#How To Increase Height For Teenage

[timkontheunsure]

Queer secondary adolescence and Stolas

(I keep forgetting to put this up here)

Ok, so Stolas being teen dad is one of the reasons I get annoyed when people say he's too horny with Blitz. Or that his relationship is too dramatic and teenager-y.

He's a queer guy who never got to be a teenager, didn't get to have a first boyfriend, or explore who he was. Or do any of the normal stuff most straight teenagers get to do.

His family stuffed him in the closet, forced him to have child, and gave him an abusive wife as jailer.

(He around 36, with a 17 year old daughter. 36−17=19 when Octavia was born. Likely married at 18).

He's got some chatting up to do.

Up till now his whole life's been about Via, and mitigating Stella's abuse to hid it from Via.

That's left him barely hanging on, taking an increasing amount of antidepressants; and singing lullabies about not being sure he'll make it till Via's grown up.... 🙁

There's this thing called second adolescence that alot of queer people experience, when they come out later in life.

It happens when they're weren't allowed to do normal teenage things at the right age. So things like having crushes, go on first dates, have extremely anxious dramatic relationships. As well just be a normal horny teenager.

Stolas got to do none of that. So he's doing it now.

He's also pretty obviously an autistic guy (separate post ), who didn't get well socialized as a child.

Blitz appears to have been his first and only really friend.

Stolas is not great at social cues. (He's so happy to be able to help with his special interest, but does realise his tone is upsetting Ozzie).

Even with Via he struggles to understand her. She needs to tell her dad flat out what she needs.

When she tries to be subtle, and snark he assumes it's just her being a moody teen. And that she'll enjoy loo loo land when she loosen up a bit.

Because of this lack Stolas mostly fills in gaps in his social experience with masking.

Such copying Gabriel hairstyle from helluva novella to get ready for his first ever date.

Following Blitz's lead of what to do in an uncomfortable situation.

And trying to match the energy of how Blitz first came on to him.

(He's definitely getting better at it from Blitz reaction).

There's also an idea in CBT called reparenting your inner child. Which about giving yourself some the support, and experiences you missed out on because of abuse.

Stolas needs to go through his secondary adolescence as part of his recovery from his abuse.

So let Stolas be a little horny weirdo. 😛

PS this one will brake you heart. Stolas is standing fully in both these pictures.

You can see how much he's grown by her light switch.

Kid hasn't even reached his full adult height yet when he had to have a kid.

[schomp-mazda]

Collection of Robert Egger’s quotes about his movie, Nosferatu

Like, the toxic love story monster fucker girlies aren’t crazy here.

“It was always clear to me that Nosferatu is a demon lover story, and one of the great demon lover stories of all time is Wuthering Heights, which I returned to a lot while writing this script,” Eggers explained. “As a character, Heathcliff is an absolute bastard towards Cathy in the novel, and you’re always questioning whether he really loves her, or if he just wants to possess and destroy her.”

“Ellen’s husband loves her, but he can’t understand these ‘hysteric’ and ‘melancholic’ feelings she’s experiencing, and he’s dismissive of her,” Eggers said. “The only person she really finds a connection with is this monster, and that love triangle is so compelling to me, partially because of how tragic it is.”

“In my mind, Orlok was definitely handsome when he was alive,” Eggers said. “I wanted him to have strong features, and for there to be a kind of beauty in his brows, cheekbones, and nose because those are the parts of himself that he can show a little bit of in the light to a house guest before they realize that he’s actually rotting and falling apart.”

“She's an outsider. She has this understanding about the shadow side of life that is very deep, but she doesn't have language for that. She's totally misunderstood and no one can see her," he says. "Because of this gift, in her teenage years, she ends up reaching out to this demon lover, this vampire, who is the one being who can connect with that side of her. But then that other, sensual, erotic world is connected to this evil force, which only increases her shame."

Sources:

[sugar-petals]

Kento yamazaki the ultimate anime crush came to life...that's it that's the ask 😂 ( do you think he might be a soft dramatic like hyunjin ? Cause the man looks majestic !) Also, wishing you a nice day caro ☀️🌹

kento might be a pure dramatic. i actually share his type! 🎉 a D body shape is like a column. rule: put a man in a pure classic suit and his type's primary characteristic will show. look how loose the pants are bc his legs are so narrow, and how vertical his frame is:

pure D gives a serene, swept up look that comes without the soft lips, doe eyes, and less intensely carved cheeks of the SD, who — unlike pure D — does not have a resting face naturally. compare kento with SD jin:

^ yang shows bone structure, yin conceals it/lays on top. that's how you spot a soft subtype (SD, SC, SN, SG) in the kibbe system.

kento is tall, very narrow + has an angular face contour. geometric jawline, long nose bridge, taut cheeks. sharp yang everywhere. you can almost always spot a pure D by their chiseled, prominent [natural] nose, only followed by TR, FN, and FG.

he is 5'10 — not a D height for a western man, more like DC, pure N or SD. but: we have to account for the national average height in typing. in japan, that is around 5'7. so, he is taller than average, and that's where SD, D, and FN will be.

he is not soft yin enough to be SD, nor broad like FN. actor hiroshi abe at 6'2 would be an example of an FN in japanese film. very broad, muscular, with a D undercurrent. even among sumo wrestlers (SN archetype), he will stand out.

instead of brawn and muscle, the pure D type is all about the haute couture. kento looks great in modelling editorials. compare the difference, though: SD clothes (satin draping) distract from his face and curly hair is too messy, while pure D (harsh angles) with its sleek hair showcases the face.

i also noticed he looks much more mature than his real age. kento must be 42 i thought. turns out he's 30?! next to FN, pure D is the only type that would never look 10 years younger like gamines, who are constantly thought to be teenagers vice versa. i'd be impossible to guess yoongi or baekhyun's age.

observation: babies are R-like (soft, small, round), early teens are G-like (baby face w/ growing limbs, yet still small), C and N are adulthood, but D is the opposite end: with age, cheekbones become stronger, ears & noses elongated, limbs bony, faces more defined.

so: we're all born yin, and many of us increase in yang with time. that's why pure D looks so mature. many D, FN, and DC actors only become well-known when everyone else is past their zenith. think christopher lee! D takes the most time to grow into their type. if you're a late bloomer? you have sharp yang.

magic trick: as soon as you dress D like a mature man (a black kimono is very yang-dominant), they look younger/their age.

talk about black colors: a male D is best suited by long, dark, tamed hair. fashion-wise, black and white contrasts with tailored edges. he does it so well.

thanks for suggesting him to me, i wasn't familiar with kento!

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, graphic violence, blood, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 17: oopsie-daisies

🔹🔹🔹

“can you even properly see over the dash?”

Damian rolls his eyes exaggeratedly as he scowls in your direction quickly before his eyes return to the road, he hits the brakes a little too hard and you're certain he's trying to get you to choke on your juice, the little bastard-

“Do you think I'd pick a car I couldn't properly operate.”

He sounds so offended that you have to hold in a snicker, to be completely fair to him he's doing pretty good, He clearly knows all the traffic laws and he looks comfortable with himself, guess those alleged lessons with dick are going well?

“I'm allowed to express concern you know, it's a valid question when my life is at stake here.” you hide your smirk by turning your head to stare out the dark tinted window at the dark Gotham streets, the street level looks different at night. You'd asked about the legality of the tinted glass earlier and all you got was a ‘people don't care about those things here’ from the preteen, whatever the fuck that means.

Damian's huffy reply drags your gaze back to him before you can get lost in thought. “if you're so worried I'll crash how come you're sitting like that? You know you're at increased risk of injury, right.” it's your turn to roll your eyes when he throws a pointed look at your shoes propped up on the wooden dash,

“Maybe I'm testing my luck, God can't catch me lacking twice in a row or whatever you kids say these days.” you snicker unashamedly when Damian groans in that way teenagers do when they're feeling secondhand embarrassment, who knew you'd enjoy tormenting a child.

He gapes at you in a look of horror usually reserved for boomers, you're surprised he didn't throw your juice out the window or something. “I hate you. Don't use those words again please.”

“Don't be a hater, I came with you to help you get over your fratricidal tendencies not give you incentive.” you openly laugh when his jaw clenches and he sighs loudly, refusing to even look in your direction.

“I'm putting you in a bad retirement home.”

“Shush and focus on the road, if you crash I'm not paying.” you stare out the window again while loudly sipping your drink out of pettiness . “obviously father would pay for any damages done in a hypothetical crash.”

Another eye roll, maybe you two are actually secretly related or something.

“I meant the food, kiddo.” He looks at you like you just stepped on his dog's foot, huffing through his nose at you while a comfortable silence settles over the car for a few moments. You doubt this is what Damian wanted you to join him for, but he doesn't look unhappy to have you along.

Eventually he pulls the car into a parking lot, and throws it in park, something called a batburger sits in front of you.

The parking lots practically empty, odd this time of evening. Damian's unbuckling his seatbelt so clearly he intends to go in regardless of the eerie feeling. You're not letting him go in there alone so you unbuckle your self and start to open the door.

“whatever you're getting I'm getting, so pick something actually decen-”

You're debating whether it's safer for the kid to stay in the car or come in with you when something cold suddenly presses against your temple, you don't even have to look to know what exactly it is, you've been in this situation before after all.

“No sudden moves, Wayne.”

Wow, you didn't even have to get out of the car to get a gun to the face.

It's hard to see much of him with the position your heads stuck in, a dark wool coat and dark jeans is what's most visible in your peripheral, average height, the slight tremor against your skull tells you enough about the guy. The strong scent of too many cigarettes can't quite cover his nerves.

“Easy there…. Not in front of the kid.” Your eyes dart towards Damian while your voice trembles, shaking hands raising in front of you slowly. Damian's own hands raise when the guy leans down to glance in the car window at him, giving you get a good look at his face now, or rather what's visible above the bandana covering his nose and mouth.

Shaggy hair, grey eyes and a clear scar from a recently healed broken nose bridge fills your peripheral, he scrutinizes you both with clearly forced vitriol.

“The kid's gonna be just fine if you keep your pretty little mouth shut and do as I say, you and I are gonna take a little walk so your baby doesn't get scared. Just down that alley, if you make any funny moves I'll light up the car.” The mans voice is raspy, smelling strongly of cigarette as he nudges your head with the barrel of the handgun.

Wanting just you to move to a secondary location? That can't happen, you're not leaving a kid alone in Gotham with who-knows-what.

“Okay…. I'm reaching for the door…” you announce your moves before you do anything so he doesn't get trigger happy, Damian reacts strongly to your words and grabs your arm tightly. “what? No! You're not leaving.”

The man snarls and points the gun right at Damian. “You shut your mouth before I shut your parents mouth-ack!”

Pointing the gun at Damian's head was the last straw. You grab the gun as quickly as possible, hand squeezing around the barrel and slide as tight as you can shoving his hand up towards the roof of the car while at the same time slamming your weight into the partially open door, it slams into the man's gut before he can finish his threat.

With his grip on it sufficiently loosened you twist it out of his grasp and all but throw the magazine out and pull the slide back to make sure there's nothing in the chamber, the moron didn't even have it properly loaded. When he grunts outside the car you quickly turn your body towards the door and donkey kick it as hard as you can, once again slamming the metal into the man when he tried to recover from the shock.

“You fucking bit-” you roll your eyes while climbing out of the car and standing over the fallen would-be attacker, his nose crunches sickeningly under your shoe when you kick him.

“Oops, right on that scar too. What a shame.” You hear Damian climb out of the car but you don't pay him any mind as you roll the bleeding guy over with your shoe, the man yanks his bandana down and you get an eyeful of his bleeding broken nose and tobacco stained teeth bared in a snarl.

“What the fucks wrong with you-” you kick him in the gut this time and he tries to grab your leg with his bloody hands, you quickly sidestep and when he gets in his hands and knees you grab the car door again, this time he screams when the metal slams against his head.

“What's your angle here.” Your voice is dead calm as you look down at the struggling man, eyes darting around while you make sure no one's sneaking up on you during your little interrogation attempt.

“go to hell!” When the man tries to spit blood on your feet you reach through the open car door and grab the gun, pressing it against his temple in a mirrored mockery of how all this started.

You watch his breathing change as he meets your stare, his bloodshot eyes darting between the handgun and your cold expression quickly. “That's not what I asked, what was your plan here. Just looking for some quick pocket change? Or did your friends put you up to this?”

His Adams apple bobs as he swallows thickly, you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he thinks about how to respond.

“…I'd rather die than tell you anything, rich bastard!”

“You hesitated.” you cock the hammer slowly. “You're staring down the barrel of a gun while talking about dying, you're clearly with someone. what do they have over your head that's so important, information? Debt?”

You notice in your peripheral damian circling around the car and he's standing close behind you, his stance wide and his head turning quickly. Is he watching your back?

“Are you a fucking cop or something? Shut your dirty who-” a smack from the gun silences the attacker quickly enough, he spits out more blood before glaring up at you weakly, the fear apparent in his body language. “I didn't tell you to question me.”

He scowls up at you weakly, blood and tears dripping down his face from the broken nose.

“…you're not getting nothing outta me, you don't know what real issues are up in your big shiny estate acting like you're above us all. Like you own Gotham and everyone in it. they're gonna burn all you son's a bitches to the ground someday, you'll know who owns who then.”

Wow did he practice that in the mirror, you're unimpressed as you stare down at him after he finishes his monologue.

“So you're part of the pyromaniac's club then, figures.”

His eyes widen. “wh-what?” he quickly tries to grab at your face with his blood streaked hands, clearly in some kind of panic.

He goes very still when the gun barrel is jammed in his mouth, scraping against his teeth while he stares up at you with wide, teary eyes. He shakily grabs at your wrists but doesn't make and sudden moves, guess you finally scared him straight.

“holy shit stop!” a gloved hands grabs at your shoulders and tries to yank the gun from your grasp, you nearly lash out at the attacker before you recognize the cape and cowl, rolling your eyes when you realize it's one of the heroes here.

“easy, cape. It's not what it looks like.”

You let red Robin pull you away from the guy, he nearly slams you down against the car hood while he tries to wrestle the gun from you, guess he doesn't believe you.

“it's not loaded, relax!” You grunt at the rough treatment, hand relaxing and allowing the young hero to pry it from your fingers and check that it's indeed not loaded and therefore not deadly. this body really isn't used to this kind of abuse yet…

You didn't expect Damian to jump in though.

Smaller hands rip the tight grip off your wrists and he roughly pushes the hero away enough that you can straighten up again. “oh my God can you fuck off!? This doesn't concern you!” Damian cussing out the hero is….. Surprising.

“Doesn't ’concern me’? I think someone getting brutalized in a public parking lot is cause for concern, kid.”

“I think you should be more focused on the man who threatened our lives, kid.” Damian crosses his arms over his chest with the biggest scowl on his face you've seen yet, you don't know what his beef is with the vigilante but this is….. Personal?

Red Robin scoffs at presumably the both of you and quickly goes to zip tie the man still in the ground, you can feel the wariness radiating off him even without seeing his expression at all. You step between him and Damian out of some unfamiliar instinct.

“Damian, please let me handle this.” Your voice is firm as you turn to address the hero. “The man attacked me and…. My child, attempted to kidnap me and threatened to murder the boy. You might not like how it looks but I did my job as a guardian.”

Red Robin glances at you for a moment with an unreadable expression while he checks over the guy, when he pulls ductape and a syringe from one of the wool coat pockets he finally seems to get over himself a bit, shoulders dropping as he pulls an evidence bag out of a belt pouch.

“you probably gave him PTSD and a concussion.” his voice of still firm, chastising you for how you handled things as if he knows best.

It pisses you right off immediately, you know for a fact that the vigilantes have done worse in this city. You're keeping watch of them through the news after all. He's a damn hypocrite who thinks you should've laid down and taken it like a lamb, left the child to his own devices so you didn't make ripples in their pond. your eyes narrow as your tone goes much colder when you reply to him.

“Good, maybe he'll learn something from it, I did.”

His head whips towards you as he stands up, shock apparent in his unsure stance while he looks you up and down.

“…. Just…. Go home. I'm getting this man to a hospital.”

One brow quirks up as you give him an incredulous look, your eyes dart to the dented and slightly blood spattered car door before looking back at the caped vigilante.

“I think the cops are gonna want to speak to me about this.”

He shakes his head and lifts his hand to his head like he's gonna run his hands down his face or over his scalp, but stops himself so his hand just drops awkwardly.

“I'll handle that right now, someone will talk to you later…just get out.”

You intend to protest, tell him you know what the protocol is in these situations but he just points at the car like you're a dog he's sending to a crate.

Damian tugs on your jacket and you finally break your stare down with the hero, wordlessly he gestures with his head towards the car so you comply, fishing the magazine and loose bullets out of the cushions which you hand to the vigilante.

“here's some evidence, I think there's DNA in the door locks too, I'll tell our butler not to touch it.”

your voice is clipped, as soon as he takes them from your grasp and starts to tuck them into an evidence bag you turn away and cross around the car, Damian doesn't question you when your slide into the driver's seat, just gets in your previous spot, ignoring the fine misted blood spatter and spilled juice, in fact he doesn't say anything at all when you start to drive the car out of the parking lot.

🔹🔹🔹

You know you're fucked when you walk into the manor and see Bruce on the couch alongside Alfred.

Damian speaks first, clearly trying to get ahead of the situation.

“ahem, hello father….. Me and parent went ou-” Bruce points towards the direction of the stairs in the other hall. “I know Damian. Go to your room.”

Damian looks shaken at the rough tone in Bruce's voice, his eyes darting towards you. Comfort seeking maybe? You gently pat his shoulder when he subtly leans closer to you, your eyes never leaving the two men across the room.

“…but i-” Damian tries to start again but Bruce standing up effectively silences him. “your room, Damian. I need to talk to (name) right now.”

Damian's head ducks down and he gently pushes your hand off him, wordlessly turning on his heel and leaving the room, slamming the door shut to show he's displeased as he disappears.

The room falls silent for a moment save for the echo of the door slamming into the frame, Bruce's eyes meet yours as he slowly puts his hands on his hips, you know by the tense jaw and stiff shoulders he's unhappy.

“…how come I found out you and my youngest child weren't home from commissioner Gordon of all people.” he speaks slowly, voice low as if he only wants the people in the room to hear him.

You casually cross the room to stand in front of him, a coffee table the only thing between you two. You shove your hands into your pockets with a forced casual air about you. “the kid wanted to go out so I went with him, hello to you too by the way. How was your day.”

Neither man reacts well to your sarcasm, Alfred pinches the bridge of his nose and leans his head back against the couch cushions. “Master Wayne...”

Bruce sighs deeply and crosses his arms over his chest, her slowly steps around the table so there's nothing between you. “quit the bullshit.”

Anger prickles under your skin again as they both call you out, first the hero and now them?

“what are you asking of me then, what was I supposed to do here, let the kid go out without anyone to supervise? He would've been kidnapped or worse.” your words are forcibly calm, the eye contact getting intense.

Bruce doesn't take that well though, his hands fly up and he gestures at you with clear anger while his voice rises in volume.

“You're supposed to talk to me about my kid! Even one single text would've been better than the nothing you've given me to work with! You should've said no to Damian and told me what he was up to, not this sneaking around shit-” you roll your eyes and cut him off firmly.

“oh so only you're allowed to hide things, I wonder where he's learning that.” your voice is practically a hiss, you free your hands from your pockets and cross them over your chest while stepping closer to the man.

Bruce's expression falls into something between confusion and anger, eyes flicking towards Alfred for just a second before returning to you. “…what're you talking about…”

Alfred jumps up with surprising speed for his age, he knows where this is going. “Master Wayne, Bruce, this is not the time nor the place for-”

You ignore the older man and gesture at Bruce angrily, nearly jabbing your finger into his chest. “was it a car wreck? A trip down the stairs? What's the next one gonna be Bruce? Maybe Alfred's making up evidence for a cycling incident? Gonna tell me this was a grease burn next?”

You yank the sleeve of his tee shirt up and gesture at the bandages around his bicep, he pushes your hand away and scowls at you.

“You don't get to turn this around on me (name), this is about your actions. you or Damian could've died out there, would you have bothered to tell me then?”

You nearly roll your eyes again. “I had it handled.” you snap at him louder than you intended, but you're not apologizing now. Not while you're pissed.

His nostrils flare in anger and he turns away from you to pace around the room, probably a tick when he's worked up. “I saw the pictures, I know how you ‘handled’ it. What if there was a group? Would you have ‘handled’ an organized attack, or the car getting firebombed? Goddamn it (name)! I'm supposed to keep you and the kids safe!”

You hate how he's talking about you like you're an idiot with zero preservation skills and no autonomy, you're a goddamn adult who can do what they want for crying out loud! Your next words are cruel and you know it before you even spit them out.

“Like at the charity gala?” The room goes dead silent, Bruce's expression twists as he sits back down on the couch with pained body language. His eyes don't leave your form while he seems to deflate a little, Alfred looks between the both of you silently. The old man pursing his lips and looking like he wants to intervene but thankfully he doesn't, you'd probably snap at him too for his own bullshit.

“…. That's not fair and you know it.”

Bruce's words are clipped, but he can't hide the discomfort in his body language, the crossing arms and leaning away from you even though you're not close to him indicating his hurt.

“I know it's not, that's why you need to get it through your head that sometimes shit happens out of your control. I'm going to do what I need to when things are dangerous, clearly, accept it or don't.”

Turning on your heel, You all but stomp away as Bruce calls after you to come back, you have no intention of continuing this if he's just gonna scold you with Alfred like they're your handler's. God you wish you had a punching bag right now.

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A/n: I feel like apologizing for the sudden angst 😭 hopefully the fight scene isn't too cringe it's my first time writing that kind of thing in detail 😓 that said I hope y'all are having a good weekend and are taking care of yourselves! 💞

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet @omnivirgo @shirp-collector-of-fixations @spidermanluvr444 @br33zy-blizzardz @lunarapple @findingjaxx @4rachn3 @buckturd

[witchofthesouls]

Can we get some cybertronian birb Jack bonding with Optimus? Good soup

Optimus had long gotten used to waking up with a small frame curled upon him. Even with an attachment for a bitlet's recharge slab with sheets and pillows that hadn't been scrap salvenged or rotted by rust, Jack crawled into Optimus' berth.

Despite the extreme suppression of his presence, Jack was a highly affectionate sparkling. Different from the usually self-contained human teenager that Optimus was used to. Little fingers grabbing the seams along his legs and waist, a small frame easily scaling up his height, an immature wingspan clattering against his smokestacks, a nuzzle across his neck-cables or an insistent, worldless demand of a cuddle for comfort, the strange, elusive EM field burbling joy in his own steady one for attention, and finding Jack slotted over his back or hugging his side during recharge in a sheet bundle.

Jack wedged himself between Optimus' back and the wall, hooking slim talons into armor, so in case Optimus decided to leave the room, then Jack was hitchhiking along side with well-practiced habit of utilizing magnets to keep in place.

Such as this morning.

Optimus slipped out of the berth, stretching out, frame hissing and cracking as it loosened up. Jack was barely a noticeable weight on his back as well as a heavy sleeper, slightly twitching when the sheets were left behind. Softly snoozing as Optimus walked in the Ark's hallway, not even hitching with the increased noise, but then again, Jack had settled down easily in trading hubs and space ports far busier and facilities that lacked the appropriate crew space for Cybertronians. Happy to tuck away against Optimus' frame or inside the cab to save room and a physical deterrent against more unscrupulous souls that tracked an immature frame of an advanced mechanical species.

Because as clever Jack may be, he could be overwhelmed with enough preparation as he lacked the full scope of transformation abilities, including an alt-mode and weaponry system.

Optimus heard the flapping wings before a few corvids perched on his shoulders, finding a purchase on the exposed cabling of his protoform. The blackbirds were highly vocal: chittering and making undulating calls; excited as the birds had long memorized the morning schedule of shower time.

Unlike their own dimension, where the flagship had to be abandoned due to the severe lack of resources to get a modicum of a functionality, not even worth it considering how small their team was, this Ark was liveable and retained most of its functions with the unfortunate exceptions of downed flight capabilities and long-distance transportation warp gates.

Here, with the help of nearby hydrothermal springs, volcanic activity, and Oregon's wet climate, the Autobots had a fully stocked shower rack with no strict rationing on the distilled water, heat, or usage.

It was an indulgence that Optimus allowed himself to enjoy, especially since Jack needed far more maintenance compared to him. Jack's frame was immature, still developing and reconfiguring itself orn by orn, including his limbs and wingspan. Seams lengthening or shortening. Some disappearred completely and slowly resurface over the months. Dry brushing was a necessary evil- no matter how much Jack squirmed, whined, and tried to avoid it by squireling away in hard to reach areas -in ports with limited-to-no available solvents for personal care. Grime that settled deep into Jack's current frame development would cause protoform irritation, armature warping, delayed growth, and uneven coloration.

Jack eventually learned to appreciate grooming in wet baths, especially in places where he was free to roam around or splash about.

Within a private stall, both animals and sparkling screeched back and forth, circling the enclosed space before Jack willingly went to Optimus' lap, kicking out his pedes, splaying out his wingspan as wide as possible.

Optimus had never told anyone that he still carried or, at least, regained some tidbits of his Wastelands history as he switched from blunt digits to claws. Jack purred, grey-blue optics dimming as the sharpened tips picked at his seams to remove any dust and dirt, and they settled in a familiar, pleasant groove where Jack chattered about dreams and yesterday's adventures, wiggling around as Optimus guided his frame to reach other seams, fields meshed in a homey, comfortable buzz under the hot spray of multiple shower heads.

Jack vibrated with pure joy when Optimus scrapped the last areas and ushered him off, and shook his entire body, platelets clattering in a similar ripple as, much to the corvids' continuous delight, a manner similar to the birds' ruffled feathers as they used a soaking bowl for wash rags as a birdbath.

[eilorow]

Family Bond - Part 1

Tyler was a 19 year-old teenager who lived alone with his dad in their small home. His mother had passed away in an accident a few years ago, so he and his father stuck close together. They would usually play board games or look at science magazines, spending entire weekend afternoons with quality family time.

However, Tyler was not a happy boy. Standing at 5’7, and very skinny, he attracted the attention of his school’s football team, who enjoyed making his life a living nightmare. As a puny sophomore, there is nothing much he could do to prevent them. What added insult to the injury is the fact that, deep down, Tyler had always wished he could be one of them. He was longing for popularity and friendship, two things he was never able to obtain.

One day, Tyler was walking home after a rough session of bullying. The football team had pushed him inside his locker and locked him in, meaning he had to bang on the door until the janitor went and fetched a metal cutter to set him free from the lock. He was feeling even more down than usual, so when he passed by the local sports supplies store, he couldn’t help but feel sour. He kept thinking “why couldn’t that be me?” As he was about to go past it, he got an idea. He went inside and bought a football; he had never tried before, so how else would he know if he had some kind of potential? Feeling a little ashamed of his spontaneous purchase, he continued walking towards his home.

“Dad, I’m home!” Tyler yelled, while stepping through the front door. No answer; his dad must be out getting errands done. He slumped his way to his room and dumped his bag and football on the floor. He then sat on his bed and held his head in his hands. Still thinking about his day at school, he pouted at the ball next to him; it was a stupid idea to even buy it in the first place, but he might as well do something with it. He decided to take it outside and try it out; he put on a red t-shirt, black sweatpants and his white and red running shoes.

As he was walking towards the back door, his attention was suddenly driven towards the garage. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but he had a sudden urge to go there instead. In the back of the room, he saw his dad’s old workout furniture. There was a stationary bike and a bench with some free weights. Tyler had never wanted to use the weights, but felt like trying something new.

The teenager moved over to the bench, apprehensively, and dropped his football next to it. He then grabbed a couple of weights, got on his back, and started lifting. That was when he started growing. As he was bringing his arms up and down, they were getting slightly bigger, his biceps inflating until he had an easier time keeping the weights up, and his hands enlarging until he could comfortably wrap them around the dumbbells. His chest and pecs puffed up slightly as his shoulders started broadening, filling his once loose t-shirt until it fit him snugly. His back also broadened and stretched, making him grow from 5’7 to 5’9. Then, his legs bulked up slightly, tightening his sweatpants who lightened to a dark grey color.

After dropping the weights next to him, Tyler got up from the bench, not noticing his tighter clothes or increased height. As he headed towards the stationary bike, he grabbed his football from the floor. Once on the bike, he cranked the knob to make it a bit harder for himself. When he started pedaling, he went much faster than he normally would’ve. Then, as his legs were gaining speed, they started growing as well. His thighs and calves swelled bigger and bigger, until his sweatpants were tight enough to ride above his ankles, as they turned a medium shade of grey. His ass started plumping up, slightly raising his vantage point. His feet were twisting in his shoes, lengthening until they took up the whole space, hurting slightly from being constricted. His legs also stretched until he grew two extra inches, bringing him up to 5’11. Then, as if an old habit was coming back, he started throwing the ball up and catching it, while pedaling on the bike.

After stopping the bike and stepping off, the now fit young man went towards the bench again, still not noticing his changes, in spite of the fact he was slightly unbalanced due to his 4 new inches of height. However, after dropping his football next to it, he decided to do some push-ups instead. He walked a few steps over and positioned himself on the hard ground. He did one, two, three in a row, not even stopping to catch his breath in between each one, going up and down easier than ever before in his life. Suddenly, after a few more push-ups, he got a searing pain in his stomach, as if all his abs had cramped at once. He immediately dropped on the ground, writhing in pain all over, and started growing again. He felt as if he was being stretched from all over, groaning as all his muscles grew at the same time.

As the pain started to fade, Tyler felt his cock getting erect, pointing up its fully hard 4 inches. He propped his arms forwards, trying to stabilize himself into getting back up, but was distracted by the feeling of his neck thickening. He pushed out a deeper groan as his face started changing slowly, his nose and chin pushing forwards as his jaw hardened. His hair also lightened from dark brown to a lighter brown as his meager body hair receded back into his skin. He tried to get up again, only to watch his hands grow, his fingers stretching and thickening against the ground, his palms and knuckles broadening. The growth moved up to his forearms, biceps and shoulders, bulking and bulging until both sleeves ripped off of his t-shirt, leaving him in some kind of tank top exposing his muscly arms.

The exhausted and groaning Tyler finally managed to prop himself into a sitting position, only to feel a sharp pain mixed with pleasure coming from his crotch area. He looked down in bewilderment to see his dick poking out further, as it grew from 4 to 5 inches. He then felt a heaving at his chest as his shirt ripped to bloating pecs, broadening shoulders and an expanding torso. He looked down to see his abs chiseling, forming a bulky 6-pack above a muscly pelvis. He then put his buffed arms forwards again, using them to prop his legs up into a kind of push-up position, trying to stand up again. He was interrupted by the feeling of his legs growing again, looking between his arms to watch his thighs and calves bulking up into meaty legs while his ass was puffing out again, causing his pants to ride up to just under his knees, as they turned an even lighter shade of grey. He suddenly let out a moan, as he watched his dick start to grow again in girth and in length, reaching 6 inches, the pleasure causing him to buckle and fall on his knees. Feeling a sharp pain at his feet, he looked back to see them push out from the front of his shoes, until the soles eventually gave out. The destroyed shoes falling on the ground, he could see his white socks tightly stretched across his huge feet. He then felt another wave of pleasure, arching his back and moaning deeply as his dick grew girthier and longer, reaching 7 inches.

Out of breath, and finally feeling the transformation subside, he propped a leg up and stood up. He felt unsteady at first, thrown off due to him reaching 6’1 during his last growth spurt. Pre was leaking from his dick as he made his way back to the bench, wobbling slightly, only to fall forwards onto it, grabbing both sides to steady himself. As he was wincing in apprehension of the coming growth, a rich tan started spreading on his skin as his face changed again, his brows furrowing, forehead pushing forwards with his widening nose and hardening chin, his cheeks and jaw muscling up, his lips plumping up as his now blonde hair receded into his head, giving him a short buzz cut. As his neck started thickening, he pushed out a deepening groan as he started contorting. His hands grew and strengthened his grip on the bench, his arms bulked up, his torso stretched up and expanded, his back pumped up, his pecs and ass blew up, his thighs and calves bulged and stretched out, and his elongating feet arched upwards to support his new height. His pants rode up to his knees, became white and turned into some kind of stretchy material. Ultimately, he cried out a deep moan as his dick girthed up and stretched to an impressive 8 inches, making him cum on the spot.

Tyler remained there for a few seconds, his head down, a dumb, sweaty, panting, 6’3 buffed up jock in white stretchy pants that showed his muscly ass and thighs. After catching his breath for a bit and letting his dick soften up, the athlete lifted his head up, looking down below the bench, not noticing the new white and red wristbands he was wearing, and saw his football and a cap he recognized as his. He picked up the first and put the second on backwards, then leaned on the bench to cool down further. When he was done fully catching his breath, he got up and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

-----

Tyler is now a senior in college. At 21 years old, 6’3 and 240 pounds, the star player of the football team feared no intimidation or bullying. As for friends, he was the one choosing who to decline, as he was one of the most popular guys in school.

[11queensupreme11]

Those comments about whether Percy should be the ✨️IT girl✨️ of the universe or the multiverse got to me

I started thinking about how beautiful she is and how she is accidentally causing a war between the gods, then I started thinking a little and remembered another situation where the beauty of a goddess/woman caused a war, That's right, I'm talking about the Trojan War

All that confusion (according to mythology) started because Eris threw an apple on the table and offered it to the most beautiful goddess, which caused a conflict between the goddesses who got up to get the apple (Athena, Hera and Aphrodite), not Would it be funny if we recreated this scene with the big three?

During act 4 the yanderes are watching the PJ world, they are watching the PJ gods interact at a visibly tense dance, it is very obvious that the three brothers are uncomfortable or irritated at having to interact with each other, during a small argument between the three of them the goddess Eris approaches

She praises the three for having such beautiful daughters and says she wants to offer this golden apple to the God who has the eldest daughter, she throws the apple towards the three and they all get up to catch it and that's when a huge fight begins over which semi -goddess is the most beautiful (let's change the age at which Thalia became a hunter and we will also change the age at which Bianca died so that they are both at the height of their teenage beauty to be able to "compete" with Percy)

The three decide to use the opinion of a quarter to decide who is the most beautiful, initially Zeus asks Hera to be the judge but she refuses (she totally does this as revenge because when she asked him to be the judge last time he refused), no goddess wants to judge this case so they choose a mortal woman to decide

PJ Hades knows that Bianca is not the most beautiful but it is a matter of paternal love to defend her honor, PJ Zeus is defending that Thalia is the most beautiful both as a political act and as a matter of narcissism but he knows that she is not is the most beautiful and PJ Poseidon is arguing that Percy is the most beautiful both because he loves her and because he KNOWS he is right (this will be the ONLY time that ror Poseidon agrees with PJ Poseidon)

In a similar way to the original tale, the three gods go to the mortal and each one makes a different proposal about what the woman will gain depending on which girl she chooses, meanwhile the three girls are next to their respective fathers, each wearing a beautiful dress and decorated with beautiful jewelry (Percy's dress has a marine theme and she is decorated with pearls, Bianca's dress has a gothic theme and her jewelry is all black, while Thalia's dress has a sea theme stormy night sky and her jewelry is more varied jewelry)

Percy (despite actually being the prettiest) loses the competition since Zeus's bribe was better, it all ends up in an even bigger mess than at the beginning because now Poseidon and Hades are particularly bitter about how Zeus is boasting about his victory and the enmity between the three increases

Unfortunately they are no longer at the height of Greece so waging a war to demonstrate dissatisfaction with the result of the contest like Hera and Athena did is impossible (ror Poseidon is almost having an aneurysm due to PJ Poseidon not starting a war or a massacre in the name of his daughter's honor)

How do the ror gods react to this? (more specifically the three big)

"Poseidon is arguing that Percy is the most beautiful both because he loves her and because he KNOWS he is right (this will be the ONLY time that ror Poseidon agrees with PJ Poseidon)"

WRONG!

there is nothing pjo!poseidon can do that would even satisfy ror!poseidon by 1%

he calls percy beautiful, and ror!poseidon would be like "THATS IT? only 'beautiful'? what, do you need a thesaurus or something, MY DAUGHTER IS MORE THAN JUST 'BEAUTIFUL', SHE'S--" *rants for the next few hours describing his daughter-wife's beauty*

he'd also judge the dress pjo!poseidon gives her 😭 like "is that the best dress you could give her? how DARE you insult by daughter by giving her such a sub-par dress! you're clearly trying to sabotage her!!! 😡🔱"

and omggggg when percy actually loses, someone would need to hold this man back. he's pissed at EVERYONE (except his daughter-wife ofc 🥺). he'd be pissed that pjo!poseidon doesn't even TRY to fight for his daughter's honor, pissed at pjo!zeus for cheating, and pissed at pjo!hades for thinking his daughter even had a chance (sorry bianca, but he hates you for existing 💔), pissed at the human for taking zeus' bribe, etc...

once hades gets a handle on what pjo!zeus' personality is like, he already knew it would end with thalia/zeus winning because he knows pjo!zeus WOULD cheat, so he's not that surprised. disappointed that he would cheat, but not surprised. he's a little miffed that the girls would be put in such a demeaning and embarrassing position tho, and if he were there, he would like to have a word with eris for causing this mess (again).

he'd definitely prefer it if percy won tho cuz he's in love with her AND knows that she's the prettiest of the bunch. sorry to thalia and bianca, but he doesn't know or care for them 😭

meanwhile zeus is cackling and laughing at his loser brothers 😂 he would definitely try to hide behind adamas when shit gets real, but adamas would happily kick him aside and let him face the consequences 😭

[chickuin]

Guess who made a P:EG OC

I kind of just frankensteined a bunch of elements together after scalping Cara and using her as a base. She was already wearing the sweater I wanted so I was like “might as well”.

This is Fumiyo Toriyama, the Ultimate Author

Here is some extra info:

Talent: Ultimate Author

Gender: Female

Animal Motif: Ostrich

Height: 5’7”

Weight: 143 lbs

Age: 16

Date of Birth: June 25th

Likes: True Crime, Milkshakes

Dislikes: Sticklers, Formal Events

Her Ultimate Talent Story

(I’m not the best at wording so bare with me)

Fumiyo has always been obsessed with any kind of book she could get her hands on, eventually she decided, at the age of 10, to begin writing her own stories. They weren’t very good at first but the adults around her could tell she’d be a great writer one day, so she was pushed to keep going. She did keep going, however she refused to share what she wrote after she turned 13, this was because her writing had become mostly fan fiction At the age of 15, she was told about a writing competition being hosted by the former Ultimate Author, she decided to join. The theme was a story about romance. She’d spent many nights perfecting this story and when it came time to submit the final draft, she messed up. She accidentally submitted one of her fanfics to the competition, and that particular story was more…intimate than what the judges were expecting. She was mortified, she didn’t know what to do. By the time the results came out she was sure she wasn’t going to win anything, but she was wrong. She had won 1st place. The prize for first place was to get your story published, but she was already worried enough from accidentally submitting the wrong story. So she refused the prize. Unbeknownst to her, the former Ultimate Author published it without her permission, and this story became the best selling book of the year, so many bookstores were seeing an increase in profit after they stocked her story. Fumiyo was unaware of all this, she only figured it out when she got a letter in the mail telling her that the UTP wanted her to be the Ultimate Author. She accepted of course, but she refuses to tell the truth about the story she submitted to this day.

Animal Motif

I chose the Ostrich for Fumiyo, this is due to multiple reasons, but the main one is that the ostrich can symbolize foolishness in religious text, Fumiyo is a fool, not just because she’s your classic teenager, but because she remains unaware of things that stand even in front of her face. Although it is a myth, Ostriches are known for sticking their heads in the ground to avoid danger, which obviously would not work. This is similar to Fumiyo, you can see this in her ultimate talent story, she refuses to admit the truth about her story, but everyone knows it’s her story and it’s clear that’s how she got her talent, and even though people can see it, she’ll continue to ignore it and lie about it due to her own embarrassment.

That’s it I think, let me know what you think (and yes she is inspired by gyaru styles) 👍🏼

[creativity-deficient]

Random Tweek Tweak hcs bc im thinking bout him yet again :)))

-Has an undiagnosed anxiety disorder, made worse by the increased use of Methamphetamine over the years and mistaken for adhd (canon/implied canon), which I do like to think DOES have as well. He is also on the autism spectrum.

-Has mild Seborrheic dermatitis, a skin condition that causes red and flaky patches of skin and usually flares up due to stress. It starts mainly on his head/under his hair as a kid but worsens in his teens years. Also has dermatillomania (a skin picking disorder), as well. Both of these become a lot worse in his teen years, with the addition of meth induced skin sores and hormonal acne to boot, but do become a lot more manageable for him as an adult. Still however, he does have some faint scars from all the picking and scratching over the years.

-Small tubby lil guy :) (sorta?? implied canon??), below average in height and considerably pudgy compared to most of his peers (genetics/stress eating). Loses a lot of this weight in his teen years due to health issues, but does gain a lot of it back as an adult. Also has a pudgy baby face that he never quite grows out of, even as an adult.

-His eyes a blue hazel, a rare eye color

-Sometimes snaps and hums to calm himself down.

-Enjoys baking as a casual hobby, though he’s still an amateur and doesn’t know how to make much. (implied canon)

-Once joined every school club because he had an anxiety attack and couldn’t decide what to pick

-Habitual nail chewer, again something he usually does due to stress. Nails are very short and stubby because of this

-Bandages on his fingers due to burns, skin picking, and nail biting

-Chronic ice-chewer

-Never learns to tie his shoes. Kept tripping over his laces before finally taking them out. Untied laces to laceless shoes to crocs to socks with sandals to velcro shoes pipeline

-Also never learns to drive, too much stress. Forever in his passenger princess era ✨

-Lowkey a backseat driver, though not in a “know it all” type of way. He mostly just freaks out the entire time.

-Can not sleep in the car because he’s afraid the second he closes his eyes, they’ll crash.

-Doesn’t know much slang/internet lingo and has absolutely no idea what his peers are talking about half the time (pretends he does and usually just ends up looking stupid 😔)

-Has a fear of rubberhose cartoons, as well as those weird old stop motion Christmas movies (he just finds them unsettling)

-Told about the secret family recipe as a teenager by his father, and is reasonably freaked out about it. Is forced to keep his mouth shut about it and suffers through major withdrawals before his parents are eventually exposed and arrested for the distribution of meth/counts of child abuse. Spends most of his high school years in therapy and rehab, though it’s all made easier with Craig by his side

-He and Craig try breaking up their freshman year of high school, both of them feeling like they need to try new things for a bit. It lasts about a week before they get back together.

-TERRIFIED of scissors and refuses to let anyone come near him with them. Grows his hair out long as a teenager before finally caving in and shaving it off as a young adult. He now keeps it managed, but Craig is the only person he trusts to do so.

-Did once try to cut his own hair in middle school though, and he spent weeks looking like a train-wreck before finally letting his mom fix it.

-His relationship with his mom is considerably better than his relationship with his father, and though he never quite forgives her for what she’s done, the two of them are able to reach some sort of closure with each other in Tweek’s older age

[ronqueesha]

It's thirsty thursday, and I was amusing myself by trying to think of the most NSFW headcanons I could possibly create for Nasosi and Yrliet.

Yrliet will eventually feel the urge to have a child, if for no other reason than to help stave off her people's extinction for a few generations more. It won't happen until after Nasosi is long dead, however. And while we don't know the specifics of Aeldari mating, we do know that it takes a VERY long time, and is quite unsexy from a human point of view. But I'd like to think when the day comes to name her child, they will have a tribute to Nasosi's name buried somewhere in the alien words.

Nasosi has been told many times during her life that she is attractive, though she has refused every advance ever offered to her. Especially during her later years in the schola progenium, when her fellow students reached their teenage years and hormones became an issue. Even as a commissar, she was propositioned by officers and nobles during gatherings and parties away from the battlefield.

Only one pompous and spoiled noble ever tried forcing themselves upon Nasosi after several firm yet polite rejections. They quickly learned that her authority as a commissar is extremely broad, and she suffered no consequences for inflicting a broken arm and a broken nose on someone trying to interfere with one of the Imperium's pillars of discipline.

After ascending to the Rogue Trader throne, Nasosi has been told many times how important it is for her to have a successor, someone of her bloodline to continue running her domain. So far, she has ignored this. But that hasn't stopped several nobles on Dargonus from trying to offer up their eldest sons and daughters to be her spouse. Some of them even recognize how attached Nasosi is to Yrliet, and have altered themselves to physically resemble the aeldari in a vain hope of catching Nasosi's attention. An entire generation of nobility have surgically increased their height, changed their hair to deep red, and even altered other things to greater resemble the xenos.

Nasosi has no problem getting naked in a private situation, like bathing. Communal showers are extremely common in the Imperium's military, and she doesn't consider herself a sexual being, so she has no issues with nudity. Her personal attendants were quite shocked when she bathed for the first time in her private chambers, alone, without their help, completely nude. And even when they filled the bathing chamber, she wasn't offended at their presence, she only rejected their offers to scrub her back or wash her hair for her.

[dark-elf-writes]

!!!!

Wen Ning, now even more closely bound to Wei Wuxian as General to his King, does not need a song to be called on by Wei Wuxian. A mere thought would do after the centuries they have known each other

So he hears the scrambled, terrified thoughts of Wei Wuxian trapped with a dog, reminiscent of what Wen Chao had done to him all those centuries ago. Wen Ning had saved him then too

Wen Ning was always the person most closely bound to Wei Wuxian’s power. It was a holdover from when Wei Wuxian was alive after all. A holdover of centuries of close proximity that left them inexorably bound. A bond that only got stronger after Wei Wuxian claimed the title of Ghost King and his powers grew exponentially.

If Wei Wuxian called, Wen Ning would hear.

No matter the distance. No matter what either of them were doing. Wen Ning would hear.

It wasn’t the communication array. It was something different. Something specific only to the two of them. Something bound and drenched in Wei Wuxian’s power.

It wasn’t something they used very often, all things considered. Wei Wuxian’s existence was much quieter than it once was without the entire world viewing him like a rabid animal to be put down. And beyond that there weren’t many beings foolish enough to incur the wrath of not one but two Ghost Kings (for anyone who tried to hurt Wei Wuxian would soon find Crimson Rain Sought Flower on their tail).

Truthfully Wei Wuxian mostly used it when he was feeling particularly lazy and wanted Wen Ning to baby him which, as his friend general and brother, Wen Ning was all too willing to oblige.

So when Wei Wuxian’s terrified voice echoed in his head for the first time in centuries it took Wen Ning entirely off guard. He was moving before he could even think, not hearing his sister calling for him as he bolted towards that voice.

(The voice of a teenage Wei Wuxian. The voice that Wen Ning still heard screaming on certain nights.)

“Get it away! Get it away! Help! Wen Ning help me!”Over and over again Wei Wuxian screamed for him. Wen Ning could only make himself move faster.

He wasn’t entirely sure how far he had run by the time he slammed through the wall of the shrine Wei Wuxian was being held in. Barely registered that the body he threw away from his brother was familiar Brit Gay the dog that he glared into moving away had even more familiar gold stitching in its collar. Not everything in him, his entire being, was focused on getting to Wei Wuxian’s side.

(Wen Ning no long fell into a trance when he fought. Was fully capable of thinking and making his own choices even when Wei Wuxian played for him to share energy and drive his power to new heights. Yet another change that came with Wei Wuxian’s increase in power and one that neither of them ever admitted to knowing why it had come around. Yet with Wei Wuxian still sobbing for help in his mind Wen Ning found himself dropping into something close to that old trance state.)

His hands that could crush stone were shaking as he reached for Wei Wuxian, young. He had looked so young when he wore this face. Had been so young when he had demanded Wen Ning and his sister butcher him for his brother’s sake. He kept his grip gentle as his pulled Wei Wuxian against him.

In his head Wei Wuxian still screamed. Still sobbed. Still begged to be saved from the fucking dog.

It was only the crack of lightning that made Wen Ning realize who exactly had been keeping Wei Wuxian hostage. Whose temple that they stood in. Whose junior officials Wen Ning had tossed aside like rag dolls to break in.

His ears rang.

His vision went red.

It was almost like going into that battle trance all over again.

Before Wen Ning could turn to face Jiang Wanyin another voice spoke. A voice that had both him and Wei Wuxian all but sobbing in relief.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Crimson Rain Sought Flower stood in the hole Wen Ning had kicked in the side of the shrine his Flower Crowned Martial God not two steps behind them. Both of them burned with fury. Both of them turned rage filled eyes to Jiang Wanyin.

Another crack, this time of year another wall being kicked in and there was Lan Wangji, incandescent with rage and eyes already seeking out Wei Wuxian.

(His family must have ran to their shrines the moment Wen Ning left, he realized. Must have told them that something was wrong with Wei Wuxian and sent them running to help.)

The dog barked.

Wei Wuxian finally lost his battle with the terror he had been fighting, knowing somewhere deep down, that he was safe, and passed out.

We Ning saw red.

He had carried Subian for years. He had promised never to reveal the full truth of what he, his sister, and Wei Wuxian had done.

He no longer cared.

Wen Ning tossed the sword at Jiang Cheng’s feet and snarled at him.

“Draw it.”

And with that demand, a secret centuries in the making was finally finally dragged into the light.

[arafilez]

☆ ⼂ LOVE, TAILORED ﹗two

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜[ fashion designer khj x ceo fem!reader ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤfluff, crack, e2l 𓏧 for the company assets you have to work with solo designer kim hongjoong. even if it meant him annoying you at every step. ㅤ warnings flirting ㅤ﹢ㅤ3k wc ꔫㅤㅤ ❜part one . two . three

“Did he just call you, darling?” you jump at the voice behind you as soon as you leave the room.

You slowly turn around, praying and hoping it is not one of your employees but you are met with a tall man wearing round glasses. His hair is brown-black with blue shades at the ends and honestly, it suits him well.

Your eyes form an obvious question mark as he grins lightly offering his hand and says, “Hi, I am Song Mingi, Joongie’s assistant and friend.”

“Joongie?” you question him as he slightly racks his head not understanding why you are so lost, before realising his own mistake.

“Oh I meant Mr. Kim,” he clarifies as you nod your head rapidly and shake his hand. He offers a light smile before asking again, “The ‘darling’ matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, your Mr. Kim has a habit of flirting as you already know probably,” you reply with an easy-going smile. Mingi looks like a soft person with all that height which you find very endearing.

“I guess so,” he replies quietly before bowing as you bow back and he takes his leave inside the room where Hongjoong is.

You bit your lips trying to resist a smile as you walk back slowly towards your own office.

Mingi narrows his eyes and enters the room to assist Hongjoong keeping a mental note to ask when he has ever flirted with anyone that deeply. He forgets. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ————

“What’s got you giggling so much like a teenager?” Seonghwa groans as you roll your eyes. If he wasn’t your friend from college you would never have his nagging ass around. Okay, maybe his organising and cleaning abilities are like yours too. Overly frantic!

“Did you know Kim has a sexy but cutie assistant?” you ask him as he narrows your eyes at you.

“No, I didn’t, is this because of him?” he asks pointing at your smiley face.

“Maybe,” you sang lightly, pushing yourself back into the chair as Seonghwa let out another sigh.

Your happiness is short-lived as your office door swings open and Hongjoong walks in with some sheets of paper in his hand. You abruptly pull your giggling self up and sit straight, staring at him with daggers in your eyes.

“Have you ever heard of, oh I don’t know, knocking?” you scream the last part of the sentence. Nonchalantly removing his beret, he put it down on your table before thrusting his sheets towards you.

“Zip it, princess, you weren’t doing anything highly confidential,” he replies.

“How do you know that?” you retort, your mind fogging with clouds of anger at the pet name. Princess, darling, what’s next sweetheart? You are getting extremely impatient at this man now.

Seonghwa pops a biscuit in his mouth which he had stolen from the tea that was served to you and watches the increasing banter amusingly unfold between the two of you.

“I know because your room blinder is up, princess,” he replies smirking as a horrifying look crosses your face. Your blinders are up, that means-

“Yes, I saw you kicking your feet in the air and giggling like a teenage girl around her crush,” he deadpans as you groan, slumping your head back down on the table.

Luckily for you, Hongjoong doesn’t further probe into the topic, except throwing an amused smile your way. He clears his throat lightly and says, “Those papers contain the designs I have made, ask your models if they are comfortable with wearing them.”

You look up, scrunching your eyebrows at him as he gives you a non-plus look on his face. You look down at the papers with his words replaying in your mind. No designer has ever cared for what the models want, let alone asking them after making designs.

“Wait, you made these in a week?” you quiz looking at the eleven sheets of paper as he shrugs but you continue, “And I think you counted wrong, there are ten models, four male and six female.” Your eyes stick to a design inside that was an upgraded version of the gown you had gawked at on the first day he came. The colour also is changed to lilac from baby blue.

“Oh, my mistake,” he says swiftly and you nod, looking at the other designs. The way he had made the bold designs look strikingly different and the softer designs look oddly extraordinary using elements from various places made you speechless.

“You’re talented as hell,” you whisper out accidentally and then hope and pray he didn’t catch that or else the teasing for the next one and a half months will be endless.

“What was that again?” he asks playfully as you scoff biting back the smile and trying to hit your face.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ————

Photoshoot days make you extremely nervous. What if a model falls sick? What if a light breaks down? What if even one camera starts to malfunction? And the worst fear of all, what if the outfit design gets ruined?

It makes you more nervous than models and you have absolutely no idea why. Seonghwa had once said it was because you knew how once when the company under your dad almost went bankrupt because a minister’s daughter threatened to sue the company for molestation accusations. Even though the truth was that she was the one flirting around, the fear on your dad’s face that day showed you how the world works.

You tap your feet impatiently waiting for the shoot to start and soon you feel another presence beside you. Seonghwa was talking with the photographers in front and Hongjoong was out there fixing and checking the model’s outfit for the last time. You looked beside you and saw the handsome man, Song Mingi standing.

“Oh hello,” you greet bowing and he bows back and your mind flashes back to the first meeting with Hongjoong where he had thrown all formalities out the window.

“Are you okay? Your hands are shaking badly and you are fidgeting,” Mingi says his deep voice messing up your brain.

“Yeah,” you breathe out throwing a smile his way and looking in his eyes. Beautiful hair, brown eyes, tall, deep voice, respectful, and observant nature- could he be any more perfect? How did a devil like Hongjoong end up having an angel for his personal assistant?

The love song playing in your head suddenly made a screeching record sound as Hongjoong’s annoying tone cut through the air, “Mingi can you please check the models whilst I keep notes from here beside the director and our very beautiful CEO- nim?”

You take in a sharp breath as you see Mingi leaving and before you could even open your mouth he whispers, “Damn, if you stare at him with those heart eyes, his girlfriend will kill you.”

“He has a girlfriend?” you say it louder than you expect, looking at him in shock and unfortunately for you, a few of the sound and light officials look at you with questioning eyes.

You give them a small smile gaining back your cool before looking at a smirking Hongjoong saying, “You are not very subtle, are you?”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” you grit out and turned to look at the photoshoot that started already.

“Make me,” Hongjoong teases as you glare at him with fire in your eyes. Shouldn’t he be paying attention to the models? Or does he trust Mingi that much, yes, of course, everyone should trust that beautiful boy, and no, he has a girlfriend, you have to stop thinking about him.

“Look at that, I am so handsome that you can’t keep your eyes off me,” Hongjoong grins as you gasp. How dare he?

“In your dreams, Kim,”

“I dream about a lot of things.”

“Oh god.”

“You say that in my dreams too.”

You whip your head at him watching his lopsided smile and scoff. “Seriously?” you ask with disbelief evident in your face. Your ears felt like burning at the outrageous comment he just made. Like it has been a month only.

“Control your hormones, Kim, you ain’t a teen,” you reply as he cocks his eyebrows at you.

Slowly he leans in as you widen your eyes and try to go back but the camera stand leg hits your shoe. He looks into your eyes once before whispering, “Trust me, I am controlling myself a lot.”

He moves away, eyes fixing on the monitoring screen as you look into the distance. Your breath still feels erratic, his words repeating in your brain like some kind of spell. In all that whispering you believe he had glanced at your lips for just a fraction of a second, but surely you were tripping.

Not in this universe did Kim Hongjoong look at your lips.

And you definitely did not like that jerk of a human.

You did not.

Even if he makes you feel breathless.

You did not. Maybe it’s a thing that will pass. He just looked good today. Maybe.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ————

After the shooting day, your schedules with Hongjoong had increased. The pictures have been released and blown up instantly. Various private and public interviews, press conferences, and media highlights kept the two of you busy. Most of the conferences had you two in the centre, speaking from both sides of the story.

Seonghwa made you write the words you will say under his surveillance because according to him you were “too stubborn” and “will say shit indirectly about Hongjoong” in your speech if he did not keep it under check.

You would not go that far you assured him, but he just would not trust you. Such a mom.

The same speech you repeated over and over again, changing the way of saying it in every interview. The words you had written weren’t a lie at all. You did find him talented and his designs out of the box but that fed his ego way too much.

He would ask you a question in every interview for example, “Oh you found that thing I used different, I see” or a “Well, of course, you liked it” and indulge in what the interviews called ‘playful banter’ as you would give him murderous look and he would just smile.

The week had ended quickly and you knew how the next few weeks you had to be busy again for the upcoming show and ramp-walk in Paris. You huff out a short breath as you silently clean up your office desk. Today's interview took an increasingly long time, and you just want to go home and dip yourself in a hot bath.

You zip up the chain of your handbag and redo the lipstick a bit before checking the mirror and applying some foundation under your eyes. You never know where cameras are and you certainly don’t want to be caught in any other state other than the “always fresh” or else articles are just a picture away.

Suddenly you hear a slight knock and think it is the security before letting out a forced but cheerful, “Come in.”

You turn around as your eyes meet the person you didn’t know could knock. “Did you learn how to knock? Also, I am tired, why are you here now?” you groan as looks at you with one eyebrow raised.

“Chill, I just wanted to drop by, I finished the paperwork and saw your light was on,” he replies as you shake your head.

“Always keeping a lookout for me or what?” you joke and he doesn’t answer choosing to smile instead and look sideways.

"I did think you would get me a binder for designing the clothes too?" Hongjoong asks and cheekily smiles before adding, "Darling." You roll your eyes at him, a stark contrast coming to your usual composed and calm behaviour as a CEO, not giving him the satisfaction of an answer.

You turn around in your heels ready to leave when he calls out, "Close the drawer on your left, darling."

Oh for fu- heaven's sake!

"Don't call me that," you nearly snarl at him and an innocent-looking smile etch his face as he comes closer to you and you stare back wishing your eyes could bore holes in his body.

He is simply insufferable.

"But you like it, when I call you that," his tone hints at light mocking as he continues, "Loosens up your uptight behaviour." You gasp at him feeling a bit offended and whisper out, "I hate you."

"Do you now?" he presses his lips together, loving how you are riling up. He has always loved to rile you up, balancing his comments well so that they don't become offensive but do tease you and he has been having an excellent time doing it.

He has a pretty face, your mind registers and your eyes lock with him, silently agreeing with your mind. He does have it, with his long lashes, two-toned hair falling on his forehead and soft lip- What is wrong with you?

You visibly shake out of your trance when you realise how close you and Hongjoong have come while talking.

Hongjoong's breath traces on your face and the room falls quiet with silent anticipation and even though your eye might be playing tricks but you did notice him steal a quick glance at your lips before looking up at your eyes again. Your breath feels slow and your eyes roam over his face and the moment feels like forever and somewhere in the back of your mind you wish it does.

The trance is broken as Hongjoong's phone rings and he jerks muttering a silent curse before moving away and picking it up while you widen your eyes and scurry out of the room.

What the hell just happened?

You pick up your bag and he turns around, walking out the door while you lock your office door since Seonghwa left early. You both had a quiet elevator ride, his familiar deodorant filling up the closed space. Neither of you talk nor would look at each other.

You feel thankful about it because god knows what you have spewed if you did. Walking outside you fish out your phone to book a cab while he takes out his keys.

“Woah, how did Miss Organised forget her car keys?” he giggles as you look at him glaring playfully. Of course, he is back to normal.

“I didn’t forget it, I gave it to my cousin earlier who wanted to impress a girl,” you breathe out as you remember his pleading face and promise to bring you as his plus one to a football match he is invited to.

Not that you can’t buy your own tickets, but going for free is always a different kind of fun.

“That is so old-school,” Hongjoong scoffs as you let out a laugh.

“Maybe, but he is eighteen, so I let him be,” you grin and then look back at your phone to see several car symbols roaming around the location.

“Well, I will drop you off,” Hongjoong voices out before he can stop himself and he is himself surprised when your head whips towards him.

“What if you kill me and dump me somewhere? I can’t trust you,” you gasp dramatically and he rolls his eyes.

“Please, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it the day you hogged up half my pudding in the changing room,” he reasons.

“I was hungry and it was not half,” you whine as he stares at you.

“It was half, and no, do not say the piece between quarter and half, ‘cause it was half,” he shut you up raising his fingers and putting them on your parted lips.

He stares at your figure which is only slightly shorter than him as you stare back before he coughs and pulls his hands back and you look away licking your lips.

“Do you want the lift or not?” he asks again after a few seconds as you decide there is no harm in accepting help from him anyway. So you nod your head to a yes and you both head towards his car.

The car ride is mostly silent, a soft Lany song playing from the radio as you look out at the city lights lighting up the way. You felt them glittering the highway as Hongjoong followed the route you had explained earlier.

You look back at Hongjoong driving, the wind hitting his parted hair and the white part shining lightly under the streetlights. Okay, maybe he did make that work well. You see he has changed, probably in his office, you figured, and was just wearing a simple hoodie over the same jeans.

“Can’t take your eyes off me?” Hongjoong teases you without even glancing and you narrow your eyes at him before looking away as he giggles lightly.

“Do you ever stop talking?” you retort and he steals a quick glance at you before eyeing the road again.

“Do you ever stop being uptight?” he asks.

“Yes, sometimes I just want to leave all these and drive away anywhere my mind takes me to,” you sigh looking away and seeing the blinking traffic lights.

“I thought you didn’t like being spontaneous,” he adds on, though his tone had become increasingly softer compared to the earlier teasing and you look down at your hands.

“It’s not that easy, you know?” you reply as he hums lowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

After some moments of quiet pondering you look at him. You felt your brain function abnormally as you couldn’t help but find him ethereal as the orange streetlights lightened up his face. Maybe it was just the sleep deprivation that made your heart beat faster and let your eyes linger long on his side profile and his eyes that were trained on the road ahead.

Suddenly you say, “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤidea credit to @iwishiwasrichasfuck. banner made by @/DathanHamen in wattpad. loving it rn lolol .ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr @tunaasan @stellarlune-love @jeonghanfr @soocore @chaotic-floral @loveateezㅤmain mlistㅤ atz listㅤ navi

© arafilez on tumblr. please don't copy and repost my work as your own.

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Booth

Wow, Chaos writing more boys for the first time? Shocking.

Date!Mark (Marquis) x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 487

You step out of work, and are shocked at the sight that is the massive line spanning across the doorway. Surely this is some sort of safety hazard in the event of an emergency or something like that, but you’re more fascinated by the idea as to why there’s a massive line in the first place. You try and look around the crowd of people, but to no avail as their heights just block the source of all the commotion from view. As you push through, you hear squeals and laughs from the beginning of the line, which makes you confused more than anything. Is there some sort of celebrity having a meet and greet outside your work? Surely you would have heard about that, right?

You try to seem disinterested as you work your way up to where the front of the line is, not wanting it to seem like you’re attempting to cut the line, you’re just incredibly curious as to what’s going on. There’s a group of teenage girls who walk away from whatever it is, excitedly looking at their phones, which just increases your curiosity.

When you get to the front of the line, you spot Marquis applying chapstick at a crudely made booth with “KISSING BOOTH” sloppily spray painted on it in bright red paint. You simply sigh in exasperation, of course he would choose to do this right outside of your work. He looks up and spots you, brightening immediately as he stands up to greet you. 

“Oh no-”

He scoops you up before you’re able to escape back into the crowd, giving you several free kisses as you try to squirm away.

“ACK- MARQ-”

Marquis holds you tight, resting his chin on your chest as he looks up at you, arms holding you up by your waist.

“Hi~I”

“What in the heavenly fuck is wrong with you?? Why is there a kissing booth outside my work, that you’re running!”

“It’s only cheek kisses!”

“YOU ARE KISSING STRANGERS OUTSIDE MY WORKPLACE, YOU DINGUS.”

He simply pouts at you, pursing his lips up at you, giving you the biggest puppy eyes possible. You can’t resist for long, rolling your eyes as you kiss his forehead. He melts a little, giving you a stupid grin as he sets you back down on your feet. 

“Am I forgiven?”

“How much money did you make?”

“Enough for a nice date night at that restaurant you were eyeing~”

“Of course that’s why you were doing this…”

“That, and I got bored waiting for you to be done with your shift.”

“Next time, just text me instead of kissing strangers. I would prefer to keep those lips to myself.”

“As you wish.”

The two of you walk away, leading him over to your car to head home, as someone else takes over the booth and the line gets excited again. But that’s no longer your problem.

[cripplecharacters]

I've considered the main character in one of my ideas having Klinefelter's, but not knowing it (he only knows he's somehow intersex because when he uses magic to shapeshift into a cat, his cat form is a tortie).

I don't remember how him having Klinefelter's entered consideration, but like most people with Klinefelter's he looks and sounds "normal" for a man, his height is above average (6'2" in a time and place where the average amab height was 5'8" or 5'9"), he's lean and has a long sharp face. He has less body hair than normal and can't grow a good beard or a mustache. He's also infertile, but that propably won't come up because he's a sex-repulsed gay ace [i'm gay ace, though not intersex]. I guess he has a higher level of anxiety, since he's prone to overthinking and stressing about things (that are often reasonable sources of stress though, so idk if that counts).

So basically the questions are;

Apparently people who have Klinefelter's often have deficits in executive functions, which he would have in some form anyway because he's autistic. Or does that mean different types of deficits or something? Now while typing this i discover that's is estimated 10% of people with Klinefelter's are autistic. Is this a problem? (i'm autistic myself)

Apparently while Klinefelter can cause low intelligence, most have average intelligence. Could this specific person still have above average intelligence?

How common is osteoporosis in people who have Klinefelter's, btw? That part has me concerned because this is a superhero story and the character gets in a lot of fights which would result in things getting broken.

How poor is the "poor coordination" and how common is it? I had thought the character would be a master sharpshooter, and he also practices a martial art.

How likely are people with Klinefelter's have autoimmune disorders?

To clarify, while i don't remember when or how i came to consider making the character have Klinefelter's, he was already autistic and asexual in my mind long before that and i'm a gay ace myself.

Hi!

In general, chromosomal differences cause neurodevelopmental differences.

For anything other than sex chromosome differences, this is intellectual disability 100% of the time, often comorbid with other conditions as well.

For chromosomal intersex conditions, there are strong links with autism, dyspraxia, dyslexia, and other learning disabilities, as well as intellectual disability (although that is not a guarantee the way it is with chromosomal differences on other chromosomes).

All this to say: it is realistic for your character to be autistic, but between Klinefelter's and autism comorbidities, it is unlikely that he would have above average intelligence and not have dyspraxia. It's possible, but the chances are low, and I think creating your character this way would erase what most people with Klinefelter's actually experience.

There is an increased risk of autoimmune disorders such as lupus and rheumatoid arthritis in people with Klinefelter's, although this increased risk is compared to a perisex male. People with Klinefelter's have about the same risk of those conditions as a perisex female.

About 1 in 6 people with Klinefelter's have osteoporosis, and nearly half have osteopenia. So it is likely that your character will have lower bone density and higher risk of breakage.

I also want to note that Klinefelter's is associated with lower testosterone (which it seems like your character does experience) as well as breast tissue growth, so consider whether your character was given testosterone hormone therapy as a teenager, and if not, how he may sound or look. Your physical description mostly sounds good though.

Overall, I think this character needs more work to actually integrate being intersex into his character design.

Mod Rock

[princesssascha]

hey, I wanted to ask if it’s possible to manifest being younger in age. Honestly I haven’t lived my teenage years as I wanted to and I’d like to live them again. Also, I’ve been struggling a lot to manifest height increase (it’s my insecurity) and idk what to do. When I am around others I cannot stop myself from noticing how short I am and that makes me even more insecure. I just want my desired body fr

Hi love!

Firstly, i need to say that you don't need to be a teenager to live your "teenage years". Most of it can still be done in adulthood. Even if you can't, it's completely fine not to experience your teenage years as you think you should. However, if you are sure that's what you want, here's my advice:

Something that every blogger is trying to teach you is that you can literally do ANYTHING. There is nothing in the entire universe that you can't control or change, because it is YOUR reality.

You can absolutely manifest being younger, although it might be more difficult because you think it's impossible. This is something I also struggle with, thinking something is too difficult to change, especially since you get „reminded" of your cr every single day.

Now let's talk about the height. To keep it short (no pun intended): if you are insecure about something, you probably won't manifest change. When you're saying it's your insecurity you're literally forcing yourself to live according to that insecurity. If you were tall already (which you are!!) you wouldn't be insecure about it. If you're constantly thinking about how short you are, you will still identify as a short person, so you'll be short. You need to change your mindset. You need to realize that you CAN grow. There is nothing stopping you from doing that. I feel like this is one of the easier things to manifest when it comes to physical appearance (keep in mind it is not difficult at all, it is just more difficult for your mind to believe).

Good luck

[antaxzantax]

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 50

Summary: Albert Wesker writes about William Birkin's marriage to Annette and the Tyrant project.

July 1st, 1988

It has been eleven years since I was hired as chief researcher at the Arklay laboratory. In a month I will be 28 years old. William has become a father, and his daughter is two years old. They met in the lab. There was a staff turnover after the death in strange circumstances of a couple of scientists on our team. Strange circumstances: we used them as test subjects for the T-virus.

Annette suddenly appeared as William's research assistant. She treated him patronizingly, as if he were a teenager. Perhaps she pitied him. And William was drawn to her because of her fascination with him, and because he had never met a woman who treated him in a naturally pleasant way and valued him beyond his stereotypical flamboyance. I suppose that was the reason, because he hadn't met anyone else and William, even if he didn't recognize it, longed to fulfil the American dream. They kissed for the first time in the mansion's cemetery, hidden behind some trees, and had their first date on the outskirts of the estate.

They fucked for the first time in his apartment in the staff hut. Annette's feigned moans echoed off the wooden walls. After the act was over, William knocked on my door to find out two things: how to tell if a woman is pregnant and if I had any condoms to spare. I didn't have any condoms to spare, and pregnancy tests were available in pharmacies.

Annette was on maternity leave for six months and by the glory and grace of the European bias of our personnel policies. They were married during the fifth month of pregnancy at Raccoon City Hall. Without my informed consent, I was given the role of witness and best man. They signed the paper and the three of us went to a restaurant for dinner. The celebration consisted of William and Annette looking at each other with a mixture of concern and tenderness over the fact that they were going to have a child while working in a clandestine laboratory for the illegal production of biological weapons.

Sherry was born in the summer and Annette took over the care of her offspring for the first year. William packed up and left the Spencer mansion for good to move to a newly built middle-class suburb in Raccoon City. William rejoined the lab a week after the birth of Sherry and Annette a year later. The child was left in the care of a nanny and her maternal aunt. No news of the paternal grandparents.

Umbrella underwent a complete restructuring. After the incident at the Antarctic base, scientists at the Arklay laboratory received a circular that all projects were to be managed by the two presidents. Our baptism of fire with the new management came after the Chernobyl accident.

We were gathered in the dining room of the Spencer mansion. All around us were men with English and what I thought was Scottish accents. William was nervous. The front door of the dining room opened, and two men entered the room. A grey-haired, ageing man, about Birkin's height, with a sibylline, overbearing manner; and another middle-aged, blond-haired, full-bearded man, much taller, with an inflexible, equally overbearing demeanor. Both sat at the head of the table in silence.

I instantly recognized who they were.

The English-accented suits were concentrated behind the older man, while the Scottish-accented ones behind the blond. Neither of them introduced themselves. The older man lit a cigar. The blond man cleared his throat and began to read a paper on the table without bothering to turn to us. The old man looked at us in amusement.

The blond man announced the start of phase three.

Project Tyrant.

A super-soldier made into a biological weapon.

He ordered us to match human DNA with the T-virus. Very few humans had the right genetic code, just over 10%, and we had to find a way to increase that percentage. The blond man spoke about genetics with a fluency and specificity that made me shudder. William's hands were shaking. After his lecture, the old man put his cigar out in the ashtray to summarize the key point of the project: we needed a human subject who, infected with the virus, retained a certain level of cognitive ability to carry out simple instructions.

The suits shoved us out of the dining room. Who were they, William asked.

Alexander Ashford and Oswell E. Spencer.

William blanched.

Our bosses, I added.

Our bloody bosses.

Albert Wesker