#more images in the article showing a bit of what's going on with the shoulder (when walking anyway)

[mercurymusing]

Re:prev tags and even more fucked up shoulders-

Not the answer I was looking for, but on a quick initial search I tripped over an even wackier diagram.

How moles walk; it's all thumbs Here, we use X-ray Reconstruction Of Moving Morphology (XROMM) to determine if the mole humerus rotates around its long axis during walking, as it does when moles burrow and echidnas walk, or alternatively protracts and retracts at the shoulder in the horizontal plane as seen in sprawling reptiles. Our results reject both hypotheses and demonstrate that forelimb kinematics during mole walking are unusual among those described for tetrapods. The humerus is retracted and protracted in the parasagittal plane above, rather than below the shoulder joint and the ‘false thumb’, a sesamoid bone (os falciforme), supports body weight during the stance phase, which is relatively short. 

Wild. Full article:

Apparently Mole Interest is trending, so I think I need you all to see their bizarre humeri

(Image ID: Left, a rat humerus. It looks normal. Right: a mole humerus. It looks like a twisted beast).

It's one of my favourite animal bones :)

[randomshyperson]

Lacy - Werewolf!Reader x Wanda Maximoff - Kinktober #07

Summary: This Halloween, Wanda receives a surprise visit from her favorite werewolf. The problem is that it's very difficult to keep a crush hidden during mating season.

Warnings: (+18), mutual pining, semi-public, very vague allusions to omega verse, beefy!reader, power!bottom wanda, a bit rough but they are actually sweet to each other, some praising and dirty talk. | Words: 3.144k

A/N-> First, I know nothing about werewolves. It was never my thing growing up (I’m a witch type of person I suppose) but I know about omegaverse stuff and since it’s wolf-based I tried some references from that lore. Also, I was totally thinking about Wednesday's show (and Wenclair ship tbh) when writing the school but you all be free to image whatever you wish. Also, the name is from Olivia Rodrigo’s song, ‘cause it’s such a friends-to-lovers/mutual pining coded lyrics. Good reading folks! 

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

The mating season was always the most tiring part of the year.

Even as a child, her days were marked by hard work and running errands - her mother was always very busy with orders, and somehow, the twins were obliged to finish the tasks in record time, so as not to delay the calendars and keep Natalya busy when her customers needed her.

As the largest and most respected apothecary in the country, Natalya Maximoff was also one of the biggest dealers in magical items - and this also included natural suppressants. Her customers wrote to her from all over the world, many famous packs like the Romanoffs or the Howletts only bought her products, and the witch was always very busy at this time of year.

So when their mother told them that she would leave the Maximoff Magical Articles Boutique in their care for two whole days, while she delivered packages around the world, none of them were surprised, as this had been done dozens of times before.

Wanda's indignation stemmed from the fact that her twin brother, as soon as there were no more magical remnants of the portal his mother had conjured to travel through, put on a jacket and told her he was leaving.

"But you can't leave me alone!" Wanda hurried away from the counter. Pietro chuckled, adjusting his hat on his silver hair. Since he had turned 18 last month, he had grown a good few centimeters, and even with her best serious expression, Wanda, who hadn't grown much since she was 15, no longer succeeded in frightening him. That, and well, like his father, Pietro had a bastard heritage of lycanthropy, and with his new skills, he had also gained extreme confidence.

"What, you gonna tell me you're scared of some little wolves?" He sneered, his fangs protruding from his smile. Wanda huffed angrily, her cheeks slightly red. "Don't be silly, Wanda. You're a witch. Nobody's is crazy enough to mess with you."

He tries to pat her on the shoulder, but Wanda pushes a finger against his chest. "I'm not afraid of any wolves, you selfish idiot! Mom says the store is our responsibility. And you're sneaking off to do who knows what! I don't want to spend all night looking after this place on my own. Apart from the season, it's Halloween, and kids go apeshit and-"

"Jesus, Wanda, I'll make it up to you!" He cuts in, already pulling away and ignoring the other girl's protests. "I've got to go, I'm taking Crystal to the movies, then we'll settle up!

"Pietro!" But the call was ignored and the store door was slammed in her face.

Wanda huffed to herself. She could survive a Halloween night, but her brother would owe her a lot if he didn't want to be snitched on. She returned to the counter, texting him another dozen curses before texting to her mother that everything was under control.

And lucky for her, that's how the evening actually went. 

Most of the few customers who showed up were locals, a few sorcerers in need of ingredients, and even a traveling vampire who needed to replenish some reserves for a long trip. Some children also asked for candy, and tired of getting up so often, Wanda decided to leave the jars outside.

It was almost at the end of her shift, when she was ready to close the shop, that a delicious smell wafted into the room. Wanda, who was distracted by the holiday lessons that the institute where she studied always offered when there were short vacations or not, was snapped out of her concentration by the fascinating smell. She looked up just as a figure stumbled into the store, covered by a school uniform hood.

She didn't need you to remove the cap to recognize you, and yet, when your face became visible, Wanda felt her heart unlearn how to beat properly. 

"Good evening?" You looked between the shelves, approaching the cashier, only to hesitate as soon as you saw Wanda. "Oh, h-hi. Uh, is Madame Maximoff around?"

You looked uneasy, adjusting your hair and fiddling with your fingers. Your flushed face must have been due to the walk from the Institute to the store. 

Wanda shook her head as she replied: "She had some orders to place. How can I help you?"

The color of your face deepened, and you couldn't look her in the eye for more than two seconds. "Hmm, I kind of need... suppressants." And it was the turn of Wanda's face to heat up. You continued talking anxiously. "I thought I still had some, but my reservation ran out, and since I'm in the dorm, I wouldn't want to... well, would you have any left? I know it's very short notice but I really need it."

Wanda nodded quickly, equally at a loss for words. You see, if you were any other of her werewolf colleagues, the situation might even be comical. She wasn't like Pietro and didn't make friends very easily, but she shared the same taunting nature. One horny wolf in the store and Wanda would have jokes for the rest of the year. But it was you, her longtime secret crush, emanating a very pleasant scent and in need of something so intimate that Wanda could barely control her own thoughts about what other ways she could help you if there were no other suppressors in the store.

"My mom usually sells everything before the season starts, but I can look in the warehouse to see if we have any leftovers. I'll be right back." She says, smiling softly at your anxious figure.

Wanda has never seen you in heat before; the mating seasons for new wolves begin at the end of puberty, between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, and the vast majority of her werewolf classmates at the Institute return to their packs at this time of year, already matched with their partners in the traditions of the lycanthrope. Wanda only knows about the rituals from her father's family, because each clan, from the Vampires to the witches, is very private about it all. Witches like her mother, who specialize in all kinds of products, are the exceptions.

Wanda tries the storeroom next to the counter, but after a few boxes, she snorts in frustration. Her mother really did sell everything, and she almost reprimanded you for not planning properly. For older, mismatched wolves, being without suppressors could be really dangerous. For you, a new werewolf, it would only be quite painful. It was easier for her to feel sorry. 

And while she tried the last few shelves at the back of the storeroom, you grew even more restless outside. Wanda had no idea how intoxicating the essence of a witch, especially a witch one cared about, was. If you hadn't been so desperate, you would have given up going into the store as soon as you could smell her from around the corner, but then again, your brain wasn't working very rationally right now.

And there was also a scarf on the counter, Wanda's most characteristic item since she had received it as a gift so many years ago. Many of the times you've noticed her, she's worn the item around her neck and it made sense that her scent was so strong in the room, even though she was upstairs.

Your limbs moved by instinct, you didn't have to think much, just let yourself be guided by the urge to exhale that distinctive smell more deeply. 

Your face was pressed against the scarf when Wanda reappeared, and her confused giggle made you jump away mortified.

"Are you all right there?" She ventured, receiving a very quick and embarrassed nod. Wanda chuckled again in amazement, and without caring much about your current condition, she approached. "I looked upstairs, but my mother sold everything, sorry. There's something else you might like to try, maybe a calming potion so you can sleep while... well, this happens to you."

You quickly agree, still embarrassed at being caught. Wanda doesn't mind, if anything, she always found it very entertaining how different you were from the other werewolves she knew; loud and confident to the point of being idiotic. Pietro was a prime example. And if it wasn't for your distinctive stature, she could easily have assumed from your shy and careful personality that you were just an ordinary human, perhaps a mermaid from the way you seemed to bewitch Wanda's attention all to yourself.

"I'm sorry." You mutter suddenly, while she is searching for a sleeping potion on the shelf under the counter. Wanda turns her face up in confusion, but you're looking away. "From the scarf, I know it's... weird. But my body seems to be acting on its own. Just forget about it when we get back to school, okay? I'll be normal when it's over."

"Don't worry, I don't mind." She assured meekly, before finally finding some bottles that could help you and taking them back to the counter. She bit her lip at the way you were panting, and the way your trembling fingers pulled some notes and coins out of your pocket. "You can take these two vials today, and this one in the morning if you're still..."

"Horny'?" You joke, and take Wanda by surprise, but she manages to return the short laugh. Your hands push out the money and she turns away to pack the vials into a small bag. "So, one now and two tomorrow."

Wanda quickly denies it. "No, darling, two now and one tomorrow. Are you... are you sure you're all right? You're sweating-"

"Just give me a minute." You interrupt her with a gasp, the sudden wave of heat catching you completely off guard. The room starts to spin, and for a whole moment, all you can feel is your own arousal and the way you want to touch the witch in front of you. Your body gives way, and your hands force down on the counter, disastrously strong enough for the wood to crack. Wanda jumps in fright, worried, but you grunt quietly. "Shit, I'm really sorry-"

She hurries around the counter, and her soft hands make you jump away. "Hey, it's okay, I just want to help you stand up."

But you gasp in despair, wrenching your body away from her. "Don't touch me, Wanda, for God's sake." You grunt, and if you hadn't sounded so affected, Wanda would have taken offense. Instead, she stands ready to catch you if you lose your balance again, and that's exactly what happens. This time, your weight falls forward, and Wanda's body serves as a barrage. 

Your wolfish weight is almost too much for her, and it doesn't help that your face is buried against her collarbone, and your arms embrace her clumsily. "Hm, so soft." She hears you sigh, as she struggles to drag you over to the reading area of the store's bookshelves, where there's a sofa to put you on. When you fall into the cushions, you look up with dreamy eyes and an easy smile playing on your lips. Wanda gasps softly from exhaustion. 

"Wait here a moment, okay? You feel like you're burning up with a fever. I'll get you some water." She explains, but it doesn't seem like you're listening very much, disconcerting her with the way you're looking at you so discourteously, your pupils dilating. Wanda adjusts a strand of hair, self-conscious under your gaze. "I'll be right back."

She practically runs out of there, and alone, realizing her own hands are trembling as she remembers the sensation of having your body against hers. She shakes her head to push the thought away, you were clearly in a vulnerable moment right now, and Wanda doesn't think she'll survive the shame of being rejected once the heat wears off.

When Wanda returns with the water, she almost drops the glass on the floor. You haven't moved, but you've changed position, limp against the sofa, evidently rubbing yourself down the item as you whimper. 

"Oh, detka, let me help you." Wanda abandons the glass on a shelf, and rushes to your side, kneeling beside the sofa. You gasp in embarrassment, trying to escape her gaze, but Wanda's hands grab your warm face. "Let's go upstairs. I'll make it better." She whispers the invitation, but the thought alone is enough for you to grunt in affection and pull her face towards you. 

It's a hungry kiss, and the position doesn't help. Wanda has to grab your shoulders to keep from falling to the floor and ends up breaking into a giggle when a moment later it's you who's throwing yourself at her, desperately kissing her as if she's going to disappear. 

The lightness disappears quickly. She feels very hot and bothered, especially when your tongue slips into hers as if you already knew exactly how to kiss her, and your hands touch her entire body with determination. Her plea for you to slow down turns into a moan when your knee pushes between her legs.

It's almost primitive the way you seem willing to have her right there on the floor, angrily trying to pull her clothes off while your moans mingle. Wanda's face burns and she struggles to match the kiss, losing that battle all too easily when your palms begin to stimulate her nipples. 

She can feel the wetness begin to bother her through the fabric of her panties, and perhaps, you can smell it too, because you grow more impatient, and begin to murmur disconnected compliments into her skin, your hands reaching down to unzip her pants. Wanda chokes between moans, practically whimpering when your fingers find her so ready. 

You enter her, all at once, without a second thought. You suck on her tongue as she squeezes your fingerprints and soaks your hand. It's dirty and rough, and Wanda couldn't hold back even if she tried. Yet the store door opens, and she has to bite down hard on your shoulder to muffle her own noises.

Whoever the customer is, asking if there's anyone there or if the store is open, Wanda makes sure they don't see her. Her eyes are scarlet, and it's never been harder to do a concealment spell than it is now, with your fingers thrusting inside her as if the world around you hardly mattered. Finally, the customer leaves and her magic plays its part in locking the door before Wanda digs her nails into your back and comes against your fingers.

It's not enough - Nothing seems to be. You continue your movements inside her until Wanda is spasming again, begging for a pause. Your hungry mouth finds its way into her most intimate place then, just to tear more pleasure out of her. She loses count of how many times she comes, on your fingers and tongue, until the whole store smells of sex.

Fuck, she has to move you before Pietro comes back.

It's only when you let her breathe, retreating like a wounded wolf, that Wanda notices the puddle of moisture on your pants. You came at the mere act of watching and touching her. 

"Hey, are you okay, sweetheart?" She coos gently, propping herself up on one elbow now that you're lying on your back, one arm over your face. Your clothes are as torn as theirs, but there are many more marks on her body than on yours. 

You sniffle quietly, and Wanda looks at you with concern. "Why didn't you stop me?" you ask upset, and Wanda stares in shock for a moment. Then, swallowing dryly, she works up the courage:

"You didn't want this?"

But your reaction is to laugh incredulously. "Of course, I wanted it, Wanda! But I'm talking about you. Why didn't you stop me? You're a witch, you could have knocked me down, look at you! You're all purple, and I... God, I can't believe I... hurt you." 

She climbs into your lap before you can despair, ignoring your soft protest and grabbing your crying face. "I haven't stopped you because I've wanted you to since we met." She assures you determinedly, caressing your cheeks. "I'm in love with you, you idiot."

Sniffling softly, you raise hopeful eyes. "Really?"

Wanda smiles, her weight against your chest. "Really." She assures you. "And don't worry about the marks, I... like it rough."

You groan in embarrassment, looking away and amusing her. There's a moment's pause, and then finally: "I like you too."

Wanda bites back a smile. "I got that impression, you know? When you were all whiny on me." 

Your laugh is sincere and shy, and Wanda kisses you as your hands grip her thighs. But before she can deepen it the way she'd like, you break again.

"Thanks for helping with the heat... but I'll take you on a date after this. I promise."

She pulls on your bottom lip with a provocative bite. "I'll charge." She assures you in a naughty whisper, and you sigh contentedly as she presses your hips together. Smooth movements, and you're already seeing stars again. 

Your breathing becomes shorter, and Wanda traces her fingers along your jaw, while her other hand moves down. "I bet you're all warm and tight."

You sigh, closing your eyes and nodding in agreement. Wanda kisses you leisurely, also taking time to slide her fingers into your pants and assess the effects of everything so far. She's not surprised by the immense wetness, but the sensation of sinking into you is overwhelming. She can feel ready for another when she starts to stimulate you and watches you squirm beneath her.

"So good... don't stop..." You moan helplessly, and the grip on her thighs is almost strong enough to hurt. Wanda makes a mental note of how to make you lose control of your strength, before curling her fingers inside you and being rewarded with the sweetest sounds in the world. "W-Wanda!"

She decides she likes it very, very much when you whimper her name like that. She continues her motions a few more times until you come hard on her fingers. Wanda thrusts a few times, before removing them and bringing them to her mouth, sucking them clean while you try to catch a breath. 

Your murmurs are labored, and Wanda kisses your cheek a few times. "Come on upstairs, sweet baby, I'll take care of you." She tries to get up, but your hands steady her on your lap.

It's almost ridiculous how easily you lift the two of you, and Wanda has to hold onto your shoulders, chuckling softly at your uncertain stumbles on the way upstairs. 

She'll have time to look after the store when you fall asleep. Right now, she's more focused on kissing you again.

[skrunksthatwunk]

hitting this article with a rolled up newspaper. bad. stop it

sigh. exhaustive argument that none of these shows grouped together have the same art style below, complete with images and whatever

oh also im not the type to comment on articles so idk the etiquette but don't like. go over there and say "ur list sucks >:P" that's just gonna bring more traffic to it. i linked it so people could ratio me if need be not so that you guys could dunk on this random listicle writer. it's pointless and kind of cruel. just so we're clear on that

edit: the quote above uses "time period" instead of "era". i quote it as saying "era" a lot. i'm not fixing that

note: here i'm assuming "art style" refers to, generally: character designs (facial and body proportions, how things like hair is dealt with, etc), lighting, color (palette, saturation, value), line weight, etc [and mostly excluding things like shot composition, direction, etc because while those probably count my personal experience with these shows is mostly limited, and because most people focus on the previous things i've listed in their discussions of art styles. the analysis within the article is incredibly shallow, and if they think samurai champloo's art style is "rehashed and reused", i don't think they're like. super deep in the art analysis sauce. anyway]

code geass vs death note. what are you saying. what are you talking about

code geass' approach to color is more vibrant, and dn's is more washed out. dn takes a more realistic approach to faces and bodies, both in proportion and in shape (namely how curved their features are (as opposed to cg's far more exaggerated sharp faces, large eyes, and lanky bodies. note how lelouch's lips barely jut out in profile, for instance)). i shouldn't have to explain this they're not even close

that's the most extreme example, but samurai champloo and cowboy bebop aren't That similar either

it's hard for me to speak on bebop for the most part because i've never seen it (vs my ~8 eps of samurai champloo knowledge), but from what i have seen, bebop often has a sort of delicate intricacy to a lot of its linework (especially its backgrounds) that champloo tends to sacrifice in favor of bolder lines and higher contrast. it was hard to find great examples, but the silhouettes champloo's characters cut are often sort of.. choppy and wild, and usually lanky and stretched-out, while bebop's are more realistic (focus on the shoulders in the last image set, for instance). there's overlap, sure, but there are clear and intentional differences in the designs, to say nothing of champloo's higher saturation and the natural differences between hand-drawn and digitally-drawn animation

(and if "art style" is referring to the direction rather than just character design, lighting, color, etc, it's because these two have the same director, which hardly creates an "era". that's like comparing two miyazaki films from the 90s and saying "this is what 90s anime movies looked like", it's nonsense. also, i feel like lumping these two together because they look a little similar is unfair because they're pretty unique from their contemporaries in their own right. they may resemble each other a bit, but how much do they resemble other late 90s early 00s sci-fi/historical anime? does samurai champloo look like outlaw star to you? or trigun? or evangelion? does cowboy bebop look like ninja scroll? or samurai 7? or sword of the stranger? etc etc etc?? if we're claiming that cowboy bebop and samurai champloo share an "era", then what of their contemporaries, and what about differences across bebop and champloo's very different genres? more on this point later)

even fruits basket and ouran, the ones i initially felt were most similar, have clear distinctions

ouran's got a distinct abundance of pastels in its color palette, tending towards pinks, blues, yellows, oranges, etc. its use of black and brown is very limited. fb's palette is a bit more relaxed, and while its colors are often pale, i wouldn't call them pastel (they also skew more towards natural, earthy tones). fb's characters have noticably.. flatter skulls? in some shots, and their heads are so squat that they can seem consumed by their eyes. anyway this is a trait ouran does not quite share, for a number of small reasons, like how their cheeks bow out, greater emphasis on noses and mouths, and its use of highly variable line weight (vs fb's very stable line weight). hair is more voluminous and multilayered in ouran, and features like lips and noses (esp noses) are fuller, more three dimensional (in general, ouran's approach to shading hair and faces makes the characters feel rounder). the sharp edges and bell-sleeves of ouran's uniform blazers are actually far more reminiscent of the designs in code geass than fruits basket, imo. (actually.. i'm not sure how to express this but a lot of the poses in ouran resemble code geass poses, in their locked-joint arms-stretched kinda way). ouran forgoes hair-shine, while fruit's basket adds them in either jagged points (see most of the images i included) or a sort of triangle wrapping around the head (not pictured here, just trust me)

(note: i'm assuming they are referring to the 2001 anime adaptation of fruits basket rather than the 2019 one, because not only does the 2019 adaptation resemble ohshc even less, but because they are closer in time period, and the grouping is supposedly based on era).

my point is none of these shows look rehashed from one another. there's sometimes overlap, but each has a unique aesthetic based in many small choices made in their design.

now let's look at their use of "eras" a little more. this is the timeline of air dates for the first episodes of the six shows mentioned (for their original japanese runs, obviously):

cowboy bebop, april 1998

fruits basket, july 2001

samurai champloo, may 2004

ouran high school host club, april 2006

code geass, october 2006

death note, october 2006

code geass and death note being paired by era is, at least, accurate. same month, same year. it's about as close as one can get. however, the other two groups are far more removed from each other. fruits basket and ouran have five years between them, and bebop and champloo have six. this wouldn't be such an issue if there weren't other anime within this list that came between them. if bebop and champloo are in the same era, why is fruits basket grouped differently? ouran came out in 2006 just like code geass and death note, so why is it grouped with something that came out five years prior instead of them?

i think it's fair to say that eras are not purely chronological, that there's overlap between them. one doesn't begin as soon as (and not a moment before) its singular predecessor ends. but era feels like an incomplete distinction here. this list alone shows quite a lot of variety for what someone can mean when they say something "looks like 2000s anime". most anime fans have a picture in their head of that, and, to be so honest, i don't think samurai champloo is it. using only time as a distinction rather than movement, genre, etc is simply not enough. the fact that 5/6 of these shows occur within 2001-2006, and yet they're set apart into three different eras, and each pair (in ways i'm sure the author of this piece would admit) does not resemble the other, is proof enough that 2001-2006 did not have one repetitive art style, at least not in a way these anime exemplify. that's to say nothing of whether or not the anime within the era-pairs look the same, which we've established i don't. but since they don't actually tell us what their eras are, we can only speculate. personally, i speculate that they didn't think about it too hard at all, or even look up the release dates, going off vibes instead, if that.

when this person is talking about "eras", i think "eras within certain styles or genres" is more accurate, but even with these in mind, matching shows up like this makes a lot less sense than i think they realize. death note and code geass are sometimes lumped together because they're both mind-gamey thrillers with megalomaniacal protagonists with a single unique power that they use to try and fix/control the world, not because of their art styles. trying to say they look the same just because they share plot elements and came out around the same time is just... really weird. fruits basket and ouran both fall into early 2000s shojo, which is part of why the comparison fits more. target demographics and what magazines cater to those demographics (and thus the aesthetics of those magazines, which you have to fit into enough to get your manga published, and which also just influence what you want, what readers want, etc through exposure) (<- oversimplifying) are an actual valid point of comparison, at least more so than "idk 2006 lol". even if the result is more like "romcom for girls, 2006"

it doesn't help that many of the choices they made for unique art styles don't feel particularly "unique" to me.

choices like mononoke and land of the lustrous i get. and i'm not saying any of the examples i've just pulled or in the article are bad art styles, or that they don't bring anything unique to the table. i'm sure many of them are beautiful, and help elevate the tones of the stories, and all that jazz, whatever. but if the name of the game is "unique", then i don't think these cut it from what i can see. it doesn't help that most of the analysis comes down to "it looks really really cool" or "you don't normally see this art style with this genre/tone" (which is not the same thing as being broadly unique, imo)

it could be that we have different impressions of what "art style" means. it could lie somewhere in the bits of art style that i cut out, like shot composition and direction, etc. and some of it is probably a difference in what constitutes uniqueness, both between our differing experiences with media and personal taste/philosophy. but i don't think i'm wrong here when i say that the assertion that samurai champloo is era-typical in a way that beyond the boundary (2013) isn't is just fucking wrong.

look i know that bit that i screenshotted that started all this was a filler paragraph. i know it was the mandatory setup for the listicle you scroll to immediately, the parts you're supposed to ignore. i usually ignore articles like this completely because they're kinda bullshit. but i think this hunt for what looks the most unique is a flawed and confused one, at least to some extent. especially when all of the justifications are like "it supports the vibe well", which is something that all art styles are supposed to do, no matter how "unique" they are or are not, and i think that when people discuss things like art styles and anime and what looks generic and what looks unique, lumping things together too much often removes the nuances that really do influence people. i'm an artist. it's gonna sound dumb, but the way things look matters to me, even if it's stuff like how shirtsleeves or noses are drawn. to ignore all these little differences that make each piece unique is to blend so many singular, unique things into this easy-to-categorize mush that just... does a disservice to the choices every artist makes, i think. even if it is a pretty mild disservice. again, i cannot stress enough that this article is not important, and that this post responding to it is also not important.

look, what i'm trying to say is stop and smell the roses. notice the differences in the art you consume and think about it. looking for something that's so different it jerks your brain around is cool and good and fine and normal, but to disregard things as "basically the same as xyz" is reductive and icky and i don't like it. if you want something unique idk go watch kaiba (2006) have fun it's really good. i'm going to bed

nvm miscellaneous gripes section + i go to bed at like 5am lol i LIED:

the only thing said about beyond the boundary's art style is "it's hard not to fall in love with the art style", and the rest of the comments are other elements. that's too vague! i'm docking points!!

a lot of this seems based in the color palette now that i'm rereading it. not that my analysis doesn't also involve that, and not that that's invalid, but it makes me think there uh. might not have been Too too much thought beyond that. (example: "Though the dark and cool colors provide a sense of dullness, these colors cater to the tone of the story, which is dark and representative of its heavy content." like. that's not. unique. that's not unique to solo leveling y'know to have a dark story be awash in dark and cool colors that's pretty normal actually. maybe how they do it is unique, but we'll never know bc i haven't seen solo leveling and the author didn't care to elaborate :/ oh well)

this one's petty but i actually think ohshc's art style is pretty unique. maybe it's just because i've seen it several times and certain details like how the bottom-lip-to-chin shadow is done have caught my attention but like. pouting crossing my arms huffing >:( i think it's unique wth...

demon slayer's an alright choice i agree. idk i barely watched it a few years ago and it still wrenched my art style in a new direction. i dunno anything that looks quite like it. i'm not mad about all these choices per se it's just hard to whittle something like uniqueness down to a top ten list, i guess. and to say samurai champloo's generic while violet evergarden is the 5th most unique anime you've ever seen is like. weird. you're setting yourself up for people to go ehhhh... idk...... if you're not picking stuff that's like. Clearly Out There (i.e. mononoke)

"It’s no surprise that Demon Slayer is an anime with some of the best art styles." i might be fighting something that was written by ai now that i think about it...

oh god this was totally written by ai. or it went very unedited. man i spent like 2 hours on this (<- LOSER LOSER). they can't decide what the plural of anime is

they insist that chainsaw man's art style is weird enough to maybe put people off, and the only reason i can think that is is bc it's cg. but don't do the same for land of the lustrous, which is also and much more obviously cg. idk

they phoned it in but didn't even include that ping pong anime smhing my head. y'know the one everyone includes. which means whoever wrote this actually did stick to personal choices over crowd-pleasers, or chatgpt goofed or whatever. idc. guys they didn't even put flcl (<- but they put gurren lagann? as a gurren lagann fan im confused) oh my godd

ik i said this before but im saying it again: a lot of their pros and cons come down to whether or not an art style is typical for that kind of story, so like whether something gritty in tone has a more realistic art style or whether it has something visually cutesy instead. art style is more than just those things, but even that analysis is like. pretty much as bare-bones as what i just said. yucky

oh also part of my issue with this (didn't phrase it right sorry) is like. "unique" is a broad term. a really broad term. it can mean anything. there is no top 10 anime with unique art styles article that would escape that problem, and my analysis here does not escape that problem. i find the term a little unproductive (same with the concept of "originality"), so just know that i guess

[myymi]

okay so, this takes place a day after sonic prower

happy wednesday everyone 👍

@starrjoy @passionartx

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

Sonic took a deep breath before stepping out onto the stage, waving at the audience full of mobians and humans alike, all clapping and cheering for him.

He smiled at everyone as the security guards silenced the crowd so he could speak. He sighed and straightened his posture.

“I’d like to start this off by thanking everyone who allowed me to come speak today,” He gestured off to his right, running through his pre-made script in his mind. The crowd clapped again, but quieted down much more quickly.

“The reason I asked to give a speech is because I wanted to address a certain, uh, rumor that’s going around on social media.” He explained, swallowing a lump in his throat.

He glanced behind him at the wall that would project everything he wanted to show for a brief second, as if he was expecting it to fall apart then and there.

He cleared his throat and looked back to the crowd, “It’s come to my attention that a lot, and I mean a lot, of people have been saying bad stuff about my buddy, Tails.”

There were a few quiet murmurs throughout the crowd, but Sonic didn’t focus on them. He wasn’t here to listen to the crowd anyway.

His ear flicked when he heard one of the producers click a button, which meant the first bunch of articles were now being projected behind him.

Checking over his shoulder to confirm it, he frowned at the news headlines before pointing back at them.

“As you can see, a common theme here is that Tails is the reason it takes a bit longer to take down Eggman.” He gritted his teeth, he still couldn’t believe that people were blaming Tails for all of this.

If anyone should be blamed, it should be Eggman. Y’know, the guy who’s trying to take over the world.

Nobody should be blaming the kid trying to save it.

“I’ve come here to end those rumors once and for all.” Sonic made sure he kept his voice clear as he spoke.

He wanted everyone to fully understand what he was about to say.

“Tails is not, and never will be, responsible for however long it takes for us to defeat Eggman.” He glanced over the crowd, watching as the onlookers talked amongst each other. Some would look up to the big screen, then immediately turn back to whoever they were talking to.

“Especially,” Sonic spoke again, waiting until most of the crowd was looking at him before continuing, “not when he’s being held hostage.”

More shushed arguments were exchanged, but the hero continued on with his speech.

“And, to whoever had the genius idea to make this comment,” He paused to gesture to the wall behind him as the projector changed to show an image of a reply to one of the other articles.

‘It’s probably fake. Sonic just keeps the kid around for his smarts, he doesn’t actually care about that thing! They don’t even have the same last name.’

“I’d like to publicly announce that since yesterday, December Fourth, my name has been legally changed to Sonic Prower. Approved and signed by Judge Nicholas Howard.” He silently thanked Amy for helping him with this speech, he could only imagine how much of a train wreck it would be if he’d done this by himself.

“From now on, I don’t want to hear or see anyone saying Tails is at fault for Eggman’s destruction,” He said as the projector clicked off, “that is all.”

As he walked off the stage, he heard a few hesitant claps that soon turned into the whole crowd cheering.

He just hopes they'll listen to what he said.

He glanced down at his communicator when it started vibrating, smiling when he read the contact of who was calling him.

‘micro buddy💛 is calling..’

Sonic quickly tapped the green phone button, a wide grin on his face when he saw the two tailed fox on the screen.

“What was that about?!” Tails yelled, glancing between the communicator and what the hedgehog assumes is the T.V.

“What?” Sonic asked, though he knew what the kit was referencing.

“That!” The fox grabbed the side of his head with his free hand, “wh– you– Sonic!”

“Ain’t a big deal, bud,” The teen shrugged as he walked down the street, “can’t have them blaming you like that for Eggman’s stunts.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Sonic,” Tails shook his head, “it really wasn’t that bad. I-I can handle it.”

“I found you curled up on my bed crying because of it, Tails.” Sonic shook his head, “sure, maybe you can deal with it, but that doesn’t mean you should. Nobody deserves that, especially not you.”

He looked down at his communicator when he heard sniffling, frowning when he saw his brother scrubbing at his eyes, “Hey, dude, need me to come there?”

“No, no,” Tails shook his head, “it’s fine. I’m fine, it’s just–” he took a deep breath to even out his breathing, “unexpected. And a little overwhelming?”

“You sure?” The hedgehog raised a brow, glancing at the other civilians around him, “‘cause I can be there in just a second, pal.”

“No, really, it’s fine Sonic.” The kit sat down on his sofa, a small, genuine smile on his face, “thanks. For, y’know, all of this.”

“‘Course, bud,” Sonic smiled back, “s’what best bros are for.” He winked at the fox, earning a fit of light laughter for it.

“Yeah, alright,” Tails shook his head, “let me know when you’re heading back here next. I’ll make some chili dogs for you, as a thanks.”

“Ya don’t gotta do that, li’l bro,” The teen snorted before putting on a fake deep-in-thought face, “but~ if you plan on fryin’ those dogs for me..”

The fox rolled his eyes, “You say that as if I cook them any other way,” there was a big smile on his face, “I know how you like your chili dogs, big bro.”

“Alright, alright,” Sonic laughed and held up his free hand in a mock defense, “how ‘bout I come over next week, then?”

“Mmm, I dunno if I can fit you in then, Sonic.” Tails hummed, his smile turning into a smirk, “you might have to come in next month.”

“Don’t mess with my heart like that, little buddy,” The hedgehog said with a fake pained tone, dramatically placing his hand over his heart, “you’re killin’ me, bro.”

The kit laughed and looked over his shoulder, “well, I definitely have enough for you. Just let me know when you’re gonna come over ahead of time so I can have them ready when you get here.”

“Sure thing, li’l bro!” Sonic said, giving a two finger salute.

“I gotta get back to work,” The younger said as he turned back to his watch, “I’m assuming Amy’s gonna call ya. Tell her I said hi!”

The teen rolled his eyes, “You know, you could just come over and tell her yourself instead of staying inside all day.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” Tails stood from the couch, making his way into his workshop, “I think you’re breaking up!”

“You said that these things were built well enough so that wouldn’t be an issue?” Sonic questioned with a raised brow, smirking at the other’s shocked look.

“Uhh,” The kit looked around and shrugged, “I don’t have another excuse. Byeloveyou!”

The line clicked, signaling Tails had hung up.

Sonic sighed, a fond smile on his face.

“Love ya too, li’l bro.”

[mollyencrypted]

Obviously Elita and Arcee are in Transformers One, Firestar and Moonracer are amongst the named background characters with their own trading cards, and I'm sure we all know about the Two Chromias, but you know which other G1 female Autobots are in this film?

GREENLIGHT AND LANCER!

First, Lancer. Apparently there are people out there who think she's Rung, which I can see from the front in a crowd (she does kind of have his helm), but she's too chunky, and also too purple, to be the skinny orange lad. The purple and orange is, for me, the deciding factor in labelling her as Lancer, because it's just not a common colour scheme. There's Impactor, sure, but his purple is on his upper body, not his lower body. Now look at TFWiki's images for G1 Lancer:

Her helm and shoulders are bright orange, with a cut-out in the back to show off the purple that continues down her lower body until it gets to her 'boots', and if you look closely at the TF1 character, there's some orange just visible on her legs. Lancer might not get used much but she's visually distinctive enough that I'm going to call this.

I've seen a couple of other people, both here and on the wiki, discussing Young Lancer, but I've never seen Young Greenlight mentioned anywhere else, and that's a shame because this character really does look like an uncogged version of her!

Compare her with these images from her TFWiki article:

The green TF1 miner looks more like G1 Greenlight than TF1 Moonracer and Chromia look like their counterparts - she's got the white chestplate, the same vivid green colouring, the white bits on her helm and what might be an unformed version of her crest.

Are we finally getting the original six female Autobots back together? Probably not, but we can dream.

[terrestrialnoob]

“I bet we can get a reservation at The Orchard,” Kim suggested.

Ron nodded, “Yeah, I guess it has been a while since we went to, like, a really nice place.”

“So, as long as nothing world ending happens between now and Saturday-”

Just as Km said it, her locker beeped and as she opened it, the computer she kept in it flickered on showing Wade in his usual place, looking slightly nervous. Wade being nervous was never a good thing.

“Hey Wade, what’s the sitch?”

“Hey Kim,” Wade said, but his voice wavered a little as he asked, “I was wondering if I could get a favor from Ron.”

“Not me?” Kim asked immediately.

“Ron’s more the style I’m looking for.”

“Ron’s style?” Kim asked incredulously, but Ron put his hand on her shoulder.

“I get it Wade, whatever you need, I got it covered.”

“Thanks.” Wade’s image on Kim’s locker computer switched to a photo from Wade’s last family reunion, all the kids of five aunts and uncles and six more older cousins in one shot. A red circle blinked into existence at the edge of the photo, around Wade and a slightly older kid standing next to him with his hand on Wade’s shoulder wearing a red beret and thick black rimmed glasses. “This is my cousin, Tucker. He and his friends are coming to visit Middleton this weekend for the science convention.”

“Wait, cousin Tucker? The Cousin Tucker?” Ron nearly shoving Kim out of the way of the locker to get a better look at the photo.

Kim rolled her eyes then asked, “Is he a big deal?”

“Uh, cheah,” Ron said, letting Kim back in front of the locker, “He helped Wade design your battle suit!”

“That’s the one,” Wade said, “He gave me the idea to make it, and he has a lot of experience working on high-powered combat jumpsuits. Really, he did most of the designing part of it; I just did all the hard work of actually making it.”

“Really? High-powered combat jumpsuits is something someone can have a lot of experience with?” Kim asked, but it did make sense. She had been a bit surprised that Wade had come up with the battle suit; he’s a gadget guy, not a suit guy. And there wasn't a shortage of teenage geniuses in the world.

“Yeah, he's awesome, and his friends?” Wade said, and an image came onto the screen of a teenage girl with dyed black hair. She wore a black tank top with a purple bat in the center of the chest and unattached long bell sleeves along with a black and green plaid miniskirt over torn black tights. Her knee high boots had thick blocky souls that made her at least four inches taller and were covered in straps and metal. In the photo, she was leaning on a wall pointing at a horror movie poster next to her. “This is Sam Manson, she was the top, the number one, Doomed player in the world, and right now, she’s top ten in the sequel, Eternal Torment, and money’s on her to break top five within the month.”

“Eternal Torment!” Ron shouted, getting strange looks from others in the hall, but he didn’t care, “The online video game that’s so hard 50% of all players rage quite before finishing it?”

“That’s a myth, it’s closer to 32% and lowering with the new patches, but yes, that’s the one.”

“Woah,” Ron basically had heart eyes as he stared at the goth gamer girl, and Kim wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t.

“What about this guy?” Kim asked, other photos of Wade’s cousin and his friends had come up, usually with three people, Tucker, Sam, and the one Kim was pointing at now. He had naturally black hair and bright blue eyes, and while Tucker's and Sam’s outfits changed in every image, he seemed to wear the same torn jeans, NASA t-shirt, and red hoodie in everything he was in. Though, there were a few of him that had a kind of grainy distortion over them, kind of made him look like he had pointed ears, or shark teeth, or glowing eyes.

“That’s Danny Fenton, and he’s cool but kinda… strange,” Wade pulled up some newspaper articles where Dr.’s Fenton cause havoc in a small town in Iowa, professional ghost hunters whose inventions go awry and destroy buildings; and Danny himself seemed to have a public feud with the Mayor of his town and there was a magazine article about how he discovered that the Amity Park Zoo’s purple-back gorilla was female. “Yeah, he’s a bit all over the place and hard to get a read on. But, he does like space and rocket science. And, Tucker said that Danny's family is the one that makes a lot of high-powered combat jumpsuits. Apparently, Dr.'s Fenton only wear high-powered combat jumpsuits.”

Ron nodded along, then asked, “This is all fascinating Wade, but why are you telling us all this?”

“Well,” Wade rubbed his neck nervously, “When Tucker said he was visiting and going to the convention, I kinda said that I was also planning on going with my friends… My IRL friends. I wanted him to think I was cool, and he knows I have a hard time making offline friends, but I didn’t want him to think I was a loser. So…”

“So you need a living breathing friend to go with! Sure thing, buddy. I’m free- oh, no, wait,” Ron pointed between him and Kim, “we were just talking about going on a nice date this weekend.”

Kim waved her hand dismissively, “It’s fine, we can stop somewhere for dinner after the convention.”

“We?”

Kim nodded and looked at Wade in her locker, “My dad’s a rocket scientist, I bet at least Danny will think I’m cool, and I bet Sam will like having another girl there to talk to.”

“She does tend to get along with everyone,” Ron said, “Except for Bonnie… and Drakken, but they’re both supervillains, so I don’t think that’s a point against her.”

Wade smiled, “Thanks Kim. I’ll send you guys info on the convention and where to meet.”

“Ten-four, Wade, we’ll see you there.” Kim said and closed her locker as Wade logged off.

“You really think this’ll be fun?” Ron asked, “Or are you just being nice for Wade?”

“No, I like hanging out with Wade, and you know,” Kim shrugged awkwardly, “What are the chances of there being a mad scientist bent on world domination at the convention?”

“With our luck? 100%” Ron said, with all seriousness before breaking into chuckles. “Now, school’s out and mission’s not till the weekend, that means it’s Bueno Nacho time!”

[dootiexcupcake]

hi could i request a platonic Jungkook helping his girl best friend with an eating disorder please

TW // eating disorder

Hey hey anon 👋🏾! Thank you so much for your request, I appreciate it! I just want to start this off by saying that I am not a mental health professional, nor do I have/have had an eating disorder. So please forgive me for any errors I make in this. I have done research on ED’s and have friends who have/had ED’s so I will use that knowledge to the best of my abilities while still trying to be respectful of the topic and the person themselves (e.g not infantilizing them for having an ED, etc etc). Like I said before, I am no expert when it comes to this but as someone who does struggle with disorganized eating due to my neurodivergency I will try my best with this piece!

Anyhow, without further delay, the fic is under the cut🖤

Pairing: platonic Jungkook x fem!reader , best friend!Jungkook x best friend!reader

Genre: angst , comfort , hurt/comfort , fluff

Warnings: reader has an eating disorder (no specific diagnosis is mentioned) , mentions a headaches and migraines , negative self talk , body image , anxiety (please let me know if i missed anything)

A/N: again, I just want to say that i am no expert on this topic and i am in no way trying to romanticize, glorify, demean, or infantilize anyone struggling with this disorder or the survivors. I have no problem rewording or deleting this post if i offend anyone!

☆ although you and Jungkook have been friends for a while and you both trusted one another, you still were absolutely terrified to tell him about your ED

☆ logically, you knew Jungkook wouldn't abandon you or make fun of you for struggling and fighting against something that was out of your control. But your anxiety persisted and constantly made you think the complete opposite. So you hid it from him

☆ but that didn't last long

☆ considering the fact that kookie has known you for so long, he could see the cracks starting to show

☆ confessing to him wasn't easy at all, but the response you got from him definitely calmed your nerves

☆ Jungkook may not completely understand what you're going through but he will try to support you the best way he can and when he can

☆ he does extensive research but always makes sure to get your personal input on things before basing all of his knowledge off of random articles he finds online. he'll asks you questions and try not to be invasive

☆ he really wants to understand you better so he'll ask things like, "what should i do/should not say around you?", "what can I do to help you during [certain situation]?", etc

☆ when you guys are out together he always brings ibuprofen or some kind of pain meds with him for when you have headaches or muscle cramps

☆ when you guys are out in public and the headache turns into an unbearable migraine he pulls you into a more secluded part and just holds you close to him. reminding you to take as much time as you need

☆ and when you guys are at home or in a more private setting when a migraine comes on he'll be your shoulder to cry on when it gets really intense or he'll massage whatever cramp you have. all the while constantly reassuring you that he's here for you and the pain will be over soon. he'll get you whatever you need to make you feel a bit more comfortable, blankets, tea, plushies, comfort shows, or total silence, you name it and Jungkook got it ASAP

☆ he knows that having this disorder brings on a lot of negative self talk and criticism, so he tries to help you counter those comments about your appearance for ones that focus on your good qualities.

"I just hate this part of my body so much! no matter what i do it always looks so disgusting i cant stand it!"

"well, think about what that body part does for you. It does so many good and useful things for you that you may not even realize. Don't view it as a flawed part of yourself, try to think of it as a helpful extension instead."

☆ his heart is always in the right place, and you appreciate that. you want to take his kind words to heart, but more often than not it feels as if its impossible

☆ Jungkook knows that it can be hard for you to take compliments sometimes, so he never forces one on you or even force you to compliment yourself. he strives to keep them to a minimum if possible

☆ he knows that your disorder does not define you and even though you struggle with this it never changes how he views you. you are a delightful person to be around and he appreciates all the time he gets to spend with you

☆ even on your roughest days he tries his best to help you, though he may feel that its not enough, you always assure him that him simply being there for you (whether physically or over call) is more than enough for you

☆ you guys cherish your time together and you love hanging out around town doing any and everything. whether it be just you and him or with a group of friends, you always feel loved and cared for with them 🖤

main m.list | BTS m.list

[whatthisfemsheplikes]

Number 7: "Don't look. I will bandage it for you."

I think this one would be cool with Tori and Wesley. like, Wes gets injured and has PTSD from when he got injured from the thorn bush. Tori tries to help by bandaging etc etc fearplay and angst ensues

Thank you for the prompt! I had fun writing this one, especially since I'm a sucker for any kind of hurt/comfort scene in g/t.

This one is set about a month after See Me ends, so slight spoilers for that for anyone who hasn't read/finished it yet.

CW: blood, PTSD, panic attack

“Are you sure you don’t need any help, Wes?” Tori asked as she bent down to get a closer look over Wesley’s shoulder. He was currently cutting a tiny piece of lettuce into even smaller pieces with a borrower-sized knife on his own small table. During his time learning to read, he’d also been learning to cook with Tori, and the lessons had gotten a lot easier for him ever since they bought more furniture and kitchen tools that were his size. 

He’d only just started to work on cooking by himself, especially so he can make more meals of his own size. Usually, he’d help Tori with measuring, getting ingredients, or even just reading the recipe while she did the actual “cooking” of the food since all of the appliances were human-sized. If Wesley could have his own stove to bake food in the oven or cook something on the stovetop, he’d be excited to try that. At the moment though, no working appliances were available for borrowers. Tori had found some articles on the internet claiming that these appliances were in development, but Wesley didn’t hold out much hope. That wouldn’t stop him from making his own food right now though. 

Luckily, there were still plenty of meals he could make without needing to heat anything up. He did still need a bit of help from Tori since all the ingredients he would need were so much bigger than him, but she’d gone through and cut lots of comment ingredients she had so they were a more manageable size for Wesley. 

At the moment, he was trying to make a salad for his lunch with pieces of lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, and cucumbers that Tori had already cut down to size for him. He was still going back and forth about whether he should add cheese or not, but he figured he’d have a better idea once the salad was done. 

“No, I’m okay,” Wesley replied while keeping his eyes locked on the chef’s knife in his hand. While he was getting more comfortable with cooking overall, he was still a bit nervous about using a knife. Tori had taught him several times how to cut safely and efficiently so he could be as safe as possible, but even just the look of how sharp the knife was still made him uneasy. 

If he stared too long, he’d start to fall down a rabbit hole of fear, usually with thoughts that either started or ended his spiral with the image of Tori in the hospital after she’d been stabbed. He wasn’t there when the stabbing happened, so he didn’t know if Tori’s attacker used a knife that looked like this one or not, but it didn’t really matter to him what kind it was. He’d inevitably start thinking of the scar that still showed on Tori’s abdomen, though it was much more faded than the fresh stitches he imagined when he thought of her in that hospital bed. 

Wesley shook his head to bring himself back to reality. He tried to calm himself by focusing on the comforting warmth of Tori’s gentle breath against his back as she watched him work. 

“I think I can do this myself,” he nodded, trying to be confident. “But I’ll let you know if I need help.” 

“Okay,” Tori sighed behind him. “If you’re sure.” In the back of his mind, Wesley wished that she’d give him some kind of comforting touch, like rubbing his back or even just brushing her fingers against him. Anything to help him feel more grounded and calm. But, he knew she wouldn’t do that while he was still trying to focus and while he had a knife in his hand. 

“I’ll just make my own lunch over on the island then,” Tori said with a smile in her voice, clearly as an attempt to hide her own nerves about letting Wesley do this alone. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Wesley nodded, keeping his eyes on the knife as he cut through the lettuce. He could feel his eyes growing wider as he heard Tori take a few steps away. He knew she was still nearby, but the fact that he was in his own space now made him feel a pit in his stomach. He felt alone now, and he couldn’t deny that his nerves were at an all-time high now.

After putting down the knife, Wesley carefully gathered the lettuce he’d cut and dropped it into a borrower-sized bowl. Then, he picked up a small piece of tomato that Tori had left for him on the table and he stared down at it while he bit his lip hard. 

“You can do this,” he said with a deep breath. “It’s just another piece of food to cut through. You were taught how to be safe. You can do it.”

Wesley tried to calm his nerves and stop the slight shaking in his hands as he slowly picked up the knife again. With slight hesitation, he carefully sliced into the tomato and felt a small amount of tension leave his shoulders. He was doing this on his own. Sure, Tori was only a few feet away, but he was really doing it all by himself! 

He’d hoped that, as he kept going, things would get easier, but that wasn’t the case with this tomato. Instead, he felt like he was getting a worse and worse hold on both the tomato itself and the knife as his hands kept getting covered in tomato juice. Still, he kept a firm grip on the knife’s handle and felt his eyebrows furrow in concentration. He didn’t want to ask Tori for help. Not when he knew he could believe in himself and make a meal that was completely done by his own hand. 

He couldn’t deny that he was getting frustrated though as he had to slow down his pace from the slippery tomato juice. He knew he could still do this safely if he just took things one step at a time and didn’t rush anything. Eventually, an idea struck him as to how he could potentially help this situation. Maybe he could just ask for some paper towels to clean things up a little bit. Sure, that would still be asking for help, but it mean that Tori would take over cooking for him. He could still make his own food by himself if he just asked Tori for something to clean up the mess with. 

Never taking his eyes off the knife, Wesley turned to his left to look over his shoulder. What he didn’t think about though was that his intense stare on the knife meant that he was turning with the blade still held in front of him. He hardly seemed to notice though as his eyes stayed glued to the cool metal. 

“Hey, Tori. Could you-”

Just then, a loud knock boomed through the kitchen from the front door. By human standards, the knock was probably casual-sounding, but to Wesley, it almost sounded like thunder. The noise startled him so badly that his arms flailed, causing him to drop the knife. The blade slid across his forearm, not deep enough to do too much damage but enough to draw blood, then it fell to the floor with a clatter. 

Immediately, the sight of a long, thin line of blood forming across his forearm made Wesley stare at it with tunnel vision. He could hear a voice reverberate around him, but he wasn’t able to discern anything that it said. It was like he was trapped in a fishbowl, but he hardly cared about that. He was too busy trying to find air to breathe as the cut started to drip fresh blood onto the countertop under his feet. 

This was enough to make him feel all the blood drain from his face as his head felt dizzy. He’d never cared about the sight of blood before, but this was different. As he collapsed on his side to the cold countertop floor, Wesley knew why the sight and the sting of the cut horrified him so much. 

It looked and felt just like the cuts he’d gotten from the rose bushes when he’d tried to escape the pet store. 

The day he met Tori.

The day he almost died. 

As the room around him rumbled with movement and that voice kept speaking incoherently to him, Wesley felt like the stinging sensation was traveling all over his body, just like when he’d been covered in cuts from those thorns. He was convinced that, if he looked anywhere else, he’d see more slices in his skin everywhere. The pain became overwhelming until it seemed to congregate at the spot where he still had his largest scar on his abdomen. The one that almost made him bleed out right before he’d reached his freedom.

Looking at the countertop where his arm lay showed that a small pool of blood had formed from the cut. Surely, he was losing too much blood. Surely, he was going to die. 

His whole body trembled in agony and fear until he suddenly felt something heavy and warm against his side. It was a comforting presence. One he could’ve sworn that he’d felt before. It didn’t move against him, but the sensation made his focus turn to the voice that had been speaking all along. 

“Wes! It’s okay! I can help! Just look at me!” Tori’s panicked voice cut through his thoughts as he finally looked up to see what was weighing down on his side. The familiar sight of pink, soft skin told him that Tori had rested her hand on him, and his eyes traveled from her fingers up her arm until he finally reached her face. 

She looked scared. That was all he could think. Maybe she knew he was dying too. What would she do when he was gone? Would she find someone else? Would she forget about him? Wesley could feel hot tears rolling down his face at the thought, only to realize that he’d clearly already been crying before Tori’s hand shocked him to attention. 

“T-Tori,” he stammered as his body continued to shake. “M-my cuts… from those thorns… t-they’re back. A-am I g-going to d-die?”

The question made Tori’s expression morph from one of fear to one of deadly seriousness. 

“You’re not going to die, Wes,” she said sternly, but not in an angry way. More like she wanted to make sure that they both believed what she was saying. “I grabbed the first aid kit to help. I can help you, but I need to see your arm and I need you to sit up for me.” 

In a daze, Wesley moved to try and sit up, but he started to feel too dizzy. He thought he might collapse back down to the countertop, but Tori’s hand was instantly underneath him to help him up. She moved slowly, raising his head and shoulders centimeter by centimeter until he was completely sitting up with only a little dizziness. All the while, Wesley’s eyes didn’t leave the cut on his arm. The stinging in his abdomen didn’t subside either as Tori’s free hand pushed the borrower-sized table over to him so he could lean against it when her palm that supported him moved away. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Wes,” Tori said in a calmer voice. As quickly as possible, she grabbed the first aid kit from where she’d dropped it at her feet and she carefully set it on the counter a slight distance away from Wesley. When she opened it, she snatched up a cleansing wipe, some ointment, gauze, and a bandage. She thought that would be enough until she set the supplies next to Wesley and realized that the bandages and gauze would have to be much smaller for his size. In a flash, she’d raced over to one of the kitchen drawers, yanked it open, and grabbed the best pair of scissors she could find before approaching the borrower again. 

In an effort to be quicker, Tori haphazardly cut a small square out of the gauze and told herself she’d come back to the bandages later. She held the tiny gauze square out to Wesley on her pointer finger. 

“Can you hold this for me?” she asked with concern in her eyes. “Don’t put it on yet. Just hold it, please.” Without a word, Wesley reached out and took the gauze with his hand from his good arm and held it in his lap. 

“Good,” Tori nodded as she started to rip open the package that held the cleansing wipe. “Now, can you hold out your arm that’s cut?”

“I-I can’t,” Wesley stammered. “The cuts are e-everywhere!” When she saw that his eyes wouldn’t leave the wound, Tori let out a sigh, slowly brought her hand towards him, and tucked her pointer finger under his chin. The movement made Wesley’s eyes instantly lock with hers when she brought his chin up a little. The sight of his shocked and tear-stained face made Tori start to gently stroke his hair with her thumb in an effort to comfort him and calm him down. 

“Wes, listen to me,” she said softly. “Those cuts from the thorns are gone. You’re still safe. We just have to patch up this injury and then you’ll be fine.” While it appeared that Wesley was allowing his body to relax just a little, his eyes started to wander back to the bleeding mark on his arm. Tori gave him a small nudge with the finger that she still had under his chin, and immediately his gaze was locked with hers again. 

“Don't look. I will bandage it for you.” After a moment of hesitation, Wesley finally nodded before he let his eyes close to avoid staring at the cut any longer. Tori felt his body relax a bit more, so she took that as a cue to continue now that Wesley was calmer. 

Still trying to be quick, Tori finished opening the cleansing wipe and took it out of the package, causing a harsh chemical smell to fill the air. The scent made her wrinkle her nose a little, but her face steeled again as she got closer to Wesley. 

“This will probably sting,” she told him as she brought the wipe toward his injured arm. “But only for a second. Just keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

“O-Okay,” Wesley murmured with a small nod. With that, Tori carefully held his arm on the tip of her finger with her left hand and held the wipe in her right. She gave a wince of her own as she just barely pressed the wipe to his skin, causing Wesley to let out a hiss of pain. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Tori rambled before rapidly taking the wipe away. At least his skin looked clean now. He wasn’t bleeding as much anymore, especially since the cut looked like it was only slightly worse than a paper cut, so Tori felt a bit of relief. As gently as possible, she then applied a small amount of antibiotic ointment to the cut before turning her eyes to the gauze in Wesley’s lap. 

“Okay, Wes,” she said as she reached for the roll of bandages and the scissors. “I need to cut a bandage that’s your size. In the meantime, can you hold that piece of gauze on your cut? Keep looking away from it. Just put the gauze on it for a second.”

As Tori slid the scissors through the bandage to make a thin strip, Wesley carefully brought the gauze to his cut and slightly pressed down, all while keeping his eyes closed. The pain around the rest of his body was subsiding as he focused on taking deep breaths. He still felt a bit of sharpness in his abdomen, but it seemed to go away more and more each time Tori was touching him. 

“I’ll take that,” Tori said as she slowly put her own finger over the gauze on Wesley’s arm. “Thanks, Wes. I’m just going to wrap this bandage around your arm and then we’re all done.”

“Alright,” Wesley nodded, trying to keep calm. With a strip of bandage that looked like a thick piece of pasta, Tori carefully pressed one end of it under her finger that held the gauze. She did her best to both hold the gauze and wrap the bandage around Wesley’s arm, but it was proving to be difficult with her large fingers moving around his tiny appendage. 

With a huff to signal a change of plans, Tori let go of the supplies before grabbing onto the counter with both hands. She started to jump towards the countertop and before her feet could land, she had shrunk to less than three inches tall. 

“Much better,” she smirked as she approached Wesley and picked up the bandages to resume. 

Once she started to wrap his cut with more speed and ease, Wesley noticed how the sensations he was experiencing were no longer coming from fingers that were as long as he was tall. They were from hands that were just slightly smaller than his own. 

With hesitation, he allowed his eyes to flutter open before they widened in shock at the sight of Tori sitting next to him on the counter. It had only been a month since he’d learned that Tori was a shifter, and she didn’t change her size often enough for him to be used to the sight of her next to him like this. 

Tori didn’t seem to notice Wesley’s stare though. Instead, she remained focused on wrapping his arm snuggly with the bandage until she was able to tuck the end into the rest of the bandage to secure it. When she looked up, she had a gentle smile on her face that made Wesley’s cheeks feel hot. 

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked as she held his hand. The question and the warmth of her hand brought Wesley back down to earth even more. Somehow, Tori always knew what to do to pull him out of a panic attack, even a particularly scary one like that. Right now, she didn’t seem to realize just how much she’d saved him from falling completely into a pit of despair. She’d helped him so much that even the pain in his abdomen was gone. 

Instead of using his voice to reply, Wesley let out a relieved sigh, straightened his legs out in front of him, and motioned for Tori to come closer with his free hand. He didn’t let go of her hold as she scooted over to him and followed his lead to sit on his lap. When she was settled with her back against his chest, Wesley finally let go of her hand so he could wrap both his arms around her stomach to hold her close. He nuzzled his face into the hair on top of her head and held her just a bit tighter when he felt her hands start to rub up and down his arms. 

“Thank you, Tori,” he sighed into her hair. “Thank you so much.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, love,” she nestled into him even more. “I would do anything for you.” 

“I love you, Tori.” 

“And I love you too. Forever and always.”

[atcarpenter]

I think Sam would see a bit of herself in Tara as she internalized a lot of what people said about her growing up and what her mother said about her being Billy's daughter

I think Sam was a big girly girl growing up. She loved Barbie and bright colors and musicals and pop singers, which I'm taking from Melissa who said she was a theatre girlie and grew up obsessed with Britney Spears

I'm imagining Sam bringing little Tara into her room and listening to her favorite pop songs and singing along much to Tara's delight

But learning about her real lineage and dealing with Christina's abuse made her enjoy all those things less and less and Tara remembers seeing her go from really bright and happy to withdrawn

Amber had a similar experience, feeling she needed to adopt a false persona for the approval of others and it was only being with Tara and being more genuine that she learned that she didn't need to and she's now trying to unlearn all that she internalized

Amber would definitely have been a gamer girl which is another thing she felt she had to play up for Richie

I think Amber would realize more and more that her mom is trying her best and help her out as much as she can and find little ways to bond and for movie nights, tries to choose something her mom would enjoy and often falls asleep on her shoulder while watching

Even after she moves back to NYC, Amber makes an effort to keep in touch with her as much as possible

I cri 😭 These hcs are so cute, I love them, especially Sam & Tara having little happy moments like that in their childhood. As they reconnect, Sam is glad to still find a lot of these traits in Tara that she used to have herself, and now it's Tara singing along loudly to pop songs, even if it's a lil off key, while Sam is more subdued. Maybe she can also relearn to drop her facade and get back to some of the things that used to bring her joy

But I also really love the image of Amber falling asleep on her mom

I raise you this image as Sam and Tara:

Amber probably facetimes her mom every evening and the others butt in sometimes

I can imagine Richie being the type of person who rattles down an entire wikipedia article of whatever game he's into right now, and because Amber tries to keep up even if she doesn't know jack about the game, she actually bothers to learn whatever she can about it afterwards, and he never shows any interest in whatever she's currently playing, unless maybe it's horror and has gore in it

[theodorobrejafmp]

5. Research - Alpha Stamp for Clean Designs

For the high level necromancer, I wanted to experiment and learn hard surface sculpting for armours, as there are many characters which have armours, whether there are some small decorative pieces or full war armours.

For me, because so far I've only been used to organic sculpting, it was challenging to achieve those clean straight edges of the armour pieces, as well as the decorative pattern designs. Because of the deadline limit, I didn't have time to properly learn and experiment with hard surface techniques, which resulted in my armour pieces being a bit wobbly and uneven.

However, as part of my research, I decided to dive a bit deeper into this subject, so I can start my future projects with better understanding and a proper hard surface workflow.

At first, I started searching for tutorials that would showcase the process of armour sculpting. In his tutorial, Abe Leal shows a technique to sculpt ornaments using alpha masks from Photoshop. What I found very interesting is that after he makes the general shape in ZBrush, he retopologises it in Maya in order to get a clean UV map and achieve those clean straight borders. Until now, I've never thought of retopologising before finishing sculpting. Even if it takes more time, it definitely gives better and accurate results.

Fig.1: Ornaments and Other Details in ZBrush - Abe Leal 3D

Following, he imports the UV map in Photoshop where he places the designs and exports the image as a black and white PNG. That PNG texture is then imported in ZBrush and used as a mask to create those designs on a high poly model.

Another very useful tutorial I have found is from Ni Sian Liang, in which he explains his workflow when it comes to creating hard surface armour. He starts the same way that I did, extracting the armour mesh from the body using a mask, however, he uses other techniques after to make the edges clean. I will make sure to incorporate that in my future workflow.

Fig.2: Shoulder Armour Tutorial - Ni Sian Liang

For my research, I also searched for short courses which would go in depth on how to make a proper AAA game armour for the character. In my research, I have found an excellent course by Vadim Meshcherekov, in which he shows step by step with commentary how he created Casca's armour. After I finish my master, I will buy this course because and practice. Another thing that I really like about this model is that it combines the cloth which is done in Marvelous Designer, and the hard surface armour, showcasing a wide range of skills which I will be able to apply in other projects.

Fig.3: Flipped Normals, Casca's Armour - Vadim Meshcherekov

In addition, I have searched for articles on 80.lv, in order to get more technical insights of other artists' workflow. In his article, Krissana Kochsila goes through his workflow of modeling a stylized soldier.

Fig.4: 80.lv Hard Surface Character - Krissana Kochsila

In his workflow, besides showing useful techniques and the process he goes through when building character, he also makes really interesting remarks such as the functionality of the armour pieces and how the purpose of armour pieces should somehow give the design.

Fig.5: 80.lv Hard Surface Character - Krissana Kochsila

In my future projects, I will definitely experiment more with hard surface objects and create more complex garments for my characters. Now that I have a base of knowledge and I gathered the resources I need, I will have a better workflow when it comes to hard surface modeling.

Bibliography:

Fig.1: 3d, A. L. (2023) How to create ornaments and other details in ZBrush. YouTube. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IYoMOTQkCw

Fig.2: Lian, N. S. (2024) How to create shoulder Armor tutorial. YouTube. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abYfezqR6bI

Fig.3: Tutorial - Casca’s Armor (no date) FlippedNormals. Available at: https://flippednormals.com/product/tutorial-casca-s-armor-43832

Fig.4,5: Kochsila, K. (2020) Number 14: Hard-surface character production guide, .80.Lv. 80lv. Available at: https://80.lv/articles/number-14-hard-surface-character-production-guide

[fineartsjournal]

213341 Art Studio IIIA ⋆ Week 8 - Techno Pop

In about three weeks from here, we'll be revising our IPO based on our artistic developments so far.

My ideas have remained the same these past weeks, and it's worth mentioning an artist example that, despite being the love of my 10 year-old life, I will not be citing, rather comparing my own working philosophies to:

Kraftwerk - German pioneers of chirpy electronic pop, fully acclaimed and deeply influential to all things synthesizer. But beneath mechanical brand image and even colder sound, is a longstanding artist vision for the love of making.

It's a deeply innocent constant - novel technologies and transportation methods; and above all, songs about the music itself. Meaning doesn't need to be textural, the effort has already been put into making the song sound how it does, why distract the listener from all that hard work?

Instead, lyricism leaves the brain untethered by deconstructive ruminations and fully devoted to sound.

Of course, things have a tendency to loop back around, as a number of their songs, especially Nummen and Trans Europa Express have been sampled to oblivion throughout hip hop. (See Planet Rock and practically any song in the miami bass/hip-house genre)

This week, and for the first time ever, I christened the sampler. Plugged it in, checked everything twice, and turned it on. I'm still alive to tell the tale, so it was a success.

For my first ever bit of sampling on the machine, I chose a late 90s remix of Dreamchild by Strawpeople - it has a straightforward 4/4 beat, so it'd be good for experimenting with. And yes. It was a whole world of fun. And a weight off my shoulders.

Mood was high going into class that week, with Bena and I having a very productive conversation about where to take things.

Bena brought up the YouTube music video for Superstar by Jamelia, a which was removed from the site for a couple years for likely legal reasons. In its absence, Bena stumbled across this shoddy 2008 video camera recording of the music video, which has been terribly compressed, with audible mouse-clicks and shuffling; achieved by pointing a camera at the monitor and hitting record.

The dude's channel is filled with videos like these, all of them barely legible, audible, or even playing properly.

There's an appeal in the uncannily 'out of time', garishly degraded to the point that it seems deliberate - I myself experimented in this last year, taking a blurry screenshot from an early 2000s game, compressing it to the point of distortion, then using AI to upscale it back to the size it was before.

The article In Defense of the Poor Image by Hito Steryl (and recommended by Bena) validates the artistic importance of the lo-fi image in the frame of class struggle; of the hierarchy of quality, of somehow being more real, believable; the more compressed, copied and shrunken the image gets.

This also happens with music; with the polished, focus-group-tested sound of pop feeling uncannily removed from human connection, even the face of the performer seems untouchable - whereas rougher, utterly imperfect sound, brand image, it's closer to what we know.

So what am I really trying to convey here? The plunderphonic techniques that have inspired my work so far are dated - I've been sticking to the roots of the style; but for me, I see a good reason for it.

Here's why.

Back in the 1970s, there was this proto-punk band called Suicide, composed of two dirt-poor artists, stylistically out of time, making rockabilly compositions on nothing but an organ and a drum machine. They were poorly received at the time, and shows would turn violent.

Their philosophy was much the same as In Defense of the Poor Image - to stand against music as some luxurious escapism. They would lock the venue doors, and bring the destitution and decay of the streets into the venue with them.

I've been inspired, as such, to 'bring the streets' into the compositions I wish to make - find ugliness in well-crafted veneers and chop, remix and amplify them until they stand in utter spite of source material.

And much in the spirit of Oswald once more, the way in which I present this should reflect this disorderly approach, thinking of the space in which the audience interacts.

A somewhat outdated, but charmingly rebellious example would be the USB dead drop, an artful, practical - and subversive - way of sharing information, devised by Aram Barthoull.

In a musical context, it evokes the less-than-legal filesharing of the early 2000s, or of John Oswald's distribution of the Plunderphonics album, allowing listeners to "...tape it off the radio for free."

I want to audience to engage with it as such, and in physical form, that would be a USB, elevated on a plinth, for which anyone is free to come up, download from, and even share; an ugly-fied pop song, for perhaps an air of grounding 'real'-ness to the listening of music.

I hope they don't think it has something to do with Marcel Duchamp.

[aintashes]

standing with the resolve of a redwood in the face of his potential demise is something that daryl is unfortunately very familiar with. it would be impossible for him to think back and count the number of times he's been tied up, or forced to his knees with a gun to his head, or otherwise had his life threatened. but those times were all strictly human. evil or ill-intentioned, perhaps, but still human. right now, daryl doesn't have humanity to fall back on.

watching paimon's limbs move churns his gut in an entirely new way: it's like watching a spider uncurl its legs, or a hydra unravel its heads, or a bird of prey unfurl its wings, or a beast yawn open its toothy mouth— daryl has to blink hard, shaking his head a little like he's willing all of the images to align. paimon is incredibly difficult to look at sometimes, he realizes; there are moments where it feels like he's looking at a cosmic chaos head on before suddenly, everything is in focus again. the jarring changes threaten to give him a headache.

but then paimon ventures closer, every nerve ending in daryl's body vibrating with alarm as a hookclawed hand reaches for him. touches him. anyone else knocking their knuckles upon the crown of his head and running their fingers through his hair would be innocuous. not a speck of physical harm done. but the touch of a demon comes like a bucket of lava over his scalp, dripping boiling tendrils down to his shoulders and following that invisible talon down his spine. for a moment, the unreal heat of pure terror that rakes out from every point of contact distracts him from how he's trembling in the chill of the night.

as paimon speaks, daryl thinks he's going to skin him like a rabbit. he's learned that he shouldn't put anything of the sort past a metaphysical being sent from hell, and quite frankly, he's convinced that paimon is playing with his food before he eats it right now. he could just be scaring daryl, showing him some of what he's really capable of— or he could be having a little bit of fun before eviscerating him into a pile of ribbons to be arranged neatly at peter's door.

but no. the only rabbits daryl has to deal with right now are the ones that suddenly appear on his feet in the form of slippers. as he looks down at them, flinching at the abrupt weight of a robe appearing on his body, he meets a perturbing gaze that looks way too much like peter's. way too real. in disgust, he shoves them off and steps his sore feet back onto the grass, hands gripping the soft fabric of the robe before it disappears entirely.

the whirlwind doesn't stop, however. despite the harrowing journey out here and the distress that's clenching his throat, daryl fears that it's just beginning. as paimon rotates through different pieces of clothing, forcing him to feel the horrors that usually only plague his mind and not his body, daryl can only look down at himself in dreadful wonder: somehow, paimon knows things about him. things he hasn't even told peter. articles like negan's leathers and will dixon's coat form to his body for just long enough to start his mind reeling in misery before switching to the next awful incarnation of his traumas.

merle's shirt sticks to him like dried blood as the cycle finally pauses. if there's any piece of clothing he's at least somewhat comfortable in despite the pain of him being gone, it's this one. a part of his mind is grateful for the moment of respite. ‘ you just here to gloat? ’ daryl asks, though he hesitates to engage with paimon more than just staring at him and he's surprised his tight jaw let him speak at all.

‘ f' you know everythin' already then lemme go. ’

bold. but if paimon is going to kill him, he may as well be.

paimon watches the pieces slowly slot together in daryl's brain with an amused blend of patience and mania. in truth, since he was called to earth by ellen, he realises he's encountered only a handful of people with the backbone that this man possesses. no entity has been a match for him yet— especially not a human, weak and frail as they are— but he's hoping that this one presents him with some kind of challenge.

                       i see you're already meddling with sigils. adorable!

"you are even quieter up close," paimon observes, limbs untangling in an uncanny whirlwind of movement, "that's okay. i tend to get a lot of screaming, so this is a nice change of pace for me." a taloned hand knocks lightly atop the archer's head, as if rapping on a door, before he begins to circle him like the ghost of a vulture. "forgive me for scoping out the goods, it's just... oh! i'm so U̷̷N̷̶͡B̶̢E̸̷L̶I̵E̴͡V̸̡͟A̶B̶L̵͢Y҉̴ excited!"

fingers brush through his hair, one large invisible finger breezing down the length of the man's spine before he takes note of his shivering.

"ah, silly me, you must be freezing your little keister off! human skin isn't that good at its job, hm?" with a loud snap of his fingers, something covers the length of daryl's body; a very pink, VERY fluffy robe, complete with a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers. if he cares to look closer, he'll notice that the eyes imprinted onto the front of the fabric are disturbingly human.

                                                                     disturbingly peter.

"mm— the colour's complimentary but i'm not sure about the composition..." with a series of contemplative noises, the demon backs off a short ways— as if to take him in fully— as he begins to cycle through a different array of outfits. mechanic overalls. burial robes. the tattered remains of a homeless man. dog's pelt. negan's leather jacket. his father's coat. merle's most worn overshirt— "i have an eye for this stuff, don't worry, just be patient. SO! are you having fun with my future body, mr. dixon? not too much fun, i hope?" there's a moment of silence before the demon barks out a sharp, cacophonous laugh. "HAHA! i'm just kidding, dixie! of course i know what you think of the guy! i know everything!"

[madelgard]

*BURSTING IN THROUGH A WINDOW* I'm extremely calm about your WIP folder. I really want to read all of them but I shall be strong and humbly ask:

Can I get a snippet of the MottixJerjerrod scandalous photos? I'm SO curious on what constitutes a scandal -- guessing it depends which of the two we ask, but still

and as a bonus, I would love to know more about Venka catching Veers/Piett because I adore Venka and Veers/Piett is my comfort ship.

Going to stare at these a bit longer because I love them all. The whole list of Piett/Jerjerrod too ah I'm LOOKING

I am pulling you through the window, my friend.

Can I get a snippet of the MottixJerjerrod scandalous photos? I'm SO curious on what constitutes a scandal -- guessing it depends which of the two we ask, but still

With a click of his slender finger, Jerjerrod activated the holodisk. Motti sat back and watched the image flicker to life.

Surely it couldn’t be that bad.

Surely—

Oh.

There, hovering in a vivid, electric blue, was the news article. SCANDAL ON SESWENNA, ran the headline. Images of their private seaside getaway flashed below: Jerjerrod in his swimming briefs, snug enough to show off every small dip and swell of his narrow landscape; the two of them on the beach, by the pool, holding hands for a walk; there was even a photo of—

“I should never have let you apply suncream to me out here in the open,” Jerjerrod whined. He was flushed crimson, his lower lip wobbling. “And that caption is obscene.”

Leaning forward, Motti read aloud, “Pictured below: An intimate shot showing the Moff of the Quanta sector topless and having suncream rubbed into his buttocks by longtime companion Admiral Conan Antonio Motti.” Longtime companion, was he? He wasn’t sure he liked that one. Too casual, really. Too impermanent. It was the sort of phrase he would have used to describe his mother’s dog.

He glanced at Jerjerrod, taking in the sad slope to his shoulders, and the convulsive bob of his Adam’s apple. Worry was slashed clear across his features.

A pang of guilt wracked through him. But he wasn’t quite sure what to say. The sight of his own nudity never bothered him; likewise, having his relationship with Jerjerrod touted as incontrovertible fact did nothing to unsettle him. To the contrary, he was pleased. People would see this and they would know that the two of them were linked. Enmeshed. A pair.

There was nothing he wanted more.

But Jerjerrod was despondent at the loss of his privacy, as ever. And with the weight of Core-world prejudices and his own family’s gilded expectations bearing down on him, it was no wonder he looked fit to crumple.

With a bright smile and a casual shrug, Motti flicked off the holodisk. “You look great in the photo, Ti. Best buttocks I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you,” Jerjerrod mumbled. He collapsed down in the seat, sighing dramatically. “My father receives this news bulletin, you know. Daily. It’s got the only pan-galactic stocks readout he trusts.”

“And you’re worried he’s going to see your buttocks and choke on his caviar, huh.”

and as a bonus, I would love to know more about Venka catching Veers/Piett because I adore Venka and Veers/Piett is my comfort ship.

Ok for this one I have some notes that might interest you:

It's Venka's fault for doubling back into that meeting room after the debriefing to retrieve his datapad, he really should get better about losing that thing. He's gotten written up three times already for leaving it behind, and he cannot get caught at it again. So he doubles back, spots it and grabs it, and then his first instinct when someone else comes into the room is to quickly hide under the desk like an idiot.

The people who come into that room are, of course, General Veers and Captain Piett. Oh, good, Venka thinks. Surely they’ll have a quick chat and just…leave.

And then what they have is not a quick chat, but actually rather lengthy sex.

Venka is under that table when they have sex because that is his luck.

They have sex on the table.

It's rough going.

And thanks to the wonder of mirrored surfaces, Venka has an unfortunate view of exactly how much of Veers that Piett can take. Which is all of him.

[violetsandfluff]

Angel in Disguise

Word count: 3.1k

Pairing: Frat boy Harry and singer!Y/N

Summary: Harry meets his crush and she shows him that she loves him too; more than he could have ever guessed.

Trigger warnings: smut/sex (unprotected), pet names, swearing, slight degradation, slow burn, probably more, but, ya know… the stuff.

A/N: This didn’t take me too long, but I proofread and fixed it more than anything I’ve ever written for tumblr. I hope you enjoy it! <3

They’d seen each other before, fitful and futile attempts for Harry to connect with her. He was convinced she couldn’t see him, that there was a blind spot in her eye that shielded him from her view. She was one of the only girls on the planet that could brush him off without a word. Without a reason. Without a glance.

For the sensitive people out there, even the ones who leaned more toward the cocky side, this was discouragement at its finest. But Harry was not sensitive, nor overly cocky. He, mixed with Y/N, was the perfect storm.

He had been open about his feelings from her from the beginning. He had been invited on The Ellen Show to play ‘Who’d You Rather,’ and it was no surprise who won.

“She’s outrageously attractive,” he stuttered, unable to look Ellen in the eye. “I mean, really, have you ever seen a more gorgeous woman?”

This simple line found its way into many ears throughout the world, two of which were Y/N’s.

She couldn’t really escape it, with her followers tagging her in every repost of the clip. It tickled her to see that she had a man, who she’d never met, in the palm of her hand like that.

After the internet had exploded with this information, all interview hosts seemed to be asking Harry about her, and her about Harry. She seemed to be all he talked about for months, and she devoured every word for it.

After all, who would let such a cute man’s words slide off like that?

“Tell me, what part of Y/N do you find most attractive?”

“She’s got a breathtaking face,” he would sigh wistfully, “and gorgeous curves. Her personality is so… bold and striking.”

He had come across her by fate on the street once, after the initial revealing of his love. She had come close enough to him so her shoulder brushed against his side, but she’d continued walking in the opposite direction, like a model, like nothing had ever happened.

Harry had turned to watch her go, hurt, lust, and adoration illuminating his face. There were articles plastered over the internet and tabloids the next day, of him gawking at her as she has, literally, brushed him off.

He couldn’t stand this, the mere thought of her touching him would harden his cock faster than anything. He touched himself religiously to mental images of her, as a soundtrack of her songs and speaking voice flowed through his head. He came into jars on a nightly basis too, imagining they were her tight pussy. He wondered what it was like to hear her sweet voice moan. Thinking of that sent him practically over the edge. What would her lips feel like?

“You released your new album, Harry’s House, more than a month ago now, and the world is going absolutely mad over it,” A sly smirk crossed over the interviewer’s face. “I’m sure you talk about that quite a bit nowadays, so allow me to shake things up. Harry, if you had to ask Y/N one question, what would it be?”

Harry chuckled. He hadn’t been asked this for a while, but he was still used to answering it. Every answer that he’d used in response to this was different. It was always untrue, but it was somewhat amusing nonetheless.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned, using a hand to stroke his chin as if he were in deep contemplation. “Many things.”

“Just one, mate.”

At this point, the audience began to murmur and point behind him, but he knew better than to turn around. He had been fooled one time too many.

“What’s your favorite flower?”

This was nothing compared to the one question that dwelled in the darkest parts of his overactive mind. A question that wouldn’t see the light of day for anything.

“Tulips and buttercups.”

A sweet voice tickled Harry’s ears from behind, causing him to whirl around. He blushed deeply, beginning beneath the collar of his shirt and spreading up his cheeks. The world’s most beautiful girl was standing behind him, smiling sweetly, and touching his shoulder.

The audience laughed out loud at his surprise and he immediately folded his hands, placing them subtly over his lap. Convenient.

She bent down to give him a big hug from behind as he sat, awkwardly, wringing his hands and kicking himself internally for not hugging her back.

That could have been his last chance, but dirty scenarios were already flooding his mind. They brought a dark smirk to his face and caused him to tune out the interview host and the beautiful girl sitting beside him. Her hips could be good for a whole lot.

He drifted slowly out of his daydream, just in time to hear his name after what was supposed to be a question.

“What?” he had to ask as he noticed the other two staring at him.

“Did you hear the question?” Y/N joked, giving his arm a playful slap.

“No,” he admitted sheepishly, drawing laughter from the audience. “Sorry.”

Y/N giggled as she repeated the question Jeremy had asked him. “What initially attracted you to me? Did you catch it that time?”

He chose to ignore the second part, thinking about the potential of the first part. “Your personality…” he stammered, all too aware of the chatter going on in the audience and at the pair of gorgeous hazel eyes that twinkled from beside him. “You’re really pretty…”

“Good answer,” Jeremy confirmed and Y/N gave a half-smile, showing off her dimple as she put her arm around his shoulder. She must have been able to feel his pulse in the blood that pounded through the veins on his back, though, because she drew back quickly.

But that didn’t keep Harry from internalizing the feeling.

Jeremy handed a stack of thick laminated cards to both singers before explaining the rules. “You are going to read the other one a question. They will be required to answer it to the best of their ability. Understand?”

“Yes,” the pair replied in unison.

“Y/N, ladies first.”

She cheerfully picked the top card off the stack, giggling as she read it. “This is fun! Who do you dream about most often?”

“Niall, Louis, Liam, and Zayn,” he replied honestly. Despite how many hot nights he had spent under her sheets in his dreams, his mind always went back to mourning the loss of his 1D days. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question?”

When Jeremy and Y/N nodded their confirmation, he nearly choked upon reading the top card. “Are you single?” He was being set up and he knew it. And he loved it.

“Yeah,” she replied with a toss of her beautiful hair. “And ready to mingle.”

“A better question is,” Jeremy added, “it’s Friday afternoon. You think you’ll still be single tomorrow morning?”

“Who knows?” she tossed the curly-headed boy beside her a tantalizing gaze. “I prefer to go with the flow.”

He laughed out loud at the comment, shifting the cards into his lap. Couldn’t he keep it in his pants for a few minutes?

After more questions and painful giggles, the interview was over and Harry was alone with Y/N backstage.

“I love that shirt on you,” she mentioned as she tugged at his collar. “It makes your eyes look really green.”

He grinned at her and they gave each other a mutual hug.

“Do you wanna come somewhere with me?” he asked and she nodded her approval.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“Out for dinner somewhere,” he responded, touching his hair nonchalantly.

“Of course!” she followed him as he headed for the exit, grinning at his sweet manor. “Or we could order takeout and eat it at my place,” she suggested and Harry agreed with that.

“I can call it in if you tell me what you want.”

“What do you want?” Harry asked his princess. “It’s up to you.”

She suggested an Italian restaurant that she loved and he found their menu as she slid into her car and he slid into his.

“Tell me what you want, quick,” he said, leaning his head out of the door.

“I’ll have chicken Alfredo,” she decided and his cheeks heated up, excited about the concept of being at her house.

“Okay! I’ll order it and have it delivered to… where?”

She gave him her address and he repeated it back as he prepared to dial the number on his phone. He was pleased with how his day was going. He was pleased that he had exchanged words and physical contact—hugs!—with Y/N. He just wanted to kiss her. That would make his day the best in history.

- - -

“You’re so cute,” he had barely gotten in the door and Y/N was already in front of him, arms hanging loosely around his neck, drawing him down to her height. “Can you kiss me?”

He groaned at the feeling of her hands on his face as she pressed her lips against his. They burned with passion he had no idea she felt for him and tasted like… true love. Not cheap, meaningless love, but real, dangerous love.

He opened his mouth for leverage and she took the opportunity to slip inside and begin exploring his mouth with her tongue. She tasted so good.

He moaned as he felt her tongue caress the inside of his cheek, stimulating him in ways he craved.

Her tongue slipped over the roof of his mouth, leaving a tingling sensation behind in its tracks.

The kiss only broke when there was a knock on the door and Harry straightened to open it. He exchanged a few words with the delivery person and Y/N grew increasingly irritated with the time he was taking. She placed his palm on top of hers and her other hand on top as he shut the door, setting down the food on the table beside the door.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, holding back giddy giggles.

“I wanna keep kissing you,” she explained. “You taste so sweet, feel so good on my tongue.”

“You taste exquisite yourself, cutie pie,” he commented as he smashed his lips back against hers.

She groaned out of pure joy as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, enjoying a flavor he could never find anywhere else. After kissing that pretty girl, he never wanted to put his lips on anyone else.

Her hands wandered curiously into his hair and she began twirling it subconsciously, syncing the twists to the movement of her tongue.

Eventually they pushed off of each other and walked into the living room with their food and Y/N directed Harry to the floor behind her coffee table, and in front of her couch.

He knelt awkwardly between the furniture, opening his takeout box as she turned on the television.

“Do you want anything to drink, Y/N?”

“Yeah. Actually… I have something.” She headed towards the kitchen and opened the cupboard, pulling out a bottle of wine and some glasses. “If you want any.”

She knelt beside him on the floor and opened her box, too.

Friends was playing as they ate, but they were doing anything but paying attention to it.

With every bite, Y/N scooted a little closer to Harry, until she was practically in his lap.

He noticed.

“Sweet angel, what are you doing?” he asked as she leaned against the side of his arm.

She used her fork to twirl up some pasta and she turned to look at Harry. “Try some!”

“Don’t want any, sorry,” he grinned as she put a hand on his knee to help her lean closer to him. She pushed her fork against his lips and he ate the pasta off of it, the thought of her mouth on it making him salivate.

“Is it good?”

He nodded. “It’s pretty good, but I’m full,” he leaned back against the couch behind them and sighed contentedly.

She turned to set her fork back down in her box before going back to Harry and licking a stripe across his face.

“What was that for?” he asked, stunned by her audacious actions.

“You look so yummy,” Y/N took a sip of her wine before turning around and sitting perpendicular to him. “I can get wet just looking at your gorgeous face, your curls, your soft, pink lips…”

He couldn’t help but admire her. He wondered if the extra pigment in her cheeks was makeup, the wine, or him. It was too perfect. It had to be makeup, right?

The way her eyelashes fluttered when she blinked was a drug to him. She was everything he wanted and so much more. She was his entire life.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants as she sat up and turned to look at him.

He grabbed her face and immediately began kissing her all over.

She sat there, in shock, as her face was covered in messy kisses. She shifted her body into his lap and felt how hard he was beneath her.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N,” he groaned. “Get offa me.”

“You’re…”

He looked at the ground, thoroughly embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

“It’s alright,” she assured him, “it’s cute.”

“It’s cute?”

“Yeah,” she kissed his cheek. “Where do you wanna go?”

His mouth fell open as he tried not to smile. “Your house, your choice.”

“This old couch should suffice, hm?”

He nodded, waiting for her permission to undress.

“Do you want to…”

He nodded desperately as she locked her lips onto his neck and kissed, tongue roaming around his skin.

He moaned continuously as she grabbed his pants zipper, giving it a tiny tug and urging him to take it off as she pulled up her skirt.

He gawked at seeing her panties, just thinking of her pussy underneath got his mind racing.

He unzipped his pants as he kissed her jaw and she could see a prominent erection in his underwear.

“Can I… suck you?” she asked, and the question alone caused him to moan.

“Please!”

He pulled his underwear off and dropped them beside him as he sat on the couch and she knelt before him, between his legs.

He tasted so good for her, the precum tasting like summer and joy.

“God… fuck…” he murmured as he felt her tongue lick long strokes up and down his cock. “Feels so good, princess,” he breathed. “Keep going, fuck, I already need to cum.”

“You can’t cum yet,” she mumbled through her mouthful. “I’ve barely gotten started with you.”

She loved the feeling of his skin beneath her tongue, the veins that were present on his length. He tasted so wonderful, and every move she made seemed to turn him on more and more.

He moaned almost ceaselessly as her tongue and lips wracked his cock, until she instructed him to cum. The release was impressive.

His eyes squeezed shut and his toes curled, as he moaned her name repeatedly.

“You’re okay,” she assured him as his orgasm reached an end, licking the leftover cum from her lips. “What now?”

He pressed his hard cock to her dripping pussy as he shifted to a lying position on her couch, pulling her on top of him.

She rode his cock, bouncing up and down on him as enjoyment played in his face, mixed with a withheld orgasm.

“You’re hot,” she said and the simple words made him throw his head back with a moan.

“I just want to fuck you.”

“Y/NNNNN,” he moaned and she grinned, moaning back.

“Harryyyy.”

Tears came to his eyes as he tried not to cum again, bucking his hips. Hearing her voice was amazing. But hearing her moan his name?

“You can’t cum yet, silly fuck. You’ve barely been in me for thirty seconds!” She must have seen the look of pain on his face, though, because she slowed down enough to give him a kiss on his cheek and ask if he wanted to keep going.

Once his consent was given and accepted, she sat back up as he drove his hard cock into her from below.

A burning sensation crept stealthily through her stomach as she bounced a little on his cock, as if she were riding a horse.

“Fuck, Harry,” she groaned. “You feel so good in me.”

He moaned before pleading one final time for her to let him cum, and she did, cumming right alongside him. The warm juices filled her cunt so well, she could barely breathe. She sat up in a bewildered Harry’s arms and nuzzled her face against his neck as the last of her orgasm exited her body.

“What did you really want to ask me earlier?”

“What?” he opened his sleepy green eyes, frowning in confusion.

“What did you want to ask me at the interview,” she repeated and he sighed wistfully. “I promise, I’ll answer.”

“How do you make me feel this way?”

“What way?”

“So good, so fucking good. So hard, all I wanna do is kiss you until we’re tired of it. Then I wanna lie down with you and sleep in your arms.” These sleepy thoughts provoked a deep yawn out of him and she grinned, stroking his hair gently.

“I don’t know, but I sure do love you.” A delicate kiss was placed upon his swollen lips as she directed him to the shower to rinse off as she cleaned up her couch. “This is more cum than I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” she remarked.

Harry groaned as he walked into her bathroom. It was immaculate. It practically sparkled and the counters… seemed a perfect height to ruin.

He stepped into the shower and rinsed himself off. He knew damn well he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he was all sweaty and covered in cum.

When he emerged from the shower, Y/N directed him to her bed and tucked him in among the silky pillows and sheets.

“I’ll be right back,” she explained, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You go to sleep.”

He waited up for her, despite her instructions, and she came back into the room clean and fresh.

She climbed into bed beside him and he nuzzled his nose into her damp hair. It smelled so good. He should go out and buy some just to smell and remind him of her.

“Sleep tight, darling,” she mumbled. “Do you wanna be big spoon or little spoon?”

He hesitated for a moment before deciding, “Little spoon.”

She rolled over as he curled up and cuddled up around him. Her hands rested comfortably on his lower torso and he fell asleep almost instantly at her touch, but not before asking, “So are you going to be single tomorrow morning?”

“I don’t know,” she grinned mysteriously. “Only time will tell. Sweet dreams!”

“Can we do it again tomorrow morning?”

Taglist: @madybeth21 @fishingirl12 @groovychaosavenue @sortingharryshairclip @mimischaos @mrspeacem1nusone

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Becky let out a yawn as she and Mrs. Botsford finally received some documents after searching through multiple archives and scouring websites for information about Steven and Professor Carl Woods. Long hours and eye strains were finally payed off. Mrs. Botsford handed Wordgirl a small folder for her to look through while she made some more cocoa for them. Wordgirl glanced at the clock which showed the time. It was nearly 4:30 pm. Becky sighed. She wouldn't have time to look through all the files they accumulated before she had to head back home for dinner. There was no way her dad would allow her to skip eating despite the importance of the situation they were facing. 'I wonder how Steven did on his first day as a henchman?' Wordgirl thought casually. She knew being a henchmen was a lot of hard work from observing Joey and Charlie helping her dad. She hoped he didn't put Steven through too much criminal work since the guy was only supposed to be a temporary henchman. Wordgirl did not hear any alarms go off with her super hearing so she figured her dad was just planning his future crimes today rather than committing one. Becky decided to look through what she could in the documents before she and Huggy had to head home for dinner. On top of the document was general information about Northic University which was the campus where Professor Woods taught and Steven attended before their kidnapping. Becky just skimmed through that file, nothing noticeable or important catching her eye. She did pause in her skimming and took time to read an article about parts of the campus being haunted. In the article it said that students reported seeing glimpses of a humanoid figure wandering around the campus, but the figure always quickly vanished before anyone could get a good look at their physical features. Becky briefly wondered with worry if this "mysterious figure" was somehow connected to the people who kidnapped Steven and Carl and if the figures were spies. Her concerns were not profound as these "spies" did a terrible job at remaining unseen and were spotted in random spots, hardly anywhere near the lab Steven worked at where Gene was contained. She decided it wouldn't hurt to ask Steven about this urban legend later. It might end up being a fun and nice anecdote for the man to recall. Becky then picked up an old photograph of Professor Carl Woods. The man looked to be in his mid to late 30s, maybe close to early 40s. He had brown hair that was a mix of curly and slightly spiky bangs. The scientist also had green eyes and was sporting a beard and mustache. His face had a friendly demeanor despite his long and sharp nose. Becky couldn't help but feel a strange sense of deja vu and nostalgia when she saw the image of Professor Carl Woods. "Hey Huggy. Look at this picture of Professor Carl Woods." She stated to her sidekick. Huggy hopped on Wordgirl's shoulders and peered to see the image. "Don't you think this guy looks a lot similar to how dad used to look before the accident?" Wordgirl asked aloud to her sidekick. Huggy examined the image closely for a bit. His eyes then widened in surprise as he nodded with a chatter of agreement to the young hero. This man seem to share a lot of similar features to how Becky's dad used to look before the accident. Both heroes noted how erie the coincidence was. Becky decided to shrug it off and resumed shifting through the papers. So far there was nothing out of the ordinary to indicate government involvement with the college nor with Professor Woods. It seemed that though the professor was usually private when he did his work, he wasn't completely closed off and let assistants help him in his work. He just did present his work in public media as much as other scientists did back then. As Wordgirl looked through the papers, she didn't notice a newspaper clipping slip out from the documents. Not until her sidekick saw and called out to her about the fallen paper. "What's that Huggy?" Wordgirl asked her sidekick. She saw him pointing toward the fallen item. Becky picked it up and began reading.

@drtwobrainsstuff

(this is for the rp idea we talked about on discord)

His lungs were burning as he ran. His whole body ached with pain, screaming at him to slow down, stop and rest. But he couldn't do that, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to run, had to get away from the monsters that imprisoned him. He had to get away from those who treated him no better than the human test subjects they had kept, locked in those horrific conditions, only kept alive for unethical experimentation. Deep down, his survival instincts were telling him to keep running, stay ahead, survive! He knew what would happen if THEY caught him. It was still dark out, but soon the man noticed an large and brightly lit billboard. The man let curiosity slow him down as he read the words printed on the billboard through bleary eyes. 'Fair City: An Upstanding Place To Live - 500ft ahead. The man let out a short, elated laugh despite the dryness in his throat. He finally found civilization. He finally found a place he could hide from his pursuers for long enough before he could fully recover from his ordeal. A hopeful thought appeared in his mind, one that motivated him, gave him a reason to live through his past nightmare. 'Maybe this city has the resources I need to finally find him.' The man thought with a hopeful smile. He took a deep breath before running again, towards this "Fair City". "Don't worry Carl." The man said aloud to himself, "I will find Gene and a way to free you."

Becky yawned as she was awoken by the light coming into her room through the window. She got up and then glanced over at her pet monkey Bob who was still dozing lazily on his bean bag bed. Feeling Becky's glance, Bob slowly fluttered his eyes as he stared groggily at the young human looking child. "Morning Bob, ready to seize another glorious summer day with fun activities?" Becky enthusiastically said with a broad smile. Bob just blinked at her before rolling on his back, pretending to still be asleep. Becky huffed with annoyance at Bob's response. She hopped out of bed and walked towards him, now standing over the primate. "Come on Bob, it's a beautiful day outside. There is a lot of fun outdoor activities we can do while the sun is out. You can be lazy on rainy days." Becky stated with her hands on her hips. Bob just grunted, not convinced by her words. Becky sighed in defeat. "Will you please come outside with me if we have a picnic/tea party today?" Becky pleaded with Bob. She really wanted to spend an active day with one of her best friends today, especially since her other best friend Violet was at art camp for the whole summer again. She would have joined Violet if not for her hero duties and her lack of artistic talent keeping her homebound. Bob gave a small, affirmative chirp and an thumbs up. Becky smiled in delight. "Great, now let's head down for breakfast and get a head start on our summer vacation. Becky put on her clothes and went downstairs followed by Bob who was also eager for breakfast.

Soft humming could be heard from the kitchen as he placed down a plate filled with steaming freshly scrambled eggs and crispy side of bacon. It was lovingly made, even looking appealing to Dr. Two-Brains himself despite it having none of his beloved cheese in it. Perking up as he heard his daughter head down from her room. What perfect timing, the villain thought to himself. As always Becky didn't need him to wake her. He was still in his rather comfortable pajamas. Hair in his curlers as he didn't bother to change out of them just yet. Feeding his daughter was more important on his agenda for the morning. It didn't take long for him to prepare an omelette mixture for himself. Back turned as he heard Becky enter the kitchen and sat herself at the table. He of course couldn't forget Bob. Having a plate of food prepared for him as well.

"Good morning Princess! Anything planned for today?" He cheerfully greeted his daughter, back turned to them. When she began to tell him about her plans, he was reminded of the dream that had woken him up in a cold sweat. It had been awhile since he had that reoccurring dream. Him in his father's lab, the men barging in. Chaos breaking loose in a matter of seconds. His father no where in sight as he saw his old friend in the chaos in the floor before he was ripped away. Screaming out a name he hadn't spoken in so long.

"ad..?" It took Becky multiple times to break him from his deep thoughts.

"Dad? Dad are you okay? Your food is starting to burn. " She seemed worried, it wasn't often that he'd mess up whatever he cooked.

"Sorry sweetheart, guess my minds on something else today." He chuckled in a sheepish manner. Immediately focusing at the task at hand. Doing what he could to fix his own breakfast. Seems like crispy cheese was on the menu today. That was alright. He'd eat it anyway, Squeaky would've had a conniption if he dared to waste precious cheese.

Once placing the salvaged breakfast for himself on the table, Dr.Two-Brains joined his daughter abit too late as she finished hers as he sat down. She thanked him and gave her father a kiss on the cheek before heading out excitedly. He smiled at her, she was already so independent. A thought came to his mind. Pretty soon she won't need him at all. Growing up so fast. He could still remember the days of when she was a toddler. Becky had gone through a phase where she stuck to him. Literally. He loved to tease and remind her about it.

What was with him and reminiscing about the past today? He had found it ominous today. Sure he thought about those past events before but it was different this time. He didn't know why but he had to shake it off. Squeaky had been getting impatient with him, wanting them to eat their meal already. Giving in as he didn't want to deal with the rodents tantrums so early in the morning yet.

@ninjastormhawkkat

[starshipsofstarlord]

The Eyes Are Lined

Summary: whilst on the last days of set of filming the show where he plays Tommy Lee, Sebastian is greeted with a surprise guest in his trailer, and he is certainly not going to be one to complain whence he’s gets a treat as sweet as you

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (male + female receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, p in v, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, teasing, fingering, pet names

Word Count: 4133

Masterlist Link

It fell from his lips as a relieved sigh, it had felt like forever since he had last seen you, and as he took in your form coiled in a baggy sweatshirt of his and hopefully nothing more, he was fast to close and lock the door behind himself. His tongue darted out to swipe the upon the underbite of his lip as he stepped slowly forwards in his adjourned flip flops, the wide shorts hanging off his legs. For this role he had very much diversified his appearance; lost weight, changed his hair, worn temporary tattoos - yet from the prowess that resonated through your eyes, nothing in the way of your attraction had changed.

“Sebba.” You greeted him with a wide smile, dismissing your phone that had been in your hand to the side of the couch, and crawling off the seat that you had taken up residence in. Instantly, your arms wrapped around his sleek torso, taking in the aroma of his deodorant that obliterated the senses through your nostrils. He pulled your face up with the grip of his heavy palm against your courteous cheek, as his breath fanned against the platter of your forehead.

“You’re here early, shooting doesn’t finish for another three days.” He stated, the grin that was tugging at his features clearly showing that he was anything but disappointed by your unspoken arrival. Tucking your arms to land around his waist like a belt that was enclosing him against you, you happily sighed, stroking your nose against the expanse of his bare chest that was beholden before you through the open curtains of his plain black hoodie. For a moment your eyes flickered down to the fake piercings that were strung like light fixtures from his nipples, watching as the silver metal beamed in contrast to the bulb that was fixed into the ceiling.

“I wanted to surprise you, it feels like forever since we were that close.” Was your confessing admission, as you pressed a warm kiss upon his revealed flesh, causing him to hum in acknowledgement of the amorous act. “Though I’m happy that god awful shadow is gone from your chin, if you want hair there then I suggest that you grow your beard back out.” You stroked your thumb over the crescent of his chin, running the pad through the indent as he inwardly cocked his brow, stiffening his jaw at your straight opinion.

“What’d you think of everything else? Be honest now darling.” He clicked his tongue, staring down at you with his smokily framed eyes, as you coiled back into your shoulders so that you could get a better overall viewpoint of him, as your hands descended to cupping the inward joints of his elbows. You balanced your weight on both of your feet, juggling between them to remain sturdy as you felt the mood in the trailer punctually shift, as though you were crossing through the mysterious channel that inhabited the Bermuda Triangle.

“Hmmm, well I’m rocking for the eyeliner, it really makes your eyes stand out more than they already do. And you know I’ve always been an absolute sucker for the longer hair, but I’m a sucker for you in general.” At that suggestive statement, you casted a sultry wink at him, hoping that he caught onto the act rather than thinking you had something entrapped in the perimeter of your eye. It was not dust that had clogged upon your pupil, instead it were lust, gripping onto the very image of him. It had been months, long ones at that since the pair of you had seen each other.

All the intimacy that your relationship confined in its long distance was dealt with over the phone, never once did the space that his work divulged the two of you apart make you feel lonely, he tried his utmost to ensure that you were comfortable even with miles for what seemed like an eternity separating you. The cellular contact that immersed your spare time furloughed for both late night calls that brought an innocent lovesick smile to resort upon the spectating image of your face that was reflected through the front camera of your phone, and sexual conducts that travelled across the countries that you were both in to bring you closer and alternatively higher together, in a blissful reunion that swamped your head with hyperactive hormones that followed after your mutual orgasms.

“Naughty.” He condoned you for your filthy innuendo, his hand cascading down the artwork of your body, and moving behind you, so that his fingertips were dancing upon the crown of your exempt ass cheek. “Guess all that time away has gotten you desperate for me, huh? Do you want to some sucking up to me? I’ve had a pretty hard day, and it would help me relieve a bunch of the stress that depends on these last few days. Not to mention I am so pent up from not seeing you all this time, it was practically torture honey bee, I’m not even sure how I survived.”

Dragging his head down to meet with your own, you pressed luscious and. Extended pecks onto his thin lips,having missed them covering every inch o your skin with the love that swelled in his chest and other places for you. “I don’t even know if you’ll last that long Bas, its been a certain while of you solely using your hand.” A giggle reaped from your throat as your hearing absorbed the gasp that slithered out of his mouth; he playfully pushed down upon the line of your shoulders, only enhancing your amusement by doing so. “So pushy.”

“That is right, and I will only get rougher with you the longer that it takes you to get down on your knees for me, so I would think logically. After all, after I completely wrap on this show, I’m going to have all the spare one in the world to put you in your little place and stop you from being a disobedient little brat.” It was a promise, he was threatening you in the most sexual way possible, and you’d be lying if you were to say that some aroused nectar hadn’t gathered in the passage that divided your highs down the middle. You gulped, intimacy written in every speck of your irises as you lowered yourself to be poised on your thighs, your face near the tent forming at his crotch.

The material of his shorts gathered with creases as his cock grew beneath the baggy subject that defined his legs that much more. A hand ravelled through your locks as you found yourself darting your tongue out to caress his legs, moving your muscle upwards as your hands teased the waistband of the barrier that prevented you from seeing all of him. “How much have you missed me baby, let daddy know.” Lightly, he begs to roll his hips forwards, pressing his erection teasingly against your face, and you were loving every second of it. His balls were pressing against your chin on every mimic forwards, and as you tried to speak, your voice was a tiny bit muffled by them.

“So much Sebby, I hated being apart from you.” You thought that would be a good enough answer, but as his fingers threaded further through your hair, a quiet yelp ejected from your throat as he strayed you head to be leant upwards so that you were gazing into his domineering eyes. That was when you realised that you must have made a mistake, but no matter what it was, it was much too late to take it back. Sexual fear paved through your gaze as you poured, wanting nothing to get back to your journey of duty which was to suck his cock, however, you could not continue if Sebastian had other things, such as whatever you had done so wrongly plaguing his mind.

“Bitch no cause why did you pronounce my name wrong? It begins with your favourite letter; a D, remember? And now I’m not even sure that you deserve my D. Right now I am not your Sebastian, what am I little girl?” He growled down at you, his toes rigidly curling in the open toed shoes that he were sporting, his hand remaining tangled in your hair.

“Daddy.” You tried not to sob out of dismissal, and instead expedited for apologising to refrain from angering him any further. “I’m so sorry daddy, I’ll do anything. Anything to make it up to you, please, I’ll never make that mistake again.” Unless it was not in this scenario of course, the pebbles of your tears brought a vivid richness and innocence upon your face, as though you were pooling diamonds out of the windows of your explicit soul. And I’m return, you were met with the gift of Seb shoving his shorts to be draped over his feet, his cock playing the curve of a sail as it stiffened more so at the air that hit it.

“Are you wearing anything underneath that sweatshirt baby?” He enquired as his right hand held his length in hand, enclosing his fist around the warm flesh that was beading with visible emotion at the tip. It was as though a pearl was balancing on the sector of his slit, teasing you as you dryly licked your lips, wanting nothing more than to ingest that into your body. To answer his question, your hands toyed with the bottom of his clothing article, pulling it up so that he could see your bare abdomen, of which was dressed in nothing more than your flawless skin.

“No daddy, I’m not. Am I in more trouble for that?” You worried that you were, all that you had wanted to do was surprise him, and you felt yourself grow a little giddy as he slowly shook his head, and pull back the coat of his foreskin to flash off as much of his cock as possible. He was teasing you to the slyest of his abilities, he wanted to subject you into doing something against your better judgement, and you remained strong, no matter how much you wanted to coil your lips around the head of his member and take him as far as the hollow of your throat would naturally allow.

“No baby, imma let you off the hook for that because I haven’t seen you in so long and I know that pretty little cunt has missed me probably more than the rest of you, but don’t test me again angel, or on the plane home you’re gonna have to sit on a bag of ice.” A part of you wanted to smirk, to coyly piss him off to see if that perseverance were to be true, however if you knew Sebastian, and you knew him more than well, you wouldn’t put anything past him nor his motives. “Go on, I can see you practically drooling to take me in your mouth. Don’t tease or I’ll fuck your face; be a good girl would ya.”

You weren’t going to waste anymore time, for all that you aware, any one of the set assistants could take him away from you, and that possibility only fuelled your instincts further as you hovered your head away from his hand, that was now patting and gently playing with your locks instead of using them as a leash, and flickered your tongue out to swipe that sample of precum and swallow it without hesitation. Before your mind could comprehend it, your body had already taken the next steps forwards and started to swallow down his member, your lashes fluttering closed as you hummed, sending a rhythm through Sebastian’s body of which made him cuss.

He was looking through half lidded eyes, almost shutting them, though stopping from doing so when he noticed your hand creep down the smooth skin of your thigh, and pry at your own folds. He was going to reprimand you for being so confident that you weren’t going to get caught doing something that was so ludicrous, but he decided that he were to allow you to continue for a moment. If he made a scene after revelling in his own pleasure, then you would be more compliant with whichever punishment that he nailed you down with. The tips of your digits quivered around your lips, before sinking within your walls and the rest of your palm cupped your pussy.

It made more sense now you were moaning against him, for not only the taste of him that hung heavily on your tongue, but from the slip of power that you thought you had over him, even if it be cloaked in secrecy. As he thought more of that, he found himself starting to fume with an underlining of rage, his fists stiffened at his sides as he exhaled through a combination of the sensations rippling beneath his skin. It was a combination of brewing disappointment and foreseen arousal; his veins burned with both, turning his blood warm and drumming his brain with one thing - it were his birthright to make you submit before him.

And though you were positioned in front of him, cast to your knees as you worked on his hard cock with your heavenly mouth, your mind had slithered away from the laws that you were supposed to obey as you fingered yourself against and without his jurisdiction. To retain from speaking out just yet Seb put the pressure of his front teeth down upon his bottom lip, as he tuned his ears on the sounds of your mouth i taking his cock and slathering it with the natural lubricant of your saliva, and if he paid enough attention, the sound of your nimble fingers darting in and out of your entrance was echoed through the slick that was provided from your hormonal body, that coated your fingers and glistened underneath the lighting.

As he felt a spark approaching through the intermissions of his pleasured body, he found it to be best to direct you away, and exhibit distance despite having forgone with that flow for the time space that you hadn’t seen each other in. And thus he gently stepped back, allowing his cock to fall past your lips and a string of spit to be the only thing connecting you to it. It was an instinct for you to whine as you watched him take his cock back into his hand, giving himself a couple of easing tugs to cool himself down from his ruined orgasm.

And that was when all prevailed in realisation for you, that he continued to ogle at you from above as your index and middle fingers on your right hand remained inside of your cunt, and as your mind sparked some sense back into it, you instantly removed them despite the emptiness that attained within that area. Your eyes remained wide as you watched with caution as Seb took it upon himself to take a seat on the sofa that was below the blind strung window of his trailer, his hand temptingly patting his thick thighs as a means to convince you to move closer.

“Get up here you deviant minx.” It was not a sweet gesture that he were offering you, no, instead you were getting punished despite evading such a fate earlier on. Pushing yourself up from your knees, you went to lay yourself against him homely lap, however as you went to do so, he tugged at the sweatshirt that compiled a flush of heat against your addictive body, pulling it up a few inches to send you the message. Once you had completely removed the appeared and were dressed to the eye in nothing more than your naked flesh, that was when Sebastian allowed you to continue laying your stomach across his legs, as your own legs and breasts were draped either side of them.

His rough fingertips caressed the muscles of your back, making them twitch from rugged anticipation. They descended lower as he dug his knee into your ribs, enjoying the way that your breath hitched. “You know the rules angel, you don’t touch without permission, and yet you did. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I bruise this beautiful ass red and blue?” The worst thing was you could imagine how your cheeks would look all bruised up from the harsh strokes from his commanding hands; it had happened before and each and every time you’d tell yourself that it’d never happen again, that you’d avoid such intimate brutality because you’d behave.

But you both knew better than to trust those empty promises that wailed from your desperate throat as you were subjected to a pain that made your mind hazy and your throat parched. “No daddy, just that I’m sorry.” A yelp quickly followed after as he collided his hand down upon the fat of your behind, your entire body jolting as you shakily inhaled, knowing that in a few minutes that you’d get used to the pain and find it less surprising. The first strike was always the worst, and as another clapped down, followed by more and more, tears reigned the paving of your face as they spilt down your cheeks.

Your apology was simply a waver in the air, it did nothing other than tell him something that he’d heard a million times by this point. And when nothing added to the soreness of your bosom, you swore that you were in heaven, it continued to sting though as relief washed over your aura, and your lashes flickered through the fallen tears, slowly drying from the sobbing that they had commenced. “You took that well, okay.” Seb breathed, beginning to softly stroke your ass which made you whimper from the feather light pressure that digressed against the impact he had prohibited you to dwindle in. “I’m gonna reward you, think you can turn over baby?”

He slipped out from beneath you, allowing you to remain on your stomach for the moment until you had finally came up with your decision. You wriggled a little, stretching your toes as you hummed in reply and switched, despite the searing conundrum that resorted favour over your backside, onto the polar of your position, only to find your lover of whom was in control crawling towards you, the rings around his eyes looking sinful as he stared at your naked body as though you were his prey. His hands began to reel up your legs, coercing you into squirming against the cushioning that was managing to keep you at the same physical level as him, though the same couldn’t be said for the mental premise that rendered in interference of your relationship.

Hot air brushed upon your mound as he pressed a kiss to the hill that lead to the lake that was fawning at his close proximity, waves crashing and glistening to appeal to his ocean eyes. “Daddy, can you please do something?” A grunt differed from his throat as he inhaled the sea salt that subordinated his nose to the all natural scent, all before he nipped at the inside of your thigh before delving his face between the tightened proximity, sealing his mouth around your sensitive bud as he mumbled moans against your reactive flesh, earning himself a deeper invasion as you rutted your hips up to his face.

Sebastian Stan was a man of many talents; he could clearly mimic anyone that a script needed him to, but the one thing that he was truly magical at was using his mouth. It was a skill set that made you mercilessly comply to him, it was his superpower, which was indeed ironic considering that he played a hero in one of the world’s biggest franchises known to cinema. He raised his hands to grasp at your own as he trailed them into his strongly pigmented hair, giving you permission to ravel your hands through his straight hair, and feel the smooth sheen against the judge of your skin. You liked it, as you knew that you would.

Using his tongue, he pried at your entrance, sinking it within you as he began to shake his unruly head, extracting small screams from your throat as you became victim to his plentiful evidence of love. Your chest raised out in the air as your eyes rolled back, and a tweak pulled at your clit once more, and looking down, it revealed that it were your beloved tugging at the button with his teeth, as he gouged your reaction. When you reached your orgasm, he dived head first back into your emptying cavern, cleansing all that he had subdued from your body via his amazingly versed and performed sentiment.

“Taste so fucking good baby.” To prove his point, he clambered above you, slipping his lips against your own as he swabbed your tongue with his own, sharing your own juices so that you could feel them balance on your taste buds. His hand ran down your body as he pinched your hardened nipples, earning himself a withered and high pitched sigh from your mouth as he pulled away from the kiss. “Think you for another one in you angel? Daddy wants to fuck this sweet pussy, you okay with that?” A dazed nod gave him permission, though he grasped your jaw with his strong hand as he ensured that you stared back at him. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, want your cock in me daddy. Always do.” A content smile used your mouth as it’s efficient puppet as he held onto his cock, and teased it around your folds, wetting his foreskin and other areas to make it more pleasurable for the both of you when he went to push in. And when he did, you felt like you had died and gone to heaven, it made you wonder how you ever survived going months without his touch, in any which way. Your hands held onto his hips as you steadied his weight, silently giving him the okay to start moving, and he did, he sunk within your cavernous walls, only to pull back and repeat the action. “Seb.” You breathed the shortened version of his name, the hot air leaving your mouth hitting his shoulder as he panted beside your face, his nose dragging up your cheek as you ran your hand down, cupping his balls and stroking them with the tender contact of your thumb.

For once under these circumstances, he did not shun you for saying his true name, instead he was too busy with the maddening rush that flew through his body as he fornicated with you. His pace increased, provoking the sound of flesh slapping upon flesh in the air as your thighs and hips clashed, amongst other parts. “Fuck sugar, ya close?” He asked you hurriedly, his forehead scrunching up as he felt immense pleasure as your cunt clenched around him, using his leverage to play with your clit once more. You ravenously nodded your head, dragging your nails over his body as you tried to jut your body up against his, chasing the approaching high which ultimately had you slumping against the cushions as he continued to pummel your body with his delivering thrusts.

“Shit.” He almost shouted, a soothing buzz ongoing in his body as he released his seed within you, you being able to feel every drop even after he pulled out and rolled to lay beside you, tugging you to be laying on his chest, neither of you caring for the cum that was escaping from your entrance that also happened to be the exit. “Why you laughing at me angel face?” Sebastian queried as he heard your cheeky sounds of amusement, a grin ruining the formation of his rocker disguise.

“You’re eyeliner’s all smudged.” You laughed, running the pad of your thumb beneath his eye and in the crows feet that dipped below, blending it further into his skin and giving it a grey hue to its ebony gradient. “You still look hot though.” You shrugged, nestling your head deeper into his chest, finally relieved that you and Sebastian were in the same place at the same time again.