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crows4luna · 2 months ago

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759 words. mature, no explicit content. gn!reader. allusions to having sex for the first time, reader identifying as aspec.

Gods, this was embarrassing.

You always berated yourself for feeling different from others, not seeing or understanding the pull of attraction that your friends ogled about. More often, that grimacing discomfort came up amid the overwhelming desires the public had over celebrities. Deep down, the detachment wasn’t from a place of malice or pure hatred.

You just… never had the explicit feel, so to speak.

Even in high school, through college, you thought of crushes as an obligatory part of your generational experiences. (For a brief moment, your mind flashes back to when you were gifted the latest album of your favorite boy band by some guy who was infatuated with you. It ended quick, lasting only for two weeks before you cut things off through text.)

Considering everything you’ve dealt with, you like to say you have refined tastes. It holds up in truth, for you were currently laying in Sylus’ lavish bed, clad in only his burgundy robe he often wore after showers. It was early morning in the N109 Zone, as much as a morning could show itself, and he had gotten up first. You couldn’t help but to let your gaze linger on his slightly sluggish form.

Sylus was everything you’d dreamt of and more, that sometimes he didn’t feel real. He knew the kind of man he was, confident of his status and power. Certainly, that played a part in how you two got off on the wrong foot when it came to your first meeting.

But now, he means everything to you. He means the world. Your heart was sated knowing the feeling was mutual.

He stretches his right arm across his chest, craning his head from side to side to even out the tensions in his shoulders. Your observation is a bit intense, but you can’t even blame yourself.

Sylus was already tall in his stature, maintaining a build that was the result of hard work and priority of physicality. The foundation of broad shoulders, followed by delicately contoured lines surrounding the center line of his back. A slim waist with slightly wider hips and defined, thick glutes. Though his back was facing you, your breath hitches knowing of the frontal plane of his abs and hardened, cushioned pecs.

He was captivating, and though his figure appeared godlike, blessed to even spare a glance, you’ve seen it in action countless times. The very same figure that protects you like a natural reflex, that trains with you to heighten your own senses and defense.

“I can feel your stare, sweetie,” his deep voice rumbles, a low, amused chuckle filling the room. “Enjoying the sight, are you?”

Quickly, you avert your gaze, curling in on yourself and now focusing on the tousled sheets of midnight silk. You clear your throat, speechless and overwhelmed that it is Sylus who dedicates himself to you. The heat that pools in your stomach makes itself evident when your cheeks warm up — then you feel a dip in the bed.

Your eyes flicker up, now face to face with those sharp, red eyes.

Sylus grins, tracing his finger over your jaw, “Don’t get shy on me, now. It’s quite alright—I like that you’re enjoying yourself.”

Damn it. Say something, you coward.

Cautiously, you lift your hand to cup his. The slow motion is familiar and tantalizing, practicing it the same way Sylus’ touch would linger on your skin. You’re perceptive to the way he inhales just slightly, anticipating your next move. The mystery of your initiation.

“I…” You begin to say, your voice nearing a whisper, “I think… I wanna try.”

He raises a brow, subtly smirking: “Try…?”

“Sylus, please. You know what I’m—it feels embarrassing to say.”

“We’re both adults, capable of voicing our thoughts and consent,” he surmises, shifting his hand away to lean into your palm. He lets his cheek rest for a second, before turning to press a soft kiss. “I told you before, I won’t make a move until you gain that confidence to tell me what you want. I want you to be honest with me, and only honest.”

Your expression softens, nodding slowly in understanding. You lean forward a bit more, now cupping his face with both hands. Your thumbs brush over the areas beneath his eyes, admiring him.

“...I want… you. To make me feel good.” You tell him, your voice firmer this time, contrary to moments ago, “I trust you. I want this, and I want you.”

He lets out a relaxed sigh, chuckling again. He nods, “Okay.”

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layla4567 · 1 year ago

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Vaccines are good

Dad!Colin Zabel x Mom!fem!reader

Summary: You and your husband Colin make up a happy family, Colin turned out to be a great father and you both love your little son. But can the detective get out of trouble when they take his son to be vaccinated?

Warnings: fluffy things and mention of needles and childhood illnesses of course

Word count: 2.8k ***************

Colin was preparing lunch while Alex was sitting at the table drawing with his crayons. The handsome detective smashed two eggs into the pan, adding salt, pepper and coriander and then began to beat them with the fork. He would take care of preparing something else for Alex, over time he had learned that the little one didn't like omelettes. He arranged the food on the plates and served them on the table waiting for you to get home from work.

"Hey champion, what are you drawing?" Colin asked, bringing his face closer to the sheet of paper.

The boy happily held the paper up with pride. "It's you with your police car!"

Colin smiled when he saw himself in that drawing. The colors spilled out of the lines but the detective could clearly be seen standing next to his car, which had the dome lights on, shining red and blue. Alex was very proud of his father and always said that when he grows up he wants to be like him, he even often wore his father's clothes and played cops and robbers with his schoolmate. Colin always laughs but obviously he worries that his son will be involved in a dangerous and stressful job like that.

"It's amazing kid! you even drew the details of my uniform, you are talented!"

Alex's cheeks turned tulip-pink with pure joy as he smiled widely. The boy was a carbon copy of his father, same eyes, same hair and every time he smiled you saw Colin. Suddenly there was a sound of keys opening the door and a sweet voice announced their arrival.

"It's mom!!" Alex got out of his chair running towards the door while you opened it laughing at his enthusiasm. Colin also came to meet you.

"Hey! How was my teddy bear today?"

You scooped Alex into your arms as you planted a loud, slobbery kiss on his cheek. The little boy laughed and then with a grimace of disgust he wiped his cheek without stopping laughing, his face was so funny that it infected you with laughter. You weren't afraid to show how much you loved your son even if you were a little clingy at times.

"Hi sweetie, welcome home." Colin hugged you around the waist and kissed you tenderly on the lips.

"Ew..". The boy said, making a disgusted face and looking away.

Colin laughed tenderly. "Why don't you show mommy what you did today, huh?"

The boy nodded with great enthusiasm and jumping happily.

"Let's see Alex, show me"

Your son grabbed your hand and quickly led you to the table where his little drawing rested. With both hands he raised it to the level of his face.

"Ta-daa!! Guess who it is!!"

You gasped in surprise as you grabbed the drawing from the boy's small hands. You looked at it carefully while smiling sweetly. The proportions of the things he had drawn were not perfect but they seemed adorable to you.

"Oh my god Alex, it's beautiful! And It's daddy! and with his police car of course"

"Yeah!! you guessed it!". Alex smiled at you with that gap between his frontal paddles that seemed so tender and pretty to you.

"Let's hang your drawing on the refrigerator door, what do you think, honey?"

Your son shouted yes and you gave Colin a smiling look.

"I think it's a great idea babe"

While you placed the drawing under two magnets Colin asked his son what he wanted for lunch.

"Ok little champ, what do you want for lunch? You don't want an omelet, right?"

Alex shook his head vigorously while sticking out his tongue in a grimace of disgust.

Colin smiled in amusement. "Alright, alright. How about pasta?"

"Yay I love pasta!!"

The detective laughed amused, it was no secret that your son loved Italian food. you turned around looking at them happily.

"Ok, then pasta will be"

Your husband had gotten up from his seat to put the noodles in a pot when Alex sneezed loudly. Colin stopped halfway looking at you while you approached Alex with concern.

"What was that, hun?" You gently took his chin in your hand, inspecting him.

"I don't know, mommy". Alex sniffed the snot with his nose as he wiped it on a sleeve.

"I already told you not to wipe your snot on your sleeve, you'll make it dirty."

"Sorry mom.."

You looked for a disposable tissue in your purse that Colin handed you and leaned close to your son's face.

"Come here"

You carefully wiped his nose while inspecting his nasal passages for any possible infection or irritation but found nothing alarming.

"Well It seems like you don't have any infection, maybe it's a simple allergy. "My love, was he like this all day?" You turned to look at your husband who returned a worrying look.

"Actually no, he was perfect. Just now he started sneezing"

You put your arms on your hips as you looked at your son thoughtfully who looked back at you a little scared.

"But he had already had a cold last week, right?"

Colin nodded. You still remembered what it had been like last week. Alex had had a fever and cough and had stayed in bed resting as the doctor had said. The poor thing couldn't leave the house to play with his friends and spent time eating soups that he considered very bland.

Worried, you walked quickly to your bedroom to look for Alex's vaccination record. You checked that everything was in order, Alex had all the vaccines from when he was a few months old baby. But he was missing the measles vaccine, which he had to get at age 5. Alarmed, you returned to the kitchen with the booklet in your hand. Alex had a terrified face when he saw it, he already knew that the storm was about to break loose.

"Colin, Alex doesn't have the measles vaccine and he's already 6, he must get it as soon as possible".

When the little boy heard the word vaccine, he jumped in his chair.

"Sure, it makes sense. The symptoms are fever, cough and runny nose, that's what he suffered last week"

"Come on, bring the car keys, we have to take him to the nearest hospital".

The detective grabbed the keys that were hanging on a cute keychain on the wall hand painted by Alex and you grabbed your purse and put on a jacket. When you called your son, he got out of the chair scared, getting as far away from the two of you as possible.

"NO!". He yelled

The two of you were about to open the door when the child's scream made you turn around to see him. When the little naughty boy made sure he had both of your attention, he returned to the charge, shouting.

"I DON'T WANNA GO TO THE DOCTOR AND I DON'T WANT VACCINES!!!"

Alex crossed his arms angrily as he furrowed his eyebrows so tightly that his forehead became wrinkled.

"Alexis Zabel!"

You put your hands on your hips, also furrowing your eyebrows, looking at him defiantly, you could play that game too. Everyone in the family knew that when you called your son by his full name it was because you had exhausted your patience and he was in serious trouble.

Colin took a step forward, trying to calm the atmosphere and cut the tension that would be felt in the air.

"Come on Alex, don't make mom angry, don't make it harder".

The detective approached with his arms open to grab his son but the boy was faster and ran screaming towards his room as if he had a rocket up his ass.

"NOOOOO!"

You ran in his direction, annoyed. "Alexis come here immediately!"

Colin grabbed your arm. "Wait, let me talk to him."

You huffed in agreement while your husband smiled at you, caressing your wrist. Colin headed to his son's room. His dark wooden door was decorated with posters of dinosaurs and robots. He knocked on the door twice.

"Alex? It's me, daddy. Can I come in?"

The man heard Alex's muffled voice from being behind the thick door giving him a negative answer, from his tone of voice he seemed still angry.

"Please son I just want to talk I promise"

Zabel waited anxiously by the door when a slight movement of the handle made him sigh in relief. Alex's chubby face barely peeked out of the space he had left open.

"Fine, come in"

Colin walked in smiling. Alex's room was quite big. The walls were decorated with drawings and posters of his favorite cartoons. There were also shelves with dolls and stuffed animals piled up, many of them were dinosaurs, he loved them. His toy trunk also had fire engines, tanks and racing cars that the boy had even taken charge of naming. The bed where the boy was sitting was shaped like a car and his blankets had drawings of prehistoric animals and plants. Colin sat next to his son who remained very serious.

"Listen Al, I know you don't want to get vaccinated but it's for your own good.". Colin used to use that pet name with his son.

"Adults always say that". Alex crossed his arms and turned his face away so as not to see his father.

"But it's because it's the truth. You know?, when I was your age I didn't want to get vaccinated either."

Alex's little face lit up in surprise as she turned to look at him. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Look, if you promise to behave like the brave boy I know you are, on the way out, I promise to buy you the biggest ice cream you want".

"You promise?". Said the boy smiling

Colin extended his pinky in promise. "Pinky promise, kid"

Alex intertwined his pinky with his father's, laughing happily as they both left the room, but not before grabbing a toy car for Alex to entertain himself and calm down. You continued waiting at the door impatiently moving one foot up and down until you saw them leave the room.

"We can go now". Your husband said smiling.

***************

The ride to the hospital was quite quiet, from time to time you would take quick glances at Alex who was calmly playing with his toy in the back seat. Colin sensed your nervousness and grabbed your hand firmly, smiling at you while he held the steering wheel with the other.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine." He whispered to you

You nodded, smiling. Everything seemed calm and correct, but when he arrived at the establishment and got out of the car, Alex saw the facade of the hospital and the fear returned to him, so he started screaming and kicking to get back to the car. You grabbed your son's hand, pulling him with Colin's help to get him into the hospital but Alex couldn't stop crying. The detective crouched down next to his son.

"Remember what we talked about, if you continue like this there will be no ice cream"

Colin's slightly threatening tone brooked no reply. Alex was going to say something but upon looking into his father's intimidating eyes he decided to remain silent. So, with a dejected air and the face of a lamb about to go to the slaughterhouse, they headed inside the building. Of course the boy carried the toy car under his arm. In the waiting room there were many children more or less his age, some teenagers and babies a few months old. With a sad and scared face, Alex sat between his parents to await his fatal fate. The other children also seemed somewhat dejected.

You knew how tortuous it is for a child to be vaccinated, you still remember when you went nervously to the waiting room to get an injection when you were a child. And honestly the screams and cries that came from the door where the vaccines were given was not exactly relaxing. That's why you took your son's delicate hand in yours, squeezing it gently to give him warmth, courage and protection.

"Sweetheart, you can do it, I trust you. And when we get into the room I will be with you the entire time and I will hold your hand so it doesn't hurt."

Your son wiped a small tear that was almost dry from his rosy cheek and looked at you with a shy smile.

"Alright, if you say so..."

The hours passed and the waiting room was emptying. There were only two people left ahead of you. Many of the children came out smiling with tears in their eyes, others didn't say anything and looked at the ground as they walked. Then a plump older woman called them by Alex's full name. The little boy did not want to go but he remembered his father's promise and bravely squeezed your hand and headed to the room while your husband sat waiting outside.

The injection room was beige and the walls were decorated with paintings of animals to calm the children, you weren't sure if it really worked. There was also a medium-sized window with baby blue curtains that overlooked a garden full of flowering bushes. You directed your distracted gaze there when the woman brought you out of your thoughts.

"Okay, so this is little Alex Zabel."

The lady was wearing a dark blue nurse's uniform and was smiling affably. You looked at your son who could only look down holding on to his toy car.

"Oh it's ok honey, it'll just be a little prick". The woman said

Alex's eyes were starting to water again so you tenderly wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a protective gesture. "Sweetie everything will be fine, you'll see"

The nurse told Alex to sit in a chair and roll up the sleeve of his shirt so she could give him the injection. She also asked him which arm he wanted the injection in and the boy pointed to his left arm. The good-natured woman began to prepare the needle, taking one out of a sterilized envelope that was in a plastic box full of them. When you saw them, a slight chill ran down your spine. You still remembered your first vaccine as if it were yesterday and you understood everyone more than ever. those children who came out crying.

Alex also saw the needles and buried his face in your chest, scared. You grabbed her hand and whispered the words you had said before "Remember, mommy is here and I won't let go of your hand."

The little boy nodded and sat up straight in his chair, squeezing your hand tightly as he showed his left arm to the nurse. She tapped the needle with her gloved hands to make the liquid go down.

"Alright, little Alex, take a deep breath."

Alex closed his eyes tightly until his nose wrinkled and he squeezed your hand even harder as it started to hurt, never underestimate the strength of a scared 6 year old child. It was barely a second until the nurse announced that she was finished.

"Done! You see it wasn't that big of a deal?".She laughed sweetly

Your son opened his brown eyes wide and looked at his arm in surprise, looking for any cut or wound, both women laughed and the nurse carefully squeezed his arm with cotton.

"Hold this cotton in your arm for a few minutes, then you could throw it away. Aaand." The woman took out a red popsicle from a jar and handed it to the child who was looking with bright, greedy eyes. "This is for you, for being such a brave child."

"That's very kind, thank you" You said to the nurse and looked at your son "You thank her too, Alex."

The little one had already put the lollipop in his mouth without thinking twice and didn't even take it out to respond "Thzank yough"

Mother and son left the small room hand in hand, happy and laughing. Colin was already standing waiting for them with a relieved smile on his face.

"So? How did my little champion do?"

"Oh he was incredible, he didn't cry even once"

"And look daddy!!, the nurse gave me a lollipop for being good!"

"Oh look at that!"

Colin lifted the boy into his arms giving him a kiss on the cheek while you held his toy.

"It seems that today you are going to stuff yourself with so many sweet things"

"What does that mean?". You asked funny and curious

"It means daddy will buy me ice cream!!!"

Colin looked down, smiling a little embarrassed for not telling his wife about the deal.

"Oh yeah? Well I guess daddy can buy ice cream for everyone too." You said laughing and giving your husband a kiss on the cheek.

Colin laughed and agreed to pay for the other ice creams. They returned to the car happy, heading to the nearest ice cream parlor, eager to try that sweet and frozen dessert.

***************

I have read many stories where Colin is the father of a girl, so I wanted to write a story where he had a son.

By the way, I wrote this after reading the @sweeter-innocence-fics fic. Thanks for being an inspiration for this, you can read her Colin fic here

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fuckyeahpedropascal · 11 months ago

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Hi, I hope you're doing well! Just wondering if you're able to do a post/poll/comparison/analysis - let's call it a scientific study - of Pedro's broad shoulder in proportion to his tiny waist? (and maybe also his cute, um, bottom?)

As always, thank you so much for all you do for the Pedro fandom! 💖

This ask is literally 8 months old, I’m so sorry sweet anon 😭 I kept putting it off because I felt like I couldn’t do your ask justice. I still think I can do a much better job than this, but since it’s Boxing Day, I thought I’d leave this naked man under all of your trees.

Please forgive the half-assed analysis because my mind doesn’t work in the face of such broadness 🫠 And of course, we can only use half-naked pics because we need clear references for science.

Let's talk overall broadness first. This man majorly beefed up in between Nikita (2013) and the first season of Narcos (2015). I was going to use 3:5 cropping for both gifs, but I literally couldn't fit all of Javier in that frame. That's how bloody broad this man had gotten.

Can we admire the corded muscles running down Javier's side for a second? Look at the lines. Look at them. He is significantly thicker and more sculpted compared to Liam, he definitely put his hours in the gym in those couple of years.

Skipping forward to the next time we see this man half-naked on screen in TUWOMT in 2022, he has clearly gotten even broader horizontally and also filled out in thickness. The shoulders are bigger, and look at those tiddies pecs practically leaping off the screen, and that soft belly. They knew what they were doing not giving us a full frontal shot of Javi G - he's a danger to ovaries everywhere.

Now let's move on to shoulder-to-waist ratio. Compared to Liam, Javier has a more pronounced dip in the waist thanks to the broader shoulders and the tiny little waist that stayed tiny. If you draw lines connecting shoulders to waist, Liam is more boxy and Javier is more of a trapezium.

While we don't see Javi G stand up fully, that shoulder-to-waist ratio is clearly still there, even if he is broader on both ends overall. That slutty nip in the waist is still very much present.

Ok that's all the analysis my turkey-fogged brain is capable of right now. This is such a broad topic (tehehe), consider this a prelude of sorts. I'm sure I'll be doing more of a deep dive one day, because we haven't even gotten to that little tush yet.

• Masterlist •

Shoulders/arms/waist ratio

Pedro boys in bed

Pedro boys disrobed

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #javier pena #javier peña #javi gutierrez #the unbearable weight of massive talent #pedro pascal edit #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal analysis #fuckyeahasks

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angel-fics · 1 year ago

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Guess who’s back, back again…still without a new chapter (it’ll come out soon, i promise)

For now tho, to feed the masses bc i didn’t really expect my works to get as much attention as they have

The Lost Boys Head Canon: Kissing

David:

*While David isn’t generally an affectionate partner, he has a very physical presence that can be very affective

*His kisses match his presence; they are very slow and seductive, he likes to entice his partner completely

*When he kisses you, it’s very precise, like there’s nothing else on his mind but every single little thing that he’s doing

*David will grab your chin and waist to make sure that you’re completely immersed in him and his kiss, he needs your complete focus to be on him, like his is on you

*He’ll usually only kiss you in private too, he feels like it makes the experience more special, since it’s all for you and you only.

Paul:

*I feel like Paul is a very openly affectionate person, and his kisses reflect that

*When Paul kisses you, it’s very sporadic, but sweet. Like, his mood will change mid-kiss and he’ll go from a simple peck to feral frenching in 0.02 seconds, or vice versa

*Honestly, it’s sort of like a game to him, with you trying to guess his next move or try to keep up with him, kissing him is just really fun

*Paul doesn’t really fully understand that different types of kisses, he knows there are multiple ways to kiss someone, but his main focus is that the act of kissing is enjoyable, he won’t get caught up in the different reasons you might wanna kiss someone

*he likes to twine his fingers with yours as you kiss, or he’ll stroke up and down your arms, he’d most definitely smile during the kiss too. Sometimes he’ll just walk up next to you and press a kiss to the side of your mouth and keep walking

Marko:

*A lot like Paul, he’s a lot more relaxed and open with affection, and thinks kissing should be light-hearted and enjoyable rather than anything else

*He will try to convince his brothers of this line of thinking -especially Dwayne- after kissing you

*To him, kissing you is like inventing religion, it’ll surpass the ages and affect the masses. He’s so cute and sweet about it. His kisses are definitely worshipful

*While not as romantic or thoughtful as his brothers might seem, his main priority when he kisses someone is that they enjoy it, so it’ll always be lowkey and simple so there’s room for conversation on how it feels without it being awkward

*He prefers the relaxed kisses for when you’re just within each other’s presence and are feeling affectionate, like a reminder that you love each other without saying anything

*Marko will definitely cradle your face or hold you in a hug when kissing you, full frontal, and he often laughs while kissing you too, just giggling in disbelief at how lucky he is

Dwayne:

*Every middle-aged-woman-who’s-obsessed with-trashy-airport-novel’s wet dream with the way this man kisses

*Its extremely sensual, almost obscene, and he will often deepen it bc he wants it to go further, and to be honest, it often does

*A lot like David, his affection is reserved for you, but in the way that he will get lost in you that he simply stops caring about the people who might see you

*You take his breath away and he has no other way to handle himself than to make you feel the same way. He’s a romantic, what can he say?

*He will pull you in by your clothing and hold you as tightly against his body as he can, he kisses you like he’ll never be able to again and it induces butterflies like crazy

#the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #fanfic #kissing #i bet those emo whores have loads of experience #i would love to be someone they got that experience from ngl #tlb 1987 #head canon #romance #relationship #inappropriate or inaccurate religious accounts #i’m not religious but i try to be respectful #i just wanted to write something cute bc i haven’t posted a new chapter

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honestsycrets · 1 year ago

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Amor y Respeto III: Mi Muñeca

❛ pairing | Miguel O’Hara x FB!Reader, platonic Hobie x Reader

❛ type | continuation, explicit.

❛ summary | there are some things you rather miguel would tell you about. primarily when they have to do with your body.

❛ chapter tags | fuckbuddies, f!reader, spanish is not translated, eating out v, possessiveness, overprotectiveness, mention of pregnancy tests, lying, disrespect, and some deceit.

❛ sy’s notes | Genuinely unsure if I should finish the last chapter on this fic, but here is what I've already written for those who have been asking me for an update.

Rest was an illusion.

The persistent pressure on your torso was an aggravation. It was a constant reminder of Miguel, saving your ass from a simple anomaly. At some point, your ease of breathing allowed you to close your eyes, but you would hardly call it sleep. The lull you found yourself in floated between the sea of amorphous rest and the shock that permeated your subconscious with Miguel’s outburst. It wasn’t that you never saw Miguel lash out. It was why. He gave you no good answers. A feeling you grew to expect.

You felt a shift of pressure in your frontal lobe, alerting you to a newcomer. Your eyes fluttered open, catching Miguel’s broad hands rolling back your cove of warmth to climb into bed beside you. You tracked the path of his veins tracking up his arms. Your lips spread, articulating languid words like ‘you’re back’ though you had no memory of speaking them.

“I am,” Miguel murmured.

His presence was warm and soothed the sick, gurgling fear that brewed in your belly. His warm hands snaked around your bandaged waist and dragged you back into his naked body. Your eyes darted between your bodies, trembling in his grip. The anxiety of being with Miguel returned, reminded that you had drawn a line that Miguel continually disrespected. As if respect was important here.

Miguel buried his nose into your messy hair, murky with specks of coppery blood and the scent of sweet coconut. You must have cracked your head somewhere, somehow. His scent overwhelmed your senses, drawing you back into his bed as if a peaceful blanket wrapped around your restless limbs. Holding a breath, you peered back up to his endlessly complex eyes. He endured your gaze.

Lyla? He murmured. No restful sleep was recorded.

“You were awake all night,” though it was tinged in his disapproval when it came out of his silky lips, you were relaxed. “Why?”

“You scared me.”

For a moment, Miguel said nothing. It was long enough that you began to wonder, to fear what his next words were. He slid his arm under your neck, urging you to come closer. His other hand drifted over your stomach, tracing his hand in small, mincing circles over your navel. You found your hands drifting to his chest, trying to find the courage to touch his tawny skin. The fear of rejection overrode it. Miguel’s hand drifted to yours, flattening it over his chest.

He tentatively trailed his hand up to cup the side of your face. You knew what he wanted before he brushed his lips against yours, locking them together with a gentle kiss. His lips tasted as if he had cut his mouth with his fangs, the coppery taste of his blood and the distant taste of a bitter cafecito on his lips. He pulled back, barely an inch, his eyes tracking the flakes in your shy eyes. Miguel lingered there, puffing slow breaths on your lips. You centered on the rise and drop of his chest. It was his only apology.

“You aren’t healing efficiently. I want to know why.” Miguel said, uninterested in your input. You were used to it-- being unimportant to Miguel’s actions. Somehow his concern warmed your fickle emotions. As if-- Miguel hadn’t been the man to be the cause of your lapsing focus. “Lyla will run some tests.”

“Just me and you!” she chirped. Her fingers pointed toward you, then her, hands forming a heart. Your lips parted, glancing toward Lyla dancing on his shoulder. Your palm caressed his firm pecs, searching for the right words to calm Miguel.

“No. I feel fine. Just-- tired. I’m always tired.”

“I’m not asking, muñeca.”

“It’s my body.”

“I know,” he said dryly. “What does that change?”

“It changes everything, Miggy. I said no,” you stiffened, looking from his unmoving eyes to your hands on his chest. “You never listen to me. You never-- respect me.”

You pushed yourself up, your fingers ghosting your tender chest. You peeled free the bloodied bandages. For a moment, you expected him to stop you, to tell you what you were doing wrong. But he didn’t. His eyes followed the string of crispy bloodied bandages as you set them to the side. Fibers of your regenerative skin strung over gooey blood and emergent muscle. It should have been healed by then. He was right, again.

“This isn’t about respect. You could have died,” your fingers delved into the wound, sensitive and sore. He was right. You knew he was right. You turned your head down, watching his stern, dry expression morph and deepen, becoming deathly serious. “The anomaly would have trampled you.”

Imagine that headline.

“Una noche más.”

His fingertips dragged up, then down, your spine. He settled a small kiss on your shoulder, his lips urging complacency. Warmth blossomed on your shoulder and traveled up your neck. You knew better than to expect that one more night, una noche más, would be the end of it. “It’s never good enough for you, Miguel. No matter what I do, I’m never--”

“If you’d listen to me, it would be,” he shifted back onto the bed, laying flat. “Come here.”

“You want me complacent. Hobie was--”

“What about Hobie?” He sneered. Hobie was right. Completely, terribly right about Miguel. The more you fought Miguel, the tighter his restrictions would become. He couldn’t be satisfied. Miguel grasped your hand, guiding you to sit on his hips. “If you think he knows so well, where was he?”

Your lips opened, parted, uncertain. His palms swirled around your stomach, up your sides, guiding you closer along his taut muscles. You complied, crawling closer up his body. As a scientist, Miguel worked with the facts. Yet somehow he had you under his spell, and the magic that cast it was his large hands, stroking your pubic mound gently. You and your traitorous body.

“He’s not here. I am. I am always here when you need me.”

“Not in the same way.”

“I love you,” he spat out, sharp and hard and not at all the ways that you always dreamed he would say it. As if you should be thankful to be chosen. “You need to be safe.”

His thumb quirked between your lips, separating you for his consideration alone. You brought your hands up to hold your chest, watching how he rolled his thumb along your clit, urging it in circles. You didn’t want to get wet for him, not now. You thought this was done, resolved. He knew how to tear through your resolve. Tear it open as if it were a forcefield and force his way back in.

His love? It ain’t enough.

In a battle between the heart and the body, your body would always win out. Miguel knew the ways you liked to be touched, dragging the wet lubricant between your wet thighs, dragging it down if only to show you that he could. His hand fell away. You leaned into his large palm, missing its gentle caress.

“What do I do with that, Miggy?” Miguel brought his hand back up, sliding along your inner folds to your entrance. He hooked a finger into your hole, stroking the velvety walls.

“Think of it.”

At the end of the day, you were his. The way he shoved himself in, the base of his finger flush with your lips, twisting and wiggling his thumb along the bundles of nerves primed for his touch. Your eyes fluttered shut, pressing together as to avoid his half-lidded eyes, chin raised in indignation, lips… so soft, so fuckable.

“Look at me, muñeca.”

“No quiero mirarte.”

A soft, fluttery pressure let you know his other hand was at your hard clit, causing flutters of pressure and the threat of relief to burrow in your belly. Then he stopped. It grew like a nasty parasite, urging you to listen.

“Then tell me you didn’t fuck him.”

Your eyes shot open, glaring incredulously at him. “Fuck him? Mi alma--”

His lips curled, indignantly smirking at you. “You’re mine, you know that, don’t you?”

“Sí, Miguel.”

“Good girl. Don’t forget that.” Miguel shifted to pull you on top of his face. Having given him everything her wanted, he slurped along your wet pussy, dragging his tongue over your slit. He laved your body in his saliva, a reminder that you were so-- fucked, so his. He rumbled along your clit, buzzing it with the vibration, before enclosing his mouth around it. That’s it-- that’s all it took for you to douse him in the cum he so wanted, slathering his face in your lubricant, your climax. He looked beautiful. There was some part of you, greedy and fat with the sight of his ruined face, that wanted more. If that made you complicit, well… you’d be complicit. All for him.

“You’re feeling better.” Miguel shifted your hips off his face, rubbing the cum off his lips with the back of his hand. Your fingers pawed at the gash on your chest, finding the skin healed and soft to the touch.

You hated that he was right.

“Tests?” Gwen asked. “What kind of tests?”

The cafeteria was always loud, but lately, the sounds and scents were more intolerable. Everything in your head was a blaring siren. Protein this, protein that. Too much mustard. Vivid blue burgers, you churned your lips down in a frown of disapproval. It was… goopy. Gwen picked up on it and picked one up.

“Blue burgers can’t be normal,” she hopped a few steps ahead of you to pick up an empanada because you always got empanadas for Miguel when you were together. You turned your nose up at it. “What about this?”

“Is anything here normal?”

Gwen shot you a small, deprecating smile. “Yeah… well.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just-- tired. The tests. Well, my regenerative abilities are tied to my emotions,” you dug into your pocket, shaking free a bit of polished, reflective azurite that had launched into your wound from home. You chucked it at her. She caught it with one palm, gazing into its depths. “When I’m a mess-- they’re a mess.”

“Just emotions?” she stood there, processing. “What if it's something else?”

“Then it's something else,” You skated around her, looking at bland white rice. It was as good as a comfort food when combined with your favorite chicken stew. It would have to do. You snatched the crusty empanada from her palm, plopping it on top of the food.

“I thought you hated em--”

“I do,” you mumbled, picking up her tray and scurrying down the busy line. You couldn’t help but notice that a few let you slip by. “And… Hobie?”

“Y’know, worried about you,” she snatched her tray back, doing something funny with her fingers. “But he’s good. Good, good right? I think he’s good. You’re coming to the concert, right?”

You wove past a spider or ten, taking your favorite table that somehow was empty. Gwen slid to sit down, fingers strumming across the surface. She always did that-- talked when she was nervous. Your eyes panned from her clothed fingertips to her busy eyes, darting away from yours at the point of contact.

“You’re panicking,” you prompted. “¿Por qué?”

“No reason,” she fell off her train of thought. She was holding back. “It’s just-- why don’t you come to see Hobie at the concert? It’s safe, mostly.”

“Did he tell you that I wasn’t?” You let your hand slide over the side of the table, sitting with a huff of exhaustion. Lack of sleep would do that. “I’ll go see you both. I… I just made a bit of a mess of things.”

She blinked. Once, then twice.

“Miguel doesn’t like Hobie,” you stuck your fork into your rice, taking an annoyed chomp of your food. “Ni un poco. He never has.”

“We thought you broke up with Miguel.”

“Me too.” You choked down another bite of food. Her concerned eyes glazed over your body, loitering around your waist. You wiped away a bit of grain that had tumbled onto your gown, realizing that it wasn’t just Gwen staring at you. Tear-shaped eyes of all kinds and creeds were staring at you. That’s what you got for fucking Miguel. It was as good as a spider beacon on your back.

“I won’t miss it. Just-- trust me.”

After a moment, a smile grew on her face. Always complicated, but always genuine. You didn’t mind complicated. It seemed that you thrived on the whirlwind of chaos lately. Her sweet smile was the easiest of the sensations to deal with.

“You wanna get out of here? We can go to your place.”

It should have been a relief to be so close to Miguel, in his bed, in his arms for the second day in a row. Instead, you found yourself craving the peaceful quiet of your home. The glittering crystals bouncing off the rays of the sun, the villains of the week, and the sensation of soaring from your webbing. Nights of watching terrible movies and clearing out pints of ice cream with Gwen. The works.

“You promised Miguel you would stay in HQ,” Lyla interjected over your shoulder.

You spun your spoon between your fingers, gazing into Gwen’s big eyes as she ate. She stared at the hologram with one last meager bite. Lyla tapped her foot. Your eyebrows furrowed. Had she been listening to you the whole time?

“Miguel has blocked your travel capabilities.”

You dropped the heavy fork and fiddled with your watch, expecting the whizzing sing of a portal back home, but in its place was a long pause of awkward silence. Gwen sat in silence. You sat in silence. Everyone sat in silence. Somehow, you weren’t shocked. You stabbed a hunk of chicken, snapping the fork in two. You dropped the handle, wiping your hands against one another.

Of course, he did.

“Déjame ir contigo.”

Jess knew something was off. She reclined against her bike, one leg over another, hands lazing over her distended midsection. You were a bundle of energy, eyes were hard and cold, rivaling Miguel’s. Jess wondered why-- you were never hard and cold. Even when he deserved it. From the look of it, he definitely deserved it. She didn’t understand Spanish, but at a certain point, you didn’t have to.

“Ya te dije que no.”

“¿Porque no?” you hissed. “You put me on a travel restriction. I want to know why.”

“There’s no time.”

“I can go,” Jess said. “No travel restrictions here.”

He threw her a look. You drew your hand up to his chest. Miguel peeled your fingers from his chest, teetering his fingers along the amber screen of his watch. In response, the portal sang to life, a whirling ring of power.

“I said no. You’re staying. You, too,” he pointed at Jess. She raised her eyebrows up from behind her amber sunglasses. He took a few lazy steps back before turning, fading into the portal. “I don’t need backup.”

Until he did.

Jess wasn’t concerned about it. In due time, Lyla would call her. She shifted on her boots as you stood there, hand on your hip, boring at the emptiness after the portal drew to a close. Your hand balled up into a fist, stomping in her direction. She couldn’t help but call you by name.

“You’re pregnant.”

“I know you’re pregnant,” you turned around, your eyes softening. Concerned. Honestly, she knew you were thinking something was wrong with her. That was the kind of woman you were. “Are you--”

“Not me. You. You’re puffy,” she said in a voice devoid of humor. You blinked. Then burst into deep laughter. Jess, for her part, was unmoved. She simply looked down at her boots and waited for your laughter to fizzle into a few misplaced giggles of nervousness.

“Puffy? Jess, I already blew out a fallopian tube,” you said as though you didn't have another. “I am not pregnant. I can’t get pregnant.”

“Okay,” she threw her hands up, laxly swinging her leg around her bike. She plopped her weight onto the bike, revving it to life. “You sure about that?”

“Sí. No. Lyla. Do I look puffy?” you couldn’t help but ask. A strand of truth must have niggled your brain. The admittance that she could have been right. Lyla popped up in a flash of gold, bent at the waist. She narrowed her eyes behind her oversized glasses, “Noooo, of course not.”

“...what were the test results?”

“Um.” She flicked her finger, teleporting from your shoulder to your waist. “Well. I don't know if now is the best time. Your heart rate was elevate--”

“The results, Lyla!”

You whirled the closest item, a chair, at one of Miguel’s many monitors. Lyla popped over your shoulder, then the other. “I can’t disclose that information.”

“It’s my body, Lyla, what do you mean you can’t disclose it?”

“You have to talk to Miguel.”

It wasn’t her fault. It was his.

Once upon a time, you worked in a hospital.

One with terribly damaged patients. Patients who saw the fires of war both out of the country and on the streets at home. You never questioned their battles but always promised: loving care and tons of laughter during their hospital stay-- even if the price was an annoying little dance.

Until you were bit. Miguel crashed into your life like a boulder down a hill. He thought he was smart. He had to be, to be a genius. It’s not that you debated that he thought he knew best. But his methods? Methods of operating in secrecy like he was back at Alchemax were unacceptable. You didn’t have to be a genius to question what he was doing. You only had to be pissed off.

“Are you sure about this?”

You wretched the elastic off your arm, holding a vial of blood upright. “Sí, Gwen,” you said. “I’ve never been surer.”

“We could… wait until he comes back.”

I love you. He wasn’t going to talk to you tonight. Whatever it was, you knew he could distract you. You also knew that Lyla had her eye on you. But, at the moment, Jess and Miguel were busy. If you were lucky, perhaps she wouldn’t be surveying you. You'd never have your answer if you left it up to Miguel. You knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t coming home to you tonight. You settled the vial in her hands.

“No, we can’t.”

There were many reasons why love was bad for Miguel. For one, it resulted in destroying the very expensive screens in the lab with his claws alone. Garbled bits of tech, sparking and hissing on the platform floor. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell, flecks of the dying wire flickering against his scarlet eyes.

It wasn’t just the fact that you lied to him about Hobie. About how close Hobie had been. It wasn’t just the fact that you called him Corazón. Or the fact that doubt lingered in his mind, gnawing on the edge of his mind like a fizzling wire losing the last bits of its energy. Nor did it have anything to do with your taste in his mouth since last night. Not at all. “Shock.”

“Soooo if you’re done--,” Lyla mechanically chirped, curling her index finger at Miguel, then her pad. “About her resu--”

“Not now.”

“Hobie’s coming,” she twirled, pointing toward the open entryway of his lab. Miguel’s attention snapped toward the entryway, listening to Hobie’s loud steps coming closer, and closer, and unfortunately-- closer. He didn’t have the temperament for him right now.

“Are you… going to see him or keep breaking things?”

He jammed his heel on top of the sparking screens, his brow furrowing with lines of frustration. “Replace this, Lyla.”

“O-kay.”

That spider punk leaped onto his platform, hauling his scrawny legs up with a start. His scent flooded his nose for yet a second day in a row. Two more, too many times. “Where’s my partner at?”

“Work with Gwen until I say otherwise.”

Hobie made a small huff. As he ambled around Miguel, he found his pile of electronic garbage. He kneeled to pick through bits and bobs of the pile while balancing on his long ruddy boots. Miguel didn’t have time for this. He had one damn good screen left. And that one damn screen was as incriminating as the broken screens by his feet. He scanned the report, scowling under his breath, and cleared the screen.

“Nah, nah, nah. That don’t work on me.”

“It’ll have to. She’s on light duty.”

“You’re telling me a bunch of porkies.” Hobie lifted a sparking cord. Dropped it. Ran his palms together with a look of derision. Then, sprung up from his position and took a step forward.

“Porkies?”

“Lies.” Hobie clarified. His small and mincing steps covered the space between their bodies. Miguel’s patience was fizzling, causing ripples of tension to course down his arms to his very fingertips. He stifled it. For whatever reason, you respected this one. He had to chew his annoyance. “Why?”

“She’s not paying attention. She’s not healing. There have been…” Miguel paused abruptly. As though he was trying to convince Hobie as much as himself of whatever bullshit he was about to spew. “Accidents.”

Hobie rolled his tongue over his lower lip, teasing the piercings there, before making a particularly egregious pop of his lip. The sound alone made Miguel’s lip curl.

“Accidents? What the “Accident” you put in her belly?” Hobie slipped behind Miguel. He lingered there a second too long.

Hobie’s words pulsed in his head like a great, painful beacon of alarm. The last few months of his life were on display like the popping tech by his feet. The air in the room had gone thick, stifling as though it were poisonous to breathe in of itself. You were too trusting, too open to other spiders in your life, as though they couldn’t have plans of their own.

“Get out.”

Miguel produced thick breaths, his eyes focused on the last flickers of electricity fading out into a blank death by his feet. Hobie’s dark, heady eyes left the sight of the dead tech and met Miguel’s eyes. His lips, scarcely a smile, lifted. He didn’t have to tell Hobie twice.

Miguel thrashed his last screen.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #across the spiderverse imagines #spider 2099 imagine

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shveris · 6 months ago

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satosugu, crack oneshot, based on this official art (their asses are not working)

satorou really, really, hates his job. absolutely hates it.

but for all the wrong reasons.

warnings: drinking, cigarettes, satosugu’s frontal lobe is on vacation

“how can someone be so dense?!” the brunette clickes her tongue softly before chugging down the rest of her beer. everything about this is horribly entertaining but also incredibly frustrating.

“you know, satorou, you could just tell him you have the fattest crush of mankind on him”, she suggests (for the nth time) and the man next to her continues whining into the counter his head is currently resting on.

“bitch i did! like, three fucking times already! he always responds with ‘and i will crush your head if you don’t bla bla bla’”, he complains, waving his right hand around in the air to make his point.

shoko did not sign up for this.

“you think an intervention would help?”, she ponders, half serious, half joking, and it has her friend snort loudly. he turns his head to look at her, brows raised: “intervention for what exactly, to drop his obliviousness? he was born with that i fear, good luck.”

“nah, he needs to stop being in denial”, shoko rolls her eyes and immediately regrets it as she feels the 6 pints of beer kicking in (finally), “he looks at you as if you were the world, man, sickening to watch.” satorou giggles like a middle schooler.

“either way, you better hurry the fuck up with this, i don’t wanna be losing my money because you two morons can’t get your shit together.” shoko presses her lips to a thin line, thinking about the fifty bucks she had bid on her two friends, and hakari’s shit eating grin.

“i still can’t believe everyone of y’all made a fucking bet out of us, such bad friends and coworkers, i’ll complain to HR tomorrow!” the brunette can only snort and fishes for the pack of malboro in her pocket.

“complain about what?” satorou falls off his chair — and gets caught because of fucking course he gets caught, man’s a damn princess, shoko thinks — upon hearing the voice behind him. ocean eyes wide in shock when he whips his head around: “suguru! don’t sneak up on us like that!” he lets himself get manhandled back onto the barstool.

“and your balance sucks.” the raven keeps one of his arms wrapped around satorou and holds his free hand out to their girl bestie, asking for a cigarette. she stares both of them up and down, eyes lingering on suguru gripping satorou’s waist, and shoves a cigarette into his hands, muttering a curse.

“nah, nah, my balance’s perfectly fine”, the white haired claims, pressing himself closer to suguru’s chest, “i could show you!” the ravenette looks at him with amusement written all over his face: “and how exactly do you plan to ‘show me’?”

“well, for starters, i’m great at walking perfectly straight on the stones of a sidewalk! not that i’m straight but you get the point. and then, also, i think i could keep my balance very well after bouncing on your dick for hours!”

shoko wants to go home. she can feel the lesbian inside her leave. she should start being homophobic or something. change of careers.

“you don’t have the stamina to bounce on my dick for hours, ‘toru”, suguru rolls his eyes, takes a hit from his cigarette, as if he’s talking about the damn weather. shoko meets satorou’s eyes and she can see a vein pop on his forehead: “you see this shit, shoko?!”

“dear lord, yes i do, and i wish i weren’t”, she mumbles. the bet has been going for over a month already, she really didn’t think it’s this bad. maybe she should do something? but, nah, that’d be against the rules of the bet, she’s pretty sure sukuna would beat her up for cheating.

“so, back to that ‘reporting things to HR’ stuff, what was that about?”, suguru asks and the brunette is very tempted to spill the beans — but, again, that’d be against those goofy rules so she keeps her mouth shut, looking at satorou because that man is a born actor.

“eh, someone took a shit in the employees restroom today and didn’t flush”, satorou waves his hand up and down, again, and shoko will always be impressed by how good of a liar he is.

“sounds like toji”, suguru thinks, “that man has issues, dude, how he hasn’t been charged for assault yet is one of the seven world wonders.” satorou only nods in agreement and shoko orders another beer.

“not sure how you made a correlation between ‘not flushing the toilet’ and ‘felony’ but okay.” satorou barks with a singular ‘hah!’ and shuts up when suguru pinches his waist.

“no, you know what, actually- this makes a lot of sense-“, shoko has her eyes on the raven again, “something’s wrong in your frontal lobe, logical thinking seems to not be working for you properly.” suguru only feels half insulted because he has no idea what a frontal lobe is but he does get the implication of shoko telling him he’s stupid.

“fuck’s that supposed to mean”, he still asks, with playful anger lacing his words. there is a tinge of curiosity nagging his mind, whispering to him that he missed out on something. shoko is definitely hinting towards some underlying issues there.

“eh, figure it out for yourselves”, she dismisses his question and takes a sip of her beer, the bitterness of it tasting sweet in contrast to the cigarettes she’s been inhaling. suguru has his eyes averted and hums a “uh-huh” with his lips around the filter before he shifts his attention to the white-haired once again.

“suguru, can we go to this new pastry shop after our shift? they have new items on their menu!” the raven smiles fondly upon seeing the excitement in satorou’s whole body language and he finds himself agreeing — not that he is ever able to say “no” to him anyway.

“we could also pick out some flowers, i have a picknick planned for us on thursday night”, suguru puffs out the cigarette smoke and undoes the buttons of his uniform coat to get some air. he misses the confused looks the other two are giving him and tries not to cry when the smoke catches in his eyes. why does it always have to sting this bad?

“picknick? how come?”, satorou eventually asks, curiosity and suspicion walking hand in hand inside his mind. he watches as the ravenette lifts his head and takes the half-finished cancer stick between his index and middle finger: “for our anniversary? who’s head are you in right now, satorou.”

gojo satorou’s soul left his body.

his chin is on the floor — never mind that, he is floored. absolutely floored.

shoko almost chokes on the mouthful of alcohol and is convinced she just imagined hearing that, telling herself she is just drunk and wants to be out of her misery (she wants her money). but then she takes another look at suguru and is sure this is, as a matter of fact, reality and very much the present. she tries to close her mouth but it’s not working in her favour: “what. the fuck.”

suguru looks at them as if they’d just insulted his whole bloodline, mild irritation and annoyance making the crease between his eyebrows deep like canyons.

“what do you mean ‘what the fuck’?”, he asks and satorou doesn’t even hear him because he’s more than chin-deep inside his own brain, too fuzzy and it feels like his body is vibrating — he doesn’t know his mouth is still very much wide open and suguru wants nothing more than to shove his dick inside.

since shoko is generally faster in gathering herself so she quickly tries to make sense of the raven’s words: “what do you mean ‘what do you mean’?”

truly the conversation of geniuses.

shoko is pretty sure satorou short-circuited, the man having his chin so deep down in hell as if he is trying to catch flies with his mouth, and suguru has never looked more confused. if her fifty bucks weren’t involved, shoko would’ve taken a picture and made it her new home screen background.

she absentmindedly lights another cigarette and pinches the bridge of her nose. if this really is what she is thinking — nothing in the world could’ve prepared her for this. how does a man like suguru even live. never mind that, how does a man like satorou made it this far in life?

“let’s take a few steps back”, she finally says and nudges the side of satorou’s chin with her free hand (he slowly picks it up from the floor), “you said anniversary. what anniversary?” suguru looks at her as if she just grew a second head: “‘toru’s and my anniversary? we’ve been dating for a year now, hello?”

shoko hates how right she was with her suspicions but she’s also very, very, happy about getting money.

“we’ve been dating?! for a year?!”

ah. satorou.exe restarted successfully.

“what the fuck’s that supposed to mean?!”

shoko notes how invested the bartender seems to be in the situation and she can’t blame them.

“wha- when? how even- you never-“, satorou’s thoughts are running a whole marathon with blindfolds, bumping into each other and anything, tangling themselves together like strings. the word vomit coming out of his mouth makes shoko take another sip of her beer and she hopes that’ll make him even more funnier.

“satorou, we sleep in the same fucking bed, you kiss my cheeks regularly, we go on dates every other day, we literally have pet names for each other.”

shoko decides she’s homophobic now.

chapter 261 destroyed my mental so i’m uploading this to hopefully make some of us less depressed. personally, i’m more depressed now because of what we could’ve had

i might write a part 2 to this someday, idk, i rlly like this au but i’m also on the verge of chewing off my lips and i need a break from life

#shveris’ blue spring #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #shoko ieiri

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mysticallystilinski · 1 year ago

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west coast | c. fisher x fem!reader | fluff

summary: being with conrad feels like the world to you; sunsets, the beach, and love.

warnings: swearing and underage drinking.

♫ ( west coast - lana del rey )

a/n: { i absolutely love conrad and tsitp, so of course i had to make a fluff about it! send in those requests babes:) }

you’re fallin’ hard, i push away, i’m feelin’ hot to the touch.

“conrad stop messing around.” you say with a playful tone. the brunette boy was starting to tease you about how ‘he liked you’. “y/n.. my pretty, i am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you.” he states quoting the iconic twilight scene.

little did you know, conrad wasn’t playing around when it came to talking about his feelings. you didn’t mind him joking around, but when it came to the real thing you would rather him keep quiet about it. “conrad.. i swear to god if you don’t shut up, i will make you regret it.” you laugh. jeremiah butts his head into the room, “yeah conrad, y/n is gonna beat your ass.” he says in a dead serious tone.

you start to burst out into laughter. conrad chuckles along with you, “i’m just telling the truth.” you start to wish he wouldn’t joke around about these types of things, especially when you have feelings for him. your face starts to burn up and conrad stares at you from across the room.

you say you miss me and i say i wanna miss you so much

“i miss you so much y/n”, conrad says over the phone. the line goes silent. “i want to miss you connie, but you know i can’t.” your life back home is definitely not a reflection of the summer, especially with your boyfriend.

“please just leave him”, he spits out. “conrad, it isn’t that easy.” his head starts to spin as you say those words, something just can’t keep him away from you. “you’re always so closed off after summer, i miss the ‘summer y/n’”. your mind goes in different directions as his words seem to confuse you.

“what do you mean by that?”, you say in return. “nothing, it doesn’t matter. i just wish you would miss me as much as i miss you.” he says in a quiet tone. i do miss you

but something keeps me really quiet, i’m alive, i’m a-lush

you begin to feel alive in your thoughts as you and conrad head to the beach. he runs into the water, almost splashing you by an inch. you sit onto the sand and flow into your head.

you sit in silence as you watch conrad swim in the ocean. i need something more from him. he wades out of the water as you lay with your thoughts. “y/n, whatchu thinking about?”, he asks with a questioning linger. you snap out of your head as he sits onto the sand next to you.

“just life”, you say. “do you ever wonder where’d we be if we never knew eachother?”, you wonder. “i would hope to god that would never happen babe, but if it was like that.. i hope we would find eachother again”. your heart skips a beat hearing his true emotions full frontal. you look away from him for a quick second, but when you look back he is already staring into your eyes.

he lifts his hand up to your face, and wipes away some sand. you feel sparks when he felt upon you. i love him

your love, your love, your love

“i love you so much connie.” you say as he wraps his arms around your waist. his breath beats upon your neck as he starts to kiss it. he slowly backs away, “i love you too y/n”. softly he flutters kisses around your collarbone.

you feel love surrounded all around you as you both watch the sunset. “you’re as beautiful as the sunset.” he smiles. you blush as his hand entangled into yours. this was the perfect moment written for you, no worries, no bullshit, just pure magic.

i can see my baby swinging, his parliaments on fire and his hands are up

“conrad, you’re drunk. get down from there”, you yell at conrad while giggling. currently the brown eyed boy was standing on top of a car singing at the top of his lungs. he didn’t bat an eye at you, and just continued on his merry way.

he stops in his tracks and pulls out a cigarette from his pocket. “can. you. give. me. a. lighter.”, he says in a sharp tone. your giggling doesn’t seem to stop, and he notices that. “you sound so stupid right now.” “no you’re the stupid one”, he drunkenly hiccups.

he sits down on top of the car and pats next to him in advance for you to sit there. he reaches out his hand for you to grab, but when you do he flings himself forward.

conrad fisher, you are so dumb

on the balcony and i’m singin’; ooh baby, ooh baby, i’m in love

you head through the balcony door and find a lonely conrad sitting on the chair. you grab the chair next to him and pull it out to sit onto it. he shifts his gaze over to you, and shines a bright smile.

you start to hum the lyrics to shake it off in attempt to cheer him up from him gloom. ‘the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate’ you hum slowly. you see his peer his head toward you, and start to laugh.

“and the bakers gonna bake, bake, bake, bake, bake baby”, he joins in humming. your eyes fall onto his and you both join in laughing. he stops singing, and interrupts by saying, “god y/n, i love you.”

you stir in shock as he’s not said that to you in a while. your face lights up and does a little blushing scene. “i love you too.” you giggle as he places his hand onto your thigh. you both sit in silence, staring into each-others eyes as the ocean rings into your ears.

the truth told, and the secrets hidden were the least of your worries. you were with the boy you loved, in the warm summer night.

i love conrad fisher

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cliff-and-the-kid · 11 days ago

Text

Sunset

(Haven't been in a good headspace to roleplay much lately, but I did start writing one of about four variant options for the Cyberkid AU today, and this is the one I think I'm gonna use as a 'verse on here)

He is a Seeker. Like her. Tall, broad shoulders, tapered waist. Elegant wings. Cruel face. He is Commander Starscream. Her- not progenitor. CNA donor. Supervisor, mentor, flight leader. Not guardian, never guardian. He is in charge of her training, her preparation for battle, for facing the Autobot threat. He is not liable for her injuries; those are her responsibility. He is given the credit when she completes an assignment, passes a benchmark, as if she’s only a trained pet.

He named her Sunset - the End of Days, the Blazing Conclusion.

It doesn’t feel right.

---

An Autobot is captured and thrown in the brig.

She’s not supposed to know about it, but the foot soldiers are constant gossips, and despite her bright colors Sunset is small and slim and knows how to stay out of the way, unnoticed, so she can listen without anyone growing uneasy and editing their words.

She follows Starscream’s voice as he crosses the ship, bragging to Knockout about all the ways he’s already hurt the bot and all the options that yet remain. He says something about show off the human, but that- that makes something in her processor skip, data catching and coiling unhappily until she shoves the entire thread aside, focuses on sneaking down the corridors unseen.

Starscream and Knockout stay in the main interrogation room for a long time. Sunset finds a good perch to climb up and brace herself against, waiting. Eventually, the Air Commander and Doctor leave, radiating smug fields that overlap and make her tank churn.

No one else lingers in the hall. The regular patrol that circles through the brig won’t make another pass for 2.1 breems seventeen minutes so she needs to make this quick.

What exactly ‘this’ is, Sunset hasn’t quite figured out yet, but- but.

She needs to get into that room.

She needs to see the Autobot.

Blunt fingers pick at the door’s control panel, so she can tweak a few wires within. Sunset has access to most of the Nemesis, but not all. And just trying to blindly blunder around down here of all places will almost certainly send an alert to Soundwave, who will pass it along to Starscream, and then Sunset will really be in trouble. At least if the Eradicons catch her down here, she might be able to play the ‘I’m just a clueless little freshpaint’ card and keep them from reporting the incident-

All concerns of getting caught are wiped away in an instant, when she gets the door to slide open and sees the Autobot.

Cliffjumper

He’s bulky. Not elegant. Scuffed and scratched and missing chunks of plating, opening up his protoform to painful injury. He’s red, like her.

His name is Cliffjumper

“Back for more, Screamer?” He rasps, not looking up. Clamps around each arm and energy restraints keep him hanging from the ceiling. He isn’t actively leaking energon, but there’s an obvious puddle on the ground below his dangling legs.

Sunset is maybe about as tall as his chestplates. She’s supposed to be smaller.

Her lack of response must catch his attention. One blue optic weakly flickers to life, and the Autobot raises his head to peer towards the door. He sees her. His ragged ventilations stop. The silence crystalizes around them, something delicate, entirely too fragile like glass, like a thin wall separating breathable air from deadly gas-

And then the ‘bot gasps, “Sierra?” and corrupted data slams into her frontal processing hey kid want a lift You go to school with Jack Darby right My partner’s the one he got that motorcycle from Well it’s a bit of a long story Oh right I’m not the one who said I’m a remote-controlled car that was your line My name’s Cliffjumper Cliffjumper CLIFFJUMPER

It hurts.

Keening agony wells up from her spark- crackles through her voicebox- spills out her mouth. She staggers, almost falling to the ground, but- but she can’t, not while Cliff needs her-

“Sierra,” he repeats, alarmed, entire frame jolting as he strains against the restraints. She can hear the glyphs layered over it, utterly unlike the ones Starscream uses; warm and soft-edged, Cherished and Gift and Light of Dawn- “Kid-!”

A whine. A step. She needs to- to get to the controls. She has to. She has to save him-

He.

He tried to save her.

The glass cracked, and gravity twisted, the world spun, and Cliffjumper tried to save her.

Her hands find the control panel. She doesn’t waste time hacking it, only in seeking the right key sequence. The clamps disengage- Cliff drops to the floor- Cliff immediately shoves himself upright, sparks jumping from exposed circuits, and he’s halfway across the floor but he reaches out regardless-

Sierra slides in for the hug.

---

They have 1.8 breems- fourteen minutes before the regular patrol, potentially far less if Soundwave received an alert from the interrogation room’s controls. Sierra puts herself under Cliffjumper’s better arm, and helps him limp along as quick as they can, down another level and straight towards the nearest airlock.

She only has to shoot two Vehicons. She doesn’t pause to look and see if they were ones she liked.

Cliff doesn’t say a word about her wings, before or after Sierra transforms. He only asks, “You sure?” when she tells him to lay over her narrow cockpit.

“I won’t be able to gain altitude,” Sierra tells him. “But I can control our fall. Come on, we’re wasting time!”

They need to descend swiftly, get away from the shielding that surrounds the Nemesis and call-

Not base. Not the silo. Static catches in her voicebox, because she remembers, but the silo is gone now, Starscream took her to fly over its ruins and gloat-

Sierra shoves the memory files away. Cliff will call someone, he said they could get a groundbridge and they will. She isn’t going to let him die here, not at Starscream or Megatron or anyone else’s hands.

The airlock opens. Sierra fires her thrusters, straining under Cliffjumper’s weight. They take off, and immediately start dropping. But it’s okay, it’s fine, she can manage, she will manage, she will get to go-

-home.

Where is home, now?

Engines roar above them. Eradicons, taking flight from the top deck and descending fast. Sierra tracks them with her sensors, readies herself to spin and dodge as best she can with Cliffjumper clinging onto her wings - but it isn’t necessary.

Green light flares to life, directly below.

Where doesn’t matter. Home is with Cliffjumper.

They drop through the bridge.

#cyberkid!verse #sunset au #mun writes #this would be the variant where only Sierra's tube cracked #and Cliff tossed her into the Omega Lock's pool #as a last ditch alternative #to his kid dying in his hands #nothing came out of said pool by the time the team evacuated #everyone made the general assumption Sierra died anyway #Cliff gets depressed #does something Dumb and is captured #and finds himself looking at a newspark seeker #with red plating like his #and optics a familiar shade of green

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sylenth-l · 1 year ago

Note

I'm sure someone has asked already but there's no harm in asking this question again, I was wondering how do you plot out your drawings? Like your proportions and stuff? Because I have never been able to get proportions done very easily, the head is always too small for the shoulders, arms aren't the right length, torso is too long/short, ect ect. Do you have any advice to help with this? Thank you :) 💜

Hey! Okay, I'll start with saying that I'm not a qualified art teacher and everything I say are just things I've noticed over the years of drawing myself and thus can only share things that worked for me personally ✌️✨

I use head to measure the height of everything and make the width whatever I feel looks good 😅 The classic art anatomy teaches us that perfect human's height is 8 heads and legs take exactly half of it. I rarely stick to that model tbh, I prefer to draw in an even more stylized way, so I usually make legs a bit longer (making it 8.5 or even 9+ heads total) and head just a biiit bigger. Still, I started from classics and I believe it's much easier to learn it first, so I drew the 8 heads model for a better demonstration:

I've developed a little checklist of the most important proportions; usually if those conditions are met, the whole figure looks convincing enough to me.

Head + torso is 4 heads;

Elbows and waist are relatively on the same line;

Open palm is the same length as the face (head minus hairline);

Arm length ends a bit higher than half of the hip;

Knees are located at the middle of legs length minus feet.

Okay, it looks really easy for a frontal view of a standing still figure, but what about more complicated poses? My suggestion is to measure the stick figure inside the body (not forgetting about the perspective distortion though). Take the "spine" and the least bent leg to check everything, then make sure both legs are the same length.

Note that these measurements don't need to be exact as if made with a ruler! We aren't doing blueprints here. If you don't trust your eye, then try training it, whenever you have a free minute: just draw a long line and try to divide it into equal parts. Or draw a long line with many short lines of the same length; kinda like a dashline, but with no gaps.

Also, I think it's important to remember that measurements and proportions are cool, useful and make your life a lot easier, but often you may need to bend them for the final drawing to look good. And obviously, people come in many shapes and heights, so I suggest taking these classical measurements as a cheatsheet to draw a good standard stick figure, which you can shape into whatever you want later. The 8 heads canon isn't realistic anyway, it originated in Ancient Egypt and Greece and was used for art needs specifically (mainly sculpture iirc). It represents an idealized view of a human figure already, so no harm in changing it a bit further I think!

Art doesn't really need to be anatomically correct, it just has to look like it is.

#ask #art tips #my art

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eolewyn1010 · 4 days ago

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Downton Abbey Fashion 48 - evening dresses in 1922

Before we get to Rose’s evening dresses, I’ll quickly put in those of her friend Madeleine Allsopp. She’s only around for the Christmas special, so this shouldn’t take too long.

Yay for sack dresses? This is a dusty pink-silver dress that looks nice enough on Madeleine; it just isn’t the most flattering cut you can get in this decade. I also imagine the weight to be weird because of this big-ass pearl embroidery just tacked onto the front. And then she has a headband with more beading, pretty basic.

Honestly? So much better. Both the color and the draping on the front are very flattering, and the brocade has my favor anyway. I also like this style of headband way better, probably because the previous reminds me of cheap flapper costumes that have very little to do with 1920s styles. Which just goes to show my prejudices, but there we are. Madeleine’s drop waist has something like a double coil embroidery holding it in place, but I can’t see enough of the skirt to say what effect this has on the overall look.

Her dress for the ball, pretty in theory, is a shade of slightly golden cream that was popular at the time. Problem is, it doesn’t fit Madeleine. Look at the second picture where she lifts her arm to show off the armscye. I know, 1920s dresses are baggy and loose and all that, but this should not be big enough to almost give us an eyeful of side-boob! Or it should be dipping so deep to her hips that we can easily see another layer worn under it. The dress itself is nice with all its embroidery; we celebrate the return of the squiggly lines. And she picked quite cute, youthful jewelry to go with it.

--------------

Over to Rose and a last impression of her season 3 hair frizz. The peach dress is almost a little too peach what with her complexion. But it’s a nice dress, mostly covered in a shiny white pattern to help out the nude impression, and it has little slit sleeves which I personally like. The mild baggy top effect from the drop waist cannot be helped, but this waistband comes with tassels so I’ll be lenient.

For another occasion, Rose has taped a bit of golden lace into her hair. Okay, no, she hasn’t, but this headband is clearly made to emulate the look. So, Rose wears it to a dress which has an entire base layer made of golden lace, showing through in that frontal V and at the skirt. Somehow, the combination with this dark blue silk satin makes the dress look rather severe for Rose’s bubbly antics, so I’m actually glad for the headband; it brings back the whimsy.

Hey, we got dip dye! Is dip dye the right term for what I mean here? Anyway, this lovely ombre that runs over the entire dress from near white down to an intense pink, making this a rather flashy dress despite the simple wrap top style. Shame they didn’t go in for a voluminous skirt; imagine how this color would swoosh on some gathers. But this is for a family dinner, not for dancing, so the little V of her chest being embroidered is where the fancy ends.

This is a little more sandy-colored than peach, so yay for variety on the color palette? It’s fine; it’s not my favorite, but it isn’t doing anything wrong. In fact, the slit sleeves and the volume it has for gathers and draping net it a few points with me. But overall, this is a bit meh for so exuberant a character as Rose and could do with a little more effective embroidery, so, next. Look at the lovely leaf headband on your way out.

A pretty blue dress for the birthday party Rose throws for Robert, this is a nice example for why I like the 1920s dresses better that go down smoothly over the hips than those that tie in on the drop waist. What can I say; I like streamlines better than sack tops. It still gets some shaping via the skirt, the separate layers slit in the front and sprinkled with these little white rhinestones that, in the V around the neckline, almost look the a row of little white flowers. Me like.

There are times when I think Rose helped herself to the contents of Edith’s closet; at least I haven’t seen this shade of washed-out emerald on her before. The dress has a big flower embroidery on the skirt, and then the neckline and the armscyes have this more abstract embroidery band in black and silver that runs down the center and then suddenly turns into a row of square ruffles on the skirt. The skirt itself is a little gathered into the drop waist seam, which reminds me that this is indeed a dress Rose wears for dancing. I guess the little extra volume is for swoosh then.

This velvet dress has the most beautiful, nearly electric blue; they should let velvet more often have colors that aren’t dulled. It has these elements of silver-white lace all over it, giving it an impression of clouds on a very blue sky. The bottom of the skirt is very pretty, but it leaves me wondering if these glittering vertical beading lines run out in long fringe. I know fringe wasn’t the big, hyped thing in the 1920s it later got the reputation for, but it would actually fit Rose and her tassel necklace, and she could afford it.

Coral this time, but still velvet, which makes me think all the silver is not actually woven in, but beaded on. It almost looks like a ton of little shell plates, doesn’t it? The pattern itself is a bit inconsistent, here a band of scallops, there a zigzag line, in between art nouveau-esque flowers… The overall impression is nice enough.

And back to the blue, a bit dustier than before. The color having lost its symbolic meaning for the character of Rose means that it shows up in much more random intervals and at any occasion whatsoever. For a change, I wish it didn’t do that ruffle thing down the sides of her skirt, at least not in tiers; it seems a bit inconsistent with the rest of the design. I wouldn’t mind that embroidery of squares and lines being broken up by long knife pleats in the hip slits instead.

Finally, for her debutante ball, Rose puts on this very pink number with these very large silver flowers. The color suits her well, but this may be my least favorite dress of hers. Why is Rose, the flapper extraordinaire, repeating this weird, stiff-looking skirt style that already didn’t look great on her debutante dress? Her friend Madeleine wears a more common style for the occasion, so no, this is not a debutante dress code anymore. Since this is a dance event, I would have loved something with more movement to it. I also think many small flowers arranged over the entire dress might have made for a nicer picture than slapping a couple of big-ass flowers only on the skirt, but at least the flower shape is nice. The yoke design is just clunky. Pretty headband though.

--------------

Season 4 done, so I must face my demons (as in, Mary) and look into the season 5 outfits. To be fair, the fashion choices will be vastly superior to the character choices; I think the next season has the most of my favorites on the entire show. But oh boy, I will miss the comparatively reasonable behavior of season 4. I will not miss the panniers. Get those out of here.

#Downton Abbey #historical fashion #Downton Abbey's costume fund

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years ago

Text

When The Cameras Stop Rolling

TW: smut. Language.

SUMMARY: You and Jonathan make up for the fact you couldn't touch earlier that day.

WORD COUNT: 1200

REQUESTED

hi! could you write a jd x reader smut where there’s like an understood rule on set where the actors can’t sleep with each other and there’s tension throughout the day, and once reader gets home late, they both put on their weddings ring and have sex at home?

(idk if this makes since but i think you’d do a good job with it!)

-✨

*I THINK I GET WHAT YOU WANT, HOPE YOU LIKE IT!*

When The Cameras Stop Rolling

"You are in for a long night…" JD explained as he hovered over your shoulder of the craft service table, your sudden appetite altering now to one of a more carnal nature. His hand wrapped cautiously yet quickly at your hip before he would then disperse from your group of familial cast mates.

"Goodnight everyone!" He called to the set, cast and crew alike wishing it in unison, as his eyes fell to you one last time.

"How did that date go the other night?" Carlacia asked as you were quickly joined by Madelyn and Madison in the discussion of your love life, all before your mind reverted to the tensions earlier that day.

From the second you walked on set, his eyes had become invested to you. But the reason for his focus could not be dictated by the ensemble of your character, even if it had been accentuating to your figure in perfection. Instead, it had been in your confidence. Something he always adored about you as you executed your own lines to perfection, humor and heartfelt exchanges alike, before breaking to allow others the same exhibition. But between those lines, you found a silent conversation behind his eyes.

As those wondrous chocolate hues lowered your body, it acted as a means of his touch, luxuriating at your lips and waist, finalizing back to your eyes as he played with his bottom lip. When filing together, you kept to the on-set rule of no actors allowing to date for a lack of complicating things since Chase has left the season before sue to the drama with Madelyn. But the brushes throughout the day, the close proximity denying action, and even the brush of his lips to your cheek as he spoke to you prior to his exit, had left you desperate for the day's end.

A day that seemed far too long…

The second you opened the door to your apartment, you were already kicking off your shoes to hear him in the back of your apartment. The sound of the shower ending made your lip become captured between your teeth to know he was revealed if you were to simply journey those steps and close that distance. Your feet set off without a second thought of those tense muscles finding luxury beneath that stream of water, the beads that would remain on his skin as he dried them into oblivion. But unfortunately, you would miss the full frontal exposure as he wrapped the towel just as you made your way into the bedroom.

"I could get used to coming home to this…" You explained with a grin widening as he nodded, pulling that gold disc to his left hand.

"Well you better, Mrs. Daviss, because I'm not letting you take it back now…" He offered you your own ring back as you slipped it onto your left hand.

"Not even if you cry or beg, which I intend to make you do both tonight…" He teased with a dominant grip in your hair.

"I hope so…" You were lifted around him and set at a rest on the bed, your body chilled to the descent of his lips already on a mission from your neck to your thighs, disposing of clothes in the process.

"Always so beautiful…so professional…But how are you going to say your lines tomorrow when you're hoarse?" He smirked, a tongue devoted to your sex making you tremble immediately. Your back pulled to an arch as your fingers fisted the sheets and then his hair, before he rose to observe the contortions of your face.

"I want you-"

"Not yet, baby.. Gotta make sure you're good and wet because I'm not gonna go easy-"

"Im fucking drenched, JD!" He smirked.

"I can do better." He brought one finger into you, followed quickly by a second, before your eyes would pull into a roll with the bend made within. That spot massaged to perfection as he would withdraw once you reached an edge, he'd retract simply to torment you.

"JD!"

"NOW you're drenched-" You pulled him to kiss you, claiming dominance as you were brought into a straddle. As he lifted you with one arm, removing the towel with the other, you would be set at the threat of his cock's head.

"But I wanted to please you…" His second hand now wrapped tightly at the back of your neck.

"Oh, baby, you're about to. Feeling you drip on me is already making me wanna come…but I'm gonna take my time because," You were suddenly sunk down onto him. "I’ve had to wait all fucking day." He spoke a word with each thrust until a steady rhythm was established.

"Oh shit!" He grunted as you clenched around him.

"You want it to be over already?"

"I wanna come! I wanna make you come-" He brought you to your stomach, twisting your legs within his own as he pulled one of your knees higher and lifted your hips just enough to cause a deep penetration.

"Jesus, JD! You're so deep-" He scoffed behind you before pulling the strap of your shirt low enough to reveal your breasts to him. A warm grasp fondled the exposed skin as you trembled beneath him as his pace increased.

"Fuck, baby…you're so good…you feel so fucking good for me…" You nodded, his hand from your breast now pulling at your arm for stability before descending to your clit. Intense motions, the cause of pleasure, made you cry out for him. Each painless thrust causing a rush of pleasure and your body trembled beneath him.

“Please, JD-” You ordered through clenched teeth, your body weak for anything but that release that was taunting you at the near distance.

“Take it, then baby…I needed this all fucking day…”

“Me too-” He kissed you rather violently, tongue quick in more of a probing motion as you softened this by the dominance of your own, as he pulled apart to call out your name.

“You’re making me come baby-”

“Come with me, JD-” You were taken into vulgar thrusts as he grunted your name, pinning you beneath him, before you felt that familiar warmth fill you from within, a suddenly withdraw sending his lips to rush that trembling sex.

“JD!”

“I need more…I need to hear you come again…” A heavy force kept your back flat to the mattress as he pulled you to that second orgasm.

“My wife…” You smirked, eyes rolling and your grin remained, only breaking when you cursed his name to inform him of that second orgasm.

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire

#jonathan daviss #jonathan daviss fanfiction #jonathan daviss smut #outer banks #outerbanks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction

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casskeeps · 6 months ago

Text

dionysus and the maenads - neck amphora by the amasis painter

basic facts

date - c550-530

style - late black-figure

original location - attic potter, found in vulci

function - neck amphora - coarse amphorae were used for storage of wine/oil/etc., but finer amphora were used in social and ceremonial contexts

size -

context

content

dionysus and two maenads - associates of dionysus

hint that he is a more exotic god - in the drapery of the maenads there is a panther skin

stylistic features

black-figure technique/era - specific points

maenads unpainted - unusual as they were usually painted white

frontal eyes with profile head

decorative motifs - palmette and lotus, double-layered jagged tooth, animal motif on shoulder

long digits

impossible twist at waist has been abandoned

added colour

incision

composition

attempt to show movement with the raising of the maenads' feet

dominant horizontal lines as all figures are standing

maenads more angular - enthusiasmos

dominant verticals, horizontals, diagonals

chiastic composition

pose

portrayal of anatomy and physical form

foreshortening and torsion

portrayal of movement

portrayal of emotion

repetition and pattern in poses of maenads - they are painted in step

scholarly references

"remarkable absence of black surfaces" - osborne

#a level classical civilisation #classics #a level classics #classical civilisation #greek art #ocr classical civilisation

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supesguy · 2 years ago

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New to the superman gig few things what do you use or a cape, how do ypu attach it and hos about a belt and a thw tights red briefs

Hi there,

I use a supplier called HerosTime.com. They are a vendor who sells various cosplay uniforms and accessories. They offer custom making services as well. I can use them for spandex type costumes, like Superman's shirt, leggings, trunks, and cape.

THE CAPE

For the cape, the way it's made is that it is a long rectangle with two ropes sewn, one on each of the top corners.

The ropes go over-then-under the armpits.

And then get tied together at the back, around chest level. You will see this from the image below.

Wearers of one piece bodysuit costumes containing a vertical zipper on the back (that zips from the waist to the top) will have an easier time putting on the cape because the only step to remember is keep the cape away from getting caught inside the suit.

For those like myself who prefer wearing a shirt, there will be some steps to remember that are not quite intuitive. Here are the steps to do after you tie together the ropes.

I would recommend placing the shirt you want on a flat surface in front of you where it is reachable and in the correct position.

1) Place the shirt you want to wear on a table, front of the shirt faced down, with the neck hole being positioned furthest away from you. You will want to be prepared to take the shirt and wear it over your body without seeing where the neck hole is (to be explained shortly).

2) Fold the cape you currently have on yourself by taking the bottom of it from the back, lifting it upward, then over your head going forward to the front of you. The cape should now be in front of you, over your head with your frontal view being obscured.

3) Take the shirt that is on the table, and enter yourself from the bottom hemline with your arms (only, no cape) exiting through the arms sleeves, and your head (with the cape) exiting through the neckline. The cape will be covering your view, and this is why you need to position the shirt the correct way before attempting.

4) Once you have the shirt on, you will have the cape inside it along with yourself (and your head covered with the cape). Pull the cape upwards from your face until all of the cape is positioned on the outside of the shirt in front of your (except for the ropes that will remain underneath the shirt looped around your armpits and tied behind).

5) Fold the cape by lifting the bottom of it upward, then over your head going behind to the back of you. Your frontal view will now be clear, and the cape will rest behind you in the correct position.

THE BELT

For this, I went to Amazon to find the belt strap and buckle. I did not go through the vendor I mentioned above.

The reason why is because normally, these cosplay websites would furnish a soft and brittle rubber strap to represent the belt. Those straps would have two buttons that attach to the back.

This is normally not seen often, but I prefer to make it seem authentic like the comic strip below, where it fastens and unfastens from the buckle. Also seems more practical for me, if ever I want to use it for a belt with regular pants.

My preference would be an automatic (or ratchet, or track line) belt. It contains a special strap that has a “track” like what’s seen below in the dark area within the yellow strap.

The buckle would have teeth that sinks into the clipped end of the strap (the strap would usually need a scissor to cut shorter, and then get clipped to the buckle on). You would then take the clean end of the strap, and slip it through the buckle.

The buckle will then click a few times to hold the position of the belt by using a prong to fasten the belt and remain in the position you tighten it to.

The belt cannot be pulled apart until a lever (or knob) is pressed and held with your thumb to lift the prong from the track to loosen it.

Otherwise, you could go for a pin belt, but the main drawback is you will have only one size you can fit in (unless you start pinching holes on the strap).

But, the advantage (especially if you have an oval buckle) is that you won’t have excess strap showing.

Unless you cut away the excess strap, and then you end up with some of the clippings showing. But then that can be hidden within the buckle.

THE TRUNKS

The trunks I went with HerosTime.com.

Choosing the trunks you want may be a personal choice because it comes in different forms. There’s this blog on Tumblr that showcases the various golden age comic heroes with differing trunk designs that I recommend taking a look at:

Superheroes In Trunks (Underwear Of Power)

The version I went for was a mix of Gary Frank’s design in Superman: Secret Origins (2009) for the base, and Christopher Reeve’s ‘70s belt loops. Basically, square cut trunks with wide belt loops.

I’m more into the wrestler type trunks instead of the bikini type. I would recommend high waist trunks, especially if you are looking for a ripple/wavy effect like what’s seen from those golden age superheroes from the ‘30s and ‘40s.

The high waist trunk’s top should rest at or just below the naval. You can then crouch down a bit, with one of your legs forward to achieve that ripple/wavy effect.

CONCLUSION

So, I hope this answers your questions, and I certainly believe this will be an informative post for those looking for ideas on how to construct a classic Superman type uniform.

#superhero #superman #clark kent #man of steel #kal el #christopher reeve #george reeves #dc comics #red briefs #comiccon #cosplay #lycra #spandex #tights #supes

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