#slime comparison

[learnearninfo]

MAKING SLIME WITH BALLOON VS PIPING BAG #shorts #boomslime @Boomslime46 ​

[slimeshr00m]

I can't get this out of my head ever since I realized it earlier. Listen. Jeremy Frazier (Beetlejuice Beetlejuice) and Arnie Cunningham (Christine)??? It feels absolutely impossible to describe what I mean in any way other than just "Jeremy Frazier and Arnie Cunningham???"

[essskel]

Glad I finally read Christopher Buehlman’s Between Two Fires cause it was a fun book and I love fantasy that really commits to a medieval setting.

But when I tell you the plot was disgraced wandering monster fighting knight taking a young, white-haired christlike girl with magical but uncontrolled powers under his care and then having to race heavenly (but evil) figures to relocate her cause he realized he loved her like a daughter ……… AND HE HAD A GAY SIDEKICK?

sapkowski baby where’s your check

[thesilverlock]

for the ship chain thing

jey seems physically stronger than 96, might could crush him, but lets 96 believe 96 is stronger

NDBVBNDBVBN

Look, in a duel, the odds of Jey winning are 50/50 on a good day.

Mist has his faults in dueling, but is still technically a prodigy, thanks to Astral. So he has the upper hand against Jey there.

However. If we are talking brute physicality

While Mist is more likely to throw hands than the envoy is, he is no more likely to win lmao. Not against Jey. For sure. hdjkls

But yes! Actually!

He would (and does) let Mist believe whatever he wants regarding their power (im)balances. Anything to keep Mist emotionally sated. So this HC is pretty canon too xD

[deermouth]

roadways out of chicago are wild like that is a fucking org of nism (fun way of saying organism if you have problems)

[vellichorom]

I’M TRULY OBSESSED 💕💕💕 i am still so wholly normal concerning everything about this image let me tell you hO0

I'm fully embarrassing my brainrot. Stanley: into the paraverse. I GUESS

Anyway these guys are funny together. @vellichorom's narrator on the left, mine on the right.

[amzyspinkarch]

Seeing the scale guy get absolutely destroyed by Asta, will always fill me with the feeling of absolute joy.

FUCK HIM

[wtf-scientific-papers]

Gelation of Soy Milk with Hagfish Exudate Creates a Flocculated and Fibrous Emulsion- and Particle Gel

(Lukas et al. 2016)

[ID: diagram from a research paper showing how soy milk can be turned into traditional tofu curd by adding CaCl2 (calcium chloride), or ‘novel tofu curd’ by adding hagfish slime. The structures of each substance are shown, including particles of soy protein, oil droplets stabilized by soy protein, hagfish slime, and hagfish mucin.

A handy sidebar compares the production methods and properties of hagfish tofu vs regular tofu. Traditional tofu has bullet points that read “heat set (70-80°C), 40-60 minutes, energy intense, min. 8% protein, low water content, brittle.” The hagfish tofu bullet points read “cold set, seconds, low energy, min. 2% protein, high water content, cohesive & fibrous, soft.” End ID]

Submitter comment: Plus this unsettling quote: “Hagfish mucin was found to induce a depletion and bridging mechanism, which caused the emulsion and suspension to flocculate, making “soy slime”, a cohesive and cold-set emulsion- and particle gel… Because the mucin-induced flocculation resembles the salt- or acid-induced flocculation in tofu curd production, the soy slime was cooked for comparison.”

Did they eat the hagfish slime tofu? The paper doesn’t say, but one has to wonder.

[unaarista]

Ulitharid!Omeluum AU again! Boy, do i love AUs. Lemme put my favourite NPCs with barely a few spoken lines in a different world and give them full fledged lives.

Plus a little accompanying story under cut:

…First, they shoved them into the cleaning chamber – a tiny, dark room, with cold water constantly spraying from the ceiling. Then, the culling – an angry looking mind flayer (though to Blurg they all looked angry) made the prisoners line up and passed along the line, occasionally pointing the long clawed finger, and obedient thralls in the same black coveralls pulled people – usually sickly or old – from the line and dragged them away with surprisingly little resistance – seems like Blurg wasn’t the only one who accepted his fate. When Y was taken, Blurg briefly closed his eyes and did a small prayer in his heart, with words half-forgotten, to no one in particular – neither of his people’s gods cared for him, nor he cared for them.

Those who remained were dressed appropriately to their new illithid masters’ tastes – in an unknown rubbery material that wrapped itself over the body as if alive, obeying the mind flayer jailers’ mental commands, flowing like a quicksilver, sticking to the skin like a slime, wet and disgusting. As if the look of anything that is not gray and moist was offensive to their captors’ eyes.

He expected to be placed with those who can do the heavy work and sent to be enthralled, but instead was separated from the group. Many, many narrow and dark passages later, so many that his head was spinning, he felt a distinct foul and salty smell in the air. More passages – and, flanked by two thralls he did not dare to look at, he entered a vast chamber with a dimly glowing lake of pungent smelling liquid – an illithid brine pool, his memory prompted. A creature so tall it towered over its brethren stood near the edge of it. It turned, as if sensing a presence of a mind not yet broken, and approached them, flowing gracefully, its six tentacles snaking in excitement. Oh, so his brain was deemed worthy to become a snack for an ulitharid master of this colony. What an honor.

An inaudible conversation was clearly happening between the ulitharid and his mind flayer escort. Blurg’s internal debate whether having your skull dissolved would feel just painful or debilitatingly painful was interrupted by a mental command to look up. He obeyed – not that he could do otherwise - and creature’s burning gaze pinned him down. A voice, calm and devoid of emotion, yet almost kind in comparison to others, rustled in his head: “I am informed that a group of scientists is present among the new arrivals in our colony today. Fascinating to meet fellow researchers in a place such as this. My name is Omeluum. Let us share in each other’s knowledge”.

Without waiting for an answer, it turned and left through one of the many passages. A painful jab from another thrall pulled Blurg from his stupor and he hurried after.

[skelotom]

Don't let the progress made by others lessen what you've accomplished yourself. Comparison is the thief of joy. These slimes are also just thieves. At least it is undeniable that they are rather receptive to HRT.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 8

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 8: Beetlejuice and London Blues

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: hey y’all. I’m gonna be taking a break from this series for a bit after I post this. I’m gonna be real busy this summer, so LB updates probably won’t be weekly for a while. thanks for understanding!

Word Count: 8.2k+ (these are getting longer)

“Fuck me.”

A mistake.

You made a mistake.

Was your first thought when you woke up with the sun shining directly into your eyelids; the throbbing pain deep in your skull was the first symptom of your grave oversight. 

“Fuck you is right…” A loud voice pierces through the silence in the room and the pounding in your head worsened immediately. 

Turning over at a snails pace, you find Link leaning against the doorframe, with a bitter frown on his face. 

“What did I do?” You moaned, holding your head in your hands.

“Other than be a massive asshole? Drink yourself stupid.” He says bluntly, walking into the room and placing a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table.

Pushing yourself up, you continue to loudly groan despite the pounding in your skull and desperately reached for the medicine bottle. After popping two in and washing it down it some water, you leaned against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

Being ran over by an 18-wheeler and somehow managing to survive would be a fair comparison to your current condition.

“I don’t remember how I got back.” 

“We don’t know either, you just opened the door…”

“Right.” Hazy memories of last night’s escapades we’re starting to come back.

“What the hell, Y/N, we were looking for your ass for almost four hours.” He crossed his arms, staring you down as his nose flared in anger.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, closing your eyes. The familiar feeling of guilt rumbled in your chest the longer you met his judging eyes.

After sneaking off to the bathroom, you knew you had to take the opportunity to escape that after-party. You thought drinking your problems away and partying would help distract you from your argument with Jenna. But your efforts proved fruitless. The longer you stood in that loud room, the more suffocating it felt; Jenna’s words echoing mercilessly in your head. 

So you slipped out without letting anyone know. Dumb idea, I know.

You had full intentions of going for a walk to clear your head, thinking of what to say to Jenna and then making your way back to the hotel to wait for her so you could talk, but before that could happen…

“Well, well, well… look who it is.” 

Dropping your hand that was holding your phone limply by your side, you perk up. All thoughts of calling an Uber back to the hotel were forgotten as you turned; feeling your blood run cold immediately at the familiar voice.

“Damon.” You greet flatly. 

“Aw, come on, that’s how you greet an old friend?” He held a hand to his chest, walking forward. “Vegas was so long ago, don’t you miss my company?” 

“Not particularly no.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.

“You don’t mean that, baby…” He stood in your space, leaning into you. You held your head up, not intimidated by his presence.

“What are you even doing here? Last time I checked, you weren’t invited to the Met.” You grit. There’s no way his C-list ass was invited to one of the biggest social events of the year. 

“I was someone’s plus one.” He answered, shrugging.

You roll your eyes because of course he wasn't even invited. He was always sliming his way into events.

“Come on, we used to have so much fun…” He leaned closer.

“Get out of my face.” You grit, standing your ground.

“You don’t really blame me for Vegas, do you?” He stepped back, annoyance growing as his brows furrowed.

You bit back a laugh, spatting out. “Of course I do! You had coke on you – snorting that shit in a fucking strip club with me beside you. The hell were you thinking?”

He crossed his arms, anger steadily masking over his features. “You weren’t complaining about wanting to get fucked up before that. Actually, you were the one that begged me to leave L.A.”

You glare at him as you’re reminded of that weekend three months ago. “Clearly that was a mistake. The press thinks it was mine, Damon.”

He shrugged, smirking.  “Beats me.”

Your glare hardens as you clenched your jaw. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh baby, you just found out?” His smug smile widens and you wanted nothing more than to punch it clean off his face. 

“Stay the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you.” You bark, eyes never leaving his.

His gaze twinkled in amusement at the challenge, paying no heed to it. Then he leans in close to your ear, whispering. “You’ll be back soon when you realize no one wants you.”

Your heart drops as his words ring in your ears. You keep your face impassive, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing his words affect you.

“Your little PR relationship with Jenna is cute. You guys almost have everyone convinced, but I know the truth. You’ll be back when Jenna realizes that you’re too broken to love.” He taunts, smiling widely. 

Your heart thrums so loudly against your chest that it makes your entire body throb in tandem.

“Fuck you.” You shove his chest firmly as he stumbled back a couple steps from the sheer force.

You don’t wait for a response as you leg it down the sidewalk, ignoring people’s questioning looks. You weren’t sure if they recognized you or if they were questioning why you were in a fancy suit on the streets of New York City but you didn’t care either way; just stomping off in no particular direction. Not giving anyone who may have recognized you, time to stop you.

You kept walking even as your legs begged for reprieve, taking sidestreets and alleyways to hide from prying eyes, hiding in the shadows. You lived in the Big Apple for a year for a role and in that time, you had gotten to know the city well; preferring to walk to familiarize yourself with new locations. 

“Where the hell were you?” Link questioned. You can hear the agitated tone in his words even as your eyes were closed. 

“I went for a walk.”

“You came back drunk.”

“I stopped by the liquor store.”

“You were gone for three hours.”

“It was a big bottle.”

He huffed. 

You crack an eyelid open, already noting his firmly-set jaw. “Okay, I’m sorry, truce?”

Even you know when you’re being an asshole. You note the dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes and it reminded you of the first time you came home after meeting Jenna. The moment Link opened the front door, he had the same expression on his face.

His jaw tightly clenched but his brows pulled in a way that showed his concern. 

Before you could spew any apology you had saved, he pulled you in for a hug, muttering on about how worried he was about your arrest. It made your throat close up and tears build in your eyes at how distressed he sounded. Even when you’ve fucked up, he was still worried about you. 

That familiar pang of guilt comes crawling back the longer he stared at you now with that same look.

Instead, he sighed, dropping his head in surrender and muttering, “truce.”

That makes you open your eyes fully, nodding. “Okay.”

He sat on the foot of the bed, posture more relaxed. “Seriously though, what were you thinking?”

Picking at the loose thread of the duvet, you couldn’t meet his inquiring gaze. “I really did just need some air at first. Then I was gonna go back to the hotel to wait for Jenna, to apologize… but then I saw Damon.”

His sharp intake of breath reaches your ears. “Did you–”

“No!” You were quick to answer. “No… but he was an asshole, said something that pissed me off and I just couldn’t go back to that party or see Jenna. So I kept walking, I think I ended up in Central Park.”

“What did he say?” His nostrils flared.

“Nothing important, I walked away.” You omit.

He conceded but you could see his reluctance anyway.

“And then what — you were walking around, drinking in the middle of Central Park?” He asked bewildered, like you were stupid. Which, hearing it out loud now, is a very stupid decision. It was a miracle you made it back safely.

“Yes…” You muttered, ashamed. “I know I fucked up.”

His laugh is loud and taunting. “Fucked up? We’re way past that. Jenna’s pissed at you and Jake and Sarah found out you two didn’t go to the same after-party. They’re expecting it to be a headline.”

You bang your head against the headboard, ignoring the worsening ache. You deserved it, anyway. “Shit, Jenna… where is she?”

He scoffed, “gone.”

You whipped your head to find his eyes, ignoring the queasiness it caused in your stomach or maybe it was news of Jenna’s departure. “What?”

“She got out of New York first thing in the morning.” He explained.

“Fuck…” You close your eyes again, sliding down the bed. Flashes of your anger bubbling over, reaching a boiling point and exploding on Jenna. You remember your harsh words and the hurt expression that takes over the other actress’ face as you spoke with unabated hatred. “What did I do?”

“Don’t know, I left the room – but whatever you said, it must’ve been pretty bad 'cause it looked like she was about to cry when she came out of your room.” He recounted; not bothering to sugar-coat it. There seems to be nothing and no one that can get to you other than Jenna. 

Maybe realizing that you’ve hurt her, will be the wake-up call that you needed.

“I fucked up.” You repeated, staring at the ceiling.

“I know, buddy.” He sighed, patting your leg. “But you’ll fix it. You always do…”

“I don’t know about this one man.”

Telling Jenna that you wanted to end this PR relationship with her? You just wanted to be mean and hurt her back and that makes Jenna right, you are an asshole.

“What did you even say?” 

You recounted the anger-filled words that you spewed through your drunken stupor, avoiding Link’s angry expression when you finished.

“Are you fucking serious? How could you say that?”

“It was a mistake… I didn’t mean it.” 

“You need to get your head out of your ass and apologize to that girl.” He huffed, getting off the bed. “Get up, our flight leaves in an hour… stupid idiot.” He muttered, walking off as he shook his head in disappointment. 

This time, you couldn’t even blame him. You are an idiot.

***

“Where’s Jenna?”

“She’s busy but she’s been briefed, we can start now..” Liv pursed her lips, leaning back in her seat. 

The tips of your hands start sweating at her words, not knowing what they could mean.

As soon as you landed back in Los Angeles, you had the day to yourself to recuperate after a long week in New York. You sent the other actress a text before the plane took off, asking if she made it back to L.A. safely but you never got a message back. 

You might’ve deserved that one.

There was no other proof of life from the actress other than when you asked if you could pick up your dog from her since she was looking after the pup before the Met. The only response you received was a text from her assistant saying Jenna’s driver would drop him off at your house later in the day.

Again, you might’ve deserved that one. 

As promised, her driver pulled up in a sleek blacked-out SUV with a dog cage in hand. Upon releasing the pup, you noted the new toy he refused to let go of.

Other than her team obviously playing the middleman between you and her, the only other sign that she was well was the Instagram post on her account of her night at the Met Gala; a variety by herself, showing off her Thom Browne gown, some at the after-party with Enrique and other celebrities.

You'd be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slight emptiness in your chest that she didn’t post you. In the late hours of your stalking, you failed to realize that she did in fact, post the two of you, just a couple of hours later.

As a solo picture, was the two of you kissing on the red carpet. You don’t know why the black heart emoji captioning the photo sends your own heart to a frenzy. If you stared at the photo long enough, it was almost like you can feel phantom sensations of her lips pressed against your own again.

You’re ashamed to admit how long it took for you to decide on a response before eventually settling on a white heart to comment back. 

You thank the heavens that Liv barely sleeps because you got a message from her at that exact moment about a meeting the following morning; distracting you from Jenna and that stupid black heart. 

So that’s where you found yourself, in the dark, clutching the armrests of the stiff office chair in nervousness, the longer Liv and Jake waited to explain why you’re here. 

“It’s an update about Vegas,” Jake explained, leaning on the desk, and staring down at you.

“What about Vegas?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sarah found out who leaked the coke…” Liv chimed in. “The source comes from a Twitter account, claims she’s one of the girls in the club, and said she saw you taking a bump, as well. Gossip sites got a hold of it and spread it like wildfire.”

“That’s a lie, I was passed out.” Not the best argument, but it’s the truth.

“She claimed that it came from you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Of course, it’s bullshit. But we’re in damage control now... The police still hasn’t made a comment about pursuing a possible case against you ‘cause there’s nothing there. We’re just dealing with rumours, at this point but I don’t want you to worry about that.” Liv reassured, holding a hand out. She could see the frustration etched on your face.

You rolled your eyes, slumping against the seat. “So, what do we do?”

“The PR with Jenna is going well. It did a good job at covering up headlines about your initial arrest – but now that Vegas headlines are back, we need to work on overtime.”

Immediately, you shake your head, brows furrowing. “I thought the relationship was only meant to last three months?” 

It’ll be three months by the end of this week and Jenna has yet to talk to you since your drunken night after the Met Gala. 

“Yes… and I also said less the faster people forget your night at the county jail, clearly, they haven’t forgotten.” She raised a brow in challenge, and you opted to bite your tongue 'cause she did say that.

“Even then, how would you get Jenna to agree? She’s not exactly my biggest fan, right now.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Jenna’s probably rejoicing at the fact that this agreement was almost over. After the disaster that was the Met, she’s probably laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement longer.

“Is that why you two didn’t go to the same after-party?” Jake flicked a brow, more so curious. You’re surprised he doesn’t too mad about it.

“You don’t even wanna know.” You closed your eyes in exhaustion at the thought of that night, missing Liv and Jake’s silent conversation, debating if it was time for a parently intervention. But you caught on to their silence.

“Please don’t lecture me on my dating life,” you grumbled, “it’s the last thing I want to hear.”

“Dating life?” Jake piped up, eyes lighting up.

“Did you and Jenna actually catch feelings?” Liv asked, a small smile on her lips.

“I literally said don’t.” You glared and the bite in your tone seemed to get them to relent; dropping the conversation. “And don‘t say catch feelings, it sounds wrong coming from you.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that, for your sake.” Liv glares before looking at her business partner.

You don’t comment on the weighted glances they keep sending each other.

“Anyways…” Jake cleared his throat, “Lucky for you, Jenna already signed the updated contract—we just need your signature, that’s why you’re here.”

You to sit up straight, unsure if you heard your manager correctly. “What? She did?”

Maybe she wasn’t laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement. But why would she sign it? After what you said to her in New York, you figured she’d be on her merry way out the door and your life.

Liv reached over to the side, cracking open a thick document, and flipped to a page before sliding it over to you; a pen on top.

Beside Jenna’s ink-printed name on the paper, is the same neat handwritten signature that you noticed all those months ago. Your sight flickers down; the empty line with your name just below waiting to be signed seemed menacing this time. As you continue to scan the page and you settle on a certain line causing your heart to stop momentarily.

“A year?” 

Liv nodded, lips thinly pressed. “People are invested. Your names are selling headlines and getting clicks, it’s working. But not well enough to cover Vegas. We need to build you two as a brand, together.”

Suddenly the decision felt weighted.

“A brand?” You drawl, the words feeling wrong on your lips.

Liv sighed, “I know how it sounds… but we need Vegas to go away. After your guys’ appearance at the Met Gala, brands have been calling Jake and Sarah about potential deals featuring you two. You and Jenna sell.” 

You don’t answer, electing to look away to ignore their probing eyes. 

“There’s talk that they want to exclude you from the Dune 2 press run,” Jake admitted after a beat, his heavy-set eyes staring at you unapologetically. 

A knife to the gut is equivalent to how you feel. “What?”

Jake nodded, propping one hand on his desk to hold him up as leaned on it. “I’ve been going back and forth with the producers – reassuring them that you’re not what the press have saying. But like we said, we’re in damage control. SNL, Coachella, the Met Gala, those were good attempts at covering things up to get good press, but it’s not enough.”

Glancing down at the document again, a part of you still hesitates to pick up the pen.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Jake asked.

“I–I need some time, to think about it.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Liv asked, equally confused. “Jenna already signed it.”

“It’s another year, Liv.” You raised your head to meet her eyes, in shock. Ignoring her reassurances. It doesn’t matter if Jenna signed it. There’s no way you’re letting this go on any longer. “That’s a long time.”

Flicking a brow, she answered, “Yes, it’s a long time, but we need to do this. There’s no other way..” She glanced at Jake, standing beside her, sending him a look.

You shake your head.  Mind already made up the moment you saw just how much longer this needed to continue.

“Well, find another way. I’m not dragging Jenna into my mess any longer.”

“What?” Jake dropped his crossed arms, watching as you frantically stood from the seat. “You wanna throw away the last three months?”

“Yes.” You stood your ground, crossing your arms.

Liv rolled her eyes, uncrossing her legs as she stands. You track her confusedly before you realize she’s walking off to Jake’s alcohol collection.

“That was a gift, Olivia.” Jake chided, as he watched the woman pour a hefty shot of the brown liquid from an expensive-looking bottle. 

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. 

“Are we dealing with the same thing right now?” She hissed in pain, placing the shot glass on the table as she gestured to you.

You shake your head, regaining their attention. “I have a career — movies and events lined up. I can’t play someone’s girlfriend for a year on top of that.”

“Y/N, there’s no other way… we’ll find a way to make it work with both your schedules but right now, we need to capitalize on the all of the attention.”

You huffed, annoyed that they were ignoring you. “I don’t care. Find another way. I’m not signing this.” Then you smack a firm hand on the document before turning to walk out of the office.

This has gone on long enough. You refuse to drag Jenna down any more than you already have. She’s better off without you anyway.

***

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Can you wait?!”

With haste, you stumble on your flip-flops when they tangle on your feet as you walked toward your front gate. The buzzing kept ringing out in the dark, quiet air. You desperately wished you bought a house with see-through gates so you could tell off whoever was repeatedly banging on your buzzer.

You lived in a gated neighbourhood, so you weren’t too worried about a random stranger roaming around. You assumed it was just one of your neighbours ringing the bell. 

“What?” You yank the door open, stepping out. The street lamps on the sidewalk don’t do well to light the figure standing across from you. But even in the dark, you instantly recognize her smaller stature.

She stepped back as you close the door behind you, now standing on the sidewalk. Your house was situated on a cul-de-sac and rarely anyone roamed the streets at this time. 

“What are you doing here?”  You squint, walking closer. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Was her answer, words practically dripping in anger.

You stand straighter at her tone, brows knotting together. “What?”

“Who the hell do you think you are, trying to make decisions for me.” She bit back, face contorting in fury. Glancing down, you note her white-knuckled grip on a manila folder.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here.” You sighed, scanning the street. It was empty and quiet but you never know who was lurking around. 

Walking over to the gate, you held it open, “let’s talk inside.”

She stood her ground, feet firmly planted on the concrete. You can see the sharp edges from her jaw clenching even in the poorly-lit street.

“Jenna.” You said knowingly, titling your head to the side.

You hear her huff loudly before stomping past you and walking up the path to your front door. Choosing not to comment on the fact that she’s never been to your house but she’s walking like she has been. Following closely behind, you can’t help but let your eyes wander down, taking note of her outfit.

As always, no matter what she wore, it hung off her expertly, like it was made just for her. You were so distracted looking at her… outfit, that you failed to realize you made it to the front door. 

“Are you gonna open the door or what?’ She raised a brow, not commenting on how quickly you averted your eyes as soon as she turned around.

“Yeah…” You muttered, sliding past her to open the double doors. 

When you make it to the foyer, Jenna is already confronting you before the door even closes. “Sign the contract.”

“Demanding much?” You raised a brow, shutting the door.

“Sign the damn contract, Y/N.” She said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“What are you doing, Jenna? This is your chance to get out of this.” You wave a hand, gesturing between you and her.

She laughed unamused, “Get out of this? If you think I can leave this PR relationship in the middle of rumours of your arrest and there’s a way I won’t be painted like the bad guy, then you’re really dumber than I thought.”

You clenched your jaw, not answering. 

“Sign the contract.” She repeated, taking your silence as a win.

“No.”

“Why not?” 

“I’m not dragging you into this mess.”

She laughed again, this time it was plainly mocking. “I’m already in this mess. I’m deep in it if you haven’t noticed. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every once in a while you’d realize everything we do is attached to each other, now. There isn’t anywhere I can go without being asked about you or our relationship. So no, I’m not letting you make this decision for me. ‘Cause I’m making it for us.”

You stared at her. The fury in her eyes and tension in her shoulders were noticeable even from where you stood; it didn’t aid in easing the mellowing guilt in your chest.

“It’s all from a business standpoint, don’t look into it.” She glared.

This time, you were certain you deserved that. 

Jenna walked up to you, pushing the manila folder against your chest aggressively. You meet her narrowed eyes staring up at you. “Sign it.”

Then she walked off, slamming the door shut behind her.

***

“How’s the missus?”

“How’s yours?” Tom joked back, handing over a steaming coffee cup. Graciously grabbing it with both hands, you eagerly sip on the bitter drink as the London native settles on the patio chair across you.

Although it was considered a warm day in London, there was a cool breeze that wafted through the air penetrating through your jacket. 

“Very funny.” You muttered, ignoring the heat rising up your neck.

“I’m just fuckin with ya.” He chuckled, cheeks crinkling in amusement. 

“She actually has day off from filming, right now.” You placed the paper cup on the table, fiddling with the cover. “So, at home.”

“Beetlejuice 2, right? Insane gig, you must be proud of her.” He smiled, gauging your reaction.

The smile that creeps up on your face is genuine, “Yeah, I am. They just started filming last week, I know she’s killing it.”

“Have you visited her on set?”

You blushed, not even considering that a possibility. “No uh– not yet.”

“Either way, it’s great. I’m happy for you guys.” He said sincerely, but he sees through you. “But, what’s with the long face?”

You sighed, leaning back. Taking a moment to glance around at the quiet street, it was still early morning and the hustle of the Brit actor’s town was still non-existent.

You’ve known Tom for a long time, meeting him during your stint in the MCU. He’s become a brother of sorts, as you two navigated the Marvel fame throughout all those years. As soon as you landed in England, he was the first person you texted.

“It’s complicated– with Jenna.”

“How so?” He flicked a brow, sipping on his drink.

That prompted a long retelling of how you met the other actress (definitely breaching your contract, but hey, you’ll send over an NDA) the events of SNL, Coachella, the Met, and recently, how you’ve been forced to follow her to London as she films Beetlejuice 2 to support her as she films the follow-up to the iconic horror-classic.

“Wow…” His brows raised in shock, mouth hanging wide open. 

You raise an expectant brow. “Well? What should I do?”

“You asking me?” He pointed to himself and if he wasn’t one of your closest friends and Hollywood’s biggest faces, you’d punched him straight.

You huffed, brows knitting together. “Yes, I’m asking you. You and Z are the epitome of a healthy relationship. Tell me what to do.”

Tom rubbed his stubbled jaw, relaxing in his seat as he thought of what to say. “It’s not that easy. Z and I actually want to make it work.”

“What does that mean?” You sat up straighter, a bit defensive.

“Mate, throughout that whole story, you kept talking about this relationship like it was the worst thing in the world. Making up excuses for your actions as to why you can’t open up to Jenna— running away. You guys haven’t talked about anything. She doesn’t know about Vegas, or how you felt about Coachella… You also have yet to apologize for how you disappeared for hours and then acted like an asshole in New York. You just followed her to London, expecting to live under one roof like everything’s alright. It’s a bomb waiting to explode.”

You… couldn’t say anything to that.

He bit back a laugh at your wide-eyed reaction, “Listen, I’m no expert on relationships – I’m still trying to find my way. But one thing I’ve learned, is that when two people want to make it work they will, but that only happens with honest communication. She doesn’t even know how you feel about her… maybe start there.”

“What if it’s too late? What if too much has happened for us to fix things?” You questioned, meeting his kind eyes and allowing him to see the vulnerability in yours.

“Then you start over, build from the ground up.”

You knew his relationship has also seen its fair share of rocky moments. Noting his slew of ex-girlfriends before eventually finding his way back to the Euphoria actress. That made you feel a bit better about your situation.

“Let me ask you this,” He piques up, leaning his elbows on the table, fingers cupping his chin, “what are you so scared of?”

You already know your answer. “I don't want to break her heart.”

He hums, pondering your response, “It sounds like you don’t want her to break yours, mate.”

This time, you’re the one humming as a response, unsure of what to say because he’s right. There’s never been anyone you’ve allowed to get close enough to even break your heart. 

The thought that someone could take your heart and stomp on it whenever they wanted is terrifying concept.

“Look,” he speaks up when you don’t answer, “it sounds like you really care about Jenna. I’ve seen pictures of you two, even if you say it’s just for the cameras. I’ve never seen you look so smitten. Talk to her, you never know what could happen if you stop getting in your own way.”

You flushed, choosing not to comment on his words. “Ho-how you’d see the pictures?”

“You two are everywhere and Z sent me that picture of the two of you with her niece. Very cute,” He winked cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, I get it. I’ll talk to her.”

“Finally, Link owes me a drink.” He settled back into his seat, sipping on his drink.

You rolled your eyes, shooting the Brit a glare. “You two are annoying.”

But he just chuckled, trying to hide it with a sip of coffee before speaking up again. “Hey, once you get settled here in London, why don’t you come to Monaco with me for the F1 Grand Prix?”

Your gaped at the offer, “You serious?”

“Yeah, it’ll do you some good. Forget about Vegas, the press and Jenna, for a bit?” He leaned in, raising his brows at the proposition, a grin smacked on his teeth. “Me, you, a couple of friends and some cars. What’d ya say?”

You’d take a moment to think over your options but you were already sold.

“I’m in.” You grinned.

***

It’s been three days since you landed in London, following Jenna across the Atlantic Ocean as she filmed Beetlejuice 2. You're still trying to adjust to the time zone difference but that’s really the least of your worries because it’s been terribly awkward living under the same roof as Jenna.

You were seriously considering paying for a hotel during your time here but maybe spending thousands of dollars, or pounds… on a hotel room every night in London for a month straight isn’t the best business decision.

Clearly Jake and Sarah agreed because when you called Jake he said and I quote ‘there’s no other way for you to live anywhere other than with Jenna’ — yeah right.

At least she’s speaking to you — which is a step. Jenna had to fly over to the UK a week earlier and in that time it seems the tensions between you have simmered down. But, her responses are restrained, overly polite, like she didn’t know how to talk to you anymore.

You ignored how your heart clenched at her snipped, cold responses.

“Hi,” She greeted, as soon as you made it down the hallway then living room. Eyes tracking your every move as you shuffled to the kitchen, placing a paper bag atop the counter.

“Hey, how was your day off?” You greeted, glancing up at her momentarily.

“It was alright, I just walked around; got to know the neighbourhood. What about you? You were gone by the time I woke up...” Jenna asked, hating how you averted your gaze from her so quickly these days.

“I met up with a friend over at Kingston.” You replied, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

“Tom Holland?”

Turning, surprised she knew that but she answered before you could even ask. “I saw some pictures on Instagram.”

You purse your lips, nodding; not really surprised the paparazzi discovered your outing with the Brit actor. The press never sleeps, even when you’re in another continent.  “Oh, I see… well, he says hello, by the way.”

Jenna perked up surprised. “He did?”

You nodded but said nothing else. 

“You were gone for a while, though.” She added.

“We also grabbed dinner.” You’d usually make an annoyed quip about the sudden interrogation but at this point, you were just glad she’s talking to you.

“Did you have fun?” She asked. You don’t miss the slow, drawled tone that accompanied the question like she was unsure if she should keep the conversation afloat or let it fizzle out.

“Yes, I did actually.” You find yourself saying. A day away from the tenseness in this apartment was a nice change.

Jenna wanted to interject and ask why you looked peeved in the photos and videos she saw. She’s familiar with the tightly wound brows and flared nostrils that you create when you’ve gone off on a rant. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what you two were talking about. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and nodded. “That’s nice...”

Sighing under your breath, you try not to make a reaction and set off an argument with the other actress but the awkward responses were getting old and it’s only your third day here. There’s no way you can handle walking on eggshells around her for another minute.

Shufflling closer to the couch where Jenna sat; gaze still tracking you. You send her a timid smile, placing a paper cup atop the table across from her.

A peace offering, of sorts.

“The coffee shop I was at this morning is known for their hot chocolate, so I got you one on the way back.”

She blinked, evidently surprised at the gesture. You take her silence as a chance to sit on the armchair just across.

“Call it a truce?” You added, sending a sheepish smile. 

Other than the episode of Breaking Bad playing in the background, it’s dead silent in the apartment.

You didn’t comment on how she rewatching an episode that the two of you had already seen.

Jenna stayed mute, just watching you but reached out for the hot chocolate on the coffee table then leaned back on the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

You considered it as an olive branch.

“I’m sorry for how I acted in New York — I know I worried you.” You gauged her reaction but she averted her gaze to the coffee table, on the cup she was fiddling with — anywhere but your own eyes. “You’re right, I am an asshole and I am so, so sorry Jenna. How can I make it up to you?”

Your question finally has her meeting your eyes, voice cold. “You can’t.”

You sighed, “come on, Jen. There has to be something.”

“You can’t because I’m not ready to forgive you yet.” She reiterated and you slumped back against the cushion, defeated.

“Okay…” You accepted. With a slow nod, you stood up about to walk off to your bedroom and lock yourself inside for the remainder of the night.

Maybe you can try again tomorrow.

Jenna huffed, “where are you going?”

Spinning around, confused; you pointed to the closed door down the hall, “my room? I’m giving you space.”

She stands up, agitation etched on her face and placed the paper cup on the wooden table with force. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I want.”

You flick a brow up, still bemused at her sudden hostility. “So, then what do you want, Jenna?”

Probably like her, you were growing tired of the constant fighting and miscommunication that seems to occur every time a serious talk needed to happen.

Her forehead created lines as she raised both brows, “to talk! I want you to talk to me. Open up to me — I never know what you’re actually thinking. You say I’m leading you on but do you even realize that you're doing the same to me?!”

She finished off with a sharp breath and widened eyes like she didn’t expect to reveal all of that.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remember the countless advice you’ve been receiving from everyone. Reminding yourself of the unpleasantness that took home in your chest from being away and fighting with the other actress. You didn’t enjoy receiving the cold shoulder from her.

“That’s not what I was trying to do, I swear.” You tried to say calmly despite your heart hammering widly in your chest; fight or flight instincts begging for you to flee.

She studied you with a cautious gaze, you don’t blame her for not believing you. “I like you, a lot – more than I ever expected.”

Your confession has her brows raising in surprise. Not expecting you to say that. You take her stunned silence as a chance to keep talking.

 “I think we both can say that the way we came into each other’s life was less than… conventional.” You chuckled to fill the tense silence, “I’m not exactly sure when or where, but along the way that I started to fall for you.”

You sit back down on the armchair prompting Jenna to perch on the couch, across from you. The space in between you and the other actress feels like a million miles away. Feeling like your nerves are shot from her indecipherable look, alone.

“I really care about you, Jenna and you’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, about anything but especially over Vegas and that’s not fair… so I guess I should start there.”

Jenna can’t even hide her surprise that you’re actually opening up. Never mind confessing how you feel about her. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut and allows you to speak.

“Vegas was just a bad decision. I think I was overwhelmed— I had a busy year last year and nothing was letting up. I begged this… friend that I had to skip town, go to Vegas and fuck shit up. Well, we did. When the cops got to the strip club, I was passed out drunk and Damon—uh the friend, was doing coke beside me. Uh, I'm not really sure what happened next but they took me to jail and next thing I knew I was waking up to someone telling me I’d been bailed out… Jake said they tried to pick us both up for drug charges but when they realized it wasn’t mine, they charged me with a drunken disorderly, instead.”

Somewhere along the way, your gaze dropped in shame, unable to match Jenna’s intense stare. You felt mortified as you recounted the tales of your criminal escapade. It’s not a night you choose to relive or retell for a reason, and definitely not a story that you want Jenna knowing. 

But she’s right, she is as deep in this mess as you are. She deserves to know the whole story if you two had to keep this PR stunt going for another year. And if this relationship had any real chance of surviving.

“I heard about it… when it first happened. Sarah was the one to tell me about the coke, that’s why I called you a drug user when we first met…” Jenna admitted, “she said it wasn’t yours but then that headline claimed it was dropped before the Met and you didn’t say anything—“

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to say something.” You hesitated. You’ve never done well at being confronted with the repercussions of your bad decisions, much less having to explain them. “I was scared—“

Your voice cracked, cursing inwardly you fought through the unpleasant thickness in your throat. That makes Jenna meet your eyes, watching as you blinked away the tears beginning to cloud your vision.

Her gaze softens… never seeing you so vulnerable. Continuing to observe you for a few seconds before giving in, “come here.”

You look up at her extended hand and how she patted the open space next to her. Your legs work against you, already standing to walk over and sit.

When you do, she’s turning her whole body to find your eyes. This time her body language is open and inviting rather than the reserved, tense stature you’ve grown accustomed to.

“Sorry…” You wiped the corner of your eyes.

She shakes her head, “don’t be.”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to meet her kind eyes. She waits for you to patiently speak.

“I was scared.” You repeated.

“I was scared of my feelings for you. That week at your parents' house… was the first time I felt welcomed in a long time. It’s just been me and Link and L.A. for so long, I-I forgot what it was like to have a village around you. I’m sorry if your family sees me differently now.” 

You felt a pang of shame wash over you. But Jenna’s shaking her head, scooting closer — knees touching. “They don’t. My dad and sisters are a little mad but they actually pushed me to talk to you — even when I was mad. They know how the media loves to twist things, they’ve seen it with me, so they try to not pay attention to it.”

She doesn’t know how you did it but you have somehow won her overprotective family over. 

Jenna’s week away from you was needed yet miserable at the same time. After your drunken rant, Jenna was the one who found herself running away. Knowing that this time, she was the one who couldn’t be around you. 

Your words hurt, for lack of a better explanation. The way you spewed them so easily, so surely, was a memory that she replayed over and over again while she was giving you the cold shoulder.

It almost made her give in… to cut the tie with you. Give you what you want — be left alone. But then she remembers her conversation with Hailee, with her mom, with her sisters, with everybody who’s been around you.

It’s comical how everyone can see it but you two.

As if it were written in the stars, a divine intervention seems to always save you two just before the brink of no return. When Jenna found out you were being forced to live with her in London for a month while she films Beetlejuice 2 and you — well she doesn’t know what work you’re doing here yet because she can’t get herself to say more than two words to you — she didn’t know if she should be happy or dreading it.

But then you landed and it’s been a tense weekend since your arrival. You and her seem to share the sentiment of not knowing how to act or speak around the other. Jenna started leaning on dreading it the longer the awkward conversations occurred.

But now you’re here, opening up.

“Are you sure?” You asked a bit croaky; throat a bit tight.

You stare into the other actress’ dark orbs and for the first time ever, it feels like you can finally read her. Hesitantly, she reached out to grasp your hand, firmly clasping it. “I’m sure.”

Clenching your jaw, you try to keep the clouding in your vision at a minimum. Inhaling a sharp stuttered breath, you nodded, “g-good.”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve handled everything since meeting you. It was a lot… dealing with the hate, the arrest and then suddenly realizing how I feel about you. So I ran — like I always do, and that makes me an asshole ‘cause I hurt you. I can deal with everyone being angry with me, I'm used to it. But I can’t stand it coming from you… So you can be mad, but I won’t stop trying to make it up to you.”

Jenna sees nothing but honesty in your fierce, unblinking gaze. It has her heart thudding rudely in her rib cage. She blinked, trying to control her wavering voice, “You’re right… you never talked about Vegas until the last minute and that wasn’t fair of you. But I also never asked you about it either, even though I knew some of the story. I thought we’d do this PR stunt and then go on with our lives….”

You sniffled, eyes feeling scratchy as you listened to her side. You couldn’t keep the stray tear that ran down your cheek at bay. Looking down, you missed Jenna’s softening eyes.

Moving to wipe away the tear, embarrassment ran through you instantly. You tried to pull away from Jenna’s grasp to wipe it but she grabbed it back, tightening her grip. Then she bring her free hand up, swiping the wetness away with a gentle touch that you didn’t feel deserving of.

She squeezed your hand, as she feels you freeze at her ministrations. Your cheek burns against her soft palm. “But, then you met my family and spent time with us and… suddenly you weren’t so bad. Y/N, I like you too.”

This felt like a breakthrough or a light at the very end of a long, dark tunnel in your relationship. 

“So do I.” You repeated timidly, allowing your cheek to rest against her steady hand. Granting the grounding touch despite your racing nerves.

“I’m sorry about what I said in New York,” she swipes her thumb across your cheek, averting her eyes to glance at her actions. You watch her as she does so. 

“You're not an asshole. You’re actually one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met… when you want to be.” Her eyes flicker back to you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she gauges your reaction. You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes; easing the slight tension that’s built in the room. “I was just so angry about being left out that I decided to lash out at you. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I forgive you.” You decided to be brave and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Jenna watches your eyes, not saying anything. Only removing her hand from your cheek to brush some hair away from your sight. Then she drops her palm to rest atop your still-conjoined hands.

“I really, really like you.” She confesses just above a whisper.

“So do I.” You chimed in quickly. She sends you an amused smile before clearing her throat. That’s when you realized it, “but I’m sensing a but...”

You watch as her grin contorts sadly, as she sighed heavily, “it’s not the right time.”

Feeling a pang of disappointment, you nodded nevertheless, averting your eyes. “Oh.”

If somehow there was space between the two of you, there certainly isn’t any, now, as she moved closer, feeling like skin pressing against one another is the only thing that can ground the younger actress. 

“I feel like we went from hating each other to being thrown in New York – SNL.” Jenna tilts her head down, hoping to meet your gaze again, it proves fruitful when she grabs your glance. “Us.. in that dressing room, I know you felt it too.”

Breathing out carefully, you confessed. “I did.”

Jenna sent you a pleased smile, “Then you left for Coachella and I was mad at you again… I even made your driver take you to my parents just so I could see you again cause even when I was mad –  I couldn’t stop thinking about almost kissing you.”

Your heart thumped as she confessed everything.

“My mom set us up with the single bed thing, though.” Jenna laughed as joined. The thought of her family secretly rooting for you two had your stomach in a twist. “The way you were with my family that week… I don’t know. I started seeing you differently and I couldn’t help but kiss you before your performance…”

“I wasn’t complaining.” You shook your head.

“Shut up.” She smacked your arm, making you smile. “We skipped so many steps and just jumped into the relationship part.”

“Yeah… we did.” 

“I want to make this work but I think—“

“I got a lot of shit to figure out.” You chuckled, cutting her off.

“We got a lot of shit to figure out.” She corrected. “And in between filming Beetlejuice–”

“I understand, Jen.” You squeezed her hand.

“I need some time, to figure all of this out because I wanna do it right – with you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. You try to disregard how her gaze fell lower, finding your lips. 

Mentally wishing the other actress can’t hear how loudly your heart is thumping.

“I’ll be here waiting.” 

It wasn’t the conclusion you expected but it felt like a step in the right decision. She’s right, there is a lot that you two need to figure out. Separately and together. Her eyes snap back to you, looking relieved, like it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m not saying I’m not open to never, possibly– you know.” Jenna blushed, as she stumbled over her words. “But I’d like us to be friends first, get to know each other before we pursue that. I-Is that okay?”

You felt bolder at her confession, finally knowing how she feels about you. Bringing your entwined hands up, you place a delicate kiss on her the top of her hands. “That’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready for me.”

“You’re already breaking the rules…” She jokes but her tone sounded wispy as she stared down at the way your lips ghosted over her hand. 

You flick a brow, “we have rules?”

She sends you a pointed look, calling your name flatly.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back, dropping her hands. “Right, sorry… friends definitely don’t do that.”

“You’re an idiot.” You didn’t know an insult could sound better than any piece of music you’ve ever listened to. She hasn’t called you that since Coachella. You think, the term of endearment is starting to grow on you, having missed her reciprocated banter more than anything.

“Yeah… I am.” You respond, fondly memorizing every speckle in her kind, dark orbs staring back into yours. It sends a shiver down your spine.

How could you ever think of letting her go?

***

it only took eight fucking chapters but I did say slow burn…😭

***

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[calicofoxxed]

chat I'm back on my dsmp designs shit

some design notes/headcanons below the cut !

both her wings and hair are graying. their wings used to be much brighter (close to a bright yellow/gold) but have dulled over time mostly due to stress :]

the most important feathers on her wings are clipped so they cannot fly more than a foot off the ground and glide (not v gracefully) down from something

the scar on her stomach is from when Schlatt swiped at her with a pickaxe.

you cant see it too clearly (because he uses his hair to cover it as much as possible) but the scar on her face from techno goes over their nose as well.

they switch out their fake eye every now and then. they have more casual ones like the 8 ball and more fancy ones like eyes w star/heart pupils and shit like that.

scars from the execution are a little more faded in comparison to her hand/arm burns

she keeps the casino key on him at all times. its on one of those extendable lanyard thingys.

his septum is pierced!! i considered making her bellybutton pierced but decided against it

the stickers on their cane are from various Las Nevadas members, the fox is from fundy ofc, the card is an actual card that slime glued on, the chip is one she added himself and theres a creeper sticker from sam on the other side

star pin was handmade by yogurt and she wears it with pride, even though it doesn't match

the outfit here is more of a casual outfit of hers. for off days around las nevadas, prison visits, etc.

the ring on her necklace is actually from Eret, its the only ring from his engagements that he kept and didn't throw away in rage/upset. because she was never angry at Eret for their relationship failing, not like with Sap and Karl, and definitely not like with Schlatt.

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Beginning Relationship Pt. I Edition!)

(I thought this song would be fitting considering King Candy’s voice is based on the vocal performance Ed Wynn did for the Mad Hatter… That and its… Nostalgic🔑 [I saw the animation meme culture rise and fall.] lol)

- So, as we all know, the more unpleasant parts of his personality (which could tie him to Turbo) are suppressed, and hidden, though they can still peak out when he’s feeling particularly malicious.

- He’s a slime, a real manipulative rat who’s so sure he can keep everyone in the dark, who takes it slow with you at first to try to maintain his hard work.

- There’s a clear wall between what he displays in front of others and how he is, just the way he likes it, but honestly— If you mean so much to him, you get a weird mix of the two (well, more than usual), a kind of sweet goofiness that’s followed up with a snide remark about being the most skilled in some specific topic.

- Again he’s not the best lover, though from his previous indiscretions he has learned to be more open to others feelings— But only for your sake, mostly cause he can’t stand anyone else besides you…. And Sour Bill sometimes, but he’s mostly the personification of a minimum wage worker.

- Spending time together after hours is a must, though he’s more understanding now than he was before, not demanding every moment of your time but relishing whenever you do.

- I think all that time alone before Sugar Rush got plugged in made him lonely, and less stubborn to admit that he wants that comfort from someone else.

- I don’t think it’s much of a far reach when I say maintaining the King Candy persona is something he is very fluid in, but it’s exhausting at times.

- When he gets that seldom time alone without any of his kingly duties he finds himself yearning for your comforting touch, that stubbornness making way as he makes Sour Bill retrieve you.

- I can see moments between the two of you to be on the tamer side, not as many arguments like Pre-RoadBlasters, little to none really, but there are these tense moments where you ask him something a little too close to home and he becomes stiff in your arms if only for a brief moment.

- As much as he wants to be, not only for himself but maybe even you— He isn’t perfect, he isn’t the person he tries so hard to be, that gleeful and peppy voice going flat the second he isn’t feeling it anymore.

- It becomes apparent the more you know him he’s far more serious than he lets on, puffing his chest up slightly when things don’t go his way and he has to play dirty, which he’s certainly no stranger to...

- In comparison to himself when the arcade first ever opened, he’s certainly grown from that childish hatred, for better and for worse.

- He’s more affectionate for one, providing you with comfort fitting to how you are feeling at that moment, little compliments, and gestures of affection to quell your anger and anxiety in a matter of seconds.

- Quick to learn every little thing about you to make sure he’s able to relate to you, though his intentions with this information go back and forth.

- He wants everything on a silver platter, not only for himself but also for you, making the other subjects of Sugar Rush bend over backward for you, even when you object to all the attention.

- I think one of the ways he dotes on you in a way is date planning, various areas in Sugar Rush vary which can be very nice date spots… He seems like the picnic blanket and tea liker as King Candy, as stereotypical as that is lol.

- Though if that isn’t your style, he can always do dates at the castle, like baking— chatting the night away, it’s the simple things in life <3

- Even with his character growth he is far from a good person, which we all know and love for the most part. He’s fully aware that the things he does to bar you, Venallope, the Sugar Rush inhabitants, and even the arcade entirely is cruel, spiteful even. But what could he have done? Let himself fade into obscurity and be characterized after one of his biggest mistakes?

- No, no, not when he still has so much to provide— He’s a person, just like everyone else, better yet he was programmed to be better. Why should he stand aside and let the world spin without him? Why should he look at you from afar when he has every right to want you?

- That’s part of the reason why he’s so adamant about keeping his spot as the monarch of Sugar Rush, he’s the rightful ruler after all.

(Cr cqh’r lncp, hjw cq cr?)

[equipment-manifest]

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The Benefactors (aka the Ancients) dragonpropaganda on popular misconceptions about the Benefactors' culture ikayblythe's speculative biology kociamieta's notes on Benefactor character design pocket-goat, morebagels, prismsoup, and opashoo discuss the usage of "Benefactors" and "Ancients" in reference to the cultures of Rain World sluglore explains the purpose the Benefactors built the Iterators to serve

Character analysis eliias-bouchard on NSH's portrayal ikayblythe on Pebbles' age and motivations pocket-goat's thoughts about Moon in the context of the Saint campaign shkika on Moon and Pebbles' relationship shkika on whether Moon and Pebbles are siblings skybristle's and my own thoughts on the decay of Moon's organic parts

General speculative biology chaotic-minds-think-alike's interpretation of lizards dragonpropaganda on the relationship of purposed organisms to ingame fauna flickering-nightfall's interpretation of the reproductive strategies and social structures of various species in the game iteratorsex and dragonpropaganda discuss the origin of wormgrass and its role in the ecosystem sluglore on the intelligence of Slugcats and the experience of playing Rain World for the first time

Iterator anatomy bonniesband's exposition on the Rot as a type of cancer copepods and myself on whether parts of post-collapse Moon beyond the puppet could be conscious copepods on viewing iterators as more than the puppet delta-orionis' method for estimating the height of Iterator cans delta-orionis and myself discuss the meaning of the terms "Recursive Transform Array" and "Abstract Convergence Manifold" mebis-art-dump and I discuss the axon-like coral stems and other internal biota of Iterator superstructures my theory about how an Iterator's memories are stored and why Moon doesn't forget anything when she loses a neuron orangedoorhingeinstorage and kayjaypax on movable components in the memory conflux and adjacent systems skybristle's and my own thoughts on the decay of moon's organic parts

Iterator puppet anatomy aluminum-angels' interpretation bitsbug's puppet interpretation copepods' mechanical interpretation: moon & pebbles / post-collapse moon flickering-nightfall's journey to understand the puppet arm: part 1 / part 2 flickering-nightfall on the "umbilical" ikayblythe's arthropoidal interpretation: overview / endoskeletons / "skin" joowee-feftynn observes that puppets can't walk spotsupstuff on the relationship between puppet and can trashiiplant's ragdoll interpretation yellowsnacc's "jello-covered skeleton" interpretation

Natural philosophy bitsbug and ikayblythe discuss the age of the ecosystem dragonpropaganda explains why igneous rocks don't exist in Rain World and discusses the implications with delta-orionis grunckle's notes on what we know about the cosmology of Rain World ikayblythe's speculative geology of the surface and void sea

Slugcat anatomy arrayydee's slugcat design artihunter's take on the fur/slime question dopscratch's mollusk/mustelid interpretation honey-marrow's interpretation of Spearmaster's anatomy

Themes and storytelling bitsbug draws a comparison between Rain World's Cycle and the real-world Water Cycle comrade-slugcat and myself on themes of inevitability and futility in Monk & Survivor's campaigns dragonpropaganda on how Rain World's level design is based on the idea of civilizations successively building upon each others' ruins grunckle's theory relating ascension, void worms, and voidspawn together through the idea of qualia grunckle's illustration of the parallels between the iterators and void worms and some connections to Gnosticism nyuuronfly and vodens on the relationship between Rain World's lore and gameplay and the experience of a blind playthrough seventeendeer on the thematic significance of ascension and the player's agency in choosing it sick-ada's theory that the final cutscene in the Void sea leads back to the start of each vanilla campaign sluglore on the intelligence of Slugcats and the experience of playing Rain World for the first time Miscellaneous flecks-of-stardust's theory that (in vanilla) the Chimney Canopy pearl was created by Five Pebbles mebis-reblogs' animation of one of the harvester machines from Farm Arrays in action monkmain on the illustration for Stolen Enlightenment my theory on the meaning of "HR_LAYERS_OF_REALITY" my timeline of architecture on the surface rw-me elaborates on the canonicity of Downpour shkika on the distances between members of the local group shkika, flecks-of-stardust, and fluffybunny35 discuss why it rains in Shaded Citadel soaricarus, flickering-nightfall, and myself on why Seven Red Suns is probably not a member of the "local group" yunnifo discusses Rivulet ending projections

[threadwing]

Fanart Friday: Jane Doe

I did it! I redrew one of my FAVORITE fanarts and I LOVE how it turned out! Jane Doe is a character from the musical "Ride the Cyclone", this particular design I based off of a famous Slime Tutorial on youtube Old art for comparison

[thehypnone]

Bones in Traction

WC: 3k

Relationship: Dewdrop/Rain, Aether, Mountain, Cirrus, Aurora, Aeon, Swiss

Tags: Transmasc Dew, Disabled Rain, Transmasc Rain, Grinding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Come Eating, Orgasm Denial, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex, Fluff, Biting, Marking, Cunnilingus

Ghoul sexualizing Dewdrop's pointy hips in different ways. That's it, that's the fic.

Notes: Commissioned by @everybodyshusband!!! Most of the ideas come from this post, especially tags by @iamthecomet @foolish-iscariot @littlemoon-beam @ghoul-slime @kelthebarb @jesusbutbetterrr and felix himself. also @delusionalbitchinthehouse asked to be tagged :3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Dewdrop’s hip bones are very prominent; it is no secret.

There aren't many options for them to be hidden—baggy pants or an oversized hoodie only, really, if he actually does want to hide them. It’s rare, the need to do so nagging at him when the mean voice in the back of his head tells him he’s too skinny; unworthy of even being called a ghoul.

Most of the time, though, they’re put on full display and Dewdrop’s pack can never get enough.

Rain is an avid enjoyer of many things sexual; there’s not many things he wouldn’t do. Because of that it surprises people to find out he has a soft spot for simple…grinding. Half the toys he owns are colorful fantasy grinders of different designs and densities; there’s just something about dragging his wet cunt back and forth over them that makes the water ghoul go a little stupid.

His body doesn’t always agree with him, though.

Sometimes he just can’t muster up the strength to work for an orgasm in such a way, sometimes the pain radiating from his joints and muscles is too strong for him to move. Laying on his back and using his hands to reverse-grind doesn’t scratch the itch quite the same, and sometimes even that is too much for him.

That’s when Dewdrop comes in.

“How do you want me, fish boy?” he asks, pressing himself against Rain’s body gently. He delivers a soft kiss to his cheek and nuzzles into it, waiting for instructions. Dewdrop can brat alright but he knows when to be a good boy and help his water ghoul.

“Can you–” Rain sighs, “your hips?”

Dewdrop doesn’t reply verbally; he just nods and slides down the bed. They are way past having to explain anything like this to each other. Rain watches with a desperate look as the fire ghoul gets rid of all his clothes—every little patch of newly revealed skin makes him breathe a little heavier.

Rain lets his legs fall to the side to accommodate Dewdrop. He knows what to do by now; he grabs them gently and pulls them up to hook around his waist. The water ghoul sighs in relief at having his legs elevated and heated up by Dewdrop’s fire ghoul body.

He stretches up to kiss Rain on his parted lips as he angles himself properly. He drops his hips slightly until the left pointy part of his ilium bone presses against the water ghoul’s damp cunt.

Rain sighs at the contact but it quickly turns into a moan when Dewdrop starts to move; dragging the sharp bone over his mate’s chubby clit.

“So good, baby, thank you,” Rain whines. His chest warms up when he sees the contented little smile on Dewdrop’s face—the fire ghoul is always happy to please his mate and get praised in return.

Once he gets Rain off, he’ll work his own cunt over the water ghoul’s thigh and make their sheets that much wetter.

Aether and Mountain are equally insane about Dewdrop’s size in comparison to them.

The latter goes crazy for the way Dewdrop looks—as if he could be snapped in half any second. It’s only the appearance, of course, but if Mountain thinks too much about it his pants will get tight anyway.

The quintessence ghoul is similar, albeit for him it’s more about being able to feel Dewdrop in that slightly strange way. The way pale skin stretches over sharp bones all over the fire ghoul’s body makes Aether’s eyes roll back into his head.

Dewdrop’s hip bones, specifically, have the most power over both Aether and Mountain.

“You’re so small, firefly,” the quintessence ghoul grunts, slowly fucking in and out of Dewdrop’s ass. Both his holes are drooling, dripping onto Aether’s cock and easing his slide. He’s so thick the fire ghoul feels filled to the very brim, unable to take more or even breathe. “So little under me, look–just look at these.”

These are, of course, Dewdrop’s hip bones. Aether grabs them, all but pinches them between his thumb and pointer finger on both sides. It feels weird, it always does—especially if he squeezes.

It’s so fucking weird, just…just holding his bones like that.

Dewdrop knows the concept shouldn’t be as hot to him as it is.

“Our little fire lily,” Mountain sighs, running his fingers through Dewdrop’s sweaty hair where he’s pillowing his head. His other hand is wrapped tightly around his own cock, stroking to the same rhythm that Aether fucks the fire ghoul in.

They’ve been at it for a while—like always, without rush. The urgency only comes when all their noises rise in pitch and volume.

The quintessence ghoul drags one of his hands from Dewdrop’s hip to his clit and rubs him to completion. He moans through it and squeezes Aether’s cock, bringing him to the edge, too.

He pulls out with a grunt just as he’s about to cum, making Dewdrop whine in overstimulation. The quintessence looks down at where the nearly purple head of his cock lays against Dewdrop’s pale skin and gives exactly one hump against one of his hip bones before he’s cumming. His cum fills the little divots by the bone and Mountain drools from where he’s watching Aether’s cock spill. He speeds up the movements of his hand around his cock and waits for the quintessence ghoul to go down from his high.

“All for you, Mount,” Aether tells him and backs up. Mountain trills happily, low in his throat, and slots his cock against Dewdrop’s shin. His head goes to the fire ghoul’s hip and he shoots the moment he lays his hand over it—it’s the way its shape fits in his palm. He leans down as he shudders through the aftershocks to lick up Aether’s cum.

“Such good boys,” he praises the both of them.

In no time Mountain will fall asleep with his cheek slotted perfectly against the curve of Dewdrop’s pointy hip bone. Aether’s hand will lay over the other one as the fire ghoul snores between them; all blissed out and happy.

Cirrus sees the fire ghoul’s bony hips as just another way for her to be cruel.

She will get him worked up with quiet words and little passing touches, promise to fuck his brains out with her biggest strap, but then–

“Cir–Cirrus, please,” Dewdrop begs. Again. “Stick it in somewhere that matters, fuck.”

“Oh, spitfire, but this is working so well!” she laughs. It’s cruel. It might be working for her considering the attached vibrator buzzing against her clit and the dildo snug inside her, sure, but the fire ghoul is in misery.

Cirrus thrusts forward again, bumping the head of the strap-on against the arch of Dewdrop’s hip bone. She didn’t put any lube on it so she could really rub the fake cock against the fire ghoul’s sensitive skin, and, indeed, she’s been torturing him for long enough that the usual pale gray turned into an irritated pinkish one.

Dewdrop has to admit Cirrus is creative when it comes to finding new methods to torture her pack.

The exaggerated noises spilling from her mouth as she works herself over on the toys against and inside her are making the pit in Dewdrop’s stomach deepen, as he only lays there with no stimulation whatsoever. He can barely bring himself to beg anymore, but he’s getting closer and closer to the point of a real sexually-frustrated breakdown.

Cirrus, as on cue, turns off her vibrator before throwing her legs over Dewdrop’s and crawling up his small form. He looks up at her with a somewhat terrified expression—one can never know what she’s really up to.

Cirrus straddles his chest and shoves another pillow under his head to get a better angle before grabbing his jaw and squeezing to forcefully open his mouth. Not like he wouldn’t open it willingly—of course he would; he and his oral fixation.

“There we go, all wide for me,” she coos as she pushes her strap into his mouth.

“That’s not–what I–meant!” Dewdrop gurgles around it, spitting out the words when Cirrus pulls back in between her thrusts.

“We gotta get it wet if you want me to stick it anywhere else, spitfire,” she sighs. The fire ghoul can’t argue with that, unfortunately. He may be plenty slick on his own, but he definitely does not want to find out what Cirrus could do to him with a dry dildo.

She fucks his mouth for a little while, cooing over him and petting his messy hair. All Dewdrop can do is stare up at her with glassy eyes and fight his gag reflex.

In no time at all Cirrus pulls out and gets off of him entirely, though. Dewdrop whines at the loss of contact, but the ghoulette returns soon enough. She grabs his ankles in one hand and lifts his legs to take a good look at his holes. Dewdrop whines at the strain on his muscles as she all but bends him in half.

“Now,” she hums, considering, “where do I stick it in, hm?”

The fire ghoul has no doubt there is a long night ahead of him.

Aurora likes to feel Dewdrop’s hip bones pressing into her soft tummy when he fucks her.

The two small ghouls love to explore many different positions, but both their favorite is a simple missionary with Aurora on the literal and technical bottom. Dewdrop clad in nothing but his harness with a decently sized pink dildo attached—the ghoulette’s favorite. 

Sometimes her own hip bones will grind against his. It’s not a pleasant feeling in the slightest because of how thin the skin between them is, but it shoots something hot down both their spines anyway.

And makes Dewdrop speed up his movements to throw them over the edge.

The fire ghoul loves wandering his hands all over Aurora’s body when they have sex, especially her tits. They’re not much bigger than his own, but he doesn’t mind. Neither of them does. 

Dewdrop adores laying one hand on Aurora’s own sharp hip and the other on her boob, but his favorite is simply planting his face between them or sucking one of them as his hips work. He’ll knead and suck and bite a little, leaving fang marks and hickeys all around the ghoulette’s breasts. She’ll return the favor sometimes, but it’s Dewdrop that simply has to have something in his mouth at all times and, well, who wouldn’t want pretty ghoulette tits in their mouth?

The fire ghoul mouths along the column of her throat, going down from her lips to his prize. Aurora sighs and moans and whimpers sweetly under him and it’s all music to his ears.

“Fucking me so well, Dewy,” she sighs, arching her back into Dewdrop’s touch some more, pressing their hips closer together. A quiet trill escapes his mouth at the praise and her hand gently combing through his hair as he slides back in at a perfect angle to hit the ghoulette’s sweet spot. They have each other all mapped out, outside and inside, by now.

Aurora digs her claws around Dewdrop’s ilium on both sides. She knows they’ll leave little indents, maybe even tiny wounds if she manages to pierce his skin. She’d like that and the fire ghoul would, too—she gets jealous seeing all the marks on his hips from other ghouls. Swiss’ work is always so clearly recognizable; she wants something that screams her.

She’ll come up with something, sooner or later, but for now she’ll wrap her arms around Dewdrop and squeeze to bring him closer; to feel his hips digging into hers.

Aeon’s eyes sparkle at the sight of Dewdrop’s hip bones for an entirely different reason than most of their packs’.

To the young quintessence ghoul they are just…cool.

His own are quite prominent, too, but he’s not interested in them in the slightest. No, it’s Dewdrop’s hip bones that he loves. Aeon has never explained it; said he doesn’t know how. He just loves touching them whenever he can.

In the morning when Dewdrop comes down to the kitchen with a low slung sweatpants and stretches with a yawn.

During a rehearsal when he simply has to rub himself against the fire ghoul’s back and shove his hands under his arms and guitar just to squeeze them.

In the evening when they fuck; no matter the position Aeon’s hands will always find their way to Dewdrop’s hips.

At night when they sleep, cuddled up—all but tangled—together, the quintessence ghoul holding them like a beloved stuffed animal.

“Why do you love them so much?” Dewdrop asks one time. He and Aeon have been watching a movie in his bed; it has ended ages ago, but neither had or has any willpower to move away and put something else on. They’re snuggled up, both purring loudly, so it’s understandable.

Aeon, of course, sneaked his hand under Dewdrop’s sweatpants a while ago and has been absentmindedly rubbing his hip bone all that time.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, “but they’re a part of you so…that’s enough for me.”

If the young quintessence ghoul can feel how Dewdrop’s body gets hotter at his words, he doesn’t mention it. It's insane how much love Aeon still has inside him.

“I love you, too,” the fire ghoul says, trying his best to hide how flustered he is. Aeon hums in acknowledgement and leans up to place a lazy kiss just under Dewdrop’s jaw. They’re both so warm and soft, any more movement feels like too much.

It’s quiet—apart from their purring—for the next…while. Time doesn’t matter in the slightest, they’re enjoying the laziness.

Aeon is a sweet ghoul, despite everything that has happened to him. He’s not even aware how admirable he is; having gone through so much and still being capable of affection, of laughing and smiling, of purring in another’s arms.

Dewdrop doesn’t praise him nearly enough, scared of his own feelings, but in moments like this he has no filter.

“You’re so brave, bug,” he mumbles. Aeon perks up with a little questioning hum, but the fire ghoul doesn’t offer an explanation; he just goes on. “So sweet and caring and soft. I love you so much, you know that? I know I’m harsh sometimes and I blame it on my past, but–but you are the purest creature there is. I was scared to let you in, but now I can’t imagine my—our—life without you here.”

Aeon’s stunned. It’s not the first time he’s been told similar things, but he’s never gotten better at accepting them. His purrs get lower and deeper and he snuggles in even closer to Dewdrop, wrapping himself all around him and digging his fingers into his hips.

Maybe it's just Aeon’s love language and one does not question that.

Swiss gets absolutely feral about Dewdrop’s hips, as he tends to do about many things that wouldn’t be typically considered sexual. He always blames it on his multi ghoul nature.

Anything that comes to mind that could be highlighted about the fire ghoul’s hips—Swiss loves it. The way they feel against his own stomach when they fuck, the way they feel under his hands when he eats the fire ghoul out, the way they look when he lays breathless in their nest.

When in an unexpected heat on stage once, Swiss dared to run up to Dewdrop and put his hands on him as he rubbed his cock against his ass. To most it looked like the multi ghoul was aiming for Dewdrop’s junk—whatever the fans think he’s got—but the truth is he craved to grab his hips.

Yes, Swiss really enjoys them and, most of all, he loves marking them up.

He’ll take any opportunity to suck at the thin skin covering the bones and turn them purple, to pierce it with his fangs and watch a thin trail of blood flowing down the sharp side.

“Swiss, Swiss, oh–fuck,” Dewdrop moans, clenching on the multi ghoul’s tongue. Swiss’ big hands are placed over his hips; using them as handles and to keep the other from wriggling too much. He hums against the fire ghoul’s cunt and it goes straight to his clit—making his first orgasm of the night wash over him. “Cumming–oh, fuck, shit, ah!”

Swiss smirks—always proud of himself. He’s going to give Dewdrop a moment for the overstimulation to pass, for him to rest a bit before they go again—it was only the beginning, Swiss didn’t even touch himself yet. This gives him a perfect little moment to move up and put him mouth on Dewdrop’s hip bones instead.

“There’s my girls,” he mutters before kissing first one and then the other pointy bone. Dewdrop would laugh or roll his eyes if the aftershocks of his orgasm weren’t still making him tremble. Ages ago he would have thought that by ‘my girls’ Swiss meant the fire ghoul’s tiny tits, but…well.

Swiss latches his mouth onto one of his hip bones and sucks, teasing it with his fangs and tongue, and scratching the skin around them with his stubble. Dewdrop squirms under him, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. Swiss doesn’t care much; it’s his play time.

By the time he leaves one side of the fire ghoul’s hips a deep red and purple and moves on to make the other match, Dewdrop is wiggling for an entirely different reason.

“Okay, fuck, enough,” the fire ghoul breathes out, “‘m ready, get it in. Fuck me.”

Well, how could Swiss say no to such a pretty request? He grins and obliges; only once satisfied with how his hip bones are looking, though.

Everyone’s love for Dewdrop’s hip bones is certainly a little strange, but what matters is that it comes down to one thing: the whole pack loving their fire ghoul just the way he is, even if he doesn’t always love himself.