#I want to get better about posting stuff on here

[bananayuyu]

Behind the Scenes

pairing: idol!yunho x makeup artist!reader genre: smut wc: 1.6k

summary: being a makeup artist on tour certainly had it's perks, and anytime he wanted you, Jeong Yunho was gonna take what he could get

warnings: smut, MDNI, they do stuff in a storage closet lol, throat fucking, facial, degradation, mean!yunho a bit, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering

a/n: thought I'd be finishing my San series this weekend, but then he went and posted these pictures. he will be the fucking death of me. sorry for typos, I barely edited this <3

++++++++++++

"Holy shit, Bora fucking nailed it today, you look so good."

"You think?"

Yunho's lips were turned up in a smirk, his brows high. But even when he tried to poke fun, you knew you always had the upper hand when it came to bickering. It was too easy with him, his good nature always slipped through, even when you wished it wouldn't. Being a makeup artist on tour allowed you all the proximity needed to know everything about him.

You rolled your eyes at his question, indication enough that you were not going to do this in front of everyone.

"Will you take some pictures for me?" he said instead.

"Now?" You had to ask it with that surprised look on your face, otherwise everyone would start to figure out what was up.

"Yeah."

"Kiki, do you need help with San?" you called across the room.

"His hair's gonna take another ten minutes probably, but then we'll need to finish his face makeup," she answered.

"Okay, I'll be back in a few."

With one look at Yunho you made for the door, and he lazily followed you out, long arms and legs swinging. He was already biting his lip; he had seen how you were looking at him earlier, when he'd first walked in the door with his outfit on.

You were damn good at hiding it in front of everyone, but he knew the look of lust when he saw it. Even if it only flashed in the whites of your eyes.

"Where do you wanna go?" you asked as he exited the door behind you.

"Let's just walk down this way, see if there's a good spot." He held out a hand, pointing roughly in the direction of the quietest part of the hallway.

The part he'd scoped out earlier. But he was a good actor, and even you weren't sure if this was part of the plan or not.

"Here?" you asked as he pulled up to an old grey box backstage, rough marks across it's front indicating the copious years of use.

"Yeah," he chuckled, handing you his phone with the camera pulled up, then leaning against it, one hadn't in his pocket, one on his chin, staring off with all the nonchalance he could muster.

"Okay," you laughed, shaking your head snapping the photo.

"What, is it bad?"

"It's fine, that box is just, kind of ugly."

"I'm not," he shot back. "Keep going, keep taking them."

"I am," you replied, rolling your eyes. You'd been doing this for months, it was mildly insulting that he didn't realize you understood how to do this.

He peered around and grabbed hold of a pole infront of him, part of a support structure in back of the stage. Then he goofily threw his arms wide, twirled around, then stopped himself again and jutted out a hip, cunty as ever.

"Oh my god," you laughed, finally pulling the phone down. You'd taken probably thirty pictures already, but this background really wouldn't suffice.

"What?"

"There no where else we can go?"

"You don't like this background?"

You shot him a disapproving look, and his eyes sharpened a bit in return, his lip again caught in his teeth as he tried to keep from laughing.

"Fine, let's walk further," he said, eventually.

Finally you came to the shiny doors of a service elevator, as wide as they were tall, at least a solid color and unmarred by scratches.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much better," you nodded, walking back to give you the appropriate distance. Yunho immediately was taking it more seriously, locked in, face set and poses at the ready. He knew his angles and knew exactly how to hold his face, making each photo a new masterpiece. There was one where he held his face to the side, and the sight of his jawline and profile were so perfect you twitched a moment, the second picture turning blurry.

"Do I look good?"

You chuckled in response, not shaking your head or nodding, not giving him anything. You just stared with slitted eyes, almost pissed at your dear coworker who'd styled this outfit, how it so perfectly encapsulated everything that made him so fuckable.

"Let's do a few more," he said, readjusting one last time.

And then he leaned back, stretched his arms forward, and winked.

At you, not at the camera. You could feel how pointed it was.

"Yunho." You stopped, pulling the phone down, and just stared at him.

"Come on," he said, tilting his head to the side, indicating a door just to the right of the elevator.

With a quick look over both shoulders you hastily followed him, slipping inside the small room.

It was a storage closet, of course, as always. His lips were on yours before you could think to say anything, and he was grabbing hungrily at your waist and hips, forcing his tongue in your mouth, claiming your body in every way he could. It may have always been you with the power when it came to words, but as soon as they were gone and all that was between you was lust addled heat, he was suddenly in control.

"Get on your knees," he mumbled, breaking the kiss enough to say it, only to kiss you hard again and back you up against a wall, making it difficult to follow his command. You felt through his pants and he was already firm, your own panties filling with arousal as he towered over you. With force you pulled away, slunk down slowly, and let him work at his belt and zipper, pulling his pants just low enough to reveal his hard length.

"You like this outfit don't you?" he asked as you let him enter your mouth, slowly rubbing the underside of his tip along the warm velvety plane of your tongue. The heat and wetness was electrifying, and so too was the dark look in your eye as you gazed up through blinking lashes. "You got all fucking horny just looking at me, didn't you?"

You were nodding constantly, mumbling answers around his thick cock, holding your head steady as you knew he liked.

"Your such a little whore, couldn't wait for me to fuck you mouth, could you?" His voice got so much deeper, so much richer, when he had you like this. Gone was the sweet Yunho you always knew when working; he'd never be able to keep up with your sharp tongue then, but once your mouth was filled and he had the space, he loved to get mouthy.

"Open up for me," he said as he tried to push in further, the back of your throat feeling far to tight to take him. You whined in response, always finding this part hard; he did what he had to do, landing a quick smack to your right cheek, the shock of it always making your throat open involuntarily. He used the opportunity to push in further, his hips finally coming nearly flush with your face.

"Fuck, that little throat is so fucking tight," he groaned, holding you there, your head pressed against the wall behind. "Who knew so much shit talking could come from such a tiny throat."

You normally would laugh in pride at someone calling you that, but you were having trouble breathing, and you were so fucking horny, and he had rendered you as mindless and fucked out as he always did, just from one simple movement.

You waited for him, holding your breath, and finally he pulled back, only to push in again. It was even harder, rougher, and he didn't care how quickly tears were streaming down your face or how hard it was for you to catch your breath. He had only minutes before he was expected on stage, he knew that, but he needs this release, needed this chance with you.

"I could fuck your mouth all day baby, such a good little slut for me," he groaned, holding tight to your hair with one hand, the other smacked to the wall in front of him. From below all you could see was his wide chest and wide shoulders, his shirt accentuating them, his tie floating in the air above you. You wanted to reach up and grab at it, to fuck with him a little, but soon his thrusts became so fast and harsh that there was nothing else you could think of. It didn't take long for him to start coming down your throat, and then he pulled back to let the end of his orgasm wash over your face too, painting you in his cum.

You sat panting as he held his cock in his hand, his breaths coming hard and in waves, your own lungs struggling to find any rhythm. You swallowed hard, coughing a few times as you regained yourself, brushing a strange of hair out of your face that was stuck there.

"You look so fucking hot covered in my cum," he murmured, tucking himself back into his pants, zipping them up and latching his belt with ease. You stood slowly, your knees aching from the position you'd been in, a trail of arousal slipping down your leg. You were wobbly and flushed, eyes still dark, and Yunho knew what you needed, it was so easy to tell.

He turned you around and bent you over, forcing you to place your hands on the wall for balance. Then he pulled down your pants, pushed your panties to the side, and slipped three long fingers inside you easily, your cunt so flushed and wet that he didn't need to spit too.

"Fuck," you cried, his movements harsh and fast, his end goal in mind. It didn't take long until he felt you spasming around him, but he kept going, even as you rag dolled forward and almost fell, even as you mumbled and whined incoherently. He didn't let up until the spasming came again, using his other hand to rub over your clit and rip your second orgasm from you.

[bookshelf-dust]

cat in the castle

frank castle x fem!reader

gif by @darlingshane

word count: 2,626

warnings: nothing i can think of, barely a mention of frank’s occupation, some smooching, literally just fluff

synopsis: the cat distribution system has chosen you…and your live-in boyfriend, frank. it’s safe to say he never thought of himself as a pet-having guy.

a/n: hello!! what with ddba and the fact that i’ve been rewatching the punisher, frank has taken up residence in my brain and made himself quite comfortable. i hope i’ve done him justice! writing a new character and then posting is always a little scary lol. enjoy, my loves!! <3

————

It’s not quite dark out yet, but Frank is silhouetted in the warm light from the front porch. The moths haven’t even begun to flutter out, circling until the yellow bulbs embrace them. The man slips his house key in the lock and turns; the motion is fluid despite only having lived here for a few months. 

Frank had told you he would handle getting you whatever kind of house you wanted, but you never cared about living in a castle. All you asked was that there be a spare room you could turn into a shared library for the both of you. Now, it has big, comfy chairs and a set of antique lamps that Frank hauled into the bed of his truck before you’d even admitted to wanting them. He built you a ladder for the top shelf of books after a conversation with your mother one evening and wouldn’t let you cry when he showed it to you. 

He’s got a fistful of grocery bags in his right hand. You’d been watching some show on the Food Network earlier in the day and gotten fixated on this pasta they were making. All they had to do was say “four-cheese blend,” and you were sold. 

A few moments spent rummaging in your little pantry revealed that you had noodles. Macaroni noodles precariously close to expiring. So, in that gruff tone that makes you weak in the knees, Frank asked—no, he set down a pad and pencil in front of you and waited—what you needed. He grabbed his keys, said he might stop and pick up some oil for your car too, and that was that. He was out for maybe an hour and a half. 

Stepping inside, Frank uses his elbow to knock the porch light switch down. You always cut it on, just in case. He toes off his boots and turns the deadbolt before surveying his surroundings, looking for you as he walks into the kitchen. You’re not on the couch, though there’s an ass-shaped indent in the blanket thrown across the cushions. 

“Hey, babydoll, where you at?” he asks, projecting his voice to the other rooms in the house. No answer. 

He listens a little harder as he quickly tosses the cold stuff in the fridge and leaves the rest on the counter. He doesn’t hear the shower. He knows you better than to feel unsettled, knows the atmosphere of his home well enough to know nothing terrible is afoot. He’s just afraid of what you might be up to. 

Frank makes his way to your bedroom. The light in the en-suite is on. 

“There you go, sweetie. Take it easy.” A vein in Frank’s throat jumps at your voice. His thumb and forefinger slide against each other.

“That feels nice? Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff, huh?” 

Frank pauses in the doorway. Who the hell are you talking to like that? He crosses the threshold to the bathroom in two strides, courtesy of his long, long legs. The sight before him is not at all what he expected. But what was he even expecting? 

The porcelain side of the tub has gone warm from where you’ve been sitting up against it for so long, keeping watch over the little thing tottering around your bathroom, over your lap and back again. The pressure in your bladder is reaching its peak—you’ve been holding in the urge to go for at least forty minutes. 

You were so focused on the task at hand that you didn’t hear Frank come in, but you aren’t surprised to see him staring down at you. Relief washes over you. 

“Oh, thank God, Frankie.” He watches as you push off the wall and stand, your gait a little wobbly, probably because your legs are asleep. “Hold ‘em for me, I’ve never had to pee so bad in my entire life.” You don’t give your boyfriend any time to process things. Suddenly there’s just a teeny ball of fluff in his huge hands.

As you sit down on the toilet, you briefly think about the fact that you never imagined you’d be at the level of comfortable with a man so as to pee while he’s in the same room as you, but here you are. You’re quick, only taking in the expression on Frank’s face once you’ve washed your hands. 

You can’t read him. This is, without a doubt, a look you’ve never seen on him before. You have no idea what it means. 

“Frankie, baby? Are you with me?” 

He meets your gaze. “What is this?” You blink up at him. “I-I mean, I know what it is, but what is this?”

You giggle and take the kitten out of Frank’s hands, setting it back down on the small pallet you’d made out of some older beach towels. Your heart flutters at the triangular tail and teeny little paws padding across the floor.

“Well, I heard this noise out back while you were gone, and I couldn’t figure out what it was so I went to look and—”

“You went investigating while I wasn’t here?”

“—anyway, I saw this little baby kitty pawing at the siding. You know that loose vent cover you keep meaning to fix? They were trying to pull themselves up and under there. I think they were looking for a safe hideout, Frankie, and I couldn’t just leave him out there, so I checked for Mama kitty and any other babies, but I didn’t see anything and this one’s so small…I think it’s the runt. Mama might’ve left ‘em behind. Or they could’ve been dumped, I’m really not sure.” 

You look up at Frank, track the crease between his brows, the slight downturn to his full lips. But his eyes tell a different story. They’re soft, lashes kissing at the corners. His eyes have never lied to you. 

“…Comments? Questions? Concerns?” you quip, keeping your eyes on his. If this were anyone else, Frank’s stance would be guarded. He’d become a human blockade, standing his ground, making sure you knew nothing was getting past him. That he made the rules. But you’re his girl. 

He slumps up against the bathroom vanity, looking over the kitten. It’s a pale orange color, striped and its paws tipped in white. Its front two legs are in the food bowl as he messily eats the teeny bit of sustenance you’ve provided. It almost looks like you’ve taken a pestle to last night's pot roast. Frank knows you grew up with pets. You’ve told him about every last one, dug up pictures, said you’d love to get a cat or a dog or even a damn fish with him one day. And even though he loves the way your eyes turn into cartoon hearts when you talk about pets, it’s just never happened. 

Finally, Frank speaks. “You know how to take care of this thing?”

You beam at him. “Yeah! I mean, it’s too late now except for an emergency place, but I’m hoping to find a vet tomorrow because you never know what the baby might have or need, y’know? And we’ll need a litter box and a scratching pad and some toys. And I have no clue how old they are, I just hoped this food was okay. They might need a milk replacement.” You lean down and scoop up the kitten, causing him to look around madly for a few seconds. Frank catches the moment you realize you’ve probably gotten ahead of yourself. He senses the change in your breathing. 

“But that can all be temporary, too. Some vets will put animals up for adoption, and I can call around at work or ask my mom if she knows anyone who might want a—”

Frank takes the cat from you, successfully leaving you speechless. He lowers his head until he finds your eyes, wordlessly making you look at him when you talk. “Hey, no. Nah, don’t do that.” He lifts the kitten up so he’s level with it. “I know you wanna keep this thing, so just say that, sweetheart.”

“I wanna keep it so bad, Frank. Honestly, I was tempted to just keep him in the closet and take care of him in secret. I had a book like that when I was a kid, and it worked pretty well for them, so. But I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“Hush. If you’re happy, I’m happy—you know damn well that’s the case.”

You push up on your tiptoes, your arms going around Frank’s neck. “You’re sure? We get to have a cat?”

He rolls his eyes, wrapping his free arm around your back and slowly rubbing up and down your spine. He hums his response. When you go to pull away, he holds onto you tighter.

“Hey, hey, not gonna gimme a kiss? Didn’t when I came home, like usual.” He scrunches his brows together. The pout. 

You place your hands on his cheeks, feeling the start of stubble, and kiss him firmly on the lips. He tastes like those cinnamon mints he keeps in the truck. You kiss him three more times in quick succession, pulling out a smile. It’s the one he reserves just for you. His gaze darts away from you and his hands pull at your shirt. You’ve made him shy. 

The kitten mews between the two of you. “Oh, come here, little baby,” you say, taking the cat and holding it to your chest. “Too much PDA, huh? We’ll do better, I promise.”

Frank finds it hard to comprehend the flea-like size of the thing. They have a silent staring contest. “Is he gonna shit all over the bathroom tonight?”

You laugh. “I’ll go get some newspaper.”

————

It’s always the big, scary looking men that end up having teeny pets that they’re total suckers for. Frank is no exception. And right now, you’re pretty damn jealous of your cat. Mercutio (he let you have control over naming the little guy) is draped over Frank’s bare chest where he sits in your oversized, well-loved chair. He’s been there for hours. Frank hadn’t intended to sit there either, only pausing for a moment's time to cut the tv on, that is until Mercutio curled up on top of your boyfriend, exactly where you wanted to be. 

When Frank’s home, you try to spend as much time glued to his side as possible, which is why you’d asked to watch a movie with him, thinking you’d get to cuddle for the whole duration. You sit on the couch, legs stretched out in front of you, arms crossed over your chest. You’re watching the movie, sure, but you’re undoubtedly pouting. That cat was supposed to be yours—for one. For another, what ever happened to sharing?

You wiggle your toes in between the couch cushions like you would do to Frank’s thighs if he were sitting next to you, like he’s meant to be. Every few minutes you glance in his direction, hoping Mercutio will get up to go use the litter box or get something to eat, or even that Frank will be so desperate to be near you that he’ll move the cat himself if it means he can touch you. 

You tuck yourself more firmly into your little mountain of blankets and try to focus your attention on the film. A glare out of the corner of your eye distracts you almost immediately. Mercutio has swiveled his head in your direction, the light from the television reflecting on his eyes in the dim living room. He’s looking at you.

And he looks proud. Like he’s caught the damn canary. Traitor, you think. That’s my man, you little shit. You roll your eyes, turn back to the tv. 

Frank hears the sound your skin makes against the leather as you shuffle down the length of the couch. He glances over at you, your chin tucked into your chest, your brows practically hugging with the frown on your lips. He drags a hand down Mercutio’s back and the cat chirps, stretching his legs and hopping down. Frank sits up and stretches in a similar way. “What’s with the pout, sweetheart?”

You keep your eyes glued to the tv, despite your gaze being unfocused so that you’re not watching anything at all, just staring at a moving blur of color. “‘M not pouting.”

Frank knows exactly what your problem is. He has since he sat down and Mercutio hopped into his lap. He just wants to tease you until the words leave your mouth. My jealous girl. 

He stands, socked feet padding across the hardwoods toward you. Frank lifts your extended legs and slides onto the couch beneath them. He sets them on top of his own before dragging his fingers up and down your calves, occasionally massaging your skin with impossibly slow, firm strokes. You try to ignore the tingle that climbs up your spine. He’s giving you the attention you’ve wanted all evening, but you’re too far into your mood to let up that easily. 

You fight the urge to shut your eyes, to climb into Frank’s lap and curl into his chest, into that spot you swear was made for your body to slot against his like pieces of a puzzle. He resorts to grabbing for your hand. His thumbs pressing into the meat of your palms, sweeping out rivers of the tension you hadn’t even realized were there has always been it for you. The moment you’ll cave. You want so badly to keep up the stubborn act, but your body is already softening. Your heart flutters for him.

“You were supposed to be sitting with me…” you mumble, your voice a timid thing. Frank turns his head to look at you. His left arm extends, the backs of his fingers grazing your cheek and giving the gentlest of pushes, making you look back at him. 

He raises his brows. “You poutin’ ‘cause the cat was taking up your spot, sweetheart?”

You nod, trying to sink further into the couch cushions. “He knew what he was doing. He fuckin’ gave me the hairy eyeball.”

Frank’s head falls against the back of the couch, the thick cords of his neck bared to you and only you. He’s stubbly. Without meaning to you’ve taken one of his big hands in both of yours, holding it to your belly. “You’re something else, y’know that?” he says. 

You stick your bottom lip out. Frank stretches his body over yours, kissing the pout away. He kisses you with purpose, telling the jealousy to quit while it’s ahead. Butterflies wiggle in your stomach at the way his brows knit together while he kisses you; he’s so intent on making it better. He kisses you twice more. 

“Not my fault that the cat I found and cared for is trying to steal my man. He’s so unappreciative.”

Frank laughs, breathy and sweet. “There’s plenty of me to go around, babydoll.”

You scrunch your nose. “Ew, Castle.” Frank keeps laughing, laughing until he’s settled fully on top of you, his arms circling your back and his cheek flat against your chest.

Mercutio appears a while later, licking his lips. He’s clearly been helping himself to that late night snack. He appraises the situation on the couch and raises himself up on white-dipped paws, peering over the edge of the cushions. Frank’s half asleep on you, but there’s no missing the feeling of Mercutio’s feet on his bare back as the cat settles himself there, leveling his gaze with yours. The cat blinks slowly at you and begins to purr. 

“Jesus,” Frank mumbles. But he hears you giggle. You’ve got both your boys right where you want them. 

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner by @steph-speaks

[syntheticsymp]

I have a challenge: try to make a nikto fic wholesome >:))

AHHHH FLUFF!! MY MORTAL ENEMY!!

Jk, I have come to accept your challenge. I really need to write some more wholesome stuff because I am out of practice on that front. This fic is really short, but I also have another idea for this ask I am working on that I may or may not post once it’s finished

So, without further ado, here’s my attempted fluff piece. Sorry if it’s a little cringe hehe

———

Lazy mornings with Nikto were your favorite. Most nights he couldn't fall sleep, yet would still wake up at exactly 5 in the morning. Military training instilled that internal clock in his mind, causing him to operate on a schedule you fought to keep up with.

So, whenever he actually slept in, or at least stayed in bed with you, the morning felt special.

You woke up with him staring at you. It was still startling, even after all this time. He didn't blink, his blue eyes piercing through your soul. He didn't care about your bed head or morning breath. When he said that you were his, he meant every part of you.

“Good morning, darlings,” you said with a sleepy smile. He always liked when you included his others in your nicknames, referring to him in plurals soothed a part of him that not many people understood. Besides, it was better than calling him the Russian word for ‘nothing.’

Nikto huffed, offering a slow blink as a response. He wasn't the most talkative in the morning, or ever, for that matter. You had grown used to it, fallen into sync with him.

You pushed yourself up in bed, just enough so you could roll over to the nightstand and grab the concoction of pills he was supposed to take every morning. Mood stabilizers, mainly.

He sat up with you, taking the pills without protest, swallowing without water. You made a note to remind him to drink something during breakfast, even if it was just coffee.

Coffee. That didn't sound too bad right now. Something biting, warm, to shake off your drowsiness. But you didn't want to break the quiet moment, even for the warmth of a cup of coffee. A warmth that sounded pretty nice right now.

The house was cold. It always was. The number of blankets didn't matter, the thermostat was always set in the sixties. Nikto ran far warmer than you, drawing you to him like a moth to flame.

Today was no different. You moved closer to him, each movement methodical. It took a long time for Nikto to get used to you. Every action you took you had to announce or make clear enough to not startle him. Even if he was low energy for now, that didn't mean he wouldn't snap on instinct. His mood swings were intense, but you were learning the patterns.

Softly, nearly touching but not quite, you asked permission to come closer. “Can I?”

“Да.” His accent was always stronger in the morning, soothing.

You leaned against his arm, resting your head against his shoulder. The light filtering through the window illuminated his patchy skin, casting a glow on his buzzed hair and making it seem lighter than it was. Maybe your feelings were conflicting with your vision because Nikto didn't look like a monster anymore. Just a person. A person you chose to stick beside, no matter what came next.

Slowly, like approaching an animal that could bite at any moment, you caressed the top of his hand that rested ontop of the duvet. You felt his eyes scrutinize your actions just as you were doing to his uncovered skin.

The tips of your fingers roamed over the scarred flesh, circling his joints, carefully tracing the knots as if you would accidentally irritate them. The strange burns resembled lightning, intertwining wires climbing up his arm. His scars were a part of him, but they weren't all there was to him, as much as he wanted others to believe that. He wasn’t Nikto, he wasn't Nobody, not to you.

You would have been content to stay like that forever, petting his blemishes, but Nikto had other ideas.

Without warning, he snatched your hand in his. You didn't dare pull away as he stared, seemingly trying to decide what to do next. There was a conversation in his head you simply couldn't hear.

Eventually, he pressed his lips to the palm of your hand, then gave a swift pat to your thigh. His weight on the bed shifted, nearly causing you to fall back on the flattened pillows as he stood, leaving you alone on the mattress.

The whine of disappointment you were about to give died on your lips as he stretched, his muscles flexing under a layer of fat and scars.

Beautiful in such a broken way.

You were lucky his voice was loud from the battlefield, because if not, you would have missed his next words.

“Come. We will make breakfast.”

That's all it took to get you out of bed, following him into the kitchen without a care. The rest of the world could wait. For now, nothing sounded better than Nikto’s pancakes.

[juliating]

Yes your honor I'm crazed about how Spamtons' body anatomy may look like/work😵‍💫

btw down below are a few hcs to satisfy my brainworms!! AND! I mayhaps have written a fic about them 2 SNEO pics here's the AO3 link

(summary: Spamton NEO and Reader fly trough the sky with a few discoveries anatomy wise of eachother, eating/sleeping togheter. posted both on ao3 and under read more)

Alright for starters a few hc!!

What if Spamton has to calibrate with what strength he touches/grabs/holds the reader? Compared to organic beings being rather squishy; nearly all things/ppl in the darkworld are made out of hard material n stuff! My hc is that these residents in cyber city are all mechanical beings.

So some are covered in a synthetic hide to look more viewable/protect their mechanisms or to avoid dirt in joints/airvents (due to spamton being "skinless" he needs to clean his joints in order to have fluid movement which gets neglected)

The only part which generates heat is the head, so the rest of the body is equal to the ambient temperature. Metal parts underneath could get warm but the outside plastic shell doesn't since that material is a bad heat transmitter.

Balljoints are twice secured so that they can't get easily disclocated. Given trough their build they have both hinge and ball joints in one -> black gasket can rotate/ full 360° articulation

Gray areas are made of a plastic-rubbery like texture, so when folding an arm in, upper body leaning down, bending legs etc. the said area gives in! The abdomen is just one big ol' balljoint

Imagine being able to fly on Spamton NEOs' back like on a Lunala flying trough an ultra wormhole!

NEOs' eyes are permanently open with his glasses embedded in his now skin-having face. So he has a small bump from the nose bridge still is under his skin. The most 'closed' he can do is dimming them.

Btw my NEO version has both mittens and mechanical arms/legs! They're hidden in the plush in default mode. Keep in mind that despite the soft plush, there's metal underneath. Meaning it would still hurt a LOT if he'd whack you with it. And I gave him airvents on his side similiar to gills (shhh secret Big Shot Salmonid reference)

Also I think once Spamton settles down/is in a better state he goes from janky/stiff motions to almost uncanny smooth movement after he's free of any unwanted particles inside his cavities/joints (example that one super expensive Avatar animatronic)

In my head SNEO, when excited or smth similiar, sometimes forgets his own strength. Like a previously hand-raised big animal if you know what I mean

Feel free to correct any grammatical errors since English isnt my first language.

1. (First idea was with the reader fixing a more mechanical part inside Spamton's chest cavity. But then later that day I saw something nearly identical so I changed it a bit. Man my heart was doing cartwheels out of fear of looking like a copycat!!☠️)-still in work 3. (still need a plan where that one might be going)

2. Sun-blighted sky

The slight breeze feels nice. Wonder if he can feel it too. At first you were a bit hesitant by the idea but then gave in. Spamton NEO suggested that you two go to soar trough the sunless skies of cyber city. With you being held safely in his mitten like hands. His thumbs are clamped around your shoulders for a good grip. Soft enough not to hurt yet still secure.

You once asked him why he won't use his actual arms, the ones who are hidden inside the plush exterior. At that he told you that those are more for combat. Huh. Wouldn't want to image getting sliced up by those vicious looking claws of his. Or get shot with his arm cannon. Not to mention the eye lazers.

The once green wires Spamton despised so much are now commanded by his will. All thanks to you. Only after him agreeing to not go after those who apparently wronged him. Due to the NEO suits' immense weight the strings withstand constant tension. Creaking and groaning. He needs to adjust his grip every now and then since the plush material does't have a good adhesion. After a while Spamton adjusts it yet again.

Goodness gracious how beautiful the magenta armor gleams around his body. Beside it being illuminated by the chest core, looking closer, you can also see the moving grids dancing along the edges in an almost hypnotizing manner.

This time you feel the scratchy fabric in the middle of your chest. Right where your heart is. You don't see it but his face twists into one of confusion or like he suddenly remembered something. Spamton presses one of his mittens onto your sternum. It seems like he's searching for something. You panic for a moment thinking he'd rip the last remaining soul shard out.

"Hey Spam-", he interrupts you before you could even finish his name.

"WHAT IS THAT??", each word ever changing from a shrill pitch to a low, dull tone.

You can literally feel the vibration in your body every time that boisterous voice of his reverberates. Kind of similiar to those big speakers blaring music near the ferris wheel.

The mitten is loosing it's grip a bit. Fearing he may drop you accidently, you grip one of them with both arms and legs. You really dont fancy being dropped from this height. This short ordeal causes adrenaline to kick in and an increased heartbeat. Spamton shakes you off into the other one whilst stopping mid flight.

Before you could latch onto the other arm again you feel yourself being lifted up rather harshly. Similiar how one would throw their arms out to catch a falling object. Tapping the faintly glowing triangle chestpiece doesn't seem to get his attention neither.

Yelling out his name makes him stop dead in his tracks. Before you know it he flips you onto your back in one hand. Spamton pressed the side of his head on your chest, or to say on a better therm, nearly entire body. Assuming the location of his 'ears' are the same with humans this feels similiar to a doctor pressing their stethoscope in order to listen to your heartbeat.

Truth to be told you never knew how his body even worked. Whether his puppet-machine like body nor the current 'armed to the teeth' NEO suit. But Spamton once told you that he hears a bit differently than organic beings. After lifting the each side of his artificial hair you've noticed that they're located on different heights. Imitating those of a birds'. These so called 'ears' are infact just audio frequency analyzers.

So that's what has been going trough his RAM then! Of course how should he know what a heartbeat is when all residents are non organic.

The hunk of hard plastic starts to feel quite warm. If his multiple pcbs inside his head are so hot already to the point the exterior heats up then why didn't his internal fans kick in already? With the NEO suit being in Queen's basement for long sure must've taken a toll on its' heat insulation hasn't it? Spamton should know this.

Maybe he surpresses the air circulation in order to hear more. Come thinking of it the NEO suit must have some sort of manual or something. It's probably saved digitally in his database.

He sees you staring off into the distance seemingly lost in thought. Don't humans have a maintenance check every now and then? Shifting the arms holding you a bit higher he finds the sound source.

Browsing trough the previously saved records he notices that your current frequency is too high for his liking. Or maybe he picked it up wrong. Pushing the other side of his head on your sternum he's gauging it again for safety.

Hmph, your heavy breathing doesn't make it any easier to register-wait, WAIT!! Normally he barely picks it up! Only when you're stressed or [[OW! STOP, IT BURNS]]!! Was he squeezing you too much?? Maybe it's the altitude? Gah what does he know how a [[LIGhT>NERS]] body functions.

He lets the wires, which sprout from his back and connect to the projected grids in the sky, decend you both to a less death-drop height.

Now you two are hovering right above Spamtons' old house in the trash zone. The grids' colour slowly began to change from neon green to a dimmed hue. Signaling the night. In the distance you can see some Addisons glow brighter to attract more customers.

"THIS.", as he began to speak once again, voicebox crackling with static and huge teeth clanking togheter the same tact as words get send out, "THAT THUMPING [[Comming on June 5th for only 24,99€]] FROM YOUR CHEST!! IT SOUNDS FASTER THAN USUAL. SOMETHING THE MATTER [[LIGhT>NER]]??"

During talking he squished your body between his mitten hands and head. Wanting to be closer to the source. It's such a soothing sound!! He pokes his thumbs onto your ribcage out of curiosity. Hearing you yelp at that makes him stop though.

Oh right, the sensation of being touched in non protected areas makes some humans squirm away or even laugh. Rather from pain signals than enjoyment. He recalls that from the time you once roughly explained your endoskel- err just skeleton you called it. It's still so strange to him that one wrong hit to your head could end your life.

Finally snapping out of your train of thought, "Uh-, well! I think you mean my heartbeat Spamton.", signaling him to move his head away to give your some room to breathe by tapping your fingers on his forehead. He looks you dead in the eyes. On his pupil-less lenses you can see your own reflection staring right back at you.

"HEARTBEAT AS IN HEARTATTACK? AH; WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO THEN! YOU STILL DIDN'T ANSWER THE SECOND [[questions? ask your doctor or pharmacist]].", wanting an answer.

Aw man, you hope he doesnt interpret you being short therm startled from the suddenness from his action as a negative thing.

"Don't take this the wrong way but y'know being tossed around in the air like previously shook me up a bit. No harm done though. Also, a raised heartrate can have many factors meaning it isn't all from bad intent. I did enjoy the flight so far though!"

"RIGHT, APOLOGIES, [[want a free sample?]] HAPPEN AGAIN", not all from bad intent hm? He lifts you by the armpits again as if asking to continue the flight which you gladly accept. Rethinking he chooses to put you on his back between his head and strings.

You perch down carefully so that your body doesnt touch the wires too much. Legs bend and pressed to his sides with your hands holding onto his 'shoulders'. Well technically his wing mounts now since all of his limbs float near his body. The whole time the wires did all work work with the flying. His useless wings are mostly positioned horizontally rarely doing a flapping motion.

"SAY [[valued customer]], I DO HAVE A FEW OF MY OWN; [[three for the price of one!]] EVEN!!", anticipating your reaction. Head rotating 180 degrees to look at you for a bit, then turning back.

Wait does he mean one or three now? The ad interruption indicates three rather than one you realize. So three hearts it is huh. Like an octopus or squid. You decide to pry a bit to like he did to you beforehand.

"So are they synchronized in one single beat similiar to mine or out of sync?", hoping to get some details instead of a yes or no. Satisfied with your acknowledgment he fulfills the request. The flight speeds down a notch once more.

Show rather than tell it is. Spamton lets his arms slowly float up to where you sat. Moving his head to see you in his peripheral vision to avoid accidently knocking you off. Gently lifting you up again he maneuvers your body so that it's laying in his mitten hands. One supporting your torso, the other one letting your legs rest on.

Having you in a comfortable position, he brings you down to be eye level with the glowing triangle which sticks out of his chest. Without skewering you with it, his hands press you to the right side of it. The magenta armor the rest of your body has contact with is littered with dents and scratches which vary in sizes. Your hands reach around his body as far as they can. Trying your best to hug him.

While the thick, protective plates are getting slightly warmer from your body heat, his actual pitch black body is almost freezing to the touch. You can feel the slightest vibrations on his body from the fans keeping his processors from becomming too hot.

Inside the triangle mechanism you hear a faint whirring. It sounds akin to that of an old cd player. Must be that 'LoadedDisk' in which he uploaded his partly corrupted code back then. Leaning in closer you hear a short hum, as if a command gets processed, followed by three time-shifted clicks and pops. Whereas one resounded slower and duller than the rest. All the while he kept switching from looking straight ahead or down at you resting ever so peacefully in his arms.

"[[VALUED CUSTOMER SATISFACTION]]?", voice dripping with longed-for appreciation. Lifting you up until you're both eye to eye -or to say better eye to sensing camera. Awaiting an answer.

No matter how many times you've gotten the opportunity to gaze at Spamtons' eyes like this, it never stopped the feeling of intimidation creeping up from being directly stared at by this mighty being. Who wouldn't be, considering he's almost thrice your height now. Once the words '10/10 review' and 'would do again' came out of your mouth the colours on his eyes flickered back and forth with excitement. Grin growing wider.

He immediantly saves that sentence unbeknownst you in his memory to replay for later. Only you can give him the feeling of 'being at the top of the world' like this. Head raised with pride, he flies the rest of the route with a now non forced smile engraved on his face. Finally, finally the permanent up-turned mouthcorners portay his emotions correctly! He's positively giddy about this.

Subconsciously he starts swaying his hands, which pressed you against the now comfortale warm metal again, side to side. Unintentionally lulling you to sleep. Too caught up in his own world for him to notice.

As it was getting later you must've gotten quite hungry considering he can hear the acid chamber you call your stomach growl. Of course from spending your entire day with the now large, puppet-like salesman you haven't had the chance to eat anything.

"YOU WANT TO [[Wine n' Dine]]? I'LL DROP YOU OFF NEAR YOUR [[limited offer for cheap estatements]] COMPLETLY [[Free of charge!]]!!", asking while not looking down at you.

He waits for a response which never came. Puzzled that you didn't respond to his [[Genorisity]] nor him saying your actual name, which is already a rare occurence, he decides to spare you a glance. He moves you away from his chest and infront of his face once more. Only to find you limb with closed eyes and slightly agape mouth. So this must be the so called 'sleeping' you've mentioned a few times! An active sate of unconsciousness to recharge!!

Seems like he has to take matters into his own hands. Letting you continue sleeping, he hugs you to his still warm chestplates. Unoccupied arms winding around his body. He supports your body on his left mitten while the other one acts as a pillow. He spreads his fingers hiding inside the mitten to have a wider area available so that your legs stop dangling around. Your body sinks in a bit. This makes the hand your head rests on a suprisingly good silencer meaning not even his permanent yelling gets registered.

Ascending as high as the wires can lift him, he's navigating the ideal route. Upon finding it, he glides at the highest possible tempo the wires are able to carry him without disturbing you. Wings tucked close to his body, akin to a hawk, he dives down to the location. Moving wires making a sharp hissing sound, equal to that of a zip line ride. Still a miracle that you haven't woken up.

The speed making his pitch black hair blow back, loose strands fluttering wildly. Arriving at the destination, he settles down far enough to not alert any other Darkners living there. Letting the wires zip into his back cavity. Tapping your head; shaking you to wake you up.

You stirred, beginning to wake up. Urrghhh. Blinking a few times, your eyes adjust to the darkness. Finally being awake enough to think properly, you began to recognize the place you see. It's only a few minutes of walking to your living place! Weren't you just flying with Spamton?

Spamtons' bi-coloured glasses comming into view makes you flinch away and shield your eyes from the sudden brightness. He explains, as quietly as his voicebox allows, that you went into resting mode in his arms, so he flew you back near your home. Huh, resting mode? Curses, you didn't mean you fall asleep on him! Ah, maybe next time you can pull through without dozing off.

Feeling your stomach growl you decided to leave it for today. There's always a tomorrow. Hold on, he has got to be hungry too from all the flying and moving around. Do Darkners even need to eat or sleep in order to recharge? Well, even if he doesn't, a little kindness never hurt anyone! Expecially he needs that after all the stuff he has been trough in his life.

As far as you can recall you've never seen Spamton show any signs of tiredness nor exhaustion. More worn out from mental exhaustion and frustration. On top of that he stated that the NEO suit runs with an alternator, similiar to one of a car. Strange coincidence that he was working in the car industry before his downfall.

That's it! You're going to invite him to eat dinner with you! Hmm but you'll need to word it carefully so that he doesn't wave his hand in a dismissve 'nah don't need it' manner. Using his own tactics, how he wrapped customers around his jointed finger into buying his wares, you make him an '[[irresistable deal!!!]]' with no strings attached. Literally. Only the best learn from the best.

As if hearing your thoughts he begins to reject your offer. This time you interrupt him before he could emit the first word. A wee bit too stunned to speak from getting a taste of his own medicine, he lets the wires zip out to relink with the sky grid to blast off.

Before he could make a run for it you cling onto one of his legs. Even though clearly displeased, he gives in after several 'pretty pleases with sprinkles on top'. Oh, how he loathes being at the receiving end of hospitality even if it's from kindness rather than that behated pity of his. Corners of mouth drooping into a frown for a split second; then go back into the default smile. Forget it, he's not in the mood to banter around with that. This time he can overlook it. He'll even the deal out the first opportunity he gets.

Hovering closer to the ground, hooking your clothing scruff between his fingers, he snags you off of him and sets you down. You tell him to wait here until you're back with both of your meals. Not wanting to keep him waiting for too long you zoom to your living place. From all the hussle you haven't had any time to think about what he'd like to eat! 'Spaghetti Code' maybe? That's the only type of meal you've ever heard him mention briefly. Quickest thing would be ordering but your loan says no.

So instead of that you decide to do it yourself. Snatching multiple spaghetti packs, sauce cans and seasoning. Mentally weighting off how much you both will propably eat. Hopefully enough. Not even an hour later you're halfway finished filling up the food containers. You also bring your backbag with your laptop and seasoning incase he's preferring more. Swinging it on you take the first big container and march to him.

Upon hearing footsteps Spamton peeks around the corner of the abandoned warehouse he's sheltered in. It's you!!

"Here's the first delivery plus my laptop so that we can watch something while eating! There's still some left I'll go get the rest; you can start already if you want", you drop everything to where he's sitting, handing him the food before it cools out on the ground.

Before he can say something you're already bolting back home. Out of politeness he waits for you to come back so you can start eating together.

While waiting for your return he looks around. Busted mattresses littered everywhere. Getting up, he floats to them. He doesn't mind where and how he sits nor eats. But since you organic beings can get sick from being in the cold out for too long, he starts piling them up in a corner. Creating a makeshift bed/resting place. Balancing the food box on his floating head which stays perfectly still in place, grabbing your backbag so that they don't get dirty from him maneuvering the junk around.

Content with it he nestles in, surpresses his cooling, warming them up. He's laying on his chest, glass-triangle so sharp that it's tearing a sizeable hole into one of the mattresses. The aged filling leaving dirt stains on his [[Work-Out ready body]]!! Eurgh.

Spamton lifts his upper body. Roughly grabs and disgards the useless thing by throwing it across the warehouse room. Mattress hitting the worn wall with such brutish force that the thump echoes trough the entire building. Filling flying around like snowflakes before falling on the ground. Scowling at it, face red with anger and a twisted visage.

Borderline thinking about annihilating it with his arm cannon; he decides against it, not letting any anger get the best of him. Hypocritically speaking in the past, before NEO, he would've jumped out of joy having just one half of it. Hearing your footsteps again he picks the pieces from his head and puts them in one hand. Dimming his lights.

In the dark room the only thing one could make out, were his glasses and chest-triangle. His eyes don't light his face up that much but the triangle, even when dimmed, does. Teeth lit up from the bottom in an eerie manner. The rest of the body is shrouded in utter darkness. If someone else would walk in and see this, they'd probably die of fright on the spot.

Back once more, you carry the rest of the food. Spaghetti and sauce seperated. You were about to search for his whereabouts. Walking further into the building. The search didn't last long because he approched you from behind, without you noticing. You jumped what felt like five meters into the air as you felt a mitten-hand touching the top of your head. He can be surprisingly quiet if he wants to.

Turning around you see Spamton openly guffawing with a shit-eating grin. The same mitten petting the top of your head mockingly. "GEAHHEAHEAHEAHEA!!! NOT SO [[sales jumping up,up,up!]]!! LOOK, OVER THERE WE CAN EAT", pointing with his thumb into the room he came from. The dark room being illuminated by his eyes, chest-triangle and the holographic part of his wings.

Leading you to the corner you unzipped you backbag and set everything down in comfortable reach. Since you didn't know if Spamton is going to eat with cutlery or not, given how comically small they are in his mittens, you still got some for him. Whilst the laptop was booting up both of you took your own portion.

You sit down onto the mattress pile, plate in hand. They feel unexpectedly warm to the touch! Spamton must've been resting on them the whole time. One thing that had you do a double take though was a mattress, which looked like it got mauled and nearly torn in half, in the opposite side of the room. Filling scattered everywhere on ground and all. Huh. Wasn't like this before. Sideeying him, made him respond with a 'wasn't me!' look. Sureee.

Anyways! Once he got a portion, literally a whole box, he laid down behind you. Chest to your back and triangle by your right. Looking back at your laptop you asked him for any suggestions for what to watch. He chose a documentation about old timey cars. Suits him. Once the brand 'Cungadero' got mentioned, he perked up and moved his whole body closer. Promting you to use it as a rest.

Really opened a can of worms there. Spamton immediately began brabbling about that brand like crazed. Head twitching and turning in all different kinds of directions. Multiple voices overlapping, glitching and each one louder than the last. Not being kind to your ears. The tinnitus tomorrow will be worth it though! History, creation and build aspects. Everything. Both of you completely forgetting the food.

The armor isn't the softest material to fully lean onto though. Some raised edges dig into your skin. So you lean back forward. You see his unoccupied arm shift and feel something dropped behind you. Another mattress! Which looked more like a small pillow in his hand. Thanking him, you lean back again, starting to eat.

Or- wanted to eat. Only to find that it has gotten cold already. Eh, you can live with that.

Spamton stopped talking when he saw you hesistating and then shrugging, twirling some noodles onto your fork. He switches his vision to a thermal one, checking both of your portions and the rest of the containers. Did he really talk for so long that the spaghetti code got cold? He can fix that.

"NO. [[prices dropping by 20%!!]] THAT DOWN. PUT IT INTO THE [[boxing gloves for 49,99€]] AND GIVE IT TO ME. I'LL HEAT IT UP", a beat passes, "IF YOU PLEASE!!". Holding a hand out.

Doing so, you give it to him. Pondering if he'll just press them against his face or something. You watch as he takes every container into his hands and puts them into... INTO his mouth?! He must be warming them up inside his head! Like a big ol' microwave!! Not sure how to feel about that. There better won't be any spit on them, if he even has any to speak of. After a while he takes them out, shame he didn't do the 'Ding!' sound. Puffing out some heated air. Thankfully, for your appetite, they're as clean as they were before.

Wondering how Spamton even eats, you secretly peek at his head resting on the mattress pile about a meter away. Holding an open box to his mouth. He must've manifested a neck using magic so that the food can be passed into the main body for decoding it.

No matter how cautiously you glance at him he still picks it up. Mutual feeling; since he hasn't seen you eat either!! Normally, Addisons can just dump anything down their throats which then gets decoded into a bunch of 1s and 0s. Instead of giving energy, they receive flavour codes. But regarding formality they take bites and chew. Like [[LIGhT>NER]]s. So he assumes that humans shouldn't be too different.

He lifts his head up slightly from its' laying postion. Doing the polite route he lets his [[coral blue #2]] tongue slither inside the food box. Wrapping it around some noodles, he scoops them up and retracts it back into his mouth. Biting off any excess. His broad teeth act like a hydraulic press. Favouring crushing over cutting.

When he bites some off his upper tooth row comes down onto his bottom lip. That 'lip' functions like a black rubber gasket. Same material. Which prevents any damage/cracks incase his upper tooth row clashes too hard onto his jaw. Plus, the top one sinks in a bit in order to absorb the impact.

Ooooh it tastes DELICIS!!! Could rival the taste of his beloved Kromer!! Giving up on being patient with it he starts devouring the food like a man starved. Not caring how much sauce stains his teeth. Once finished with the first box he make short work of the second one. Throwing his head back and dumping the entire content full of greed in one go down. Before he did the same with the third, and last, box he stops himself. Wanting to savour it. Also, he has an idea for a topping he thinks you may like.

What looked like a whole week worth of food to you were only a few bites to Spamton; who was practically inhaling it according to some glances you landed. Technically he could've inhaled it, so to speak of. From your view you even saw that his bottom 'lip' shines ever so slightly at a certain angle.

Even without any projected pupils on his glasses you still felt his gaze on you from time to time. You wonder why he stopped before the third box though. Nevertheless, maybe he has his reasons or waits for something. Not thinking much of it, you continue eating and watching the rest of the documentary. You try your best to stay awake for his sake, you struggle against nodding off again.

From some opportunity windows you had, you could make out that he only bit noodles off and never chewed. At one glance to another an entire box was empty. The way he scooped portions into his mouth reminded you of a giraffe eating leaves. No surprise considering that he almost never fully closes his mout with the lack of proper functional lips or cheeks. Well atleast he seemed to enjoy it!

Halfway done with eating your portion, you hear Spamton starting to finish off the last box. What surprised you though, was on his last bite he picked up the spare fork you brought. Struggling a bit to hold it correctly. But before doing anything with it he turns to you.

"[[Stop the presses!]] THERE, WOULD YOU LIKE A [[Free samples for each product!]]??", holding one hand near your food. You move your plate acceptingly to him.

Holding his empty hand above your portion then rotating his wrist he summons a 'Pipis'; which then placed ontop of your food. After fully registering what it is you tense up, not daring to move a muscle. Why would he give you a grenade?! Despite it being smaller and having some seared spots you're still not so sure about stabbing it with your fork. You glance dumfounded at Spamton.

Looking down at you, he's awaiting you to try the 'Fried Pipis'. But apparently you don't get the memo that it's something to eat instead of an explosive this time. He summons another one and bites a chunk off of it, giving you a loopy smile. Showing you that it's save for consumption and won't blow your face off. Leaning down he looks at you expectingly.

So edible grenades it is then. You cut it into a few stripes while he gnashes down the rest of it. Picking one up you decided to give it a try. It surprisingly tastes a tad like mozzarella! Maybe the magic stuff automatically determines how it'll taste like when put into another dish.

Seeing your eyes widen in surprise makes Spamton huff out a barely audible laugh; some leftover steam warming your skin. "HEAEAEAEA [[Told ya so]]!!", waving the fork into you direction then going back to what he wanted to do before.

Doing his best to twirl some spaghetti on and putting it in his mouth, then fully closing it the best he can, and chews. Mimicking you. You only saw him dipping his head back; no swallowing or anything like that. Interesting! With both of you being finished, he takes the sauce container and licks it clean of any leftovers.

Container being cleaned he sets it aside on the ground. Not without leaving a comment of course! Patting your back in an acknowledging 'good job!' fashion.

"[[5 star rated restaurant]] DEAR CUSTOMER!!", default grin growing wider while rearranging some loose mattresses near where you sat.

Some were placed under his head so that it's propped up a hint instead of laying flat. Now you can see his face more clearly in your peripheral vision again. Seeing his teeth stained from trying to eat like you near the end. Sauce and crushed noodle bits smeared everywhere.

Normally saliva, if he had any, would clean it from its own but not in his case due to having permanent bared teeth. You can help with that!

"You've got some on your teeth right there, Spamton!", motioning with your hand at your own mouth for reference.

Upon hearing that he lets his tongue out yet again gliding over both of his rows of teeth. The rough texture leaving near to nothing left in its' wake. Well except one stray noodle piece it didn't reach one of his dimples. "ALL [[sales gone down the drain, drain]]??", staring at you. Hands resting neatly ontop of his armor while his arms are wrapped around his body.

"Eh- not quite. I can get it for you if you let me though!", lifting your hand to hover near his head, asking for permission to help incase the sudden touch startles him somehow. Which he gladly accepts with a small nod; leaning in your direction so that he fully faces you. He watches you get up and march to him, sinking in the old mattresses with each step, then plopping down on them once you're in comfortable reach of him.

Sitting cross-legged near Spamton you're about the same height as his nose. This would sure be an inconvenient time for any spontaneous movements or else he could poke an eye out by accident. Cautiously lifting your arm up to the side of his face, keeping an eye out for any twitches.

He's doing everything in his might to prevent any sudden head twitches, not wanting to knock you over nor stabbing you with his nose. Watching you swipe something off of him with your thumb, feeling the soft flesh on your thumb. Why was it shaking a little? Pfft, do you really think he'd bite your arm off or something??

Not sure what to do with it, you hold it back out to him indicating to pick it from you in his own mitten to eat. Instead, Spamton leans his head forward, seperates his teeth and licks it off of your thumb. Giving you a jolt which made your arm flinch away.

This earned you an unwanted hurt look from Spamton. Mouth corners slightly drooping. You reassure him that the flinch was only from the shock he gave you, tenderly rubbing his cheek.

It felt like you were being scratched by sandpaper. Coarse and dry. Before any contact with your skin you felt a crackling sensation which made the hairs on your entire forarm stand up. It feels like holding your hand out near static charged plastic or a high voltage plant.

Even though you kind of suspected it already, it still surprised you. Once it made contact after the first shock, you felt weaker ones pulsing in a fast paced tact. Also for some reason it was blue? But at the same time the gradient got darker, going from blue to black further down inside his mouth.

You sit back to the place before infront of Spamtons' chest. Honestly it was getting quite cold now that the mattresses cooled all the way out. Spamton doesn't seem to be heating them up anymore. Not wanting to get a cold you pull your legs up to your chest and snuggle more into one of them. Trying to keep some warmth in by additionally wrapping your arms around yourself.

Is it really that cold to you again?? The always cool temperature may be good for the residents for Cyber City but apparantly not for flesh and blood beings. He's deciding whether about heating his body up again or not, but doing this all the time can even damage his [[Work-Out ready body]]... He's not having any of that. Instead, he has a better idea!! Ah, finally getting to repay your [[Genorisity]]!!!

Some humans bond via body contact don't they? Maybe he can test the waters given the opportunity now. Only if that doesn't overstep any boundaries for you though. Thinking of it he wonders how your past life was like before you fell; but he lets that be out of mutual respect before any old wounds get reopened. He wouldn't want it either.

The synthetic wool material of his plush arms is easy to warm up. Meaning once it's around you then your body heat would be greatly insulated keeping you from being cold! And if he'd somehow get some muscle activity out of you it'd go even faster!! Arms begin to unwrap from his body, drifting to you. He taps your shoulder to get your attention. Turning your head to him you see his hands hover close by your upper arms, making an 'up' motion.

Lifting your arms up and before you know it you're hoisted up by the armpits, engulfed in white and pink fabric. The rest of Spamtons' body gets up, armor plates clattering aigainst each other. Sitting cross-legged, with you being at eye-height with his chest triangle. Holding you diagonally, main body and head leaning forward. Looming down at you he gives you a mischievous smile, making you raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

The thumbs resting on your shoulder move down to your torso. They gently dig into your sides making you squirm and huff out a few quiet laughs. From the looks of it his goal seems to be for you to move around in order to generate warmth faster. Or to cheer you up, maybe both, who knows.

Seeing the fabric getting to a comfortable heat for you he stops. After that he leans his down to snuggle into your chest to check to your heartbeat again. Even if your soulshard isn't emitting the sought after power like it used to, it still brings him an oh so great sense of comfort. Even when the metal parts of his body can't feel much.

You throw an arm around his head and ruffle trough the jagged, synthetic hair. Running strand by strand trough your fingers, evening some knots out. Under your hand you can feel the back of his head heating up, the warmth spreading trough the partly hard plastic skin up to the side his face is pressed against you. Whirring fans causing faint vibrations below your fingertips. After a while his face turns a light shade of red. Steam beginning to form inside his mouth.

Feeling you crane your neck to the side so that you can see his face more clearly. He stares back. Noticing what you might be looking at currently, he swiftly turns to the side making a half hearted grouchy expression. Upon this he hears you stifle back a chuckle and puts a mitten on your face so that you can't see his.

"Woah what was that for big guy?", you jokingly question while disheveling his hair in a kidding manner. Pushing his mitten away.

"NOTHING! [[all, for nothing at all]]!!", earlier formed steam being hissed out inbetween words.

Before you could say some more he shuts you up by hugging your body to his chest. Avoiding the sharp edges of the suit. Long teardrop shaped arms winding you around his body. Albeit with too much strenght considering he hears your spine crack.

"[[Whoopsie-daisy]]!! DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT ROUGH!!", shrieking out in surprise, easing the pressure.

Spamtons' main body falls with you back down onto the mattresses with a dull thud. Still snuggling you into his chest. Now that most noise died out the only thing you can hear are some of his mechanisms relentlessy working.

With his warm arms wrapped around your body, acting as blankets, you begin to doze off. Sensing this he dims his lights yet again. He lifts you up in order to put a mattress between you two so that you don't wake up with cuts everywhere from the sharp edges. Even if he can't sleep he still enjoys beings near you simply resting.

The last thing you register before falling asleep were teeth softly gracing the top of you head.

[doctorforks]

hello! magical girl doa fanart incoming again!

I tried to make it more accurate, but I still got some things wrong ;P I really approve of Nikolai having luscious eyelashes. Maybe you're used to it, but your flavor of fyodor's eyes is a little hard to do with the tiny ring of lighter pink in/as the iris. If you ever plan on drawing anything related to this, please please please show whatever is on Nikolai's neck in a bigger point of view. Every time I draw whatever's on her neck, it changes.

There was originally a second part to this where the magical girls beat up/direct a magical beam to an AI user to honour that one rant of yours, but it looks weirdly intense now that I'm looking at it so I am keeping it to myself. You can imagine that the grey person Sigma's carrying is said beat up AI user or just a random civilian they saved.

I'm in the hospital right now and resting up after surgery. Drawing this distracted me from the sentient sensation of the painkillers wearing out. Thank you for posting stuff; looking at your blog is always so fun, makes me laugh, and makes me want to draw. Oh, and this one nurse said I drew cute anime girls while I was drawing this so I really think that says something about how well you designed the magical girls ^^ thanks again!

I am absolutely in love with this!!!! Genuinely made my day <3 the nurse clearly sees you doing these designs much more justice than I could

I know this reply is quite late but I hope you've rested well! Get better soon my dear 💜

here's Sigma nonchalantly killing an ai user. fyodor and nikolai are now going to call strangers ai users just to see Sigma getting violent for fun

[bekala]

Today in capitalist bullshit…

Warning this is going to be a long post. I’m not sorry.

Ok, so first some context.

I like building models. The balsa wood and paper book nook kind that basically come flat packed with IKEA level directions and require tweezers and lots of glue.

I have always been aware that the companies that make these models play fast and loose with copyright laws - search Amazon and you’ll find a ton of unlicensed Harry Potter themed options, not that anyone would want to contribute to actual licensed HP products these days anyway…

Moving on!

These models often contain books. So many books! Endless books.

Usually the covers are generic fancy book covers or titles that are so old they’re out of copyright, like Madame Bovary - I don’t know why but every model I’ve ever built has included a copy of Madame Bovary. Every now and then a copyrighted title pops up but it’s usually a big name: Nicholas Sparks, Twilight, CS Lewis, you get the idea.

BUT this last model -

I thought I was hallucinating.

Is that All the Young Dudes? OMG, is that All the Young Dudes fourteen times with fanart?!

YES! Yes it is.

Fourteen! 14! Fourteen covers of All the Young Dudes mixed into the books of this model complete with what I can only assume are fanart covers or fan binding mock-ups.

I paid $45 for this model. Amazon says 300+ people have bought it in the last month. There are multiple listings for this same kit.

I assume the artists who produced the art on these covers and the author of All the Young Dudes did not give permission to be included.

Look, I know that because this is a fanfic and fanart technically there’s no royalty issue here. Authors and artists in the fandom space know we can’t be compensated for our work. We go in knowing that. We do what we do out of love and with passion.

That doesn’t eliminate ownership of the work. It doesn’t eliminate the fan artist’s or fic writer’s copyright. Technically there’s a lot of legal stuff that I could dive into here about derivative work and ownership rights, etc, etc.

But the more important thing to me is that these artists made this art. They own it. And they deserve to at least have been asked before it was used like this. They also deserve to know that it’s being used this way so they can take action if they want.

I’m not naive enough to think that anything can realistically be done about this situation but I do think the artists and the author have a right to know how their work is being used. So I’m asking Tumblr to do its thing and help find the amazing people responsible for these covers.

I’m including close ups of some of them to help out. Forgive the photo quality, these things are literally 1.5cm tall and I’m not a macro photography expert…

I’m also not sure how to notify MsKingBean89. There wasn’t a tumblr mentioned on AO3 so if anyone has a way that’d be cool too.

Long story short: Models are fun. Stealing fanart is bad. Do better. Help find these creators.

Oh! And this is the model kit for the curious: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D61Z7Y3G

[miniiredd]

Reblogging to add extra thot (was supposed to be small thot, became big gigantic thot) i apologise for the ramble and unnecessary add ons but brain went bbbbbrrrrrrr. If someone wants to make it in to an actual thing please go ahead

(Honestly I’m just posting this because if I don’t it’ll live in my drafts forever, I’ll keep looking at it and I’ll hate it more then I do)

4: Marc and Celestino (this one more ties into the Marc and Valentino figure out their shit one, could possibly work for the first one)

Marc and Bez cuddled up on the couch in Marc’s motorhome when there’s a knock at the door, Marc’s confused because while yes Alex has learnt to knock or text ahead if he’s not expected back(if going first option), and he can’t think of anyone else that would be visiting, but Bez clearly does because he shouts ‘doors open come in’, Celestino just walking in, takes his shoes off ofcourse, flops down on the other side of Marc and just starts at yapping at Bez.

Marc just sitting there wondering how the fuck this happened, how he ended up in the middle of Bez and Celestino while Celin complains about his day or debriefing about the track/bike, he’s barely had anything to do with Celestino, pretty sure he hated Marc but he just walks into Marc’s motorhome and makes himself comfortable like he’s here all the time (turns out he is, sometimes Bez and Cele just hangout in Marc’s motorhome ‘it’s quiet and no one knows we’re here’)

Or very similar basically identical but Marc and Bez cuddled up on the couch at the ranch/Vale’s house, Celestino just walking in dumping his shoes, bags everything in the entrance way, not even walking around the couch but just climbing over the side and the crawling over Bez and Marc to get to the other side and just flopping on Marc and curling up into his side burying his head under Marc’s chin, Bez grumbling because that means he has to move his head ‘I was here first Celin, I was comfortable’ “yeah well I’m here now, move it, learn to share”. Marc wondering how this is his life, how/why he’s got two over grown teenagers fighting over him

They’ve been laying there for a while when Celestino tilts his head back a little to ask Marc’s advice about something on track, about what Cele could do better or need to work on. Marc freezing for a second because he doesn’t do that, that’s Vale’s thing, the track and training on it is Valentino’s realm not Marc’s, Marc doesn’t want to overstep but Celin has that sad puppy look on his face, Marc tries to give a quick answer to give Cele something but not overstep, Celestino thinking he’s bothered Marc starts to ramble ‘ just I know Bez comes to you sometimes and, so I thought you wouldn’t mi, i didn’t want to bother you’ and goes to bury his head back under Marc’s chin to hide his face, Marc taking a deep breath because he wants to help and he can, he doesn’t want drag Cele into his issues with the track, with Vale, wants to move past that, ‘turn four yeah?’ Cele nods, Marc then launching into an explanation of what he could do/what could help, checking on Cele to make sure he hasn’t crossed any lines, Cele staring up at him following every word, appreciation on his face, determination to listen and learn.

Valentino walking into the house ‘Celestino! (Bez muttering ‘oh shit first name’) what have I told you about leaving your shit at the door’ “heeeyyy how do you know it’s my stuff” ‘because only you or Marco do this, and he did it when he got here yesterday, so that leaves you’, Valentino walks into the lounge room sees Marc with Bez and Celestino on either side, cele burrowed as close to Marc as can be ‘well what do we have here’ Celestino grumbling “Bez was hogging Marc so, I made him share’ “I was not!” ‘Yeah you were!’ “Uh who was begging Marc to help them stuff on the track!’ Marc trying to interrupt to explain ‘well I….’ Valentino cutting him off ‘Good, maybe you’ll actually pay attention and learn something’ Celestino pouting “hey!” Then grumbling quietly ‘maybe if you were nicer….’ Bez and Marc giggling, ‘what? You want to do the dishes tonight? That so kind of you Celin’ Valentino’s grins, Bez sees celestino’s face and just absolutely loses it, ‘And Marco can help dry’ Marc giggles at bez’s face. Bez pouting ‘Marc laughed too what’s his punishment’ Vale just kind of leers at Marc, Bez hiding his face against Marc’s shoulder ‘oh gross, can’t you wait till you get a room’ Cele looking confused ‘wait…. why do they need a room?’

Later in bed Valentino notices Marc’s abit quiet, asks if Bez and Celestino were being to much he can tell them give him a little space, Marc’s quick to shake his head tell him no it’s ok, it’s actually quite nice they feel that comfortable with him that they accept him, that they feel comfortable asking him for advice, Marc pauses for a moment, asks if it’s ok he gave Cele advice because it’s Vale’s track he doesn’t want to step on any toes but Cele looked so nervous when he asked and Marc tried to say no, to give a quick answer but he just had that look ‘you know that one he gets when he thinks he’s bothering someone’ and Marc couldn’t say no, he wanted to help and, Valentino has to cut him off pulls him in closer (as if that was possible) ‘this is your home, your track too, I see the boys wanting to ask your advice but not want to bother you, to cross any boundaries, I want them to ask you but if you’re not comfortable that’s fine no one will be upset or push you, but don’t hold back because you think you’ll upset me or crossing any boundaries’ pauses to look down at Marc ‘they’re your boys too’

Ok so this was supposed to be one/kind two ideas, became three and what ever this ramble is, enjoy!feel free to use

1: Marc and Bez.

Bez doesn’t understand how they got here, how Marc became his person, his comfort but he’s 100% ok with it and not questioning it at all. Bez sees Marc as a safe space, someone he can go to and just be himself. He just wants to hide away and cuddle up with Marc. Where Marc is like what the hell? How did we from he hates me, he doesn’t want to be near me, I’m the devil, to coming to Marc when he’s upset, to chatting to him in the paddock/perc ferme, commenting on Marc’s post or at least messaging Marc about the post, to a pat on the shoulder/a brief touch here and there, a hug, to cuddling up on the couch. One day Bez hated him and next minute their cuddled up in Marc and Alex’s motorhome while Alex and Bez argue about whatever’s on the tv (Marc takes Bez’s side just to annoy Alex), Marc’s not against it, he’s just, he confused How.

2: Could also be Pecco and Marc.

It wasn’t that Pecco thought Marc wasn’t affectionate, he’d seen him be but it was mostly with Alex, with his family, maybe Fermin, Dovi, it was with a very select group of people that got ‘that’ version of Marc, and Pecco’s not sure how he became apart of that group of people (but he’s secretly really emotional and touched by it). Where Marc’s not sure how or when or even why he started seeing Pecco as a safe space, a safe person but all he knew was he wanted to hug Pecco, cheer him up when he was sad, cuddle with him on the couch, so he slowly started to do so, till it became natural became something he could just “do”.

(Bonus: Could also apply to Marc and Valentino finally figure out their shit, and Bez realises Marc isn’t the bad guy villain he was made out to be, he’s actually really nice and always listen to Bez (even when some of the others probably wouldn’t or had done so for the 100th time and would just pat him on the head), which leads to Bez going to Marc for comfort, when he’s had a bad day, a good day, he wants someone to cuddle but no one will/can, going to Marc just because.

And Marc doesn’t understand how this happened? How he became Bez’s comfort person, how it went from Bez being suspicious of him to them cuddled up on the couch because Bez is sad cause one of the boys was ‘mean to him’ aka they wouldn’t hug him when he wanted, but he isn’t mad about it, confused? Yeah, but he’s more happy, Proud, that Bez sees him as a safe space, sometimes before Valentino .

Valentino’s also secretly happy that two of his favourite people are getting along, even if he has to wait to cuddle with Marc himself)

[endermagpieart]

What do you mean I’m a bit late for Janus’ big day? Of course not, how could you say such a thing! I definitely didn’t forget all about it in my absence and only get reminded in the incorrect quotes video live chat; that’s not like me at all ;]

Anyways I decided to dress our sassy snake in some different outfits I think he’d like. He seems like the type to get all dolled up on his birthday and it goes with Thomas posting pics in outfits inspired by the sides on their appreciation days!

@thatsthat24

[itslavenduh]

That one screenshot.

Reference ^ Don't ask me which episode it's from I cannot remember <3

[stinkysarai]

HI!!! i saw ur comment on this little post and i was going to reply to it but i realized i typed WAY too much for it to fit in the comment section so i gotta post it here LOL

"hi ty for asking me this iNCOMING RAMBLE!!!! so i'd say that my role swap katara and sokka are equally different and alike to their canonical counterparts, and while they (obviously) take a lot of inspo from zuko and azula, they aren't exact copies ... hopefully. 

katara is still naturally kind/caring, but her kindness is somewhat stifled by her rage toward her unfair banishment. her quest to capture the avatar is more of a revenge type of thing tbh; she wants to stick it to hakoda for banishing + scarring her. because of this, she'll be less harsh than zuko was during his chase for aang, but she'll still be very adamant on capturing the avatar, and will not take no for an answer. i don’t really want her to have an inferiority complex about her bending the way zuko does, but rather over how she feels way less smarter than sokka. the reason why she isn’t as insecure about her bending is because she and sokka were never really pitted against each other. hakoda always thought it’d be better two have two loyal war machines instead of one… up until katara spoke up in the fateful war meeting about his cruel plan to essentially sacrifice some of his soldiers. 

while sokka will be a bender in this au, i’m planning on him not having to rely on it the way most benders do in atla. sure, in this au he’s a prodigy waterbender and stuff, but that’s not really important to him, as he can win a fight without his bending (like with boomerang, sword, club, more maybe). in my opinion, it’d be way scarier to be fighting with someone who is masterfully trained in multiple methods of combat, rather than just prodigious in one. he’s still a genius guy as well, but his one weakness is that he is very blindsighted by hakoda’s approval, much like azula is toward ozai’s. everything he does is with hakoda in mind, as in “what would my father do? what would he like for me to do?” which ends up leaving him in rough positions at times. it’s also just very draining for him, but that’s to be expected. his need for hakoda's approval also just means that if he fails his father or feels like he has, he will be Very unhappy...

sokka and katara still love each other very much like in canon, but their relationship is strained due to hakoda manipulating sokka into believing that what he did to her was a fair, rightful punishment, instead of messed up. he cannot see katara’s point on things until much later, when the two of them are trying to redeem themselves by aiding in the avatar’s journey to end the war (because yes they BOTH GET REDEEMED, not just katara!). i’ll explain more on how the both of them get redeemed if u want :)))

anyways, the art itself is set during b3, which would be when katara is returning to the swt with sokka. she’s all nervous because she’s still trying to stomach the fact that she aided in the avatar’s death, which was something she did not want to happen, and now her plan to try to foil hakoda’s whole “i need to get the avatar to win!” plan has just gone down the drain, and she needs to think of something new. meanwhile sokka’s just looking at her with mild confusion and curiosity, as well as a little suspicion.

(things may change though, because this au is still sorta in its concept stages!)"

i drew the water tribe siblings from my generic little role swap au :3 ive been drawing traditionally a lot so my digital art skills have all but vanished forgive me 💔 anyways SOKKA!! KATARA!! THE SIBLINGS EVER!! except they're a little troubled in this au as expected

[cementcornfield]

More thoughts because i'm obviously not done with Today

but like...ja'marr's been talking about wanting to be more of a Leader after getting this contract. hell, i would argue he was displaying a lot of leadership last season and even the season before that when joe went down! he's been known to get the guys in the right position on the field, tell them what route joe needs them to run (without joe having to say a word to him! btw!) and encourage and help them after the play is done and they're sitting on the bench together!

and now today, with the different twitter videos of ja'marr actually leading the WR drills, cheering on the younger guys, and!!! the biggest thing, leading the huddle, which he's never done for the whole team before! (he's done it with just the WRs plenty, but this is EVERY GUY on the team looking at and listening to him!) and you can SEE how visibly just like...giddy he is throughout the whole thing?? excited?? nervous?? but he does GREAT. all the guys (not just joe, which i was primarily focused on before for obvious reasons!) all of them looking at him with such fondness and joy as he does it!

so yeah, he's been wanting to be a leader, but he's also been NERVOUS about it too. in previous interviews he's talked about how it doesn't come naturally to him. how he can be more reserved and mostly has just wanted to let his play do the talking. and i mean we all remember that Adorable moment when joe tricked him about the coin toss before the titans game?? when he told him last minute that zac wanted him to do the talking (and then grinned to himself for ten seconds while ja'marr freaked out about it before telling him he was just kidding <3) so yeah, we can infer that making this step is something that DOES scare him a bit!

but, again, he did it!! he did well leading the drills, he did well leading the huddle!! he was scared, but he did it anyway (and isn't that how we all grow??) and i dunno maybe....in keeping with the theme of doing things he Really Really Wants to do but has been scared or hesitant about before, he looked at joe (who was clearly doing some combination of sweetly congratulating him and teasing him at the same time), and just said "fuck it" and hopped on over there and lifted him straight up in a huge bear hug 🥹

[pokemonblack3white3]

Girlies I have got to stop feeling guilty about creating art I enjoy

[mushroominaforest]

I’m trying to practice drawing stuff like side profiles (I suck balls at that lol) and character interactions / more complex poses and I’ve ended up with not one but TWO drawings of Eliana being mean to Cody lmao 😭

(Tw: by ‘being mean’ I mean being abusive lol)

The first one is sillier, (and a bit older) and the second one is a little more dramatic lol

Idk what I’m doing. I just like drawing my silly little guys. Sue me

Also can you tell that I do not have a colour pallet for them lol. I just pick random colours every time I draw my ocs

(Also I know the poses are a little scuffed this is practice okay be nice to me)

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

it's always a little frustrating to me when aroallo people don't understand or care about asexuality

I know that aroallo-ness has it's own struggles, amatanormativity and heteronormativity hate us all in unique and intersecting ways and it definitely sucks for aroallo folk (especially with how I've seen plenty of people talk about how they get the least explicit canon rep in fiction out of all the aro/ace combos) ...but sometimes it feels like a lot of aroallo people start taking that frustration out on aroace/ace-ness, instead of amatanormativity/heteronormativity and the aphobic/uncaring allo folk who enforce it. Y'know, the people who actually dislike aromanticism and asexuality, and who really don't give a shit about nuanced and varied aro rep.

(presumably there's also alloace people out there who are the same about aromanticism too -- I'm just talking about aroallo people because that's what I have personally been seeing, and I don't want to just make shit up about the alloaces.)

[socksracoon10]

look i am not a lando norris fan at all but for the lando fans pls have SOME decorum we're all stressed about the race coming up, we all have our favorite drivers that we want to win I get it, this is a crucial part of the race. At least on my views, i don't want Lando to crash or DNF like yeah it would help max but i wouldnt wish that on my worst enemy so at the same time stop wishing it for max, dont wish that for any driver imo because that's childish and rude on top of all this, lemme clarify max will NOT try to crash into lando on purpose (ive been seeing posts like that)... i fear people keep forgetting that max has matured a lot more than people give him credit for. He raced clean in Brazil, the worst he's done as of late was his classic pushing them off track limits move but any other driver would do the exact same thing at the moment in order to secure their championship. at the end of the day, it's so funny how a number of people that the drivers have never met will go on long rants to tear down another driver. I have my thoughts about lando, I get mad too and I say stuff not ONLINE where others can read. i think we all need to calm down keep our thoughts in our head and if your argument is "b-b-but other people are - but other people are doing it they're saying mean stuff!" THEN BE THE BETTER PERSON??? dont stoop to their level thats all i wanna say at the end of the day youre not their parents, youre not their gf/bf, youre not even an acquaintance... you are a person on tumblr... that they don't know... dont defend them to death, dont whine about them to death just watch the damn race, pray your driver does well and if they say or do something wrong accept that they did something wrong and move on with your life thats literally it ok im done ranting lol (i mightve gone crazy in the tags lol)

[internetdruid]

Evening, ladies