#anchor nail design

[gudmould]

Mould for Plastic Wall Plug

Cavities 6 for 6 changable styles from 180-420mm size Cavities 6 for 3 changable styles from 220-260mm size Cavities 10 for 5 changable styles from 180-160mm size Cavities 12 for 4 changable styles from 80-140mm size

[bwabys-scenarios]

Could you do your thoughts on chrollo 🙏 tyyy

This man…

So he’s definitely the romantic type, but at first it almost feels… superficial, like he’s following a guide on how to romance you.

At first it weirds you out, but it’s surprisingly charming seeing him try so hard to enact a normal romance with you considering that you’re the only normalcy he gets in his chaotic life. You are his anchor, the person that keeps him tethered to reality.

Chrollo prefers to give you fancy, extravagant gifts like brand new designer items and glittering herself, but he actually prefers to receive homemade, more thoughtful gifts like baked goods, art, and even music played just for him. It’s the sentimental stuff that really gets to him.

He’s surprisingly clingy, sticking by your side when he does get the chance to spend more than a night with you. Making coffee? Ooo, he’ll have a cup as well, can he sit with you? Working on something from home? Sit on his lap, he’ll use whatever power he can to be helpful to you.

Just wanting some time away from him? Sorry, that’s not happening when he’s around. He wants to soak up all the attention and affection again before he’s forced to brave the dark and cruel world again, away from your warmth and sweetness.

He’s particularly biased towards the missionary position, enjoying the look on your face when his cock hits that special spot that makes you moan his name with a renowned vigor. Getting to fuck into you while your nails dig into his back is pure Heaven, and he has no problem cleaning you up with his mouth after.

Chrollo will never cheat, he’s just not really interested in anyone but you. Once you’ve caught his attention, he’ll be with you until the day you die… and fuck, he might just bring you back. He just loves you that much.

———————

Note: Send me an adult HXH/JJK/Demon Slayer character and I’ll share my thoughts on them! Requests are open if you get inspired by my thoughts and want more :3

[gloryinthunder]

I love that resisting Dark Urge and unascended Asterion's romance goes this way. Both of them are trapped playing roles they don't want, forced to do unspeakable violence to others, fighting tooth and nail against their fate. One created to be consumed and the other created to devour the world. Both are abused, used, and expected to act a certain way by a god figure/father/creator.

And somehow they find each other, and love, through trauma designed to deny them humanity and connection with others. They support each other through the harrowing experiences of escaping their respective creators. Moments in which both of them come mere inches from losing themselves forever. Which they likely would have done without the other to anchor them.

And they do that partly because, in all of that mess and pain, they see the real version of the other person. And they steadfastly refuse to let the other forget that they're in there. That they have value and humanity. That they're loved.

[greenconverses]

PJO 1x01 and 1x02 thoughts

The first chapter monologue in the perfect way to open the show and establish Percy's voice from the beginning. Walker immediately nailed both Percy's sarcasm, impertinence, and anger, which is so so so critical for anchoring the show.

how dare you waste megan mullally like this (she's coming back later according to previews BUT STILL)

direction in the first episode, especially with the action scenes, was a little lacking. percy killing mrs. dodds was weirdly anti-climatic. the car chase could've been a bit more exciting and the minotaur was okay

I LOVE YOU SALLY JACKSON, BEST MOM ON THE PLANET.

I have seen some posts about Gabe being defanged but he's clearly still an abusive waste of space. The dude is answering her phone, unemployed, gambling away her money, it's red flag city up in here. Curious how they're going to show him in later episodes and what they'll do with the Medusa plotline.

Grover is one of those characters that I have very little emotional attachment to. He's just sort of... there in the books for me. But Aryan's a little cutie and he does a great job of acting like he's just a little bit older/mature than Percy. Loved his little back and forth with Sally in the cabin. Deeply underutilized in the second episode, but obvs he'll get more time later on.

is the dryad his mom???

I adore the set design for camp, especially the Big House and all the stained glass motifs. But WTF is up with all the skeletons in Cabin 3? get a better interior designer poseidon you fucking weirdo

Jason Mantzoukas' energy for Mr. D was perfect, no notes. Did love his interactions with Percy and Grover.

Chiron is... there?

Clarisse is perfectly cast. Luke is underwhelming so far, but he really hasn't gotten to do anything real meaty yet.

I'm ready to see more of Annabeth in future episodes because she really didn't do much more than lurk and be cryptic since they gave her role as guide to camp to Luke. (I am not a fan of this decision, but whatever, gotta set Luke up for ~ultimate betrayal)

Her exasperated shove of Percy into the lake was A+ but why was the trident so damn big lmao

Loved loved loved Percy's burning anger at his dad and wanting to make him show up. Excellent characterization

"I am Sally Jackson's son!" dead dead dead tell 'em perce

curious as to why the episodes are limited to 45 minutes because i think another 5-10 minutes on the runtime would've helped with some of the pacing issues. but the show's clearly cut with commercial breaks in mind so i'm guessing this is eventually going to air on the Disney Channel or ABC.

[slightly-smarter-nat]

What about a Natasha Romanoff X female avenger!R where Natasha has constant nightmares and has a hard time falling asleep. Then one night she finds R in the compound living room watching TV or something cause R is a night owl or just hanging around, so the red head joins her. It’s going great and Nat starts to relax but then R starts giving signs of heading to bed but Nat prolongs or suggests other things to do like have tea, watch a movie, braid hair, paint nails, anything she can come up with to not let R leave her alone and having to go back to sleep in fear of the nightmares coming back. Eventually R catches on what’s happening and asks why Nat is not letting her go to sleep and the Russian confesses, feeling guilty for keeping R from going to bed. But then R suggests Nat sleep in her room, like a sleepover, and by the end feelings are confessed! Sorry for being specific!! You write Natasha so well and on point!! I always love seeing (reading) this soft side of her!!

Favourite Person || Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, mention of trauma, mentions of the Red Room, explicit language. If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 5127 words.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request Anon, (I’m so sorry it’s late). To the anon that requested this fic, if you are not happy with it and would like me to re-write it, I will happily do so. I hope you all enjoy! Please note this is an au so some character’s behaviours may be different to what is expected.

Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform), copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3.

Masterlist

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Favourite Person: Natasha Romanoff-

“No, no please- just let me go!”

The somewhat delicate yet rasping sounds of pleading whimpers of desired escape fill the momentarily still bedroom belonging to that of Natasha Romanoff.

Desperate intakes of air in combination with mind numbing struggles against a dream-like battle that she fails to overcome each night she’s graced with even a substantial set of hours to sleep, plague her traumatised mind.

With one final desperate gust of air surging through her windpipe, she forces her now awakened self up from the sweat-tainted mattress that supports her body.

Glistening, tear-filled eyes frantically roam the features of the room as Natasha scans her environment for any potential intruder destined to cause harm to her.

With a soft and grounding clutch to her Anchor shaded comforter, she concludes that she’s safe for another night; and that her wicked past has once again robbed her of another night of a peaceful and yet craved slumber.

Natasha can’t help as her hands roam her heated skin, having the urge to fidget as her mind fails to come down from the relentless period of memories belonging to that of the Red Room- ones that she would be ever so quick to forget if she was given the opportunity.

Knowing any further hours designated to sleep were off the table, Natasha leans her trembling body over to her bedside table- hoping to deliver herself a well needed drink of water to not only lessen her now dry throat, but to have the calming effect needed to slow her rapidly pacing heart rate down.

Much to her dismay, as she grasps the hardened plastic cup that once held a heaped amount of water in it; she soon realises her cup is now empty.

Having had her right to drink forfeited, she releases a gentle breath of frustration, alongside a string of Russian curses at the continuous, nightly bad luck that seems to be lurking its way to her recently.

One night she hopes she can have a dreamless sleep just to gather up enough energy to carry out her duties as an Avenger, and to stop her waking mind from reliving the nightmares from the night before. Though that seems like too much to ask.

Refusing to re-enter her nightmares once more during the nightly period, she sleepily hoists her body out from between her sheets. Ensuring she gives herself a moment to steady her breathing before leaving her darkened room.

Knowing she is ready, she quickly swipes her empty cup from her bedside table and ever so quietly makes her way to her bedroom door; taking extra care when turning the doorknob to exit the room with as minimal levels of noise as possible. She’d hate herself for disturbing any of her teammates with her late night adventure to the kitchen. Just because she can’t sleep, why should they pay the price in losing sleep also?

Little does Natasha know, one teammate in particular would lose countless hours of sleep to ensure the redhead was safe and secure in any situation- especially when her haunting dreams take their toll.

As Natasha makes her way through the narrow pathways leading to her desired location; she picks up a little tune on the side of her cup, allowing her nails to tap mindlessly against the smooth surface. Hoping her mind chooses to focus on the range of movements needed to continue the repeated pattern, opposed to the horrors lingering from within.

That is until her ears pick up on muffled voices coming from the living area of the Compound.

Natasha’s entire system freezes; in her sleepy and somewhat confused state of mind, her thoughts rush to the most terrifying conclusions:

The voices could belong to Hydra members; desperate to seek and steal documents from the Avengers. It could be the Red Room, sending their final wave of untraceable Widows to finish Natasha and Yelena off, and in the process take out the Avengers.

With a vice, tight grip now on her cup, Natasha steadily allows her feet to move herself towards the noise source in a stealthy manner- attempting to gauge the seriousness of the situation and to determine how much force will be needed to deal with the potential intruders.

Natasha unknowingly releases laboured breaths, each step filling her body with a dread that she has not felt since she was a child roaming the hallways of the Red Room itself. Desperately trying to move from one room to another without being punished for stepping in the incorrect sequence or even making too much noise when she is so harshly trained to be as silent as a whisper.

As Natasha lines her back with the edge of the wall leading to the Living Area and Kitchen, she inhales a steady breath, knocking herself into her ruthless ‘Black Widow’ nature. With a hardened glare, she moves her line of sight around the corner to which her entire demeanour drops as soon as she spots the unexpected scene unfolding in front of her.

She finds you laying across the couch haphazardly as you stare at the TV screen illuminating the room in a gentle, blue hue as the muffled voices that Natasha mistakenly thought to be intruders continue- seemingly now belonging to the show that entraps your attention currently.

Natasha slowly moves closer to you, noticing more details as she approaches: like how one of your legs swings over the edging of the sofa in a careless motion as you stare at the images dancing across the screen; how you lazily place singular pieces of popcorn on your tongue in anticipation to bite down on the slightly hardened texture of the food item. Even how you carefully rest your head on your supported hand, tilting your gaze in wonderment of the information being gathered from the show of your choice.

She can’t help but stare at you in awe, finding it highly difficult to recall an instance where she has known you to be so calm and collected. Even being in your presence has removed some of the tension that had been built up in her muscles since she woke up from her nightmare.

She must admit, she’s relieved to find you of all people out here. Out of all the members of the team recently, you’ve been one of the only ones who can effortlessly put a smile on her face- something she is in desperate need of in her current state.

Having the overwhelming sense to join you, she chooses to clear her throat, snapping you out of your TV trance once you register her presence.

You quickly reach for the TV remote and eagerly press down on the mute button as you go to speak to Natasha, “Oh, hey, sorry did I wake you up?”

Natasha quickly shakes her head, “No, I just- I wanted some more water. I didn’t expect anyone else to be up so late.” Natasha silently scolds herself for her awkward stuttering for an answer. Though she knows she’s not quite ready to burden you with her night terrors, part of her feels the added weight of keeping the anxiety surrounding them in once more.

You push yourself up from the couch with a slight groan, having been in the same position for several hours straight, “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m more of a ‘night owl’ than anything so usually I watch my shows in my room but my TV is busted. Tony said he will fix it for me tomorrow so this is more of a one off.” You say as you gesture to the scene around you.

Natasha takes in your words as she draws invisible patterns on her cup, “Don’t apologise, it’s nice to have some company at this time of night.” Natasha says genuinely, usually having to face the aftermath of her nightmares alone until the more reasonable hours of the morning.

“What are you watching?” She attempts to guide the conversation forward.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Natasha to show an interest, “Oh, um Cupcake Wars.” You answer with glee.

Natasha smirks at your show choice, “Cupcake Wars? Really?” She says in a humoured manner.

You tilt your head with a narrowed gaze, “Judgment? Really?” You remark in a light manner, earning a chuckle from the Black Widow herself.

You lick your lips before you go to speak again, “You can blame Yelena for this, I wasn’t even into it until she made me watch it.”

Natasha scoffs in disbelief, never having assumed Yelena would even be into shows such as this, “Yelena? My sister? The lean, mean Mac n’ Cheese loving machine?”

You laugh at her words, knowing upon Yelena’s arrival to the Avengers she was eager to let it be known of her efficiency as a former member of the Red Room and how ambitious she can be in her line of work, but to her Sister and friends, she’s as soft as they come.

“Well yes, your sister, who I happened to be paired up with on a Recon Mission in December, decided that we needed to fulfil our ‘authentic American Christmas’, by watching the ‘Holiday Special’ of this series whilst we waited for Hydra to mess up and give us intel. Ever since then we’ve watched every episode, and we can mutually agree it’s the best decision we have ever made.” You playfully put it to Natasha, knowing she loves hearing the details of how well Yelena is settling into her new life away from the Red Room- the now secure life the two of them deserve.

Natasha beams at the information, relieved that Yelena is finding comfort within the Avengers, “Thank you for including her.” Natasha simply says, extremely grateful for your kindness, not only towards her, but to her little sister.

You smile at Natasha’s words, “Of course, it’s the same kindness you showed me when I first arrived at the Compound.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at your words, “Oh, believe me, it was a hard task being kind to you. You were feral.” Natasha attempts to tease you, knowing your first impressions of each other has been a running gag in your friendship for years.

You release an exaggerated gasp at her words, “Well, we both know I had Tony as my mentor so what did everyone expect to happen honestly?! I think I turned out pretty good considering my Avenger upbringing.” You lift yourself up to tuck one of your legs underneath yourself, seemingly becoming more engaged in the conversation through excitement of having Natasha close by.

Natasha pouts her lip and nods along to your words, “Sure, sure, we’ll let you believe that y/l/n.”

You quickly pick up a piece of popcorn to throw at Natasha, allowing your joyful laughs to fill the room.

Natasha easily catches the rogue piece of Popcorn, shoving it into her mouth for good measure, before bringing up the subject she has been dreading since she engaged in conversation with you, “I guess I had better grab my drink and leave you be. Goodnight, y/n.”

Your momentarily excited features drop slightly at Natasha’s words and loss of presence, you love being in her company. Majority of the time she’s the main source of happiness you can grasp at, with having some horrific events occur from your job, it’s refreshing having that comfort person you can call your friend- that person being Natasha.

Part of you also picks up on the depressed features of Natasha’s posture; usually present when something is on her mind or after a gruelling Mission.

You fail to anticipate your own moves when you hear Natasha returning from the Kitchen area of the Compound. Before you have time to think, your mouth opens up to release your next statement, “Hey, Nat. Would you like to watch a movie or something? This episode is nearly done and I’m not quite ready to go to bed yet.” You attempt to place the reasonings behind your question on yourself, hoping that if there is something Natasha wants to talk about, that she will feel comfortable enough to do so if she feels as though you invited her to hang out with yourself; rather than her having to ask.

Natasha stops her movements at your words, a flood of relief building up inside herself at your question. She desperately wanted to ask you herself, but the nipping feeling of guilt from intrusion of your alone time played on her mind so much so that she was too afraid to stay in your company.

As the overwhelming emotion of reassurance takes over Natasha, she chooses to nod at your question; failing to hide the string of grateful tears that line her exhausted eyes and knowing a waver in her voice would give away her fear of the night.

When Natasha moves to round the couch, she can’t help but smile at your effort to clear the perfect space for her to join you.

You instantly begin a clear down of the area, removing stray pieces of popcorn that somehow fell from your grasp during your Cupcake Wars marathon. You move to straighten up the charcoal tinted pillows; fluffing them up to mimic a comforting environment for Natasha to settle in to.

Once you look over your work and determine the couch to be satisfactory for Natasha, you dramatically wave for her to sit down. To which she does with an eye roll and a laugh.

As you reach for the TV remote and settle into your previous spot on the couch, Natasha sets her cup of water on the coffee table, waiting for you to choose the perfect movie for the two of you to watch together.

Though to her surprise, you stretch your arm out towards her, handing her the remote for control of the TV.

Natasha quirks a curious eyebrow at your gesture, “Y/n, what are you doing?”

You match her curious look at her question, “I want you to choose what we watch, Nat. Pick anything, I don’t mind.” You say with a comforting smile of reassurance.

Natasha hesitantly removes the remote from your outstretched hand, studying the array of buttons decorating it, “Are you sure? This is your time to-“

You interrupt Natasha, remembering the countless times she has been refused a choice on movie night, due to Tony’s unfair system of choosing the designated movie of the night- somehow it always ends up being one of his favourites…

“Natasha, I am more than positive that I want you to choose. Plus, this is our shared time to hang out, pick anything you would like.”

Natasha stares at you for a moment longer, attempting to detect a hint of change in your answer. When she realises you’re serious in your offer, she uses the the button to scroll through endless amounts of movie titles that all blend into a colourful blur after a minute or two.

That is until her eyes land on one of her comfort movies- Moonraker.

She allows the remote’s cursor to hover over the poster assigned to the James Bond movie on the list available, determining her options on how to approach asking you if this was an acceptable choice.

You soon notice the longing of the highlighted movie choice on the screen and the conflicted features crossing Natasha’s face as she has her own mental battle.

You turn yourself to gather Natasha’s attention, “Hey, is this the movie you want to watch?” You gently ask, trying not to push her in any way.

Natasha fidgets with the remote in her hands as she ponders a response, “Yeah, it’s a comfort movie. Is that okay?” She asks you calculatedly, worried you’ll reject the idea.

You reach over the back of the couch for a blanket left behind from a previous movie night, styling it out to cover yourself, “Of course it is, I’d love to watch it with you Natasha. Put it on,” You say as you tap the open space next you, alongside a lift of the blanket, intended to cover Natasha with.

Natasha wastes no time in pressing play to start the movie as she slides across the couch and into your embrace. What may seem as a small gesture to you, is a relieving gesture for Natasha.

Not only have you granted her the comfort of her go to movie of all time, but embracing her in a warm manner heightens the idea of Natasha being truly safe within the Compound.

As the two of you snuggle into the couch in anticipation of watching the movie; all the previous, dark thoughts from earlier in the night have evaded Natasha’s mind completely.

Hopefully it remains that way.

——-

Just as the final scene of the movie commences; the end credits begin to roll out on the screen, signifying the end of the action-packed sequence.

Natasha continues to watch the screen in a dazed state, happily losing herself within the familiar scenes of Moonraker.

However, she comes back to her senses once she feels you stretch your body out from beneath her, having cuddled up to you closer and closer as the movie has played.

You quickly finish stretching your arms and legs out, you take a moment to glance at your watch and release a low whistle at the time illuminating your watch face, “Wow, 4 am already? Shit, sorry Nat, I didn’t mean to keep you up so long.” You start to push yourself up from the cushioned layer of the couch, signalling for Natasha to move up also.

As she discards the blanket aside, a wave of uneasiness settles within her. She doesn’t want to go back to bed now, she dreads to think of what horrors await her in her dreams once she closes her eyes again. She was beginning to feel safe in your company, but now you’re readying yourself to go to bed, she’s terrified that you’ll leave her alone with her thoughts.

With her endless thoughts of torment, she stares at the now blank TV in thought. You notice her vacant expression, allowing you to kneel down in front of her and gently place your hands on her knees.

Natasha jumps slightly at your touch, however she soon places her hands on top of yours to signal that your comforting efforts are welcome, “Natasha, are you ready to head back to bed?” You ask cautiously, remaining ignorant to the issue at hand.

Natasha rubs her soft hands across the delicate skin of yours as she goes to speak, “You know, we’ve still got a bit of time to hang out before the others get up. We could try some of that new tea brand Tony bought as a trial for the Team; we could watch another movie, there’s plenty of James Bond movies for you to catch up on-“

Your eyes scan Natasha’s face as she rambles out endless ways in which the two of you should stay up for a little bit longer, “Natasha-“

Natasha shakes her head as she continues her plea, desperate for you to agree with her and stay up, “Oh, I could show you how to do those Dutch braids you like in your hair. You’re always saying how much you want to learn-“

“Natasha!”

The raise in your voice throws Natasha out of her rant, unwillingly sending a pang of fear into her chest.

As you recognise the disheartening features spreading across Natasha’s persona, you make an effort to rub reassuring circles on her arms, encouraging her to relax, “What’s going on? Why are you so adamant for us to stay up?”

Natasha fails to conceal the tears that line her eyes once again, frustration making itself known, “I can’t tell you, you’ll think I’m being ridiculous.” She whispers out, not caring that you’re seeing her in what she’d consider a weakened state.

You move to sit next to her closely, wrapping a protective arm around her, “Natasha, I could never think you’re ridiculous. You’re the strongest person I know, and if something is upsetting you this much- to the point where you don’t want me to go to bed, then I want to do everything in my power to help you. I promise you, I won’t judge you, I just want to help.”

Natasha allows her tears of despair to run down her face as she looks at you, understanding the sincerity of your words. She chooses to confide in you, “Ever since I could remember, I’ve had the most horrific dreams from my time in the Red Room, and even from certain Missions. They feel so real, I hear the pain from past victims of my actions; the drilling voices of those who kept me in the Red Room and made me what I am today-“

You give Natasha the room to talk, hating the fact you didn’t pick up on her suffering sooner- though this is Natasha Romanoff, when she wants to hide something, she does so without a trace.

“Usually when I wake up, everyone else is asleep so I just wait until someone else wakes up and pretend I got up early to train or something. No one ever notices, I hide it well, just like I’ve been taught to all these years. Then tonight, you were here, and I just felt safe and secure, you just know how to make me feel calm and appreciated. I’m sorry for putting this on you y/n, I just wanted to feel safe.”

You turn away briefly from Natasha to hide your own tears upon hearing her pain, with one deep breath you move to rest your forehead on top of Natasha’s fiery red locks, “Natasha, you’re not putting anything on me okay. I mean it when I say I want to do everything in my power to make you feel safe. I understand why you wanted to stay up longer, but do you think if we go to bed in my room or something, you might feel safe enough to sleep?”

Natasha slowly lifts her head up from under yours to catch your gaze, “You’d do that for me?”

You instantly nod, “Of course I will, I’ll do anything for you Natasha.”

Natasha bites her lip at your words, never having believed she could be so lucky to have someone like you in her life, “Thank you y/n. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

You pick yourself up from the couch and hold a supportive hand out to Natasha, which she gladly takes. Once you have switched all the necessary devices off in the living area and kitchen, you guide Natasha to your bedroom, “I think I do, but you’re still going to teach me how to braid my hair right?” You question Natasha, earning a light chuckle from her.

“I suppose I can look over my very busy schedule and fit you in somewhere.” Natasha lets out, allowing the anxieties of the night to vacate her mind.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of room in your schedule for your favourite person.” You reply, mindlessly following the corridors to your designated area of the compound.

Once you arrive at your door, Natasha raises a tired yet questioning brow, “Who said you were my favourite?”

You give her a light shrug, “I just know you can’t argue with logic.”

Natasha smirks as she moves into your room, noticing the minor details scattered across the area that makes the room entirely yours, once you move to switch your bedside lamp on to highlight the features more.

Natasha stands in the middle of the room, hesitant to move anywhere without your word.

You make quick work of straightening out your bed for Natasha; hiding any loose items that are long overdue their clean up as you refuse to admit the last time your room had a good clean out.

“Okay, the bed is ready for you. I’ll take the couch-“

Natasha frowns at your words, “We’re not sharing?”

You stop your actions as you attempt to make the couch into a makeshift bed for the night, “I don’t mind taking the couch honestly, it’s… comfy.” You say in an unconvincing tone, earning an eye roll from Natasha.

“Come on, we can share the bed, I don’t bite.” Natasha says as she eagerly settles into your soft and comforting sheets.

You silently release a breath of relief, having saved your back from a rough night of sleep on the outdated couch lumbered in your room.

Once you switch off your light, you easily slide into the other side of the bed, next to Natasha. Allowing your body to relax itself into your heavenly, cushioned mattress.

Assuming the sudden silence was reserved for sleeping, you close your eyes and bask in your comforting surroundings. Until a voice fills the hushed atmosphere, “Are you still awake?”

You release a relaxed breath as you go to reply, “Yeah, are you?”

Natasha releases a laugh from beside you, “Who do you think asked you doofus.” Natasha teases.

You roll on your side to face Natasha, using the minor elements of moonlight seeping through your blinds to study Natasha’s magnificent features, “Well J.A.R.V.I.S is quite the conversationalist at night, so pardon me for being curious to whom I am addressing Romanoff.” You say in the most serious tone you can muster- extremely low severity.

Natasha smiles brightly at your lightheartedness, “Sometimes I do wonder about you y/l/n.”

You tilt your head in challenge at Natasha’s words, “Oh yeah? What do you wonder about Nat?”

Natasha’s features fall into a stoic nature as she thinks of what to say, “I wonder how someone as loving and caring as you, would willingly want to hang around with someone like me?”

Your body shifts in discomfort at her words, sensing a tone of insecurity, “Someone like you? That’s not a bad thing Natasha.”

Natasha nods at your words, “It is, y/n, I know how people see me. Some ruthless monster who’s only worth is that of being a product of the Red Room. An assassin, produced to kill without fear or hesitation-“

You abruptly push yourself up to study Natasha in disbelief, “Natasha, that’s your nightmares talking. The Natasha I know, the real Natasha is so kind, considerate and incredible. You never fail to care for those around you. Hell, I bet you’ve saved more lives being an Avenger, than lives you were forced to take under the Red Room. Natasha you’re worth so much more than a brand under the Red Room.”

Natasha looks away from you as you continue your truths, having only her nightmares confirm her greatest fears.

“Natasha, you do realise none of the past was your fault. The Red Room took you, melted your mind and melded it into something cruel. It wasn’t your fault they did that to you and it certainly isn’t your fault that they controlled you to a point where you weren’t even of a conscious mind to understand the consequences of the actions they ordered you to do.”

You gently cup Natasha’s face and instantly swipe away a pained tear escaping her eye, “You’re not a monster, you’re a hero- my hero. Nat, you inspire me to be the best Avenger I can be. You inspire so many people around the world to protect others and do what is right. If I ever hear anyone saying anything different, I’ll kick their ass.” You add for good measure, earning a dry chuckle from Natasha.

“You’re not part of the Red Room, you’re Natasha Romanoff- Avenger, Hero and quite honestly the best thing this Planet has ever given us-“

Your words of wisdom are cut off once Natasha attaches her lips to yours, fulfilling every ounce of gratitude into one delicate and addictive kiss.

As Natasha slowly pulls away, she can’t help but bite her lip in amusement at your dazed features, “You can breathe you know y/n.”

You blink extremely slowly as your mind is sent into a frenzy of pure happiness, “Um, what were we talking about?” You suddenly ask, not knowing what else to do under the current circumstances.

Natasha pulls you down onto the bed as she moves to rest her head on your chest- its rightful space, “I’m pretty sure we were talking about how you’re my favourite person?” Natasha playfully adds.

You nod along as you pull Natasha closer towards you, “Hmm, that does sound accurate.”

With a quick mumble of ‘dork’ from Natasha, the two of you settle down for a night of slumber. Finding safety and security in each other’s arms.

——-

Soft, delicate finger tipped brushes against your rib cage wake you up from your relaxed slumber.

As your eyes flutter open, they meet ethereal green irises as they study your sleepy state.

Natasha leans up to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, allowing you to release a sigh of content at the comforting gesture, “Good morning, y/n/n.”

You sleepily smile at the sound of Natasha’s raspy voice, never failing to have your heart fluttering in excitement, “Good morning Nat, how did you sleep?” You nervously ask, hoping with every ounce of your being that she was able to rest after her nightmares.

Natasha initially responds with a glamorous smile, allowing you to replicate it to the same effect, “That was probably the best sleep I’ve had in over ten years.” She giddily lets out.

You pull her into your embrace, “No nightmares?”

Natasha nods to confirm, “No nightmares.”

You place an ecstatic kiss on the crown of her head, over the moon with the possibility that Natasha may be able to escape her nightmares.

“You know, maybe we should make this sleepover thing a permanent thing?” You ask sleepily.

Natasha hums at your words, “Well, I don’t see why not. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”

You laugh at Natasha's choice of comfort, “What about the person you’re currently cuddling?”

Natasha shrugs lightly, “I suppose they’re okay, the cuddles are a bonus.”

You smile at her words, “Well maybe I’ll have to deduct the cuddle clause from the agreement.”

Natasha tightens her grip on your body impossibly tight, “Try it and you’ll see why they say my Widow Bite Stings pack a nasty punch.”

“Oh well, we wouldn’t want to test that out.”

“Nope.” Natasha replies as she settles back into your embrace.

You allow a few seconds to pass before you bring up your next question, “What if-“

“No.” Natasha says with a flick of her fingers delivered to your forehead, eager to have you sleep in a little bit longer.

It’s safe to say that Natasha Romanoff is most definitely your favourite person.

—————————

Taglist: @beefromanoff

[sabertoothwalrus]

I know it was probably just dumb tags in a meme but im rlly curious, how do u go abt framing stuff? I have a lot of art prints i want to put up in my walls but the sticky gum doesn't last too long and i dont know how else to put them up, if u had any insight or advice on framing prints i'd rlly appreciate it, ty !!!

I want to clarify. I was a custom framer for 4 years. So my experience is in receiving completed artwork, designing the frames, and assembling them. After I put the hanger on the art I handed it over to the customers and it would stop existing in my life forever.

That being said, I am also a college student, and I live in an apartment where I can’t use nails. (Nails ARE the best for hanging btw. Drywall anchors just make bigger holes.) I use command strips. READ THE WEIGHT LIMIT. Most frames will need more than one pair. If your frames are falling, it’s probably because 1) you’re not letting it cure long enough or applying enough pressure 2) you needed to replace them (once a year is recommended, especially if you live in a hot/dry area).

I’ve had to FIX plenty of poorly framed art. I’m conscious of light exposure. I hate thumb tacks. Tape creates acid burns that RUINSSSSSS your art. Dust/bugs have personally tormented me. Moisture damage sucks. So I will always recommend framing art rather than just sticking it up on the wall. But if preservation isn’t important to you…. idk use whatever gets it to stick 🤷‍♀️

[iamthecomet]

Sub mountain, Sub mountain, Sub mountain, Sub mountain!! Big boy deserves to be fucked and knotted until he’s crying! Let him be a pillow princess!

I've got some Sub Mountain gang bang with bonus Transmasc Rain and Transfem Sunshine for this lovely Mountain Monday.

Mountain couldn’t move if he wanted to. There are bodies holding him down at every turn. He’s awash in scent and sensation. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get up, if he’ll survive this onslaught. But if this is the end of him—death by orgasm—he’ll take it without complaint.

Rain rolls his hips, a slow decadent grind. It’s designed to get Rain off, not Mountain. But the fluttering of his slick muscles on each pass are mind numbing. Rain’s so tight and wet. He’s shivery already. Each drag of his hips pulls a soft breathy moan from his lungs and Mountain thinks he’s going insane.  And then there’s Aether.

Holding Mountain’s knees apart, keeping him spread open, as he pushes in. His pace is no faster than Rain’s. Agonizingly slow. Not enough. Too much. Aether’s missing Mountain’s prostate on purpose, Mountain knows it. He can still taste Cumulus’ slick on his tongue as Dew slaps his dick against Mountain’s cheek. “Open up.”

Mountain turns his glazed over eyes to the fire ghoul just as Rain clenches hard around him and Mountain swears his brain is melting out of his ears. He parts his swollen lips, and Dew shoves his cock in, past his teeth, over his tongue, head bumping against the back of his throat in no time. Mountain can’t move much given his current position, which leaves Dew to fuck his mouth however he wants.

Mountain closes his eyes as Dew starts to thrust, the head of his cock dragging over Mountain’s tongue, spiling precum already. Dew grabs one of Mountain’s horns and uses it as an anchor.

Mountain groans, sinks into sensation. Lets himself be used.

Someone—Swiss judging by the chortle of laughter that follows, reaches over and brushes his fingers over Mountain’s pebbled nipple. Mountain jolts, the sensation piled on top of everything else is like an electric shock. He open his eyes, finds Swiss just to the left of Dew, kneeling next to Mountain on the bed. He drags his fingers over Mountain’s chest again, plucking and thumbing over sensitive skin to elicit whatever reaction he can.

Then his hand slips lower, dips out of view. But Mountain doesn’t have to wonder what his plan is for long because suddenly Rain is keening, cunt clenching hard around Mountain’s cock. He can feel Rain get wetter around  him. He whines around Dew’s cock.

It all gets urgent after that. Rain picks up the pace as Swiss plays with his clit. Aether, not to be outdone, shifts his angle and suddenly he’s nailing Mountain’s prostate with what feels like supernatural precision.

Dew grabs his other horn, his thrusts get fast, her swears, fangs digging into his lip as he looks down to watch.

Mountain can’t think anymore. There are only his packmates. Swiss’ other hand comes up to tug at his nipple again and he whines low in his throat. He’s drooling all over himself, the bed. He can feel Rain’s slick drying in his belly hair as Rain fucks himself on Mountain’s cock, chasing an orgasm. Fluttering and clenching.

Aether snaps his hips forward hard, getting faster. Mountain can’t do anything but hang on and try to hold back. He won’t last like this, not for long, he can’t. How can he be expected to.

“You’re not going to cum before everyone else are you?” Swiss purrs. “Sunny and Cirrus and I have had a turn yet.” 

Mountain can’t speak, not even if he didn’t have Dew’s dick down his throat. He reaches up to touch Rain, to put his hands on those narrow hips for something to hold on to, but Swiss bats his hands away.

Aether’s thrusts are getting sloppy, and Rain is shuddering, hard. Mountain can feel the way his thighs are shaking, his whole body quivering as he whines and pants. And if the amount of pre leaking onto Mountain’s tongue is any indication, Dew’s losing it. Close, they’re all close. He can do it ,he can hold out, he can—

Rain goes rigid above him, he lets out a long low moan, as he cums. Shaking and clenching, and shuddering and Mountain can’t.

He has no hope of stopping it. He’s cumming before he’s even registered how close he is, Rain’s body milking him for all he’s worth. Gasping around Dew’s cock and eyes rolling back in his head as he tries and fails to keep it all at bay.

Aether follows him right over, shoving his knot inside of Mountain with a growl and cumming deep inside of Mountain. Pulsing and twitching.

Mountain’s oversensitive body twitches with every small movement.

Swiss tuts like he’s disappointed. “Really expected better of you.”

Mountain feels his face heat, blush spilling down his cheeks. He wants to apologize, but Rain is still rolling his hips and it hurts. And Dew’s dick is still in his mouth and Aether’s still grinding into him, the head of his cock still pressing against his prostate with each minute motion.

Swiss says. “C’mon Aeth. Stop being greedy. I want to knot him. Now.”

“Fuck—give me a minute. It’s not going to go down if he keeps fucking clenching.”

Nothing has changed except now Mountain’s overstimulated, body screaming for more and less. He digs his fingers into the sheets, and feels tears well up in his eyes.

It’s so much, and they’re not going to stop. He doesn’t want them to stop. Dew cums down his throat with a shout, pulling away before Mountain can even catch it all. He doesn’t even have a chance to close his mouth or swallow before Sunshine is replacing him, pushing her cock past his lips a little more delicately than Dew. “He’s crying,” she says, almost like she’s in awe. She drags her fingers through the tears just starting to slip from his eyes.

“Good,” Swiss says. “He deserves to.”

[mmkin]

Get You Some Arlong - new chapter up!

Pure fun and smutty chapter. Very NSFW. Arlong has sex in his chair... yes, THAT chair. (Link and snippets as well as a few more fave screenshots under the cut) Reblogs, feedback, and shares are always appreciated! Oh Arlong, you magnificent bastard...

Arlong is in his chair, and as soon as he sees you, a smile spreads across his lips. You can not help but smile back as you approach the dais. The chair is simple, a lounge chair made of wood and painted white. You would see pool chairs and lawn furniture of similar design around the world, though the difference is that Arlong’s chair is much sturdier, designed to bear the weight of an almost 9-foot tall sharkman.

There's nothing fancy about it. No gold leaf, shiny jewels, or even ornamental carvings to grace the white paint. Yet after your time here, you know that chair is Arlong's throne. Everyone here does. No other fishman would be stupid enough to try to sit on the throne of the leader of the Arlong Empire.

He beckons to you before patting his left thigh, and you quickly comply. He positions you so that you are now straddling that thigh, facing him as he shifts himself so there’s room for both of your knees.

“I want you to do something for me, Y/n,” he purrs. You smile as you place your hands on his chest, sliding them along his neck and solar plexus. He sighs in approval before one of his hands slides to your ass, cupping it and using it to keep you anchored to him. His other hand travels to your chest, and even though you are wearing a binding, he can still feel how hard your nipples are if he applies enough pressure to the area. And he does, massaging his thumb across one nipple, feeling it push stubbornly against the binding.

“This gets you all hot and bothered, hmm?” he asks, continuing to rub the nipple while massaging and rubbing your ass. Like he even needs to ask…

“Yes," you breathe, knowing that when he asks questions like that, he wants verbal confirmation. It excites him to hear you beg and plead, to acknowledge that you are his, that you need his touch and attention. "How could it not? You feel how I ache for you.” You arch your back, pressing your breast into his hand.

He chuckles at that, and his thumb moves to the other nipple, ensuring that both of your tits get attention. “I can tell you’re getting hot… be careful that you do not burn a hole in my shorts,” he adds with a lewd chortle. You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at that. Arlong might be a mighty fishman, but he is still a man with a dirty mind.

“Maybe you need to take off your shorts, then,” you cheekily reply, running your nails along his abs.

“I am the Captain here, and I give the orders,” he scolds, but his ministrations continue, and you shift on his leg, pressing down with your pelvis to try to abate a bit of the pressure that his attentions have caused to build in you. “I think it’s your shorts that need to come off…”

You scramble to follow his directive – not easy in your current position, but when there’s a will, there’s a way – and his hand leaves your breasts to rub your groin through your underwear, causing you to arch against him, and he continues teasing you like this for a couple of minutes, sometimes pulling his hand back a centimeter or two, forcing you to chase after him with your hips. He hooks a finger against the fabric that covers your privates, tugging it to the side, and your aching pussy awaits the expert fingers that know how to manipulate it.

“Ride me," he says. For a moment, you wonder what he means as he's still fully clothed, and then you blush when you realize what he means. You blink and stare up at him. He grins and nods, keeping you in his lap while squeezing your ass, his other hand stroking his chin as he looks at you. Your hands go to his forearms, resting on them gently.

Your clit is aching, and Arlong has to know you're going to leave a wet spot on his shorts. He obviously doesn't care, so you start swaying your hips, complying with his desire. You bite your lower lip, feeling the dark canvas fabric against the most sensitive part of your anatomy, and Arlong watches you, a faint smile of self-satisfaction on his lips as he enjoys the show and your flesh at once. The hand that had been at his chin traveled to your side, reaching under your shirt to caress your back and waist.

“Arlong…” you breathe. “Please…” Your hips continue swaying as you seek to relieve the heat that only this sharkman could rouse in you.

“Such a good little slut,” he rumbles. He leans his head, angling his face so that he can capture your lips with his own, and you feel the scrape of his sharp teeth for a moment before his tongue forces his way into your mouth. There is a faint note of rum, along with the slight coppery taste of blood. He never told you to stop riding him so all you can do is be his slut, silently cursing him for being so damn sexy that you’re willing to literally hump his leg.

His forearms flex under your hands as he continues to molest you, and his lips move to the side of your neck, giving you several nips. You tremble as you feel the scrape of his teeth against the junction of your neck and shoulder as he tugs down the collar of your shirt. A soft whine escapes your throat as you continue working yourself. With your clit so sensitive, the roughness of the fabric almost feels too much. But you need to cum so badly, so you keep grinding against him, barely conscious of him tugging your shirt further open after undoing the string that laces the upper front closed.

You feel his sawnose a couple of times making indentations against your skin as he nips fiercely along your shoulder. You grind as hard as you can, but you seem to be unable to quite get there.

“You want to cum very much, don’t you?” you hear him growl, breath hot on your shoulder.

“Yes. Oh yes, Arlong. Please…”

The hand that had been touching the upper half of your body mercifully moved downward, and you lifted your hips so he could slide his fingers under you. With expertise, he slides in two fingers before massaging your clit with his thumb, and you gasp and whine, putting your hands on his shoulders, the collar of his shirt gathering under your curled fingers.

“Sometimes it amazes me how hot you get for me…” He trails back up your neck, his tongue swiping against the areas where his teeth scraped you. “To see you writhe around under my touch. To hear you begging for me… tell me, can any other man ever please you this well?”

“Never, Arlong,” you reply firmly. You raise yourself a few inches higher to give his hand more maneuverability “No other man could ever compare to you.”

A pleased rumble makes its way out of his mouth, feeling almost like a growl as he still has lips on your skin. His other hand is still on your ass, preventing you from pulling back as your hips buckle against his hand, your breath hitching as you finally sense your approaching orgasm. You muffle your cry by biting his neck. You do not have the sharp teeth Arlong has, but you make your point.

He continues rubbing you for a bit, drawing out small tremors of pleasure, before nipping you at your jaw just below your ear. He pushes your ass with his hand so that your front is now flush against his own, withdrawing the hand that had been working you. There is just enough space between your upper bodies that you can look at one another’s faces without worrying about his nose. Amidst the glow of pleasure, you feel small twinges of pain on your neck and shoulder, but that is quickly forgotten as he brings up his hand into view, fingers slick with your juices.

“I bet my little cock-hungry woman is not satisfied with simply being fingered, hmm?” he asks with a knowing leer as he brings his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste of you.

“You are very skilled with your fingers,” you assure him as you watch him administer to his thumb. “But nothing fills me up quite like your cock, and you know it!”

“I know it,” he replies before he maneuvers you so that your back is to his chest, and he brings his knees close together so that you can straddle him in a reverse cowgirl position. His hand shifts under you, and you hear the rustle of cloth as he frees his members. Immediately, the upper cock prods at you, and finds easy purchase past your slick folds. The second one is in front of you, its upper side rubbing against the front of your snatch as you sink to Arlong’s groin. You sink down with a sigh of satisfaction and reach down with your hand to ensure that his second cock is not left out of the fun.

In front of you is the vantage Arlong sees when he is perched on his throne. His hands are on your hips, and you feel his cocks twitch inside and against you as you squirm to get fully seated.

(just imagine the arm is yours and Arlong is grabbing you for some sexytimes!)

[definitelynotshouting]

Hunger AU Topic of The Day: Crafting Tables

So if you know me even a little bit you will know that i literally can never leave well enough alone when it comes to worldbuilding. In that vein, i have been noodling on the concept of what crafting tables-- and by association, crafting itself-- are like in the hunger au.

As the folks in my discord server probably know, i've been noodling on this for a while.

But a few days ago i finally came up with an answer, and that answer is: crafting tables arent actually tables in hunger au. Instead, they're a plugin that's a little larger than your average USB drive, and are designed to interact directly with a Player's comm to facilitate crafting.

To talk about that, though, we need to dive into what crafting is in hunger au.

In hunger au, crafting is essentially a chemical reaction, if that chemical reaction was made up of code instead of molecules. Crafting components are arranged together in a corresponding pattern and then, using the crafting table (also called a crafting upgrade, or even just a crafter), have key elements of their code stripped and rearranged, forming an entirely new object. The crafting table is vital to performing this transformation without having to wholesale code the object by yourself via comm-- something that takes far too long when it can be done with a crafter in a matter of seconds.

This leads into the interfacing side of things. While your typical comm is already capable of the same function, it's only in a very limited capacity (aka the 2x2 crafting grid in your inventory). Attaching a crafting table to your comm offers a more robust and extensive selection of crafting commands, so the Player doesn't have to make up an entirely new item from scratch.

As an example, one could arrange a few wooden planks and a cushion in the general shape of a chair, then attach a crafting table to their comm, and through use of commands, could turn those planks and the cushion into a chair. By consequence, since these objects aren't being made via typical irl construction, anchoring items like nails aren't necessary. The chair would come out as one whole piece.

The physical look of a crafting table is, as previously mentioned, a little larger than your average USB drive-- so keeping them plugged in, while useful for crafting purposes, is less than convenient, considering comms in this universe are anchored to a Player's wrist. Most Players keep several lying around, or carry one in their inventory or even just their pocket-- but it's not uncommon to lose them and just have to make another. They're easy to craft using a comm, and one of the first things a newly spawned Player instinctively knows how to create.

They're also somewhat customizable for those who care enough to do so. Many Players end up changing the surface code of their crafters, so that they resemble something other than the default crafting table texture. Scar's, for example, looks like Jellie :]

Alright this post took me way too long to write but i hope this makes sense and you guys like the additional worldbuilding :] ive been thinking about this one for a while now, and im so glad to have finally gotten it figured out!!! :D

[ssnake-eyes-uc]

Made my official intro for now..

ADULT CONTENT READER BEWARE

ADULT CONTENT VIEWER BEWARE

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Kinks:

Cuckold/Locked

Hotwife

Race Play

Rape/Forced

Torture/Murder

Abduction/Kidnapping

Beastiality (Role play not IRL)

Forniphilia (Human furniture)

Forced Castration/Penectomy

Forced Amputation

Forced Bi

Forced Feminization

Group Sex

Trans Women/Sissy

Pimped Sissy

Sissy Maid

Crossdressing

Bimbofication

Dumbification

Degradation

Emasculation

Cum Play

Cum Kiss/Snowball

Creampie Cleanup

Gloryhole

Femdom

Facesitting

Foot Worship

Ass Worship

Fem Training

Cum Training

Face fuck(Strap-On)

Pegging(Strap-On)

Reverse Pegging(Man in chastity wears strap-on to fuck wife.)

DD/LG & DD/LB

Deepthroat

Facefuck

Throatpie

Lingerie (LACE/SATIN/SILK/LEATHER/LATEX/RUBBER/METAL STUDDED-RINGS-SPIKES-CHAINS)

NEON COLORS (NAILS/HAIR/TATTOOS/CLOTHES/MAKEUP.)

Think that's most of them... LoL

I'm a 37yo/wm hypno content creator and practicing hypnotist with lots of kinks and fetishes, single and I tend to live on the razor's edge. I'm a switch but I tend to stay dominant unless I meet a particular woman. While being bisexual I tend to lean towards trans or sissy girls although breaking in a new sissy can be quite fun as well. I'm an open book come have a look. I'm an artist of all sorts: Digital, Pen/Pencil, Tattoo, Paint, Sculpture, Etching, Home design, Drink design, Culinary design, Bondage design, Spoken word, Poetry, Landscaping, and I make altars/Practice the Craft/Study intensely of my origins and of the world. I'm a nature lover, Astrology lover, Birth chart reader, History buff, and Math/Physics student . Who has traveled all over the world, currently residing in the USA. I came by the name Snake Eyes from wearing a spike studded leather suit to BDSM parties along with many other affairs, but I always wore a mask I made out of rattle snake skin, at these parties I would wear red contacts and hypnotize people to obey my snake hiss and if I shook my rattle snake rattle that is a warning alert someone they were close to my punishment which for some is heaven and others it's hell. Now I also produce online hypno's for clients with specific tastes under the banner snake eyes production. I am poetic when I speak without my mask, high intellect, cunning, and charming. With my mask on I command the utmost authority and I will have my way ;) Beware of the Snake ;)

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Open for roleplay of almost any kind, Also open to collabs, and DM's

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_____________

|COLOR KEY:|

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---*Pink: Obey these Commands they give you a sense of purpose, while relaxing and feeling great.

---*Red: Adds urgency to a command even if that command is to stop immediately, or flag a command of great importance.

----*GREEN: Activates word and it stays active until turned off by spelling the same word in red.

---*ORANGE: Defines a words intended affect or a meaning... or alerts the reader to pay attention to phrase or information.. can also flag anchor or trigger for the reader.

---*Blue(two kinds):

---*DARK BLUE: drop commands and deepening commands.

---*LIGHT BLUE: can redefine,edit, rearrange, anchor or set a trigger.

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My HYPNOSIS INTRO:

[cannibalcaprine]

random character design thought

how easy would be to make pedipalps out of, y'know, human materials?

could you use some fingers, or would those be too difficult to innervate and attach for musculature? maybe use the metacarpals for additional length. . .

that MAY need some kind of bone anchor to the jaw or cheekbone, though. then again, this would mostly be for weird spidery looks, so it's not like they'd be used for actual dexterity. shoot, attaching them to the cheek like that could probably cause some issues with speaking if you mess with the muscles of the face too much, wouldn't it?

wonder if there'd be a way to make them look slightly less like fingers, or if that would just add to the freakiness. would you still need to take care of the nails, then?

ooh, muscle memory leading to odd flicking and twitching while talking

stupid spiders having stupid really distinct faces

might just give them four pupils in each eye instead of four whole eyes, vriska-style

this is for an Igorri necromancer so

ehhhh??

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 13/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon] A/N: Here we are at the end of my @cssns story for 2023!! Hope you like how I've wrapped it up! Thank you all for following along this adventure! (As always, thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl !) rated M | 1.3k words | AO3 |  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Several weeks later

Storybrooke’s harbor was just a few bobbing lights on the horizon, almost disappearing into the glare from the setting sun behind it. It was a clear, cool evening—perfect for a sail. 

Killian had navigated them to a spot just far enough away for privacy, but close enough to get back to town quickly if needed—not that they were concerned with anything happening, but mostly out of habit. That, and he didn’t want to get too far into open water until he was more comfortable with his new prosthesis.

It had taken him a week or so to recover from what happened with Dorian—more mentally than physically, though the stab wound had left a scar over his heart—but once he got through the thick of it and started getting back into a normal routine, he realized he needed something better than the old wooden hand. Surely in a realm with the technological advancements of this one, there had to be better options?

There were—probably too many, if he was being honest. They’d had to go outside of Storybrooke to meet with a specialist (as well as come up with a cover story for his original loss of limb and the subsequent primitive surgery on his wrist), but he was quickly on his way to having a more modern prosthesis.

(A more expensive one, as well; Emma’s eyes had gone wide when she heard the estimated cost, but Gold had been surprisingly generous and offered to pay for it. Killian had first assumed it was Belle’s prompting, but was shocked to find she had done no such thing. It wasn’t quite turning over a leaf, but perhaps it was the final nail in the coffin of their rivalry.)

The following weeks of physical therapy were rough. When learning his magic, he’d compared it to flexing a muscle in a new way; this was similar, but far more literal—and rather more painful, as those in his left forearm had seen little action in the last centuries. Now, though, he was finally getting used to using them, as well as his new hook. 

He had debated getting something a bit more hand-like, but after two hundred years, a hook was what he was used to. This one was far less intimidating, though, and far more dexterous; it actually opened and closed! He was still perfecting his modified grip, but the fact that he had one was thrilling.

(And he particularly liked practicing by using it to remove Emma’s bra straps. He was still working on unclasping, though.)

It was smaller than his old one, but still fit against the spokes of the Jolly Roger’s wheel perfectly. Weighing anchor was still a minor challenge, though, so he had Emma help him with that, and then waited for her at the railing. 

“You’re sure about this?” she asked for the umpteenth time as she joined him.

“Aye; it’s time.”

From the deep pockets of her winter coat, she produced the dagger. It was still as sharp and wicked-looking as it had been all those weeks ago, and knowing their blood sat in the enameled design was off-putting—even worse that it was forged from the steel that had so long been his companion. So it was high time to say goodbye to it, and all it represented.

The portrait had already been taken care of—buried in a small plot in the cemetery, with an unassuming stone bearing Dorian’s name. (Belle had protested simply entombing such an iconic artifact from literature, but no one felt right about trying to display it anywhere, especially with it being both damaged and cursed.) 

He actually had come to terms with the loss of his brother more quickly than he anticipated. Despite all the drama, they had still come from the same womb, but he realized—after some more late nights fueled by slightly more beer than necessary on the back porch with David—it was more the what-ifs he was lamenting. Again, no one understood that better than his father-in-law. (And, in the process, he realized perhaps what he’d thought he was missing was already right there: regardless of what their relationship might be on paper, David had long since filled the brotherly role Liam left empty, and he admitted that Killian held a similar position in his own life. They could only partly blame the subsequent tears on the booze.) 

And now they would put to rest the last bit of Dorian, and part of Killian’s past.

Emma handed the dagger over to him, and he took it gingerly. Despite the emotional weight it carried, it just felt like any old dagger—no hum of magic, no din of dark whispers. 

He glanced down at the railing, where the burn mark from Dorian’s cigarette was still a blight on the wood. It was a scar it would always carry, just like the one on his chest from the blade’s edge, and so many others from his past. 

But it was just a mark—a memory, one from which he had learned and was moving on. 

A line from Dorian’s namesake novel stood out to him: “What fire does not destroy, it hardens.” In a way, it applied to both of them. Dorian had spent so many years burning in the embers of his own ego, entitlement, and anger that it had hardened his heart even against what love it had let in. Killian, though—he’d walked a similar path, but the fires of the Underworld had only hardened his resolve to fight for the things he loved, no matter what.

He didn’t need a piece of metal to remind him of that; the woman at his side was more than enough.

“Fare thee well,” he said, and without further hesitation, dropped the dagger into the ocean.

As long as they could, they watched it fall through the water, the setting sun glinting off its edges, until it slipped into the depths and out of sight. And with it, a weight that Killian hadn’t realized he’d been carrying also fell away.

He took in a long breath of the sharp sea breeze and slowly let it out, then pulled Emma close to his side. “How do you feel?” she asked.

For a moment, he mused on it; how did he feel? It was a complicated set of emotions to sort through, and he’d probably spend some extra time discussing it in his biweekly session with Archie, but one thought swam to the forefront: “Free.”

His dark history would always be there, but he was no longer going to let it hold him back. It took him coming face-to-face with an even darker turn his life could have taken to realize that it was, but now—he was ready to face the future unburdened, and eager for it to start.

“Good,” Emma said, smiling as she rested her head on his shoulder. “So what do you want to do now?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, then took her hand in his and led her away from the rail. “There was one thing I wanted to do with my magic, but never got a chance to.”

“Which was?”

“Remember that delicious red dress you wore to your father’s engagement ball?”

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Mm-hmm.” 

“Think you could conjure that up?”

She smirked. “I’ll do you one better.”

The soft, warm breeze of her magic surrounded them, leaving them both dressed as they were that night, the hem of his long tan jacket swishing against her voluminous scarlet skirts. “Perfect,” he murmured, and pulled her close.

And as the sun finally set, revealing a sky full of stars overhead, they danced under the lights—and into whatever lay ahead.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke @bluewildcatfanatic

[swampstew]

Hi just casually dropping by to see if you wanted to do a little challenge? I want to write Kid with a partner who has an erogenous zone on their neck/shoulders and im thinking what if we both wrote our takes on this? For funsies? You don't have to if you don't want to. Just tryna make more Kid content for the internet

Hi Slug ~ I love this, let's churn out the content! I hope this bedtime story came out the way you envisioned, with Kid claiming you as his on the daily :)

Word Count: 592 CW: 18+ only, SFW - suggestive, Eustass Kid X Reader, consent very much implied, touching/claiming/possessiveness. fluff piece. M!n0rs DNI you will be blocked

Kid loves to touch you. You were his after all and he just couldn't keep his hands off you. No matter the time, no matter the occasion, he finds a way to touch you.

Whenever he seeks you out, he comes up behind you and let his fingertips slide over the nape of your neck. He LOVES the way he leaves a trail of goosebumps on your skin. He'll trace his touches to your shoulder and give you a light squeeze; he'll curve his touch to behind your ear and down to your pulse point; sometimes he'll raise his painted nails up the base of your neck and scrape your scalp, you usually shudder at that.

If you're out in public he has a hand on the nape of your neck or maybe he's holding to your shoulder and pressing you into his body. When he sits down, his lap is your chair and his arm around your waist is the anchor holding you to him. You're not getting your own drinks, that's what his crew is for.

When you're on his lap, his fingers might explore your lower half, but his mouth and chin will be on your shoulder, casually marking and kissing you at his whim. He enjoys kissing your pulse point when his touches get suggestive, feeling the way your blood surges under the surface.

Kid loves to hold you in his arms when kisses you. One hand on your upper back, one hand around your throat. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, his palm covering your artery, his thumb running over the edge of your jaw as he licks and teases your mouth with his large tongue.

On long expeditions, he doesn't mind holding your shoulder loosely while you walk, though on really hot days he'll go for some hand holding so he doesn't shower you in sweat. The amount of times he kisses you are correlated to how many minutes he went without holding your shoulders or neck.

When the days at sea blur together, he prefers to be on the main deck around the crew with you at his side. Hand over your shoulder as you give him the daily rundown of news. He always squeezes gently and tells you you're doing a great job.

After a battle, he seeks you out to check on you. You're usually fine but that won't stop him from grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling your body into his chest as he exhales deeply.

Once you two are in bed, Kid loves to cuddle against you. If he's the big spoon, he'll use one arm to keep you close and the other hand to run feather light touches against your skin. He focuses on your neck because you're ticklish and it makes you almost jump deeper into his embrace every time he touches that spot.

If Kid is laying on his back with you sprawled on his chest, he loves to lightly trace shapes into your upper back. The designs start off simple enough and you try and guess what he's drawing. The more you guess right, the harder the designs become to decipher. He chuckles when he baffles you and then gives your shoulders a tight squeeze.

More than anything, Kid loves when he wakes up in the morning and sees you next to him. He'll reach a stiff arm out to cradle your neck and chin up, lean down and kiss you awake. Eager to restart his cycle of touching you.

[blueiskewl]

Diver Finds 2,500-Year-Old Disc Used by Ancient Mariners to Ward Off ‘The Evil Eye’

Artifact discovered at Palmachim Beach is a type of talisman sailors affixed to ships for good fortune, Israel Antiquities Authority says.

A rare, 2,500-year-old marble disc used by ancient mariners as a talisman has been discovered off Israel’s coast.

A lifeguard diving off Palmachim Beach discovered the artifact at the Yavne-Yam archaeological site and turned it over to researchers, the Israel Antiquities Authority said last month.

Researchers identified the object as an ancient “eye motif,” known in Greek as “ophtalmoi,” that ancient sailors affixed to their vessels in the belief it would ward off evil, the authority said in a statement.

Archaeologists are familiar with the objects from drawings on pottery, mosaics and ancient coins, and from other historical sources, said Yaakov Shitrit, the director of the authority’s Marine Archaeology Unit.

“This design was common on ships’ bows and served to protect against the evil eye and envy, aided navigation, and acted as a pair of eyes looking ahead and warning of danger,” Shitrit said in a statement. “This decoration is still common today on modern ships in Portugal, Malta, Greece, and the far east.”

The disc is flat on one side and curved on the other, has a diameter of 20 centimeters (7.8 inches), and bears traces of paint forming two circles around its center.

Sailors used lead or bronze nails to attach the discs to warships or merchant vessels, researchers said.

Only three other similar artifacts have been found in the Mediterranean Sea, even though the objects were once common. One was found off Israel’s Carmel Beach, and two were found in the wreck of an ancient merchant ship at the Tektaş Burnu archaeological site on Turkey’s coast.

The Yavne-Yam site, where the disc was found last month, was first settled during the Middle Bronze Age. Marine surveys have found shipwrecks that indicate there was intensive commercial activity in the area in ancient times, with archaeologists uncovering maritime artifacts such as anchors, weights and fishing gear.

Researchers have also found items that were used on ships including a lead cooking oven, grinding stones, stone bowls, storage jars and cooking pots.

The artifacts date a stretch of history covering the Late Bronze Age, and the Persian, Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine periods, the Israel Antiquities Authority said.

[vertebrae-entertainment]

4/5/2024 - Fangst animation rework!

Hi again y'all, Hauk here! If you've been peeking at our discord channel lately, you might have noticed I've been posting a lot of animation WIP's. Thats because I'm in the process of reworking some of the oldest sprites in the project- walking and jumping!

It can take me up to a year to nail how I draw and animate a character. For our protagonist the thing that has taken the most time is definitely line stylization, proportions and leg silhouette. He's gotten bigger and bigger during development, not to mention spikier! Honestly its not that smart to design a tall character for a platformer, and there's a reason most platforming type characters have a very square hitbox. Its just easier to design challenges that way!

But i'm not changing gears now!! I wanted Fangst to have a tall handsome man as a player character, and i'm gonna stick to it!!

Here's a peek at the new walk animation. The arm holding his fishing rod is a static, separate sprite that is basically glued to the player with code for gameplay reasons.

We needed a smart way to change and add bounce to the rod without having a million variants of every sprite. Here are two iterations on how a static arm could be anchored to the player. I want him to carry himself with a confident sway, as though the whole world is his catwalk- so perhaps the full bounce of the second one is too much!

Speaking of bounce, the double jump animation! Right now he has the very placeholder double jump solution of turning into a small rotating orb sonic style, and its been a frustrating disconnect seeing as the hitbox ordinarily is quite big.

My goal for this animation is that i want him to do a sexy, elegant backflip. I started with a version with an upside down split, but after some iterations we agreed that the simpler one would be more readable and use-friendly. But an upside down split is kinda iconic... maybe we can use it elsewhere?

A platformer player will spend most of their time jumping around, so nailing a satisfying, easily readable jump is important in both animation and feel. Characterization is also important here- i want it to be obvious that our player character is athletic and elegant, and that these acrobatics cost him little effort.

However, i'm expecting a bit of a pickle implementation-wise. See, him turning into a sonic-style orb made the walljumps feel practically seamless. Will a fully animated backflip be equally friendly? The sprite will be a lot bigger. Truth is, a character turning into a ball is just really easy to design around.

Here's the current in-game sprites, featuring his old jumps, idle pose and miiildly disconnected placeholder arm with a smaller fishing rod. As you might have noticed, he's also a bit softer looking, and his boots are way smaller!

I think the newer sprites will make him have a more stylish, cool and recognizeable silhouette. It will be worth it to update these old things- after all, inbetween all this technical game design stuff, its just also really important to me that the player feels like a cool and professional monster hunting fisherman!

Thanks for keeping up with our project, we're doing our best to make Fangst a proper quality "You: A Hot Man, Kill Monster!" experience!!

-Hauk

[littleeyesofpallas]

I have this strong urge to play a funky little indie rpg that makes use of a kind of modular system of item/monster/skill features where everything is made up of a mix and match system of definitional categories, such that there is a theoretically obnoxious number of possible things, but then while the core game and story itself deal in a fixed set of items and monsters and skills, there would be a sort of ontological aether, a inbetween space, a sort of meinong's jungle sitaution in which the nigh infinite cross table of unused combinations of things exist, and you'd navigate them in a kind of tag based relative positioning, so every active tag would be "closer" to tags shared by the things the inbetween would be anchored to on either side. So like navigating a heavily tagged booru gallery but without the use of a search bar, you'd just have to daisy chain things by their component features to get in and out. And I realize this stupid mechanic that popped into my head fully formed makes like zero sense, but like...

let's say for sake of example there would be a kind of core ability to designate an anchor to the reality of the core game world, and once you designate it as your anchor and take steps to enter the nonspace, you get a procedurally generated space in which all the tagged aspects of that anchor item become the root of the randomizer on the nonspace and its inhabitants. So like, if you anchor a weapon it might seed info about where in the game it originally came form, what it's made of, what kind of damage it does, what level or stats it is/has, and what its made of so that an assortment of those features are nailed down to things like dungeon tiles and enemies and elemental affinities and hazards, and then the rest are generated at random. And if you want to run around the weird little phantom town that weapon made then you can fight and learn skills or loot stuff that you can then bring back to the real world where such an item doesn't otherwise exist.

But then if you want to get really weird about it you can set an anchor while already in the inbetween, effectively letting you probe the infinite aether for a perfect weapon or armor or monster or whatever. But hook would be that to exit the inbetween you need to find something real to complete the cross over onto the other side --that or just return the way you came. So at any given point you might find a randomly generated item that actually exists in the real world proper in some capacity, and you can exit that way, either as an emergency or by design. But consequently you'd end up in the physical proximity of that thing, so maybe you meant to get from one side of a canyon to the other by homing in on a specific object or landmark on the other side that you could quantify, but the monsters were strong and you maybe picked a less than optimal sub-anchor and things got dicey, but you found a perfectly normal healing potion in a chest and decide to sacrifice it to eject button you back to safety, so you end up in the last item shop you'd been in because there are healing potions there.

The sick irony of wanting to play a game based around nonobjects conjuring a theoretical game that is itself a nonobject