#ye genetics is fun

[beelzeballing]

i think its so stupid when ppl complain abt alexa vega's singing in repo or alternatively complain how "seventeen sucks", cuz i think both of those things make shilo so incredibly charming.

FIRST OF ALL, vega's singing was FINE. i feel like being in the same movie as multiple seasoned musical theater actors may have skewed yall's standards a little.

having said that, yes it's a lot less polished than much of the rest of the cast. but like... idk, i feel like it compliments shilo's characterization very well. shilo is, at her core, a very normal teenage girl, surrounded by a bunch of larger than life maniacs. and that's what she sounds like! a very normal teenage girl! which, in my opinion, is also why seventeen is absolutely integral to her as a character.

seventeen is like. immature teenage rebellion 101. because shilo IS immature. how couldnt she be! shes been isolated all her life! but she's been taking it. because she's been lied to, manipulated, and also genuinely cared for by nathan. but now, with mag both in the picture and in immediate danger, she finally feels justified in making a proper stand against her father. said stand is, of course, just as immature as she is. the casual cruelty of "mama drama's got to go, dad [...] nothing's gonna bring her back" alone speaks volumes about... so much! her resentment towards her mother, her fraught relationship with her father, her desperation to finally get through to him.

and then he slaps her. and IMMEDIATELY we're back in reality. seventeen was shilo's idea of rebellion, her fantasy of transgression, and it shatters as quickly as it begins.

[kandavers]

i'm getting a lot of ratiorine/aventio stuff at my Tumblr feed and i do love them, however i dont know if i have the brain capacity to write them since they're both extremely smart hahaha

[lemongogo]

college … wasted on the youth (me)

[junewashere]

most mutations do vary, you get what you get in a way. some of the strongest versions of the serums straight up turns you into a full blown freak. turns out when you clone strange things and ramp up the side effects for “more power” you get weird almagmations! the mutation process is unfortunately sped up if you’re an adult, say goodbye to your wife n kids bud! not only are you going to change physically beyond the humans understanding of horrific, your mind will be taken over by the little parasites and drive you mental!!! you can thank the scientists later!

fortunately for the kids the process is much slower and they get to expirence every little change very slowly…good luck!

[anantplayingdnd]

The Story of Kazimir and Patrina

Yeah so I ended up writing like two thousand words about them and Barovia, and I can't share it with my players yet, so... here you go, loves. Not gonna be canon-compliant and I do not care. Enjoy!

Also Curse of Strahd Spoilers under the break. Obviously. Read at your own discretion.

Before Barov von Zarovich began his conquest, the Balinok Valley was vibrant and full of life. Among the traveling Vistani, the wide-spread clans of werewolves and wereravens, one of the largest people groups was the Dusk Elves. Distant relatives of the subterranean Drow, they were gentle, peaceful people that never sought to harm their neighbors, but rather to learn from and collaborate with them. They worshipped the Three Ladies of the Weave, with particular deference to the Weaver herself. They took to heart her teachings about remembering the past, keeping detailed records of both their own histories and those of others. However, they were not defenseless and unprepared when Barov and his son came to destroy them. Due to a warning from the Weaver’s sister, the Seeker, they were able to ready themselves for the coming attacks.

The twins Kazimir and Patrina were born in the midst of this preparation, knowing from birth that their people would face a terrible war. Although they were very young, both showed great talent for magic, Kazimir even more so than his sister. But the war came too soon. Before they had even reached their centenium, the war began. The Dusk Elves’ preparations were able to resist for many years, but their resources were finite and soon began to dwindle. People started dying – fast. There were some who believed it was best to surrender to the would-be-conquerors, but the supreme council of Dusk Elves rejected this. Unfortunately, this schism led to Rahadin’s betrayal, as he deserted his own people in favor of the Von Zarovich family. As a member of the council himself, Rahadin was privy to many secrets and plans that the Dusk Elves would have needed to secure their survival.

After that, the defeat was quick and brutal. The vast majority of the Dusk Elves were killed in battle, but many more were slaughtered after the fact, until fewer than five hundred remained in total. Those that remained were forced into a single village, largely cut off from the rest of the new society that Strahd was building. Kazimir and Patrina were among those that lived, in no small part due to Patrina’s cunning. Kazimir did his best to adjust to a life without a war, but Patrina was not content to live in a run-down village and scavenge for whatever scraps they could gather. She had heard whispers of power that she could use to enact her will and take anything she wanted from their oppressor’s hands. Kazimir was initially in favor of this plan, until he learned one final detail: Patrina would go to none other than Strahd Von Zarovich himself for help. Horrified, he tried to convince her not to do this, but it was too late. His sister had made up her mind.

That was the last he heard of her for several years. Kazimir found himself in a position of leadership within their clan, and began building relationships with the Vistani, who were somehow spared Strahd’s wrath. During this time, he took on a Vistana name, Velikov, after a man who helped to lead and mentor him. Despite having only a few friends, Kazimir was well-respected as a leader despite his relative youth.

The Dusk Elves, small and few though they were, began to recover. They started healing from the pain of the war, having children, building homes. Maybe it was because of their slow healing that, when Patrina suddenly returned, Kazimir didn’t hesitate to welcome his sister back home. However, this wasn’t the sister he remembered. Her dusk-purple skin had become hollow and thin. Her eyes, he found, could no longer see color. And what was more, after her return, people started dying. Otherwise healthy people suddenly dying in the night, their bodies missing without a trace and then appearing a few days later as just piles of bones. Many began to question if this was Patrina’s doing, but she refused to answer any questions, even from Kazimir. She would not tell where she had been or what she had done, but it was clear that she was mad with power.

Unfortunately, there would soon be much bigger problems at hand. One evening, a dark mist rushed upon the valley, descending from the southern mountains and spreading across all of Barovia, blotting out the sun. At first, it was thought that this was merely strange weather that would pass quickly. Days turned into weeks into months, and it became clear that this was not something that would simply go away. At least during the first war, the grass was green and the sky was blue, the warm sun would rise every morning. But as Barovia descended into madness and chaos, there was no light. No sun, no clouds. The grass and trees began to wither. Some tried to leave, but any who did were swiftly killed by the mists. The Three Ladies they had long worshiped were attacked, and the shrine of the Huntress was desecrated and destroyed.

In this new darkness, Patrina’s insanity only grew. She began whispering to herself at all hours of the day, sometimes seeming to argue with no one at all. And then one night, she simply disappeared. The deaths stopped. Though relieved, the Dusk Elves couldn’t rest. Only months after vanishing, Patrina returned again, now overflowing with power and anger and hate. Kazimir and the rest of the village confronted her and, finally, Patrina answered.

Yes, she had killed all of those people and more. In the years she was gone, she was at the side of Strahd von Zarovich as his partner and lover. At the same time that he made the deal that led to his Vampirism, she took a deal of her own, in exchange for unimaginable power. But Strahd forgot about her. He was consumed with love for another woman, and so she fled Ravenloft. But she heard word that his new, young lover had died, and so she attempted to return to his side to use his vulnerability to help restore the Dusk Elves. Instead, she was cast aside even more quickly than before, and now she was here, home.

Kazimir couldn’t believe his ears. He was overcome by grief, horror, and fear at what his sister told him. The villagers began taking up stones to kill her, but they were too late. A monster appeared. Not Patrina – Kazimir. Practically unknown to even himself, their male lineage was cursed by a terrible beast that would transform and wreak havoc on their surroundings in times of great stress. For all of his life, Kazimir had been able to stay calm and collected enough that the beast was never released, even during war. But the anger within him at Patrina’s words was too much. Patrina was dead before the first stone was even thrown.

He only returned back to his humanoid form after his sister was gone. Dazed, confused, and nearly unconscious, Kazimir struggled to find his senses after the act. The other Dusk Elves, now scared of him too, refused to get near. He had only just begun to reason with them when none other than Rahadin the betrayer arrived. He demanded to be taken to Patrina, and when he was pointed to Kazimir and the body he was laying over, Rahadin was deeply displeased. Strahd had requested Patrina alive, and Rahadin had long loathed his own people. This was the final straw.

In retribution, Rahadin and his soldiers systematically slaughtered every female Dusk Elf they could find regardless of age, from the oldest woman to the youngest baby – and they did not stop until anyone who could repopulate their people was found. Kazimir and the others fought back, but those who tried to fight were swiftly killed. When he finished, there were barely a hundred-and-fifty men and boys left. As specific punishment for Kazimir, who at that point was already badly wounded, Rahadin cut off his long elven ears. After it all, Rahadin took Patrina’s body and vanished into the night.

[dorkousloris]

stares.

mayhaps i should do a mortujulita fankid(s)......

[bisexualmcqueen]

Hello! I first wish to say I love your blog! Been a cars fan forever and never knew a fandom still existed! You're art is so lovely and inspiring to me!

The big question I had was on your designs of some cars having more pointed teeth! Is this solely to racers or does it extend to civilian cars? If its just a cool design ascept that's even still cool because I really love it! Have a great day!

heyo, welcome to the fandom! fun fact about cars- between ao3 and ffnet, we have the highest number of posted fics for any pixar series! pretty cool what people can come up with :D cars is very inspiring! thank you for the kind words <3

ah, the feral racers headcanon! yes yes, one of my favorites.

the main point of it existing Is the coolness. that and it's super fun to draw. their mouths take up a lot of space in their design, why not make it a little more interesting? it's fun to experiment!

but to answer your question: yes, in my personal headcanon, it's a genetic feature on racecars. racecars are born with a lottt of power and energy, as well as physical differences like performance engines/materials, lack of interior/horn/headlights/mirrors/insulation/etc, and a rollcage- an extra steel 'skeleton' throughout their entire bodies. why not extend that, have some more fun with it? the fangs are paired with a few feral traits also, like heightened senses, partial night vision, etc (can we tell i'm a Wolverine/X-Men fan? I'm giving the racecars the logan wolverine treatment.)

the headcanon is also based a lot on the works/ideas of my good friend @youhavehitawall , who was definitely the leading inspiration for me to really lean into it.

here's the tag for a little bit more context on the headcanon. there's some art refs, silly fun things, and some fics with examples written into them.

but yeah! i love the talking racecars, thus they are bestowed with the highest honor: big pointy teeths.

thanks for the ask! and again, welcome!

[mad-hunts]

this is a random 2 am thought, but barton actually was diagnosed with a inherited form of tachycardia (which would be CPVT, a type that is caused by a change in the genetic code for a particular cardiac protein that causes it to leak calcium into the heart) whenever he was a kid. and just in case you aren't familiar with tachycardia... it's a condition that causes sudden rhythm disturbances, called arrhythmias, to occur. this specific type tends to show itself at times of high adrenaline levels, such as when you're exercising or experiencing strong emotions, however.

so... the way that barton had found this out was actually when he was 9 years old and with winslow, his surrogate father. he'd unfortunately gone through a period of weeping while around winslow at the time, and he'd fainted because of it, which is something that could happen as a result of it. barton was subsequently rushed to the hospital by winslow because a nine year old fainting was DEFINITELY not normal and found out that the cause of it was CPVT - something that he's been on medicine for, specifically beta blockers, ever since.

and although this is important, accidents do happen + he's forgotten to take it one or two times throughout the years anddd yeah. it was not good JSJSJ but that is just a health fact for him that y'all didn't know before (,:

[bluejaybytes]

yeah on the warriors website they specifically call moonpaw a chimera. idk people are flipping out over nothing like...tortoiseshell cats don't normally have tabby markings? moonpaw is kinda like this kind of chimera:

Well it depends on the type of tabby markings honestly lol, my cat isn't a chimera but IS a tabby tortoiseshell (also known as a torbi or patched tabby or caliby or PLEASE CAN WE MAKE UP OUR MINDS AND SETTLE ON A SINGLE TERM). I'm not 100% sure that's specifically what they're intending for her, given the general lack of... well I don't want to say "detail" but like. Something along those lines when it comes to the character silhouettes. Regardless my issue is mainly that I feel like framing Moonpaw as inherently a wrong depiction of a chimera is a bit too early in that assumption LOL

[ringeddplover]

submitting my dissertation forms within a week. this is an ok fact about my life.

[puyotism]

she has chronic girlie pop syndrome (marfan syndrome)

Also redraw of this 👍👍👍

[stygeanbluebasilsprout]

Very silly character concept: Miskatonic University biology undergrad that has been tasked with doing a genetic pool analysis of Innsmouth populations. They are not having a good time about it

Most of their work consists in removing the samples that are so full of fish DNA they’re 99% sure it’s a contamination from the fisheries from the database. Every time there’s the need to use lab equipment they start sweating and praying because it’s worth more than their tuition and if some kinda bullshit breaks it they might as well just jump outta the window. They keep having to restart loci worksheets from scratch because the data turns into gibberish overnight. Like who knew that there even was ASCII code for those symbols???

They are this close to switching majors.

[yoonyia]

In ias I studied the Burundi genocide and I was enthralled by the political and colonial and religious and ethnic elements of the conflict

I wrote so many bullet points

it's only supposed to be 4 minutes

I have 6 pages worth of information

it's supposed to be 500~1000 words

I dont know why I hyperfixate on things like this

when the essay prompt lets me get a little autistic with it

[secrets465]

"World of "War""

When the flesh is weak.... They resort to modification and genetics When the sky is bleeding.. They resort to hate, violence and genocide When the moon is cracking.. They return to their animal instincts out of defense, the offensive or involuntary needs When the Earth is cracking.. It croaks it's natural hidden blood for all to see, only for it to be exploited upon.. When the very concept of "War" is questioned.. It is answered with execution.. but sometimes the idea of it begins to crack... and sometimes a few or only one will answer the question... and that answer is.... "The very concept is of Violence, Winter, Dust and Blood.. And in the end you can only keep a few things.." as tons of gun fire and a cacophony of noises of gutteral screams, mortal screams, bestial screams and explosions are heard in the distance of flames and "war"

[sawkinator]

They need to invent leopard geckos that come in Green.

[boricuasirena25]

cute little painfully nerdy 2000s ellie williams x popular bimbo fem reader part 3

since yall hornballs wanted smut so badly 🙄

cw : smut, public sex in class, degradation, ellie’s horny fantasies, wet dreams, plot twist kinda

the bell rings. you don’t rush to your seat—you never do. you glide in late like always, cherry gum in your mouth, tight hot pink juicy couture velour zip up barley zipped up with your black lacy VS push up bra peeking through. a boy stares. you don’t care. you’re too busy reapplying your gloss with your middle finger.

ellie sees you before you see her, she recognizes your heavy, dreamy scent of the love spell body spray from 5 miles away.

she’s already at her desk, hood up, legs bouncing under the table like she’s got an energy drink in her bloodstream. which, honestly? she probably does. her fingers are smudged with pencil and her notebooks half open, little doodles of swords and boobs peeking through the lined paper. she’s not ready. for anything.

mr. brooks clears his throat.

“alright, students. group projects. DNA replication and genetic variation. pages 94 through 99. picked your partners for you.”

groans ripple across the room. you roll your eyes, zoning out as he goes on to list random pairs of students in the class… “david and rebecca, ashley and karen, adrian and braxton, becky and jared-“ then suddenly.

“y/n and… ellie.”

you look up from your manicured hands in your lap instantly, silence. you make a disgusted look. brows furrowed, lips pouted.

but ellie? she jerks in her seat like someone pulled a string in her back. her eyes snap up and lock on you, wide behind her crooked-ass glasses. her whole face goes red—forehead, ears, even her damn neck. she freezes. then immediately starts fumbling with her the spirals on her notebook, like she thinks if she looks busy enough, maybe you’ll ignore her.

you don’t.

you sigh heavily as you take your time walking over, swinging your hips just enough to make two boys whisper. you drop your bag next to her desk. she looks at it like it’s a bomb.

you sit down.

“so,” you say, voice flat, bored, already annoyed. “you gonna write the whole thing or just f*ck yourself to it?”

she chokes. like physically chokes, hand flying to her chest, eyes bugging out. she tries to answer, fails, tries again, and somehow makes it worse.

“i—i don’t—i wasn’t—f*ck mysel-?—no—what—”

you stare. blow a bubble. let it pop, then giggle in her face.

her face is ruined. her mouth opens and closes like a fish. she looks like she wants to die. and then crawl under the desk. and then die again.

you lean in, just a little, enough for your perfume to hit her nose.

“i still remember that sketchbook from last week by the way.”

ellie flinches.

“i wasn’t—you know.. it’s for anatomy,” she blurts, which makes no sense, and she knows it. “not like, your—i didn’t mean your anatomy, just—like—the concept of anatomy, which, like, technically—f*ck—”

you tilt your head.

ellie covers her face with her hands and groans, long and low, like she’s in pain.

“do you touch yourself to those with your hoodie on, or do you take it off to set the mood?”

“please,” she whispers. “please shut up.”

you giggle again, soft and wicked.

adrian—your adrian—is three rows in front of y’all, hearing the whole thing. you haven’t even acknowledged him since class started either.

ellie peeks through her fingers. she’s twitchy. sweaty. miserable. and when you pull your chair closer, she damn near leaps out of her skin.

“we’re gonna get an A,” you hum, dragging her open textbook toward you. “you’re gonna do all the work. and you’re gonna keep your nasty little sketchbook zipped up tight.”

she nods. small. frail.

“say ‘yes, ma’am.’”

“…yes, ma’am.”

you smile. pop another bubble.

this is gonna be fun.

ellie keeps her eyes locked on the textbook. she hasn’t spoken in five minutes. not since the “yes, ma’am.” her handwriting’s shaking. her cheeks are red. her hoodie sleeves are halfway over her fingers again, clenched tight like she’s praying.

you lean back in your seat, legs spread just a little wider, flipping your hair over your shoulder. her eyes flicker for a second—just a second—to the inside of your thigh under the desk.

you catch it.

“are you even paying attention?” you ask, fake sweet. “or are you too busy trying not to cum in your boxers?”

her pencil snaps in half.

“i’m—i’m paying attention,” she mumbles, head down, the tips of her ears red like she’s been slapped. “mitosis. cell cycle. S-phase. DNA replication. i—i know it.”

you hum. press your knee against hers under the desk. she jerks back like she’s been shocked. you look down at her shaky hand on the table. long, twitchy fingers. drum and guitar callused.

slowly, you reach out. grab her wrist. guide it down.

“wh—what are you—” she tries to pull away, but she’s weak. pathetic. you’re stronger. meaner. so much prettier. you press her hand against your bare thigh, just above the hem of your skirt. warm skin. smooth. soft.

she stops breathing.

“f*ck,” she whispers, wide-eyed, voice cracking. “you—you can’t—i’ll f*cking—”

you don’t let go.

“don’t be a p*ssy,” you murmur, eyes half-lidded. “it’s just a little skin, right? nothing you haven’t seen in your nasty little sketches.”

her fingers twitch.

you push her hand higher. just a little.

the edge of your thong peeks out. she squeezes her eyes shut, like she can block it out. but her fingers stay.

shaking. burning. gripping your thigh like it’s keeping her alive. ellie whimpers.

you smile, slow and wicked and keep her hand right where it is. she doesn’t move at first.

your fingers are still around her wrist, soft but firm, like a leash she doesn’t want to escape. her palm is pressed flat to your thigh, skin burning hot, nails barely grazing you. you’re looking ahead like nothing’s happening. like you’re so fucking bored. like her hand being between your legs is just part of your routine.

ellie’s brain? completely fried. ‘f*ck. f*ck. f*ck’ she thought.

she doesn’t know where to look. her eyes are flicking between the worksheet and your lip gloss and your thigh and the window and the corner of the floor like any of it will help her not lose it.

her face is flushed. her mouth’s dry. her hoodie’s too hot and her fingers are twitching because all she can think about is—

‘she’s soft. she’s so soft. i can’t—f*ck—i can’t.’

you’re right next to her. in the flesh. warm. sighing softly. looking down, pencil in hand while pretending to read the textbook like her hand isn’t right there.

and now?

her fingers start to move.

slow. slight. like she doesn’t even realize at first. like muscle memory. like her horniness has taken over completely.

she slides the tips up, just a little.

then down.

tiny little strokes. featherlight. testing you. seeing what she can get away with.

you shift in your seat.

press your legs together.

you don’t look at her. but you don’t stop her either.

so she keeps going.

and her heart is slamming in her chest.

she’s so wet in her boxers, her clit becoming a rapid beating second heartbeat to the point it’s actually painful. ellie thinks she might cum just from this.

her fingers dip slightly beneath the curve of your thigh. under the edge of your thong. just barely.

her breath stutters.

you’re wet. not soaked. not dripping. just warm and soft and slightly damp and f*ckf*ck—

she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning. her forehead hits the desk. just for a second. to ground herself.

you look at her finally. say nothing. just smirk. and she knows you know exactly what you’re doing.

she doesn’t say a word. she just keeps stroking.

slow, pathetic, desperate.

and no one can see a thing.

yet, her fingers go still when she feels it. the way your c*nt clenches as she pushes past the edge of your soaked thong.

how easy it is to slip in.

how tight you are. how f*cking warm you are.

like you’ve been waiting.

ellie lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding—shaky, low—and stares at your face like it’s the only thing that matters.

you’re still looking at your notes. like this is nothing.

like her fingers aren’t buried inside you right now, moving slow, dragging against that soft spot she’s imagined so many times her body could do it with her eyes closed.

and it kinda is.

her fingers start working in that perfect rhythm she’s practiced—on herself, in the dark, in the shower, during her breakdowns after seeing you in a mini skirt.

she curls them just right.

presses deep.

slides out slick and slow, then back in, faster.

you twitch.

your thighs shift.

but you don’t look at her.

and that’s what makes her lose it.

“f*ck,” she whispers. her head is down, lips barely moving. “you’re gonna make me cum in my f*ckin’ boxers, sh*t.”

you don’t flinch. you just turn the page in the textbook, lip caught between your teeth.

ellie’s eyes flicker to your mouth.

her fingers thrust deeper. faster. the sound is obscene but muffled by the low hum of the class, the hum of the lights, the buzz of old ac.

“this p*ssy’s so f*ckin’ warm,” she whispers, voice cracked. “you’re gonna—geez—you’re gonna ruin me.”

you pulse around her. her legs shake.

she’s gritting her teeth. trying not to grunt. trying not to moan.

“can’t believe i get to finger you in bio,” she breathes, nose brushing your shoulder. “you’re so mean to me—so f*ckin’ mean—and you’re so wet. you like this? letting the loser do this to you?”

your pencil scratches across the paper like nothing’s happening.

you’re breathing harder now. lips parted. eyes still down.

but your hips start moving—tiny little rocks forward against her fingers—and that’s when ellie knows you’re close.

she curves them deep, presses her palm against your clit, and starts pumping harder.

you clamp your thighs.

grip the edge of your worksheet.

swallow a whimper.

“good f*ckin’ girl,” she mutters, barely audible. “take it. just take it. i’ll make you cum so hard you won’t walk to 5th period.”

and you?

you turn your head just slightly.

lips brush her ear.

“then do it, perv.”

ellie’s gone. she’s imagined this so many times. in her sketchbook. in the shower. in her f*cking dreams.

you sitting on her lap, whispering in her ear, your lip gloss smearing on her neck, your tits bouncing while you ride her neon green strap—

you calling her a freak while grinding on her face—

you licking her fingers while sitting on her bed like a brat—

suddenly, she jerks awake with a sharp inhale, eyes wide, hoodie tangled around her arms, face flushed, sheets kicked off the bed.

her room’s still dark, lit only by the faint glow of her lava lamp and the blinking red light of her PS3. her sketchbook’s open next to her—flipped to a half-finished drawing of you sitting on her lap with your thong around one ankle.

her hand’s still in her boxers.

and yeah… they’re soaked.

disgusting. tragic. predictable.

ellie groans. drags her forearm over her face like it’ll wipe the sin away. mutters to herself.

“f*ck”

her voice cracks. she rolls onto her back, staring at the popcorn textured ceiling. her stomach flips. her hips twitch.

and suddenly she’s grinding her hand into her boxers again—again—because the image won’t leave her brain.

your face when you bit your lip.

your whisper in her ear.

your p*ssy squeezing her fingers like it needed her.

it’s too bad this is one of them. just another one of her pathetic dreams.

taglist : @deliciouslydeviantsatan, @valeisaslut, @dollinrehab, @l0veylace, @velvetinkbym, @liztreez, @elliesgffrfr, @sleepingwasp, @brooks-lin, @lovelessswan, @cherrylipsmakerss, @shookkatofthat, @mars4hellokitty, @jaydonisnothere, @ellieslittleslutt, @pussyeatercunt, @livvietalks, @angelsglitch, @robiceps, @lesb4ellie, @sparkle-jump-rope-queen, @sweet-anonyme, @mylettterstoyou, @pinkpigtailedjoy, @pink7princess, @nahcala, @mascspleasegetmepregnant, @sincerlykelsss

lmk if uu wanna be added. :)