#made in ROANNE

[dominiquerispal]

Etude de texte en jacquard placé par SOWILO à la demande de TRICOTS REM pour la marque A PIECE OF CHIC (saison été 2023).

Jacquard bicolore, mais tricoté en piqué 3 couleurs pour donner une maille plus lourde avec une meilleure tenue, sur métier STOLL jauge 12. La composition du fil Océan Nm 2/30 de TVU est 50% coton & 50% Polyamide.

Ce modèle PULL RACER "MOTORIST" est en vente sur le site :

A Piece Of Chic (a-piece-of-chic.com)

[littleyeety]

Vax The Kind Scientist & Roann The Energetic Vampire!

the goobers/beans from MDTBH in Miitopia lol

[accepte-bitcoin]

We are all Satoshi

We are everywhere

[milkteabinniechan]

♡make me feel it - hyunjin

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY ☕//m.list

pairing: hwang hyunjin x female reader

warnings: breastfeeding, oral fixation, slight mommy kink

“You’re so needy tonight, hyunjinnie.”

Hyunjin buried his face into your waist. He pushed his face around like a hungry puppy begging for something to eat. And he was dangerously close to begging. Literally begging. You ran your fingers lovingly through his long hair, periodically swiping your thumb or pointer finger down along his jawline. Your fingers travelled slowly up to his waiting mouth, lips full and tongue starving.

“Tell me what you want.” you teased.

“Mmhmfmmm” an incoherent mumble vibrated against your bare stomach. Hyunjin’s face was now completely pressed against your body. His delicate, dreamy features eclipsed by your soft skin.

“I can’t hear you.” you smirked. You loved when he acted like this. You could feel your own arousal beginning to stain your cotton panties.

Hyunjin raised his face and locked eyes with you. He could almost start to drool if he opened his mouth too quickly. He positioned his arms on either side of you and inched his body up, up, up to your chest. The tanktop you were wearing hid nothing of what was underneath. Your nipples poked and proded through the thin fabric. You playfully adjusted yourself from underneath Hyunjin, pushing your chest out and giving me a quizzitive look.

Hyunjin could feel his desperation growing out of control. His head was starting to buzz and ring and clang and pound. Suddenly his hands were at the hem of your shirt, aggressively pulling upwards towards your head. You let out a small squeal as your tanktop was driven up over your head and thrown hap-hazardly onto the floor. 

Wet lips made deprived contact with the first erect nipple. Hyunjin moaned weakly as he let his tongue swirl and swim across your breast. Heavy breathing gave way to sucking- hard sucking. You frantically gripped both of your hands onto Hyunjin’s head. The sheer force of the suction made a primal noise escape your throat. You were unknowlngly grinding your hips into Hyunjin’s leg, the soaking dampness of your panties streaking and rubbing up and down on his strong thigh. Hyunjin had one hand clutched around your breast, the other was eagerly pumping his long shaft. The inconsolable stiffness of his cock was almost too much for him to bare. 

“M-gonna come…” he winced out, his mouth full. Saliva was falling from his swollen lips and coating both of your breasts in a pornographic glisten.

“Say it. Say it, then you can come.” you faned your fingers through his hair and firmly grasped a handful.

"Mommy... Mommy! I'm going to come, please..."

"That's a good boy." You permitted peacefully. A warm release coated your panties. Sticky semen seeped between your thighs. You glanced down to see Hyunjin's mouth still resolutely fastened to your breast. His sucking had eased down to an even, leisurely pace. His eyes were softly closed as his body began to go completely limp. You giggled at the sight of your perfect boyfriend so perfectly at peace.

"So, so needy."

taglist: @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @doohnut @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics

[personnage-neutre]

Free to Borrow Books about Tintin and Hergé

The only requirement is to make an Internet Archive account. (If you already have an account, check if it was compromised in the recent hack and change your password.) Note that this is in no way a comprehensive list of works or an ideal Tintinology primer, just the books that have been made available on the archive, which also means that it contains everything from picture books to highly academic texts. However, I've marked with a * the books I think are best to start with.

Includes works in both English and French (plus a few in Spanish). Please don't hesitate to ask if you have questions!

General reference

Tintin and the world of Hergé Benoît Peeters, 1989*

Tintin, Hergé and his creation Harry Thompson, 1991

Tintin: The Complete Companion Michael Farr, 2001*

The Pocket Essential Tintin (1st ed.) / (2nd ed.) Jean-Marc & Randy Lofficier, 2002 / 2007

Les mystères du Lotus Bleu Pierre Fresnault-Desruelle, 2006

Captain Haddock Thompson and Thomson Professor Calculus Rastapopoulos (FR) Tchang (FR) Michael Farr, 2007

Figurines Tintin: La Collection Officielle Daniel Couvreur, Frédéric Soumois, & Dominique Maricq, 2012-2015

Hergé Dada magazine, 2016

Catalogues

Hergé, 1922-1932 : les debuts d'un illustrateur ed. Benoît Peeters, 1987

Hergé dessinateur ed. Pierre Sterckx & Benoît Peeters, 1988

The adventures of Tintin at sea Yves Horeau, 2004

Musée Hergé / Tintin : the art of Hergé Michel Daubert, 2013*

L'univers du createur de Tintin Artcurial, 2023

Biography

Hergé : portrait biographique Thierry Smolderen & Pierre Sterckx, 1988

Entretiens avec Hergé / Conversations with Hergé (excerpts) Numa Sadoul, 1989*

Hergé / Hergé: The Man Who Created Tintin (abridged translation) Pierre Assouline, 1996

Les Aventures d'Hergé / The Adventures of Hergé Jean-Luc Fromental, José-Louis Bocquet, & Stanislas, 1999

Hergé, fils de Tintin / Hergé, son of Tintin Benoît Peeters, 2002

The adventures of Hergé, creator of Tintin Michael Farr, 2007

Hergé: lignes de vie Philippe Goddin, 2007

Analysis

Le Monde de Tintin Pol Vandromme, 1959

Tintin chez le psychanalyste Serge Tisseron, 1985

Hergé écrivain Jan Baetens, 1989

L’archipel Tintin A. Algoud, J.-M. Apostolidès, D. Cerbelaud, B. Peeters, P. Sterckx, 2003

Tintin and the secret of literature Tom McCarthy, 2008

Les Secrets d'Hergé dessinateur Bruno Cassiers, 2022

Fiction & Novelizations

Ma vie de chien Ariane Valadié, 1994

Tintin in the new world / Tintin en el nuevo mundo François Tuten, 1996

La vie cachée de Tintin Henri Roanne-Rosenblatt, 2005

Petit dictionnaire énervé de Tintin Albert Algoud, 2010

The Adventures of Tintin: a novel / Les Aventures de Tintin: le roman du film / Las aventuras de Tintín Alex Irvine, 2011

The adventures of Tintin : the chapter book (print disability borrow only) / Les aventures de Tintin: l'album du film Stephanie Peters, 2011

Tintin's daring escape / Les évadés du Karaboudjan / Fuga temeraria Danger at sea / Peligro en el mar The mystery of the missing wallets Kirsten Mayer, 2011

Trivia

Êtes-vous tintinologue? François Hébert, 1983

Tintin and Snowy Big Activity Book Guy Harvey & Simon Beecroft, 2006

[ofluckandmagic]

FANDOMLESS OC | JAIME ROANN |

Temporary artwork made with Komoworm's Person Maker

Name: Jaime Roann

Alias: Death’s Eyes, Bluejay, The Death Head Moth, A Voice on the Wind

Age: unknown, appears late 40s.

Gender: Genderless, Femme-adjacent

Sexuality: Lesbian.

Pronouns: She/Her

Origin/Role: Goddess of Death

Based off of: Death Head Moths, Bearded Vultures

Current residence: Earth

Eye color: red-orange (olive green when disguised)

About this portrayal:

Jaime is an oc for an upcoming webcomic/animated screenplay called ‘Soulmakers’, thus her portrayal may change through time. She’s one of six characters for that, but she’s a work in progress.

I made her long before watching any media with death played by a woman, but she holds a very special place in my heart.

(I’ll update/edit this to reflect her actual artwork once I finish it)

In most verses, Jaime is as old as life itself. She is the embodiment of death and chaos, and all things decay.

Her animalistic features are a result of gods taking aspects of animals when they come to Earth, but also represents her tie to life itself. Bearded vultures are inherently the bringers of carnage, picking off roadkill and whatnot, while Death’s Head Moths are omens, both good and bad.

Her specific design is meant to emulate the cutesy nature of these animals, while also showcasing the misconceptions about them. Similarly, the misconceptions about death.

She wears gloves at all times, preventing her death’s touch from harming others. In some au’s she’s cursed with death’s touch, others it’s in her nature.

She loves the color pink, but is very fond of hues of purple and black. Her favorite color, despite these claims, is green.

Jaime is ourwardly cocky and cunning. She loves playing tricks on the other Gods, causing chaos and mischief.

Her smile is like a predator hunting prey, but she has a soft spot/fondness for children. While she can be unnerving, she makes an effort to not come off as too off putting. Her confident nature leads her to having self discovery.

When someone dies, Jaime makes an effort to bring them like any grim reaper might, but with the added bonus of guiding them either in her vulture or moth form.

She is deeply fascinated by humans, and finds their shorter lives… confusing. While she does her best to ensure they are able to get where they need to after death, she has also been no stranger to helping them linger on earth.

Her favorite foods include warm autumn soups, pumpkins and coffee. She loves autumn in particular due to the orange and brown hues, and the start of the end of the seasonal cycle.

[achillean-knight]

So, I don't have much at ALL to show off lately, unless you guys want like, a shit ton of my anthro OC references LMAO

So, as compensation, have Roanne, my uh, AU Papyrus? Idk what she is honestly LOL

I ended up just cleaning up her previous reference that was more sketchy, mostly for art fight reasons >:33

(also, bonus sprite that is on her ref sheet, BC I wanted to show off the sprite I made for her too in the (sorta) style of Papyrus BAHA)

[funnylittlelad]

Hey, Baby, It's Me.

summary: Steve meets his daughter for the first time and finally finds a name for her.

wc: 4.3k

tags/warnings: single teen parenthood, hospitals, Steve's shitty parents, Robin's not shitty parents, Steve is on an emotional rollercoaster, a good dose of angst and fluff, no romantic pairings (takes place before Steve and Eddie meet)

this fic is a spin-off prequel to Shelter From The Storm, but can be read on its own.

Read on AO3

The call comes in at six in the morning. On instinct, Steve shoots awake and scrambles for the phone. His parents are home, but no one calls here for them. If one of Steve’s friends wakes them up… He answers a little groggy and irritated. Once the wobbly voice over the line comes in, he’s wide awake and on the move. 

“Just- just be there. I- I don't want-” Sarah’s words come stilted with an anxious tremble.

Steve has the phone between his ear and shoulder. He dances around the coiled cord as he hops to pull his jeans up.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures her softly, “I’ll be there. You don't have to worry-”

“I’m not,” she sighs, “About me, anyway. It’s… her. I want to make sure someone is here for her.”

Steve’s stomach twists. Her. The baby, she means. The one she won't help Steve name. The one she gave him all the sonogram pictures of, keeping none for herself. At least she’s graduated from saying it. That was killing Steve. 

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there,” he promises.

They bid each other goodbye and Steve finishes throwing on his clothes. He ends up in a pair of jeans from two days ago that he left on the floor and a rumpled Hawkins High Class of ‘85 hoodie. By the time he’s half skipping down the hallway to the entry, pulling his shoes on as he goes, his parents wake up. He looks up at where they stand on the stairs, hovering above him like the blade of a guillotine. Right now, Steve doesn't care if there's a basket ready to catch his head. He has a daughter to meet. His heart races in anticipation at the thought.

“Where are you going?” His father asks dryly. 

Steve glances over his shoulder at the sky through the door windows. Early sunlight reaches through as if it's attempting to grab Steve and drag him to the hospital.

“Hospital- Sarah called,” Steve informs them as he finishes tying his shoes.

His father makes an unsatisfied hm. He stares at Steve down his strong nose, pins him to the floor with cold eyes, and frowns.

“Do you need-” His mother begins.

“No, Martha,” his father chides, “He’s a man. He doesn't need anything from us. Even if he did, he’s made his decision.”

Steve’s nostrils flare. His eyes shoot to his mother. He doesn't expect anything, but he still kind of hopes. He hopes she’ll end up caring enough to fight for him, for her granddaughter, now that push has come to shove. Now that the months of threats and fights have come to a head crowning in Roann General Hospital. She doesn't. She simply exhales through her nose, fixes a nice neutral expression onto her face, and nods curtly in agreement with his father. Bile rises to the back of Steve’s throat, but he tries to push it down. He knew it would be like this. He knew not to want for anything else. Yet, here he is, disappointed in his parents- not for the first time, but certainly for the last.

“Yeah, you’re right. I have made my decision,” Steve huffs and stands fully. 

He snatches his keys from the dish on the table by the door. 

“Steven,” his father’s stern voice grabs hold of him by the throat.

He uses a tone that Steve knows too well. It’s usually followed by a rather unpleasant scene. A scene that Steve won't let unfold today. He has places to be. With the promise of his daughter’s imminent arrival, he isn't afraid of John Harrington anymore. Not for himself, anyways.

“Yeah?” Steve sighs impatiently.

“You’ll never be able to do this on your own,” his father tells him as if he were sharing the fact that the sky is blue. 

Ice drips down Steve’s spine. His eyes can't stay still on his father’s serious expression. It's like the hardwood beneath his feet just turned into choppy waters and Steve is a sailor lost at sea. It isn't like he hasn't had the thought, the doubt, the past nine months. Every day has been filled to the brim with it. Still, even in the face of all that, he knows one thing. He has to do more than his parents did.

“I have to try,” he states plainly.

His father lets out a dark chuckle.

“Is that what you think parenthood is? Simply trying,” he scoffs, “You aren't ready for this. Clearly, since you’re already making the worst decisions you could as a parent. Choosing to be single, to go off on your own, unable to support yourself. You’re naive if you think you have a chance, Steven. You’ll be back before it leaves the hospital. Alone.”

There’s that word again. It. Months of it swirl around in Steve’s head as his father’s words mingle. His hands begin to tremble. He can feel the words sink in, find a home deep in his skin with no plans to leave for the next decade at least. Steve may end up being a shit father. He may not know what he's doing or how he's going to do it. He may even believe his father that he isn't ready for this. How could he be? He’s seventeen for Christ's sake. Yet, that small two-letter word burns behind his eyes. 

“She,” he states through grit teeth. 

“Excuse me?”

“Not it, she. She is your granddaughter,” he snaps.

His father’s nostrils flare. 

“Tell me, does she even have a name? Have you and her mother- ah, yes, right, she won't have a mother.”

Steve takes a shaky breath. He can feel the seconds ticking by until they're minutes out the window. Minutes he could be spending going to his daughter, but he's instead stuck wasting here on his father. His chest tightens as he holds in a scream. This is the last thing he wants to be doing right now. 

“You don't- Just because we won't be together doesn't mean Sarah won't help,” he snarls, knowing the lack of truth in his words.

That was the whole deal. Sarah won't help. Steve is on his own. As those thoughts swirl he suddenly isn't sure he’ll be able to do this. Panic grips his throat. He needs to get out of here before his father wins and the fear traps him in his bed once more. No, his daughter needs him. It’s about to be her first day on this planet. Steve will stop at nothing to make sure this world greets her with all the tenderness she deserves.

“Help? Do you hear yourself? You’re asking to ruin this child-”

“And what did you do?” Steve demands, cutting his father off for the first time in his life.

Steve half expects him to toss his mother out of the way and barrel after Steve. Instead, his face turns cold, something even scarier. The only thing worse than John Harrington violent is John Harrington calm.

“What?” His father asks slowly, the single world dripping in venom.

“If I’m asking to ruin her by being there for her and loving her and fucking doing my best then- then what did you do? I could fuck up a million different ways in the next twenty minutes and I would still be doing a better job than you did,” Steve bites, years of resentment breaching a dam that had been reinforced by steel.

His father watches him for a few moments. Each beat passes at a more painfully slow pace than the last. Finally, he lets out a single exhaled laugh that comes out more like a hmph .

“Well, I guess we’ll see about that, won't we?” He sneers.

“Yeah, I guess we will.”

Steve leaves with a slam of the door and races to his car. He's wasted enough time. Thankfully, traffic is forgiving. By the time he gets there, Sarah is in a room with her parents. They regard Steve with polite, but clearly forced, smiles. It's been no secret how they feel about him. He’s the no-good Harrington boy that tricked their poor innocent daughter into bed and knocked her up. Never mind that it was Sarah that started dragging him upstairs at that party. It’s fine, he can play that role if that's what Sarah needs from him. He’s made her life hard enough as it is.

“Hey, sorry I would've been here sooner, but my parents stopped me and-”

“Steve,” Sarah interrupts plainly, “it’s fine. Nothing’s happened yet.”

She gestures to her perfectly round middle where his daughter is still patiently waiting to be let out. Sarah groans, clamping her eyes shut and gripping the blanket until the wave of pain passes. Her bright red curls are pulled back sloppily. What whisps and strands hang out are glued to her face by sweat. Okay, maybe his daughter isn't waiting patiently, she’s definitely making her wait known. 

“Right,” Steve nods, “Do you need anything? Water? Ice? Have you been given any medicine? I can find a nurse-”

“Steve,” Sarah interrupts once more, sounding agitated, “Just- Go wait. They’ll bring you to see i- her when it's done with.”

An unpleasant roil of Steve’s stomach kicks up.

“You… You don't want me in here? I- I can stay out of the way,” He offers sounding so much more meek than he’s like.

Sarah’s dad’s eyes are burning into the side of his face. Steve does his best to ignore it. It's not about them today. It’s not about Sarah and Steve. It’s about the baby that's trying to be born despite her mother’s best efforts.

“It’s just gonna be gross. Besides, don't you wanna tell like… Robin or something?” 

Steve sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. He attempts to steel himself over, to pretend like this is perfectly fine. It doesn't work, but no one acknowledges the dejected nature of his nod. They don't comment on the slump of his shoulders as he stalks out of the room. He finds the nearest waiting room and locates a pay phone in the far corner. When he leans against it and pulls out his wallet he almost expects a fly to buzz out of the pathetically empty folds. 

He manages to fish out a couple of dull quarters and pop them into the phone. There's a telltale clink of the quarters being accepted and a light clunk of them being swallowed. A voice tells him how many minutes he has and he punches in Robin’s number. They haven't been friends long, but she's about the only friend he really has at this point. The only one he’d care to wake up and tell about this at least. He can wait to tell the kids when the baby is actually here. None of the other assholes he’s called friends the better part of his teen years give a fuck about this part of Steve's life. No, to them Princess Steve is ruining their lives and stealing away the life of the party. Steve couldn't be more relieved about it. It’s the excuse he needs to cut them off completely. He was waiting for graduation for that originally. 

“Yellow?” Richard Buckley answers pleasantly despite the early hours.

The Buckleys are early risers. Something about working a farm that shrunk to a garden when they moved to Hawkins. Still, they grow most of what they eat. The grocery store is reserved for seasonings and treats. 

“Hey, Rich, is Rob awake?” 

“Steve! Boy, you’re sure up early. Let me go check for ya,” Richard answers brightly.

There are a few moments of silence before Richard’s voice is back.

“You’ll have her in a minute, she’s brushing her teeth. You alright? You sound flustered.”

“Y- yeah, I’m good. I’m at the hospital with Sarah. She’s in labor,” he informs him awkwardly, the words not feeling quite real leaving his lips.

“Oh! Congrats! Do you need us to bring you anything? Melissa just finished this batch of fermented soy water-”

“No- no, that’s okay, Rich, really,” Steve is quick to deny one of Robin’s mom’s fresh concoctions, “Thanks, though. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Steve. Ah- here’s Robbie. While I have you, happy birthday! Alright, Robbie is swatting at me, here-” Richard’s voice is cut off by the phone changing hands. 

His words ring in Steve’s ear like a gong. Happy birthday. Shit, it is his birthday, isn't it? He hadn't even thought about it. Somehow, Richard Buckley has despite only knowing Steve for a couple of weeks. 

“My dad said Sarah is in labor- how long? How close is she? Did she already give birth? Oh, god, ew, now I’m picturing that-” Robin jumps right into a ramble.

“Rob,” Steve laughs for the first time all morning, “No, she hasn't given birth yet. I haven't been here that long, I just… I’m in the waiting room and I figured I’d let you know. Y’know, 'cause I’ll need you to cover my shift.”

He knows if she were here that last line would have earned him a punch. He smiles a little thinking about it. Robin rolling her eyes is practically audible through the phone. 

“You know we don't get scheduled on our birthdays, dingus. Give me thirty and I’ll have my dad drop me off,” she tells him.

“You really don't have to-”

“Don't even try it, Steven. Today is your birthday and you’re in a hospital waiting for your child to be born. Wait- why are you in the waiting room? Shouldn't you, like, be where the action is?” She realizes as she speaks.

“I tried, but Sarah-”

“Say no more,” Robin sighs. 

Steve swears he hears another eye roll. 

“It’s not her fault,” Steve tries to defend Sarah to Robin for the umpteenth time. 

“She’s acting like you did this to her, not with her. It takes two to make a baby, if I’m not mistaken. You’re only one person. Don't defend her right now,” Robin argues. 

Steve sighs, signaling his defeat. He won't have this argument today of all days, here of all places. 

“I’ll be there soon,” Robin tells him then the line goes dead.

True to her word, Robin shows up a little less than thirty minutes later. She has her bookbag on and a medium-sized gift bag in one hand. Steve stands to greet her and accepts her in a tight hug. Once they're apart, she’s thrusting the bag at him.

“It’s from my mom, for the baby,” she informs him before sitting in the chair next to where he was.

Steve sits back down slowly and peers in the sparkly bag. He has to move some yellow tissue paper, but then he finds it. A soft little blanket weaved with pastel rainbow yarn, lovingly made. Emotions well up in Steve’s chest as he takes it in. The blanket makes reality hit so much harder. Steve is about to be a dad. He has the baby blanket to prove it. 

The blanket is soft when he brings it to his cheek to feel. He smiles at the material for a moment longer before looking at Robin once more. She watches him with a small smile. 

“Tell her,” Steve’s voice comes out hoarse prompting him to clear his throat, “Tell her I said thank you. It’s perfect.”

After that Robin begins pulling all sorts of things out of her bookbag. Card games, snacks, water, a sketchbook, and even a little cupcake in a single plastic grocery store container. Steve gives Robin another tight squeeze at that. They’re in the middle of a game of rummy when the nurse calls his name. He’s up so fast Robin is left playing an impromptu game of 52 pick-up. 

He’s led down a few brightly lit hallways that smell of sanitizer and residual cigarette smoke from the waiting room. Finally, they get to a great big window that looks into an even bigger room. Nurses flit about in different colors and patterned scrubs. They carry newborns in need of feeding, or changing, or cleaning to welcome them into the world. Amongst all the flurry and fuss, are the little cradles. Each holds a bundle of blankets topped with a little hat. Steve’s eyes search frantically until he finds her. Right in the middle, as if she’s being presented on center stage for all to see and prepare themselves for. 

Steve's breath catches in his throat. All sounds fall away. There's a card tucked into the front of the cradle in a plastic sleeve. Baby Girl Harrington, Time of Arrival: 8:40 AM, Weight: 7lbs 3oz, Length: 21in. Tears begin to blur his vision as he really takes her in. Right now, she’s just a tiny face sticking out of a teddy bear pattern blanket. Steve swears it's the most perfect little face he’s ever seen. Two soft eyelids are closed and painted with light veins, a small button nose sits right in the center, and a pair of tiny plump lips seem to almost pout. It’s like she’s annoyed that she has to wait for him. He’s annoyed at himself that she's waiting.

“Do you want to come meet her?” The nurse asks, jostling him back into the reality of the hospital.

He quickly wipes the tears he can feel streaming silently down his face and nods. 

“Yeah- God, yes, please,” he answers, not caring if he sounds crazy or desperate. 

He’s led into the nursery and sat in a cushy chair with a movable arm that he's pretty sure is for nursing. Then she's there, being handed off to him gently. He doesn't have to be told how to hold her. It's something he's been obsessively reading about- terrified of accidentally hurting her once she was here. If just seeing her through the glass was that world stopping, it had nothing on holding her. 

Steve sits there, ignoring the hospital around him. He focuses on the warm weight in his arms. The peacefully sleeping face of his daughter. His perfect, wonderful, beautiful daughter. It doesn't even register that he's crying again until a tear falls onto her forehead. Carefully, he wipes it away with his thumb. She's so small his thumb practically reaches across her whole forehead. 

He unwraps her just enough to find her hands. Steve’s never held hands so small and tender. He counts each finger, making sure they're all there, nearly sobbing with each one. Then he finds her toes and repeats the process of making sure she's all there. She's there and she's healthy and she's in his arms and Steve is so fucking happy . The pink hospital band around her ankle matches the one on his wrist, signaling to everyone that this one is his and his alone. His thumb skirts over her soft warm cheek some more.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers, “it’s me. I- I’m your daddy.”

She seems to curl up more as if getting comfortable now that it's been confirmed he’s there. His heart swells feeling her move. She's real and she's here and she's his. 

“I’m sorry you don't have a name yet, but I promise I’ll find you a good one. One you'll really like, one that fits you,” he promises, “and- and I’m sorry it’s just us, but we’ll figure it out, yeah? We’ll figure it out together. Who knows, maybe one day it won't just be us anymore, but for now… We’ll be okay. I promise, we’ll be okay.”

Steve inhales shakily as he continues to gaze down at his daughter. He’s not sure if he's allowed to make the call, but he's pretty positive he won the baby lottery just by looking at her. He lifts up the little knit cap the nurses put on her. He sees a thin layer of red and chuckles.

“Figures you’d end up lookin’ more like her than me,” he sighs, “It's alright, I guess she did the hard part. It’s only fair.”

Another minute passes of him just looking at her. He wants her to crack her eyes open so badly. Just for a second to reveal their color. He wants to know everything about her he can until she's big enough to tell him herself. God, he hopes she likes him.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, baby, I’m pretty fucking scared right now. You terrify me, but I’m so excited to be your daddy. I won't fuck this up, I swear. I’m going to do everything,” he pauses as his voice cracks to collect himself and try again, “I’m going to do everything to make sure you know how much I love you, okay? You won't spend one day, not one day, wondering if I love you. I love you so, so much. You don't even have to do anything, I’m already so proud of you just for being here.”

Tears are streaming down his face again now. He refuses to sob, not wanting to jostle her. A handful of minutes pass where he just watches her exist in his arms. To his right, someone clears their throat softly. It takes a massive amount of effort to drag his eyes away from his daughter. Sarah’s mom stands not too far away. Close enough that Steve is sure she heard whatever part she was here for. She’s a tall woman with red hair of her own, but hers has been dulled by age. Brilliant blue eyes take in Steve and his daughter cautiously.

“Oh, did you want to hold her?” He asks unsure, knowing it’ll take a nuclear disaster to pry this baby from his arms right now.

Even then, he's not sure that would be enough to separate him from his baby. Sarah’s mom shakes her head lightly.

“No, it's probably better I don't. I’m sorry, Steve, for how Sarah has been. I know that this isn't ideal for anyone, but I wanted to thank you,” she says, her voice a tad musical. 

“Thank me?” Steve furrows his brows.

“For taking responsibility. I feel a lot better knowing she’ll be with you,” her eyes gesture down to the baby, “I think you’re going to do just fine.”

Steve feels his lip begin to tremble. His inhale is ugly and stunted thanks to the emotion he's holding back. Sarah’s mom offers him a small smile. Something to show that she doesn't hate Steve the way he assumed she did. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Collins, it really means a lot,” he rasps. 

“You're holding my granddaughter. You can call me Beatrice,” she chuckles. 

Steve lets out a wet chuckle of his own.

“Thank you, Beatrice.”

She nods. With one last look at the baby in Steve’s arms, she leaves. He gets another moment alone with his daughter. How about Beatrice? He thinks before they're interrupted again. This time it's by the nurse that brought him here. She’s on the younger side with a kind face, and slick black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She wears a sweet smile, the kind that makes him feel like she isn't judging him for his age as he holds his baby.

“How’re you doing, Dad?” She checks.

Steve can't help his smile. Dad. That's him now. 

“Good, I think. I- I don't know when I’m supposed to feed her or change her or- or too much of anything really,” he admits. 

“That's okay, I’d be more surprised if you did have a clue,” she chuckles, “I’m here to help. We see our fair share of teen mothers through here, but… you’re my first teen father. I’m guessing your parents aren't going to be much help?”

Her eyes flicker around, searching for any sign of waiting grandparents. Steve smiles tightly and shakes his head. The nurse closes her eyes and lets out a sigh through her nose before shaking her own head. 

“You’re not the first teen parent where that's the case either,” she tells him sadly, “I’ll come back over when it's time to feed her and we’ll start there, okay? By the time you two are home, you’ll be a pro.”

Steve isn't so sure about that, but he's so grateful he's willing to believe her. He could kiss the ground she's walking on even if she is only doing her job. Any kind of guidance is more than Steve thought he’d get.

“Thank you so much, Nurse…,” he trails off, searching for a name badge. 

“You can just call me Lynn. My full name is a mouthful,” she waves him off.

“Jacqueline is not a mouthful,” another nurse snorts as she goes by.

Nurse Lynn pinches the other nurse’s side as she goes, earning her a little squeal. They both laugh. 

“It’s more of a mouthful than Lynn, that's for sure,” she rolls her eyes playfully as she walks away to do her job.

Steve looks back down at the perfect example of a human in his arms. He really considers her.

“Beatrice,” he tests out.

It feels… okay. It doesn't quite feel like her though. He can't look at her and see a Beatrice. 

“Jacqueline,” he whispers.

She stirs in his arms for a moment. Then, for the very first time, Steve meets his daughter’s eyes. They're impossibly dark, basically black. Yep, she's gonna look just like Sarah, alright. That's a sucker punch to the gut he’ll have to deal with. She blinks for a moment as if focusing her eyes, which Steve is pretty sure isn't possible at mere hours old. His face breaks into a smile. That felt like all the answer he needed. She’s definitely Jacqueline. Although, the more he thinks it the more he decides that kind of is a mouthful for constant use. They’ll come up with a nickname. That's not important to him right now. As her eyes flutter close once more it clicks.

“Welcome to the world, Jaqueline Beatrice Harrington. I love you the mostest.” 

[byneddiedingo]

Fritz Rasp and Louise Brooks in Diary of a Lost Girl (G.W. Pabst, 1929)

Cast: Louise Brooks, Fritz Rasp, Valeska Gert, Josef Rovensky, Vera Pawlowa, Franziska Kinz, André Roanne, Arnold Korff, Andrews Engelmann, Edith Meinhard, Sybille Schmitz, Kurt Gerron. Screenplay: Rudolf Leonardt, based on a novel by Margarete Böhme. Cinematography: Sepp Allgeier, Fritz Arno Wagner. Art direction: Emil Hasler, Ernö Metzner. Music: Otto Stenzeel. 

Diary of a Lost Girl feels like a falling-off from the standard set by Pabst's first film with Louise Brooks, Pandora's Box (1929), in large part because its source, a 1905 novel by Margarete Böhme, was less distinguished than the one for the previous film: Frank Wedekind's two Lulu plays. Difficulties with censors resulted in some major cuts that sometimes leave the narrative hard to follow. Brooks plays Thymian Henning, the daughter of a well-to-do pharmacist (Josef Rovensky). She is raped and impregnated by her father's assistant, Meinert (Fritz Rasp). When she gives birth, her baby is taken away and she is expelled from her father's home, with the connivance of the housekeeper, Meta (Franziska Kinz), who later marries Thymian's father. She escapes from the oppressive reformatory to which she is sent and winds up in a high-class brothel. When her father dies, she expects an inheritance and marries her friend Count Orloff (André Roanne), who has been disinherited by his own father (Arnold Korff). But when she receives the money she discovers that Meta and the two children she had with Thymian's father have been left penniless. Rather than allow her young half-sister to suffer her own fate, Thymian gives her fortune to Meta. Learning of this, Count Orloff leaps to his death from an open window, but his remorseful father takes Thymian in, allowing her not only to prosper but also to take revenge on the reformatory personnel who had mistreated her. The elder Count Orloff then observes, "A little more love and no one would be lost in this world." That a story so improbable and sententious should work at all is a tribute to Pabst's willingness to take it seriously and to marshal a cast that performs it with apparent conviction. Brooks, however, feels miscast, especially after her triumph in Pandora's Box: It's difficult to accept the broad-shouldered, strong-backed Brooks as a 15-year-old, which she is at the film's beginning, and the performance feels one-note after the impressive range she achieved in the previous film. Diary of a Lost Girl was not a critical or commercial success, owing in part to the arrival of sound, which made it feel obsolete, and it didn't receive an American commercial release.

[stateofsport211]

Roanne Ch R1: Cameron Norrie [1] def. Etienne Donnet [Q] 6-1, 6-2 Match Stats

📸 ATP official website

Although E. Donnet had some parts of his raw potential being displayed in the beginning of the match, it took some time for C. Norrie to brush off some rust and hit more confidently as soon as he scored a massive hold to 2-1 in the first set. Since then, the British first seed dictated the flow, bringing E. Donnet off-balance as he went after the latter's groundstrokes when he made the French qualifier to step further back. This way, even if both players had 5 break points throughout the match, C. Norrie was able to convert 80% of his break chances.

Furthermore, C. Norrie's solid service game also reflected his dominating presence in this match. Scoring 8 aces than E. Donnet's 3, the British first seed won 81% of his first serve points as he controlled the flow from, where even though he double-faulted 4 times than the French qualifier's 1, C. Norrie was still able to win 45% of his second serve points compared to E. Donnet's 8%, making the latter's second serves even more vulnerable to attacks.

In tomorrow's second round, C. Norrie will face Stefano Travaglia, who knocked out Antoine Escoffier 7-6(4), 6-3 in a more competitive encounter. While the former's real test on-paper should come from the quarterfinals, S. Travaglia's offensives and frequent adaptability could not be overlooked, which mostly tested C. Norrie's range as they navigate the flow from the baseline. This could still be interesting, depending on their pace and final shot execution as well!

[albumwalloffame]

Top 10 Worst Album Covers of 1986 - Part 1/2

I've been doing the worst album covers list at the end of the year for a couple years now, and I do this because I love looking at and talking about album covers. The Album Cover is one of my all time favourite forms of art, and many would argue that it is such an integral piece to the album listening experience. So, it made me wonder, why don't I go back and really explore the album covers of years previous, let's pick a random year and look at some of the absolute worst album covers that the year has to offer. Maybe I'll also do a best list, I dunno, but let's start with 1986, why? Because the 80s are remembered as one of the best decades for music, and yeah the music was pretty great, but some of the album covers… nah. So, let's enjoy this blast from the past, this is the top ten worst album covers of 1986.

10. Europe - The Final Countdown

I know I've already brought this cover up when I inducted it into the Album Cover Wall of Infamy in 2021. It's just a ridiculous image. It's the band members in the Phantom Zone, it's a bunch of trading cards falling to Earth, it's dumb, and not the fun dumb either, it's just straight up dumb. I think the key difference between something being "fun Dumb" and being "Dumb" is entertainment value, and frankly this image is kinda boring. This album cover is dumb and boring, sounds like a lot of Hair Metal acts now that I think about it.

9. Pet Shop Boys - Please

No, you do not need to increase the webpage's zoom, that really is how tiny they made the image. I guess this made sense back in the days of vinyl, when the record sleeves were huge compared to casette's and CDs, and since vinyl has made a comeback I guess I shouldn't be surprised if anyone disagrees with me. I still don't get why you would do this, when you have all this space to work with, you stick a tiny image in the center and fill the remaining space with a solid colour. Why not just have the full photo be the album cover?

8. John Fogerty - Eye of the Zombie

First of all, that isn't a zombie. That is, judging by the nose and the eyes, a cat person. Okay, let's assume that the term "Zombie" is being used as an umbrella term, like "Fae" was. Fae used to refer to all kinds of magical creatures, so maybe the same idea is being used for "Zombie"? Except that's stupid, especially by 1986, when the previous year saw the release of George A Romero's Day of the Dead. Secondly, Zombie or not, get the Hell away from me, take a step back, I do not want your face close to mine.

7. UB40 - Rat in the Kitchen

I can't tell what I'm supposed to be more disgusted by, the giant radioactive rat, or the skinny cheese man climbing the walls. Also, great job putting the band name on the album cover twice guys.

6. Jean-Michel Jarre - Rendez-vous

I don't think I need to say anything with this one. You guys remember that ASDF movie sketch? Like, it's not only an incomplete Earth, it's an incomplete face, and it's kinda disturbing. There is one question I have though; Who is this Granger person?

Well, let me talk a bit about Michel Granger, a French Artist from Roanne. He actually did a lot of the covers for this guy, and… a lot of them are really good. 1976's Oxygène, 1978's Équinoxe, 1993's Chronologie. Notice how none of the examples of good album covers came from the 80s, and that's because for most of the 80s, the album covers were not done by Michel Granger, as far as my research brought me, this was the only one… and that's just kinda… sad.

Part 2 here!

[dominiquerispal]

Réalisation par SOWILO d'une étude de jacquard placé à la demande de TRICOTS REM pour un célèbre parc d'attraction.

Référence de ce costume : CAMPUS (SPIDER-MAN).

Ce modèle en jacquard piqué est tricoté sur métier jauge 12. On alterne le coloris blanc de la baseline et le coloris rouge du logo pour rester en poids 2 couleurs à la rangée, ce qui allège le tricot. Le fil de MIROGLIO est du 100% acrylique Nm 1/15.

[militaryleak]

Nexter-KNDS Plant Doubles Production of Caesar 155 mm Self-Propelled Howitzers

On October 16, the Minister of the Armed Forces, Sébastien Lecornu, paid a visit to the Nexter-KNDS Plant in Roanne (Loire) to witness a remarkable success in the transition to a war economy. The Caesar 155 mm self-propelled howitzer has seen its production rates surge from two to six units per month, while delivery times have been slashed from 30 months to just 15 months. At the onset of the Ukrainian conflict in February 2022, KNDS was manufacturing only two Caesar self-propelled guns per month. The company is capable of assembling six per month, with plans to further increase production to eight units by the start of the following year. This enhanced production capacity will enable France to replenish its stock of Caesar howitzers sold to Ukraine to aid in its defense against Russia. The goal is to replace all 18 units by early 2024, a year ahead of the initial schedule. In tandem with increased production, significant efforts have been made to reduce delivery times from 30 months to just 15, ensuring swift supply to both domestic and international clients. The shift to a war economy revolves around a three-fold strategy: producing more, producing faster, and maintaining controlled costs.

On October 16, the Minister of the Armed Forces, Sébastien Lecornu, paid a visit to the Nexter-KNDS Plant in Roanne (Loire) to witness a remarkable success in the transition to a war economy. The Caesar 155 mm self-propelled howitzer has seen its production rates surge from two to six units per month, while delivery times have been slashed from 30 months to just 15 months. At the onset of the…

[accepte-bitcoin]

We are all Satoshi

We are everywhere

[milkteabinniechan]

♡caught - han jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. commissions/m.list

warnings: masturbation, pillow humping

a/n: hannie is so fun to write for! disclaimer: if you don't like pillow fucking, read something else please!! That being said, I hope y'all enjoy this installment<333

"Mm.. fuck." Jisung's hand was moving at a quickened pace. The shirt between his teeth was starting to soak.

Jisung's legs were also starting to shake. He knew what that meant. He knew he was close. The typical images flashed through his mind as his slick palm squeezed his shaft. The impending orgasm was glaringly close, he threw his head back and waiting for the-

"Hey, Jisung! Can I borrow your phone charg-" Minho stood in the doorway, mouth agape.

Jisung quickly grabbed his pillow and covered his bare lap and his impossibly hard cock. His face was growing in redness by the second. His cheeks burning as he and Minho held eye contact.

"Uh, nevermind," Minho finally spoke, "clearly you're... busy." His smirk lingered as he slowly shut Jisung's bedroom door.

Jisung's ears burned as he held tight to the pillow laying strategically on his lap. His cock twitched eagerly, pleading for attention. He tried desperately to think of something else to make the raging, pulsating monster die down beneath him. There was no way he could finish now. Now that Minho knows what he was doing. He had probably already told the rest of the guys what he was doing too.

His rigid length moved ongoing from under the pillow. A frustrated growl left his lips as he slowly moved the soft fabric around. The pillowcase stroked his tip, making his hips buck up and pierce the fluff filled cushion. Jisung whimpered faintly as his hips continued to press into the pillow. His hand open and holding the cushion in place.

Fuck, this feels so good. Too good. His thoughts were swarming and swirling. I forgot how great this feels, Jesus, I can't last much longer...

Jisung had found his perfect speed again, pushing flawlessly into the plush of the pillow. He could feel his thighs shaking again, the knot in his stomach achingly praying for a release. Please, please... Jisung whined into his shirt, returned to his mouth, now pinched fully between his teeth. Saliva dripped down his bottom lip and made a perverse dollop onto the textile of the white pillowcase.

Fluid spread like a dream across his bare lap. His seed now coating his thighs in a glossy, pornographic display. He let the pillow fall to the floor as he hung from the chair in exhaustion, his arms dangling at his side. A smile slowly crossed his face. He contemplated joining the rest of the guys in the living room. He figured everyone was home now, or visiting. Instead he just lied there in his chair, enjoying what was left of the high of that perfect fucking orgasm.

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