#Vrek

[star-trek-fandom-confessions]

#609

"Vrek(the romulan from ‘the inner fight’) is so fucking hot and I’m tired of pretending he’s not"

[lonestarfangirl2014]

Honestly when I listen to the klingon warriors anthem Sung by this guy it gives me galra empire/blade of marmora vibes.

[askbensolo]

what's the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you?

02.06.30 - you've heard of “egg on my face,” now get ready for...

This ask has been in my inbox for many years.

I now have a worthy response.

…Buckle in.

So…I hit a new personal record on deadlift at the gym the other day. I was super jazzed about it. I had tried that weight a couple of times before and failed, but training was going really great that day, and I decided to give it another go.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to cheer me on. That’s something I like about RepCity Strength, as opposed to the UNaboo gymnasium: people here are friendly (even if they don’t look like it on the outside), and really support each other.

“You got this, Ben.”

“C’mon, buddy, let’s go!”

“Kill it, Solo!”

“You can do it, Ben!”

I looked up as I was securing my lifting belt—the last person to cheer was that short little Rodian girl with the built calves and the sparkly eyes. We made eye contact, and she gave me a huge smile and a big thumbs up.

I kinda liked hearing her say my name like that.

I had mentioned this girl to Amalia before. “So…she’s just another short girl with green skin,” she had said. “Geez. It’s as if you and Fannie only ever fall in love with people who resemble each other.”

“Wh—what do you mean?” I’d blurted. “Is…Fannie…with someone already?”

“Chill out,” Amalia sniffed. “I was talking about her ex. Well—her other ex. The one who isn’t you.”

“Oh,” I said, relieved.

With that crisis averted, I’d then directed my energy toward protesting that I wasn’t in love with the Rodian girl from the gym, and how could I be when I didn’t even know her name. I’m almost beginning to think words just mean different things to different people. I don’t see how you could have a legitimate interest in anyone without knowing a single thing about them���but, I guess, some people do, which is weird to me.

Still…the girl with the starry eyes looked like someone I wouldn’t mind getting to know, I supposed, and I thought she had a nice smile.

I re-tied my hair to get it out of my face, and went over to the chalk bowl, and chalked up my hands extra good.

Lifter’s chalk comes in these solid white blocks about the size of your palm. You use it to dry out your hands: to get them less slippery, so you can hold onto things better. Rock climbers use it too. It can also come in a tube, as a viscous white liquid, which you squirt all over your hands and rub till dry. (Naturally, liquid chalk is a good candidate for that genre of humor I struggle to relate to.)

I positioned myself behind the barbell and found my footing, bending over and placing my hands on the bar—one hand over, one hand under. You can do double overhand, but once the bar starts gettin’ heavy, you have to use a mixed grip to keep the bar from rolling out of your fingers.

Now that I was getting set up and everyone was watching me, I began to doubt myself a little. But, I pushed those thoughts away, and told myself to focus.

I tensed up my shoulders and my glutes, and I took in a deep breath, and braced against my belt and got everything all tight. And then I thought to myself: Alright, buddy—legs legs legs!

And then—I stood up with the bar, pressing into the ground with my feet, pushing my hips forward, telling myself to keep going and finish it out even though it felt hard. It was slow, and a little ugly, since it was the heaviest I’d done before. But, I got it up, and locked it out at the top—regaining awareness to the world just in time to hear everyone cheering for me.

Yes!

I dropped the barbell back down to the ground and shouted and raised my fist in the air and felt absolutely fantastic as everyone congratulated me and clapped me on the back.

“Let’s gooo, Ben!”

“Easy weight, Quadinaros!”

“Great job, Solo!”

And I laughed and wiped my forehead with the back of my chalky hand and bowed with a flourish.

I still had more left in my workout to do after that, and so did everyone else. So, we all went back to whatever we were doing.

But, while I was doing my overhead pressing, I noticed something: the Rodian girl with the sparkly eyes, and her friend that she was training with, kept on looking at me.

Looking at me. And whispering to one another. And giggling.

My heart started to race, and I went and hid behind the barbell rack a little bit.

I tried to figure out how it made me feel. It made me feel a mix of things—a little shy, and a little freaked out, but…also kind of excited, and more than a little flattered.

I used to hate the idea of girls liking me. It just felt…super uncomfortable. Like…hello? Who said you were allowed to think of me like that? Did I consent to that? Am I just supposed to be okay with any random stranger looking at me however they want to, and thinking whatever they want to think?

Maybe some of it has to do with the fact that I grew up so in the spotlight. It’s not great, you know, seeing yourself on the cover of teen girl holozines from the time you’re fourteen. You’d think it would boost a guy’s ego, but…it always made me feel so mortified and violated.

Still…this felt a little different. I don’t know why—maybe I’m just not handling my breakup as well as I thought I was. But: it felt good to think I was attractive; it felt good to know I was desirable; it felt good to imagine that there was something about me worthy of extra attention. I still don’t fully understand the concept of “sexy,” even though I use that word a lot to be funny—but I do kind of get it, and I get that people mean it as a compliment, and I get that it’s a positive thing to be.

And how did I know those girls were looking at me because they thought I was sexy, you may ask?

Thanks for asking! Because: I distinctly saw the Rodian girl point at my butt when she thought I wasn’t looking.

Well, I was looking. And I turned, kind of in shock, and she withdrew her hand immediately, laughing and blushing and ducking behind her friend.

I felt my face go hot. But…it wasn’t a completely bad feeling. I didn’t find myself looking at other people that way…but I guessed I didn’t really mind being looked at that way.

I mean…hell! I’d worked my ass off for this ass. I didn’t do it because I wanted to be noticed, just ‘cause I liked how it felt to be strong, but—you know what? Kriff it! Why shouldn’t someone notice?

Fannie had never looked at me like that. Or…if she had, she had never let me see her do it—which, of course, sounds exactly like her.

I grinned to myself a little bit in secret—I’ll admit it went to my head. I caught my own eye in the wall mirror and flexed my biceps and studied my thighs and thought: Huh! I am kinda good-lookin’, aren’t I?

I quickly got high off my own hubris. I found myself exaggerating my movements, posturing in ways I wouldn’t normally, becoming oddly performative—adding a little more swagger into my walk as I sauntered across the gym to refill my water, flexing my arms high above my head as if to stretch but actually trying to get the overhead lighting to accentuate my delts, striking wide stances and kind of glancing backward to see if the girls were still looking at me. I imagined I was the cool guy in a holofilm—a Han Solo type of guy, suave and debonair, without a kriff to give—the type of guy everyone thinks Han Solo is, because Han Solo isn’t their dad.

Well, Ben Solo had never been that type of guy. Ben Solo had always been kind of a nerd and sort of a weirdo and definitely a loser. But—who ever said he had to stay that way? People change! People grow up. People glow up.

And oh, baby, I glew.

Vrek Lawsnik, the gym owner—this big old Trandoshan guy—was working at his desk near the warehouse door. He looked up every now and again, and smirked at me with what I figured was kind of an “ah, youth” sort of smirk. He was probably noticing how sexy and cool I was, and wishing he was twenty-four again. I mean, I almost felt bad about it—being so damn young and hot, and probably making him writhe with jealousy that he was so tragically past his prime.

I was drinking from my water bottle majestically and letting a few droplets run down my chin for dramatic effect and imagining myself in, like, a cologne commercial or something, when I overheard the following:

“Oh, c’mon, Maezee, you should just tell him. I can’t take it anymore.”

Maezee! What a cute name.

“Oh my Force, Deborah, I can’t tell him something like that!”

Tell me what? Something like what?

“Fine—if you don’t tell him, I will!”

Oh my gosh. I was getting asked out today. I hoped I didn’t smell too bad.

“No, no, no,” Maezee protested, “I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him!”

And I heard Maezee coming over, and I tried not to panic, and also to pretend like I hadn’t just heard them talking. I went to put my foot up on the spotter arm in the barbell rack, missed the first time, succeeded the second time, and bent down to fake-tie my shoe just as Maezee walked up.

“Um…hi. Ben, right?”

I looked up—and there was Maezee.

She actually was kind of cute, I thought. Her skin was the color of limefruit, and she had a poofy little shock of lavender hair on the top of her head, and she was very skinny (which, to clarify, I state as a fact and not any sort of positive or negative judgment), except for her big freaking monster calves (which, to clarify, I absolutely mean as a compliment). She wore big hoop earrings, and her lips were painted pink, and she had false eyelashes on—I don’t think Rodians actually have them. And of course, her eyes, which looked like starlight, were mesmerizing.

Now that she was standing in front of me, she looked maybe even a little shorter than Fannie—I hadn’t even known that was possible. Not beating the allegations that I like short girls, I guess…or, Auntie Malla’s non-politically-correct suggestion that I’m into “alien girls.” (Still can’t believe she said that.)

But, then again…maybe it wasn’t those traits about her that I liked. Maybe it was just Fannie that I liked, and anything at all that happened to remind me of her.

“Hi!” I said, sounding kind of squeaky. I cleared my throat and tried to make my voice deeper. “Uh. I mean…hi. Yeah. That’s me. Ben.”

“I’m Maezee. Nice to meet you,” said Maezee. “Well—not meet you. I’ve seen you around. But, it’s nice to be formally introduced.”

“Yeah!” I said.

And merely that, with every ounce of wit and eloquence I had in me.

Speech 100.

“Uh, Ben, I just came over to tell you that…well, see, I couldn’t help but notice…er, I’m sorry, I wish I’d told you a lot sooner, but…”

My heart was pounding. “Y…yeah?”

Maezee laughed awkwardly, and pointed to the general region of my hips.

“…you’ve got chalk on your butt.”

I heard the words. They did not register.

Dial tone.

“I…what?”

“Your shorts,” Maezee repeated, still pointing. “You’ve got chalk on the back. Turn around and look.”

I stared at her.

Then I turned and looked over my shoulder and kind of chased myself in a circle like a lothcat, before finally gaining sense enough to check in one of the wall mirrors, and—KRIFF—sure enough, there they were—

TWO—

PERFECT—

BIG

WHITE

HANDPRINTS,

one placed squarely on each of the two beautiful butt cheeks my mama gave me.

And I was wearing compression shorts, mind you. Not the loose kind of shorts you wear for hoopball. No, baby—my curves were hugged, and those handprints were convex.

KRIFF.

ME.

I must’ve wiped my chalk-covered hands on my pants at some point after my lift, I realized. And now I looked as if I’d gotten freaky with a poltergeist.

I screamed internally and took about fifty thousand points of psychic damage.

“Th…thanks for letting me know,” I uttered weakly, as my ears burned and my soul left my body.

Maezee’s friend was watching from across the gym, snickering.

Oh, Force. I wanted to die so bad.

I scurried over to the edge of the gym near Vrek’s desk with my back against the wall and tried discreetly to swipe the chalk off my butt, while Maezee ran back to her friend, giggling.

Vrek was laughing at me, too, and I looked at him.

“You saw I had chalk on my ass the whole time, didn’t you?” I asked, almost a little hurt. “Why didn’t you say somethin’?”

Vrek chuckled. “I also saw how you were peacocking around like an idiot, trying to get those ladies to look at you. I’m running a gym here, Solo, not a catwalk. Figured you could stand to be taken down a peg.”

I blushed, and I thought for a second I was maybe about to cry.

Vrek placed one of his four hands on my arm and softened his tone a little, sounding a little like how he did when I heard him speak to his own kids.

“It’s okay, Ben,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I was in my twenties, too, a long time ago.”

He winked at me.

I took a deep breath, and wiped my nose a little, and managed to laugh.

Maybe I was kind of full of it, sometimes.

[iamahunkofcheese]

i made this stupid ass edit years ago and my partner fell in love with me over it

[ox1-lovesick]

conspiracy theories about tchaikovsky's death make me so sad

[thepurplewombat]

I feel like this dude and my great-aunt would have gotten along like a house on fire.

Now this old lady, she was an absolute legend.

At the age of 84, she would wait for her husband to get really into his newspaper, and then she would nip out the kitchen door, totter along the side of the house on her canes, and knock on the front door. Then she would totter away back to the kitchen at speed while her husband took off his glasses, folded the paper, made his way up from the chair, and went to the door.

When he opened the door, there would be a cackle from the kitchen because!! Nobody there!

And in her last days, when she was dying of cancer, her brother came to visit. He'd been summoned because it was time to say goodbye.

And as they were all standing around her bed being sad she beckoned the nurse closer.

The nurse leans in.

My great-aunt whispers: 'you want to be careful of Hardy 👀. He's got wandering hands 🤏🖐️' (sadly there is no emoji that quite captures the mental image of a little old lady lying in a hospital bed making gestures with her hands like she's grabbing a great big pair of tits, so you will have to use your imagination)

And her brother goes 'magtig Johanna! You're DYING and you're still on your bullshit' and stormed off.

Anyway, I think more people should be like my great-aunt Johanna and this dude.

[igorlevchenko-blog]

Icewind dale 2: Vrek Vileclaw, scrag troll of Shaengarne.

In dnd "Scrag" is another name for freshwater troll.

Digital painting. Made in Photoshop. Feel free to repost.

[mira--image]

Let's take a look into how I designed my rottmnt ocs 👀

They are based on fursonas, so I start by gathering those refs.

It's not enough just to draw those, however, I want them in the show's style! So next I look for some characters in the show with a similar body type or desired traits, and I try to draw the ocs with those traits. Then I try to deviate from the source material to make an original body type for the oc. Here's Vrek!

Then Tobi!

Ladibelle is a different case, because I already had an original body type in mind, which is not inspired by the show, but by Castle in the Sky. I've been obsessed with Sheeta's pants since I was a kid, I was not going to pass up this opportunity 😂. The ref I used from the show was actually splinter, so I could draw his mouth shape!

Now that I had a better idea of how to transform the character into the show's style, I kinda winged it with the final result.

In yokai culture, clothes are optional. I opted to give these guys clothes. I whipped up some designs on the spot, not willing to go through the research process again.

I found this wip of Vrek in the lineart phase, and it reminded me of how much lineart weight plays into the artstyle! In Teen Titans, the lines are all the same weight, and there aren't a lot of black shadows, just black clothing. Not so in Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

I hope you enjoyed this look into my process!

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[goblang]

According to Goblang, how would I say in the imperative voice in goblin: “run away”

Hi hi ignore that I haven't posted in. A while

Depending on the tone, the root word would either be vrek - /vɾek/ (meaning "run", "flee", or "scram", and implying serious danger, either from the speaker or as a warning) or broosa - /'bɾu.sə/ (more neutral, could refer to running from danger, running after something, or running for fun).

"Away" would probably be included in the meaning of vrek, but if you wanted to really hammer it home, you could add karag -/'ka.ɾag/ meaning far.

To make it into an imperative, you would conjugate the verb for (probably) second person singular informal and put it before anything else in the sentence:

"Vrekrav!" - /vɾek.'ɾav/

"Broosrav karag!" -/bɾus.'ɾav 'ka.ɾag/

Maybe I'll start posting more regularly here...

[star-trek-fandom-confessions]

Confession #125

"Vrek and Gem (the Romulan and Ferengi we see work together in The Inner Fight) are the most interesting new potential pairing to come out of Lower Decks season 4. They were the only ones from different crews working together before Mariner arrived despite the fact their species aren't exactly on friendly terms (or friendly in general) and their dynamic has the exact energy tumblr loves. The only reason people aren't invested in them is the absolute doozy of a season finale overshadowing everything that happened in the previous episode."

[g0dtier]

i was wondering wtf Vrek was thinking my entire phone got broken into and then i realized the skin i use for my phones icons added one for my nurse calculator?????

[franciscovanjole]

Door het nieuwe statiegeld ben ik ineens een vrek

Het statiegeld op blikjes en flesjes heeft een onverwacht gevolg…

Er wordt geklaagd over lange wachttijden bij de legeflesseninlevermachines omdat het nu legeflessenenblikjesinlevermachines zijn geworden en iedereen ineens met scheepsladingen lege flesjes en blikjes naar de winkels komt. Een vriendin vertelde dat de wachtenden bij haar in de rij zo geïrriteerd raakten door een langzame inleveraar dat het bijna uitliep op een handgemeen. Ik zou hier nu een…

[askbensolo]

01.13.30 - repcity strength, vrek lawsnik, and one super-strong rodian girl

I work out three times a week at a gym called Republic City Strength. It’s a warehouse gym, which is pretty much what it sounds like: a privately-owned gym in a warehouse space, as opposed to the university-funded gym I went to in Theed, or the galacticorp commercial gyms you see around.

The gym owner’s a solid dude. His name is Vrek Lawsnik, and he’s a retired competitive bodybuilder. He’s also a Besalisk. His pride and joy is his custom bench rack for four-armed sentients.

His two kids, whose names I don’t remember, are often running around underfoot when I go on Saturdays. Vrek tries to keep them contained…but kids will be kids, and I have almost dropped weights on them a couple of times.

There are fewer girls than guys there, which is pretty typical of fitness spaces, even though it shouldn’t be. But there is one girl I see a lot, this tiny Rodian girl, who performs really impressive lifts relative to her body size. I watched her deadlift 325 pounds last week—and I know I exaggerate a lot, but I really mean 325 pounds—I counted the weight on the plates. I wonder how much she weighs?

I’m also trying to figure out how old she is. She kinda looks like she’s my age…but she’s so little, I’m not entirely convinced she isn’t a teenager. If she is a teenager, well—I have no interest in being friends with teenage girls who aren’t my sister. But…if she isn’t…

…I wonder if she’d wanna be friends with me.

Not sure how to initiate, though. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure going up to a random girl at the gym all sweaty and gross and asking how old she is and how much she weighs is a great way to get pepper-sprayed.

[fruit-bat-gran]

2024 en ons is almal nogsteeds hier op Tumblr!

As iemand wat taal (spesifiek Engels) en sosiolinguistiek swat is die hele idee van SPYLD so awesome en al die positiwiteit in die tags vrek oulik, man.

No maar toe! Ek hoop almal se dag is darem ‘n fantastise een <3

Me, watching my mutuals speak other languages, not understanding a single word: fucking superb you funky little bilinguals

[live-laugh-lando]

daar was ook by toys r us, en takealot het ook

pna het ook, maar dis soos vrek duur by pna

maar toy kingdom was nog al waar ek die mclaren gekry het

ek gaan soek in toy kingdom want takealot is MAL bra!!!! hulle is soos dubbel toy kingdom se prys, wat is fout met hulle????? 😩😩