#pompadour duck

[frogs-stealing-sleep]

Peace was never an option meme but with one of my favorite Pokemon a guys of all time

It's not even funny I love Quaxly

Quaxly shrine(?) under cut

I'm so sane about this duck

[outstandingmenshair]

Throwing it back to Teddy Boy pomps with a high front and duck’s arse brush roll, plus a clean mid fade for the modern touch.

[anonymouspuzzler]

everyone has been so darned kind about the update!! to everyone who has taken a peek at our work, explored the site, shared it with their friends, drawn fanart, done ANIMATICS, MUSIC VIDEOS, everything and anything - thank you, thank you, thank you!!

also here's a lot of little doodles i found i did during production that i completely forgot about until now. the last little comic is a True Story that happened when i was hosting the exhibition

[Image IDs/transcripts under cut!]

[Image 1 ID: A full-color, digital drawing of a puppet version of Puzz lifting up Wally on her right hip. Wally is smiling gently and waving with his right arm. There is a light green and blue gradient behind them, and rainbow text above their heads reading "THANK YOU!" with little heart symbols in several colors. End ID.]

[Image 2 ID: A photo of Puzz and the Wally puppet, with a caricature of Puzz's face drawn over where her head would be. She is wearing read heart earrings and has her hair in a curly updo similar to Wally's pompadour. She is smiling with her tongue sticking out, looking into the camera. Wally is also smiling into the camera, one arm resting behind Puzz's back and the other hand on her arm. There is an arrow pointing to Puzz with handwritten text reading "PUZZ!" in blue colored pencil, and various yellow- and blue stars drawn around the image. End ID.]

[Image 3 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of Puzz sitting at a messy L-shaped desk. She is wearing a baggy black t-shirt over a striped long-sleeve shirt, a grey skirt, and tights with a swirly pattern. There is a laptop to Puzz's right, a takeout container and cup of pens to her left, and a monitor right in front of her. There is a close-up image of Eddie's smiling face on the monitor. Puzz leans in close with an intense, thoughtful expression, going "hmm...". End ID.]

[Image 4 ID: A black-and-wite digital ink drawing showing Wally watching in horror as Puzz, spinning in circles with a vapid grin, ascends into the sky with a giant box balanced on top of her head. Her tiny top hat is in turn balanced on top of the box. End ID.]

[Image 5 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of puppet Puzz and Wally. Puzz is standing in front of Wally, back facing the viewer, with an empty grin. Wally, who is about a full head taller, looks down at her with dumbfounded horror, apparently unable to comprehend someone being smaller than him. There are several question marks above his head. End ID.]

[Image 6 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of Wally. He is leaning against a surface holding a phone, staring at the viewer with a gentle smile. He is holding the phone to his ear with his left hand and twirling the cord around his finger with his right. End ID.]

[Image 7 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of Frank and Barnaby. They are recreating the meme image of two men in the snow, with Frank looking off to the right holding a small snowball in his hands, while Barnaby jumps up behind him holding a huge snowball, grinning widely and prepared to Dunk. End ID.]

[Image 8 ID: A black-and-white digital ink comic about Puzz and Wally at the Playfellow Exhibition. Puzz, wearing a N95 mask and dressed up like Wally, holds the Wally puppet on her left. In front of them is a woman with a short bob haircut and striped shirt, holding the toy phone receiver up to her ear. In the first panel, the woman says, "this is your voice?", to which Wally nods and Puzz looks on. In the second panel, the woman cheerfully adds, "you have a sexy voice!", to which Puzz and Wally both look shocked. The third and fourth panels shows Puzz and Wally looking at each other, then back at the woman. The final panel shows Wally covering his face with one hand and ducking his face into Puzz's shoulder in embarrassment, while Puzz and the woman both laugh good-naturedly. End ID.]

[dallasgallant]

Something interesting is how sometimes designs will give the Greasers way longer hair (real) and are surprised by how short it is, but when considering the time period it’s not short!

To do greaser hairstyles (Jellyroll, elephant trunk, Ducks ass, pompadour etc) or even just slick it the way they do requires them to have a lot of hair. Pony explains it a bit in the book but it’s sort of like a reverse mullet, where the hair is longer up front and on the sides but then cropped in the back.

If Two-bit, Darry or Steve didn’t do anything with their hair they’d have something sort of similar to the 90s floppy™️ hair. Soda, Pony, Johnny and dally have closer to just a regular sort of mullet they slick and style. (Book and movie wise. Musical the only one really going for a look is soda from what I’ve seen)

The thing of it is they do have long hair because the standard for guys is wacky, sometimes it’s anything below the ears- other times it’s close to shoulders etc. Honesty with how a close cropped to the head practical buzz that’s dominated men’s hair for the past 20 years — they’re rapunzel. Nature is healing thankfully.

I guess the point is that hair standard is funny.

[cellulosaurus]

Dinovember day 3: Lambeosaurus

This individual is a hypothetical hybrid between Lambeosaurus lambei (which has a hatchet like crest and is the bigger species) and Lambeosaurus magnicristatus (which has a pompadour like crest and is the smaller species). Since they are reasonnably closely related and lived in the same environnement at the same period it is very likely hybrids happened (if possible). Visually it is mostly inspired by helmeted hornbill and hybrid ducks, with heavy referencing from Brachylophosaurus (gular pouch, neck meat and back spikes)

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 3: Adversary

“Hey, Chapman! The yooj?” Jill projects her question around me like a professional thespian, grabbing the attention of the startled customer.

Chapman jerks, looks up at her, and opens their mouth to talk, but takes a quick breath first. Then they look a little relieved but still rattled, and say, “Yyyyyeah. That’d be great!”

Their voice sounds like dark maple syrup, and I’m noticing the complexity of their hairdo this time.

It is a side cut, with the right side of their head shaved clean and showing off a tattoo of three fuchsias hanging down from the top of their scalp where their new hairline is. And the rest of their hair is short in the back and thick and long in the front and styled in a wavy pompadour, with a pointy and groomed sideburn that comes down half an inch below their left earlobe. And the hair is an immaculate dark hot pink.

Everything about them, their name, their voice, their haircut, all keep telling me to keep sticking to they/them for them, for now, until I actually learn their pronoun. Which I’m told is what I should do for everyone, and I try. But there’s something about their whole thing, what they’ve got going on, that transfixes me just a little bit more each time I look at them, and the sense that they’re probably an enby feels like part of it.

But now they look perplexed and still hesitant, like they’re trying to figure out whether they should try to solve a puzzle that’s been presented to them.

“Hey, Meghan, your drink’s ready,” Jill mutters at me.

Oh!

I’m in the way.

I make what I think of as a startled but cheerful sound and reach for my tablet to put it in my purse. But we all notice that the noise that comes from deep in my throat sounds almost exactly like the door chime. And everyone looks delighted and surprised by that, including me I assume.

Then I duck and fluidly bound toward my table, low, quiet, and way more graceful than I even want to be, my tail wiggling in behind me in the process. It’s embarrassing how it feels like my body is suddenly showing off for some reason.

Then I try to hide behind my table and bury my face in my drink.

But I can still clearly see Chapman in my peripheral vision and this display of mine does not seem to have unflustered them.

I may be new to physically being a dragon, and I may have a lot of trouble recognizing things like, say, flirting. But I’m not new to this. 

Whatever Chapman actually thinks of me, I feel like I’m in high school again. And I don’t even know what I think of Chapman, but my limbic system seems to have its ideas. I almost did a mating dance on the way to my table, and I really don’t know what to do about it, so now I’m remaining as still as possible now.

I have no clue what Chapman’s age is, as I watch them finally step forward to engage in their transaction. I’ve always been bad at judging ages. Humans all age at wildly different rates anyway. But also, we’re not even the same species.

Why am I reacting to them like this?

I find myself wondering if maybe they’re another dragon, just still disguised as a human, like I’d been just a week ago.

What if I’m only the first, and there’s more to come? Would I be able to sense the others, kind of in the way that Jill and Cerce already sensed these things about me?

Then I have a super wild thought, and lose myself in it as a way of distracting myself. What if there are no actual humans. What if we’re all mythical creatures waiting to shed our disguises, and that’s why we can sometimes recognize each other?

It seems as likely an explanation for what’s going on with me as anything else I can imagine. And I think I’d really like it to be true.

I decide I’m not going to pursue my feelings. They don’t make any sense. Not sexually, anyway. I wouldn’t mind being Chapman’s friend if they decide they can be friends with me. But I won’t try. They’re clearly unsettled by me, and I don’t want to impose myself on them in any way.

So the real challenge is just being normal when we’re sharing the same space, so I don’t make them more uncomfortable.

I figure that the best way to do this right now is to look around at the other customers.

There’s quite a mix of people today, and all of them are ignoring what’s going on in the front of the shop. They’re ignoring me. As usual.

And it strikes me, as I’m glancing around, now aware of my actual gender and how people seem to see me, that of all the variety of people who look like they might be women here, I share nothing in common with them.

So many of them wear some degree of makeup, and must have some sort of skin care routine. They wear jewelry of various sorts, and know how to put their hair up or get it styled the way they like. Their gestures and ways of speaking aren’t all the same, but seem like a myriad of ways of expressing femininity that I do wish I could mimic.

But, I don’t have hair. Or bare skin to apply anything to. I haven’t bothered with anything like clothes for four days now. And I don’t think I have vocal chords. I have something else that feels like it’s between my lungs. There’s no way I’m going to be using my tongue to craft soft vowels and breathy fricatives. No one alive right now is going to know how to give me vocal lessons.

And it doesn’t matter, because I’m a dragon and I really don’t have to adhere to common human beauty standards to be seen as what I am. But I do feel left out all the same.

And even if I still had a human body and was transitioning like normal, I don’t think I could stand putting stuff on my face to smooth out my complexion and adorn it. But I feel like I should.

I guess I’ve been raised by humans, and spent the first 50 years of my life soaking in human socialization. I shouldn’t be surprised I have this trouble.

Let’s say I decided to wear jewelry as a dragon. That’s something I could probably do. I could wrap necklaces or bracelets around my horns or something like that. I can’t decide if I’d be doing that for myself or to signal to everyone else that I’m female.

And at 50 years old, you’d think I’d be above this sort of quandary, because I’m well past the typical dating age. I’m settled. I’m disabled, too. I have my routines. I know who and what I am, and that’s all that matters. And what I present to the world is what the world gets. Like, other 50 year old women brag about how free they feel, no longer trying to be attractive to mates or meet societal standards.

Obviously, I’m not like other girls my age.

I turn back to my mocha to discover that Chapman is sitting at my table opposite me, composing themself with drink in both hands.

I recall seeing the movement in my peripheral vision earlier, but hadn’t made sense of it because I had successfully lost myself in thought.

I tilt my head to the side, eyes wide.

“Hi,” they say.

—

So I didn’t get a chance to compose my questions, and now Rhoda wants to hear all about Chapman while she tidies up my apartment.

As I knuckle out my explanation for Chapman’s interest in me, Rhoda is holding up things that are scattered around my livingroom and giving me a questioning look. I glance up and either smile or turn my head away, and she decides based on that whether to save it or throw it away.

So many things are just destroyed, and I have to let them go. But with anything that’s still intact, whether it’s useful to me or not, I just can’t get rid of it. I’ve got to have my things.

At certain point, she says, “Meg. Darling. We can’t store all of this in here. There isn’t room for your wings and tail, otherwise. Can you even afford a storage garage?”

In answer, I knuckle out the last few characters and then hit the talk button. “Autistic special interest,” I say.

She quirks her head and asks, “Chapman?”

I smile.

“Oh, that’s sweet. Maybe sie can help you figure out dragon things you might not otherwise know yet,” she says. We’d covered Chapman’s pronouns just a little bit earlier. Rhoda looks around at everything and sighs. Then she suggests, “What if we make your bedroom your hoard room, and turn the livingroom into your new sleeping den? I think the layout works better for that. I mean. Yes, your torso and legs aren’t all that much bigger than a human’s, but with those huge wings and that tail of yours, you know, well…” She gestures and nods at everything, “You do know.”

I acknowledge the truth of that with a gentle, tentative bob of my head.

“We’re going to need some help removing some of this wrecked furniture, too. But I’ve got a line on that. Don’t worry about it.” She tosses some obviously trashed things into the garbage and says, “OK. So. Chapman. Have you got another date with hir lined up?”

“Not date,” I respond. “Yes.”

“Sure,” she says, obviously not agreeing with my assessment. “What’cha gonna do?”

“Talk.”

“Where?”

“Park.”

“Oh, that sounds nice! Lots of room to move around. You can go for a little walk while you chat. I love it,” she says.

“Not date,” I repeat.

“I know,” she says. “My boy always liked going for walks with his friends. They'd all talk and talk and talk, and pace around the whole time even if they were just in the living room. But going places to connect and blab about anything and everything gave them all a sense of purpose, I'm sure. And stimuli and new things to talk about.” She organizes a few things, then continues, “He was autistic, too, you know. And pacing and walking was one of his stims. I wouldn't be surprised if Chapman's the same way.”

“OK, yes,” I reply. Then determined to delve into subjects of my own curiosity, I change the subject by asking the one question I do have cued up, “Why aren’t you freaking out about me being a dragon?”

Rhoda assesses me with tight lips, then replies, “It’s like you shed your old skin that night, you know. Maybe ate it in your sleep. Everyone could see this coming. It's just your new phase of growth.”

“Not you? You not do this?” I ask.

She blinks and wrinkles up her face and says, “Heavens, no! How even would I?” Then she holds up a finger. “Mind you, if I could, I would have. Ages ago! I saw how you were suffering. You were miserable under that old hide of yours. I imagine everyone saw it.”

So, I'm not getting answers from her. At least, not the ones I wanted to hear.

“Tell me,” she says. “What else are you experiencing along with this? Can you see things you couldn't see before? Are your senses sharper?”

“Yes. Thermals,” I reply.

Her eyebrows go up, “Can you fly?”

“Yes!”

“Fantastic!” she exclaims. “That must be amazing! I bet Chapman will love it!”

I’d roll my eyes, but I can’t. I do the big exaggerated head circle again.

“Oh come now,” Rhoda says. “I’m not teasing you about dating. I just genuinely think Chapman would appreciate a demonstration and you should give it to hir.”

She’s right, of course. And I agree to do so.

“In fact, I’d like to see you fly, myself,” she adds.

I look out one of my windows. I’ve got a third story apartment, two stories from the top. And there’s a small parking lot directly across the street. If I were to climb out the window and glide across that lot, I could catch the big thermal there and get some lift before wheeling out over into one of the streets. Some wing work, and I could probably get above the low buildings of that block. Without more experience, it feels really iffy, but I might be able to do it.

But I figure that a creature as big as I am is in real danger of seriously hurting itself in a crash. Too much inertia for bone density. Hell, starlings kill themselves on windows every day.

Intellectually, I know it’s a bad idea to test myself that way, but I find I’m not actually afraid.

I turn my head to look at Rhoda and open my mouth to talk, momentarily forgetting that I can’t really do that anymore, when I catch something big moving swiftly just outside my window.

My memory of it now is just a snapshot flash of an image, another dragon, wings, head, and tail pulled back, and all four feet extended outward to brace for impact with the wall between windows.

The very next moment of memory is bricks, plaster, insulation, wood, wires, and dragon billowing into my partially tidied living room and destroying it.

And I’m somehow turned 180 degrees, facing the monster who is picking themself up from the middle of the rubble of my apartment as Rhoda, who was safe in a corner near the outer wall, away from the impact and out of line of flying debris, shouts.

My tail is curled up awkwardly in the corner of the room near the door to the kitchen, and I’m already crouched and ready to leap upon the intruder, wondering how I got here, wings held tightly to my back.

And I’m also thinking that this maybe answers my questions about the durability of my body.

We are not exactly the same kind of beast, though.

Anyone looking at either of us would call us both dragons. And we have the same number of limbs. But that’s where our similarities end.

I’ve got iridescent blue and indigo scales with a pattern of diamonds down my back. I’ve got fiery orange and gold markings as well, and tan belly scales. I have a pair of horns that sweep back from my skull, and ear canals that are almost hidden behind protective scales. And I’m lithe and pointy, and look something like a cross between a gecko and a caiman, but with wings.

Then there’s this fuzzy brown asshole that looks like if you crossed a bat with a hippo and gave the result a feathered dinosaur tail. And I know that I cannot let that gaping maw anywhere near anything I care about.

I hear a rumbling that is as deep and soul shaking as you’d expect from an earthquake, and realize that it’s me. I’m making that noise with something in my ribcage.

Rhoda is pushing herself further and further back into her corner of the room, even though she’s already pressed up against the walls.

The moment my sudden adversary is free of rubble, they jump forward and let out a croak of a yawp.

In response, I jerk my head up and let out the strangest squawk that starts from the infrasonic rumble that’s been building in the depths of my body and rises to a cracking cry that sounds like an angry parrot. And then as I close my mouth afterward, a clacking noise like a raven’s comes out and I find myself jerking my head with each knock.

It’s not exactly involuntary, I just find myself doing what feels right. And I’m pretty sure the other dragon knows exactly what it means.

I’m not quite as big as my challenger, but my vocal prowess causes them to pause.

I don’t know why this is happening and I don’t know how it’s going to turn out, but two things are extremely obvious.

I’ve got to do whatever I can to keep Rhoda safe, because she is squishy and cannot survive being squished by either of us dragons.

And I’m definitely not getting my damage deposit back.

Also, I decide that hesitating is bad and I want this fucker out of my apartment.

I do a little zigzag. I leap slightly toward the outside wall, to my right, in the direction of my opponent. Then, still accelerating forward, I bound left, pushing off the floor to launch at a spot on the inner wall, twisting my body to plant my feet there so that I can leap off that wall.

I never in my life imagined doing anything like this with my old body. It was just entirely inconceivable, especially as my chronic illness set in. But, I’ve spent countless hours visualizing this exact maneuver with a body nearly identical to the one I have now, in situations I’ve really only seen in action movies.

My tail acts as a springing counterweight that also pushes off the wall just after my hind legs have launched me in the direction of the flying hippo beast. My wings have also made a measured stroke to grab some air and swim through it without slamming into floor or ceiling, but I do feel them brushing surfaces and things in the process.

Head bowed and turned sideways, I slam the peak of my shoulders into the side of the other dragon, and then straighten my neck out and sink my horns into their haunch.

I manage to make them slide about two feet, and squeeze an agonized “grawp” from their throat.

It’s not enough, though. I need them out.

I get smacked repeatedly with their right wing as they try to twist to bite me. But I’m more agile and serpentine than they are, and I’m climbing over the base of their tail and wrapping my own around their legs, hooking my tail barb in one of their ankles and pulling.

Scrabbling and clawing my way to the huge hole in the wall, I manage to get them to spin in place just to reduce the pain caused by my tail barb.

A good nine tenths of the apartment is now flapping wings, dust, and enraged screaming and roaring the likes of which Hollywood has never managed to imitate.

And then I do the thing. If this asshole wants to challenge and fight me, let them do it outside, away from people.

I unhook my tail and leap from my apartment, rumbling and clacking the whole way, and dive across the street to the parking lot.

The sun is going down, so the air is cooling. But it’s been a long summer day and the pavement of the parking lot is still rising with heat, and I spread my wings as wide as I can to catch it.

The lift keeps me from slamming into a car. And, with a beat of my wings and a curve of my spine, I manage to clear a tree near the street and avoid becoming part of the mural painted on the nearest building.

I let out a cackling challenge as I work to gain altitude flying down the street and toward the bay, away from what used to be my home.

I don’t have to turn my head far to see behind me, and a flurry of movement in my peripheral vision tells me I’m being pursued.

Perfect.

How in the God damned hell can that thing fly?

---

copyright 2024 the Inmara Fenumera

if you see a typo, report a typo

[bogleech]

I feel bad for quaquaval now, most of the comments on my review think it’s the ugliest if not one of the worst starters and while both other starter lines make the the top 5, pompadour duck isn’t even in the top 30 according to the Japanese popularity poll

He’s not my thing but he’s not THAT bad! Good for Quagsire and Clodsire though

[wyrdle]

Personal HC for how the Trainer Clavell AU begins:

After hearing about Team Star and the takedown plan from a student at the academy, Director Clav-- Clive agrees to join Operation Starfall with Cassiopeia. Donning his student attire, Clive was about to leave his office when his Rotom Phone rings.

It was the Professors, whom he hasn't heard from in years. The Professors confusingly mistake Clive for a student, asking him to find and care for the escaped Area Zero Pokemon for them, Koraidon and Miraidon, and to get their PokeBalls from their son, Arven. Sensing their urgency, Clive rushes to the beach without changing.

At the beach, Clive runs into the student council president, Nemona, who insists on battling the new student. To hide his true identity, Clive randomly selects one of the starter Pokemon he keeps in his back pocket and beats Nemona, who now insists on him to complete Victory Road. He obliges.

After fetching the Area Zero pokemon, Clavell comes clean to Arven, who agrees to help the man who raised him in taking care of the mysterious pokemon that his parents were obsessed with. After all, he needs help in finding the Herba Mystica for his own Mabosstiff, and Clavell had a lot of knowledge about the Paldea Region. :)

ANONNNN I LOVE YOUR MIND. This is such a wonderful way to kick off Trainer Clavell au. It all clicks together well, and I'm all for even the AI to be bamboozled by Clive.

How about, in his rush to the light house and back, Penny's little run in with some Team Star grunts goes about similar to canon? That way Clive is recruited under operation Starfall, as opposed to snooping lol.

Also a curious thought. You know how Nemona decides to use weaker pokemon against MC because they're a beginner? Clive does the same, though he has years upon years of battling experience, so things are quite easy. So in addition to the little starter pokemon (I like thinking of the duck being Clavell's lil' mon lol, Pompadour buds), Clive gets a bunch of new mons along the way instead of his usual team. His new pokemon go like "!!!" when he reveals himself to them XD

So far in the AU, only the MCs (if they even exist here), Arven, Tyme, and Geeta see through his disguise. The academy's biggest legend becomes the mysterious student champion Clive, who disappears into thin air one day! hahah

[seven-004]

Unexpected ally

Mito Yohei x Reader

I've seen little to no content for Yohei and simply couldn't stand for it. The most I could find were a lot of Yohei x Hanamichi on AO3 and only 1 on Wattpad for him and reader. It made me so saddd, he's literally my favorite in the anime I needed to give him some more love myself. Anyway enjoy!

"Do you like basketball?"

Akagi Haruko inquired as she approached the gym doors to watch the team practice. The interhigh tournament was nearing and the boys were especially enthusiastic in comparison to the start of the season and even tryouts

"You could say that" you answered politely, Akagi was here on her own today without her two friends or Sakuragi's rambunctious army

Truthfully you had somewhat of a crush on one of the members of such

She hummed "Well I think I'll be going now" you bid farewell as who'd you'd actually been here to see was absent from spectating today and began to leave

"Ah wait!" She called out to you and you turned curiously back "I'm Akagi Haruko" she introduced herself with a warm smile

"(L/n) (Y/n), I'll see you around" you returned the smile waving a final goodbye before heading home for the evening

— • — • — • —

"Pssst"

You glanced over -fortunately or unfortunately for you, you were also in year 1 class 7. Your seat? Next to Sakuragi- the red head himself had brought it amongst himself to find out if you were a fan of this particular genius

"You're the one from practice right? The one who was talking to Haruko yesterday"

This was the first time you'd actually talked, he was intimidating sure but overall not a bad person

"Uhm yeah, I've seen a couple of the practices why?"

Quite a devious look overcame his rugged features "You must be a fan of mine huh"

You almost choked but managed a simple deadpan "I- well-" he took the stuttering as confirmation "not really, sorry"

A look of utter shock took over his face before being replaced with confidence "Probably because you don't yet know the amazing capabilities of this genius, that must be it!"

"Sakuragi quiet down back there!"

You ducked behind the student in front of you to avoid the teachers glare

Sakuragi kept calling for your attention for a while longer, it was surprising that it was a first considering how restless he usually was in class. Then again he often dozed off or cried his rejections away

Throughout both the class and the short exchanges with the male you kept trying to steal glances at the boy two seats in front of you

Something the self proclaimed genius took notice to, for someone who didn't seem all that bright he was oddly perceptive

"Ohoho I see!" He cackled that devious look returning to his face startling you from the peering over the shoulder of the person in front of you that you were doing

"What-"

"Youuu like Yohei~" he taunted in a singsong-ish voice

"No- that's not-" you turned away with bright cheeks, guilty as charged

Through the playful teasing and friendly smiling Sakuragi didn't seem all that scary anymore

— • — • — • —

"Hey! It's (Y/n)!" Sakuragi approached with his army of delinquents as some would say

"Ah Sakuragi" you smiled as he got closer

The boys beginning to tease as he talked so casually to you "Oh? Over Haruko already?"

"What- not at all! Haruko is the only one for me" he turned to glare at the accusor and proceeded to headbutt them causing you to laugh

"Oh there she comes!" Anyone could see the internal panic as she walked closer

In his panic and true camaraderie Sakuragi quickly grabbed Mito by the shoulders and exchanged places with him so he'd be facing you instead. Catching you off guard and consequently a bit flustered

"Hey?" He greeted sheepishly, his pompadour slightly disheveled making him look the perfect amount of rugged

"Hey- hi!" Mito didn't miss the octave jump or how your reddened face deepened a shade

You both loved and hated Sakuragi right now. But above that wanted to dig yourself a hole in the ground

Mito chuckled finding your overall demeanor endearing which in return made the blush spread to your ears. That sound was your new favorite as of now

"I didn't know you and Hanamichi were friends"

"Oh that, he kind of just started talking to me in class one day. Something about being his fan because he saw me watch practice a few times?"

For all you'd thought Sakuragi was perceptive initially Mito was even more so. Noticing immediately how the tension left your body when Sakuragi was brought up

"Are you?" He asked curiously just trying to keep the conversation going while such talked to Haruko and the rest of the boys participated in their conversation as well. Sometimes unnecessarily to Hanamichis dismay

"No! Er- well I'm not there to see him at least, not that I don't see him- wait that came out wrong"

Mito watched in amusement as you tried to both compose and not expose yourself. That sense of endearment came back to him as well as did the tension to your body

Being under the slight impression that you liked someone else on the team and were trying to hide it. Another Rukawa fangirl perhaps?

— • — • — • —

You walked to practice with Sakuragi, taking the route to the outdoor side of the gym while he split off to the locker room

Haruko whom was already there greeted you. Having talked to her a few more times now while watching practices with a new sense of kinship to the team now that you had befriended the simpleminded redhead

Sakuragi was quite sweet once you got to know him and you hoped Hakurko would come to realize such if she hadn't already

"Are you stupid?" The chatter of the boys was heard around the corner as they approached. Who knows what they were talking about

"Ah you two are already here" the lot of them greeted which you returned now being a bit more comfortable with the four rowdy teens

Whom were still secretly betting on who your crush was, still thinking it was someone on the team. Not sure wether to expand their options after the whole Mitsui scandal you were present for with the girls

There were hardly any practices left until their first match and both spirits and tension was high

But just like how Sakuragi still managed glances at Haruko you did at Mito as well

It was hard not to when he was leaned against the door like that perfectly in sight. Holding his uniform jacket lazily over his shoulder with a soft smile watching his best friend find his calling

His head perking up and looking your way only to find you staring. Embarrassed, you quickly looked away and back at the shooting drills missing the way Mito's cheeks grew a soft pink

— • — • — • —

"Guys I don't think (Y/n) likes anyone on the team" Mito contributed as their wagers increased

Sakuragi surprisingly able to keep his big mouth shut on the whole thing. And perhaps not actually being aware of the waiver they had going

"What makes you say that Yohei"

"Well- I think" he flushed a bit rubbing the back of his neck "maybe I'm her crush?"

The boys erupted into laughter all respectively making their comments of disbelief

"No way she likes you Yohei"

"You really think she'd like you over Rukawa!?"

"Ha! She probably likes cool upperclassmen Miyagi"

The choruses of laughter continued but after he'd caught you staring like that he couldn't get the thought out of his head. Maybe the boys were right. You were out of his league but they couldn't stop him from dreaming

— • — • — • —

Mito would now proceed to analyze any interaction you had like some passionate underpaid detective. His suspicion shifting to Hanamichi, it seemed like you two were closer than he initially thought

In reality the two of you had become each other's wing men in a sense

"Ah Hanamichi!" You ran up to the tall boy with a wide grin not even attempting to hide the giddiness in your step as you approached Yohei's best friend "Guessss what!" You jumped to high five said boy who was in actuality only holding his hands to about shoulder height

"Huh? What is it (Y/n)" although all the guys referred to you with your first name now, hearing it come from his best friend who currently held your attention made Yohei feel a slight pang

It was an odd sensation he'd never felt "Haruko was talking about you! She said you're improving a lot" the classroom was mostly empty and the others weren't around to rejoice in the small celebration the two of you shared

"You hear that Yohei!"

Hanamichis voice brought him out of his thoughts and into the present. That little exchange has now made his whole day as Hanamichi overflows with energy and enthusiasm now. Taking off into the hallway 'accidently' and not so subtly bumping you into Yohei who catches you swiftly

"Hey! Watch where you're going Hanamichi!"

It comes off more aggressively than he intended but the perpetrator is already out of the classroom

After the initial irritation resides his attention returns to you now going to make sure you're okay. The bump itself wasn't very hard but everyone knows Hanamichi can be quite a brute

Only he finds you already captivated by his face

He has very clear skin and it looks great. Even when he often gets into fights it's obvious he takes care of it. With the way his eyebrows are tappered and no remaining evidence of any of his fights

"You're beautiful"

He looks stunned, a slight blush creeping it's way onto those supple features

Now realizing you said it out loud, a look of utter mortification overcomes your features and you make a dive for Yohei's collar to hide your embarrassment away still securely in place in his firm arms. You can hear his chuckle and even feel the reverb from where your face is timidly tucked away in the crook of his neck and chest

He could feel the heat radiating from your face and he enjoyed the way you hid with him from him. It was cute. Especially when you weren't like this around any of the other guys

Finally recognizing that earlier pang as jealousy "Well you look beautiful as well"

You groaned clenching his open school blazer "You're teasing me aren't you"

Another melodic chuckle pushed it's way passed Yohei's lips "I'm really not. Promise" you could hear the smile in his voice and didn't believe him but he gave you a reassuring squeeze nonetheless

Such making you aware of being in his arms. The sudden awareness of this making you squirm. Yohei released his grip only enough for you to be able to pull away far enough to see him face to face

The proximity made your heart race. But the way your face stayed red and the small pout on your lips gave Yohei butterflies

"I think- no, I like you.... a lot" he smiled so genuinely but kept you in place so you couldn't hide in his collar again. Voting to instead hide your face behind your hands "Aww come on (Y/n) don't hide from me, please?"

You nodded but didn't make a move to actually remove your hands yet but he patiently waited. When you moved your fingers to peek he was also blushing quite a bit but didn't look the slightest bit embarrassed or teasing in any way

"I- I like you- I like you a lot too" it came out as a squeak. And it took everything in you to put your hands down but the way he looked at you so softly like there wasn't anything else in the world made it worth it

"Can- can you say it again for me?"

You nodded but got on your tip toes to try and reach his ear. Only for him to slouch down against his desk so you could reach him

It took gathering all your courage and clenching your skirt to be able to do it but instead of saying a word you bashfully pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He immediately straightened up to his full height pressing a hand to his face looking rather dumbstruck "I could... get used to that"

[unchataparis]

Colder Than Titanic Water

Liladrien Week 2024 | Day Seven: Date

Lyle checks himself out in the mirror before he leaves. Red leather jacket, white shirt with a dramatic v-neck, distressed blue jeans – looking good!

The gold ring he wears on a near-invisible chain around his neck bounces gently against his chest as he scrunches his nose at his own reflection. The metal is warmed to skin temperature and its pretty metallic surface reflects the dim lights of his apartment. Lyle’s hands are covered with gel that he carefully applies to his pompadour.

One last spray of Acqua Dell’Elba’s Arcipelago and he is good to go.

Outside, it has started raining lightly. The faint aroma of petrichor begins to infest the city as Lyle makes the brisk walk down to his car. He shudders as he pulls himself inside his red coupé Porsche. As much as he had been enjoying Paris, its weather had been testing him lately.

As he drives through the streets, he sees mature women with children on either side of him. Cafés beginning to close as final coffee orders are called out. A bookshop with a black cat in its window front squints its eyes suspiciously at him as Lyle flips it his middle finger back. When the light turns green, Lyle makes sure to squeal his tires loudly enough to startle the wretched feline.

By the time Lyle pulls up before the great glowing mausoleum of the Graham de Vanily Estate, the Sun has all but set. The sky is a Prussian-indigo colour and the clouds are wisps of grey smoke.

Lyle leans out his rolled-down side window and quickly jams his thumb against the intercom button.

The speaker cracks.

“Yes?” comes an irritated, gravelly voice.

“It’s me,” Lyle says, just as irritated. The fucker can see him through the camera. He bears a toothy false smile at the lens. “I’m here to pick up Adrienne.”

The red light remains on for a few seconds more. Lyle imagines that Nicholas is debating whether or not it’s likely Lyle will leave if he ignores him. Fat chance. Lyle will ram his Porsche through the fucking gates of the Estate and make Nicholas pay for the damages to his baby.

The red light blinks off and the doors creak open, an electronic signal commanding them to part as slowly as possible. Lyle growls and flips up another middle finger at the dead security camera before driving through the gates to park neatly at the foot of the stairs. 

The doors of the Graham de Vanily Mansion are already cracking open, sending a pillar of aureate light to filter through like a hand reaching down from Heaven.

Émile Graham de Vanily, in white trousers and a cashmere sweater, beams at Lyle who has just slammed his car door shut and is moving up the stairs quickly, wincing at each cold drop of water that falls from the sky.

“Goodness,” Émile says, seizing Lyle by the shoulders when he reaches him. “You should’ve called ahead, I could’ve met you with an umbrella.”

“Ah, it’s no bother, Monsieur,” Lyle says. “A little rain never harms anybody.”

Lyle says this while wanting to throttle someone for the state of his hair.

“Come in, come in,” Émile says, gesturing for Lyle to walk into the warmth. “No need to catch a cold on this lovely night.”

The doors shut behind them and Émile leads the way into the foyer. Lyle squints down at the marble between his feet, trying to judge by his murky reflection whether or not he needs to duck into a bathroom to freshen up.

Inside the Graham de Vanily Mansion, every last light in each sconce and chandelier is on, making Lyle feel as if he has walked into a hardware store or a house on fire. The rain has started earnestly outside, fat raindrops the size of bullets hammering against windows and drizzling down. 

Lyle feels pity for any poor fucker caught in that storm.

Read the rest on Ao3 here.

[outstandingmenshair]

Duck’s arse to ducktail, Donald may approve of this full, flighty style of faded undercut. (He may not. Who knows. But the dude don’t wear no pants!)

[proton-wobbler]

Masterpost (Round 2)

(Edit: these polls have all concluded)

Bracket: Faves

Pygmy Nuthatch vs Oilbird

Bonin Petrel vs Great Bustard

White-throated Magpie Jay vs African Penguin

Dusky Seaside Sparrow vs Yellow-billed Magpie

Prothonotary Warbler vs Channel-billed Cuckoo

Pallas' Sandgrouse vs American Dipper

Blakiston's Fish Owl vs Pinyon Jay

Common Ground Dove vs Toulouse Goose

Bracket: Pretty Birds

Lady Amherst's Pheasant vs Japanese Paradise Flycatcher

Pink-necked Green Pigeon vs Plumed Whistling Duck

Pink Robin vs Red-cheeked Cordonbleu

Southern Emuwren vs Painted Redstart

Wilson's Bird-of-Paradise vs Bohemian Waxwing

Violet Turaco vs Purple Honeycreeper

Golden Pheasant vs Pompadour Cotinga

Purple-crowned Fairy vs Bluethroat

Bracket: TRUE hipsters

Emerald Starling vs Zigzag Heron

Kaua'i Mole Duck vs Whiskered Auklet

Madagascar Ibis vs Red-crested Turaco

Water Thick-Knee vs Palawan Peacock-pheasant

White-tailed Ptarmigan vs Regent Honeyeater

Invisible Rail vs Cabot's Tragopan

Collared Nightjar vs Kagu

Palau Kingfisher vs Sickle-winged Nightjar

Bracket: FOUR

Bat Hawk vs Hamerkop

Fiery-billed Aracari vs Bell Miner

Ancient Murrelet vs Arabian Babbler

Spotted Forktail vs Groove-billed Ani

Hairy Hermit Hummingbird vs Wedge-tailed Eagle

European Shag vs Short-tailed Pygmy Tyrant

Streaked Weaver vs Oriental Bay-Owl

Bearded Bellbird vs Marvelous Spatuletail

[hazelplaysgames]

photos around Splatsville. the effect at the edge of the screen is alright, it's the sort of thing i could take or give up on a whim. i really like how they gave the duck a pompadour.

[mabeljonesrock]

Au, where Wally Darling is actually Yellow Guy in the future if Duck didn't takes out his new batteries

If Duck didn't take out his new batteries, Yellow Guy would never lose his intelligence and later find a way to escape the house. After escaping the house and fleeing into the woods, He finds himself lost so he tries to find someone to help him save his friends from the house.

Wandering and wandering, He came across a new house that is empty and looked different from the old one. The new house opened the door for him. Too exhausted and hungry from his long rough journey in the woods, he let the new house invite him in and he decided to stay there for a night. After eating the strangely fresh food from the fridge and getting a nice bath, He climbed into bed and went into a deep sleep unaware of the darkness engulfing him..

In the morning, Yellow Guy woke up with no memory at all and couldn't remember everything including his friends and teachers. He went inside the bathroom to freshen up but was surprised to find his nose is gone when he saw his reflection in the mirror!

He decided to have some breakfast to get over the shock of losing his nose but he end up forgetting how to eat when he finished making breakfast. He then stared at his breakfast while trying to think about how to eat. Suddenly, the breakfast vanished and his eyes got larger for a brief time.

He continues staying in the new house for days. From what little info he learns about the new house he is staying in, the new house is named "Home" and was remain empty for many years until Yellow Guy arrived.

During his stay at Home, Yellow Guy slowly began to change. Days turn to weeks then weeks turn to months and months turn to years. He grew taller, gained eyelids and his hair is now long enough for him to style it into a pompadour. But the biggest change is that his mouth had turned into a permanent catlike smile.

Because he had forgotten about who he is and what his name was, Yellow Guy thinks the "D" in his overalls stands for darling and decided to rename himself, Darling.

When his clothes become too old and tattered for him to wear, Home gave him new clothes to fit his new appearance. Looking at his reflection from the mirror with his new clothes, He said to himself.

"I look like a Wally! Wally darling? I like it!"

[hypnotisedfireflies]

After that last ask I’ve got to know… were Tess and Joel ever invited to anything that went on in Indy? What were their reactions if they were? 😂 I’m also imagining Tess finding out on the grapevine and using it to fuck with Joel all like ‘and where was our invite? I think we should be offended!’ ‘It’s your fault, they all know you won’t share.’

Loving SQ by the way, although I do miss prime driftverse… these asks have got me wanting to reread spite

Anon – thank you – the Sioux Falls-Indy period is probably my favourite to write, so I appreciate the ask!  You’re getting a drabble. 

It’s half past one in the afternoon and a selection of the Indy group are hanging out together in one of rooms they regularly hang out to party in.  It was an executive floor, so it wasn’t hard to drag in sofas from other offices and make a comfortable ‘hang out’ space to drink and relax in.  Everyone’s drinking a lot.  They own the city and they’ve got more alcohol than they know what to do with.  Today, the group includes Tommy and Hannah, Robbie, Kate, Jiyoung, Stan and Lachie.

This takes place roughly around the last chapter of Spite – so Tess is living with Joel again, but he hasn’t gotten lost yet.

“It’s all in the numbers,” Robbie promised.  “Your tower’s only going to work if you get your math right.  You work out how high you want it and then you do your numbers.”

He was stacking champagne glasses, one on top of the other, in a sparkling tower of crystal perfection.  Out of habit, he wiped down each glass with a tea towel before he added it to the structure.  He had partly filled the lowermost glasses already, but the higher up he went, the less he put in the bottom until the upper tiers had nothing at all.

"Get each glass just touching, nice and snug," he continued.

“I read that shape was modelled on Madame de Pompadour’s tits,” Stan offered.

“Who is Madame de Pompadour?”

“I don’t know.”

Hannah stretched, arms folded over the back of the couch.  “French aristocrat during the revolution.”

“Why do you know that?”  Tommy asked.

“Why don’t you?”

“And that’s the last one,” Robbie said, placing the final glass on the top tier.  “Bottle, please.”

Lachie popped the cork.  Kate ducked and shrieked as it bounced off the wall above her head.  “Shit! Sorry.”

“Fucker!”

“Sorry!”

“Okay, here goes … prepare to be dazzled!”

“Oh, just get on with it, you little bitch!”

Robbie eased closer to the table and began pouring to the collective oohs and aahs of his collective audience.  It took three more bottles to fill up all the glasses, golden liquid tumbling from one crystal glass to another.  Then he and Lachie began the slow process of dismantling the tower and passing the drinks around.

They were all into their second round – determined to finish the tower and waste nothing – when the conversation turned to what it always did:  gossip.

“Any word on Ricardo?”  Jiyoung asked.  She had started drinking earlier than the rest of them and was lapping out of her glass like a cat.

Everyone shook their heads. 

“Still don’t know what he likes,” said Kate.

“I’ll find out,” Jiyoung declared.  “I have already won the bet.  You bitches just don’t know it yet.”

“He’s shy,” Kate added.

“It’s a bit fuckin’ late for shy,” said Lachie, shuffling a deck of cards.  “Get your priorities straight, you know?”

Stan shook his head.  “He doesn’t like girls.  I spent so much time in the closet, trust me, I know what it looks like.  It’s a sixth sense.  I can smell it.”

Tommy scoffed.  “You can smell what?”

“Pheromones.”

“Bullshit.”

“The gaydar is never wrong, Tommy.”

“Bullshit,” Tommy said again, now laughing.

“You need to leave Ricardo alone,” Hannah warned.  “He’s staying with Rachel, and you know what that means.”

Robbie groaned.  “Those two piss me off.”

“Who, Rachel and Ricardo?”  Lachie glanced up, surprised.  “They’re harmless as, mate.”

“No, their fuckin’ – keepers.  Sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy shrugged, leaning forward to shake out a fresh cigarette.  “I don’t fuckin’ care.”

“Why don’t they ever hang out with us?”  Kate asked, petulant.  “They’ve been invited, haven’t they?”

“They don’t want to,” Hannah sang in warning.  “I’m telling you, don’t even ask again.”

“Tess would be game, right?”  Robbie looked at Tommy.  “Tess would be game?”

Tommy sparked up.  “Don’t know.”

“But come on, it was just you three for ages, you said.”

“Yep.  I never fucked Tess, though.”

Kate was sceptical and looked to Hannah for confirmation.  “Oh, come on.”

Hannah shrugged.  “I wasn’t there.”

“Tess is with my brother,” Tommy added, inhaling and passing the cigarette to Hannah. 

Jiyoung looked up from where leaned over her glass, nose to the bubbles.  “So!  Why should that stop her?”

“You met my fuckin’ brother?”

“And have you met Tess?”  Hannah added, perhaps quelling a potential blow-up.  “Do you really think Joel could stop her doing something she wanted to?”

“Someone should ask them again,” said Kate.

Lachie snorted.  “There’s an idea.”

“You won’t get Joel,” Tommy said.  “And they’re a two-for-one package deal.  But go on.  Ask.”

“It’s just to hang out,” said Kate, glancing at the others.  “I’m not asking anything, you know, like … it’s just asking to help us work down the champagne tower.”

“Then go ask.”

Robbie smirked at her.  “Yeah, Kate.  Go ask.”

“Why me!”

“Your idea,” Stan added.

“No.  Cards.”

So Lachie dealt to everyone except Hannah and Tommy, who weren’t going anywhere near this one.  On the count of three, the others licked their fingers, wet their foreheads, and slapped a playing card to their foreheads.  They looked around at each other until they determined the loser.  Robbie and Kate both had a three, but Kate’s was a heart and his a club, and that decided it. 

Robbie wouldn’t be going alone, though.  Accompanying him was an excited, whispery contingent comprising of Kate, Stan and Lachie.  They took their glasses and began the arduous journey into the next building over.  They consulted the work detail and neither of them were presently on anything, so they took an educated guess to try their bedroom first.

“Little Dutch courage, mate.”  Lachie handed Robbie has glass, and Robbie drained that as well as his own before knocking.

In an extraordinary stroke of good luck, it was Tess who opened the door.  She wore a tight grey T-shirt and green shorts.  There was a book in her hand.

“What’s this?”  She looked first at Robbie standing there with two empty champagne glasses, then further down the corridor when she heard the stifled giggles coming from the others. 

“Well, yeah, thing is,” Robbie began, wishing he’d actually worked out what to say.  He looked beyond Tess to where Joel was lying on their futon with a magazine.  He didn’t glance up. Robbie lowered his voice.  “Thing is, we’re having a bit of a get together next door, over in the – the other building.  Thought maybe … you two … might want to come?”

“A get together?”  Tess repeated, matching his whisper.  She looked down at the other three again.  “Just you guys?”

“And Jiyoung and Tommy and Hannah.  We’ve got a – I did a champagne tower.”

“A champagne tower?”  Tess’s eyes were sparkling.  She smiled at Robbie and then leaned back to address Joel.  “Hey, come over here, Texas.”

“What.”

“Come over here.”

Tess smiled benignly at Robbie, scratching her calf with the toes of her other leg while she waited for Joel to haul himself up.  He stood behind Tess, hand on the door.

“What?”

Robbie glanced at Tess, who nodded encouragingly, and tried to find his words again.  “We’re having a get together over in the next – over the next, and maybe you two want to come?  I did a champagne tower.”

Joel stared at him for a moment.  He did not even bother to grace Robbie with an answer as he looked at Tess:  This fucking guy.  He started to close the door.

“Bye,” Tess flirted in the moment before the door shut. 

There was a moment of silence, and then Tess’s laughter rang out on the other side.

“Oh shit,” Robbie whispered, stepping back.  “Did you see the way he looked at me?”

Stan grinned and slung his arm around his shoulders.  “I think that was a ‘come back and ask me later.’”

“Pheromones?”  Lachie asked dryly as they headed back.

“Definitely pheromones.”

(Tess gif maker unknown, @humorblr for Joel)

[stuckasmain]

Absolutely losing my mind because the hairstyle Billy has, I initially thought it was just a pompadour but it’s straight up a D.A.

“Duck butt/duck tail/duck ass.” It still has a fluffier part in the front but involves slicking the sides back and a lot more general styling. It’s also what’s more associated when people think of the 1950s —- actually I think it’s a bit of both a D.A and Jellyroll with his little floof up front.

When his hairs down/messy it’s noticeably more voluminous on the sides etc noting the way he usually styles it slicks back/to the side