#I DREW THIS WHILE ON A PLANE!!! SO COOL!!

[z-eddsworld]

I feel like they wouldn't like each other

[iamfabiloz]

Dovewing but green

[julienbakerstreet]

The Time Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Had A Pet Sea Snail

I've been reading the diary Doyle kept of his time as a ship's surgeon aboard an Arctic whaling vessel in 1880, and you all deserve to hear the tale of John Thomas, Doyle's pet Clione limacina, which he drew in the above picture.

Doyle, then 21, found John Thomas on June 3rd, 1880:

Brought up a most beautiful Clio or Sea Snail, a couple of inches long, looking like some weird little fairy. I have stuck him in a pickle bottle and christened him "John Thomas." I hope he will live, we have put some butter and pork into his house.

The following day, Doyle attempted to feed John Thomas and wrote a short poem about the snail:

John Thomas is in an awful passion. We left the pickle bottle far from the fire, and as there are 11 degrees of frost it froze up and John has caught cold. He is sitting in a corner with his tail in his mouth, just as a sulky baby sticks its thumb into its potato box. I have drawn John's attention to the butter & pork and he took a hurried breakfast, but seems to have business of importance down at the bottom of the bottle. He's thinking perhaps of Where his rude shell by the Gulf Stream lay, There were his little Sea Snails all at play, There their Amoeboid mother, he their sire Butchered to make a whale's holiday.

On June 5th, Doyle reported that "John is well and hearty," and on the 6th, he wrote:

John was up before me and took a heavy breakfast. He is now gyrating round the top of his bottle surveying his new kingdom apparently and meditating a map. I put him in a bucket every evening where he wanders fancy free for an hour or two.

Unfortunately, on the 10th, Doyle reported that John Thomas had departed the mortal plane.

John Thomas died on the 8th of June, regretted by a large circle of acquaintances

He wrote a touching eulogy for his tiny friend:

He was a right thinking and high minded Clio, distinguished among his brother sea snails for his mental activity as well as for physical perfection. He never looked down upon his smaller associates because they were protozoa while he could fairly lay claim to belong to the high family of the Echinodermata or Annulosa. He never taunted them with their want of a water vascular system, nor did he parade his own double chain of ganglia. He was a modest and unassuming blob of protoplasm, and could get through more fat pork in a day than many an animal of far higher pretensions. His parents were both swallowed by a whale in his infancy, so that what education he had was due entirely to his own industry and observation. He has gone the way of all flesh so peace be to his molecules.

John Thomas' descendants still live in the Arctic Ocean today, and they look pretty cool!

[totalswag]

pairs love - DREW STARKEY

authors not since drew is in pairs at the fashion shows i thought why not write something cute and adorable. like can we talk about how freaking good he looked walking around ugh. the poll is officially over and the rafe series won! ima start working on the master list and have it up.

summary you come out to visit your boyfriend in pairs during fashion week.

warnings kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower

Drew was invited to two fashion shows in Paris: menswear for Prada and Loewe menswear. He left three days ago, while you stayed at home to put the finishing touches on your flower garden.

You couldn't be more proud of your boyfriend with all the success he's gained over the past couple years. He truly deserves this. Getting the recognition he deserves.

Last night, you landed in Pairs, drained from hours on the plane and eager to shower and sleep on a bed. It felt good seeing Drew and being in his arms. Although it was three days without each other, you always miss his presence.

Drew had the day off, so he planned to take you out to dinner, walk around, shopping, and visit the Eiffel Tower. He advised you to get enough rest early so you have enough rest to explore the Pairs at night.

During dinner, Drew spoke about what the shows were like and meeting celebs he's seen in movies or other people for the first time. It was really cool hearing what he had to say.

You were quite excited to visit the Eiffel Tower. You've always wanted to see it in person someday. Your inner child was jumping up and down inside.

"That restaurant was so delicious; I can see why you enjoy it so much," you tell Drew, tucking your hands into your coat to keep them warm from the cold.

"I'm glad to hear that you liked it baby," He smiles, tilts his head to the side, and blushes.

You chuckle as you playfully nudge his arm. He pretends to fall on his side, with a dramatic expression on his face.

"You are such a dork," you laugh.

"Your favorite dork, dork," he responds in a playful tone, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you continue walking down the sidewalk.

Drew and you went inside a few stores that caught your eye; you might've bought a few things. Drew watched you in awe as you showed him different clothing throughout the store.

"What do you think about this one?" You inquired Drew, holding two clothes that piqued your interest.

Drew hurriedly glances aside from the apparel rack he was browsing. His brows furrow as he casts a stern stare with his pointer finger on his chin.

"I think both will look great on you, but I'd go with this one because it draws your eyes out," he says casually, sweeping his arm toward the shirt you first showed him.

"You are too sweet, you know that" you reply as you turn around, putting back the other clothing item.

He loves seeing you happy. He knew how much you've always wanted to visit Pairs and thought this was the best time to go.

"Thank you for the stuff, baby," you grin, gripping his hand and lifting the bag with your other hand.

When you went out of the last store, you heard people heading in your direction, fans. They walked forward with grins on their faces, carrying items for him to sign and their phones for photos.

When one fan spotted you were with him, she screamed your name out in delight, and the rest followed after. You put your free hand over your heart with a pout before beaming at the little fans.

We love you Drew

This is the best day of my life

I can't believe he's in front of me

He's so beautiful in person

Drew started taking pictures with the fans; giving them hugs, making videos for fans that couldn't make it, signed a few things, and had conversations.

Fans also came up to as well. They were all so sweet and caring. One fan came up to you with tears forming in her eyes, you opened your arms to welcome her.

You are so sweet, Y/N

You are so gorgeous

Can't believe you are here too

I love your relationship with Drew

When word spread that Drew was in a relationship, all of the fans went crazy, searching for who this mystery girl was. You were apprehensive about how the fans might react.

You eventually posted a TikTok video with your best friend, Madelyn Cline, and Drew happened to be in the background; people then connected the dots. In the end, they loved and admired you.

Being in a relationship with someone in the public spotlight offers advantages and disadvantages, but you wouldn't alter it for anything, especially if you love them.

"Don't cry now love," you tell her softly, "what's your name?" She tells you her name and goes on to explain how much she loves you and your content you post.

"That's so sweet of you, thank you."

You spent ten minutes with the girls until it was ready to go look at the Eiffel Tower.

The Eiffel Tower was everything you've dreamed of. Seeing it in person was one of the best feelings in the world. So many emotions were going through your body.

You got out your phone to capture some photos and videos to share later tomorrow. Drew snapped a photo of you with his digital camera, capturing the tower, and he couldn't help but smile.

He carefully put his arms around your waist, drawing you into his front, chin on top of your head, rocking you side to side slowly and silently while savoring the moment.

"This has been one of the greatest days of my entire life. Being here with you in your arms in Pairs. I just want to say thank your for bringing me out here and experiencing this."

You feel your body relax in his touch, allowing a sigh to escape your lips, your head to strike his chest, and giving him the opportunity to kiss you.

You two don't give a damn whether anyone witnesses you kissing at this point. Right now, just the two of you matter because you are in love. And you are in Pairs.

"I had to bring you out here with me, of course, sweetheart. You keep me warm, too, and I love holding you in my arms. However, when you consider it, this is our first trip to Europe as a couple” he says.

You move your body around so that your chests are against one another. In return, you up on your small toes and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him all over his face.

I love you.

I love you more.

my taglist!

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[ckret2]

Chapter 55 of human Bill Cipher finally having a little fun for the first time in over a month of captivity in the Mystery Shack:

Bill does his level best to teach Mabel everything he knows about everything as fast as possible (while Ford eavesdrops). In the process, he finally reveals something about his home dimension!

But not everything about his dimension.

"Did you have rainbows in Flatworld?" Mabel had started drawing her shapesona again at the bottom of a fresh piece of paper. The heart was holding out one hand with several strips of glue shooting in a beam out from the palm; Mabel started shaking glitter onto the glue strips to make them rainbow.

"Not natural ones."

"Awww!"

"We could make them with flashlights and prisms, though."

"That's something." Still, it wasn't as cool as a real rainbow. She started carefully drawing Bill floating above her shapesona. (She probably should have drawn him before she put down glitter. She had to push up her sleeve and lift her wrist to avoid smearing the glue.) "When's the first time you saw a real rainbow?"

Bill didn't answer.

Mabel glanced at him. He had a hard look in his eyes. "Bill?"

####

For the first time in his life, the triangle was up—up but not north—in space, in the third dimension, looking down but not south at the plane where he'd spent his entire existence. It shuddered and rippled and cracked, contracting, as the entire universe crunched together around him.

Great walls of pale blue flame half a googol light years wide erupted into third dimensional space, where stars were caught and crushed between the quickly collapsing cosmic tectonic plates. He hadn't known his flat universe had stars of its own.

His home world shattered and crumbled, shrapnel and rubble spraying out, stone instantly pulverized into dust. Distant oceans rode the waves of the convulsing universe, flinging billions of gallons of water into space in a fine thin spray, glittering in the sunlight.

As the triangle watched, a great flickering rainbow ring formed in front of the ejected ocean, like the hollow eye of a hostile god staring at him in judgment.

He stared back.

And he felt himself fill with more and more and more power.

####

"Bill?"

"Sorry, I was trying to remember!" Bill sat back, laced his hands behind his head, and shrugged, "It's not coming to me. But I'm sure it was after I took charge of Dimension Zero. From time to time planets with weather systems would fall in through a wormhole, I must've seen a rainbow on one of them!"

"Oh." The answer disappointed her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She puzzled over it as she drew a fireball shape around Bill's hands in glue and shook on pale blue glitter.

Bill nodded at the page, "So what are we up to?"

"Fighting evil! With rainbow lasers and... whatever that magic fire thing you do is!"

"Hey, superheroes! Sounds fun. Who are we killing?"

"Superheroes don't kill people!"

"Fine. Who are we sending to the hospital with third degree burns?"

"I don't know, I haven't made up a villain yet." She almost asked Bill what kind of monsters existed in his world; but the question died in her throat. That might be too depressing a question. She added a heart-shaped glue outline around her shapesona and shook on a glitter rainbow, and set the picture aside to dry. She grabbed a fresh paper and tried to imagine what a two-dimensional butterfly would look like. Would it just have flat little stick wings since that was more aerodynamic? That sounded boring. She started drawing a two-dimensional squid instead.

Bill studied Mabel's latest finished work—the glitter-outlined heart, the glitter rainbow laser, the glitter fire, and the plain him. After a moment, he casually mentioned, "I used to wear body glitter."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Earlier you asked me about glitter in my dimension," Bill said. "Body paint was makeup to us. I wore it when I went dancing."

"WHAT!"

"And I'd cut open glow sticks to paint my arms and legs!"

"What color glitter did you wear?!"

"Usually gold."

"What?! Bill!" Mabel laughed. "You're already yellow!"

"But I didn't glitter. That's important!"

"You're boring."

"Shut up! I was gorgeous and I knew it! Why mess with perfection?!" He gestured down at himself, perfection, as though he'd momentarily forgotten what body he was in. "Listen, club fashion gets repetitive. If you've seen one equilateral in cutesy primary color gradients, you've see 'em all. There's beauty in simplicity—not a lot of shapes can pull off a solid color with a little light highlighting and still look flashy!" He'd sat up straighter, chest puffed out proudly, as he talked about how pretty he thought he'd been. "Buuut sure, sometimes I highlighted my points for fun. And to keep from stabbing people—it's hard for other people to judge distances with strobe lights on."

"What colors."

"Usually red, blue, or purple. You know—nice contrasts with gold."

Mabel grabbed another paper and started drawing Bill dancing. He leaned closer, elbows on the table, watching with more interest now. Mabel asked, "You had clubs with strobe lights?"

"Of course we did, we aren't barbarians." Bill picked up yellow and black markers out of Mabel's supplies, leaned over to her drawing in progress, and started adding a decorative border around the nearest edge of the paper in dots and dashes.

"What kind of music did you listen to?"

"It was... It's closest to the music in— You've never been to that dimension. Well, it kind of sounds like... I'll never hit those notes with human vocal cords." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Hold on. Let me get Questiony's piano."

####

It turned out that Flatworld club music sounded kind of like a broken tornado siren.

"It doesn't sound very good on a human piano," Bill said, giving the electric piano balanced on his knees a disapproving look. "The intervals between notes are tuned wrong, it's about four octaves short, and it's missing that tympanic membrane shredding tremolo when the treble jumps."

Mabel regarded the piano with some dismay. "Do you know how to play anything else?"

Bill sighed.

He played "Don't Start Un-Believing" for her. He even did that cool thing where you drag a finger up half the keyboard at once.

####

By now, Bill seemed a lot happier to answer Mabel's questions about his world; but she quickly worked out which ones he'd actually give a direct answer. He was the most free with science-y questions, hit or miss on the fun cultural questions, and instantly evasive when asked about his own life or uncomfortable political issues.

When she asked if shapes and their houses just kinda floated unattached to anything because they didn't have a home planet, Bill said they did have a home planet—hundreds of miles below, marking south by its gravitational pull—and they lived in the sky in between their planet and its rings. When she asked what kind of clothing they wore, Bill said they usually didn't wear anything, unless it was for practical purposes (gloves for gardening; goggles for chemistry; elbow-, knee-, and corner-pads for spelunking), and when she asked about his top hat he said slyly, "You mean my telescope?" and gleefully refused to explain further.

But when she asked if it was true that equilateral triangles were the lowest rung you could stand on before getting knocked off the social ladder altogether, Bill said that was a pretty rude question to ask a triangle. And then he said his world didn't have ladders.

When he casually let slip that he'd been able to see the third dimension when nobody else could, she asked how that was possible. He'd paused, looked up from his seventh completely incomprehensible drawing of an animal (she'd asked him whether Flatworlders had pets), and, with an eager gleam in his eye, he asked, "How much time do you have?"

####

Ford heard Bill's voice the moment he opened the door—"All right, star girl, pop quiz, let's see how much of that you kept in your noggin."

"Oh, I'm so ready!"

Baffled, Ford leaned in the living room doorway. The room was absolutely plastered in crayon-covered papers—illustrations, lists, mathematical and scientific diagrams—stars, cells, planets, vehicles. At the moment Bill was pointing at six papers taped together with a diagram on them that Ford thought was a Punnett square that had been expanded into a four-dimensional tessaract. "A polygon's sides are determined by...?"

"Genetic inheritance!" Mabel announced, the proud student who knew all the answers. "You have however many sides your parents have genes for!"

"And the idea that polygons increase by one side each generation...?"

"Is propaganda! Because if everybody hides their kids without enough sides, and they only talk about the kids that did go up a side, it makes everyone think that's what always happens and their family is the only one that's failing!"

"Perfect! And the highest natural amount of sides a shape can have?"

"Twelve! Decadoggins!"

"Close enough, dodecagons! But this isn't Greek class, I'll give you full points. So, any shapes with more sides than that got them through—?"

"Random mutation!"

"Correctamundo! Meaning the only way to get shapes with hundreds of sides is..."

"Crazy bonkers inbreeding! Because the same rich families just keep marrying each other!"

"With consequences including—?"

"Um..." Mabel puffed out her cheeks as she thought. "Skeletons getting all crackly, having a hard time making babies, and high—uh—infant morality!"

"Mortality."

"Lots of dead babies."

"Yes! And remember: when a mutation makes a body produce so much more of something than it needs that it starts harming the body, that's called...?"

"Cancer!"

"Meaning circles are...?"

"Tumors!"

"And what do we do with tumors?"

"EXECUTE THEM!"

"YES!" Bill ripped the Punnett tesseract off the wall. Behind it was a piece of paper that read, in blood red crayon, ANTI-MONARCHIST ANARCISM. "You're ready to man the guillotines! A+, star girl! Give yourself another sticker!"

"Yes!" Mabel peeled a sparkly purple star off a sticker sheet and stuck it on her cheek. Her face had over twenty star stickers.

Ford leaned against the living room doorframe, watching the scene inside with wonder. He was more than a little iffy about the political lesson—he, personally, was incredibly opposed to the idea that it was morally imperative to execute anybody with extra body parts, nobility or not—but the presentation of it was certainly captivating. It had been a long time since Ford had seen Bill like this. (It had been a long time since Ford would have trusted any lesson out of Bill's mouth.)

"Now let's get back to biangles." Bill picked up a fake crystal ball that he'd drawn various lines and shapes on with a marker.

"Awww, again?!"

"Hey. Listen," he said firmly. "I believe in you. You'll get it this time, I know it."

Ford looked around the room, taking in the scene more fully. The floor was scattered with drawings of aliens. A few of them were various polygons—regular and irregular, with the irregularities further broken down by whether they otherwise showed radial or lateral symmetry—each with thin limbs and an eye on a corner. Most were fantastical alien animals, a few that Ford had seen or been warned about on other worlds. Some had been scribbled out and redrawn when Bill's limited artistic capabilities didn't live up to his unknown standards; a few were in Mabel's art style, meaning Bill must have described them to her while she drew.

Twenty pieces of paper had been taped together on the wall behind the TV, with a drawing of a planet surrounded by a circular ring of small blobs—a planetary ring?—and a moon further out. The empty atmosphere between the planet and the ring was filled with squares and rectangles, which were grouped together in red blobby circles that were each labeled by letter: "Country △," "Country B," "Country C," "Country D (communists)," etc. A badly-drawn sea serpent slithered along the outside of the ring with the words "Here There Be Monsters" written over it.

A tall column of taped together papers was covered in examples of alien writing systems—some of them Ford recognized from his travels through other dimensions. From the ones he understood, it looked like the words were demonstrations of Mabel's name in dozens of alien writing systems. Sometimes Bill spelled her name Maybell or Mabelle.

And there were so many papers scattered around the room with little graphs and symbols and arrows Ford couldn't make sense of. And in the center of it all, Bill, alive, energetic, his full attention enthusiastically focused on his student.

Bill had to be up to something; but Ford couldn't imagine what, based on the bizarre assemblage of information in front of him. What nefarious purpose could be behind showing Mabel how to spell her name in alien languages? Unless his goal was to so enchant her with tales of other worlds that he could persuade her to help him open a new portal...? No, even for Bill that felt like a stretch. 

He looked at the wall again. Surely, that wasn't Bill's homeworld. Ford had spent years of his life trying to find the world Bill was from; surely Bill hadn't just drawn it in the middle of Ford's living room. Had he?

"Okay, let's start with spherical geometry from the top," Bill said, polishing the crystal ball on his leggings to rub off the marker lines. "Don't tell anyone I can do this." He held up the ball, tapped it twice on the bottom, and it hovered in place when he let it go, freeing up both his hands to hold a ruler and marker. (How long had he been able to do that? Had he even noticed Ford was standing right outside?) He drew a line across the surface of the ball, "Pretend it's a planet. If you draw a line on a sphere, it's obviously curved, right?"

"Right," Mabel said.

"But now pretend you're on the planet. The surface of the world is a flat plane to you. From your perspective, you can walk in a straight line from point A to point B."

"But it's actually a curve. From space."

"Now you're catching on. That's what makes spherical geometry a little weird: when you're on the sphere you treat everything around you like it's 2D even though when you're off the sphere you can see it's 3D." Why in the world was Bill teaching Mabel about spherical geometry?

Bill drew two more lines to connect to the first. "So! You can draw a triangle on a sphere, no problem, right?"

"Right."

"And something you can only do in spherical geometry... is... pretend this is the North Pole and the South Pole..." Bill carefully rotated the ball under his marker as he drew a straight line from one "pole" to the other, and then drew a second straight line from pole to pole next to it. "Ta-da! If a tri-angle has three angles, a bi-angle has two angles. You've got yourself a two-sided polygon. Right?"

Mabel hesitated. "Right."

"You with me so far, Shooting Star?"

"So far," she said, with a tone that suggested she expected that to change very soon.

"But if you try to transfer that shape from spherical geometry to Euclidean geometry—" Bill turned to an expanse of still partially-uncovered white papers taped to the wall like a makeshift whiteboard, drew two points, and drew two straight lines, red and blue, between the points, "—it just doesn't work. You can't see a biangle in a flat world."

And now Mabel was squinting suspiciously at him.

Bill said, "I lost you."

"But where does it go!"

Bill shrugged. "You lost it when you lost the third dimension."

"But you said when you're on the sphere it's two dimensional!"

"From your perspective it's two dimensional, but there's still a third dimension enabling the sphere to exist."

"Then from my perspective when I'm on the planet shouldn't a biangle look like that?" Mabel pointed at the two straight lines on the piece of paper. "Since everything looks all 2D to me? But it doesn't! It's like flying from the North Pole to the South Pole through America and then flying back through China! China and America don't just squish together into the same place just because you're going in a straight line on a sphere!"

"I'd kill to hear you give a geography lesson to a Flat Earther convention."

Mabel gave him her best angry scowl.

"It was a compliment! I think you'd inspire some hilarious arguments, that's all!" Bill put two dots on the paper and offered Mabel the marker. "Look, try it for yourself! Draw a biangle."

Mabel took the marker and, after a moment of thought, drew two curved lines between the points, making a football shape.

"Those aren't straight lines, kid."

"Argh!" Mabel pulled the paper off the wallpaper, bent it into a curve, and shakily drew a straight line between the two points; but no matter how else she twisted or bent the paper, she couldn't find a path that would let her draw a second straight line between the points without overlapping the first line she'd drawn. She crumpled the paper, tossed it on the floor, and whispered, "It's witchcraft, Bill."

He burst out laughing. "I could name a few horror writers that felt the same way about non-Euclidean geometry."

"But whyyy does the biangle disappear when it goes from a sphere to normal flat paper."

"Because..." Bill groped for an explanation he hadn't already tried. He crossed an arm across his chest and tapped a knuckle just under the bow tied in his hoodie's draw strings the way some humans might tap a hand to their chin, his eyes narrowed in thought. How many times had Ford seen him make that exact same face in his true triangular form, whenever Ford was struggling to understand a lesson on portal physics and Bill was struggling to find a way to translate it into concepts Ford had encountered in his human education? "Let's try this another way."

The scene made Ford ache.

Look past the paper and the crayons, and the graph- and figure- and writing-covered walls looked so much like the advanced physics lessons and blueprints that Bill had coated Ford's starry blue dreamscape in during his sleep. Look past the flesh and bone, and Bill moved and gestured and spoke the way he had when he was teaching Ford how to build a bridge between worlds.

It was the first time since Bill's death that Ford had seen 100% of his personality shining—unhindered by grief, secrets, or a disdainful human audience. It was the first time in decades that Ford had seen Bill at his best.

In that moment, for a split second, Ford forgot how to hate Bill. He couldn't see Bill the traitor, Bill the invader, Bill the homicidal party animal. The only person in that room with Mabel was Bill Cipher the Teacher, Mentor, and Muse that Ford used to know so long ago. Like an ancient god who'd chosen to spend a day roleplaying as a giddy professor—Bill was holding back a tsunami's worth of vast, ancient, unintelligible alien knowledge so that he could drip out revelations at a faucet's pace, slow enough for his student to catch each drop in her hands.

Over thirty years ago, there had been moments when this Bill peeked out behind the above-it-all façade—and that had been the Bill that Ford was happiest to see, the Bill that Ford had thought of as a friend rather than a mere teacher... but each time, it hadn't been long before Bill seemly caught himself and turned off the faucet for the night.

Because he couldn't let Ford learn too much, or he would have seen through Bill's ruse.

Hatred tiredly crept back in.

"I've got it!" Mabel triumphantly flung her hands in the air. "It's like orange slices!"

"Orange slices?" Bill repeated.

"Be right back!" Mabel zoomed to the kitchen, shouting, "Hi Grunkle Ford!" as she passed.

Ford watched her go, then looked back at Bill; Bill had glanced at him for the first time. But all he did was frown and mutter, "I don't remember inviting you to audit this course."

Before Ford could decide whether to retort, Mabel charged back into the living room with an orange and a sharp knife. "Okay! If you draw a triangle on the orange," Mabel said, doing so with a marker, before cutting into it with the knife, "and then you—you cut it out all the way to the center..."

"Be careful with that," Ford said. Mabel was holding the orange in one palm and stabbing into it from the opposite side.

Bill said, "Lay off, Six Fingers. I'm keeping my eye on her, she's not gonna hurt herself."

"I'm being careful!" Mabel was struggling to get an even wedge cut all the way to the center of the orange; she eventually gave up and  dug into the orange with her fingertips to tug out a messy mangled handful of fruit, attached to a roughly equilateral patch of orange peel about two inches to each side. She shook orange juice off her fingers. "Pretend I cut that out better."

"I dunno what you're talking about," Bill said. "It looks flawless."

She pointed at each corner of the peel triangle. "Okay so, these are the three corners of the spherical triangle, right?"

"Right."

"And if you want to make a regular flat triangle, you can... try to cut a straight line between the corners, like..." She squeezed the rest of the orange between her knees, held the edges of the triangular peel with her fingertips, and sawed off the orange pulp underneath, trying to cut a flat level plane as near to the triangle's corners as she could. Ford almost warned Mabel about the knife again, but glanced at Bill's face and his expression of unworried, keen curiosity, and kept quiet. Bill reached out and caught the sawed-off chunk of orange pulp before it hit the ground.

Mabel held out the peel slice. "There! Right? Spherical triangle on top and flat triangle on the bottom!"

Bill considered that, one hand on his hip. He popped the orange chunk in his mouth. "All right. So far so good."

"But if you make a biangle..." Mabel drew two lines between the top and bottom of the remaining orange, and cut a wedge free. "There isn't anything extra to cut off to let you make a flat shape. There's just a straight line between the two points!"

"Ha! Okay, all right, that works! Brilliant! What do you need me for? You just taught yourself the whole lesson!" Bill ruffled her hair so enthusiastically that he knocked her headband askew.

She shoved him away, laughing, and straightened out her headband. "Bill!"

"What did I say! Didn't I tell you you'd get it?" Bill was beaming at her, impressed, delighted, proud. "Congratulations, you've just mastered college-level geometry."

"Wh—What? Are you serious? This is college stuff?" She shook her head. "No way, you're lying."

Bill pointed at Ford without looking at him. "Tell her."

He felt a little like a dog being commanded to bark; but he said, "He's right. I didn't start studying spherical geometry until my second semester in college." He was sure he could have studied it sooner, if his high school had offered it; and he doubted Mabel had absorbed an entire semester's worth of spherical geometry; but he didn't see any reason to point any of that out when Mabel's face lit up in excitement.

Bill said, "There you have it! Way to go, star girl! Two big stickers."

"YES!" Mabel peeled off two jumbo-sized star stickers with smiley faces and stuck them onto her earrings. "So does that make a biangle a girl or a boy?"

And Ford was immediately lost again.

"No," Bill said.

Mabel sighed loudly and tried again. "Does that make a biangle a line or a polygon?"

"Still no, but for a different reason. Externally, they look like lines to anyone who isn't psychic. Internally, their anatomy usually functions like a polygon's. But socially, you've gotta ask. Some of 'em consider themselves lines, some polygons, some claim biangularity is neither linear nor polygonal. Personally, I say they're whatever they say they are. Because," he said grandly, "I'm just that open-minded and accepting."

Ford stifled a derisive snort. But Bill's self-aggrandizing aside, Ford's mind was reeling trying to keep up—spherical geometry, the (gendered?) socialization of shapes, Flatworlder anatomy—what did psychics have to do with anything? Ford's fingers itched for a pen. He wished he had his journal with him.

Bill grabbed several papers off the floor and the floating crystal ball and climbed on top of the wooden TV cabinet. He left the ball hovering behind him seven feet up in the air, tossed aside several papers he'd already used both sides of to let them flutter back to the floor, and taped the rest to the wall with their blank backsides turned out. "Now back to remote viewing." He drew a grid in blue lines on the papers, said, "Toss me that triangle wedge," used a marker to draw an eye on the triangular orange peel, tapped it twice like he had the crystal ball, and stuck it against the grid, where it sat unmoving.

And the entire time, Ford watched with his arms crossed tightly.

Almost a month ago, Bill had given Ford his manipulative trap of a birthday gift, a miniature grimoire, five pieces of paper, margins filled, two rows of text per line, packed with as diverse an array of magical spells and occult knowledge as Bill could fit. It wasn't a gift, it was a boast and a taunt: look at everything I know that you don't; look at what I could teach you if you let me live. 

It was something Bill could have given him all along—effortlessly, with no cost to himself—but didn't, until Bill wanted something from him. 

On his birthday, Ford had wondered, furiously: when this was what Bill could have been—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—why did he choose not to be?! It was an internal scream of rage, the howl of a wounded victim at the condemned criminal as he was marched to the gallows: you monster, you monster, you monster, when it would have been so easy for you to be something better, why instead are you a liar, manipulator, torturer, murderer, life-ruiner, world-ender? Answer for yourself: why are you this instead of someone better? How dare you?

It had made Ford want him dead even more.

This was the exact opposite of the grimoire.

The question in Ford's head wasn't a scream of rage anymore. It was grief. It was a plea. It was one last desperate attempt to understand:

Instead of being who he was, why couldn't Bill have been this person? This charismatic, energetic, ecstatic muse who ruled like a king over a classroom he'd constructed himself, eager to share a trillion years of collected wisdom with a fragile mortal mind, lighting up with joy whenever she grasped something that was trivially simple to him? This guide to the vast wonders beyond Earth, competent and encouraging and funny, delighting in the weirdness of the wide wide universe? The Bill that Ford had once liked so much—the Bill that he'd called his friend?

"Okay," Bill said, all sunshine and excitement, "Back to how to view the third dimension from the second dimension—"

Mabel said, "Can you view the fourth dimension from the third?"

Bill hesitated a split second, but said, "Sure! You can view any dimension from any dimension! You've just gotta bend your eye the right way to see higher ones!"

"What does the fourth dimension look like?"

"Well—hm. Imagine the way that the third dimension looks different from the second, and that's the way the fourth dimension looks different from the third."

Mabel stared at Bill.

"Eddie wrote an entire book about a square meeting a sphere because that was the closest he could get to telling other humans what seeing the fourth dimension is like! If I could still visit dreams, I could just show you, but..."

"Isn't the fourth dimension time? Blendo showed us the time stream! Is that what it looks like?"

"Nnn—close! You're close. The fourth dimension isn't time, but time is in the fourth dimension."

"How's that different."

Bill pointed at the floor. "If the carpet's the second dimension and the lamp's shining on it, the third dimension isn't light, but light is in the third dimension."

"Ohhh." Mabel gasped. "That's why you called some weird thing flying around in a higher dimension an eclipse! Because eclipses were in a higher dimension in Flatworld!"

Bill's face lit up in surprised delight. "All right, skip three lessons ahead, why don't you! In a week's time you'll be teaching people how my dimension works." He turned back to his papers and started drawing a branching river. "So! That time stream you saw isn't time itself! It's a visual metaphor being generated so humans can see time too—sort of a hologram projecting from the fourth dimension into the third—have I explained that the universe is a hologram yet—"

Why weren't you this person, Ford wondered. Why did you choose not to be this person? When it was so easy for you to be this? When this made you happy, too?

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why are you only like this now, when you're about to die?

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed Infodump: The Chapter. This is one of those chapters with something hidden in it that'll unravel the whole fic if you happen to find it, so have fun searching for that. Let me know what you thought of this week's chapter! And get excited—we've got Big Things coming up... soon.)

[cupofadonis]

Wow, it's been a while since I drew something based on Sonic the Hedgehog!...

Well, well, I tried my hand at the Sonic Ova style a little, and I liked it!!

Honestly, the world of Sonic Ova - Planet Freedom is for me the most beautiful, interesting and canon place, and I am very sad that this world did not and never received its continuation...

This whole story with Sonic living on Mobius or Planet Earth is some kind of nonsense to me, because when I see cultural inconsistencies in the Sonic canon (which does not exist?? wtf-) I feel almost physically ill. A lot of characters were lost, deleted despite games and comics.

Eggman as a character stands still, and Sonic's world is not even clearly divided into which states...

Sonic's Ova revealed its potential for me in one film - What happened to the people in the new territory of "Dark Eggman"? Was it the apocalypse? How long ago did this happen? Is this why people moved to the fly islands? Why did people acquire animal features (For example, Sarah's cat ears and tail)? Is this due to the merger with the "Mobians"? Were there anthropomorphic animals before the apocalypse, or are they a consequence of it? Maybe the reason?

What about Sonic and Tails' house? Damn, did you see this COOL DESTROYED PLANE?!? Now remember Tails' house from IDW comics, which is just a damn joke

I can't love the damn Black Doom saga enough because it feels like a cheap Metarex parody. The only good thing Black Doom brought was the character Eclipse from Archie Comics -...Oh yeah, he doesn't exist anymore either. Like Cosmo.

Sally was a typical good character from the 97's who could stand up to the mouse from Chip 'n' Dale, but due to the company's negligence we have no SatAm ending, some kind of porn parody in Archie from Penderson, #Rally4Sally

No Sonic Ova, no completed Sonic Multiverse, there is no properly explained story of Silver, Blaze and Elise from Sonic 2006.

What about the fact that it was Sonic who was the Ultimate Life Form in the plot of SA2? What? Don't remember this? But what about the blue flask that fell to Earth and was considered lost? I congratulate you on the bad narrative of the SA1 and SA2 game series, friends...

Sonic Ova and SA1-2 feels like the only correct versions, it pains me to see how Sonic’s character is now changing for a new audience and the psychopathic egoist and narcissist Sonic turns into a sweet and shy hero, although even taking into account the seemingly terrible and negative qualities, Sonic was a hero...

Changes have always been and will be, this is normal, I don’t want to shout that it was better before and the grass is greener, but for me the canon is only Sonic Ova vision, and I would like to add this vision for myself in my Sonic Ova AU. I think it would be fun. Just for me and my auditory...

So ... What do you think about all of this?

[bugs-o-plenty]

some hornet alts to celebrate more skong news :)

feel free to use with credit

default design

some alts i made

i would've LOVED to make colored versions but unfortunately i drew these on a plane and my colors are in luggage hold TvT

thumbnails and field notes under the cut (as well as the usual bonus doodle)

the pose thumbnails

as you can see, i followed the thumbnails for the lsst two pretty closely, but i had something a little different in mind for the huntress outfit. i wanted tk try something ✨️exotic✨️ so i had her at a cool angle. but then, i had a major skill issue moment and i couldn't replicate the pose on a larger scale. so i just settled for a boring ol' angle from the back ;v;

NOW ON TO THE YAPPING

these notes are mostly for me to reference when i'm drawing em but i hope you all will enjoy them as well

Huntress Outfit

just something practical hormet would wear under her regular cloak AND mainly for when i have a super cool pose i don't want to cover up with her cloak

Mourning Shroud

she would've worn this during and after herrah's ritual. cool long gown and silk veil.

Pale Gift

she was forced to wear this while at the white palace/formal occasions. all of her other outfits (with the exception of her huntress underclothes) are loose, simple, and flowing. this is the opposite; form-fitting, restrictive, and excessively frilly. she HATES this outfit.

PSST bonus pic of hornet's True Form

based on the shiny new sprite ofc lol

if you read this far, comment "spooder princess" for Cool Points and a cookie 🍪

[forecast0ctopus]

Any advice on drawing McCoy? I’m not used to drawing ancient wrinkley bastards (affectionate) and it’s surprisingly tough v-v

FOR SURE lmao i made. a diagram. just a warning that i am going to be irritating and long winded because u just hit a topic i really like sorry lmao

so first off i did some traces just to show whats there vs redraws to show my interpretation

ive said this on other asks but again jsyk, tracing isnt bad!! its a tool. theres some stuff with intellectual property and whatnot but using tracing to study shapes and forms is a really valuable practice.

also just taking some time to learn facial structures and anatomy is super useful, reading what bones and muscles are where and how they interact with one another. taking this info and staring in the mirror and moving your face around and thinking about it. just really furthers understanding of how the face works. trying to sound normal about this but i love anatomy and motion and physics and whatever

anyways im going to go through all the numbered points so there's no confusion. 1. forehead lines - self explanatory. more prominent when brows are raised 2. crows feet - at the outer corners of the eyes, more prominent when smiling or squinting 3. nasolabial folds - the folds that go from the corners of the nose to the corners of the mouth. more prominent when the mouth is wide, like smiling 4. brow furrow - self explanatory, most prominent when brows are furrowed. mccoy tends to have two right next to his eyebrows, kirk has one in the middle. everyones face works different lmao 5. chin crease - caused by how the chin and lower lip interact. 6. nasojugal groove - start from the inner corners of the eye and can extent over the cheeks. everyone has these and idk why people dont like them i think theyre really cool!!!! but Society. i guess. :/ 7. eye bags - caused by the skin sagging beneath the eyes. mccoy isnt even that old in tos i think hes meant to be mid 40s by the end of the 5 year mission, hes just got really prominent eye bags lmao 8. idk what the name is for these, but when the mouth is wide and pushes the skin to the sides, these folds sometimes form outside of the nasolabial folds 9. philtrum - the groove above the upper lip. i dont usually draw this but mccoy's struck me as prominent enough that i usually draw it on him 10. masseter - the muscle that moves the jaw up and down. its a pretty rugged muscle and while i wouldnt say mccoy's is especially prominent, it kind of extends that nasojugal groove from certain angles/positions 11. orbicularis oris - mouth muscle, usually easier to see when lips are pursed or frowns are pulled. mccoy's is pretty prominent from 3/4ths or side, his mouth tends to protrude in profile 12. this isnt a muscle but more of a line defining the planes of the face, but since i drew it i felt i should explain lmao

a few points:

im an animator i tend to exaggerate and emphasize certain things so i usually make him more square.

i like to combine eyebags and crows feet for brevity/flow, same with nasojugal grooves, eyebags, and masseter lines. my approach is always subject to change based on pose, expression, reference image, etc.

i take out details that i deem redundant or cluttering and keep what details i need to make things feel Right

all this info is applicable to any character of any age, its just in how you apply it and facial proportions that willl change how old a character is perceived to be

there's a lot more with drawing a Character rather than an Actor, just because the features are there doesnt necessarily mean things will feel correct? its very much in the mannerisms and poses and expressions

i only went over my approach to his likeness but not really body type or posing or anything idk if u want that i could always try to answer that later haha

_______________

anyways all that info kind of exists nebulously in my brain while i draw its not like im sitting there thinking Must Draw. Nasolabial Fold...... i jsut do what feels right with the visual info i have. also i love specificity in faces.... i dont like to be a hater but when every character is drawn the same it pisses me off a little lmao. so

also dont take my word as The Only Way to do anything i just draw how i like to draw and no one should feel like these are things that Must be done to be a good artist or anything do whatever the hell u wanna do

[pinenutpbj]

WIP game. Tell me something about Algeria 🤲👀

Thank you so much for the ask!

It's basically just me trying to elaborate on the fact that Gale was half naked in Algeria while John wasn't. Because I'm haunted by Gale's sunbathing scene. 

Here's a snippet for anyone who's interested (also for the last lines game I was tagged ages ago! Thank you @shipstorms 💕)

It must have surpassed 90 degrees Fahrenheit in this desert.

It certainly wasn't like the fog-shrouded summer of England, where rain provided relief even in August. Nor did it remind him of the hot days in Wyoming, where sagebrush released their scent at dusk and mountains drew cool air down into the valleys. The sun here was merciless, bearing down without respite, its heat a constant pressure, seeping into Gale's lungs with each labored breath.

His undershirt, drenched by sweat and then sun-dried repeatedly, had hardened against his skin like parchment. The yellowing neckline caught his eye whenever he glanced down. It would take double the effort to scrub it clean, if that still mattered when they made it back to base.

Twenty yards away, his crew had scattered across their makeshift camp. Some hunched over the radio, scanning the endless horizon, while others sought solace in dog-eared novels or scribbled hasty letters home. None of them spoke much. The landscape seemed to absorb their words along with their comfort.

The war was raging elsewhere. Here, only something in the dry air made it almost palpable, as if the atmosphere itself had weight and intention. Like a gaze. A firm set of eyes. Tracked Gale as he surveyed the damaged fort, his forearms burnished by sun and oil. He lifted the hem of his undershirt with stained fingers. A rush of slightly cooler air licked up his skin from where his waistband sat low on his hips. The highest it could reach was his bellybutton—a small mercy nonetheless, in this unforgiving heat that had become their prison and sanctuary both.

As he hiked the fabric higher, he felt the muscles of his stomach and chest tense up in some instinctive, primal attention. He was aware, suddenly and completely, of John nearby, of the possibility of being watched. The thought sent a current through him that had nothing to do with the oppressive temperature.

He must have made a decision there, to yank the clothes high enough to cover his face with it entirely. 

The fabric was dampened by the perspiration in his palm and his own breath, clinging to his features like a wetted mask. He inhaled, smelled something organic—like blood and fuel and dirt—the essence of survival and machinery and men compressed into impossible spaces. He waited to feel suffocated, almost hoping for it, for any sensation that might explain the tightness constricting his chest.

But he already knew its explanation. How strange that it had taken being trapped into this desolate place to finally understand what had been circling inside him all along, like planes waiting for clearance to land.

Gale thought about this exact season in where he came from. How thunderstorms broke the day's fever with decisive violence, leaving the air clean and calm. He was not a betting man, and yet here he was, internally wagering everything. Ready to land or crash.

[weirdmageddon]

💿⚛️ davejade headcanons

sorry for leaving you guys waiting on this for like a week lol i kept being like “tomorrow for sure” but falling asleep but anyway here it is. i might add more to this if i think if anything but reblogs might not reflect the up to date source version so you can always find it here

most of these are pointing out stuff thats basically canon anyway but whatever lol. basically canon headcanons

dave tries to impress jade to get her attention because he likes her

this ones for you *misses hoop by 5 feet*

he doesnt mind jade’s inane riddles honestly. he isn’t perturbed by how she just knows things like rose is, because he doesnt think into it too far. he trusts her

he spends a lot of time indulging in her interests and showers her in his music and poetry

they draw things for each other a lot <3 jade has the pictionary modus and seems pretty good at drawing and of course dave sent her sbahj as furries in the mail. sending jpegs over the internet is BABY NONSENSE. real boys send their childhood friend/crush pictures they drew for them through the INTERNATIONAL POSTAL SYSTEM to an unspecified island in the middle of nowhere, pacific ocean that gets packages dropped by plane so the recipient can tangibly hold it and hang it in their room

actually i was going through the commentary and hussie addresses it as such:

“Also notice her SBaHJ furry poster, which was clearly a very thoughtful gift from Dave”

aww

jade would give dave a "cool" plushie of a tiger or something nd he keeps it on his desk . froot’s beautiful idea

he loves her plushie sensibilities. so much less unnerving than his bro’s phallic puppets. they're still soft but no cognitive dissonance this time about the softness coming from foam puppet ass hoorayyy

theyre still reading homestuck on act 4 but they understood them instantly

jade humors dave’s ironic cool facade because it makes dave feel more comfortable without feeling too exposed, but it’s because of this that he feels like he can open up to her because she isnt prying. (im still not over the smile here btw. only jade could make dave smile after a fucked evening where he spilled juice on his turntables and accidentally skewered an innocent crow with his sword and broke his window this mf is TYPING. also getting a bit of joy out of the fact that the only visible suit on his cards-themed bedcover in this panel is a heart)

but he knows that jade is not unaware of what he's hiding. couldnt even refute her lol

from the knight’s perspective, it’s “i’m not as [blank] as i appear. i want you know that about me if i know you well and trust you, or i DON’T want you to know that about me if i DON’T know you well. the reason is that i want to know that i can trust you to avoid turning my insecurity into a Whole Thing”

basically she allows dave to take initiative when HE feels comfortable and confident in sharing the things he’s self-conscious about. this really helps him be comfortable and form a strong bond with her

dave would wrap his arms around her to “ironically” imitate a pair of tangle buddy squiddles (while actually concealing genuine affection basically unbeknownst to himself) but he winds up looking just a little too into it for just an “ironic” bit yall……

jade is slower to realize her deeper feelings since she shows love to everyone (so long as theyre deserving of it!!!) it just hits her one day that she actually Likes him in a special way, while for dave it is more dynamic and gradual but very on the downlow, expressed in creative acts and services

once dave actually recognizes he’s really caught feelings for her down the line, dave and jade happily do the tangle buddies hug all the time. its like their handshake. its their weird couple thing

these two when together as a unit they do not give a shit about what other people think of them

this shit lol:

Creative Fucking Powerhouse the two of them

davejade ass song to me

jade is quite spacey and super appreciates dave’s level-headedness and steady pragmatism while at the same time not being a rigid stick in the mud about it. for example when they were acting as each others’ server players dave was advising her but it was appreciated by jade

sorry its just literally socionics duality LITERALLY THIS IS THEMMM (also i spent WAY too much time making these graphics and integrating texts from multiple sources please appreciate it)

fittingly with that, as ouroborista writes about the opposite space-time aspect dichotomy,

Space and Time are the fundamental Aspect pair. Their job is to make shit take place. To create novelty. Between them they span not only all of existence but also the inseparable twin approaches of any creative project. Space goes for breadth, for ideas, for expansive, holistic input, while Time goes for needlepoint focus and a rapid-turnover ability to pull through on the prompt. There’s a reason why these are the two Aspects necessary for any successful session of SBURB.

jade is literally always having a little giggle about him. dave is a funny guy. lame court jester ass boyfriend

he’d draw his post-ironic fursona and show it to her with the usual deadpan expression on his face, eyes obscured by his shades. but jade will look at it and when he sees her smile and laugh it makes it all worth it. his cheeks feel warm and he’ll smile slightly like “heh heh”. dave the type to smile like an idiot over anything jade does like his mouth keeps making a thin line and hes trying to fight it but . Jade

dave thought jade looked absolutely stunning in her 3 in the morning dress his mouth probably stupidly hung open the tiniest amount seeing her after swapping into it

of course she only wears it for what she considers "very special occasions"…..spending time with dave seemed to be a very special occasion :)

jade think dave looks sharp in his suits!!

imagine jade adjusting daves crooked bowtie and lapel and his palms start to sweat and he darts his eyes from behind his shades and chews the inside of his cheek she making him nervous bro 💯

jade is definitely the teaser and dave is the teased. still i dont think jade teases dave as much as john and rose which is why he feels more comfortable opening up to her about his shit. her teasings are much lighter and inconsequential

despite how funny and informal he is dave is a classy well-put-together romantic. he is responsible and harmonious in how he choses to present himself. remember when he got secondhand embarrassment from rose when she was drunk before her date with kanaya and he suggested to her and kanaya that the two reschedule? … he’d NEVER do something like that. sober. suit is ON. hair is neatly combed. he is right on time, not too early not too late, and his first words are “yo whats up”

dave has this designated driver energy about him

after dogtiering jade’s dog ears can perk and flatten, adding even more expressiveness

jade has so many hobbies and interests i think she’d get dave into horticulture somehow unironically

theyre both the kinda mf to ask “would you still love me if i were a worm”

dave’s hands are warm

jade’s skin can be cool to the touch in some places like the back of her arms or shoulders and dave places his hands there to warm them. or by rubbing them or something

idk just some associations space is cool and time is warm to me. the vaccuum of space is cold and time is associated with gears which are associated with generating heat and dave’s classical element is fire and jade’s is earth and her planet is initially covered in snow and daves is covered in lava idk…. just makes symbolic sense i guess but its also cute in its own right

dave would love going to the beach with jade on earth c cause the ocean is so boob i mean boob i mean boob i m,ean boob i mean SHIT . blue. blue

this Fucking animation bro

she infodumps about science and he sits his ass down to listen

jade does this (excuse the fact that the url is roselalonde)

[illubean]

May I request a Valorant viper x fem reader who has a talkative and bright personality, basically the opposite of viper plz who always bugs her 🙏

From Spite to Sunshine

Characters: Sabine "Viper" Callas Type: Fluff, Oneshot, Fem!reader in mind but never actually specified

sunshine x grumpy troupe has a special place in my heart <3 also in all of my val vics we'll pretend the fraternization ban doesn't exist xoxo

A/n = agent name

Warnings: none

When you first joined the Valorant Protocol, most of the agents were excited to have you. Your bright personality brought fun and happiness that the base sometimes lacked. You seemed to always be in high spirits.

No one in the protocol understood how an actual saint such as yourself ended up with someone as spiteful as Viper. She was cold hearted and seemed like there was no room for anything besides the hate inside that fueled her.

Your fellow agents constantly warned you of her unpleasant personality, but you payed them no mind. You believed everyone had a good side, maybe your peers had never taken the time to try and understand her. Every day you made an effort to speak with the scientist.

"You look nice today Viper!"

"Wow nice shot."

"You're so talented Viper, how did you get so smart?"

You constantly showered her in compliments and told her just about anything, even if she weren't to give a response.

Sabine, however, was conflicted. At first, she despised you. How could you be so happy all the time? Do you ever shut up? When you joined the protocol she was dead set on avoiding you, but for some reason you would pester her. But after a while of this, she started to accept it as part of her daily routine. She begins to question it if you're nowhere to be found, actually missing the way you would talk her ear off as she worked. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she missed you telling her about your day.

She missed your plethora of compliments.

She missed your company.

She missed you.

Now Sabine is no fool, she can recognize the meaning behind this. She was in love with you.

To say the scientist was in love was an odd statement. And even so, no one would expect it to be on someone who's personality is practically on a different astral plane. But maybe that was the very thing that drew her to you.

You were like a ray of sunshine, warming up the dark hole that Sabine kept herself in.

Warm. That's how she felt around you.

So the next time you came to bug her, she wasted no time in telling you what she's been feeling lately.

"Hiya Viper, what are you working on toda-"

"Sabine," she cut you off. You tilted your head at her and let out a confused "Huh?"

"Call me Sabine," she said, looking up from her desk to make eye contact with you.

"Okay Sabine! So what are you up to?"

"A/n...it seems like I have taken a liking to you."

Hearing this, a bright smile spread across your face. All your efforts at befriending the cold hearted scientist has payed off.

"Aww I'm glad to hear that! In that case, call me Y/n."

She sighs before walking around the desk in front of her, moving to stand face to face with you instead.

"And by that, I mean," she starts, taking one of your hands in hers. "..Why don't we go out this weekend?"

You felt heat rise from your neck all the way to the tip of your ears while you stumbled over your words.

"Like a date!? Where did this come from? I mean yes! I would love to! Wait but what do I-"

You were cut off by the feeling of cool lips on yours as you stood there shocked.

"You talk to much. Let's go out on saturday at 5."

At a loss for words all you are able to do is nod.

"Good. See you then." And with that, Sabine left you alone in the lab with your own thoughts.

You liked Sabine, you really did. But you didn't expect to be this successful this quick. You smile to yourself before making your way out of the lab.

"I've got a date with big, scary Viper!"

[merbear25]

Would u be able to write Tier Harribel x male reader smut? Have the reader play with Harribel's boobs while they're growing until she eventually climaxes. Then have her give the reader a boobjob while her breasts are still growing until they both climax.

Tags: Tier Harribel/Male reader. Large tits. Breast play. Breast expansion. Sensitive breasts. Boobjob. Male & Female orgasm.

More arrancar ladies getting much needed love?? Yes, please! I hope you like it!

To be admired from afar—that was what your admiration of her was reduced to. She was difficult to win over, especially with being a male. However, that was a setback, not a defeat. You wanted to give her the sense of serenity she deserved and that you were craving more and more.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, m!reader, everything in the ask applies, reader is an arrancar, some fingering over the panties

Sought after peace (Harribel)

The object of your desire. There was no other way to put it, even if the term itself had degrading implications. She only kept women within her inner circle. Perhaps having taken on the image of mentor and strength for them alluded to more than just a sense of female empowerment.

She was ridgid around men, put off by them even. So few of them had earned her respect, so you being the one to approach her in an attempt to gain her trust was an uphill battle. 

Her blue eyes as cold as ice, those blonde lashes fanning lightly over them, her crossed arms and stance of tenacity: although you were meant to be intimidated, the confidence exuding from her only drew you nearer. If you had a heart, it would be pounding against your hollowed chest. Your mind was already flooding with images of what had been collecting—thoughts of her soft breasts and mouth on your aching need.

Such fantasies were otherworldly to your kind, and yet the urge to explore them was far greater than anything you’d ever experienced. As she sized you up in anticipation for your approach, you wondered if she ever had the same carnal instincts. Fuck, you hoped she did.

You weren’t a threat to her; she gathered that much. However, your posture teetered on something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, making her tense up in response.

“What do you want?” The cool tone sent a shiver down your spine but not out of fear.

You did your best to hold your gaze on her face, so as not to give your intentions away right off the bat. “I know that you’ve recently lost some of your women and thought someone should check up on you.”

She placed her hands on her hips, and you couldn't resist letting your eyes wander to her chest for a brief moment. “And you thought your company would be welcomed?”

You threw your hands up in surrender, a slight smile upon your face. “Consider it a peace offering.”

That word turned and molded in her mind. “Peace,” she said below her breath in speculation. It was something that you and every other arrancar never knew the true meaning of—a fantasy within itself.

Hesitantly, she sat down, allowing herself to relax just a bit. Pride in talking down any chance of a fight washed over you, giving you the boost you needed to test the waters further. “Perhaps it’s stupid, but I’d like to think many of us will one day be able to survive without constantly tearing out each other’s throats.”

“You’re right. That is stupid.” The bluntness in her words soon shifted to a soft sigh. “But that would be nice.” A slight opening from her vulnerability ought to be treated carefully.

You sat down next to her, looking up at the never changing palette of swatches in the sky. “A cold and desolate place like this—peace seems like a fever dream.” Your tone carried your words over the windless plane of sand but was picked up by the companion you’d found for that day.

She didn’t respond, instead trying to imagine a world where those who were the most important to her didn’t know fear anymore, as if becoming a distant, horrible memory.

Glancing over at her, the daydreaming look upon her face made witnessing her softened features feel like a prize. Your eyes roamed over her; she was so close you could reach out and touch her. Never having been in such an intimate proximity to each other, your rising lust for her was begging you to make a move.

“But maybe it can exist between us…if only for a moment.”

Turning towards you, your eyes held a passion that was completely alien to her, and yet unearthed a part of her that was still buried deep within. Your eyes flickered over each other’s expressions. That faint understanding of neither of you really knowing how to interpret or even deal with such emotions was comforting in a way. No one had the upper hand. 

Raising your hand, you anticipated her to slap it away. She didn’t, instead gripping the bench she was on and staring at it with a mixture of excitement and fear budding between her legs. Gently but firmly, you groped her chest. The first moan from her pulled you closer, snaking your other arm around her waist to hold against you. She was even more breathtaking like this. Soft sounds you never knew you craved so badly and a vulnerable expression to match. You continued to fondle her chest, while your other hand slipped between her thighs.

Slick wet cloth coated your fingers which unleashed a hunger you weren’t even sure you could satisfy. You licked and nipped her neck all while working her exactly as you both needed. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Your breath was hot against her skin. The more you touched her, the weaker you felt, though you didn’t mind.

Tugging off her top, you began plucking at her erect nipples. She squirmed and grinded against your hand to chase the rush of pleasure she was being swept away in for the first time. You pinched her nipple harder, taking the other one between your teeth. Flicking your tongue against it, you groaned against her heated flesh. You could swear that they were getting bigger. As she trembled against you, the gasps and lustful moans passing her lips gave you the rush you were after. However, you were far from done.

She looked completely spent but was still so willing to hold onto this high for as long as she could. 

“You want more?” You asked in a heated lust. Your length jutted out when you exposed yourself to her. Watching her intently, you couldn’t stop yourself from stroking it in front of her. “Come here…” The command was gentle, inviting even.

As she kneeled between your legs, jolts of euphoria found you immediately. Feeling her breasts engulf your throbbing cock tested your stamina. Throwing yourself head first into the overwhelming sensations was all too tempting, but you wanted to enjoy this for as long as possible.

Bouncing up and down, swallowing more and more of you, the look of pure bliss on that pretty face of hers: you pinched her nipples that were so swollen for you, practically teasing you with their allure. Her entire body shook. Those sweet moans from earlier began filling the air between you again. You weren’t going to last much longer, not with her like this.

Rolling her nipples between your fingers, tugging on them, roughly grabbing them as you thrusted between those hypnotic tits: there was no going back. With your low groan twisting with her gentle gasp, ropes of cum coated her perfectly tanned skin. A shared rush met in unison left both of you in a hazy state of lingering bliss.

Looking up at you, that word “peace” returned. Even if this wasn’t what she had in mind, it was a sliver of what you had described, and it was more powerful than she ever imagined.

[malacandrax]

Hi I just wanted to say I love your art sm and you actually helped me get back into drawing a ton, for a while I had this weird idea in my brain that I HAD to draw semi realism/realism otherwise every man I drew would be horribly twinkified and I'd never be able to draw the characters I liked, but I just drew my first ever man I'm happy with in a style that isn't semi realism and a lot of it was inspired by the way you don't always close your lines w lineart and don't use a ton of pen pressure sensitivity and your art comes out incredible. Those were things I always did but would try to stop doing because people told me they were stuff you "weren't supposed to do" and it just ended with me being frustrated whenever I drew and hating my art. But seeing you do it and make absolutely gorgeous stuff really gave me that confidence to just say fuck it and do it anyways and I'm starting to actually get in the flow of drawing again, so thank you :)

This is so so cool! I struggled for About Ten Years with not being able to line in a way I liked, and I’m so glad that my way of doing it is inspirational to someone else! I hope you figure it out faster than I did haha.

Style wise, it kinda just happens, I don’t think many people fit super neatly into boxes anyway, so don’t stress over it, I definitely don’t know what my style is defined as haha! I thought it was semi realism til I googled it HAHA. I copied artists like makani and coey, reapersun and loish when I was a teenager and it definitely swayed my style!

Also I relate extremely to not really vibing with how other artists do lines. For me personally I THINK its because I think in shapes and not lines, and I started out painting and working in tone. Like real life doesn’t have lines, and when you paint it’s generally just varying between soft and hard edges, using the colour and tone to do the lifting for you. It’s way harder to figure out where to put a line, or what things need a line and what doesn't, if you’re not used to thinking that way.

I definitely ink more like I paint, kind of thinking about planes and shadow or overlap more than the outline? Like I draw the top curve of the cheek, then the jowl, then the chin, it kind of feels like cutting a 3D shape out in the space…? But I think that’s why mine are often choppy haha. In traditional art I always preferred a square brush, which carries over to my preference for minimal width variation on tablet.

Saying that, I *do* sometimes work more with width, though it's still messy and choppy haha. my trick with those is that I always choose a brush that has a fairly consistent minimum width, I can draw with a fairly fixed line, but also press down a little to get the variation when I want it. (As opposed to brushes that kind of go really thin and really thick with little effort, like a brush pen, I just don't have the control...) Below are my main blobby inkers, I can pretty comfortably draw a fixed width face, but I can make it wider if I want.

Anyway I went off on a tangent, I hope you can make art in ways that feel natural to you! And I hope making art brings you joy!

Some artists I love the lines of are linnea sterte, steven sugar, momopachi, jadenvargen, artharakka, beidak-art, pien-art, wombrion! 

[peachhcs]

I feel like will and Sammy were one of those friends that like took naps while cuddling, or maybe at any free time they would be together, sometimes they said flirty comments to each other and still be like “we are best friends, we would never like each other”

no, no we’re just friends | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

1.5k words

takes place fall of will’s first dev program year (samy is a junior) this was genuinely so fun to write. i added some more plot to it, i hope that’s okay, but keep sending in requests for the wonder years i love writing their younger dynamic!

au masterlist

a weekend of no hockey games? not even traveling? those types of weekends were rare for the boys. 

they'd been on the move since the start of the season in august meaning two straight months of nonstop hockey every day, every week, every weekend. things were hectic–chaotic even—but they loved it. playing hockey everyday? it was the dream and so was finally getting to sleep in on saturday morning without worrying about waking up at ungodly hours for morning practice. 

the boys scattered themselves across the hughes family living room after a long night in ann arbor. what other way would they spend their free weekend besides driving an hour to samy's house where ellen welcomed them with open arms—secretly excited that her house was filled with people again. 

things were quiet now that the brothers were gone even though luke came back every weekend to do his laundry. 

samy excitedly showed them around the city she grew up in for most of her life with will chirping in every now and then with tidbits from the places he's visited. surprisingly, the boys were really into the museum of art by the university, especially ryan and drew. 

"no way someone painted that," ryan mumbled as their gazes stared up at the large 4 foot painting hanging off the wall. 

"i could do it better," aram shrugged earning a slap on the arm from jacob. 

"no you could not," the brunette muttered, shaking his head. 

the two began quietly bickering about who could paint better. will rolled his eyes before flicking over to briefly meet samy's gaze who lingered beside the blonde. she softly giggled at his friends' antics which resulted in a soft smile on the boy's lips. 

"i'd really like to see you guys try and paint," samy cut into their bickering as she led the way to the next painting. 

"you think we can't paint?" jacob raised his eyebrow at the girl. she only shrugged. 

"let's be real, you can't paint to save your life," ryan added with his own laughter. 

"uh, i can to. i took art classes my freshman year," jacob defensively crossed his arms. 

"ooh, so cool," ryan's mimicry voice made the group laugh. 

the banter didn't stop the entire time they were in the art museum. at least not until they made it to the natural history museum where the boys were really excited to look at dinosaurs. samy couldn't help but giggle as she watched the six boys hurry to see the t-rex up close. 

"how do you think they got it here?" gabe wondered. 

"a plane?" drew raised his eyebrow. the dark-haired boy smacked him on the arm, rolling his eyes. "smartass," gabe mumbled. 

"what's your favorite dinosaur?" will wondered over the commotion of the other guys. 

the girl's eyes slid to his, sparking some in the light while she thought about her answer. "good question. i really like rhinos. they don't have any in this museum though," she finally decided with a tiny smile. 

"didn't quinn buy you a rhino stuffed animal however many years ago?" the blonde asked. 

"he did! it was like my 7th birthday or something. i can't believe you remembered that," the youngest hughes chuckled. 

"only because i remember we sent you the nerf guns after being upset all summer that your brothers had them and you didn't," will informed making samy laugh again. 

"those were the best gift. i think we still have them in our basement somewhere, but i definitely lost all the..what do you call them? pellets?" the two shared another small laugh before the group headed to a different exhibit. 

after the museums, luke graciously met up with all of them and took them to dinner close to campus (but secretly ellen sent him money to pay for all eight of them because poor luke was a broke college student). the boys were definitely excited to see luke and they got him into a long conversation about hockey and what college was like. 

samy and will were at one at one end of the table where they immersed themselves in their own conversation again letting the others talk luke up because the two already saw him all the time. 

"happy there's no saturday practice tomorrow?" the brunette wondered, sipping on her lemonade. 

"mhm. i don't think i've really slept in since like..i moved here," will chuckled. 

"do you ever sleep in though? i'm pretty sure i always hear you awake at like eight in the morning with luke and jack at the lake house," samy raised her eyebrow which brought a flush to will's face. 

"you gotta get up early to hit the green," the boy argued referring to all the times they went golfing. 

"oh, right, right. how could i forget?" samy made a face. 

a small silence settled between them as their eyes drifted down the table where their friends excitedly talked with luke. something warmed in both of their chests seeing how well they everyone got along. samy really couldn't be more happier that will introduced her to these boys and seeing how much her brother loved them all too. will thought the exact same thing. 

the two years ahead were gonna be the best years. will knew it and so did samy. 

it was late when the group made it back to the hughes house. ellen and jim already had the air mattresses blown up meaning everyone immediately collapsed on sight after changing into pajamas. samy made herself comfortable beside will who briefly scrolled through his phone. the girl had a small cup of ice cream in her hand, quickly offering some to the blonde. 

"mm love rocky road," will hummed as he took the bite. 

"i know we have the same taste," the brunette giggled. she fished around for the remote before turning the tv on the lowest setting and flipping to some random movie playing. 

the girl stretched out, letting her eyes grow sleepy. her head dipped onto will's shoulder making the boy flush briefly before he hooked his arm around her own shoulders. this wasn't abnormal for the two, especially after the past summer. they'd become a lot more touchy with one another, always poking and prodding—so a head on the shoulder as samy fell asleep wasn't something the two thought twice about. 

not until the morning where they were in the same position except samy's head fell more onto will's chest with one of her arms spread out across his torso. the guys woke up before they did and ryan was the first one to notice the sleeping pair curled up on the couch together. 

"dude, look," the brunette nudged drew's shoulder who slowly sat himself up while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

"are we sure smitty doesn't like her?" drew mumbled with a tiny snicker. 

"he's gotta or something. i mean look at them!" ryan exclaimed. 

all of the guys were still in denial about will saying he didn't have feelings for samy and never has. they were literally staring at the two asleep together. gabe, aram, and jacob woke up a few minutes later hearing ryan and drew's voices. 

"why are you guys talking so damn loud?" aram grumbled. 

"look at smitty and hughesy," ryan urged his friends. the other three shifted their gazes towards the sleeping pair and they immediately understood what the fuss was about. 

"damn. if i didn't know any better.." jacob trailed off earning laughs across the group. 

"should we wake them up?" gabe asked as ryan took some pictures on his phone for later use whenever will wanted to try and deny his feelings. 

"i think your voices were loud enough.." samy's eyes fluttered open. the boys immediately quieted down, but the smirks didn't disappear on their faces. 

samy slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. will shifted against the couch, his own eyes opening up too. 

"good morning love birds," ryan sang. 

"oh this again," samy playfully rolled her eyes. 

"what do you mean this again? you guys were literally cuddling," aram pointed out and all of the guys nodded in agreement. 

"and?" the girl raised her eyebrow, gazing over at will briefly who was now fully awake. 

"and? y'all are acting like a couple!" ryan exclaimed again. 

samy and will instantly bursted into laughter which left the boys silent and confused. 

"no, no we're just friends," the brunette got out through her laughter. 

"friends don't cuddle," drew cut in. 

"yes they do. i cuddle with my friends all the time. you guys are just afraid to," samy argued, pushing herself off the couch. she looked down at will for confirmation. he saw the guys' looks, knowing exactly what they were thinking. 

"come on, we're just friends. it's nothing," the boy agreed with samy. 

"exactly, thank you. can we stop making a big deal out of it and get breakfast?" the boys looked between the two for a few more seconds before deciding to drop the subject for now, but still not believing a word either of them said. 

[walkersbeloved]

while i'm face first in the bed

cw// first time

Simon’s lip twisted up into a snarl, a sliver of a pointed tooth peaking out, but he quickly deflated at Brendan’s unmoved expression.

“I’ve never done this before,” he admitted in a small voice.

words: 2.2K

Simon’s teeth dug into the plump expanse of his bottom lip as Brendan pulled his underwear down his legs, leaving him naked and exposed to the cool air of his bedroom.

Brendan was already naked, cock hanging heavy between his legs, and he was looking Simon up and down with an appreciative hunger. There was a small bottle of lube gripped tightly in his right hand and Simon eyed it intently as Brendan crawled between his legs.

Simon had never done this before. Not with a man. He’d seen porn and fantasized plenty in the private confines of his bedroom, but that was it. He thought about penetrating himself sometimes when he was in the throes of masturbation, craving something more than his hand on his cock, but he didn’t know where to start and the thought of trying made him nervous.

And Brendan’s fingers were thick and calloused. It was intimidating for a man who had never so much as had a tongue pushed inside his hole. He tried to imagine what it would feel like for one to push inside him, but his mind drew a blank.

“Simon,” came a familiar voice, accompanied by a gentle touch against his toned stomach. The hand stroked along the planes of his belly, memorizing the feel of his warm skin, stopping just below a small nipple.

“Simon,” he repeated when the man didn’t answer, pouring an almost nauseating amount of affection into the man’s name, “talk to me.”

Embarrassment colored Simon’s cheeks. There was an uncomfortable feeling gnawing at his insides at the thought of Brendan perceiving him so clearly.

“I—“ his brows furrowed in a deep scowl, “I’m fine.”

Brendan raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say you weren’t. I asked you to talk to me.”

Simon’s lip twisted up into a snarl, a sliver of a pointed tooth peaking out, but he quickly deflated at Brendan’s unmoved expression.

“I’ve never done this before,” he admitted in a small voice.

Brendan seemed surprised. “No men before Alice?” he asked, and then a small, amused smirk pulled at his lips. “Or during?”

Simon looked at him unhappily. “No, I didn’t cheat on my wife, Brendan.”

“No? So what’s this, then?” Brendan asked, watching the way Simon’s expression turned angrier with glee.

“This doesn’t count. We’re separated,” Simon huffed.

“You weren’t separated when you kissed me,” Brendan reminded him.

At that, Simon scowled and looked away. “This conversation is pointless, just fuck me.”

Brendan chuckled. An unlubed finger snuck between Simon’s legs to tease against his hole, not pushing in, only applying enough pressure that Simon could feel.

It was meant to be a bit of fun, something to get Simon in the mood and feeling playful, but at the distressed expression on his face, he paused.

With a sigh, he pulled his hand away and brought it up to Simon’s cheek instead, stroking it with a kind of gentleness Simon would have never expected from the man until recently. It was infuriatingly comforting.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised.

Simon instinctively fought back against such an idea. “I’m not a baby. You don’t have to coddle me.”

Brendan kissed him then, sweet and soft, their cocks brushing together through it, pulling a tiny whimper from Simon’s throat. His cock dribbled onto his stomach, creating an embarrassing pool of precum on his belly.

“I’m not coddling you,” he said when they broke apart. “I’m going to make this good for you.”

“You better,” Simon scoffed, an empty threat. He was flushed all the way down to his neck and leaking like a faucet.

Brendan gave him one last kiss, this one deep, his tongue sliding against Simon’s, lapping at the inside of his mouth, before pulling back to sit on his knees.

Kneeling between Simon’s legs, he slid his hand underneath a pale thigh and pushed them farther apart. Lube squirted onto his fingers with a wet noise, coating them in a glossy sheen, before the bottle was gently tossed to the side.

Simon eyed his hands wearily. “If this hurts I’m decking you in the face,” he grumbled, but the nervousness he felt was evident with every clench of his fist.

“It’s not going to hurt,” Brendan sighed. “Not on purpose, at least.”

He swallowed. “What’s it feel like?” he asked finally.

Brendan waited for the lube to warm as he spoke. “Dunno, I’ve never bottomed, but I’ve been told it’s odd at first. First finger is always intimidating when it’s your first time, but your body will get used to it.” His hand dipped between Simon’s cheeks, swirling a slick finger against his hole, only teasing for now. “Soon your hole will relax, allowing for more in, you’ll become so wet it’ll feel like you’re dripping for it, and then you’ll ask for more. You’ll want to be stuffed full and when that isn’t enough, you’ll start begging for something bigger.”

Simon’s gut burned with heat. “Brendan…”

His hole was opening steadily underneath the man’s ministrations and the tip of Brendan’s finger eased inside him all at once. The pressure was unfamiliar, building the further he pushed his way inside, and Simon let out a shaky exhale when the digit finally came to a stop inside him.

“How does it feel?” Brendan asked.

Simon’s face scrunched thoughtfully as he tried to adjust to the new sensation. “Different.”

Brendan hummed and twisted his finger slowly, careful to ease Simon into the sensation of him moving as gently as he could. “Good different or bad different?”

“Not bad. Just…different.” He bit his lip for a moment, letting it slide through his teeth as he looked at Brendan apprehensively. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Could you move a little?”

“Think you’re ready for it?” Brendan asked, twisting his finger inside teasingly just to watch Simon squirm.

And squirm Simon did, his legs kicking out instinctively beside him. “Just hurry up, Brendan,” he complained, voice coming out as an almost-whine.

Brendan pushed his finger against Simon’s walls, almost like he was trying to force them open, watching as his hole stretched and exposed his pink inside.

“Another,” he pleaded quietly. He bit his lip in an attempt to contain his moans.

“Already?” Brendan teased. “Someone’s greedy for their first time.”

Simon huffed and rolled his eyes. “Brendan.”

Brendan pushed forward and kissed Simon softly. “Ask nicely.”

There was a crease between Simon’s brows from where he was worrying them together, displeased. “Brendan…”

“Ask nicely, Simon”

“Fine. Please. Another.”

Brendan smiled and slowly eased his finger out, leaving just the pads of it inside, smirking proudly at Simon’s displeased whine from the sudden emptiness. His complaint was soon forgotten, though, when a second finger pushed its way inside along with the first.

He let out an embarrassingly high pitched mewl as his hole sucked Brendan’s finger in deeper.

“There’s a good boy,” Brendan praised him and Simon clenched around him in response. He flexed his fingers inside, pushing against his walls to stretch him for something bigger, delighting in the way Simon was digging the tip of a pointed tooth into his lip.

“Brendan,” he whispered, “fuck.”

The man looked utterly ruined and they had only just begun. Simon was a needy, desperate thing, so full of longing that he could hardly contain no matter how much he tried. It bled out of him like ink on a page.

His responding moan was embarrassingly loud. He sounded absolutely ruined. Brendan’s fingers stretched him wide and pushed in deep until they brushed against a walnut sized bump inside him.

Simon’s hips jerked with a moan that was loud enough to echo off the walls. “B-Brendan!”

The pleasure he felt was sharp and overwhelming, forcing moan after moan from his throat.

“Brendan, fuck,” he cried, his back arching as he tried to push himself back onto Brendan’s fingers.

They pressed against his prostate with every thrust, the pleasure tingling all the way down to his toes. “Bren, Bren,” he panted.

Brendan smiled from where he kneeled between Simon’s legs and teased a third finger against his hole. “You’re taking me so well, Simon. Just a little bit more.”

Simon’s hole opened for his finger greedily. “Mmh, yes, yes, yes,” he panted, rocking back into Brendan’s thrusts. His cock was a dripping mess against his belly, bouncing with every grind of his hips, smearing precum along the planes of his stomach.

“You’re going to make yourself cum before I can even get inside you,” Brendan teased and crooked his fingers cruelly so they’d press directly against Simon’s prostate. Simon warbled. “Brendan, please, I need more.”

“You’re so wet,” Brendan murmured, ignoring his pleas. There was an obscene squelching noise coming from between Simon’s legs where his fingers were buried deep inside him.

“Brendan,” he whimpered, face flushed and forehead slick with sweat. He looked absolutely ruined like this, looking at Brendan with pleading eyes, and Brendan wasn’t strong enough to resist that beautiful shade of blue.

Brendan removed his fingers slowly before slicking up his erection and pressing it against his wet hole.

“Are you ready?” he asked in a gentle tone. One hand rubbed steadily against Simon’s thigh.

Simon reached between them to grab Brendan’s cock and tried fruitlessly to push it inside himself. Brendan let out a surprised chuckle at his desperation before slapping his hand away gently.

His cockhead pushed against Simon’s rim, teasing only to see him squirm, before popping through. Brendan groaned shakily at the sensation of his walls squeezing around his cock. He was wet and tight, pulsating around him in excitement in between sweet moans.

Simon’s legs swung up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking at the middle of his back. He used the angle to pull Brendan forward, pushing more of his cock inside him with a shaky moan.

“Brendan,” he panted, “so—hah—so much.”

A gentle kiss was placed on Simon’s lips.

“There we go, taking me so well,” Brendan praised him with small thrusts. The tip of his cock just grazed against his prostate.

“Harder,” Simon whispered. His fingers gripped at the headboard behind his head, rough enough to break.

“Ease yourself into it,” Brendan said. “Not too much too fast.”

That only annoyed Simon. He used his freehand to grab onto Brendan’s shoulder painfully, fingers digging into his flesh.

“Harder,” he repeated, harsher this time, sounding very much like a brat.

Brendan rolled his eyes and pulled back abruptly, slamming in so hard the bed creaked, and startling a loud moan from Simon’s lips.

“Yes,” he cried and slammed his head back. It thumped against the headboard, but he seemed unphased as he moved his hips in time with Brendan’s rough thrusts. “Brendan! Brendan!”

“You sound so pretty when you cry out for me,” Brendan whispered into his ear, the soft hairs of his mustache tickling the side of Simon’s face. “You’re so loud, sweetheart.”

The red coloring Simon’s face and neck tinted a darker red. He looked annoyed at Brendan’s teasing, but his mind was incapable of forming any word that wasn’t a wanton cry of “Yes. More. Brendan. Harder.”

“Shh, shh, shh. Don’t try to talk. Just lay there and take it. Let yourself feel good,” he smiled and reached between them so he could grab Simon’s cock.

Simon moaned loudly when Brendan’s hand wrapped around him, using the mess of precum to ease the slide of his hand. It made a soft squelching sound.

His skin was tinted a soft red color, uneven splotches against pale skin as sweat soaked his hair. He looked holy like this, a work of art ripped straight from Brendan’s fantasies.

He needed a picture for his wallet. Something that could be tucked away in the corners of worn leather that he could take wherever he went, that anyone could see with one wrong move, but would ultimately always be for his eyes only.

“Brendan, I…” Simon trailed off, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his cock was stroked ruthlessly. His orgasm was wound tight inside his belly, balls drawing up between his trembling legs.

“Cum for me,” Brendan commanded in that soft, dominating tone and Simon obeyed with a high whine, painting his stomach and Brendan’s hand in a milky white.

His moans were quiet little things, soft and sweet sounds falling from his lips in short succession. His cheeks were still flushed that deep red shade, face now beaming in the afterglow. It made him look wanton and pornographic.

The sight was enough to push Brendan over the edge, spilling inside him with a groan, covering his insides in white.

Simon whined softly at the feeling and clenched around him, trying to milk him dry.

Brendan collapsed beside him with a sigh, still inside, and looked at him with an uncharacteristically warm expression.

“You’re much louder than I would’ve thought,” Brendan teased him lightly and Simon groaned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t do that,” he hummed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Simon’s ear. “I like it.”

Simon, in a moment of vulnerability, leaned into the touch. He kept his eyes firmly shut, not wanting to give away too much of himself, but allowed himself to take in the small comfort.

“Did you like it?” Brendan asked quietly as he stroked his fingers through Simon’s hair.

“It was good,” he said, voice quiet and embarrassed. “You came all over yourself,” Brendan reminded him, receiving a smack in return.

“Just. Shut up,” he grumbled, burying himself deeper in Brendan’s chest.

[nyenuma]

for @rokurookajima my love

They sat together that night and watched the season finale of Korra.

It was a pretty great episode. Wan thought so, anyway. It was the perfect blend of scary and exciting and cool, like all the best Korra episodes.

They watched the evil hybrid Unavaatu pull the Great Spirit out of Korra, bit by bit through her mouth. And then destroy the Great Spirit while Korra looked on helplessly. It ended on a cliffhanger—would Korra find a way to bring the Great Spirit back?

Raava shifted at his side. Wan tried hard not to turn and look at her. He liked watching the episodes with her but always felt so self-conscious, like she was watching him watch the episode, like she was a little person in his head looking through his eyes.

Or something.

But she wasn’t looking at him now. He studied her from the corner of his eye, saw her shoulders shaking and her throat working. She was crying. Her face was dry and she didn’t make a sound. But she was crying, like an alien would, her eyes wide and staring at the screen as the credits rolled.

He didn’t know what to do.

***

Later that night, when he curled up under his thin, stale-smelling blanket, she sat on the steps near him and said, “I’m leaving.”

He sat up—he couldn’t help it. Raava pulled back a little bit. He made himself hold still so she wouldn’t pull back more.

“Why?” he asked.

She shrugged. She’d crossed her arms on her knees and propped her head on them, so the movement made her whole body hiccup. “This place isn’t for me. I need to go somewhere I can be—real.”

Wan stared at her. A thousand thoughts ran through his head, clamoring together until they were just the mindless hum of TV static.

(don’t go—take me with you—you’re real to me—you make me real—)

All he said was, “I won’t have anyone to watch Korra with anymore.”

Raava looked at him. She really looked at him. She didn’t smile, yet her eyes softened.

She got up and went to the coffee table and rummaged there for a minute. Then she came back and knelt in front of Wan, on the stale blanket.

“Unbutton your shirt,” she said.

He stared at her. The room was so dark, still. The light from the old aquarium played across her face.

He unbuttoned his shirt. Just the first few buttons, and then Raava lifted her hand. She was holding a blue pen, the same color as the writing on the tapes she left him.

She leaned forward and pressed its tip into his chest, to the hard flat plane of his sternum where the skin stretched.

She drew carefully, surgically. Like the pen was a knife and she was cutting him open. Her breath blew cool against his throat.

Wan didn’t glance down. He stared straight ahead.

When she was finished she drew back and nodded, inviting him to look. He obliged, though he didn’t really need to; he knew already what it was, had recognized its shape as she’d carved it onto him.

The Great Spirit’s eye. A curling, four-pointed star with a circular pupil in the middle, just like the one that had shown up on Korra’s chest when they had reconnected in season three.

“There,” Raava said quietly.

She capped the pen and laid down next to him. Pretty soon she was asleep, her chest rising and falling in even rhythm.

But Wan was awake the rest of the night.