#it's so hard to get the clay at just the right angles so that it makes noise but I figured it out and made one work!!

[chaoticturtledream]

“My child is fine” sir your child spend several hours last night researching how to make tiny working instruments out of clay and random household items

[bonus-links]

DIRECTORS COMMENTARY PLEASE I LOVE HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS AND PROCESS <3!!!!!!!!

YEAHHH lots to say for this update

there's a scene I didn't so much as cut from the beginning of this update as significantly shorten: Wolf, Loft, Wake, and Slate are changing into their lighter outfits. Loft says the same line as having the party, Wake begs them for this one day with his Gran Gran, and they all agree they can wait. I've been trying to get better about like, not putting a ton of work into unnecessary connecting scenes, which is why I cut it down. Wake sounding more cavalier also works better for the overall chapter. But i was sad to leave this joke out lol:

may I present to you, Slate's picture gallery! he was mostly on task documenting flora and fauna but he gets a little sidetracked sometimes

I love the idea that he's just, like, kind of terrible at photography. he documents stuff for Zelda and it's always weirdly cropped and kind of out of focus, but she appreciates it anyway.

Slate is also picking flowers for the party! so he is still helping out on that front lol

idk if i've mentioned this before, but beetle does still have pincers! they're just. idk what the right word is. retractable maybe? yeah. like the ancient weapon blades

the filling of the half moon pies is pineapple :-) i was. so worried about it looking like an egg HAHA.

I thought way too hard about how they were going to cook these pies. I was originally going to draw a clay oven or some other setup, but ultimately I thought the Zelda tradition of only having pots over fires to cook was a funnier nod lol. So, they're frying the pies

believe it or not, I wrote this scene before reading dungeon meshi HAHA but it certainly served as good reference for how to set up shots for it

Aryll did in fact eavesdrop on Wake telling Tetra The Situation

That's Champion's little sister in the memory! I like the headcanon that her name was also Aryll.

Champion and his sister are making meat pies instead of pineapple ones.

One again, made a bunch of layout mistakes I ended up having to fix, except this time I didn't catch them until I had already gotten to rendering :-( if you're a patron, you probably saw these versions in the WIP:

problems here: Wolf is walking the wrong away. I was sad we'd be losing his expression but alas. And for the panels with Champion's sister, the angle is too low to be an actual POV shot. I could've left it and said he's just sitting or something probably but it was really bothering me lol so I redrew everything. and then recolored all of it. woof.

as a general rule, if he has scars, that's Slate. No scars is The Other Guy

I understand the complaint about this in BOTW, but I actually kind of like that weird moment that occurs after you finish a memory cutscene, and it just abruptly goes back to Link looking blank-faced like nothing happened. It implies this kind of....distance from the memories that I find interesting. Slate has complicated feelings abt the memories of Champion's life he gets, but like. there's pies to make

shout out to peony she's a real one

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

CLAY BERESFORD has to sit down when he gets too exhilarated. When life moves too fast, his heart can’t take it. Breath quickens, eyes haze. He used to power through it, and that’d only make it worse. Now he’s learned the signs, knows to catch it early. The first time you’d kissed him, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stand. A flock of butterflies inhabited his insides, frenzying in a flurry whenever he’d remember what it felt like to touch your lips on his. At that point, he’d believed his heart condition was common knowledge. His mother, his associates, his friends, all constantly brought it up. But you, you were genuinely caught off guard, catching him tenderly ‘round the arm when he’d shown signs of fatigue. Gentle as you could be, you softened the impact to his seat when his legs gave out.

“It, uh, it’s fine. I’ll be fine,” he had rambled, fishing out his meds from his pocket. His trembling hands struggled against the top, but you were there to loosen it for him. You had sat with him until he was ready. He’d never thought hovering around him could be so romantic, especially since he’s not one to care for smothering.

Now, it’s marginally manageable. That thrill he avoids occasionally hits him at the peak of love-making. You can read him, you can see the signals clearly written on him. In the ways he tips his head back, mouth agape to take in more oxygen, how his eyes glaze over, and his grip loosens. There’s less of his attention to go around. You can hear the strain in his grunts; there’s a stutter in his hips, he’s pushing himself too hard while he pushes himself inside you.

“Clay,” you warn, “slow down. It’s happening again.” Your claws brace against his rotator cuff, directing him to back up which he ignores. His body continues to roll, his tip brushing that spongy spot inside you. Regardless if it feels good, if the sheen of sweat on your skin is a result of ardently chasing your lusts, you can’t let him do this to himself again.

“No, no,” he objects, “I can do it this time. I can do it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, crying out over how he hardens his pace instead of receding it. It weakens your muscle in fighting him off. If you can just sever the connection, he’ll remember, he’ll calm down and take a breather. “Clay!”

But you can’t fend him off.

His forehead drops to your shoulder, alerting you to open your eyes. You don’t bother noticing anything else. “Clay? Clay? Are you alright? Talk to me,” Newfound strength floods you, rolling him over to straddle him, his arm thrown haphazardly above his head. His heavy lidded gaze flutters as you pat at his face. “Baby? Speak to me, can you hear me?”

He hums. A low, gravely drawl as his hands venture to your hips. “Baby,” he drags out each of these word, “Fuck… baby, so good.” The air in his chest rapidly falls, panting. You know this isn’t right, yet he makes decisions for you, digging his fingers into the plush of your flesh as he moves you back and forth. His cock fully seated inside you while it brushes your insides.

“Wait, but you’re—“ you protest, but it’s unconvincing. There’s few things you enjoy more than sitting on every inch of his length, the new angle granting you electric shocks up your spine with each rock.

“Feeling so good, my love. Better than I ever have. Better than I ever will.” his sweet words mean the world to you, his soft smile adorning his handsome features as he peeks slyly at you through the narrow sliver of his lids. “Don’t make me stop. Please? I don’t wanna stop.” How can you refuse him?

You figure it’s less pressure on him to be underneath you; you feel more secure in riding him like this. So you move his hands up, allowing them to handle your torso while you do the work. He sits back, and looks pretty for you, while you use him up.

[marlynnofmany]

Singing the Approach

“You’re coming on this delivery,” Zhee told me with a flick of his antennae. “We have to make noises as we walk up.”

“What kind of noises?” I asked, accepting the tablet he held out. 

“There’s a sound file.” He angled his head away, but with eyes that big, he was still looking at me. “I’m not going to try to copy it. That’s on you.”

I opened the briefing for our newest clients, which included a rundown on their species and a sound file for a standard greeting. Well, standard for an offworld courier delivering something they’d ordered. Apparently there were many types of greetings. I played the top one, and it sounded like whale song. 

I looked at Zhee. “Sure we can’t just play this really loud?”

Zhee angled his antennae into a no. “Captain says they’ll like us better if it’s an actual voice. Are your human voice-bits up to that?”

“Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard.” I cleared my throat and gave it a shot. It sounded like a childish imitation to me, but a subtle twitch of Zhee’s antennae suggested he was pretending not to be impressed. 

“Good enough,” he said. “I’m going because I’ll need to open the crates before they accept them.” He flexed a pincher arm, purple exoskeleton shining. “You get to do the talking.”

“They speak Doorway, right?” I asked, looking through the file. “If it’s one of the more obscure trade languages, we may want to bring Coals or Trrili along.”

“Yes, Doorway continues to open many doors,” Zhee said with an aggravated sigh (his favorite kind). He was probably grumpy that a language from his own species hadn’t taken off like this one had. But not every race was up to the intricacies of that many different hisses. And the Heatseekers had crafted Doorway with interplanetary communication in mind, a level of cooperation that would have surprised me coming from Mesmer society as a whole.

“I heard my name,” said a voice from hip height.

“Hey, Coals,” I said to our shortest and most patient crewmate. “I was just wondering if the delivery will need your translation skills, but it sounds like not.” I angled the tablet so he could see.

He gave it a look then nodded, scaly face as calm as ever. “Oh, those folks. I wonder if there was ever a consensus on whether their own name for themselves translates as ‘Ground-grabbers’ or ‘Ground-huggers.’ They do embrace each other with their grabbing arms, so last I heard, it was hard to say.”

The customer was listed on the tablet as a “Ground-grabber.” It was kind of a silly name to my way of thinking, but I’d heard worse. I said, “It probably won’t come up in conversation if we just stick to business.”

“Keep an eye out for the Tree-grabbers,” Coals said. “They live nearby but higher up. And the things barely count as trees, but it’s the best we could do.”

“Right,” I said. I wanted to ask more, but the intercom chimed with the “about to land” noise. We all took our positions: I followed Zhee to the cargo hold and Coals continued on to whatever he’d been doing.

While I waited for the ship to land, I entertained myself with the realization that the species names could also be translated as “landlubbers” and “treehuggers.”

The view when the door finally opened was of a blue-skied desert scrubland, with a town made of sturdy one-floor buildings constructed out of dusty red clay blocks.

Coals would have blended right in, I thought as I helped maneuver the hoversled down the ramp. That might have been a problem, actually. The briefing had been clear that the Ground-grabbers had poorer eyesight than average, which was why the polite thing to do was to herald your arrival.

Speaking of which… I cleared my throat again and sang my best whale song while Zhee and I towed the package toward the three large figures walking toward us. Not for the first time, I was very glad for the captain and the pilots watching from the cockpit, who would let us know if there was a problem. They’d already gotten permission to land, and talked with someone who was sending out the right people to meet us.

People who looked an awful lot like rhinos with a creepy set of extra arms reaching out from their backs — long-fingered like they were meant to be wings, but had gotten sidetracked on the evolutionary path.

Right. Ground-grabbers.

They sang more whale song back, then to my relief, greeted us in Doorway. The conversation went smoothly. I described everything that we were bringing them — exactly what they’d ordered, packaged at an offworld store — and Zhee easily cranked open the lids for inspection.

The exotic food that they’d ordered was extremely sour fruit with a smell that made my eyes water. I would have worried about looking unprofessional for a moment there, but I was pretty sure they didn’t notice the face I made before wiping my eyes.

After they did some sniffing, and some careful fondling with the grabber arms, they declared the items acceptable and had Zhee put the lids back on. While the Ground-grabber in front was signing the payment tablet, I caught motion from the corner of my eye. I turned to look and I heard something like whale song, just higher-pitched.

Oh, I thought. So these are the Tree-grabbers. They scampered across the dusty ground like long-limbed monkeys, pausing every so often to look around for danger, in the manner of prey animals everywhere. They had big eyes and mousy ears, plus tiny little horn nubbins on their noses. Their top set of arms looked much like the lower ones, probably very useful for climbing the giant cactus-things in the distance.

I had a theory about the evolution of these two species.

The landlubbers turned to greet the treehuggers in a moment of beautiful music, with both groups singing together. Then it devolved into conversation that I couldn’t follow, since they weren’t bothering with Doorway now. But soon they turned to address me.

The Ground-grabber still holding the tablet asked me in her deep voice, “How long would it take for you to bring this same amount for them?” The Tree-grabbers hopped in barely restrained excitement.

“Let me check with the captain,” I said, glancing at Zhee. I took out my phone and called back to the ship, stepping away while he finalized the payment for the first delivery.

Captain Sunlight had of course been watching from the cockpit, and already had an answer for me. I relayed it to the Tree-grabbers, who thought it sounded fantastic, and the captain said she’d be right out to negotiate.

The bravest Tree-grabber asked, “Can your airwing land closer to our home?” He pointed a long arm toward the cactuses, which I now realized had tiny figures climbing the many spikes and branches, along with dark spots that looked like doors. “There is a section of high ground. We can meet there. We’d never ask an offworlder to climb.”

Zhee hissed a laugh. “This one might like the chance.” He pointed an elbow at me.

“Well,” I said. “It might be a bit of a challenge with this many crates.”

The Tree-grabber wiggled his ears like a cartoon mouse. “Oh? Maybe afterward?”

“I mean…” I looked at Zhee. “I wouldn’t say no to a quick visit.” Zhee was quietly laughing at me, which wasn’t a surprise.

“Excellent!” the Tree-grabber said.

The Ground-grabbers moved to unload the sled. “Don’t let the Air-grabbers catch the scent of it,” said the lead one.

This was news. “Air-grabbers?” I asked.

The big rhino’s arms were busy with the crates (and Zhee’s help), but the little monkey-mouse pointed behind our ship. I hadn’t really looked in that direction yet, and I found a flat mountaintop back there holding what might have been another city. And the sides were speckled with possible windows.

“They live up high, but they’re always down here pestering everyone else,” said the monkey-mouse.

“Nobody likes an Air-grabber,” rumbled the rhino, balancing a crate on her back. “They never herald their approach, and they come from above!”

“So rude,” agreed the Tree-grabber. “They think any door that’s open is an invitation, just because they can fly right to it. They would probably make you deliver to the side of their cliffs. Those are much harder to climb than trees!”

Zhee gave me a look.

“Well. Especially with the crates.”

The monkey-mouse looked shocked. “Really? Your people climb things like that?”

Zhee answered before I could. “Humans climb anything they can, and a few things they can’t. Plus they wear ‘wing-suits’ sometimes that lets them glide on artificial wings.”

I asked him, “When did I tell you about wingsuits?”

He spread his mandibles in a grin. “I looked it up after you climbed on top of that other ship at the spaceport.”

“Hey, that wasn’t my idea; she needed help with maintenance up there.”

“And you didn’t see anyone else volunteering without an antigrav pack.”

“Oh!” said the Tree-grabber. “Do you have a source for those? Some of our elders could really use them.”

“Let’s ask the captain,” I said with a look toward the ship. Captain Sunlight and Paint were heading toward us, two lizardy figures with a recording of whale song, since their vocal cords weren’t quite up to human-level mimicry. “I’m pretty sure there was a store that sold them at the same spaceport as these fruits. And yes—” I said to Zhee, “It was run by humans.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[writingoddess1125]

Pebbling

Buggy x GN Reader

Fluff Headcanon + Small Story

Pebbling (Def) -  collecting and sharing little things with someone you are interested in so that you can build a bond.

Masterlist <<

Kofi<<

• You’ve been a part of Buggy’s crew for a while now, and while life on the ship is always chaotic, there’s a certain rhythm to the madness.

• Buggy’s loud and eccentric as ever, constantly yelling at his crew, plotting his next big scheme, or performing one of his exaggerated, over-the-top shows.

•He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be subtle—or thoughtful, really—but that’s exactly what makes the little surprises so confusing at first.

• It started out small of course-

• The first time it happens, you find a small trinket tucked away in your cabin—a shiny coin, weathered with age but clearly valuable.

• You’re puzzled, wondering where it came from. No one in Buggy’s crew seems like the type to leave anything behind unless it’s by accident, but you chalk it up to just that: an accident.

• Then another object appears some time later—this time a small, brightly colored feather.

• It’s wedged into the folds of your coat, a splash of color so out of place that you can’t help but notice it. Again, you can’t figure out where it came from, but it’s oddly nice. It makes you smile for some reason.

• Then it happens again. And again. Small things—items that seem random at first—start showing up in your space.

• A polished stone, very pretty shell, even some candy from your village of birth you thought you'd never see again!

• Each one placed somewhere you’re bound to find it: in your coat pocket, on your bunk, even tucked away in your boots once.

• At first, you think it’s just coincidence, or maybe the crew playing some kind of prank.

• But the things you find are too specific, too you.

• They’re not the usual junk that gets tossed around on the ship. These are things that hold a certain charm, things you genuinely like.

• Slowly, a pattern starts to form, though you can’t quite pin down who’s behind it.

• That was till one gift made you figure out who it was- A well loved red beanie, It would be perfect for the upcoming sailing adventure since it was oddly cold.

• Looking into the hat you see it- A long strand of blue hair that seemed to have been perfectly left behind in the fold.

• Blue Hair-

• As you began to piece together this was from Buggy you couldn't help but smile to yourself as you held the hat close.

• He would never acknowledge anything of course- You assumed his ego being too grand to do so. However your heart fluttered at the idea your Captain was going out of his way to leave these for you.

• You decide to watch how he interacts after this, just to confirm your hypothesis.

• Wearing the beanie you sit on the desk were Buggy is screaming at the crew and stomping his foot angrily at something random.

• Pulling some of the candy he left you from your coat pocket you began to eat it while chatting one of your peers, perfectly angled for the Cap to see you.

• Just to catch Buggy glancing at you and seemingly smirking to himself- His mood 'Magically' Improving at a drop of a dime.

• Bingo!

- Later that evening after dinner, You'd snuck into the Captain's Quarters looking around a bit nervously as you looked for a good spot to set the item you'd made for him, It had been a small hotdog statue that you'd made yourself with some clay- Easy to put on a desk or keep in a pocket since Buggy seemed a bit fidgety.

"Now where to put it-"

You grumble as you frantically looked around for a good spot for the gift, not wanting it to get lost in the chaos that was his quarters. He made it seem so easy to be able to hide these things in places he knew you'd find them- But this was hard!

His desk was a fucking mess! Clothes on the floor and it was impossible to know were he actually looked.

Shit, Shit, Shit!

Right as you think you found a good spot on top of some makeup tins the door to his office slams open- Were the Devil himself steps in looking just as surprised as you felt.

Deer In Headlights-

You two stare at each other for what felt like forever as he looks ready to question you for being in his personal space but your frazzled mind seemed to beat him.

"I MADE YOU A HOT DOG!" You should holding the hot dog in the palm of your hand and wanting the ground to swallow you whole-

...

A wide smile slowly started to stretch across Buggy's face as he closed in the space between the two of you and greedily took the hot dog trinket from your hands. His eyes seemed to sparkle.

"You Made This?" You nod hesitantly, a bit frazzled still before shyly smiling.

"I um, noticed all the stuff too. From You" It was now your turn to catch him off guard, He started to blush as you get flushed as well.

"Ive liked all of them" You say softly, watching a nervous smile grace his lips.

"Do- You wanna drink on desk? So I can ask how you made this?" Buggy asked, coughing a bit to himself to clearly ease his nerves and make himself seem cooler. You giggle at this and nod.

"Id like that a lot"

[claypigeonpottery]

What's the process like for slab building mugs? I've only done them on the wheel before and i was wondering how hard it is to get a smooth rotational symmetry when you don't have the wheel helping you

they’re pretty straightforward, but they definitely take practice. and I think an aspect of slab building (and hand building in general) is that it’s not going to be perfect. I had to learn to accept that and to love it for what it is

I use two tools to get my slab-built mugs nice and round:

1. a turntable/banding wheel. spinning it as I’m refining the shape helps keep it round, just like wheel-thrown pottery

and

2. The Cone

The Cone can be any cylinder that’s narrower at the bottom at wider at the top, and the right size to fit in your mug. just press it in and shape the rim to it, don’t leave it in the mug as the clay shrinks

but here’s the whole slab-building process!

under the cut

1. roll out clay.

this time I cut it straight from the bag so it’s air-bubble free, but otherwise it should be wedged first. I use a rolling pin with measured rings on the ends so I can easily roll it out 1/4” thick

2. I used to use a cardboard template and a pin tool for this (you can find the templates online and print them, or you can cut up a disposable cardboard cup to make a template)

but I upgraded to cutters a little while ago and I love them.

remember also to cut out a circle for the bottom of the mug.

3. smooth

4. let sit for a couple hours, or put it in front of a fan for awhile, so it’s not too floppy to work with. it should be flexible, workable, but not floppy. it shouldn’t crack if bent but it should stand up on its own once you’ve got it in a circular shape

5. I usually make a handle right before starting to build the mug, so it’s firm enough to work with by the time I’m done with the cylinder part of the mug. I prefer handle-making tools, rather than pulling them by hand

6. cut the mug edges at a 45 degree angle. you can eyeball it or use a tool. remember to flip the slab before cutting the other side, so they line up lol. I only made that mistake once.

I used to not do this step but my seams are a lot cleaner now.

7. score and slip, then join. once I’ve blended the two sides together a bit with my fingers, I like to use a soft rubber rib to smooth out the seam on the inside and outside, adding extra slip to fill any little gaps. it’ll be ugly at first, just keep refining it!

8. score and slip to attach the bottom piece to the cylinder. I add extra slip around the inside of the mug where the bottom attaches, and once I’ve flipped the mug back over, I smooth the extra slip along the seam on the inside with a brush or sponge, to help fill any gaps and attach everything nicely

9. here I usually use The Cone. the rim is going to warp again as I add my handle, so I’ll use the cone again later. it’s just helpful to have the rim round before adding a handle

10. attach handle. I like to attach them over the seam so as to leave the rest of the mug as smooth as possible for decorating

11. use The Cone again, refine the rim, cover mug with plastic and leave until leather hard

12. trim it, clean it up, etc (here’s one I prepared earlier!)

and here’s your mug!

[hellenhighwater]

Do you usually make esqueletons for you sculptures? I'm struggling to make poses that look fluid when I make the little wire structure, but if I don't, the thing is not firm enough and kinda goes sideways and also cracks a bit more than usual

Man, I wish I could. Kiln fired clay shrinks significantly as it's dried and fired--the temmstone speckle clay I'm using has a shrinkage of 12.5%. You can get high-temp nichrome wire that will survive the heat of the kiln, but the problem is that if you have clay shrinking around an internal armature that does not shrink, you wind up with cracks and breakage.

You can, sometimes, get away with small bits of wire, but generally I just don't risk it. My sculptures are just solid clay. Or, actually, sometimes I hollow them out so they're not actually solid, but no wire or anything.

If you're feeling like your pose is not dynamic enough, rotate it. As you build your armature, make sure it is engaging space from every side. If you pose is just stretching all its limbs forward and back, with no engagement on the left or right, then you may have an issue. Similarly, if they're standing normally, you may want to consider adding a twist to their torso/hips, a bend to a leg or arm, so they're engaging space more interestingly. When you're working in three dimensions you want it to be interesting no matter what angle you're looking at it from. So rotate your armature, and if it looks flat from any angle, adjust it.

If you are doing poses in motion, look for single lines that extend all the way through your figure that help convey the movement. Theseus, for example, has lines that go all the way from his back leg to his front shoulder, in order to help express that he's pulling hard. That will also help your figures feel like they have weight and they're actually balancing.

[orangenekooo]

Trolls BroZone Headcannon / Extension / Analysis

Bruce was the most popular member back in Brozone.

What do you expect? He is the heartthrob after all! Fans used to scream and faint after his smiles and moves. Bruce has always had the most stage presence too. He does not just sing well. He knows how to command the stage. He knows the best angle to face the fans, the best chore to fit with the lyrics and the best spot to stand on stage to let the light shower on top of him. He even makes sure his clothes are slightly tailored to showcase his abs! He is confident and effortless on stage, and super hard on himself. This is partially due to JD's perfectionistic demand, and partially due to Bruce just being that hard-working. Really, JD didn't have to push Bruce at all.

Clay is the most emotional one in the family.

People would assume this is Floyd. However, he is sensitive yet very emotionally mature. On the other hand, Clay doesn't know how to deal with emotions. He's trying though! Even if subconsciously. Clay would mask concern in anger, mask hurt in humor, mask love in silent touches and quick glances. He really doesn't understand them, but he's trying! He's like a feral little kitten, who would brandish paws because he got so confused, yet would never scratch you intentionally.

Floyd is way too forgiving and thinks the goodness of everyone too much.

Floyd always was the mediator back in Brozone days. He needed to understand everyone's point of view, and he did that effortlessly. He is in nature very non-judgmental and emphatic, which makes him hard to dislike anyone. Even when he does feel any slight displeasure toward any brothers, he is quick to squash the feeling down. He would think from others' shoes and would convince himself to let go. He does this because 1) he is way too emphatic, he just feels kindness toward others. 2) he feels he can not add into the constant argument that is within the family. He has to stay calm. He almost never got into any arguments. This mentality almost made Floyd naive, as some would say. He thinks of the world as everyone tries to do the right things, it's just different perspectives. This makes him an extremely kind troll who can bond with anyone. Yet also makes him extremely vulnerable, like when he lets his guard down to Velvet and Veneer.

(Just look at this dude, being kind to Crimp while being imprisoned, and even to Venner after he tortured him... Needless to say, the four other brothers are very protective of Floyd after the whole mess)

Every brother looked up to John Dory at one point in their life.

JD is the superman! baby Branch would say. Why not? He brings food to the table, he chases away the monster under the bed. He seems to have endless energy. Even his laugh is always the loudest! He is a radiant leader who can do everything! baby Branch wanted to be just like JD.

When Bruce tries to become a Dad, the only figure he can come up to model from is JD, who took on the role of Dad too quick, too early.

In the very beginning, for the first couple of shows, when Bruce wanted to act cool on stage, he would also try to act like JD ;) —— ah all those carefree laughs and smirks...

Clay never wanted to disappoint JD. He tried all kinds of things he didn’t like just to get that proud pat from JD. He wanted to take care of the family just like JD did. He became quite well in taking care of others with the Putt Putt trolls, wouldn't you agree?

Floyd would think “how would JD handle this?” whenever he feels himself is not being rational enough.

Floyd is the most emotionally mature of the family.

He think himself as overly emotional and remind himself to stay calm at all times. However, he doesn't realize, disregarding his internal turmoil, he usually is the calmest one in the family.

Floyd is the type to cry silently, just letting tears fall.

Branch is the type to cry without realizing he had cried.

In terms of ability to fight physically, if there's a ranking among Brozone, it would be

JD > Branch > Clay > Bruce > Floyd

Let's just say wilderness has made JD quite tough. He can be really badass if needed. He got weapons on him at all times :).

Branch is paranoid. He has learned. Even though all the brothers still feel protective of him as he's the baby of the family, he is more than capable of handling himself.

Viva is the true badass here. Have you seen her fight in that final scene in the movie?? She definitely trained Clay here and there.

Excluding Floyd, I feel all four brothers can put up quite a fight. Back in Brozone days, Bruce is definitely the top 1. He’s still quite good now, just not as good as the other 3.

Floyd. He is one of the mentally strongest ones in the family, but also the physically weakest one, especially after the V&V torture. However he can definitely try to outsmart someone in a fight.

Bruce was quite a playboy after the band first ended. However, he soon met his soulmate. And boy he fell for it hard. The heartbreaker got domesticated quickly.

Out of the five brothers, Clay gets angry easiest, yet he is also the easies to placate. Just sincerely tell him sorry. He would cave in immediately.

Outside of the family, JD has a nonchalant attitude toward others. He’s still kind, outgoing, and charming. However his softness and silliness seem to only shown to his family. “John Dory can you stop worrying for one second!?”

Floyd was the baby of the family for about ten years before Branch was born. At first the other three have hard time adjusting to that fact: their former baby brother is apparently taking care of the current baby brother, and is doing an amazing job.

Bruce has the best hug.

JD has the safest hug.

Clay has the tightest hug.

Floyd has the softest hug.

Branch has the hug that all other four brothers desperately trying to get. (Let’s just say someone values their personal space…)

Clay is the most intelligent one in the family.

JD might be joking called the old one back in Brozone days, but he got a very solid and loyal fan base. Hey, if it wasn’t for Bruce, he’d be the heartthrob!

Bruce got some dubious fan letters before. Don’t worry, JD took care of them.

In most public coverage, Floyd was always the youngest in the band. Branch only appeared for one show, the last show.

Branch was the secret member of Brozone that every news outlet was trying to get info on. He has appeared in albums yet never in any of the shows. It was quite a stir when they announced Branch was going to be on a show at last.

…TBC!

[eliysian]

tension w/ leon?? tension w/ leon.

SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING!! i'm back with a leon blurb <3

pairing: re4!leon kennedy x gn!reader

It's been mere minutes since Chris got out of the car to finish his mission, leaving you and Leon alone. It was silent, but the tension was apparent in the air. You both could feel it.

Your fingers pulled at the seams of your coat, in an attempt to get yourself to calm down. You weren't usually nervous around him, but after your guys' last encounter, it's been hard not to be nervous.

You let out a shaky exhale against his lips, your head tilted up with your eyes glued to his. His sapphire-like eyes ran down your face, sticking to your lips. He steps further into you, one leg going between yours as you lean back against the wall.

He swipes one of your stray hairs behind your ear, his tongue swiping out to lick his bottom lip. You struggle to break the gaze. Your hand rested on his bicep as he wrapped his forearm around your waist, pulling you into him.

Your bodies were flush against eachother as he finally speaks up, "Can I?" He whispers. Your lips part on an inhale and you nod. He dips down, lips so close to brushing yours, right before the door busts open. Luis, already rambling, glances at you both and freezes. "Aye, yai, yai," Luis sighs.

You clear your throat and quickly exit the room with a pit in your stomach.

You scrolled on your phone, heart pounding as your thoughts blanked, you couldn't even find an app to open. Your thoughts came back to life as the music in the car started playing. You looked up, eyes locking to Leon's hand.

To be fair, you meant to look at the stereo, but your eyes found their way to the veins that popped in his hands. How they were so apparent under the moonlight from your angle. You looked back at your phone.

You opened your messages, hoping that someone, anyone really, would text you right now. You could feel him glancing at you from where he sat. The cold air filtered through the barely open window beside you, giving you goosebumps. You heard him let out a 'tsk' at all the songs playing on the various radio stations. 

He just shuts it off before delivering his gaze to you again. He nudges your shoulder, "Why so silent today?" You feel that same spot on your shoulder tingle as you set your phone down. "Sorry," You mutter, glancing up at him and locking eyes. It made your stomach flip in itself, "Just been thinking."

"About what? Something bothering you?" Yeah, the fact we almost fucked just a few days ago. He talks like he completely forgot about what happened between you. "No," You responded simply.

He just nodded and you looked back to your phone, but his gaze didn't leave you for a few moments, his eyes taking in your appearance. The silence just sat in the air. He looked away and let out a strained sigh, "Uh," He started. "Sorry for, you know—" He gestured his hands in the air, "—The other day."

You froze up a bit, keeping your eyes on your phone as your face heated up. "Yeah, it's okay." You muttered, biting your lip.

Leon stared at you again, letting out a huff. "Hey," he spoke, his voice low. You struggled to look up "Hey." He repeated, slightly louder this time.

You didn't look up at him or respond, your words catching in your throat. The way your face burned made you wanna die, and the throb in your core pained you as you squeezed your thighs together.

Before you could calm yourself, your chin was being held and pulled, making you face him. "Look at me when I talk to you, yeah?" He said and you just nodded, like soft clay in his hands. He could mold you to whatever, say whatever, and you'd do it in a heartbeat.

You both fell silent as you sat in this position, him in the driver seat leaning over the console, you in the passenger seat with an aching in your gut that begs to be fixed. His eyes slide to your lips again, just like how they had before.

His thumb runs across your bottom lip and you let out a deep breath that you didn't know you were holding. "I'm not a fan of doing it in cars," Leon whispered, "But I'd be a fucking fool to pass up on this."

[chvnnie]

Stop bc the sub channie one had me on my knees 😩😩😩 If you could continue that one that would be great! 😂

usually I just leave thots as they are — but tbh I’ve been staring at my work computer since i posted, lost in this thought sooooo

SMUT - MINORS DNI

You’re too distracted to notice the steady creak of your bed. Felix’s tongue works vigorously, careful yet quick, he makes sure every inch of inch of your cunt is tended to. It makes it hard for you to focus, eyes fluttering as your hips grind. Moaning for him, soft pleas for more. Perfect, just for you—

—and Chan, who is damn near out of the bindings. They’re loosening slowly. He’s so close to getting enough wiggle room; tongue poking out, his focus is up. A little to the left. More to the right. Twist, twist, twist.

Right there, right on the precipice of freedom.

“Chan.” You snap, and he quickly looks at you. His heart is hammering against his rib cage. Fuck, how much did you see? Of course you catch on right as he was about to try and pull his hand out- “Eyes on me, baby. I don’t want to have to beat you in front of Felix.”

All your statement does is make him more ambitious. Hiding his scowl to the best of his ability, he nods. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Do you even hear him? Once you’ve scolded him, you’re back to losing yourself. Letting one hand curl into Felix’s golden locks while the other teases your nipple over your shirt. A captor of indulgence once again.

He needs to be quick. The more time spent trying to be careful, not wanting to attract attention, just puts him more at risk. So, Chan tugs harder. The frame hits the wall. Another rough pull. He feels it give more.

By the third time, you’re looking right at him again. And his left hand is free.

The grip on Felix’s hair helps you pull his out of your center, the younger man grunting angrily as heaven was ripped from him. “Stop.” You say firmly, catching Chan just as he sits up on his knees. “Sit.”

It’s like your speaking to a pet. Like you’re his owner. Laughable, really — and he does just that. “Absolutely not. Do you really expect me to watch this?”

“I expect you to follow my rules.” With your foot on Felix’s shoulder, you move him out of the way so you can stand. Grab the forgotten cane. “I’ll give you another chance. Sit.”

Channie’s a good boy.

When he wants to be.

“Try me, baby.” He says smugly, delighted in the way your dominance is crumbling. And it was this easy? Why hasn’t he tried this sooner? “I’ve never used a cane before. Should I try it on you, or Lix first?”

The threat should have scared the blonde man; ever the sweetheart, the people pleaser. To be given such a cruel punishment should make him like clay in Chan’s hands.

However, he seems unaffected. An almost bored expression on his face. The opposite of how his friend expected — and wanted — him to react.

“I don’t think you will.”

It takes him by surprise, confidence faltering slightly. Never has his friend challenged him, in any aspect, but especially not like this. Before you, was Felix. Always glad to help his friend work of his frustration, to have something he was sure to have control over.

Where did that bright eyed boy go?

“She told you to sit.” Felix says simply. “Don’t be dumb, hyung.”

His tone is so cool. So matter-of-fact. Emotionless.

That’s what makes Chan pause and consider his action. Felix’s coldness, and how much he enjoys it.

Chan isn’t allowed the silk ropes. Instead you use a flimsy pair of handcuffs found in the bottom of your toy box, tightening them until he complains of pain. Laying on his stomach, his knees are placed perfectly in line with his hips, which are raised. Neither you or Felix bothered to secure his ankles — one kick and they could easily overpower the stronger man.

Was his fleeting taste of control worth it?

Your back is against the headboard, legs open. Damp core just inches from Chan’s face. If he wiggles, could he reach it? Maybe if he positions his head at the right angle, his tongue might graze it.

So close. And just out of reach.

The lube is cold. Hissing, the older man clinches, fingers flexing behind his back.

“Oh, is that cold?” Felix is condescending, using the pads of two fingers to massage the lube against his hole. “I’m sorry.”

Tears start to sparkle in his eyes, frustration and pure, feral desire ripping him to shreds from the inside out. He doesn’t want Felix to touch him — all he wants is his cock. He wants to bend you over and rail you until all you can remember is his name — he wants you to beat him until he can’t walk.

The contradiction makes him dizzy, whines falling from his plush lips as he rests on his cheek. Defeated.

There’s a soft coo from you, then warm fingers are raking his curls. Nails scratching his scalp lightly, just like he likes it. How he always asks you to touch him when he needs to relax; when the control is too overwhelming.

A token. A reminder of your care for him. Even in moments like this.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Channie?” As you speak, Felix is lining his cock with his entrance, teasing it with the tip. “To be touched?”

He rolls his head, looking up at you. It’s impossible not to cry at this point. “I-I wanted to touch you.”

Your fingers crawl from his locks, gently wiping his tears away. “Oh, baby.”

Then, he notices it. The bullet vibrator in your other hand, thumb hovering over the on button. As if timed, you click it, right as Felix roughly pushes inside Chan.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

[fourseasonsfigs]

Take a Sip by the Lake

This fig set was inspired by a behind-the-scenes video from the filming of Word of Honor's Episode 6.

We have a playful Gong Jun here making Zhehan laugh during the rehearsal for the poison sucking scene:

I laughed when I first saw this set! The exaggerated facial features are so silly and fun.

The seller originally designed the figs and planned to sell it with the rock they're sitting on:

However, when it came down to it in production, the seller cancelled the rock due to cost and told all the buyers to just make it ourselves out of ultra light clay. This plan didn't sound great to me, just given my lack of time and ability, but you get what you get.

Sure enough, these two figs arrived with no rock at all.

These arrived...and sat. For a long time! I've had these hanging out in my tray of "needs serious help" figs for, well, quite some time. This weekend, though, I decided it was time to start tackling that tray, and this seemed like the easiest one to start with. How difficult could a rock be? Famous last words, I know.

I downloaded a coupon for one of my local craft stores and headed out. Michaels had quite the array of Sculpey and Fimo clay packets. I ended up buying "grey granite" Sculpey clay, since I liked the idea of not having to paint the rock.

I probably spent 20-30 minutes putting a rock together - I made it too small at first, and then realized pretty quickly that not only did I need to make it bigger, but I needed a higher area in the back for Gong Jun to rest his hand on. I started gently arranging the figs on the rock as I worked, so that I'd have indents in the clay to go off on as I modeled.

Here's the finished rock. You can see the indents there for A-Xu's robe to slot into.

Gosh, I was happy with it when I finished it, but in the harsh light of my camera I have to admit it doesn't look as good as I thought it did.

Here's the top view. Looks a little better there, right?

I baked the rock for about 40 minutes. I'm not entirely sure if that was enough, but it seemed to be pretty well cooked.

Happily, all the little marks the figs made when I pressed them into the clay made them very easy to assemble on the rock. A little bit of glue, and they sat pretty solidly.

Not looking too bad, actually!

Oh no, I take it all back. I worked so hard at getting Gong Jun's hand to rest right on the rock...what happened??? I must have glued him a little bit too far up on the rock. Ugh.

UGH. It really is not resting on the rock! The crazy thing is, when I look at it just in my hand, it really looks like it's resting right on top.

I'd say it shrank during baking, but it didn't. I think this is just some poor eyesight. Well, you can see how I did design it to be a perfect resting place.

All I can see is the hand not touching the rock, but I will say the modeling the fig maker did on their hair is really nice. This whole set is really quite cute, if a little ridiculous! Which I'm enjoying, of course.

Here's a close up of the drugman bite.

This is a very small set - all the figs I have in this style run fairly small. You can see the size compared to a "regular" fig in most common style.

This clay actually has the faintest sparkle to it, just like actual granite. It's really hard to photograph it - I brought it out in the sunlight to try to capture it, but all you can see is some light spots that look like dust. It's actually quite subtle and pretty though.

I took some bottoms-up pics before I glued them to the rock. You can see their boots and pants quite well from this angle.

With how difficult a rock was to make, I can't even imagine modeling these. It's all computer driven I imagine, but still.

...not sure why I cut off the bottom of this pic when photographing! My goodness.

Well, at least from one angle I'm glad to see the hand looks firmly on the rock!

The fig maker included box card art and an even more exaggerated rendition of the art on a pin? Mirror? I can't recall now, it's been so long. You'll notice the fig maker even included the little kissy lips that were on the video as well.

Well, I get a good chuckle out of this fig set - Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan had so much fun on set, and it's nice to see how lighthearted and happy this is!

Material: Resin

Fig Count: (+2) 531

Scene Count: 38

Rating: Mwah! 💋

[link to the Master Post Index]

[bloodiedrogue]

ENRAPTURED

PAIRINGS: Loki Laufeyson & Gender Neutral Reader

SUMMARY: Not matter how hard you try you can't stop staring at Loki's hands.

WORD COUNT: 877

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I literally have so many other fics to write yet here I am writing this fucking thing. Please excuse any mistakes you may see, I wrote this in two hours half drunk after a nine hour shift. Thank you Grammarly, my beloved. <3

MASTERLIST

-

Loki pinches the page the way he touches your flesh: teasing the paper with delicate motions. 

Back and forth, his index caresses the edge of the paper, softly flicking it with a strange sense of impatience as his eyes glide across the page, absorbing every detail. Every vowel paired with every consonant floods his vision as he does this. Every dotted ‘I’ or crossed ‘X’ sits within the pondering of his mind while he strokes and sighs and—

Just watching it makes you sick —disgusted and enraged, and so uncharacteristically jealous, because how could such a simple motion make you feel this way? How could the turning of a page make you so breathless it hurts?

Unsure, you stare as he obliviously flips the page, his fingers twisting and curling in such a way the whole thing feels like a show. A performance meant to rile you up, with every possible angle you’ve known to love set before you. Every tonal shift beneath the dimly lit light pulls you in like a moth to a flame, knowing it’s bad for you. That this God before you is nothing but trouble. And yet, here you are, staring again —longing again.

It makes you realize that Loki feels more like an enemy than an ally. The antagonist to a never-ending hunger you’ll always feel. Like a dealer, he offers you his drug in small amounts. Here and there, selectively bestowing tiny treasures.

You’re almost certain he does this just to get you hooked, to further escalate this idea that he’s the only one who could provide such a service. Instead of a human, he looks at you like some sort of potential customer, his eyes surveying every reaction he solicits each time a transaction is made. 

Meaning, he knows lately you’ve been needing it. An air of desperation has been lining your features for weeks, embedding itself into every pore like a smoke stain on a shirt you can’t quite get out. You need this more than anything, and right now, you’re almost willing to ask him for it.

Almost. 

“I can practically hear your salacious thoughts from here.”

His lips quirk into a smirk, but his eyes never leave the page. Instead, they continue to move, up and down and up again before following the movement of his digits as they figuratively wrap around your throat to steal your air. 

“Can you?”

“Mhm, they’re saying oh Loki, my king —no, my liege— take me with those stunning han—“

“Ew, grow up, Lo. Not every thought in my mind revolves around sex with you.”

Lie. 

“No?”

“Nope.” 

Another lie. 

“At this current moment in time it does though, correct?”

You scoff, knowing this is it. The shift. That eventual, transitional moment of both end and beginning you often feel as you watch his eyes slowly shift towards you —a newfound glimmer of perversity appearing. 

“Tell me, what is it exactly that’s got you all irritated?” he asks, watching you focus on the way he shoves his index finger between the pages of his book to keep his place. 

God, what an actual slut. 

You swallow hard, averting your gaze as best you can. “I’m tired.” 

“Coming from the person who’s constantly napping wherever they can? I highly doubt that,” he quips, leaning in. 

At which point, you can feel his breath hit your face, the suffocating heat pelting your skin as you awkwardly lean back and shrug.

“No, darling, I think something else is the matter.”

As he speaks, you feel the tips of his fingers faintly dance across your cheek. Their presence causing you to bite your lip and close your eyes, suddenly embarrassed at the idea of him seeing you like this —so desperate to be held. To be moulded like clay, melting to the touch of it’s potter. 

“I see the way you look at me sometimes.” His voice, smooth like silk, tickles your eyelids as you fight to keep them shut. “The way you look for me in rooms when you enter them. The way you stare when I perform the most mundane of tasks.”

“I don—“

Before you can finish, he’s gripping your chin, a sudden aggression ripping through his hand as he gives it a tight squeeze. “Shhh —I know you stare because you long for it. My touch.” 

It takes everything in you not to whimper as you open your eyes, noticing that familiar devilish grin sweep across his face. The one that’s all teeth and tongue, taunting you with hellish thoughts of what’s to come as his thumb suddenly glides to line your lips. 

Over and over again, he then traces each one, moving in slow, painful circles, losing his smile to the sudden focus that fills his features. 

“I’m aware of the affect it has on you. The way it empties your mind in an instant. The way it enraptures you.”

All you can do is nod against his hand, disrupting the pattern he’s so easily fallen into as your face rises and falls; never diverting your gaze. Never breathing or thinking or feeling anything other than the end of his index finger slowly wedging itself between your lips, taking sweet refuge on your tongue.

“The way I enrapture you.” 

-

TAGGING: @lovelysizzlingbluebird, @just-someone11, @linaax, @eleniblue, @infinitystoner, @ozymdias, @use-your-telescope, @liminalpebble, @freegardenbanananeck, @lokixryss, @unlucky-number-13, @violethaze, @simplyholl, @coldnique, @mischief2sarawr, @jasperthechaosgremlin (if you’d like to be added fill out this form)

[seokiloquy]

Wine and Movie Pt 3 - Ushijima Wakatoshi

Au: Regular (timeskip)

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, uhhhh

Word Count: 1k

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Your hands began to crackle as the mud that covered them dried up. Dipping them in a pot filled with water had become a pastime, giving you what only felt like seconds until you had to soak them again. It was hard not to sigh or groan, but you didn’t want the people around you to look your way. While they did chat a bit, it was very quiet, allowing everyone to concentrate on the task before them. Not that they needed it. They were all so talented.

You glanced at Ushijima’s hands. Strong as they were, they were gentle against the clay beneath them, easily forming and moulding it into a smooth bowl with cupped hands. Gulping, you looked back to your bowl, only to find it caved in. “I’m going to break this table.”

“Don’t worry,” a woman said to your right. “It takes time to learn.”

You gave her a sour frown and pointed to Ushijima, leaning back to ensure she could see. “He’s got it.”

“I’ve done this before,” Ushijima explained.

“Show off.”

“I’m just talented.”

You blinked. He told a joke. Well, sort of. But there was humour in his tone. A small lilt that let you know he was teasing you. Grinning, you played along.

“Ugh, when is it my turn to be talented.”

“You have your skills.”

“Maybe, but I’m not a giant made of pure muscle.”

Ushijima turned his head away. Ears tinged pink.

“Oh,” You smiled, “I’m also not as handsome.”

Lifting his foot from the spinning pedal, Ushijima rose to his feet and shuffled away towards the bathroom.

“I think you flustered him,” the woman chuckled as she pulled a wire through the bottom of her cup.

“That’s a very hard thing to do. He’s so stoic.”

“Well, I guess he likes you enough to induce a response.”

You sat silently as she stood up with her cup and walked away. 

Sitting on the cushions of Ushijima’s home, you couldn’t help but keep glancing over as the woman’s words danced through your head. 

Does he like you? Well, he was the one to suggest the date in the first place. Knowing what you knew of him, Ushijima was the type to do things without purpose, maybe for the occasion selfish purpose, but not without none. So he must like you, right? He couldn’t just want more physical therapy to prevent his shoulder from getting injured, not that you’d mind providing it, but still, he could just come to you during work hours if he wanted. And by now, it’s been long enough that he likely would have asked for something outside of work time if he wanted it. Which he hasn’t, so there really must be a different motive, but that could only mean—

“You’re not watching. What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?” Your spine straightened as you looked up from the sharp angle of Ushijima’s jaw to meet his brown eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me instead of watching the movie. It’s your favourite.”

You spun the wine in your glass, watching it become a whirlpool. “Maybe I've had too much to drink.”

“You haven't even had a sip. What’s in your mind.”

Sucking in a deep breath, you dipped your head back, letting the wine roll down your throat before slamming it onto the table. “Do you like me?” you asked after swallowing.

“Yes.”

“Okay, and this is what kind of like?”

“I find you attractive and interesting if that’s what you’re asking.”

Yes and no. The thought of saying the words made your stomach churn, and chugging back the wine was probably no help. “I—” The words wouldn’t get out like they were trapped behind your tongue.

“If you can’t tell me, I can’t answer.”

“Oh, quiet, this is hard. I don’t know how you were able to just ask me on a date.”

“I wanted something, so I went for it.”

“You— Huh?”

He could talk so easily, calmly, like the words were nothing but information to be shared, despite being able to hide his emotions behind a usually stoic mask.

“What’s causing you trouble? I like you. I want to take you on dates. I want to enjoy your company. What’s so difficult to understand.” If he didn’t have such a calm voice, you would have almost assumed he was angry, but his hunched stature as he turned toward you felt more hesitant. “Is it a label you need?”

“I, well. No? But maybe?”

“I’m courting you.”

“Like a victorian?”

“I suppose,” he blinked, staring off for a moment to gather his thoughts. The laps in time only made your mind jump to the thought of him wearing a suit with long coattails and a top hat and cane to match. It would suit him. He came back, making eye contact and ending your dazed dream. “Does that help? Knowing that I’m courting you?”

Well, considering that you were more distracted by the thought of Ushijima wearing a fancy Victorian dress, yes. You nodded, but quickly tilted your head.

“So, do I call you my boyfriend?”

“I’d like that. But only if you want to. We can figure it out as we go.”

“Right.”

Ushijima leaned away, removing his warmth from the air before you and only then making you realise how close he had gotten.

Your heart continued to flutter, despite the anxiety seeping away, leaving you feeling warm and content. You hoped his was too.

This is just me writing a coded autistic x adhd couple and failing cause I can’t plot right now. There's nothing else I can think of to write for this? idk - Bacon

Posted: 26/03/2023

[memethebum]

Decided to write something super cheesy and kinda bordering on crack at the beginning for @soulxmakaweek Day 2: love language!!

————————————————————————-

“Oh my Death look, it’s Soul Evans!” a girl screeched from behind them, causing the unnerving sound to be tripled by a few other girls in the crowd.

Maka had grown used to Soul’s fangirls by now, but that didn’t deter her from angling both their bodies towards the opposite direction of the crowd.

She could hear her fiancé chuckle at the action, probing her into letting out a small hum as they continued to stroll home from a Spartoi reunion.

However, their moment of peace was cut drastically short after something came flying towards the back of Soul’s head.

The Deathscythe let out a yelp in shock as Maka realized what had been caught within Soul’s hair.

“YOU DROPPED SOMETHING,” Maka shouted before plucking the bra out of Soul’s unruly bangs and launching it at a topless girl standing a few feet away from them.

The woman could only stand in shock as the undergarment went flying so fast that it knocked the girl unconscious once making contact with her face.

Fuck Maka thought before noticing that the other girls had been recording the whole thing.

————————���———————————-

-Soul Evans Fiancé Brutally Takes Down Fangirl- Maka read from her phone screen before opening the comment section.

-I get being annoyed by a crazy fan, but throwing a bra so hard it knocks someone out is wild 😭- she then noticed.

-That fangirl kinda had it coming tho, especially since Soul is about to be a married man next week- another comment elaborated, causing Maka to let out a shaky breath at how tame the comments had been so far.

Unfortunately, that didn’t last too long as she continued to scroll downwards.

-She’s probably just trying to stay relevant 💀- Maka read to herself from the screen.

-Umm, that’s a whole red flag. Soul had better run 🚩🚩🚩- the woman then read a moment afterward before putting her phone down and trying to ignore the swell of tears that had been threatening to spill out ever since the whole fiasco had started.

“Hey, were you on Deathtok again?” Soul questioned with a meek smile, causing Maka to pout as he layered a face mask across her puffed cheeks.

He’d been pampering her even more than usual after the video had started to trend on social media.

That entailed a lot more fancy takeout, cuddling at random times of the day, foot massages, and even a few extra steps towards their weekly spa day.

“It’s a little hard to avoid things when I did mess up…a little,” Maka added while feeling Soul massage her shoulders in small circles.

“Ya’ don’t even bat an eye at those girls anymore, so it’s definitely not jealousy Maka. In fact, I’m glad you were there to help me deal with all that creepy shit,” he elaborated as she took in his razor-toothed grin.

Soul’s right…why should I keep beating myself up over some random people on the internet Maka thought before pressing a few buttons on her phone and tossing it towards a corner of the couch.

“You’re right. I’ll have to own up to all this stuff eventually, but I just want us both to relax for now,” Maka added as she began to stand and pulled him up as well.

“Sure, what do you wanna do?” her fiancé asked while raising a clay-mask covered eyebrow.

“Dance,” the woman replied as she tapped on her phone again and allowed the music to fill the room while they shifted into position.

She then watched Soul’s eyes widen at her mediocre piano performance of Elvis’ Falling In Love With You before looking down at her.

“It was supposed to be a wedding gift, but it sounds really bad so I was just going to delete it after-“

“But I can’t help..falling in love with you,” Soul sang before swaying them into a dance, causing Maka’s eyes to widen.

She’d (reluctantly) only heard the Deathscythe sing a handful of times for a performance or while doing small chores like folding laundry, which made the moment even more endearing since she didn’t have to request it out of him.

The pair then began to clumsily twirl around their living room while laughing at how Soul was attempting to match the lyrics with her performance.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

“For I can’t help…falling in love with you,” they both finished before standing in a blissful silence. Soul then began to awkwardly rub his neck, causing Maka to giggle at his delayed sense of embarrassment.

The woman was able to chase his bashful expression away by guiding their lips together for a kiss.

“Shit, the masks,” her fiancé chuckled once they’d pulled away, probing Maka to clumsily fix the moist patches around his face as he surveyed her own face.

They then heard her phone begin to vibrate from the sofa, eliciting the woman into walking over and pinpointing a new message from Black*Star.

-Damage control was successful 🫡- she read before opening Twitter and gawking at a picture of Black*Star wearing nothing but a pair of boxers patterned with small yellow rubber ducks.

-Wearing this to my bro’s wedding next week- the caption read, earning a bewildered huff out of Maka as she noticed how the post had been able to gain 5k likes in just an hour.

“Guess we owe Star now,” she heard Soul exclaim behind her before leaning back and letting out an amused hum against his lips.

[forestshadow-wolf]

Perched Unlikely (chapter 1)

Trapped or Freed

Pairing: soap/ghost

Tags: httyd!AU, blood, injury, gore, hurt/comfort, violence

Ao3 link || Chapter 2

"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles [...] If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle." - Sun Tzu "The Art of War"

---------

SNAP!

The beast let out a screech as razor netting sprung up around it, cutting deep into scales and skin. Yellow-spotted purples and greens flashed to swirling blue-edged reds and browns. A lock of sharpened wiring caught on its eye as it struggled, leaving a red, weeping streak behind.

“Quick! Cut the frill before it gets away!”

“Bind its mouth!”

“Pull that edge up!”

A craze of flailing blades and ropes before someone took control of its head. Grabbing one of its fangs and forcing the head down to the ground. Another pair of too harsh hands began yanking at the webbed spines behind its head. Red-brown clay washed over its body as it tried to jerk out of the grasp holding it down. There were too many of the malevolent creatures, more hands tugged and prodded; forcing it into submission.

The frill splayed open on the ground, pulled painfully wide by tight gripping hands from either end. Its neck and head were wrenched into an uncomfortable position to display its frill, bleeding eye pressed stingingly into the ground. The wicked edge of silvery sharpness caught the sun. the thing came down hard and fast. The impact first, pressure and then release, and then…

PAIN! PAIN! PAIN! Nothing! PAIN! Nothing! PAIN! Nothing! PAIN! Nothing! PAin! Nothing! Pain! Nothing…

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a split-second decision that had him abandoning his post; the first time he’d ever done so; and sent him dashing through the trees. Another screech of agony rang through the trees, and something ticked in his heart. He barely managed to duck in time to avoid a low hanging branch from taking out an eye.

The trees opened up into a clearing; well as much of a clearing that removing a few trees from a crowded forest could create. There were dozens of men swarming the area, wearing black tac-gear, but no visible insignia, patch, or other organization indicator. These guys were clearly not working inside the law. Not that the dragon caught in illegal razor netting didn’t give it away.

The dragon struggled weakly as the soldiers wrestled it into a crudely small cage for transport. The dragon’s head jerked in his direction for a moment and he could see a straight, cringe-worthy, deep laceration running the length of its face, right across its eye. Another angle gave him visuals on an even more grotesque sight. The huge frill at the base of its skull had been cut, almost all the way down, right through the middle.

He should call this in, notify base what was happening here, that was protocol. He was going to, his hand was on his radio. Just then the dragon heaved its massive finned tail around, knocking a handful of soldiers off their feet. There’s never a better advantage than chaos, and Ghost is never one to punch a gift-horse in the mouth.

He lept into action, he turned to the ones holding down the ropes around its maw. It was only a second before the attention was turned on him. Only half the guys drew guns, the other half pulled out large bladed weapons. From the cover of the trees it was easy to take out the ones with guns, before his own clicked empty. The others were a different story, they had time to make good distance, and he didn’t have any to reload. Five down, six to go, plus check for a driver. He swung his gun across his back, out of the way.

He slipped out two knives, lost one in the eye socket of the first to reach him. Slashed the second through another’s throat, leaving him to drown in his own spraying blood. He pulled out another knife from his vest, and gripped his other in a firm grip; glad his gloves were broken in properly. Seven down, four to go. He dug one blade in through the base of the shoulder twice before opening his jugular to leak blood everywhere. The next he uppercutted in a swift movement before sinking his blade into the trachea, he whirled to launch the blade into someone coming up behind him, before gurgling sounds reached his ears. Ten down, one to go. The last one caught him in the thigh, just barely, before he too was collapsing down into a growing pool of his own suffocating blood.

The dragon was still thrashing on the ground, trying to get free, but he couldn’t release it yet. Not until he checked the vehicle. He locked eyes with the creature for a second, he tried to convey as much comfort as he could with his eyes. It still struggled to get free, but the deep growling changed to a shrill nattering as he crept around the side of the armored jeep. He kept his steps light, doing his best to keep his shadow hidden as he snuck over to the door. There was one guy, as he suspected, completely tense and ready to strike. He pulled out a fixed blade and swung. Ghost wasn’t quite fast enough and it sunk deep into the muscle of his shoulder. Quick retaliation gave the man a knife in the thigh, before his own was ripped from his hand and returned in his carotid artery.

He blew out a breath as the last man clawed at his own throat, before turning away. He keyed his radio as he limped back to the creature tied to the ground.

“Watcher, this is Bravo 7-0.” he tugged at one of the stakes shoved deep into the dirt with a grunt.

“7-0, this is watcher, did you get the HVT?” Laswell's voice sounded in his ear.

“Laswell, What d’ya on poaching in the area here?” he said with another grunt, disregarding her question.

“Did. you. Get. the. Target?” Laswell was a determined woman, who demanded respect, if he’d ever met one.

“No, intel was a bust. Too many guards, no target.”

“Fine. What poacher, bird? Quadrupeds? Apes?”

“Dragons.” He removed the last stake, and began pulling at the net, as Laswell's side lapsed into silence for a moment. The dragon had stopped struggling, and was really only making weak whimpering sounds.

“Looks like there’s quite a few here, Ghost.”

“Are any of ‘em private or unaffiliated? These guys don’t have patches.” pulling the last of the net shredded right through his gloves. He’d need to replace them when he got back.

“What species did you find?”

“Uh unsure. Looks bipedal, large head frill, long tail with a fin, two smaller arms.”

“Sounds like you have a hobblegrunt. I’m seeing two possible options, one is unnamed, the other goes by ‘Shadow Company’.” he shucked his gloves off, as laswell spoke. Moving slowly he tried to get a good look at its eye before it pulled away.

“What do we know about the head frill? Or injuries to it?”

“Not a lot. They can read and alter emotions and the surrounding environment with it. All recorded cases of injury to it seem to show that they lose most if not all of its abilities. Essentially making them blind.” he blew out a breath. “Ghost?” Laswell called out to him when he didn’t respond.

“Can you call Nik? Tell him I’m ready for exfil.. And to bring the cargo plane, and the large medkit.” he asked, “please.” he added a moment later.

“I’ll let him know. Are you injured?”

“Bastards cut it up, real good.” Laswell let the silence drag on, knowing who would win, “... nothing a few stitches won’t fix.”

“Good. I'm sending him your way, he says two hours, you good ‘til then?”

“Yeah. 7-0 out.” he let the line go dead before focusing on the task at hand. He somehow had to get both himself and the dragon back to exfil without injuring either of them further.

First thing first, he had to take care of his own wounds so he wouldn’t pass out. Once he had some bandages hastily slapped on he turned towards the dragon.

“They really did a number on ya, huh?” it just looked at him warily. Slowly he held up the rest of the gauze for it to see. He pointed to it then his own patched shoulder, then at the dragon. Hoping he was right in assuming it was smart enough to understand him. Blue and purple spotted the brown tones as red faded out of its scales.

Still moving slowly he ran a gentle hand up its face, stopping just before the wound to inspect it. It was still steadily weeping blood, but not it had bits of dirt and other ground matter stuck in it, which couldn’t have been good. He grabbed his canteen, moved back to where he assumed it could see him then mimed himself pouring water over his eye. It blinked at him, then shifted its head closer. Slowly he slid back over to the injured eye, uncapped his water, and let a steady trickle rinse away loose dirt and blood. Once satisfied he gently covered it with a sticky gauze to hopefully keep anything else from getting into the wound. He wasn’t sure it would do much else, not with the severity of it.

“Good. that's a good… boy?... girl?” he spoke in what he hoped was a soothing tone. It gave a little trill at the last bit. “Good girl. Can I see your frill?” he stroked over her nose softly as he spoke. Another surge of brown and blue washed over her with an almost whimper like noise from her throat.

“shh ok. I won’t touch it. I won’t touch it.” he moved back over to her line of sight as he continued stroking over her nose. The other cuts and scrapes along her body seemed to have stopped bleeding for the most part, it was the eye and the frill that was the most worrying to him. And he still had to get them to the exfil location.

They stayed like that for another minute before he decided they had to get moving. They were a good ways into the trees and with the condition they were in it’d probably take them some time to get back out.

“C’mon we should get going if we wanna make it in time.” he gently urged the dragon up.soon they were slowly making their way out… sort of.

The eye seemed to make depth perception difficult, and the damaged head frill; still dripping blood; sagged with its own weight, occasionally getting caught in roots with pained cries. Not only that but she seemed to have trouble navigating regardless, it was like she was blind. Ghost wasn’t sure if it was the eye or the frill or both, but he ended up having to nudge her in the correct direction more than a few times to avoid trees and other obstacles.

By the time they broke through the tree line Nik was radioing him, and he could see a growing speck in the sky.

“Not long low, Ghost.”

“Aye, I see ya. You got that medkit?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. see you when you get here.”

“See you then.”

They ended up only needing to wait another ten minutes before Nik was touching down. Loading up was only a minute at most and then they were off.

[ganymedesclock]

I think that art is one of those things that people often see as a completed, already extant thing in their world and it's hard to break it down into pieces or understand it, so it's easy to be intimidated by impressive art and even if you're yourself an artist, it's super easy to be intimidated by people. I hear a lot of artistic types repeat the common refrain of, "you're special, you're above me and I'm scared of you because you're so cool / your art is so good."

This is especially significant/challenging when it comes to getting ideas. The actual physical process of making something, you can talk about pen strokes or word choice or material selection, the angle of your hand on the clay or whatever is apt for your medium of choice. But ideas, man, where did that come form?

Personally, the model I take to ideas is a little less than divinity, though it is something impressive.

Having ideas is a compost heap. The having-ideas stage is not about filtering anything. You can fret about if it's good or not later. Getting Ideas is the point where you just take literally anything that catches your attention and toss it onto the heap. Feed it to your mental worms.

And the great thing is, you can absolutely do it while you're slacking off. I like to watch cleaning and repair videos. In particular, I just watched someone solder a new tooth on a gear. And I think, "man, that's cool isn't it? the way the solder goes on, it's blobby and accretes in a very organic, strange pattern. Before he sands it down, it looks like magma, or a scab."

And that thought goes into the dirt with other thoughts I've already put there- that I think machinery is neat so I try to learn a lot of facts and quirks and things about that, that I think biology and anatomy and especially abnormal anatomy (disease, mutations, etc.) are really, REALLY neat, and because those are high priority things to my brain a spark jumps and they stick together into a gelatinous little proto-idea and the idea is something about the distinction between bodies and machines, how the mechanical is very ordered, pristine, precise, engineered- and the organic is by nature squiggly and fleshy and peculiar.

And hey, now, what does it mean if many inorganic natural forces also behave this way- the fluid physics of sea and sky, the bubble and gurgle of pyroclast as it flows into shape? Meanwhile, some other inorganic natural things, like crystal structure, feel very 'mechanical'.

This is nothing that was particularly difficult to do. It's really just a stream of consciousness. I took a bunch of things I liked and started sticking them together into experimental fragments. I shared that one, because I could pluck it from the dirt and go, huh, that's interesting, I think tumblr will like that one, but the great news is there's no bad ideas. There's ideas you want to use right away in their current state, and there's ideas that you want to tamp back down into the dirt so they'll feed all the other ideas down there to make something stronger, and there's ideas that helpfully tell you that you might have fed it something bad a while ago or that the pH of your soil is off, and you should examine this idea to find where the problem is and what good brain food would counteract it.

It's compost!