#I’m anti goatee on this blog….

[newx-menfan]

MJ’s going the way of Donna Troy, which is NEVER good 😬

Paul just sucks; all you need to do is look at his goatee to KNOW he sucks MJ!

[alderaani]

prison break (echo x reader)

A valentines gift for @just-some-girl-92 as part of the event being run by @starwarsfandomfests! Thanks so much for putting another one of these together @lilhawkeye3, and I really hope you like this Dell! I think credit for white haired Echo goes to @/amiro-art? That was the first place I saw it anyway, and I’ve really liked the headcanon that it’s like that post-techno union ever since!

Based on this prompt: Character A moves in next to Character B. They have conjoined balconies and A's pet/child wanders into B's apartment.

Fives and Echo are both reunited and well in this because everyone gets to be happy on Valentine’s Day and I said so. We don’t need canon on this blog.

The other side of the wall explodes with noise. 

It makes you pause, looking up from the knitting trailing over your knees to cock your head towards the opposite apartment. You think you hear the screech of furniture legs being pushed along the floor, then the frantic rumble of several male voices speaking over the top of each other, the clatter and clang of things as they are removed and replaced.

It’s odd. When Tith-Mar lived next door, you used to hear it every time he coughed, or swore at that awful old holodrama he used to watch every Taungsday. As much as you tried to stop yourself you couldn’t help but get invested, and that was almost worse. Out of pride you never put it on your own unit, but that just meant you ended up half pressed against the wall, eventually not even pretending you weren’t listening to Capula and Mont confess their love. It had given you something to talk about, anyway, when you went onto the balcony to water your plants and he went out there to smoke the fancy deathsticks he joked he’d live and die by.

In the year since the war ended and Tith-Mar was finally able to move back out to be with his daughter on Ryloth you’ve never quite gotten used to the quiet. There was a strange comfort in knowing that there was someone on the other side of the wall. Maybe it came from the three years of water shortages and occasional outages - or, notably, the rampage of the Zillo beast, which hadn’t come quite close enough to flatten you in your sleep, but had downed enough of the power grid that you’d been locked in your apartment for five rotations. You miss the soft Rylothi folk music he used to play in the mornings, and you miss seeing him sometimes, blowing smoke up into the brisk Coruscant mornings with his blue lek, faded now in old age, wrapped around his neck like a scarf.

You just miss the comforting assurance of having someone else there. If it wasn’t for the sound of the door going, and the occasional thump of something being moved, you’d hardly know that you had neighbours at all now. It’s almost funny to think back on the furore it caused when the Republic bought the apartment for GAR resettlement. It led to the only neighbourhood meeting the building has ever had, and you’ve been very glad for that fact after discovering that a solid faction of your fellow citizens are bigots. It’s something you knew, objectively, but witnessing it from the people you personally rub shoulders with was a harder pill to swallow than having to watch some of the anti-clone protests on the holonews. You’ve not tried to remember the more colourful misconceptions about clone troopers aired by prim soft-handed mid-levellers as they sat in a lobby you can remember the Coruscant Guard clearing rubble from with nothing but their hands. However, you do very vividly remember someone from two floors up asking you if you’d ‘really feel safe’ living next to ‘those walking warmongers’, being young and living on your own. You’d shut that down, of course, and the resulting vote had passed in favour.

You’d honestly half expected the troopers to reject the place after that, and you wouldn’t have blamed them either. 

Everyone had known the day they moved in, had pretended not to watch as a GAR issue speeder loaded with two armoured figures and a meagre quantity of possessions had pulled up on the walkway and made their way cautiously inside. You’d thought about introducing yourself, knocking or something, but concluded in the end that they didn’t need anyone else ogling them. You’d figured that there would be plenty of time for that later...and now here you are, a whole year on, and that glimpse is just about the closest you’ve ever gotten to them. You think they still spend a lot of time off-planet, helping with the reconstruction missions the now-voluntary GAR conducts throughout the Mid and Outer Rims. You hadn’t even been sure that they were home at the moment, actually. 

There’s no doubting it now, as the frantic thumps and raised voices continue. Through your balcony door, cracked open to catch some of the soft breeze the weather engineers have scheduled today, you can make out a little of what their voices are saying, one frantic and forceful, the other softer, but no less worried.

“ - kriffing hell, can’t believe we’ve lost...Rex will have our heads…”

“...can’t have gotten far...can’t even walk!”

“ - already checked the fresher, Echo!”

“It can’t hurt to check twice...knew we shouldn’t have…”

You bite your lip, turning round while debating whether you should offer your help. Then you freeze. The baby on the other side of your caf table freezes too, chubby hand poised to grab the cookie you’d been saving for later. They’re standing on legs that wobble a bit, and there’s a glint of steely determination in the dark eyes that fix on your face. 

“Hello,” you say a little weakly, realising very abruptly what the troopers must have lost.

The kid appraises you for a moment longer, brow furrowed and intent. There’s a huge amount of judgement there for such a small face, those focused eyes taking you in for several very long seconds. Then they huff, and very deliberately turn their attention back to the cookie. You smother an incredulous laugh. 

“Not impressed, huh?” You say, carefully setting your knitting aside and uncovering your legs. “Can’t say I blame you, I prefer cookies too.”

The baby doesn’t dignify this with any attention, instead making a soft crowing noise as their little fingers strike victory and retract with the cookie firmly in grasp. When they immediately move to cram it into their mouth you burst into action, leaning across the caf table to swipe it. Just those mere seconds of contact have made it slightly damp. 

The baby’s face scrunches in outrage, and they let go of the table edge, sinking down onto their padded bottom with a sharp, high noise of annoyance. They don’t cry, but the frown is something spectacular.

“Sorry, kid.” You force yourself the rest of the way up, keeping a hold on the cookie with one hand. Can kids this young even eat solid foods yet? Do they have any allergies? You don’t have any siblings, so the last time you were around a baby was when you were one. For all this one’s bravado, they look awfully breakable. “I’ll hang on to this for now, yeah?”

You don’t think that they’re old enough to understand what you’re saying, but the huff the baby lets out feels extremely pointed. You stare down at them on your rug.

“Don’t suppose you could give me any pointers on how to hold you?”

It turns out babies are wriggly. You put the cookie down long enough to hoist the kid into your arms and attempt to manoeuvre their little arms and legs so that they’re not jabbing into your vital organs, but at the sight of the food being placed far away, the kid lets out a piercing noise, right into your ear, and attempts to kamikaze their way back to it. A body that two seconds ago was ramrod solid and deliberately unwieldy is suddenly boneless and impossible to hold onto. Your brain goes empty of everything but wrestling with several pounds of struggling infant. 

You end up on the floor, eventually, but at least both of you are in one piece. You’re breathing heavily. The kid’s face is thunderous. It’s very cute, but you can’t wait to give it back and appreciate that from a distance. Somehow, you manage to settle them onto your hip.

“What the f - heck was that for?” You ask, purely to make yourself feel better. Even if the kid could answer you, you get the feeling they simply wouldn’t. “Was it because I put the biscuit down?”

The kid makes a huffing noise. You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling. The baby’s dark, just-curling hair is soft against the skin of your upper arm, and their weight is warm and solid against your side. 

“I’m not taking it away from you. I’m gonna let you have it, just need to make sure it’s safe for womp-rats first. And return you before those poor guys tear their place apart, okay?”

You re-collect the cookie and struggle back to your feet, looking towards the open balcony. Visions flash through your mind of the baby pulling that boneless trick out there, with nothing but spacelanes separating them from the ground 50 stories below, and...no. You’re not even vaguely risking that. The front door is definitely the better option, but somehow more daunting, as you stand before the neighbouring apartment with your heart in your throat.

The second you knock, the frantic voices inside cut off abruptly, and then you hear the mad scramble that ensues to reach the door. It wooshes open, and suddenly you’re face to face with your neighbours for the first time. 

They’re less identical than you’d expected. Maybe that’s a stupid thought, but it’s the first one that stumbles, half formed and dazed, into the open void your brain has just become. The second, very unhelpful follow up, is that they’re also much prettier than you’d expected. Not that you’d necessarily expected anything, but - you’ve never seen one of the clones without their helmets before. The Corrie Guard, back during the war, had made a point of never taking them off as far as you’d ever seen. That was apparently a crying shame. One of them has thick, dark curly hair, a tidy goatee, and a tattoo on his forehead. The other’s hair is a sharp, startling white, interrupted by metal nodes of some sort. Some sort of post-war medical adaptation, you assume. He’s slightly leaner all over, his eyes a little larger in his face. But the way both of them sag against the door frame is exactly the same.

“Thank the fucking force,” The dark haired one breathes, clutching at his chest.

The other trooper elbows him sharply in the ribs. “Fives.”

“She’s ten months old, Echo. She’s not gonna repeat it.”

“She just escaped from our apartment after General Skywalker swore up and down she’s not mobile yet. It’s gonna be her first word just to spite us.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself and flush a little when all attention snaps back to you.

“That I can believe,” you force yourself to say. “Hi. I think I found something of yours.”

You hold out your armful of infant and - you presume Fives is his name - reaches out to take her, groaning in relief. 

“Thank you,” he says, fervent, taking a moment to bury his face into the child’s hair. She puts a determined thumb into her mouth and stares at your hand, still clutching the cookie. The trooper turns her in his arms and holds her up at eye level. “You are a menace, Leia. I thought we were gonna have to call in a search.”

It’s nice to have a name for that little displeased face. Leia regards the trooper for a moment before sticking her hand into his face. His eyes are impossibly warm as he pretends to gobble her fingers, and it is, quite frankly, cute as fuck. He turns his attention back to you, but just as he opens his mouth, the sound of a comm going off somewhere behind them cuts through the moment.

“That’ll be the General,” The white-haired trooper laughs. “You better take her and show him, before he raises down half of Coruscant trying to get here.”

Fives nods, flashing another blinding grin at you, before he and Leia are gone. The trooper you’re left with blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face. 

“Well,” he says, his mouth crooking into a wry smile. “That was exciting.” 

He sticks his hand out, and when you take it, his palm is rough and his grip firm. You give him your name without thinking about it, staring into the kind, golden depths of his eyes. They crinkle at the corners when he grins. 

“I’m Echo. And - I know Fives already said it, but seriously, thank you. Where the shab did you find her?”

“Trying to steal biscuits from my caf table,” you say, laughing openly when Echo drops his face back into his hand and groans with embarrassment. “I think she got in through the balcony door.”

“Force, we didn’t even think of that. What a first impression, you must think we’re idiots.” 

You shake your head, enamoured by the faint colour you can see rising in his cheeks. He brings his metal hand up to his face and presses the cool prosthetic against his skin. 

“Not at all. You should have seen the look she gave me when I found her, she knows she’s in charge.” 

Echo smiles bashfully. “It’s the first time we’ve ever won the lot to babysit the twins, our Company would have crucified us if we’d lost her.” 

“Then I’m very glad to have provided a rescue.” 

There’s a short silence as you fidget with your sleeves, strange anticipation churning in your gut. There’s no reason to keep standing here now that the pleasantries are done with, the baby exchanged, but...some part of you resists it, almost looking for an excuse to stay. He and Fives are the first new friendly faces you’ve met in a long time, soothing a sting you didn’t know was there.

“I - um -,” Echo begins suddenly, shifting a little. The colour in his face deepens. “I really like your plants. I’ve always meant to say something. We keep trying to guess what they are.” 

“Oh!” Your heart turns over in your chest and you wouldn’t be able to stop the smile bursting onto your face if you tried. Those damn things are so hard to keep alive through the unpredictable engineered weather. You don’t think you’re particularly house proud, but you do preen a little that he’s noticed. “Thank you, I, um, I water them every morning. I could...go through them with you one day? If you like?” 

Echo’s head dips an assent. “I’d really like that.” 

You linger a moment longer, a pleased thrill still lingering in your belly, but there’s no putting it off now. “I suppose I should let you go. But...please knock if you need anything.” 

Echo smiles. “Hopefully not in pursuit of any more babies.” 

You’re just about to turn away when you remember the cookie in your hand, slightly smushed now. “Oh! Can you give this to Leia? I wanted to make sure she could eat them, first, but I promised. Seemed only fair, since she went to all that trouble.” 

Echo huffs, his expression softening, taking the cookie with careful hands. “I’ll make sure her highness gets it.” 

Then you go back to your quiet apartment, somehow deflated when faced with the monotony of your knitting and your music. You hear a few more sounds from the other side of the wall, faint laughter, perhaps a child squealing, and find your curiosity has not been sated at all.

It’s a wonderful surprise, then, when two days later on a clear, sunlit morning, you slide open your balcony door to water the plants and find Echo waiting, his face tipped up to the brightening sky. There is a packet of cookies resting on the duracrete by his feet, and two steaming mugs of caf on the railing by his elbow. 

It feels like something special...It feels like a beginning. 

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @battletales @bad-batch-of-fics @iscream4clones @majorshiraharu @snippytano @missinashkin @808tsuika @eries45 @dom-i-nic // 

[babyboibucky]

People seeing the topics on my blog today be like

We literally covered the following topics in LESS THAN 24 HOURS

Chiropractor!Bucky

Churro!Bucky (Croissant!Steve, Cupcake!Sam, Bagel!Scott, Donut!Reader, Churronut and Cronut babies)

Sausage Party AU

Douche!Thanos

Food Porn

Cucumber!Bucky

Bunch of anons shoving up cucumbers up their cooches and THEN not disposing of it so those cucumbers made it to someone’s salad jfc

Cigarette!Bucky x Lighter!Reader Toxic Relationship

A bunch of random AUs (Sushi!Bucky x Chopsticks!Reader, Hanger!Bucky x Shirt!Reader, someone sent LawnMower!Bucky x Grass!Reader, etc)

Toy Story but Sex Toys Edition

Lightning McQueen

Pro-Goatee vs Anti-Goatee Debate

Goatee vs Pornstache

And I have a bunch of nasty Thanos asks that I’m gonna be deleting too LMAO

[pumpkinpyre]

RP Blog List

Now nice and tidy so that mobile users that can’t read specific blog pages can see why I followed them! All blogs are blog style, which for those unfamiliar, means no face to face interaction is happening; the blogs are run as if the muses are the ones sitting in front of the computer and typing.

As a side note, if you don’t follow at least one of my RP blogs, I sort of tend to assume that you don’t want to interact with that one. I know that’s not necessarily the case all the time, but it’s a mindset I can’t seem to entirely shake 😅 Adding onto this if you post follower greaters please don’t @ this blog because I assume you haven’t actually looked at it. A lot of times I’ll do a follow back and someone will @ me here and I just ignore it. Please aim greaters at one of the actual in character blogs, and if you’re not sure feel free to message and ask me which I think would be most fun 😁

Different side note! If your rules include a DNI for proship or anti-anti, I’ll err on the side of caution and avoid interacting. However I know the meanings of those labels have become like insanely muddied and misinformed so if you’d like to chat about what I’m actually for/against, my inbox and DMs are open.

Updated as of 12-17-23

@coolskeletonsdontcry [16+] Crybaby, one of two of my longest run boys! An Underfell Papyrus going on... six? Or so years of development. Probably more time is fake. He’s been through a lot. Calls himself Comet, no longer capslocks, is considerably more chill than the average UF Papyrus but also a lot more traumatized

@strikingskeletonsiege [18+] Siege, a sort of aged ahead 5 years version of Crybaby. He’s cruel, he lives on a spaceship working for an AU of Commander Peepers, he’s in love with a Cubot. Also he surprised me when he suddenly realized he’s nonbinary. Lot a shit goin’ on with this fucko.

@thetopben [16+] Ben 10 of the various Ben 10 series out there. All grown up but no goatee. Sllllightly to the left of canon, I’m picking and choosing what I like, but more or less what you think of when you hear “Ben 10.” Got the Omnitrix, loves his Grandpa, hangs out with his cousin Gwen and his best buddy Kevin and his other buddy Rook. Will turn into various aliens to kick butt. ABSOLUTELY a force of chaos.

@redeyesandchilifries [16+] Joey freakin Wheeler! That’s right, I Yu-Gi-Oh! now. Dependent college AU, so he’s in his early 20s instead of a teenager. I’m kind of diving just head first into this one 😄 Mix of manga, anime, and subbed anime canons.

@a-royal-hoot [18+] Just when I thought I was done with this guy, I’m sucked back in! Revamping my Stolas from Helluva Boss. Not totally canon compliant, but still very much himself. He’s seen the multiverse before and now he’s BACK BABY

@slobbyseconds [18+] Slob, an Underfell Sans and Crybaby’s older brother. Loves dirty jokes, has a fused jaw, and wears a bathrobe instead of the more typical black coat. Falls into Big Brother Mode far more than he’ll ever admit. (low activity)

@gettuskedon [18+] Tusk! A swapped version of Slob, with an extended family of bros! Kind of pigheaded but generally an okay guy. Not a Swappfell or a Fellswap because I don’t even know what either of those are supposed to be like anymore.

@aconitely [18+] Aconite, Tusk’s youngest brother. Rambly text with next to no punctuation online, stilted and slow speaking in person. Has fun creeping out his alts. Ditto on being not a Swapfell or a Fellswap, but he is purble. why he ourple

Okay that’s the most important I think! Post will be updated if and when I bring in another muse. So if you’re a role play blog and I follow you, it’s because I’d like to interact with one of these boys!

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | MICHAEL C. HSIUNG (LOS ANGELES) | VANS US OPEN OF SURFING 2017

Last, but certainly not least, we’re stoked to announce Michael C. Hsiung as our fifth and final muralist at this year’s 2017 Vans US Open of Surfing! You may know Michael for his intricate line work and bearded characters, but Michael is not just one thing. In fact, he’s the House of Vans Art Editor— creating magic on this blog every day. We’re so excited to turn the tables and interview Michael for a change to find out how he first got interested in art, and what project he’s most proud of. Keep your eyes peeled as he transfers his art onto the biggest canvas of his career at the Vans US Open of Surfing!

Photographs courtesy of the artist

Introduce yourself My name is Michael C. Hsiung. I’m an artist/drawer who was born and raised in Los Angeles, CA, where exposure to skateboarding, heavy metal and Dungeons & Dragons fueled my imagination. Fun fact: My middle name represented by the letter “C” is actually my Chinese given name that refers to “the Unicorn,” from Chinese mythology! How perfect is that hah.

What’s your medium of choice? My favorite medium of choice has to be pens like Microns because first and foremost I was a doodler, and there’s something about having my hands and elbows press down on the paper that gives me comfort.

Have you ever created anything in a space as large as the skate bowl at Vans Us Open of Surfing? I’ve never have painted anything as large as what I’ll be painting in the skate bowl at the Vans US Open of Surfing. I’m excited, nervous, and just ready to get at it. I’m also super stoked that Vans gave me an opportunity to paint this year alongside so many talented folks like Lauren Asta, Jack Graydon, Andrew Pommier and Teddy Kelly!

How did you first get interested in art? Are you self taught or art schooled? I was drawing and coloring with my talented older sister, Pearl, for as long as I can remember. Drawing was our activity as kids –from drawing our own food to play with to drawing illustrations for our own newspapers!  

While my sister went to art school, I really just thought my drawing talents were more of a hobby.  I never really thought it was something for me to pursue.  It wasn’t till after I graduated college and moved back to LA that I actually started revisiting drawing.  I got lots of positive feedback from friends and folks, so I just kept it going and here I am.  It’s basically been on-the-job training for me the last 8 years or so?

What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever created? One of my favorite things I’ve ever created was for Blunt Umbrellas in New Zealand.  We had worked together with an agency to create three unique and detailed illustrations for their artist umbrella and ad designs!  It was just so fun to make something and then have my name attached to it.  We released all my designs on to limited umbrellas, and I still get lots of cool emails or comments about them, which is so cool. We even won a Gold (New Zealand’s Best Graphic Designs) and Silver (Spike Asia) for the designs!  

What was the first piece of artwork you ever sold? I think the first piece of artwork I sold was a drawing at the first show I ever was in at a space in Echo Park called Echo Curio.  Two talented guys I worked with at a museum opened the space and invited me to participate.  Pretty sure the drawing had something to do with mermen, a favorite subject matter of mine. Gosh I think that was in 2006.

Many of your pieces feature a mustached, bearded man. Who is he and what does he represent? As long as I can remember (I have old drawings as a kid), I’ve always kind of drawn mustaches on people for some reason.  Probably some weird early obsession, but it was something that just sort of happened with characters.  I guess sometimes I thought their faces were too plain or needed more character, so I’d add these features which allowed me more room for detail, pattern and etc. Sometimes they represent old San Fernando valley hippies (I grew up around Topanga) and sometimes they’re just hermity looking people.  Sometimes it is to add a bit more dimension or personality, but occasionally I’ll draw a goatee or something hahah.

Would you say your personality reflects your work? I think whether or not it is on purpose, my personality is reflected in my works.  Usually folks will say that my sense of humor peeks through, and I like to think that I’m a fairly lighthearted person in that aspect. I like to laugh, and I like to make folks smile and laugh through my art.

What project are you most proud of? The project I’m most proud of is the recent work that was selected for Metro LA’s Through the Eyes of Artists poster series 2017!  My illustration and digital collage for the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook was chosen and will be on placards for select Metro buses and trains in LA!  It is my proudest project so far because it’s for Los Angeles and for the public transportation system, two things I support!

What’s the most used tool/item in your studio? Books.  By far my favorite tool and item because I can find inspiration in the old books I’ve got on costuming, scrimshaw, mythology or etc.  I love old illustrations and flipping through books and reading them - I always find an interesting tidbits or stories that can turn into a drawing or I can sort of re-tell in my own weird way.

What are the most challenging and rewarding parts of being the Art Editor for the House of Vans Blog? I think the most challenging and rewarding part of being the Art Editor for the House of Vans Blog is keeping up and staying on top of all the talented artists! It happens to also be the most rewarding part too.  Through the blog, I’ve got to interview so many amazing folks and support the work of artists who I’ve always been a fan of–being able to get their story and art out there is something I’m very stoked on.   

Top 3 songs to listen to while creating: 1. Children of the Grave | Black Sabbath 2. Rainbow in the Dark |  DIO 3. And Classical music from public radio! I KNOW total opposite! ha

What is the last exhibit/show you saw? The last show I saw was the Twenty One group show at Subliminal Projects in LA, celebrating 21 years of Shepherd Fairey’s gallery and studio.  I was lucky to be a participant, and it was filled with so many artists that I personally look up too and respect.  Their next show will be Todd Francis’ Worst of the Worst, the Anti-Hero retrospective August 5th will be killer!

How are you “Not Just One Thing?” First and foremost, while I might be an artist, I’m also an amateur cook / baker, avid reader, art writer, and now I’m a mineral pusher with my wife, Rachel Pitler.  We’ve just recently opened our online mineral / crystal shop called Crystal Habitats which I help to manage and run, while she curates and features stones!

Follow Michael C. Hsiung Website |  www.michaelchsiung.com Instagram | @michaelchsiung Tumblr: @michaelchsiung-blog Twitter: @MichaelCHsiung