it.

(you've gotten away with a lot of things.)

"raf!" you call. "quit spamming me!"

when you take your helmet off, rafayel's breath hitches. you steal the oxygen from his lungs, a mere wisp of your existence making the world tumble.

"hmph!" he crosses his arms, hoping you don't see the way his ears bloom a violent red. "don't tell me what to do! do you know how long it's been?!"

"ten minutes?" you reply, unamused. rafayel glares at you.

too long, he thinks, eyes tracing over the bridge of your nose and the curl of your lips. the artist instinct with him begins to flare—he wants to paint, he wants to devote himself to you all over again, drawing tirelessly into the night.

"no. eight-hundred years, you idiot!"

you roll your eyes. "what an exaggeration."

rafayel huffs. "puh-lease! i just say it as it is!"

you start heading towards the museum, and rafayel scrambles to catch up, his throat beginning to close. his heart—whatever's left of it, at least—lurching forward.

it chases you. it chases you! it always, always chases you.

into every life, into every eon. rafayel chases you, desperate and made of memories, hanging onto the depths of your soul, forfeiting the ocean and the tide and all that ever mattered.

then again, rafayel supposes that none of it matters now. you're here.

and even if you don't remember, rafayel will love you anyway.

(how could he not?)

[sabrondabrainrot]

Bring back LAES!

I'm steadily making progress on catching up on sun and moon show along with foxy and monty etc etc but it's pretty difficult when one of the main key plot lines is gone. I know a few spoilers thanks to fanfiction but I want to see the drama in person.

Here's some outfit ideas for tsams cause I'm a sucker for fashion and redesigns!

Order is, SolarFlare - Lunar - NewMoon - Old Moon - Sunny (Solar's dimension) - Sun

closeups and more brainrot under the cut!

Explaining my redesigns! Lunar - he's not really a redesign and more so an overdesign. I love adding tons of little details to him to really hammer home his star-ness. He's such an interesting little guy, like yes he acts childish but I can see he's really growing (SAD I CANT WATCH MORE CAUSE THE SHOW IS GONE). I saw the ep he killed Eclipse and homeboy revived. The entire time I was like "Waaahh Lunar??? Waaahhh???" but I love the drama ngl.

SolarFlare - Same as Lunar, not really a redesign I just drew him with no dirt. I really love his base design it's so neat it makes me think of like sci-fi concepts from the 80's. Something from fallout really. I think it's kind of funny Eclipse's aesthetics for SolarFlare when you compare him next to say Jack who Solar designed.

OldMoon - I just wanted to give him a sleek mad scientist cool guy suave vibe. I saw the more recent thumbnails of him with a turtle neck and idk that's just peak character design for me. I'm a simple woman put the dumb-dumb in a dark turtleneck. I want him to kind of look like the BadGuy TM (he's not actually) so he gets all edgy and hard edges and stuff.

NewMoon - I wanted to do a similar color scheme but instead he has lighter colors like more white incorporated into his fit. To give him the whole 'reborn' aesthetic. He's all like "old moon wore black well I wear white now I'm nothing like him so hah!" kinda thinking. I gave his cap a fur texture cause of that one ep he turned into a furry. I drew rounder stuff on him cause he's a big ol' softy sweety pie.

Sunny - Sunny is my headcanon of Sun from Solar's dimension. I think it's really interesting his default with no personality was theater performance and not say...doing daycare stuff? I feel like honoring the FNAF books with this design by leaning heavily into the theater performer look. I like to think in Solar's dimension Sun and Moon were originally made for theater. (so far in the show I've noticed Creator says 'they needed a daycare attendant' something like that so it comes off more like they were intended for the daycare from the start VS. Solar's dimension where Sunny's core seems to be more so for the performing arts.) I also wanted to make Sunny look different from Sun for the extra angst potential of "They're similar but not the same" so I leaned more into a blue palette for him.

Sun - I just wanted to give him big puffy everything. I took away the tutu. nothing against the tutu I just hate drawing the damn thing. I like to think Sun in main has white eyes because he's so burnt out from within. *badum tish* (eyes are the window to the soul-) I also covered him in stickers because he totally would just be covered in stickers from the kids. I also decided to give some of his rays cracks because I think he's extremely sentimental and even in a newly upgraded body (after using star power to defeat Eclipse the first time) he'd keep rays from his original body? I also put the cracks ones on the side of his face where Old Moon hit him. Why? Because it just seems like something Sun would do. I love him so.

Ok just some brainrot stuff, look away to avoid spoilers .

RUIN DESTROYED HOW MANY DIMENSIONS?? SOLARS DEAD. LUNAR KILLED ECLIPSE. DARK SUN IS PLOTTING??? MOON BE CRYING??? Also Francine just had a birthday! ONE OF THE BLOODMOON BOYS ARE DEAD AND SAME WITH ONE OF THE STITCHY BOYS??? HELLO?!?

I love the drama.

Also, I love how every single kid vibe checks Sun and he passes every time. Francine? She loves Sun and learns from him. FC? He ONLY feels safe with Sun for a bit. Barry? He hugged Sun after gonad checking him (a right of passage for the bunny kid). Jack? I'm pretty sure he literally is just one room away from Sun at all times (he also calls Sun's cats his master???). I have yet to see Dazzle, but Dazzle 10000% loves Sun (I've seen the edits).

ALSO? When Lunar was first brought into the family the first person he hugged was Sun and then later on when Earth was in danger he ran into SUN's arms for safety/comfort. They're family your honor.

Sobbing and Crying laying on the floor over Solar's death but I think he'll be back.

Also the molten thing with Ruin? I'm excited to see more.

I don't have a youtube account to post about saving LAES but if anyone wants me to draw more LAES just to help the community please let me know. I'm planning to draw my idea of Earth next.

[barblaz-arts]

I think people have been accustomed to couples being in that honeymoon phase when they’re shown onscreen together. We ALWAYS see that with newly-established couples in pretty much any type of media… But that’s not Chaggie.

Charlie and Vaggie have been together for years. Their honeymoon phase has long past. They’re not doing outlandish displays of affection. They’re just, comfortable. Doesn’t mean they love each other any less, just that those sappy moments aren’t as common anymore

Yes! also the way a lot of people are surprised that charlie and vaggie aren't only best friends is such a good example of the double standards wlw ships get. thinking they aren't dating is understandable. Overlooking that Vaggie and Charlie were meant to at least be shipped together is INSANE.

If i never knew they were dating already, i and so many other sapphic ship lovers would be eyeing tf out of Vaggie and Charlie's relationship. Lookit some of the things that happened/are established before the "she's my girlfriend" line in ep 5

- the newcaster lady made a homophobic comment towards Charlie, saying she "doesn't touch the gays" when Charlie tried to give her a handshake

- THIS

- just all the times Vaggie would soften up as soon as she sees Charlie smiling or being her dorky self despite being previously upset/angry

- Vaggie's whole friggin verse in Whatever It Takes is very obviously meant to be romantic

- Charlie being worried about Angel Dust while Vaggie gives her the most "i love you and im sad that you're upset but i love that you're upset over something like this because it shows how amazing of a person you are" look at Charlie as she tucks her hair behind her ear

- Angel: I think this belongs to you *hands Charlie over to Vaggie*

- just all the casual touches they do that would totally be read as shipping fuel AT LEAST if it happened between a male/female duo or two men

- the fact Vaggie woke up?? Looking beside her to find Charlie?? To show that they sleep in the same bed?????

- Vaggie offering her hand unprompted when Charlie was having a stressful phone call with her dad and Charlie readily accepting it

And I'm sure there are people who'd go "But it's always shown from Vaggie's end! It looks so one-sided!" So? Aren't there tons of ships out there that seem one-sided but yall are perfectly fine shipping? And it's harder to see Charlie's love for Vaggie because Charlie at her core is a very loving and affectionate person. Of course it's gonna be more obvious for Vaggie since she's so prickly towards anyone else.

If all these things still happened without any of us knowing that they were actually girlfriends, we'd have a certain section of the fandom shipping it hoping they DO become canon while others would be claiming we'd be ruining a perfectly good platonic friendship by making it gay. They'd say we're reading too much into things.

But they ARE a couple. we aren't reading too much into things because it was meant to be read as romantic. And yet we're still the delusional ones for thinking an already established sapphic couple is "cute and interesting" because now they're claiming they simply dont have chemistry. It's frustrating.

Of course I have my criticisms too. The show could portray more of how Vaggie is more special to Charlie than anyone else, have them flirting more overtly or something. But any argument that they're "so boring i thought it was het" is invalid to me because i damn well know if at least one them was a dude a lot of them would be saying otherwise.

[angyo]

I unironically love csm 167. Not for horny, but because it's so fucked up on so many layers and if it follows up on even 1 of those layers of fuckery it's gonna be explosive.

Denji:

He's already been sexually assaulted so many times. Every time he has a dream it gets monkey's pawed into fucking him up worse. He doesn't know what he wants. Deep down he just wants to be loved and be able to trust that if he puts his soul into the hands of another person it won't get crushed. But his love for aki and power was used to break him. His love for reze and makima betrayed. His love for nayuta and the dogs used to goad him into violence. Everyone he opens his heart to either dies or uses him, so all he has left is this hope that sex gives him the love he so deeply needs without the commitment that makes it dangerous. He thinks getting his rocks off might give him the same love he needs without the possibility of having it stolen from him. An orgasm is an orgasm, even if the other person immediately betrays you you still got "love" in a far more transactional and solid sense.

But that's not how it works. Post-orgasm is a very vulnerable time, especially if it's from a high tension surprise hand job (rape) in a backalley. It's his last dream that hasn't been ruined yet and it happened after a castration attempt and will likely end with Asa looking at him like a disgusting monster and vomiting on the ground.

Yoru:

Of course the war devil can't process love. She and Asa share a body and swap a lot of emotions but they're still different people and when something they now feel strongly goes so directly against all of their lives experience they'll react in unpredictable and possibly dangerous ways, ESPECIALLY war. Yoru got the memory of the first kiss meaning asa probably got it too. Asa's not stable, she's so desperately lonely this revelation that denji never stood her up must've felt so relieving. But yoru was in charge when asa got this flood of emotion. War isn't about love or compromise, it's about stealing from the weak and kind, asserting absolute authority, and a lot of rape and pillaging. Of course when faced with such a human and kind emotion as love war doesn't care about anything but satiating the most immediately available impulse in a way that asserts her "superiority" and leaving before she'd have to actually confront the emotional turmoil she caused.

Asa:

Oh she's fucked. Just like denji she is desperately lonely and always has love ripped away from her in the cruelest ways. But unlike him, she just pretends she doesn't need it and tries to feel superior so she doesn't have to feel the real depth of her loneliness. Yet she can't help but love anyway, and every time she falls into the trap of caring it dissolves all of her defenses and when it's betrayed it breaks her core. She is sex-repulsed, which is understandable for a teenager and possibly a sign of asexuality but thematically can be tied to her fear of opening her heart to damage. There's a difference between finding it disgusting on a reasonable level and being so viscerally disgusted by the thought it can drag you into hell. Sex is vulnerable. Your expose a lot of really sensitive organs to each other and stimulate hormones that make you open yourself up and expose yourself to risks like stds. When it feels like all her vulnerabilities get hammered against her of course she'd be scared of such a vulnerable act.

And now she's got cum on the only hand she has left, denji's spit in her mouth, and the lingering feeling of his dick on her, again, ONLY REMAINING HAND. And he's going to need aftercare, and really substantial care because she just sexually assaulted him and he doesn't know she's 2 different people. He's either gonna be so immediately depressed by the anticlimax of his first time he starts isolating or so desperate for this sex to be the time it finally means love he clings to her but it's gonna be terrifying to her because yoru took her subconscious vulnerability and externalized it to hurt the guy she just realized might be the only person to actually give a shit right now. She loves him and as soon as she lets that emotion wash over her it gets used to melt him into a puddle of desperation and vulnerability right in her arm that is so far beyond anything she can emotionally handle it could make him hate her forever. The only one who ever gave a shit and in the span of a couple minutes her body has been used to deconstruct him into a million little pieces she couldn't possibly put back together.

Not to mention the fact that in assaulting denji yoru also sexually assaulted Asa but denji doesn't know that. They both need immediate calming that isn't going to happen.

And she can't run away from yoru. The girl who assaulted her, exploited every vulnerability she has, and ruined her only chance is in her head. Even if denji realizes his worth and runs away asa is still stuck. Her assaulter is in her head, and the only hand she has left is covered in jizz.

[kriffingstars]

Johnny MacTavish; the point of no return

pairing: Johnny MacTavish x Price!Reader summary: Johnny's resolve breaks, you're everything warnings: verrrrrry slight age gap (I imagine reader to be around 20, Johnny is 26), SMUT (dirty, hot and everything in between), AFAB!Reader, MINORS DNI!! a/n: Holy hell, this is the most sensual and sinful thing I've ever written. Feedback would be greatly appreciated as I've never written smut before. Enjoy 2k of pure smut, ya dirty animals ;)

Price's Niece Masterlist

It's sinful, the way you seat yourself on his lap, pressing sloppy kisses down from the sweet spot behind his ear that he never knew he had, to the base of his throat.

The way you so easily grind your hips into his, has him seeing stars. It could just be you though. Probably is.

Maybe it's also a little bit because he knows this is exactly what he shouldn't be doing. The thrill of disobeying orders isn't lost on you either.

He lets out a feverish groan as you slip your shirt over your head as his hands slip down your skin to settle on the outside of your thighs, grabbing at the flesh and pulling you infinitely closer.

"I really shouldn't," he says, once again, as one of his hands trails upwards to grab at the barely there fabric still covering your chest.

It sends chills down your spine, he lets out a breath as he watches your nipples pebble under his touch.

You pause, stopping all ministrations as you look at the man underneath you. His pupils are blown with lust, and his hair is messy from all the grabbing, chest heaving up and down.

"Johnny," you sigh, taking his face in your hands, your voice remains quiet and even.

"If you want to stop we absolutely can, I'll go to the sofa and we won't ever speak about this again,"

The tension is palpable, the blood rushing around your ears quietens the rest of the world. It's just you and him, in the safety of his room.

You can see the thoughts running through his mind.

You're here, in his lap, giving him everything he's been thinking about in the late hours of the night. All the thoughts, he's been pushing away are real, and they're in the palm of his hand just begging to be brought to fruition.

"You're going to be the death of me,"

It's all he mutters before surging forward, capturing you in a searing kiss, whilst expertly flipping him underneath you.

It's his turn to plaster you in sopping kisses, biting and soothing as his hands slip behind you, masterfully releasing the catch of your bra, flinging it behind him to god knows where.

"Fuck,"

That's all he can groan before latching onto your nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud and palming at your more neglected breast.

His hips are grinding into your core, and there's nothing you can do to hold back the breathy moan you let out as the friction hits just where you need him.

That's all he needs to know he's making the right decision.

Before you know it, he's moving lower, crawling backwards and your skin feels like it's on fire.

He repeats the same movements, kiss, bite, soothe and you're coming undone completely in front of him.

You've ruined everyone for him because no one smells the way you do, and he's sure no one will ever satiate him the way you have and you've barely even touched him.

He's slipping his fingers under the waistband of your borrowed trousers before your brain can even catch up.

"Look at you," he mutters, you know he's not talking to you. Just babbling to himself as he savours every second before taking the front of your panties in his teeth.

The way his stubble scratches on your abdomen sends a rush of heat all the way down to your toes. They curl at the sensation as your legs tighten around his body.

His hands are everywhere, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, only adding to the electric tension between your legs.

"You're ruining me, Sweets,"

It's barely audible, but he knows it's had the effect he wants from you when his eyes meet yours.

His gaze is domineering in the best way, satiating the burning attraction you've had for him since your first meeting.

"You going to let me taste you?" he murmurs as he lets his nose graze against your pubic bone, dangerously close to the place where you need him the most.

A chorus of pleases is all that you garble out, as you find yourself drunk over the intensity of him.

His fingers stroke you through the fabric of your panties, barely bringing you any relief before sliding the fabric down your legs.

His nails catch on your inner thighs, and once again he's sending ripples right to your core.

Even in your stupor, you can see and feel how much he's getting off on how pliable you are under his touches.

"I need-"

Your words are cut off by the ungodly groan you let out as his lips meet the bundle of nerves.

Kiss, bite, soothe, flick.

One arm is slung over your hips keeping you pinned, at the other one draws deadly patterns around your thighs.

"So good for me, Sweets."

"Always Johnny," you're panting now as pressure begins to mount.

His huff of breath sends a shiver through your spine, as you arch your back, his lips meeting you with the movement.

It's not long before his fingers join his mouth, stretching you out in the most tentative of touches.

He's not fast or hard, in the way you thought he would be. He's sensual and savouring, as if this is the last time he'll ever be able to bask in the light that is you.

You feel the orgasm approaching steadily, and he feels your legs squeezing him even tighter. His hips are gently rocking against the mattress beneath him as he gets himself off of your pleasure and mewls.

It isn't harsh or fast, it's gentle and climbs gradually before it takes control of you completely. Body spasming, toes curling, breath caught, as your eyes screw shut completely.

The's no breath in your lungs left to give as he crawls up your body, engulfing himself in all your senses.

"You're going to be the death of me," he says as he breathes oxygen back into your starved lungs.

His kiss is needy, all-consuming, but not overwhelming. Your hands release the sheets you didn't even realise you were gripping, before finding purchase in the strip of hair on his head.

His hands roam once again, committing every curve, divot and angle to memory. If this truly is his last night on earth, he wants to go remembering everything about you for eternity.

He's so completely drunk on you, that he doesn't notice your leg hooking underneath him or the jerk of your hips as you flip him onto his back, his hands pinned above his head, completely at your mercy.

"Want to make you feel good," you confess as your tongue leaves a path of glossy saliva from the base of his adam's apple to the sharp of his jaw.

You feel him swallow under your lips as you pepper open-mouthed kisses over his throat.

He can't even find the words to reply to you, but you don't need his words. His pants are enough for you to know he's all yours.

It's your turn to travel down his body now, nails scratching at his broad chest as they follow your sloppy kisses.

He's just as you imagined, not that his tight t-shirts left much to the imagination. All firm lines, and hard muscle. What you didn't expect was the dark hair that peppers him, trailing off at his stomach, before picking back up just below his navel.

His sweats are already pulled down, and they're gone before he can even take a new breath.

Your face is level with the tent in his boxers and you press a multitude of searing kisses through the black fabric.

"You-you don't have to," is all he can choke out, as he finds his words again.

He can feel the heat of your breath on his skin as you gently shush him, rubbing soothing strokes along his powerful thighs.

"I want to, will you let me?" you mumble, and this time it's your turn to catch his gaze from where you lie, nestled inbetween his legs.

That's all Johnny needs to become putty in your hands, his limbs are floppy and malleable and his hands sit exactly where you left them. Spread out above his head.

His sinful groans and pants increase tenfold as you pull him from his confines, placing languid kisses up and down him as you grip him at his base.

Johnny, your sweet Johnny, is a mess, as you pull take him deeper. The buck of his hips doesn't bother you as you let the spit drip down your chin.

You feel more powerful than ever, bringing a man with the resolve he has to his knees, with a series of touches.

He's knotting his fingers through your hair at the base of his neck pulling you off of him all too quickly for your liking, crashing his lips back onto yours as he goes.

He doesn't need to drag you up to him as you're scrambling with him in a mess of spit, skin and teeth before landing on his lap.

He takes a moment to grind into you as his hands snake behind you, fingers splayed as he tenderly tips you onto your back, crawling in between your legs once again, without breaking away from your lips...

"Wait there," he grins, knowing full well you're not moving from your spot as he leans back, hands fumbling around in a draw before coming into contact with the foil packet he was after.

"You're sure Sweets? Because you need to know we can never go back after this. Can't keep away from you."

The sincerity in his voice makes you pause, you can see the affection in his eyes, and there's no doubt in your mind that this is more than just physical.

"Good."

It's all you need to say as you take the packet from his fingers, ripping it open and coating your fingers in the slick gel that covers the contents and reaching to grasp him.

You're pinned down once again as he buries himself in you, strings of garbled nonsense spilling from his lips as he praises you. Telling you just how good you are, and how perfect you feel.

"Never letting you go now."

He starts slow and deep, pulling more mewls from the depths of your chest as you hook a leg around him, pulling him even closer, heel digging into the divot on the small of his back.

It's your turn to garble now, telling exactly how good he feels, how he's ruined you and how you can't get enough of him.

The smell of skin and sweat fill your senses and you swear you're drunk off of it.

His thrusts speed up as one of his hands slip between your bodies, all he wants is to make you feel good, and he's doing a damn good job at it.

Before things home to a crescendo, you're pushing him onto his back bouncing on your knees and pulling him even deeper.

If you thought he was a mess earlier he's ruined now.

His eyes are rolling back into his head as his hand finds you again, speeding up to bring your climax closer.

The bouncing stops, as you begin to grind faster and faster.

You feel electric, as a surge of energy bursts through you, spurring you on even more.

He goes completely slack as he melts into you, and you follow not long after. Riding out the aftershocks that buzz through both of your bodies, head resting on his heaving chest as you inhale as much air as you can into your lungs.

He's reaching for you again, and pulling you flush against his chest as he mumbles sweet nothings into your ear.

The comedown is slow and neither of you feel like moving as the blood rushing around in your head begins to quiet. It's tender, and dare say loving.

"Need to go and clean up, Sweets," he whispers, as he noses at your cheek, pushing his face closer to yours, leaving chaste kisses on your temple and cheek.

His lack of presence is engulfing as he sorts himself out in the bathroom, bringing a cool flannel into the bedroom for you.

Before you know it your head is tucked under his chin, legs tangled as he strokes slow circles into your skin.

"You're something else."

I'm thinking of creating a taglist if anyone's interested, send me an ask or a dm :)

[illustromic]

My thoughts on drawing wings (an unofficial tutorial)

Do you want to get better at drawing your favorite winged character? Do you have winged OCs? Just want to learn something new? I can't promise this post will help, but maybe it'll give you some helpful tips.

I know, I knowww, wing tutorials have been done to death. I don't care. This was initially inspired by a conversation on twitter, but actually I've wanted to write down my notes on the topic for a long time lol. Basically wings are one of my special interests so it's very important, for me, to draw them both nicely and also realistically.

On that note, let me first show you my resume *distant sound of floodgates opening*

Like what you see? Read on! (Oh, and I will only be covering feathered/avian wings bc those are the type I know best.)

Now, I'm not here to give you a step-by-step guide on wing anatomy and aerodynamics, because there are plenty of other resources that cover this already, and I'll list my faves at the end of the post. Right now, I'm going to give you some easy guidelines and tricks that I wish more artists knew.

1: Wings do, in fact, have bones (crazy, I know) and are actually very rigid because they have to support the weight of a living creature. There are some positions you cannot physically force a wing into irl.

2: Flight feathers are not placed willy-nilly on the wing, because then they wouldn't catch the air properly. Again, like the bones, they are rigid and strong, so don't draw them like fur or ribbons. All wings have the same pattern of feather placement, with slight variation depending on species. If you learn the feather sections, it will automatically improve your drawings a lot.

2.5: Feathers overlap each other like a handful of playing cards, and this looks different depending on which side of the wing you're drawing. They always do this unless they're extremely untidy.

3: The size of the wingspan is important if you're going for a more realistic design. There is no "scientifically accurate" measurement when it comes to fictional creatures, but my general rule is when in doubt, you probably need to make them bigger. Personally, for my original winged human species, I give them wings that can be up to 12 feet long each (the artistic sacrifice is that it's really hard to fit the wings on the dang page lmao, so make your own call).

4: Get used to drawing folded wings. Most of the time, birds keep their wings folded because it prevents them from getting damaged and it conserves energy. The trick is to get good at visualizing how the joints bend and overlap (look at plenty of photos!) In general, they can fold much tighter than you think.

5: Wings and feathers take a lot of patience to draw, but the results are worth it. I've seen so so many incredibly beautiful and skillful artworks that are---well, maybe not ruined, but still negatively affected by a pair of wings that look like an afterthought, or not even like wings at all. You have no idea how much a little extra time and practice will add to your work until you see for yourself.

Finally, some notes on "stylized" wings: Of course it's perfectly ok to draw more simplified/cartoony wings if that's your preference!! BUT there is a difference between a stylistic choice and a lack of effort/poor understanding of the subject matter. Even cartoonists have to learn the fundamentals of realism so they know how to make their designs logical and appealing. Here are some examples of more stylized wings that I feel retain the core principles of anatomy/aesthetics:

And last but not least: A list of helpful links I use personally for reference and inspiration!

I made this pinterest board for general artsy inspo, and this board to curate my very favorite tutorials/refs/information, focusing on the scientific aspect of wings and flight in general. Feel free to use both! (I also suggest pinterest in general for pose refs and such, but try to only practice using photos at first and not other drawings.)

I highly recommend this blog and this blog if you want examples of artists who draw more realism-based winged creatures!! They are both huge inspirations for me and I think you should totally follow them even if you don't plan to draw wings lol <3

If you're REALLY serious about it, my favorite ref books are: Winged Fantasy, a lovely drawing book by Brenda Lyons; Proctor & Lynch's Manual of Ornithology; and Angelus vincens by R. Spano, which is essentially an artbook by someone who (I believe) designed biologically plausible "angels" for their senior thesis.

Ok, idk how to end this lol but I hope it helped! I know it's not my normal kind of post but I'm super busy with college stuff rn and this was all I had time for. If you guys have any questions or feedback, please let me know!!!

-Aloe <3

[vickyvicarious]

Oh yes, the feeling that you have to rely to the creeper who you loathe so much that you have come to hate even the rooms he resides in, that he's not the scariest thing in your life, that you have to run to his arms for safety. Horror! Dracula claiming him was the high point of the entry (than the almost-bite)

Honestly, yeah. The dynamics between Dracula and Jonathan are so scary, to the point that all the supernatural events are the cherry on top rather than the main course, as far as the horror of this section goes.

Dracula does so much manipulation here, holds so many different kinds of power over Jonathan, and multiple levels of each too. He's got physical power - both in the sense of the castle being a prison, and in the sense of his incredible strength. He's got social power - as a noble, and as a client/boss. He's got monetary power over Jonathan too, able to potentially make or ruin his career. He has so much control over Jonathan's ability to express himself - he's the only company available to him, he's forcing him to keep up a pretense of friendship, he's limiting and controlling his communication with others. Jonathan has no escape: he can't go out of the castle because he's locked in, he can't go many places inside the castle because he's locked out of them, and now he can't leave the rooms Dracula wants him in because otherwise the vampire ladies will get him, and within those rooms there is nowhere safe from Dracula himself. Jonathan has seemingly no action he can take: if he sneaks around behind Dracula's back, a greater threat awaits. If he acts openly, Dracula's own threat may become realized. If he doesn't act at all, he's doomed. If he acts at all, he's doomed. If he trusts Dracula, he's doomed. If he doesn't trust Dracula, he's doomed.

Of course, the supernatural elements are the mechanics by which Dracula increases the stakes, the threats underlying the charming veneer. Specifically, the introduction of the vampire women is what puts Jonathan in this seemingly inescapable box, and one with potential threats to something even greater than his life.

But Dracula's playing this Bluebeard role and could have done so with some more mundane threat as well, without changing too terribly much about his own actions. Where he's scariest (at least to me) is in these interactions with Jonathan, in these manipulative webs and traps he lays out in his words, in the way he pushes so many boundaries until they're forced to collapse or warp under the pressure. Jonathan's privacy keeps getting worn away. Dracula's speech and touch get more familiar and more possessive. He started out the first night blaming Jonathan for the things he did himself ('oh, why did you make your conversation so interesting we had to stay up all night?') and escalates until now he's making Jonathan be the one to act, and to suffer the consequences: whether in forcing him to lie to his loved ones, or in dangling the bait of sleeping outside his room and then only barely saving him when he does. And Jonathan has no real choice but to act. To fail to do so, in one way or another, would mean giving up all hope at escape or likely even survival. But because he has to act, he winds up feeling complicit. He ends up in situations where Dracula thanks him, forgives him, saves him. It keeps putting them on seemingly the same side, with Jonathan in a lesser/reliant role. And that's all a huge lie, at its core. But in a very real way, it's true too, to an extent. More and more, he's getting layers of resistance scraped away, and having to seek safety from Dracula now is so, so horrifying. In many ways all he truly has left is his will to live, his internal determination to resist - and now he's been given powerful incentive not to trust in that latter part too much. It's absolutely brutal.

He's walking a wire that just keeps getting thinner and thinner. All he can possibly do is try to keep this balancing act going, and hope for something to change that will give him more options down the line.

[ghcstao3]

being so similar in nature—both being vampires—it's only natural for ghost and soap to make feeding a twisted sort of... romantic ritual.

sharing a victim; consuming the same blood. feeling life drain all the same; sensing the draw of blood of one another from the same corpse. manic, bloodied smiles following, all razor-sharp fangs and crimson-stained mouths and tongues. a mess is always made, making the fact that they're both, at their very cores, monsters ever clear.

then before their meal even has the chance to settle into their veins, they're on each other like they're still starved, chasing after the taste of that fresh blood on each other's lips. stray fingers might smear the blood over more skin, drag it through hair, ruin patches of fabric. a metallic scent will cling to them for hours afterward, the clearest indicator of their ritual, a happy reminder to both ghost and soap.

if they're meant to be reminded of their inhumanity every time they need to feed—they may as well make the most of it.

[aylasology]

rockstar!Robin x reader

(reader is fem)

summary : Oh to be in a rockstar's arms...

warnings : mentions of smoking, drinking, cocaine, SMUT SMUT SMUTTTT

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

• You were sure you had it all figured out, a nice apartment in New York city with your best friends, a stable job, the perfect new yorker life you've been wanting the minute you stepped out your parents's home...

• until, of course, you stepped into a record store. An album and a band catching your attention.

• Take Back The Night - Hellfire

• It wasn't really the name of the band that caught your attention, there were worse names, it wasn't exactly the genre either. It was the girl standing in the front, all tall and lean. Short blonde hair teased up to the nines and bangs that draped like curtains over her blue eyes. Her arms slung on two of her members, one with long curly hair that looked like Kirk Hammett's curls, and one with much shorter hair.

• One vinyl turns into three, which then shifts to five more of the same record in different colors. You were obsessed with their music, more so on the lead singer.

• You soon learn the names of the band members and their respective roles. Robin Buckley on vocals, Eddie Munson on guitar, Steve Harrington on bass, and Dustin Henderson on drums.

• You find out that you're roommate/best friend, is covering an article on Hellfire. Getting backstage passes and two tickets to some band they're opening for.

• Of course you beg him to give you the other ticket and the extra backstage pass.

• For some odd reason you choose to go for a rather revealing look - Long leather boots, a tight red dress, and a leather jacket over it.

• It wasn't hard to keep your eyes on Robin. Wearing flare jeans, a tank top and her heartshaped glasses - a staple in her clothes.

• After the concert, you follow your best friend backstage and into Hellfire's dressing room.

• She couldn't pull her eyes away from you. How sweet and innocent you looked in your little outfit, an innocence she wanted to ruin.

• "And who's this pretty little thing?"

• She invites you to a party of theirs the minute your friend finishes his interview with them. Of course you say yes.

• The party was crowded, filled with musicians and the like. She liked having you around, making sure you were attached to her at all times.

• She definitely gropes your ass while dancing with you omgomgomgomg

• She didn't take it very well when someone pulls you away from her gaze. Some artist chatting away with you. The way her teeth clenched when a giggle erupted from your lips. She wanted that sound to come out because of her and her only.

• She pulls you into her bedroom, pinning you by the frame of the door.

• "You think you can just smile and act cute around some guy? Don't forget why you're here pretty girl."

• She kissed you powerfully, heat boiling up from your core. You moaned into it, she smirked.

• "Good girl..."

• And as much as you needed her to touch you, she pulls away. Opening the door and walking right out.

• You came home that night, lying to your friend that you had gone to a bar.

• And the days pass by so easily, getting free tickets to every gig, going to parties every single night, gaining sweet make out sessions with Robin anywhere and everywhere she wanted to have you.

• It was the 1970s of course, which meant she kissed you in bathrooms, dressing rooms, and bedrooms.

• The first time she touches you, it's after recording their next studio album, you being propped up against the desk. Hands gripped against the equipment as her fingers worked her magic on you.

• "Such a pretty little princess,"

• It's rushed, it's eager, it's hot, it leaves you satisfied right after.

• Right after that, she lets you stay over her apartment for the night

• Of course the second, and the third, and the fourth time she touches you happens there 👁️👁️

• Her touch is sweet, giving, and fucking needy.

• And the way your eyes glint and the way you beg? Gets her so turned on every time.

• But the moment you actually moan? You're just begging for it by then.

• "All this for me? Such a dirty slut..."

• "What was that honey? Use those pretty little lips of yours f'me..."

• She definitely likes sniffing cocaine on your belly, licking the skin once she's finished.

• She'd get on top of you right after, hips straddled on yours as she kissed you. Pushing her tongue in your mouth, letting the taste land on your tongue.

[abattre]

It's actually so disappointing that Naruto's narrative took the route that it did. Kishimoto created an incredibly interesting world and premise, and ruined it by having everything amount to a shallow message of forgiveness that undermines almost every meaningful element in the story. And it's like,, I want to appreciate the world outside of the plot, but the moral framing of the story makes it virtually impossible because of how disingenuous it is. It completely undermines the audience's understanding of the tragedy and horror of the world so that Naruto becoming Hokage and being the most powerful person in the world by the end doesn't come across as distasteful as it actually is.

Like it's made abundantly clear throughout the story that the village system, and Shinobi society as a whole, is incredibly flawed. Kishimoto goes out of his way to show us that Konoha's council is made up of objectively horrible people. We see first hand how the council's short-sighted ideas of what 'protecting the village' means results in devastating tragedy for people both in Konoha and outside of it. It's clear in how Danzo and the rest of the council act that their atrocious behaviour is them just blatantly abusing their power to maintain their authority. The council has no remorse in anything they do; human experimentation, genocide, slavery, and blatant exploitation is all fair game to them if it preserves their status quo. And instead of maybe, like, addressing Konoha's skewed morality in a sensible way and setting the village up for reform, the narrative just tries forcing the audience to perceive Konoha's genuinely heinous actions as necessities. Which, you know, will work when you're like 8, but once you've grown up and developed some reading comprehension and critical thinking,,, it just feels annoyingly manipulative.

At its core, Naruto is a story that attempts to deconstruct morality. Like this is abundantly clear in how Kishimoto is constantly paralleling the dichotomy of good and evil literally every chance he gets. In the end though, this dichotomy just doesn't work in the context of the Naruto story because the narrative framing of the village being the good guys is just hysterically ridiculous. Konoha is an awful place, that does awful things, and is run by awful people that refuse to change anything because it benefits them for the village to remain awful forever. To anyone with a developed sense of media literacy the village cannot in any way be framed as morally good, so when the story resolves itself with Naruto becoming next in line to govern Konoha under the same unchanging authoritarian regime, with the same council supporting him because of his sheer physical prowess and complete dedication to their twisted ideology,,, it's honestly just an incredibly underwhelming conclusion to a story that made itself out to be more profound than it actually is.

If I had to guess, I imagine Kishimoto just didn't think through how negatively the world he created would reflect on the plot. Ultimately though, you can't write a moral story that's so deeply entrenched in real world social inequity and decide halfway through that because you don't know how to fix these things your story's going to have to be about how they're actually okay to be doing and perpetuating,,, like that is awful and also a terrible lesson to impart on an audience of children. With how serious the issues are in Shinobi society, trying to resolve things with the power of friendship was always going to fall flat. These broad scale injustices can't be brushed aside in that way without undermining their severity and diminishing the understandable impact they had on the characters that experienced such extreme oppression. That's essentially the trap that Naruto's conclusion falls into though, and so the story just ends up feeling incomplete and unfulfilling because none of the issues brought up are actually addressed or discussed with the gravity they deserve.

[artist-in-training-wheels]

Updated designs as of: 8/20/24

Remember when I said I was knee-deep into SAMS/LAES? Welp, I still am- so here's my (mental) designs of all the core characters (Not scaled for height)! Some notes/extra thoughts under the cut :D Added their pallets to make coloring easier!

Main 4:

Work:

I swapped Sun and Moon waist thingy; I just think they would do that since they're close. Their arm ribbons were also changed to purple to match!

Moon has a cape instead of a ruffle like Sun because... idk, I think he'd like it!

Earth and Lunar also have matching cuffs; theirs is pale/light cobalt blue.

Gave Earth's dress more Princess vibes; why? Idk, just felt like she would like it!

Sun's joints can be seen since he hasn't died and been "placed" in a new/updated body!

Casual:

Moon and Earth (kinda) have casual outfits, so I thought I'd make something for Sun and Lunar.

Sun HAS his matching friendship bracelet with Dazzle- I finally decided to draw it ^^

Sun's shirt says, "Here comes the Sun" I feel it would mostly be a gag gift, but he likes it!

I almost gave him a sweater (cause he gives me sweater vibes, tbh), but then I saw his Q&A video and went, "damn, never mind, I guess".

Lunar's hoodie was also a gag gift (cause its color scheme is similar to Gemini)- but he likes it too much, plus it's soft :D

Made Earth's sweater a bit darker, mainly cause she has a lot of light colors already (the pink comes from the sprinkle sweater!)

I also feel like the boys would take off their bells when they're not working.

It was asked how and... idk they made an interdimensional portal- I'm sure they found a way to take off the bells lmao

The other 4:

I hate how I did Ruin's rays and hat. But nothing was working for me, so... oh well...

I gave Jack the two tips for his hat because I think he'd like those- same with the arm sleeves!

Also- yes he has a friendship bracelet with Dazzle- he keeps it protected under his arm sleeve, it's identical to Sun's!

I really like how Solar came out. Specifically his boots and shirt design!

He gives me knee boot vibes, so I gave him shoes with a sun and a moon on the back (they lace up just didn't feel like adding those details)

I Like how Eclipse came out- Miiiight redesign him... depending on how the Eclipse and Puppet Show goes, but for now, I'm content :)

I never mentioned it, but I do imagine that Eclipse has a second set of arms. I would think Solar did, too, but those were taken away during his revival because of the "Eclipse sees other Eclipses as inferior" stuff!

The Evil 4:

I made Dark Sun look like Regular Sun... cause that's kinda his whole thing! But if I were to give him a different outfit- it would be Eclipse's!

Few changes to Nexus (I can't take him or his model serious tbh, I kept laughing XD), decided to give his hat a Wither shard at the tip because power (and possible corruption) go BRRRRR (Side Note: Made an AU on it :D)

I'm not sure how visible it is, but on his right cheek, you can see a virus of some kind—I really like that, so I put it on him because I really like the idea of him slowly being corrupted due to his insanity!

He has a darker shade of boots similar to Solar because... well, Solar :)

World President Earth (or WP Earth) has a lovely wine-red dress with her flag as a cape (the same flag seen in the thumbnail)!

The flag is held together by a smiley pin because why not =)

Evil Lunar (while tempting to go with Current Lunar design) has the design of the previous version because, well... that's the form he gained the power in (from my understanding)

The tip of his hat is a dying Star because that feels appropriate, in my opinion.

I MIGHT do Foxy, FC, Monty, and Puppet, but I'm not too sure, tbh, since my mental image isn't too far off from their models. Anyways, time to return to my little gremlin hole and watch the series :)

[brucewaynehater101]

I've had a brain worm enter my mind and I can't stop thinking about it warning it gets kinda violent

Imagine:

Evil alternate yj core four kidnap the og core four(I'm gonna use the hero names for the regular yj), the evil ones bring og back the their universe(the evil one) and torture them. (Evil versions are all displayed as pink)

Evil Bart locks Impulse in a freezing room and starves him almost lethally making him unable or simply too tired to use the speed force, keeping him just fed enough that he's not dead but instead just constantly hungry, keeping his body just above hypothermic ranges but too cold to actually use his abilities.

Evil Kon starts messing with superboy's DNA, while this doesn't cause much physical pain for Superboy it does absolutely fuck up his mental state, having someone unconsentually mess with his DNA in the same way he was created? It destroys him, more than getting fangs does, or growing three inches taller, or his hair growing in blonde, or having brown eyes does. Just the fact that this evil version of himself is actively making clones of them and fiddling with his DNA breaks him.

Evil Cassie is one I haven't thought much about, she might honestly just make Wonder girl listen to her friends suffering, or something like that(I don't know much about Wonder girl so if anyone has any recommendations for what to read to get to know her better I'd be so grateful).

But evil Tim....oh evil Tim starts immediately injecting Red Robin with all kinds of toxins, poisons, and drugs while monologuing(sounding like this song[nothing]...when he notices Red Robin growing a resistance to those injections evil Tim starts taking things. Non important organs, chunks of skin, patches of hair, while also starting to destroy Red Robin ability to outwardly express emotions. Like physically express emotions. He slices Red Robin's cheeks open so he's got permanent scars in the form of a smile, he fiddles with Red Robin's vocal cords so he can't raise his voice without being in pain, he surgically removes Red Robin's tear ducts yet comes in every two minutes to put hydrating eye drops in Red Robin eyes. Evil Tim doesn't want Red Robin dead or permanently blind no he just wants to ruin tim..

When they eventually escape, by Superboy getting tired and killing the evil version of himself before throwing the evil version of Bart through several walls and getting Impulse out then Getting Wonder Girl before finally retrieving Red Robin, they somehow find their way back to their original universe. Every single one of them gets hugged by their parents/mentors, Cassie and Kon are crying, Bart is still pretty cold and very hungry so he's eating and being absolutely covered in blankets while Tim is just standing there, Batman is asking him all kinds of questions and constantly repeating the question are you okay but Tim just emptily answers them. No emotion or inflection to his tone, he's completely monotone. After a couple of minutes the young justice end up all staying at Tim's apartment, every two minutes Tim goes to the bathroom and just kinda pours water in his eyes because of how dry they're getting, the other three immediately pick up on this and Kon runs to a store to get eye drops. They do this little routine of putting drops in Tim's eyes for a few weeks before one day as Cassie's getting ready to help Tim with the eye drops Jason climbs through the window, freezing slightly before walking to go grab Tim's first aid kit. As his fixing up whatever wound he has this time Jason questions what Tim and Cassie were doing as he found them with Tim sitting on the couch, head tilted back and eyes being held open by Cassie who's standing behind the couch with a bottle of something positioned over his eyes. Tim tells Jason that he's missing his tear ducts and Jason reasonably freaks the fuck out, cue batman being called and some emotional scene happens only for it to be broken by Cassie who straight up asks Tim if he'd like some artificial tears because both Jason and Bruce are crying but Tim can't. So he straight up just says "y'know what. Yeah, tear me Cassie." Making everyone laugh. A couple days later Damian is looking at Tim very intently and Tim questions him only to be met with ".. something looks different about your eyes." Only for Tim to wide eyed stare at Damian until he notices Tim's missing tear ducts. Cue crack/fluff with the rest of the fam

I ended that pretty weakly but I'm rlly tired and haven't slept yet so sorry if there are a ton of plot holes!♡

Holy shit. This was so dark, but all the colors are beautiful. I've been excited to answer this one due to how aesthetically pleasing it is, lmao.

Carrying on!

Might I say that Tim is just fucked. You really tortured poor Tim that I doubt he'd be able to express any emotions for a long time (not a criticism! Found the methods to be intriguing). Therefore, I think his loved ones would get used to his displays of affection changing.

Some days, even talking hurts. He just remains silent through both mental and physical blocks. Some ways he does this for YJ:

Bart's suit was remade with heaters and coolant that lasts for at least a week. He also hides a shit ton of calorie dense food on Bart and carries some for himself.

Cassie has access to YJ's vitals. When on a mission, she can glance at a screen that details how injured or safe her teammates are

Tim, after getting enthusiastic consent from Kon, reverses any effects. He also finds a way to prevent the DNA manipulation of Kon to his best ability (might not be perfect). He also includes a device that will get rid of all DNA substances Kon leaves behind (like blood, hair, skin, etc.) and gives it to Kon

Through science and magic and whatever, Tim's need to put eye drops in diminishes. He doesn't get them back, but he only needs to put them in every 24 hours or so.

Anyways, nifty and horrifying AU :)

[drbased]

So much of mental health advice feels like grasping into the dark: when I did CBT I did all these various exercises and in hindsight so much of it feels like the placebo effect, and I can see why people get sucked into cults. Not saying therapy is a cult at all, but when I think about how one of the exercises was to imagine a manifestation of my bad thoughts and then physically close the door on it - what was that supposed to achieve, exactly? The buzz of motivation you get from these therapies can seem like progress, but a lot of the real value - the honesty about yourself and what you value - is entirely lost through gimmicks.

And it's really sad because in my experience, actual acceptance can be incredibly quick, so much so that it feels like a cheat code, a 'life hack' if you will. But acceptance is what 'mentally healthy' people do all the time - that's why two people can go to the exact same job and one can be chill whilst the other is depressed. As a depressed person who never understood the former type, I was always curious at exactly how those people lived - I assumed they must be vapid, that they couldn't be as deep with me, that any problems they had in their life were much more trivial than mine. I was fascinated by people who, when going through experiences I considered life-ruining, would shrug and say 'it is what it is'. I assumed once again that they must just not be as deep as I am, or feel as strongly. The deeper assumption was always that there's something fundamentally different to my make-up that separates me from the 'normies'. The narcissism of this is not lost on me; I used to flip-flop back and forth between 'I'm right' and 'they're right'. I now understand this to be value system that my depression was built around, and I don't have that maddening argument in my head anymore.

The depression was always both the cause and solution: there always had to be a justification for my sadness that was more than simply 'I don't like this' - that way I could cling to it; I could defensively make it a part of me, whilst secretly embarrassed that other people would be able to handle a similar situation better than me. The key to acceptance is to face that embarrassment head-on and say, actually the reason this thing bothers me so much is because I value it not happening more than I value my happiness and comfort. The point of acceptance is where I realise that my happiness is something I can choose internally regardless of my external circumstances; that that's what everyone else has been doing this whole time and therefore I am not a freak nor am I the messiah. I can be just like everyone else and it's not embarrassing to be a mundane, alive human being. But also, I have to overcome the embarrassment of being miserable under a sunk-cost fallacy - so for that, I have to, once again, understand why I valued the narrative justification so much, and so I can accept that too, all as valued, loved, and cherished parts of myself. It's all about understanding and acceptance at every stage, at every layer of the psyche.

And from that acceptance I can recognise that my depression was a noble goal in some ways; a core facet of my belief used to be that I'm just one person, and everything else is everything else, so my value system should logically be skewed outwards. But I now understand that martyring myself for the 'greater good' is a thankless task and also, whilst everything else is bigger than me, I'm the one who experiences that everything, so my value system should be focussed on me. Feeling good feels good, and that's enough.

I understand that the process of true acceptance is a really tough thing to do, and it's cosmically upsetting how unfair it is that people who never have a mental illness (or have one that is so accepted by society that they never have to consider it one) don't ever have to do this manual process of self-reflection - but at the same time, my honesty about myself has become something I now value greatly as it allows me to make meaningful choices to demonstrate self-love and rebuild trust in myself after a decade of believing that 'because I want to be happy' isn't justification enough. And since I discovered this whole process, so much of mental health advice just seems to me like the equivalent of putting a jelly bean on a paragraph in a book to incentivise you to read to that point: you're a fully grown adult and you're not stupid, so eventually some part of you is going to go 'but I can eat the damn jellybean at any time!'

From having learned just how much the brain is paying attention to everything I do, it's hard to justify doing these typical therapy exercises knowing that the value system they espouse is entirely the opposite to my own: they're fundamentally dishonest and kick the mental health can down the road, treating your psyche as an inconvenience and an obstacle to achievement (which is implicitly believed to be 'real'). Slamming the door on my negative thoughts:

Creates a symbolic narrative that through this I can be 'cured'

Posits that my negative thoughts, despite being a product of my literal brain, have nothing to do with how my brain works

Posits that those thoughts can be severed from me (with one dramatic gesture)

Looking back, this such a patronising way to approach my own personhood; this qualified mental health practitioner was agreeing with the mental illness that brought me to him in the first place that I am fragmented and that parts of me are 'wrong'. Acceptance says that no, no part of me is 'wrong' because that's an entirely false concept: there are only actions and consequences, and I decide if I value those consequences. The only 'reason' I 'shouldn't' have those negative thoughts is because they hurt me - but also, as they are a part of me, they can be addressed and they can be reasoned with. Accepting their point of view as my own has done so, so much more for my mental health than treating that point of view as a terrifying aberration on my psyche to be forcefully removed.

Society is always surprised at how people who commit atrocities rarely have a mental disorder; but that's that implicit belief about 'mental health' in action. There's a societal need for mental health to be some reflection of logical and moral 'correctness'; after all, there is existential terror in the realisation of of psyches as floating entities, universes isolated from material reality. I, too, feel this terror, but as someone who used to feel a great need to be under the scrutiny of The All-Knowing Watcher who could justify all my behaviours, thoughts and feelings under some objective standard, there has been a paradoxical freedom in recognising that I alone am responsible for constructing my morality and value system. Those 'mentally healthy' people who commit atrocities simply have a value system that does not care about the harm they have done; and, as a result, they have accepted themselves (in a way I couldn't even accept about that Portal 'Companion Cube' plush I bought for £30 over a decade ago and immediately regretted yet still can't throw away). This can be hard to swallow for people who need to believe that we all live under the same objective standard and that mental illness is merely an aberration. The idea that I'm more mentally ill than a murderer feels wrong; from this alone it's clear that the whole idea of what mental illness/health even is is still in its infancy - and mental health treatments - which have undergone much revision, making it possible that nobody does that CBT exercise anymore - are reflecting that dearth of understanding.