#Stick controls

[thetempestechoes]

-> This poll is not about what you prefer, but about what you use the most in practice.

-> If your option is not covered in this spectrum, please consider sharing it in the tags or replies!

-> This poll applies to all Splatoon games. Base your answer on how you play currently (for example, if you used motion controls in Splatoon 1 but sticks only in 2 and 3, and you currently only play Splatoon 3, you would select the "exclusively or almost exclusively sticks" option).

[demi-pixellated]

🛹⛸💨💨

[astrangeavenue]

drew some of alan beckers stick figures in keith harings style cause i thought it would be fun. and i was right

[unrelatedsideblog]

bleping doodles idk

[inkyrainstorms]

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face a series of events. Fiddleford is so tired. Stanley is laughing bc if he doesn’t laugh he’ll cry. Ford is rage incarnate. This is murder in his eyes

[hemi-demi]

Happy Valentine's Day to all the spooky queers out there ❤️

My friend sent me this kiss challenge template, so I decided to spread out the love a bit and add some other ships into the mix.

Lineart only beneath the cut

[emry-stars-art]

I’ve started reading TGR, y’all get your thoughts and fav scenes ready. In the meantime.. sketches

[alastoralltruist]

Something I haven’t seen people talking about is just how different Alastor’s radio tower is on the new hotel. Like the original one looks like a point of pride. He put the neon “on air” sign, all the arrows pointing towards it… it looks strong and sturdy, despite being haphazardly attached to the hotel. The new radio tower looks significantly more sinister. It’s attached to the hotel, sure, but in the process it’s ripped out the railings and seems like it’s trying to rip itself out of the hotel just as much as it’s grafted on to it. The antennas or whatever sticking out the top look more like barbed wire or a warning to stay away.

Idk just thought the difference was interesting. I imagine it has something to do with alastor being all put together and seemingly on top of his game in Season 1. I assume this new unhinged tower is a reflection of the alastor we’ll meet next.

[oxygen537art]

[botanyshitposts]

Sign i saw recently had a bunch of paint worn away with lichen in its place, however i unfortunately did not have my phone on me 😔😔

in an alternate universe where science funding is stable and abundant regardless of monetary gain we have already gotten to the complex root of which lichens enjoy signs but only the letters or only the sign and what about the letters or sign they prefer and this haunts me

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

the thing about Lucanis and Spite is like. neither of them actually wanted to be there. and that is both how they were able to survive the melding and why they resent each other so much. Lucanis' banter about the Ossuary where he says to survive it he "Shut down completely. Think nothing. Feel nothing. Except what you need to escape." And when asked what's left he says "If you're lucky? Revenge. And bad dreams." like. he always had this core of his own personal spite down in him (not doing crow jobs the easy way, ignoring Caterina's summons, not embracing his future as a potential first talon, to "live truly is to live fully" but he HASN'T been allowed to and resents it, etc etc etc) but in the Ossuary he really hollows himself out into the perfect vessel, empties himself of everything but wanting to survive anyway. and "no one was in the Ossuary by choice, not even the demons" so of course he and Spite can agree on this One Thing. they make their deal that they're gonna make it through just because everyone else there is waiting for them to die, and of course they're not gonna just give them what they want. even if they're fighting each other the whole time (hence Lucanis being used to Spite 'hitting' him etc when he doesn't get what he wants), they still have this united purpose Every Day about getting through it. like it's utterly crucial that for both to survive at all the demon had to be something that wanted to defy what the venatori wanted from it.

and this is also why their relationship falls apart once they do escape, because without something else present to rail against every day, they have to turn on each other. and of course it is actually an absolutely miserable situation for both of them to be in--Lucanis is living the nightmare of his body being puppetted around without his consent, just like the blood magic he already had to endure under Zara, and can't ever be alone again even in his own mind. Spite is trapped in a world that no longer responds to his shaping, lacks the autonomy of a truly possessed host body, and can barely comprehend the new laws that govern the place he's in.

for both of them it's such an intense violation of being, and one I wish got more emphasis/recognition. it's really easy to make jokes about how Lucanis could be better at sharing/compromise with Spite more (like I make them too myself, it's easy) but really just... man. this isn't like with Anders & Justice, who agreed to their situation, or Wynne where Faith is content to be mostly a silent passenger and did it to save her life. Lucanis and Spite are suffering the most complete form of intimacy under the worst circumstances, and neither actually wanted it. which makes it honestly impressive at all that (unhardened) Lucanis & Spite are able to reach an accord at all by the end. like i'm glad that they did--and have SO many thoughts (& fanfic WIPs lol) exploring just how they managed to get there--but boy was it hard won, if you actually look deeper into it than the game has room to explore.

[70sscifiart]

For Control Panel Saturday, here's 1978 album art by Frank Morris for a vinyl record of Judith Merril reading two short sci-fi stories.

[shkika]

i need a name for this bug

[dandp]

I picture Dan and Phil putting an announcement date on their calendar, staring at it, sighing, then blocking off several days before and after that day as well to account for whatever traumatic events or logistical catastrophes will occur

[leafyeyes417]

Obsession Spiral

Danny was flying high in the sky, heading towards Town Hall. He needed to see Vlad. As he flew, he thought about how he reconciled with him. He had called a temporary truce, and asked Vlad to bring his short term Plasmius Maximus. They both used it, preventing any potential argument from escalating into a ghost fight. Then they had a long hard talk, figuring out the miscommunications and working out most of the problems.

Part of it had been Vlad’s Obsession with Family clashing with his revenge for his belief that Jack is the one who killed him. Danny had managed to get it into his head that stealing someone to form a family would never work. Vlad would do better if he shifted his focus on to creating his own family elsewhere, possibly adopting like Bruce Wayne did.

Danny had also asked for a clear story on Vlad’s Death, despite the taboo. It had been hard but he had agreed Jack was the cause in the end. He had asked Vlad to find a different way to get back at Jack. His nature as a Protective Spirit would not allow Vlad to get his revenge through killing him, but he could look the other way for other things.

Breaking out of his thoughts he turned invisible and slipped into the building, floating into Vlad’s office. Vlad looked up as he appeared. “Daniel! I wasn’t expecting to see you, what with that whole battle with Undergrowth earlier.”

Danny nodded, “Normally I would be taking a nap after the fight, but something has been bothering me and I wanted your opinion on it.”

Vlad frowned. “This seems more serious than just your usual ghost fights. If I can help you I will.”

Danny hesitated but managed to push through his uncomfort, “I’ve been thinking. Ghosts and undead with cores have their Obsessions, which make it healthy for them to focus on those things long term. But Liminals, they only have some ecto in their bodies. Maddie and Jack have been contaminated with ecto a long time and they might as well be living ghosts with how Obsessed they are with hunting ghosts. I don’t know how to check and see, but I’ve been feeling like something is almost… wrong with them. Like they have fallen way too far into obsession and if we don’t break them out of it they will be unrecoverable.”

By the point Danny finished he was hugging himself, face covered in a worried frown as he stared at the floor. Vlad looked off to the side, considering. “I have not given things much thought, but it is possible you are right. Despite my feelings for Jack, he has been… much more one-minded than he used to be.”

Danny looked up at him. “Do you know what we could do? The only thing I can think of is getting them far away from anything ghost and preventing them from working on projects. Which probably means something like a mental health ward or prison…”

Vlad breathed out a sigh. “I will look into it. Why don’t you go ask Frostbite if he knows anything. We might have to involve outsiders and getting the portal in Amity shut down. I know you have been pondering on what you will do after high school. It might be best if you start working on your ability to portal so if we are forced to take that option you can get back to the Realms.”

Danny nodded and then said goodbye. He hoped that they didn’t have to do anything that drastic, but after his trips for Clockwork he generally had a good sense of how things would go. It would probably be hard, but safer for him in the end.

[curlyfriesgalore]

curly can't sing.

as the title says, it's a headcanon i randomly had when playing my mouthwashing sims 4 household (lol), where swansea and curly went karaoke-ing at 'waterside warble' in san myshuno. curly sang horrendously since he just gained the skill. though, it made me think, how funny would it be if curly genuinely couldn't sing for shit?

it's the one thing jimmy has leverage over (he's no better, really), and curly is painfully aware of his tone-deafness, so he never reveals it unless it's for a special occasion... with an extra special someone there to watch him perform (miserably).

that being said, daisuke suggested the crew do something fun to celebrate the completion of their shipment, so why not do some karaoke?

★ a sfw one-shot broken down into bullets with chat-format segments for dialogue. fair warning, there are a few suggestive moments, but the implications aren't overt. [2,817 words]

☆ gen tags: set in 2005. gn! reader who is a doctor and a great singer. none of the game's events happen, so they're just a bunch of folks doing regular space deliveries, but jimmy is still an unpleasant ass that gets on the reader's nerves. reader and curly are crushing on each other (they're on the brink of knowing it's reciprocal). manfailure curly but he's trying his best... whatever that best is (lmfao, accurate to canon 😭). curly -> grant (name switch at some point in the fic). there's one moment where curly and reader share a glass, so just letting you know in case you're not a fan of that :)

[i'm still on break, but i wanted to write something more concise and improvised in under a day! and i won't lie, i find fics including everyone to be so fun to write. i really love testing out my characterizations of the crew and have them interact in relaxed scenarios. art by kafukafukadayo on twt. —iris🌠]

while you bask in the dim hues of red lights, the instrumental of an electropop softens into silence as it tandems with your pants. when you peel your eyes open, everyone's gaping their mouths and raising their brows—even jimmy, ever the unimpressed, is surprisingly taken aback, and you're taken aback by that alone.

daisuke springs from the leather sofa. he bounds towards you, grips both your shoulders, and shakes you senselessly, his hand still somehow clutching his open flip phone.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"doc, that... was... INSANE!" he jostles your body back and forth between his pauses, swaying you with all his might as he nearly forces the microphone to drop out your hand. daisuke swishes his head, finally letting you go, "wh—buh?! how do you—are you imogen heap reincarnated?!"

anya snorts, sounding like a stuffed trumpet. "dai, imogen's alive! she's only 27." swansea follows suit, his deep chuckle rumbling through his belly, crossed arms resting atop. "pfft, that's far from dead."

daisuke rolls his eyes away from the two, "tch, you get what i mean! like, look—!" he speedily dials the buttons on his phone, opening his gallery and brandishing a pixelated clip of you singing along to the mbira melody and string bass beats, the crunchy electronic syncs with your ethereal mezzo-soprano. daisuke snaps the phone shut with his palm, raising his free hand in surrender. "if that's not the lead singer of frou frou, then i don't know who is." he takes the remote, looking through what next to sing.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

amid the nurse, mechanic, and intern belting their lungs out to "hey ya!" curly sits, and you stand before him. his ocean eyes swim in awe as he cranes his neck to face you. you're glowing. your head perfectly aligns right in front of the carmine light; its luminescence filters around your shadowed outline, like you were some angel graced from above with an even more angelic voice to come with. it was sort of comical how the largest man in the room felt so small beneath your presence.

there's a dew of sweat hanging below your bottom lip, and curly can't help but bite his. that is until he slips his teeth back in when you cushion yourself onto the couch, spreading your legs wide with an arm lounging on the headrest behind him. curly huffed a laugh and leaned into the shiny sofa, letting his scalp fall onto your forearm.

even with your tongue tucked inside your parted lips, curly could practically see your papillae beg for freshness. he smiles, momentarily stretching his back away from the couch to grab your drink and hands it to you. a raspy thanks escape your parched throat.

your neck bobs with every gulp, drinking like it's the last you'll ever taste water. curly tries his hardest not to let his gaze linger longer than it should, but the way your head tilts back and your hand grips the glass, he can't help but swallow some of that imaginary water himself.

a contented sigh leaves you. you flick your eyes to him and just about see the last of his adam's apple slurp up nothing. you gesture the drink, asking if he wants it. curly is briefly hesitant until he turns to see his empty cup and shrugs, "sure, why not?"

as curly takes his sip, he notices the beaded sweat shining on your lip more notably than before. his brows raise ever so subtly, ruminating his next moves. when you still fail to realize the wetness glistening at your mouth's rim, he pulls the drink away from himself.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"hey, can i...?"

your eyes widen softly as you watch his thumb inch toward your jaw. you flick your view down, puffing out your lower lip to see a dab of sweat cling onto you for dear life. you look back at him and nod. curly gently takes a hold of your chin, thumbing the sudor away while his remaining fingers brush against your neck. you take in the moment, eyes half-lidded and lips ever so parted. he wasn't glancing at you, but you could tell he wanted to, for his warm breath quiets the longer you study him—noticing the way his tongue peeks out his mouth or how his golden greying hair falls over the wrinkles etched into his temple. "you know," moments before he drops his hand, he finally manages to look you in the eye, your faces merely inches apart. "your performance really gave me chills." you smirked, "is that why you didn't speak up?" your tease brought curly to a laugh, the bass in his voice strong. "i can't help but be mesmerized when that's how you sing, doc."

you hummed a titter, nodding to yourself as you thanked him with a delicate smile. "you can drop the formalities, grant. we're at a karaoke bar, not the tulpar."

whether or not you noticed the hitch in his breath, grant softened upon hearing his first name, oftentimes forgetting that's who he actually is. his head tilts down, blithely sighing before picking himself up to show you his grin, "okay, okay..." he momentarily chuckles, now resting his elbow on the headrest, propping it up, and leaning onto his knuckles next to your arm still lying there. "well, my point still stands. you have an incredibly captivating voice, y/n." "oh, stop it...!" you both become a blushing, giggling mess. your other hand finds its way to rest on your knee, which sits right against grant's. as you speak about your singing history, grant brings his free palm to his thigh, pretending to unintentionally graze his calloused fingers against your nails. he listens intently to how you'd belt out your favorite songs on repeat, albeit the sound of daisuke and anya screaming, "HEEEY YAAA!" and the tidbits of exhaustion lingering in his mind make your words muffle into incoherent jargon.

"but enough about me, i wanna hear you." you catch his eyes snapping away from both his and your legs smushing together, hoping you don't notice the blankness in his brain. "or are you just charming me to stall your big reveal, hm?"

grant's jaw falls, and utterances of filler words filter out his mouth, but before he can respond, daisuke catches wind of their conversation as outkast's song dies down in the background.

"oh, yeah!" daisuke takes a swig of his soda. after a sigh of satisfaction and couple of lip smacks, daisuke leaps from his end of the couch and motions to the two, microphone in hand. "it's your turn to solo, captain!"

"uhh, i don't know if i should..." grant sheepishly waves the mic away, his eyes shifting between everyone's expressions. daisuke is pouting and pleading with puppy eyes. anya just gives him a thumbs-up and a classic comforting smile. swansea is indifferent. jimmy, who's been leaning against the palm tree printed wall for the past four songs, beer in hand, grows an all-too-familiar smirk. then there's you, expectantly looking at him with overlaid eyes he wishes to see in a different setting... that of his bedroom—

"aww, why not, curl? we've done our parts. 's only fair you do yours, too." jimmy's tone was far from welcoming, sounding more like a jab than anything. you narrowed your sights at him, "didn't you only sing in the group ones?" jimmy shrugs. "look," after taking another chug of his can, raising his hands in defeat. "my karaoke quota's been filled. sorry." you simply roll your eyes. before the tension thickens, daisuke interjects, "ah, don't worry, cap. i bet your voice sounds super cool, like superhero cool! you've got that gruffness that swan's got... but y'know... less croaky n' stuff!" "'scuze me?" swansea lifts a single brow, anya stifles a laugh, and daisuke flails his hands in defense, "eh- i mean it as a compliment! you've got a sick voice, swansea." "emphasis on sick..." anya cheekily comments under her breath, and for the first time in forever, swansea's jaw drops. he coughs out a laugh that's been lodged in his throat for god knows how long and shakes his head, pointing his thumb at the giggling woman. "wowww, aren't you, the nurse, supposed to be fixing that?" anya nods to you, "only under doctor's orders." the two have a back and forth, but daisuke still stands in front of grant, intent on lending the mic to the man.

"i—okay..." grant crumbles under the pressure, caving in when you whisper a couple of encouragements. daisuke cheers, anya claps, swansea bobs his head in support, jimmy fakes a whoop, and you—genuinely���hype him up with a holler.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

grant purses his lip as he presses the buttons on the remote while daisuke guides him through the songs on the screen.

jimmy leaves his spot, his boot denting a scuff mark on the wallpaper. your nose flares, watching him carelessly toss the can into the bin as he makes his way to sandwich you between him and swansea, purposefully maximizing the width of how far he can stretch his legs.

you ignore him, opting to watch someone much cuter. grant turns to you, awkwardly smiling as you return a thumbs-up. he focuses back on daisuke, who's now raving over a song he definitely thinks grant should sing.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"you know he's shit, right?" your brows contort into a furrow, still not looking at the man. "the fuck you mean?" you never had much patience for jimmy, of all people, so your courtesies never fail to fall short with him. "you know who i mean—him." jimmy gestures to grant, pointer finger flicking at the blond. "no shit, sherlock. i'm saying, what are you specifically referring to?" "obviously, his voice, sherlock." he drawls the two syllables, the stench of yeast and malt oozing out of his mouth and into your unfortunate nose. "he'll make your ears bleed, trust me." finally, you face him and stare at jimmy's smugness with an incredulous squint. seriously, how the fuck does grant put up with him? you couldn't even stand the guy's presence, let alone his incessant insults on grant himself. "do you do anything but complain?" you sneer. "nope." jimmy curtly replies, mouthing a pop after the 'p' as he claws a hand over the chips bowl, stuffing his face with grease. at this point, you weren't sure if you should stay annoyed or be slightly impressed with his sheer ability to find the worst in everything. "some fucking friend..." you say to yourself, already past the point of defeat. with his mouth still full of food, jimmy responds, "hey, as his friend, i'm actively warning you. i've known this guy long enough to be there for his first choir class." "whatever, we'll see." you huffed, relaxing on the couch, sitting much closer to swansea than the other. "it's not like you've got much credibility, anyway." you think back to moments ago, whenever it was jimmy's turn to sing his parts, his half-assed attempts barely constitutes as a grumble. jimmy snickers, "who says i'm denying that? just 'cause i don't care doesn't mean i'm wrong."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you have never been more relieved to hear a soft pop interlude, forcing the conversation to a close.

daisuke flops onto the sofa next to anya and flips open his phone, pressing record as the tv flashes the music video to "shape of my heart." you lean behind swansea and lock eyes with daisuke, who abashedly giggles when you mouth, 'you chose this, didn't you?' to which he nods excitedly.

ah, daisuke, ever the avid backstreet boys fanatic.

your eyes fall back to grant. the man fidgets with his microphone, and his shoe frantically taps to the beat, pursing his lips into a tight smile in hopes it will clench down the shivers rising with the guitar strums. you silently cheer him on when he starts humming, following the yellow highlight filling up the white text reading ♪ yeah, yeah ♪, and—

oh!

...oh

oh, god.

jimmy... wasn't wrong, far from it, actually—as much as it pains you to admit.

the very moment grant hits that ♪ baby ♪, it's all downhill from here. it's as if his pitch took a trip to six flags. his questionably paced breaths mimic a ride with an unnecessary amount of loop-the-loops, and his tone flip-flops between a coarse rasp and an oddly airy twang, like a reverse bungee slingshotting into the air.

grant's eyes squeeze shut, facing away from the crew. either he was incredibly invested or excruciatingly embarrassed, and with how he was really getting into that chorus, nobody could tell. he only ever peeks to look at you, though, clearly awaiting your approval, to whom you always beam, your face mixed in pity and affection.

as much as he sounded like a crow was clawing its way out of his esophagus, you couldn't help but find his attempts to be really wholesome. maybe it's your pre-existing bias, and maybe it's because this feels like he's serenading every line at you, but it's hard not to fall for this vocal failure of a man—even though everyone else's expressions say otherwise.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"told you so," jimmy taunts in your ear, sickeningly chuckling at grant without hesitation. "woo! curly, you go, dude!" he cheers, voice dipped in mockery. all you do is click your tongue and face the others, choosing to listen in on anya and swansea. "you sure i'm the one that's 'sick'?" swansea jokes, albeit laced with genuine disgust. he leans to you, whispering the same revulsion, "you both need to rethink your careers."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

anya simply grimaces, trying her hardest to make it look like a grin, but her knit brows and frown give way.

daisuke's eyes say everything. they're wide, and his pupils constrict like he's a cartoon. his hand hesitantly grips onto his flip phone, unsure if he should keep the camera going. as his leg rapidly bounces and his teeth bite down on his paint-chipped nails, his gaze slowly turns away from grant's caterwauling and towards the rest of the crew.

moreover, you're just as guilty. although you're not irked by this newfound fact, a wince washes over you the moment you are out of grant's sights.

suddenly, after the first chorus, the song reveals a blue highlight painting the white text. grant falters, his voice shrinking when he sees the two primary colors play different lyrics simultaneously. everyone takes notice, their faces easing from cringe to confusion. then it clicks.

this was a duet.

daisuke palms his face with a slap—that's his bad. you skim the room, and everyone's exchanging glances, implicitly questioning who'll aid their poor captain.

without hesitation, you jump to the rescue. snatching a mic from the coffee table and quickly singing your parts, striding your way towards grant, who immediately picks up where he's left off, still shrill as ever.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

♪ i'M hEre WIDTH myYy...! confEh shion ♪, in a sheer attempt at confidence, grant belts his lyrics. his dimples dig into his smile, sending you the much-needed energy to sing your lines. ♪ got nothing to hide no more ♪. you sway your head in accordance with the melody, ball up your fist, and let your fingers spread far and wide, wiping the air as you and grant's steps magnetize toward each other. ♪ i don't kNOw whe...rE to st-art ♪; warbling his words, grant's gaze softens when you're within arms reach. he lowers his neck, brings the mic close to his lips, and grazes your forearm, wishing he could feel the flush skin of your waist and reel you in. ♪ but to show you... ♪, as both lyrics meld into one, you take his hand into yours. ♪...the shA-pe of mY hEart ♪

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke bursts into song, singing the first line of the last verse, startling everyone in the process. anya joins in, now standing with daisuke as both pull swansea to his feet. the mechanic begrudgingly croons along to his intern's baritone and his nurse's soprano.

daisuke beckons for jimmy to come with him, but in classic jimmy zare fashion, he remains stagnant. the younger man frowns. though, he quickly reminds himself that there are only five members in BSB, anyway. so daisuke hands jimmy his phone instead, telling the co-pilot to make sure that everyone's in frame.

they've turned this into a concert for a one-man audience, who's hating every second of it.

save for jimmy, currently grousing under his breath, the crew wraps their arms around each other's shoulders and chants their hearts out to the R&B melody.

as the track nears its final moments, you and grant rest your hands on each other's waists, pulling your bodies close as your head leans on his pec. neither of you realizes that you've left the other three, who are all too busy rocking side to side to notice the two of you in a side embrace, minds too carried away to feel jimmy's prickly leer.

[oh my god, i genuinely didn't even intend for this ending, but here we are 🥹! i hope you guys liked this, and if anyone has comments on how i wrote everyone's dialogue and mannerisms, like what worked, or if you have suggestions for any additions, please let me know! i still need to learn more about writing anya, since in canon, it's hard to get a read of her real personality through jimmy's lens. still, so far, i like to think she enjoys teasing people she's comfortable with. as for swansea, i'm trying to lean into his meanness more, but i'm saving most of that for a daisuke fic centered on swansea's pov, so we'll see what i do when i get there! —iris🌠]