#teethposting

[crimes-wears-goggles]

For the record, these are the overalls I put Caine in. Although I did, you know, add the little honeycomb buttons instead of the standard straps because I thought they would be cuter.

[nervosys]

tooth themed collage i made yesterday

[altered0]

considering not telling my brother im getting invisalign for a bit so i can go "hey my teeth feel kinda weird" and then open my mouth so the rubber bands pop the invisalign out and freak my brother out for a second before he realizes

[wuggen]

Man I would fuckin love for this crater in my mouth to stop bleeding so I can stop biting on gauze :///

[maggots-on-fire]

WHY do dentists have to be so anxiety inducing like i don't ever wanna go JUST because of that judgmental way they look at you when you say you drink soda

[m1dori-eyes]

I feel really bad for V1 because he doesn't have teeth and I think he would really like them, like some of the only canonical information we have about this mf is that he likes blood (Blood is Fuel), has the capacity to get pissed at people (V2 rematch dialogue), and likes to write weird philosophical poetry about the cyclical futility of existence and war (Earthmover blank book). He would LOVE having teeth so so much. And if you count Mirage as canon? Hoo boy.

[infinitenonagon]

2, 18, 19 for oc asks?

Im gonna answer these for a few of my ocs because I don't expect to get many asks and love talking about my little guys. Alistair, Teeth, Cecil, and Patricia will be in responses as relevant

2. Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

A good number of my OCs started out as ttrpg characters of some type, and given who I play with and such I now have 3 OCs (Alistair, Cecil, and Patricia) that are part of duos with @paleio s characters (Eris, Oz, and Ara respectively), all of the duos were created with specific relationships in mind as detailed below.

Alistair is part of a body disposal crew for a gang in a dishonored/blades in the dark inspired city that accidentally found himself caring for Eris, who is runaway adolescent nobility (and maybe occasionally possessed but that's beside the point).

Cecil is the adoptive son of Oz, and is a classic sword and sorcery swashbuckler trying to make sure that him and his mom don't get killed on their merry little adventures (also he's 13 and rapidly developing a personality disorder and succombing to the horrors)

Patricia is a college senior turned humanoid TARDIS, after what was supposed to be a quick adventure with a close friend and the time Lord they had been travelling with (that's Ara) left her stranded in space with an alien she kinda hates (still Ara), the corpse of her friend, and a body that's now fully alien technology.

18. What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

not all of them have new info cause most of them are older and have pretty solid backstorys already,

Teeth (former doctor now current magical corpse trying to find a cure for the rot slowly eating away his body) went through a messy breakup with his ex husband prior to becoming a soulless undead husk

Patricia I cant talk too much about cause the other players in her ttrpg campaign follow me on here, but is at least 40% more patriotic towards the United States than she should be

Alistair's "resume" looks a lot cleaner than it should cause he only ever really helps scout out a job or clean up after a completed job, he's actually fairly useless in a straight fight despite his size

19. What is your favorite fact about your OC?

Alistair's current specialty is disposing of corpses, but he's actually a trained architect, its just hard to find a good job when everyone knows you as the guy who drives the corpse wagon at night

Teeth exists in 4 main iterations/timelines, and every possible Teeth would absolutely despise the others

Patricia's got no clue that [redacted] is [redacted] [redacted]

Cecil is gonna start realizing shes trans around 16, but wont internalize that its not simply a biproduct of all her other mental issues for another 4 years

[six-white-venus]

“what’s your favourite part of yourself?”

my teeth.

my eyes crinkle when i say, “my smile.”

lions carry their young with their teeth.they clamp their jaws down on the delicate skin of their cub and lift them up by their scruff. i remember being eleven, with brittle teeth and tongue still tasting like chocolate, when i looked back at my mom and asked, “wouldn’t it hurt the baby?” i don’t think she really knew the answer. and yet she said, “i’m sure it’ll be careful not to.”

i remember once being told that my teeth are white, but not unnaturally so. just the right shade. i’m pretty sure i smiled. if only they had looked back at the back of those shining incisors; the tar black of my lies stick there. stubborn, those things are. no amount of mint toothpaste can wash them off.

i think my teeth were always meant to sink into people’s skin, friend and foe alike. i’ve never known where to carry all that care if not in the tip of my canines. i’m sure it’ll be careful not to, she had said, like a question. i wonder what she saw that day. i wonder if her hesitation was never hesitation. i wonder if she knew of my need to hold things that i love between my teeth all along.

now, at eighteen, with teeth too sharp (too white too crooked too much) and tongue tasting like copper, tar and mint toothpaste, i want to tell her, i don’t think i know how to hold something without snapping its neck. does that make me more animal or it more human?

dead people don't talk. but in the grave beneath my bloody throne, i hear my mother weep.

i like to think of all the ways i’ll kiss someone. soft, gentle, loving. with feather-soft touches and tender words and tingling lips. and anyone who knows me will think so, too. i’m sure they will all look at me and think i kiss with the slow, sweet press of my lips.

i brush my teeth twice as hard as i did before. the tar collects on the roof of my mouth now and stays there. everyone thinks anger is an explosion. it never has been one for me. explosions are simple. explosions end. anger, to me, is like hunger.

i wash my mouth and spit my paste. it’s full of blood. i wash my mouth four more times, till the red of the water fades into a pale pink. then, i run my fingers through the hide of the beast in me. truth tastes like warm flesh and i hold it out to its welcoming jaws.

the only way i’ll ever be able to kiss someone is with teeth. their lips will sting from the force of my bite and everything will taste like copper and fear and truth. that’s the only way i can love.

and the beast rumbles, satiated. it always forgets that i am human, even if i’m not. it forgets i can only tear off so much of my flesh at once.

i brush my teeth the next day. wash my mouth once and four more times. this time, all i can offer it is tar and mint toothpaste. i like to push and push and push at something till it breaks.

when i look in the mirror, my canines glint. a reminder that hungry beasts never stay tame for long.