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bajingoarts · 5 months

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The Ratigans

Portraits of the Ratigan family members. Read more for all their names and backstories!

FAIR WARNING!! Some of this is very sad. Ratigan turned to a life of crime after a life of great sadness and tragedy...

Large credit to @suzie-guru for basically helping me create them and flesh them out.

Patreon (18+) | Twitter | Blusky

In order from left to right and down:

Seamus Ceannaire Ratigan

Seamus was a Rat of great integrity and pride. He did much in his community to try and uplift the local rat population. He rallied, gave speeches, and organized local marches in order to further the betterment of the Rat populous, often undermined and forgotten by the public at large. He believed in being better than what others thought of them, proving wrong the assumptions that Rats were all shifty, underhanded, feral, and prone to criminal activity. He taught these values to his family throughout his life. He was horribly disabled after protecting his oldest son Padraic, from a bigoted attack instigated by anti-rat sentiment. He was never the same after that. He died a few years after.

Losa Bella Ratigan

Seamus’s “beautiful rose” Losa was a child of both Italian and Irish Rats, and she had excelled in her youth as a popular operatic star. She sang in multiple languages and had even gigged at the English Opera House. She sang at one of the events Seamus spoke at. Each saw what the other excelled at and they fell madly in love. After Seamus was attacked, Losa was forced to support the family on her own. She resorted to petty theft and bartering in order to put food on the table. She survives her husband and most of her children now, and she lives in Ratterton trying hard to keep her husband's legacy alive. She’s highly disappointed at the state of her eldest son and mourns the tragedy of her family, but she remains a steadfast and confident woman.

Padraic Ratigan

The eldest son and most intelligent member of his family. Padraic was the pride and joy of his parents. A testament to the future rats could have with enough hard work and dedication. Padraic was accomplished in math, literature, engineering, and arts at a very young age. Despite losing his father at the age of 15 and endless family tragedy, his intelligence and tireless fight for a better life earned him a prestigious scholarship to Cambridge University. However, after a deadly rampage through the school he left and never returned. After the incident, Padraic went abroad with forged papers, eventually earning his degree as a Professor of Mathematics. He returned to England after years to begin building his criminal empire. After trying to overthrow the English monarchy, Padraic was defeated and placed in jail, where he now currently resides.

Lorcan Ratigan

The third youngest and the second son, Lorcan was all burning passion. He loved a good time and a good toss in the sheets with both lads and lassies. He led his life with his whole heart, unconcerned with what others thought of him. He often acted as the muscle when Padraic, Sorcha, and him got into mischief. Often the one completing all the dirty work neither of them wanted to do. But he was always happy to do so. Though not the smartest in his family by any means, he was unflinchingly loyal to them and to the ones he cared about. He began helping Padraic when he returned to build the criminal empire, moving shipments and scaring anyone who dared go against their family. While working at the docks he met a young debutante mousette. Their whirlwind romance led to an unexpected pregnancy. Lorcan took the fall for a scheme of Ratigan’s and was offered freedom in exchange for information on him. But Lorcan, ever loyal, refused to give up his brother. He was executed for his crimes, leaving his lover alone with their unborn child.

Sorcha Ratigan

The eldest daughter and second oldest child, Sorcha Ratigan is a calm, cool, and beautiful Queen of the Ratigan family. Though just as intelligent as her brother Padraic, there were limited options available to a rat woman. So she devoted herself to her career as a performer, following in their mother’s footsteps. She traveled abroad to Italy to train in their opera houses and spend time with her mother’s family there. Once she returned, she joined Padraic’s empire as a spy and informant. With Sorcha’s wit, confidence, and allure, she was able to handily trick men into giving her whatever she wanted. Money, vacations, and information. After Lorcan’s passing however, she blamed Padraic and left abroad to Italy where she currently resides, living with local artists and performing.

Saoirse Ratigan

The second daughter and fourth child. Saoirse is a firebrand. She has the justice seeking strength of her father and is a devoted civil rights activist. She heads labor unions, suffragette meetings, and protests at unfair legal proceedings for rats. She’s been arrested several times for disturbing the peace and for general unruliness. Her unwavering need to do the right thing has estranged her a bit from her older siblings once they got involved in crime. She believes in trying to do the right thing through uplifting the community, not through dark back alley deals. She currently works in a factory still living with their mother and taking care of her.

Rodrick Ratigan

Affectionately referred to as “Rod” by his family, Rod was always interested in the newly discovered use of electricity. He would experiment with coils and currents whenever he could, though often not aware of how dangerous it was. He might have gone on to school as Padraic did, but a plague fell over Ratterton at the time, taking him far too soon.

Carmella and Ciaran

The twins and youngest of the family. Completely inseparable, they were little mischievous tricksters. The twins were not in the world for very long though. Ratterton lacked proper medicine and trained doctors, so when the plague came and Cairan fell terribly ill there was little the family could do for him. Carmella was never the same after her twin brother passed, and she passed away years later from the same illness. It was said she passed with a smile, happy to be reunited with her twin.

#the great mouse detective #tgmd ocs #ocs #ratigan #padraic ratigan #Ratigan family #head canon #my art #year of the rat #rat #furries #rat furries

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wyrmmaster · 2 months

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Discussing Blue Archive Lore and going progressively insane has been an experience. The Mystics, for example:

Each academy has its thing, right. Abydos is ancient Egyptian pantheon, Trinity is Christianity (+English/Irish/Scottish myth), Gehenna are the 72 demons, Valkyrie and SRT are Norse, Hyakkiyako is Japanese myth, and so on. So it's easy to establish a framework: "They're representative of cultural figures from x place".

So:

You have the ones that are Obvious: Shiroko is Anubis, Hoshino is Horus, Mika is the Archangel Michael, Seia is Gabriel, Hina is Baal, Wakamo is Tamamo no Mae, Niya is Ootakemaru, Kazusa is Cath Palug, Ako is Astaroth, among others

Then you have the ones that are "Obvious" as in "probably": Serika as Bastet, Saori as Lucifer, Nonomi as Nephtys, Nagisa as Uriel, Suzumi as Sariel, Koharu as Metatron, Hasumi as Sandalphon, Hinata as Jegudiel, Kanna as Odin, Miyako as Mimir, and so on.

Now you start getting a little out there, as you have to expand your the concept of "figure from x place" to "the concept from x place".

Shit like "well, Rin's family name is Nanagami, "Seven Gods", she's currently the highest authority at least on paper, so what if she's The Seven Holy Names of God per Jewish faith? If we assume the GSC President was capital G monotheistic God it'd make even more sense" "What if she's the seven heavenly virtues instead?" "Also possible but I think it's the former".

Then you get to fucking Millenium.

"Yuuka's halo is a simple perfect circle that looks artificial. Her birthday is 3/14. She is insanely good at math. She's pi. Stop laughing. Look at her twintails. π. Come on, keep up."

"Rio is either the Theory of Relativity both as a relation to Himari's potential Quantum Theory of Light and as an important foundation of our concept of physics, which would fit with her being MIllenium's president OR as she's the President of Millenium and created the city of Eridu, she's supposed to be the Sumerian Deity Enki, God of creation, knowledge, and water and patron deity of the ancient city Eridu." "Maybe she's both." "SHE'S PROBABLY BOTH, THANKS."

"Himari could be the Quantum Theory of Light in relation to Rio - being a more modern and complete concept, or she could be Isaac Newton, who had a mild obsession in the paranormal, like her." "What if she's also got a Mesopotamian-" "It'd be Ishtar, both because of her antagonism towards Enki in some myth her interest in the stars and as a riff on her whole conceit about her beauty. Further backed up by Eimi being her assistant that handles all the physical work, making her the Bull of Heaven. Eimi even had horns in her concept art." "Someone just put forth Euler's Identity, because it's considered a representation of mathematical beauty, like a sonnet is for poetry."

"The Game Development Department are Eroge Company references. Yuzu is Yuzusoft, Aris is Alicesoft, and the Saiba twins are Cyberworks's Wendybell and Tinkerbell. We can maybe assume that's just what they are." "Oh, thank god something stupid to end this post on-" "Aris's whole universally loved hero thing with an almighty weapon integral in saving the world might make her Gilgamesh-" "FINE OUR DAUGHTER IS GILGAMESH."

#wyrmarchive

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killersfool · 5 months

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hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )

bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.

she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.

basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333

If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.

Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?

I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.

Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students!

I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.

He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.

I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me.

Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him.

Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.

So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.

This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.

"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.

"Leave it on. I just need a moment."

He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.

Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."

He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure."

Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering.

Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"

"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."

"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day."

I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.

He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert.

More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage.

"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose.

I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.

Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.

"Just college. You know. It's killing me."

He shakes his head. "You're so smart."

"Says you."

He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."

I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.

"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"

Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?

Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.

"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch.

"What is it?"

"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."

"Give me a week."

"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa.

I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."

"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."

"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."

"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."

"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.

"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."

"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.

He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—

He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.

"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in.

"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.

He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted.

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abidethetempest · 9 months

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FINALLY. AFTER ALL THESE YEARS. I HAVE FINISHED ONE ELIKSNI SENTENCE OF THE NULL COMPOSURE LORE TAB.

here it is, in all it's this-took-me-like-4-hours glory:

"Ikleydem nama’ir'viikor ibar iisrohkamraskas mah’azeyr ke’hiir aadekspriist en ma’shak zeth'iir niikanya braakem."

its the first line of the tab, "The five Splicers sat motionless around the small access point that jutted from the dark stone."

Whoo! That sentence alone ended up adding about 22 words to my lexicon! Going by how much work just this one sentence was, I'll have the whole lore tab done in about a month, so uh buckle up for the long haul folks haha

some fun details below!!

"en" is a relative pronoun (for those of you in the audience who are not total linguistics nerds like me, that's a word meant to introduce a relative clause, such as in English the words "that, which, who, whose" etc). I was particularly inspired by how Irish and Welsh do this, with a relative pronoun for direct and indirect objects. I have not decided what the indirect relative pronoun is yet.

iisrohkamrask is my word for Splicer, and literally translated it means "machine-weaver". very proud of that one, ngl

my rough draft for plurals is that the final vowel of the noun being pluralized is duplicated at the end of the noun and then -s is added! You can see that in action in the sentence above actually, in the word for Splicers. (I'm gonna make a post about plurals soon I think, because it's a little more complicated than just what I've got here.)

I have the very basic skeleton of a number/counting system. Fun fact: it's dozenal aka base 12, because Eliksni have 12 fingers! I considered using senary (base 6) instead, but I liked base 12 more in the end. Huzzah, math! All I really have fleshed out right now is a few numbers and that when numbers are used as adjectives they get an -r suffixed on the end. Historically, they were treated the same as any other adjective and got the full -iir/-hiir suffix, but due to how frequently they were used they mutated into shortened forms for ease of speaking. Sorry, got a little carried away there haha, I just really love adding details about Eliksni's history and all its little quirks.

Date: 7-23-22

#destiny 2 #destiny #eliksni #conlang #indee's eliksni conlang adventure

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toxinoire · 10 months

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I thought why the heck not share some H³+V headcanons.

• Full names are: Heather Kimberley Chandler, Heather Elle McNamara, Heather Alice Duke and Veronica Winona Sawyer.

• All four can speak foreign languages. Heather Chandler, French. Heather Duke, Italian, Spanish, German and Irish. Heather McNamara, Japanese. Veronica, French, Spanish and Italian.

• Heather Duke is both an English nerd and a Math Nerd.

• Veronica is an English nerd, smart at Math but hates it with a burning passion.

•Heather McNamara has the SCARIEST resting bitch face that you rarely ever see but when you do, you're fucked.

• McNamara, Duke and Veronica are massive dorks. Heather Chandler wonders how the heck she fell for them.

• Among the Heathers, Heather Chandler was the first one to call Veronica "Ronnie".

• You would often hear Betty and Martha tell Heather McNamara and Veronica "Can you two just flirt like normal human beings instead of hoping to die for one another thinking that gets the point across."

• That being said, these two are pretty suicidal.

• Heather Chandler and Heather McNamara are shopaholics.

• Heather Chandler will usually just arrive home with the most expensive ass gifts for her three chosen disasters.

• Veronica is a hopeless romantic.

• Heather McNamara will use any excuse to cuddle with any of them or all of them.

• Heather Duke is good with words. I feel like that elaborates it enough.

• Heather Duke and Veronica are basically the "128√e980 (equation of love)", "C8h11no2 + C10h12n2o + C43h66n12o12s2 (chemical formula of love)" kind of lovers.

• If her three disasters look at it with interest and obviously want it, Heather Chandler is buying it.

• Veronica once accidentally left her "love life" diary open and Betty ended up showing it to the Heathers. Leading to Veronica being smothered with affection from three flustered/crying stop lights.

• Martha was the first person to witness Veronica's wordy ass gay panic over the Heathers.

• Since Heather Duke is the shortest, they like to affectionately call her pocket sized and just squish her in hugs.

• Veronica has the softest hair and I will stand by that statement.

• "Could you two stop being such worrywarts?" "Only if you two stop trying to fight anyone within a two mile radius."

• They were outed at one point but Heather Chandler managed to turn the crowd to their side after shitting on the football team and saying "I'm also pretty sure a nice amount of this school are closeted people. Why so quiet? I'm right aren't I?"

• Veronica's self care routine is basically just the words "keep going bitch" said to herself in different accents.

• "Winnie" "Kimmy" Chansaw: *having a panic attack and a gay panic at the same time*

That's all.

#veronica sawyer #heathers the musical #heathers the movie #heather chandler #chansaw #heather duke #heather mcnamara #dukesaw #mcnamawyer #chandlamara #mcduke #chanduke #poly!heathersxveronica

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lostinwalmartmymomleftme · 2 months

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What r ur dreamswap headcanons :3

Have to redo this bc Tumblr hates me:

* 7 each

* Human Ver. Specific

Dream

Dream 100% has something that’s dedicated to Ani, (hospital, orphanage, medical organization, etc.)

To add more depth to him being Latino, I choose to believe he’s Chilean-American

He doesn’t like to be touched, but would never correct anybody on it because he doesn’t want to offend anyone and he doesn’t view it as a priority or concern

Only has one scar and it was prior to the incident (tm), nightmare, dropped a bowl, and a shard of the ceramic cut dream deep enough to form a scar, and subconsciously Dream doesn’t want it to heal, so it doesn’t fully heal, though it is fairly faint, it’s on his wrist directly above the bone

He’s probably some form of genderqueer, yeah, doesn’t know it and refuses to look into it because he just doesn’t view it as important, he probably goes by pronouns

His magical blondness, skips a few streaks of his hair, so he has black streaks that he dies blonde to match the rest of his hair

Canonically multilingual, speaking both English and Mandarin, though I would like to add that he can fluently speak Latin, modern Spanish, and French

Bonus: Dream does that OCD thing (w/o actually having it) where all of his pens when they’re laying on his desk are at the exact same place, in a perfect little row

Nightmare

He sits in trees and people watches, like he sits up in trees, kind of in forests and watches people on picnics and fun little family outings, and tries to imagine what his life would be like if it hadn’t been what it is

His hair is extremely heat damaged, because he totally straightens it (it’s the only thing about him that’s allowed to be straight /j)

Extension on him canonically being Latino: I think he’s Peruvian-American

For some reason collect bottle caps (like the little metal ones you get on alcohol bottles (he doesn’t drink though))

He has a peanut allergy

Despite being an insomniac, whenever he does actually sleep, he starfishes

He doesn’t like looking in mirrors, there’s anything wrong with it, there isn’t really reason why he doesn’t like it, he just find it unsettling and he covers the one in his room with a blanket

Ink

He has one of those canopy beds, but the actual canopy part is custom painted and embroidered (by himself) with band logos, TV show logos, characters he likes, etc.

He is really bad at spelling, professional emails are more like word scrambles

If someone were to ask him to draw them, he would draw them, claim he made mistake, tear it up, then draw a stick figure, and give it to them

Usual Ethnicity one: he actually doesn’t know his ethnicity beyond being Latino, but he is Cuban-American

He’s emo and claims his favorite color is black, but it’s orange which is equally as bad

He has no real gauge of his own pain tolerance and usually has to be forced into medical situations by other people, usually Dream when he reports back to him

Ink’s allergic to bleach and ant bites

Cross

He hasn’t had his first kiss

He uses Old Spice cologne in the classic scent. But he does it to a NAUSEATING level.

He’s Irish, ethnically. I don’t make the rules.

He’s minorly lactose intolerant

This man owns like five Tamagatchis

He makes really good bread for some reason? Like this man SLAYS a sourdough

Cross uses 3-in-1 bodywash

(This is a Tamagatchi if you don’t know)

Blue

This man wears hair curlers to bed 100%

He’s really bad at math

Probably advocates for eating healthy (being a yoga instructor, possible influencer)

Blue is so ADHD to me

American-Italian/Portuguese

Has never made a bed in his LIFE

Blue seems like the kind of man who would burn water

Error

Clean freak, he prefers to keep the house clean, but it ends up a mess anyways because Cross and Nightmare always end up messing it up

Easily the best driver of the Meme Squad

His lock/homescreen is an inspirational quote

LOVES the rain, finds it calming and loves the smell of it, but hates getting caught out in the rain (loves the aesthetic, hates the actual thing)

Maybe American-Moroccan?

He likes dark fantasy books

Was top of his class when he had been in school, prior to his amnesia

Kevin

Can read. (Can’t write (no thumbs))

Can and does steal from the meme squad

Bonus:

How long I think it takes DS to get ready in the mornings:

Dream takes a solid hour and a half

Blue takes an hour

Nightmare takes 45 minutes

Cross and Ink take 15-20 minute for the sake of layers

Error and Finch take like 5 bc they dress really basic

dreamswap by @\onebizarrekai

#dreamswap #dreamswap dream #ds dream #dreamswap finch #ds finch #ds error #dreamswap ink #dreamswap error #ds cross #ds ink #ds nightmare #ds blue #dreamswap cross #dreamswap nightmare #dreamswap blue #dreamswap headcanons #ds headcanons

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art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament · 9 months

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who’s excited for stats so far?? i bet none of you are but i’m inflicting them anyway! ...under a cut.

so far, though, we have 198 separate submissions across 166 works!

so far the longest submission piece is 551 words long! wow! there are also another 3 submissions that are over 300 words long, and one piece has 797 words across 7 submissions! the shortest submission, to contrast, is 5 words long! that’s also great!

there are currently 4 artists that have had 3 pieces of art each submitted, and 8 artists that have had 2 pieces. that means there’s currently 137 other artists! oh sorry, while i was drafting this post we got a fourth submission for one of the four.

how about things anyone can go look at? there are currently 7 pieces of public art that have been submitted! four of them are from canada (and 3 are from the calgary specifically), one is in the netherlands, one is in spain, and one is in new york. the fourth canadian one also has copies in spain, japan, and arkansas. there are also 3 submitted buildings! two are in spain, and one is in thailand!

gender! we’ve got 122 pieces from male artists, and 32 pieces by female artists! yes that doesn’t add up to 166, the other 12 are either multiple artists, unknown artists, or i felt like a creeper trying to trawl through their tumblr/website and it wasn’t in their bio. sadly, we don’t have any openly trans, nb, or otherwise genderqueer artists submitted (where openly is “i could find it in the same 5 second google search to determine nationalities”)

even more niche stats! the largest submission (that isn’t a building, a cave, or public art) is 2.15 m (7 ft 1 in) x 34.14 m (112.0 ft) and weighs 4 tons! close behind it is another that's approximately 3.7m x 25.2m (12ft x 72.9ft) but weighs significantly less! i did not feel like mathing which had more square footage. the smallest submission (that is, a physical piece in real life, digital art can be insanely small) is 5.9 x 6 cm (2 5/16 x 2 3/8 in.)!

how about locations? excluding the multiple copies ones, there are 32 pieces located in the united states, 9 in spain, 8 in france, 6 in canada, 5 in england, 4 in italy, 3 each in russia, australia and mexico, 2 each in the netherlands, wales, scotland, and ireland, and 1 each in israel, finland, germany, portugal, poland, japan, austria, ecuador, thailand, latvia, singapore, belgium, and argentina! i know that doesn’t add up but there’s a lot of pieces in private collections, owned by the artist, or we just couldn’t find their location, sadly.

artist nationalities get a lot more variable! i did my best to look up every artist i could and include their birth country and the country they did their works in! except john singer sargent because he just didn’t want to settle down and i didn’t want to give him like six different countries.

starting off, we have 43 submissions by american artists! 18 by french artists, 17 by english, 8 each by canadians and italians, 6 each by russians and spaniards, 5 each by chinese, irish, and germans, 4 each by dutch, mexican and belgians, 3 by latvians, 2 each by finnish, polish, scottish, malay, serbian, and armenians, and 1 each by portuguese, japanese, austrian, ecuadorian, thai, swiss, argentine, cuban, kazhak, colombian, danish, and iranian!

i do not currently have stats for jewish artists for you, because i forgot to write it down my first time through wiki, and now i have to go through all ~140 articles and websites again. relatedly: there are 8 works by known-to-be-gay artists, but i’m already running into wikipedia going “well he sure did a lot of male nudes but he also might have had relationships with women” and i am feeling uncomfortable poking through people’s private lives so... i hope you don’t mind it i stop... counting..... i mean if they’re open about it i’ll write it down still.

how about the ages of works? there are 4 things from before the 1400s, 3 from the 1400s, 6 from the 1500s, 3 from the 1600s, and 2 from the 1700s! 5 from 1800-1850, 4 from 1850-1880, 10 from the 1880s, and 9 from the 1890s! 9 from the 1900s (that is, 1900-1909), 5 from the 1910s, 5 from the 1920s, 4 from the 1930s, 4 from the 1940s, and 6 from the 1950s! 3 from the 60s, 4 from the 70s, 7 from the 80s, 15 from the 90s, 12 from the new oughts, 17 from the 2010s, and 13 from the 2020s! and three ongoing projects!

and to wrap things up: there are 101 paintings, 12 sculptures, 17 what i’m calling installations (they’re often mixed media or unusual media, i would give examples but i feel like i would bias submissions), 6 photographs, 2 pieces of textile art, and 21 digital arts, drawings, or comics!

#art that fucks you up tournament #mod salix #stats for nerds

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captainsatspeed · 1 year

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trying to think up a red dead teacher au seemed like fun at first but then i remembered they're all incredibly stupid which makes it considerably more difficult when assigning subjects.

my one big brain moment is that dutch is the principal and micah is the new vice principal who acts like they are the most powerful person in the school and everyone despises.

other characters below the cut!

arthur: he gives me woodwork teacher vibes. i considered art because he's such a good artist but he doesn't have the "slightly insane and doesn't know what's going on 90% of the time" energy of an art teacher.

john... a practical subject seems the only route, god bless him. he could also be a woodwork teacher? though since he's a rancher maybe agricultural science could technically work? (i'm irish, yes we have that as a subject here)

hosea gives maths. in a good way. a nice maths teacher. geography teacher suits him too.

pearson obviously home economics. his ass can’t cook for shit but his students all pass somehow

sadie pe. idk what other people’s impressions of female pe teachers are but mine have all been girlbosses who are also super nice (but god forbid you cross them.)

lenny english. he’s actually intelligent and can understand literature

charles is bugging me. he also gives woodwork teacher, but i’m also feeling geography. he’d have maps all around his classroom

sean is that one new teacher that nobody’s actually sure what subject he teaches. he just subs and occasionally goes out drinking with students

susan either french or science. strict but secretly loves a bit of banter

javier easily music

uncle is the janitor/caretaker who is actually the most popular staff member

i'm fairly stuck with everyone else, please feel free to add ideas!

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption au #teacher au #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john marston #micah bell #simon pearson #sadie adler #lenny summers #charles smith

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hellfirebabe · 2 years

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The Love She Wears {one-shot}

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: reader gets a special tattoo for Eddie. reader is an adult 🥰

Warnings: 18+ only, language, description of getting tattooed/pain, kissing, SMUT, oral sex (female receiving)

pretty please reblog if you enjoy 💕

—

A lot of people thought they knew Eddie Munson.

Kids that went to school with him knew that he was a metalhead– that he liked loud, heavy music and he played the guitar. That he was into Dungeons and Dragons and wore too many rings and that he wasn’t the best at math– or biology, or English, or physics.

The townspeople of Hawkins knew him to be associated with a satanic cult– that he was accused of murder and despite having been proven innocent ages ago, still gave him dirty looks in public and shuddered anytime they saw his van driving down their suburban streets.

You were one of the lucky few that got to see past the surface.

You got to see him first thing in the mornings, when he was still in a dreamlike state as he’d pull you closer underneath your shared plush comforter. No one would guess how delicate he was as he’d trail his fingertips down the curvature of your bare spine and lazily kiss behind your ears, making all of your senses come alive before you even opened your eyes.

You were the one that he made mixtapes dedicated to, the one he’d plan picnics for at Lover’s Lake, the one he’d cook breakfast foods for at eight o’clock at night because that’s what you were in the mood for. You were the one that got to help him up the stairs to your bedroom when he was sloppy drunk off of whiskey sours and the one that would massage shampoo into his dark curls when you’d shower together the next morning.

Another quality of Eddie’s that he kept to himself?

He was a ridiculously talented artist.

He mostly stuck to sketches, black and gray with basic number 2 pencils leftover from high school, but they made your jaw drop when you first found a stack of them in his bedside table. Eddie was in the shower when you rifled through the drawer looking for a lip balm, stumbling across the papers on accident.

The first thing that caught your eye was you. You, in a tiered, ruffled sundress, wild hair that appeared to be blowing in a breeze, and a daisy stuck behind your right ear. You were gazing off in the distance and there was a smirk on your face. You recognized the scene immediately – it was just a few weeks ago, an early summer morning that you and Eddie had gone canoeing on the lake. On the walk there, he had stopped to pick the flower which he placed behind your ear.

Your eyes were locked onto the drawing, taking in every intricate detail. He had perfected the furrow of your brows, the singular dimple of your cheek, the squint of your eyes in the early morning sunlight –

“I can’t tell if the look on your face is due to being impressed or being creeped out.”

Eddie’s voice snapped your attention away from the papers in your hands. He stood in the doorway to your and his bedroom, propped against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest and a bath towel hung lowly on his hips.

“I didn’t know you could draw like this,” you said dumbly. You flipped through the rest of the papers, finding sketches just as detailed and lifelike as the one of you — one of Lilith, the black, long-haired cat the two of you had adopted together, one of a dragon breathing fire, one of his guitar..

“These are so good, baby,” you said sincerely. “When did you even do these? We’ve been together every day for nearly a year and I had no idea.”

“Usually when you’re at work,” he shrugged, walking over to join where you perched on the edge of the bed. His hair was still dripping from his shower and he smelled like Irish Spring soap and spearmint toothpaste. “Just didn’t really think they were worth mentioning.”

You scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection and pecking a kiss to his collarbone. “They absolutely are,” you assured him and he blushed– he was always so easy to fluster. He’d melt anytime you so much as complimented his guitar playing or called him honey.

“Well, thank you, sweetheart,” his voice was shy, but he gave you a kiss on the bridge of your nose in return. “I’ll start sharing them with you from now on.”

“Do you think you could draw something for me?” You looked up at him through your lashes, a pleading look on your face.

“I can certainly try,” he smirks before leaning in closer and giving you a short kiss.

“What do you want me to draw for you?”

*****

Eddie had been confused when you asked that he draw the Hellfire Club logo, but he obliged your request nonetheless. He had been even more confused when you specified the size that you wanted the drawing to be, but your wish was his command.

One week later, you laid completely flat on a massage-style table in the one and only tattoo shop in Hawkins. The loose, baby blue cotton shorts you had worn were pushed down to your knees to allow access to your upper thigh, and you tried not to focus on how vulnerable you felt– this was your first tattoo and you’d never been so exposed around a complete stranger. Sure, you’d worn bathing suits at public pools and on the beach, but neither of those activities required a burly, heavily tattooed man with a nickname like Anthrax to pound ink into your flesh.

Part of you wished that Eddie was holding your hand, but that would have ruined the surprise. That’s why you were here while he was working a shift at the video parlor– he thought that you were at home on your day off; tending to your garden, reading a book, making a peach cobbler, catching up on laundry..

All things that sounded much more relaxing than the scratch and burn of a searing tattoo needle.

“So what made you decide that a devil should be your first tattoo?” The man called Anthrax asked you as he was close to finishing up.

“My boyfriend drew it for me,” you said, gritting your teeth through a particularly painful few scratches. “It’s something that means a lot to him.”

“Well,” he started as he sat the tattoo gun to the side and began cleaning up the excess ink on the skin of your thigh. “I hope you’re committed for life, because this tattoo certainly is.”

You stood up, taking a second to look at the finished piece in the reflection of the full length shop mirror. You loved it even more than you thought you would — the black and gray that you’d opted for over the normally bright red logo was the right choice. You were impressed by the intricacies and details of the horns and felt that the piece was just the right size — about six inches long from the chin of the devil to the tip of the his horns and about four inches in diameter, spanning from the center of your mid-thigh and stopping right under your bikini line.

“I’m not worried about it,” you told him, pulling your shorts back into place. “Fully committed here.”

***

You breathed a sigh of relief when you arrived home to find that Eddie’s van was nowhere to be seen. You had made it home before him, barely.

You quickly changed into an oversized Iron Maiden t-shirt that came down to your mid-thigh, ditching the shorts that you’d been wearing so that he had easy viewing access if he pushed the edge of the t-shirt up ever so slightly.

Just as you were about to gather the ingredients to throw together the cobbler you’d promised him, you heard the sputter of the old van’s engine as he pulled into the driveway.

“I swear, Henderson showing up to bicker with Steve is going to be the death of me—” You heard him mutter as he took off his boots in the foyer.

“I can’t decide who you’re more jealous of. Steve, because Dustin adores him, or Dustin, because Steve adores him,” you smirked at him from the kitchen doorway.

“I’m not jealous of anyone when I get to come home to this,” he gestured towards you in the band tee. “You know how much I love seeing you wear metal shirts.”

He all but skipped the rest of the way to where you stood, holding open his arms for you to jump into. You put your arms around his neck and he picked you up off the ground, earning a squeal of mixed excitement and surprise from you. You latched your legs around his abdomen as he walked you to the edge of the kitchen counter.

“I missed you today,” he sighed, plopping you onto the granite. “You’re the prettiest thing to come home to.”

He held your face in his hands, rubbing the pads of his thumbs against your cheeks. You hummed in response, sitting up slightly to meet his lips.

“You’re not the worst sight either,” you murmured into the kiss.

He suddenly froze, going still for a moment before looking around the kitchen in confusion. You followed his gaze, wondering why he pulled away from you when you realized what he was looking at.

Approximately a dozen peaches and a sack of flour.

“You didn’t make me a peach cobbler?” His tone was laced with faux disbelief.

“I did not,” you confessed. “But I do have a surprise for you.” The sudden wave of nervousness that washed over you was irrational— you already had the tattoo, there was no going back now. He’d see it sooner or later.

But you couldn’t find the words to say I love you so much that I could never be with anyone else in this lifetime and I got a tattoo of a devil that you drew to prove how true it is, so instead you simply glanced down at the space between your two bodies, slowly pulling the t-shirt out of the way to expose the freshly decorated skin.

“What the fu—” Eddie took a step back, squinting his eyes at your lap. He paused for a long moment, processing what he was seeing.

“My drawing?!” he exclaimed. “You got.. my drawing on you? Like for.. forever?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Like for forever.”

He was silent. You couldn’t quite decipher his reaction — whether it was pure excitement or pure horror.

He brought one long finger down to the top of your thigh, trailing the very tip along the outline of the devil’s face; your skin still puffy and tender.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Holy shit good or holy shit bad?”

The answer he gave wasn’t one of words, but told you everything you needed to know.

Eddie had always been a passionate kisser. The kind of kissing that made you feel tipsy — a tongue that was both greedy and giving and hands that couldn’t be everywhere, all at once, fast enough.

But this somehow felt even more intense than his normal fervor.

He gave your bottom lip one last tug with his teeth before pulling away.

“I love it,” he affirmed. “I love it more than you could imagine.”

He crouched down in front of you, kneeling in between your legs on the hard linoleum of the kitchen floors. You looked down at him from where you still perched on the edge of the countertop, your hand instinctively lacing itself through his curls.

His arms hooked underneath your legs, hands coming around to dig into the squish of your thighs, carefully avoiding the freshly scarred patch of skin.

“Can’t believe someone loves me enough to get a tattoo for me,” he mumbles, lips trailing up your inner thighs. He alternates between the left and right, one kiss so soft you’d barely feel it and then the next sure to leave a mark.

“Really can’t believe that someone is you.”

Taking one long finger, he hooks it through your panties, exposing your center as he pulls them to the side.

Your breathing hitches when his lips first make contact with you.

He starts soft - languid and slow - as he usually does. He likes to take his time with you, heavenly yet torturously gentle flicks of his tongue that gradually become more eager, more giving, as you grind your core against his mouth.

He moans into you and it makes your toes curl - he wasn’t afraid to vocalize how pleasuring you, pleasured him. He knew the worshipful sounds spurred you on by the way you’d clench around him.

His lips lock around your throbbing clit, pulling away with a pop that almost sends you over the edge.

He looks up at you. He’s nearly as disheveled as you are; curly hair in disarray from your tugging and pulling, juices glistening over the lower half of his face, his naturally plump lips even more swollen from friction.

You thought he’d never looked more beautiful - this raw and messy version of him that was yearning to make you feel good. To make you feel as loved as you made him feel.

“My baby,” you coo from above him. “You’re so handsome.”

“Wanna make you come,” he murmurs against your cunt. “Want you to come on my face.”

“Then make me come,” you challenge him. You know that he will - he never hasn’t. He might take his time and tease but the payoff is always more than worth it.

He slides in one finger, followed by a second. You’re ready for him - already sopping from his tongue.

Your walls contract around his digits as he fucks you. He knows you’re close, he can always tell by your labored breathing and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

He snakes his free hand underneath your t-shirt, palming at your breast with calloused fingers. The cool metal of his rings makes your nipples pucker as goosebumps spread over your skin.

His lips dart back to swollen bud at the apex of your sex, sucking until you’re mewling beneath him.

You tried to give him a verbal warning of your oncoming orgasm - let him know don’t stop, right there, keep doing that - but it hit you before you could get a word out.

The tight coil in your lower belly snapped and a bright, white-hot wave of pleasure radiated from your center and out, until every one of your limbs is limp and you go slack against the countertop, only being supported from where Eddie rested between your legs.

He stands up to kiss you again, this time sweet and short. You taste yourself on him, still, salty and a little tangy.

“I guess that means holy shit in a good way,” you laughed, still out of breath.

“The best way,” he clarified. “I think I’ll get a matching one. Or, if you wanted to draw something for me, I could get that tattooed—”

“No, no,” you stopped him. “You don’t have to get a stick figure tattooed on you, honey.”

He looked relieved. “Matching devil it is.”

—

my heart’s all aglow

finally, beautiful stranger

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson fic #st s4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #eddie munson writing #tattoos #hellfire club #hellfire club tattoo #dungeons and dragons

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saeranthis · 9 months

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okay!!! belatedly as promised here's some of my dol hcs!! I play with everyone as male so if you were excited for fem hcs sorry loves

whitney: blonde -> fringe/ swooped over one eye, obnoxiously wears his shirt with 3-4 buttons open all the time. is a whore but isn't open about it and certainly doesn't let other people acknowledge it. super into leashes, 7-8inches (shower), freeballs 24/7, american/French but no accent and not rlynin touch with his roots 5'8-5'11

robin: ginger!! (but more like obnoxiously orange than ginger, think Childe genshin impact) adhd, victim complex, can pay bailey but lies about being able to, slightly manipulative but not inherently in a malicious way more like a constantly kicked puppy way, league player: (derogatory) , Irish/german/Dutch, lots of face freckles, sunburns easily, 5ft 6, 5-6 inches (grower), has a journal filled with poetry, secretly likes whitney but won't admit it, likes being bullied

kylar: has cameras all over town, has a computer room with like 6-8 monitors, parents are NOT vampires are just eldritch esq monstrosities 8-12 inches (grower), has a birdhouse, knife collection (small), extremely good at Chem and math, like international competition winner level good, TERRIBLE at English, the teachers know about his knife but let him carry it anyway "bc he keeps to himself", afro-mexican, black hair, always wears a hoodie despite dress code, has a pet cat, was obsessed with another orphan prior to pc (didn't end well) 5'2-5'4, cock rings cock rings cock rings, breeding kink, hates exhibitionism, doesn't like sharing but will if it's the only way he can have you, is related to the scarred inmate, knows mickey but they don't really talk much, not really manipulative but will force you to get abortions for kids that aren't his, has reverse engineered the pink substance but doesn't really care to do anything with or about it, purposefully flunks the math competition so pc can win, uhhh I can't think of anything else rn

sydney: big on this my boy is indian!! their family def was Hindu before moving to dol town and his mother who did not approve of the town they moved to or sydneys fathers behavior when they got there left and is still practices Hinduism while Sydney and his dad converted to fit in. Sydney has long hair that's kept in a high ponytail most of the time. suuuuper into history and will talk about the history of dol town for hours if you let him. 7-8 inches (shower originally but chastity trained his dick to be super flaccid) but his chastity cage is too small for him so it's constantly bulging against the frame and making his dick sore. once his virginity is taken he becomes an ass FANATIC he is so obsessed with anal its unhealthy, strawberry ice cream enjoyer, won't admit it but kinda likes watching pc be used by other guys

#dol #whitney the bully #sydney the faithful #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #dol headcanons #this is so late sorry #anyway yes kylar and sydney are both poc and i WILL die on this hill #i keep getting jumpscared by white kylar fanart #no shade to the artists i just forget my headcanons arent actual canon #real

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spottedloaf · 4 months

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HEY I MAY OR MAY NOT BE FALLING IN LOVE WITH LOVEHEIST YOU SHOULD LIKE INFO DUMP YOUR HEADCANONS ABOUT THEM THAT WOULD BE SO DOPE

HEHEHE OKAYYY IF YOU INSIST /silly

these got kinda cheesy sorry about that 😿

-headcanon names are Leonard Bradan for FT & Eugene Larcen for TT

-a lot of people call Leonard "Lenny" :3

-Lenny often calls Eugene "Genie". he is the only person who does this.

-they are so gay & so t4t 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

-i think it would be really funny if Lenny had a bunch of incredibly random hobbies & skills. the typa guy who does dj work every other week on tuesdays. the typa guy to make those eye-straining early 2010s youtube animations. the typa guy who plays trumpet REALLY well. the typa guy to randomly know how to tango.

-they've known each other since they were tweens

-Eugene is from somewhere in New York State & his family moved to the town when he was like 11

-THE adhd/autism duo

-Eugene didn't really have a very good childhood & he's got some internalized homophobia & transphobia. get this man some therapy :(

-Lenny is a huge math nerd, & Eugene is a huge literature nerd (but he's embarrassed about it ☹️)

-Eugene is half Mexican, & Lenny is half Irish

-sometimes Eugene will just start randomly speaking to Lenny in Spanish (Lenny does NOT know Spanish.) usually it's just strings of compliments he's too embarrassed to say in English 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

-they can actually get really lovey dovey & sweet when they're alone :3

-Lenny is the stronger & faster of the two so sometimes if they gotta get out of somewhere fast he'll just. snatch Eugene & start running. just straight-up CARRYING him

-Eugene is actually nearsighted but he NEVER wears glasses cause he "doesn't wanna look like a nerd"

-just thought of this one. what if they had a cat :3

-Eugene is a pretty good singer (Lenny LOVES his voice <3)

okay that's all i got for now 👍

#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!!!#spooky month #spooky month thieves #spooky month thin thief #spooky month fat thief #loveheist

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on-partiality · 3 months

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Intro post!

Salutations, Tumblr! I decided to remake my intro post because I used to have one but I didn't like it so I deleted it but now all my mutuals are making them and I'm bored so here's the On-Partiality intro post!

Names I'm fine with being called: On-Partiality, O-P, Mills, Milly.

Pronouns: any!

Country of origin: Australia

A minor.

Historical interests: Washington's military family, the American revolutionary war in general, any part of the founding of America and early American politics, all things 18th century America, the French and Indian war, 18th century fashion.

Other interests: Hatsune Miku, Sanrio, art, writing, history, anthropology, languages, character design, animation, magical girls, the His Dark Materials books, Gorillaz, Green day, Sleep Token, pretty much any 90s grunge, punk or rock band, the X files, singing and all animals.

Extreme dislikes: any modern day politics, pop music, romance novels (with only 2 exceptions), bright lights, basic people, people who use gen Z slang in real life unironically, tiktok, maths, most trends, staying inside all day, crowded places, tight clothing.

Languages I know: English, Indonesian, Malaysian, Nevisian Creole, Korean (very good but not fluent)

Languages I'm learning: Zulu, Swahili, Italian, German, French, Irish, Taino, Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese, Spanish, Greek, Dutch, probably more that I just can't remember while typing this 😅

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studywithmillennia · 4 months

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WELCOME

Hey there! I'm millennia, and this is my study blog ^^ I'm currently studying for my GCSE's.

For this year, I'm doing an (admittedly over-ambitious) 365 days of produvtcity challenge. I love biology and baking and meerkats and the show Boiling Point :D

I'll be posting here about my time studying and hopefully getting great grades :)

GCSE's:

Maths

Further Maths

English Language

English Literature

Biology

Chemistry

Physics

Religious Studies

Geography

Computer Science

Arabic

Other courses I'm taking:

Duolingo Arabic, Russian and Irish

Secret Extracurricular🤭

Writing stories :]

Things that motivate me:

The idea of getting good grades

Thinking about past regret of not studying

Food

Getting better grades than my friends (we're rivals)

Getting better grades than this one really annoying kid in my class (they're actually really nice I've just picked them to be rivals with me now)

Watching shows afterwards

Going places afterwards

Boiling Point (I am a Boiling Point enthusiast)

This account lol

Things that de-motivate me:

Not knowing where to start

Too much noise/loud noise

Fear

Worry about the time passing

Aspirations:

Career-wise: Become a cardiologist or a neurologist (they're both very interesting fields so I'm still deciding)

ULTIMATE GOAL: OVER 90% IN ALL EXAMS THIS TERM

ULTIMATE ULTIMATE GOAL: OVER 90% IN ALL MY EXAMS THIS WHOLE YEAR

ULTIMATE ULTIMATE ULTIMATE GOAL: ALL 9's IN MY GCSE's

#studyblr #studying #student #introduction #introductory post #studying motivation #motivating myself #studyspo

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fifthyeardiaries · 5 months

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Introduction 🩷

Hello!

This is my first original post. I wanted to create a studyblr to help keep myself accountable and motivate me to study.

I'm in 5th year in secondary school in Ireland, which means I will sit my Leaving Cert next academic year. My main goal is to get 625 points (full marks) or as close to it as I can.

The subjects I do are: English, Irish, Maths French, History, Chemistry and Accounting. I currently do them all at Higher Level.

I'm on the lookout for a productivity challenge to do (something less overwhelming than 100 days) but until then I'll probably just do my own thing.

#studyblr #new studyblr #introduction #intro post

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sortagaysortahigh · 2 years

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ive seen some discourse on this and zoot can you do a character analysis of eddie? like the way you used to break down obx characters cos a lot of the headcannons i see of him are kind of mean, classist, and just seem so off character

Hi bby, ofc i can do a lil analysis on eddie however comma im gonna need some time as i’m about to go to the store, but i can give you some of my headcannons i use when i write eddie (and i aim to write him as in character as i can), some are sfw and some are nsfw

Random Eddie Munson Headcanons (ft Fem/Afab reader):

Total teddybear, tries to act tough but we all know he’s a big softie

Always gives you a discount bc you’re pretty, then you find out he’s only been giving you that specific discount-esp when your friend tries to buy from him

Total flirt, always flirting w the person he’s crushing on, and you just know he makes nerdy references when he does it too

bonus points when the person acc understands his references, he just swoons, definitely a heart eyes type mf

He smells like weed, menthol cigarettes, and a sprinkle of drugstore cologne

He definitely uses the 3 in 1 mens shampoos, and its green apple scented. + this mf probably uses irish spring bar soap

I doubt he uses chapstick frequently, then when he starts dating someone he’s constantly using it bc he loves making out

When in doubt he’ll use some of his partners lip gloss and if anyone asks him ab it he just says ‘can a man not kiss his lover?’

Eddie Munson is TOUCH STARVED and his love language is physical touch

He’s always holding his partner somehow, or caressing their skin, or just pulling them close bc hes one of the ‘i wanna be in your skin’ mfs

Also definitely play fights and wrestles w his partner, and i mean he will tackle you onto his bed for funsies

He’s hella goofy, like mans will always try to make people laugh whenever they look upset, definitely the type to shove fries in his nose when you’re not looking then wiggle his brows bc hes a big ass kid sometimes (but we love that ab him)

This man WILL wine and dine you even if it means rushing to make as many sales as possible within 2 days bc he wants your date to be special

He’s smart, like mega smart, you cannot DM a game of DND without being incredibly smart and creative

He’s good at math (once again DND relies heavily on numbers + being a drug dealer means you have to understand numbers) but bad w high school english, not bc he’s dumb but bc he gets bored easily and doesn’t care

He definitely got the silver pig ring from his dad, he probably wears it bc he associates it w the few good memories he has w him

He stole the handcuffs on his wall from Hopper, he and Hopper actually have a decent relationship bc jim knew his dad and we all know Jim has a soft spot for troubled teens

He tells Hopper that he’s “the only cop i wouldnt call a pig”

Anytime he gets arrested he asks for the sheriff specifically and 9/10 times jim lets him go w a shitty warning

Speaking of those handcuffs-he swears he’d never use them on someone and when asked why he definitely gets flustered then mumbles out ‘i dont have a key’

Buys handcuffs specifically for being freak nasty, even puts the key on a necklace that he gives to his partner (which they wear everyday bc its engraved w their initials in a little heart)

He definitely keeps a little cardboard box under his bed full of nasty magazines, some are like typical playboys and the others are heavy metal, then he has some straight up fantasy prnos that he doesn’t remember buying but still cherishes (hint he stole them)

The five finger discount is his best friend, this man isnt a klepto but he grew up poor and his familial influenced were all criminals until he started living w wayne so yk, he be stealin shit from time to time

Definitely steals lip gloss, hair ties, or other small ‘essentials’ for you and says he thought of you when he saw it

He grabs your hips anytime you bend over and humps you, ive seen other ppl say this one and its 110% accurate

Also an ass smacker/grabber-especially in shorts and skirts, but if its a skirt he slides his entire hand under it to grab your ass bc he will always be your lil pervy boyfriend

EDDIE MUNSON IS A BISEXUAL KING

Total perv, probably bc hes touch starved and just rlly into everything ab you. Looks up your skirt and down your shirt any chance he gets

I hate to say it i rlly do but i think he has a foot fetish, ive met my fair share of eddie munsons and they usually have foot fetishes

definitely asks you what color panties you have on while winking + panty thief + jerks off w your used panties

Hes 110% a switch, he likes being in charge but he loves it when you smack him around and pull his hair and deep down he likes begging for more

Ppl always go back and forth on fav sex positions but i just know in my soul he loves cowgirl, whether youre doing all the work or hes fucking into you, he just likes looking up at you bc “you look like a goddess”

He eats ass. I will not elaborate because i know im correct.

King of eating pussy in his van, anytime anywhere it gives “ill pull over rn” and hes deadass, he’ll even make you get on your hands and knees so he can eat it from the back when you two just finished arguing bc “i cant look at you rn” while he’s knuckle deep inside you w his tongue on your pussy

He’s a biter, and i mean sexually and just in general, he’ll leave bite marks on you during sex but even throughout the day he gets cuteness aggression and just be nibbling on you like a fuckin weirdo (we love him for that)

Flirts w your mom/dad to make them like you, usually he leans more towards your mom but will definitely slide a few compliments in to your dad

Puts a hand over your mouth so he can go down on you when he’s at yours and your parents are home or he gags you w your own panties (love our pervy king)

Only lets his partner touch his hair, he also cuts it himself every other saturday

Bonus for my poc readers: he oils your scalp!!!!!!! OR you start oiling his hair and he loves it when you do his hair, even makes an entire day out of it

Tries to get you to play DND, even designs little one shot campaigns for you to join in on and youre most likely playing w Dustin and Erica bc he said “they wont get frustrated with you”

When Dustin does get a lil frustrated when youre first learning Eddie lets Erica talk shit to him bc she has your back

OR If you already know how to play DND he swoons at your feet, definitely wants to beg you to join hellfire, practically makes it his mission and life purpose (esp if you arent dating yet)

He wants kids but he doesn’t know when, probably has doubts ab being a good dad bc “Munson men aren’t exactly angels” but w some reassurance and cuddling he feels better ab it

Definitely hates the idea of working a 9-5 for the rest of his life but would do it if he had a family and they needed him around.

All in all Eddie Munsons such a simp

#askies #nonnie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons

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