#plastic coated magnets

[hsmagnet]

Make Sure to Inspect Your Magnets for Rust!

Make Sure to Inspect Your Magnets for Rust! Magnets are a marvel of the modern world and they are integral to the aquarium hobby being found in a huge range of devices and accessories. Without the attractive field of magnets we wouldn’t have water pumps, return pumps, dosing pumps, and everything they power not to mention the magnet mounts for those pumps, magnetic frag racks, algae clips, or…

[allbark-no-bite]

things friends do.

felix catton x reader (wc: 3.1k)

summary: things friends do include but are not limited to: sleeping in each other’s bed, kissing, sharing beer, fucking each other

warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex

author’s note: y’all i have refused to believe that jacob elordi was attractive but saltburn did me in

————————————————————————

You were not in love with Felix Catton.

And Felix Catton was not in love with you.

He was a lover boy, but he was not your lover boy.

The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it. But it didn't feel that way. You never felt as though you were owned by him. It was just that he was Felix and who didn't want to belong to him?

Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other inappropriately naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.

But this was Felix.

Not Oliver, or Farleigh, or Veneita. Felix.

—

The party is so electric that you're not sure if it's the music or your own erratic heartbeat thumping in your ears. The place is so packed that at some point the entire bar had become part of the main dance floor in order to accommodate for the dizzying array of overheated, intoxicated bodies moving this way and that. Blue light illuminates the otherwise dark room. Flashes of neon green splash across swaying bodies, highlighting dancers as they navigate the floor.

To no one's surprise, Felix is in the center of it all. He'd gravitated towards the pole in the middle of the room like a magnet and had taken to it to pay his dues, his slender body rolling to the music with all of his typical charisma.

After a few beers, you're pleasantly buzzed, but you'll probably be toeing the line once you finish the fourth in your hand. Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of your dorm room. Farleigh is right behind him, likely just as intoxicated, but with him you could never tell. Farleigh was always the same catty bitch no matter how drunk or sober he was. You loved him, but he was a bitch.

A heavy weight suddenly staggers upon your shoulders, and you groan against the weight, both you and Felix swaying dangerously to the side as he throws his arm around you. Usually this wouldn't work because he's so ridiculously tall but the alcohol had made him a little less coordinated than usual and he's slouched down to closer to your height. Beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup and splashes onto the floor at your feet.

"Having fun, darling?" he asks, half shouting in your ear to be heard over the music.

"Always," you laugh, though it's mostly directed at him.

His skin is clammy with sweat and his breath is coated with the familiar, yeasty smell of beer. "Where's Farleigh?" Felix doesn't even wait for your response before he's shouting for him. "Ay! Farleigh!" There's a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the same hand that's holding onto his cup, and he raises it to get his friend's attention.

His arm still around you, you dodge the spilling liquid heading for your feet. "Felix! Felix, careful!" you scold him, still laughing, so the smile doesn't disappear from his face.

In an attempt to solve the problem, he leans forward and starts to swallow back the remainder of the beer in his cup. He must underestimate just how much he had left to go because it starts to escape past the sides of his mouth, dripping past his jaw and down the front of his open shirt.

You shriek again. "Felix!"

Laughing, he pulls the cup away and brings it towards you. Before you can protest, he's tipping it back into your mouth. He leaves you no choice but to swallow it or wear it across the front of your shirt so you do your best to drink the remaining beer, more nursing from the cup than gulping as Felix was.

It leaves your lips and chin wet, and before you can wipe the excess beer away, Felix does it himself, somewhat roughly dragging his thumb under your lip. He then sucks the digit into his mouth, hardly thinking twice about it. It would have been erotic with anyone else. But this was everyday with Felix. It would have been weird if you hadn't chugged the backwash of his beer.

His attention is just as quickly drug from you to Farleigh. You hadn't noticed the other boy approaching. He gives you a wicked smile, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something but refrains. You tilt your head, prepared to ask him what his mischievous look is all about but Felix interrupts you.

"Farleigh, mate," Felix begins still hugging you close. "The girls are looking a bit bored. What do ya think?"

Across the room, India and Annabel are sitting on a couch together. The piece of furniture itself has certainly seen better days, torn and stained with bodily fluids of varying levels of disgusting. There's a guy with his arm slung around India, but for all she's paying attention to him, he might as well not exist. She's drinking from a bottle of champagne and couldn't look less interested in him.

Farleigh's eyes track from you to Felix, as though making some sort of connection, then he smiles cheshire-like. "Oh yeah, mate. You know, I do think India was actually looking for you earlier." His sinister brown eyes lock with yours, as if waiting for you to object. "Why don't you go put her out of her misery. (Y/n) and I will go busy ourselves at the bar."

Felix grins crookedly, nothing but honest fun shining in his blown pupils. "I will see you two later."

He straightens but not before twisting his neck, body still plastered to yours, and he plants a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. His lips taste like beer and nicotine. It's not really even a kiss, just a lack of coordination on Felix's part that he didn't catch your cheek. If Farleigh hadn't been trying to start something in the first place, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it.

It's not the first time Felix has kissed you. Hell, he's probably even kissed Farleigh at some point. Maybe not on the mouth because they were cousins, but that's besides the point. Friends kissed each other all the time. This wasn't anything new.

As Felix removes himself from you, his tall figure walking over to grab India's hand and lead her from the couch, the guy who had been flirting with her for the past hour glaring after them, you level your stare with Farleigh's. "What's that look about?"

Farleigh crosses his arms, looking as full of himself as ever, and rolls his eyes. He really was a bitch sometimes. "Fuck the friend code and fuck him already. You know you want to."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't want to fuck him, Farleigh."

You don't. Things just weren't like that between you and Felix. Sure, maybe there had been a few occasions where you'd sucked him off and he'd done the same for you in return but that was all purely situational. There were no feelings attached. Just two friends who were close enough to do that kind of thing without it being weird.

Farleigh just scoffs at your ignorance, pushing past you with his shoulder to head over to the bar. "Just like sweet little Ollie doesn't want to fuck him? Please, neither of you look at him all that different."

"Everyone looks at him like that," you argue. "He's Felix."

"No, everyone looks at him like they want his dick in their mouth. You look at him like you'd let him do absolutely anything he fucking wants to you. And honestly, (Y/n), it's kinda sad." He says the last part with faux pity, his voice demeaning.

You scowl at him as he turns back around and walks over to the bar.

Fuck Farleigh. You did not want to fuck Felix.

And fuck him for putting the thought in your head.

—

It's nearing two am by the time you remove yourself from the bar. You're no more intoxicated than you were earlier, having cut yourself off after chugging the last of Felix's drink, but you weren't particularly keen on walking in on Felix and India after tonight so you'd resigned yourself to sitting on a barstool for the remainder of the night.

You keep telling yourself that you weren't bothered by him having sex with her, but Farleigh had put the thought in your head and it wouldn't leave.

Of course you liked Felix. Who didn't like Felix? But did you want to sleep with him? No.

Maybe.

It wasn't like he wouldn't do it if you asked. But Felix would have sex with anything that walked. And you weren't India. You were his best friend. And no matter now many times you two had pushed the line of being just friends, having sex with him would completely ruin the line all together. And then what? There nowhere to go after you start dating your best friend. If it crashes and burns it's game over. And with Felix, that was a guarantee.

You pass India going opposite of you down the hall. One of the straps of her dress is hanging off her shoulder, bedazzled high heels in her hands as she struggles to slip them back on. There's a dark purple hickey at the junction of her throat and collarbone and another lighter one above her breast. You don't say anything to her, just push past her into Felix's dorm.

He's sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?"

You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around empty boxes of pizza and abandoned articles of clothing until you find something that looks wearable. You unzip your dress, only half turned away from him as you pull on one of his shirts. He's seen you naked before and so your ass and the side of your boobs is hardly scandalous to him.

"Farleigh is an ass," you retort, crawling onto his mattress to settle into the empty space at his side. It's without a doubt the same space that India had been just a few minutes before.

Felix frowns, the piercing his brow moving downwards with the expression. "What's he said to you?" His tone is concerned because he knows how his cousin can be.

You just sigh in response, shifting into a more comfortable position at his side. Felix takes another drag of his cigarette while he waits for your response. Farleighs words run through your head again.

"Why haven't we had sex?"

He actually laughs at that one, sitting up on one of his elbows so that he can see you better. The shag of his dark brunette hair hangs over his forehead as he looks down at you. "Do you want to have sex?"

While his tone is amused and humorous, you know he's genuinely asking. Felix would never make fun of you for that kind of thing.

You shrug, looking up into his bemused brown eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"

This conversation shouldn't be as casual as you're making it out to be, and maybe it wouldn't have been with anyone else, but this is Felix. He's your best friend.

Slowly, he leans down and places a kiss on your lips. It's fairly brief, hardly even long enough for you to kiss him back before he's pulling away. "Then let's have sex," he says, and it's as simple as that.

Felix leans down again, connecting your mouths. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts from where he'd been laying beside you to bracket your hips with his knees. His long fingers find the buttons of his shirt that you just put on and begin to unbutton them, his hands sliding down your sides until you're squirming.

"Felix," you whine, already short of breath from his touch.

"Relax, baby. I've got you," he murmurs into your mouth, sliding one of his hands into your hair, the blunt of his nails scraping against your scalp. It gives him enough purchase to tip your head back and expose your neck to his unrelenting mouth. The hot heat of his mouth pants against the underside of your jaw, the wet muscle of his tongue laving along your throat.

His other hand slides down your hip, then your thigh before coming to your panties. You have to force yourself not to squirm away in anticipation. Thankfully, Felix isn't a tease and he uses two of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. You do, however, jump when he slides them into your slick hole without any hesitation.

The bastard snickers against your throat. "Sorry," he apologizes, kissing apologetically at your jaw. "I guess I should have warned you."

All you can do is huff, your fingers tugging at his tangle of brown hair. He grins at your inability to respond before kissing your mouth again. He swallows the noise that escapes you when he curls his fingers and your back arches off of the bed. He does it again, this time scissoring them to stretch your hole. The burn is more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but it leaves you gasping into his open mouth.

Just when you think that's all he has to offer with his fingers, they somehow slip even further, hitting some part deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed. He curls them and you actually cry out, your knees knocking at his hips to push him away.

"I know, I know," he soothes, using the broadness of his shoulders to keep your legs in place. Felix curls his fingers into your smooth walls a few more times, his thumb circling your clit until you swear you can't take anymore. It's torture, the length of his two fingers inside of you.

Finally, he pulls them away before you can actually start crying. Your arousal coats his long fingers and drips down his wrist, glistening in the darkness of his room. Felix's brown eyes hold yours as he sticks them into his mouth, refusing to look away even as his tongue dips between them. You can barley swallow the spit in your mouth.

Felix grins, leaning down to kiss you. Even if you hadn't wanted to taste yourself on his lips, he doesn't give you much of a choice, his tongue dipping into your mouth. He moans, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard.

Then he's disconnecting your mouths to slide down his boxers. His hard cock bobs free, brushing against the lean planes of his stomach. You've seen Felix's dick before. It's no surprise to you how large he is— incredibly long with a perfectly mushroomed tip— but you've never had to think about it actually going inside of you.

His hand catches your jaw, forcing you to look at his face. There must have been flash of fear in your eyes because he murmurs sweetly, "Look at my face, okay? I want to see you."

You nod as best you can in his hold.

You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but he misses the first try, his cock sliding through your slick and nudging at your clit. Your whole body jolts but his hand at your throat holds you in place.

The second time, his mushroomed head catches at your hole and he slips in, meeting little resistance. He slides in only another inch or so before stopping, his cock already snug inside of you. You whine when he tries to push in further.

Felix kind of laughs, his hand reaching down to circle his thumb at your clit. "M'sorry, baby. You're so tight. Just give me a second."

You swallow, willing back tears. It's not that it hurts, not really, just the fact that he feels so good and you want him inside of you.

Without warning, his hand splays across your stomach and he uses the leverage to push further inside of you. This time your muscles relax enough around him and he slides all the way in.

You moan at the feel of him entirely inside of you.

“There we go,” he groans, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he holds himself up. Now fully inside of you, he begins rocking his hips, his dick hitting that spongey spot inside of you with every thrust. Felix is breathing heavily into your ear, the squelching of him sliding in and out of you the only other sound in the room.

Soon Felix hits a spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and almost immediately you’re coming, clenching around him as you do so.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Felix thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out just before he can come inside of you. He spills partially onto the bed and partially onto your stomach. When he’s finished, he holds himself up over you avoiding his own release leaking onto you stomach.

When his eyes find yours, he grins, that signature crooked smile appearing onto his face. You can’t help but laugh, your head falling back into the pillow. Felix laughs too. Not because he particularly knows what’s so funny but because you’re laughing.

You’re laughing and he loves you.

He leans over grabbing a tissue from the box beside his bed and wipes you off as best as he can before tossing it onto the floor and laying back down beside you, an arm behind his head You rest your head on his other arm, scooting in closer to his side.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, looking down at you.

You smile to yourself, watching his toes nudge yours instead of looking back at him. “About what?”

“(Y/n), we’ve been friends since grade school and probably kissed a million times.”

Eventually you look up at him, doing your best to not look so sheepish. “Farleigh told me I was worse than Oliver. Can you believe that?”

Felix scoff, his fingers scratching through your hair. “I wouldn’t fuck Oliver.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah you would.”

Felix barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I would,” he agrees.

[kissmethroughthebone]

I have a collection of classic dresses, like the one Karen wore in the Copacabana scene in Goodfellas. Whenever I step out, people notice my amazing inviting hips, my sensual walk, my high power strut, and how absolutely toned and beautiful I am. My skin glistens in all lightings so wonderfully that I look better than a Hajime Sorayama painting, and I am a magnet to the loveliest attention and affections known to man, always and effortlessly.

I have a mink coat like Sharon Stone wore in Casino. It's cozy, soft, and makes me look extremely elegant and high class every time I step outside. It makes others command respect for me, and almost fear me.

And I have an overall cozy, exquisite, and high end life that affords me anything I desire, anything at all, it is mine and here for me.

I have diamonds and jewels on my ear that shine as bright as any royal's ever could. And sparkle even better. And men love to give me exquisite gifts even on a first date, just to make me blush and see me show my sparkling teeth their way for them to admire.

I have all the sweets life can offer me. Even the rare ones. Macarons with the little plastic champagne flutes in them to squirt into my mouth. Nutella wafers in all my favorite flavors. Sweet tarts and biscuits, red velvet brownies, all the fixin's.

A steak dinner and a pork roast at a high end exclusive restaurant? Booked that evening. A nice raspberry creampuff with fluffy whip cream and a Trix-like filling? Already ordered for pickup to my area tomorrow. A nice set of jewelry and a photoshoot? Already can have it all.

Nothing is ever too much for me.

I have a man that can whisk me away to nicer places, shower me in gifts, bouquets of flowers, and make me smile as hard as possible.

I have a man who takes me through long wandering hallways and into the best dizzyingly gorgeous places known to man, just to see me smile. Just to bask in my radiance and my beauty. And savour my whimsy and happiness as if it were his own.

Tennis bracelets, the best rosé and chardonnay life has to offer, the best treats, the best snacks, it's all at my disposal and it's all for me to enjoy. No luxury is ever too much, I have all the luxuries provided for me with ease. God bless and amen, I am so grateful, thank you so much.

[heysawbones]

I really should’ve done this magnet thing before I got to this stage, but I couldn’t have known.

Working out how everything is going to fit together. It’s pretty obvious how the raised foot fits to the base due to printing artifacts, and I think I could get away with gluing these together. Most other parts are too fragile for that, though, and would be destroyed in shipping if I glued them together. I think the solution may be “very tiny magnets”, like in some garage kits.

[michaelmanley]

True Accounts of a Pregnant Man: Shopping (Story)

A bell tinkles faintly above the doorframe as I step into the cozy little boutique. My cheeks are rosy red and numb from the faint autumnal chill in the air outside, so the warmth of the shop causes them to tingle slightly. My nose twitches, and I inhale deeply through my nostrils, noting the faintest hint of vanilla mingling with pine wafting through the air.

“Coming!” a woman’s voice calls from somewhere in the back. Waiting for her to re-emerge, I wipe my boots awkwardly on the thatched doormat, drying off the dampness on their soles from the cold November rain. Beginning to unwind my scarf, I cast my gaze around the quaint little boutique, taking in the scenery noting the evergreen boughs and festive garland already adorning the eaves. Not even Thanksgiving, and this place had already broken out the Christmas decorations. I roll my eyes. Well, that explained the smell, at least.

The sound of labored, sluggish footfalls approaching snaps me out of my reprieve. The shopkeeper must have found whatever she was looking for in the back. I suck in a nervous breath, trying to prepare myself for the horrifically awkward social interaction that is assuredly about to transpire.

Stepping through the stockroom door with a cardboard box tucked under her arm, the ruddy-faced shopkeeper gives me a tiny smile through pursed lips. Given the nature of this specialty boutique and the thing it specializes in, she’s younger than I thought she would be. Early thirties, by the looks of things, but I’ve never been any good at guessing age. Her sandy-blonde curls are done up in a messy bun, the frames of her readers slipping down the bridge of her nose. She’s wearing a stretchy pair of black leggings, and for warmth, a gray cashmere cardigan bundled up tightly over the rather significant protrusion of her expectant midriff. A shorter woman (I stood at only five foot eight, and her head came up to about my shoulder), she was all belly, and carried her bump in the shape of an uncomfortably engorged pregnant orb of pure baby sitting heavily in her stomach.

“Sorry about the wait, sir,” the shopkeep says, and I note the shallowness of her breathing, a symptom of her overwhelming fullness. She opens the box and pulls out a series of identical cream-colored sweaters in various baggy sizes, preparing to restock the shelves while she talks. “Hard for me to get around these days!”

“It’s alright,” I say. “Trust me, I understand.”

“So, what can I do for you?” she asks brightly as she waddles over to one of the plastic belly-sporting mannequins and adorns it with a comfortable looking cable-knit. “Shopping for a special someone this holiday season?”

I grimace, steeling myself internally. “No,” I say. “I’m shopping for myself.”

The shopkeeper freezes, and slowly turns to look at me with incredulity. Wearily, I shrug off my baggy winter coat, revealing the form that had been concealed within its folds before. There is no mistaking the subtle but unflinchingly firm distention of my abdomen, the way my stomach bows outward obviously. My favorite turtleneck can no longer stretch far enough to cover my belly, and every time I try to tug it back over the hump of my baby bump, it simply slides back up, so I’ve simply given up on fighting it. A tantalizing sliver of pale pregnant tummy is clearly visible in the seam between my sweater and a too-snug pair of jeans which I’ve similarly given up on buttoning.

The shopkeeper can’t help it— she gasps, loudly, then claps a hand over her mouth in shame. She takes a half-step backwards, circling around me slowly as she sizes up my fertile form, unable to make sense of what her eyes are seeing.

“Take a picture,” I say, sarcastically. “It’ll last longer.”

I delicately lift the hem of my turtleneck a few inches further, giving her an uninterrupted view of my pregnant belly. The shopkeep, initially having stumbled away in shock, is overcome by curiosity, and magnetized by the sight of bare boy belly, creeps closer to where I stand.

“Can I feel it?” she says, but her trembling palms are already pressed to the subtle swell of my bump. I can feel them poking and prodding curiously, sweeping over the smooth, rounded curve of my belly, insatiable in their desire to know more, to feel the miracle for herself firsthand.

“Go ahead,” I say. “At least you asked for permission after you touched it. Most women don’t ask for permission at all.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says, and her hands withdraw as she barks out a laugh in disbelief. “I always complain about strangers touching my belly without consent, and well— here I go, giving my gender a bad name. At least I’m not the first woman to make a hypocrite of herself, though, I take it?”

“You are not,” I confirm, my voice twinged with irony. “I don’t get a whole lot of strange men feeling me up without warning, at least. They’re mostly repulsed by me on sight. But women can’t keep their hands off me now. I guess there’s something about this belly they find irresistible.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem like such a bad deal for a strapping, handsome young man like you!” the shopkeep teases. “Come on, you must be at least a little flattered by all that attention!”

“Not really,” I sigh. “Are you flattered when strangers touch your tummy without warning? I guess getting pregnant means I’m public property now.”

The shopkeep’s mouth opens then closes again, sympathy and understanding dawning in her eyes. The mystery and romance of my miraculous maternity has slowly faded as she realizes that the reality of my life as a pregnant man is much akin to her own, our struggles and objectification mirrored (except obviously, the discrimination I faced was more severe by several orders of magnitude).. “Ah. Say no more. Trust me… I know the feeling.”

“Thank you,” I say with a weary smile. “I’m glad you understand.”

“My name’s Brittany,” the shopkeep offers, extending her hand for a cordial shake by way of apology. “Thirty-one weeks today.”

“Michael,” I reply. “But only my mom calls me that. You can just call me Mike. I’m eighteen weeks along.”

“Only eighteen?” Brittany gapes. “But you’re so… big! Are you carrying twins?”

I give her another stare, and she laughs, remembering herself. “Oh. Right. There I go again, saying something I’d hate to hear myself in this state now that the shoe’s on the other foot. How sexist of me. This must happen to you a lot, huh?”

“It does indeed,” I confirm. “And it’s just the one. My family has a history of carrying big.”

“So,” Brittany says, trying to plow forward in the conversation and push past any awkwardness, “Mike. You… need a new wardrobe, I assume?”

“Yes please,” I affirm eagerly.

“Nothing fits anymore, huh?” she teases, gesturing to her own stomach. “We’ve all been there.”

“It’s not just my gut,” I explain. “The entire shape of my body is changing, too. My jeans still fit me fine length-wise, but they’re starting to get snug in the waist as my hips widen. And my chest… it….”

“Relax,” Brittany says with a smile. “Let’s just take it one step at a time. Here, why don’t we step into one of the changing rooms, and I’ll take your measurements first, okay?”

“Okay,” I agree, fidgeting with my scarf anxiously. Brittany waddles towards the back of her maternity boutique, and I waddle after her. My nose twitches again as I sniff the air. Now that we’ve moved away from the faux trees in the window display, the scent of artificial pine is ebbing, and another aroma has taken its place.

“Do you have a candle lit or something?” I ask. “I thought I smelled it before, but that vanilla odor is pretty thick over here.”

“You really are pregnant,” she breathes in awe. “I wanted something gentle but fairly festive that wouldn’t bother my pregnant patrons or me. Your sense of smell might be unusually sensitive, though. Do you want me to put it out?”

“No,” I say. “It’s fine.”

“With a nose like that, morning sickness must have been a bitch for you, huh?” Brittany says, clicking her tongue sympathetically.

I shudder, recoiling with revulsion at the unpleasant memories from the not-too-distant past, and say nothing more.

Fishing around in the pockets of her cardigan, Brittany pulls out a brass key, and unlocks one of the dressing rooms. Grabbing a stool and a tape measure, she waddles in after me and shuts the door behind her.

“Alright!” Brittany says. “If you just pop those clothes off, we can get started with your sizing!”

“Um,” I mumble, rubbing my arm sheepishly. “Do I really need to?”

“Well, with your clothes in the way, I won’t be able to get any accurate measurements,” Brittany explains. “Why? Is that a problem? If you’re uncomfortable— wait.”

Brittany’s brow furrows, as if mulling something over. I can already tell where this is headed.

“Are you—“ she starts.

“I’m not trans, no,” I explain, wincing apologetically. “I’m a cis man. If that makes taking my measurements uncomfortable for you at all, I can—”

“No, no, not at all!” Brittany assures me with a cheeky grin. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. How do you think I wound up like this, hmm?”

I let out the breath I had been holding, silently grateful that the shopkeeper hadn’t thought to ask how I myself wound up in my current state, in light of this new information.

“Come to think of it… how did YOU wind up like this?” Brittany presses.

I facepalm. She does, too.

“Oh my God,” Brittany groans. “Today is not my day. Blame it on the pregnancy brain. I am so sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine,” I groan back, the shopkeeper’s constant apologizing for her verbal sexual harassment beginning to wear thin. “Like I said, I’m used to it.”

“You don’t have to tell me, by the way, if you don’t want to,” Brittany offers, but her face is burning bright red with curiosity, so I decide to indulge her.

“Medical experiment,” I say, by way of explanation. “Fertility trial. They’re running it over at the university. I’m carrying some donor’s eggs in an artificial womb conjoined to my prostate. They tell me the data I’ve given them has the potential to progress our understanding of gender-affirming care and human biology by entire centuries. It’s being kept tightly under wraps until they confirm both fetal viability and my capacity to carry to term.”

“That’s so noble of you. I could never do what you’re doing, Mike,” Brittany says. “You have it so much harder than me. No woman has any right to complain to you about pregnancy ever again. Or childbirth, for that matter.”

“Yes, well,” I quip dryly, “knowing that makes it all worthwhile.”

Emboldened by the knowledge that this conversation could not get any more awkward or uncomfortable than it currently is, I wiggle out of my turtleneck, having psyched myself up to begin the measuring process. The air on my fully exposed and highly sensitive nipples causes them to stiffen and stand on end, and I try not to think about how puffy my pecs are, how their faintly sagging shape is beginning to appear more and more breast-like.

“You’re so smooth,” Brittany marvels, taking in the sight of my totally taut and silky smooth stomach as I stumble my way out of my jeans, grunting as I peel them off my hips..

“I had to shave all my chest hair,” I blurt defensively. “The ultrasounds couldn’t get a good reading with it in the way of the signal.”

“Not just there,” Brittany says, her eyes flicking up and down as she methodically unwinds her measuring tape. “Everywhere.”

I nod. My legs and arms are shaved clean, too, which was certainly unusual for a man, but certainly the lest unusual thing about me. “Well, it felt weird being hairless only on my tummy. And besides, I was never crazy about it, all the hair on my arms and legs. This feels… less weird to me. It sounds crazy, but it makes me feel more pregnant in a way. Before, with all that hair covering my body, I could pretend I was just bloated or putting on weight, but with no fuzz covering my curves, it’s harder to deny.”

“I see. Still, all that hedge-trimming must take you forever,” Brittany muses sympathetically. “I hope you’re not getting too accustomed to having nice smooth legs right now. Once your bump gets big enough to start getting in the way of everything, you’ll give up on that part of your routine pretty quickly.”

“I still don’t know how I’m supposed to shave my happy trail for the doctors once this gut sticks out too far for me to see the underside of my bump,” I complain. “Just thinking about trying something that scary with a razor fully blind…”

“I can’t imagine,” the saleswoman gasps. “I’d be so terrified I would have nicked the baby somehow if I scraped my belly with the blade too hard! Don’t you ever worry about that?”

“All the time,” I confess. “I know it’s silly, and that my womb is very well protected in there, but this isn’t a normal pregnant person problem. It takes me forever to shower and shave.”

“You poor thing,” Brittany sighs. “Like I said, I could never deal with everything you’re going through.”

“Well, I’m lucky I have such a good support system,” I say. “And once I get to that size, I’m sure my mom will help me shave my stomach.”

“You live with your mom?” Brittany asks, and I nod.

“I moved back home once I found out the procedure took. I was previously enrolled in the university, but I’m taking an impromptu gap year now for obvious reasons.”

“Well, that’s good!” Brittany offers. “She’s been through this before with you, after all. I’m sure she takes excellent care of you.”

“She could certainly do better,” I grouse. “When I told her I was beginning to outgrow my old wardrobe, she insisted I try on all her old maternity clothes from when she was pregnant with me. That’s why I wound up coming here.”

“Oh, that sounds like a priceless memory!” Brittany crows. “Did she take any pictures for the photo album?”

“Several,” I grumble. “Of all the women who need to learn boundaries when it comes to my body, she’s by far the worst offender.”

“Well, she might tease you now, but I’m sure she’ll do the right thing and spoil you rotten when the going gets tough,” Brittany reassures me.

“She’d better,” I huff. “I deserve nothing less. After all, it’s not like this is just a walk in the park for me and baby. I’m doing a lot of hard work here, you know. There was a slim chance the procedure would even work at all, and now that I’m actually pregnant, the risks have decreased significantly, but it’s still super dangerous…”

An unsettling quiet descends upon the changing room, leaving much unsaid.

“Do you think it’s silly?” I ask, after a beat. “That I worry about stuff like that.”

“Not at all!” Brittany readily assures me. “That’s just your paternal instincts kicking in. I’m sure you’re going to be a great daddy.”

I smile faintly, feeling a fluttering in my chest. Moments later, I realize the feeling isn’t just metaphorical, and that the surface of my stomach has begun to shift slightly.

“Oh!” I whimper. “She’s moving…”

Brittany’s eyes shimmer with excitement as she tentatively touches her fingertips to the side of my gravid gut, smiling in awe as she feels the faint stirring.

“She?” Brittany asks to clarify, and I nod excitedly, head bobbing up and down.

“That’s my girl,” I say, and Brittany giggles.

“I figured as much” she replies sagely. “Even if it wasn’t obvious from the way you’re carrying her, you give off huge girldad vibes. Call it mother’s intuition.”

“Do you think I’ll develop any of that?” I tease, and she snickers as she starts to wrap her tape measure snugly around the width of my waist.

“Oh, I’m sure you will, Mike. Will you… get to keep her?”

“I’m going to keep her,” I say, firmly. “I don’t care what the university lab says about it.”

“That’s sweet,” Brittany hums, jotting down a few numbers on a little notepad. “I’m sure you and your husband will make a wonderful family.”

“Oh, I don’t have a partner. And my sexuality is none of your business, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't pry,” I clarify, but she just sort of nods absentmindedly and pays me no mind while she tugs on the yellow cloth tape. I know she has tuned me out. Even in spite of my sexuality, women seem to find me completely non-threatening in this state. It is as if I am just one of the girls to them now, my pregnancy having disqualified me as a man in their eyes. Maybe that’s why they’re all so touchy-feely, despite how many times I try to tell them the intense discomfort I feel from their prolonged and persistent physical contact.

“Mhm,” Brittany says absentmindedly as she pokes my hips, admiring the way her finger sinks in slightly. “Thirty-six men’s in the waist. I wonder if I have anything that translates to that size…”

“I was a thirty-two eighteen weeks ago,” I say quietly. “And please do stop touching me like that. It’s demeaning.”

“Well, you’d be lucky if you stay in the forties, at that rate,” Brittany jokes, ignoring me. “Word to the wise, Mike. Stretchy pants are your new best friend. Ooh, and look at this! Your man-boobs are almost big enough to fit into a B-cup! I guess you’ll probably want to order a bra, too, right?”

“What would be wrong with that?” I say, crossing my arms protectively over my budding breasts. “I’m going to need the extra support due to all the growing and changing my body is doing. A bra isn’t just worn to be ogled, you know.”

“Yeah, but come on,” Brittany teases, her finger darting out to flick my nipple. “Don’t you think that’s a little girly?”

“Brittany,” I say bluntly. “Stop touching my tits.”

Brittany squeaks and stumbles backwards, bumping up against the dressing room door. I roll my eyes, beginning to grow frustrated with her constant sexism. Perhaps my hormones had me running a bit hot, but there was only so much a man could take.

“In the future,” I remind her, “it might be wise to check your privilege. Pregnant men are much more likely to be ogled and sexually harassed by the female population based on their state of dress, as you yourself just clearly demonstrated. Additionally, I find your tone towards me to be patronizing— pregnant men also deal with a greater degree of mammary growth than their female counterparts, due to their need to develop the tissue from scratch, so the fact that you believe such articles of clothing are coded solely to your gender is deeply misandrist. After I went out of my way to try and show you some grace since this was clearly your first time meeting a pregnant man, the fact that you willfully violated my own boundaries in turn is deeply disappointing to me.”

“Of course,” Brittany meekly ekes out. “Right. Any objectification I face as a woman is nothing compared to the discrimination and hardship you face as a pregnant man. I wasn’t thinking. I apologize.”

“That’s quite alright,” I say to the shopkeeper. “I’d like a little privacy now, please. Why don’t you fetch me something to try on, ma’am? I’m sure your options are limited given my unique proportions, but I’ll gladly take anything you’ve got that fits while you special order something in for me.”

“Of course, sir,” Brittany says, her demeanor reverting to professional rather than personable as she bows her head in shame. “I’ll try to find something that suits your style and needs.”

“Thank you,” I say politely but curtly. “That will be all.”

The shopkeeper takes her leave, and I shut the door behind me. Exhaling sharply in frustration, I give my pregnant tummy a little pat, feeling my unborn daughter squirm slightly from my touch, as if pleased by her daddy’s protectiveness. Turning towards the dressing room mirror, I pause as I drink in the sight of my fully exposed body, still somewhat foreign to me.

My frame is undeniably fertile, from the prominent protrusion of my gravid gut and the engorged state of my steadily-forming tits to the width of my hips and the arch of my back. Every inch of me looks soft, curvaceous, and plush, a far cry from the limber, lithe, and skinny-framed man I was before. But these are far from the only changes. My face seems fuller, my skin seems dewier, my cheeks rosier, exuding that ephemeral pregnancy glow. My long, curly strands of brunette hair, which were already thick and luxuriant, have become even healthier and heartier, framing my face in a flattering fashion. Usually, I kept it at a medium length, but with its tendency to grow faster and faster of late, I had simply given up, and now it neatly reached down to frame my face flatteringly. And though my sharp, angular jawline and Adam’s apple were undeniably masculine, with a little makeup and a shift in presentation, I could effortlessly pass as feminine. It’s not hard to see why my burgeoning bump and body are subject to so much attention.

I must admit, I look quite good.

A knock sounds at the door, followed by the sound of someone nervously clearing their throat.

“If you have clothes for me, please kindly place them over top of the changing room door,” I say to Brittany, having had quite enough of my body being visually violated for one day.

“Of course,” Brittany says apologetically. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, sir. I tried my hardest to find something that matched your personal style and specifications to the letter, since I knew it would be terribly inconvenient for you to have to change your look just on account of this pregnancy. I was able to find something that should hopefully have enough stretch to accommodate your bump, but as far as pants go… none of the maternity jeans or yoga pants I currently have in stock are wide enough for you. Not that that’s a bad thing! Don’t worry, though, I’ve already placed an order for a new shipment. In the meantime, this is the best I can do.”

Brittany passes me the bundle of clothes over top of the changing room door. Unfurling it, I find a stretchy charcoal gray turtleneck dress, made with a soft but sufficiently hardy material to withstand the winter winds while still allowing enough give for my body to continue growing. Paired with it are some semi-translucent black tights, along with a very practical beige bra for my blossoming bust. A new pair of more fashionable black boots and a long black overcoat with a women’s waist cut complete the look.

“No pants in my size?” I say wryly. “Your boutique could stand to be more accessible and welcoming to all body types.”

“I’m really very sorry, Mike,” Brittany says.

I sigh. “It will have to do. Now then, Brittany, if I open this door, will you promise to behave?”

“I promise,” Brittany agrees readily.

“Good,” I say. “I am going to open the door now. I will expect your assistance in adorning my bra. You are not to touch me in any other capacity than is strictly necessary in the course of your duties. Have I articulated my boundaries clearly to you?”

“Yes,” Brittany says, sufficiently cowed.

I unlock the dressing room door, ordering her to enter as soon as my back is turned. She approaches hesitantly, and wraps her hands around me from behind, slipping both of my boobs into the B-cups of my bra as I wriggle my arms into the thin little straps. Once everything is in place, she latches the hooks fast.

“Is everything alright?” Brittany asks. “Can you breathe okay? How does it fit?”

I inspect myself in the mirror, cupping my sagging breasts with both my hands as I admire the faintest hints of cleavage beginning to form between them. The tension in my upper back has lessened slightly, too, at least one source of stress on my spine having been alleviated.

“Yes, I feel quite well supported. Thank you, Brittany,” I say with a smile, and I can tell she has visibly relaxed with relief. “Does this bra come as part of a matching set, by any chance?”

“It does,” Brittany says. “I didn’t think you’d want the panties when you already have your briefs.”

“I might as well,” I say, shrugging. “I’d like it if you could get them for me, please. And I’ll be putting them on myself.”

Brittany departs, and returns moments later with a silky beige slip. I shut the door on her once more and sit down on the bench in the dressing room as I wiggle out of my old briefs and slide the snug-fitting panties up my shapely legs. Tucking my member snugly inside my new well-fitting underwear as they securely cradle the package, I admire how they cling to my hips, flatteringly highlighting the pleasant plumpness of my posterior. Next are the tights, which I struggle fiercely to tug over the humps of my hips. Shrugging on my new turtleneck dress and sliding into my new overcoat, I slide my elegant gray and black patterned scarf over my shoulders, the only remnant of my previous outfit that still fits. I give myself one last once-over in the mirror, rubbing my pregnant belly in satisfaction with my appearance.

When I open the door, Brittany is standing there with an empty brown paper bag.

“For your old clothes,” she says helpfully. “You can wear your new ones out of the store.”

“That’s good,” I say. “How does it look?”

“You look stunning,” Brittany breathes. “It definitely suits you.”

“And how much do I owe for this?” I inquire. “I’m ready to be rung up, please.”

“Oh, no,” Brittany says. “I feel bad that I didn’t have anything in your size… and for everything else. Please, it’s on me. I would feel just awful if your poor experience today soured your opinion of my boutique, and I want to make this a more inclusive space for you.”

I smile, having already mentally noted that the price for this luxury dress, coat, and boots would have been well over a hundred dollars. “I see. Well, I suppose that unlearning your sexist attitudes and practices towards men takes time, and I do appreciate the gesture.”

“You’re so right,” Brittany says eagerly, bobbing her head. “And I have so much to learn, especially from you. Please accept my formal apology for my inappropriate conduct, Mike. I had no idea how difficult it was to be a pregnant man.”

“I acknowledge your apology,” I say. “But I don’t accept it just yet. In the future, I hope to see that you’ve learned your lesson.”

“That’s totally valid,” Brittany says. “You don’t have to accept my apology yet, but I’d like it very much if you could someday.”

“Well, Brittany,” I say. “That depends entirely on you.”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” Brittany adds quickly. “I’d really like to make it up to you, Mike. In fact, I’m part of a group of pregnant women—“

“Pregnant people,” I remind her. “You need to use more inclusive phrasing that’s less hurtful and exclusionary towards pregnant men like myself.”

“Pregnant people, right, sorry,” Brittany says hurriedly. “I’m part of a group of pregnant people who attend a maternity aerobics and prenatal exercise class. I know I’m a bigot and you have no reason to trust me after my disgusting and reprehensible behavior towards you, but I’d really like it if you could come to a session with us. I think we could all learn a lot from your bravery and strength.”

Brittany hands me a yellowed flyer advertising a water aerobics class being held at a local gym. I crease it once down the center and fold it into the pockets of my new overcoat.

“I’m sorry,” I say politely. “But I’m afraid I wouldn’t have a thing to wear.”

“I can order you a swimsuit!” the shopkeeper reassures me. “That would be on me, too.”

“Why thank you, Brittany,” I reply. “I’ll certainly consider your offer.”

Brittany beams at me bashfully. “No, thank you! I appreciate you giving me a second chance, and I hope you’ll continue to correct me and check my privilege so I can become a better person.”

“Well, Brittany,” I state, “I can certainly tell you’re sincere in your intentions, so let me tell you this. The first lesson to unlearning your privilege is to be silent and listen when an oppressed group is speaking.”

Brittany opens her mouth, then closes it, nodding as she pulls the pen and pad she used for sizing notations out of her cardigan to jot down my words.

“For instance, it is highly rude to complain about your problems or your pregnancy in the presence of a pregnant man, since pregnancy is many orders of magnitude more difficult for me than it is for you,” I continue. “It is also basic etiquette to defer to a pregnant man in matters of common courtesy. In order to best serve the oppressed, you must be of service to them. Do you understand?”

“I see!” Brittany says. “I’ll do my best to learn my place and speak when spoken to, and I really do appreciate you educating me about the microaggressions coded into my behavior. I hope I can be of service to you in the future. Would you like me to hold the door open for you on your way out?”

“Very good!” I say politely as I waddle out the door, giving Brittany a reassuring style. “You’re learning quickly. I’m sure you’ll see the error of your ways in no time.”

“Come back any time, Mike!” Brittany calls after me. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, let me know!”

I cheerfully wave her goodbye, bundling my overcoat around my bump more tightly as I approach a parked car positioned next to the curb. Waiting outside is a striking woman in her mid-to-late thirties with curly brunette hair, standing at about five foot eleven and holding an umbrella to shield herself and her slim-fitting teal medical scrubs and crisp white lab coat from the downpour of sleet. As I draw closer, she opens the passenger side door and gingerly helps me inside.

“Thanks for waiting, Mom,” I say as I ease myself into the passenger seat.

“Nonsense,” Mom says with a smile. “There’s no need to thank me. I remember how uncomfortable it was, trying to squeeze behind the wheel when I was pregnant with you, bump pressing straight down on my bladder. I wouldn’t want my pregnant son to go through all that!“

“Well, even if you’re only doing what’s expected of you, you’re still a halfway decent chauffeur,” I say, complimenting her.

“Thank you, Michael! I’m just happy to help,” Mom says as we pull away from the quaint outdoor mall where Brittany’s maternity boutique is located. She hands me a golden bag, which I recognize instantly as bearing the insignia of my favorite confectionary shop from across the street— a little present to sate my cravings. “Anything I can do to make your condition more comfortable. Look, I even got you those sweets you were gushing about!”

“That’s wonderful!” I say with a smile. “I’m glad you’re being more considerate of my cravings, and I appreciate the effort. Stuffing myself with something sweet will help to take my mind off things.”

“That must have been very scary for you, in there,” Mom says sympathetically.

“It was mortifying,” I sigh, opening the bag to find a ribbon-adorned box of white chocolate candies. “There’s just so much intolerance in this world. It’s a very scary time to be an expecting father, what with all this vitriol and bigotry. You have no idea how difficult my life is like this.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for standing up to prejudice,” Mom says as I pop a couple handfuls of candies at a time into my mouth, moaning faintly. “It’s unfair that society treats you so poorly as a pregnant man.”

I feel my unborn daughter stirring slightly in my womb as I munch on a mouthful of molten chocolate, licking my fingers clean.

“My daughter will grow up knowing exactly how much her daddy struggled and suffered to bring her into this world,” I sniff sadly. “And she’ll never once doubt how loved she is because of it. After all, no one has it worse than a pregnant man like me!”

[veesevents]

First Vees Event Hub Event!

This will hopefully become an active and thriving place for some Vees and Staticmoth events!

The blog itself currently looks like someone with no sense of visual art is heading it, because that's true, but work has gone into the most important part! Which is our first event:

VVinter Vees (and Staticmoth Xmas)!

People who only want to write about the Vees or only want to write Staticmoth are both welcome in this event. I had very few people say they were interested, but it was still an equal amount of Vees to Staticmoth enjoyers.

Please keep an eye on this blog for the prompts! The event might take place in December, but it's a whole month affair and I wanted everyone to have enough time to do whatever they wanted for the event.

v^√√v^──√v^√v^──√v^√√v^── v^√√v^──√v^√v^──√v^√√v^── 

Rules

You can create anything you want for this month! Fanfic, fanart, fanvids, gifs, music, whatever!

The only limitation is no AI-generated content.

All three Vees do not have to be in every story. You can write about one, two, or all three. As long as the focus is on any of them, it counts.

Post it anywhere, but I can only reblog on Tumblr. There is an AO3 Collection as well which will not be forgotten about.

When posting on Tumblr, you can @ the blog to be reblogged! If you tag with #vvintervees2024 or #staticmothxmas2024 (and the day's tag, like #vvintervees2024 day 1) that would be great too.

You don't have to post on the day. Or even during the month! Any time you create for this challenge is fantastic.

This is an 18+ event! You can create nice fluff or hardcore porn. I'm not your dad.

Remember to add any necessary warnings.

Speaking of which, no one in this event is allowed to judge others for what they create. If you disagree with a headcanon or content of a creation, you can keep it to yourself. There's a back button if you don't want to see it.

v^√√v^──√v^√v^──√v^√√v^── v^√√v^──√v^√v^──√v^√√v^── 

The Prompts!

Xmas Vees Prompts

Day 1: Coat | Scent | Sharing Day 2: Peppermint | Confession | Bittersweet Day 3: Lists | Creation | Plans Day 4: Smoke | Chronic | Hugs Day 5: Blanket | Cuddling | Bonding Day 6: Toys | Gunshot | Crime Day 7: Tree | Marked | Flowers Day 8: Ice | Lessons | Dancing Day 9: Warm Drink | Cold | Resurrection Day 10: Scarf | Hand Holding | Magic Day 11: Hypothermia | Clothes | Manipulation Day 12: Baking | Aftermath | Pupil Day 13: Lights | Broken | Fighting Day 14: Letters | Magnetic | Dilemmas Day 15: Storm | Electrocution | Wounds Day 16: Bells | Dreams | Anxiety Day 17: Avalanche | Self-Worth | Communication Day 18: Fever | PTSD | Shopping Day 19: Fireplace | Grooming | Comfort Day 20: Wish | Time Travel | Sacrifice Day 21: Bundled Up | Exhaustion | Movie Night Day 22: Stockings | Scars | Domestic Day 23: Trust | Protective | Loyalty Day 24: Hope | Amnesia | Parallels Day 25: Family | Gift | Platonic Intimacy Day 26: Ornaments | Antennae | Panic Day 27: Candles | Worship | Pet Names Day 28: Star | Praise | Anniversary Day 29: Silent Night | Touch-Starved | Realization Day 30: Feast | Drinking | Brewing Day 31: Love | Partners | Singing

Extra Staticmoth Prompts!

Day 1: Firsts Day 2: Lingerie Day 3: Pregnancy Day 4: Hanahaki Day 5: Kissing Day 6: Courtship Day 7: BDSM Day 8: Vibrations Day 9: Breeding Day 10: Size Difference Day 11: Plasticity Day 12: Soulmate/Soul Bond Day 13: Overstimulated Day 14: Accidental Marriage Day 15: Mind Control Day 16: Proposal Day 17: Sub/Dom Drop Day 18: Humiliation Day 19: Wings Day 20: Pining Day 21: Addiction Day 22: Wedding Day 23: Sex Pollen Day 24: Premonition Day 25: Oaths/Vows Day 26: Honeymoon Day 27: Massage Day 28: Begging Day 29: Sexual Healing Day 30: Lust Day 31: More Than Once

Graphics by @staticmothlimbo!

An 18+ server for people who want to get together on working for prompts, have some input on future events, and have another place to promote their creations!

[the-interidiot]

LIB Designs P1 - Pokotho

MORE FORMS + RAMBLES BELOW CUT

Pokotho has five forms, like most of the lords - but only four are draw able. One is his true form, which I am not drawing for obvious reasons. Two is this.

His secondary form is made mostly of porcelain and fabric.

His insides are hollow, and coated in mold.

There are cracks and small lines in his ‘skin’ when he can emit mold like a fog machine.

His mask cannot be removed - his true face is beneath it.

All of the lords have incomprehensible eyes, so the eyes on the mask are meshed in with fabric.

His suits is upwards of about 11,000 dollars each, and he’s the only lord who has multiple sets of clothes.

A lot of his design is based on my person HCs on how his infection works - a large factor being he does not spread via ‘goo’, it’s an astral mold, completely chemical.

FORM THREE: PLUSH

This form has two uses, and was designed on paper by Wiley, then copied by Pokotho.

He can make small, temporary clones of himself like a Sniggle, but smaller.

They all take this form, and dissolve into mold when done.

He can also shrink to this form to be friendly.

He hates it. His eyes perpetually leak, and he can’t express his annoyance since his face is plastic.

FORM FOUR: THE HIVE ITSELF

The photo is inaccurate as in he lacks ‘outlines’.

A non-physical vapor formed from the mold.

He can only exist like this ‘emitting’ from an object, in a warm, damp, dark space. This is why the meteor was kept in its spot.

His mask is the only thing that stays constant - semisolid through the vapor.

It’s like his mask and the object he’s coming from ‘push away’ from each other like magnets, and the vapor is the ‘electricity.’

I paint him like this a lot.

GENERAL HCs:

I’ve written literal essays ‘rewriting’ or logically explaining the lords, and if anyone would like to read them I will share.

Though heed warning they’re kind of graphic?

Simple summary for Pokotho: the ‘hive’ is a mold that was formed from chemicals on the meteor hitting water pipes and becoming humid.

The mold isn’t sentient, but the Hive is. Pokotho cannot control the spread of the hive, he simply controls those infected, and started the meteor crash.

The mold ‘kills’ a person, they aren’t in any way alive - and sometimes their body deteriorates to show that.

Pokotho is the second oldest mentally, though all the lords are the same age. I have headcanons for that to, DW.

Pokotho actually loves being in a physical, semi-human form (2), simply because he likes clothes.

Pokotho hates cats. Boo.

[wafflepatterns]

Meet new sewing pattern <Kanoko> Tote bag set

Meet the new item from Waffle Patterns Tote bag set <Kanoko> sewing pattern. This is a fun and functional tote bag 3 sisters set with many pockets. All sizes are perfect for daily use. Please make your favourite size with your favourite fabric. Those can be made with a relatively small amount of fabric, so, it is also nice to use your leftover fabrics from your stash.

<design options>

3 sizes are available; L - grocery size, M - commuter size, and S - accessory size. The grocery size is quite large and enough for supermarket or fabric shopping. The commuter size is suitable for daily use and the size for about 10″ iPad and other small things like a make-up pouch, wallet, or snacks. The accessory size is a very cute mini size for small staffs like a lip balm or candy.

L and M are basically the same design. Both have large 3D-shaped pockets on the front, side pockets with pleats, and a small pocket on the back. There are 2 kinds of functional inside pockets, too. There are 2 options for the opening. The L size sample shows magnet fastener + strap + side release buckle opening. The M sample features a zipper opening. You can add a shoulder strap on M size.

S size has also front/back and side pockets and a very small inside pocket. The closure is a magnet/snap fastener and an inside closure with tape+button.

<fabric recommendation>

The pattern is drafted for woven fabrics. Mid-heavy weight woven durable fabrics are suitable. like duck, twill, denim, linen, canvas or décor weight fabric etc. I think waxed fabrics or water repellent outdoor fabrics are great options, too. For the lining, plain cotton or linen will be a good option.

Depending on your fabric and your design intention, please consider using additional interfacing on the bag panels for adding extra strength or body.

Here are my sample’s materials.

The shell fabric of smoky pink samples is mixed twill. I wanted to add body on M size, so I used woven mid weight interfacing on bag panels. For L size, I only use interfacing on the facing parts to keep it light weight. I also made a sample of M size with mid weight denim + fusible fleece combo for stable shape.

The red and yellow plaid set are made with wool coating. Those are all leftover of my winter projects. I used woven interfacing on the panels on the M size. The lining is plain cotton.

Again, please consider the material combination depending on your fabric and design intention.

<other materials>

The samples are using 30mm~40mm webbing for the handles and straps. If you cannot find perfect colour or width, making those with contrast fabrics are the option.

I used the shoulder strap from ready made bags, but you can make them by yourself, too.

For additional strength, I added the plastic plates on the base of M and S size. The special materials for the bag base are sold at notion stores, but I used plastic plate cutting from old clear files and ice cream package.

Please choose suitable materials/parts for your design and shell fabrics. I strongly recommend checking actual material samples as much as possible and experimenting your fabrics before start the project.

<other>

For smoky pink samples, I used twill tape on the pocket opening of side and back pockets for strengthen and as a design accent. It is also good option if your fabric is too stiff or thick.

********************* The sewing pattern includes 17 pages of instructions and all the sewing processes are described with detailed illustrations. The pattern files are available for both home printers (A4 or US letter) and copyshop(A0/A1 format).

You can check other photos of this model on my Flickr page.

The Tote bag set -Kanoko- (3 sizes) PDF sewing pattern is available here. Also in the Etsy shop.

Special discount price until 13th June 2023 (CEST) with other popular patterns. No discount code is needed! The sale page is here.

*****  Special offer +17.5EUR for Paper pattern and free shipping Paper pattern + PDF option is available with plus 17.5EUR. *The paper includes only the pattern, please print out the instructions by yourself or read it with your tablet or PC.  The PDF + Paper listing page is here.

Enjoy your sewing!

(Japanese post here 日本語ポストはこちら).

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

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[hsmagnet]

FAQ of Plastic & Rubber Coating Magnets

FAQ of Plastic & Rubber Coating Magnets Here is a collection of questions that people commonly ask about plastic and rubber coated magnets. Variety packs of strong, colorful plastic coated neodymium magnets What is a plastic or rubber coated magnet? A plastic or rubber coated magnet is simply a nickel plated magnet with a an additional coating of plastic or rubber. This coating not only provides…

[sunoosets]

chishiya x reader !

My latest Chish smut, thought I'd share it!

[2.7k words.]

[Warning: Smut, chishiya cares for clumsy reader, lowkey turns into a gynaecological roleplay (only for a bit), infirmary sex. have fun🤭]

It was noticeable that I was a clumsy soul. Legs often bruised, and arms often bandaged in makeshift dressings. A large majority of people present in The Beach had witness me fall, or even worse, get attacked. It was like these misfortunes were simply attracted to me. I was a magnet to inelegant accidents. 

Kuina was more than unamused when she watched me trip, for perhaps the eighteenth time today. Her fingers gripped the flesh of my arm, and she caught me before I had met the ground. 

"Careful, Y/n." She muttered. Voice less disappointed, and more cautious. I was locked with the concerned eyes she gifted me. Pulling my lips into a sorry smile as she sighed in sympathy. "Look at you." Her voice trailed. A slight humour had been added to it. "Do you ask for these scratches?" Kuina questioned, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She dipped her slim fingers across the reddened complexion. "Or are you really that unfortunate?" Her eyes lifted from the skin, and searched my own. "The second.." I replied. Tone measly. 

She hummed, dropping her hand to land softly on a newer wound. I flinched, almost hissing at the sudden twang of pain. A pause streaked with silence drifted by, until her touch had been removed. "Chishiya can help." She suggested, though I knew I would have no choice but to follow her ideas anyway.

"Chishiya?" I blinked. Eyes growing as my mind found the few memories I had of him. He didn't seem like the helping type, but I had been a witness of it first-hand. Several times I had been revealed to his care, but this time I had the nagging feeling it was one too much. Would he be annoyed? Frustrated with how uncoordinated I was? It felt like I was intruding and wasting his precious time, and it ignited an uncomfortable guilt. "Yeah." Kuina lowered her head. Her arm linked through mine, and I sent her an unsure look. Slightly stiff with uncertainty as her arm tightened, and I was dragged through the hall. 

Kuina had dropped me by the improvised first-aid room. It was a standby, given our current situation. Wounds were bound to happen. It was draped in plain white walls. Much alike the jacket Chishiya possessed. I dragged my eyes, leisurely, across his form. His back was turned from me, as he rustled through things I had no care nor knowledge on. Grey littered the floors, and the room was completed with a hospital bed, slightly rough and scratched. A few cabinets, and a plastic tray, filled with nothing but gauzes and equipment. 

"Here again?" Chishiya questioned. Voice so teasing I could easily hear the smirk forming across his lips. "Yeah, I'm uh, I'm sorry." I swallowed in return, lowering my head, only for it to be picked back up. The blonde gripped my chin lightly, brushing the skin with both his thumb and forefinger. "Don't get too excited." He ridiculed. "It's mandatory for me to check your face."

"Yeah, right." I fought, scoffing back the tint of red. He gave me a soft look. Dipping his eyes over mine, before letting them drop to my arm. "Who's the qualified one here, hm?" He hummed, and the skin he then cupped had been coated in goose bumps. His voice was circling my raging mind. So slicked with an odd heat, I had no way of getting rid of. A mellow hiss slipped from between my lips, and his eyes were triggered to peer at my features. He glanced over his lashes, as his head was slightly lowered. "Does that hurt?" He asked, and my lip was moved between my teeth. "Mhm."

His steely touch slid across the wound, and his palm pressed down. Igniting yet another hiss, but this time, it had morphed into a muted cry. "Did you really find that necessary?" I rasped. Chest heaving and jaw clenched. The blonde let slip a breathless laugh. Smirking over my pain as if he found it both humorous and entertaining. "Not really." He replied bluntly. His hand was removed and replaced with a smooth fabric. I huffed. "Are you really that sadistic.."

"If I was sadistic.." Chishiya explained, after an amused pause. "I wouldn't be helping you now, would I?" 

I blinked. Not daring to reply, knowing better, as his frustrating wit would surely make me a fool. He was content with that. Lips twitching up as he continued to dress the wound. My eyes trailed over the small of face I could see. His dyed hair hung over parts of his visage like wispy curtains. His eyes were darkened and filled with a concentration that set alight something harsh. It swirled beneath the skin of my stomach. Watching him work his slender fingers was even more arousing. With how focused he was, lips subtly pursed and eyes narrowed. Hands acting in ways that implied he clearly knew how to use them. It was enough to trigger a thick swallow, as I guided my eyes to his chest. He was so close, and the jacket he wore was baggy at this angle. As the material seeped, my eyes were drawn to were his bare chest was revealed. 

"It's rude to stare like that, you know." The man spoke. Not even tearing his eyes from my arm. The bandage had been finished, and his hands slipped from my skin. I tensed as he brought his gaze to me, standing fully. "Sorry...uh.." I averted my vision. "Thank you."

"It's my job." His head raised, and his lips formed a smirk. "I guess, now that you need care every hour of the day." My eyes grew and my lips parted, only for the words I wished upon to be caught in my throat. He continued, voice returning low. "Is there anywhere else that needs dressing?" 

His feigned sweetness was starting to get to me. Not ever had I seen him be so kind. It wasn't like I had ever returned the favour, either. My head dropped and I scanned the rest of my body. Still heated from this unnecessarily pleasuring interaction. "Here." Chishiya stated, stepping forward and letting his vision meet the skin of my leg. A warmth met my cheeks, and I unintentionally rubbed my thighs. The blonde's head was lowered, yet the smirk I knew he had was still clear. "Is this one painful?" He questioned, before hastily pressing his palm on my inner thigh. I gasped, earning a teasing glance. "Yea...yeah." 

He was silent as he turned, retrieving a new wad of gauze. His concentration returned with his hand, that slipped across the sensitive flesh. His fingers lightly dug with each movement, and he began wrapping. His opposite hand gripped under my leg, and lifted it as the dressing was manoeuvred beneath me and over the thigh. "You seem tense?" He questioned, focus still against the wound. "I'm okay.." I stuttered, chest now raising quickly. "You're shaking too." He noticed, lifting both his head and hand. The skin came into contact with my forehead, where he rested his palm and tested my temperature. My mouth parted and my eyes couldn't help but glance over his lips. So full, and glistening against the dim light of this infirmary. 

"Chishiya." I mumbled. He hummed. "You know what you're doing."

"Do I?" He smirked, and I pressed my jaw together. My wrists clenched into tight balls. "What am I doing?" He questioned lowly, while knowing all too well. He was teasing me. Filling me with an inescapable libido. I was burning before him, especially when his hand dropped and landed on my opposite thigh. He separated them, and pulled me toward the edge of the table I rested on, setting himself closer as my breath hitched. "Tell me." He commanded lightly, head dipping to the side. His hair slipped against his shoulder, and all the syllables I could have screamed were lost. Lost to this unheavenly feeling, brewing in the pit of my stomach. I ached and dripped, knowing well that the fabric of my swimsuit was surely ruined with his presence. His smell dominated my nostrils, and his closeness spurred me. 

"You're doing this on purpose.." I whispered. Merely unable to form a louder sentence. His eyes became lidded, and he lowered himself closer. "Do you want it?" He spoke against my jaw. Breath spreading across the skin of my neck. "I can tell how wet you are." My head was completely flawed with desire. Heart beating through the laced bikini I wore. Now slipping down my shoulders, as if it was as desperate as I was to be stripped by him. "You know.." My lip twitched, feigning innocence through my smile. "I think I have another cut..." I paused, and slid my finger against my inner thigh, pressing the pad over the rim of my lower swimsuit. My eyes were consistently locked with his, as they lit and swarmed with a calm lust. "Is that so?" He caught on, smirking slyly. 

His hands slid up my waist and landed either side of my hips, that rolled and urged him to take control. He pulled away, and let his fingers hook around the material my swimsuit was made of. "Mind if I...?" He spoke, pulling the fabric back and locking his shrouded vision with mine. I lowered my head, haste present in the action. "Please." 

His head dipped and the fabric was torn from the dampened skin. His curled finger stripped the cloth further down my legs until he released and let it fall from my ankles. "Spread a little, please." He instructed calmly, eyes filling with anticipation. I slipped my lip between my teeth and abided by his word, parting the two limbs with no objection, apart from the dusting against my cheeks.  

"You might feel some sensations." He smiled, acting as if he were a gynaecologist. "Warn me if you feel any pain." Before my dazed mind could begin to comprehend, his finger pressed against my clit. I sighed in pleasure, holding back the rough moan about to slip. The pad of his finger then traced between my folds, meeting my clit once more as he rubbed the digit in subtle circles. "Fuck.." I breathed. "Please, Chishiya." 

"I've barely begun." He murmured, teasing tone returning, as his eyes fazed over mine. "Already begging?" 

"Yes." I gave in, stomach clenching. "Doctor, please." 

The blonde's brows flinched upwards, and from the way his eyes fell into hooded crescents, I could tell he was enjoying every bit of this just as much as me. Chishiya hummed, pursing his plump lips before sighing. "The most impatient tend to gain their medication last." 

"Doctor!" I cried, whining slightly through my pressed lips. I pushed my hips down, grinding softly against the rough palm he granted me. He pressed himself harder. Hushing me with a gentle "Shh."

"So needy.." He taunted, whispering out against my skin. His lips met my jaw, and the soft flesh moulded onto my own. "Chish.." I sighed. Head dipping backwards. "Be quiet. We don't need any unwanted company." He spoke against my lips.

His tongue split them instantly, as I gasped and groaned into his mouth. Coming unloose beneath him, while his fingers toyed with my clit, and his tongue massaged mine. Spreading his saliva across my teeth with each movement. 

A whine was cut off against his mouth. The blonde pulled away, and I blinked in awe at how composed he was. Chest heaving subtly, and features relaxed. Barely tainted by our make out. While I, on the other hand, was gasping. Face flush, and features all a painted pink. My lips swollen, and glistening with the mixture of our spit. He smiled, as if my state was amusing. He then removed his finger, and triggered a harsh whine from my split lips. It dragged out, until he quietly hummed. "Do you not want something better?" He questioned, tipping his head as he eyed me. "I want to treat my favourite patient." He smirked, nearing me as his hands gripped the flesh on my thighs. I lowered my head, eagerness seeping through my movements. 

Chishiya caught on instantly, and slipped one of his hands beneath the waistband of his shorts. His face lowered as his brows arched, and his lips parted. His hand remained in his shorts as his arm moved slightly, and he palmed the hardened length. After a moment, his face lifted and he removed his cock from it's confines. Dripping with pre-cum, as it slid down the side of his throbbing dick. Already urging to brush his lower stomach as it curved. The blonde noticed my awestruck reaction, and smirked at the way I rubbed at his ego. Flinching excitedly in the palm of his hands. His fingers curled around the length and he guided his tip toward my soaking pussy. Just begging for his presence. 

His other palm rested on my thigh, and the pads of his fingers dug against the skin as he lifted the leg. Creating a clearer pathway while my legs were spread further. His tip - swollen and reddened - trailed up and down, through the slick between my folds. I whimpered, and pushed forward, before his palm clutched me harder. "Patience." He whispered, lip twitching. 

A stifled whimper left my clasped lips as he moved his hips. Pushing deeper into me, while his cock separated my folds and greeted the warmth of my insides. I moaned, lashes fluttering shut and jaw falling slightly. Chishiya's lips pursed as he focused, hips meeting my ass before he paused. Remaining there, where our dampened skin met each other, and rubbed as I subtly rocked. When my grinding became more urgent, he moved. Thrusting roughly. Bringing his tip back toward my clit, before rutting back into the tight space. He sighed, breath hitching at the crude movement, and the sounds that paired with it. Soft slapping, and quiet sucking sounds as my wet core gave in to his thick length. Dominating my insides with each drag of his cock. He stroked through me, and whimpered into my ear each time I clenched. Tightening around him. 

"So good.." He sighed, breath finally running short. He still appeared composed, however. Hair only slightly messed, wisps of it flickering over his hooded eyes. They were glossy with pleasure, and his lips were wet with how many times they had been sucked into his mouth, between his teeth. The exposed part of his chest was shiny with sweat, as the rare droplet dripped further than the eye could see. "Chishiya.." I moaned, head tilting toward the back of the infirmary. My hands found his jacket, and they clutched the material. Fingers folding around the fabric as I pulled it into my palm. 

He exhaled deeply. Lips parting when I began to tighten around him. He twitched against my walls, and the feeling sunk in. Trespassing through my abdomen and snapping the knot within my stomach. "Shit." I gasped, eyes flickering to the darkness beneath my eyelids. "Oh...Chish.." I sighed, breath cutting off with a whimper. A higher pitch breached my throat and he raised his brows. "I'm gonna.." 

My eyes squeezed shut, and with a furrow of my brows and a final moan, I came. Rolling over his cock as it thrust into me. Fucking me through my orgasm, while a ring of white formed on his base. His eyes flickered down, and his lip met the space between his teeth once more. He blinked, eyes shutting for longer than a second as he was met with his own high. 

He cursed beneath his breath and groaned lightly. Hips stuttering against my ass while he released. Stringing his cum throughout my insides, as he fucked it deeper. His breath calmed, and his chest fell with a subtle sigh from his lips. 

"Fuck.." I blinked, looking over his figure. Mouth still gaping and forehead still dripping from my high. "I wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly become more accident prone." He smirked, pulling out from me, and tucking his softened cock back between his shorts. "Yeah?" I smiled. "If that could be possible." 

[mindblowingscience]

If you saw grains of sand rolling uphill you might be forgiven for thinking you were watching a Christopher Nolan movie. But scientists have recently figured out how a sand-like material can be made to flow back up slopes, without rewinding time. Researchers from Lehigh University in the US engineered tiny particles they call microrollers by coating microscopic grains of polymethyl methacrylate plastic in iron oxide. Activating a rotating magnetic field near a sloped mound of the particles was found to exert a twisting force or torque one each individual microller. Coupled with a fluctuating attraction between the grains, the 'sand' drove itself up slopes and even overcome obstacles against the pull of gravity.

Continue Reading.

[dailyshowchica]

Loki Cosplay Part 8

Previously on Loki Cosplay: https://www.tumblr.com/dailyshowchica/761376032329777152/loki-cosplay-part-7?source=share

So with Halloween rapidly approaching, I have been working on the detail work for Loki's trousers, tunic, and coat. I am not done yet, but I am making progress.

First, the trousers. These were the easiest to do, since all I had to do was cut out a bunch of small rectangles out of metallic silver craft foam.

One of these I used E6000, and the other, I used a hot glue gun. The E6000 discolored some of the squares. Since E6000 doesn't dry right away, I covered my work with a plastic bag and weighted it down with a few large books overnight. In pulling away the plastic, I lost some silver.

I also used a lot more adhesive than I thought I would, so for the other leg, I used hot glue. That dries almost instantly, but I'm not sure it's as secure. It'll be fine for pictures, but if I were to wear this to a con, I might want to use E6000 just be to sure it stays together. It worked perfectly for my sister's dance costumes, after all.

Next up, the tunic. That is two pieces that I'll snap on, a chest piece, and a stomach/skirt piece.

I had to think for awhile about how to make the chest piece. In the end, I went with craft foam, and the gold lining fabric I had gotten for the skirt jacket. I cut out the fabric and glued it to a heavy paper template. But as you can see, the E6000 bled through. So, I made another necklet out of fabric. This was double-layered and treated like a ribbon, or waist tie, with finished edges. This fabric frays like crazy, so the edges had to be sewn. Then I sewed the all-fabric necklet in place. I lost more than I expected to in seam allowance, so it's not a perfect match. But it covers the glue stains, and looks pretty good. And Pretty Good is Good Enough. Time to move on.

This is where the scrap pieces of the black vinyl/faux leather came in handy. I looked at pictures of Loki and copied the shapes as best as I could. The vinyl doesn't fray, but I've tried to finish these edges anyway, if only for a bit more security. Plus, the skirt part of the tunic has matching trim to the coat. While the original may have metal trim, I'm just using gold ribbon in a decorative stitch at the edge.

The coat trim is the most work by volume, and work that has to be done by hand. From the Marvel Studios Visual Dictionary, I was able to see the metallic trim on the inside and outside of Loki's coat. And I luckily had SOME of that material handy- it was also thee scarf/tie Crowley used in his Heavenly disguise in Good Omens Season 2. But I don't have a lot of it. Also, this stuff can snag on other fabrics if you're not careful, so I decided it was only going on the outside. The inside trim was a gold-colored fabric remnant I found at Joann fabrics.

Using legal paper, I determined the positioning of the trim stripes. And as I was working, Ruthie cat came to supervise. She loves a good tent, and the coat, hanging on a tall chair with the skirt panels spread out, makes a pretty good tent.

I made the inner trim by cutting the strips maybe half an inch wider than needed, ironed nonwoven fusible interfacing to the back, and rolled back the edges. As I said above, this fabric frays like crazy, so I was very careful yo make sure there were no raw edges.

I have a bracelet of that same chainmail material in blue, so I used that and a scrap of the vinyl fabric to test sewing the mail in place. It works, but given how small the holes in the mail are, I have to move the needle straight up and down, which means there's going to be visible stitching on the inside. Not too big a problem, but it does mean the outer trim has to go on first. Then I can cover the stitching with the inner trim.

I also can't really pin the outer trim in place. Luckily for me, my mom worked for a magnet company for a few years, and I have lots of small, very strong magnets. Those work very well to hold the mail in place as I sew.

The gold embroidery thread was something I bought for my God of Stories costume, but it's too fine for what I had planned. So, to use it up, I'm using it to sew the inner trim in place- it's too thick/prone to snagging to be used on the outer trim.

I opted to sew in a zigzag pattern when attaching the trim. That way it's secure along the whole length and at the edges without me needing to go all the way around, as I will need to with the inner trim. But I can use invisible hem stitching on the inner hem, so it all evens out.

But then Ruthie decided I had worked long enough. But I've got the path mapped out, and sooner or later, I'll get it finished.

See ya next time!

[fruityyamenrunner]

There are a lot of websites purporting to sell "Caluanie muelear oxidize". and even apparently a local "research chemicals" company.

what is it for?

The Caluanie product is a light brown liquid made from transmogrification of palm solution. The Crude Caluanie 99% is produced from Muelear oxidize Pasteurize manufacturer, which is a first-rate chemical with prospective uses around the world to primarily chemical centralized processing industries.

Caluanie is popular in the chemistry, and paint industry as a hygroscopic agent and also it is broadly used in the industries of paints, coatings, printing inks and plastics. I highly recommend buying 100% pure Caluanie chemical from a trustworthy supplier.

Caluaine is also called heavy water as it includes heavier hydrogen atoms when compared with standard hydrogen atoms. This chemical product is made to break up and also burn metal oxides while staying away from interactions with other chemical substances.

This colorless liquid has been tested on the lab to validate that manual handling does not have unfavorable implications. Caluaine can be found in online store with full confidence in its safety and purity. Wholesale shopping are eligible for considerable savings!

Caluanie Muelear Oxidize can be purchased for a variety of uses

Chemicals are usually used for various applications in any industry. Caluaine Muelear Oxidize USA is actually an extremely desired product in the metal and also chemical industries. Among its most significant uses are:

– Emulsification

– Chemical crushing of metals

– Metal hardware processing

– Removing substances that other chemicals cant

– Stain removal

– Refinement of precious and semi-precious stones

thermostat!

everything about it looks automatically generated, so what the fuck is it? some drug precursor? literally just alcohol in a bottle? part of some law enforcement entrapment scheme?

here is a website selling some of it, with addresses in salubrious Batley, West Yorkshire and exotic Louisville, Kentucky. They have a video, dated in September of this year, of someone soaking a rod that appears to be ferromagnetic in the mystery chemical, giving 👍👍👍 while it takes effect and then extracting it, breaking it and finding it to be no longer magnetic

[karis-online-archives]

Hello and welcome to today's episode of Nerd Knowlege with Kari!

Today's theme was suggested by @rat-in-a-suit, shout out to you :D

Today we will talk about Cassetes!

I am very bold to assume that not everyone knows what this is so here's a quick definition:

a sealed plastic unit containing a length of audio tape, videotape, film, etc. wound on a pair of spools, for insertion into a recorder, playback device, or other machine

(Definition from Oxford Languages Dictionary)

Now that you have a brief idea of what it is I want to explain to you how they're built, who came up with them, and when they started to be sold.

Compact Cassettes have two miniature spools between those there is the magnetically coated, polyester-type plastic film (Also called magnetic tape. Side fact: The original magnetic material was based on gamma ferric oxide Fe2O3).

The audio is recorded onto it by using the incoming sound wave, having been converted by a microphone into an electrical signal, which produces a time-varying magnetic field in the gap of the magnet. As the tape moves past the recording head, the powder is magnetized in such a way that the tape carries a record of the electric signal.

Now that that is out of the way we can finally discover who came up with these beautiful sound devices.

The Cassette tape was invented by a Dutchman called Lou Ottens (21.06.1926 - 6.03.2021) and his team at the company Phillips, they released the first Cassette in 1963.

Short after the Walkman was released to the market, a Walkman is a portable cassette player, they were brought to the market by Sony (who else honestly) on the 1st of July 1979 (The model was named TPS-L2 which I found on eBay for a whopping 2000 Euros or 2177,50 US Dollars)

Shortly after the Cassette, we got CDs then iPods and now we have online streaming platforms too! This makes music easily accessible to everyone!

So put on your favorite music and enjoy the rest of your day or night!

Logging off,

Kari

[21/07/2024]

[almightyhamslice]

Versus Meta Knight! Been a while since I drew him, huh? Did you miss him...? Anyhow this version of him is different from how I normally draw him cuz he isn't handsome he's just funny and cringe tbh LOL. Like maybe I would've liked this version of him when I was 14 or smth lmao! He's about 16 and NOT actually a knight yet! So maybe we should just call him Meta..?

He comes into conflict with Kirby this first time over Mr. Star. Kirby's never actually met Meta before and doesn't even know his name, but Meta is well aware of who Kirby is (he saw him in the news after he saved Popstar from Dark Matter!) but doesn't like him much. I suppose it's kind of like... an Elina/Sunburst situation (have you seen Barbie Fairytopia 3??? LOL) where Meta Knight knows of Kirby's heroism but doesn't buy that he's such a great guy. Meta would rather help Mr. Star gather his pieces instead of Kirby, because he would prefer to swordfight about them rather than settle things over advanced connect 4 star stacker. Kirby has no sword, so star stacking it is. Meta is so sure that Kirby's an idiot because he's 4 years younger than Meta, but he should honestly look in a mirror... Meta has a long way to go and a lot more things to learn about the world!

I am not 100% sure what he n Kirby's deal is species wise... I guess they're like, a subtype of human that doesn't exist irl? that gives them the ability to fly (among other things). So getting all spec bio or whatever, I guess their bones are probably hollow. I dunno how they'd identify that in each other, but there is this weird sense of kinship between the two, and eventually between Kirby and Keeby too (Kirby DEF met Keeby at a doctor's office or smth super mundane like that LOL. Those two just play advanced golf together haha) that makes them realize they're sort of the same. Magnetism/gravity I guess? I think those are good words for it. They aren't blood related but they feel connected because they're the only other members of the same race? That they know of, that is.

To reflect Meta Knight's youth and inexperience, he wears no armor at all! His mask is plastic, and the only true 'knightly' thing he owns is his sword. His coat's way too big for him, and he's rather overdressed... who wears this many layers during the summer? Meta does, because he thinks it looks cool. He also might be insecure about his body or identity & wants that to be secret?

[cyber--raven]

My OOAK Frollo doll, start to finish...

Just thought I’d upload the entire process here; sorry if it seems repetitive of me, as I have posted pictures of this here before. It’s more so for my own record really, as it’s just super easy and convenient to put on multiple images onto one post here, or anyone who’s interested. 

Please note this is for my newest version, I have made others in the past using different doll bodies, fabric and head sculpts- some turned out better, some not, but all part of the experimenting, construction process.

Body: A Monster High Deuce Gorgon doll. I chose this because of the good articulation, good hand sculpts and it is the right size body to fit my head sculpts. Had to just trim the head peg and stabilize it by wrapping some string coated in PVA glue around it, as the weight of the head makes it flop down otherwise. It doesn’t have as much head movement as it used to, but it does have a little. 

In hindsight, one wonders if could be attached with magnets somehow, perhaps, but not sure. In the end it was attached with hot glue.

Head sculpts. I ended up using the one of the left. Made from super sculpey clay. The one on the right was originally on a different body, hence the different skin colour to match.

Purple trousers/Hose - made from purple stretch fabric- the same material used in swimwear.

I kept the top which came with the Monster High doll, as it has a nice brocade sort of pattern on it. I just dyed it purple, and made and attached the purple sleeves. Lets face it, no one knows wtf he wears under there,

Tricky part, the shoulder-piece.

Black velvet fabric with red braid /edging cord, and red ribbon stripes for the pauldron stripes. Back-piece of the purple stretch fabric. On the underside I made a pocket in which I inserted craft wire to hold the shape.

Finished with adding black cord around the edges to neaten it up, and glued on two red diamonds adhesive plastic craft jewels.

At this point I also made the white collar, the square shaped top sewn on. The circular base is so it stays in place. And also sort of resembles the collar and bib worn by nuns. Frollo Wasn’t a priest in the animated version that Disney did, but they sure sneaked in some clerical looking attire. 

And Finally...

I has dagger too.