#broken keyboard poster

[hcguesstheauthormessageboard]

imma have such a good time writig especially sice I have asolutely OTHIG WROG with my keyoard. Yep. Good times ahead…

It’s to like I’m writig Hermits with ()‘s or ()‘s or six other roke keys.

Yippee ki yay time to procrastiate ad eglect other V imoprtat irl deadlies.

A other fics too.

‎

[alnilaem]

you buy a second-hand laptop from a dodgy craigslist user only to make a carnal discovery hidden between the files.

cw for anal sex, face fucking, pet play, choking, masturbation, noncon filmed sex, overall dubcon, reader is fujoing out

ghoap (x reader)

-

You saw it in a flitting advertisement. Used Acer Aspire V5, female buyers only, and didn’t hesitate to contact the poster.

Ghost was his screen name. Macabre, but not something to dwell on because he’s selling the only affordable hand-me-down you can find. He insisted on meeting at a hole-in-the-wall pub, beneath a metal sheet awning. There’s a cigarette pinched between his lips as you approach, an overripe mask rolled over his broken nose.

“You’re our bird?” He asks in a Manchester hint, exhaling a plume of off-white smoke.

You stifle over that operative word—our—but push through it and meekly nod, preening at his feet.

Beneath the predatory glint of his eyes, you realize you’ve gravely miscalculated the calibre of this situation. Meeting a complete stranger in a gritty alleyway and waiting to pick up his scrap-metal laptop, all because it satisfies your budget.

“Yeah…” you mumble. Try to make yourself invisible even though it’s redundant—he already towers over you, his shadow eclipsing your body, his heat drinking you in.

“‘ere it is,” he grunts. “You’ve got our cash?”

You hand him the crumpled wad of paper, squirming as he passes his thumb over his tongue and folds through the money, counting it with a mean curl of his lips.

“That’s– is everything alright?”

He stuffs the money into his jacket and expells a deep prusten sound, like an idle predator. “Fine. Pleasure doin’ business with you, bird.”

Ghost turns on his mud-clogged boot and strays off, letting the shadows swallow him whole. You hold the bulky laptop to your chest and wield it like a weapon on your way home, finally settling into bed, ready to examine your new purchase.

The hinges creak as you pull it open. A grimace splits your cheeks at the dust crusted in the margins, the rings of juice gummed to the mousepad.

A few letters from the keyboard are missing, and a few strips of tape look dog-eared, peeling from the corners, exposing the laptop’s internal wiring. Gossamer-like, spiderweb cracks work across the edges. The screen is a blotchy eyesore, striated with horizontal lines.

You have to beat your knuckles on the laptop to keep it from jamming. You navigate the desktop with simmering irritation, invaded by the inkling that you’ve been utterly scammed. Nothing matches the photos advertised on Ghost’s account, and just as your annoyance is about to ripen into white-hot anger, something catches your eye.

It’s nestled into a nook on the desktop. It’s an unnamed folder that stares back at you, unassuming, the icon already half-opened and waiting to be examined.

You double click it, more like triple click, actually, since the mousepad decides to cramp, and squirm as the folder flares over the screen. It’s a collection of videos, their thumbnails all spotty and dark, eclipsed by the thumb of whoever’s holding the camera.

Their titles are as cryptic as their photos.

wet.avi; tail_plug.avi; no_prep.avi; with_price.avi.

You find yourself scrolling lower, your fingers working against the mousepad like a rapidly unfurling spool of thread. You decide to investigate one of the videos, one with a foggy, filmy thumbnail, and carefully heed the title before poising your finger above the open function.

johnny_leash.avi

The video is grainy, as if it was imported from a camcorder rather than a phone. The first few seconds are a blurry with grey-scale strobes running across the screen, radiating an aura of seediness that makes a hint of discomfort sink like sediment in your stomach, adhering to your viscera. A deep, damp squelching sound peals out, tempered with the sticky noise of something being broken in, hollowed out.

The camera ebbs, settles, then focuses all at once. You think you’re going to faint.

It’s someone’s puffy ass getting stretched out on a fat cock. It puckers and tightens with each piston-paced thrust, red.

A large hand belonging to the person recording enters the frame. Their hand tattoos stretch as they split their palm across the hind of their spine, the cameraman’s fingers digging sickle-shaped scratches into their back, clawing them down on their battering ram of a cock.

“Quit whinin’, Johnny,” the voice behind the camera loudly grunts.

The one getting split open, Johnny, snivels into the pillow. His spine is curved into the mattress, his ass pert and sticking in the air, rippling with the force of the cameraman’s hips.

A plume of dust travels over the screen, fleetingly concealing the image. When the soot thins into the air and bares the salacious material of the video, you gasp.

There’s a glint caught on something silver from the feeble lightning. It’s a chrome-plated chain, you see, connecting to Johnny’s throat. A leather collar cutting into his ruddy skin. The leash is wrapped around the cameraman’s hand like a reel, and each time he tugs, pulling his hand back as if winding up for an attack, Johnny gets peeled off the bed, his back arching so deep you’re sure it’s close to snapping.

“Shit, Simon—!” He squeals. “Can ye… slow down?”

The aforementioned Simon grunts. Animalistic, like a rabid predator. The camera whirls, the unromantic colours of the room they’re in bleeding into each other, and when it focuses, you see Simon’s large palm splayed against the back of Johnny’s half-shaven skull, gripping his hair, pushing him into the bed.

The man flails like a fish out of water, struggling under his hand. It prompts an emergency response out of you—the way he’s being fucked into the mattress, no doubt pressing a Johnny-shaped chalk outline like the ones at crime scenes into the bedding. Alarm seizes you, and the thought of submitting this to the authorities trumpets like strobe lights in your mind.

The video is written with inept non-professionalism, reeking with the sentiment of a found-footage horror film that it’s not the authenticity that rattles your bones like a wind chime, but the morality.

You tell yourself to stop the video, but as the thought squeezes itself between your ears, Johnny’s hoisting his neck back and peering into the camera, his striking-blue eyes flaring in all-encompassing horror. His lips pop open and wrap around a soundless scream, warbling.

“Yer recordin’ me?”

“Smile for the camera, Johnny,” Simon pants. “Who knows who might see this, right?”

Simon shoots his hand up and bullies his fingers past Johnny’s lips. He sinks his nails into the round of his mouth, stretching his cheek back into a repugnant curl. It’s paradoxial—how Johnny’s mouth is pulled into a smile, but his eyes are wide and wet, wordlessly begging.

Your body betrays your moral plight.

Your rapt ocular vein, the signals rushing to your mind, your nipples stiffening in your shirt. You feel as though you’re made of livewire, not matter, as you watch Johnny’s ass get spread open on Simon’s cock, his eyes rolling like unruly billiard balls to the back of his head.

His ass is red and patchy, burning up. Simon’s hand swats through the air and makes the sound of a whistle, flaring into a booming crack of thunder whenever he brings it down on Johnny’s ass. It makes you jump. Makes you feel as if your ass is being abused by proxy just by sitting, and watching raptly.

Instead of inching your hand towards the button that exits the video, your hand dips below your waistband and moves to cup your cunt.

The gusset of your panties is already hot, clinging to your dewy core. It sticks to your pussy, baring your puffy lips and swollen clit. You give it a few slaps and rub your fingers languidly, pace quickening.

But the video abruptly ends before the ascent to your pleasure is able to materialize. You yank your hand from your pussy, smearing your arousal on the mousepad as you search for another video.

You don’t heed the title—face_fuck.avi—before clicking it and readily spreading your legs, flushing at the sound of your lips parting.

The video starts, and you swear it feels like you’ve been hit with a brick.

Simon—or Ghost, you now recognize—is a behemoth. Huge would be an understatement for him. The camera is set up this time, somewhere across the room, but Simon still just barely fits within the margins. He’s folded over Johnny who sits on his knees with his back against the wall, his neck hoisted up at him.

Simon’s cock is fat and heavy. He’s hard—this, you’re sure of because of how red his balls are—yet still, his cock droops with weight, the bulbous tip scarcely teasing Johnny’s lips.

“You want your snack, boy?”

Johnny nods. He darts his tongue out and tries kitten licking the slit, but Simon isn’t having that. He grips the base of his dick and swats it against Johnny’s cheek, slapping him, the noise so thick and resounding it sounds like a palm that breaks his skin, not a cock.

“Greedy bitch,” Ghost snarls—you decide that name is more seemly for him—“Can’t wait when it comes to dick, huh?”

Johnny’s lips part, a response poised behind his chattering teeth. However, his reply gets snuffed out and shoved to the back of his throat as Ghost feeds him his cock, slamming into him with one, slick motion.

Johnny’s head hits the wall, his face puckering as pain blooms behind his skull. The action makes his jaw clench, clamping down on Simon’s cock, but Simon is quickly gripping his hair and puppeting his head back, sliding his cock deeper, until the tuft of steel-wool hair on his pelvis brushes Johnny’s nose.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Ghost grunts. “No teeth.”

The only mercy Johnny is afforded is when he sinks his nails into the sinews of Ghost’s thighs, scratching him striated, trying to offset the burn in his jowls. The back of his head thumps dumbly against the wall with each of Ghost’s jackhammering thrusts, his smaller cock springing up and slapping against his navel.

You keen. Rub your clit a little faster, tease your forefinger around your winking hole as spit and precome sticks to Johnny’s chin the same way your juices strings your fingers together. Johnny goes lax and the video abruptly ends, and you almost feel yourself going crazy, hastily exiting the video because you miss the phantom sensation around your cunt getting stretched. You click on another video that has your heart jumping to your throat.

It’s dated from just yesterday, two days after you placed the order with Ghost.

breeding_my_boy.avi

Your panties are completely soaked through at this point. The image of Johnny folded like origami under Ghost, eclipsed by his body, makes you gush. His knees are pressed against his ears and his ass is in the air while Ghost tugs his cock, towering over him and pressing his tip against his hole, slowly sinking into him.

Simultaneously, you hook two of your fingers up your cunt. Your arousal seeps out and pools into the divots between your knuckles, hot and wet, making a sucking sound as you draw your fingers out and thrust them back in, pawing your walls.

Ghost pulls his cock to the tip before driving himself back inside. He’s deeply-seated, knocking the air out of Johnny’s lungs with each stroke. Ghost draws his thighs close for leverage and sinks his fists into the bed, on either side of Johnny before snapping his hips, feeding him his whole cock.

You sink your other hand below your pants and blindly sweep at your clit, watching with keen eyes as Johnny gets pounded into the mattress, his legs thrashing dumbly with the force, his hands twisting into the moth-eaten sheets because he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands and according to Ghost, he’s “not allowed to touch his cock.”

You can barely see Ghost’s sweat in the coarse-grained, gritty video filter. It comes out as glistening dew, dribbling down his neck and onto Johnny’s cheek, to which he swiftly laps up.

It’s the same thing for Johnny’s tears—sparkling in the soft smoulder of light, smearing like spread as Ghost works his rough tongue against his cheek, licking up his brine.

Johnny’s whimpers and the crack of flesh against flesh emanate out of the janky laptop as tinny, thin. However as Ghost lowers his head, grumbling against the hull of Johnny’s ear, whispering, the thin sound travels out of the speakers and punctures your stomach.

“Wish I could breed you, pup…”

Pleasure gyrates in your belly, frothy. You curl your toes into your mattress and buck into your fingers, feeling your orgasm beginning to crest. You pinch your clit the same way Ghost snakes his hand low, trapping the tip of Johnny’s cock between his fingers to squeeze.

“Smile a’ the camera, dog,” he mutters. Takes him by the jaw and dimples his cheeks as he makes Johnny look into the lens, his eyes glossed over.

“Y’reckon she’s touching herself?” Ghost growls. “Watching you turn a mess?”

Your orgasm is on the edge now. Ghost looks at the camera, his eyes glowing like predators do on trail cams, a swill of molten rushing through you. He looks like he did beneath the awning—animalistic, as he seems to stare directly at you, snapping into Johnny’s ass.

“m gonnae come…” Johnny whimpers.

Ghost chokes his hand around Johnny’s cock, sliding his hand up and down to the pace of his thrusts. And with what happens next, your body girdles, throwing itself into the throes of your panoramic orgasm.

It’s Johnny. Bending his back off the bed and squeezing his thighs. He moans your name—your screen name—the one used to purchase the laptop. He treats it like something to bite on to defer the pain of his orgasm, trembling.

Thick ropes of come shoot from his cock just as an off-white liquid escapes you, splattering over the screen. You’re quivering as Ghost fills Johnny, watching as his balls tighten and breathe like a pulse as he comes inside.

The three of you are miraculously synchronized. Your laboured breaths simmer, thinning into nothing, as the two of them turn to look at the camera.

You undertake the decision to keep the laptop.

And a week later while browsing Craigslist’s homepage, you stumble across a familiar username.

Posted by Ghost 32 minutes ago.

Looking for a flatmate in Manchester. Two roommates. Three bedroom. Females only. Serious inquiries only.

A second doesn’t pass before you’re writing up your application.

[wesleysniperking]

Strawhats’ Band AU

- The Strawhats’ sound is akin to Beirut and Broken Social Scene.

Band Members and Instruments:

- Usopp: Bass guitar. (Engineer and Songwriter/Lyricist)

- Luffy: Lead singer.

- Nami: Keyboardist/pianist/synth player.

- Zoro: Drummer.

- Sanji: Trombonist. (Might play other hard-a** brass instruments). (Lyricist/SW)

- Chopper: Maracas, Tamborine, and instruments similar to those. (He can play the Kalimba and idiophone type).

- Robin: Harp. (Can play the Theremin too).

- Franky: Electric guitar. (Engineer)

- Jinbe: Percussion line.

- Brook: Violinist. (Composer)

Nami: Keyboard/piano prodigy exploited by corrupt talent scout Arlong. She tried to sue him for damages after her adopted mom passed away. She had a breakdown but returned to music with Luffy’s help.

Zoro: Dedicated and talented drummer with a slight drinking problem. His playing style is swift, intense, and controlled. Learned to play in the same style as a late friend.

Sanji: Talented trombonist who left a philharmonic orchestra due to politics and personal reasons.

Luffy: Former member of the marine band, sent there by his grandpa after attending military/marine school but managed to escape.

Usopp: Music college dropout who is haunted by his famous father, whom he never knew. His girlfriend passed away from cancer. He had posted YouTube covers and gained a following. His late mother was an indie artist who never achieved widespread success. It is uncertain whether she was a groupie.

(all EB5 were homeless or broke at one point before meeting).

Both Robin and Nami have had experiences similar to Kesha, involving exploitation in the music industry.

Usopp’s dad, Yasopp or “Chaser”, is a famous bassist, ranked as one of the best of all time by Rolling Stone.

Shanks or “Red Hair” is Luffy’s mentor. He is the famous lead singer of a Grammy award-winning band.

Red Hair Pirates - They are a famous Grammy award-winning band with a sound similar to War, King Harvest, Dire Straits, and Guns N’ Roses, depending on the era.

Usopp and the band have a falling out when they alter their sound and remove a fan-favorite song, "Merry," from the setlist.

Usopp leaves the band after a public feud with Franky and Luffy’s decision to remove "Merry" from the Water 7 music festival setlist, which is akin to Coachella or Lollapalooza.

Sabaody Groove Fest: This festival is similar to the controversial Warped Tour, with various allegations surrounding it.

Usopp modified Nami’s keyboard to have unique synth sounds, similar to the Climatact.

“Merry” was believed to be an ex of Usopp’s, but it’s revealed that the song personifies the band’s journey and dream towards success. The band is surprised by this revelation.

- Franky writes a successful song called “Sunny” that charts well, but fans believe "Merry" will become a classic.

Each bandmate will receive honorifics and titles in their 40s or 50s. Usopp will be ranked #1 or #2 on the best rock bassists of all time list, surpassing his dad.

Usopp also creates a musical collective with other Black artists, developing a following of 8,000+ fans.

The band’s (Strawhats) fandom name is Nakama or Sailors

- When not singing, Luffy plays the cymbals, fooling around when he’s not leading the vocals.

- Usopp returns at the Water 7 festival as Sogeking, playing a crucial bass solo riff, symbolizing his readiness to rejoin the band. Luffy pulls him on stage to finish the song with a cool bass riff.

The Strawhats might decide to make a political statement during a performance, similar to when Luffy told Usopp to shoot the flag in the show. This could involve revealing an anti-government poster or banner, which could then go viral. Alternatively, they might do something in support of Robin, who is in a dispute with her former record label.

I have a dirty little secret. I wrote a song about Merry to accompany the fic idea. It’s a little cringe but I recorded it and everything. I might share it one day. Lol!

This is what I mean by the band’s sound…

They’d pull something like this in public.

BSS lyrics are pretty raw and bombastic in a way I feel like the SHs would be.

Music video is basically about pirates (???) and it reminds me of one of Luffy’s moves.

[m4g3114n1c]

Make it worth my time.

Midas x Fem!Reader

tags: Consensual Sex, Missionary, Porn With Plot, Gun Kink, poc friendly, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Degradation kink, Verbal Humiliation, BDSM, not so sane but consensual sex!, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Face-Fucking, Multiple Orgasms, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub, Older Man/Younger Woman, Workplace Sex, Power Imbalance, Desk Sex, Sir is used a lot (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃Midas is SadisticChoking

summary: ur insufferable boss calls u down bc

Intern Reader x CEO Midas

Midas was an asshole. You said it, yet in the back of your mind you still felt guilt spreading through your veins, infecting your Midas-hating self. You shouldn’t feel bad for him. You shouldn’t feel for him at all.

A stern, strict, relentless man that overworked everybody to the point of exhaustion was somebody you should never feel bad for.

When you had been recruited to do the internship, it seemed fun, entertaining enough. A program for spies—man, you should’ve known how sketchy that sounded.

You were grown, you should know what a scam of a program it was. You had to work for minimum wage due to the fact there was a ton of people working at one place; the pay check had to be broken up in between all of you.

The thing was, Midas was rich enough to pay you all, especially you, since you were more focused in being his assistant. He set that goal for you the first time you arrived.

The touch of gold at his fingertips and yet he couldn’t offer one molecule of a golden nugget to his workers.

Cheap motherfucker.

How was that even possible? The ability of the golden touch and he was still so cheap. It frustrated you more than it should.

You felt like a moron at how much you thought this would be a fun job. His close friends seem to get better treatment at least, and go on useful missions that make an impact.

All what you had to do was organize, organize, and organize files.

If you wanted to sign up for a damn cubicle job, you would’ve done so, because this was insanely far from what you imagined the program was.

So, here you were now, almost eight hours straight of non-stop work. Once the clock hit three, you celebrated in your head; the champagnes popping and all.

It was finally time for you to go, time for you to relax. You had to clear your mind in your apartment.

You shut off your computer, grabbing your jacket, your bag, plus—things you still needed to work at even at home.

That’s how much he made you work. As annoying as he was, he seemed to really want specifically you to be his assistant. Odd enough.

The boring, crisp air of the fancy building and the repetitive click-and-clacking of the keyboards were making you crazy. It was so quiet, nobody spoke, and only worked. It made you wonder that possibly it was about Midas.

It was definitely about him and his rules. When you got here, the rules he set were ridiculous.

Why did he think, “No talking.” was such an amazing, life changing and jaw-dropping rule?

The rule was plastered everywhere, in posters and stickers. It seemed so simple, yet so restricting on you and everybody else who worked under him.

You couldn’t really dwell on the topic too much because you were under his agency, that you applied to.

“Hi,” A high pitched voice made your head sharply turn. Your eyes widened with bewilderment at how she spoke with such a full voice. It was Skye?.. You didn’t remember but you knew she was one of Midas’ friends.

Ah. So that’s why she was speaking in a full voice. You forgot his friends could only speak fully in an environment like this. Everybody usually heard them bantering in the meeting room.

“Boss wants you in there.” She whistled in a way of saying you fucked up on something. She felt regret because you seemed like you were going to shit yourself.

“No clue what it was about,” She shrugged, patting you on the shoulder as she parted ways with you. The way she reassured you by giving you a small and muttered, “good luck,” made you extremely nervous.

Now you were left standing with your bag, knowing you had to go in there. You sighed, returning your things on the desk.

Well. You had to suck up now. Suck up to your shitty boss. Hooray!

Midas got around your nerves sometimes, and it had made you slip up once or twice. One time, he told you he was going to shorten the deadline on something while you weren’t even halfway through it.

“That’s great,” You mumbled under your breath, sarcasm seeping through your voice, collecting the files on the desk he had properly reviewed already.

“Excuse me?” He snapped. Shit.

“Nothing, sir.”

He turned around like nothing happened, dismissing you with a short wave of his hand.

You’re pretty sure he knew that you were not fond of him, and don’t see him as a friend.

You dragged yourself mentally, yet kept your head up, straight posture and your heels clacking against the dark definitely expensive floors. Good impressions to not get fired.

You sighed once more, finding yourself at the front of his door. For the last time, you made sure to look presentable before knocking. This was a rare occurrence. He never called anybody down.

You brought your hand up to his door, wrist working itself to knock hard enough on the dark wood.

Even through his walls were thick, including his door, you swore you could hear his heavy and weary sigh from a mile away. There was a short shuffle of his feet.

“Come in,” He said loud enough for you to grasp the handle of the door and pull. You know his patience ran thin quickly.

The sweet scent of his office billowed into your face; it smelt of an expensive cologne, possibly sandalwood. It smelt pleasant though, like a warm cabin. The mellow smell lingered in the thick tension in the air. It suddenly felt warm in the room.

Midas stood at the front of the thick glass separating him and the device. His eyes stayed glued on his creation. A cold light shone against its smooth surface.

It made you laugh whenever you saw it in all its glory because of how it was just in his office. The large device felt so out of place, but also felt the opposite because of his huge ego.

He just seemed the type of person to showcase his greatest passions.

Your eyes danced over to everything in his room, to his framed photos of his friends, his golden arsenal but especially his victims. People he’s killed with the golden touch.

A shiver ran up your spine but you kept your head clear.

You couldn’t see much but he seemed disinterested, even though he called you down there in the first place. His arms were behind his back, facing you. It felt like you were walking on eggshells, shifting a step, but before you could even walk even closer—

“Lock the door,” He followed by briefly stating your name.

Your heart dropped, feeling the anxiety peering in slowly.

Was he going to kill you? He definitely was.

It was difficult to distinguish his emotion since he didn’t exactly display it for you to see. His tone was monotone and his face was the same as it usually was, adorned with a scorn.

You kept yourself composed, turning around to turn the lock of the door. You stood by the door, and Midas turned his head obscurely, the warm light caught his amber eye. He didn’t break eye contact.

“Come here.” He turned himself around fully.

Standing straight at about 6 feet and an inch, you did not want to mess with your boss.

You obliged, approaching his desk so you were right in front of it, and him.

You absentmindedly lined the tip of your pointed heels to be right on the edge of the rug. It was like an imaginary boundary.

“Are you enjoying your time here?” He suddenly questioned and you felt yourself shift into that interviewee mindset.

“Yes, sir. I am.”

You swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch, trying to form a sort of sardonic smile. It was like his eyes were taking you apart, picking each piece of your nervous movement to analyze and trying to figure out how you felt.

He pulled his obnoxious leather and gold-lined chair out, settling on the chair before pushing himself closer to be tucked at the desk.

He gestured to one of the chairs.

“Take a seat,”

A part of you wanted to defy his order to piss him off and sit in the other.

You didn’t, and sat in the one he gestured to, which was closer to his desk.

He stared at you with a straight face. He was so intense.

“Be honest, will you?” He shrugged, trying to seem indifferent about the topic. He was trying to pry how you truly felt about him out of you, because he knew it was buried deep.

“If you’re going to be my assistant, you need to know what’s best for this agency,”

You wanted to say how stupid his system was, how cheap he was despite having the golden touch, and how he was an asshole. The thing is, you didn’t have it enough in you to say so.

“I’m—“ You began but felt that you were a tad bit too passionate about the topic. You started once again, tone professional.

“Sir, the way you run things..”

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow, already feeling skeptical about letting you speak about this.

He absolutely fucking hated it when people dragged him for how he ran his own agency. Yes, he asked for criticism but it wasn’t to actually change anything.

Why would he?

It was working like a well oiled machine anyway, so what was your issue?

“It’s awkward, doesn’t feel like anything’s getting done when nobody talks to eachother.”

Midas shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Here he went. His body language just screamed an arrogant, rich and conceited man.

“Well, it’s not a preschool, is it?”

That caught you so off guard you had the temptation to laugh at his remark. He was right, it didn’t have to be a jolly, holding hands, and my little pony type friendship sort of thing, but it was still important to create a comfortable work environment.

“No, sir, but I conducted a survey which revealed that 87% of your workers—“

“You broke my rules?”

You stopped yourself, and sighed.

You didn’t mean to slip up like that.

Well, you couldn’t take it back anymore. Hopefully, he liked you a lot and wouldn’t fire you for that.

“That’s not the point.” You felt like you were trying so hard to convince him that what he was doing was shitty. It was as if you were talking to a brick wall.

“Yes, it is. You know how crucial it for their work to go uninterrupted, by doing that, you’ve partially slowed some of their progress.”

There it is. He had overworked everybody just for him to sit in his comfortable office, staring at his big ball of creation.

“See, that’s the issue. That’s your issue. You don’t care.”

“Am I supposed to? Business is business. You’re not here to make friends. Fall in love. Hold hands.”

He rolled his eyes, finding your idea completely wrong.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Oh wow.

He’s never seen you this assertive before towards him. He saw potential.

“Alright,” He said, somewhat defeated with your short-lived argument, beckoned you over with his finger.

Although you were still pissed at him, it felt like your body was owned by him.

Woah. Not owned.

It felt like your body just couldn’t stop following his every single order. The thought of you wanting to appease him in every way possible had you embarrassed. You hated him, but still wanted to impress him.

The sound of a drawer rolling caught your attention when you maneuvered yourself around the desk to stand beside his chair.

He pulled out a thick stack of cash from the drawer like it was nothing. The drawer was filled with wads of hundred dollar bills. He turned, still in his chair, humming as he didn’t even count it, and offered it to you.

You were unimpressed at this and he was stunned.

Were you asking for more money?

He didn’t care if you took all of his money because of how truly wealthy he was. When you didn’t take it from his hands, he took more from his stash, stacking it on and lying them on your hand.

The stack eventually weighed heavy on your palm. It was so heavy, you had to support it with both hands to refrain it from toppling over.

“No, this wasn’t what I asked for nor what I wanted. You can’t bribe me.” You looked at him, offended that he would think of something as stupid as this; bribery would never work on you.

It was nice seeing and smelling the fresh bills but you placed them on his desk with a smack.

His neutral expression shifted into something darker, something more formidable than usual. Midas frowned, bothered by your ungrateful attitude. At this angle, you were taller since he was sat down.

That didn’t last for long, as Midas stood up so quickly, the force of his movement sent his chair behind him strolling to hit something with a soft thud.

He towered over you, eyes glowering. He was only about an inch away from you. The propinquity of him worked; it was an intimidating tactic and it fucking worked on you.

“Sir,” You shakily said, feeling yourself in a daze. A sense of vertigo clouded your mind, blocking out any oncoming thoughts.

A blanket of blood flooded your cheeks, painting them crimson at the intimate proximity. In such a tone that sounded apologetic, it was ludicrous thinking about how you had been arguing with him.

At the sight of this, the dim lighting casted an attractive shadow against his angular face. You hated to admit it, but Midas was hot. You always felt in denial thinking about it, now here you were, lips inches away from his.

You knew you were only in denial due to the fact he was the boss and you were the intern.

“What do you want, then?” He said with a soft scoff, knowing he could fulfill your wishes so easily.

He found your fierce ambitions and your overall attitude amazing qualities. He also found you to be extremely attractive. That was a quality that always made him feel differently.

Your eyes darted away from his. This was a weird situation to be stuck in. Your boss and you, locked in his office and an inch away.

He noticed you weren’t pulling away.

“Just,” You hesitated but continued. “give me the money, please.” The state of affairs had you spouting shit you would never say in a million years. You begging for money was something you blurted out because of your panicked state.

Something about this whole thing made you want to scamper away.

Another part of you was leaning into it, wanting to know how his hands would feel against your bare skin, his lips on yours; would he fuck you rough, or would he fuck you agonizingly slow?

Would he praise you or would he condemn you to being useless?

You had to know.

You needed to know.

It was killing you, the part of not knowing was tearing you to shreds, eating you on the inside out.

“Please, what?”

He was feeding into your delusion—

“Please, sir.”

but you just couldn’t help yourself sometimes.

The way you sounded, you uttering that in a voice that sounded so heavenly, it took every inch of him to grab you. His gaze wandered to your soft lips, stained with lipstick, he found even more tempting to smear off.

“Do you really want the money?” Midas wasn’t blind, he had seen your nervous and your complexion flushed. Your short breaths, trying to inhale all of his air. No mistake, you were aroused. Turned on to the max.

“No.”

“Good.” His tone lowered to one that was filled with satisfaction and relief at your answer.

The function of your breathing had stopped. You couldn’t even comprehend Midas’ slow, yet calculated approach to stoop down and capture your lips in a tantalizing, short kiss.

His lips whilst pressed against yours felt surprisingly soft. Your eyes closed quite late, but felt prone to more.

A warm feeling erupted within your chest, spreading across your body at the first contact of his lips. It felt like a pit of fire inside you was slowly being fed by the smallest of his ministrations.

Midas leaned forward once more, allowing you to relax as he had to slightly accommodate to your height to kiss you. His larger hand came down to tilt your head to an angle he wanted.

You felt him grab your hip to keep you still, and the firm hold he had on you had been the last thing you needed to give in.

His stern hold indicated the longing of you, the longing for anybody, actually. Since he and his wife got divorced due to issues, he’d been desperate, not begging but he was.

He hated how you made him feel whenever you were around.

Every time you walked into his office, he tried his best to stay professional.

He didn’t even know you, apart from your résumé; you didn’t know him personally either.

He pulled you in, feeling his exhales from his nose as he tried to keep a steady breath. “Midas, sir,” You muttered in between kisses, pausing him by giving him a firm push of your palm.

He responded by grasping your wrist, almost in a way that told you he didn’t like getting touched without permission. You leaned back, but you couldn’t move much.

“Are we allowed to do this?” You asked, slightly hesitant to even ask.

“I make the rules, what do you think?” He sarcastically replied with a small tilt of his head.

Your silence and actions spoke louder than words when you pressed yourself closer to him. He noticed, pressing his silken lips against yours once more, reigniting his inner desires in him he’d long forgotten about.

Your hand reached down to his crotch, thinking you were doing him a favour. Midas’ fifth sense was quickly set off, not being able to see but sense your hand hovering just right above.

His hand once again, grabbed your wrist once more and this time pushed away.

“Are you fucking serious?” He asked, slightly breathless at your attempt. He sounded so pissed.

You might’ve misread the situation, maybe he didn’t want sex right now. You were in the wrong for trying to assume.

“I’m so sorry, I thought—“ You said so quickly it sounded jumbled together before being interrupted by Midas.

“Thought what? Do you think I like you ?” He emphasized the words and they hit you harder than you thought.

“Get on your knees.” He sneered, almost in a way that felt like he was humiliating you.

God, in such a sick way, you loved it.

Without hesitation, you slowly sunk down, feeling the rough material of the rug harshly against your knees.

This view of Midas felt more domineering, his eyes scanned your face. His face was riddled with contempt. Silence filled the air again, making him even more irritated.

“Are you just going to sit there and be useless all day?”

Your eyes wandered down to the visible tent in his pants, wanting to feel how hard he felt against yourself if you were ever to grind against him.

The thought made you squeeze your thighs, rubbing them against one another to soothe the growing desperation within your cunt.

“Please, let me.”

He nodded, watching with an amused expression as your hands fumbled with his metal belt.

The sharp clinking of his belt made his slacks feel a lot tighter. You then unzipped them, unbuttoned them and caught a glimpse of what you were dealing with.

His boxers were a plain black, and if you couldn’t see well, you wouldn’t have noticed the wet spot where his tip laid against. The outline of his was huge.

To not make him any more impatient, you tugged his boxers down enough. His cock was close enough to your face that could see the pre-cum beading out of the flushed tip.

He was more longer than he was in width, but other than that, you just wanted to take him all in your mouth. You hoped you could.

Midas pushed himself closer, letting the warm tip of his cock brush just against the corner of your mouth. You looked up at him, letting your tongue peek out to lick the corner of your mouth clean of the cum he smeared.

“Open.”

Your tongue dragged alongside a vein in his shaft before taking him into your mouth. The taste of his cum, you relished in. He cursed under his breath at the warm and wet feeling of your mouth.

Every one of your mouths movements had earned a grunt from him or two. They were small but it told you he was enjoying himself. You didn’t take him all the way, afraid to trigger your own gag-reflex.

Your hand accommodated to the leftover of his cock that was getting no attention, wrapping around and shifting the same time your mouth moved.

Your tongue swirled around his tip, earning a breathy moan from him. His hand made its way into your hair, pulling hard enough for yourself to moan around him.

The vibrations of your sound had him resisting so hard not to push your head down.

“Just like that, fuck.” He groaned under his breath and hearing it shot down pure arousal to your already soaked panties.

You set a steady motion of trying to take more of him into your mouth. Midas quickly lost himself to the feeling, finding the obscene, sloppy sucking noises you made so appealing.

You looked up as you continued, his hips pushing in, forcing yourself to take more than you could take. You resisted the urge to gag as he touched your uvula, eyes brimming with tears.

Your eyelashes were dampening, the expression on your face made him feel fucking sick, because he found your crying hot.

You breathed in through your nose, concentrating on keeping the pace consistent. Midas didn’t care much about your pace, pretty much fucking your face now.

You looked at him, the thrusting of his hips into your mouth had your own saliva dripping down your chin.

“You’re taking it so fucking good, yeah—I knew your mouth could be useful,” He panted.

You let out a muffled moan while he continued. Rare groans escaped his mouth and he was enjoying himself.

Then you pulled off his cock.

He didn’t like that.

Midas dragged you up off the floor with an easy tug of your hair. You looked like a mess, just the way he wanted. Your usual brazen self was now replaced a husk of your old self, desperate for attention from him.

He leaned in close, not waiting to rip off your pantyhose, along with pulling off your panties.

“Maybe this will make you learn your fucking lesson,” He spat out, smashing his lips against yours in a way that you didn’t even know what had happened.

You didn’t care, not ashamed that all you wanted from him was to fuck you. He lead you to his desk, your hip hitting the desk.

Since he hated you, you thought he might’ve preferred not seeing your face, so you bent over the desk. He was tempted but flipped you around.

With a gasp leaving your mouth, your weight felt like nothing as Midas picked you up and placed on top of his desk.

He unzipped your skirt to make it easier, also slipping it off.

“I want to see that it’s you.” He whispered, in contrast to his attitude earlier when he fucked your mouth. Usually hate sex was with the other person facing away. But the person who hated you the most wanted to see?

“You want me to fuck you?” Finally, he pressed his tip against the opening of your tight cunt.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re nothing to me, you do know that, right?”

“I’d never be with somebody as easy as you are.”

—-

word count got to me pt2

[kittyball23]

Hi, Kitty. What do you want for Christmas this year?

Hmm.. good question!

I had a few things I'm hoping to get from my family/friends. Most of it includes Trolls stuff - I'm holding out in particular for a BroZone shirt I saw on Amazon, and also a BroZone poster

There's a mini-keyboard thing a friend of mine showed me a couple weeks ago for a phone, so it's kind of like a small laptop (great for when I wanna work on my fics on the go)

Other stuff would be some new nail polishes, a phonecase to replace the broken one I have, tickets to Wonka, and a new laptop with more memory/storage so that way I can make some more videos for my YouTube channel 😀

(also, I should have your art request finished over this weekend 👌)

[louisupdates]

Louis Tomlinson marca o público com atmosfera acolhedora

julho 18, 2023 [text translated]

The Faith In The Future Tour arrived in Tampa last Friday (7.14), with Andrew Cushin and The Snuts as opening acts, Louis Tomlinson played a 1h40min show at the Yuengling Center.

Andrew took the stage to open the night, the singer definitely has the soul of an artist, with a super striking sound. Even though it was just him and a keyboard player, he delivered a memorable set.

Scottish band The Snuts perform before the lead singer takes the stage. Undoubtedly, a group made for the stage. Jack, vocalist, has a unique voice, it seems that you are listening to the album in the studio, it is so perfect.

Opening with “The Greatest”, it indicates that the long awaited time has come to hear Louis live. The singer takes the stage already with pyrotechnics in the music and the fans go crazy, as expected. The fandom is super engaged, several personalized items like friendship bracelets, a fan and a lot of posters.

The scenery setup is beautiful. The lights with moving platforms, screens of different shapes, and his impeccable band, as always.

Making a show of its own, the fans' flashlights and the chorus during Chicago and Common People bring another atmosphere to the show.

Seeing how important the songs are to you guys, having the support I get every day, I will never take that for granted. And I really, really appreciate each and every one of you, for allowing me to do what I love, for allowing me to make the music I love and play in amazing venues. And I fucking love you, thanks for that.

[Thanks to fans before the performance of “Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy”]

In addition to an Arctic Monkeys cover of the song 505, Louis also sings two One Direction songs, Night Changes and Where Do Broken Hearts Go, from the album Four, in which the singer does much of the writing.

With songs from both of his albums, Tomlinson ends the show in style. During “Silver Tongues” he goes to the fans on the barricade so they can sing “Because it's times like these, we're so much happier (…) you know, when I'm with you, I'm happier” together and show his love for them.

We can't wait to experience the Faith In The Future World Tour in Brazil, you can check out the coverage here on our Instagram and below the full gallery of all 3 artists who performed on the night.

PHOTOS 1, PHOTOS 2

[edgarsravencawcawbtches]

Y'all I wrote a story.

It's called 'Lost and Loved'

The golden honey of the afternoon tumbles through the claw torn curtains and trails across the room. I lay, limbs outstretched, sucking up the warmth. Anagi sits cross legged and cross faced in front of her laptop. Tear streaked tissues are crumpled on her desk. I do not understand her stress, but I can feel it. It coils around the room like smoke, thick and heavy, choking. 

We stay like this until the world chills and hunger begins to gnaw at me. I stretch as if I have been sleeping for hours, which I have, and knead the carpet.

With the carpet thoroughly softened I make my way to Anagi and rub against her legs. She pauses her work to shower me in compliments, “Your motor is on Priya. You’re as loud as a sports car aren’t you?” Then she voices what I’ve been waiting for, “I think it's time for your dinner.” Satisfaction is stark on my face. 

Anagi leaves and I follow her to my bowl, all the while telling her to hurry.

“Meow to you too, miss magoo.” She replies, understanding what my cries mean.

Half a scoop of dry food, quarter can of wet food. I gobble it as fast as I can, I want to return to her company. 

Do not forget to feed yourself Anagi.

She does not get herself any food. Instead she strides right back to the slumping chair, blinding screen, and tissue filled table. Why does she ignore her needs? Does her tummy not tell her to eat? What is more important than satisfying her body? I do not know. I do not understand.

The tip-tap pitter-pat of the keys mark the words that form on the screen only to disappear, then form again. A washing machine of words repeating itself, never clean enough, never enough.

Anagi, see how I care for you?

I snuggle close and rub my cheek on her hand. 

"I wish you could proofread this Priya,” her head sinks into her hands. “I feel like you'd be a little genius, wouldn't you? Everybody would love you." she said the words like a sigh, listless and broken.

I am already loved.

Waves radiate from Anagi like heat above a flame, distorting her reality. The fire burning inside her scares me, makes me restless. In a fire, you must run.

I paw at her hand, bat it away from the keys. In return she scratches my neck. I leap from her lap. Onto her keyboard. Blocking her access.

“Priya, stop it! I’m trying to work!” She picks me up and dumps me on the floor.

I climb the back of her chair. Claws gripping like velcro. I attack the hair across her shoulders. 

Turn around Anagi.

She does, but only long enough to knock me off.

Rude.

I change my strategy. I race across the room and out the door. I skid wildly as I turn the corner. My back end swings into the wall. It struggles to change direction. I bolt to the box of toys in the playroom. Manically I dig to find the perfect toy. I find it buried at the bottom. The stick that dangles a mouse from a string. 

Yes!

I bite it and scramble back to Anagi as fast as I can. The stick drags beneath me. I run with my legs slightly to the side so I do not step on it. It produces an odd little waddle which is not nearly as fast as I want. 

Holding the mouse in my maw. I meow at Anagi and reach up at her seat.

Anagi, play with me!

“Priya I can’t right now. I’m trying to do work.” Her eyes never lift from the screen.

I need her to look away from her work. Then she will leave it be. I run and jump at the wall. I tear a poster down. It crumples on the floor. Surely she will look. 

She does not.

I scuttle along her bed. Pounce on her pillow. I tumble off the side. I fall on the floor in a heap. Now, she will look.

Yet she does not.

I gallop towards her. I throw myself on her desk. I meow my most desperate cry!

Anagi sighs.

She reaches out and stokes me, for her consolation and my comfort. 

“I still can’t play with you though. I need to get this done.” her eyes, a jumbled mix of sulk and serious, lift from the screen to meet mine.

She returns her focus to her work. One hand caressing my fur, the other skimming over the keys.

NO. Play with me Anagi!

I bite her hand. Gently, of course. Just enough to make her stare.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”. Her voice breaks, echoing her resolve. “But I still love you.”

She picks up the stick and dangles the mouse in front of my face. I chase it across the floor. Anagi giggles.

The flame that had been burning inside her sizzled and shrank then went out.

A puff of smoke rose and dissipated. 

I love you Anagi.

[mestruazioni]

figured out how to reuse old keyboards and broken charging cables and made a frame then found the perfect mr robot poster to go with it I am ⭐️happy⭐️

[lacunasbalustrade]

Give me a word for this poem's title, will you?

Kinder to be silent than to let the clang of glasses

Toasting, ring out.

Here again a silver January becomes a tool to be wielded, as if it were not hungry for more tunes to swallow.

Another million verses that will never tumble from my lips.

I am ashamed to say the door is closed; ashamed to get up and open it.

Kinder to run fast than to love well or be kind.

I too know what happens when closeness exceeds the parameters of an object's comprehension or motive.

There are citadels that cannot be given to the public, colourless Decembers.

Glasses of sherry that languish beneath an earthy cellar.

What if storyboarding my life could grant me some wisdom to attain that which always seems so improbable?

The graves of forebears mock me for my presumptuous attitude.

Here again another artist will die.

There is nothing I can do about the urge to find a cliff to die on.

Bogged down by hopes I cannot fly.

Gladiolas ripe for the picking, ears of purplish corn.

Pop your ambitions with the ambient laughter.

Sometimes the call for silence is more than I can deny. Sometimes it exceeds the threshold that I can process.

Yet I go on.

Silence is another name for water.

You drown and it sustains you.

You wait and it retakes the Earth.

It brings a harvest and a brimming world; too full, too much, too little, always enough.

Slap a poster onto the wall.

It has broken through the whiteness of an entire cavern.

What can the calendar be for if not recalling all the posterity and pains that have troubled you from day to day? Yet throw it away and much is aimless.

I can say with certainty that trouble is the fruit of life.

If a keyboard clacking is what it takes to pin me to reality, maybe it would be better to forfeit a world without love.

Love again is such a calculative concept. Contemplate everything you like with context, it must be an arrogant desire to want to be seen. What else is music for, says the one who sings as if there is no tomorrow? Here again I am rambling. Forgive my transgressions.

But it is a desire that turns into selflessness, at least, and everything circles back to this.

L'appel du vide.

I will never be able to capture the world as I see it. These moments will remain unshared within my mind. Words are the editors of any visuals that I input; they end in a warping of the reality I perceive and do not enable to viewer to understand anything that I do not tell them specifically. What can there be that would allow a simple transmission of the image I imagine within my head? It's a broken reality once again.

Many attempts to convince me, I flinch as someone massages my shoulders.

I am not tired, I have produced nothing, I do not deserve this, don't give me things I don't deserve.

Honesty at least remains my friend.

It has been a long road that I have walked, but one that I haven't done anything on. Is my shallowing standards for myself proof of my declination or my health? I want to trust but I don't want to be the one who let themself go. It hurts to try and maintain this facade of not wanting to feel the pavement against my face and the head twisted awkwardly by the fall.

True suffering was not simple it was mangled and twisted and angry and malicious. It stood beside me and spurred me on in the darkest of days, now that I am in the light it has morphed into a fake sun. How I love the night.

Can you count the number of times I have failed? Yes, my sins are hidden deep in the sea, I know, I know, I know that they are forgotten by God. What if I fail again? What if I'm still failing? I do not want to disappoint hopes. More accurately, I do not want anyone to hold any hopes for me. There is no question that I cannot succeed in bearing these burdens. Look at these basic words I'm throwing about. What a pitiful thing to contemplate in a quiet place. Is this really the only thing I'm capable of? What if I could leave this place and go straight into one where I was someone worth facing?

Well, there is nothing worthwhile gained in running away, again.

Kinder to be silent than to place a price on the auction of your speeches.

Kinder to leave it behind rather than to wait for it to hurry up.

Yet I will understand all of this one day.

[hcguesstheauthormessageboard]

A AO FOR ME, SUCH PICKIGS TO CHOOSE FROM.

UT WHICH OE

Icarus is upalateale, ad the Writerly seems like too road ad shiftig. Like the cilatro.

Hmm. I may have to poder o this. Are samples availale of the aos to assist i my chosig

…sure? feel free to snatch up whichever one. 🦌 is western european if that helps? idk if that affects their flavor,,,,

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

The great regular sleep experiment 2024 part "accident prone"

T~T

So yesterday was rough. And eventful.

I can't blame forgetting to check if things were open on Monday on the poor sleep because I never fucking remember Victorias day or labour day or whatever other monday things are inexplicably closed.

But yesterday, groceries done or not, not only did I forget a bunch of stuff while doing groceries, again, which for me isn't normal [I have a system for groceries], but I injured myself a lot and got covered in cherry related acidic beverage in two separate incidents.

First, I dropped a cherry cola pack at the store on my way out and ended up walking home covered in cherry cola. I don't drop my groceries, no matter how much it seems like I should.

And then last night happened.

Just after checking my window fan was secure... it fell down and knocked -what would usually be an empty cup but was currently filled with 7 frozen cherries and a liter of cold water with a bit of lemon juice- all over my keyboard and blue yeti mic, and myself.

So I had to flip and unplug my keyboard due to it being full of sticky water.

And it finally shorted out the half broken cord for my blue yeti.

So I finally had to dig out and plug in my speakers. Which mean moving my computer... Which meant putting a glass glass in the sink, which meant reaching over the last glass glass I broke to do it because I had to lift my chair out of the way of everything to get my speakers out of the drawer [don't ask], which meant cutting my finger.

Like a small paper cut but like made with glass and very enthusiastic about bleeding while I am trying to plug something in behind my computer.

This was not 20 minutes after the last time I cut myself... Because all day my flesh had been sticking to this poster frame I have with bristol board in it taped to the side of my filing cabinet [as a whiteboard], and then like... Violently tearing off sharp pieces of plastic whenever I moved? And so now there was this big jagged edge of plastic right next to me that seemed like -surely- it was out of the way and I could deal with the whole thing later... But no, I went to sit down and somehow -from completely the opposite angle you would expect- cut my arm to bleeding on the -only vaguely sharp for plastic- edge.

This was on top of everything deciding all at once that it needs to obsessively try to fall out of other places, such as the small freezer on the top of my fridge, the counter next to my desk, and the fucking window sill with the fan in it...

AND!!! My fucking, the goddamned pj pants I just sewed up the knee of re-tore 4 SEPARATE times! Last night!

And my injuries from last monday or whatever and the moving of things from saturday are still only half healed.

Unless the universe is trying to deliver me cherry scented death by any excuse of physics imaginable [cherry scented inconvenience maybe??] I have to think that this must all be coordination issues and knock on effects from being too tired to judge anything properly.

Anyway I had to take two separate "I am sticky with something containing cherry specifically" showers yesterday which I imagine the neighbours didn't care for.

baptize me in fuckign cherry juice idk...

So I need to replace my blue yeti cord, if not take it apart and fix both jacks, if it still works right at all. I do not have a mic until I do.

The jack on my fiox3 is still so worn it won't play music to headphones.

My headphones are on their last included cord and have mo pleather left

My graphics card is failing and my case needs repairs...

All around there's a bunch of tech I -really- need to repair or replace unless I want it to all fail on me at once at the most inconvenient possible time...

And anyway I didn't fall asleep until after 2 am. I woke up at my alarm and snoozed it like 20 times before getting up...

[k00297901]

CONCLUSION TO DISRUPT

Incorporation of sustainability in practice-

Started with the broken heel as symbol in cardboard which isn’t my favourite as it wasn’t structurally sound, getting to reuse old cardboard. I then used this inspo for my soft sculpture sign, which was something very new to me and I used old fabric scraps. For the clay pieces, I painted them using old expired makeup pigments and low quality old paint to use it up. For the “I hope this email finds you” painting I got to use some old dried out brushes for texture and I learned a lot from it’s creation.

Workshops completed:

3D cardboard and paper- Nice starting point as a very versatile medium but I don’t love what I produced

Soft sculpture- VERY proud of this workshop- I had never worked with fabric in this way and it opened my eyes to the possibilities

Dog Life Drawing- Not very project relevant but so fun and boosted my drawing skills which helped with the project. One of my favourite workshops.

Drawing with clay 2D and 3D Explorations- Fun experimentation and I made some of my favourite pieces here using different techniques from the workshop

Me & You- Challenging but a fantastic exercise, I hope to use charcoals more again in the future. made some paintings throughout the week but i wish i had maybe worked on a larger scale for some

Publication- bookbinding was challenging but something i would love to incorporate into future projects, learning about riso print was great and i look forward to doing more

Manifesto- collage and riso combination to make posters- very happy with how my work turned out

Evolution of my theme throughout-

Starting out with “corporate disruption”, disrupting rigid symbols of arrows, keyboards, cctv etc. ; Before relating these to burn out, pressure and exhaustion and tying to my own experience of dealing with expectations and trying to find the “reason” for the work you do.

Researched artists and seminars-

James Casebere

Erik Jensen

Bart Vargas

William Betts

seminars -

colour theory, composition, relief print, drawing, 3D studies, exploring ideas, using a cameraphone

Main takeaways-

I had planned to make 3d office inspired by James Casebere but didnt have time. I wanted to take my collages to risograph print and I had the layers done but didn’t have time. I also would’ve liked to glaze my ceramics but I needed to be away from college and used up old materials instead.

While there are some things I’m not happy with, I definitely learned something from everything I created. I’m most proud of the clay keyboards, the watercolour self portrait and the Defy Expectations risograph prints as I believe these capture the emotion and meaning behind the Disrupt project most.

Bye Disrupt project!!!!! cheers :D

[gertlushgaming]

Lies of P Review (Steam)

 For this Lies of P Review, we play a thrilling soulslike that takes the story of Pinocchio, turns it on its head, and sets it against the darkly elegant backdrop of the Belle Epoque era. You are a puppet created by Geppetto who’s caught in a web of lies with unimaginable monsters and untrustworthy figures standing between you and the events that have befallen the world of Lies of P.

Lies of P Review Pros:

- Beautiful graphics. - Download size. - Steam achievements. - HDR support. - Graphics settings - screen mode, resolution, max frame limit, v-sync, brightness, AMD FidelityFX super-resolution 2, AMD FidelityFX resolution 2 sharpness, AMD FidelityFX CACAO, Nvidia DLSS, Nvidia DLSS sharpness, and graphics quality preset. - Advanced graphics settings - visibility, anti-aliasing, post-processing, shadows, texture, effects, vegetation, shading, reflection, volumetric fog, ambient occlusion, and anisotropy filter quality. - Controller settings - vibration, sensitivity sliders, and rebind buttons. - Keyboard and mouse settings - mouse sensitivity slider, and rebind keyboard buttons. - Gameplay settings - HUD, blood, motion blur, guide, adjust attack direction, Switch to auto lock, lock on distance degree, subtitles, and language. - Camera settings - adjust the inclined surface camera, reset camera position, camera shake, Invert axis, movement speed sliders, mouse Invert axis, and mouse movement speed slider. - Soulslike gameplay. - Amazing looking in-game cutscenes. - Tutorial pop-ups as you play. - Three combat styles - the path of the cricket (balance), the path of the bastard (dexterity), and the path of the sweeper (strength). You have to choose one and you can view stats before choosing. - A full 3D world with 360-degree camera control. - Such a fascinating-looking world. - Fast loading times. - Powerful and memorable soundtrack. - Pulse Cell is the name of the item you use to heal up. - A creepy yet inviting sense of adventure. - The game doesn't pause. - Familiar controls especially if you have played any Dark Soul games. - Stamina-based system for running, attacking, and blocking. - Enemies can drop loot. - Breakable objects within the world. - Lock on feature is powerful and clear from showing who's locked on to switching targets. - Your character gets dirty and bloody as you fight. - Guard/blocking system - block successfully to take reduced damage and lose stamina. Guard regain starts to build and once full you kill enemies for health. - Perfect guard negates damage and lets you stagger the enemy. - Fatal attacks can be done from the rear and kill enemies instantly, oh and it looks badass. You can also do fatal attacks against staggered enemies. - The world is so vast so of course you can find and unlock shortcuts or alternative routes. - Stargazers are your bonfires from Souls, you build these and they heal you, get used as a respawn point and it also respawns all enemies. - Level up and sort out storage when you interact with a stargazer. - Ergo is the material that enemies drop and is used to level up. - Fable arts - weapons are unique with unique blades/handles and you charge fable slots by fighting enemies, then you cast powerful fable attacks. - Fury attacks are when an enemy becomes red, he does strong attacks and you can't dodge or guard only perfect guard. - Buy and sell items with the traveling vendor. - Uses the weight system so every item has a weight and you can only carry X amount before you are encumbered, until that you make your rolling slower. - Fantastic art from the posters to the newspapers and notes. - Ergo drops where you died and you have one life to get it back, except in boss fights, any dropped Ergo is at the entrance. - The game does use save and quit. - Nails the feeling of satisfaction you get from beating a boss. - Possible to just farm areas for Ergo. - Ergo fragments can be broken in multiples and grant X amount of Ergo. - Legion atm is your left arm and can be equipped with weapons and modifications. - Venigni craft machines let you tweak and edit your Legion arm. - Moonstone is a resource used at workshops to upgrade your weapons. - Eugenic cranks is a resource used to alter weapon handles, you can even get a balanced crank to reset handles. - Hotel Krat is your sanctuary and is a place full of wonder it looks incredible. - The first attachment you get for your Legion arm is a puppet string contraption where you can grab enemies and bring them to you. - You can have two weapons equipped at a time with a d-pad input to swap. - Your quick access belt also has an additional bag for quick use of more items. - Ergo is what actually powers the enemies and creatures of the world. - When you die you get told how much Ergo you dropped. - A massive world. - You can fast-travel between unlocked Stargazers. - Sophia found in the Krat is the person who levels you up. - Gemini is your puppet guide through the game. - Gestures can be put into your quick-access menus. - Collectible items like posters and books. - Dimensional butterflies randomly appear and try to escape, kill them for resources and materials. (in Souls speak it's a Crystal Lizard) - Mini boss-like encounters that once you beat them, they don't respawn. - The game performance is smooth. - Fighting groups are fluid as they effortlessly jump between enemies. - A game where you personally feel like you are getting better. - So many secrets to find. - The story is really good and so well told through conversations and cutscenes. - Memorable characters. - Does a"Resident Evil bit" woof woof? - Jump scares in places. - The main story is always pushing ahead but you can find optional side missions and events to take part in. - Find records and play them back in the Hotel Krat lobby. - Weapon assembly allows you to seperate the blade and handle so you can mix and match enabling you to create your playstyle abilities. - After every roadblock of getting stuck in a fight or losing your way, the game just rewards your perseverance. - Combat is where you need to learn patterns, take opportunities, and pick your battles. - Specter - before some boss rooms you can use a sra fragment (upgrade resource) to summon an Ai specter to help you. - If you have an item needed for a side mission, its location on the Stargazer menu will show an icon. - Listening to records will increase your humanity. - Multiple choice encounters. - Weapons have durability that affects their damage output. You can replenish durability with items. - Environmental hazards can be triggered that hurt you and your enemies but can be used to get the upper hand. - Jaw-dropping set pieces. - P Organ is a skill tree-like system where you put quartz into slots and synergize them for new abilities. - As you progress more rooms in The Krat open up. - The abilities in the P organ are game-changers in so many ways. - Telephones can be found ringing and answering the is a caller telling riddles and answering the correctly gets you a reward. - You can freely dissemble and reassemble weapon parts so you can always try new builds. - The building of weapons is a really cool idea and very innovative. - It gets very addictive to build weapons, find secrets, and just explore. - The game splits areas and the story up into acts/chapters. - I am constantly surprised at how the game world unfolds. - Each area seems to be better than the last one. - For me personally, it's a game that has the difficulty and challenge you want but I a way that you can still progress and not get stuck against a brick wall. There is always a way past. - Has the combat speed of a Sekiro or Bloodborne but the exploration of a Demon/Dark Souls game. - It pays to always visit people in the hotel as the game is not forthcoming with unlocks or rewards and you don't know until they give it to you. - At times if you talk with someone but the action needs to be done elsewhere, it will teleport you there. - You can walk around with your block animation up but you move a lot slower. - Alter and adapt handles with cranks for improving motivity, technique, and advance. Lies of P Review Cons: - The game doesn't pause. - No benchmark test option. - Very difficult. - The window to do fatal attacks is small. - Fatal attack on enemies from the rear is brutal to pull off. - A lot to take in especially if you have not played a Souls game before. - You don't get much help with guidance so you can spend ages just walking around. - Until you spec up and level it can be really tricky to attack and dodge fast like you would in a Bloodborne, I say that as the game otherwise plays just like a Bloodborne. - Any tight fighting like in corridors or near walls is tough as you always clip the wall and the enemy doesn't seem to. - So much to take in, Parts/items are worded so you get confused as to where they are or what they do, many mechanics at play. - Doesn't have a compare weapons button or anything to help with purchasing weapon decisions. - Having to go back to Hotel Krat to level up each time is not ideal. - The story is broken up to the point where you can lose track of it at times. - The P organ system is really daunting at first. - Find out the hard way that the game doesn't inform you that your controller has disconnected or run out of juice. Related Post: Islands of Insight Revealed Lies of P: Official website. Developer: NEOWIZ Publisher: NEOWIZ Steam Read the full article

[discoidal]

Madness

Broken computer keyboard, poster paints, acrylic paints. Bunso (Filipino, nine years old).

[themerriweathermage]

Interview Tag Game

Rules: Answer the questions  (you can skip some if you don’t want to answer them) and tag 20 people.

I was tagged by @xmarchwarden-of-lothlorienx

Name: Carol

Pronouns: She/her

Star Sign: Scorpio

Height: 5 foot 6 inches

Current Time: 10 AM

Birthday: 10/28

Nationality: American

Favorite Band/Groups: Green Day, Imagine Dragons, Lady Gaga, Queen (I could go on)

Favorite Solo Artist: I assume you mean for songwriters/singers, but I’m going to vary it. My favorite singer is a tie between Jonathan Young and Caleb Hyles. If you’re talking about art artists, my favorite is Monet. If you’re talking about writing, right now my favorites are @bonjour-rainycity and @sleepswithvillains. And finally, my favorite composer is Hans Zimmer.

Song Stuck in Head: Fighting Dreamers (GO!!!!)

Last Movie You Watched: Prince Caspian (The Chronicles of Narnia) Edit: The Disney Version that I couldn’t believe was as dark as it was for a Disney movie, but I guess they were really into making gritty movies at the time.

Last Show You Binged: Lol. The last show I watched was The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. The last show I actually binged was Grey’s Anatomy when I watched like 12 seasons consecutively while unemployed like two years ago. (Dropped off right when Alex and Jo were getting super close... and I’m not sure why. Lost interest I guess)

When You Created Your Blog: Uhhhhh.... 2012 at the latest, because that’s when I went to college and followed a bunch of Twilight blogs.

Last Thing You Googled: Sleeping positions

Other Blogs: @werlgyn A blog for creepy crawlies, cosplay, slasher movies and Halloween. No, it’s not very active

Why I Chose My URL: It was part of the first story I ever finished. No, I’m not linking it. Go dig on FF.net if you want it that bad.

People I Follow:  A whopping 1082 people

Followers: 301 (awww, you guys are sweet)

Hours of Sleep: Between 4 and 10 (10 if I’m lucky)

Lucky Number: 5

Instruments: Piano/keyboard

Currently Wearing: Mickey/Minnie Mouse Love pj pants and a classic Star Wars movie poster themed tank top

Dream Job: Uh... oh gods... I had the dream job when I worked a stint at Disney World as a pest management intern. That was the most fun I’ve ever had at a job. It was back-breaking work but my coworkers 110% made it the best job ever. Otherwise, I’d like to be a writer (even more than I am now). I’d actually like to write my own book one day. I have the idea, just not the motivation and I don’t want to drop my current projects for it.

Dream Trip: I want to go to the US Virgin Islands with my mom one day

Favorite Food: Kettle-cooked potato chips.

Favorite Song: The Land of Broken Dreams (Jonathan Young)

Top Three Fictional Universes I’d Like to Live In: Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit, Star Wars (specifically SW:TOR timeline), and Harry Potter

No Pressure Tags: @bonjour-rainycity @sleepswithvillains @elvish-sky @my-marvel-musings and anyone who wants to play

[dreamkenn]

mha desk setups (pt.1)

this is for shigaraki, bakugo, midoriya, tsuyu and kirishima & is entirely superfluous world building bc i spend too much time on studygram. it’s roughly around season 3 just for league & campus living situations, there’s no content warnings or reader insert/ships. is roughly 1k words total (200~ ish each)

shigaraki 

frankly it’s a mess, notes strewn across the table many stacked precariously on the pc tower that takes up the right side of the desk, along with the fan perched next to it in attempts to keep it cool. there’s a few cd cases from old games, cables and a broken controller strewn in the corner; but the main thing covering the desk is notes. from detailed logs of hero’s schedules and abilities to top secret stolen documents, they’ve all been meticulously worked on then left together in the state of somewhat organised chaos that shigaraki naturally lives in. on the floor under the desk there’s a few things stacked up, a bin, an empty box with anti-theft tags still attached from some recent tech addition and a few broken keyboards, left around just in case he has time to fix the damaged space bar switches.

the space above his desk is mostly empty, there’s marks in the drywall where a shelf was once attached to the wall and a few posters of video game characters dotting the space (think byleth from fire emblem: three houses beach costume).

bakugo

it’s quite neat, a cream tablecloth covers the standard ua desk and is pined down at each corner to prevent it slipping. the two main objects on the desk are a small file cabinet to the left and a raised ergonomic laptop stand that sits in the centre of the desk, a 60% bluetooth keyboard slotted neatly underneath. there are a few smaller items dotted around the desk; a case containing some earbuds to use when studying that’s pushed to the back when not in use, a monthly flip calendar with events and assignments scribbled in atop the file cabinet, a coaster which normally has a cup of strong black coffee placed on it and two photos in minimalistic black frames.

his desk faces the window so there’s no wall space above it, there is however a small allmight standee on the windowsill. his desk chair has a lower back cushion strapped to it, to aid good posture while writing, with a corresponding footrest underneath the desk.

midoriya

the whole rooms covered in allmight memorabilia, and the desk is no exception. that being said most the items that fill the desk are what you would expect; just very branded. a well-stocked pencil case, mostly filled with pens or highlighters, not a pencil in sight. also, no white out, if there’s a mistake drawing a diagram in his notes it’s just getting drawn over with the same pen in the hopes the correction is clear [it’s not]. there’s a lamp to the side of his desk, which is surprisingly not allmight branded but has different colour light settings to help reduce blue light strain when studying at unreasonable hours at night.

the walls are all covered with allmight posters, yet the space above his desk is a little different with most of it designated to a huge monthly calendar which he crosses off the days on as they pass, key events both in school deadlines and the pro hero world scribbled on in colour coded markers. any space in between the posters is filled by photos with his friends, there’s a few photos of him and bakugo as little kids up there. anything up on the walls is held up with high tech zero damaged tacks, no pinholes to be found in these posters.

tsuyu

the standout item on the otherwise green and wood toned room is a pale blue humidifier on her desk, it’s shaped like a cloud! there’s quite a lot of things cluttering up her desk space, a little analogue alarm clock with a brass bell at the top, a stack of books- some to read for leisure some as part of hero training all piled up together- and a pot of pens, pencils and highlighters filled to the brim. there’s a few novelty pens in the mix, as they’re often given as gifts by mina, but they all use black ink, the highlighters are generally left forgotten.

the wall above the desk is covered in closely stacked wooden shelves, not just containing desk paraphernalia. they’re stacked with plants throughout, with one row of shelves designated to dining ware and plates (although it’s mostly cute mugs), another further filled with books- journals, textbooks, a few photo albums, with the upmost shelf filled with whatever’s left including a precariously placed camera. the small space between the desk and shelves has a fair few photo strips pinned into it, as well as class 1a’s year group photo.

kirishima 

there’s not many school supplies on kirshima’s desk aside from a small pot of pens and pencils, they’ll end up ‘folded’ in his bag overnight, unless it’s exam season. he does most of his studying with his friends in the library, so his room and desk are more dedicated to relaxing and time off. his computers set up to the side of his desk and is seemingly eternally left in sleep mode; much to the chagrin of the parts that keep it going barely. there’s a keyboard and mouse left on the desk, both with neon red backlighting, often in a tangle of wires. most of the time at his desk is spent playing games with friends, it’s the main way he keeps in touch with everyone from middle school! vanishing for hours on end to play animated games of cs:go or minecraft. the aforementioned pot of pens often ends up knocked over amidst energetic celebrations.

the space above his desk is dominated by a huge crimson riot poster, with a similarly sized promotional poster off to the side. it’s from recent action film, he was only able to grab it since he saw it on the last day in cinemas! there’s quite a few photos pinned in between the two posters, they’re mostly from when he got disposable cameras with mina and sero; although he gave quite a few of the prints away to the people who he took them with.