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honestsycrets · 5 months

Note

hi sy! first things first, you’re a fantastic writer. i am in LOVE with your western series! second, may i request an idea? it’s the 1920s, and miguel is one of the top mobsters in nueva york, while the reader is his mob wife. after an attempted hit from one of miguel’s rivals that nearly kills her and gabriella, the reader decides it’s time to her and little girl to skip town, but miguel will be damned if his family tries to leave him. cueeeee angst, drama, the whole shabang!

canary I: a threat | [miguel o'hara x reader x gabriel o'hara]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader, gabriel o'hara x reader

❛ type | double shot; 5k

❛ tags | non-monogamy, some angst, 1920s inspired piece, irish clan inspired piece, bootlegging and mention of hits, explicit, a depiction of killings, some jealousy, some trad-roles elements, f!reader, 1920s slang and Spanish not translated, time period birth control (cervical cap).

❛ sy’s notes | i have spent weeks staring at this piece. it's a bit longer than my usual works and for that reason i decided to split it up into two chapters. this piece takes on a little bit more of a generalized irish mob approach rather than italian. this chapter is more domestic than the subsequent one will be.

Miguel O’Hara hated it when his kills ran. No matter how many alleyways they ducked into, shoddily constructed fences they tumbled over, or crappy cars they tried to hitch a ride in, he always found them.

His fingers were blisteringly tight around his kill’s throat, sure to leave certain bruising if the man made it out alive. He wouldn’t. Not based on the blood that seeped over Miguel’s tanned hand. He gurgled underneath Miguel’s hand, the kill messier than he imagined. Any number of his hitmen could have carried out this contract but instead, his crisp white top was slathered in the contract kill of the week. He recalled the sudden memory of his hand on your slight waist, the kiss on the top of your head with the promise of his night. He snarled the memory away.

Should’ve just shot him, Miguel thought. Mierda.

With the fading of the man’s life, his choked grunts drifted into silence. Miguel allowed the man to slump over. Silence fractured, his world bursting with sound. The salt-laden wind whistled past his hair as ships sailed into the pier, carrying cargo, and his latest shipments. Bootlegged booze had its own benefits-- poor training and numbers among agents, for example. A crackle of an engine sped down the road was followed by the bright beams of an electric headlamp.

“¡Oye, Miguel!”

Of course. Under the bright moon that shone arrogantly in the dark sky, the figure came into focus. His polished suit was just a tad too big for his toned, but hardly muscular frame. Even in the darkness, he had the kind of smile that made people feel like they were the special ones. It matched the gentleness in his eyes behind that swoop of chestnut brown hair. If the feds published men of their color on army recruitment posters, he’d certainly make the cut. Handsome, but not too handsome. Strong, but not too strong.

“Gabe,” he breathed. “The lights.”

“Lights? The lights!” Gabriel looked back at his shiny black car. He bounced back toward the car, bellowing. “This a Spot boy? You did a number on him.”

“You sap. Could you be any louder?” Miguel threw aside. “Why are you here?”

“Thought you could use me tonight, big shot,” Gabriel said in that sugar-dipped tongue of his. It works less on Miguel than it had on you. It was oddly discomforting. As the days wore on, he loathed his brother’s silver tongue.

“I could use someone watching my girls.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I was. They're sleeping." Gabriel booted the man, more than minced meat when Miguel was done with him. “You had some beef with him, huh?”

“No.” Miguel mumbled, looking at the man’s body rather than his own, something sharp hovering there. There was nothing he wanted less than to stand in the biting cold listening to his baby brother prattle on a moment longer. He wiped his blade on his once-was-crisp slacks and slid it back into its sheathe. “Let’s hit it.”

“Jake,” Gabriel said, an annoying rendition of an okay. Gabriel was full of shitty terms from his stint in the big house. Almost as many as he picked up at Miguel’s speakeasy.

“Say. Miguel?”

Gabriel’s voice was soft, almost strained. Miguel caught his eyes, knowing subconsciously what his brother would say. He sucked in a breath to calm himself from a reaction to thin, sharp words. They balanced on the point of a knife as Gabriel spoke them into existence.

“They're our girls.”

This setup wasn't going to last. One day, you'd probably settle with Gabe. Miguel jerked up to the sensation of your fingers ghosting his chest, twiddling around his inky black chest hair, gliding across scars. He senses the source of his disquiet, your small frame draped over his side, watching him with a foreign curiosity.

“Muñeca?” he murmured sleepfully, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “What's it? Did Gabriel sleep in?”

He finds it hard to believe that his chirpy brother would do such a thing. Mornings were notoriously his favourite part of the day. Unlike Miguel, who shunned the light that streamed in from your thin curtains.

“Coppers took him in for questioning,” you murmured, leaning in to lay a small peckish kiss on his lips. That was quick. His eyes swept down to your lips, lingering there as you spoke. “Gabi said you’d come with me to iglesia.”

“Chingado. He passed the buck onto me.” Miguel groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow, weighed down by such a stupid request. You thumbed the golden necklace he’d forgotten to take off, gliding one of your legs up his hirsute thighs. He finds himself hiking your leg higher up his thigh. “That’s what you woke me up for?”

“‘Course not,” you muttered. “I missed you last night. Where’d you go off to?”

“To finish intake.”

You didn’t believe that.

“Promise it didn’t have nothing to do with what Gabi got carted off for?” He holds you in a working gaze, something that tells you he isn’t about to answer something like that. You are his woman. Yet, some secrets aren’t ones that he’s willing to disclose. It could put you in a compromised position. Most men, namely the Italian boys, had enough sense not to drag a man’s family into problems between the mob and the clan but in this world, not everyone had sense.

“Miguelito, you’re scaring me.” Your breath quickened, palpable with your chest against his. His large hand encompassed the middle of your back, guiding small, consolatory circles.

“Some things you’re better off not knowing,” Miguel worked at an explanation. Some things like the amount of hits he was getting for Spot boys. The booze going missing from the speakeasy. Some of his girls licked off the street. Just-- some things. “Got it?”

“Long as it’s not another dame,” you mumbled, fisting his necklace around your fist, dragging him forward for emphasis. A smile tugged at his lips, somehow pleased with your response. “What? You been out the house more times than not.”

“I share you with my brother,” Miguel worked the back of his neck. “Better that I skip town than hear you moaning for him. Might hem him up one of these days.”

You laugh-- but Miguel doesn’t find a lick of it funny.

“You got me now,” your hands drifted up to Miguel’s massive shoulders. “How ‘bout this. You fill me all up for church, wear that spiffy dark blue suit. Then we take Lyla out to get her some cherry coke at the apothecary’s. Maybe I’ll even sing you a whole song today if you’re lucky.”

Church, again. Miguel rattled a groan. Of course, he couldn’t have one day off from frateurinizing with people who hated the fuck outta him. Church folk. He didn’t know why you insisted on going with people who openly called you loose.

“Can do without one of those things.”

“If you want me, you go to iglesia, Miguelito.”

West-Side Violence at All-Time High! Italian Enforcer found dead! The West clan’s Gabriel O’Hara facing added charges on suspicion of--

Tch. You interrupted the scowl on his face with a well-placed kiss to his cheekbone, sliding a piping hot mug of Joe before him. Wafts of steam warmed his cheeks. You set down his morning’s breakfast, a plate loaded with fats. No tamales today, but baked beans from a few well-established Irish wives in the area. You wiped your greasy fingers off on a dirtied apron. Miguel stabbed a hunk of sausage as you spoke.

“Gabi’d never do that. They’re trying to hem him up like that capo last month,” your voice quaked, strutting back toward the cabinets. “It’s too personal. He’d… fill ‘em up with lead sure, but a stabbing? It just don’t make sense.”

Sure didn't. Miguel dropped the paper to the side of the oak table, tracing lines of worry that grew into spiderwebs of panic across your forehead. You spoke so feverishly in defense of Gabriel, whose absence was palpable. He often talked about the latest hired singer, sneaking behind your waist for kisses on your nape when Miguel could barely drag himself out of bed in the morning after pulling all-nighters.

“I have someone on it.”

“I bet Papa did it.” His daughter-- or Gabriel’s-- they were never quite sure. He glanced to his foot where Lyla sat. A full seven-year-old, Lyla was a spitfire of a thing, her hair in a bouncy bob topped by a silky ribbon. She glanced up from the dreidel she was spinning around and around. His lips pulled into a minced smile. “What? He’s a liar.”

“Miguel.”

Couldn’t even eat in peace.

“Lyla,” Miguel gestured toward the door. “Go wake up Maeve. Go on kid, get.”

That kid had a smart mouth. He watches her roll her eyes, only budging when you supply her with a hunk of pan dulce. She takes a mean bite, eyes locked on Miguel as she hopped out, somehow less bothered than she was a few seconds ago. You closed the metal door behind your daughter, a hand balled up on the bend in your waist as you watched her skip down the stairs and out of view.

“Most girls don’t talk like that about their papas,” you mumbled. Your arms crossed one over the other for support. “Does she hate him that much?”

“Most girls don’t grow up in the life.”

“Mi culpa.”

With his breakfast all but spoiled, Miguel pushed the plate away. His hand was soft on your waist, nose burrowed into your hair, tracing the notes of jasmine and rose, vanilla and sandalwood. The scent was unmarred by the stench of speakeasy smoke so early in the morning. Your hand came over his, steadying yourself from the rushing thoughts by leaning into his touch.

“I need a girl at the speakeasy tonight.”

Unlike his brother, Miguel’s requests rarely offer a tone of choice. It rolls off his tongue dry and hits your ear like a spike. Nothing about your relationship with Miguel was easy-- it was marred by the rivalry among the brothers-- and as you suspected-- interloping from your grandfather.

“Y Lyla?”

“Maeve is her nanny.”

“How can I step in there without Gabi?”

“He’d want you to. And I want to see you out of this dumb apron.”

“It isn’t dumb,” you pursed your lips, somehow more convinced despite your reservations. Most days, you spend the day in the house-- isolated from any life you came to Nueva York for. Any half-formed excuse that was on your tongue flopped. He nearly has you. “It is right dumb, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. What happened to my canary?”

“She met a pair of terrible brothers who don’t care for pulling out.”

“Don’t blame me.”

He pushed himself against your back, twiddling your fingers against the pantyhose that clothed your thighs. A smile tugged on your lips as Miguel leaned over to kick the front door shut, dipping onto his knees. It wasn’t often that he allowed you to ruin his perfect face before work. Today is a special treat.

But… if you thought back, you really should have.

Took a long time to get any mail from the island. Almost impossible.

In your hands is a sloppily penned letter-- You should be married to one of those boys-- your grandfather. He isn’t stupid enough to think that you’re opening this for the first time tonight, here and now, right in front of him. If you’re ‘reading’ it, you must be wanting him to take a hint. Miguel bent down, placed a kiss on your temple, gliding his hands over your own to place the letter onto the vanity.

He used those very same hands that were meant for maiming against the clasp of a set of pearls around your neck with gentle precision. His fingers coursed along the curls at your nape as he clasped them together.

“How long before your set?”

“Half an hour… maybe.” You stood to face him, pursing ruby-red lips, whispering in his mother’s tongue. He never liked it when his mother barked at him in Spanish, but when it's off your tongue, he knows how sweet it could be. Your hand inched its way over his chest, tracing the fat knot against his throat.

“What’s the issue?”

“I don’t-- feel very perfect. You have all these shebas out there--” women who not only knew how to sing but weren’t terribly mottled by stretchmarks or burdened by the eviscerating effect of motherhood. They’re beautiful, free canaries when they sing in his speakeasy. As much as you loved singing-- you felt shy on that ruby-red stage lately, before a dozen ruby tables and the hopping band.

“They’re to bring in the sugar.”

“Uh-huh, bring in the sugar until they take you away.”

“I’m satisfied.” Miguel took a step up, communicating the way he knew how, by settling his large hand over your jaw. His strong hand glided to your chin, urging you to look him in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere. Tied me down with Lyla as it is.”

“Words are just words. Why buy the…”

“Cow if you can get the milk for free, sí, I know what your grandfather says.” He slips into your chair. “Què quieres?”

“I don’t know, Miguelito. A promise. A marriage. Algo.”

“You want me to wife you up? Don’t remember ever talking about this.” He gestured you to come closer. You stepped up, knocking between his legs. Miguel’s gaze falters, chasing the glint of your tassels as they come to a stop.

“What’s the issue?”

“Nothing. I thought you’d ask Gabe.”

“Gabe gets around.”

“You believe those rumors.” You slap his large hands groping up your thighs, climbing over his lap like it was your throne. His massive frame eclipses the chair, suppressing your comparatively smaller frame. “And don’t think I do?”

“Do you?”

“No,” he laughs. Or, not recently. It’s hard being a father-- harder when he has a whole ass business to keep on top of. Most women wanted those things: jewels, a new pair of silk knickers, and a home. “If that’s what you want, you got it.”

“Oh Miguelito,” he suckled your neck, drawing horrendous marks to the surface. Marks of his ownership in the absence of a ring. He hears the pleased hum of your voice, low and sweet, and knows that’s exactly what you wanted to hear.

“I haven’t put in my cap,” his fingers danced across the outside of your thighs, slipping past your stockings to your silken shorts. He slotted his fingers underneath the fabric, grazing his fingers through your neatly kept curls. Your breath came in deeper bursts as he melded his hand over your vulva, expecting you to grind back on him. You did, ever so eager for him.

“Don’t bother me with that,” he said in a low, husked voice. “You know how I feel about your birth control.”

It was your idea, primarily. Gabe was ever too content to simply be with you-- he didn’t need a large family like the rest of Miguel’s Irish clan. Four, six, sometimes more. Unlike Gabe, Miguel wanted the exact opposite. You shifted over his thigh, obeying his desire to have you ride him. Miguel urged your hips down, working his thumb over the precious button as you did. Miguel’s leg trembled up against your slit, bursts of warm friction warming your hungry body. With his slacks freshly cleaned, you worry about soaking them, soaked in lubricant as you were.

“Come here,” you surrendered a soft moan to him, leaning forward now, less to ride his thigh than the bulge in his slacks. He does not quite care for the idea of ruining himself inside the confines of his pants, but if you want to feel him, he has no reason to deny you. You’re wonderfully spoiled, juddering your hips over him like any whore walking the streets in exchange for a coin or two. What he’d give to have this to himself.

It donned on him-- he could have it to himself. This time, he’d be certain of who the child belonged to. He adored his Lyla, though his irritation with her quips was ever palpable, this-- right here, the ability to fill you and be certain filled him with fat hunger and possessive need to burst into his slacks.

“Stop-- Muñeca-- stop,” Miguel tipped his head back, gathering his focus by digging his hand into your hair, stopping you immediately. His harsh grip loosened, followed up by loosening the button of his slacks and shoving them below the curve of his ass. His cock slapped your silken shorts, beads of his desire dripping from his cockhead. “Take those off. I’m finishing inside.”

“Miguelito,” you slipped onto shaky feet, enough that Miguel could force the shorts underneath your dress to the floor. “We agreed that babies would be--”

“You asked to be my wife. Ain’t this what wives do?”

“I know bu-- not there, deja, let me,” you stopped. His cockhead clumsily poked here and there, until finally, your hand guided him properly. Your mouth fell into a hazy moan when Miguel’s cock shoved forward, breaching your cunt with a snap of his hips. You seated yourself back onto his fat cock, reminded of the absence of your cervical cap in your cunt.

For all your talk, you ached for him, dipping your intertwined hands down to your mound. The rhythm was as sloppy as whatever singer was on stage right now, her voice giving way into a distinct crack. Whatever-- if it bought him more time to properly seed you, he didn’t mind.

He buckled forward as you clenched down upon him, holding him prisoner deep in your body. Liquid soaked his slacks-- and Miguel huffed, puffs of hot air warming your back. That was going to be fun to walk out in. His wife’s cum soaking his crotch.

“Hold still. It’s almost showtime,” Miguel’s voice was thin, his hand splayed on your waist as he used you less like his woman and more like a toy for his pleasure. It didn’t take long for Miguel to find a proper rhythm, his muscles flexing against your back. You were preoccupied as it were with the pain of Miguel’s teeth sinking on your shoulder, spiking hot as his pleasure crested. Soon enough, you felt his warmth fill your core, your head lulling back against him only after his thrusts ebbed.

“Don’t clean up, go on stage leaking.” Miguel held out his hand for you to take, allowing you to pull your shorts back up your ass, nestling his leaking cum in the fabric. It helped ease the anxiety of having you on stage, somehow, to see you in such a state.

“When you knock me up, you’re telling Gabi. I... can't.” You told Miguel, smoothing your dress over your shorts. There was a nervous flush in your eyes-- shame, he placed the emotion. He scrubbed the smile from his face. He had at least a few weeks.

“Sure thing.”

There was a certain delight in seeing you dressed up in that little black dress, all bright red lips, and sultry song. Not that you didn’t look tasty in that stupid apron you wore not to dirty any one of the pretty dresses you wore to church-- like you weren’t a heathen for warming the bed of two O’Hara boys. The people knew it. The church knew it. Damn well, the town knew it.

“Pal, that’s her on stage,” went an Italian boy. An allied family through nothing but contract killing and coin, he was safe here for the time being. One little lapse in a contract could shake it all. “That’s their kitten.”

“She married?”

Miguel turned his gaze back to you for a long moment. Your warm, sweetly lidded words slipping off your tongue, making his mind sluggish and relaxed after a long day. He captured your eyes, minding how your hands fell to the tasseled ends of an already short skirt, daring to expose your skin obscured by pantyhose to the crowd. You knew the game, how far you could lift your skirt without your would-be husband jumping his cage.

“Don’t be goofy. Miguel’d get sore if Gabe tried. She has ‘em both around her finger. Has a kid by one of them. No one knows whose. I got my money on--”

Stupid kids.

“Kid, I’m gunning for another.” Miguel cut the boy off, eyes crinkling at the edges. Something in the way you moved on stage reminded him of Lyla’s pregnancy, perhaps the glitter in your eyes when you met him at his table, instead of backstage, holding his large hands in your own. Some sparkle in your eye, a ginger announcement in his ear. Half elation, half… something else. Something, not quite fear, swirled in the boy’s eyes. Miguel watched with a keen interest as the boy flushed.

“Right on, big shot.”

Miguel brought his cigarette to his lips, letting his eyes flutter closed and his mind wander to the past. He should have known you were hands-off from the moment Gabriel wouldn’t beat it with the idea of adding another girl to their speakeasy.

The best time to tell Miguel about his new girl in the speakeasy was when he was in a good mood: catching any bootleg thief put him in a good mood. Not that he was particularly partial to grey matter and blood spraying him like a fresh pinata, but… he was more partial to money in his pocket and a good reputation. His boys cared for much of the violence in the West of this shitty little town.

“You hired a new girl?” Miguel repeated, drawing a long hit of his cigarette with blood-smattered fingers.

“Spanish girl. Like us. We don’t have a Spanish girl in this joint.”

“Gabe. Most of our clients are Irish. They don’t speak Spanish.”

“You should see her Miggy. She’s got this angelic little face,” Gabe whacked his elder brother, his grin growing ear to ear. There it was, his baby brother got blinded by his dick again. “When she sings you-- well, you get all twisted up.”

“Angelic face,” Miguel mumbled under his breath, tapping excess off of his cigarette. For the price he paid his girls, she had better have the face of Mary herself. The last few Gabe had pulled were mistakes. Some drug-addicted. Others whose husbands always caused a mean stir. He drags his hand down his face, weighing the costs. “She another dumb--”

“She’s Daniel’s littlin’. You remember Daniel? Taught you how to use a kn--”

The sigh that sat in his chest dissipated like vapor, perfusing into his tissue. Miguel looked at the paper Gabriel set in his blood-tinged fingers. He rotated it, gave it a look with his tired eyes. Talk to Gabriel. That old man knew just what Miguel would have said: get your ass back on a boat and go home to whatever rinky-dink island you foolishly sailed off of for this shitty city.

“Lemme see her sing.”

He doesn’t pay attention when Gabriel introduces you onstage for the first time, focusing on the paper ledgers Peter arranged for a review. Unlike his Italian connections, he don’t mind mixing it up with the Jewish boys. They’re twice as smart on the books and twice less likely to be hauling in trouble. Bootleg booze was one thing— the opium, the heroin, the cocaine, and morphine another. It packed too much heat from the coppers.

He hadn’t meant to look up.

It didn’t occur to him that you could have a sickly sweet voice, tempered by the rich Spanish on your tongue, only rivaled by those beautiful looks. His abandoned ciggy threw smoke into the air. He slumped back into the chair with a heavy thud, unclenched his tense jaw, and listened to a siren’s song that felt both familiar and distant all the same.

You had the sort of eyes he swore he’d met before, despite knowing he’d never seen a face like yours around. He’d remember sinking his teeth in that delicate neck that sat under pearls that he supplied most of his singers for their performances. His eyes hungrily cantering down your tassel dress. Not one he provided, no, he knew most to all the pieces in the back. There was a simple beauty in the gown.

You were trouble. He caught your eyes with an intent expression and expected you to blush and look away. You smiled. He wasn’t sure if it was for him or Gabriel, who flicked a grade-A smile, and a twiddling wave of your little fingers. He wants to feel them scratching down his back.

“--anyone home? Miggy? Miguel. Don’t tell me you’re already stuck on her.” Gabriel teased, elbowing Miguel in the arm. “You are! Told you she could sing.”

“Pipe down.” He jammed his ciggy in the dish.

“Sorry.”

He watches you a moment more, the slide of your legs to the tune of the band. The way your laugh resonated through the speakeasy when a patron stumbled onto the stage for his take on some stiff-legged swing. Most women would push them off, look to him for help in the swing, but you ran with the twirl the drunk led you into. He hated to admit that Gabriel was right. Among all the girls in his speakeasy, you brought a lightness to the life of a drunkard he’d not seen in a while.

“Gabe,” he mumbled, standing up and whirling his suit jacket over his broad shoulders.

“Yeah?”

I told’ja so, Gabriel’s voice sounded in his head. He could already feel the stiff annoyance that would be Gabriel’s fist connecting with his shoulder. Why did Gabriel have to know him so well? Miguel spoke with an undercurrent of annoyance.

“Let’s keep her.”

“You don’t gotta tell me twice.”

A hail of loud pops ruptured his sweet, distant memories. He reaches out to snatch his gun from the table, settled between the fresh flowers he plucked for your show. For an instant, his world wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t sounded out by the deafening assuredness of a kill, but very real panic under the singled out by the shrill of your scream.

They're going to push up on us, Miguel told Gabe. He never did take anything outside the speakeasy seriously.

Except tonight, there was no Gabriel. Miguel clasped his hand around his gun, whirling for the source of the flame. The barrage of gunfire is put down as quickly as it began. With a host of Irishmen in the bar, he should be so unsurprised. One of the Italian kids slumped over on his table.

There’s blood-- a lot of blood. Hysterics bound all around, some soothed by their partners or friends. The other Italian boy just stares-- lips slightly apart-- jarred by whatever horror was before him. Miguel finds it hard to believe that he hasn’t seen worse. Others burning his ears like the morning sun in his eyeballs every day you forgot to pull the curtains closed.

“God damn it, Peter.” Standing there is the scrawny little devil of a bookmaker himself, smiling cheesily.

“Hope that’s a good god damn it.”

He shoved his way from the tables, numbing out the complaint of the Italian boy. You were long since gone, probably a good thing that you weren’t here, that’s for fucking sure. It’d been the first time since Gabe’s incarceration he managed to drag you out of there and now… you were somewhere, undoubtedly frightened. Maybe even hurt.

“Boy, wonder who this kid crossed. Say, about Gabe, I got good news--”

He seized a chair, flicking it past Peter, a sure hiss for him to shut the fuck up about his baby brother in the can. Peter put his hands up reflexively, tracing Miguel’s rising shoulders.

“She ran to the back.”

The slender hallway down to his office is cold, only illuminated by the occasional pull-pin light bulb swinging overhead. He came here most days that he wasn’t on shift, taking a hit, or caring for his boys. Keeping track of everything was the best way to stay ahead. And even still-- he missed something from one of Spot’s boys.

You didn’t bother to close the door, balled up in a corner of his small office. He has a glorified cot for a bed in a corner, a heavy desk that nearly killed Gabe trying to hike it down the stairs years ago, and a rack stuffed with any number of books.

“It’s me,” his voice filled the room. You peered up from behind your arms, wrapped around your knees. What a stupid oversight, he thought, whoever was in charge of the damn door let someone in that was… going to be a problem. He was good with Lucky’s crew. Now he was gonna have to pick up that wired phone and tell him some kid was dead.

Your heels scratched across the ground, scooting back to the cool wall. You weren’t hurt-- just, sort of shocked. Maybe being conned into church with you panned out somehow.

“Muñeca.”

“That ain’t… ever happened with Gabe before.”

Gabe. Dy by day that he heard his brother’s voice, it became more of an annoyance. It wasn’t fair to make the comparison-- Gabe caring for most things that went on in the speakeasy, Miguel caring for interpersonal deals and security. With Gabe away, he’d not… it didn’t matter.

“It won’t happen again.”

“If Lyla were here--” You’re a shark-- going after the one thing you knew would hurt. The little girl back at home who he went to great lengths to make sure was safe. She was… his, even if he felt was his brother’s, putting more salt into an ever widening sinkhole that was his irritation.

“She wasn’t.”

“But what if she was?”

“Cállate,” he barked.

“Fine, I’ll beat it. You can holed up all alone down here like you like to be, you-- you-- big lug.” You recoiled for an instant, before forcing yourself up, rubbing at heavily fallen tears in your pursuit of the door. Your cheeks were kissed by raw agitation, all pink and in any other situation, beautiful. Miguel swayed to catch your elbow.

“Discúlpame,” he murmured, a rare apology if you could even call it one to begin with. There was a long pause, and he wondered if you would be upset with him for the rest of the day. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

He knew he made it damn hard not to.

That was the thing about Miguel. He made it hard to get close, but even harder to leave. No matter what he did, you wanted to stay there right by him-- because he was the complicated brother. The one who… well, hell, you wanted to be about. Gabe was good and easy, your Miguelito was…

“Dios mio, Miguelito. This hinky stuff ain’t happening again. Or-- Or I’ll leave you both. Take Lyla right back to the island I came from and marry a man who isn’t in wrong with the police.”

You should have known the day that you gave birth to his daughter that something like that wasn’t going to happen.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara x reader

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jaazzpur · 4 months

Text

Morningstar family redesigns

I kinda wanted to expand on my choices for my redesigns for fun

So first, Lucifer. I really don’t have a lot of issues with his original design, I think it’s fun and fits within the Hazbin universe! I just wanted to reimagine him.

I always liked the idea of Lucifer having curly reddish hair, something about his fall turning his hair red (this design isn’t 100% biblically accurate as it is just for fun), but I toned down the red to be closer to his original blonde since I also like blonde Lucifer, and I figured he’d liked to keep his hair neat so I decided to put it up and take away the hat

I wanted to keep the ring leader theme in his outfit, but I wanted to further incorporate the snake element in his design since I think he’d be proud of his fall (hence why his suit looks burnt and torn, and he shows off his burnt arm, I figured he’d do this intentionally to remind others of his rebellion)

Lastly I changed the entire family’s main colors to purple, as biblically out of the 7 sins Pride is purple and since he’s supposed to rule pride in the show I figured he’d be more purple themed then red, pretty simple🙏

Next Lilith, I think she was the only one out of the three where I didn’t really like her original design. Not only because she didn’t have much going on, but she also looked really similar to Lucifer, to the point where they almost look blood related.

I think Viv’s choices for Lilith were a bit odd, as she had SOO much potential that just wasn’t used.

I kept her blonde hair but I gave it some tan undertones and I put it up into a semi-low slicked back pompadour inspired by some hairstyles you might see young women have in the early 1900s or late 1800s, but I gave her a little down section that fades into a dark purple and looks somewhat feathery due to one adaption of her describing her as a “screech owl”. I kept the purple theme somewhat like the original and plus she technically rules over pride as well, I would have loved to have given her a red theme if pride was red.

Based on these different adaptations of Lilith a took inspiration from each, giving her a flame-themed dress and the upper body of a beautiful women yet still somewhat demon-like, I also put some fluff at the bottom of her dress since I thought it looked kinda like smoke puffs and clouds. Her stomach is covered with gold rings that look somewhat like a snake belly, and I gave her a necklace with a style inspired by some eastern jewelry, the jewels on her necklace are each the color of one of the 7 sins which I thought would be a fun touch and a little bit of a “showing off” of her role as the queen of hell.

lastly I kept her horns since she is meant to be a succubus, but I stylized them a bit to look less like those big ram-like ones since I didn’t really like how odd they looked against her head. I also gave her long slender fingers that faded to a black naturally as in biblical lore she steals babies from mothers and I thought making her hands that she stole the children with look creepy and eerie yet still beautiful was a nice touch.

Lastly, Charlie! Again, I didn’t really have a problem with the original design. I changed her suit color and theme to prides color, put I made her hair curlier and more red/orange like her dads, and I wanted some parts of her suit to resemble his a bit hence the buttons and the back of her suit going out like her dad’s (but a bit shorter for convenience.)

I imagine her being a bit showy so I kinda decked her out in silver, I thought it’d also be a fun mirroring of how her mom is covered in gold. Her shoes are pretty similar to the original, I put a little split at the front of the shoes in the dark purple since Viv has said she has little hooves which I’m not sure is true but I thought it was a fun idea so I kinda hinted at it with that

I changed her irises (is that what they’re called?) to look more snake-like like her dad, and I gave her little horns since I thought they were cute and I wanted her to maybe show them on purpose because she wanted to blend in more with the citizens of hell so they might feel less intimidated by her presence as the princess, that’s also why I didn’t give her a crown :]

Overall this was just a fun little project I did out of curiosity and boredom, these designs aren’t made to criticize or taunt vivziepop since like I said I love her designs already

#art #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #digital art #purple #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #lilith morningstar #helluva boss #vivziepop

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colddelusionsheep · 6 months

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So, this is my start of yandere hunger games, and before y'all read this. There are some things to take note of.

Everyone romantic (and y/n) is 18 or older. I am not going to mention age unless the story requires it.

This is going to be ocs x reader, and it will be based on the hunger games(with some differences.

The reader will also be fem.

And that is it! I hope you enjoy, and if you do, feel free to like and reblog(dni if you are under 18 tho)

2nd Part

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The reaping

Humming softly, you buttoned up the last two buttons on your dress. The light green was worn with a few stitched up parts where the fabric use to be ripped. It was old and has seen better days, but even with those details, it still was the nicest thing you owned.

You hoped you could wear it again someday. A wish that you had each year during the reaping, and so far it came true each time. People would comment on how lucky you were to avoid the reaping each time. Weeping love ones of the reaped would curse your name and say you somehow cheated to save your own skin.

You don't blame them. With how many times you have sold your name to this game that is hell. You should of been reaped a long time ago.

Even you didn't know how your name wasn't pulled. The suppose luck that people would attribute to your was no where to been seen on any other day of the year. It was only on this one. However, if it was seen on any other day then maybe you wouldn't be so closed to starving each day.

Reaching down, you pulled your worn socks to your knees. Patches were half hazerdly stitched onto them. Soon you would need new socks and shoes for the winter. You would have to decide on which. Shoes seemed to be the priority in your mind. What good were socks without shoes anyway.

Giving one last look in your mirror. You let out a deep sigh. All you had to do is survive one more time. Then you would be forever free of this life. Once you were free from the reaping, maybe you would finally be accepted in district 12.

The walk to the town square was always a silent one. Each person was getting ready to die. You always thought that the suspense was the worst thing about this. The knowledge that it could be you was nerve wracking to say the least.

Passing by one of your neighbors, you could Hear them mutter under their breath. "I hope it's you."

The rumors you got use to, it was just part of your everyday life by now. Being the outcast was a role you took with stride. What you didn't get use to was the fact that many of those that live close to you wished you dead.

Just like they wished your parents dead, and it was a wish they got. Maybe they would get this wish also.

The check ins went by like a blur. A yearly routine that you would never have to do again. There was peace in that thought, and that peace would surely give you the strength to make it through this. No matter how false it may be.

Taking place behind Susie Mack, you took note of how nice her dress was. The blue color complemented her bright red hair. She even had matching blue ribbons in her two braids.

Late at night, you liked to imagine what it was like to be her, to be Susie Mack. Almost everyone loved her. She was bright and cheerful. You supposed it was easy to be bright and cheerful when you had a full stomach and a loving family. What you would give to be her. To be loved and beautiful. To not have to worry on whether you would have shoes for the winter or food in your stomach.

You hoped that she wouldn't be reaped, simply for the fact that you knew if she was. Then the entire district would come for you. You don't want to imagine how they would punish you this time.

The escort of the Capital made his appearance, and just like every year. His fashion sense was..... lacking.

A mix of fine fabrics made up his outfit, along with a mix of patterns. You were sure that his clothes had every color known to man. Diamonds littered his neck on their choker that they wore.

You couldn't imagine that he were comfortable. Tight and stiff silhouettes seemed to be the main trend in the Capital this year.

As the escort made the same speech that they did every year. You could feel the anxiety of the crowd. It was getting close to the pulling of the names.

You could practically feel the heart beating of each person here. Looking around, you could even see some of the younger ones silently crying.

The two large crystal vessels were brought out. Each full of names. If you did your math right, yours should be in there 80 times.

"Now, as always, ladies first." You never noticed how gentle his voice was. It reminded of the stream your parents use to take you too. The sound of the water would always make sooth you matter how upset you may of been. It was just too bad that that stream turned into a raging river.

"Our female tribute is." He, as always, paused for dramatic effect. " --/n"

Ringing, that's all you could hear, it wasn't till someone shook you that you could fully understand what was said. It wasn't till the peacekeepers roughly pulled you out of your spot that you understood that your wish was finally ignored. It wasn't till the dammed Capital escort kissed your cheek, and spoke of how lucky you were that you understood that luck was just a lie. That the odds were and would never be in your favor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And the 1st part of the yandere hunger games is done! Hopefully I will have the next part soon. I did write this part very late at night so the are probably mistakes but that is okay.

Also, sorry I was gone so long, school really took everything happy that was in me away. Good news tho, I am graduated!. My blog is going to be open to asks and all, but for right now requests are going to be closed untill I feel more confident in my writing. It should be a lot more active now however!

That's all for right now! Love y'all <3

#yandere hunger games #yandere writing #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere idea #yandere story #platonic yandere #yandere harem #yanderes #x reader

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bothoutsiders · 1 month

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Jason had seen it happen multiple times in the past. He would see how people pretended to be friends with Tim, telling him how funny he was, or flattering him some way or another, only for them to later stay quiet, pull away and ‘turn’ into him.

It was almost at a cosmic level. It didn’t matter where they were, or who he was pretending to be. It would happen.

It wasn’t that Jason was always watching, but … it was pretty obvious to him.

This time it wasn’t any different. Although, if he were to be honest, it was kind of a funny scene.

Tim had been working on a case for a while at Gotham’s hospital and Caroline Hill had been back for months now. Working hard to help around, and collecting valuable information while playing the role perfectly. She even got some weird, flirty comments from male nurses and doctors.

Of course Caroline had made new friends. Connections are a must when they are working undercover. Pretending to be another pawn, to not know what is going on and go to a new friend for some gossip. A very common and normal behavior between humans. Between those people who have nothing to do with the event, but want to know what is going on anyway.

Between those new friendships though, Caroline had met a particular person. They got along immediately and seemed to have the same taste in video games. While Tim was conscious that their friendship was fake and it applied only to Caroline, it was still nice. It made the role more believable and easy to play.

Jason had heard everything about it. It made Tim wonder if he could keep the friendship after the case. Yes, it meant he would have to hang out with them as Caroline, but he was down for dressing in different clothes other than the blue scrubs with the white nurse coat. Because of Tim’s consideration of this new friendship, his boyfriend had even offered himself to go buy clothes together for that occasion.

And after Tim had already decided to keep the friendship– it began to happen.

That said friend suddenly stopped talking to Caroline. They didn’t eat together, they didn’t share gossip or spoke about video games anymore. Everything was gone as soon as it had come.

Even if Caroline tried to start the conversation, it wasn’t working. There was a moment where Tim wondered if he had done something wrong.

But tonight, everything made sense, and Jason couldn’t help but snort when he saw it.

The hospital charity ball wasn’t that big, and he already knew the face of Caroline’s friend. And they were there, with the same hair color as Caronline, a very similar tone of voice.

“If you were to buy any of these pieces, which one would you get?” Jason– Elias asked.

“Mmm… I would go with this one.” Caroline’s friend pointed at one particular painting. “The back story is rich and the colors are nice. The artist knows how to utilise shading interestingly, too.”

Elias nodded. That was definitely Caroline’s tone of voice. And some nerdy comments, too.

“I like it. You definitely have good taste.”

“Thank you,” the friend smiled.

Elias looked back at the painting. While this was only Tim’s mission, he also knew about the case. He knew the real name of the staff in the hospital, the target and anyone involved.

“What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking. I would like to know the name of the only person here who has good taste– other than me, of course.”

“Madeline.”

Elias couldn’t help but grin.

Of course it was Madeline.

based on some stuff i've seen in fandoms i follow. including this fandom. people getting close to others and then stealing their personality blatantly. wow wow wow.

#JayTim #Caroline Hill #JayxCaroline #Jason/Caroline #w: story

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mangywayway · 3 months

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“You should wear glasses more often, you know?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, without lifting his head from the book he was reading. He knew if he did that he would be too distracted to continue reading.

"Why on earth would I do that? I don't need them that much and it makes me uncomfortable to wear them" Steve muttered to the boy blissfully lying on his lap. "Because," said Billy, reaching out to better adjust the glasses on the other's nose, attracting his attention, "they look good on you and they suit your face very well. And then" and here Billy smiled broadly "they make you look like one of those sexy professors" concluded the harpy, accompanying it all with a suggestive movement of his eyebrows.

Steve, caught off guard, couldn't resist and burst out laughing when he looked at his boyfriend's face. Steve closed his book once and for all, as he had already given up for a while and given up on reading; he was convinced that he had gotten used to Billy's outings and yet he always managed to surprise him with something new. He wiped the tears from his eyes while Billy continued to look at him all pleased. It looked like the emblem of a big, chubby cat, which was saying something considering which of the two had feline origins.

There was a silence between them, broken only by the soft purring that rose from the young gattu's chest.

Steve's hands were tangled in Billy's hair and he let himself sprawl even more on his boyfriend's legs, so relaxed that he allowed himself to leave one of his wings free so he could stretch it a little.

Billy had let himself go so much that he didn't notice how Steve, after observing his face for a while, decided to remove his glasses and then place them delicately on the harpy's face. Feeling the added weight, Billy opened his eyes, blinking quickly to adjust to the change in view before him. He turned to Steve questioningly, his face slightly distorted by the lenses, but clearly curious as to why Steve's glasses were on his face. The latter shrugged his shoulders, replying "I don't know, I think they suit your face better. Although I don't think the role of teacher is for you"

"Oh, really?" Billy sneered. "In my opinion I could be a great teacher, what do you know," he said, moving his wing animatedly, as if he were illustrating something to an imaginary audience.

Steve rolled his eyes "Yes of course, as if I didn't know you enough. And then we both know that if you were a teacher you would have classrooms full of people who would spend more time looking at you than at the blackboard" the latter grumbled.

Billy was surprised for a moment, a little twinkle in his eye.

"Don't tell me you'd be jealous Stevie"

A light blush appeared on the young cat's face, and he didn't bother to respond, except for a muttered under his breath, you're an idiot, Billy Hargrove.

To his mortification, the harpy had heard it (because of course he had), so much so that he exclaimed "Ah! I may be an idiot, but remember that I am your idiot Steve Harrington, and you can't say anything against it".

Steve looked up at the ceiling, a big smile present on his face.

He would never admit it out loud, but what Billy had said was true and he would never change it for the world.

Okay, gouache defeated me (this time). I started this illustration with gouache, ruined it, and then draw it again and colored it digitally. I will keep practicing with gouache but with smaller subjects, because in this case I really went overboard lol. Also yeah, there it was a book in the original sketch (I'll leave it below) but I didn't like it at the end so I removed it. The illustration was based on this small thing I wrote; as always I tried to pay attention and translated it the best I could (even if there is something I'm still not sure about but eh) but yeah, if you see errors or change of verbs and stuff, just ignore them 🗿 (adding that I'm a big reader, but absolutely not a writer. Still, having them in these comfy settings is like free therapy to me so I'll probably try and do more stuff like this)

Pencil versione below ✨

#art #fanart #werecat steve harrington #steve harrington #harpy billy hargrove #billy hargrove #mythology au #harringrove #it's free serotonin you all #so I'm not stopping ✌🏻✨#mangywayway

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journals-of-the-guardian-project · 9 months

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LORE POST #1

Redesign of my Chat Noir redesign to go together with my rewrite which I will talk a lot about under the cut. I'm pretty set on this design too and will link it at the beginning of the fic when I get ten chapters completed and ready to post :3

What is different from canon, why I am changing some things, etc. Feel free to just read my thoughts around the design if you want to read my fic without any guidelines of what I'm planning so far for him

BUT I won't spoil anything major dw

The design:

I've changed chat noir's design so it would blend in more at night. The preferred the sleek black tones over the glow in the dark green I gave him before. I take a whole lot of inspiration from the PV of miraculous ladybug in these designs so of course his hair is still floofy.

When initially designing Chat noir, the tips of his hair are darker since I really liked that trait some other redesigns gave him so I included it without making his whole head of hair black.

I got the idea to base his design off of rust and RAN with it! He still has some greens in his design but they've shifted closer to yellow green and gold for the color scheme!

I've liked the idea about the clothes in the hero designs looking more cloth like too so I've incorporated that into the design with pockets and a zipper cause I can. Since Adrien has been thinking about being a superhero for a while, his design is more thought out were it could be.

EDIT: Forgot to mention!! Ladybelle has a lil more black in her design and now chat has a little more red! :3 matching

I saw some concept art of Chat Noir with a hat at one point and I loved it so much I wanted to keep it in to a certain extent, SO Marichat moment all the way. I decided to add the bells back into his design (I missed them) and took inspiration from @/callimara's Chat Noir design.

Chat noir will still be very cat like in this and I thought it'd be funky if his feat were like a cat's

Overall it isn't much of a design change for some aspects but I really like how it turned out!

K story stuff now:

I want to get ten chapters done before I post chapters again on the first fic since I don't think I did the best job introducing what I've changed. This isn't talking about adrien agreste's life this is more his role as Chat Noir. I'll get to adrien when I get his redesign sheet finished

(any part of this section might be edited in the future but this is basically part of my ideas)

Honestly a whole lot of the fic(s) is(are)

Fault of canon? -> Solution

I've been developing for two years now and I just gotta write it out... Entirely hinging on my execution sigh

Chat noir's powers are now on a more equal footing with Ladybug's (Ladybelle now) and I'll get more indepth when I post Ladybug's redesign and stuff but basically

The miracle box is a mix mash of several miraculous's from other boxes due to an event Guardian Marianne caused. Supposedly, she unleashed the Rabbit kwami of time on the guardians in an act of defiance. Resulting in rips in time eating away the members present for such an event, burning to death in fire. Marianne managed to run away with the miraculous's she could obtain and do her best to live her life knowing what she's done.

The Ladybug and Cat miraculous are a duo pair. Strongest when used in a partnership. Many are tempted to use both at the same time for what the powers merge to become but this isn't the strongest path.

Tikki and Plagg are soulmates you could say. They aren't really romantic but they are bonded for life. Never one without the other.

They are the only miraculous pairing in the new mixmash of the guardian box. Eventually Marianne gives the responsibility to Master Fu, her lover, before the rabbit comes after her as well.

I'll talk more about the changes I've made to Tikki's character in Ladybelle's post but as a part of the Miraculous cure, something all pairing miraculous's have to purify evils and darkness, it requires both parties to be present. Usually some form of touch or communication initiates the Miraculous cure

"Pound it!"

Chat noir can use his power alone to defeat evils but it's like cauterizing a wound. He doesn't figure this out for a bit.

I'll talk more about the miraculous cure in Ladybelle's post

This is still a part of the story I'm working on but:

the miraculous of destruction gets more powerful the longer the user wields it. With techniques and familiarity, Chat noir will be able to make black pockets of nothing just from a touch. Yes I'm including this from the concept art. Though he'll only get this later down the road

Chat noir is still a form of escapism to Adrien and part of his character arc is realizing he can't rely on it like that. A large part of adrien's character I'll talk about in adrien's post ties into Chat Noir too

I'm still figuring out some plot points for him so this is where I'll end this off. But I will say I'm planning on Chat Noir getting more time with the kwamis and more of a role in the Guardian arc and guardian stuff in general

#guardian marianne au #jotg au #journals of the guardian #chat noir redesign #miraculous ladybug rewrite #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #marichat #ladynoir #MDN art tag #my art #adrien agreste

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clovenhoofedjester · 2 months

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jellicle lineups; part 3/4

LETS GO PEOPLE!! LETS GO !! sorry for taking so long to get around to this one !

demeter | 🔒 🍰 🌇

DEETER

ive seen a lot of complaints about demeters design being toned down over the years so i decided to bring some of the bolder design choices back for mine. mullet demeter is REAL now ! honestly i couldve done more w/ their makeup but shhh its ok....

i tried to push the gold in their design by making the eyeshadow really obvious and giving them gold lips. enjoy their lacy dress too... i tried to design something which they could dance comfortably in

demeters newer 3 words (nervous, sensual, secretive) mean everything to me. love them so much. i think theyd be 29 in human years

bombalurina | 🌹 🍓 🛼

so i totally based her hair on that concept art for drag queen bomba. the bob is too cute ! i had a blast doing her design for the most part. i struggled w that makeup and the color of her dress but its ok.

i also tried to give her something she could dance in—just like. imagine the length of the dress a little shorter. im not going back and fixing it

i based her color palette/patterns directly on her concept art because tbh, i dont love blond/ginger bomba ! so black/white/red hair bomba it is

i think she would be 27 in human years

hysperia | 🪴 ⌚ 🍡

this is my version of exotica, renamed hysperia, because i do not love her og name. its not fun. the name hysperia is taken from an ensemble kitten character from the og london production

i also based her design on a multitude of things, asides from her 2 costumes in 98—like some nbq/greycat designs since i feel like that design not becoming a common ensemble character was a waste. A WASTE I TELL YOU! ive also based her fur length on warsaw victoria because oh my godddd that design is so good. peak

her neck bow is a nod to the 2019 movie... the macavity girls w/ those bow collars. they were onto something there

she would have a much more prominent role than the few times she cameo'd in 98, still retaining the elegant/shy personality she shows in the film. shed be 29 in human years

cassandra | 🪐 ♠️ 🥯

i originally made her makeup a lot closer to her replica designs but decided to go for something a little different based on a makeup look i saw on pinterest LOL. so like. enjoy her slight earthy gothic vibes. i also didnt struggled too much on her outfit since i came into this knowing that i wanted her to be wearing something formfitting and bejeweled. a little circus-y too

more people have got to play up her disdainfulness. she'd be 26 in human years

alonzo | 🎹 🍢 🎳

once again, another design pretty similar to his standard replica one. i just tried to make the black patch on his face a little greyer and with some white detailing. because tbh every alonzo with white mascara makes me go crazy its so cute

i also tried to make his head fur/bangs a little distinctive—inspired by a random pic from a production i dont know the name of

enjoy his little cute fit too. pinklonzo. pastelonzo

that one gif of him pantomiming eating a playing card IS canon to me. he'd be 28 in human years

munkustrap | 📼 🥧🎙

verrrry similar to standard replica munks makeup-wise ! however, fur wise.... say hi to mulletstrap. to manestrap. 2 me he is tuggers brother so he gets that. i have no justification for the mullet other than idk, looks good, is funny, and the oslo 1985 production was right to give him one. also he and demeter can match now

i do like when theyre seen as something of a prince... so say hi to the gothenburg and opera populaire-esque epaulettes. theyre cayoot. they also get warsaw munks Big Pant Vibes

give this man a break. hed be 30 in human years

macavity | 🔥 🥂 🎯

he was actually one of the first cats i made design notes for when i started hyperfixating on this musical like.... two months ago. i really tried to mix elements from a bunch of different designs 4 him.... and sorry yall hes a deut brother too. im predictable

the manginess, mane, more ginger-y head fur, tugger-ness and the mouth markings from the 2016 revival... the big big hair, white fur and general makeup from his replica design... and the stylings of il sistina mac with the fitted coat. he also gets unique eyelashes like tugger—this time white instead of gold. he also gets that ominous magic cat eye shading

i think he would act a lot like 2019 mac... suave. but also not as dorky and desperate as he is in that movie LOL. he'd be 33 in human years

ONLY ONE MORE LEFT..... THE OLDIES........ MAYBE... I MIGHT MAKE DESIGNS FOR SOME OF THE SWINGS TOO LOL

#cats the musical #cats musical #sfw furry #character design #chibi #my art #demeter #bombalurina #hysperia #exotica #cassandra #alonzo #munkustrap #macavity

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amasiusblog · 1 year

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100 years after the first exchange student program of the three worlds

long post, no pronouns for the reader, gender neutral!mc i'm feeling soft so y'all can have this before i decide to write angst

it's been a long time since the first human exchange student came to the devildom. dozens of humans followed but none left a mark as remarkable as the first. after your stay, you've become an ambassador of sorts and live in the house of laminations, helping human students with their tasks and serving a role in the student council (yes diavolo made a position for you, yes you cannot get out of student council many have tried no one has succeeded).

twenty years into the program and a few humans started living in the devildom full time, every one of them freely choosing to upheave their lives in the human world to permanently stay (the brothers keep cracking jokes about how they all followed in your footsteps, you keep a heavy book on hand to whack them with).

forty years into the program and there was a thriving suburbs full of humans and their demon partners and their half-demon offspring. diavolo couldn't be happier, he frequently visits, much to the dismay of lucifer and barbatos (please sir their schedules).

of course, not everyone in the devildom was happy with the changes. you yourself have been caught the middle of fights brawls arguments between the new human residents and the demons, but you were never alone and eventually the fights came to a complete stop after 60 years.

time passes and you don't notice. calendars have no purpose in the devildom with their long life spans and you frequently forget to check the date because of how busy you are. the three worlds are now open to each other permanently. diavolo is overwhelmed with joy and you are celebrated as the person to make his dream a reality. you try to tell him that you alone couldn't have done it so he relents and makes a holiday celebrating all humans in the devildom (and the celestial realm makes a sister holiday for their own humans). time passes and you don't notice but 80 years have passed.

more time passes and one day everyone comes out to celebrate your century in the devildom. luke is taller now and is the proud owner of a sweetshop based in the devildom. simeon grew out his hair and lives in the human world, moving from major city to major city to find inspiration for his next installment in the TSL series. diavolo and barbatos are the same but joy colors them both and they greet you with warmth and casual affection.

the hall of lamentations is different, too. the kitchen is now stocked with food from the human world and the celestial realm (beel is thrilled he has so much more variety now), there's a spare room for the exchange students, the curses are more muted now (courtesy of solomon after he deemed you a capable sorcerer), and cereberus while still very deadly, no longer attacks on sight (satan and lucifer spent many many training sessions with him, they also taught you to command him).

the brothers are... mostly the same but their lives are so entwined with yours that it's hard to imagine life without them.

lucifer built your study to connect to his five years after you started living in the hol. you do paperwork together, he brings you tea and your meals when you forget to go to downstairs for dinner and you do the same when he's busy.

mammon brings you along to his money-making schemes, his arm casually flung across your shoulders. it took him a while, but now when he tell you he loves you his face is serious and his eyes never leave yours.

levi has an open door policy for you and you spend every thursday night in his room, falling asleep after a broadcast of a new episode. when he plans for a cosplay event, he never forgets to include you.

satan's wrath is quieter with you. after having a reading session interrupted by a collapsing pile of books, you both spend a week building bookshelves in his room. on days when you're both free you go to bookstores together and look for little cafes in the human world. he shares his books with you and when you spend nights in his room, he reads to you until you fall asleep.

asmo spoils you. you'd think that it would mellow out after a hundred years of knowing you but you're pretty sure it's only gotten more intese. he leaves care packages on your bed every other night and he frequently begs you to join him at the spa. on rough nights when things are bad he brushes your hair and holds you until you fall asleep, 18 step night-time skincare routine be damned.

beelzebub learns to cook human food for you. he saves you a plate when you're late for dinner and shares his snacks with you when you work out together or watch something in the common room. he teaches you how to play fangol and you teach him recipes that barbatos and luke taught you. his control over his sin gets better and he celebrates it by cooking you a feast and refuses to take a bite (you spoonfeed him of everything half don't worry)

belphie helps you study and fiercely guards your dreams, doing his best to keep the nightmares at bay. he takes revenge on every demon who tried to hurt you by making their nightmares worse and invading their sleep. during his waking hours he naps close to you. he has a special couch in your study so he can sleep close to you while you work. he's the first brother to agree to therapy and his hatred of humans turns into fierce protectiveness.

and you? you're a little older but you stopped aging when you hit 35. after decades of training, solomon has deemed you capable enough to beat him in a fair fight. luke and barbatos meet with you ever other week to iron out the kinks in their new recipes. diavolo gives you the responsibility of handling the exchange program.it's a sign that he trusts you deeply but damn you're sure that you get grey hairs from the stress alone.

you celebrate your 100 years in the devildom surrounded by the people who love you, pride burning through you at your achievements. you don't question why you stopped aging because it chips away at everyone's fears that you would one day die.

you're happy. there's no such thing as 'peaceful' when you live with and are surrounded by very busy and very powerful demons (and angels and one sorcerer) who smother you but you bask in the quiet moments with them, hoping that you get another century to spend.

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gattnk · 5 months

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Rector Cassidy and Rector Kubral will do what they must. They'll soldier on to the end.

I'm currently working on the redesigns for the Golden School staff; normally I would've started with Arkan and Temptel, but believe it or not Cassidy and Kubral were my first redesigns for this project! Yes, they precede even Raf and Sulfus in my sketchbook. I like to start with villains first when designing casts, since they tend to give me more wiggle room to be creative: this way I get to set the bar for the rest of the project, and I can make my heroes just as visually interesting. Here's my usual notes on the process:

The first step was understanding the characters and their motivations. Once I had their personalities and roles established, I could work on their appearance. I decided Kubral would embody brutality, and Cassidy, fear.

The themes stem from their origins: war is forever linked to brutality and fear as both causes and effects, so it makes sense that two generals personify them, since they too are both products and promulgators of war.

Kubral was easy enough to figure out. Heavy-looking square shapes, towering height accentuated by even taller horns, meaty claws that could snap you like a twig... As a whole, Kubral was based on gothic grotesques. I was also particularly inspired by Goliath from Disney's Gargoyles (his wings folding behind him like a cape is peak character design I tell you). All in all I simplified his original design to his most iconic features, with the addition of a forked beard as a symbol of power and authority.

Cassidy's design had to be much more subtle: fear is a thing that creeps on you, it catches you off-guard and overpowers you. My use of lean curves with sudden sharp angles is meant to represent just that. I included an eye motif to evoke an ever-present state of vigilance and paranoia; the eyes are also a callback to prophetic descriptions of angels, since I was very inspired by medieval stained glass at the time. This is the closest thing to a religious reference you'll get from me here!

I established early on in my creative process that, as angels and devils age, they gain new physical traits. Cassidy's carved halo and double pair of wings are a sign of her age and power. In Kubral's case, there's his tail and enlarged horns, wings and claws.

Cassidy's colors are derived from Raf's: blue, gold and white, sans the touch of red. The only "red" in Cassidy's color scheme is her faded ginger hair (no matter how much time passes, the enemy is still in her head). Her gloves and dark blue shirt underneath her white jacket symbolize her veiled intentions, and her shoes, the same shade as her shirt, represent the dark path she threads.

Kubral's hues are all shades of red (except for his hair, same principle as Cassidy's). This includes his eyes; you could say he "sees red" all the time. He's a straightforward character, so he doesn't conceal his old medals, his general rank proudly displayed on his chest. Still, Kubral is not just brawns, his cruelty motivates his more scheming side. He keeps an ace on his sleeve, or more accurately, his pocket: the tip of his tail is always hidden on his right side, so he may strike his enemies on their left with it.

Phew! If you think I overthink my character designs sometimes, you should see my scene notes regarding architecture lol. Still, I'm proud of my process with these two! For now they've only briefly appeared in my rewrite fic I'll Fly With You, but they'll get their moment to shine soon enough. Their plans will be certainly different from Season 2, so there's that to look forward to!

#my art tag #angel's friends #angels friends #IFWY #character redesign #cassidy #kubral

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buttercupjosh · 5 months

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The Journey of Loving You

(Gif credit to @mattymartin)

Word count: 4,376

Genres: strangers to lovers, fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: I've had pieces of details of this fic in mind for a few months and I had a difficult time figuring out who to write it with so I ended up choosing to give Josty another fic. It is not intended to be a sequel to star-crossed (which you still read and check out and if you want this to be a sequel to that, you can interpret it that way). It did take me awhile to get this fic done because I decided to write other stories before completing this one. This story is based off of the songs “Not a Bad Thing” and “Mirrors”, both by Justin Timberlake and the title is something I came up with. It did take me awhile to get this fic done because I decided to write other stories before completing this one. I also have a bunch of other songs linked throughout the story and I highly recommend listening to them when you come across them during reading. It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It's taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it's set in the future and this season. However, the season is still ongoing at the moment and anything can happen or change so don't hold me to what occurs in the fic and if things do change (ex. Tyson goes to another team), I'm not going to update this fic to reflect that). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“I want it all with you and if I'm coming on too strong, it's 'cause I've waited far too long for someone just like you” -“Share Your Address” by Ben Platt

In your role as the social media manager for the Buffalo Bills, you got to interact and meet with many different types of people. You would have never imagined that something as simple as doing your job would lead you to meet the love of your life. During the Bills season, some of the Buffalo Sabres players had come by to watch a game and you were responsible for capturing their experience at the game. Through mutual connections in the industry, you knew the social media manager for the Sabres but you only watched hockey occasionally. Before the game started, the guys were given a tour of Highmark Stadium and you were trailing around as the guys made their way around your workplace. Throughout their time there, you had noticed that a particular curly-haired hockey forward named Tyson Jost kept being close to you; as one of the few single guys left on the team, his teammates were shifting around and nudging him to talk to you. Tyson walked at a much slower pace to keep up with you instead of with the guys. He asked you a lot of questions and it was a bit odd to you that Tyson was more interested in paying attention to you than the football stadium tour was occurring. Tyson seemed curious about you, which you thought was cute, but you couldn’t quite be as flirty with him on the clock. The tour was only for an hour and concluded at the sidelines before the game officially started. You still had a lot of work to do since it was gameday so before going back to your office to review the content you acquired and what the team photographers captured, you discreetly exchanged numbers with Tyson to talk to him later on. During half-time, you checked your phone quickly and saw a text from Tyson that read “Thanks for answering all of my questions back there, I appreciate it. Can I ask you some more over coffee sometime?”. You were slightly taken aback by him asking you out so soon but you weren’t going to let that opportunity slip away so you agreed to go out with Tyson.

On your first official date, Tyson forgot to bring flowers because he was nervous. You didn’t mind that he forgot and understood his nervousness. Over drinks and pastries from Five Points Bakery, Tyson asked you a lot of questions because he was so enamored by you and you got to ask him a lot of questions in return: you even made each other laugh a few times. The conversation flowed so easily and effortlessly from topic to topic. As you chatted, for some reason, it felt like you had known each other for so much longer. The time that you spent together went by so fast that you ended up closing the bakery. Neither you nor Tyson wanted the date to be over so you ended up strolling around the leaf-riddled streets of Buffalo, making a stop for some additional fun at Lock and Key Escape Room and popping into Mythos for a last-minute dinner date. After dinner concluded, you mutually agreed to call it a night. You learned a lot about each other in the hours that you spent together that day. By the time the date officially ended, all Tyson had wanted was to see you again the following day and whatever days he could after that; you felt the same way. He walked you to your car and before going your separate ways, you shared a long goodbye embrace; a kiss would be saved for the next date. Speaking of which, on your next date, Tyson brought you flowers for the first time, and for the rest of your relationship, he would never forget to get them for you ever again.

With the both of you working in sports, your schedule was never really consistent but despite that, you and Tyson still kept in constant contact and made time for each other whenever you could. You would go to some of Tyson’s games and some team events and Tyson would always hype you up on Bills gamedays. You even surprised Tyson once at an away game; the Bills had a bye week so you flew out to Boston to cheer him on. Whenever your schedules aligned in Buffalo, you and Tyson would go out on different dates around the city and suburbs; these dates were always guaranteed to be an enjoyable time and all of those dates eventually turned into a deeply committed romantic relationship.

Being loved by Tyson and loving him was like your dreams coming true; your relationship worked well because you admired each other so much and neither of you could imagine being with anyone else. You were both used to people making promises to you and turning around and breaking them, used to giving your heart to others and they just cut you and leave you bleeding all over the place. However, this relationship was different and all you had to do was try; this time, trying paid off well because being together made those realities not true anymore. The relationship you shared was determined to heal you both from those who had hurt you in the past and you both felt safe with each other. You were worth the challenge of mending together a broken and tender heart for Tyson; his heart was ignited for you and he would do everything in his power to continue to pursue you and you only. Your relationship also had no moments of wasted time or any broken promises and you were always honest to each other. You both had waited so long through dating around and heartbreak for the right person to come along into each other’s lives but the wait was worth it because you ended up together. Falling in love wasn’t a bad thing at all; as expected, it was scary to give your heart to someone else but like a rollercoaster, it was also thrilling and exciting and you got to fall into the arms of someone amazing. Of course, things weren’t always sunny and there were some setbacks and struggles while you were dating. You and Tyson did disagree and argue sometimes but you could compromise when needed; you also had to balance your relationship with the demands of your job and Tyson constantly being either home or away but being with him was worth those challenges. Like anything in life, there would be a moment that would test how strong your relationship is.————————————————————One Saturday afternoon, you and Tyson decided to get ice cream after Tyson was healthy scratched from that afternoon’s game. Unfortunately, the person who served the ice cream used the same scooper that was used to scoop ice cream with nuts in it and you had an allergic reaction. Thankfully, you had an EpiPen in your bag and used it to help you. Your symptoms began to slowly subside but the instructions mentioned that you should visit the ER if used so Tyson took you. The ER doctor put you on an IV and decided to keep you overnight for observation. Tyson begged the doctor to let him stay in the room with you and they surprisingly agreed, even though you weren’t married and common law marriages weren’t a thing in New York. You were so grateful that Tyson stayed with you instead of leaving to go sleep in his comfy bed and just picking you up whenever you were discharged, not having to deal with the nurses and doctors coming in and out of the room throughout the night, interrupting whatever rest he got in that uncomfortable hospital chair. You were awake and observant for a while but you eventually drifted off to sleep. Tyson was tired but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep because he was so worried about you. As he saw you lying in the hospital bed, Tyson thought to himself that you should never have to go through any sort of health crisis alone. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to be there all the time but he would be there for you as much as he could. This whole experience opened up Tyson’s eyes to realizing that he wanted to share your address and move in together and also to be your emergency contact.

To say that Tyson was in love with you was a bit of an understatement; he was so smitten about you and everyone around him could pick up on that immediately. Tyson would see things that would remind him of you and his heart would swell with so much joy and the light in his eyes shined differently whenever he talked about you. Tyson truly and deeply loved you so much that he couldn’t lose you. His heart would beat so fast whenever you were around or if someone mentioned you and you were the one that he adored. To him, it felt like days would go wasted without you in them. He wanted a house with kids running around that shared both of your traits, to travel across the world, and grow old, all with you. In that moment, Tyson privately vowed to himself that he was going to marry you one day.

Months down the line, after waiting for your lease to be up and for the hockey season to be over, you and Tyson rented a house together. Living together meant that you got to see each other a little bit more frequently, which you both liked. You settled into a comfortable routine with Tyson and had mild complaints about your cute roommate; sharing a space wasn’t so bad. Tyson got to cook for you, serenade you on his ukulele, and slow dance in the kitchen with you as often as he could. You got to taste all of Tyson’s recipes, annoy him with your purposefully bad singing, and wake up next to him on the rare days you were off together. You and Tyson even began hosting a monthly trivia night at your home with your friends and some of Tyson’s teammates. Moving in together also meant that you were around to help Tyson whenever he was injured and always there to comfort him after a disappointing healthy scratch or game loss as well.

Combining your lives together meant that your families would mix at some point. Tyson’s mother, Laura, visited frequently and came down for the Sabres’ Moms’ Trip and stayed for a week afterward so you got to know her more and she got to know the person her son was so lovestruck about. You also got to meet his sister, Kacey, when his mother returned for Christmas and also brought Grandpa Jost along. You had a good relationship with Tyson’s family; they adored you and liked you with him. In regards to your family, your parents only came to Buffalo once in a while and you would go back to your hometown for holidays but your parents talked Tyson through video calls and knew how much he meant to you.

While you were still dating, your parents ended up contributing to a significant memory for Tyson and you weren’t even there. When the Dads and Mentors Trip came around, for some reason, Grandpa Jost couldn’t be there for his grandson so your dad flew out to Buffalo to accompany Tyson on the trip. This was going to be your father’s first time meeting Tyson in person and it was intimidating at first but that intimidation faded away as your dad and Tyson got to know each other. Tyson was so thankful that your dad took the time to be there for him. Before returning to Buffalo, Tyson had asked your father for your hand in marriage and your dad agreed to let his little ray of sunshine shine their light into someone else’s life. If there was anyone else in the world that he would walk his precious child down the aisle to, your father was glad that Tyson would be the guy on the other side.————————————————————After getting your father’s approval, calling your mom to get her blessing, and telling both of your family and friends about it, it was time for Tyson to propose. Tyson arranged a fun scavenger hunt for you around Buffalo during the NFL off-season and at the end of the NHL regular season. This scavenger hunt was bittersweet because Tyson was going to be a free agent that upcoming off-season and there was no full guarantee he would return to play for the Sabres so you both prepared for the likely possibility that you would have to move away for Tyson to play with a different team. It was going to be hard to leave behind the place that you both called home and also your job but you would follow Tyson wherever he would go. Thankfully, you still had some time left to hang out with your friends and former co-workers before leaving for the off-season.

The scavenger hunt started with an index card on the fridge that read: “Good morning, my love. Look for the next clue inside our home on a masterpiece hanging above.” Tyson had gone golfing with his teammates for what could be the last time so these little notes were the only communication you had with him that day and you read all of the clue cards in his voice. You found the next note that read on top of a painting you made: “Remember when we went to that art class and you painted the most beautiful sunset? Go to the visitor’s desk at Buffalo AKG Art Museum to find out the rest.”

You headed to the Buffalo AKG Art Museum and the guide at the visitor’s desk handed you an envelope with a prepaid admission ticket inside; there was also a sticky note inside that read “Your reflection is a work of art. Go to the mirrors exhibit and see how your beauty captured my heart.” The heat rushed to your face as you read Tyson’s note; he wasn’t there but he still made your heart skip a beat through his words. You headed straight to the mirrors exhibit and took a bunch of cute photos while you were there. After the mirrors exhibit, you continued to look around the art museum and ran into Danielle Okoposo, Kyle Okoposo’s wife, while you were there. She mentioned that she was visiting the art museum because her kids were taking an art class there and told you to stay with her until the class was over because one of her kids had the next clue for you. You didn’t wait long for the kids to come out and all of the Okoposo children showed off to their mother and you what they had created in class. Livia, the youngest Okoposo daughter, gave you a personalized drawing of you and Tyson with a lot of hearts on it. Written in Livia’s youthful handwriting, the back of the drawing read: “As you can see, we are surrounded by lots of love, and no matter what happens, that will always be true. Head to Five Points Bakery for a snack pickup and your next clue.” You departed from Danielle and the Okposo children and headed to the spot where you and Tyson had your first date.

The bakery wasn’t as busy when you went to pick up your order; although Tyson had already placed the order for you, you still picked up a sweet treat for your sweetie as a reward for all of the things he’d done with this scavenger hunt. Your next clue card was inside the bag with your order that stated: “After my snack has had their snack, don’t be perplexed by my request for you to ask your parents for where to go next.” You followed Tyson’s instructions and your mom texted you: “Summer is approaching and we can’t wait to see you soon so go to the Botanical Garden where the flowers bloom.”

The Buffalo and Erie County Botanical Gardens was a special place to you and Tyson; it’s where you celebrated your first year of dating with a cute couples photoshoot and also had membership to the space. Your favorite part of the Botanical Gardens was the koi fish pond so of course, you would find your next clue taped to the back of the bench near where the pond was. “I know you’ve been out for hours but I have you running around for a reason. Now, go home, there’s something fun that we need to do before we go to Canada for the off-season.”, the clue card read.

You went back home; all of the nostalgia from visiting some of your favorite spots around Buffalo made you feel both happy and sad at the same time. Even though the scavenger hunt was a final trip for you to go to the places you enjoyed in Buffalo, you wished deep down that Tyson would have been there to experience them with you for one last time. Tyson still wasn’t back yet and his location indicated that he was at a restaurant near the golf course; you tried to call and text him throughout the day to check on him but he didn’t answer at all. You walked into your bedroom and saw a note on the closet door that read “You’re going to want to dress your best for this next part (as the kids say, make sure your look serves) and when you’re done, meet me at Tifft Nature Preserve.” The last part of the note confused you because the nature preserve would be closed by now but you showered, got ready, and went there anyway.

Inside the Tifft Nature Preserve Education Center was a trail of lights that led you to a projector with a Kahoot game, ready to be played. Tyson, looking handsome in a crisp polo and jeans, was surrounded by blankets and snacks. You hadn’t seen or heard much from him the whole day so it was nice to see the face of the man that you loved.

“Tyson, you did not ask me to dress up and drag me all this way to play trivia when we could do it at home or go to trivia night at the bar.”, you stated.

“This might be our last time playing our monthly trivia game in Buffalo so why not go all out?” Tyson responded.

Trivia was amusing as expected and you won the game so you asked Tyson what your prize was; your prize was Tyson was going to sing you a quick song on his ukulele. The notes sounded familiar to you and then you recognized what your lover was serenading you to.

“Cause I don't wanna lose you now, I'm lookin' right at the other half of me. The vacancy that sat in my heart is a space that now you hold. Show me how to fight for now and I'll tell you, baby, it was easy, comin' back here to you. Once I figured it out, you were right here all along. It's like you're my mirror, my mirror staring back at me. I couldn't get any bigger with anyone else beside of me. And now it's clear as this promise that we're making two reflections into one.” Tyson sang during the chorus of Mirrors by Justin Timberlake. The lyrics were right for describing your relationship with Tyson; you were separate individuals but your relationship intertwined you together and also allowed you to change for the better as people. Music was something that was important to both of you and Tyson had sung to you several times before, including love songs, so this wasn’t much of a surprise to you. After he concluded singing, Tyson handed you over one final clue card that simply read “Will you marry me?”.

Tears of joy began to fill your eyes and Tyson was down on one knee, holding out your dream ring. The sun was going to set soon so the golden hour sunset hue coming through the windows was a nice natural touch to the proposal. You had thought Tyson was going to propose on your planned trip to Banff that summer so this was definitely a huge surprise. You were both speechless because there just weren't enough words to describe the feeling of love that was flowing between the two of you at that moment. After over a year of dating, you were moving on to the next step of getting married and like the lyrics of the song said, merging your two reflections into one. After your engagement/farewell dinner with some of the Sabers players and their families, you and Tyson returned home and had an impromptu dance party in the living room with your new fiance to “Let’s Get Married” by Bleachers, “Slow Dance” by Saint Motel, and “Just The Two of Us” by Grover Washington Jr. featuring Bill Withers. Your time in Buffalo was coming to an end but it ended in the best way.————————————————————Just as you both suspected, the Sabres did not choose to offer Tyson a contract so he ended up signing on a short-term NHL contract elsewhere as a free agent and you moved away from Buffalo. Tyson was used to moving away and starting over more than you were but you both knew that home would always be wherever you were with those that you loved. The move and the wedding planning did add some additional stress to both of you but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. You both adjusted well to your new life in your new home city; you had good relationships with the other WAGs and their families and continued your career as a social media manager for a local sports team. Tyson meshed great with his teammates, got more ice time and his play improved. You and Tyson rented a house again and added a dog named Maverick to your little family.

The wedding planning time went by in such an exciting and enjoyable blur and before you both knew it, it was time to marry the love of your life. You and Tyson decided on a destination wedding at a Four Seasons Resort in Florida. Both of your families helped out with the wedding in the many different ways that they could and were delighted to unite together on behalf of your love. It was also nice that all of your friends and some of Tyson’s former teammates were there for your special day as well.

The details of your wedding day were so beautiful and perfect; your something new was a diamond necklace given to you by the Jost family, your something borrowed and something blue was a blue bracelet from your mom that she wore on her wedding day to your dad. You floated down the aisle with your father by your side to meet with your soon-to-be husband, waiting for you in his black tux. Tyson saw you, walking towards him, and he got a little emotional. Tyson’s parents’ relationship didn’t work out and he was terrified to face a similar doom in his life but being with you restored his faith in relationships and marriage. Seeing Tyson cry made you tear up too but everyone knew that those were happy tears. Even though there was an audience of other people in the room, it felt like you and Tyson were the only ones there. Your vows to each other were like the most poetic song lyrics and were sealed with a sweet kiss. You had dreamed of your wedding day for a while, unsure who would be the one to greet you at the altar but finally, you knew.

Your first dance as a married couple was to the Mariah Carey and Luther Vandross cover of Endless Love (originally performed by Diana Ross featuring Lionel Richie), which was considered one of the greatest duets of all time. Like the vocals in the song, you and Tyson debuting as a married couple to a duet made sense because you were complementary to each other and brought out each other’s strengths. The rest of your wedding was spectacular. You danced the night away to a variety of tracks from a carefully curated playlist, enjoyed delicious food, took plenty of photos, laughed, and happily cried a few more times too. You also both mixed and mingled with your guests and were swept into all different directions around the venue.

Towards the end of your wedding and before you walked out to say goodbye to all of your guests, Tyson pulled you away for a surprise private dance as newlyweds. You and Tyson would get plenty of time alone together on your honeymoon in Greece but the private dance without the pressure of any other eyes on you was much appreciated. You swayed back and forth with your husband to “All My Life” by K-Ci and Jojo, “You’re Still The One” by Shania Twain, and “This I Promise You” by *NSYNC, and sang along to all of them together. Just like the lyrics in the songs had said, “All my life, I’ve been waiting for someone like you” (“All My Life” by K-Ci and Jojo), “we’re still together, still going strong” (“You’re Still The One” by Shania Twain), and “and with this vow, forever has now begun” (This I Promise You” by *NSYNC), all that you had been waiting for, for so long was right in front of you and it was true that your forever love was just getting started. In a whisper, you asked to play a song and chose “Because You Loved Me” by Celine Dion as the final song for your private dance. The song served as a thank you to each other by summing up the journey of your relationship so far and how your love helped you both grow as people. Getting married allowed you to write a new chapter in your love story. You made it this far as a couple and there was so much to look forward to in your future together.

#tyson jost #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fic #buffalo sabres #hockey fic #my writing #hockey writing #please read my story

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fantasy-anatomy-analyst · 2 months

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(image description: the first image shows several profile drawings of drow, titled "drow skin color based on snail consumption". the drow shown are a matriarch, chamberlain, baby, minstrel, and a more average drow representing everyone else. The matriarch, chamberlain, and minstrel all have colorful red and blue patches on their noses, eyelids, and upper lips. The chamberlain and average drow have almost the same skin color, being a warm-toned purple. the matriarch has more vivid blue toned purple skin, and the baby and minstrel have paler, more pink skin, with the minstrel's skin being even more warm-toned and covered in freckles. all of them have white hair, facial whiskers, very long ears, and golden eyes.

the second image is a colored sketch of a snail with pale blue-grey flesh and a grey spiral shell with some pointed spikes along it, as well as blue and white speckles. end description.)

I've been working on worldbuilding details for my drow! I'm renaming the wandering amab drow minstrels instead of just wanderers, and more importantly I've decided that domesticated cave snails are a major source of protein in the drow diet. A special breed of this snail is even utilized as medicine to trigger the natural estrogen boost of a normal afab drow transitioning into a matriarch. Like naked mole rats, this change can happen on its own if certain environmental factors are met, but the snails contain some chemicals that can cause the change to happen in a more controlled and efficient manner. The matriarch snails also have more blue pigments in their mucus gland compared to the regular meat snails.

like the real life pigment of tyrian purple, these snails are used to create vivid blue-purple dyes, with the most vivid dyes being reserved for the matriarch's clothes. and like flamingos, drow gain their purple skin color by eating a lot of these snails.

this is why babies and minstrels have the least purple skin. babies are only purple from a pigment transfer in the womb and from any excess pigment they might gain from breastfeeding, but will become much more purple when they're old enough to eat snail meat. minstrels are wandering outcasts, so their purple skin usually fades and they only manage to have any purple color when they occasionally pay a visit to other drow caverns, trading stories and goods from outside for a short rest amongst their own kind.

and sometimes a night with a matriarch, if she's willing. matriarchs give birth to all the other drow, being a eusocial species. amab drow are less common, so they're more restricted in their roles and expected to become chamberlains to the matriarchs, with their presence also helping to maintain allegiances between populations. minstrels are the amab drow who decided to abandon this way of life and do their own thing. but since their wandering also allows them to visit caverns much further off, they're still very important, providing genetic diversity, stories, trade, and news to every population they visit.

drow society changes a lot over time, becoming less reclusive as equality and intermingling between people species becomes more and more common. eventually, it is normal for drow to travel outside the caverns in their adult years just to seek education and familiarize themselves with other cultures. as a result, minstrels go from being outcasts who are begrudgingly tolerated to more accepted members of drow society, though their instinct to wander never really goes away.

I'm in the process of writing a new story that takes place a couple centuries before my main story, which will show the life of a drow protagonist back when the various people species were still wary of interacting with each other, so I will very directly be exploring the ways drow society changed over that time period.

#my designs #worldbuilding #drow

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unfriendlyamazon · 4 months

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title: Bad Dragon

rating: E

pairing: Seto Kaiba/Joey Wheeler

warnings: Strap On, Anal Sex, Nipple Play, Bondage, Rope Role Play, Safewords, Joey Is Not Actually A Dragon In This One (But It's Fun To Pretend)

i was informed by @alectoperdita that it's dragon day so here's something i've wanted to write for a while, was originally on my list for kaijouweek, i gave up on, and then decided to ressurect. i went through a lot today, including the power going out with no heat, so i'm not going to bother editing it. read at your own peril

The ropes at Seto's wrist were tight enough to leave red burns against his skin if he twisted too hard. Removed of his clothes, legs and arms bound, he was as exposed as he could be. Even the comfort of his own bedroom offered little relief. Not with the figure prowling over him. The dim light of the bedroom meant his captor was backlit from the window. Blond strands of hair glowed where they curved away from the face, and through the shadows his eyes seemed to glow with amber light. But what caught Seto's eyes the most was the strap on cinched around his waist. A dildo curved from it, the base thick as it came to a sharp spade point. It's back was ridged, promising tantalizing pleasure with every inch. When he'd purchased it, he'd made sure it was a dark color, glittering with red.

“Look what crawled into my den,” Joey said. His finger grazed a line up Seto's chest. He sucked in a breath, and Joey's lip curved up into a smile. “It's so rare I get such a delicious snack.”

Seto swallowed thick. When mapping out the roleplay, Joey was more than enthusiastic to play the sinister dragon, but Seto wasn't sure he was such the innocent victim. He should've known he'd be in good hands.

“Don't tell me,” Joey said, sliding onto the bed beside Seto. “You came here for my treasure.”

“No,” Seto said. “I came here for you.”

His lips drew back, showing rows of teeth. Seto wished he could drag him in for a kiss. His arm strained against the rope, and Joey's eyes flicked to him with an amused look.

“You're not getting off so easily,” he tutted. “You're in my den, at my mercy. You're lucky so far. Most I devour straight away.”

He swooped in with a chomp of his teeth, stopping short of Seto's nose. He didn't flinch. Joey laughed in his face

“Such a brave knight,” he said and leaned in to whisper in Seto’s ear. “Let’s see if you stay so brave.”

His hot breath made Seto shiver. His cock twitched with excitement, made worse when Joey’s tongue slicked down his neck. His mouth explored Seto’s skin until he came to the pulse point. The first brush of teeth made Seto suck in a breath. Joey climbed on top of him, straddling him at his stomach. He curled his fingers into Seto’s skin. The silicone of the dildo pressed to his stomach, heated by his own desire. He closed his eyes momentarily to imagine the dragon looming over him, and when he opened them again he saw Joey looking down at him with a curious tilt to his expression. The light seemed to glow from inside him.

“You’re beautiful,” Seto breathed.

Joey huffed out a laugh and ran his knuckles along Seto’s cheek. “An admirer. Maybe I won’t devour you after all.”

“Don’t make any promises,” Seto said.

He laughed again, and then leaned down to press his mouth to Seto’s. His kiss was open mouthed and full of teeth. They scraped Seto’s lip raw. Joey’s tongue forced its way into his mouth with wet, messy strokes. Blood and heat rushed to the surface. He wanted more than anything to wrap his fingers in Joey’s hair and tighten his legs around his waist, but he was kept trapped. All he could do was submit.

Teeth bit down on his jugular, and he released a moan. He could feel Joey’s slickness underneath the strap on, and that only made him more high with pleasure. When Joey’s tongue found its way to his right nipple, his whole back arched. He took the sensitive nub between his teeth and suckled on it. Seto panted with each spike of pleasure. He was fully hard now, which only made matters worse. How Joey’d chosen to sit against him meant his ass rocked back and forth to brush the rigid member with promise. Joey bit down hard on his nipple, causing Seto to shout. He looked up at him with a grin on his face.

“Is this torture for you?” Joey said, pinching the nipple between his fingers. “Or do you want more?”

“More,” Seto breathed. He always wanted more. He was never satisfied until he was raw and useless. Joey took to this with his usual fervor.

“I could shred you limb from limb,” Joey continued, and he dug in his fingers with promise. “I could tear your heart out of your chest.”

“It's yours,” Seto said. “Please, just, don't stop.”

Joey slid down him, his mouth moving across his navel to find his cock between his legs. Heated breath bloomed against the head. Seto made a soft sound as Joey dug his fingers into his thighs, forcing his legs even further apart.

“Maybe,” Joey said with a wink, “I find another way to devour you.”

His mouth descended on Seto’s cock and his whole body reacted. His warm, wet tongue engulfed his tongue as his cheeks sucked in on the member. The dragon’s fire coursed through Seto’s limbs. Joey took no break as he engulfed Seto entirely, from tip to base. Seto could no longer offer resistance to the rope, only slope into its hold as his body went limp. He closed his eyes and pictured the dragon’s maw open with the long reptilian tongue lapping at his cock. He was so entranced in the vision that he yelped when he felt the first finger slide inside him. Joey dragged off his dick.

“Blue,” he breathed with a wave of his hand. “Just surprised.”

Joey grinned, returning to pressing his slicked up fingers inside his ass. “You got pretty lost in the sauce.”

“The stage is missing a fine actor,” Seto said, sinking into his palm.

“Aw, babe.” Joey lifted up, which had the benefit of pressing his hand further inside him, and kissed him on the mouth. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Can we…” Seto murmured, and then his breath hitched as Joey pressed his fingers to his hole.

“I got you,” he said. “I know what you came for.”

“Yes,” Seto breathed. “I want it.”

Joey’s fingers worked to open him up. The silicone dildo thrust against his thighs. He wanted it inside him. He wanted to feel its girth, its ridges, wanted it to destroy him.

“Do you think you can handle me?” Joey murmured into his skin. “Do you think you’re strong enough?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Seto said. “Split me in two, I don’t care. I just want your cock buried inside me.”

“I bet you do.” He kissed him again. “You call such a dangerous thing beautiful.”

“You are,” Seto said. His eyes met Joey’s, and he couldn’t help but smile. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Even when Joey was topping him, it still delighted Seto to see his cheeks turn pink. He could dish out a thousand compliments Seto’s way, and it only took one word to make him a gooey mess. Even at moments like these, or perhaps especially because of them, he flustered, choosing to silence Seto’s words with another open mouthed kiss. Any more sweet talking Seto had was swallowed up by his tongue, and his fingers worked their magic on Seto’s asshole. It wasn’t long before he was slick and open and ready for Joey to drive him through.

“Hurry,” Seto said as Joey sat back to apply the lube to the dildo.

Joey laughed. “You don’t get to make demands here.”

“I’ve waited long enough,” Seto insisted.

Joey positioned between his legs, and the tapered head of the dildo pressed in easily. Seto gasped and curled his fingers into his palm. It was all he could do. The head of the dildo pushed inside, widening him up for the shaft. Short, sharp sounds burst out of him as Joey slowly situated between his legs. With the dildo half way in, he gave a sudden thrust. Seto keened.

“Oh,” he gasped. “More.”

“Not so fast.” Joey settled on top of him. The weight could crush his chest, and he welcomed it. “I don’t want you coming undone just yet.”

More thrusts, slow and purposeful. His teeth scraped against Seto’s chest, and his arms curled tight around him. Fingers threaded through his hair. Joey was like a boa constrictor readying to devour its next meal. It only elated Seto. With the next thrust, the ridged back of the dildo stuttered inside him. Another pushed it in even further. He gasped, groaned, dug his fingers in so hard he could feel the red marks on his palm. Joey’s mouth worked against his skin. Teeth and tongue, slick and hard, inside and out. Every inch of him was on fire.

Joey’s methodical embrace never lasted long. Once he was excited, and it was so, so easy to get him excited, he crashed down like a wave against the shore. He thrust harder inside Seto, grunting with the effort. He had little stimulation beneath the strap rigging, but he got off just on seeing Seto like this, helpless, at his mercy. It made Seto play up the act all the more. He arched against his restraints, fingers searching like he could fold them into Joey’s hair, mouth open and accepting when his tongue forced its way inside. Fingernails dug into his back and clawed the skin. Seto would be bruised and marked after this was done. Nothing delighted him more than to see Joey’s frenzy reflected back at him in the mirror, even if it meant wearing turtlenecks until the bruises faded. All he could gasp out as Joey fucked him was more, more, more–

He came suddenly. The dam inside him shattered, and there was no reprieve. His vision saw white as he came between Joey and himself, the semen slicking their stomachs as Joey continued to thrust inside him. Stars filled his vision. Joey kept thrusting, still kissing him, still shaking with pleasure even as Seto became overstimulated in his hands. For a moment, he thought he might actually fuck him until he was torn asunder, but the fantasy passed. Joey panted against his lips. Seto smiled and pressed a tender kiss to him.

“Undo my hand,” he said.

Joey nodded soundlessly. His pupils were wide and black. He picked at the ropes with only a brief curse, and Seto’s hand fell away. Pinpricks spotted up his arm, but he ignored them to focus on the man in front of him. Reaching beneath the dildo, he pressed his fingers against Joey’s clit. He sucked in a breath, sitting up to ride him properly. He liked when Seto went deep inside him, so Seto did, maneuvering as best he could beneath all the hardware. Joey still wore the strap on as he thrust into Seto’s hand. He was the vision of the dark and dangerous dragon, his long cock tantalizingly in view. His head went back, and he came easily into Seto’s palm. Seto gave him a few minutes, letting his breath come back to him. Joey blinked bleary eyes at him before undoing the rest of the restraints. Finally free, Seto massaged his limbs as Joey pulled off the strap on and crawled beside him in bed. He folded him into a hug that Seto accepted.

“Was it good?” Joey asked.

“Of course.” Seto turned his head to press a kiss to his lips. “I don’t choose my scene partners lightly.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Joey dragged him down into the sheets. “The dildo was a pretty good investment.”

Seto hummed, curling against his chest like a cat. “Maybe we should go a little further. A few more prosthetics could really sell it.”

Joey laughed, and it shook his chest hard enough to shake Seto too. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

“Next time,” Joey promised. “You wanna get in the bath?”

Seto shook his head. “A minute longer.”

Joey understood. He held Seto, pulling the blankets over their naked bodies, and brushed his hair with his fingers. Seto closed his eyes and imagined the warm heat of his dragon, the feel of its breath, and the rise and fall of its chest as he was held by it.

A fantasy almost as good as his reality.

#kaijou #violetshipping #my fanfic #sauciness #i might edit and repost on official joukai week day but we'll see

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whentvsfly · 1 month

Text

S.E.E.S, but Pokemon. (Kudos to those who can tell who's who without the readmore)

More info after the cut!

Tried to make everyone look like themselves without adding clothing/accessories. More difficult than expected, but a nice challenge!

I imagine either only persona users can use their moves (at all, or effectively, not entirely sure which) or when they use their personas (personamon?) they appear as an altered version of their fully evolved forms. Kinda like the second one better, as a way to use more powerful attacks and keep in theme with Persona games

Tried to keep them with their elemental affinities:

Mitsuru Kirijo: Sneasel. It just had the right vibe for her, and I curled the tail (feathers?) to make it look like her hair (although Akihiko is standing in front of most of them).

Akihiko Sanada: Pawmo. I needed electric type, and with his affinity for boxing and being fit, I figured an electric/fighting type would work well for him! Didn't want to do Pawmi because it wasn't yet fighting type (maybe he evolves sometime after The Fire) and didn't want to do Pawmot because no one else is evolved, so having him be max evolution would feel *weird*.

Shinjiro Arakgaki: Scraggy. A solely phys skill user HAS to be fighting type. There were several choices for him - Mankey was one, I believe - though something about Scraggy's appearance made me go with it.

Minato Arisato / Makoto Yuki: Castform (Sunny). I like to make the wild cards pokemon with several forms, or the ability to transform in some way. His 'base' form in Tartarus is Sunny, since Orpheus has fire attacks, but he shifts with whatever element he's using.

Yukari: Ducklett (Shiny). She was just going to be normal ducklett, but then I remembered the shiny was pink, and it makes her more 'special' and talk of the school, so I decided that's fine haha. Flying is the wind equivalent, here, so it was hard to Not make her some sort of bird. It works though, I think!

Junpei Iori: Charcadet. Needed a fire type, and charcadet seemed spunky enough to be him, out of the ones available. After Chidori [redacted], his personamon changes from an Armarouge-equivalent to a Ceruledge-equivalent.

Fuuka Yamagishi: Psy attacks don't exist in p3, though they do in p5, who I also already pokemoned, but Psychic still fits both psy attacks and navi abilities, so I'll let them overlap. She was able to avoid being killed in Tartarus for 10 hours, so she would have been using teleport to keep herself safe, as well as other psychic moves to detect where shadows lurked. Wanted a pokemon not usually known for attacking, to fit more with the navi role.

Aigis: Iron Valiant. Another phys-heavy user, so I wanted fighting type, and Iron Valiant happened to be just that. Looks like Gallade/Gardevoir (*is* Gallade/Gardevoir but in the future/ an alternate dimension?) but is also distinctly Robotic. Luckily most people pin the oddness about her as 'why is she fully evolved and in highschool' rather than 'hey, that's not a pokemon I know, what the hell'.

Koromaru: Houndour (Albino). There are not too many fire/dark pokemon, to go along with Koro's fire/curse attacks, and one of them just Happened to be a dog. I had to. I also made up an 'albino' coloration, based off of real albino dogs. If shiny, as a genetic mutation exists, then others can as well!

Ken Amada: Dedenne. Very similar to Koro, there are exactly two (2) pokemon that are electric/fairy, as I equate bless to fairy type, and one of those was a legendary. So Ken is Dedenne. It oddly works out, since he looks up to Akihiko, and they're both small, rodent pokemon (who happen to be their pkmn generation's equivalent of pikachu :P)

I have Many more thoughts on this crossover, if anyone wants to talk about it! I have a few more P3 characters planned out (Strega, pharos, ryoji, nyx avatar), P4's Investigation team, and P5's Phantom Thieves, though I need to actually Draw them all.

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butch-reidentified · 1 year

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I notice articles of Radfems' teaming up with conservatives to curb trans activists. I thought radfems are left-leaning. Why do radfems team up with the right wingers if that's the case?

This is going to be long but contain a lot of very important information people need to understand about the radfem perspective on gender compared to both the conservative one and the genderist one.

I don't personally know any radfem who would ever do this so the simple answer is I can't tell you why someone would bc I've never even witnessed it, let alone gotten to ask their reasoning. People who call themselves gender critical and get called TERF aren't necessarily radfems. Radical feminism is by definition a left wing ideology. If you were active on radblr, you would see frequent posts calling out conservative women who try to act all buddy-buddy with radfems re: trans stuff. We on radblr do not tolerate that or their presence - at least not in the corner of radblr where I exist. I block right wing blogs on sight.

Contrary to popular trans belief, we don't agree with conservatives on trans matters either. Where conservatives want to reinforce gender, maintain the existence of gender, and are bioessentialist (a term genderists use incorrectly btw*) by nature of their predominantly Christian beliefs, radfems are gender atheists and abolitionists.

*Bioessentialism doesn't mean "vagina = woman, penis = man." It refers to the belief that women (aka female humans) are genetically/inherently nurturing, caregivers, emotional, sensitive, intuitive, quiet, physically weak, like pink and princesses and flowery dresses, etc., and that men are genetically/inherently strong, resilient, tough, outdoorsy, aggressive/violent, stoic, rational, leaders, like trucks and mud and red meat, etc.

While bioessentialism is the belief that all these stereotypes are innate, these stereotypes themselves are what make up gender. "Gender stereotypes" and "Gender roles" are redundant phrases. Gender *is* just stereotypes based on sex. Male aka "amab" people are expected to adhere to the truck-loving, tough, aggressive, stereotypes mentioned above. Those stereotypes are placed based on their physical body - the male body - not placed on them because of their INTERNAL "gender identity." For proof, look no further than the baby gifts an expecting mother receives after finding out the sex of her unborn child: they are not random, gender-neutral gifts, they're blue pajamas with dinosaurs on them because boy.

Radfems want to eliminate gender. We view sex as a neutral biological fact, like your height, foot width, or hair or eye color.

Imagine if, before a baby is born, doctors tested its future hair color, and that information was believed to determine everything about the child. Oh, it's a brunette! So it will be opinionated, love playing with building blocks, enjoy science, and its favorite color will be green! Oh, a blond? Well, better get it yellow EVERYTHING covered in butterflies, and order some craft supplies (blonds are just naturally more creative than brunettes, of course). Be prepared... blonds are soft and sensitive and moody. They're very artistic but struggle to keep up in math and science classes, and are so indecisive!

This is what gender is. A massive, all-encompassing set of traits that are assigned to one sex or the other, designed explicitly by patriarchy to maintain the oppression of the female sex. It defines everything, starting with how people treat you before you're even born, including who you will be expected to be all your life forever, up to what jobs you're likely to get and how much you'll be paid. Society has decided that which type of gametes your body is designed to produce (whether or not you successfully produce them is utterly irrelevant to what your body is DESIGNED genetically to do) determines every last thing about your life. There's a stronger argument for astrology than gender.

So conservatives want to perpetuate gender, keep males doing all those things I listed (which we call "masculinity") and females doing all those things I listed (often called "femininity"). Radfems want gender gone. We want your sex to be no more relevant to your life than your height or hair color. We believe that regardless of whether your body is structured to produce large gametes or small ones says absolutely fucking nothing about who you are, what you are capable of, your likes or dislikes, your intelligence, or anything else.

So, no. I would sooner die than team up with conservatives. We have nothing in common. You are by definition NOT radical feminist if you support gender and will team up with those who do, just to ~own the trains~. That isn't a no true Scotsman, it's just how definitions work.

I am not against trans people. I am 100% in favor of safety and protection for trans people. I simply don't view gender the same way many trans people (specifically those we call genderists or TRAs) do. I don't believe in an internal gender identity any more than I believe in an internal hair color identity. I do, however, believe in EVERY human's fundamental rights to bodily autonomy, healthcare, self-expression, non-discrimination, etc. I believe clothes and toys and hobbies and occupations and likes and dislikes and skills and weaknesses all have zero to do with your sex.

This is my struggle with gender identity ideology: nobody has been able to answer the most fundamental defining question I have about it. If, as many trans activists claim, their gender identity has nothing to do with clothing, nothing to do with haircut, nothing to do with being hairy vs shaven, nothing to do with personality traits, nothing to do with likes and dislikes, nothing to do with whether you prefer dolls or hotwheels, nothing to do with all those stereotypes I mentioned... but it's also not simply a descriptor for one's sex, what is left? What remains to give gender meaning? What is a boy/man or girl/woman? Without referencing any sex stereotypes or sexed body parts, how do you know which one you are?

If anyone could give me a genuine, logical answer to this, an explanation for gender identity that has nothing to do with sex stereotypes and makes concrete sense, on God I would become the biggest TRA on earth.

Because I don't believe that gender is anything more than sexist stereotypes, the idea of gender identity is incompatible with my values. Because I view sex as a simple biological fact which should be as neutral as hair color, I don't think it makes sense to believe one can fully and truly change sex. If you dye your hair blond, the roots will still grow in the original brown color determined by your genetics. You may be able to appear as a blond and convince some people you are naturally blond, but it doesn't *actually* change the reality.

I believe there are people with physical sex dysphoria, like myself and my best friend, for whom medical transition is in many cases beneficial (it was for me) in alleviating those odd "phantom sex characteristic," very neurological-seeming symptoms. But while having a double mastectomy did help the sensations, it didn't turn me into a male human (man), and I have certainly never wanted to be one. My best friend lives a life where everyone perceives her to be female, though she was born male, simply because the medical process she went through to alleviate those neurological sensations resulted in people perceiving her as female (passing). Her "social transition" was not intentional or gender related, just an incidental byproduct of the medical one. It was simply easier, and probably safer, to assimilate into social womanhood than to tell everyone she's actually male despite appearing female, though she still does not have a gender identity, does not wear makeup or skirts or perform femininity, and couldn't care less about pronouns - I use "she" because that's how my brain naturally perceives her. Outside of this concrete, material, neurologically plausible view of sex dysphoria (which still has nothing inherently related to *gender* about it), I don't understand what it means to be trans.

Radfems want both sexes to be utterly free to be whoever they are, without being influenced/socialized into gendered (aka sex-stereotypical) behaviors and preferences. We want males comfortable & safe wearing flowery sundresses and crying often and being homemakers if they wish, and females under zero societal pressure to shave, wear makeup, etc., and totally free to speak their minds and wear cargo shorts without so much as a sideways glance. Conservatives want males to be "masculine" and females to be "feminine," whereas we want "masculine" and "feminine" to be as absurd concepts as "blondian" and "brunettian" sound. Fundamentally, radfems & conservatives exist in opposition.

Anyone who has an issue with trans people, and for whom that issue is so important they'll team up with conservatives just to fight the trans movement, has utterly lost sight of the goal of feminism (if they were feminist to begin with), which is female liberation. Radfems believe gender abolition is a crucial step toward female liberation; working with people who want to enforce gender such as conservatives would be working against our own interests.

I've been on radblr a few years and never seen anyone team up with conservatives. Whoever you've heard about in the news, idk who they are, but I fully condemn cooperation with the right wing and assure you that is not something your standard radfem will tolerate. Much like how most trans people feel about Caitlyn Jenner.

#mine #ask #anon ask #anon #radblr #radfem #radfem safe #gender critical transsexual #gender critical #gender identity #gender ideology #radical feminism #gender abolitionist #gender abolition #trans ideology #trans identity #what is a woman #sex vs gender

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