#EXPLODES RAPIDLY

[lapiseditscorner]

it's been 3 months and i come back to this blog bearing a pierce the veil wallpaper cause god my phone needs a retheme

115 days until i see them live :3

[hellenhighwater]

Hi!

I was wondering, I've seen your sculpture work and other than weight, why do you hollow out figures? Just curious and Google was being obtuse.

Love to your fluffy ones!

Weight actually is not an insignificant factor--clay doesn't have great tensile strength, so if I'm trying to support a torso on human-proportioned legs, it's significantly more difficult when the torso is solid and therefore heavier. So sometimes I hollow out to reduce weight so that it doesn't break or collapse while drying.

But the biggest reason is moisture. Clay needs to be fully dry before it can be fired, and the thicker a piece of clay is, the longer it will take for the inside of it to fully dry out. When we're talking human proportions, that means that hands and feet are going to dry way faster than torsos--and things drying at different paces causes cracking. Hollowing out thick areas helps things dry at more equal rates and reduces the risk of cracks. Plus less thickness means less dry time total!

And beyond that, I often have practical plans for non-clay elements that rely on the cavities inside the sculptures. Icarus's wings, for example, were seated in the torso hollow; Prometheus's wick fed oil into the fire that way; several separate fountains have been plumbed through body carvings.

[koropukgoro]

Actually I will ramble a bit cuz my friend & I do have a hc we’ve been playing off of that involves tiny Vash but since it’s canon in stampede that Vash can change the density of his Gate & in maximum (my preferred trigun) how Vash can grow really Big and Monstrous (so can Knives) if he adds to his mass so he can support his size that maybe an Opposite effect can happen. While growing, Vash needs added mass to support his weight, but the bigger he gets, the more inhuman and more of a flesh singularity he becomes; that growth also causes him to lose his identity and get consumed by himself temporarily. Because I’m a silly guy who likes thinking his GT with logic… but also… maybe when Vash overuses plant juices, or his body needs to fall into recovery mode after extreme body harm / near fatal situations (or extreme psychological stress), he goes into what my friend and I call “power saving mode”. Back up battery. His body shrinks. Size varies but the smallest he’s gotten is 2 inches. There’s an inherent fear he has if he pushes himself over his limits he might go quantum & never recover… like how in stampede he shrunk his Gate into a quantum state… it’s a very round about kind of canon aligned hc to make Vash shrink and be tiny. And cuz he neglects his plant powers so much he can’t control it… not until much much later in maximum… but he mostly can’t… also reflects his plant ability to absorb / store energy and release it.

Something something we’ve had scenarios where Vash’s body & mind gets so stressed out mini psychotic break or physical issue just causes him to shrink in his hotel room in front of Wolfwood & the Girls… and basically whatever’s on him at the time shrinks too so what he’s wearing n stuff… hehehe itty bitty & a lil squeaky and definitely extremely nervous exchanges between handling & being handled. Also accidentally freaking out his companions. Being small reminds him he’s not human & it makes him feel a lil self conscious…

[hanzajesthanza]

the scene i find most relatable in all of the witcher saga is ciri in the korath desert, and idk what that says about me, but… probably nothing good 😅🙃

[joycrispy]

coping with chronic pain kicking my ass the last few days by thinking about canonically disabled hedgehog

[chiropteracupola]

logical mind: we have to do work NOW or it will only get worse

sillygoofy mind: why are we wearing pajamas when clearly we should be wearing our sharpe outfit

[arolesbianism]

Also assume everything I say abt my comicfrin au is prone to change at any second I am simply having fun and experiencing whimsy

[etcnnante]

just discovered jojoworld is coming to my state TOMORROW and it’s only a 2 hour trip to see it ……….. obviously i have to go

[doolallymagpie]

With her free hand, Bobbie looked over the report from the Roci’s battle at the jump point again. Someone grew a conscience in that standoff, and a five-on-one battle became a four-on-two in the other direction. Those guys didn’t stand a chance. The ship names seemed vaguely familiar. Tynan, DeWalt, Mowteng. No crew manifests in the report. Widow’s Web was being escorted by the Firehawk to the jump point. Keeping their boss as a hostage seemed adequate to keep this an escort and not another brawl, though from what Bobbie understood, someone (probably Holden, being entirely realistic) had promised to buy out the Widows’ contract with Inaros and pay for damages separately, on the condition that they took the nearest available JumpShip to “anywhere but here”. Still, having Kerensky strapped to a bed and sedated in the medbay probably kept a bunch of people with only a vague idea of who he was, no doubt filtered through the…imaginative mind of Marco Inaros, from getting any clever ideas.

...how have I written almost 5K on this in maybe 24 hours?

also

CAMINA DRUMMER MENTIONED*

*indirectly

[flosphenes]

Uwu smol beanification and infantilization of complex, neurodivergent (coded or confirmed) characters drives me fucking insane.

Maybe analyze why you think the neurodivergent character is a "precious baby who needs to be protected" when the narrative clearly shows them capable of handling their shit.

Neurodivergent people aren't helpless children who need sheltering from the world. They need accommodations sometimes but that isn't the same thing. And if you think it is you've missed the point.

[nightmare8-420]

hiiiii

hiiiii good morning night evening afternoon timee :D

[starry-kittens]

Give me a pipe organ and sermons would go so much smoother.

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when the strongest sorcerer, satoru gojo, meets your strongest period mood swings?

a/n: i teared up writing this. i wish men—real, emotionally available, period-bath-running boyfriends—were real.

you don’t know why you’re crying. again. maybe because the blanket slipped off your shoulder or because the strawberries he cut for you weren’t sweet enough or because the stupid commercial on tv had a puppy in it. whatever the reason, your bottom lip wobbles and you sniffle, clutching the heat pack tighter against your abdomen.

satoru is there in a heartbeat. not because he knows what to do—oh no, he’s scrambling. since this morning when you woke up groaning like a medieval knight struck down in battle, he’s been in full red-alert panic mode. he googled “how to handle girlfriend on period” three times, made a list, burned it, then cried a little in the hallway before gathering the courage to come back in. he even called shoko for backup, only to be met with unhelpful laughter and a “good luck, loverboy.”

now he’s crouched in front of the couch like he’s about to disarm a bomb, blue eyes wide behind his stupidly expensive sunglasses that are now pushed messily into his silvery hair. his lips are pursed like he’s concentrating very hard, but the little twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays his anxiety.

“operation: spoiled princess is officially in action,” he declares, voice light but eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read the weather. his large hands cradle your cheeks with a gentleness that doesn’t match his usual chaos, thumbs brushing under your eyes like he can physically wipe the emotion away. “what’s wrong, baby? want me to punch the strawberries? i’ll do it. don’t test me.”

your nose scrunches, and despite the tears welling again, a soggy laugh escapes you. “you’re so dumb.”

“and yet so handsome. it’s really unfair to everyone else,” he sighs dramatically. his long legs fold awkwardly as he plops down beside you, then tugs you into his lap like you’re made of glass. your face smushes against the soft cotton of his long-sleeved tee, which smells like laundry detergent and a hint of something sugary—probably from the chocolate he was sneak-eating earlier.

five seconds later, your mood shifts again.

“why would you say that?” your voice rises, sharp. you pull back, brows furrowed. “are you saying other people want you? is that it? am i just some girl to you?”

satoru freezes like someone hit pause on him. “huh? what—no! what are you talking about? i just—i meant it like—baby, no, don’t cry again—”

“i’m not crying because of you,” you snap, already blinking back tears. your arms wrap tighter around your stomach. “i just… i feel gross and my stomach hurts and i hate everyone and nothing helps.”

“okay! okay,” he says quickly, hands held up like he’s facing a wild beast. his tone drops to something soft, coaxing. he leans in, his bangs falling a little into his eyes. “you hate everyone. but not me, right? please don’t hate me, i’ll literally explode.”

you glare. “depends. did you eat the last cookie or not.”

he blinks once. twice. “…i—what? baby, this is not the time for interrogation—”

“answer the question, toru.”

“…no comment.”

you narrow your eyes, pinch his side. he yelps like a kicked puppy.

“okay! okay! i did but i didn’t know it was the last one—wait, don’t look at me like that, please, i’m too young to die—”

satoru’s voice cracks just a little, and he sounds genuinely distressed now. the kind of pitiful panic that only comes from being accused by the person he loves most. “you don’t really hate me, right?” he blurts, blinking rapidly as if he could force an answer out of you by sheer will. “like… not actually? you’re just—y’know—period mad? not ‘i want to leave you and never look back’ mad?”

you sniff, pouting at him with narrowed eyes. the silence stretches just enough to make him squirm. he fidgets with the hem of his sleeve, eyes darting from yours to the pillow, to your hand still fisted in his shirt.

“because if you did, i think i’d just crawl into the washing machine and set it to spin cycle,” he mumbles, only half joking. “you’d forget all about me, but the spin cycle wouldn’t forget.”

you break. again. this time with a teary snort of laughter. your face buries into his neck, the tip of your nose brushing his warm skin as your shoulders tremble with exhausted giggles.

he exhales like a man who’s just been handed a stay of execution. his arms wind tighter around you, holding you like he’s scared you might vanish.

“i got you chocolate,” he whispers hastily, like it’s penance. “and those terrible chips you like. and i prepped a warm bath with the glittery bomb thingy you keep hoarding. also, i may have threatened the delivery guy to get here faster. i said i was a government official. please don’t report me.”

he tries to kiss your forehead, but you shove his face away with a palm.

“you smell like cheap cologne. did you use that stupid body spray again?”

satoru reels back, wounded. “excuse me, this is top-tier scent! the internet called it ‘irresistible alpha energy.’”

“more like teenage boy in a locker room.”

“wow,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in it. his thumb rubs slow circles into your back, his gaze flicking down to your fingers still tangled in his shirt.

finally, you lift your head, your eyes glassy but no longer stormy. your features soften—still tired, but laced with reluctant affection. satoru looks at you like you hung the damn moon.

“you’re the worst,” you whisper.

his grin is crooked, too relieved to be smug. “and you still don’t hate me. noted.”

he bumps his nose against yours, then gently tugs you closer. “c’mon. bath time for my temperamental goddess. i even lit the dumb candle that smells like a bakery.”

he stands, scooping you up with more care than coordination. you press your forehead to his jaw, soaking in the familiar comfort of his scent—minus the cologne.

“your skin glows with divine light… your aura purifies the air… i am but a lowly servant in the temple of your beauty…” he chants dramatically. he slips on your fuzzy socks halfway to the bathroom and nearly eats it, but catches himself just in time, shouting your name like he’s about to perish.

even if he’s overwhelmed, mildly traumatized, and definitely confused by the chaos that is your period mood swings, satoru gojo is nothing if not yours.

[amekonocternia]

I'm so normal about the fact that Milk has (so far) had both dragons that have relationship charts with him be both positive

Pitayas opinion also gives me a new line to obsess about like the only other character I can think of at least that can block their fire was Holly and that was thanks to her getting her shield back part way through so now I have the fact Milk's strong enough to be seen as intriguing to Ananas AND the fact he has the ability to block Pitayas dragonfire

I am so not normal about him he's my special little guy I'm grabbing him in my fist and shaking him vigorously /vpos

[metalribcage]

The cannibalism was cool n all but it didn't taste that great

[sunsetcupid]

EYES OFF! ; F1 GRID.

synopsis: When you are catcalled on the street, it is only natural that your boyfriend reacts a certain way, be it possessive or enraged.

trigger warnings: Use of feminine pronouns from the reader’s perspective; Descriptions of romantic acts and behaviors; Suggestive remarks; Descriptions of cat-calling; Mentions of physical altercations

a message from the author: Once again, I added Daniel Ricciardo to this fic. I think I’ll be doing that for the rest of the stories in this series. If any of you would like to add a driver or request a certain scenario, don’t hesitate to message me in my inbox!

ISACK HADJAR

He can’t believe his ears – he can’t begin to fathom why someone would make such a vile comment, especially to his girlfriend, the sweetest, most loving person he knows. It physically repulses him, and for a moment, you think he might vomit all over the sidewalk.

Likewise, as soon as he hears the leering statement, he freezes in place. Head cocked to one side, fists clenching until the knuckles turn white. You have to practically drag him away, telling him that “It’s not worth it” because the boxer in him is just itching for a fight.

“No one should be saying those things. Not to you, not to anyone. They need to learn a lesson, and I’ll fucking teach them.” He repeats it as if it were his personal mantra, over and over.

For the rest of the day, he’s sulking. An invisible rain cloud is hovering over his head, but it doesn’t stop him from being extremely clingy. If you dare move out of his eyesight for a second (to get a snack or to put your phone on charge), he immediately panics and can’t stop kissing you afterward.

OSCAR PIASTRI

Oscar is not a confrontational guy at all. His version of arguments are stony silences, unanswered texts, and the cold shoulder. Nevertheless, he rather enjoys keeping a level head and remaining calm. But when a guy walking down the street wolf-whistles at you and cracks some lewd joke about wanting to explore the curves of your body, Oscar wants to tear him apart.

He takes a few deep breaths, attempting to regulate his rapidly pounding heart rate before it explodes out of his chest. He might consider walking away, but when he sees your panic-stricken expression, it’s game over.

Oscar stalks over to them, his voice low and gravelly as he makes the catcaller regret his existence with a few well-chosen words. He’s more forceful, more direct than you’ve ever heard or seen him be, and it turns you on. 

LANCE STROLL

His head whips to look at the culprit, his eyes widening in astonishment. For a moment, he thinks he’s imagined it, but the leering smirk on the offender’s face dashes his hopes. “What did you just say to my girlfriend?” Lance’s voice is eerily calm, not a hint of his inner rage visible on the surface.

The only way you can identify how he truly feels is the vein pulsing on his neck, and the fact that he’s gone rigid, like a tree trunk. You have to place a hand on his arm to get his body to relax.

As a result of the incident, Lance becomes more vigilant, walking in front of you at all times and blocking your body with his – a very attractive shield. He even offers to get you a personal bodyguard, but you adamantly refuse.

LANDO NORRIS

His face flushes with anger, eyes turning into flinty shards. He’s so pissed off that someone would dare to tease you, especially in such a creepy manner.

You have to whisper-hiss at him to not get into an altercation with the person who catcalled you. He’s like an overgrown puppy, growling at the person and trying to tug himself free of your grip in order to go fight the other person. “I don’t give a fuck about race penalties. He’s a fucking bastard!” 

Once he’s regained some composure, he posts a lengthy paragraph on social media, denouncing misogynistic behaviors and urging everyone to make donations to women’s empowerment groups. “We love to believe that the world today is modern and equal, but it can never truly become inclusive if these events are still commonplace.”

CHARLES LECLERC

He curses in French, letting loose a dictionary’s worth of swear words you didn’t even know existed. That’s his clash with the perpetrator. On track? He’s ready to fight. But in person? He’s less eager to do so.

In lieu of this, he wraps you up in his sweater, taking your hand in his and comforting you with his closeness. “I’m here for you, mon ange. And I’ll always protect you.”

He’s big on physical touch after – kissing your cheeks and cuddling, enveloping you with his body like he can shield you from every harsh remark people make. Perhaps he can. He’s just that magical.

DANIEL RICCIARDO

He’s absolutely incensed. The happy-go-lucky facade disappears in a snap, replaced by cold fury. He slings one arm around your shoulder, laughing menacingly. “Hey, mate! Eyes off my girl, and fuck off.”

Daniel would 100% get into a brawl with someone who insults his girlfriend, not because he is a violent guy, but because he wants to properly defend the love of his life. 

He could be bleeding and bruised for weeks after, yet he will forever be proud of his capability to defend his girlfriend.

Later, he tries to make light of the situation by making jokes. Ultimately, however, all he wants is to take you in his arms and never let you go. You’re everything he could ever want, and he hates that other people have the power to hurt you.

Credits: Dividers — @strangergraphics