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#anyways this little guy is so fun to draw maybe i'll draw some of the others sometime

a-hazbin-reader · 4 months

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Hi there! I love all your work and I saw wife!reader and alastor getting married when they were alive and wanted to know how they met or who fell in love first.

You don't have to do this though, have a lovely day! ❤️

I really love this...I won't do how they met because I want people to be able to decide that for themselves but..

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Reader goes on a date, Implied Murder, Alastor being jealous, Suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

You are most likely the one who falls first, not that anybody could blame you, Alastor is F I N E

He's a well sought after man with his good looks, charming conversation skills and various other talents

So it makes sense that when you meet him and get to know him a little more, you're smitten with the radio host

But you're well aware that the chances of becoming an item with Alastor are slim to none

He's never once showed an interest in being in a relationship and visibly tenses when someone flirts with him

So you resolve yourself to try and get over this little crush and keep your friendship with him intact

If you were being honest with yourself, then it's more than just a crush, you're head over heels in love with him

You two do become fast friends though, something always drawing the two of you close, a sort of magnetic pull

You're practically the best of friends, always together, inside jokes, judging people together

A dozen almost kisses, romantically charged interactions, almost sexually charged drunken escapades

You even bring him food when he's at work so that he doesn't forget to eat and take care of himself

He sets aside time to take you to different restaurants, clubs, parks, anywhere that might be enjoyable

People are quick to assume you two are a couple, but you're always quicker to correct them

It's the truth but it sort of bothers him

He can't deny that you're great company, or that you're beautiful, or that he hates it when you're not smiling

Or that he has a great...fondness for you and your little quirks/talents

He's very attached to you to say the least, you're an important person in his life

That's what he tells people anyways

He doesn't even realize that he's in love with you until you're suddenly gushing about meeting someone new

You look so hopeful, so excited that some guy asked you out but the idea of you on a date makes his skin crawl

But you're only so hopeful and excited because you think maybe this guy will help you get over your feelings for Alastor?

He's a very sweet man, cute, funny, a little touchy-feely but nothing you can't handle

You don't notice the way Alastor's smile twitches ever so slightly whenever you bring up your date

Or his sour tone and the way he tries to discourage you from going

"Y/N, do you even like him? Can you picture yourself having a future with him?"

"That's why I'm going on a date with him, besides... he's very sweet to me!"

Another eye twitch and a sound that's almost like a snarl, Alastor is sweet to you, this guy isn't special

Okay, you notice but you assume he's just being protective

Alastor doesn't even realize his thunderous expression until your soft hand grips his chin, forcing him to lock eyes with you

"Alastor, I'll be fine. I'm a big girl and I can handle myself, you don't need to worry about me.."

Even though you want him to worry about you, you want him to beg you not to go, to tell you that he-

But he won't

His attitude only gets worse once he actually sees the guy who asked you out on a date

Oh no he's hot

If Alastor knew the word, then he would surely call him a himbo but he doesn't know that word, so he just calls him "Next."

Watching you interact with him was something that was truly sickening, seeing someone so clearly enamored with you

And you're enjoying the attention, Alastor gives you attention, he compliments you and takes you to fun places

Just never with obvious romantic intentions before...

Your date kisses your hand and Alastor wants to scrub it clean for you, Alastor can kiss you-

Kissing you wouldn't be so bad...or possibly more...

What was all that sickeningly sweet stuff you used to talk about couples doing together? Dates, cuddling, sex? He could do that, with you that is-

It's a little hot under his collar all of a sudden

It's not like Alastor hasn't already been practically taking you out on dates, courting you

Everyone already thinks you two are a couple anyways

Fuck he's in love with you and he's probably already missed his chance

He wrestles with himself over the sudden revelation all the days leading up to your date

It's not until you come out looking like the most heavenly creature on earth that Alastor realizes you're actually going on a date

"You... you're really going to go out with him? You can do so much better, Y/N."

He doesn't miss the frustrated look on your face and the way you hug yourself

"Well, he's the only one who's taken an interest in me, Al."

"And if someone else asked you?"

He's cautious with his words, already formulating a plan in his head based off of your reaction

"...there's only one person who I want to take notice of me."

Oh he's stealing you away now

He stands up and slaps his hands on your arms, giving you a charming smile as he leans in

Your body instinctively reacts, and you lean in to meet him halfway, your lips drawn to his-

"Make sure you guys tune into my show later tonight, okay? I'll have something special whipped up for your date!"

He hugs you and leaves you feeling more conflicted than ever, the feeling doesn't leave even after Alastor sees you off for your date

Your lips still tingle from that almost kiss

Your date is absolutely ruined, Alastor having completely taken over your thoughts with his strange behavior

Not that he didn't always take over your thoughts already

But you can hardly focus on your date, who's very sweet, very dumb and a little too touchy for your tastes

You end the date early, already knowing there's no shaking off your love for your best friend

You'll just long for Alastor for the rest of yours days...

Then you remember he asked you to tune into his radio show! Without even realizing it, your feet have taken you to his radio tower

You can hear him in there, getting ready for his show, you grab the handle and press your ear to the door

"Good evening, folks! I would like to dedicate this special song to the love of my life! My soulmate, Y/N!"

You feel your body freeze as a familiar song fills your ears, a song that was special only to you and Alastor

It's the closest thing to a confession that you'll probably ever get from him-

You'll take it

When you open the door to the broadcast booth you can tell he's surprised to see you there

"I thought you would at least be letting him drive you home by now..."

He's nervous but clearly trying to hide it, making his way towards you slowly

"I just wanted to be here with you..."

His arms are sliding around your waist, the nervousness he had before melting away into a smug grin

He's so fucking handsome

"You missed me so much that you ditched you date~?"

Your fingers are tangling in his hair as you pull him in closer, lips nearly touching as the emotions between you two threaten to burst

"And you just dedicated an entire love song to me on air to steal me away from my date."

His warm breath hits your face as he chuckles, bypassing your waiting lips to kiss your ear softly instead

"What can I say, my dear? I'm a fool when it comes to love~"

His voice nearly makes your knees buckle, but Alastor easily holds you up, pushing you up against the door while giving you a bruising kiss

For someone who's never really taken an interest in relationships, he's a really talented fucking kisser

I really hope you like this one! I had so much fun with it!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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beatrixstonehill2 · 4 months

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"Look at how big my titties are getting.... so full of milk! I look like a regular breeding cow already. It's so wonderful seeing my pretty little boobs start to get so heavy and swollen. Pregnancy is amazingly fun! I was a bit worried when my doctor said he signed me up for this! I mean, I've been living as a girl for a little while now and my transition has been going super well. But as soon as I turned 18 he was like, "Emily, now that you're old enough I think you're ready to start carrying a few kids, don't you?" I was like "Uhhhh, sure?" And he had me sign all these wavers, despite me not 100% knowing what I was getting myself into!

Soooo, apparently I was entered into a trial to be continually impregnated on high doses of fertility drugs for a decade. My paperwork says that 'the patient's uterus is expected to produce a minimum of 100 kids in that time.' The minimum!? Ummmm...... wow. But I'm not too surprised. I'm only like six months along and I look huge. It's definitely making playing field hockey a lot more challenging, but as expected we are college girls now so over half of us are pregnant anyway. So I guess it's not a huge deal but when the other girls check me or tackle me I feel like my belly's gonna pop like a balloon, which would be fun to see, I suppose.... Hasn't happened yet though!

So, not only was I forcibly entered into this clinical breeding trial or whatever but I realized the procedure was pretty quick.... I asked my surgeon and I'm not going on Rocket, so I'm not giving birth urethrally, and they didn't hook my birth canal up anywhere, so I won't be giving birth anally like a lot of trans girls..... I decided to ask if they intended to do a new surgery and they said no. So I asked how am I giving birth? The people running the trial said a small device is hooked to my womb, when my babies are ready it'll emit a signal, telling them where I am.....

Guys, get this: I won't know when it's going off. They said they only perform the retrieval between 9-5 Mon-Fri. So I'll be at school or out, going about my day and they'll come by. Allegedly they'll have me take off my clothes wherever I am, they'll smear my belly with numbing cream, and..... perform a C-Section no matter where I am. College? A crowded mall? A movie theater? I'll have no choice, they'll just rip off my clothes, prep me, and open my belly like it's a casual, minor test they're performing, like drawing blood or weighing me or something. Then they'll take my babies to the usual government-owned civilian living centers all these babies are raised at by all these government-appointed breeders who manage to make it to thirty. I might end up being a full-time mom like that one day, if I'm lucky and I don't pop! So.... I have public C-Sections to look forward to! Wonder if it happens even if some random guy is fucking me as I try to go about my day? Wouldn't surprise me one bit.....

Guess I'm still glad I transitioned, even if being forced to have a uterus and pump out babies like a factory was not how I envisioned my twenties. No big deal, I guess. I love having this huge belly, and guys and girls go crazy about it! They go even crazier when they see I have a nice, thick cock between my legs, too.... I feel like it's getting even bigger lately, maybe it's just getting swollen because I jerk off so often? And every other person I run into gives it a few healthy tugs when they reach up my skirt or dresses..... Mmmmm, speaking of which I think I'm gonna put on a cute tiny dress and go out clubbing tonight. My poor pregnant body is just begging to be pounded by twenty or thirty cocks..... I'm sure my professors will understand if I'm late to class tomorrow!"

#pregnant trans #trans girl pregnant #pregnant mtf #pregnant kink #breeding k1nk

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perrigoaway · 3 months

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I like seeing them be silly

More thoughts and discussion beneath the cut!

Okay!! Another comic, guys! I tried to keep this one a little more simple visually! Of course, I always get carried away and end up putting in more effort into comics than I want to, so some parts are a bit more detailed than others, and some are a little more simple! Still, that's kinda just how comics are, so it's fine lol

Anyway, as for the comic itself, I think van Zieks would soften up a little over the years after everything is resolved, so maybe he'd be more willing to joke around a little. Still, Gina is a fun character, and also isn't really intimidated by him, so she'd think it was funny to try and mess with him. I tried to keep their dialog as in character as I could, also using the fonts to try and characterize them a bit! Hopefully it's legible!

My older sister gave me the idea for this comic, along with a couple others that I might do something with in the future :D my sisters pretty much ghost write most of my comics, as in planting an idea in my head and I draw it/make it in to comics! So thanks to them!

I think from now on, I'll put all my insane ramblings and yapping beneath the cut, so if you're reading this, thank you so much! I read and appreciate everyone's interactions with my stuff, and spend lots of my freetime reading through the reblogs HAHA they really do motivate me!

#the great ace attorney #dgs #dai gyakuten saiban #barok van zieks #gina lestrade #teagies art #my art #ace attorney #aa #ghhh is this considered spoilers?#maybe a little TT #dgs2 spoilers #art #fanart #with id #id in alt text

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oneluckydragon · 10 months

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We'd both been so excited for it-- to change, to grow stronger, to pass another life-changing milestone on our adventure together. But after I evolved, it took weeks before Sora could even bring herself to look me in the eyes. It went unsaid between us, poisoning our hearts like a cold, bitter curse and haunting every intake of breath. Although, the worst of it all... was that even without words, we both knew why it hurt so much.

Like some sick joke, I had become the spitting image of him.

Ya'll know that feeling when you [Hero] try to evolve into a Leafeon to be closer in spirit to the best friend you lost [Grovyle] because you miss him so much it physically aches, but instead you end up looking like the guy you trusted/adored that betrayed/tried to kill you and your girlfriend? Cause damn it hurts.

Anyways ever since I replayed EOS and evolved at Luminous Spring I've had thoughts about what Sora's reaction would be to Echo's evolution into Umbreon. And lemme tell you that it's an emotional roller coaster. To say that Sora has complicated feelings about Dusknoir is an understatement, and Echo isn't so happy about it either since she had put her faith in him. They've got a lot of trauma to heal.

But to add to that, I like to write about my girls in my spare time when I'm not drawing cause it's fun, so maybe I'll post some little blurbs sometime if anyone is interested?? Hm. Yeah might do that eventually, we'll have to see.

#i have LOTS of feelings about Team Wish's relationship with Dusknoir and the aftermath of the main story and i need to EXPRESS it #yes... some of Echo's markings match the pathetic man which makes it EVEN WORSE for them both to deal with #for the first few days Sora visibly recoils every time she glances at Echo-- which hurts them both equally even though it's an accident #and when grovyle/celebi/dusknoir return from the future post-game i'm sure you can imagine the shit that goes down #i like to think that they reconcile but dusknoir needs to know that he effed up big time and needs to do some serious apologizing #it's obvious which pic i was the most invested in but i'm not ashamed i like drawing glowy/sparkly stuff #this was also supposed to just be a quick doodle but i went a tiny bit farther than that... i added some color wow #pmd #pmd2 #pmd eos #echo/umbreon #sora/lucario #dusknoir #my art

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pennyserenade · 4 months

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the devil hath power

part three: the victor

pairing: coriolanus snow x f!reader, coriolanus snow x you, coriolanus snow x nameless reader (no use of y/n) rating: e (explicit, 18+) tags/warnings: power imbalance, sex work/prostitution, degradation, smut, explicit sex, a little bit of violence, roughness, blood tw, hate sex, protected sex, handjobs, oral (female receiving), fingering, a general evilness for coriolanus snow is NOT a good guy. i hate to tag this as Dark Coriolanus because i think that's just who he is, but i will do so for the sake of this. word count: 7.9k+ summary: Coriolanus Snow is always the victor in his games. Or is he? a/n: this series was lots of fun to write and i can only hope that you all enjoyed reading this half as much as i enjoyed making it. i'll kiss you on the nose if you decide to leave a nice comment and/or reblog this, but if you only like it that's okay, too; i'll think of you fondly for having followed me on this journey regardless. no beta because life is hard but i did my best here.

part one | part two

The party did not conclude as much as it transferred to another location.

Tigris and her friends had begun to talk of a new nightclub some time after the conversation in the living room, and the idea whisked them away in their states of bubbly inebriation. They had kindly invited her along, with Tigris in particular trying to make a strong case, but she’d declined, citing early morning obligations. On the way out, Tigris had whispered to her that Coriolanus was too important for fun–but asked if she wouldn't try and help him have it anyway, being his old friend? She had promised she would and Tigris had kissed her cheek with warm affection before leaving. Not for the first time that night she could hardly believe that Coriolanus was related to the woman.

It was just as well for Coriolanus that they all left sooner than expected. He held the door open as they scattered out, delivering his charming goodbyes, but after they all had gone his amicable smile faded significantly and his shoulders slumped from the relief.

“Don’t you like them?” she asked, observing from the corner.

He wetted his lips, turning his head towards her. “Do you?”

“I’d say so, yes.”

“Of course you do. They’re fools.”

She wasn’t surprised by his turn of attitude. In fact, she felt more at ease when he was like this: transparently mean. It felt less frightening to know what she was up against.

“Even Tigris?” she inquired.

“Of course not Tigris,” he answered irritably. He pushed his frame off the wall and straightened himself out. “She’s just vulnerable to those types of people. It’s not her fault.”

“Those types of people?” As far as she could tell, they’d all been fairly well-rounded individuals. Their only fault had been curiosity, maybe overfamiliarity, but she considered that much better than what he gave off: Pomposity, contempt, a coldness when he did not think to mask it. Coriolanus could be charming–she observed this multiple times throughout the night, as he had conducted side conversations and finished off stories–but he never seemed to strike anyone as sincere. She could sense that, could feel it in the way they talked to him, not like an old friend, but like a teacher. He wasn’t like Tigris. She was lovely.

Coriolanus did not entertain the conversation any longer, though. He instead took the needle off the record that had been playing softly in the background for some time, stopping the music in the middle of a song. It was then that her thoughts spun back to her music box—how abruptly, almost violently, he had shut it when they were inside her room–and her stomach began to churn. It wasn’t nerves; it was far more complex than that. His eyes seemed to beckon her closer, to draw her in.

Despite what she had said, she had hoped maybe all Coriolanus had intended to do was flaunt her around the party, to show her the life she could have if she worked hard enough for it. That had been foolish; she was experienced enough to know with men like him it never stopped anywhere innocuous as that. He looked up at her like he expected a performance.

“Finally down to two,” she said, sitting her near-empty wine glass on one of his ornate bookshelves. “Anything else you’d like to do while I’m still on the clock?”

He laughed mirthlessly, working the knot in his tie. “Is that all you think about?”

She watched him as he had her that first night: intent, serious, a spectator to a life she could not quite imagine, nor one she exactly envied. “I don’t know—is there something else I should be thinking about?”

He eyed her as she moved closer, almost as if he intended for her to pounce. His grin was derisive. “I don’t know–don’t you have your own thoughts?” he answered brusquely.

“I do, but I don’t think you’d like them very much, Mr. Snow,” she retorted. She could sense that he was not entirely in a good mood now–could see it in the tense way he held his frame, see it in the hardness of his azure eyes–but she wasn’t sure he ever was. At least not in her company.

“I can leave as soon as you give me my money,” she added.

“Thought you said you weren’t an escort,” he sneered. She watched as his fingers undid his cufflinks. They fell with a clatter on the table before him, disregarded with an unfettered ease. She knew they probably cost more than most people could ever hope to make in a lifetime in the Districts. If she stole them, would he notice?

“I’m not, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re well above paying for sex.”

“What? The game get too trying for you?” Coriolanus clicked his tongue. Though his words took on a more playful tone, his voice did not. “You almost had me convinced last week that you were a worthy playmate. So stubborn, so adamant. I thought to myself for a moment that I was lucky you were only a whore and not something as substantial as my classmate.”

Her eyes grew hard, despite herself. “So why are you trying to make me into something you so wholly believe I’m not?” she asked. “I don’t appreciate being left in the dark, Mr. Snow. In my line of business, it is best when all the cards are left on the table. When they are not I have the habit of leaving.”

He seemed to consider this as he opened the three buttons on his dress shirt. Already he had slung his suit jacket over the chair. “I’m not entirely fond of deception, either,” he said finally.

“I didn’t say anything about deception.”

“But I did. And you—“ he pointed a finger in her direction, “—know what you do is a bunch of thinly-veiled deception. I’ll tell you this: I think you could be an asset to me. You proved it tonight more than ever, with that charming little story about your Peacekeeper husband. You’re as quick on your feet as I’m sure you are on your back.” He quirked a mean grin. “But I’ll also say this: I also don’t like being left in the dark. If we are to work together the way I hope we will, I want to know your every thought as soon as you think it. I don’t care how banal.”

More than Coriolanus Snow liked conducting games, it seemed he liked winning them with an unfair advantage. Her lips twitched, daring to press into a grin. He didn’t find this amusing.

“You think I’m joking,” he gruffed.

“Quite the contrary.” She laughed, but it was more exasperated than mocking. “I think you’re serious. It’s just that you’re so goddamn predictable. You try to act above those men who come to me but you want what many of them do: power and control.”

The table that separated them lifted ever so slightly as he leaned his frame nearly all the way across it. “Of course I do,” his voice was rough. He was a frightening man when he wanted to be. She stumbled back. Anyone would’ve. “You do too. Don’t think I don’t notice just as much as you do.”

To make up for her temporary faltering and to show she was not intimated - though in truth she did wonder if maybe she ought to be - she leaned forward too, so close their noses nearly brushed. He smiled a wicked little grin that sent shivers down her spine. “You make me as sick as I make you. How's that for a thought?” she said.

No venom, no bitterness, just a fact. Her pulse quickened. For a flash, she considered the fact that he could very well kill her. That no one might know it. Was he capable of that?

She felt his breath fan across her cheek, warm, scented like roses. “I like you better like this. None of that doe-eyed, temptress act. Your fluttering eyelashes got you through the door, but only because I wanted to know more about what’s up here.”

She glowered. “You act high and mighty, Coriolanus, but I saw the tent in your pants last week. I know you liked it.”

Her mouth ghosted over his own, teasing, but he didn’t move; he smirked, brushing his nose against her cheek, daring her. Challenging her. A far cry from the Coriolanus of weeks past. His past words echoed in her mind, the gravity of them weighing on her for the first time: The game will be different next time.

She could not lose.

“You’re a petulant child, so afraid of what you don’t understand, contrary to what you say,” she whispered coldly, “And you want to fuck me so badly it terrifies you and you’re ashamed of yourself.”

He connected their lips; it was chaste, brief before he drew back. It surprised her, and she had to work hard to pretend it hadn’t. “You think that if I do, it’ll ruin me.” Another chaste kiss. “Maybe it might, but what of you? What if you like it? Could you live with yourself?”

Her eyes pressed close. The smell of roses was pungent but there was a heady scent mixed in with it; the sour-sweet smell of a clean sweat, of worry, of a long, long day. There too was alcohol. She had watched him consume a glass or two. She was sure she could take him on if need be. Certain that she had the willpower, the strength, to outdo him once more. “I’ve done far worse things and lived with it,” she whispered.

Snow’s fingertips grazed against her jawline. His eyes bore into hers when she opened them for him. “I believe that.”

Maybe it was meant to come across as condemnatory but it landed in a cushioned awe, wrapped in the quiet reverence belonging to a man who badly wants something he shouldn’t have. And he took it, his long fingers wrapping around the tantalizing column of her neck, pressing gently, an act of possession as his lips enveloped her own. There was no hesitation, no strain; he opened his mouth and she allowed his tongue to separate her lips. He tasted of roses, of wine, earthy and decadent, his lips plush and smooth as they moved hungrily against her own.

She was the one who pulled back first, searching for air, allowing his nose to bump against the tip of hers as he lurched forward for more. His eyes were closed but he still possessed enough of himself to laugh humorlessly at the impossibility of what was happening. It did feel like victory, albeit a small one. She kissed him again, hoping he felt the drip of regret straight down to the swell of his groin. Hoped he’d feel it for decades, that he’d remember this as vividly as she would: his thighs pressed into the wooden table, his fingers in her hair, on her jaw, on her neck, his want, thick and palpable - embarrassing - as he leaned closer for more, more, more.

He tugged her closer by the lapels of her jacket. There was no protest, not even the muffled sound of self-satisfaction as she crawled her way to him across the table. He held it down with his weight and watched expectantly as she came to sit before him. It was better this way, she told herself, so close. His pupils were blown wide, his lips red and bruised, whatever lipstick she might’ve still been wearing smudged against his. Even his carefully styled hair had begun to unravel. She could feel the full heat of his desire as her legs bracketed his waist.

“When I first began asking about you—“ Coriolanus’ fingers fiddled with the buttons on her blazer. She let him, leaning back on her arms, a present to be unwrapped. “—there was this man. Let’s call him Vitus.” The first button popped open, and he moved diligently to the next one. “I go to university with Vitus. He’s a wealthy young man, and arrogant, so it’s no surprise he’s on your list. Vitus spoke highly of you, but not kindly.” The other button broke open, revealing the bit of flesh before her breasts. He could see a peak of black, of sheer lace, and she watched as he reevaluated his expectations.

“Vitus,” she reminded softly. He shifted his eyes up. They were dark and unreadable. “Vitus—” he echoed, nodding. The third button slipped free. “—said you were a whore who got down on your knees for him. You sucked his cock so well that he shook. Said that was the best head he ever got, that you swallowed it down your pretty throat and left lipstick marks on his cock.”

Coriolanus’ lips twitched, as though this fact pained him. She furrowed her eyebrows, surprised by the way the words seemed to disturb him—as if he was angry that she had been with other men. He pushed her blazer open and draped it over her shoulders. His head drooped down and he took one of her nipples, which was clothed behind the sheer cup of her bra, and scraped it between his teeth.

She shuddered, one hand coming to his hair. Before it could, he pressed it back down onto the table forcefully. Her body got progressively more rigid beneath his.

“Another man said your cunt was tight.” He stared up at her with unfeeling eyes. “Tight. He said that word exactly. He was so vapid. He said you liked him. That you came on his cock not once but twice, and that you rode him until your knees gave out. And do you want to know what I asked them to get those responses?” Coriolanus pressed his lips gently on the place before her bra began. He began kissing downwards, right over the fabric. By her belly-button, he said, “If they knew who you were. Nothing else.”

He pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses at the waist of her pants. She pushed back the fawn of hair that fell over his eyes and he let her. Looking down at him, feeling the ghost of his lips, the presence of his breath against her skin, she realized he intended for her to comment.

“That doesn’t embarrass me,” she answered mildly. “I can’t stop what people choose to say about me.”

Coriolanus rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think it would. That wasn’t the point.” He began to undo the button on her pants now, too. “The point is that I wanted you to know—“ The button came loose and he carefully undid her zipper, falling to his knees before her. It was more reverent of a move that she would have figured he’d make. He nudged her exposed skin with the cold tip of his nose, letting his tongue trace lightly at the beginning of her transparent underwear. “—however well you did it for them, I want it twenty times better. This will be your best performance yet.”

His fingers gripped the underside of her thighs and he tugged her forward so abruptly, it caught her off guard. Her head rattled against the wood of the table. “Fuck!” she hissed through her teeth, her foot pushing outward to fling him back in retaliation. It worked; he jolted, his body falling flat onto the floor.

Her breath quickened, her body adjusting to the adrenaline now coursing through it. As rose on her elbow to inspect the damage, she frowned. Coriolanus sat before her, running his thumb against the bottom of his lip. When he inspected his fingers, he was overcome with quiet astonishment. They both were. There was a red droplet smeared on his finger, the blood fresh. The sight of it thrilled her. It did. She was not sorry to admit that. She only worried how he would take it, how he would respond. If he called someone, anyone important, she could be in trouble. What she did was not exactly legal.

“Coriolanus—“ she began apologetically. He rose a hand to shut her up. It was like blood on snow, the cream white of his hand smeared with the dark red of his blood. How ironic.

He rose to his feet, laughing coldly as he tongued the spot on his lip. It wasn’t terrible, but it’d be an injury he couldn’t hide. People would ask about it. She began to cower, drawing her knees up the closer he came to her.

“There’s no reason to be scared,” he assured, though the frenzied look in his eyes didn’t put her much at ease. His bloodied finger wrapped around one of her ankles. It melted in the fabric, but would no doubt stain later when it faded to rusty brown. This suit would be ruined. She tried her best to remain calm. She had survived worse. She was always surviving.

“What’s a little blood in a good game between friends?” he spoke levelly. The blood dribbled slowly down his chin and he let it.

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to—not like that. I just meant to—“ she sputtered. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No you’re not. What did I say about us not deceiving each other?”

His voice was low, angry, his eyes piercing. She carefully watched his fingers on her ankle, anticipating his next move. They remained still, loose. “Maybe I deserved it,” he went on, laughingly. “What’s the saying—an eye for an eye? Maybe that just makes us even.”

Before the blood trickled down to his white shirt, she moved forward to stop it, as if this would absolve what she’d done—helping him. It was just a dribble, barely anything at all. He flinched, though, when she lurched forth to wipe it. He pinched her wrist between his fingers.

Coriolanus inspected the spot on her finger like he had his own, his lips attempting to twitch into something resembling a smile. It was unsettling, and she was happy when she pulled back and he let her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her softly again. He let go of her ankle.

She stared into his eyes until they finally became penetrable again. After she nodded in quiet acquiescence, Coriolanus took her hand back. He looked her in the eyes, wrapped his warm mouth around her two blood-stained fingers and moaned. It was so lewd, so unlike anything she could’ve imagined him doing, and she couldn’t help but show her shock; she yelped as his tongue grazed between her fingers.

Her slack jawed reaction offered him the reprieve he needed to get them back on track; his lips slid off her fingers and he pulled her closer, guiding her into another kiss. She could taste cooper on his tongue more than she could his roses now. This was against her rules, anything with blood, but it felt hard earned, like a reward on her part more than his.

Coriolanus took advantage of the fact that her slacks were unbuttoned and slid his hand down between their bodies. He spread his fingers through the patch of hair she had teased him with on that ill fated night, when he had come so close to giving in to her, reveling in the fact that he had her now. And it did feel like exactly that: like he had her, like a bird in a cage. He had her beneath his touch, he had her wearing the clothes he’d picked out, in the house of his own making, wearing the very blood she’d drawn from his lip. Even the slight pulsating feeling that resided there still only added fuel to the fire that she’d awoken in him.

She was a terrible thing, and he saw it in her eyes when she’d kicked him back—that frightening jolt of excitement that came from the illicit. The fact that she hated him, that he could see it in her eyes as clearly as he had been able to derive anything else from her, did not bother him. It comforted him. She was no Lucy Gray. Not even throwing poor Lucy Gray in an arena to fight to the death could make her half as jaded as the woman beneath his touch. She had done worse and lived through it. Yes, he believed her.

The simple truth of it was that if she wasn’t a whore and destitute, he’d marry her in a heartbeat. While Livia Cardew was a wonderful choice, and one he was close to sealing the deal on, Livia wasn’t like this woman. He knew that there would never be a danger of loving either of them, that his heart could never open the way it had for Lucy Gray for anyone so cold and cynical. But he knew, unlike with Livia, he could delight in life with this one—that she could make him better, not for all her surrender, but the process of wearing her down to it. He pictured it: the Presidential Palace of his dreams, expansive and grand, and her lying in a four-poster bed waiting for him after a long day in red silk sheets, wearing nothing but this black transparent set. When he entered her it would not be a chore, or something given, but a game hard won—and he knew she’d like it too, that the defeat would fill her with comfort because she knew the depths of true exhaustion and it wouldn’t be like that. He’d seen the hollowed home of hers, knew she lived through the Dark Days just as well as the rest of them and recovered about as well as his family had. To lose his game would be nothing; he’d cloth her and feed her and fuck her full of heirs no matter what.

He wouldn’t want Livia to do this. She wouldn’t do it half as well. There was a vulnerability to this woman that Livia Cardew didn’t possess, a vulnerability she tried hard to forge into strength and almost succeeded at. It was thrilling to watch, to see her hold her head up so assuredly beneath his hard gazes, to watch the devastating power she possessed when she needed something badly enough. He hated her but she no longer disgusted him; she thrilled him. He’d be happy to play this game every day for the rest of his life—would be pleased to shed blood for something as giving as this pursuit. He’d done more for less.

Her cunt was hot and wet, and rubbing a single finger through it relieved him more than he would readily communicate. But he didn’t have to; he slumped into her, gave way. She gripped at his arms, let him swallow her breathy little moans into his mouth as he teased over her core with his fingertip. He knew that when he entered her, it would change something—ruin him, maybe, the way she’d forecasted—and he didn’t yet want to do it. A part of him would lose and would remain lost forever, and he wasn’t ready to contend with that truth yet.

He gathered her slick on his fingers and began to grind down on her clit. Slowly at first, letting her adjust to the feeling, then quickly, delighting wholly in the way she couldn’t help but tighten her grip on his arms.

Coriolanus was not a man who liked self-imposed ignorance. After returning from District 12, he’d begun to undertake his study in sexuality, with nearly as much ardor as he had his education. He and Lucy Gray never had done anything beyond kissing and heavy petting. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to—he’d wanted to wait until she seemed eager, ready, when they could be alone, away from the Covey, from Sejanus—but it never worked out. He understood it to be for the best. If they had he’d probably be tethered to the foolish notion that sex had to mean something. When he got back, Coriolanus took to the female attention that had been directed towards him for much longer than he had wished it to be. It had started with Clemensia, for he had known he could trust her for her frankness and he found her to be the prettiest.

He knew what he was doing now—had undertaken many hours in the laboratory of women’s intricate, often complex forms. Sometimes men, too, he wasn’t ashamed to admit. There was nothing he did not want to know—especially about himself. Lucy Gray had taken him by surprise because he’d made the mistake of being unknowing, of not having a strong sense of his character and a fluid purpose. He worked through that, saw himself out to the other side: he knew what he liked, who he liked, when he liked it.

Well, mostly. She surprised him, but that was perfectly fine because he was solving this too, wasn’t he?

Her nails dug crescent shaped indentations into the pale of his skin, nearly cutting enough to draw blood again, but not quite. He nuzzled against her throat with his nose, taking to the sting of it. He went faster on her clit, harder. “You can never just play nice, can you?” he husked. He nipped alongside the edge of her jaw, ignoring the ache in his lip. “You’re so fucking wet. You like this. Like my blood on your tongue and my hands down the front of your pants. Makes you feel powerful doesn’t it?”

She covered his mouth with one of her hands, her face contorting into a fine pleasure-pain expression that sent jolts right down to his cock. He could tell she was close, that she was going to come any second based on the way she was drawing her legs together—or at least trying to. Her grip was fierce on his arm and she was uncaring of the wound she had given him, pressing her palm to it. If she drew fresh blood, he wouldn’t be surprised. Wouldn’t mind. He’d lick it from her palm, too.

He finally relented when he felt she was getting too close, and he sunk a single finger into her, keeping his thumb pressed steadily onto her clit as he did. She moaned, loud and audacious, her entire body arching up into him. With his free hand, he gripped her chin hard and, shaking off her hand from his face, pushed his lips into hers. She came, her fingers tugging on his hair, her nails clawing at his arm, her tongue touching his, exploring, tasting, lingering.

And then she slumped against him, sated and out of breath. He smirked, though she could not see it. This was his victory, and a sweet victory it was. Here she was: docile, collasped in his arms, pleased because he had made her so.

When he felt she had had enough time to recuperate, he took his finger from the welcomed heat of her cunt and placed it on her tongue. It did not shock her the way he thought it might’ve—the way he would’ve liked. She wrapped her lips around it without a second thought, drawing it in deeper, her eyes latching seductively onto his. His cock twitched at the sight and at the feel of it, knowing that she was tasting of herself and without a hint of shame or remorse coloring her. Good Capital girls weren’t ever so bold. It took awhile to get them to do things like this, or to even admit that they might like the idea of it.

And she knew he liked it—that what had been plebeian before now seemed desirable as he explored and touched and undid. The state she found herself in was not an unprecedented outcome as much as it was a detour. She would still end up where she had intended to be in the beginning. Coriolanus was better than she would’ve thought he could’ve been, sure, but it did not detract from the fact that at his core he was fundamentally the same as the rest of them. That in his eyes, which burned wildly of passion, and his mind, which no doubt thought single-mindedly of success, was like that of a million others before him. Unexceptional in his perceived exceptionalism.

She took her mouth off of him, sucking her cheeks so hollowly around his finger that she made a sweet popping sound. Coriolanus was like a spectator. That’s the best way she could perceive him: as an audience, taken completely with her and her unpredictability, hanging onto the edge of his seat, wondering what on earth she would do next. His eyes followed her movements closely. She thought of his Games—the one with the tributes that could be bet on, and watched constantly—and she wondered how much different this was to that for him. How sick of a man was he? Where was the line, as he asked her? Did he know it?

She guided his hand down to her chest. This he seemed to understand, taking the lead, catching her pebbled nippled against his palm as he massaged one of her breasts. She shrugged off the blazer—which had scarcely been hanging on for a while now—and tugged down her bra impatiently, exposing more of herself to him. He took the opportunity to lean his head down again. Coriolanus ran the flat of his tongue against one of her nipples, while squeezing the other between his fingers. The nature of it bordered on painful but he never committed to it, edging her up to the slight sting of too much pressure and then coaxing her out of it, sucking, rubbing lightly.

His lips were glossy when he perched up to kiss her. She smiled. “You’re awful agreeable when your cock is hard—though I guess I knew it would be. I think that’s why you hate whores like me: we excite you to the state of pliability.”

He took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged at the flesh. “You’d like to think that,” He kissed over the spot, tending it with an affection that didn’t belong to him. It felt borrowed, stolen, an amusing role he was trying to fill out as not to startle her with the true depth of his cruelty. “I hate what you do but I understand it, don’t you see? I told you as much before. You whores — as you so crassly put it — are like a small stain on a good piece of fabric: some you can hide better than others.”

She yanked roughly at his hair, drawing a hiss from his lips. But his grin did not fade. “What does that make you, then?” she retorted, “With your cock hard for me? Paying to finger me?”

She palmed him through his slacks and Coriolanus let out a shuddery breath, shocked by the sudden relief of it. His next response was amused, his voice lighter. “But you’re not like other whores are you? There’s a hierarchy and you’re at the top of yours. The finest quality. If there’s ever a cunt to sink into, it’s yours—“ His eyes rolled back as she unzipped his slacks and slid her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. Her fingers gripped tightly around his base and his nose brushed against hers as he leaned into her touch, his palms flattening on the table. “—fuck.”

With her free hand she propped him up, laughing against his shoulder. “Oh, Coriolanus,” she purred against the shell of his ear. His shaft was leaking pre-cum and she rubbed some of it down his cock, taking note of his response to her grip; the way the muscles in his neck fluctuated, how his hips bounced back and forth, how his breathing labored. Her teeth tugged on his earlobe. “You ought to get a condom, before you make a mess of yourself in your slacks. I can tell you want it so bad, Coryo.”

His hand gripped her throat. “Don’t call me that,” he said, his voice low—ringing serious, desperate. She didn’t listen.

“Coryo, please,” she begged. His cock twitched in her hand and his hand tightened on her throat, threatening. It was a warning. She wanted to ruin him—wanted him to think about her forever, wanted to hate her as badly as she felt she hated him—but she couldn’t let him finish like this. She needed him inside of her, the truest defeat.

“I’ll show you how good I can be,” she coaxed, her tugs on his cock becoming more lingering. From the tip to the base, slow and teasing. He was decently sized. more girth than he was length. She was happy he knew what foreplay was. “I’ll show you how good we can be, and that’s what you really want, isn’t it? To know that I can submit to you as you’ve to me? And I can, Coryo.”

His eyes pressed closed. She kissed the side of his mouth. “You don’t want what those men want, do you? Not even in a better form. You want more from me. Something I’ve never given them. Isn’t that right?” She kissed him fully on the lips now and he let her—even opened his mouth to accept her tongue against his. A man heavily seduced. “I bet you’d like to fuck me with nothing on, wouldn’t you?”

She knew what he wanted. She needed him to say it to. To admit it for the both of them. His eyes looked so light, almost crystal, when he opened them again. He swallowed hard. “You’re such a cunt.”

“You’re not paying me to lie to you. You’re paying for my every thought, isn’t that right?” She gripped his cock tighter in her hand and he sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth. “I think you want to tell me what you’re thinking so badly it’s killing you. You shouldn’t be afraid of it, not anymore. We’ve already come so far. A little farther won’t kill you.”

“Such a dirty wh—“

“You told me, you said however banal the thought—“

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything. You’re just afraid of it—the depth of your want.”

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He rutted into her hand, the warmth of it beyond relieving after so much of nothing. She let him. As his hips pushed into her, into the table, she watched how the desperation took hold of him. Coriolanus' breathing became labored. She wondered how long it had been—if he denied himself this pleasure. He gripped tightly onto the edge of the table, drawing closer and closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

With an almost sickening amount of satisfaction, she let go of his cock. Coriolanus rutted into nothing with a harsh grunt, his head bouncing into her shoulders as he realized what she’d done and began to sag from the betrayal.

He gripped her face between his hands. “You think you’re so very clever—and you are—but you won’t win this. Not against me.” He squished up her cheeks, drew her closer to his face. His patience had thinned. “I’m not like those bastards you fool around with. Everyone knows you don’t fuck whores without a condom—even the most cunning ones. Don’t play the cards you don’t have because it’s beneath you,” he growled out before letting her go.

She watched with mild curiosity as he stalked away from her. It was an act she found equal parts amusing and hypocritical. He reminded her of a wounded animal, snapping at whatever it perceives to be a threat in blind rage.

“You like the game, don’t you, Coriolanus?” she asked him lightly.

He peered at her over his shoulder. “I have always liked the making of it more than I liked the playing of it.”

He had retreated back to his clinical tone; measured, calculated, clipped. She gathered her composure and slid off the table. He tensed beneath her when she wrapped herself around his torso, and his hands gripped onto her own. But he did not push her away. He was warm, still flushed from his desire, and she knew he did not have it in him to deny her. His cock was hard, leaking, and he allowed himself the room to want this. To imagine it. They were too far into this now.

She laid her head against his back and toyed with the buttons on his shirt. She slid her hand beneath the cool fabric. Her fingers explored the hardened expanse of his chest, dipped down to his abs teasingly. His heart hammered away in his chest—perhaps the most honest thing about him. His body began to ease, unintentionally, back into her own, and she undid the few remaining buttons on his dress shirt. He let it fly open.

Coriolanus turned around. He kissed her suddenly, and it wasn’t like before—not rough, but almost tender, all consuming. “I think we should go to my bedroom in case Tigris comes back. Sometimes she does that,” he whispered against her lips.

“Lead the way,” she responded. And he did.

Coriolanus’ room was luxurious, but sensible; it was obvious from the design it was a space meant to be slept in rather than inhabited: the four poster bed, the orange hued lamps, the heavy drawn curtains. Everything was the best quality, but it was plain, almost antiquated. Like hers, if she could have his money.

He didn't put much stock in how she felt about the room, though. When the door shut, they resumed their working relationship. He eased her out of the slacks and she relieved him of his shirt; he unlatched her diaphanous bra, and she tugged on his pants; he shimmed the underwear off her hips and he stepped out of his for her without protest, without thought. They were naked in seconds and seemed to understand each other better for it. She laid down on his bed and he stood at the foot of it.

His cock, which had begun to soften, sprung back to life now without aid. He touched his cock in lazy strokes, noncommittal but desperate. He did have a good looking cock, velvet soft and veiny. A terrible thing for a man so evil, so repressed, to be gifted with something like that. “No more tricks,” he demanded.

She opened her legs, the air of the room cool against her wet core. “No more tricks,” she echoed. Coriolanus devoured her before he touched her.

He moved methodically to the desk in the corner of his room. The condoms were stored in the second drawer, wrapped in gold. Before she could offer to help him put one on, he was already undoing the wrapper and lining himself up to the latex. She watched curiously as he did it. He was stately about it, not coltish or inelegant. In this way, he was unmatched. Men usually bowed to their desires but it seemed he led a disciplined existence. He was too important for fun.

Her stomach began to flutter with the anticipation of it. It was a betrayal, but not one she couldn’t contend with. Not one that she hadn’t before, in fact. This was how the body worked. This was work. This meant nothing.

“Are you wet enough?” he asked.

“I’d say so. I must say, you surprised me.” After a pause, she added, “You surprise me. Present tense.”

His smirk was unmistakable and predicted. “Isn’t it nice, not fucking men like Vitus? Don’t you see what a life you could have if you work for me?”

“Yes,” she cooed. Pliant, sated, prepared beautifully on his satin sheets. A dream he had long awaited and one he wanted so badly it would terrify him if he didn’t understand it throughly.

Coriolanus crawled between her thighs. He kissed her again, hard, urgent, and she responded in kind, sucking at the end of his tongue, tugging on his now unruly hair. His cock rested on the curve of her stomach, present, aching, seemingly growing harder by the minute. He worked hard not to rub against her. He refused to hump against her like some goddamn puppy who knew no better.

“Now,” she whispered. He nodded in assent. It was all done by his permission, by his standards. Her hand wrapped around his cock and she guided him to her core, but it was he who pushed in. He who teased the tip, he who slid so slowly that both of their bodies drew in a rigid sigh, he who bottomed out and he who drew up one of her legs to go a little deeper still.

He needed her and there was a certain release to being able to admit that. It was encouraging. It made him throb inside of her. They looked at one another, breathed in the scent of their sex, and it began. Coriolanus drew back his hips, then pressed forward. His movements were harsh but steady. He delighted in the way she looked up at him like that: like he was fucking her and she felt it, really felt it. And fuck, she was wet, so wet that he could hear it. His cock was a welcome entity inside of her; she clenched around him, seeming to urge him in, begging him to stay.

An unspeakable thing grew inside of him. The thing she had been right about. The thing that terrified him. His head hung and he watched the way his cock glistened with her slick, how it entered and exited out of her. “You’re mine,” he growled. It came from within and sounded frail. And it was. It belonged to a version of him he did not like. A version of him he could seldom control. He did not do this much anymore and it was for good reason. He had learned what he had needed to.

She gave a beautiful performance, though. Bleary-eyed with want, convincing as she raised her hips to meet him—like she might need this half as badly as he did. “Yes,” she answered. He hated her.

You hate her. You hate her. He repeated it like a mantra, his hips snapping into hers based on the unvaried rhythm of it. And he did hate her. She was a whore and she was a good one. His arms bracketed her head and said it. “I hate you.”

“Fuck,” was her response. Fuck. His cock pounded inside of her and she moaned. Her nails began to dig into his skin again. This he liked most of all. The nobility of having shed blood had grown on him since he had first killed a person.

He brought up the other leg. She gasped. It could not be any easier to push inside of her than it was now. God she was wet. He began to grind inside of her. She drew blood on his back. The sting of it was a relief. Penance. Fuck.

He didn’t bother with making her come. He thought about it but he felt she didn’t need to. Not again. He was paying her for this. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, not for someone like her. To come inside of her because of his own thoughts was one thing but to come because she did, because she was trembling with her own want and he liked it—

He came. His body went slack and it surprised them both. She wrapped her hands in his hair as he collapsed into her body, and he could feel the heavy thud of heart. Or maybe that was his. It was hard to tell where one began and one ended during these things. He hated that most of all.

Coriolanus drew out of her as soon as he could. He was not embarrassed. He was startled, but not embarrassed. It felt cleansing. But then he did something unforgivable. He did not leave her with her legs parted, did not watch with scorn as she laid in the filth of her occupation. Did not hate her because of what she was but rewarded her for it.

Her gasp was as genuine when his tongue parted her folds. He ate her out in earnest, his eyes watching the way his tongue made her react. When she played with her nipples, so unabashed about what she wanted, he put his mouth on her clit and sucked. He did want her to come. Because of him. For him. Her hips jerked and he followed along with the movements.

She tasted vaguely of him, but acidic, tangy, dangerous, too. Her fingers raked through his hair, and he entered two fingers inside of her. Clemmie used to like this. Livia would, too. He was good at it.

“Oh, Coriolanus,” she whined. He hummed against her and the vibration reached her core. She shook and tugged and pleaded, her hips doing their best to get away, but he wouldn’t let them. He felt her clinch around his fingers. “Coriolanus,” she gasped. She came once, twice. Three times would be too indulgent. This is where he drew the line.

He fell to her side with a heaving chest. They were both too warm, spent, surprised by the extent of what they had done to speak about it. In his mind he was building her a cage, and she was already searching for the key next to him.

After a while, he turned to her. She did not look at him but continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. “How much?” he asked her. It felt customary.

She wanted to say: More than you can give. She wanted to say: Everything you’ve got. She wanted to say: I will tell you no secrets, I won’t help you, I hate you. But she didn’t. She thought of home, what remained of it, and she said: “More than the first time.”

She was nothing like him but one did not need to be Coriolanus Snow to understand this: money was king, and he who had the most was the winner.

But she understood something far better than he did. She had taken something from him he hadn’t intended to give, and that was something money could not buy. His blood was beneath her fingernails. His cuff links were in the pocket of her blood stained suit. Tomorrow she would begin to make her house right again. Tomorrow she would tell him what she knew about the men she slept with—all of it. Turn them all against each other, hopefully, ruin the whole damn empire. Maybe she would steal something else, eat his food, fuck him again, see how far she could go before he noticed how much of his life she usurped. Would he begin to blur the line between performance and reality? She was sure he might. Already he had his hand on her wrist, tracing lightly against it.

He was the winner but now she was out for more than just a single victory. This was war and she was choosing her battles wisely.

Looking in his direction, she turned her lips up almost imperceptibly into a grin. Her eyes were soft, still teary from the sex. He seemed…at ease. Sated.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“This opportunity,” she said warmly. “I know it’s going to change things for me. I can see that.”

In his eyes it appeared: the propensity for being needed. He smiled, too. “It will,” he told her.

Yes, she was the victor and the crown had yet to feel heavy.

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #young coriolanus snow #thg #the hunger games fanfic #tbosas fanfic #tbosas fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for headcanoning deadnames for trans characters for symbolism purposes?

im a trans guy (minor if it matters) who's been a fan of this one show for a little over a year. none of the characters are canonically trans, but there's a lot of trans allegories to be drawn from the material if you're me or my mutuals at least. the two main characters are both male and i ended up developing an au where they're both explicitly transmasc as a way for me to just explore trans themes in an alternate narrative. i haven't begun writing it yet but definitely plan to once i feel like it's solidly locked in my brain, and i've been sharing snippets & concepts every so often.

part of this was thinking of how they would've chosen their current names, and name symbolism got me considering what they would've changed them away from as well. one character i thought could've initially been named after his mother so i can draw contrasts between the two, and the name i decided on for her has a meaning that highlights her relationship with her father (and the character's relationship with his father in turn); it's also the name of the character's daughter figure in the show. a lot of the other main character's backstory kind of revolves around his dead sister, so i thought by making his deadname that sister's name then i could turn that into an allegory about transness and childhood and sibling death (and sororicide but we don't have time to unpack all that). i don't plan on ever explicitly referring to the characters by their deadname in the narration, except maybe in an ironic tone, but i think it would be cool to sort of sprinkle in references as subtext to just give the readers something more to chew on.

the thing is i've seen posts around talking about how nice it is to make trans characters/headcanons without once considering their deadnames, or how weird it is for people to consider them, and i definitely agree with the sentiment; one of the biggest goals for many trans people is for their past selves to be completely irrelevant, and i feel a bit guilty for perpetuating something so painful for the general community.

but i still don't think i'm an asshole in any way since these are literally just characters and obviously i'm not going around talking about real people's deadnames or anything. i just don't want to make people uncomfortable/trigger dysphoria if they find someone talking about deadnames for a trans charactsr they're attached to (i've definitely had that happen myself when reading trans fics, enough that i had to stop reading, and i don't know how you'd even tag for something like that). if the general gut reaction to this ask is negative then i'll probably consider just not talking about the deadnames unless someone asks about it, since they're not crucial to the plot at all, just some uhh not so fun tidbits.

anyway sorry this is so long for something i feel like might be a non-issue that i'm overthinking. if you somehow guessed the fandom have a chocolate 🫀 if you're one of my few mutuals who knows who i am from the details of the au then um pretend you didnt see this post.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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skitskatdacat63 · 5 months

Text

Tradition vs Modernity vs Comradery

+ context & lore:

In the first drawing, Fernando is wearing a capote de paseo, which is what bullfighters wear before the match begins, as seen below:

In the second, Seb is shouting the very familiar "Olé" which is shouted by the crowd to praise the matador. He's a little brat, so of course he's yelling it for himself, but he did get many 💐

The third(which was a random sketch I had that I didn't think I'd finish tonight, so ignore if its messy) has very important context to me. Before going to the final act and killing the bull, matadors dedicate their montera(hat)(and symbolically: their kill) to a a specific person in the audience(or just the public as a whole.) Seb and Fernando are finally in the same color! Seb is bowing!!! And Fernando is honoring Seb!!!! Also ignore that I drew Seb's post-retirement hair. Though, maybe this drawing is supposed to represent Fernando making a dedication to his now-gone rival 😔(Seb: stop telling people im dead!)

Now, some more lore :D

So I talked about this in my last matador post but I'll expand more. I think it's very funny to characterize Fernando in this au as this fun-hating traditionalist. Because you have to understand; he's only this way when it comes to Seb. Because you absolutely KNOW he was doing silly, unserious shit back when he was younger. But absolutely god forbid Seb do anything silly.

It's very ironic because there literally is a part in the third act of a bull fight where it's basically encouraged to be a bit silly. This is a tad morbid, but basically right before they deliver the killing blow, some show their mastery over the bull by doing some superfluous action(ex. kissing the bull, kneeling in front of the bull.) There's some guy who literally would lean on the bull and mime taking a call. But anyways, Seb would def do this. I've not been able to draw it exactly how I want, but he would bend down and do his little bull horn symbol and mime charging at the bull. (Fernando, trying to make up reasons to hate Seb: oh my god, look at this blatant disrespect, look how he is disrespecting the bull, I cannot believe how rude this boy is!)

Also there's something to be said about how the matador shows mastery over the bull by kissing it or bowing to it...and Seb is technically the bull in this au and Fernando is the matador. There's just this unfortunate level of weird power inbalance that still lingers even though their rivalry is over and can't be affected anymore. There was no succinct answer about who truly was better because Seb was forced out of it. So there's always gonna be this level of "is he just pitying me? Is he just mocking me? Is he just patronizing me?" on Seb's part whenever Fernando praises him or makes dedications to him. And Fernando's always going to be haunted by the fact that there's no answer to who is truly better because he'll never know if Seb had reached his full potential or not. Anyways, they also have nasty sex while wearing their costumes and do weird bull/matador roleplay :)

#god do not ask me at what time i am writing this post #its genuinely so bad and terrible 😭#i meant to only draw the first two but remembered i had the sketch of the third one #and thought hey might as well finish it!! at a uhhhhh already late hour #BUT HEY I DREW THEM ALL AND I LIKEY SO :)#third one is a bit messy tho cause im still not 100% on what i want their 'aston' era clothes to look like #but good enough for [undisclosed hour] so yes hello please take more matador au :)#was just pondering drawing more chibis bcs ive made more aus since those chibi sets i drew #and now have these so :) yayyy matadorsssss :D #but anyways the joke of this post is that whole modernity vs tradition meme so hope that makes sense :)#its super late and my brain is lacking comprehensive thought so i hope this all makes sense #catie.art.#f1 #formula 1 #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso #vettonso #matador au

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thepalaceofharuhime · 6 months

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Hmmm…

Looking at your fandoms, I can’t help but think some sort of Bingqiu in Spy X Family (or a SxF Xianxia fusion) could be super fun!

The question is… what would their roles be.

Assassin Luo Binghe, or spy Luo Binghe… and which of them gets gender swapped. 🤔

Oh!! Maybe Shen Yuan was meant to be an ally of the female half of the main duo, Liu Mingyan, but through shenanigans he somehow ends up with her role instead, and the System demands he fake marry Binghe anyway. 😂

This is exactly the kind of prompt i was hoping for! TY!!! 🙏

The way i see it Binghe would definitely be the assassin, Shen Yuan is too big of a softie not to mention one who so easily put on the mask of another man before so he would definitely be the spy.

But also being oblivious to feelings yet a capable badass, bad in the kitchen, feeling inadequate as a partner? All Shen Yuan. Binghe with his protagonist Halo meanwhile would fit better with Mr. All around perfect Husband. So i guess it'd be a little like Yor and Loyd had switched professions.

Shen Yuan's over protective brother in a position of power? I wonder who that would be? Enter Shen Jiu haha. Rather than secret police he'd be a detective looking in to all the murders rather than keeping state secrets from spies though. To keep that rivalry between him Binghe. The family member Binghe became an assassin to provide for? His mom. The gardener AKA the guy who hired him and hands him his missions? Meng Mo. Franky,the spy's funny informant and gadget supplier, occasional babysitter and not to mention bestfriend? Shang Qinghua.

I dont know if i should replace Fiona with Liu Quinge as Fiona's character really would fit Binghe better. But Liushen is a weakness of mine even if onesided and those two were just made for coworker romances. Maybe I should give Binge someone trying to woe him too? Sha hualing? Then if i dont go with your other idea of having SY transmigrate in to Liu Mingyan (which i am saving up in my head because i absolutely love the idea) then i can add something in the background with her and Sha hualing. I'm positive i could find a way to write in Mobei for SQH or i could go with Scumplane and have him end up Shen Jiu and actually yeah that would work, need to distract SJ long enough for Bingyuan to get it on afterall. Oh what about SQH x SJ x LQG? Or should Shen Yuan get a second husbandafterall? Alternatively imagine LQG crying over a bowl of icecream.

Next question is if SY didnt transmigrate into LMY then who is he? What about Ning Yingying? Who could be SJ's little sister in this world? Or he couldve just been put in there as a female version of himself. Or like it was with Shen quingiu a character who vaguely resembles him and has a similar name. She just happens to be a woman though. Or maybe go with the mulan aproach and have him crossdress? But then how does he explain to his brother that he's suddenly - he could say that he's in love with binghe and the only way to marry him was fake his papers to pretend to be a woman since queer marriage isnt yet allowed in their fictional country. Like no one cares if they date its just they havent gotten to the legalisation of marriage yet. And if SJ asks why they had to get married so suddenly anyway (cuz no way in hell is SY getting away with saying he forgot to tell him for a year) he could say that they had to so they could adopt their daughter. Who in this case scenario could be Ning Yingying, should she still have Anyas powers? damian could be Ming fan or the little palace girl or whatever (im not yet far enough in the books to now her and the old man that well so id have to check the wiki) and i could make the palace master donovan desmond and have SY and LBH team up to take him down in the end.

Anyways yeah these are just some ideas, and again thanks for the prompt! I can't wait to write this! Maybe i'll draw something for it later too. ❤️

#mxtx svsss #svsss #svsss fanfiction #svsss au #luo binghe #luo bingge #luo bingmei #fanfiction #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shen jiu #liu qingge #liu mingyan #ning yingying #sha hualing #shang qinghua #spy x family #spy x family au #fake marriage

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tiny-vermin · 2 months

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I want to know more about the m9 artist au!! I remember reading a post or two about it a billion years ago (and would love to read them again) 💜

hi jess!!!! thank u for being interested hehe :")

so ever since i drew that lil thing of essek painting a frank stella inspired painting (or even before), ive been thinking of what kinds of art each of the m9 would do. essek ofc is inspired by a minimalist show that i went to here, all the big names from that movement were shown, but those really dark, sinkhole-like paintings are speaking to me. another artwork of boxes made of mirrors also seems like the thing he would do too

there's a kiln here that we visited which was huge, and surrounding it were artists' studios and some other ceramic sellers, i imagine the clay family having a place like this in the middle of nowhere amongst the trees, and caleb would do his work there

anyways because at heart im a shadowgast luver its centred around them,, they meet at an artist residency or something like that and its an incredibly slow burn that involves talking and not-talking and looking and not-looking. in the end i am but a simple wong kar wai fan so. that kinda vibes would definitely influence this, i would describe it as a quiet burning i guess?? time skipy and words that are not said

i think im gonna rant a bit more about their different mediums and styles so i'll keep it under the cut

i think caleb sculpts figures and portraits, but in a sad, kathe kollwitz charcoal vibe. maybe some funky looking animals, perhaps some pots and vases to look at the pretty glazes. he's interested in using fire to burn texture into different mediums, like ive seen it being used on shellac to make a really cool net of ink looking structure.. but yknow, just seeing the aftermath of glazed ceramic from the kiln is enough, and probably better for him to keep his distance anyways

the clay family produces most of the ceramic to sell, vases, pots, plates, cups, teapots, yknow just a whole array. and its really colourful too, depicting every family members different style. i think caduceus would do some matte glazes with a lot of different colours, theyre all a little wonky but theyre better off that way anyways. he does some really mean ink calligraphy and painting though

jester definitely does,, everything, whatever her heart desires kinda thang. she makes pastel textile installations and lighthearted cute paintings, but theyre always so contemplative and soothing. she gets m9 a lot of work cus her mom has connections, etc etc. i really love the idea of jester creating works that talk about the female body and femininity (definitely not projecting no)

beau is a printmaker and photographer who's really experimental, she loves cyanotypes and printing flowers (for yasha), idk she seems like she would put fabric and rocks into the washing machine to see what would happen. u would probably catch her in someone elses studio learning about what they do or in the library learning about what old people did

veth works in a museum as a curator, getting beau to help her sometimes with gathering artworks and artists etc. she probably organises community art projects for kids and public art installations. her house is full of m9's artworks and various other artists shes worked with.

yasha does bouquets as her post-retirement part time job, prior to that no one really knows what she did ("she probably murdered a bunch of people and is now hiding from the government"). fjord draws comics for fun but is also not a job for him, molly is a question mark for me. but these guys probably wont be in it as much anyways

im still not sure what format i wanna do this in, im actually having fun just writing it in my notebook now (digital does not facilitate the creative juices) but i do want to do some visuals like fake movie stills or storyboards. maybe they will work together well???? dunno. working on the other shadowgasty thing im doing made me realise how much easier it is to draw when there's a script already there, so im writing the script for myself

im definitely not as practiced in writing as i am in drawing, but idk im just gonna have some fun and see where that takes me, meanwhile try not to feel too bad that its fanart HAHA (very bad habit)

edit: i just saw my previous thoughts on beau being an art journalist, but i kinda like this better.. but maybe she can do both muah

#working tag for this ->#the kiln #honestly if u had any tips for writing #i'd love to hear..#i was insulted once on my writing and never wrote again HADHSFHF #oh and also emo smoking #that is somethng i want to draw more of

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fixfoxnox · 9 months

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Use this ask to ramble about anything, better if it's about Roach 🪳💖

(btw I think I found you in twitter by accident, I'm not sure, too anxious to follow anyway)

AHHHHH YESSS ROACH RAMBLE ASK MUAH MUAH (KISSES)

I haven't gotten to yell about my boy by himself in so long omggggg

Oh also before I forget, you probably did find my Twitter! I haven't really made any posts about it cause, tbh, I still have no idea what I want to post there, but I do indeed have a Twitter! It is here for anyone who wants to follow me. Right now I've just really been dropping random cod thoughts and reposting a lot of artists content, but who knows maybe I'll start doing some Twitter exclusive stuff or thread fics or something (has no idea how thread fics work). Anyways on to the boy:

I'm using this as an opportunity to just talk about whatever comes to mind and the first thing I wanna start with are like some alternate ideas I had for Roach's family before I landed on the Sanderson dynamic that I have now:

Roach from a military family

Imagine how fun it would be if Roach was raised in a military family, especially if they still had that overprotective aspect to them. Like baby boy who was raised around the military so he's been intimately familiar with it

Maybe he had some different talent and his family wanted him to go down a different path and not go military like them

He says fuck that and joins the military and fucks around and ends up joining taskforce 141

Extra funny points if his family don't realize that he's on a specialized taskforce cause he was so nervous about telling them and they find out in dramatic fashion

Maybe he drops in to save them on a mission or something like 🤭 the drama of it all I love it

Also side note but I was thinking so hard about the Sanderson boys (Johnathan and Eddie) and I can't draw so I have to snatch some Face Claims for them so this is what I think Roach's older brothers look like:

Johnathan is played by Lee Pace don't test me this man is tall and probably acts as his own security at his bar and also is a goofball and idk Lee Pace is perfect (this should not detract from me also thinking that Lee Pace is a perfect fc for König)

Eddie to me has to look something like Luke Norris idk I feel like he needs a softer and more like nervous/panicky energy than Johnathan and this man fits don't test me don't test me

Also for anyone who is wondering: No, I still don't have a face claim for my Roach. In my mind he changes so much I see so many different artists versions of Roach in my brain at all times so choosing an actor for him is so hard. I have...thoughts, but idk that anyone would enjoy the thoughts that I have so we'll pretend I don't have them.

More on Roach cause he's my lil guy, my lil dude, my lil buddy

Listen y'all know Southern Roach is my bias but also also also have been falling in love more and more with the idea of Russian Roach. He would be so funnn like he works with Nik beforehand maybe he was undercover with the ultranationalists. I also enjoy the idea of him cursing Shepherd and/or Makarov out in Russian I think it would be fun.

However Southern Roach rains supreme I was thinking so hard about a ghostroachsoap au recently based loosely on the song "Farmer's Daughter" by Rodney Atkins. (Y'all let me know if you want the full au its really just farm au cuteness)

Thinking so hard of Roach just being beloved in his small town as this Golden Child precious little dude then he goes off to the military and finally let's that feral side come out a little. Imagine how funny it would be for Ghost and Soap to go home with Roach and see their boyfriend pu on this innocent act and listen to people describe him as this perfect little guy when they know for a fact that Roach is like borderline feral two steps away from being considered a wild animal.

"He's such a good boy, would never hurt a fly."

Ghost and Soap who watched Roach tear a man's throat out with his teeth last week:

Also taking the opportunity to say that we as a community need to start acknowledging hoe canonically skilled Roach is with weapons! Like this is a boy who had both Price and Soap cursing because they couldn't get any kills because he was killing them to fast. This is a boy who beat Ghost (his luitenant) on a rifle test by a wide margin and on the test that ghost beat him he only fell behind four points.

Roach canonical has several extremely brutal takedown moves that he can do, including the pickaxes and the little fucking kick thing he does to the one guy before stabbing him. Also he's like straight up flipping his guns and doing tricks with them and shit in his weapons inspections, Soap talks about how good he is with C4 and shit.

Like I think people see the like spots where he got into trouble and nearly died in the campaign and take that to mean that he's like not as good as Ghost and Soap and needed their help a lot but like honest to God all of the trouble he gets in to is less because he fucked up and more because the world seems to have it out for him.

The roof breaking out from under him, the ice cracking on him, explosions happen to rock his ass just as soon as he hits an open field. Like someone was trying to kill this little fuck and two outta the three times they failed.

And like its not like Roach doesn't help himself during these situations. Like when he fell yeah he had Soap guiding him but he was the one having the run and slide and do all that shit like no amount of Soap's guiding could have made that easy for him.

Also this boy almost falls off a cliff but is able to get himself back on track enough that he not only finishes climbing the cliff but then does a whole ass stealth mission basically invading a Russian military base on his own???

Roach is a very talented and skilled bug and we should all be patting him on the head for how cool he is.

Also I think its absolutely funny cause In my mind he's smaller than Soap and Ghost both like height and build wise (not small, just smaller than those two behemoths) and so when the trio of them are together people like tend to underestimate him meanwhile Ghost and Soap are like "Uh, no, no you uh hey dude no" because they know that Roach will gladly fuck people up.

I also love the idea of Roach appearing out of nowhere like a fucking cryptid. There is no talking behind Roach's back or keeping secrets he is everywhere at once and will appear out of thin air. Ghost and Soap have to like fully leave base if they want to plan a surprise for him and even then both of them have no trust that Roach won't somehow pop into existence next to them waahahhahaha

Alright thats all for my rambling for now

#thoughts with luke #you asked luke #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghostroach #soaproach #ghostroachsoap

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markxmelon · 1 year

Text

Parings: Mafia!Yuta x Innocent!Y/n

Pronouns: She/Her

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst(?), Mafia

Warnings: Curse words, blood, Yuta gets beat up, kidnapping, guns, gang violence, let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 1.3k

The warnings makes it sound more interesting than it is but I hope y’all like it!

Yuta sits on a toilet lid while y/n stood in between his legs, tending to his wounds. Yuta can sense his girlfriend's disappointment. The pout on her face says it all. He knows that she hates his line of work now, but what else can he do? Once you're a part of a mafia, you're in it for life.

When y/n finished adding the bandages, Yuta placed one hand on y/n's waist and the other on her cheek. She leans into the warmth of his hand. Yuta looks in awe at his beautiful love. How was I able to have someone so ethereal to be mine? He thought to himself.

"I'm sorry." He says lightly, "I know I make you so worried about me. If I could leave the crew I would. You know that right?" Y/n nods. Yuta sighs, "How about I make tomorrow about us? I'll order us some take out and we can watch movies and play video games all day. Sounds fun right?" This brings a huge smile to y/n's face. She quietly responds, "I would really like that."

"No, Yuta! You cheated!" Y/n accuses as she threw her controller down. "You cheated on the last game!" Yuta fights back. "NO I DIDN'T!!" "Button mashing is cheating in my book honey!" "Whatever..." Y/n pouts and crosses her arms. Yuta rolls his eyes, "Fine you big baby, I cheated. I'll buy you an ice cream from the convenience store." Y/n cheers with a cute smile on her face. Yuta chuckles at his child like girlfriend.

They left their home in their pajamas, not really caring about who sees them as they walk to the closest store. As soon as they make it into the store, Y/n rushes to the ice cream and almost trips over her own bunny slipper. "Hey! Be careful." Yuta laughs. Y/n thinks deeply about what ice cream to get. She finally chooses the one with vanilla and chocolate swirled together. "Yuta I want this one!" Silence. Y/n turns around confused. "Yuta?" He was no where to be seen. Before she could call out to him again, she feels an intense pain on the back of her head. Within seconds she sees nothing but darkness.

Y/n wakes up in a daze. The back of her head throbbing, but the only thing she's worried about is Yuta. Where is he?

Yuta fights against the ropes that bounded him. "I told you that you can't escape." A man states with an annoyed look on his face. Yuta stops struggling and looks at the man. "Who are you?" No answer. "Why are you doing this?" The man sighs at the question, "Your cute little gang owes me something." "What do they owe you?" "They know exactly what they owe. Maybe them getting a video of their precious member all beaten and tied up would make them work faster to give me what I want." The man gestures to the other men in the room. They move toward Yuta and start to beat him up. They punched him, kicked him, slammed his head to the ground, anything to make him draw blood. Soon the man told his goons to stop. He takes his phone out and starts recording Yuta.

"Poor guy. If only his friends just did what they were told. Tsk tsk tsk. What would make this all stop? Hmmm...oh I know!" The man turns the camera to himself. "Give me what I want or I would hurt him more." The man pauses, "Actually, I don't think I can hurt him more than I already have. New proposition, you have 1 hour to get here before I hurt his precious lady friend." Yuta's pain went numb at the mention of y/n.

"No...please..." He weakly lets out. The man just chuckles. "How cute. She's an adorable girl, isn't she? Her innocent bunny slippers. Would be a shame to see a bruise on such a soft face, huh? Anyways, get here when you can!" He sends the video to Yuta's boss, Taeyong. "See you in an hour, Yuta." The man walks out of the room, his goons following behind.

Yuta doesn't even care that he's going in and out of consciousness. He just wants to know if y/n is okay. Where is she?

Y/n sits with her knees brought up to her chest. She's been trapped in a dark room for who knows how long. She tried to open the door earlier but it was locked. She gave up a while ago and just sat in a corner.

BANG

Y/n jumps. Something just hit the door of the room she's in.

BANG BANG BANG

The door burst open. "Y/n?" "Mark?" "Guys I found y/n!"

The rest of the NCT 127 members, excluding Yuta, show up in the room. Y/n gives the closest member, Mark, a hug. That's when she realizes something. "Where's Yuta?" The members look at each other. "We haven't found him yet...we were kinda hoping you would know where he is." Taeyong answers. "Oh no..." Y/n starts to panic. "Hey don't worry we'll find him!" Taeil reassures her. "Yeah we can split up and look for him. Um...here y/n take this gun and search the hallway." Taeyong says. Without really thinking, y/n snatches the gun from Taeyong's hand then rushes out of the room.

Yuta tries to sit up multiple times, but he's too weak. Come on Yuta...we need to see if y/n is okay... He tries again then falls back down. He groans in pain. He was about to give up when he heard the sweetest sound known to man. "Yuta? Yuta are you in there?" She's okay? She's okay! He musters up all his strength to say, "I'm in here..." "Okay honey hang on!" y/n started to kick the door with all her might. Freaking bunny slippers. With a few more intense kicks, the door burst open. These doors are way too weak. Y/n runs to Yuta. She puts his face in her hands. "I should kill them for hurting you like this." Yuta lets out a weak chuckle. Y/n smiles slightly and starts to untie Yuta's hands and legs. She wraps his arm around her shoulders and her free arm around his waist. "Okay baby let's get out of here.”

Y/n and Yuta walk through many halls trying to find an exit, but no luck. Eventually they saw something. Sadly it wasn't an exit. It was Haechan. The man that caused all of this had his gun pointed at him. The man's goons were on the ground with bullet wounds. His back was faced towards them. Haechan sees the two, but tried not to look at them for long so the man wouldn't notice them. By the way that Yuta was looking at him, y/n knew for sure that that was the man who did this to them. "Where's your group now Haechan? They left without you? How sad. Maybe if you just did what you promised then this wouldn't be happening." The man scowls. "We didn't promise anything!" "Tsk. You really should learn how to keep your word Haechan. Now I'll have to kill you." The man turns the gun's safety off and was about to shoot Haechan when he heard someone speak. "Not on my watch, bitch." Y/n shoots the guy on the back of his head. Yuta and Haechan are in shock. The members came running in that direction after hearing the gunshot. They looked at y/n with wide eyes because she still had her gun raised. She looked so cool.

On the car ride to the NCT 127 safe place, y/n couldn't stop talking about what happened. "Yuta did you see me? The guy was all like 'don't break your promises' and Haechan was like 'wahhh don't shoot me' and I was like 'not on my watch, bitch' and the guy was all like 'ndihnfuinawebbdd'. Yuta I cursed AND shot a man! Didn't I look cool?!" The guys smile at y/n's cute excitement. "Yes darling, I saw." Yuta says with a chuckle. "What a rush! Yuta we'll be like Bonnie and Clyde!" Y/n rambles for the rest of the car ride, making the guys laugh and less tense after what all went down. Yuta stares at his love and can't help but think, that's my bunny slipper hero.

#nct yuta #nakamoto yuta #mafia!yuta #Yuta #yuta x reader #kpop x reader #Kpop #kpop imagines #yuta fluff #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct imagines

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inverseautotroph · 8 months

Text

Uploaded Feb 22, 2020

STORY UNDER THE CUT

"What... is that?" "Hehe, like it? Thinkin' I'm holding our elusive little pantry thief! Trying to catch it was a bit of a struggle but courtesy of one of your hairbands, I doubt it's going anywhere quickly." "It... I'm not seeing things right? He kind of looks like a..." "Very, very, tiny little human? No, Maryam, that seems to be exactly what I'm holding. Or at least, looks like one. What do you think the chances are it's like, a toy robot or just a REALLY weird mouse?" "If... if he's the one sneaking into our cupboards, I doubt he's a doll, and the signs he was leaving behind were a little too careful to be a mouse I think. Have you tried just... asking him?" "Course I did! But the only response I get is a bunch of tiny squeaks that only almost sound like words. And anyway, there's still the chance it could try lying to me, even if it could talk with human words. Ain't that right little guy?" "God this is so weird, I... swear he looks like my college ex..." "Who, the little brat that treated you like garbage for a year and then ghosted out of nowhere?" "Well! I mean he wasn't. Always bad... but yes, that one. How did you remember--" "Looook that's not important right now. The important thing is that we're going to keep it, and so I'm handing this thing off to you!" "P-pardon??" "Oh, you think I should just throw it out or squish it? No judgement, I can do it right now, here--" "No no nonono wait no! Do not do that, please! I just meant why are you giving i-- giving him... to me?" "Well, I sure can't take care of something like this, it'd probably be dead in a day or two! Plus, I know you well enough, I figured you'd get the most enjoyment out of it, hehehe~" "I... don't know how to feel about the way you said that, but... Alright. I don't. Want you to throw him out or something." "Perfect! Well, here you go, I gotta get going somewhere I'll be back later tonight now byyyye~" ---- Drew this and the story kind of tumbled out of it. Drawing this was fun, I don't know if I got the makeshift hairband rope looking how I wanted to, but that's fine. Maybe I will draw these three again some day, but for now, hope you like it~

#giant/tiny #macro #giantess #shrinking #old deviantart dump #familiar discovery

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wonderful-magician · 2 months

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OK do you ship dinahboose and if you do I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS. ( I saw you where analyzing ceeb’s characterization sooo) if not just use this as a free space to ramble about something else idk 💀

it is 1:am but I am so desperate to ramble and I also will take any excuse to draw any ship I like ever which is almost too many so excuse me if I sound nonsensical

^^!!

OKAY I LOVE DINAHBOOSE obv I've been into this musical for a total of 2 weeks or so- so I'm still scrounging every bit of Information on these guys that I can. And I've done wayyy more research on CB than I have Dinah ( he has a lot more to look at though ) but these two just make sense to me. They just make sense. Opposites but not opposites. They are confusing and they are both confused. But at least they can hold hands while confused.

Personally I struggle to ever hate or dislike ships unless there's like a blindingly obvious reason to dislike a ship. But dinahboose is probably my second favorite ship so far for StEx ( Electraboose has 1st place and Krupp/purse has 3rd )

Totally not gonna use this to talk about my personal rewrite of StEx.. specifically C.B. because I don't want to make a post just for it LMAO.

So yeah I've been basically studying C.B. ( or, I guess caboose because he hasn't been called C.B in a long time... but C.B has more personality.. ) and my version of C.B. is probably a horrible amalgamation of OLC and 2015 Bochum. Because I love radio aesthetics and the Dinah friendship but I also love the toy soldier aesthetic and absolutely batshit laugh ( I also love it when C.B. is played by somebody too flexible for their own good ) hes just a glorified circus clown on wheels with a radio set strapped to his head.

And I wish I could pretend that I understand cutting him but I do and I don't and I do. Because I honestly feel like C.B in the original does more than Electra lmao. But I don't think cutting people is the solution most the time tbh.

Okay onto more half asleep rambling that is likely to change because I'm still in the early stages of this rewrite. But. I recognize that C.B. has some issues. The one most of my friends point out is that he seemingly has no motive. He just... Is silly I guess. And I think this is a bit funny because I do like an antagonist with the motive of " it would be funny " , but at the same time. Kind of hard to make that character very ...er... Well I'll just say it does get a bit boring.

Something I also heard was that in the reasons C.B. has been cut was because caboose's aren't exactly used anymore, which is totally fair!

But could also totally be a motivation! Think about it, why is C.B still working? Still working with the freight despite essentially being useless? Because greaseball wants to keep him around to use him for cheating. Easy! Obviously none of this could easily be translated to the show. But for some comics/writings? Yes. Yes.

Think about it. Rusty is struggling, he feels a bit useless because steam is falling behind! So he tries to win and prove himself. But who else feels useless because of their job being replaced? C.B. but unlike rusty, C.B takes the other path, instead of trying to be a role model and win or prove himself. He just goes down the path of crime. And hey, he's probably a crazy adrenaline junky too so he's still doing it for the fun!

And why does he betray greaseball? Plenty of reasons. C.B might dislike greaseball because of poor treatment, he might dislikes greaseball for his treatment of Dinah, he probably just wants to get the adrenaline high of betraying him in the first place. Maybe to prove that he's important and needed because if he doesn't help, greaseball will lose. And he wants to hold it over him for his own personal desire of self importance. Who knows. He's a complicated little clown he is.

Ok anyway yeah I'm like the #3 Dinahboose supporter I will draw them more hehbehehehee

#stex #starlight express #stex caboose #stex dinah #cb the red caboose #not tagging anybody else mentioned #i struggle to hate things #i love silly musical #probably makes no sense #if its rlly bad I'll rewrite this in the morning lol #dinahboose #yes I drew this in like 3 hours

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