#and I think based on the preview they don’t put a label on it

[adorablesunshinefour]

HA soon?!? If you mean by soon the year 2045, then yeah maybe

[utronabalcone]

crystal castles: "we predict a riot",  jun 17, 2008 

PART 2

crystal castles gained international attention after a uk record label discovered a rough recording of a mic check dubbed alice practice that the band put on myspace in 2005 and forgot about for six months. this led to a series of limited-edition 7-inches on various hip uk imprints that sold out immediately. suddenly, glass and kath were being courted by labels amidst a whirlwind of touring over the past two years.

“the bidding wars in some countries were pretty intense. they just kept throwing bigger numbers at us. i think it’s because they work so hard promoting bands and then no one cares. no one promoted us and everyone cares, so they all want a piece of that.” - kath 

though their strange success story may be credited to the power of the internet, don’t expect them to be spokes people for the demise of the record label. they want their fans to hear the music, and apparently the fans actually do still want to buy cds. their myspace page is flooded with messages from people trying to find their still-unreleased disc.

“people assume that because everyone talks about us, there’s a cd in the stores,” - kath says.

the label is so concerned that the album might get leaked online that it hasn’t released any preview copies, so we’ve been listening to the disc while we talk. nevertheless, a widely downloaded and reviewed version has been passed around the file-sharing sites, which will cause much confusion when the real album actually drops.

“i originally gave alice a cd of 24 songs to choose from back when we first started, and some kid took 16 of them and put them up on the Internet as the album, and people have been reviewing it. i’ve actually read some very positive reviews for the 2004 demos.” - kath

the real album is sort of a chronology of the band, starting with some recordings from 2005 and ending not long ago. if you only know them from the notorious mic check song alice practice or their klaxxons remix, you may be surprised at how many soft and melodic moments join the high-octane distorto-dance listeners associated them with. the last track, an atmospheric ballad based on an acoustic guitar and 40 layers of glass’s voice, sounds more like the work of a shoegazer band like slowdive than anything you’d hear in a hipster dance club. which brings us to the biggest crystal castles contradiction: they make music for dance clubs but don’t actually like dance music. they see themselves as a punk band that happens to use synths, but you’d swear some moments on the record are gritty underground house music from the early days of chicago. kath and glass hate it that journalists sometimes characterize them as an accident, but how else do you explain how two people who hate disco are so good at it? to add to the strangeness, crystal castles have had considerable critical success crafting dance remixes for other indie bands, the last thing you expect from a pair you’d have a hard time dragging to an actual dance club.

“we started doing remixes because bands were contacting me when we were in desperate need of money. it was just good timing. bloc party wanted to pay us to remix their song, so I just chopped their vocals up over a crystal castles song we weren’t using. the thing I like about doing remixes is that I can get our fans some more crystal castles songs, sneak them another taste, because i used all unreleased songs that were just sitting on my laptop. on the road we listen to sonic youth, the stooges, joy division, black metal bands like emperor, mutilation. we’re not going to be listening to dance music.” - kath 

glass and kath first decided to work together because they loved all the same bands: aids wolf, sick lipstick, femme fatale.

“we wanted to do something like that without copying it, so instead of distorted guitars we’d use fucked-up keyboard sounds. but at the same time, i love new order and joy division, and wanted to use those kinds of dance beats. that’s what we set out to do: aids wolf get into a fight with new order." - kath 

to approximate the brutal attack of noise bands, they needed keyboard sounds that weren’t your usual trance presets, which brings us to the whole nintendo-pop sound they swear has nothing to do with video games. journalists and bloggers love to classify them alongside that whole chip-tune scene, bands that use actual video game technology to make lo-fi electronic music. but arcade nostalgia is the last thing the castles want to reference. 

“we both hate video games. we were just breaking apart electronics and toys to get annoying sounds. aids wolf is going to annoy you with guitars; we’re going to annoy you with the insides of old electronics. it’s circuit-bending, basically. you can get sounds out of any electronic device by opening it up and poking around. you can open up your watch, if it makes a blip, you can sample it and then use it as a synth. a long time ago I collected a bunch of sounds. i just opened up everything I could and recorded it all. my favourite ‘instrument’ was a circuit board from the early 70s that was made to teach budding electricians. every time you fucked up a circuit, it’d make a blip, and that was my favourite." - kath 

even if the similarity was unintentional, you can’t help but associate that 8-bit sound with 80s arcade machines. the fact that crystal castles is also the name of a vintage video game doesn’t help, even if the band is actually named after the home of cartoon vixen she-ra, princess of power. understandably, they might not want their career described as a series of unlikely flukes and happy musical accidents. but as much as they claim they sound exactly as they planned, they’ve still “accidentally” managed to succeed in areas they care little about or were even unaware of. electro-house heavyweights justice and myspace brat-rapper uffie show up to see them in paris, which doesn’t quite make sense for a band that wants to be aids wolf beating up new order. then again, as alice’s absence clearly demonstrates, crystal castles don’t really give a shit what we think and probably love that the rest of us find it hard to make sense of their success.

by benjamin boles, nowtoronto

photo by irene barros

[silvercrystalwhump]

Little thing based on an idea for Ash

@ashintheairlikesnow owns all of these characters I just an idea one day and decided- Hey I'ma write this. Enjoy

TW: implied noncon, noncon photo taking, general bbu warning, Owen Grant exists

-

Vincent drums his fingers across the wood with nails bitten to near bleeding. A hard drive sits on the table in front of him, almost eating at his eyes by simply existing. It’s red, and the word Memories is written on the side. His eyes bore into the table, wanting the hard drive to combust and leave his life.

“You know I could always see what's on there?”

James, the only person other than his therapist to know about Owen, leans by an open window. The sound of Blue Jays singing outside dances through his words like background music on set. The only reason he had the displeasure of knowing about that migraine-inducing part of his life was that Vincent forgot to watch his liquor intake at an event and vomited out his entire life story to James in one night. Needless to say, he woke up the next morning with a hangover that could kill god and a very concerned James who knew too much.

Vincent shakes his head, “I am fairly certain I know what's on this, I don’t want you seeing that.”

James doesn’t respond, “I have an incinerator at home. You can just get rid of it there.”

“If it’s not I’ll be destroying something I actually like.”

Vincent did not even know why he had him come over. After he saw the handwriting he just went on autopilot. “Could you drive down about five minutes down, there’s this small coffee place that makes pecan pie flavored coffee, can you go get me some?”

“Sure,” James says, “Do you want me to go so you can do this alone and I can come back later or?”

“No, I just need you out of the house for maybe 15 minutes, it’s not like you probably have already figured out what I think is on this hard drive.”

James shrugs, “You want something to eat too?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Vincent hears James’ keys jungle quietly and the door opens. He can hear his footsteps walk down his porch. As he listens to James’ car start, Vincent puts his head in his hands. His finger knit into his hair and closes, threatening to rip the follicles right from his skull. I really don’t want to see this. He exhales as he hears the car pull out of the driveway and his gate slide closed.

Inhale, he closes his eyes and fumbles the hard drive into the laptop. Then, exhaling, he opens his eyes.

USP Pot In-Use. Transfer 486 GB of data onto this device?

Half a terabyte of data just sitting on a hard drive. A hard drive that was in the button of one of Vincent’s bags for months. Vincent starts to chew on the inside of his cheek, hands trembling near the mouse pad.

Yes.

Not enough storage for transfer. Preview file?

Yes.

A handful of files transfer to his laptop. Some files were named with dates, some with pet names, some with actual event titles but all were photos. Vincent closes his eyes and opens one simply labeled Coffee. The actual photo itself is just him sitting in one of his old dressing rooms back when working with Owen. There is a blurry spot in the upper left-hand corner of the photo. This was definitely Owen’s phone. Owen’s phone always had a blurry spot in the upper left-hand corner no matter how much Owen wiped it off.

The photo looks like it was taken at an awkward angle. Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose and mutters, “So he stalked me long before the incident, I stopped working there months before it happened.” The other handful of photos are similar; pictures were taken without Vincent noticing, usually at work. The last one was in his own house, but it was during a party he remembered that he invited Owen to.

Then a video pops up only labeled with a date.

Vincent reaches up and mutes his computer, and slowly presses play on the video. It starts with Owen muttering something before sticking his phone up and peering through a window. The video is of Vincent sleeping, and it lasts for nearly 30 minutes before the phone is dislodged, and the video finishes.

The next set of photos and videos are dated during his time with Owen.

He gets through three before rushing to the bathroom to puke.

-

When James gets back, Vincent has seen enough. He was right. It was Owen’s hard drive, and somehow he got a hold of it. James hands Vincent the coffee and the bag.

“I’m not gonna lie, I kinda forgot what you said about food so I just got you a scone since I was listening to the radio talk about the new federal policy on box boys.”

Vincent took a sip of the coffee and raised an eyebrow at James, “Something changed?”

“The emancipation law, it was signed by the president a week ago and the changes went into effect today,” James says as he sips his own coffee, “If you own a box boy for over a year and they meet a handful of prerequisites you can emancipate them and give them legal citizenship.”

“I honestly thought it would get shot down.”

“Well since the senator that was so against it was voted out this election no one else has objected,” James says, and he pulls up his phone, “Well the owner has to be the one to sign them for emancipation. Senator Grant was her name wasn’t it?”

Vincent takes a bite out of the scone. He swallows both the scone and a thought.

“Does it say anything about private transfer?”

“I think you just have to have their papers. Why?”

Vincent looks down at his food, and an idea pops into his head, “What’s Senator Grant doing now since she’s not in office.”

James shrugs, “Let me see if anyone said anything?” He taps on his phone, the little buzzes echo around the room like flies to trash. James pauses, “I’m pretty sure she’s just at home preparing for the next election why?”

“I think I might need you to help me make a phone call.”

-

Weeks later, Vincent paces, listening to James talk on the phone in the other room. He could not physically hear Owen’s voice through the phone without falling apart.

“That’s my ear,” James says sarcastically, “Do you agree with this or not?”

Silence.

Click.

James knocks on the half-open door, “You alright Vincent?”

“Are you done?” Vincent asks, tighter than a spring.

James nods, “After the screaming he agreed, do you want me to go over with the papers so you don’t have to see them?”

“Please, I’m more than likely already going to have to be on a phone call with his Mother and that's stressful enough.”

Vincent opens the door of his study and steps out, “I need a drink.”

“It's noon Vincent.”

Vincent has one hand on the liquor cabinet and chuckles dryly, “Perfect.”

‘Vincent, no.”

Making dead eye contact with James, he pulls a bottle of sweet tea vodka out of the cabinet and pours himself a glass. James sighs and shakes his head, “I thought Dr. Brycan told you not to drink.”

“He said that I need to wait until at least noon since I used to drink from dawn until dusk unless I had work, it’s 12:01.”

“Didn't you tell me that you’re probably going to get a phone call from the ex-Senator today,” James says, stepping back, “I think you want to wait at least until then so you're sober when you two talk.”

Vincent pauses with the glass halfway to his lips. He sets it down just hard enough to hear it but not hard enough to crack the crystal. Vincent grumbles, “Fine,” and walks back for his study to wait by the phone.

-

“You do know this is blackmail, Vincent,” Mrs. Grant grinds through the phone, “And that is illegal.”

“So is paying off someone to hide criminal charges. He either takes the deal or I take this half terabyte hard drive filled with evidence to court and get the press involved, his decision.”

“How much do you have to pay you,” she says after a moment.”

“No amount of cash will buy me over, he either takes the deal or I contact my manager.”

Silence through the phone. Vincent’s nails dig into his jeans. The woman on the other end of the line can’t see the tears pouring down Vincent’s face. One thing acting taught him was how to keep his voice steady for clarity in a microphone. The only difference here is that the microphone is in a phone rather than on a long stick.

“We’ll think about it,” she finally says.

“You have until Sunday.”

“Fine.”

Click.

Vincent holds the phone up to his ear for a second before dropping it onto the table. His head falls into his hands, and he sobs. His mind, blank yet filed with too many feelings, recoils under its own weight. Tears that had been held back for months spill across contract papers and blot through blank ink. The ink spread like blood across bed sheets.

-

“Are you sure you don’t want me to knock his teeth in?” James asks as he holds the contract and transfers forms in one hand and a Sprite in the other, “Because I will and want to.”

Vincent shakes his head, fingers drumming across the velvet seats of the limousine he almost forgot he had. When did I even buy this was the first thought he had when he dug through contacts. “No, just go inside, get him to fill out the forms, and come back. Then we go home and I gorge myself on M&Ms and fudge ice cream.”

James laughs, “Room numbers on the card right?”

“Yes.”

-

James steps out of the car. The condominium looms over the limousine, and James bites through white-knuckled rage as he steps into the lobby.

Guess who’s standing there waiting for him, Owen Grant, and his mother. James steps up to them, “Grant, correct?”

Owen looks surprised and gives James a quick not-so-subtle scan, “Are you who Vince sent, I thought he was coming?”

“Do I really need to explain why that will never happen?”

Mrs. Grant gives James a glare to rival the sun’s wrath on gingers. The demeanor shifts almost instantly to a more business appeal, “Well allow us to get this paperwork sorted out as painlessly as possible.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

How long does it take to sign papers? James thinks as he watches Owen go through the forms. These are pre-filled out records; he just needs to sign in three spots. Pen scratches against the paper, Owen’s friendly demeanor evaporated when he reached the final form.

“Why this of all things?” he grinds out.

Neither of the two people answers him. Owen finally tosses the form and an orange file in James’ direction. “All of Kauri’s paperwork; if Vince needs anything else, he’ll have to contact WRU directly.”

James scoops the papers off the table, flipping through them; he looks to make sure Owen didn’t deliberately miss any signatures. An extra envelope sits in the orange file. James pulls it free and waves it in Owen’s face.

“What’s this?”

Owen, stupidly, answers, “A goodbye letter since I just filled out a no contact agreement, I want to give my final goodbyes if you will.”

James rips open the envelope and takes out the letter but keeps in anything that may be important.

“That’s for Vincent’s eyes only!” Owen snaps.

“And that hard drive was for your eyes only wasn’t it? I got Vincent’s consent to look through these forms.”

Owen and his mother glare daggers at James as he tosses the letter back onto the table, “Goodbye.”

James can still feel Owen’s teeth grinding gaze on his back as the door closes behind him.

-

Jake answers the door, “Hello Vincent.”

“Is Kauri here?” Vincent asks as his fingers shift around the orange folder.

“Depends,” Jake says, leaning against the door frame, “What do you want?”

Vincent sighs, “I called Natalie yesterday and---”

“Just let him in,” Kauri’s voice echoes from inside the safe house, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Jake pierces his lips and steps out of the way. Vincent steps past him and enters the safe house. Natalie had told him to make things as quick as possible, and if Kauri told him to leave, he would. Vincent agreed. Now he simply hoped that he would be able to get this across without being told to leave.

Kauri steps around the corner, a look of tired anger sits behind his eyes.

“Kauri I’m so---”

“Skip the bullshit, Nat said this would be quick.”

Vincent nods and forces the new wave of guilt back into his stomach, “A few days ago, I was able to… convince Owen to transfer ownership of you to me. I want to ask if I can transfer you to anyone else for your own security, so you are entirely out of Owen’s grabbing range.

Kauri stands there with an expression of absolute disbelief. Then, finally, he opens his mouth to speak before stammering, “I said quick but not one sentence, elaborate.”

“Well, to put it in simply I was going through some of my old stuff from during the incident. I found a hard drive with nearly half a terabyte of… evidence that could be used against Owen,” Vincent says as his shoulder tense at memories he wishes to be buried. “A friend of mine brought up the new box boy emancipation law and after that I got an idea. This friend, who I vomited out my entire life story to black out drunk, was willing to help be the liaison between Owen and me. After a telephone call between Mrs. Grant and I, we got the papers signed and so now I have all of your paperwork under my name.”

“Okay?” Kauri says with disbelief still in his tone in tiny blips, “Then why are you talking to me, just leave me alone and I won’t have to worry about Owen.”

Vincent chews at the inside of his cheek, “Here’s the thing, what I did is, in the eyes of the law, black mail. While he could be charged with the same thing, if he took me to court one of the first assets taken for compensation are box boys. So, you could stay under my name but I don’t trust that he won’t try to get you back by either suing or doing something. My question now is, is there someone who you trust enough for me to transfer your ownership form to.”

Kauri pauses. The gears shift in his head for a moment before he looks past Vincent and back at Jake. The widest shit-eating grin nearly splits Kauri’s face in half. He looks over Vincent’s shoulder and laughs, “Hey Jake, want your own Romantic?”

Vincent looks over his shoulder and sees a very exasperated, tired, and just downright flustered Jake.

“I- um- Kauri- I- please don’t wrd it like that, that makes me sound terrible.”

“And.”

“I- mean in order to keep Owen away from you then yes I will but please don’t,” Jake stampers, “I don’t and won’t own you.”

Kauri pushes past Vincent and boops Jake on the nose, “Congrats you get your own boxie.”

“Kauri, please.”

Vincent clears his throat and interrupts, “While I am used to being third wheel um I know you all want me out of your hair so I have the forms with me and after they are signed I will do the heavy lifting with WRU.”

After a second, Kauri chuckles before walking away. Jake just watches as he leaves, a sigh escaping his lips, “He is never going to let me live that down.”

“If you don’t want to-”

“No no,” Jake says, “I will, he's just teasing. What do I have to sign?”

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Style Check: Winter Package 2021 - Style 1

by Admin 1

I don’t know about you but I’ve been feeling constantly attacked by BH and BTS releasing these preview pictures for this year’s Winter Package. They gave us four different styles and settings, and honestly, all of them are absolutely amazing, ranging from something I can only describe as dark academia, over lovely Christmas and two variations of cute winter boys.

As pretty as their Summer Packages used to be, there’s something distinctly more aesthetically pleasing, at least to me, about the Winter Package looks we had for both editions. But maybe I’m bias since I don’t really like summer all that much and am more interested in winter themed things and fashion.

So, since we have four styles for Winter Package, I though I’ll post something short for each one separately, instead of one massive post that’ll just end up being way too long, even for our standards. It’ll also make it easier to add things and details through reblogs as we get to see more and also once the full thing will be released. Sounds good? I think so, too.

First let’s have a look at what Style 1 even looks like before we get into a more detailed overview of what each of them wore:

I don’t know about you but there’s something so cozy and pretty color pallet wise that really gets me with this set of clothes, as well as the setting they chose for the pictures. I love the different shades of blue and green as accents along with white and cream as neutral base colors. It really makes them pop, especially the contrasting splashes of orange and red on Namjoon’s sweater, Seokjin’s beanie and the entirety of Hoseok’s more yellowish one. It helps for the pieces, as well as the members, to not get lost and become one with the backdrop and instead turns them into an eye-catching focal point your eyes are immediately drawn to. It all works perfectly with the partially cloudy sky and dry grass hill, both in light (almost solid) shades.

Their mittens? Adorable. Their earmuffs and beanies? So cute! Add to that the members looking fantastic and voila, beautiful pictures. A round of applause for the stylists for these styling choices.

Below the cut, let’s check out the details thanks to the help of Bangtan Style, a great twt account to follow if fashion in the context of BTS interests you:

One thing I’ve noticed at least with some of the pieces is that the prices are somewhat more “reasonable” than when it comes to some of their other outfits where seemingly everything costs around a thousand dollars or more. Which isn’t to say that any of this is cheap by any means, but you get the point.

Styling wise these are some great choices for each of the above members. I really like Hoseok’s and Jungkook’s coats, those shades of green are magnificent and I like how Hoseok’s is a light green (fitting with his bright personality) and Jungkook’s a darker one, fitting more with his usual aesthetic and just the fact that he suits dark colors amazingly in general. That light blue jacket on Yoongi is just the perfect splash of color for his skin complexion and the shades of white of his other pieces. I appreciate the red heart detail on Yoongi’s beanie and Hoseok’s sweater, which I know are the designer’s logo but they could’ve chosen shades that stick out more, but they didn’t and I really like that.

When it comes to Jimin, his outfit out of these four seems comfiest and almost has a pajama like feel to it due to those denim pattern pants that, upon first glance, I actually thought were pajama pants. Paired with his very warm looking jacket and cute mittens and earmuffs, it fits him truly amazingly.

If I had to choose my favorite out of these four, I think I’d go with Jungkook’s.

Now here’s where my statement about more reasonable price tags basically drowns because there is nothing “cheap” about Tae’s coat. Or Seokjin’s almost thousand dollar jacket (though JKs and Hoseok’s were still a little more expensive). Some great choices were made with all three Kim’s, very in line with their usual styles and preferences. The contrast of green pants to the orange of his beanie while his jacket is mostly white with some colored accents suits Seokjin perfectly. I could see him wearing that jacket on an average day as well, though it’s interesting how he’s the only member who isn’t wearing anything around his neck, regardless if in form of a turtleneck sweater or scarf.

Namjoon looks comfy and very Namjoon with those straight leg jeans, that cute light blue (a shade very close to that of Yoongi’s jacket) with what appears to perhaps be some kind of flowers in red, and that grayish blue bucket hat. His mittens hanging off of his neck and that furry scarf are the perfect cheery on top adding this extra bit of cute to it. This seems like something Namjoon would also put together for himself, more or less, to go namjooning. And then we have Tae who, how do I put this, looks fantastic but also adorable AF, his duality, I swear. That blue scarf and shades of brown earmuffs looks marvelous with his hair, and generally browns and creams are definitely the perfect color for him. His coat is rather simple in style, one solid color, but goes great with the green sweater and light blue pants. It reminds me of outfits Tae wore in the past that followed a similar vibe and style, so again the stylists did a really good job.

Overall the Kim’s look great, though my favorite out of these three might just be Namjoon. 

But now something I’d really like to draw your attention to since I needed a moment to collect myself (I’m being dramatic here) when I realized it is this:

Not only are vmin wearing the matching earmuffs in different colors, which in and of itself is already such a cute and lovely detail, but also the price tag? $95? Like 1995? That’s such a small trivial detail and yet it just makes sense with our precious soulmates. It was most certainly a complete coincidence looking at how it’s a Korean conceptual knit project label and thus they were acquired based on how much they cost in won, and yet...! Like any vminnie I appreciate it when their stylists add these small matching details for them.

And that’s it. Overall I’m really happy with all these choices and the pictures, and members look fantastic. JK’s and Namjoon’s are my favorites out of this set. I’m certainly looking forward to seeing the rest of the pictures they took in these clothes once the Winter Package will be released.

[brahkest-fr]

oh thank you for the skin making explanation!! I'm still a little confused respecting layers and stuff because I'm also a little new to photoshop so some stuff is a little weird to understand but your post helped a lot

No prob! A quick run down on layers in general that I feel will be most important:

Basic layer. Where you draw and all that good stuff. The main one you need to worry about when making skins is the one labeled “accent goes here.” You generally do not want to draw on anything else other than new layers that you add towards the accent or if you’re editing the lines/shadows.

Clip layer. This is a layer that is clipped (think paperclip I guess?) onto another one - meaning you can draw as you please on the clipped layer and it will use the layer it’s clipped onto as a sort of bounding area so you won’t go outside of the lines. I use these often when adding details to my accent so it’s all in one place.

Note, I use sai so I have to click a little box to clip my layers. I don’t remember how you do so in photoshop since it’s been a good while since I’ve used it but it’s definitely doable in some similar manner prolly. Note that the interface will look different so I suggest hitting up some instructions if you’re not sure how to enable clipping.

Left is clip toggled on while the right is toggled off. Note how my lines are kept within the basic layer’s boundaries.

Mask layer. This is how I make it so that my accent doesn’t go outside of the dragon base (note the black and white layer tacked onto the accent folder of my skin tutorial in the shape of the veilspun silhouette). You can put masks on layers or folders.

For sai, I click the marked button and it applies a mask to the selected layer. What this does is basically give your pic a hard border where you can and can’t draw - sort of like a clip layer. So for accents, this ensures you don’t color outside of the dragon base. I do this by selecting the base (the actual base and not just the layer - I do this by holding ctrl+clicking the base but photoshop could be different) then clicking the mask button. It takes some practice to get used to the concept.

Note how in this example my pink clip layer should fully cover the dark blotch since the entirety of the clip layer is filled. However, I drew out a face and some stripes therefore the pink layer will not cover those areas as the mask prevents it. You can see the preview of the mask in the mask layer.

Again, if you use photoshop, I would suggest reading up on how its mask layers work just so you understand your tools vs mine.

These are prolly the most important layers you’ll need as everything can be accomplished with just these. There’s other layer types like multiply, overlay, etc that are also very useful but largely depend on what you’re trying to do. For example, multiply layers are good for creating shadows as it makes colors darker when applied.

If you’re new to photoshop and layers in general, I would say try practicing using them on a separate art piece apart from skins just so you get a feel for the tools - just because working on a skin might be a little too confusing with the way it’s set up and the requirements that staff has for submission.

Even doing something like I did here where I just used a blob is helpful in practicing with the layers and masks. I honestly did not use them for the longest time cuz I literally didn’t understand how they worked at all so I googled a lot of it lol.

[seyche]

hey! just wanted to say first i love your themes, they are so so pretty and unique and just! so glad you make them aaa :') also: do you have any tips for someone who wants to start their own theme tumblr? like on how to open up commissions, how to create previews and the best way to give people code and handle things? sorry if this is too much! you don't have to go into too much depth haha

thank you so much! I do have a bunch:

previews matter a lot, because it’s how you show off your theme and most people decide whether to use a theme or not based on the preview. I try to spend quite a bit of time making sure that my previews look nice, display the theme’s most important options, and show a diversity of post types. same thing with the preview picture(s) in the posts - I think picking 1-3 that show off your theme’s dominant features helps a lot. 

you can use a live preview or a static preview. a live preview is just a sideblog with your theme on it so that viewers can interact with your theme the same way as normal blogs. static previews are basically just the source code of a web page that thememakers host on their blog as a custom page, so viewers can’t interact with them like a normal blog theme. 

I use static previews so that I don’t have 38402384 sideblogs. to make it, you just put your theme on a side blog, right click > view page source > copy everything > go to your blog > edit appearance > add a page > select custom layout > paste everything and save.

github is the best way to host your codes because recently, pastebin has been labelling tumblr themes as “offensive” and putting them on private or removing them. I’m trying to figure out a good alternative to pastebin because I like to have alternate downloads in case github screws up, but idk yet. plus, pastebin is banned in a bunch of countries.

make sure whatever blog you’re hosting your themes on, preview links, and code links are easily accessible.

for example, I wouldn’t suggest using a theme for your blog that has 9px font (most people, especially those of us with bad eyesight can’t read 9px font). or as another example, if you plan on putting your preview/code links in the content source links instead of the post body, make sure your theme has visible content source links. stuff like that

related to the above: Tumblr was hiding posts with external links, but recently, they’ve stopped doing that and I can now see more theme posts in my tracked tags, so it should be fine if you stick your links in the post body. but it’s important to tag your theme posts with the right tags. only the first five tags count towards the tracked tags. I usually tag mine with stuff like #tumblr theme and then a couple of resource blogs.

also, and I really can’t stress this enough: if your theme post doesn’t get a ton of notes in the first few hours/days after you post it, DON’T PANIC. theme posts take a much longer time to get exposure than other types of posts because Tumblr’s algorithms, and because most people will find your themes by seeing them in action on other people’s blogs. this is all especially true when you’re first starting out, and it feels rough, especially if you’re a content creator who’s used to posting stuff like gifs that get reblogged more quickly and more widely. it often takes weeks or months for theme posts to accrue anything like 250+ notes.

it’s also good to clearly set your own boundaries (like ask boundaries... which I am not great at doing) with asks. the vast majority of people are nice and respectful, but there’s a small minority who feel entitled to thememakers’ time and labour, and this is especially true if you move into premium thememaking.

re: commissions.... that’s a big step that could be its own post, but I will say that a big part of commissions is the preparation that goes into it beforehand. like making sure you have a base code you know your way around and you have your terms and conditions set out really clearly beforehand.

okay well that’s a giant post but good luck with your thememaking!

[erika-writes]

a bit overdue but thank you so much for 1,000 followers! i just make things for fun when i’m bored. i’m glad so many people enjoy what i do. your lovely comments don’t go unnoticed! i was going to release this one for payment because of how much work went into it but i’m proud of it and think a lot of people would really enjoy putting it together for their characters! enjoy.

journaling by @erika-writes

↳ a muse page influenced by the idea of having a journal based on your character. comes equipped with stats, an insta-esque feed for aesthetics, a moodboard, a full biography section and a page for six connections.

preview

code

please give this a like or reblog if you enjoy this theme or plan on using it! if you like my work, consider buying me a coffee. ♥︎

– information to note is under the cut!

things to know:

you’ll need html knowledge when it comes to changing the information and photos. however, i tried to label and organize everything to the best of my ability so you can follow along. you may need to be familiar with multi-page themes but again, i tried to label everything.

a lot of the content on the page is more of a template than anything - you’ll see that it’s easy to change into whatever you’d like. i just have it set a certain way for ease of use / an example.

there is limited room on certain text elements (ie. the home page) so if anything looks strange after you add text, you may just need to shorten it.

in the moodboard section, you’ll have to go in the code and change the five colors. the code looks like this.

sometimes things look different on the customize page vs your actual tumblr so make sure you’re checking out how things look on your blog instead.

i set this up as an information page for muses but with some creativity, i’m sure it could be turned into anything.

if you end up using this, feel free to send me your results or tag me! i’d love to see what you do with it.

image sizes:

home page photo -

◦ width: 450px ◦ height: 215px

aesthetic pictures - ◦ width: 130px ◦ height: 130px

moodboard - gif: ◦ width: 320px ◦ height: auto image with tape: ◦ width: 260px ◦ height: 190px square image under quote: ◦ width: 125px ◦ height: 125px pin: ◦ can be anything but - must have transparent background. can also be any size, just change the width size. ◦ width: 70px ◦ height: auto

connection pictures - ◦ try to use an image that’s more centered for the triangle as it cut things off easily! ◦ width: 100px ◦ height: 100px

terms of use:

do not remove the credit

do not use this as a base code

do not use any pieces of the code as a base for other themes

you’re welcome to edit the theme as much as you’d like for personal use but do not redistribute it

please try to google any coding questions before asking me

i won’t answer any specific customization questions, only questions that pertain to how the page is already built

if anything is truly messed up in the code, please let me know and i will try to fix it asap!

do not use any of the images on this page as they were simply for example purposes

[journalofimprobablethings]

a recipe for home

Author: journalofimprobablethings

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Balance

Summary: 

Taako tries to cook for the first time since Glamour Springs. When things go awry, Lucretia is there to lend a hand.

Full fic under the cut, but this you can also find me on AO3!

Preview:

Living in the headquarters of the Bureau of Balance makes Taako nervous.

It’s not just the giant brainwashing jellyfish, or the weapons of mass destruction they're hunting, or the fact that it’s a literal moon base floating in the sky--that’s all weird, sure, but he’s Taako. He can deal with weird.

It’s the sense of deja vu he gets just walking around the place, the feeling that he’s been somewhere like this before. It’s the fact that so many things about it feel so damn familiar. The details of the place that feel right in a way he can’t explain. 

The deja vu is constant and sometimes overwhelming. He knows he's never lived anywhere like this--he’s pretty sure he would remember living in the sky--but he still can’t shake the feeling. If he tries to think about it too hard, his head buzzes like the beginning of a hangover and the thin needle of a headache starts to pierce his skull. So he doesn’t look at the feeling straight on. But he worries the edges of it sometimes, as he’s lying in his bunk listening to Magnus and Merle’s snores. 

He’s never had a place like this, never been part of a team like this. He’s always been alone. So why does this place--why do these people, Magnus and Merle and the Director and even, weirdly, Davenport--why do they feel so much like home?

-

The kitchen in the residential wing is the worst--or the best, depending on how you look at it. It’s small, just a tiny galley kitchen for the Bureau members to use if they don’t feel like going to the mess hall, and everything about it feels right. He’s never felt so immediately comfortable in a new kitchen before. He finds himself reaching for a spoon or a pan without thinking, and there it is, exactly where he expected. It’s as if somehow his body already has muscle memory for this place he’s never been. It’s the strangest thing.

Maybe that’s what makes him decide to actually try cooking again.

He hasn’t made anything more complicated than a peanut butter sandwich since Glamour Springs. Every time he thinks about trying, about cutting and assembling ingredients, about transmuting anything, his hands begin to shake, and the echo of forty people choking and gasping for breath sounds through his head. Before he came here, he’d barely set foot in a kitchen in six years.

But for some reason, this damn kitchen calms his fears, at least enough to pull out a pot and prepare himself a packet of instant ramen. Even he, he reasons, can’t mess up noodles and a flavor packet. He only ever cooks for himself, though, never for the others. He plays it off as selfishness-- get your own food, homie, I gave Garfield good elf hair for this shit --and hopes that Merle just thinks he’s an asshole for knocking the spoon out of his hand when he tries to steal a bite. Even he can’t mess up noodles and a flavor packet--but he had thought garlic chicken was a simple enough recipe, too.

--

Now, he’s standing at the stove, testing the waters in his mind. It’s late, Merle and Magnus long asleep, but after hours of lying in his bunk staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about all the questions this place raises in him, he’d given up on sleeping himself and made his way down to the kitchen. If he’s going to try, the middle of the night is a good time: no one around to disturb him, or ask for a taste.

Taako pulls a pot from the cabinet to the right of the stove, just where he thought it would be, and sets it on the burner. His heart is pounding in his ears, but his hands are steady, the ghosts of Glamour Springs so far silent.

Rice, he thinks. Rice is simple, easy. He’ll start with rice.

After a quick survey of the food stores he's found bacon in the fridge, pigeon peas and capers in the pantry, a container of cubes in the freezer labeled “sofrito” -- who in the Bureau cooks enough to make and freeze sofrito? he thinks. But he’s not complaining, because now he knows what he’s making: arroz con gandules, Tía Elsa’s recipe, a recipe engrained in his bones. There are enough spices in the cabinet to approximate sazón--no banana leaves to cover the pot, but Titi Elsa only did that half the time anyway, maybe if we had a banana tree in the front yard, mijo, but I’m not making a special trip just for leaves. Foil’s fine.

He assembles the ingredients on the tiny square of counter next to the stove, pulls out a cutting board and a knife. Takes a deep breath. 

And begins.

He heats the pot, cuts the bacon into thick dice and adds it in. The motions are easy, practiced, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as he falls into the familiar recipe. While the bacon crisps he turns his attention to the army of spice bottles he’s pulled from the rack. He starts mixing them in a small bowl, measuring them by eye in his hand. Garlic powder, onion powder, cumin, coriander. He’s missing annatto seeds, but there’s paprika, easy enough to transmute one to the other--

He stops, staring into the bowl, his hand smudged with red powder.

He did the magic without thinking, a simple shift in flavors, but now he’s staring at the bowl and the smudge on his hand and he’s thinking of elderberry and nightshade and the sound of a town choking to death on his mistakes--

“Taako?”

The voice is distant, he can barely hear it over the ghosts crowding his head.

“Taako, are you alright?”

A hand touches his shoulder, tentatively, and he flinches away from the touch but it pulls him into the present enough for him to open his eyes and see who's talking to him.

The Director is standing in front of him, a blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders and concern in her eyes.

Of all the people to find him like this, it had to be her.

“Peachy keen, jelly bean,” he says, trying for nonchalance, but he can’t stop his voice from shaking. “No worries here, Taako’s good--”

He reaches out to steady himself on the counter, but he misses and catches the edge of the spice bowl, tipping it over the edge. It shatters at their feet, spilling its contents across the floor in an aromatic slash of orange and red and brown.

"Shit," Taako says. "Fucking shit."

He reaches down to clear up the mess, and the world tilts and he almost falls over. Then the Director’s hands are on his shoulders, no longer tentative, catching him before he can fall. She steers him to the table at one end of the narrow kitchen, and guides him, gently but firmly, into a chair.

“Sit.” 

He does, and the world tilts again.

“Breathe,” the Director says, and yes, that’s why the world is tilting, because he’s not breathing, but how does he do that? He leans forward and puts his head between his knees, and manages to suck in a shaky breath.

“That’s it,” she says, “Just breathe.” She’s somewhere nearby but now that he’s seated she’s no longer touching him. He can hear her breathing, though, slow and even, and he tries to focus on that, to match his breath to hers.

It takes a few minutes to even out his breathing, and another few to silence the ghosts whispering in his ears. But finally he lifts his head and looks up at the Director. She’s crouched next to him, a small furrow of concern between her brows, and Taako has the strange urge to reach up and smooth the furrow away. He clenches his hands into fists.

He should probably say thank you, but he's angry with himself and embarrassed that she's seen him this way and so what comes out instead is,

“What are you doing down here?”

It’s a rude question for an employee to ask their boss, but she doesn’t seem to mind. 

“I was working late and came down to make some tea." She studies him. “You were cooking.” She says it so carefully, and not for the first time, Taako wonders just how much the Director knows about their pasts.

He’s afraid she’ll ask what set him off, ask if he wants to talk about it , and he doesn’t think he could handle that. He’s had enough of being vulnerable in front of her for the moment. So he straightens in his chair, pulls his nonchalance back over himself like armor.

“Yeah, you know, sometimes you just need something better than the crap we get in the dining hall.”

He waits for his words to provoke her, for her to stand and say something kind but brusque and leave. But she doesn’t. Instead she just sighs and looks back at the kitchen, surveys the ingredients on the counter, the spilled bowl of spices on the floor. "Gandules?" she asks, and Taako raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah."

She hesitates, and then says the most remarkable thing.

“Would you like some help?” 

He stares at her. Of all the things he might have expected her to say, that wasn’t on the list. She sounds different, somehow--less distant, less lofty. She sounds younger. 

“Listen, not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but don’t you have important Director-y things to do? Or you know, sleep to catch?”

She smiles thinly. “Sleep is a lost cause tonight, I think,” she says. “And even administrators have to eat sometimes.”

Maybe it's because of that change in her voice, or the fact that she didn’t try to make him talk about the spell he just had. Maybe it's because, against all odds, the Director's presence in this kitchen is strangely comforting. Whatever the reason, he doesn't push away her help the way he normally would. Instead he just shrugs and waves a hand.

"Sure. Knock yourself out."

The Director smiles, drapes her shawl over a chair out of the way, and gets to work. She clears up the spilled spices and shards of bowl, removes the now overly-crisped bacon from the pot, drops in cubes of sofrito to melt and fry in the drippings, and soon the kitchen is full of the mouthwatering smell of cooking onion and pepper and cilantro. It smells like Titi Elsa and home, and the band of anxiety around Taako’s chest begins to loosen.  

Taako watches the Director as she measures out the rice and adds it to the pot to toast, then mixes the spices in a new bowl, measuring them in her hand just as he had. She cooks slowly, like she’s having to remind herself of what comes next, but she goes through the steps of making the arroz exactly as he would.

Deja vu, he thinks.

“Where’d you learn to cook this?” he asks. “You spend some time in New Elfington or something?”

The Director doesn’t answer right away. Her hand pauses in its stirring, as though she’s considering what to say, and when she does answer her eyes are far away.

“My brother taught me,” she says quietly.

The answer surprises him. The Director is one of those people who is so private, so self-contained, that it’s hard to imagine her with a family, a life outside the Bureau. Taako tries to picture the Director younger, more carefree perhaps, standing side by side with her brother in the kitchen. But something about the image makes his head hurt, so he stops.

He wonders what her brother was like, and where he is now.

He thinks it must be nice, to have a sibling, someone to teach you to cook, to be at your side through good times and bad. Someone who would miss and mourn you if you were gone. The thought makes his chest ache with something like longing and something like grief.

So much of this place and these people make him feel this way, this confusing mix of longing and sorrow and comfort. He hates it, because he doesn't understand it, doesn’t know why it’s happening at all. These people mean nothing to him. He just met them. He doesn't care about them, he certainly doesn’t need them. He has never needed anyone.

This is what he tells himself, but as he leans back in his chair and watches the Director cook, he can't help but admit that it's the most at home he's felt in a long time.

---

Lucretia knows that this is a stupid risk.

She's supposed to be keeping her distance. She's supposed to be the Director: professional, dignified, distant . She's not supposed to let them catch her wandering to the kitchen late at night, and she's certainly not supposed to be in said kitchen cooking one of Taako's aunt's recipes for him--one of the ones that he absolutely forbade her to ever write down. (She'd watched him make it until she'd memorized the steps well enough to make it on her own. She's tried it a few times, since the redaction, and it has come out fine, but never as good as his.)

She's breaking all the rules she's set for herself, all the boundaries she's put up to keep her story in place, to keep them safe. She's putting everything at risk.

But when she came into the kitchen and saw Taako staring blankly at that bowl of spices, the smudge of paprika on his palm, helping him wasn’t even a question. She knows what happened at Glamour Springs, and she knows how hard cooking is for him now. She'd hoped the kitchen might help. It's modeled after the one on the Starblaster, laid out just the same, one of the places she couldn't bring herself to let go of.

And now it seems it's just made everything worse.

Maybe it's the guilt that makes her offer to finish the dish, so at least Taako can have a taste of home, even if it's not as good as his or his aunt's. Or maybe, she admits to herself, it's pure selfishness. Standing here in this kitchen with Taako, surrounded by the smells of his cooking, she can almost pretend that nothing has changed.

Until Taako speaks.

"Where'd you learn to cook this?" he asks, and her heart constricts in her chest.

She considers, and when she finally responds, it feels like the closest thing to truth she’s given him in weeks.

She remembers the first time she watched him make this dish, in that tiny galley kitchen on the Starblaster. They had lost Lup early that cycle, a venomous snakebite that acted too fast for Merle to be able to help. Taako retreated into himself the way he always did when Lup was gone, but when she offered to help out preparing the meals, he didn’t say no. He was prickly and short, and half the time he would take the knife out of her hand to finish chopping something himself if she was moving too slow. But he let her stay, and watch, and she soaked up everything he was doing as well as she could.

The last day of the cycle, she and Taako were in the kitchen early, and Taako made his aunt’s arroz con gandules, one of the dishes she had always made for Candlenights. He wouldn’t let Lucretia help at all. She stayed with him anyway, as the sky darkened with the coming Hunger and the light dimmed, and by the time Davenport flew them out of that plane and the threads of light pulled them apart, the pot sat covered and ready on the stove. Lup returned to a tackling hug from Taako, and a bowl of rice that tasted like home.

It was several cycles before he actually taught her how to make it, and several more before she cooked it on her own. Of all the things that he taught her to make, it was always one of her favorites, and she made it at the Bureau because it reminded her of that day, that feeling of reunion.

She only hopes they'll get there again, one day.

Gods, she misses him. She misses all of them. She hadn’t realized how peculiar a grief it was, to miss someone who is sitting right in front of you. To look in the eyes of someone who you’ve known for a century and see nothing but wariness and disinterest.

Every time she thinks she's become accustomed to it, something new appears; they do or say something that leaves her shattered.

Every time, it feels a little harder to put herself back together.

--

“Your rice is burning,” Taako says from the table.

Lucretia comes back to herself and realizes he’s right: the nutty smell of the toasting rice is now tinged with bitterness, and when she stirs there are dark flecks of the grains that have caught at the bottom of the pan.

She curses softly and grabs for the tomato sauce, which hisses and bubbles immediately as she adds it.

It’s been a long time since she let herself wander down those back paths of her memories. She’s avoided it for good reason: it hurts too much, and no good can come of it. For a moment, here, seduced by the familiarity, she allowed herself to drop her guard. 

And worse, she let Taako see.

The empty tomato sauce can clatters as she drops it too quickly onto the counter.

“You all right, there, Madam Director?”

She shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous, for him, for her, for the plan. She’s supposed to keep them at arm’s length so that they don’t ask questions, don’t try to follow her down those back paths to places their minds can’t go right now. She’d seen Taako wince when she’d mentioned her brother, because of course that would make him try to think of things that the voidfish has erased, and yet she'd continued on, losing herself in the comfort of the moment and ignoring the danger.

How could she have been so stupid?

She'll finish the dish, because she said she would. What comes next? Toast the rice, tomato sauce and then--what? She stares into the bubbling pot, trying to tamp down the panic clawing at her throat as it always does when she forgets something from the century. She knows this, it's--

"Here."

Taako's voice cuts into her thoughts. She blinks and he is standing next to her, holding the bowl of spices. She hadn't even noticed him get up.

He doesn't ask what's wrong, doesn't even tease her for forgetting what comes next. He just holds out the bowl to her. She takes it, and he doesn't comment on the fact that now it is her hands that are shaking.

"Thank you."

She pours the spices in, and by the time she's done he already has the next ingredient in hand.

They finish the rest of the recipe like that, together, Taako handing her each ingredient in turn. Then she adds just enough water to cover the rice up to her knuckle, and the heat is turned high to bring it to a boil. She and Taako tidy the kitchen without discussion while the water heats, and Lucretia wonders if Taako notices how easily they move around each other in this space, how familiar the dance of dishes and drying and putting away.

The water boils, and they reduce it to a simmer and cover the pot with foil, nesting the lid on top. And then it's done, nothing left to do but wait while the pot bubbles quietly away.

“I should go,” she says quietly. “It’s late.”

"I thought sleep was for the weak, or whatever," Taako says.

"There's always work to do," she replies. She picks up her shawl from the chair and surveys him. "Will you be alright?" 

He flashes a peace sign at her. "I think I know how to tell when rice is done. I'm golden."

"You know what I mean."

Their eyes meet, and for a moment there is a connection there, an understanding. It's not what they had before, of course, not even close. But it's not nothing, either.

"I'm good," he says.

She nods and turns to go, but his voice stops her before she gets to the door.

"Hey, Director?"

She turns. "Yes?"

He starts to say something, then stops, and his shoulders go up in a sort of helpless half-shrug. 

“Thanks.”

She smiles at that.

"You're welcome, Taako."

--

The next morning, Lucretia comes into her office to find a covered bowl sitting on her desk. Next to it is a note, and she recognizes the looping scrawl instantly.

Not bad, Madam D.

She smiles and uncovers the bowl. Even though it must have been hours since he placed it there, the rice is still steaming.

[photolover82]

The Masked Singer Season 6 Costume Reveals (Predictions and Rankings) Part 2!

Hello everyone! Welcome (or welcome back) to Ana’s Masked Singer, where I, Ana, recap every single episode of The Masked Singer, including when they reveal our beloved costumes, which is what I am doing here! Actually, this is part 2 of this revealing costumes saga, so if you wanna see part 1, link is below ⬇️

So yeah, go see that post for the first 10 costumes that were revealed with my thoughts, some predictions/dream casting action, and how I rank them… and now let’s get started with the costumes and more of that action! (Preface= I still don’t know how many costumes are in total, so by the end of this post, I may have a better idea, I’m still not too sure).

* Also, in between this part and the last one, the sneak peak episode was revealed and we got to see the first clues so I will be putting them down for these costumes and updating them for the previous ones!

1. Skunk 🦨

Thoughts: I really like this costume, it is very reminiscent of flapper girls and I feel like someone older & a legendary celebrity is under that mask because it's so poised and elegant kind of like flower from season 2 or bee from season 1.

Predictions: Again, I am gonna predict that this is a legend in the music world, perhaps older & female, similar to Bee (Gladys Knight), Flower (Patti LaBelle), and Mouse (Dionne Warwick). So, for dream casting, I'm going to go between Liza Minelli, Tina Turner, or Diana Ross.

First Clue: Elvis Presley (maybe someone related to him or who knew him or sang one of his songs famously or is also from Memphis)

Ranking: 8/10

2. Caterpillar 🐛

Thoughts: It’s a super cute costume, reminds me a bit of the llama, if it were cuter tbh. The colors are super cute, very nostalgic to like toys from the 90s or early 2000s which I really like. It’s adorable, it has braces and everything, I really like it. Some people say there are 2 people under there, but I don’t think so.

Predictions: I think this might be a male actor, singer, or Broadway performer…. From the first clue provided, I am gonna dream cast a guess here and it would be Todrick Hall (this is not an official guess just a dream cast one… I haven’t heard it sing just yet)

First Clue: Taylor Swift knows him!

Ranking: 8/10

3. Jester 🃏

Thoughts: This one is probably my least favorite costume of the bunch. I get what they were going with it, like a Joker from a deck of cards, but it is really weird and creepy looking. It also looks like the belly is just a pillow under there, it doesn’t look super thought out, similar to Raccoon from last season. I’m also not a big of fan of like horror movies so it just doesn’t speak to me honestly.

Predictions: I think this might be a male actor or based on the clue, my mind went to someone from the Bachelor. Also, half of me thinks it might be an action star like Danny Trejo last season. Dream cast I would say I would like to see Bruce Willis (since his daughter was on the first season), Arnold Schwarzenegger, or Danny DeVito.

First Clue: A bouquet of roses 🌹

Ranking: 2/10

4. Pepper 🌶

Thoughts: This one reminds me of the Jalapeño from Quien es la Mascara (which is the Mexican version of The Masked Singer) but it’s a female version of it instead, which I kinda like. It is a little haphazard because the head doesn’t go super well with the dress but maybe it’s because I cannot stop thinking about the Mexican male version. Nevertheless, it’s a cool costume, super spicy (ugh now I am doing the pun thing… I promise I’m done)

Predictions: Idk about this one since there weren’t any first clues for her… but I am gonna go off the cuff again and say maybe a YouTuber or another type of influencer, like dream cast wise a Liza Koshy, Maddie Ziegler, or Rosanna Pansino.

Ranking: 9/10

5. Pufferfish 🐡

Thoughts: Woah… I legit just saw this one in the most recent preview for the show. It looks really funny with the lips, like puffer fish, but the lips puff out, I see what you are doing there Masked Singer. I like it though, it is very cartoon like but I think that’s the look they were going for. The arms are a bit weird tho, I can’t tell tho because it spun around and for a split second we saw the costume (this was a screenshot I took of that split second lol).

Predictions: I think this one might be female, for some reason a younger person comes to mind, similar to like Jellyfish or Kitty from previous seasons, someone younger whether it be an influencer, athlete, or artist of some kind (actor or musician or dancer) idk…. they didn’t give us any clues about this costume, but from this photo with them taking a lot of photos of her makes me think influencer or model specifically so that’s where I am gonna go when dream casting. So, dream cast wise, I am gonna go between Gigi Hadid, Bella Hadid, or Kendall Jenner.

Ranking: 8/10

6. Mother Nature 🌬

Thoughts: Ooh, this one is super cool, they just revealed this one too after the preview. I like it a lot, it’s very realistic looking but also elegant at the same time. Even though the face is a tiny bit scary, the rest looks really cool and I like the idea of a Mother Nature costume.

Predictions: I am gonna go singer for this one, female is my guess. So, dream casting over here, I would like to see Alesia Cara, Jennifer Hudson, or maybe one of the girls from Little Mix/one of the former members of Fifth Harmony.

Ranking: 9/10

So, that's it! The total for contestants this season is 16 costumes! So, yeah, the premiere is on September 22 and 23 which is about 8 days away, so I will see you guys there! Comment below your favorite (and maybe even least favorite) costume and what you are most excited for this upcoming season! Bye guys, see you in a bit over a week.

[mikeo56]

Zayner, who has a PhD from the University of Chicago, worked for NASA researching the terraforming of Mars, and is the inventor of a musical instrument called the Chromocord that creates sound when light reacts with bacteria, was and is one of the world’s leading “biohackers.” He defines the term to mean “constantly pushing the boundaries of science outside traditional environments,” which he certainly did in this case, taking a radical approach to combating longstanding intestinal troubles. In layman’s terms, his plan was to nuke his natural bacteria with antibiotics, and replace them with bacteria from the feces of others.  

“I wanted to see if, by transplanting different bacteria in my body, they would change the way my gastrointestinal system was functioning,” is how he explains it now. “Because, at the time, it wasn't functioning very well.”

On that May, 2016 podcast, neither science reporter Liz Lopatto nor Arielle Duhaime-Ross, who wrote the story for The Verge, had much that was positive to say about either Josiah or his experiment. In fact, in an eerie preview of the anger of self-proclaimed “experts” that would become ubiquitous among pundits after the arrival of Covid-19, they sounded downright furious.

“Extremely dangerous, possibly stupid,” said Lopatto, of Josiah’s gambit.

“In his mind, it made sense to tell people about it, and inspire them to take their health into their own hands,” said Duhaime-Ross. “The risk of copycats is really real with this.”

“This is one of the things that does bug me about biohackers,” agreed a put-out Lopatto. “I don’t want people playing with pathogens in their bedrooms. Like, I’m not interested in that, personally, as a person who lives in this society.”

A less judgmental New York Times later produced a short film about the episode called Gut Hack:

Whether it’s Zayner gulping down a massive antibiotic cocktail in a WU-TANG FOREVER t-shirt, or repeatedly grimacing as he swallows home-crafted feces capsules in a hotel room, the short documentary is a parade of scenes make your eyeballs pop out in shock and amazement, cartoon-style. Zayner, by any measure, is an extraordinarily interesting character. He has a mind almost perfectly engineered against obedience: brilliant, fearless, and not accepting every assumption but checking the validity of each. He alternately bristles at or ignores judgment, seeming to draw inspiration from it in either case. At the end of Gut Hack, we see him standing on a subway platform, shaking his head as he listens to the two Verge journalists denounce him. We hear their audio:

“Not putting your life in danger unnecessarily is pretty basic,” they complain, adding that his experiment was “not even a blip in the scientific radar.”

“There’s a fine line,” Zayner later sighs to the Times, “between being crazy and knowledgeable.” He goes on to talk about growing up poor, and different, in the Midwest. “When you grow up on a farm, you have all this freedom,” he says. “We don’t have any neighbors or anyone to interact with, so we’re used to just doing what we want. And when you get to this environment were people don’t do that, you’re immediately pegged as, you know, a weirdo.”

Some weeks after, he’s shown feeling better, but he wants more than a placebo result. The film ends with him receiving the results of genetic sequencing tests that appear to show his “gut hack” experiment worked. He bursts into tears. The Times reporter asks, “Do you feel vindicated?”

He seems surprised by the question. No, he says, it’s not about that. “It’s one of those things,” he says, “where you’re so moved and impressed by how science works.”

Zayner went on to claim his battle with irritable bowel syndrome had been won, only to be replaced by a new malady. “My physical signs of IBS were gone,” he said recently. “But so was my privacy. This is when the deplatforming began.”

Around the same time Gut Hack was being made, Zayner founded ODIN, which he describes as “a company that sells science and genetic engineering supplies to people so that they can do science experiments in their homes.”

ODIN’s product line, which includes CRISPR gene-editing kits, seems designed to give ordinary people the tools to experience science as Zayner does, almost more as artistic expression than means to any end. He describes his Chromacord, for instance, as “something more purely inspirational, just outside the average notion of what science even is. In a manner of speaking, it was simply magic.” Or, as he said in another interview, “People having access to this technology allows them to do crazy and cool shit.”

Unfortunately, after the notoriety he gained from Gut Hack, bringing the “magic” of genetic engineering to the layperson suddenly proved a little beyond what science-journalism scolds or the faceless executives at tech platforms felt comfortable allowing.

Amazon and Facebook began delisting his products, and Patreon, PayPal, and Square all shut him down in short order. Sometimes he was told why, sometimes he wasn’t. He was forced to move on, and doesn’t want to jinx his relationship with his current payment processor by mentioning their name.

In between, the State of California brought a case against him on the somewhat preposterous charge of practicing medicine without a license. He won, but California state authorities were so peeved that they passed a law appearing to target his company alone, declaring that firms must append their wares with labels announcing “not for self-administration,” if they’re in the business of selling home “gene-therapy kits.”

In a piece called “Don’t Change Your DNA At Home,” the MIT Technology Review noted with amusement that, even if one includes ODIN, “We’re not sure any such kit exists.” The sponsor of the law, Republican State Senator Ling Ling Chang, appeared to think ODIN’s products were a lot more Frankensteinian and terrifying than they are.

“It was really weird,” Josiah says now. “It’d be like, I don’t know, labeling a computer: ‘You shouldn’t eat this computer.’ I mean, obviously.” Regarding ODIN’s home experimentation kits, he adds, “How would you use it on humans? I don’t even understand. I guess somebody crazy enough could just take some of the DNA that we sell and try to inject it into their body, but it wouldn’t even work in humans because it was meant for other organisms.”

Zayner didn’t comply with the law, and instead just moved to Austin, Texas (“Land of the free, home of the brave,” he laughs) and set up shop there. Then Covid-19 arrived, and Zayner’s biohacking got him in trouble again.

In May, 2020, he read a scientific paper that claimed a DNA-based vaccine against Covid-19 had been successfully developed and tested on macaques.

“I was like, ‘Why isn’t anybody working on this or trying this?’ Why don’t I go and order up the same DNA vaccine, have the company produce it for me and actually test it and see if it works on humans?” he said. “It worked on monkeys.”

Zayner followed through on his idea, contracting with a company to make the vaccine described in the paper. Then he and two other scientists/bio-hackers live-streamed the process of injecting themselves with it. He claims they all had antibody responses, but even at the time — his experiment was covered by Bloomberg — he said, “I’m very suspicious of my own data.” Here is how he describes the results, and his thinking, in a recent essay:

I’m hesitant to say it worked because vaccines are complicated and we’d need further testing to confirm our results. But, even if it didn't work, the fact that someone could have designed a vaccine, and contracted a company to manufacture that vaccine in June 2020 for under $5k is fucking profound — and that is what, at the time of releasing our video, I felt people needed to know.

At the time, there was no action taken against him. But just as mRNA vaccines began to be distributed across America and other parts of the world, he abruptly received notice from YouTube that he’d been banned for “severe or repeated violations of our community guidelines.”

[ikevampeventarchive]

Comte Route Preview

[This is an unofficial work based on fan-translation. Copyright belongs to Cybird.]

Warning: Spoilers Below!

——

—— …. Everything started on that day. The moment I met you, fate was put into motion. 

One month after night of the crescent moon, upon which I had stumbled into 19th century Paris. 

An unforeseen situation struck me, who was supposed to return to my original world. 

Comte: The time-space passage, it’s warping…. 

Comte: MC, I’ll surely figure out something about the door. 

Comte: I’ll take responsibility —— I’ll protect you. 

Having lost my path home, the one who supported me, who was trying cover up my anxiety by acting strong, was the Master of this mansion, le Comte de Saint-Germain. 

And in the midst of restarting my life at the mansion, I take le Comte’s hand, and come to know both a new encounter, and a new world….

MC: Comte, why did you request for me to be your partner?

Comte: I thought it wouldn’t do for your world to be limited to just the confines of the mansion. 

MC: My, world? 

—— Wrapped up in a dazzling life, I come into contact with le Comte’s sincere thoughts. However, on the other hand….

Comte: They probably wanted a friend who could be able to stand beside an immortal vampire  —

Comte: ….That is probably all there is to it. 

(I wonder why his eyes suddenly have such a lonely look to them.)

I catch a glimpse of the pain an immortal vampire carries within their heart, and while still unaware, my feelings for le Comte grow stronger. 

But….

MC: I’m…. Am I not fit to be your partner? 

MC: Not just a partner in form, but a true ——

Comte: … MC, you’ve merely misunderstood.

…. No matter how much I yearn for him, I cannot cross this boundary drawn between the two of us. 

Just as I begin to lose hope, an incident that changes our borders occurs. 

Comte: You’re, you’re unharmed…. I’m glad….

MC: Le, Comte….? 

Comte: I… don’t want to lose anyone… anymore….

(I don’t understand…. Le Comte must be afraid of something; the same reason why he’s become this desperate, too….) 

(But, right now  —— I want to hold him tight. Everything…. I want to accept everything for him.)

I want to really know le Comte properly. I want to know his heart. I want to reach him. 

….My besotted heart once again starts beating faster. 

—— On the other side, the fated consequences of le Comte’s past draw close, as if to entangle us. 

Vlad: It’s a nice moonlit night, isn’t it, Comte. How long has it been since we last met here? 

Vlad: I thought that if I gave MC a rose from this hill, you would definitely come. 

Comte: ….Did you get close to her for the sake of calling me here? 

—

Le Comte’s old friend and a pureblooded vampire… Vlad. 

Due to his intervention, the past le Comte has been keeping to himself comes to light ——

Comte: Say… if there was such a thing as a flower that never wilted, would you consider it to be beautiful?

Vlad: My, I wonder. What do you think about it, Comte. 

Comte: To me, flowers are beautiful precisely because they wither. 

Comte: However, us immortal vampires who continue to keep on living, it’s almost as if we are the flowers that cannot wilt, ourselves….

—

A heartrending past filled with bitter strife. A fleeting love lost to the horrors of war. 

The purebloods whose paths diverged due to love for a human  — 

As I unravel the truth of the different perspectives they came to see, and the wishes they carry in their hearts, I am also shaken to the core…. 

(This much isn’t the end. Vampires have — le Comte has lived — for a long, long time.) 

The more I learn about his past, his emotions, the more I am filled with hesitation. In front of an eternity without an end… my heart is paralyzed with doubt. 

Even so, the answer I’ve finally arrived at is… ——

Comte: In the midst of eternity, I found you.

Comte: If I cannot call this fate, what else should I label this….? 

—— If there is one desire that remains unchanged, even across the course of eternity….

It is ‘I want to be by your side’ ….. that is all.

[cristalknife]

On Comments, feedback anxiety on both the writer and the reader’s side

 If one could look into  my WIP draw, or take a glance at the fics I’ve actually posted, it becomes clear misunderstandings based on miscommunication is something I seem have a thing for. In all honesty is more of a lifelong study and recurring theme I keep stumbling on or consciously walking into. Preface: I am only human and mistakes can happen, but usually I try to handle the detailed label (also referred as Read the Tin or as written on the tin) of major warning with my writings that is usually missing in any other aspect of life, sort of a lovely user manual/preview so one could know to walk away before getting invested or worse triggered. 

Or at least know exactly what they signed up for.

Is it perfect? No but at least it’s there, as a writer I did all I could to avoid unpleasantness, the rest it’s up to the reader’s discretion. Which leads me to the heart of this post: comments, feedbacks, criticism, politically correctness, manners and the anxiety they produce in both the writer and the reader. 

The picture is big so I’ll divide in sides, but remember that people are made of multiple sides, and sometimes those sides are at odds or outwardly warring against each other. That’s pretty average for any irrational human being with emotions.

From the POV of an overthinking anxious writer:

1)  Ao3′s Kudos are sort of like a watered down thumbs up, after about 4-5 fic posted (or ~15K words of stories out there to be consumed), they became the kind of anxiety triggers feeding thoughts of why so many people/guests left a kudo but the story wasn’t good enough to warrant the time of a comment/review 2) Comments are lovely reminder someone found something in your words that made them react so strongly they felt like sharing that reaction with you was worth their time. 

2.1) Comments are also the cause of anxiety about their content before you have the courage to read what they says...

3) Criticisms and feedbacks can be a wonderful tool to improve your writing for the next story. But not if they are laced with insult, personal attacks in that case they are the kind of black hole that pushes people to stop writing all together, or at least stop sharing what they write. 

4) single emoji (♥), 2 char long (<3) comments takes years of effort and a lot of conditioning to remember to slip in reader mode and appreciate the effort it took to stop and do even that, instead of allowing doubts to gnaw at the back of your head with waaaiiiiit that’s all? was it good? was it bad? arrrghhh what does it even mean??? 

5) Statistics and numbers, those are the evilest of the most buggering things and the most vile tempters that will push you to compare your stories against others (a futile exercise in frustration and pointless reason to shred one’s own self confidence to the tiniest of pieces for literally nothing)

5.1) Especially when you have two writing mind frames: 

 writing the stories you want to read (and usually it is either a niche where you’ve already consumed all you could find so you write it because duh, more content might ignite back the fire please, or you haven’t found yet someone to say it how you want to read it) vs what I simply call 

 exorcism writing (the kind of free therapy exercise when something is bugging the heck out you and not leaving your mind so you put it down to words and then let them fly free, instead of trapping them on a diary you’d just return to read and start the vicious cycle all over again)

5.1.1) and your exorcism stories become more popular than the stories you want to read, because at the end of your raw ranting exorcism you managed to write something that would end up falling within mainstream tropes. Which just makes you sad because those were not the result of love and planning and endless hours of writing and editing that you put in your other stories.

6) I’m not writing fan fiction to be an educator, it is possible that my day job is being an educator, but unless I’m there writing textbooks, as a writer it is not my responsibility to teach the reader something that has to be authentic, realistic and a good practice. I’m just here to tell a story.  Or are you really telling me that you watch superheros movies and series and expect them to appear outside your window? If you just laughed then why are you looking at fanfic smut with the expectation of finding a more interesting and alternative way to have a sex ed lesson? If you subscribe to the school that a story has has to make sense... Let me ask have you ever read some of the greatest literature works like Frankenstain, Moby Dick, The Hobbit, Journey to the center of the Earth, Alice through the looking glass, Aeneas, if you did and subscribe to “fiction as to make sense” then please please enlighten me I’m rady to sit back and hear all the points you can make how any of those are realistic representations of how things go. If you  says that those are just stories told oh so long ago... Lets pick more recent ones, the Harry Potters books, Goosebumps, Twilight, The Shadowhunters Chronicles, 50 shades of , all those are listed as fiction  which yes sadly too many used as a portrait of theme touched in there as realistic because the story was not set in a fantastical world and made the mistake of treating a work of fiction as a documentary... Sorry people I’m a writer, choosing the right words matters, words meanings and definitions matter please  learn to think critically, and learn your words, there is a difference between fiction and documentary  6.1) At the same time it might be that I am the kind of writer who loves to add factually authentic things in my writings, someone who actually had spent hours and hours on research to make sure that what they have been writing is not utter and complete made up rubbish, and that’s ok too. I do not expect readers to assume it is correct or that it is purely made up, and if someone is curious they could use the comment to ask a question, I’ve never turned out a curious question, even when it was difficult to answer it

7) Just because I am writing about something, it doesn’t mean I support it...  Again those are stories, not a scientific report on a lab experiment, I can write about abusive relationships, doesn’t mean I support them, I could write about self harm or depression, doesn’t mean I am encouraging those behaviors, in fact those usually come with a Trigger Warning, why? because a reader should have the option to walk away from what should be just a moment of pleasure and relax, not finding themselves triggered because I didn’t want to spoil the surprise of what was going to come in a story posted on the internet... 8) This far I’ve personally chosen to not push for comment, no beg necessary, I decided years ago to be the kind of self centered bad ass who writes for themselves, who’s not going to dangle the promises of more chapters in exchange for comments, I dislike the practice, and I find too exhausting shouting left and right hey hey I’ve written this read it read it... So I do get why my stories do not have such a large audience, it doesn’t help I’ve actually posted way less than what I’ve written over the years. I do welcome comments, though I have no clue on how to respond to short ones, or a single emoji/<3 to all chapters to those I end up answering only to the most recent one of that person and thank for their support. Longer comments are easier to answer because it gives me something to say back or comment/thanks for, though it becomes weird for me when someone speculate on future developments in what they wish to see, and since I’ve recently adopted the policy of posting only completed stories (even for the chaptered ones that will not be posted at the same time, the number of total chapter is not an estimation it is exactly the number of files I’ve divided the story into for reasons) because I do know whether something of that sort will happen or not, and I don’t want to put someone out of my story if they are too invested in see what they imagined happen... Though as I do write stories I’d like to read I’m quick to encourage aspiring writers to feel free to take that what if and work with it, just to please mention that my story inspired theirs and that I’d love to see what they come up with. Constructive criticisms, I do not have a beta for most of my works, I do not work too well depending on other people’s time, I confess even in the past I received criticisms that were not constructive if we push the boundaries and call those criticisms rather than just plain old complains, which is sort of the reason why I stopped explicitly encouraging communication. Because I do expect respect, you don’t know anything about me or what I believe in, you might make some guesses from my profile because I haven’t been shy and pretty open on them, but I won’t accept being personally attacked or talked to in a disrespectful manner just because you didn’t like what I wrote. I have no problem accepting criticisms, as long as they are criticisms and not just whining. You cannot come to me with “I hate your story” and leave it at that, you already took the time to express your opinion instead of simply walking away, the least you can do is explaining why... Otherwise I seriously don’t get why you wasted both of yours and more importantly my time and energies... From the POV of a spoonie reader who barely has the energy to read: 1)  Ao3′s Kudos are a life saver that allows you to show your appreciation (even if you are allowed only one as registered user) with only a click (and some times even that click takes so much out of you) instead of relegating you to invisible reader, barely visible number (*coughs*ff.net*coughs*)  or forcing you to make a story a favorite/followed 

2) Comments are the source of anxiety, because you might want to show support but would they get that or would it sound strange? will the author understand that a a ghsafdgsakdjfh (read: key smash) happened with excitement and love and you’ve no other words to express it? 2.1) also trying to put your support in words when you are in your pj cozily being a blanket burrito and reading from your phone in bed because there’re no more spoon left for the day it’s hard 

3) The author asked for R&R, or welcomes comments and constructive criticism. You loved the story enough to spend energies to

point out things that were plain plot hole or downright inconsistency or lose ends, pointing out botched translations from your own mother tongue and offering correction that were not google translated, in ao3 case pointing out lack of some appropriate tags, which would have 1 improved your story’s visibility and 2 allowed the reader to choose whether they wanted to read it or not both points that would have benefit you as author...

Only for the author to react: 

- badly with a why are you such a nitpick hadn’t anyone told you that you should just stay silent if you have nothing nice to tell me? - Excuse me you’re the one asking for my opinion not my adoration, I gave you exactly what you asked for, if you cannot handle your work being nitpicked or the holes in your plot being publicly poked then there’re fabulous people called Beta reader who will give you the needed dose of though love in private get one..

- badly with a don’t like don’t read -  legit reader’s counter point is  I wouldn’t have read it if you had given me a way to know then what I discovered now  [personal addendum, on a not that well low energy day it takes me less about 3 mins and half to read 1.5K words don’t came at me on your 1k long story and tell me I could have stopped reading when I noticed it wasn’t that good for me...I was done with it before I could get any warning]

- dismissively because a meet cute  clearly is an AU  - Bless your heart if you need me to point out to you that there is a difference between an Alternative Universe (AU) and a Canon Divergence and the fact that   meet cute is a trope  which in fandoms usually implies different circumstances within the fandom’s canon world  of the first meeting between the characters in the main relationship but doesn’t automatically include different premises for the character example: 

in canon: characters from a magical supernatural fandom one a wizard with magic, one a fighter with superhuman speed and holy weapons, in their first meeting the fighter saved the wizard’s life. 

in a meet cute:  a wizard and a fighter with superhuman speed and holy weapons meet in the middle of the forest where the fighter was hunting for food failing miserably and the wizard took pity on the fighter and offered to share their dinner, if the fighter dared to step inside the wizard’s home

in a No Power/Human AU meet cute: where there is no magic, one of the two is a barista who uses flirty coffee jokes lines to call the other’s person order, and finally discover they are an accountant so instead they start using math puns to get the accountant’s attention. 

Those are all valid stories but as an author don’t came at me believing that just because you mention a trope that is enough to distinguish between the 2° and 3° examples, or that having mentioned the trope gives you the standing to look down at me if I do have my own reasons that you do not know about  for wanting to read only stories like the second pitch and get upset but still tell you in a polite way that there are missing tags in your story, especially when you’ve falsely advertise your 3° like pitch as if it was a 2° one and I get upset and let you know about it and do so with the curtesy of signing it with my name rather than leave an guest/anonymous comment 

- shrugging off issues with the tags with a Oh but I’m bad at tagging  -

then I have 3 things to say to you buddy one) that’s not an excuse if you haven’t learnt how to do it yourself get a beta, get a friend, read more and compare what your story tells with a similar one and how that one is tagged, there’re ways Ignorance is not an excuse; 

two) you can’t claim you’re bad at tagging but then refuse to listen when someone is pointing out to you more tags for your story, dud learn how search engines work, searching by tag is basically having a filtered search, the more tags your fit your story the more venues your story can appear in reader’s search for something to read... which means visibility for your work, are you really telling me that you dislike to have that and would prefer less people reading what you post? then sorry but I think you’re doing it wrong and should get a diary instead, not post them on the internet.

addendum: still claiming to be bad at it after having posted over 40 stories and all posted in recent times in the span of a couple of months, just suggest you lack the intelligence to learn how to do things. Which only encourages me to never ever get close to your works, certainly to never promote or share them if not actively discouraging my friends from spending their time on them.

three) and guess what?  there is a frikking I'm Bad At Taggingtag for that too!!!

As a reader I might be ranting in this post, but the long effect of those is a growing apathy and increased unwillingness to spend my energies for commenting unless I’d really really really really liked or loved a story, or I have something more than a one liner to share, which while I intellectually know it might be unfair to let the whole pay for the disrespect of few, my own survival instinct is glad I’m not spreading myself even thinner...

truthful disclaimer: in all fairness it has been my experience, that those reactions usually come from authors with already quite few stories or a decent word count out there. 

New authors are still very much enthusiastic and happy about even the smallest crumbs of recognition or encouragement, which in return is lovely because it recognise that my own time and energy as reader are worthy, that it does take effort to share an opinion or encouragement or suggestion.

4) The author might never know how that day I posted that single emoji, or two character <3,  it was one of those bad days when even opening a small water bottle to swallow down the painkillers was too much, when using a finger to scroll down the page to reach the end of the story had wiped out more energies than I could really afford and yet I still pushed myself to leave a sign that I was there and appreciated their story

5) readers should be allowed to have the “if you thought writing was hard, try commenting other people words” tag...  because sometimes especially on older platforms (yes ff.net I’m looking at you) as a reader I can’t find the energies to wipe up something to say so I become a silent invisible reader. And sometimes it’s really that I am able to stand only stories with certain characteristics, personally for example I do not have the emotional fortitude to read more a certain amount of Work In Progress at the same time across multiple fandoms because my brain can’t recall all the details and I might not feel to rereading the story from the beginning every single time there is a new chapter... 6) Maybe it’s because I’m way out of my teens, maybe it’s because even in my teens and before stories were my safe place, my escape, I do not expect things to be factually correct in stories, but I am a logic driven person, I will see those plot holes and I might even poke through 'em if I find your story good enough that I feel it would be a pity not pointing those things out. You cannot tell a classic vampire story (not the twilight kind of sun sparkling vampires but the sun burn me to ashes kind) and have your group of vampires prancing about at noon of a clear summer day without some sort of reason for that to work. I promise you, I’m not picky, I will accept ridiculous reasons like they were standing under and umbrella covered from head to toes and none of their skin was exposed to the sunlight, but do put the effort to give me a reason why I should believe it was intentional, or do not cry and complain if I do decide to point out dude you’ve normal vampires that are sunbathing and did not become piles of ashes that’s not plausible... 7) Stories are just that, something to listen to, they don’t have to have a moral for them to be worthy of being shared, they don’t have to be a mirror  of your thoughts, or they could be a mirror of your beliefs, and if I am commenting on them I’m commenting on the story itself not your connection to it. And I do need you to advertise in advance if there’re things that might be triggerish, because what might be  just a mental exercise of stepping outside your shoes, if not done might result in me walking into a panic attack while maybe I was just recuperating for one and trying to find comfort or a distraction. While I as a reader cannot know you author and where you come from, unless you want to make an ass of u and me do not assume you know where I am or what path I’m walking in my life as a reader.  8) I despise people telling me what to do, especially if I didn’t ask for an opinion... If someone (who doesn’t have an economical or authorative position over me) demands me to do something the chances I’ll be do it, especially if I was going to do it before, become nil instantaneously. I’ve been running and lurking in writing circles and fanfictions for closer to three decades at the time this is being written, and from the very beginning I found disgusting and deplorable the practice some authors adopted of bargaining reaching certain numbers of comments/kudos in exchange for the next chapter. I can respect an author saying I don’t want to get this or that, but the final result is that most likely I would walk away without commenting even if it would have been a story I would have otherwise supported. There’re few authors I do know personally, at least superficially through other channels, that have this kind of disclaimers and I still comment. But that’s because I have an appreciation and will to support the person themselves who also happened to be authors. 

[oklottie]

[ VICTORIA PEDRETTI // CIS WOMAN // SHE/HER ] – oh my god, is that CHARLOTTE “LOTTIE” IADANZA?! the tabloids can’t seem to stop buzzing about the TWENTY-FOUR year old ACTRESS. the industry has dubbed her THE LUCKY PENNY and sources say, she is OPTIMISTIC and WARM, yet also GULLIBLE and WEAK-WILLED. yet, with all this gossip, who really knows?! one thing’s for sure, though– queen bee has it out for her!

hello hello hello! alex here! with her second muse! whose last name sounds absolutely stunning if you pinch your fingers together and say it like a stereotypical italian chef!

**** so,,, let it be known,,, that this character is an adaptation of another. and,,, as a preview,,, the other character died from super rabies™ in an au after putting on a production of cats... using stray bahamian cats.

QUICK FACTS:

full name: charlotte “lottie” rose iadanza

date of birth: march 6, 1996

*does not perfectly reflect the below big three zodiac chart because that’s too much math

zodiac big three: pisces sun, gemini moon, pisces rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual ( also preference for women bc we luv that for her but we also luv leaving things open to chemistry )

education: bachelor in performance arts

enneagram: 2w1

mbti: infp

various inspirations: rose nylund ( the golden girls ), jan brady ( the brady bunch ), fox 8 ( fox 8: a story ), eleanor crain ( the haunting of hill house )

BACKGROUND:

so i’m reworking her background,, hence why she has a completely different name and everything,, bc her original one?? the angst in it wld have no place here!! gotta have a reason for it!! but this bitch?? labeled her ‘the lucky penny’ for a reason

so we’re fully embracing the rose nylund side of her.

she was born in this super small town in themiddleofnowhere, usa. basically springfield - literally no one, including the residents of the town, would be able to tell you where it is. can’t find it on a map. just gotta rely on that connection.

is this half-comedy, half “i’m entirely serious”? why yes, yes it is. 

in the state of indiana that’s all anyone knows.

it was full of what one can only describe as ‘characters’ - aka, complete caricatures. even her family!!

as the middle child, lottie always had someone one-upping her. older brother? the school casanova! he could nibble any girl’s name into a corncob WITH their SPECIFICALLY REQUESTED FONT!! who could beat that!!! 

older sister? she got davy jones from the monkees to appear at the 2010 homecoming. davy jones!!! 

then the younger ones were just cute i don’t know what to tell you.

with her siblings being so in the spotlight (you know… by the standards of whatever town they were in…), lottie searched far and wide for the thing she was good at. she couldn’t fire-breathe well. she was decent at juggling, but things got messy when a chainsaw was thrown in (they still mourn paul williger’s hand). somehow… one of the last things she tried… was acting. 

but she wound up being really good at that!! so she put her entire being into it!! and just trusted that ‘good’ by her town’s standards doubled as ‘good’ by other standards!!

and, considering she was accepted into an arts school on her acting merits, they apparently were!!!!!!!!!

so this next part is based on how entirely shocked i was at the story of how victoria pedretti got the role of nell + her label: with literally only one thing on her resume, it being a student film that was exclusive to youtube and was more performance art -esque than anything… she was apparently the perfect fit for a netflix original role. she sent in literally a stupid home-recording audition… and yet she got the role of the main character, thus beginning her lucky streak.

this streak has yet to be broken, but the story goes that it’s only a matter of time!! sister’s probs gonna suddenly become a really good actor :\ steal all the roles :\ i haven’t named her but it’s gonna have to be a name like ‘marcia’

PERSONALITY/MISCELLANEOUS INFO:

all the personality facts u can gather from the ‘quick facts’ section!!

likes cats unironically, so that speaks VOLUMES.

thinks getting davy jones (rip) to come to your prom in his very much has-been stages is literally the most impressive thing in the entire world

ok ok imma be real im!! a lil tired rn!! so i’ll write more here after a shower!!

speaking of - most of vera’s intro has been expanded on. a lot of it,,, still need,,, fixing in the grammar area bc a bitch was rushing but!! got a full connections list now!! at least there’s that!!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

** all connections are open to any gender unless otherwise specified

any nice lil friend connections <3 (??/???)

the dorothy to her rose: someone who puts up with her dumbassery but will make it known that it is, indeed, dumbassery (0/1)

“u wanna hit?” “hit what?”: an attempted bad influence… attempted. (0/2)

“get it 2gether”: y/m is over here bein a hot mess and she’s over here like “well as my guidance counselor, rupaul ms cummings, once said: if you can’t love yourself, how the hell are you gonna love anybody else?” (0/2)

exes on any terms (0/2)

some publicity stunt relationship (0/1)

ons: i don’t see her as being much of a fling/fwb type of person, but we’d love to see that One™ one night stand that j ended with her being like “wait,,, how does this culture work again i forgot” (0/1)

[cultureisdarkbeer]

TXF/Sex Ed - Introspection

Follow up  - Mulder joins Scully as they sit down with Dr. Milburn

“I don’t know about this woman Scully,” Mulder said as they approached the house settled up in the hills. Mulder had been having second thoughts all day, but the closer they got the bigger the ache in his stomach grew.

“The least we can do is be cordial. Her son is dating our daughter,” Scully returned and fixed her violet skirt over her knee.

“Don’t remind me,” Mulder grumbled.

“He’s a sweet boy.”

“ He’s not my concern.”

Scully consoled him, skimming his knee and tracing the inside of his thigh. For a moment he considered taking the scenic route. “She can take care of herself,” Scully reminded him. “She takes after her father.” Scully fluttered her lashes and flashed him an innocent smile.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Mulder returned.

Inside Jean’s home office, perched on her chairs, Mulder hadn’t been there five minutes before he had decided they had overstayed. He must have missed the memo that it was long skirt day as Jean had on a pleated black one that went well with Scully’s plum. Her dress was more conservative than the last time they had met. A simple black silk blouse with basic designs accompanied by a silver choker. This blouse, like the one before was knotted in the front. Mulder wondered if maybe she had a fetish where men were required to chew it open using only their teeth while strapped to a Texas Longhorn. Or maybe he was just in the mood for a juicy ribeye.

“Six years? But why?” Jean asked perplexed, pulling Mulder’s attention back towards the conversation.

“It wasn’t worth risking our friendship,” Scully answered.

“But you were attracted to each other?” Her probing gaze narrowed over her glasses. “I mean, you undressed for him on your first case.”

Mulder attempted to come to Scully’s rescue, but stumbled. “Well, that’s only proof that we were just friends because even though her soft, porcelain skin reflecting off the warm candle’s glow was close enough for me to reach my tongue out and lick it, I didn’t.”

“You are an odd bird aren’t you?” Jean responded with upturned lips.

Now it was Scully’s turn. “Someone who is more than a friend doesn’t restrain their obvious erection in their waistband while I check him for head wounds or allow me to nurse him to health naked in a bath and have nothing happen. Several times I might add. Not to mention shower together with little more than a glance.”

Jean’s eyebrows raised almost meeting her hairline. “Well, okay.. You spent the night together frequently when you were platonic?” They both nodded. “Hmm... Inhibited sexual desire perhaps.”

“We had desires,” Scully said sounding almost insulted.

Jean addressed Mulder. “Do you believe your proclivities for porn became an addiction? Perhaps masking intimacy issues?”

“No,” Mulder said shortly crossing his legs, immediately finding it uncomfortable and uncrossing them.

“When you had other relationships, it didn’t interfere?”

Mulder and Scully exchanged some knowing looks. Scully answered. “No… well... we worked through it.”

Jean crossed her legs to rest her portfolio. “Well this might be something worth exploring, how did they end?”

“Badly,” they both said in unison.

“How’s that?” Suddenly, very intrigued at their shared, quick response.

“They all died,” Scully said innocently.

“Pardon?” Jean asked pulling her glasses to the end of her nose so she could peak out the top.

“All our exes… They’re dead,” Mulder repeated, shrugging.

“Did you kill them?” Jean asked in her delightful sarcasm.

They paused and frowned. “No.”

“Are you certain?”

“Phoebe is still alive,” Mulder reminded Scully.

A line formed between Scully’s brows as they tried to merge. “And how would you know that?”

“I-I don’t,” Mulder stammered back, shifting in his seat. “I just know she left us alive.”

Okay,” Jean interrupted realizing the conversation was going nowhere. “Let’s fast forward shall we? If you weren’t having a sexual relationship with others and you weren’t having one with each other then how were you releasing your sexual desires? All self stimulation?”

She arched a brow as Mulder and Scully glanced at one another.

“I’ll admit I am a bit baffled,” Jean continued, shaking her head. “It’s obvious you were attracted to one another, there’s a clear devotion, whether you saw it or not you were in an exclusive relationship with each other. Why go all those years with only masturbatory gratification if the answer was right there?”

“My father,” Mulder finally murmured, defeated.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Jean said pushing her black frames back towards her face. “And how did your father stall your sexual relationship?”

“He abducted Scully, stole her ova, medically raped her, experimented on children, made secret deals with aliens…”

“So pretty normal then,” Jean sighed, at a loss for another response. She turned to address Scully. “This trauma affected you.”

Scully swallowed hard shaking her head and wringing her hands. “Maybe it did.”

Scully glowed at Mulder taking his hand. “Mulder was patient with me. He’s been an incredible pillar of strength.”

“And he waited,” Jean said a little stunned. It was obvious she had yet to come across a couple so dedicated and committed without even pretense or labels.

“He did,” she said squeezing Mulder’s hand, and he squeezed hers in return.

“Did you feel responsible?” Jean asked, blinking hard.

Mulder avoided eye contact. “Yes. I’ve always taken responsibility for my father’s actions. Especially when it came to Scully.”

“Given your abduction,” Jean turned the page reading some of her previous notes. “Excuse me, multiple abductions, by several men, do you see that affecting your need for control in the bedroom.”

Scully gave Mulder a knowing glare. “Possibly.”

“I have some workbooks the two of you could be greatly helped by if you're interested, and aids to accompany them.”

Scully relented and gave her a nervous nod.

“Do you believe your son had a lot to do with your breakup?” She asked Mulder taking the pressure off of Scully.

“Scully suffered privately, she... I think it had a lot to do with my depression and when 2012 came and went it was like all our sacrificing was for nothing,” Mulder answered, scoffing, his eyes barely containing his pain.

“2012?”

“The armageddon,” he deadpanned.

Jean nodded and comforted her bottom lip with her tongue. “Right. Have you ever been on prescribed medication, Mr. Mulder?”

Mulder frowned, rolling his eyes. “No. Why do doctors always ask me that?”

Jean took a deep cleansing breath. “Let’s change tracks. You also mentioned a retarded ejaculation?”

“No need for name calling,” Mulder returned.

“Delayed ejaculation,” she restated. “Do you find it affecting your intimacy?”

“At times,” Scully answered.

“Dana, are you experiencing pain, dryness…”

“No, but I’ll have three orgasms before his one and we’re not young anymore. It can be exhausting,” Scully admitted and gestured towards Mulder’s smirking face.

“Th-r-e-e to one?” Jean said, her head physically retreating as if hit with her words.

Scully nodded.

Jean put her note folder down. “How about we take a break. Go out on the lanai?”

“That is a great idea,” Mulder said lifting himself up off the chair and holding a hand out for Scully.

“Do you know the way?” Jean asked as she put away her notes.

“Yes,” Scully acknowledged and led Mulder.

“Splendid! I’ll meet you in a moment.”

Jean returned carrying what Scully believed to be a vape. Scully watched her very casually lean against the railing and inhale deeply, holding the stick delicately between her fingers, tilting her head back exhaling systematically. A strange vision passed through Scully’s mind as if she was experiencing a preview of an orgasm Jean might experience.

“Do you partake?” She asked waving the smoke away from Scully’s eyes. It was obvious from the odor that there was much more than a nicotine based substance in the cartridge.

“No,” Scully answered not able to take her eyes off of it.

Jean held out the stick, “Would you like to try?”

Scully shook her head and smiled politely. “No, thank you.”

“Come on, Scully,” Mulder urged with a devious grin. “I’ve always wondered what you would do if you were that stoned.”

Not shying away from a dare, or maybe she just wanted to, Scully smiled warmly at Jean, gave Mulder a condescending blink of her eyes and held out her hand. Jean passed it to her.

Mulder laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day, Dana Katherine Scully, if only the nuns could see you now.”

Scully squinted her eyes at him and raised a brow, pushed the button and took a quick inhale without breaking eye contact. On the exhale Scully blew out large rings, only to back it up by filling the center forming an atomic bomb. Mulder pursed his lips.  

“Okay, Mulder. Your turn,” she said smugly.

Mulder grabbed it away from her over exaggerating his exasperation and took a good clean long inhale and held it, his eyes starting to water and Scully could almost feel the burn. He let it out in a smooth long stream, a walking stick of haze.

“You’re fairly good at that,” Jean remarked.

Mulder shrugged, but seemed to answer Scully. “Langley.”

“Should have known,” She huffed.

The conversation dulled and Scully lost track of time. The view was breathtaking. Mountains and streams. Wildlife under a clear blue warm sky. She wasn’t certain how anyone else was doing, but she didn’t feel a thing. Maybe she was immuned or it was weak. She wondered if anyone else was having any luck.

Mulder had a goofy smile on his face, but that was nothing that unusual. Jean appeared to be in her own world. Scully looked back out at the trees and they moved, not from a breeze, no, they moved in waves as if marching. She swallowed and felt the cilia in her trachea push the saliva down her throat. Each individual hair. Deep cleansing breaths she thought to herself, but that only made her feel the air pass through each bronchi and then the bronchioles. She started to panic. Was she supposed to remember to breathe? Would her body forget to do it on its own?

She had to take a step back from the railing and convince herself she wasn’t indeed floating out of her body.

Scully excused herself and walked in the house in search of some water still uncertain if she was going to stop breathing, but that fear was overtaken by concern over feeling her heart pumping the blood into her veins. Oh, no she worried, did she have to keep track of that too? Had her involuntary actions shut down and pushed all the responsibility into her conscious mind? What if she forgot, would her heart stop beating?

Back from her water adventure she stepped out on the patio ready to be sober again, a little angered that she would have to wait a full two hours for that to occur. Scully stopped mid thought and saw bright crimson. Jean and Mulder were in a fit of laughter - about her? And Jean, was sneaking in little touches all over Mulder. She touched his arm, patted his back, reached way up and squeezed his shoulder. Ran her hand along his chest and stomach on her way down.

Mulder stumbled back, avoiding her touch, but Scully still saw red. Like a bitch was going to bleed, kind of red. She moved between the two of them in an odd haze of temper and THC, plastering herself to his side and pushing her roughly out of the way with her body. Scully ran her hand along the line of his chest and abdomen where Jean had touched, as if her touch could erase it. Jean was jostled by her sudden movement and clearly surprised.

Scully ignored her too busy staring at Mulder. “Why were you letting her touch you?” she asked him quietly.

Mulder looked half-amused. “Did you find some alcohol while you were gone? You’re acting a little…strange. You know you shouldn’t mix the two.”

Her anger immediately rushed into her cheeks, but was quickly replaced by embarrassment. Maybe she misinterpreted the situation. Her brain was spinning inside her skull trying to find an exit.  And she wanted to leave, so she did, darting into the house and up the stairs searching for a bathroom to lock herself in.

Mulder found her in one of the bedrooms sitting on the bed with her head in her hands, never able to locate the bathroom. Without a word he approached her kneeling between her legs, drawing her close. She dropped her hands to his side and joined his Caspian seas which were currently eclipsed by his pupils. He was definitely feeling the effects as well.  

“What does it do to you when someone else puts their hands on me Scully?” he asked delicately. “Even when it’s innocent, does it still make you that crazy? Like you might do something violent? After all these years, do you continue to get that sick feeling, deep in the pit of your stomach? Does it make your chest hurt, your insides clench, your brain freeze? Answer me Scully.” He moved against her as he spoke, speaking directly into her eyes, his tone so even it made her whole body shiver and she lost all coherent thought. Mulder was in a mood, he knew damn well how she felt when other women paid him attention and that was always dangerous. Yet, Scully entertained his questions.

“Yes,” Scully answered breathlessly, closing in on his lips. “Sometimes I don’t recognize the person I’ve become. You’re the only one that brings that out in me and I hate it.”  

Mulder was adjusting her body as she spoke, bringing her hips to the very edge of the bed. “Good,” he said arrogantly stroking her hair and taking hold of her hand.

“Why is that good?” Scully asked, her eyes not able to leave his own, everything in the room floating around them.  

“Because that’s exactly how I feel when someone even talks to you. It’s always been that way. I feel jealous, covetous.”

“Always?” She stroked his chest through his shirt, pausing at one of his nipples.

Mulder nodded in an exaggerated manner.

“From the first time I saw you run your tongue over that plump, dangerously sensual, bottom lip of yours.” Mulder reached for her lip with his teeth and sucked it into his mouth and Scully let out a harsh moan. Mulder released her only for his teeth to settle in on her earlobe. She closed her eyes and tilted her head so he could work his way down her neck. Her finger hardening the nipple underneath it.  

“I want to feel your skin,” Scully demanded in her haze and thought, now she had done it. She had to touch him. That was worse than being high, an addiction to Mulder that ran through her veins. Now she couldn’t seem to focus on anything but touching more of him.

“Have you ever considered helping with an instruction video Mr. Mulder?” Jean asked, leaning against the doorway holding a cardboard box. “Because your penis would be a perfect demonstration model.”

Scully pulled away from Mulder, but she was so high and Jean’s voice so slow and distant she didn’t even mind that she was in the room. Scully lowered her gaze to see what had captivated Jean, following Mulder as he stood. Mulder’s jeans had bulged and were extended so profusely, it was borderline obscene.

Jean took long strides into the room and Scully laughed thinking her legs might be made of stilts. She sat the box on the desk. “This is actually my son’s room.”

“I apologize,” Scully said rosy cheeked. “I mistook it for the bathroom door.” Scully giggled. “Not that I used it for a bathroom.”

“Quite all right. A lot of people make that mistake.” Jean ran a hand through her hair. “Dana, I wasn’t trying to overstep my bounds.”

“No, no.” Scully said, shaking her head. “It’s me. I overreacted.”

“I brought the marital aids we were discussing. We could, very professionally, walk you through a scenario.” Jean held up three bars and flashed her addictively wide smile that Scully was forced to mimic. “And I brought some edibles, if you care to try. Pineapple delight.”

[curtisandlewis]

A Job Worth Doing is Worth Doing Right

Dean and Jerry

Implication of Dean with a prostitute

Not safe for work

Summary:(1,932 words) In 1952 Dean and Jerry celebrate their anniversary as a team and Jerry gives Dean an experience he hasn’t had before.

(Please see Glossary if you aren’t familiar with my labeling system) Some Things to Look Forward to:Implication of Oral Sex: Penis, excessive use of the word cock, Implication of arousal, Nipple sucking, Stomach kissing, Implication of sex with no description, Arousal, Implication of Swallowing, Masturbation: Penis, Watching, Manual Sex: Penis, Testicle Play (touching, kissing, licking, sucking), Oral Sex: Penis, Implication of Homosexual Intercourse, Pre Come, Implication of Mouth Fucking, Implication of Food Play, Deep Throat, Climax, Come Play (kissing with come in mouth), Implication of mouth fucking with fingers, Implication of Mouth Fucking with tongue  

Note: This fic was written for the seventy-third anniversary. I wrote something to explain why it’s special to me besides their anniversary.       

Jerry jumped onto Dean straddling his waist. The whole mattress shook beneath them. "I've been thinking about this for weeks." It was Dean and Jerry's sixth anniversary as a team. They usually spent that time on the road which had one big advantage. No wives. Just a big beautiful hotel suite and little Dino. "This is gonna be the best anniversary yet. You know why?"

"Why," Dean said rubbing Jerry's back.

"Because I'm gonna suck you so good you won't remember anyone who did it before me. Especially those prostitutes."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You've been suckin me a long time. I know all your tricks."

"You THINK you know," Jerry said with a smile and ducked down to unbutton the first button on Dean's shirt. He kissed the skin and repeated the process all the way down loving every second of it. Dean's eyes on him always made him aroused. He took his time kissing Dean's stomach before he instructed him to sit up so he could remove the shirt. Jerry's lips focused on Dean's smooth chest as he guided him back down to the mattress. The tip of his tongue made circles around his peak giving Dean a preview of what he intended to do to his cock. Jerry had fun playing with Dean's sensitive spot. Licking, teasing and moaning just for a little dramatic effect. He savored that feeling before kissing down to his stomach.

Jerry held onto Dean's waist as he slowly kissed the spot just above his trousers. Again and again, his lips touched the same spot each time with just a little more pressure. When his tongue made contact he raised his head and opened Dean's pants, pulling down his boxers enough so he could get at his navel.   He came back down and had a new appreciation for Dean's belly button. His fingertips gently brushed across it.  He kissed it with the utmost gentleness and caressed his hips. Jerry wanted to take his time and worship Dean's body. His mouth made love, hands traveling up until they found their home back at Dean's hips.

They hadn't done this in a while.  Dean and Jerry were both so busy having sex with other people…and of course, their careers. Jerry had to make Dean come in five minutes or less in dark corners of the set. It's exciting to think you could get caught any second but it lacked intimacy. Yes, Jerry loved to suck cock. That was a fact. However, when he and Dean took their time it felt better than sex. Dean knew Jerry's body and Jerry knew Dean's soul. These feelings that Jerry had endless words for and Dean had none came forth when they touched each other. It was at a higher level than physical pleasure.

Jerry treated Dean as he would his own wife. He used his mouth to give Dean pleasure. To say I value you. I'm grateful for you. I love you.  It gave Jerry pleasure knowing his mouth and these simple intimate gestures aroused him. Dean stroked the back of Jerry's head and it wasn't like how SOME guys forced their partners head down to do what they want. Jerry didn't need to be forced. All you had to do was ask nicely. This touch communicated everything Jerry was communicating and he felt it in his entire being.  He let the minutes pass drawing out this moment and savoring it for everything it was worth. The steady rhythm of Dean's stomach moving with each labored breath set off more basic thoughts in Jerry's mind. His mouth left him and he reached down to palm his erection. "Ooh…it's just how I like it."

"Can we be done with foreplay now?"

"I'm the one who decides that. Take off your pants."

In no time at all Dean was naked and waiting. Jerry's eyes went down his Adonis's body and paused at his cock that stood all on its own.  Too used to swallowing him on sight Jerry could feel the saliva already pooling in his mouth. Dean's hand gripped the shaft and went up in slow strokes. Dean always did look good when he touched himself. He became an even better "performer" once Jerry taught him how and where to touch.

Jerry reminded himself that he had a job to do so to speak. "Stop touching it. Get away from there," he said swatting away Dean's hand. He stroked the base with just his fingertips.

"For fuck's sake if you're gonna touch it, touch the damn thing."

"I'll touch it anyway I want." Jerry's hand traveled down to cup Dean's balls. He held him and massaged him. "Do those broads you pay to suck you off touch you like this?"

"No," Dean said with an almost strained voice.

"Does anyone touch you like this?"

"No."

"Are you scared to ask? You would be amazed by what women are willing to do."

"I don't want them touching me, okay?"

"Okay. " Jerry rolled Dean's balls in his hand. "They need attention, ya know? They're sensitive and they need a lot of care." Jerry ducked down and kissed what was in his hand. "They need love." Jerry got down on his stomach and used his tongue to give the kind of attention he was talking about.

Dean sucked in air. "Oh yeah, Jer."

Jerry alternated between using his tongue and gentle kisses.

"Put 'em in your mouth."

Jerry smiled then opened his mouth. He relished the feeling of being down there. Then Jerry let them fall out of his mouth and kissed up the base of Dean's erection. He didn't let all that saliva go to waste and licked up to the tip. Dean moaned in response. He moved his mouth up and down and around like it was on a popsicle. When it was all lubed up his hand wrapped around it. "Have you been good to your cock?"

"Huh?"

"Do you stroke it or do you choke it?" Jerry said as it slid through his hand.

"I do it like you taught me."

"Good. I love your cock and I don't want to see it mistreated." He thumbed the head. "Do you think about my mouth when you touch yourself?"

"Sometimes."

That was a good enough answer for Jerry. He licked the most sensitive part of his cock and took him in his mouth stroking him and his balls. Jerry couldn't imagine going without that pleasure. He gave him a good preview then stopped when Dean was fully erect and moved up the bed to his side.

"You're not going to make me finish are you?"

"I wouldn't do that to you. You're hard and I didn't want you coming after only a minute."

"That only happened one time. I really wanted to fuck you that night."

"Just that night?"

"No." Dean's thumb traced Jerry's bottom lip. His pre come was mixed in with saliva. "I want to fuck your mouth."

"With your fingers?"

"You know what I mean, Jer." Dean bit his lip. "I'll try to last but you know how good you are."

"We can do that anytime. I want to give you the best head of your life. I want to give you experiences you haven't had yet."

Dean hesitated while staring at Jerry's lip "OK," he said taking his hand away.

"Have you liked everything so far?"

"My throbbing cock isn't enough of a clue?"

Jerry bit his lip. "What about the stuff that didn't involve your cock?"

"Oh…yeah that was somethin…."

"If you liked that we got the day off tomorrow. I could make time in our schedule too. Like writing in the script that I need to find something down your pants and play with your balls on live television…for instance."

"Fuck…I would take you up on that right now."

"Is it hurtin' Bubby?"

"Yeah…"

"I'll take extra good care of it."

Jerry positioned his head on Dean's stomach and lightly sucked the tip. After some time passed he stopped and said, "Don't come when you reach the back of my throat. Wait till I'm at least halfway up."

"I thought you liked when I did that."

"Not tonight. Can you do it?"

"I'll try."

Jerry slowly made his way to having half of Dean in his mouth. Dean stroked the back of Jerry's head as he moaned and called out his name. Jerry hadn't even started the good part yet. He felt his hair being slightly tugged on while he moaned around Dean's cock. Moaning causes vibration enhancing the experience but it made him feel fantastic too. It felt good going farther and farther in. Jerry stopped for a second to enjoy the feeling of Dean about to enter his throat. Dean tasted good. Maybe not as good as a strawberry milkshake. Oh, the fun he could have if one of these days he could talk Dean into pouring one on him or even better dunking it in. It was always easy for Jerry. His mouth is more than big enough and it slides right in. In one move he took Dean to the back of his throat. It's probably no surprise this was Jerry's favorite part. It turned Jerry on so much he started to have second thoughts on not letting Dean fuck his mouth. His naughty side took over. He bobbed his head making Dean hit his throat again and again. It was a gentle fuck but Dean sounded like he was the one being fucked. His hands fisted Jerry's hair and pushed his head down. Jerry was free to move and Dean's hand withdrew when Jerry's mouth moved up his shaft.  Halfway up Dean honored their agreement and came. Jerry held it in his mouth as he slowly came up and let the cock go back to its resting position.

"Don't swallow."

Jerry turned to Dean confused by the command.

"Come here," Dean's voice was low.

If it was anyone but Dean Jerry would think they wanted to taste what was in his mouth.

Dean held onto Jerrys face and their lips touched. His eyes stayed open in surprise as he opened his mouth and Dean slipped in his tongue. It wasn’t like any kiss they had before. Dean had no inhibition. They both moaned as they did more than swap spit.

They parted and Dean spit into the wastebasket next to the bed. He rested his forehead against Jerry’s and stroked his hair.  with heavy breath said “Don’t you fucking tell anyone ever that I did that”

“I’m pretty sure there isn’t a rule against swallowing your own come.” Jerry stroked the side of Dean’s head. "That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen you do."

"I couldn't help myself. You were the sexiest I've ever seen you down there." Dean said between kissing Jerry. "Uh…baby…fuck my mouth."

Jerry pulled away staring at Dean.

"With your tongue," Dean clarified. "That flicky thing you do. You know what I mean!"

"With my tongue, with my fingers, I'll fuck you anyway you want." Jerry smiled. "All you ever have to do is ask." He kissed Dean playfully like in one of their movies. The kiss deepened and it was like the ones Dean had with his leading ladies. Then it turned into something you couldn't show in the movies.

Dean moaned when they parted then went back in for more. "Jerry….Jerry…"

"You moanin or you askin?"

Dean pulled away with a serious look in his eye. "Thank you for giving me everything I've ever wanted."

[intergalactic-zoo]

Today we're tackling the most recent version of Superman's origin, as told in Superman Year One. Creative Team: Frank Miller, John Romita, Jr., Danny Miki, and Alex Sinclair. All-Star Summary: Doomed planet. Terrified parents. Last hope. Mesmerized farmer.

Key Elements: As the planet Krypton explodes, a scientist and his wife place their young son in a rocket and launch him into space. He lands on Earth and is found by Jonathan Kent, who brings him home to his wife Martha, and they adopt him. From the start, he has a dense body and superhuman abilities, and these grow as he gets older. He begins using his powers to punish bullies, but learns quickly that his actions sometimes have unintended consequences. When he saves Lana Lang from an attack, he reveals his powers to her and takes her for a flight. He uses his abilities to excel in sports, to Pa's dismay. He decides he needs to leave and see the world. Ma uses the super-durable blankets from his ship to make him a garment.

Interesting Deviations: Baby Kal is old enough to be standing and walking when he arrives on Earth. Jonathan Kent is alone when he finds Kal. It's heavily implied that Kal has some kind of psychic ability, and that he uses it to influence Jonathan to take him home. The Smallville High team is the Wolves here, which is an interesting choice. I don't think that one's been done before. They were the Crows on the "Smallville" TV series and the Spartans in "Man of Steel" as a nod to the director. 

Additional Commentary: I know it's probably cliché to criticize Miller's overwrought narration, but it's laid on pretty thick here, switching from baby Kal's perspective to third-person narration of various degrees of omniscience on a page-by-page basis. Ma and Pa Kent talk like a very stereotypical, old-timey kind of farmer.

It's pretty clear that Frank Miller doesn't know what age high school freshmen are, since both the class and the kids are written as though they're in elementary school (when they're not being written as bizarrely anachronistic old men).

Later we see that Clark and Lana are conversant in Plato and Aristotle and Freud and Jung, none of whom are commonly read in high school courses. We know that Clark uses his abilities to speed-read, but it's Lana who brings up the topic. Also, I would have killed for a forty-five minute lunch period.

It's nice to see Clark being friends with a bunch of outcasts and misfits, though it would be nicer if Lana were part of the friend circle, since she's introduced as being somehow connected with Clark, but we don't actually see them interacting until considerably later, as a prelude to...well, to the unpleasantness that really didn't need to happen. I appreciate having thought balloons here, but it's a really strange lettering choice not to make them into the typical scalloped thought balloon shape. And this is John Workman on letters!

And all the sound effects in this comic look like this, which is...a choice, for sure.

Speaking of strange choices: green oatmeal?

It's also a strange choice for Clark Kent to be reading Doc Savage. I suppose there hasn't been a clear indication of when this story is taking place, but there's no time I'm aware of when both goths and 1930s pulp fiction were commonplace. It's one of many places where this book feels adrift in time, not contemporary enough to feel like a modern retelling, not classic enough to feel like a period piece. I could have done without Clark Kent peeing, but I guess this is a Black Label book, so. The bit of this that got the most pre-release controversy is the idea that Clark would join the military (here, the Navy). Jonathan is surprised that he's decided not to go to college, but Martha expresses quite reasonably a fear of his prodigious power being turned toward war. That's still contrasted with Clark's glee at seeing an F-35 flying overhead—complete with a "Look! Up in the sky!" caption—when he arrives on base.

The F-35 is an interesting choice to compare so directly with Superman, one originally intended to be the super-powerful champion of the oppressed, the other a bloated, ineffectual example of government waste and the military industrial complex run amok. As with the Superman in the military angle, it'll be interesting to see how much of this is intentional commentary and how much...isn't. As a bit of a final thought here, people were (justifiably) skeptical of this book before it was released. Frank Miller hasn't exactly had a great track record for the last (checks watch) eighteen years or so, and "the origin of Superman" is such well-worn territory that some chuckleheads have dedicated whole blog series to examining it. Heck, we just had a problematic dude writing a new, modernized exploration of Superman's origins four years ago. When the previews showed Clark joining the military, it's no surprise that there was some backlash. Awareness of the problems with the military—in how it's used, how its members are treated, and how it uses pop culture and superhero media as a recruitment tool—is at a high point in the last couple of decades, and people were uncertain how the guy who wrote Holy Terror was going to handle that relatively sensitive topic. And one issue in, we still don't really have an idea. There's a definite "recruitment commercial" feel to the last few pages of the book, but Martha's vocalization of a lot of fans' fears gives me some hope that it won't all be rah-rah jingoism. As to the rest of the book? I'm interested to see where it goes as a fan of the character, but there's just...not a lot here. From the writing to the art to the letters and coloring, everything about this book feels phoned in. Miller and Romita in particular feel like they're parodies of themselves, and if you'd told me that this was lettered by someone brand new to the industry and not the legend who put words to Simonson's Thor run, I'd believe you. For the "definitive origin of Superman," this just kind of...exists. What's interesting isn't new, and what's new isn't interesting.

The Rocket: We don't get a really clear glimpse of it, but what we see is nonsense.

Not only does it look like a knockoff of some landspeeder from The Phantom Menace, but it looks an awful lot like it should be large enough to hold more than a baby. It's implied that there's some kind of on-board AI teaching Clark along the way, as in "Superman: The Motion Picture," but the overwrought narration and constant perspective-shifts obscure whether that's intended to be the case. Not a fan. One exploding Krypton for this rocket.