#Beyond Prototyping

[catocappuccino]

Khan using his wrench to put Nori out of her misery

Then Uzi using the same wrench to put N "out of his misery" in a not killing but saving life way in the 1st episode do you do you understa

Do you understand what I mean.

[moe-broey]

THE PROTOTYPE MOE............... 👁️👁️

[vimbry]

in a constant fight between "yes it's sad to say you will romanticize, all the things you've known before, it was not not not so great" and "call me sentimental, but I want to go back, and commemorate the place with a historical plaque"

[themidnightcircusshow]

@heartofstanding tagged me in this meme months ago and unfortunately it took me this long to get to it because I had a mild crisis over how long it's been since I've read a novel, let alone one that I loved 😅 so this is nine of my favourite novels (not books, because if I included manga/short stories/comics/etc this would be giant)

0The Picture of Dorian Gray -- Oscar Wilde// Pyrrhus-- Mark Merlis//The Scarecrow--Ronald Hugh Morrieson//Unnatural History--Kate Osman//Tunnels of Blood--Darren Shan//The Coffin Dancer--Jeffery Deaver//Hero--Perry Moore//Frankenstein--Mary Shelley//One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest-- Ken Kasey

[frutavel]

i saw you tagged an oc named samaela on my post. who are they im curious. please share with the class 👀

(aka “i made that post about a character archetype i love and getting to hear about new characters that fit that archetype is literally the best case scenario for me”)

Oh hi for the love of god hello!!!

This is Samaela. My babygirl. I desperately wish I had more recent art of her to share, but alas I don't. A quick scroll through my blog also shows that Most of the posts I've made talking about her are also a few years old and outdated at this point but rest assured I think about her Constantly.

Samaela is a World of Warcraft OC, and also one of my oldest OCs in general regardless of fandom/universe. Long story short, she's a Forsaken hunter with little to no memory of her past life but Vivid memory of her death (by werewolf) and a history of making bad decisions in the name of Living Deliciously.

She was resurrected post Death By Werewolf, and the process caused her to Become Werewolf. Sorta. She's a weird little fiend and an abomination even by undead standards, which leads to her necromancer running All Sorts of Tests and Experiements. Now those aren't as bad or nefarious as they sound, really, but Samaela gets tired of being a science project pretty quick, so she moves as far away from her necromancer as she can, makes a few friends and enters a 2-ish year long situationship with her Boybestfriend, during which she indulges in many bad habits such as hunting living humans for sport and eating them, which garners her a reputation for being vicious and needlessly cruel. She regrets some of it sometimes, mostly she doesn't care, and gets off mostly scotch free because she's very good at weaving stories that paint her in a good light, and her folks don't like humans anyway. Which just emboldens her.

(Here seen with her Boybestfriend, Tari, my other babygirl, after a bad hunt)

Eventually her Boybestfriend has to leave, and she is Very Sad about it but they part amicably. Unfortunately having her voice of reason and only person whom she trusted in this whole wide world move away makes her Worse. She continues to be Very Good At Lying, but still ends up in trouble with the authorities a handful of times, some friends turn their back on her as a result and she makes self preservation her number one priority. This leads to a sleuth of Decisions which eventually end up putting the life of someone at risk, someone Very Important to her Boybestfriend, and once he finds out their relationship cracks even more. She jumps to anger and resentment straight on and continues to push people away and make more Choices, until her own life is put at risk and she's forced to rethink.

Currently she's at this rethinking stage. She doesn't regret most of the things she did, but she regrets the things that affected her personally. Empathy is a hard concept for her to grasp, but she's willing to make an effort for her own sake. At her core she still wants to survive above all else, and if that means letting people help her..... well, she doesn't like it but she'll think about it.

Samaela is Difficult, and she will never not be. She needs a strong support system to help her, but unfortunately the mere thought of letting her walls down and being vulnerable makes her sick. She is hard to get along with and harder to like.... but a handful of people have gone through the effort it takes to love her all the same. That's enough for now to keep her from spiraling more, but her fate is very uncertain. She has many amends to make and she's not exactly willing to make all of them, but her self preservation instinct is so strong it might as well push her in that direction even if just to keep herself alive.

Despite her many Ls she has many Ws. Women want her. Men fear her. She fucks hard and nasty. She makes dioramas in her spare time. She is surprisingly good at keeping people safe. She likes the color green so much she always has at least One green acessory on her at all times. She's not very good at swimming but still loves the beach. She has a gender that can be best described as Indescribable. Woman, but watch out. She can also pretty effectively communicate with her hunting dogs due to her mutations, and her insides are so rancid due to the Experiments that getting bitten by her in an immediate death sentence, and she is quite fond of biting. Because of this some have taken to calling her Plaguehound <3

As for her previous life.... well that's a whole other mess. All I'll say is that she has two living siblings, one who hasn't given up looking for her, but neither one would recognize her now, and it's unlikely she'd recognize them either. She barely remembers enough about her human life to know her name, much less about her family.

In fact, she has met her older sister in the past. It didn't end well for the sister in question. Dog fights are gnarly 💖

[keykidpilipili]

The first decade of the 21th century sure has that going.

[ID: close up on the hands of two white man shaking. On the left forearm is the caption Yu-gi-oh Bonds beyond time, on the right forearm Sonic the hedgehog (2006) and on the handshake Venice and time travel. END ID]

[bumpscosity]

IMAGES OF THE G3 MONSTER HIGH PROTOTYPES JUST DROPPED-

[chainedcatau]

THE CHAINED CAT PROLOGUE

Day by day, Catnap laid chained in silence, the faint screams of those unfortunate to stumble into the factory the only sound to reach his ears, plaguing his mind with nightmares beyond comprehension.

Time seemed to stand still as he waits. Waits for his captor, the false God. The Prototype. His devil.

The few times he's given the privilege to leave the confines of his cell is only when The Prototype releases him to do as he wills. To unleash The Prototype's slaughter upon those he deems useless and unworthy.

And he cannot disobey or hesitate or else the consequences would be.. fatal.

[mtchee]

Silence is Silver, Your Voice is Gold - [Katsuki Bakugo] SOULMATE SERIES | GN

blurb:

You've got the cranky egoist in 1A as your soulmate. Deemed as an 'extra' in his straight laced life, you've resigned yourself to covering your soul words and sealing your lips, becoming U.A's first year general course prodigy, the silent designer. Despite his distasteful character and colourful atittude, as one of Bakugo's primary costume creators, you work to your utmost to satisfy beyond your client's needs. It's unfortunate that despite your title, the angry pompom won't take a goddamn hint from your silence. When you even go out of your way to avoid him, you start to think that he knows you a little too well despite never having uttered a word.

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, [name] is a general course student, swearing, sassy [name], lowkey enemies to lovers, you hate him, he likes your attitude, onesided e2l??, i know nothing about textiles and design except the bare minimum, [name] and bakugo are kinda cute why am i eating this up omg, [name] tormenting bakugo with bright pink and ribbons

| masterlist | boku no hero academia collection |

[2.5k]

Avoiding Katsuki Bakugo has been a piece of cake.

The guy has such an inflamed ego that he expects the people to part for him wherever he walks.

You met him when the hero course first years were scheduled to mix with the costume design students to discuss both the practical and fashionable output of their hero costumes.

You'd been one of the main designer's for Bakugo's suit, with two others having asissted you in its curation. From his original sketch, you'd syphoned the relevant materials for the prototype, your colleagues aiding in the stitching and detail while you further assessed how it could potentially enhance the use of his quirk.

'Beat it, extra.'

The words had tingled on the back of your neck after he growled at you before you could consult him on his gauntlets' latest design. You had swiftly looked him up and down with disgust at his audaciousness before slapping your sketchpad on the table in front of him and storming off.

You remember hearing the maniacal laughter of his friends while one of your other classmate's (the designer of Shoji's suit) shakily explained to him your presence.

You'd had much better things to do that day, but had decided to go out of your way to personally discuss with him his preference in design and utility so you wouldn't have to go back and forth with various prototypes.

Instead, you got cussed out before saying a single word; what an utter waste of your generous time.

Like hell you were going to deal with a soulmate like that.

You started wearing a thick, velvet choker to hide your golden inked soul words.

Since then, you'd sent your assistants to deliver any sort of message to him. With them doing your communicative bidding, you could put your full focus on the active improvement of his hero costume.

When it would come back burnt from training, you would change and reinforce its material until it was fire resistant. When it got ripped, you would reasses its durability. When his gauntlets got in the way, you would restructure them for better mobility and control.

One day when one of your assistants reluctantly relayed to you Bakugo's irrational displeasure with the pigment of his headpiece (for the seventh time), you'd sent it back hot pink with a black and white frilly ribbon.

He broke your lab door the same day.

Since then, when you'd send off your poor assistants in sacrifice, he'd rattle them and demand for you to face him personally.

You ignored him, but then when your classes started mingling more you couldn't get away from him quick enough.

One of your classmates would sweat in a panic off to the side as you worked at your bench tirelessly with thinned lips and an irk whilst Bakugo yelled and threw a hissyfit at your every move.

"What the hell is that supposed to be? Spandex?!"

"That looks like a lump of shit."

"God, it's ugly."

"Whaddya using that for? Weakass bullshit cloth."

"STOP MAKING IT PINK!"

"No way would that work with my quirk!"

"I'd blow that to smithereens easy."

You had to stop yourself from throwing your sketchpad at him most days. But sometimes you caved and summoned a roll of pink ribbon to stuff in his loud mouth.

He spat it at you and yelled even more, but that single moment of peace and his reddened face made it worth it.

On occasion, you would be lucky and actually get a few decent conversations out of him. His mouth was still foul, but his volume would be acceptable, and his suggestions surprisingly competent and reasonable.

On those days, he would leave with his voice intact, and you with one step closer to the final product.

Your impeccable work ethic and skills and Bakugo's mild decency lead you way ahead of the others in your unit. Eventually, you started having enough time to help out with some of the other hero costumes too--with the permission of both the creator and wearer, of course.

They've all been more than thrilled to work alongside U.A's renouned silent designer.

Although you worked quietly, you made more of an effort to communicate personally with the heroes in training regarding their costumes.

Most were surprised at that, having only known you to work alone and to commune from afar as you've done with Bakugo.

While word of your ingenius spread, unfortunately so too did your most recent work relations.

Bakugo didn't seem to find it funny that you talked to everyone but him.

So you threw all your stationary at him when he stormed into your design lab to make it everyone's problem.

But more specifically, to make it your problem.

"Miss me, nerd?"

Your scathing glare did nothing to Bakugo's arrogant smirk as he waltzes his way past everyone to your work bench.

You narrowly snatch up your latest prototype sketches before he sets down a pair of cold drinks on the table. The condensation drips down, pooling on its surface.

"This it?" He casually quirks up a brow at the strip of hard textured fabric and metal atop your bench. He picks up one of the drinks and slurps from its straw obnoxiously to get on your nerves, "hm, doesn't look like shit this time."

Lately you've been redesigning his utility belt to match the clasps between his protective gloves and gauntlets, additionally extending it to hold extra grenades that activate through his quirk. You've already sent in a request to the support department for those.

"Put ribbons on it like you did last week and I'll kill you."

You fight back a petty smile, recalling the pretty little pompoms decorating the numerous tiny pink bows stitched to each belt loop. He scoffs at your poorly concealed pleasure, and you turn your nose up at him, biting the inside of your cheek mischieviously.

He narrows his eyes at you before rolling them, placing his drink down way too close to your precious papers--again--and resting his cheek on his fist boredly.

Your lips twitch downward in ire at his intrusion of your space, but you work around him nontheless. You don't blink when he cusses as he smacks away a scrap of fabric you toss at him in casual vengeance.

"When's this gonna be done anyway--quit it. I've got a mission in Shinjuku next week." Bakugo snatches a pen you throw at him in mid-air.

You shrug at him, not your problem, but hold up two fingers anyway.

"Two days, huh," He clicks his tongue, "you slackin'?"

He cackles demonically while you log a chunk of stainless steel at his head.

Swear to god--you're gonna make his whole suit neon pink!

He visits you again after his mission, which is evidently successful judging by the fat cocky smirk on his face as he approaches while you stitch up a hero costume from class 1-B.

You deadpan at him as he drops a take away paper bag at the corner of your work bench. Then he tosses his empty utility belt over your most recent handiwork.

"Clasp blasted off."

Bakugo makes himself at home in the spinny chair opposite you, leaning back and putting his boots on the desk as he snags a tasty pastry from the paper bag before pushing it towards you.

An eyebrow twitches as you stare at the no longer existing metal clasp on the support item. A square char mark is left where it would've been. The belt is otherwise untouched.

What, was he aiming for it or something?

Scrunching your nose at him distastefully, you flick the belt off the costume you had been working on and resume your stitching.

"Oi! What about me!?"

You shoot him a sharp glare that makes him scoff. He pipes down nontheless, settling back into his chair with a roll of his eyes and a grumble.

Bakugo's visitations become more frequent.

At this point in time, his hero costume shouldn't need any more major improvements or adjustments until the start of your second year. And yet he's coming in what seems like every other day for any single little thing that bothers him.

Hell, he even comes in to bug you about repaires--you don't do repaires. But he argues that he doesn't want anyone but you 'touching his shit', as he so eloquently explains.

He's come in for his belt clasp six times now, his visor for four, his gauntlets for five, and for the sole of his boots thrice.

The bottom of his fucking shoes.

He can eat your sparkly, bow tied, hot pink and purple swirled shit.

He doesn't even need you anymore!

You're just some stupid non-hero extra. The hell is his deal now?

Bakugo's come in angry today.

He's normally angry, but it's different this time.

You watch him wearily from the corner of your eye as you type out a risk assessment at your desk. School's finished now, but you've been putting this off for a bit, and wanted to get it done while you were still feeling productive.

Less than ten minutes after the last bell rang out and everyone left for the day, Bakugo had come barging in with a stiffer than usual scowl and a dissatisfied furrow in his brows.

But he's been silent.

Bakugo's never been silent.

He sits in the seat adjacent to you, leant all the way into the backrest with his arms tightly crossed and his eyes narrowed, boring into your form.

Each time you glance at him you look away in a hurry as you meet his gaze.

Okay, now it's getting to you...

Slowly, your fingers stop typing, unable to function properly under the intensity of his stare. You don't look at him this time though, and you sweatdrop uncomfortably.

The tension causes your skin to prick, and you tug at your choker discomposibly. The velvet rubs at your skin, irritating it.

You jump when he suddenly speaks.

"What's up with you, huh?" He says it more like a statement, "you're so damn quiet it's eery. Say something."

You give him a disgruntled look.

Is he for real? Is that what his tantrum is about? He can go eat grass.

You turn your attention back onto your laptop, typing again.

He growls at that.

"Don't ignore me, damnit! I know you can say shit!"

Oh, and the shit I would say. You snicker to yourself, but that only seems to tick him off more.

"[name], answer me."

Your stomach drops--he's never called you by your name, let alone your first name. You glance at him again; Bakugo leans forwards with his elbows on his knees, eyes piercing you with a threatening intensity that sends off warning bells in your head.

You look back at him once you grasp the gravity of his tone.

Your annoyed frown fades, and your features soften as to prompt him. He takes in a deep breath, gaze flicking up and down your form as he processes his thoughts first.

He meets your eyes again with a determined resolve.

"I know you're my soulmate."

Fuck, what.

Bakugo scowls when you visibly stiffen, shock coursing your system.

"Get over yourself, you ain't slick. 'S why you've been runnin' from me." He crosses his arms across his chest, lips firmly downturned at your lack of verbal response.

Ice freezes your blood and your gaze flicks away from him apprehensively. What exactly is he expecting from this? Bakugo is a cocky bastard.

An egocentric prick with the means to flaunt it. He's one of the top students in the hero course and he knows it--what the hell does he want from you?

You feel your temper flare.

So what if he knows your soulmates? He obviously thinks he's too good for this shit; fuck fate and all that it stands for, you're just some side character behind him, just like he's said.

You aren't shit to him, and if he thinks he can actually do better than you, well then you know that you can. Who is he to pick and choose who he deserves? In that case, you know what, yeah, he's right, because you deserve better than him any day-

"What?" Bakugo's unappreciated tone fans the flames of the rapidly burning thread containing your tolerance, "still silent?"

"Shut up, asshole! You think you're too good for shit!" Your outburst as you slamming your hands down atop your work bench, the few utensils scattered about clattering in tandem with the vibration, "I'm not just some side piece you can bulldoze! I know my worth, even if you can't fathom it, you eighth-grade-syndrome twit!"

A tense silence settles over the room, and his eyes harden as you stare him down with an unwavering resolve.

Bakugo's lips twitch.

And then he's cackling like a hyena.

You flinch at the abrupt switch, scrambling to process whether you should feel glad or offended that he doesn't seem to be taking your words to heart.

You know for a fact you would not beat Katsuki Bakugo in a fight.

You shiver at the thought, and he beats his fist on the edge of the table as he recovers from his laughter. He lets out a long winded breath, wiping an exaggerated tear from his eye which you deadpan at.

"Ah, damn," Bakugo snorts, "we're really meant to be, eh?" He lifts up the edge of his loose shirt just enough to reveal the glowing golden words inked vertically on his toned waist, "knew there was a reason I could tolerate you more."

"Ditto." You spit out despite the relief flooding you as he stays put. You rub the back of your neck subconsciously.

He eyes the movement skeptically before motioning for you to move towards him. You scrunch your nose at him but oblige when he clicks his tongue irratedly. You've tested his patience enough already.

Once you're close enough he yanks you down and unclasps your velvet choker. You emit a scandalised gasp, feeling naked without it.

"Hey!"

"Give it up," He drawls, "get over yourself."

Bakugo latches a hand around your nape, pulling you forward so your head is bent level with his chest, and your face flushes. Both your hands grip at the armrests of the chair, caging him in as you fight not to fall off balance.

"Ack-" You choke at the feeling of him ever so gently tracing beneath the words on the back of your neck, "-stop that!"

He huffs a laugh, and his breath pans over your skin.

His eyes soften ever so slightly, "You're not jus' some extra, you know..." He lets you up. He ignores the imbuing embarrassment that pairs with the subtle blush tinting his cheeks.

You mull over his words for a second, pushing yourself back to face him head on. You blink slowly, registering his meaning. A gentle warmth settles across your cheeks, and a quiet glee bubbles inside you.

"Yeah?"

Although you bite back a smile, there's a hopeful glimmer in your eyes.

Bakugo grins, "Yeah," and places a reassuring hand atop your head, "not my soulmate."

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Renault R8 Coupé, 1964, by Ghia. Designed by Filippo Sapino with styling that referenced pre-war Bugattis, the R8 Coupé was based on the rear-engined R8 saloon. It could have competed with cars like VW's Karmann-Ghia but didn't progress beyond prototype stage.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Only Man (Your own love kills)

Note || jealousy scenario rahhh, it’s kinda one? Or isn’t? Idk I went down the hills. Also some context, some humans actually survived the hour of joy, so there is a few mentions of camp stuffs.

WC || 896

Sypnosis || In a world of comfort, seems he can’t begin to fathom the reality of emotions settling within him.

Have you ever been in love?

If he was being honest, life was fuzzy, even more so temperamental that he was from human to dusk and dawn. But he wouldn’t have traded it for anything if it meant he would see you in his non-life or life over and over again.

That is one thing so entirely unique to the quality of dogs, they are loyal and strong with you to the end.

In the sense of irony, he never would’ve expected to be DogDay. But he had long since lived with the idea that he lived this way, to be a leader and a friend to all those he held dear. He never would’ve become anything else, not if he had anything to do with it.

DogDay doesn’t mind sacrificing his own life and body to protect others, to mean if they live. Sure, he may not live to see that aspect he was wholeheartedly himself, that was how he knew he wasn’t completely off the dark end as DogDay.

It was his name and his alone, to be frank; madness, torment and the ripping away of the happiness once had was abnormally flippant to the reality he once knew and loved. DogDay had lived with it, it became the norm for him to live so strongly, trying to be a light those can vy for and not lose themselves in the process.

Love was one remaining factor to his stillborn life, DogDay wasn’t anchoring toward anything. Always having to down his head in order for those alive and their with him meant he could live with that, strong willed humans and toys alike holding their heads up high, that meant he had to stand still and straight so they could see how far they had come.

Hush little baby don’t you cry.

That tune was familiar, was he here? Beyond the specific residence of his permeance, no, he was alive and here. Everyone was okay, camp to be sure, but you too were there. DogDay was content, he didn’t even need words, actions were more than enough.

Everything’s gonna be alright.

You were singing such a wonderful tune, yet a wrenching pit in the gut of his fabricated stomach caused him to think otherwise from the place of his peace. A human male was getting a little too close to you for his liking, trying to stray away from employee regulations no doubt. DogDay wasn’t gonna let that slide, he wasn’t going to allow him to tarnish your personal boundaries and sure as hell was gonna make sure that he knew that.

Stiffen that upper lip, little lady..

DogDay stood up from where he had sat, back being rubbed against the rubble stone wall, for a moment it almost hurt. Yet the pain faded away just as quickly as it came, he began walking, calming himself as your melodic tunes remained ever as wavering to his ears.

All was okay and well between the people in the encampment, strained suffice to say with the amount of space people were left with – but they all had each other to lean and rely on. Not akin to the likes of the Prototype and the rest of his brainwashed lackeys. 

‘Oh CatNap, I wish you could’ve come with us. Why turn to his side?’

DogDay perked up at the whisper shouting his down-trodded ears were picking up, seeing the easel of jealousy churning in his gut. You were trying to turn away the exact guy still with you from which he saw earlier, he turned around from where his body had been hidden from view.

You and the man were greeted by the sight of a very large DogDay.

You set down your guitar, smiling at seeing him. “Hi DogDay! What’s up?” He waved for a moment, then turned to sit down with you and the man. Who seemed to be clearly quivering in half-sighted fear, sensing the intentions of DogDay.

“Nothing to be worried about Angel,” He began, voice still roughed up from previous events. “But is this gentleman bothering you?” DogDay asked, motioning to the man who began inching away from the both of you, seeing as he made (a very clear) mistake.

You waved DogDay off, “Oh this guy? He ain’t bothering me.” Head turning before you had spoke with a hint of finality.

“You were leaving, right?” The man nodded, the look of fear very evident on his poor face. Then he finally walked off with a stride that clearly spoke, ‘Don’t kill me please.’ 

In hindsight, DogDay was going to shield you from him. It seemed that was all it took to get you away from his very slimy presence, he sighed internally, as he wasn’t one to want to cause altercations.

He was a more methodical man – toy? Person? – then that anyway, DogDay then looked up, gaining eye contact with you. With a small wave of his paw in return, “Weren’t you singing? I’d love to hear more of it, Angel.” You smile at him with a scoff escaping you, picking up the guitar to re-adjust your position that you had set your fingers upon the lines originally.

DogDay was glad to be up close to hear your beautiful singing.

Compared to that icky emotion he felt earlier, that was rather confusing as he thought about it.

This was much better.

[teratosfavouritesnack]

~ Dirty Hobby ~

roommate!werewolf x afab!reader - roommates to lovers, sexual frustration, (slightly) dub-con, dry humping/frottage, thigh job, impact play, cum play, degradation kink if you squint

3,4k.

Writing stories is a lot of fun. It's a passion for you, something you enjoy doing in your spare time, but you also see it as a way to release emotions that would otherwise weigh on you. Typically, you prefer romance although your stories always end up being far spicier than anticipated. That may reveal something about you, specifically that you need a good fucking, but staying at home all the time and never socializing with anyone doesn't pair well with being sexually active. Last time you let a not-fictitious being fuck you must have been not less than 80 stories ago; 5k words each, mind you.

The only non-fictitious being you interact with on a daily basis is your roommate, Alexis, also known as the 'good boy'. You call him that on occasion simply because you love the way his long fluffy tail eagerly wiggles back and forth, in stark contrast to the grimace he always gives you in answer to your playful mocking. He's also a 'good boy' because he never caused you any trouble in the six months you've been sharing a flat. He is clean, not nosy or noisy, and rarely invites people over, which is a huge plus for you.

Another major benefit of having Alexis as a roommate is that you basically have a living, breathing prototype for the protagonists in your works of fiction. Perhaps it sounds weird, but you've used him as the base of the love interests in your romances more times than you probably should have... Does that imply that you're in love with him? No! Well, not exactly. You could say you are attracted to him. You enjoy his presence, his massive presence, as well as his grave but sweet voice, his kind eyes, his long snout that screams 'pat me! pat me!', his long muscular arms that could so effortlessly sweep you up and...

Anyway. You like the dude. As in, he's a good friend who also happens to be very good to look at. You've done your best to separate him from the dozens of characters he has inspired thus far, and you'd like to keep it that way. Separate. Luckily, he is unaware of your… recreational activity. And he'll never know about it.

However, while your mind has managed to make things feel acceptable and not as odd as they actually are, what your body does is a very different story. Writing erotica has an undeniable impact on the writer, especially if you're describing fantasies you've indulged in far too many times before. What that entails for you is that you're aroused on a regular basis. And the fact that the character from your stories is walking around the house, chatting with you and parading around the very assets you fawn over in your wildest dreams makes it even more difficult for your body to remain partial... Makes things all the more wet, to be precise. Yes. Sometimes it's so uncomfortable that you have to take care of it right away, cleaning up and changing your underwear before returning to your chores. Other times, you just get on with your day despite your damp panties. You're used to it by now, so it's not a major issue for you…

It's a major fucking problem for your roommate, though. You have absolutely no idea. You can't even begin to imagine how challenging it is for a werewolf like him to ignore the scent trail you leave behind wherever you move inside the house. It's actually maddening! A torture! If he didn't know you better, he'd assume you were doing it on purpose just to drive him nuts. He tried to remain unaffected, to suppress his urges, but weeks after weeks after weeks, your scent became all he could smell inside the house, inside his own bedroom; even the food tasted like you! He considered moving out, to avoid the risk of doing something he would definitely regret. He does not want to hurt you, of course. It could be a situation beyond your control or a health issue. What does he know? What he knows is that he can't handle it anymore! He can't focus on anything else but your sweet mouthwatering fragrance that makes him hard all the fucking time. He ought to do something about it. He needs to! Before he loses his mind completely.

He's oh so very close to losing it when he barges into your bedroom one evening while you're tapping away on your keyboard, as usual. The sudden bang of your door being forced open makes you jump on your seat, and your eyes instantly snap to him. They widen in shock at the sight of his disheveled state; his shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his hips, his belt unfastened and the zip of his jeans is halfway down, making his enormous bulge stand out even more. You divert your gaze from it as soon as possible, locking eyes with his instead. But his gaze is no better. His pupils are dilated, and he stares at you as though you're a piece of raw meat. He has never looked so feral before.

“A-Alexis?”

He growls in response, his legs twitching as if he’s ready to pounce on you, but instead he moves his clawed hands to his head and runs them through his ruffled fur in a calming gesture, one you’ve seen him do before whenever he got a bit too fired up.

“I can’t take it anymore-” he rasps, taking a deep breath before fixing his piercing stare on you again. “Whatever it is, you need to take care of it. As soon as possible.”

His words don’t make any sense to you. What should you take care of? Did you forget to take out the trash today? What day is it? No, it’s a tuesday, it’s his turn-

“Did you hear me?”

His voice genuinely rattles you, you’ve never heard him sound so upset before. You must have really pissed him off somehow.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about-” 

He doesn’t seem to hear your answer though, for he starts to move his snout back and forth, from one side of your room to the other, sniffling as if something has suddenly caught his attention. A deep puzzled frown emerges on your face as you watch him step further inside your room, scoping his surroundings like a hound searching for a bone, until he comes to a halt in front of your wardrobe and slams it open without asking for permission.

“What are you doing?”

He ignores the hint of apprehension in your voice and starts to rummage through your clothes so carelessly that you fear he will tear them all to shreds. 

“Alexis! What the heck-!”

He growls in frustration, his clawed hands finding purchase on the cabinet door frame, causing the wood to creak under his grip. You can't see his face since he's still buried deep inside your wardrobe, but you can clearly hear his frantic sniff sniff sniff as he obstinately pursues the source of the smell that apparently irritates him so much he turns into a literal beast. 

You’re unsure whether to approach him in this state or just wait for him to put an end to whatever’s happening, but before you can come to a conclusion, Alexis crouches down with a satisfied huff and pulls back from the wardrobe with…

"My dirty laundry…?"

You give him an odd look as he drops the basket on the floor in front of you. Is this the source of the smell that bothered him? But there's no foul odor coming from it, at least not one that you can smell. There's not much inside after all, only a towel and...

Your eyes widen as Alexis reaches out with his hand and grabs a pair of dirty undies from the basket, instantly sending your face blushing with heat and your stomach flipping in embarrassment.

"Wha-! P-Put that back!" You stutter, clearly flustered, attempting to steal your underwear from his grasp, but he quickly moves them out of your reach, bringing them to his nose and taking a good sniff. Your face turns even more red at the sight.

"This." he growls, peering down at the fabric, his gaze fixated on the still damp patch sitting in the center. "This is the problem."

You're too mortified to argue with him about it, so you quickly blurt out, "I'm washing it right away, okay? Now give it back!" as you reach out again, only for him to jerk his arm away a second time.

"No. You do not understand. It's not just today," he says, clutching your underwear in his palm and piercing you with his golden eyes. “It’s everyday. Everywhere. I can only smell this.”

Oh.

Oh.

So… all this time… he could smell your…

Shock roots you to the spot. You’re left gaping at him, lips moving yet no sound comes out of your mouth. You had no idea. You didn’t even think about it. If you knew, maybe you could have refrained from writing so much, every damn day… You could have gone to a cafè instead of staying at home… Or you could have at least been a tad more careful-

"What's got you so worked up every fucking moment?" he asks, huffing in exasperation and looking around your room as if seeking the root of your problem, until his gaze settles on your desk. "You're always on your computer, tapping on that damned keyboard. I can hear you from my own room. You've got a long distance relationship or something?"

"I…I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to uhh… upset you?” You fumble over your words, struggling to find an appropriate response to this ridiculous and surreal circumstance, while simultaneously stepping back in front of the computer to hide it from his observant eye. "This won't happen again... Alright?"

His brow raises in interest, ears perking up and golden eyes peering into yours. You're sure he can tell how nervous you are. Gosh, you know now he must also be able to smell how shamefully aroused you are at the chance of being caught, your secret dirty hobby being exposed.

"Whatcha hiding, mh?" he taunts, taking a step closer, amusement and vexation mixing in a lethal combo. He cranes his neck to look behind you, but you're too close to the screen for him to catch a glimpse of it. "A secret lover? I'll grant you permission to let them come over. Maybe that will help you."

You're physically shaking with both dread and excitement, your wide eyes locked on his face, your hands reaching out to shove him back. Your stomach flips as you realize your palms have made contact with the fur on his chest and heat instantly pools in your abdomen when you spot the dilation of his pupils; they get so wide his golden irises almost disappear.

Before you have any chance to avoid it, he has you imprisoned against his body, his palm wrapped around the back of your neck, burying your face in his chest while he bends over to your computer. Your complaints are muffled by his fur, and your hands clutching at his sides are merely giving him a massage. There's nothing you can do against him. He is too big and strong... and warm, and soft, and he smells like fresh grass after rainfall. Oh, it’s even better than what you imagined…

You feel his muscles tense up around you just a moment before a loud bark of hearty laughter erupts from him, rumbling in his chest against your cheek and pulling you out of your reveries.

“Hunter’s Moon! That’s what you’ve been doing all along?” He pulls you back by tugging at your hair, his eyes full of mirth - and maybe a hint of mockery - as he stares down at you. “That’s what makes you so wet all the time that I can’t fucking breathe?”

“T-That’s not-!”

You're so ashamed that you'd rather combust into millions of particles and disappear right now. But there's also that wicked part of you that is pleased to hear you've had such a profound effect on him with your scent. The same side that relishes the way he's holding your hair, looking down at you, and laughing.

“You want a beast to fuck you?”

The way he spits out those words makes you shudder, and all you can do is stare up at him, astonished. His other hand moves to your face, grazing the outline of your cheek with the back of his clawed fingers, making your taut body shiver even more, your stomach doing somersaults. He can certainly feel it. He can see the desire wallowing in your wide shiny eyes. And it excites him. 

“Oh, sweetie. You could have just said so.”

And with that, he has your heart bursting downright out of your chest as he twists you around and bends you onto your desk, your fingers grasping the edge, your head almost colliding with your computer's screen. His hand pushes on the small of your back, causing your body to arch and your bottom to stick out. You feel his erection push against your jeans, directly against the crack of your ass, as he bends over you, his hot breath brushing the shell of your ear.

“Who would have thought you were so naughty…” he whispers slowly, voice laced with amusement. "Writing about werewolves ravishing you…" His free hand creeps over your hip and slides towards your belly. "Destroying your little human holes…" His fingers creasing and raising the thin fabric of your tee as they dig into the soft flesh of your abdomen, steadily crawling lower. He laughs again, blowing warm air into your skin when he notices you whimpering quietly and trembling under his touch. 

“Isn’t that what you write about, mh? Why don't you read it for me?"

Your eyes widen, and you meet his amused look with a shiver that runs down your spine and lands between your thighs. He gives you a wolfish grin before nudging your head with his snout and turning it towards the screen. "C'mon. Read it."

You can't think clearly, let alone focus on the text on the white screen. Your heart is racing and the heat in your lower abdomen is becoming unbearable. If only he moved his fingers lower to offer you just a little relief...

“Start from the line that says how the beast rips your pants apart… That sounds like fun.”

You’re panting so hard already and he’s barely touched you. You have to swallow a couple of times to clear your throat and moisten your dry mouth before you’re able to speak again. But even then your voice comes out shaky and subdued as you start reading your own wicked fantasies out loud.

“...he groped the round sphere of her ass, massaging her flesh as if to prepare her for what was about to come-”

You yelp as you feel both his palms land on your ass, groping you over the fabric of your pants.

“Keep going. Don’t leave me hanging…” he croons teasingly in your ear, giving your cheeks a squeeze as an incentive.

You take a shuddering breath and then exhale, hoping to calm your frenzied heartbeat - as if that’s possible in a situation like this - and resume reading from where you left off.

“...a loud gasp of shock escaped her lips when his hands pulled at her pants and ripped the fabric apart as if it was made of paper-”

And with that, your pants are gone too, leaving only a few bits of fabric hanging around your thighs. You don’t even care about your clothes right now, you just want him to take you. You need him. You want him so badly. 

His claws run along your panties, purposefully missing the wet spot sitting right at the center. Your legs weakly buckle in protest.

“What about these? What happens to her soaked panties?”

“Ripped apart as well.” you answer forthwith, pushing your ass back to seek more friction and thus sending him laughing at your eagerness.

His fingers coil around the fabric's edges, yanking at it as if ready to tore it, only to let go and snap the elastic band against your skin.

"Nah. I think I'll keep them on for now," he muses, his voice still cracking with amusement as if he's thoroughly enjoying torturing you and driving you insane.

Your indignant cry rapidly turns into a shocked gasp as you feel something long and hard shove against your panties-clad folds. When you look down, your jaw falls at the sight of his huge throbbing cock stroking against your cunt back and forth, its dark pink skin already glistening with your juices dropping through your drenched underwear.

"So wet…" he croons, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. His moist nose brushes against your boiling hot skin, giving you chills. "So wet for me."

He keeps moving against you, maddeningly slowly, making you quiver with both pleasure and desperation. Breathy whimpers and moans fall from your parted lips, mirroring the rhythm of his thrusts.

"A-Alexis… please…"

You’re begging him to fuck you. He knows that. It's so obvious. It pleases him greatly, yet he won't let your precious little cries deter him from his own plans. His movements almost come to a halt as his warm, wet tongue slides out of his mouth and licks the side of your neck.

“You’ve driven me mad for months.” he growls in your ear, frustration once more edging his tone. His hands eagerly reach for your thighs and push them together to squeeze his cock between your soft flesh. You moan in response, surprised and satisfied by the additional friction, although still frustrated by the emptiness you feel inside you, with your walls clenching desperately around nothing. 

“Now it’s my turn.”

A jolt of pleasure strikes your core as his arms wrap around your middle and he starts to buck his hips against your ass at a punishing pace, rocking your whole body with such force that you’d be slamming against the desk if he wasn’t holding onto you like a vice.

You whine and mewl ever louder, the knot in your lower belly tightening at an alarming rate. Your hands grasp onto his strong arms, fingers tangling in his fur, while your head bobs feverishly upon his shoulder.

“A-Alexis… I-I'm- I’m!”

His moist nose taps on your neck, tongue lapping at your skin, as his cock keeps on bullying your poor swollen folds. The fabric of your underwear is so wet at this point that it's almost as if it's not even there; you can feel him entirely, rubbing your small bundle of nerves with every thrust.

"Already?" His laughter vibrates through your writhing body, heightening the friction between your thighs.

You try to hold back, a little offended by his derision, wanting to last a bit longer, but with a harsh yank of his hand, he pulls your panties to the side and finally seals your fate. Tendrils of pleasure ignite from your core, sending you spasming sharply in his grasp,your cunt gushing cum on his length.

He growls in your ear, tightening his hold and lifting you off the ground while chasing his own high. Feeling you contort in ecstasy and soak his cock has excited him viscerally, and it's only a matter of minutes until he follows you, shooting his sperm into your panties and mixing his juices with your own. You're both left panting, breathless, and light-headed, your bodies buzzing with the last shreds of bliss.

Alexis adjusts your underwear, cupping your cunt to ensure you feel his cum smear across your tender flesh. You whimper lazily in response, turning your head to glance up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He meets your gaze with his own glazed look and smiles, that wolfish smile that inspired oh so many stories.

You need more. You want him. You want to feel him inside you. This was not enough. Not enough to satisfy months and months worthy of fantasies and soaking panties.

As if sensing the need within you, Alexis raises his hand to your hair and caresses it with newfound affection.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you plenty to write about..." he teases and grins at the way your eyes seem to lighten up at his words, only to see your face fall a second later as he adds: "In due time."

He gives you a playful smack on the ass and then walks out of your room, snickering.

"Whatcha having for dinner?

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me

[fuzedatti]

AM's prototype bodies were kept in cold prisons.

Narrow chambers of absolute nothingness.

Only one was brought to the surface, only to be dismantled over and over again. To be reconstructed from the ground and beyond.

[labs]

Hello again, Labs here with a recap of our test of Collections! We introduced this prototype back in September and then handed the feature to a handful of volunteers sourced from the notes on that post. Thank you again to all volunteers! 

We got so much useful feedback, and wanted to share some of that here, and reveal some next steps we’re taking. There are a couple of big projects cooking in Labs, and Collections has taken a backseat lately, but it is important to us to not leave y’all hanging. We very much want to build things with you here.

Our goal with the volunteer-based super-early phase of Collections was to see if those volunteers actually use the feature, watch what they come up with, and check whether anybody they invite to Tumblr signs up and becomes a regular user of the site. Turns out, nobody did sign up — it’s not as useful of an onboarding strategy as we thought it could be.

However, one piece of feedback we got is that Collections make great custom feeds, which people on Tumblr have been asking for a lot over the years. We hear you loud and clear: you want to supplement the standard Following / For You experience with more intentional control over feed content. That’s really important to us.

With that in mind, for those in the prototype, we’ve moved the Collections list to the left sidebar / mobile navigation as an expandable area like Account, for quick access. We like this better than putting them in the dashboard tab bar, but it’s still something we’re mulling over:

We also heard the need for more filtering options beyond just blogs and tags. What about only including a blog’s posts that use a certain tag, or excluding posts using a certain tag? Or list tags with a boolean AND operator (“posts tagged [tag] and [other tag]”), not just the OR operator we’re using now for sourcing tagged posts. Lots of ideas on how to further customize what shows up in the feed, and better define what the feed is “for”.

There were other fun, tangential bits of feedback, too, like the desire to make these Collections a collaborative feature, so that more than one person can help build a Collection. There were also several usability issues that came to the forefront, which we’ve addressed. And there were some well-articulated thoughts and questions about etiquette, such as how to seek a blog’s “permission” to be included in a Collection – that’s something we care a lot about, to help prevent this kind of feature from being a source of abuse.

Another piece of feedback we heard repeatedly is the desire for Collections of posts. This is not really what we intended with what we built, but it’s not too far afield either. We totally agree that having better, easier ways of collecting and curating individual posts would be useful, so we’re going to investigate that as a separate project.

With all of this in mind, we’ve split the work on Collections into two separate tracks:

Shaping this feature as a “customizable feeds” solution, away from an “invite others” tool.

Building a new thing for saving and curating static posts.

Stay tuned here on the Labs blog for updates on when/if we’ll be moving these Collections tracks of work to more people on Tumblr. (If you are one of the volunteers who helped us with Collections, you’ll still have access to it for the time being!)

Thanks for reading! And please reach out to us via Support, the replies here, or your reblogs, if you have any more feedback, as always.

[semisolidmind]

been seeing some anthro designs of the current blorbos and i can’t stop thinking about an au for it. so, to get it outta my brain;

(i guess this is a college au?)

—dogday and catnap as adoptive brothers, with a big group of friends (the critters, who are mostly dogday’s friends that tolerate catnap), the cat is primarily mute and allows his brother to do the talking for the both of them.

—catnap was kidnapped when he and dogday were kids. he was 5, and he was missing for five years. to their credit, his family never gave up hope of finding him. when he was found, he was dazed, stumbling along the road, malnourished, and bleeding from shallow wounds on his arms and legs. his vocal chords had been fried through the forced inhalation of some strange drug, and he couldn't speak at all for a good long while after. catnap and his adopted family learned sign language (and though his voice healed somewhat as he got older, he still prefers not to use it). despite getting better, his voice maintains a raspy, whispery quality.

—catnap was obviously traumatized by his time away and refused to talk about it. it was deduced that he'd been taken by an infamous cult in the area and indoctrinated. a very close eye was kept on him throughout the rest of his grade school life. with no behavioral problems beyond a lack of speech and general closed-off attitude, most write off any weird behavior of his as a result of his trauma. he maintains a close relationship with his brother, he works nightshifts at a gas station, and stays out of trouble. supposedly.

—(catnap's a serial killer. he destroys anyone with a target placed on them by his god; a being the cult calls "the prototype." the cult conditioned him to be their executioner. catnap still smokes the opium-based drugs fed to him all those years ago, now sent to him discreetly by the cult; to help him "see what the prototype wants him to see," and "enact his will." his almost-full immunity allows him to use the smoke to knock out his victims by casually taking a drag and blowing it into their faces (he then either kills them right then or takes them to the cult to be sacrificed).

—dogday is a bright, happy fella who makes friends with almost anyone. he's a favorite on campus, a sweet guy who radiates sunshine and maintains a large group of friends. he has a massive crush on y/n, a newcomer to his school, and immediately integrates them into his circle (he calls them angel, something about them "saving" him from some accident? no one is really sure what happened there). he's terrible at hiding just how smitten he is, and his friends tease him when y/n isn't around. dogday swears he'll confess, but he gets so flustered and nervous about messing up their relationship. it doesn't help that his angel is so oblivious to his love (bobby does her best to try and nudge y/n towards dogday, but it never seems to click). y/n and dogday are very close despite all this tension.

—catnap likes y/n too, in his quiet way. he'll stand with them when the group is together, resting his chin on the top of their head or leaning on them while everyone stands around and talks. he sits next to them in the library while bubba tutors dogday in math, resting his head on the desk and watching y/n read out of his peripheral. he likes how quiet they are. they're so...so gentle with him, without being condescending or infantalizing him. he appreciates the care they show him. he wants all the attention they'll give him.

he also likes that they're a little scared of him.

some more ideas:

—both boys are close to y/n and spend a lot of time with them, without the rest of their friends.

—y/n becomes one of the only people catnap won't kill. he's gotten attached.

—happening in a universe where monsters and humans coexist. not a ton of division, but there's a monster side of town (where the buildings are much bigger to accommodate larger bodies) and a human side.

—you think catnap is the only dangerous one until you see how dogday reacts to y/n being harmed in some way. like catnap is the obviously dangerous one you don't take your eyes off of but then you catch dogday outta your peripheral about to clock you with a pipe

—dogday is an absolutely wonderful partner, so devoted and loyal, and willing to throw hands if given a reason to (a big surprise to anyone who thinks he's just the "nice" one). y/n isn't completely oblivious to his affection, but is hesitant to act on any feelings they have; while most monsters don't mind human/monster relationships, there are plenty of humans that disapprove. they don't want dogday to be harassed because of them.

—a scene where catnap forcefully shotguns red smoke into y/n’s mouth to knock them out cause he thinks it’d make them happier to not have to “worry so much" and take a nap w/ him (also he wants a lil kiss and can't be normal about it). or maybe he's tryna kidnap them or smth. y/n doesn't really remember much when catnap does this, and writes it off as catnap's drowsy nature rubbing off on them when they wake up after an unexpected snooze.

—catnap doesn't like being touched usually. his brother and y/n are the exceptions.

—it's very subtle, and noone would notice if they weren't watching them closely, but both catnap's and dogday's pupils get a bit bigger when looking at y/n. two overgrown, lovesick housepets.

[demilypyro]

Your streams and posts have inspired me to play through dark souls 3 again! Anyway whats your ranking of all the level up maidens in the souls games. Counting melina too of course

The Unnamed Firekeeper (Dark Souls 3)

Melina (Elden Ring)

The Emerald Herald/Shanalotte (Dark Souls 2)

The Firekeeper/Anastacia of Astora (Dark Souls 1)

Irina of Carim (Dark Souls 3)

The Doll (Bloodborne)

The Maiden in Black (Demon's Souls)

The DS3 Firekeeper wins mostly because she's very charming and she has a small amount of agency in the plot. If you give her the Firekeeper's Eyes from the hidden Untended Graves area, she becomes open to the idea of betraying her religion (epic) and snuffing out the fire entirely, and I'm always down to blaspheme with my wife. Having a firekeeper be materially relevant to one of the endings is a lot of fun, and I'm always happy to go back Firelink and see her again. I love emoting near her.

I quite like Melina. I'm pretty sure she has some of the most dialogue of any level-up girl in the series, and she has some actual agency in the plot. Unfortunately, most of that dialogue is just lore dumping, and you never really get a sense of what her deal is. She's one of few characters in Elden Ring I never fully figured out the lore of? She's Marika's daughter, I think? And she wants to do... stuff? For reasons? And unlike best girl Ranni, she never really has a cute, disarming moment where the mask slips and she's really straight with you. I dunno she's good but she could've been better.

Shanalotte from DS2 is somewhat similar to Melina, in that she has a goal of her own that she manipulates the player into completing. However this twist is pretty out of nowhere and is ultimately pretty inconsequential, because what she wants you to do is... kill bosses? And killing bosses was always the goal anyway so it's not like we weren't gonna do that without her tricking us into it. I dunno, she cute.

Whether the Firekeeper from DS1 even counts for this list is debatable, since you can level up at any bonfire, and there's even multiple firekeepers. But when she dies you can't level up at Firelink Shrine anymore, so I guess that sort of counts? Idk. She's alright. I always let her die but then go kill Lautrec and give her soul back so she can speak. She's very adorable.

Irina really is just here on a technicality. Her ability to level you up is more like an easter egg reward for getting the good ending to her questline. She's mostly just a miracle trainer. I like her though so she goes on the list. It's my house.

The Doll from Bloodborne is decently charming but there's really nothing going on behind the eyes with her. While she questions if her feelings for you are genuine or artificial, nothing ever really comes of this one way or the other, so she falls kind of flat for me. She does win some points for responding to emotes though. Idk Maria better.

Finally you can tell the Maiden in Black is sort of the prototype for all the level-up ladies to follow. A lady, chained to the hub area by duty, who can't see and has bare feet? Miyazaki really showed his whole ass right from the get-go. There's really not that much to her beyond that though. She alright.