#I prefer rounder frames

[dyinglikenarcissus]

Folks 👏🏾 I bought my first glasses and sunglasses. Both Ray Bans because I’m an industry plant

[brittlebutch]

some early sketches of Augustus & The Changeling

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 3

"ain't no love and it's sure 'nuff a pity"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 →

chapter summary: [DUAL POV] The Prowler is someone you never thought you'd run into. Miles thought the exact same thing.

content/warnings: grotesque imagery, depictions of panic and fear, violence, arguments, etc.

word count: 5.8k (dear god)

a/n: thanks to @qiupachups for proofreading cause lord knows i wouldn't have... im not ok guys like actua

“And over here is our robotics department — my favourite, personally.”

All you could think about as the man in front of you talked your ears off — and walked your legs off — was how on Earth you ended up here, rooms and corridors deep into the Oscorp Industries. Trying not to get hit by speeding interns or bump into equipment that cost more than your school uniform, you’d been taking in the winding laboratories and offices that were well past the flashy displays at the reception for the past hour or so, led by the one and only… well, the man had yet to introduce himself since excitedly deciding to take you on a tour. Forming connections, as Ms. Weber had put it, was more exhausting than you’d thought.

“Take a look at this arm for a moment — trained completely on artificial intelligence, and moves just like the real thing!”

You just smiled and nodded, the muscles in your neck starting to hurt from the action. As you did, the metal prosthetic spurred into life, swaying and flexing its bulky fingers in what looked random enough; how realistic it seemed was debatable, though. You noticed small, engraved initials on the wrist, reading “O.G.O”, much like the prototypes in the flashy displays downstairs. You’d seen nothing of the sort up here until now, though. Maybe this one was was just special.

Regardless, you really needed to sit down at some point — preferably in some corner so people could stare at you less. There was always someone throwing furtive glances your way, and right now it seemed to be a gaunt-looking man you’d seen slinking around the department, now in the little laboratory full of strange-looking arms and mechanisms that weren’t nearly as functional as the “A.I” powered one.

“Thank you, Doctor…” You squinted, the faded remnants of the name “MENDEL STROMM” forming on his badge. “Stromm.”

“Professor. Professor Stromm,” he corrected, earnest yet almost with pride. “I always felt like a teacher at heart, anyway.”

You only managed to make it halfway through your umpteenth nod before something caught the corner of your eye. The catching of light from somewhere above you, just for a moment — insignificant, really. It seemed to catch your attention long enough for Professor Stromm to notice your attention had gone elsewhere, though.

“Oh, I must be tiring you. Do you like coffee?” You barely had a chance to open your mouth. “I'll get us both some coffee, God knows I need it— just give me a minute!”

Before you could answer, the man skittered away, his rounder frame creating a noticeable dispersion the sea of people moving through the hall until he was nowhere to be seen.

That left you, a random kid, in the robotics laboratory with probably more than one pair of eyes on you. Or maybe not; when you let yourself look around, there didn’t seem to be anyone in the lab at the present moment. Thank God.

A long-overdue sigh left your chest. As much as you'd been lucky to run into Stromm by the reception (before the less-than-polite receptionist could tell you to beat it), you never expected to be running around so much from place to place, trying to make mental notes of everything he'd been saying.

So far, you had “A.I. arm”, something about “gene editing”, some other thing about “99% efficient generators” and a whole other string of scientific jargon thrown in between half-finished explanations and sporadic spurs of Stromm’s recollection. Admittedly, it stressed you out a little; you constantly had the urge to take a piece of pen and paper and record everything he was saying but you only needed a few brief ideas to go off of on your college essay. That was, if you were even going to go into the science field. You still hadn’t decided, though, if you were going to keep performing like how you did right now in your AP classes, you’d probably have your decision made for you soon enough at the back of those lifeless vegan diners opening up everywhere.

Maybe you could get an internship here, if you were lucky enough. Had you been showing enough enthusiasm? It was hard to match. In fact, the man was so enthusiastic he drained the enthusiasm from you. His passion was admirable, but also somewhat pitiful — like he had nobody to truly share his passions with it. At least until a bumbling, bashful sophomore from Visions came along. You’d rather not think about it too hard — this room was starting to make you feel dizzy. It was like there was something wrong with the ventilation, but you didn’t dare go out, given you’d probably get lost in a minute or two.

It was a week into winter break already, and the realisation made you wince. Just a couple weeks into January and you'd be head-first into exams again, while all your friends who went to other schools lived their lives. Visions just had to be different, it looked like. A couple more of Mr Wellston’s unbearable classes before that, though — instead of learning any math, you’d mastered the art of having one eye on your handout and the other on Miles’.

Miles Morales — you’d almost forgotten about him. Almost. It wasn’t hard, given how every text you’d send him had been left on read. He could’ve been busy, (or given you the wrong number) but the dread of being in that careers fair full of freshmen alone was staring to creep up on you. At least a little confirmation that he wouldn’t disappear off of the face of the Earth this semester would be nice.

Hey?

There was a twang in your chest as you looked over your barren chat.

Read at 2:41AM

…What unethical sort of time is that? He could just be bad at texting — or he just decided to hate your guts now. Either seemed unfortunately probable. Were you enemies, or something? Were you supposed to be annoyed? You’d known this kid for a couple weeks at most. Maybe it was weird of you for wanting to get his number so soon. Miles had his own life, even though he walked you back to your apartment in the middle of nowhere that one time. Why did you even care so much?

Maybe there just wasn't enough time in the day for the both of you.

Beep!

To your surprise, Stromm had come back faster than usual. He had a hand over his face, adjusting his glasses, but… no coffee in sight. The door locked automatically behind him, his badge wrung awkwardly around his neck, like he’d just thrown it on.

“Is the coffee machine broken, or something…?”

“They're completely out of cups, I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.” You could’ve really use that coffee right now, you thought.

Still, you smiled at him, feeling the ache in your face smile with you. The man seemed to be pondering something, standing still with a slightly tense expression on his face. He looked like he could’ve used that coffee too.

“Are you okay, Professor?” You tried asking this as unassumingly as you could, but it got a twitch out of him anyway.

“Yes, yes, I've just lost my train of thought…”

You waited, the faint murmurs down the hallway and the strangled breath of the ventilation system above filling the void of silence.

“Are we going to the next floor…?” you suggested.

“No, no,” he said in that melodic way he did, putting a finger up. At least he was somewhat like himself — just thinking, is all.

You decided to be patient, turning your head to stretch your neck slightly, feigning interest in the light fixtures above.

Just what the hell was that gigantic, moving shadow on the ceiling?

“Um, well I think we should go, it’s kind of warm in here—”

“Actually, I think you could do something for me.”

“What is it…?” Your eye twitched as you noticed a figure starting to form from the shadow.

“You see that robotic arm?” The one on display or the one sticking out of the god damn ceiling? “I think you should try it on.”

“What? Really?” It felt like something you’d get in trouble for, but nobody else seemed to be around — except for, you know, the dark humanoid figure right above you. “I— I think I need to use the bathroom first.”

“It’ll be quick. I mean, it’s already hooked up!” Stromm was already reaching for the device.

“No, it’s okay—”

Krrrrr… Bzzzzt!

The room flooded with darkness. Every light had gone out at the same time, the whirr of machines and electricity dying out.

“What on Ear—”

All but for a blur of reddish-magenta light.

Before you could open your mouth, the sound of a ruthless, metallic thud emerged, immediately followed by the crunching of glass, and then a choked breath.

Your vision suddenly sharpening in the little light there was, you could make out the silhouette of Stromm, staggering into the display which held the arm. Where he’d just been was now a foot, faint purplish light glowing from the underside of a shoe.

And then, a grating mechanical sound followed — it sounded like something was snapping over and over, like the arm you’d seen in the display as it moved its joints. A rim of light flickered around what looked to be a sleeve, which was attached to a giant, metallic set of claws, the sharp edges of which caught the light.

“Who are you?! W—What are you doing here?!” the professor shouted out, his feet heavy and erratic on the floor as he tried to ease himself up. His voice came out strange and desperate, strained, almost unfamiliar. You’d think it was someone else if you didn’t know it was Stromm.

All you could do was watch, taking tiny, careful steps back as you tried not to breathe. The figure moved forward, at an unnatural angle, turning as its mechanical claw clenched and unclenched in a now almost seamless movement. You caught the edge of a strange emblem, scrawled messily across the front of what looked to be a suit. It was familiar, and it sickened you once you realised.

“—In this morning’s report we investigate a disturbing string of robberies and break-ins, suspected to be carried out by a criminal duo including—”

There was no mistake — that was…

“The Prowler,” a voice answered for you, crackling and modulated.

“—Norman Obsorn suspects that Oscorp supply chains have been intercepted—”

An ear-piercing buzzing emerged from the air as threads of energy sputtered from the glowing core of his arm device, climbing rapidly up to the centre of his palm. What formed was a concentrated mass of ebnergy, undulating between the claws and casting harsh shadows around the room. Your eyes darted to Stromm, heart in your throat as you expected to meet a horrified, helpless version of the expression he had mere moments ago — it was anything but.

His face was stuck, slack — near dead. And as you watched the energy inevitably grow, his face began to change. What was once the face of Professor Stromm amalgamated into a shapeless, fleshless form, his skin receding into itself and leaving pallid, bloodless sheets of muscle, twitching with thick shadows in the ever-expanding light. As he lifted his head, deep, glowing pits were in place of his eyes.

The same strange voice that came out of the face, you realised, had never been Stromm’s to begin with.

“You are making a mistake.”

Before you could react, your skin singed with heat, sparks rushing past like missiles as the room threatened to explode into white. That was what finally gave you the sense to run.

“—It seems the notorious criminal and his accomplice have increased their activity among a concerning rise of organised crime. Authorities think they could be affiliated with what is coming to be known as ‘The Sinister Six’—”

CRASH!

Beyond your covered ears, a dull boom reverberated through the lab, a million broken shards of glass and plastic flashing with the aftershock. If you were hurt, you didn’t know, adrenaline ushering through your body. Your heartbeat was sharp and loud, your hands were shaking, bile was coming up your throat.

Get me out of here get me out of here get me out of here leave leave leave leave—

Your eyes were painfully wide, stinging with tears, yet everything was overwhelming and sharp and bright — that was when you saw it.

Glass case. Fist. You gritted your teeth.

CRRAAACK!

Big. Red. Panic button.

SLAM!

Instantly, the room exploded with red, blaring light, sirens howling through the room and beyond the door, the lock disabled. You caught one last gaze from those white electric slits before scampering into the hallway, door slamming shut behind you. All you could hear was the clatter of your feet in tandem with your thundering heart, throat too dry to scream. You just needed to get out of here, they couldn’t catch up with you — they wouldn’t.

Shoving past alarmed faces, you advanced to the end of the hall. Stairs — safest bet.

You scrambled down the dingy stairwell, hip throbbing with pain as you turned sharply against the railing down to the next floor. Sweat prickled at your skin, and you tried to breathe. The stairs seemed endless, but you were soon on the bottom floor, dragging yourself to follow everyone else leaving the building. Until you got out, you wouldn’t slow down.

Staggering into the cold, thin wind bit at your skin, the faint cry of police sirens from somewhere you couldn’t see. You tore the visitor’s badge from around your neck, filling your lungs again in big, painful gulps and squeezing your stinging eyes shut.

Never have you been more grateful to breathe in the musty Brooklyn air that you so, so hated.

“Miles…”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ thinking straight!”

“Miles.”

“I swear I had him I just—”

“Miles!”

“What?!”

“Jesus Christ, man. Calm your shit!”

Miles tensed as Aaron gave him a firm slap on the shoulder, the sick feeling in his throat easing just a little.

“It ain’t your fault.” The cool, collected voice of Uncle Aaron, much to his dismay, managed to break through his racing mind. It was his fault — everything was his fault. He’d messed up everything!

“Yes the fuck it is!”

“Watch yo’ mouth.” Aaron had a sudden severity in his tone, kicking Miles back into normality.

“Sorry,” he mumbled back.

Miles elbowed the punching bag beside him, unable to meet his uncle’s eyes. He’d let the man they’d been chasing for the past month to get away, all because he’d been too hasty — too immature. And you had made a stupidly smart decision to press that damn alarm.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he mutters again, voice seeming to fight itself.

“It’s not your fault,” Aaron repeats.

“He’s gon’ kill more people regardless. He could’ve killed—” He bit his lip, hard; your name was right at the back of his throat.

Aaron met his gaze again, but he didn’t give him the courtesy of returning it, eyes stuck to the ground.

“…There sumn’ you’re not tellin’ me?” Aaron asked.

Miles just shrugged, bottom lip freeing itself with the lingering sting of his teeth. There was probably a lot more than there should be that he hadn’t told his uncle.

Walking over to the drawer, he pulled out the dusty old case file. It had tattered corners and the paper had a weird feel to it, like it was from a long time ago: 3 years, to be exact. It was an older case that had re-emerged some time ago — the last case his dad was involved in.

Flicking it open, he was met with all the reports and notes, ones he’d grown sick of seeing: “Unidentifiable suspect”, “vague circumstances” and “unverifiable” were some of the few reasons why. They weren’t going down the “typical” route of investigation, but it didn’t make it any easier that they could break down a few doors without a warrant.

For the past month, Miles had been searching for leads, clues, chasing down suspects of these missing person’s cases — all of them leading him right back to where he started. Every time he thought he was getting closer, he’d go back a hundred steps. Everything about this case lacked any sense of logic; people would disappear without any sort of reason, completely by random. There was no pattern to these cases, except for the fact that whatever circumstances that surrounded them were vague and undetailed.

No name, no face, no form. But he’d finally managed to catch the fish at the end of the hook, following someone who had yet to go missing: a certain scientist at Oscorp industries, who worked in robotics and hadn’t been seen for 24 hours, but showed up to work the next day somehow.

That man had followed another scientist — Mendel Stromm — only to come back in his body. Miles had let it happen, out of necessity, he thought — to finally see what was going on. And he did, he saw the man transform into Stromm. He saw the man walk back into the laboratory and act as it nothing had happened.

And then, he saw you.

You. He wasn’t blaming you for this, was he? No, it wasn’t your fault, you just happened to be… in severe danger.

Miles could’ve prevented this, had he not been so desperate — so conflicted. He could’ve texted you back, told you to stay away from Oscorp instead of typing and deleting the same awkward replies late at night.

And he was supposed to go back to school and see you, and do that job fair with you, right after he’d saved— Right after you saved yourself — from the Prowler. From him.

“You alright?” Miles whipped his head around to see Aaron looking at him, a slight hint of concern in his face.

“Yeah—” He stopped himself from saying sorry. “Gonna head home.”

Miles pushed the drawer shut, feeling the eyes of the people he’d left behind on him — more recently, Mendel Stromm. He wondered if they blamed him just as he blamed himself.

As he walked back to his apartment, he slipped on his jacket — Uncle Aaron’s jacket. He even felt guilty for wearing it, damn it.

Shutting the door and world outside behind him, he took a hesitant glance at the shoe rack. His mom’s shoes were missing.

“Took an extra shift. Dinner’s in the microwave. Tqm!" (Ily!)

“Y yo te quiero,” (And I love you) he mutters to himself, careful not to crease the note between his fingers.

At least she’d never find out. His mom would be off work soon, so he’d get to spend time with her, hopefully. He was just busy himself, with school starting again next week, the job fair, a million different quizzes, meetings with the guidance counsellor…

His dad’s anniversary was right in-between that.

Miles folded up the note, and then tossed it in the trash. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but he hadn’t done any of his work for the winter break.

So, with a deep breath, he headed to his room, sitting at his desk. Miles tried to ignore the numerous sketches of his own gear, and half-finished faces as he tried looking for a pen in his drawers.

One drawing caught his eye, a familiar face. Well, it wasn’t exactly a face. It wasn’t finished yet, but he could picture the way it’d look if it were finished. It was “a friend”, he’d practised telling himself in case his mom decided to clean his room without telling him — you, without an expression but the curve of your cheek and the start of your hair he’d been so focused on instead of your eyes whenever he’d talked to you.

“~Ain’t no love… and it’s sure ‘nuff a pity…”

As he opened his notebook, faint music played from his phone, in an attempt to get him to focus. Still, he wondered if you’d find it weird that he drew you, how you’d look at him if you ever knew about it.

Miles wondered how you’d look at him if you knew he was the one at Oscorp — The Prowler.

“Guys, I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No shit!” The sound of laughter burst out in the room. All you could do was sigh, head on your desk.

Winter break had gone faster than you’d expected, especially given the amount of time you spent in the police station. They asked you the same questions, over and over and over, until you started to doubt your own memory. It was probably necessary, to prove you weren’t lying, or something, but it was exhausting, and you were just glad it was over.

“Why were you in Oscorp to begin with?”

“Do you remember the exact time it was before he left?”

“Are you certain it was Dr. Stromm that walked in?”

“You’re sure?”

You didn’t want to think about it, and you didn’t need anyone else to know either. It was better to pretend nothing happened, and that you’d had a productive break like everyone else apparently did. Bunch of try-hards.

The problem now, though, was that Mr. Wellston thought it’d be a good idea to disappear on you right before your midterm. He was supposed to finish teaching integration by now, but your class was far from — and of course, it was coming up on the exam.

You didn’t have a supply teacher either, though that was a good thing. Maybe Wellston would get fired, you’d get a new calc teacher, and all would be right in the world. But for now, you had to deal with these overly-pretentious people you called your classmates, (and always seemed to be okay with Wellston’s incompetence for some reason) talk about how easy the exam was gonna be, and about the homework that Mr. Wellston never checked anyway, and about college — because all anyone ever cared about here was getting into an Ivy. Maybe you should’ve just gone to public school. You pushed that thought back before you could seriously started to consider it.

Instead, your thoughts went to the person slouched at the desk next to you: Miles, the kid that had suddenly lost all interest in talking to you entirely. It wasn’t just the boredom of having Calc BC last period, too. For one, he’d never try to start conversations anymore, and two, you couldn’t even hold a conversation with him if you wanted to. When you greeted him in the hallway today, he just walked past, not even bothering to look at you. Maybe he hadn’t been busy over winter break like you thought — he’d just been ignoring you.

“Bro, that’s Principal Evans! Shut up!”

You squinted your eyes, heart dropping as you saw the Principal advance down the hallway, right towards your class. Miles didn’t move at all. In fact, he looked like he was… asleep?

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

“Miles…!” you whisper-shouted, shaking his shoulder to no avail.

Sighing, you thought about slapping him for a moment before deciding against it, shaking his shoulder it a second time, The boy got up with a start.

“Huh…? Wha… what? What do you want?”

“Prin… ci… pal..!” you mouthed, furrowing your brows at him and pointing to the door.

“Oh, damn…” He stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes before straightening up on his chair. As much as Miles liked to annoy teachers, anyone would quickly come to learn that annoying Principal Evans was a death wish — from both her, and your parents.

As he fixed up, you caught a glimpse of his face for the first time today. So much for promising to not look at him. Exhausted wasn’t enough to describe it — he looked like he’d gone to war, or something. At least you’d managed to sleep well enough, without dreaming about Oscorp. Count your blessings, I guess.

You didn’t have much time to relish in your few blessings, though, as the tall, well-dressed woman stopped by the door. She peered in, before her brows knitted together, opening the door.

“Y’all don’t have a teacher?” she said, in that quick, strong voice that put you all on edge. Some of you had the confidence to mutter a “no.” or shake your head. “Who are you supposed to have?”

She shook her head as your class answered, pulling out her phone.

“Gimme one second. I don’t care if the period’s almost over. Fifteen minutes of class is fifteen minutes of class…”

You held back the urge to sigh again. If Wellston showed up, he’d probably force you all to stay back an hour and “catch up”. That, and you had the careers fair to help out with right after this period. The door closed again as Principal Evans took a call outside, and you let your eyes shut.

“Hey Martin, I’ve got a class here that…” Her voice fading into the background and your class starting to murmur again, you opened your eyes, only to catch Miles’ gaze just for a second.

“What?” you said, looking at him, though it came out a little too confrontational.

“What?” he mirrored back, though it came out a little too much like a statement. Miles — always good at making you feel stupid, you supposed.

“What’s up with you today?” you started, deciding it was better to bite the bullet.

“Nothing. Why?” Maybe not.

“Are you going to the careers fair…?”

“I kind of have to.” You probably should’ve slapped him when you had the chance.

“…Yeah, but—”

“Alright! Silence!” Principal Evans was at the door, holding it open with her foot. “Nobody’s comin', so y’all gotta do some work until the bell. I do apologise.”

There was a little commotion as people “got to work”, and you shot Miles one last glare before pretending to be interested in the notebook you’d had closed all period.

And so, fifteen minutes passed by with the sound of scribbling next to you, and when you stubbornly tried to peek, his arm just had to be in the way.

A lot was in the way between you two, it felt like. So much for being friends.

The bell finally rang, and you stretched a little as people left, preparing yourself for another hour or two before you could go back to your dorm. At least you wouldn’t have to talk to Miles, you had… freshman to talk to. Maybe this was a learning opportunity — I hated freshman, but from participating in a careers event at my school, I learnt that they’re not just people I have to shove past to get into the cafeteria. At least you didn’t have to put that abysmal sentence in your college essay until next year.

The chair next to you screeched, making you jump a little. You stopped yourself from cursing under your breath, noticing Principal Evans still lingering by the door. She was ushering the last people out, a crease between her brows.

“What class is this?” Her voice was directed at you, you realised.

“Calc BC,” you replied.

“Calc BC…” She seemed to emphasise every sound as she talked, as if she was thinking about something important. “Well aren’t you a bright bunch?” You managed a tiny smile, feeling like you weren’t a part of that “bunch” at the moment.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but… do you know what happened to Mr. Wellston?” you asked, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. You couldn’t believe you were asking about him, but you really needed to figure out how you were gonna pass — and soon.

“I know as much as you do,” she shrugs, earrings swaying as she turns her head back to her phone. “If you wait, I might be able to find out for you. Is it urgent?”

“I mean…” you started, before you felt a slight nudge at your arm.

“We’re gonna be late.” Miles gave you an unreadable look, and for some reason you relented.

“It’s fine, Principal. Thank you.”

“Take care now.” She moved out of the way for you to leave, but before you did, she spoke up again. “Oh, and Miles — I’m already making arrangements, so expect me to call you up at some point.”

“Cool. I mean— okay, thanks,” he mumbled, starting to walk down the hall.

You followed, having to push to keep up among the many students that were moving past. Damn fast walkers…

Feeling the uncomfortable need to talk, you opened your mouth. “We’re going to the gymnasium, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When can we leave?”

“Like, 6pm, or something.” Great.

“That late? How long’s the fair?”

“Thought you’d know.” Oh, maybe.

“I would, if someone told me,” you huffed under your breath.

There was another stretch of silence between you, the school starting to empty as you walked towards the other side where the gymnasium was. Miles didn’t have his earphones in, so there wasn’t much of an excuse for you to be ignored. Somehow, that made you feel less confident to speak.

“How was your break…?” you tried. He was unresponsive for a moment before shrugging.

“Boring.”

“...Yeah, same.” You didn’t sound very certain. The look he gave you made it clear he could tell. There was an uncomfortable pause that made you regret talking in the first place.

“…You okay?” he asked, suddenly.

“What?”

He took in a deep breath, looking at you more seriously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… why?” You raised your brow at him, even if he couldn’t see.

“Don’t need a reason to ask.”

“I’m pretty sure you do.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“How the hell was that a rhetorical question?”

“That one’s rhetorical too.”

When you realised what he meant, you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the stupidity of your conversation. You thought you caught the corner of his mouth raise too.

“Good thing Ms. White doesn’t pick on you, then,” you joked.

“Watch it, I got an A in English.” The way he said it almost made you laugh. Almost. You wouldn’t give him that.

“Right. And what don’t you have an A in?”

“Calculus.”

“No way…” You gave him a dubious look. “Seriously?”

“A plus.” He was definitely holding back a smile.

“Shut up.” You held back your own smile, too.

The both of you made it to the halfway-point of the campus, where the greenery and outdoor seating was — the place where they’d take all the promotional pictures. If only they could maintain the rest of the school like that too. Though you had to admit, it was a nice day out for January.

Miles stayed silent as you walked. You decided to stay skeptical for now, but a part of you also really just wanted to get along with him. Better than being annoyed at his existence for the next 2 hours.

Maybe he’d just had a bad day — or a bad winter break. He’d been absent for a while, anyway. That wasn’t for no reason. Maybe he just had a lot on his plate. A lot to catch up with, especially.

“How are you getting As anyway? Haven’t you like… missed a lot of classes?”

“I guess.” He shrugged, and the setting sun made it clear that he looked more frazzled and tired than usual. His hair looked like it hadn’t been re-braided in a while, though you wouldn’t tell him that.

Still, when he squinted uncomfortably at the sunlight shining right in your direction, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes again. One was slightly more green, the other slightly brown, coppery flecks in each. They were barely distinguishable in the dim fluorescent light of the school, but you couldn’t help but stare.

He was damn pretty. He was everything, it seemed. Smart, interesting, unique, mysterious, good-looking… You cringed at the realisation that this probably wasn’t a normal thing to think about someone you were supposed to be mad at. Were you supposed to be mad at him…?

“Guess everyone that goes here is a genius huh?” you continued in a rhetorical fashion, a part of you hoping he’d made the same awful joke again,

“That include Rafael?” You pressed your lips together at the mention, stopping the laugh from forming.

“He’s…” you tried, and failed. “Definitely something.”

“You’re smart, though.” You almost stopped walking. He said it so quietly you almost thought you’d misheard.

“I am literally failing Calc.”

“You’re almost failing Calc,” he corrected.

“I will be failing Calc in a week’s time.” You might as well admit it. The thought of that exam next week was hopeless.

“You ain’t even that bad at it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s just practice.”

“Right, right, yeah. I’ll do that.” You didn’t sound very reassured. Miles didn’t seem to be in the mood for reassuring, either, shoving his hands in his pockets.

As you approached the gymnasium, you recognised more of those colourful, weirdly-designed posters, the ones you’d posted around school. Who even made those…?

Someone else was in the distance, walking around the corner. You did a double-take as you elbowed Miles.

“Hey, is that…?” You trailed off, the two of you stopping abruptly.

“The hell is he doing here?”

“No clue. Why’s he coming this wa—”

Suddenly, you felt yourself being pulled behind one of the pillars, and then directly facing Miles.

“What are you doing?!” you whisper-shouted.

“Just shut up for a sec…!” he whisper-shouted back, widening his eyes at you before peering past your less-than suitable hiding place.

His face was just a breath away from yours, arm blocking you from moving, or really seeing what he was so desperately trying to look at. Your heart was starting to thump in your ears, and you couldn’t find it in you to breathe, eyes fixed on his hand curled around your wrist for a moment before he let go, focusing on what was in the distance.

“Nobody’s seen him all day,” he mutters to you.

“Yeah, I know, but why are we hiding?”

“He’s— Just keep still.” He giving you a warning look, much like the one he gave Rafael — this time, with a hint of worry.

Deciding to keep your mouth shut, you dared to look past the pillar, just as he did.

There, approaching the gymnasium back door, was Mr. Wellston. The man came to a stop, walking awkwardly beside the wall, glancing around as if he was trying to avoid something.

In a split second, he disappeared behind one of the pieces of foliage. Miles stared hard, grabbing your arm and advancing the two of you closer. You were confused, before Miles’ grip on your sleeve tightened. Only then did you see it.

Almost seamlessly, Wellston disappeared, taking on the form of a police officer, yellow visitor’s badge around his neck — P.C. Williams, officer for the careers fair.

“Jesus Christ…” Miles muttered, eyes fixed on him, right until he went through the gymnasium doors.

You thought the exact same thing.

thanks for reading and soz for the VERY late update im literally being teabagged by my real life lol! lmk how u found it yasss like and subscribe hit that bell

reblogs super appreciated! go back to the series masterlist here or find the rest of my atsv stuff here!

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[czenzo]

Watch Out for Skull – Chapter 2

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

summary: Lucy takes on a cat-sitting job for a stranger, hoping for a quiet week in a nice London flat, with free food, no bills, and enough time to finish an art commission. But the cat is a menace, and the stranger’s friend is ridiculously charming—and a huge distraction.

rating: T words: 2,048

note: I visited home today, which meant I edited this chapter while being pestered by my own two cats, who are the most loveable, attention-seeking little creatures I've ever met. I'm starting to realise I may have taken more inspiration from them for Skull than I thought…

Lucy awoke not to birds chirping, nor an alarm beeping, but a single cat screaming so loud she feared for the window panes.

As Skull paused to catch his breath, Lucy closed her eyes in relief, but the sudden, sharp noise of something clattering to the floor had her shooting out from under the covers. She cautiously peered over the back of the sofa—it was pulled out into a bed, which wasn’t the comfiest, but it was preferable to sleeping in George’s—to inspect the damage.

A picture frame lay face down on the floor. Skull looked down on it from his vantage point on the cabinet.

Lucy’s silently repeated mantra of please don’t be shattered, please don’t be shattered must have been heard by some higher entity, because when she slowly picked the frame up she found it still intact, glass and all. The picture within was of two teenage boys grinning with their arms around each other. They wore matching white polo shirts graffitied with messages and doodles in a rainbow of colours, the school leavers' tradition, and Lucy promptly realised what the thinking cloth reminded her of. One of the boys was clearly George, with a rounder face and wider eyes, but the other boy, dark-haired with a dazzlingly bright smile, Lucy didn’t know.

“He’s bloody lanky,” she murmured as she carefully put the frame back in its place. She shoo-ed Skull off the cabinet and coaxed him towards the sofa bed, hoping to distract him with the plush, kneadable duvet. He fell right into her trap, leaving Lucy feeling rather proud of herself and free to enter the kitchen without the possibility of Skull destroying everything.

Lucy popped the kettle on and peered in every cupboard in search of the tea, then stumbled upon a treasure trove—English breakfast, Earl Grey, Green, oolong, matcha, chai, chamomile, Darjeeling, ginger, stacks upon stacks of colourful boxes, some describing flavours she’d never heard of in her life, in flat bags, pyramid bags, loose leaf, sachets…

The kettle pinged to signify it was ready. Overwhelmed by choice and reminding herself she had a whole week to be adventurous, Lucy plucked a bog-standard English breakfast bag from a box and plonked it into a mug adorned with He-Man’s face, accompanied by the caption ‘A good cup of tea is the colour of He-Man’.

As she reached for the kettle, the unmistakable sound of the front door’s handle rattling echoed through the flat.

The door creaked open.

Skull scuttled into the kitchen, wide-eyed and fur stood on end, and she picked him up to soothe him. She crept across the room, every step increasing her heart rate, then froze when she heard footfall heading her way.

Someone turned the corner and entered the kitchen.

It all happened rather quickly, really—Lucy had no choice but to act on instinct.

Skull screamed. Lucy held him out in front of her. Whatever words were about to come out of the intruder’s mouth were cut remarkably short as a flurry of paws and claws descended upon their face and torso.

The person stumbled backwards, pressing themself against the far wall, and when Lucy realised he looked oddly familiar she lowered the deadly feline in her hands.

“Oh my G—” He heaved, hand braced against his chest as he came down from his panic. “Christ. I think I almost had a heart attack.”

“Who are you?” Lucy demanded, raising Skull back up in the air between them, an unspoken but certain threat.

“Who are you?” the man replied, incredulous. “Where’s George?”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. The man straightened and pushed away from the wall. Upon seeing his height and long limbs to their full extent, Lucy realised where she knew him from. “Are you his friend?”

“I like to think so,” he said, with a smile Lucy assumed was supposed to be charming. “Again, apologies if I’m being rude, but who are you? Why are you in George’s flat?”

She gently wobbled Skull in the air, as if to prove her point. “I’m cat-sitting.”

The man’s face was blank for a moment, before lighting up in realisation. “Ahh, I see. I could’ve sworn his trip was next week… Though I’ve never been one for calendars and keeping on top of schedules. That’s George’s thing. I’m Lockwood,” he added, holding out a hand.

“Lucy.” Both of her hands were full of Skull, so she resorted to manoeuvring him to gently tap Lockwood’s hand with a paw.

Lockwood flinched away. “Please don’t. He hates me.”

“Sorry.” She gently lowered Skull to the floor with a frown. He had gone oddly quiet. “Is that why you couldn’t look after him, then?”

“Indeed it is. He’d claw my eyes out in my sleep, or piss in my shoes, or carry out some other dastardly act of torture,” he said, cautiously eyeing the mass circling Lucy’s legs. “This is George’s first trip away since taking him in. Skull can be a bit…” he gestured vaguely. “So he was a little concerned about finding the right person.”

Skull began to nibble on the hem of her sock. “I reckon I’ll be alright.”

“What a strange little creature,” Lockwood mused. He raised his eyebrows. “Well, sorry for disturbing you. And startling you.”

“Sorry for shoving an angry cat in your face,” Lucy added sheepishly.

“Water under the bridge, Lucy.” Lockwood smiled again, and this time, Lucy was unnerved to realise she did find it rather charming. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

He turned to head for the door.

Lucy's mouth opened before she could process her thoughts. “I just popped the kettle on, so you’re welcome to stay,” she called after him. “If you want.” There was also the matter of the Swiss roll, which she really didn’t want to go to waste. Ten in the morning was a reasonable time for cake, right?

Lockwood turned back around, smile widening.

–––

After the sofa had been restored to its original form, and the small coffee table was relocated in front of it to store their tea and cake, Lockwood fished the TV remote from the depths of the cushions (so that’s where it was hiding) in an act of familiarity that told Lucy he spent a lot of time here. He turned the TV on, then paused. It had been left on a documentary channel.

“Do you mind if we keep this on? I’m quite fond of whales.”

Lucy huffed a laugh into her mug. “Go for it.”

Lockwood inhaled the steam from his tea—he’d gone for the Earl Grey—and sank back into the cushions.

Skull jumped up into the space between them. In the blink of an eye, he aggressively batted Lockwood with a paw before hopping over Lucy’s lap and wedging himself in the small space between her thigh and the arm of the sofa.

“I’ve never done anything to hurt him, honest,” Lockwood insisted. “He knows I’m friends with George, and I’m here more often than my own home, yet he still treats me like I’m some…” he sipped his tea while he reached for a word. “Fiend.”

“You know George from school, then?” She took a bite of Swiss roll and almost failed to hold back a mortifying groan of pleasure; it was dangerously delicious.

Lockwood frowned, and Lucy nodded to the picture frame. He smiled in recognition. “Ah. Yes, I do. He got the highest grades in our year group. I managed to beat him in history, though.”

“You like history?”

“My parents did. I listened to enough of their passionate ramblings to give me a partial PhD.”

The past tense didn’t escape her notice; she quickly thought of something to back out of that line of conversation. “Do you know Holly, then? Holly Munro?”

Lockwood nodded as he balanced the plate of cake in his lap. He began to methodically unroll it, transforming the Swiss roll into a long Swiss snake, before ripping bites off bit by bit. “I do. Incredibly lovely woman. How do you know her?”

“She’s my flatmate,” Lucy said as she watched Lockwood rip off a small chunk of his cake snake and daintily pop it in his mouth. She wearily eyed her own slice and the giant bite taken out of it.

“I see. What’s she up to nowadays?”

“She writes for a fashion magazine.” The name escaped her, which came as no surprise. She had never considered spending her hard-earned money on a magazine that would try to tell her she couldn’t wear Converse with every single outfit (Holly did that more than enough). “She’s hoping to break into the design side of the industry, though. I don’t know much about fashion, but she seems to have a good eye for it.”

“Good for her,” Lockwood said fondly. It surprised her to hear how sincerely he said it; she hid her expression by taking another bite of cake. “What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Lucy hesitated. As nice as he seemed, Lockwood was still from Holly’s hoity-toity southern school. The chances of him not taking her career seriously was worryingly high—but damn it, for all intents and purposes, this was technically her flat for the week. She could chase him out with Skull if he turned out to be an arse.

She ran a reassuring hand through Skull’s fur as she responded. “I work part-time in a cafe to pay the bills, but I do art on the side. Hoping to eventually make that my full-time gig.”

“Really?” Lockwood’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and Lucy steeled herself for the incoming ridicule. “What kind of art do you make?”

Lucy’s hand stilled on Skull’s head. Here, she could feel the gentle rumbling of his quiet purrs. “I mostly work with acrylic paint. On canvas, usually. That’s what all my commissions are in, anyway. I sketch all the time, though. Helps clear my head.”

Lockwood’s eating slowed. “You take commissions?”

She nodded, feeling the beginnings of heat in her face. “I’m working on one now, actually, for a friend of Holly’s. I booked the week off to work on it while I’m here. George is letting me use his room as a makeshift studio.”

Lockwood’s gaze darted to the bedroom door.

“No,” Lucy said immediately. Startled by her own sudden brashness, she sank further into the sofa. “I don’t like people seeing my works-in-progress, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Lockwood said with a smile. “Though I am curious, what’s the subject?”

“A really flashy portrait. I get the impression he’s a bit of a snob, so—”

“Wait.” Lockwood paused. “Don’t tell me his name is Kipps.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes and ate the last of her slice. “How the hell did you figure that out?”

“He also went to the same school as us. A couple of year groups above, in the same one as Holly. We both went to fencing club, and my God, did he hold a grudge against me. You jokingly prod a man in the backside once…”

Lucy snorted, startling Skull and sending him racing into the kitchen.

“Shit,” she hissed, chasing after him. “Sorry, he just— he can’t go in— oh my God, stop squirming away!”

“It’s alright,” Lockwood called as she wrestled to keep Skull in her grasp. “I ought to get going now, anyway.”

When she finally succeeded in ushering Skull out of the kitchen, Lockwood was by the door, tugging on his long coat. “It was lovely meeting you, Lucy. Sorry again for the intrusion.”

“No worries, honestly.”

His slim fingers toyed with the hem of his coat. “Are you up to much this week?”

“Not really. Working on the commission, keeping this little menace in check…" She shrugged nonchalantly. "You’re welcome to swing by and watch whale documentaries any time.”

Skull watched the swaying coat with sharp slit pupils. Lockwood eyed him cautiously. “Something tells me he wouldn’t be very happy about that.”

In a movement that was becoming all too familiar now, Lucy stooped to bundle Skull into her arms. He dug his claws into her skin as a silent warning, or perhaps to convey his displeasure at being taken away from his prey. “He’ll have to suck it up.”

[youremyheaven]

Models Who Are Not Naturals (Kibbe)

We know that the modelling industry is dominated by FNs/Flamboyant Naturals since clothes are made for a rectangular frame and not customized to the curves and contours of a specific body. Models who are frame dominant are preferred because they can advertise the clothes as they are instead of having it tailored to fit them.But all of that aside, I thought it'll be interesting to find models who do not have a typical FN build.

Keep in mind that almost all the women mentioned below are over 5'7 and with Kibbe's height restrictions in mind, at that height, only a few IDs are possible (SD, D, FN). Since this is a post about models who aren't FN, this list will largely feature Ds & SDs.

For context, this is a typical FN build. Cindy Crawford is a verified FN. She has broad shoulders, a square torso and an overall athletic build. FNs are likely to have an inverted triangle like frame.

Adriana Lima, Dramatic

She's 178cm and thus has automatic vertical. Her overall body is very sharp and angular, she does not have an athletic build or physique. She's just long and sharp?? if that makes sense

2. Stephanie Seymour, SD

90s Victoria Secret models were often SDs, voluptuous and curvy and Stephanie is a great example of it. Its only in the 2000s & since that FNs began to dominate the modelling industry.

She has double curve and has a fleshy, curvy physique.

3. Miranda Kerr, Dramatic

Her physique is so similar to Adriana's. Very long torso's, sharp limbs and angular

4. Laetitia Casta- SD

Her bustline and hips are curved which is what is meant by double curve. So she looks softer and rounder. Her yang comes from her height

5. Tyra Banks- SD

6. Karen Mulder- D

Longer torso, longer overall body, very sharp and angular looking

7. Heidi Klum- Dramatic

8. Helena Christensen- SD

9. Ming Xi, D

10. Chanel Iman is a FN but I'm including her anyway because she can easily be mistyped as an SD or something

11. Irina Shayk, Dramatic

12. Eva Herzigova, SD

13. Rania Benchegra, SD

14. Kaia Gerber, FN (i know she seems like a Dramatic but she's a Natural all thru)

15. Kate Moss, Flamboyant Gamine

16. Devon Aoki, Flamboyant Gamine

17. Chloe Sevigny, Flamboyant Gamine

18. Anok Yai, Pure Dramatic

19. Adut Akech, underweight SD

20. Emily Ratajkowski, Flamboyant Gamine

21. Chrissy Teigen, SD

22. Camille Rowe, Soft Gamine

23. Adwoa Aboah, Flamboyant Gamine

24. Agyness Deyn, Dramatic Classic

25. Joan Smalls, Dramatic

26. Milla Jovovich, DC

27. Sasha Pivovarova, Dramatic Classic

28. Amber Valletta, Dramatic Classic

29. Candice Swanepoel, underweight SD

ive reached the image limit ,, ill make a part 2 in the future<33

[lulu24784]

🖸 ──» south park tattoo artist au headcanons :

main 4 + butters headcanons for an upcoming fic

stan 🖸 specializes in: blackwork tattoos 🖸 hates sitting for too long 🖸 frequent smoke breaks 🖸 needs to be listening to his music when tattooing 🖸 refuses to do any color 🖸 definitely acts like a rockstar and thinks he'd kick ass at inkmaster 🖸 not always the nicest when he's frustrated; like if his client isn't sitting still. he will definitely tell them they need to or he'll stop and won't finish the session that day 🖸 rotary machine usually 🖸 his station is sleek; black and grey themed. almost empty looking, he doesn't have much hanging up. feels very medical

portfolio: preferences to skulls, abstract, blackout sleeves

kyle 🖸 specializes in: neo traditional 🖸 asks if you're okay every 5 minutes 🖸 "do you need more pillows? water? sugar??" 🖸 "if you need me to stop for any reason at all, don't hesitate to let me know, okay?" 🖸 other than that, he doesn't talk too much during the session. he's too focused 🖸 very detail oriented 🖸 wireless rotary machine all the way 🖸 stencils you like 2-3 times; "hmm i dunno the placement is weird?" "dude i said i liked it, it's fine. am i paying your hourly for this??" 🖸 walks you through literally every step of the tattoo process. goes to wipe with soap: "okay, so this is gonna be cold okay?" 🖸 he just wants you to be happy in the end 🖸 his station is a bit cluttered, but it's organized clutter. artwork hung up in matching regal frames and plants on his storage shelves and in hanging baskets.

portfolio: preferences to lady faces, botanicals, animals

kenny 🖸 specializes in: neo traditional + but is an all-rounder can literally do anything 🖸 studio owner 🖸 always smokes weed before a session 🖸 pretty chill; he's a laid back boss. as long as you're clean and professional he doesn't care what you do 🖸 likes to take his time and do good work, he did work hard for this career after all 🖸 loves getting to do stupid tattoo ideas but is usually stuck doing bigger piece work; he gives the fun stuff to his apprentice 🖸 CHATTERBOX. literally does not shut up during the session, always cracking jokes 🖸 definitely the life of the studio; makes everyone feel comfortable and welcome 🖸 rotary or coil depending on what he's doing 🖸 generally keeps the main studio area organized; has plants that he gets kyle to take care of. his own station though... oml. it's chaos. random mismatching frames with prints of dicks and memes all over the walls. his shelves probably have random knick-knacks he thrifted, like... idk a furby, some random porcelain horse?? just the most weirdest shit. his ink wall is very organized though somehow..

portfolio: preferences to peonies, irezumi style, ignorant style

eric 🖸 specializes in piercings 🖸 definitely gets a kick out of hurting people 🖸 has a big ego because of what he does 🖸 surprisingly very professional when it comes down to it 🖸 makes his clients comfortable and sometimes jokes around with them 🖸 gets nervous before every appointment; always a little afraid he's gonna fuck up 🖸 always keeps the a/c cranked so his clients are less likely to pass out but it makes everyone miserable with how cold it always is in the studio 🖸 thinks he's hot shit because he's the best piercer in town; it definitely fuels his already massive ego 🖸 definitely the type to bitch about problem clients 🖸 has superhero prints hung up in his station and funko pops on his storage shelves; but his station is fucking spotless otherwise.

portfolio: preference to cartilage, septums, nostrils

butters 🖸 specializes in: kawaii style, anime, cartoons 🖸 kenny's apprentice 🖸 the most nervous wreck of a tattoo artist, cries after almost every tattoo 🖸 runs the social media for everyone and manages the front desk 🖸 basically the "shop bitch" that has to do apprentice duties like cleaning and running errands; kenny's generally pretty easy on him though 🖸 gets all the tattoo's nobody else wants to do, but it pushes him to learn 🖸 slowly making a name for himself though as the only tattoo artist in SP that does anime tats 🖸 gets all the hello kitty girls as clients 🖸 the artist you want to go to if you need a mini therapy session. will tell you to dump your partner, move out of the city, and go travel with the $2 you have left in your bank account after the tattoo lmao 🖸 rotary only. Kenny wanted to teach him how to use a coil but figured with the times he might as well just show him the basics 🖸 pink station! stickers everywhere! he's got a heart ring light to take pictures for his portfolio. his shelves are full of plushies that clients have bought him and anime figures. also has a hello kitty water cooler that he uses for his distilled

portfolio: preference to color, sanrio, anything adorable!

[mychlapci]

I have this idea that, on a pre-war Cybertron, every city state modified their enforcers a little in an attempt to make The Best Ones depending on their city’s specific needs. For some, that was splicing mechanimal coding into their enforcers to create better trackers or hunters. In other states, it’d be diplomatic programming or specialized mods like tac-nets or additional sensors. Praxus, though. Praxus spliced their enforcers with nanny-bot coding, and that’s why they’re all /like that/.

The Praxian populace in general has been trained to see their enforcers as helpful and safe authority figures (whether thats actually true or not) over several generations. They’re a decidedly well behaved city-state. In general, a sharp word or a disappointed Look is enough to stop any mischief, which is how the upper class prefers it. On very rare occasion, they’ll have to swat someone’s aft to get them to listen. The enforcers, of course, are never too stressed out bc their coding is always telling them that their charges are well-behaved and taken care of. So no chance of a revolt there, either.

The trade off for this is a few… changes to the enforcers’ frames. Nothing too extreme, mind you! Just rounder, softer faces and wider hips and huge, milky tits. Y’know, little things. Any praxian can walk right up to an enforcer and (provided they aren’t actively following up on a crime or incident) get breastfed. No native praxian thinks this is weird, and think that the gawking foreigners visiting are the bizarre ones. Out-of-town friends often have to be coaxed into nursing, but then can’t seem to get enough! Always taking pictures and vids, allegedly as souvenirs.

But hungry bots get cranky, and cranky bots act out. It relaxes the enforcers, too, and takes care of the issue that would be having to pump the entire force at regular intervals. Having a few enforcers posted in public plazas or at any upper class party is a must! It’s very in vogue to have a few officers standing around to act as an energon fountain. The official address for them is, of course, Officer. But slipping up and calling an enforcer Nanny or Mommy won’t upset them, and instead satisfies their coding immensely. A relaxed praxian enforcer is a supremely indulgent one, much more willing to allow mischief or light mayhem.

Criminals trying to abuse that nature are more likely to find themselves in a cell with a sore aft, rather than getting away with anything, though. They’re still trained enforcers, and although they rarely /use/ their pursuit coding or any kind of combat programming they still /have/ it. It is almost universally agreed that it’s better to just not stir up that enforcer coding, because its rare usage makes the mechs all the more eager to really /race/.

Anyway, after the fall of Praxus, the few living enforcers practically have their coding scrambled. There’s no room for relaxation when all of their charges are misbehaving! And unlike the well-trained praxians, they have no inclination to tolerate the micromanagement, herding, or nannying of any fucking /cop/. It leaves the enforcers high strung and bitchy, surrounded by naughty charges and with achingly full titties. Even on opposite sides of the war, praxian enforcers refuse to engage each other in active combat—they’re of the opinion they need all the help they can get with sorting this mess out.

Anyway, all of this to say that Prowl’s awful attitude can be fixed by sucking his sore tits and calling him mommy. Satisfying his coding makes him almost normal, actually, and relaxing from his permanent state of alertness softens his features. Prowl’s “charges” don’t even need to actually obey him to get rewarded at that point, as long as they’re seen “trying”. It’s not these poor mechs’ fault they weren’t taught how to behave, after all! Look how hard they’re trying :( And of course the fastest way to neutralize a praxian enforcer is to just breed them. Getting them pregnant overwhelms the enforcer coding almost entirely, and leaves them even more warm and indulgent than ever. The downside to this is that both the Autobots and the Decepticons will have to be very careful not to set these nanny-bot cops off, or both sides will get taken over by praxian enforcers who have entirely run out of patience lol

this is what i like, weird ass world-building around an extremely specific fetish scenario is my life-blood. tbh, if the police force was replaced by a lot of strict, plump, milky mommies, crime rates would go down so fast. I bet Praxus has some of the lowest crime rates around.

Prowl is only really a prick because he hasn't been able to fullfill his purpose! Praxian enforcers are meant to have their big tits out and let hungry mecha lap at the nozzles, but there hasn't been any of that lately, not in a long time. Mommy is so frustrated :(

Thankfully, some bots remember the old praxian practices, and during one of Prowl's hissy fits, one of them gets brave and asks the good officer to please let him suck on his titties. Prowl looks like he's going to yell some more but then he just melts. He's so excited to be a mommy again, and his titties need a milking. Slowly, more and more mechs start coming to Prowl, and his attitude improves ten-fold. He's a soft mommy that just wants to keep his charges fed as they fullfil their duties <3 Pregnancy basically completely reprograms Prowl's entire processor. He's so happy with his big belly, constantly nuzzling up against bots and offering them his milk...

[icanseethefuture333]

hello, I'm your new follower, I saw your reading of Taeyong and Mark and I found it interesting because I already guessed it a long time ago, like your reading really accurate, I don't understand why many people don't agree with Mark's ideal type because it seems so obvious? Of course it's impossible for Mark to express his wild/dark desires openly, it's not like Mark wants someone completely innocent, can I ask you to read Johnny's? because from all of them I had a hard time guessing his because I think Johnny's placement is the type who looks like he likes something bold and pleasured but on the other hand is also safe and stable? if that makes sense. he looks picky but appreciates all the women around him and it becomes difficult to know the type of woman he really dreams of, thank you.

have a good day.

A reading on

Johnny from NCT's ideal type:

Qualities:

Johnny looks for someone who is able to rely on him during through the hard times, be tender and sincere, as well as being optimistic. He could like for his partner to be a bit clumsy and naive? Johnny finds this adorable. He could like for his partner to be able to cook or have traditional values such as wanting to have a family or fit the typical roles of a husband and wife. Someone with a warm presence and is naturally kind hearted by nature would win his heart. Johnny could be more reserved, so he would like for his partner to bring him out of his shell and be someone who is outgoing, friendly, and adventurous. He would like to travel or do fun, risky events with his partner (for example maybe bungee jumping or rock climbing?).

Personality:

What Johnny finds attractive in a partner is someone who is playful, smart, and open minded. He could find it attractive if his partner pretends to be innocent sexually or acts clueless like "omggg did I do that?🤭 I had no idea 👀😈" (channeled song: Oops! I Did It Again by Britney Spears) 👀😳. Johnny is more dominant by nature so he could like if his partner takes a more submissive role. Regardless, he still values his partner's thoughts and opinions, so someone who has good communication skills would be important to him as well. Johnny is turned off by someone who gets overly jealous and lacks trust, so he would want his partner to talk about their wants, needs, and fears with him. Emotional and intellectual intelligence is a big turn on for him (sapiosexual?). The desire to travel here is showing up again, he wants to see the world with his partner. Johnny would find it attractive if his partner tells him the stories of their life or anything about their culture.

Physical traits:

When I saw The Hanged Woman card I was shocked honestly because I was getting a vibe that Johnny wanted to say a few things sexually about his ideal type but was refraining himself from doing so and the cards said here is a confirmation 😂. For what he finds physically attractive is obviously someone with a nice figure or body. If they are curvy or have a "fertile" figure (Johnny did not like this term, I heard him say "ew", but thats what comes to mind when I think of this body type 💀), such as wider hips or hourglass frame, that would immediately draw his attention. Also a pretty ... um- (channeled song: Pussy Talk by City Girls ft. Doja Cat). He could also want to have a baby with someone and settle down soon.

Prefers someone who is feminine or identifies with those pronouns/gender

Athletic women (think of like girls who play volleyball, run track, etc)

Casual style or sporty chic

Toned muscles

Light or "no makeup" makeup looks

Natural beauty

Facial features that could be described as "elegant" or "sensual" (a mix of softness and sharpness in the bone structure. Rounder almond eyes and full lips)

Grown woman body (fully developed and done with puberty - curvy, wide hips being significant).

Nice backside (back, hips, and butt)

No preference regarding hair style, color, or texture ("What she decides to do with her hair is none my business, as long as she's happy, I just like when it's styled nicely." - Johnny)

No preference regarding skin color

"Fresh eyebrows"??? He likes when they're threaded or waxed.

Soft hands (this isn't so much about looks, but he likes the way they feel)

Pretty feet

Someone within his age group or slightly older.

Around his height or shorter

"I'm not picky as in when it comes to like what their racial background is and stuff, but more so how they keep up with their appearance and everything. I don't wanna sound shallow, but I prefer someone who's clean and dresses nice since I do the same. When can have our lazy days together at the house." (Channeled song: Best I Ever Had by Drake)

Celebrities/influencers who are similar to his ideal type: Cenit Nadir, Alisha Boe, Isabellemathersx, Jihyo, Lola Tung, Crystal Serrano, Marilyn Melo, Aisha Potter, Christy Turlington, & luna444

[bluvlet]

top five in9 costumes? :3

Ooh this is an interesting question! These aren’t going to be ranked in the sense I prefer one more than the other, it’ll just be a list of five I like! Also I’ve never sat down and properly thought about it before, so apologies if the reasonings are a bit lacklustre.

5. Rudolph (A Random Act of Kindness)

I really really like drawing this guy. Long hair and greying hair are both characteristic that just really appeal to me visually, and I find them really fun to draw. Also i like the subtle differences between original timeline Rudolph and the alternate Rudolph that appears in the episode. Original Rudolph has his hair tied back, less facial hair, and smaller, more rectangular glasses. He feels a lot more put together. Alternate Rudolph wears his hair down, his facial hair is more grown out, his glasses are rounder frames that, if I am picturing him correctly, don’t fit his face as neatly. His more laid back appearance reflective of how much less important he is in this timeline, and how aimless he tells Zach he feels. In his video to himself Original Rudolph is dressed neatly in black and blue; Alternate Rudolph looks like he’s had the life sucked out of him, standing around in baggy white and grey. (Zach is also dressed in white in this scene. I wonder if it has something to do with it being his mother’s funeral - a reversal of the traditional custom of wearing black? Whatever reason, it makes the alternate timeline look so strange and sterile.)

4. Ronnie (Wise Owl)

Ronnie’s costume does very well to be a physical representation of his mental state. I think it’s good that we never see a change in costume (even though you would expect him to after the bath incident) or see him take off his shoes (as far as I’m aware). I like the colour choice of orange and pink, I can’t explain it but they feel like very hopeful colours to me - compared to say, if he was wearing red. But they also remind me a bit of fire, and Joanne’s pink birthday balloon. I like the detail of his hair being the same, still long enough to conceal the burn scar on his ear… The wig itself was rather horrendous though.

3 + 2. Blake + Drew (The Trolley Problem)

Ugh he’s not talking about The Trolley Problem again is he…. Individually I love Blake and Drew’s costuming, but I also love how they visually contrast each other! Blake wears a white jacket overtop a black shirt. And he accessorises himself with bracelets and necklaces and a ring on his middle finger. His hair is styled upwards and white, but not quite entirely, and is still a bit dark around the back. Drew on the other hand wears his darker colours on his outer layers, with his white shirt peeking out from underneath his jumper. He is dressed plainly, without accessory, and his hair is black and flat to his head - but neat. I just love the visual dichotomy of the two of them, urgh they fascinate me endlessly.

(Also this is not a serious point but I find it a bit funny that Blake wears glasses, and lacks the ability to see the wider scope of Drew’s plan. Glasses are a universal icon of intelligence, particularly academic, but wearing them indicates that you have imperfect vision. Your glasses can be taken from you, and you can be left ‘in the dark’.)

1. Pierce (The Bones of St Nicholas)

I have nothing remotely serious to say about this I just love his christmas jumper and his hat and him matching with Posie. They’re so cute. I can’t wait until December, and it becomes the appropriate time of year for me to draw fanart of this episode.

[seaescapologist]

Since I've been waiting for Year 4 of the story for so long, kind of wanted to ramble for a bit, both about my impressions and theories. So, spoilers below the cut.

So now that it's confirmed that it was Elliot who was watching MC. I am even more convinced, that Elliot's sixth former associate (the only one that hadn't been caught by the Ministry) is probably why Ollivander noted that there is something familiar about MC. It also all better explains an actual reason why Elliot needed Daniel, since even if he simply wanted an ally at Hogwarts, a third year no matter how talented at potions is a bit of an odd choice (especially if they are the only one).

Also I feel like it also adds fuel to the fact that Hagrid was sent with a letter to MC intentionally, and not because they now do that for all muggleborns. But not as certain about it.

Still wonder about Winifred's warning though. Since it wasn't just about him watching. But that he will try to pose as a friend, which Elliot did both with Daniel. But also now with his 'friend of all' speech. At this point I am more inclined to believe it's less of a kind of 'seer-like' prediction, and more likely a warning from that Sixth Associate using Winifred as a conduit. After all if it was someone who knew Elliot well enough, they might predict what he'd try to do just based on their experience, especially if something like that happened with NOTME. And it'd make sense that it's down in a roundabout way, if that person doesn't want Elliot to find them, approaching MC directly isn't an option.

Also been thinking about Elliot's true motives and what caused his falling out with original NOTME. Admittedly it's all more of a conjecture. I have a feeling that NOTME (and more specifically that Sixth person), found some way. To give/amplify magic. Though I obviously don't think it would be that simple, there likely is a price and some limitations. And there was a conflict as to how to use it, maybe even if they should at all, depending on the price of the power (or maybe Elliot straight up wanted the power to himself). But something like that fits with the name of the game 'Magic Awakened', right? It would fit why Winny abilities (I'd say it's fair to say legilimency), became so much stronger if that sixth person indeed used her as a way to warn MC, so they likely had a contact with her. So I do wonder if MC's magic was 'awakened' in this way.

Anyway, mostly done with theories, so more of a general thoughts about Y4! Originally Y4 felt a lot weaker than previous years, but it definitely picked up at the end, I enjoyed those final parts. Even if in part we are roughly back where we ended Y3. Well, aside from Cass being set up as a friend of course. And part of me hopes that Kenji was set up to transfer to Hogwarts (he has motives - finding a cure for his curse AND he clearly seems to be more welcome there at this point), but that might just be wishful thinking on my parts. But it would be a nice way for the game to add another Forbidden Forest and dance companion, without it feeling like they came out of nowhere.

I hope Y5 finally gives focus to MC. They finally got a chance to shine in Y4 (but mostly everyone did). But it'd be nice if they finally started feeling as a protagonist. Also kind of wish they weren't just framed as an all-rounder. I'd prefer if MC had their 'own thing' too, like all companions do (ideally based on our choice of course. but either way something would be better than nothing). Magizoology and transfiguration still seemingly not tied to anyone right (like Ivy's expertice at charms, Daniel's potions etc)? Would be neat if in Y5 MC got a chance to become an animagus. Especially with Abigail and maybe/hopefully Kenji transferring, it especially could come in handy.

What else? Ngl, I was a bit disappointed about Winny's character, maybe because it's so completely different from how she spoke/acted in both Y1 (flashback) and in Y3, so maybe I built up some expectations in my head? Or maybe because I wasn't expecting to get a clarification about her warning so late, so i felt robbed. But I am still curious about Warrington family. Even back in Y1 it felt odd how Ivy's grandmother chose to handle it. But now, despite previously apologizing for hiding things from her, once again we learn things were hidden thanks to her instructions. Idk, there is something there. Recently stumbled upon a concept of Ivy's and Winny's mother, so maybe it all somehow ties back to whatever happened to her.

On a final note. MC punching Viggo had no business of being so funny, one of the highlights of the year for me! So yeah, don't know if anyone read all this. But it was nice to put my thoughts in writing even if they are all over place.

[miekasa]

Thinking thoughts about Satoru…like how handsome he looks when he’s wearing sunglasses :/ bet that man has a whole collection of versace and prada

Hehehe... sorry for taking forever to answer this, but, unfortunately, I agree, and I think about this all too often ://

He’s got a million pairs—some colorful, some bedazzled, some square, round, cat-eye—but most are black. Relatively simple looking, awfully expensive if you get too close. There’s something about the way he is with his glasses; casual, rehearsed—they’re not an accessory to his outfit like they would be for most people—it’s part of him, his everyday, and he looks really good with them. 

He’s trained himself to easily adjust his glasses from falling off his nose when he’s leaning over you, hugging you from behind, or being just plain nosy about what’s on your phone. You always tease that if he gets any closer or looks any harder that his glasses are going to fall off, to which Satoru always smiles and nudges his head against the side of yours to push his frames back up. 

When he is worried they could fall off, he always finds some place safe for them, whether that’s rushed into your hands, stuffed in your bag, placed on top of your head, or even right on your face. The latter is his personal favorite, always giving you a kiss to the tip of your nose before sauntering off to do whatever impromptu and reckless activity he had up his sleeve. 

He does let them fall on purpose, sometimes. When you walk by in his favorite pair of jeans on you, when you’re wearing that lipstick he likes, when he catches you in his clothes, when you two meet up for a date after work—Satoru will tilt his head down, pull his glasses down enough so you can see his eyes trail you from top to bottom and then back up again before he lets out a whistle that he knows will get him scolded, but he can’t help it. You’re pretty, he wanted to make sure he got a good look.

He hardly ever insists on driving himself, but when he does, it’s usually in the summer in a tiny two-seater with the top down that lets him feel the wind in his hair and he demands you join him in a duet of pop songs sung at the top of your lungs. When the wind gets too erratic (and you and Satoru have gotten far enough outside of the city that going as fast as he likes is somewhat acceptable), he’ll push his glasses up to act as a headband, and you get an even better view of his face, wide smile and crinkled eyes as he tries to hit notes way out of his range. And on your drive back, when the weather is calmer and the sun has set, Satoru once again entrusts his beloved glasses to you, finding time to snap pictures of you sleeping in the passenger seat at red lights. 

Even though black frames are his preference, he has a slew of bright colors and unusual designs. Some he has just to have—collectables, my dear, he always reasons when you question their practicality. But some are just pretty. Though you think he looks good in his usual selection of rounder, black glasses, you can’t help but to be partial to a purple pair he owns, if not for the way the color looks against his hair and skin, then for the soft purple to blue gradient of the lenses that frame his eyes in such a lovely way. And even though the lenses are transparent enough so that you can still see his eyes when he’s wearing them, Satoru has caught on to your preference, and always makes sure to lean his glasses down far enough on his nose and spare you a wink when he puts them on. 

[msmc-796-official]

Ooh, I got a good ask for the squad.

What's each of your favorite mechs from each manufacturer.

// Ooh - good ask! Let's see...

IPS-N: I feel I'm biased towards IPS-N since I grew up around so many of their mechs on Pyxis, but I gotta say Raleigh. Love me a good gunslinger mech; would have chose one of those over my Dusk Wing if I hadn't taken so well to sniping. (Kidd is a close second; I enjoy how much their pilots commit to the pirate theming.)

SSC: Dusk Wing. Hands down. 10/10 mech, only thing I have against it is how fragile it is. Being invisible most of the time is all well and good, but I don't think it would kill them to give it enough armor to survive more than one solid hit before dying.

HA: Eugh. Do I have to? ...fine, fuck it, Sunzi. Not because blink tech is cool (which it is, I'll admit), but because los Voladores have some serious stones on them for keeping it out of the hands of HA for so long, and even then they held onto most of their secrets.

HORUS: Hmm. Bit torn on this one, but I'll have to go with the Calendula. Dislike for the Baronies aside, their alt frames have some really nice aesthetics, and the concept of a melee-oriented Minotaur that can banish people to the ether is really fun.

my turn next! let's do this...

IPS-N: lancaster, my absolute beloved. as a mechanic myself, we love and appreciate a dedicated support mech in this house. ours will be a spring wedding (provided we find a planet where spring actually exists as a season, that is)

SSC: y'all might think I'd say mourning cloak on this one, but you'd be dead wrong. that ugly hunk o' junk is only one of many of their HORUS-wannabe frames. (besides, liches and calendulas do the whole teleportation thing so much better, PLUS they don't fucking get lost in the void for all eternity if it goes wrong.) where it's really at is the white witch. ferrofluid armor that's activated by damage AND hurts people? sign me the FUCK up

HA: easy question. tokugawa. been my mech of choice for years now, and I don't plan to change that anytime soon. decently speedy, high damage, hits harder when it's close to exploding. what more could you possibly need (well, besides a ramjet)?

HORUS: so many good choices, so little time. gotta say I'm a real fan of the kobold - we respect the Ungrateful cause in this house. real cool of the HORUS cells out there to donate such a bangin' print code entirely for free - usually you gotta bribe someone for an entirely new mech like that. it does its intended job really fucking well, plus it's out there for literally anyone to download off the Omninet for free. solid mech, no notes, definitely earned its spot on my list

> Last, but certainly not least. Hmm...

IPS-N: While I do enjoy my current Caliban, my true preference among the IPS-N frames leans more towards the Tortuga. It's a solid all-rounder that can deal and take hits with equal ferocity, and truly excels at its role as a defender.

SSC: Agility-based mechs have never been my forte, I'll admit. If I must choose from their lineup, it would be the Monarch. Missile systems have always fascinated me - I am a rather hands-on combatant, both by preference and by nature, and the idea of playing an artillery role for a change is novel to me.

HA: Given my recent interest in adding explosives to my mech's arsenal, the Iskander has caught my attention as of late. The ability to turn a battlefield into a minefield is one very few mechs capitalize on, and a few well-placed explosives can turn the tide of battle very rapidly. Plus, the ability to repel both your own and enemy explosives to protect yourself and allies is incredibly useful. (That being said, its history as an anti-guerilla minesweeper during the Orrugi Occupation is not to be ignored. It is first and foremost a tool of brutal colonization, just like every other Armory mech on the market.)

HORUS: ...I dislike HORUS mechs. Greatly. I shall choose the Gorgon out of posterity, only because its intentions are honest from the moment it enters the battlefield: protect its pilot at all costs, even if it means obliterating all that surrounds it.

-- Angel, Slisphod, & Lockbreaker

[k00297230]

Animation 2

Hello you glitzy gargoyles!

Still trying to develop ideas I decided to do some basic character work to get a better idea of the type of story I'm trying to tell. I wanted the child to look helpless, pitiful but endearing so that it's jarring or comedic to see them go through more peril.

I was playing with basic shapes and silhouettes to see what would work best to portray this character. Initially I thought a rounder body or head with small hands would work well to give an imitation of a turtle being flipped on its' back unable to get back up. I even looked at them having no arms at all to show how helpless they were to get back up. I played with different eye and head shapes, mix matching them until something stuck. The character was a child so I thought making half their body their head would accomplish this if not the sheer size difference between them and the adult.

I thought of going the complete opposite direction where the kid is more scrawny looking with elongated arms to give an almost opposite effect. the idea that the child could get up but is moping or sad to the point where they don't even want to or feel they deserve it. I then started playing with colour on a separate sheet to see what would look best. I preferred the dull cool tones.

While I was drawing up the character I found it resembled the player default character from animal crossing a bit

I added some simple physical traits to them to get across a story through just visuals. I did this with the bandage on the face, dark eyes, runny nose and a blushed, marked face and muddy shoes.

I really like the character I constructed and found it kind of resembled Michael Yagoobian or 'Goob' from Meet the Robinsons and reminded me of the phrase "Keep moving forward" in the movie. This prompted me to think more about my project as a whole and how it would connect with my other disciplines more smoothly. I liked the theme of moving through adversity, brushing things off through life and the keep it movin mentality.

with this broader concept I was able to confidently develop my work further and deepen my ideas. The animation was originally going to be a simply story of a man pushing a kid off a swing and jumping on it himself, but maybe the child is a reflection of the adult and shows two sides of approaching life. One filled with optimism and the other, pessimism. I found the swing to be a successful object to represent this as we often swing back a forth between these two outlooks in life and the swing is often used where a character is seen sulking alone in media where as in real life I find swings to be a more playful and joyful presence to me.

With this I pursued my storyboard. Although I liked the different ways camera angles were used in 'Pearl' I felt a more simplistic still frame would work best with the suspense or anticipation with maybe one or two cuts to different camera angles. I kept in mind that the animation would strive to be roughly 10 seconds long so I planned the timing and elements I wanted to incorporate around that.

Although the concept was more developed I still wanted to keep the face first impression to remain the same as the original idea. I kept this in mind when approaching my other character page. I went through the same process with the second character while trying to create a resemblance between himself and the child as they represent two sides of the same coin. I still wanted them to be quite different as I wanted to retain that face value dark humour.

I played with shapes again, while keeping similar aspects of the child but making them look distinct and their own in an adult way. I made the shapes more bulky but sharpened the face to a pentagon and changed the eye shape to show a more positive expression. I wanted to keep the skinny arms to sort of show that even though both have an almost equal amount of agency in their lives one who has taken a more positive route has matured and is happier. I added sleeves to show this growth while still showing a sliver of their arm to portray this. This didn't nearly take me as long to do as the other character page as I was kind of basing it off the other character but I had fun with the colour tests.

I definitely wanted the colours to be brighter and not as dull to illustrate the difference in attitude and perspective each character has. I wanted to keep the blue, blacks and greys of the other character to show that the adult is still sad but approaches their problems with a brighter outlook, even if it difficult. Although there isn't any distinct features of the adult I sort of like the normalcy seen in them as it would contribute to the creepiness or out of place actions they take in the animation, which I hope will enhance the dark comedy part of the animation.

I am very happy with the work I've been able to develop so far and hope to start the actual animation soon to provide more time to properly showcase my effort.

[spicykaraage]

Tenipuri Complete Character Profile - Kiyosumi Sengoku

[PROFILE]

Birthday: November 25th (Sagittarius)

Blood Type: O

Relatives: Mother, Father, Older Sister, Squirrel Monkey [23.5]

Father’s Occupation: Accountant

Elementary School: Yamabuki First Elementary School

Middle School: Yamabuki Junior High School

Grade & Class: Third Year | Class 3-3 | Seat 14

Club: Tennis Club (Regular)

Committee: None

Strong Subjects: Japanese, Engineering, Math

Weak Subjects: History (especially the years)

Frequently Visited Spot at School: Cafeteria

World Cup Team: U-17 World Cup Japanese Representatives

Favorite Motto: “Fortune is fickle and blind.”

Daily Routines: Checking the morning horoscopes on TV, eyebrow grooming

Hobbies: Fortune-telling, looking for cute girls

Favorite Color: Any lucky colors

Favorite Music: Female pop songs

Favorite Movie: Charlie’s Angels

Favorite Book: 367 Days of Fortune-Telling ➜ Astrology books [23.5]

Favorite Food: Okonomiyaki, monjayaki (especially with pork and green onions [23.5])

Favorite Anniversary: Every day is a special day

Preferred Type: “All the girls in the world!” ➜ A girl who could be even cuter [23.5]

Ideal Date Spot: Riding a ferris wheel ➜ Uluru, Australia [23.5]

His Gift for a Special Person: “Of course, I’ll give you ‘happiness.’”

Where He Wants to Travel: Sedona, Arizona

Thing He Wants Most Right Now: Nadi Astrology leaves ➜ Healing crystals, a cute girl’s contact info [23.5]

Dislikes: Being tickled (he’s fine with it now except his sides [23.5])

Skills Outside of Tennis: Simple magic tricks, lacrosse

Spends Allowance On: Fortune-telling magazines

Routine During the World Cup: Posting nonstop on social media, sending Line Stickers repeatedly

[DATA]

Height: 170cm ➜ 172cm [23.5]

Weight: 59kg ➜ 60kg [23.5]

Shoe Size: 27.5cm

Dominant Arm: Right

Vision: 1.5 Left & Right

Play Style: All-Rounder

Signature Moves: Tiger Shot

Number of Girls He Approaches: Seven a day on average

Favorite Brands:

Racquet: MIZUNO Wenew 900Ti

Shoes: HEAD C.Tech 6000 MID

Overall Rating: Speed: 2 / Power: 3 / Stamina: 3 / Mental: 5 / Technique: 4 / Total: 17

Kurobe Memo: “When I see his luck in action, it makes me think that there’s more to it than just superstition. Perhaps he’s on the verge of being mind controlled. It may be hard for him to improve even with the sleek way he plays.” [RB]

[POSSESSIONS]

What’s in His Bag:

PuriKura album // He likes to use regional-themed frames

A pen

Cell phone // He takes pictures with everyone before and after his matches

Game Boy Advance

Comb

Lapis Lazuli // A stone that represents his Zodiac

Tarot Reading book // A book written by Fuji’s sister Yumiko, who is also a fortune-teller.

Oil absorbing sheets

[lemmilemura]

So, I’ve decided to basically give you all a list/post about my specific headcanons/how I view both versions of Simon in my head. This will include some look changes, personality, and stuff like that

Book Simon

Basically like Show Simon but with glasses, more on the rounder frame shape

Cold. Blue. Eyes. Very important

Has mental health issues (depression f.ex, as already stated in the book)

Distant parents

FTM (more ’explained’ here)

Very introverted and anti-social

Probably has social anxiety and sticks to Janae as much as possible

Him and Janae spend basically no time apart (her family is also probably not as present in her life)

Needs reassurance a lot

Plays acoustic guitar(helps him calm down when anxious/stressed) but way too selfconscious to play infront of you

Show Simon

Loveable asshole

Very sarcastic

Loves subtly messing with people (like them getting angry and him just acting like he has no idea why and smiling ’innocently’)

Biggest flirt behind closed doors, loves seeing you flustered

Spoils you to hell and back (he got that moooneeey)

Doesn’t give many chances (you mess with him you get 2 max before he exposes everything he has one you, which is never little)

Plays guitar, drums and piano (I mean come on, they probably have a fancy grand piano), plays to you if you ask, plays drums to let out energy

Only cares about Janae and Maeve (and you) genuinely and refuses to post about them

Gets very protective

Can get pretty cocky because of the power he has (god complex loading...)

Will only be soft if with you and if he gets tired, otherwise he’s a flirt

Secretly ripped(just imagine it 😍)

Alright, here’s all that comes to mind right now, maybe I’ll add more later, but I’m not sure. As you can see, to me Book and Show Simon are basically two completely different people xD And I personally prefer show Simon sorry book baby <3

[wogglessunglasses]

Stay Fashionable with Rectangular Sunglasses for Men 

Are you looking to get a sharp look this season? If yes, then buying a pair of rectangle sunglasses would be the best decision to make.

This is a season of joy and exploration, and a little focus on your style can definitely pay off. Among the many sunglasses styles available, rectangle shades stand out for their perfect blend of vintage appeal and trendy fashion sense.

Whether you are a college student, businessman, or working professional, rectangular shades for men offer a versatile style that suits everybody. With a classic geometrical design, these mens sunglasses look stunning.

Top Tips for Styling Your Sunglasses

In the following, we have mentioned the most popular sunglasses styling tips that will help you look your best:

Match with Outfit 

Just wearing sunglasses for men is not enough; you need to pair them with a matching outfit to create a systematic look. The color of your shade and outfit must complement each other. For instance, if you are wearing dark-colored glasses, pair them with light-colored clothing for a balanced look.

Fit and Sizing 

Make sure you pick the perfect sunglasses size for your face. They should not be too loose or too tight. Properly fitting rectangular shades for men enhance comfort and appearance. Additionally, ensure that the frame size complements your facial features.

Don't Accessorize Too Much

 When you style rectangle shades, you already look fashionable. Adding too many accessories can ruin the overall aesthetics. Stick to minimalistic accessories to keep the focus on your stylish sunglasses.

Take Off While Greeting

It's important to understand that when you meet someone respectable, you should take your sunglasses off. This gesture shows that you value their presence and respect the interaction.

Maintenance 

Regularly clean your sunglasses to keep them in new condition. Use a microfiber cloth to wipe the lenses and avoid using harsh chemicals. Also, always store them in their case when not in use to prevent scratches and damage

Influence of Rectangular Sunglasses on Men's Fashion

Rectangular sunglasses have greatly influenced men's fashion trends over the years. They emerged in the mid-20th century as a stylish alternative to rounder styles, offering a modern and structured look.

Popularized by celebrities like Kartik Aryan, James Dean, and Brad Pitt, these sunglasses quickly became a symbol of coolness and suaveness.

Their appeal lies in their versatility—they suit various face shapes and blend seamlessly with both casual and formal attire. Beyond style, rectangular sunglasses also offer practical benefits such as UV protection and enhanced comfort with options like polarized lenses.

Today, designers continue to innovate with materials and colors, keeping rectangular sunglasses relevant in fashion. They are not just accessories but cultural symbols, representing everything from rebellion to laid-back elegance.

In essence, rectangular sunglasses have evolved from functional eyewear to iconic fashion statements, shaping trends and defining modern masculinity.

Conclusion

To summarize, rectangle sunglasses for men are an excellent accessory for those who desire a quality change in their appearance. This style comes in a wide variety of designs, so you can choose according to your preference. Thank you for reading till the end, cheers!

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