#and apologies again for the inconsistent colouring

[thiscoldheart]

ANJANA VASAN as Amina Hussain

WE ARE LADY PARTS (SEASON 2)

[faceglitchsworld]

They're my favourite rebellious prisoners, you know?

[idontknowreallywhy]

Following in his footsteps

a.k.a. How to Infuriate Your Engineer

Finished this idea off on the commute so apologies for typos, clumsy wording and for inconsistencies in the sounds Brains stutters on…

It’s a bit of a mystery as to why Scott, the first born, was named after the 4th of the Mercury Seven whose flight and piloting decisions were somewhat controversial and left him in conflict with flight control (sound familiar?). Anyway I find myself intrigued by that particular 1960’s flyboy, particularly as to one thing he did 1/3 of the way through his trip with his fuel running low…

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

“S-SCOTT C-C-CARPENTER TRACY!!!”

John later confirmed that this was indeed the first time in Tracy history that Brains ever been apoplectic enough to middle name any of them. His ire was usually quiet and dry, with occasional sarcasm. Every so often some non-vital but comfort-providing item might be removed from a Thunderbird for “essential maintenance”… the cushioning of One’s pilot seat, the power supply to Two’s coffee machine…

But generally, after more than a decade living with the Tracys, their long-suffering engineer had cultivated the talent of providing emotionally restrained feedback. Albeit there was good reason MAX was unable to mimic the phrases that were muttered over mangled landing gear, flooded engines, overstrained thrusters and the like.

This Wednesday morning, however, something had clearly pushed him over the edge.

“What did you doooo?” Alan hissed in alarm and was immediately shushed by a heavily frowning Virgil, whose fingers appeared unable to release the unfortunately tense chord he’d just leaned into. John’s hologram popped up looking serious. Even Gordon looked incredibly uncomfortable.

From the guilt-ridden look on Scott’s face, he could think of least three reasons his neck might be on the block this morning.

A tightly wound ball of fury approached the seating area and the speed with which International Rescue’s commander leapt from the couch betrayed his initial instinct to bolt from the room and never stop running. However, decades of experience of facing the music from many and varied sources meant his feet remained firmly rooted to the floor, while the rest of his body sought the security of parade rest.

Brains stood in front of him vibrating with rage. The ends of MAX’s arms were positioned at an approximation of where the robot’s hips might be. The room held its breath. Virgil’s foot remained wedged against the sustain pedal. The melodramatic chord continued reverberating around the lounge.

The engineer suddenly raised a hand and everyone flinched. Had their friend finally resorted to violence?

Scott closed his eyes and awaited whatever engineering justice was deemed merited for… whatever it was he had done.

But the shorter man’s movement as he reached up to Scott’s face was slow, deliberate and with a slight frown of concentration he stuck a 75mm square of blue duct tape precisely in the middle of Scott’s forehead.

Virgil jaw dropped and his foot finally slipped off the pedal. The dampers clunked back into place, allowing an ominous silence to reign for a few moments.

The colour coded rolls of multi-purpose tape included within each baldric was one of Brains’ affectionate little thematic touches but also acted as a crude fingerprint… blue tape could only ever have been used by one person.

The Commander’s eyebrows twitched almost audibly as he tried to puzzle out the strange sensation but his eyes remained screwed shut.

When Brains spoke it was barely more than a whisper and the brothers in the room found themselves leaning in. The brother in space appeared to have located a bucket of popcorn.

“D-do you h-happen, to know how l-long I have spent p-perfecting One’s fuel reserve s-system, S-Scott?”

Scott swallowed, hard, and opened his eyes again.

“Quite a long time?”

“Yes.”

“Ahh, did I ever thank you? I should have, I’m very sorry - thank you for that and for all your work, Brains. It really is appreciated.”

“Is it?”

“Of course!”

“Hmmm.”

Scott opened his mouth again but, accepting that his attempt to divert the conversation had failed, clearly thought better of digging any deeper until the nature of the situation became more clearly defined.

Brains’ hand lifted for a second time, another square of blue tape delicately held between thumb and forefinger. This was placed with some care on the very tip of Scott’s nose.

Alan snorted. Gordon punched him in the arm and was elbowed back. Virgil glared them into silence then nearly lost control himself at the sight of his elder brother going cross eyed in an attempt to establish what on earth he was being decorated with.

Brains spun on his heel to face the rest and they all leaned back hurriedly, feigning casual interest. Nobody wanted to appear to be aware of, to be accidentally associated with whatever crime it was Scott had committed.

“Th-thunderbird One uses t-two fuels but h-has th-th-three fuel tanks. As you all know, th-the balance of fuel t-to achieve m-maximum speed is p-precisely c-calculated and th-the system that g-governs it is h-highly sophisticated.”

Everyone nodded except Scott who was trying and failing to pretend he was unbothered by the additions to his face. His nose twitched compulsively.

“D-due to certain t-tendencies of her p-rimary p-p-pilot, One h-has a reserve t-tank. Th-that blend of fuel w-will not achieve the h-highest speeds b-but will ensure she is able t-to return h-home if a SENSIBLE…” the word was ground out as if it was painful “…speed is m-maintained.”

Brains paused. Every eye in the room shifted to Scott. Max bleeped, judgementally. Brains continued, his voice deadly calm and deeply terrifying for it.

“T-to ensure One’s p-pilot d-does not m-miss the fuel status w-warnings amongst th-the p-p-plethora of information on the h-holographic display I installed th-three LED bulbs t-to m-make it QU-QUITE CLEAR w-when l-levels w-were running low and w-when speed n-needed t-to be m-m-m-moderated in order t-to avoid d-damage t-to her supply p-p-p-p-pipeline a-a-a-and e-en-en-engines!”

Brains’ veneer of calm was cracking and Scott, who had clearly solved the mystery, appeared to be chewing through the inside of his face. Brains spun back to face the object of his wrath. MAX’s mechanical eyes narrowed.

“W-warning l-lights are only effective w-when th-they are v-visible!”

Scott gulped and fell back on the only defence he had left - he gave his old friend a dimpled half-grin and a doomed attempt at mitigation:

“They were a little… distracting?”

“D-distracting.”

The full stop was potent and echoed around them. Brains appeared on the edge of an eruption the like of which Tracy Island had never seen, even when the volcano was active. But he mastered himself and produced a final square of tape which he held in front of Scott’s face for a moment before slapping it down on to the top of his head, rubbing it slightly to ensnare as much perfectly styled hair as possible before storming from the room.

MAX remained just long enough to shake a medium-weight hydro-spanner with extreme prejudice before flouncing impressively and trundling after his master.

Alan and Gordon clung to each other, faces contorted with silent mirth. Virgil caught John’s eye then cleared his throat and appeared about to speak before being forestalled by his Commander’s raised palm.

Lacking a little of his usual gravitas due to the tape fluttering gently in the huffed breath from his nose, Scott still poured every ounce of authority he had left into an order of three short syllables:

“Not. A. Word.”

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

I Don't Miss You At All (ITA One Shot)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings: tears, trauma, therapy

Word Count: Thank you Tari for being such a nice friend. For reading all that I blurt out here. Thank you for being my reader and supporter even though I have been so inconsistent as a writer and as a friend.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Looking for something?" Your attention is brought back by the gorgeous olive-skinned lady in her late forties sitting before you. "Hmm?" is all that comes out of you while you are biting the dead skin on your lower lip. "You were looking around for something on the ceiling and-" she points at the French doors opening to the porch outside with the pen in her hand- "the doorway." Your crinkled brows relax and go up a little. "Oh. Right. It was...I was looking for cameras." Now lady furrows her brows even though she is smiling at you. "It was on involuntary." You shrug casually. The lady does not react. "I am used to cameras in my vicinity." you try to summarise. She opens the notebook in her lap. "Nothing negative. Just a project my father has going on." Now her lips make that straight line and you suddenly feel like you've failed a test. "So there is an entire crew-" "Miss Y/N, breathe." she tries to calm you down.

You breathe in, hold the air and let it out slowly, taking in your surroundings again. The beige-coloured room is well-lit- thanks to the abundant sunlight coming through the French doors. You sit on a cream-coloured velvet sofa, wearing your oversized shirt with a happy Tony Tony Chopper eating candy on the front and a pair of blue mom jeans. "So-" the lady starts, seeing that your nerves seem better- "why did you come in today?" "Doctor I-" "Jane. It's Jane. Please call me Jane," she urges with a smile before settling on her cream sofa. "Okay...Jane." You nod.  "So, tell me why you are here today." Pressing your hands between your thighs and letting the warmth seep in, you feel your chest tighten. The air that goes in to help you form the words suddenly feels heavy in the lungs. Your eyes seem to betray you a little too. You smile, trying your best to let your facial muscles close your eyes as much as possible and wipe away the moisture by some miracle. But they fail. A tear falls down your cheek, falling right through the smile. "Because I'm not okay," your voice croaks. Your shivering hands try to wipe away the tears that now seem endless. "Sorry," you whisper an apology. "It's okay," Jane soothes you, pouring a glass of water from the jar sitting in front of you on her coffee table, "let it out. That's good. We're halfway there already because you are aware you are not feeling okay. So, no need to rush. Crying is also a part of it. It is okay to cry." You gulp down the water in seconds before pouring yourself another round. "Okay," you announce softly, nodding in Jane's direction. "Take a minute if-" "No, I'm good," you confirm and settle back down in your seat with a sigh. Jane's eyes smile their kindest smile at you. "Okay. let's begin."

"Yeah-" you nod- "so, it's been a few weeks now..."

The six am alarm starts to buzz on your phone and before the alarm tone can even begin to ascend, your fingers are stopping the buzz. There is no point in the alarm when you lay wide awake in your bed in the dorm room, your eyes looking at infinity in the sky outside as they have watched it break from dawn to a proper sunny day. The constant throbbing in your head has become a part of your existence now. You lay in your bed for another hour and you would have laid there for two more had Yusuf not knocked at your door. "Y/N! We have a lecture in twenty minutes. Please tell me you are still not sleeping." You have heard him, but your body lays in bed, still looking at the sky. Yusuf knocks again. Silence. "Okay, I'm coming in," he shouts, "you better be decent because we cannot miss today's lecture." You groan and crinkle your nose when Yusuf pulls you up by your arms. You protest, not wanting to attend today's lectures. But Yusuf's begging techniques seem to be your weakness. Deodorant under your armpits and a change of shirt later you are sitting through the day's lectures, pretending to write in your notebook. Everything around you is on the move- the professors, the students, the assignments leaflets, the laptops, even the bugs crawling on the class's windows outside- while you sit in one place. Nothing seems to grab much of your attention. Except for that one whiff of jasmine, lily and a mix of spices that sometimes travels through the air and fires up the wrong wirings inside you. Some days it just makes your heart race up a bit, making you short of breath for a while. On other days, you sweat through your body, unable to breathe, looking for the washroom to run into before crumbling down in there. Today it makes your hands shiver. Your back can feel the cold sweats coming in. "I'll just come back," you mumble to Yusuf and rush to the washroom from the back door of the lecture hall. .

"All good?" Yusuf's concerns are always transparent. "Yeah. I think the dinner from last night was acting up." You smile at him through the lie.  More lectures start and finish before it is time for lunch. "Don't feel like it," you declare, "not hungry." "Have some juice still," Yusuf presses, already having brought you a glass of fresh pressed juice. "Dude, that shit's expensive," you state before sliding it back to him. "I can't. I don't feel so good." But Yusuf does not give up. You take three sips before your stomach begins to feel the nausea. You sit in the grass looking at the endless stream of students going about their day with no thought going inside your brain. And then you see those pair of green eyes. Your heart starts to race again. Only to find it is someone else. But it is already too late. The tears have begun to form. And it is starting to get hard to hide them. Taking out your earphones and plugging them in, you press play on a random tutorial on how to make rice in ten different ways and lie down on the grass with your eyes closed. Some days it works.

.

It's four in the evening and you have volunteered to get dog food for Yusuf's pitbull. You have your car now to drive you through the city, a second-hand ocean-blue Honda.  Your mind knows that dog food is an excuse. But no arguments are made. You sit in the city traffic, waiting for the light to turn green. Some random radio channel is turned on in your car. You have never bothered to set it up before. They start to play a familiar song.

Wind blows Blew me to where I belong It was you A home I came into the night

The cold sweats start again. It gets harder to breathe. The light has turned green but the vehicles in front of you are not moving. You shut down the radio and press the horn into infinity. Your car revs and breaks into a spree, only stopping at a spot where there aren't any eyes and you can finally hit your steering wheel as much as you want before you break down into an ugly cry. Two hours pass before you text Yusuf you cannot find the specific brand of dog food and return to the campus. Parking your car near your department building, you walk to the dorms. It's a thirty-minute walk.  Sometimes you feel like you hear the familiar soft British accent on your way. Your chest feels the heaviness again, but your brain simply makes it for another student on campus. You don't have any more tears left to shed for the day.

.

Back at the dorm, you stand under the shower for ten minutes doing nothing. The shirt and PJs you had on last night are what you wear again. You come down to the dining area to see if you have any appetite. You smile at the familiar faces that greet you. You know your smiles are growing weaker every day. But there is nothing you can do about it. Salad. Soup. Bread. Pasta. Fruits. Ice cream. A tiny leaf of lettuce. A finger-sized slice of bread. Two pieces of penne with barely any sauce on them and a slice of apple. That is all that goes onto your plate. Even the lady serving you is concerned for her favourite student who used to leave the dining hall only after stuffing down two huge servings of everything. You sit on the table in the corner right by the window. It is a cold spot so no one ever prefers to sit there. Even as you sit down to eat the contents on your plate, you are not able to finish the bread and the pasta.

.

Back in your dorm room, you sit in the dark on your bed for about an hour before your phone rings. It's Tony. You look at the time on your phone. It's time for the usual call. You switch on the study light to accept the video call but your fingers never touch the accept button. Finally, you accept the voice call, putting it on speaker. "Hey, sweetie," Tony's voice greets from the other end. "'Sup," you greet back, not truly matching the enthusiasm. "How was college today?" "It was fine." "..." "..." "Okay. Cool. How's that car doing?" "Doing okay." "Because I can send you a better-" "It's doing okay." "...okay," Tony's voice goes down an amplitude, "that's good to know. So...did they have anything good in dinner today?" "Same old." "Did you eat?" you can hear the concern in his voice. "Mm-hmm." Silence. "Are you in your lab?" you finally say, wanting to prevent any more questions that you did not have the strength to answer. "Yeah. Working on a special suit right now. For a special someone." There is a pause for a moment. "Can you...can I hear you work? I have to work on an assignment and I need some sort of background noise to help me get it done faster." "Oh, okay." The amplitude is a little better now.  You lie down on your bed, your legs bent close to your chest, keeping your phone next to you. Tony goes on with this work, chatting with Friday. You continue to listen to him, never consciously feeling the tears fall from your eyes, wetting your pillow. Bruce joins Tony sometime later. You don't know how long has it been since you've been lying there. But you can hear Bruce tell Tony it's two in the morning so they should call it a night. "Y/N, sweetie? You asleep?" Tony whispers through the phone. You say nothing. "I guess she's asleep. Good night, goose," Tony hums before ending the call. You do not wish for the sleep to come, for it has not visited you for quite some days now. But the fear of seeing a familiar face when you fall asleep is also the reason you do not want slumber to hit you. But it comes tonight. Bringing with it reasons you are going to feel the numbness, the hole in your chest, the cold sweats all over again tomorrow.

Loki only visits your dorm when you are not there. You are gone early from the room because you have an eight am class today. The room reeks. Used tissues lie on the floor, below the study table, overfilling the dustbin. There are half-eaten packets of chips sitting on the desk along with half-finished cans of soda. Your hoodies, sweat pants, shorts and undergarments lie in a crumpled mess in the cupboard as well as the laundry basket. He opens the windows first- noticing the dead succulents on your window sill that Yusuf has brought as a 'dorm-warming gift'- before getting to work. He clears the trash, cleans the floors, disinfects the desk, changes the bedsheet and duvet, and replaces the dirty laundry with clean ones. Taking one last look at the room, he makes sure to leave your clothes just as he had found them to not raise any suspicion. He replaces your bottles and mugs with fresh water, praying that you will drink as much as possible. Then he leaves.

.

He disguises himself as another student to watch you from afar. Sometimes he catches you lost in a thought in the window of your lecture hall. On other days he sees you looking at the void while sitting in the campus grounds. It is visible you have lost weight. Your eyes have bags under them. Your signature smile that went up to your eyes is not there. Twice he has witnessed you rush into the washroom with great urgency, and both times he has stopped himself from following you, for multiple reasons. Both times he has waited outside in the corridor, pacing back and forth. Both times you have come out with a freshly washed face, red eyes hiding behind spectacles and a smile for whoever greeting you in the corridor.

.

He keeps a good distance whenever you walk back from your department to your dorm building. The way back is dimly lit and you prefer to walk alone, no matter the time. Sometimes he watches you stop abruptly in your path. Sometimes you sniffle and wipe something off your face. Other times you take your phone out and look at something on it for a long time before closing it and resuming your walk.

.

He avoids the nights. They do not bring the best of him. Because they are not the best for you.

"Jane, is it? You do realise I would not be here had those two baboons not tricked me into walking into your office on the pretext of an emergency." Loki huffs and rubs one hand on his face while the other rests on his hips. Jane purses her lips and shrugs in agreement before sitting down on her sofa. "Must have been an emergency for your friends to bring to a clinical psychologist, right?" Loki chuckles sarcastically. Jane is unbothered. "Oh, Miss Clinical Psychologist-" Loki's eyes have nothing but pity as he looks in the doctor's direction- "you are talking to a thousand-year-old being infamous for the art of manipulation. So, no offence, but I am pretty sure I can diagnose myself better than any doctor on this planet. Let alone this galaxy." This time Jane is the one chuckling. "I am two hundred per cent sure no one has the knowledge of psychology on this planet as much as you. And I take your word for all that you said. But-" she takes a tiny remote from the coffee table in front of her, points and clicks it to the opaque window separating her room from the reception outside, revealing Peter Parker and Scott Lang pacing the length of the reception hall- "for the sake of those two worried souls, why not humour me for...twenty minutes? Not to mention, even the best of psychologists need another experienced person to help them out in desperate times." Loki looks out at the two figures who have no clue they are being watched. He can't hear but Peter is saying something to Scott with a look of anxiousness, to which Scott simply keeps his hands on Peter's shoulders for a moment, telling him something, and finally taking him into his embrace. The window goes back to white. Loki comes back into the room. He is lost in a thought for a moment. "Well played, Jane," Loki announces in a mumble. "Had it been any other day, I would not give a damn about any of this." Jane simply gestures to the seat kept for Loki with both her hands. The God sits down and sighs.

"Why do you think they are so worried about you?" Loki raises his hands in defeat. "Beats me." Loki notices Jane has not touched the dairy kept in front of her. Neither her pen. She simply sits there for the God to elaborate. After a prolonged moment of thought, and the presence of zero judgment on the doctor's face, Loki gives in. "It's their friend. She...and I are not on speaking terms anymore." Loki's voice has gone soft. Jane nods. "Is their friend not your friend?" "...she was. Till she confessed that she liked me." Loki huffs the 'liked' part as if it were an insult. "Okay." Jane nods, adjusting herself a bit towards to edge of the seat, interested in knowing more. "Nothing more to it, Jane," he points out, averting his gaze, "she's gone...a bit far so we don't see each other much." "So, you do see each other." Loki takes in a long breath, furrowing his brows as if trying to push something away. "No. I go see her. She is staying in the city. I-" Loki's gaze goes down to his fingers that have started playing with the velvet on the sofa- "check in on her. Sometimes." "Why do you need to check in on her?" Even if that question is out of curiosity, Jane makes no effort to react in any way. Loki scoffs. "Because she is wasting away, Jane. A woman like her, who is capable of changing worlds is wasting away in a box half the size of the room we are sitting in because she was rejected by the God she fell for." Jane pours herself a glass of water. "You still haven't answered my question, though, Loki." Loki looks at her in confusion. "Why do you need to check in on her?" She picks the glass up. "What do you mean- I just told you she is-" "Wasting away, yes. That's the choice she made. Why do you feel the need to go there?" Jade sits back with the glass still in her hand. "Because I am the reason she is in this mess." Loki cannot understand what is so hard to understand. Jade turns her head a little. "So are millions of other women after a breakup. Why is it so important for you to go back to her? You have already told her how you feel." Silence. The glass is sitting in her lap. Loki can feel an unnerving feeling in his chest as he glares at that glass of water.

"Because I love her," he finally admits. "Because I cherish her. Because she nearly died because of me." Jade does not speak in the silence that comes after. "Because it is preposterous to think I could ever be with her." The confidence and anger with which Loki had entered the room has dissolved into the sea of certain new emotions; emotions that seem to be taking over his features gradually. The previously poised glare has turned into a fragile pair of eyes blinking a bit faster than before. "And why-" Jane's voice is soft as it stresses her words- "do you think you cannot be with her." Jane raises the glass to her lips, drinking the water, giving the room a good long pause. At that moment, the God feels the rush of tears in his eyes, the onset of a slight quiver building in his lips, the shakiness of his breath as his throat tries to bring out what has been sitting inside that little boy for ages. "Because I'm a monster." his voice breaks as he looks back at Jane. "Because I don't deserve that love." He tries to breathe in to compose himself only for his throat to shake. "Because I am scared of not being worthy. Because I am scared she will find out it is all a facade and I am nothing but a spineless pawn. Because I have only been loved on conditions and am afraid to get hurt again." Tears fall frantically through Loki's eyes. He does not bother to wipe them off. Jane pours Loki a glass of water and hands it to him. "Must have been hard to say it out loud," she states. "I can assure you if you choose to sit with me to figure it out, it will be a bit easier than it is right now. It won't be a smooth sail, but it will hurt less. And you just want the pain to stop, don't you?" Loki takes in a lungful of breath. "I want it to stop." Janes nods in reassurance. "Please make it stop."

[stopthatfool]

You said don't get you started on Ice's helmet or you'll be mean... please be mean. Please be mean to him. What is so disastrous about his helmet design?

my time has come. i will be mean to him. (thank you for getting me started on this. it bothers me every time I watch top gun.) this is also gonna be so long. yippee!

stopthatfool's issues with Tom "Iceman" Kazansky's helmet! aka this bad boy right below. (I'm sorry if anyone loves Ice's helmet, it's just not for me)

The placement of his name. WHY is it on the side? Both him and Slider have their names on the side. That makes me think it's a squadron thing? (the VF-213s) but regardless i don't care cuz i think it's stupid. (again sorry if someone thinks its genius. ok i'll stop apologizing)

My biggest issue with the fact it's on the side is that it creates this uneven weight distribution. The side with his name feels considerably "heavier" than the side without.

And the thing i don't understand is that Ice's name is evenly numbered!! He could fit 3 letters on either side of the line that comes down the helmet! the letters wouldn't be unevenly distributed, so I don't know why he felt the need to put it there!!

Here, I have "annotated" his helmet and provided other viewpoints of his helmet!

The font/typeface! Ice.. is that ARIAL?? and it's not even bolded??? so not only is his name to one side and weirdly small... it's skinny and unbolded. (like you're THE Iceman. Don't you want your name big and bolded? I shouldn't be searching for your name when you're Mr. Iceman!)

Looking at his helmet head-on, part of his name isn't even visible.. like ok ICEM!

And then! There's this weird switch up in the shapes and line types that he used-- the angular and sharp points of the lightning bolts and the half circles surrounding the squadron logo (is it a logo?? idk im gonna call it a logo)

What i think Ice is trying to do here is create a "connection" between the circular part of the logo and the lightning bolts as the bolts go all the way to the back of the helmet... but in my opinion... it's not working. like at all.

The comparison between the harsh lines of the bolts and then the curves is just kind of hard on the eyes (for me anyway). I just don't know where to look. Should i be following the leading lines of the lightning bolts? Or the curves of the half-circle things? Or should I be following the line of the lightning bolt in the logo?

And all throughout that... i barely end up seeing the name on the helmet.

Continuing off the logo... for Top Gun 1986, Ice and Slider are in the VF-213 squadron, but the movie switched the logo to the VFA-25s that looks like this on their flight suits-

(yes that is the best quality image i could find from the movie my bad) So why does the logo on his helmet look like this???

WHY do the fingers look like that. they look like hotdogs im so sorry. (logistically it was probably easier for the decals to be printed and then applied like this. but. we're not talking about technicalities here. right now i'm tearing apart the entire composition of Ice's helmet.)

I like version of the logo on their flight suits soooo much better! It's got more "rhythm" and flow to it that the lightning bolts lack! Plus no hotdog fingers.

Ok ok, now on the colour scheme. The harsh and bright blues I don't mind. Like yeah, you're The Iceman, punch me in the face with blue. I can forgive that. The thing that really bothers me.. is the silver/grey base of the helmet.

It's this really harsh grey that really doesn't help with the already harsh blues. I think he should've continued with the blue he has going. cuz this grey ain't working, king.

Ok, anyway. Since I should be studying, I'm obviously doing anything but studying. So i redesigned ice's helmet. ya idk.

it's kind of wonky.. but whatevs (ignore how the lightning bolt on the side view doesn't line up with the front view) (and ignore the inconsistences in the lettering. i was lazy and did it by hand)

I also didn't want to completely change/get rid of the aspects of Ice's helmet. So the changes aren't huge (except for maybe the name placement/"font")

ok I changed the background colour (finally, it's less all up in your face now) I continued with the blues and lessened the intensity just a little bit. I really wanted his name to be front and center!

Now the colour scheme is also consistent. No random black lettering (again, in arial???) there's now black in both his name, the outline of the lightning bolts and the logo!

Now his name is evenly distributed! See how it fits on either side of the line that comes down the center of the helmets from '86? See how you can actually see his whole name? See how it's heavier and fits the whole "iceman" theme better? (at least in my opinion)

Come on, Ice! You should've used the leading lines provided by the lightning bolts to guide people to your name! There's now a fun little overlapping moment!

(ignore how i forgot to dot one of the i's in distribution whoops)

No more weird half circle things! No more conflicting leading lines! But! I decided to extend the arm of the squadron logo to continue the line of the lightning bolt as it moves backward. I think this makes the circle of the logo fit better, while simultaneously creating that "connection" he was trying to get in his actual design.

The lack of half-circle things also allow for the logo and lightning bolts to just "be." There's no distraction. it's not overly "busy" anymore (like maverick's helmet). It's simple, but he's The Iceman! He doesn't need it to say/have more!

And the use of the "actual" logo seen on Slider and Ice's flight suits creates that sense of movement that was absent before! Plus no hotdog hands!

Is this new proposed design perfect? Absolutely not! The logo and the lightning bolts still create a weird point of almost intersection that still bothers me. But I think fundamentally, there's always going to be issues with these two components: the circle will never quite fit in, and the lightning bolt the hand is holding will always "cut" the whole thing in half, creating a weird separation in the helmet, that will always bother me.

Anyway, this was a lot of fun! (I love being mean to these guys. they need their egos brought down a couple pegs!)

[red-raven-reading]

I love Martha Jones - her character is one of the best and least appreciated, in my opinion - but I'm dreading if it's true that she'll be back for the spin-off. Because:

1) I hate RTD's writing and general direction right now because it's so bitter and smarmy.

2) Also, the plots are rubbish, and characters lack agency and/or likability.

3) There's been a whole lot of returning companions recently, and I think they need to stop propping up their show on known faces. That was one of the biggest lures of the soft-reboot with Tennant and Tate back. Once in a while, it's good and effective, but they should give it a rest for a bit, or it'll just get boring and incredibly obvious as fan-bait.

4) If they do a whole disillusioned, depressed hermit who is hiding from their past sins shtick with Dr Martha Jones, Woman Who Walked the Goddamned Earth, I swear to G*d... I want Martha living in the countryside as a country doctor with a happy family and a positive cottage core life post-UNIT retirement but gets dragged into alien hijinks in a series of bizarre incidents.

5) I think UNIT needs to be rethought a bit because it's been looking like a discount S.H.I.E.L.D, which is dull, uninteresting, and done. Also, we've seen a lot of them recently, and their appearances have been lacklustre and inconsistent. Especially Kate Stewart, who I adore, but I feel has been just kind of there for a while.

6) This one is slightly controversial, and since I'm white, I'm ready to be told otherwise, but I find it a little alarming how much people are like: "OMG Martha and 15! He's going to FINALLY apologise for 10's racism and they'll understand each other so much!" Firstly, in universe, the Doctor is an alien, and his understanding of human cultures comes from observation and visiting. He was never raised with any racial stigma, any bias or prejudice, and has always held themselves as separate and above humans. So how would him being (again, in universe) black help him understand Martha's life experience. To him, it would be like hair colour except for any passing racism he faces, which he has no qualms dismissing as petty small mindedness from 'lesser' beings. Secondly, Martha does deserve an apology for the treatment she faced (from the Doctor and the bloody writers) but not one that is almost glazed over because the Doctor has experience now as a woman and a POC. The Doctor, as a widely travelled and highly educated person who has seen suffering through the universe, had to have known that was wrong before that, and Martha should get an apology that isn't full of "that white cis man past version of me just didn't get it." Accountability and sincerity are important components to an apology, and I don't know if RTD can write that from his recent, hollow efforts.

[iapetusneume]

I'm giving you permission to gush to your hearts content for a moment about WH40K but like... fashion. Is there ANY variance in the gothic/german/weird pseudo georgian english style vibe at all? Like is there ANY cultural variance at all, or has the canon/setting not really progressed in that manner yet? Specifically I'm thinking about like, if there's any cultural remnants of things like the colourful, heavy print fabrics you see in a lot of pan-African fashion, or the beadwork you see in north american culture and fashion, or things like henna or bindi. Just anything at all to indicate that humanity has a diverse cultural heritage even if it was thousands of years ago on Holy Terra.

And on that note, how genre breaking would it be if that stuff DID exist? Not knowing the lore, is it Uncomfortably Significant that there's no other cultural markers except for the Germanic stuff? did humanity do a bad again that we don't talk about now

Apologies for the late answer, work + sciatica has really been taking it out of me.

So, one thing I need to let you know about Games Workshop is: they are extraordinarily inconsistent with their lore. This is because of a combination of factors: changes between editions, editors not fact-checking lore in novels, sometimes something just sucks so the fans ignore it, etc. This means a few things.

First, to answer your question, I'm not aware of any variation stated in canon.

HOWEVER.

There are millions of words with humans on them, whether they're under control of the Imperium or not. This is also a fandom that encourages you to have OCs by making custom astartes chapters and fleshing out personal stories for one's armies on the tabletop. The fanfic part of fandom is also pretty cool with OCs, and I found it really refreshing when I first got into the fandom.

Its written into the canonical lore that the Imperium can't keep track of all the worlds they have control over. This means there's a lot of ?????? going around with worlds that just don't have any description.

So, its entirely reasonable for you to have your RT and their branch of the Von Valencius family come from a background/culture inspired by Filipino culture and history. GW does it all the time, of picking a culture and basing a planet off of it. (For example, the Space Wolves are based off of vikings and Nordic mythology.)

Honestly if you are concerned about keeping the 40k Vibe, I would remember different ways of having tech integrated. Having prosthetics or augmentations are extremely common.

Also, you can always hit me up if you have 40k questions.

[askyourhandsomemrprince]

Ahhh this is just my compliments to the wonderful artist behind this blog!!! Wahhh you put so much effort into a bunch of these asks with ur wonderful comic layouts and colouring + shading??!?! It all looks so amazing :OO I really adore what you’ve done so far :]

Message from the artist: I deeply apologize for responding extremely late to your message. It makes me extremely happy knowing that you enjoy my art style. I tend to play around with art styles so I do apologize again if my uh.. art is inconsistent! I'll try to be more active for you all to enjoy some supppppeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrr cool Sanji art! Your next ask is definitely going to be the first thing that I draw. :D !! // Sanji: Huh? Someone say something?? Must be my imagination..

[kill-your-darlings-art]

Vampire Knight Art Book (Part 2)

The illustrations in this art book are so gorgeous, and so detailed, that I just had to highlight some of my favourite to share with y'all.

Again, apologies for the phone camera photos. It really doesn't do these drawings justice.

I think it's interesting that it's specified that this is Zero's school uniform. Especially since it's kind of funny to me, picturing Zero taking enough care to meticulously hang up his uniform.

Ruka's butterfly pin, Akatsuki's necklace, and is that Kaname walking away from them in the background? Fascinating... Especially since Seiren seems to be following him, but is looking back, as if unsure of her actions...or of his.

One of my favourite pieces, hands down. The colours, the design of her dres, the cathedral windows in the background---ugh! So pretty. I have to highlight the rose detail on the hem of her skirt and the design of her gloves.

Another thing to note: the fang necklace. One thing I noticed throughout the book is that the fang symbol is associated with Zero, and yet he's never actually depicted in blue (at least in this art book). Yuki and Kaname are shown in blue or associated with blue several times, but never Zero.

The description of the image doesn't say who the mysterious blue-clad hand is, it does say that the image is "alluding to farewell." So is Yuki saying goodbye to Zero? Or does the mysterious hand belong to Kaname, and the fang necklace tangled around her hand is symbolically representing that she's thinking about Zero?

Speak of the silver-haired devil! The detail I wanted to make note of here with this illustration is the chain hooked onto his belt loop---the chain that's usually attached to his anti-vampire gun, Bloody Rose. Notably, however, Bloody Rose is missing, the chain broken. He's vulnerable. Defenseless.

I didn't take a close-up shot of it, but this is also one of the illustrations where Zero's tattoo doesn't look like a tattoo---it looks like a scar. I don't know if that's an intentional symbolic choice or not, because the way it's rendered is somewhat inconsistant between illustrations. Interestingly, unlike the anime, where it has the stark black appearance of a tattoo, most of the illustrations depict it as silvery, like his hair.

I just...love the details on this coat, holy crap.

Two things to note: the vampire skull shape of his ear cuff (fuck, I want one) and the blade motif on his shoulder.

The blade is another symbol very often associated with Zero, obviously referencing the fact that he's a slayer, and the dagger designs on his tattoo. In this particular drawing, it's also combined with bat wings, which are obviously associated with vampires (both in general, and distinctly in this book), symbolizing his duality as someone who is both slayer and vampire.

Interestingly, the vampire skull motif is seen elsewhere in the book---almost always associated with Kaname.

Lots of details with this one.

Firstly, if Zero's motifs are daggers and a single fang, Yuki is inextricably associated with roses. They're everywhere when it comes to her. I wanted to make note of this bracelet, just because I think it looks neat, and also her earring---a rose and a dagger, symbolizing the both of them. I think that's neat.

Secondly, the Cross Academy Crest. Yuki usually wears it as a necklace, but here she has a charm clipped to the sash at the waist of her dress---because we don't see her necklace? I dunno.

But what's interesting is that Zero also has one, so dark that it almost blends into his coat, and hanging from a bat wing decoration on his coat.

Thirdly, Zero's bat wing ring, which, besides being super cool, further pushes that connection to vampires---maybe because Zero has accepted himself as one? After all, he and Yuki are clearly sneaking away for a quick bite...

And, fourthly...does Zero have a belly-button piercing?!

This is one of my favourite Yuki outfits. It's amazing how it actually looks like velvet, and all of the detailing on the white embroidery and the pleats at the cuffs and neckline is just... *chefs kiss*

I could probably talk symbolism with the key on the rosary, or with her being behind a gate, but...I don't wanna.

This one is interesting, because it shows us details of the uniform that aren't present elsewhere! Like the silver tips at the collar corners, the tie pin,and the Academy crest on the shirt pocket.

[whippedcloudsofcream]

The Smile horror movie,it's just so real,the helplessness,the despair of the Protagonist,how nearly no one is helping her and in the end, she died because of it,she died because her loved ones decided to abandon her at her worst time

It's one of the best movies I watched this year. I love how it talks and presents how trauma is an infectious curse,how you can hardly escape it and eventually you'll be consumed by it if you're not strong enough

It's also important to note how badly society treats people with mental issues/illnesses. Truly it's disgusting,the Protag's sister who should have been there for her, literally made her into the wrong one when she clearly stated she has problems, I remember she even complained about how the Protag kept bringing up her old trauma even though keep burying it and ignoring it never really help it and it was an obvious call for help, but no her sister can't help but be bitchy about, basically told her to stop acting like a child and grow up, her sister got a happy family life already, why care about a crazy sister right? She never did care about the Protag before anyway

The sister doesn't even try to help or anything, she just keeps excusing herself by acting she went through problems but god helps us when her sister who also has problems say anything about it

The Protag's fiancé couldn't be any more useless and terrible than he was. He also acted like the Protag was the wrong one here and since she appears to be mentally unstable, he showed his true colours by saying he already knew about her mental health history, he had to know since he needed to know what he's getting into, basically saying: "If you're a crazy bitch,that would affect my benefits",I mean who would want a crazy wife right? Fucking asshole

Sure he knows she had problems,but he decided to ignore it too cuz "we don't talk about these things". Yeah and look where that got us,an insanity virus that will keep spreading and spreading

This movie is the best at showing us how Society hates people with "flaws", it hits home how even when you have issues, your "loved ones" would insult you and make you the "problem", calling you a "whiny bitch" for it, it's an actual thing and people really need to get their shits together on it or else, no one would ever really feel safe about revealing their problems or sharing their feelings on things

This is why victims keep their mouths shut, because no one ever wants to listen

I know that feeling, I went through that before, that's why I never even talked about what I like with my own family, they'll just insult those things like they always do, saying how "I do dumb things" and "watch dumb things". No wonder why I'm so introverted

I’m sorry your family treated you that way, I hope they learn to apologize to you for it omg

As for the smile film, I know from fans of it that it definitely had a very tragic and sad message, many of them wishing the ending had been happier even tho it was “necessary” for the theme of it 😭😭

Also her “friends” and “family” annoyed the hell out of me and I felt bad for that guy she also bothered that had survived because she doomed him too 😭😭

I’m honestly annoyed at how the ending was like Oh No! the cop bf is infected now because like….he can literally shoot anyone on a crime scene that saw what he sees and he wouldn’t particularly be punished for it omg But then again, he’s not the smartest of the bunch so he probs wouldn’t be able to figure it out and they can’t show that in the film because of censorship and copaganda 😐

Other than those inconsistencies, Smile is definitely a noteworthy film 😭😭

[vampireinterviews-archive]

He could feel it happening. As he stood there, Daniel could feel it happening. The sidewalk and the streetlamps and the noise of the street all quietened. But he could hear Armand so clearly, like he was inches from him, whispering into his ear. And he just wanted to listen, to stand there and listen to that soft, smooth, honeyed voice. Your apology is entirely misplaced, Daniel. Was it? It took him a few seconds to register why he'd apologised. Oh yeah, he'd said he was sorry for screwing up their interview. Yeah. He felt his breathing slow down, and the tension he'd been carrying on his shoulders melted away. Very, very, distantly, he thought, this is weird, but it wasn't frightening. It felt really good, actually. Like all the shit he'd been worrying about all day, about Klaus' father's suit and the screwed up interview and his shitty first impression, didn't matter. He was here, with Armand, who was very beautiful and polite and talked the way no one else talked. That was what mattered. That was all that mattered.

And then Armand said that he wanted to take him for a drink, and Daniel smiled. So, he did like him, after all. He didn't think he'd fucked up their interview. And there it was, the lilting poetry to his words. Indulgence and performance. Same syllables, rhyming, like spoken word poetry. Water rushing over rocks. Soft consonants, sharp vowels. Armand wanted to take him for a drink. Daniel realised he hadn't replied. He blinked. "Okay, yeah, sure." He registered, dimly, that it made no sense that he'd been the one apologising, but Armand wanted to pay. Again. But nothing made sense with this guy. Besides, he didn't feel like he could argue, or even point out the inconsistency, without sounding like an ungrateful jerk. And he wanted to go for drinks with Armand, to sit with him, to be near him, to listen to him —

The sound of the door creaking open brought him back in a split second. Daniel blinked and inhaled, and suddenly it was cold again, and the cars were racing by, and far away, he could hear a cop car's siren blaring. Suddenly, he was on a street in London at midnight again. And before Daniel could walk towards the door, he was being moved there. He felt Armand's touch, so light and distracting, on the small of his back, steering him towards the door, and his skin was alive with electricity, and he was suddenly so acutely aware of his lower back. Even through the suit, he felt how cold Armand was. He wanted to be closer — he felt like he should be closer, like he should turn around and lean against him and try to envelope himself in that coldness. Oh man, Klaus had been right. He had it real bad.

They walked into the lobby, and Daniel tried to focus on the décor, but all of his senses were focused on the small of his back. He somehow managed to walk over to the staff — or he was propelled there — and his heart raced as soon as he saw them, standing around like groupies, waiting to greet him. That was weird. But it was more than that. Something's wrong with that guy's eyes, man — that woman is standing too still — are they — wait, are they — but it was so, so, difficult to focus. He was glad Armand was holding him up, keeping him steady. The blurry lights of the lobby, the soft, gentle, cadence of Armand's voice — he was talking, right? Yeah. Armand was talking, and Daniel was listening, but it was almost impossible to focus. His thoughts felt slippery, and it should've been terrifying, but it felt like drifting. It was cool, he was safe, he was safe with Armand.

He barely took in the front of house tour, but he came to as they were arriving at the balcony overlooking the stage. Daniel blinked. So much for journalistic integrity, man, how the fuck was he going to write about any of that? It had been like a dream. Like trying to remember a dream. He'd been so... what? Out of it? He'd been there, but, man, he could've sworn he'd seen some guy with frogspawn-coloured eyes, like Louis'. His heart raced at the thought of it, the thought that there was one of them here, that he knew something Armand didn't. Armand, with his eyes the colour of Daniel's Plymouth Challenger, the colour of burning, the colour of sunrise. He wanted to laugh, but he didn't know why. Nothing funny had happened. Except maybe there were vampires here. Or he was going totally crazy. Armand gestured to the chair, and Daniel dropped onto it, grateful that he could sit down. Maybe things would feel more normal.

They didn't. Armand turned to look at him, and said that he was pleased he was here, that he wanted to hear his thoughts, and Daniel blurted out the only thing he could think to say, the question that had been bugging him all day. "Why?" It sounded petulant and childish, and he continued hurriedly. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for all this, but your assistant said you don't do many interviews, and you're doing all this, and —" He blinked. "I don't get it, man. Why d'you wanna hear my thoughts? I don't know what the heck I'm talking about. I've never been somewhere like this. I grew up in Modesto." He felt like he was saying too much, like he was going to regret this. "All that shit I said about avant-garde theatre and the fringes of society? Sure, that's all true, but you think I know what I'm talking about? You wanna hear my opinion?"

He stared at Armand, bewildered. The fog was clearing a little as the questions flooded his brain, and he almost wanted the fog back. He'd liked it. It had been easier. But there was something ringing inside his head — something. He tried to breathe slowly. "Sorry. I don't want to sound ungrateful. I am, totally grateful." He finally stopped talking, and he just sat there, resting his elbows on his knees, trying to calm his breathing down. He'd said too much. He'd said way too much. He should've just said thanks, and let Armand make notes on the script, or whatever. The silence hung between them.

Armand couldn't help it, lips curling up into a small grin and, almost bashful, he diverted his gaze and brought the cigarette to his lips once more. Daniel's thoughts were centered around him, and it wasn't the comments about his beauty that had him gaze up at Daniel through fluttering lashes, meeting his eye as he exhaled the smoke, but rather the state of alarm the other seemed to find themselves in. He'd been praised for his angelic looks aplenty in his life, as mortal and vampire alike, over time flattery had begun to mean next to nothing to him. Oh, but that deliciously and delicately human nervousness, the way Daniel stumbled over his own thoughts - it was nothing short of endearing, which Armand felt was a rather dangerous thing for him to think. He knew himself, knew that the line between fondness and attachment could blur easily, mold itself into a posessiveness that would prove a strain on his self-control.

"Your apology is entirely misplaced, Daniel." Voice velvety and smooth, meaning to lull him in, distract him from everything that appeared so unnatural and predatory about Armand. Meaning to disarm those human instincts of fight or flight, vital for survival. Like the tale with which he had seduced him after those several torturous days on Divisadero, cleaning his wounds, 'rest, rest your indomitable spirit and come to me, embrace an easeful death'. Nothing about this would be easeful, Armand thought, for either of them. Certainly not for him, when Daniel's sudden musings about how Armand might make it up for him took hold of the momentary silence between them, hot flashes of excitement and curiostiy setting him eternally cold body alight. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, abandoned his half-smoked cigarette like an afterthought, discarding it into a nearby ashtray. "Allow me the indulgence of taking you for a drink after the performance and all is forgiven." A benefit of a bustling metropolis such as London, one never found themselves on the perilous hunt for a business still operating in the wee hours of the night. An abundance of bars and nightclubs littered the streets - and if all else failed, Armand kept a bottle of vintage Cabernet Sauvignon under his desk. It hadn't been considered vintage when he had bought it, of course.

As if on cue, a stage-hand filling in as front of house opened the door for them and Armand gestured inside. "Shall we?" Not bothering to wait for an answer, he lightly placed a palm on the small of Daniel's back, gently guiding him into the theatre. Hovering over the material of his suit, only allowing his fingertips to graze the delicate thread, his smile settling back into a more neutral expression. The suit had indeed been borrowed, and Armand wasn't sure if that was supposed to please him or not. Klaus, he'd picked up on the name, and rummaging around Daniel's head he'd found their relationship to be friendly. Klaus. He'd make a mental note to revisit that later.

"Welcome, Daniel, to the Theatrum Improbus." It had been a concious decision not to carry on as the Theatre des Vampires. For all Armand cared, the Theatre des Vampires had ceased to exist that fateful night, along with it the coven and its centuries worth of history. What's in a name, could surely be argued, but he had been eager for the fresh start the city had offered him. "If you have any questions at any point, please, do not hesitate." Another disarming smile, Armand's hand did not leave its place on Daniel's back as he guided him along, introducing him to staff, human and vampires alike, though the midnight performances always heavily featured the immortal cast of his company, and Armand almost giddily wondered if Daniel would take notice. A brief tour of the front of house, it wasn't long before he lead Daniel to the small section of the balcony reserved for Maître de Cérémonie. Tonight, it felt eerily like the private box he had once occupied with Lestat, overlooking Renaud's theatre.

An additional chair had been set up and Armand gestured for Daniel to sit down, retrieving the script of this evening's performance before he took his own place. Thousands of nights he had seen the play, going through his directorial notes scribbled in the margins was a ruse. If anything, an attempt to lure Daniel into the tale of the director Armand further. Keep selling it. They had another couple of minutes before the curtain dropped and Armand turned, angling his body slightly towards Daniel, that small smile once again gracing his lips. "I'm pleased you've accepted my invitation, Daniel. I am most ... eager to hear your thoughts afterwards."

[lupinmoonlight]

Private Lesson with Professor Lupin

Summary - Dementors are taking over Hogwarts. Y/N is terrified and goes to Professor Lupin for a private lesson on the Patronus charm. He comforts her as she gets overwhelmed.

Note - I apologize if some details seem inaccurate to canon HP. I just like to write with my imagination rather than the actual references. Also english is not my first language so verb tenses may be inconsistent. I am open to requests for Prof Lupin!

~

Y/N anxiously made her way to Professor Lupin’s office, a haven of warmth and comfort, tucked away in a quiet corner of the castle. Before she could even knock, she hears “Come in, Y/N”.

Taken aback, she walks in, her lungs filled with the smell of books, tea, and chocolate. The room is lined with shelves, filled to the brim with books, scrolls, and trinkets from Lupin's travels. A worn leather armchair sits next to the flickering fireplace, inviting visitors to take a seat and bask in its comforting glow. 

In one corner of the office, a small writing desk is nestled next to a window, providing a stunning view of the castle grounds. A quill and inkwell rest upon the desk, ready to capture any ideas or musings that may come to Lupin's mind. On the windowsill, a small vase of wildflowers adds a touch of colour and cheer to the room. The atmosphere of the office is much like Professor Lupin, calm, comforting, and safe.

“How did you...?” Y/N starts before she is interrupted by Lupin pointing down at his map. “I saw you coming” he says with a glimpse of mischief in his eyes. 

The dementors were becoming more aggressive and had been sighted on the grounds of Hogwarts. They seemed to take a particular liking to tormenting Y/N whose nights were now filled with nightmares and terrors. 

“I’m glad you came Miss Y/L/N. Let’s get started, shall we?”

As Professor Lupin led Y/N to the middle of the room, he could sense the fear radiating off of her. She had come to him seeking help in learning how to cast a Patronus to fight off dementors, but he knew she needed to overcome her anxiety first. 

“The first step to casting a Patronus is to confront your fears,” Lupin said as he lit up candles with the mere touch of his fingers. “We’re going to work on this with a boggart. It’s a shape-shifter that takes on the form of whatever a person fears the most. For you, that will be a dementor.”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling her heart race at the mere mention of the dark creature. Lupin conjured a large chest in the middle of the room and instructed her to stand in front of it. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

Y/N nodded hesitantly, her eyes darting around the room in search of an escape route. 

“First, you must learn to focus,” Lupin said. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Visualize a happy memory, one that makes you feel safe and content.”

The girl followed his instructions, imagining herself sitting in her first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, watching Professor Lupin regaling the students with tales of his adventures, the sunlight kissing his skin, a golden glow on his scars. She felt a warmth spreading through her body, and the fear that had been gripping her began to fade. 

“Good, now keep that feeling in your mind,” Lupin whispered, getting closer to her. “Hold on to it, let it fill you up.”

His warm breath against her ear and the intensity of his words sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. She had never felt such a powerful presence before. Suddenly, the chest creaked open and the boggart emerged, taking the shape of a dementor. 

 Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Lupin stood behind her, his hand on her back, his voice low and reassuring. “Keep focusing,” he whispered.

“Expecto Pratonum,” Y/N attempted, lifting her wand to the dementor. Nothing. 

“Again, Miss,” he said, nodding towards the chest. 

Y/N felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body as Lupin spoke. His words, coupled with his closeness and the overwhelming pain she felt from the dementor’s presence became too much. Her vision became blurry and she found herself losing her balance, falling to the ground. 

Y/N opened her eyes after what felt like hours. She saw Professor Lupin kneeling beside her, his concerned eyes locked on hers. “It’s alright, you’re okay. Deep breaths,” he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Fainting is a common side effect of practicing the Patronus charm. You did very well, considering this is your first lessons.”

Slowly coming back to her senses, Y/N’s mind is flooded by an overwhelming feeling of dread and despair. She couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face, feeling as though she would be stuck in this darkness forever. 

“Dementors have a way of making us relive our worst memories. But remember, those memories are not who you are. They are simply events that have happened to you.” 

Y/N looked up at him, feeling a sense of comfort in his words yet, she could not shake off the terrible feeling that seemed to take over her entire mind, making it difficult to breathe. She tried to compose herself, but the tears kept falling, taking away her ability to speak. 

“Look at me, focus on me,” Lupin said, his voice gentle and soothing. “You have to take control back, ground yourself,” he continues as he pulls her to his chest, holding her close, hoping that the physical pressure gives her a sense of stability. 

Y/N buried her face in his chest, focusing on the warmth of his embrace, on the strength of his arms. He smelled like old books and lavender. He smelled like home. She let herself get lost in him. “You’re doing good,” he said softly, gently rocking the both of them back and forth, his hand rubbing her back. 

They both found comfort in this forbidden moment. As her professor, he knew he had to hold back, he had to be responsible. But he thought that just this time, in a moment she needed him the most, he could let go of the barrier that kept a distance between them. 

Once he felt that Y/N was calm enough, he slowly pulled away from her, already mourning the emptiness of his arms. He searched his pocket, almost as a distraction, and pulled out a square of dark chocolate. “Eat this, you’ll feel better.”

Professor Lupin smiled warmly as he watched her nibble on the chocolate, both secretly wishing he had never pulled away.

[gracecarstairss]

Hi. Thank you for answering my ask, these are some of my headcanons:

Charlotte talked with Grace after the battle, the silent brothers showed her what Grace said and Charlotte apologized to her, telling that she's sorry about what happened to her, and admiting that the clave should have never let Tatiana adopt her or any child. Maybe then she offers her to live with her and Henry, and that together they can work through Grace's trauma, and that Henry would love to have her a his new lab partner.

Gideon, Gabriel, Cecily and Sophie want to help her, since she's their niece. Gideon, Grabiel and Cecily teach her how to fight and invite her to come to patrol with them and Sophie could be her tutor. I think Cecily and Sophie could help her a lot, since both of them became shadowhunters around Grace's age.

To welcome Grace and Jesse to the family Gideon, Gabriel, Cecily and Sophie invite them to dinner, and it's mentioned that Gideon and Sophie have a cat (let's say the cat's name is scones or mr, scones) so during the dinner Grace asks why is the cat named like that and they tell them the story about the scones and Gideon keeps blusing.

Grace works with the silent brothers, maybe with Jem, to see if she can remember her life before tatiana again, we were supposed to find out why she doesn't rememeber anything about her birth parents in this book but we didn't so it would be nice if she could get those memories back.

Charlotte takes Grace to buy new dresses and since Tatiana always made her wear white she tries to show Grace how pretty she looks in very differente colours. I think things like these, that seem small, could really help her become her own person and leave all the things Tatiana imposed in her behind.

I hadn't thought about Jesse and Grace going away before you mentioned it, but I think it's a great idea. I didn't know the rest of the blackthorns live in Leeds. But yes she needs to get away from the merry thieves and their group to heal.

I don't know how crazy or impossible this is but Grace could go to university (I don't know if at this point in history women were allowed to study). She has a quote in the book about using mundane's science with their shadowhunter knowledge and she could mix what she learns in school with her crazy inventions and create huge things.

I also thought it would be cute if she were like an older sister to charlotte's new babies, something like Kit with Mina in ghosts of the shadow market, it's a nice possibility to think about.

Oh and it's mentioned she likes spiders so she should get a spider pet.

I'm sorry if this was a lot, I don't have anybody to talk about these books.

I love all of these! Omg I totally forgot that Grace lost all her memories of her life before Tatiana and we were supposed to find out why Tatiana took her memories away…BYEEE another inconsistency 😭😭😭 Anyway, I love the idea of Charlotte acknowledging how the clave failed Grace and, as a woman in STEM, I’m all for women in STEM getting the recognition they deserve lol! And that includes the fact that hopefully Grace would invent other things and not just work in Kit’s shadow, actually becoming a confident scientist in of herself. :)

[sloshys]

Hello! If you aren’t too busy can you give a tutorial on how you do lighting and shading? I find that your pieces are really interestingly colored to set a mood through their sharp or soft contrast, so I’d love to see how you approach that!

Sure! Rendering is however very fast cuz i get tired easily and the quality can get pretty inconsistent also this is my first tutorial i apologize for any confusion. Im still experimenting a lot

Im gonna try to show you how i render color this drawing i made

Step1: i always start with base color and play on values in black and white always in shades of grey ( you can put colors if you prefer but they need to be very desaturated). I try to avoid using pure black and white for these parts.

Also the values are kind of close to eachother so that i can add as much light and shadows as i want when i need to render it later

On the pic on the right i delimited the values i was going to use for this drawing

Step2:

Now this is how i color my stuff. I use a color i put on color dodge mode for the back ground and foreground and clip those value layers like so:

The foreground color layer is clipped to the foreground base value layer

And the background color layer also goes with the background base value layer (named “background colour” here but procreate wont let me rename it here)

Step3:

I put in here the darkest area (multiply) and the brightest area (hard light) i usually start with an hard brush. Again never use pure white and black

then i use an airbrush to make some areas softer by either drawing them or erasing them.

I erase so shadows a bit to show some reflected highlight

This was my tutorial i hope it helped a bit it made this extremely fast

But i tend to play a lot on the the values and gradient map

[angstyaches]

Could we maybe get a fic set directly after Burp Exorcism with Charlie and Shayne? Like the aftercare and clean up….👾

The fic in question.

I'm really sorry if this isn't what you had in mind. It's mostly Shayne being awkward, Charlie being flustered, and neither of them not knowing how to act.

Also, I'm posting this in a bit of a hurry, so apologies for any typos or inconsistencies. Feel free to comment if you find any lol

CW: (aftermath of) emeto, vomit on clothes and sheets, lots of awkwardness and embarrassment.

___

Shayne hesitated before he took hold of the striped blue-and-navy pyjama pants that Charlie was trying to hand to him. As much as he was not enjoying the feeling of Charlie’s sticky, orange vomit soaking through his jeans, he did not relish the thought of wearing these.

“You didn’t have anything in pink, with little cartoon kittens on them?” Shayne murmured.

With a grimace, Charlie tugged at the shirt of his own pyjamas; light blue and dotted with hearts and tiny pieces of text. Shayne felt a little bad for teasing him when he already didn’t feel well. Besides, he genuinely appreciated being given something in a darker colour.

“I’ll just…” Charlie’s face was red, which made a change from the sickly pale gleam he’d be wearing earlier in the evening. It seemed as though emptying his stomach all over the bed – and Shayne – had agreed with him.

At least he wasn’t compulsively apologising every couple of seconds anymore; Shayne wasn’t sure he had any more ‘it’s fine’s left in him.

Charlie quickly turned around, facing the opposite wall, and busied himself with pulling the duvet cover from his bed. It needed to be washed, even if Shayne’s lap had saved it from the worst of the damage.

Shayne eyed the back of Charlie’s head, just for a second, before he rolled his eyes and started taking off his jeans. The pyjama bottoms were slightly threadbare in places, but ridiculously soft against his legs. He felt like he was standing up inside a blanket.

He cleared his throat to let Charlie know he was done.

Charlie glanced over his shoulder as he balled up the duvet cover in his arms. “Do they fit alright?”

Shayne shrugged. They didn’t exactly cinch his waist like they’d have cinched Charlie’s, and there was no drawstring in the front, so he’d just have to be careful that he didn’t shake them loose.

“Sorry again.”

Shayne shrugged, realising he was still awkwardly holding his jeans. He should probably have been trying harder to assure Charlie that he wasn’t mad at him, but couldn’t seem to figure out what to say. Cold and passive were the only tools at his disposal, as usual.

“You want to throw those in with my sheets?” Charlie broke into a nervous grin as Shayne hesitated to answer.

Fuck. There was no way he was trekking home through the forest in oversized fluffy pants, with his sick-covered jeans in his hands. He really didn’t have much choice, but to accept the offer.

“Would that – would that be okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” Charlie laughed, his voice veering dangerously towards a volume that could have woken his parents. He reigned it in, still smiling awkwardly. “I’m the one who puked on you…”

Shayne reckoned he was supposed to reassure Charlie again, to let him know that it wasn’t as big of a deal as he seemed to think it was, but he was still coming up dry.

The washing basket already stuffed with Charlie’s sheets as he dragged it over. Shayne fought back a grimace and rested his balled-up jeans on top.

“Alright.” Charlie exhaled shakily. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Shayne rolled his eyes hugely as he saw Charlie’s hands tremble for a moment before taking hold of the basket. Maybe he was still feeling sick after all.

“I’ll carry it,” Shayne mumbled, brushing Charlie’s hand off the side of the basket with the backs of his fingers. Charlie straightened up, cupping his hands together for a moment, before clearing his throat.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Mmhmm.”

___

Every single stair seemed to creak, either under Shayne’s feet or Charlie’s, as they made their way down to the utility room. They shared a glance or two, each listening for movement in Ingrid and Trevor’s room.

Charlie hated sneaking. He hated knowing how upset his parents would be if they knew he had a boy in the house this late, especially after everything that had happened with Mikey... Not that it was the first time Shayne had stayed the night, but he’d stayed in Charlie’s bedroom that dreaded first time, and he’d been gone before they’d barged in… Feeling a little woozy at the memory, Charlie focused on tiptoeing. Shayne didn’t seem to be making any effort to do the same, yet his steps were mostly silent.

Could someone be that naturally silent?

The door to the utility room was in the kitchen, so they headed through there. Once the door from the kitchen to the hallway was shut, Charlie felt he could breathe a little more easily. They also pulled the utility room door shut as they went through, and Charlie flicked on the light.

“I’ll do it,” he said, looking at the laundry basket in Shayne’s hands, even though the thought made him want to gag all over again. “It’s my mess, so…”

Shayne let him take the basket, as though he’d gone limp. He lifted his hands, like he wanted to put them in his pockets, but quickly realised he didn’t have any. He’s so cute, Charlie thought, letting the fluttery feeling in his chest press the nausea back.

___

Shayne eyed the floor tiles as Charlie scooped powder into the machine and pressed the combination of buttons to make it go. To say he felt useless would have been an understatement. He only glanced up at the sound of a deep, swirling growl that he realised – a little too late – was Charlie’s stomach.

Charlie turned his head to smile sheepishly in Shayne’s direction.

“Sorry.”

Shayne blinked and looked away, trying to act as though he hadn’t even heard it. That’s what he would have wanted Charlie to do, if the situation had been flipped. But as soon as he’d switched the machine on and stepped back from it, Charlie rubbed a hand back and forth across his belly, making an unhappy face.

“Are…” Shayne’s voice caught in his throat. Fuck, this was so awkward and embarrassing. Maybe he should have just gone home in the pyjamas. Maybe he should have just gone home in his jeans, vomit stains be damned. He definitely didn’t feel equipped to be here. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, even though speaking sounded like a struggle. “My tummy just kind of hurts. It doesn’t feel horrible like before, though.”

Shayne shuffled his feet back and forth. Was this Charlie trying to subtly ask him to rub his stomach again? He’d offered to do it the first time because it had felt like payback. He had owed him that. But now…?

The hair on the back of Shayne’s neck stood on end before his ears even registered the sound of a footstep on the stairs, two doors away, but still on the radar for someone who was used to hunting metaphysical beings.

“So, do you want to head back upstairs, or –?”

“Sshh.” Without thinking, he reached out to touch Charlie’s arm, hoping the sudden contact would make him stop talking.

It did.

___

Charlie couldn’t breathe. His heart felt like it was about to start weeping. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Shayne’s face, as much as he wanted to look down and confirm what he was already thinking. Their faces were so close together. I haven’t brushed my teeth since I threw up, he realised, which only brought him closer to tears. My breath smells like sick and Shayne Devine is holding my hand.

Not really. He’s squeezing your wrist. CT’s intervention slipped into Charlie’s mind like a cackle from the shadows.

That’s even better… There was a flame of excitement in the pit of Charlie’s stomach. His skin felt like it was going to catch fire where Shayne was touching him. He stared at Shayne’s face, hoping that he would make eye contact, but found him gazing slightly off to the side.

“Are… you okay?” Charlie asked, his words barely stronger than a sigh.

Those deep brown eyes flicked across towards Charlie’s. Something about his face always made him look so intense… hungry, even. It felt like Charlie was being pulled, physically, magnetically, into their darkness.

“Someone’s coming down the stairs.”

A cold, sinking feeling went through Charlie’s entire body. For a horrible moment, he thought he was genuinely about to throw up again, that the disappointment was so intense that his stomach had gone and found even more foul orange liquid to send up. “What?”

“I think your parents woke up.”

“Oh.” That was why his wrist had been grabbed; to get his attention and tell him that. Charlie couldn’t believe he’d let himself think otherwise.

The realisation that there was actually someone coming downstairs only hit him after he had stewed in his disappointment for a few seconds. They were going to be caught, weren’t they? He had images of being personally escorted to and from school, being made to do his homework at the kitchen table and always keep his bedroom door open, having his smartphone replaced with a brick of a thing…

“Okay, just – just stay here,” he hissed. “I’ll try not to let anyone through the kitchen, but you should hide, just in case.”

Shayne rolled his eyes, but Charlie didn’t have time to linger on the sting of being silently ridiculed. For once, he was absolutely sure that he wasn’t over-reacting to the situation. He got up from the floor and scrambled through the doorway to the kitchen, just in time to see his mother step out of the hallway and turn on the light.

___

Shayne hated hiding. He hated the suspense, the uncertainty of whether or not he was going to be found. Until a few years ago, he’d always lived with the fear that Madelyn could see through walls, that he was always being observed, and bringing about an awareness of that fear still made him feel dizzy.

He sank down in the corner, most of his body shielded from view of the doorway by the oversized, industrialised vacuum cleaner. Part of him wondered if he should crawl inside one of the cupboards – the Waters’ hadn’t been living there for long, and didn’t intend to stay longer than a year, so they were probably empty – but that might have been overkill.

Charlie had pulled the door most of the way shut anyway, leaving him alone in the dark with only the murmur of the washing machine’s churning drum for company. Over its droning racket, he could just about hear Charlie’s voice in the kitchen.

“Sorry, Mum! Are you okay?”

Ingrid said something back to him.

“Oh, no, I’m fine, I just – I threw up. On my bed, yeah. No, no, I’m okay now, I’m fine. Too much fizzy orange.”

“Okay.” The tone of Ingrid’s voice was unconvincing. “Did you take something for your stomach?”

“I – no, not yet.”

There was the faint creak of a cupboard door, which Shayne momentarily mistook for the door to the utility room being pushed open. He jumped, pulling his knees closer to his chest in an attempt to remain hidden, before realising he was still alone.

Still safe.

Still fine.

He wasn’t even sure what he was so scared of; compared to the vampires who raised him, Ingrid and Trevor were practically kittens. And he wasn’t their child, so there was nothing they could do to him, besides maybe forbidding Charlie from seeing him anymore…

“… promise I’ll head back to bed soon.”

“Love you, sweetie. Come and get me if you need me, okay?”

“Yeah. Love you, too, Mum.”

Charlie came back through about a minute later, glancing back and forth until he spotted Shayne behind the vacuum cleaner. "Oh, you can come out now. She's gone back upstairs," he whispered, a gentle laugh leaking through.

He extended a hand, but Shayne ignored it and started to get up by himself.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. Sorry.” Charlie glanced over at the washing machine. His hand was on his stomach again, seemingly of its own accord. “We’ll, uh, put your jeans into the dryer first-thing, before Dad gets up.”

“Okay.”

A tight smile crossed Charlie’s face. “There are spare sheets in the hallway cupboard. We might as well go and get some sleep.”

“Sure.”

"Cool. I just really want to lie down," Charlie sighed, glancing down at his belly before rubbing it a little more intently. As the two of them left the utility room and headed for the stairs, Charlie continued to cup his stomach, and Shayne continued to agonise over whether or not he should be offering to take over.

[samthecookielord]

Sam makes a pinned post on her main 2021 2023 2024colourized

Art Blog: @samtheartblog (mostly just reblogs from my main lol)

Open to art requests and art trades!! Shoot me an ask! or dm me (if its an art trade)! :]

So sorry if I haven't responded to your ask in a while!! I am cursed with the spell of forgets to do that and/or procrastinates

💜Do not repost my artworks to other platforms without permission. The only exception is Discord, but please link the original post if you do! You may use my art in profile pictures/headers/etc. on any platform as long as you credit me via link, or username + platform :]

🎤Want to dub my comics? Ask me first! I'll probably say yes, but it's good practice! (Plus, I'd love to see the dub when you've finished! And I can also help if you need isolated panels and such!)

✏Feel free to request a transparent version of any of my artworks, if you want to colour it!

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🎀COMMISSION INFO (closed until early-mid august)!🎀 (i also have options for cookie run, omori, and puyo artstyle mimics!)

Check #cookie lords commissions for examples!

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🎯Artfight Hitlist!

Feel free to ask me about my ocs or aus!! :]

Once again i apologize to anyone who follows me for one specific thing loll

(Vv Feel free to request that i add any of my blog's tags to the list below!! vV)

🎉🎉 Cool AU or OC tags/links or whatever the hell i want idk:

MY AUS!!! vv

#one but spaceboy i mean comety is there for some reason - hfjone but spaceboy from omori, taken directly from headspace, is thrown in with batch 3

#omori deltarune au - consists of 90% spaceboy content LOLL but some lightner!spaceboy content isnt tagged with this cuz idk. Find it in the lightner!spaceboy tag lol (omorune masterpost)

#omori soft science au - me and pastel were like What if our ocs were omori..

#pastel corruption stuff - literally anything i post that has to do with @ pastel-player's corruption concept

#sol omori au - margaret dooley, aka Elegy in Headspace, adventures with her friends Terrence, Bruise, and Noël as kids

#mcsm s3 admin jesse au - what if season 3 of minecraft story mode existed and jesse was forced to become the admin? (Poll series & doc here)

Layton AUs + Layton status post

OC STUFF!!! vv

#paint city - original oc world based on different kinds of art

#2 bards 1 evil wizard - shadows over loathing ocs and obie go on a journey together (timeline doc here)

Straight up just a spreadsheet of people's loathing ocs have fun

#magic stick smackdown - hypothetical stick figure fighting game where everyone has magicpowers

#interdimensional server shenanigans - catch some glimpses at this friend oc server im in where we roleplay as our ocs crossing over in one discord server that timespace!kale created

BLIND DATE TOURNAMENT POST

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MODDING TAGS vv

#loathing shenanigans - (for west of loathing and shadows over loathing) it is a Journey in there

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ETC. IDK vv

#random stuff - my talk tag sorta. Im rlly inconsistent with it tho lolll (i used to just use it for anything non-fandom related but now its a talk tag i forget to use sometimes)

Capitalist poll. (Read the saga in order here!)

SOL CHARACTER COMPILATION MASTERPOST

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