#bulky blocky

[nex-has-gender-envy]

-RANT TIME -

Come join my on my rant cuz I'm mentally ill and I don't care if somebody will hear me or not

Yknow how we got Cavillrine as a joke in new deadpool. Like I love Hugh w my whole heart but I know he isnt square/bulky enough looking for Logan. So yeah make sense Henry would be better fit.

However I thought... If we switching. Lets try opposite way. What if Hugh as Geralt.

I mean, they are both two pathetic driven 200 year old men who grunt a lot (oh.. ).

And then I thought more and ..

Henry is opposite ,he isn't slim/rat looking enough to play Geralt... But HUGH IS ..

And at this point i just went full blown mental illness and autism be dammed.

I have tools and i had to use them. I've searched Hugh w long hair, and my god, he has that type of shit blocky long hair, the same as geralt in game

So I just had tho (obvsiouly there is no footage of hugh w his haie half down so this is what we got but yknow)

Cannot even over-simplified, how little editing it took for me to make it into Geralt. He has same slim nose, same rugged jawline w stubble. His eyes are green so they really shine through already, and didnt even need to edit deep eyebags and big thin eyebrows

As for Logan! Henry Cavill. Ive always loved Henry looking like lumberjack mountain man and now i know why. I have this specific picture stored permanently at back of my mind. And thats exactly Logan. No edit needed.

So... Yeah.

[cakerybakery]

An Adam was turned into a toddler in hell with all his memories story.

Lucifer looked up from his paperwork to check on Adam sitting with his blocks. “How’s it going buddy?”

“Good. I’m making a tower.” It was taking all of Adam concentration. Which wasn’t a lot when his body was an adult’s, now it was a Herculean task.

The doctor that examined Adam when he first got down here explained that Adam was far sighted, all small children were, making some tasks difficult for Adam. That his body was uncoordinated because kids his body’s age were developing their fine motor skills still.

It was hard on Adam. Lucifer had to remind him to go to the bathroom because it was hard to concentrate for long and he got easily distracted so he forgot sometimes. He couldn’t read very well so he had to rely on Lucifer to read small things for him. He was clumsy not just with his hands but his feet too, easily tripping, especially in his bulky toddler shoes. He needed a midday nap and hated it. He couldn’t make his own food since everything was so high up and you needed fine motor skills not to hurt yourself while prepping and cooking. Adam couldn’t even sit normally at the table, he needed a booster seat.

Getting told, it just was what it was, was hard on Adam. It seemed this was his punishment in hell. Lucifer had tried to see about Adam at least getting to go back to heaven but there had been nothing Sera could do. So Lucifer took him shopping.

He’d sat in the child’s seat of the cart pouting. The only concession he made about it not being as terrible as it could have been was that at least Lucifer let him pick out his own clothing and toys.

It was embarrassing to admit that Adam had thrown a massive tantrum when the doctor recommended toys. He was a grown man, he didn’t need toys. But the doctor said it would help with his fine motor skills. That glasses weren’t recommended until they knew if he would grow or not. They didn’t want to try and correct for where his eyes would be as if he was an adult, if he started growing. If he stayed like this for a few years then they would revisit the issue.

Lucifer got him whatever he wanted, which Adam did like. He didn’t like that Lucifer felt bad for him and was taking pity on him, but Adam liked being spoiled.

Most of the clothing he picked was plain, Adam refused to wear anything with stupid writing like ‘Rad Little Dude’, he told the bitch at the store to go fuck herself when she suggested it. He agreed to the overalls Lucifer suggested. Pants were more grownup feeling but he struggled with the button and a belt had been a lost cause so he had to get pants with elastic waists. He didn’t like any of the styles and just picked out a handful of plain ones. The overalls were easy enough for him to undo and if he put a sweater on he could pretend they were jeans.

As big of a fit as he threw over toys, they were mesmerizing. So many lit up and made loud sounds and he wanted to push all the buttons! Eventually he settled on a bunch of building toys, blocks and legos. An activity box to help with his fine motor skills, plus it was kinda fun to move the beads around the twirly wires. A fire truck that lit up, made enough noise to make Lucifer cringe, and he could steer with a remote. A large print book from an author he liked, just because he has the body of a toddler didn’t mean he was suddenly only interested in reading about ducklings cuddling their mother or some shit like that. Some blocky crayons he could grasp in his awkward and chubby hands better than other writing utensils so he could practice those fine motor skills. And a couple of stuffed animals he couldn’t explain, they just made that three year old part of his brain light up with joy.

As Lucifer worked Adam spent his time trying to develop his fine motor skills so he could be more independent. Able to undo buttons and tie his shoes, he’d probably need Lucifer’s help in the kitchen for tall stuff but it would be nice if he could do basic tasks without worrying about suddenly going clumsy. Although, if Adam was being honest, at this point he’d settle for not using a sippy cup fifty percent of the time because he keeps dropping his cups. He only allowed Lucifer to give him sippy cups where no one could see him during the day, practicing with regular cups at meals. If they had guests he had juice boxes.

Lucifer went back to his paperwork and Adam took a break. It was hard to make his hand do what he wanted it to. Things up close didn’t look exactly right and he wasn’t always able to put the blocks on top of the other blocks how he wanted. It didn’t help that he was getting sleepy earlier than normal.

Adam hadn’t slept well the night before. The line had been drawn at bar to keep him from rolling out of bed and fuck if he wasn’t regretting that now.

He needed a nap and a cuddle but left his two stuffed animals on his bed back home. Adam got up and went to the desk.

“Lucifer?”

“Hmm?” He looked up from the papers on his desk, “need help with something?” His subtle way of asking if Adam needed help bathroom wise.

“I’m tired.” Adam’s subtle way of asking to be held.

Lucifer picked him up, “okay. I could use a break myself,” and carried him over to the couch. He laid them down and Adam curled up into Lucifer’s side.

Adam blamed the three year old parts of his brain for needing something to make him feel safe in order to sleep.

Lucifer enjoyed this next part. As Adam’s eyes closed for the last time before drifting off, Lucifer scooted away. Adam would need the room.

With every deep breath, Adam grew. Thankfully, whatever magic had turned him into a kid, whether it was a spell or hell, affected his clothing as well. He grew until Lucifer was looking at the grownup face of his oldest friend. Facial hair and all.

Adam had been working hard all morning on his fine motor skills, plus he didn’t even swear or make a pass at the receptionist this morning. If Lucifer’s hypothesis was right, Adam would be a little bigger when he woke up.

It seemed when Adam worked hard and behaved more like the adult he was supposed to be he got a little older. But when he behaved poorly for more reasons than just being cranky or hungry, when he was truly just being a little asshole, when he woke up he was always a little smaller, a little younger looking, everything was a little harder for him to do.

Lucifer didn’t want to get Adam’s hopes up. He’d check out how the overalls fit when Adam woke up. They might grow with him while he slept but like Adam they would shrink again when he woke up. Back to their original size while Adam should, if Lucifer was right, be a little taller, be a little older looking in the face, be a little more coordinated.

In the meantime, Lucifer would enjoy getting to see the face of his old friend. It was hard sometimes to see Adam toddle around and not treat him like a child. It wouldn’t help Adam if he did that. Moments like this reminded Lucifer that Adam was a grown ass man. His being a child was hell, or a spell, or just plain God fucking with Adam, and treating he like a child was just going to make him act like one.

Even when Adam was throwing a tantrum, was screaming at a waitress to get him a beer, was on the floor kicking and screaming because he didn’t need a nap, he did, Lucifer tried to remember that there was a grown man in that tiny body who was having trouble controlling his emotions. Who’d lost so much of his independence and couldn’t protect himself. Who, some days, cried because he couldn’t stack blocks straight and felt ashamed of needing to have someone hold him.

He held Adam and let the man nap.



[magewolf-the-artist]

Okay I know I've been drawing a lot of Susan lately, but I swear this concept actually originated with Charles, but I gotta redo the drawing since it's old. So for now, here you go

I always thought this quote fits really well with the entire brand of the Domestic K-9 AU. Because despite everything, including the severe PTSD and other mental illnesses, they're ultimately still themselves.

Anyways, have some notes:

Susan is 6'1" and the Banny animatronic is 7'6"

I've been fiddling with how I've been drawing the animatronics because I want them to be big and bulky and broad compared to a human, but to a point where it doesn't feel comically exaggerated, if that makes sense? I figure Banny would be given a tall, blocky figure with no curves, besides the hips

But tbf, everyone's hips are flared like that in order to compensate for how top heavy the animatronics are (all those speakers and computers and complex mechanics, ya know?) It's also why every single one of these fuckers have a wide stance and tree trunks for legs

It's why walking is a bit of a learning curve, not because the action itself is hard, but you have to keep in mind the off center balance and wider stance. Doesn't give 'em much trouble once they figure it out, though

Susan already knows all this because she got the free trial

Speaking of Susan, I do want to emphasize that she didn't use to be so angry and snippish all the time. Before her death, she was more like Red Guy from DHMIS if he was, like, 10% less chill. But once again, trauma does funky things to people!

[frozenjokes]

Grian’s Terrible Horrible No Good Gift

“What do you think? Is this too much? Is this- I don’t know- distasteful? I thought it might be kind of funny. And maybe.. send a certain message. No message in particular of course just- just- you know. A message. I do actually think he’ll find it funny. What do you think?” Again, always with the questions, questions Mumbo would not be able to answer, and yet Grian was still sitting there on the beach looking expectant. In his hands he had a human device called a ‘helmet,’ a hard shell meant to be worn on the head. Mumbo could see how it could be useful. Didn’t know what Grian wanted to do with it though.

Mumbo stuck out his tongue through bared teeth, the human expression that Grian was being annoying.

Grian pursed his lips in an unhappy grimace. “Alright. Okay. So Scar, right? He got hurt- I mean we both got pretty banged up.. ugh, he’s rubbing off on me. That’s such a Scar thing to say. Anyway-“ Grian cut himself off, looking embarrassed at Mumbo’s lack of reaction. “I don’t know how to communicate this with you. I guess I’m not trying very hard though, am I? Don’t answer that.”

Mumbo’s tail twitched in his great annoyance and Grian got to his feet, pacing back and forth.

“Gift.. Gift.. Gift..” Grian stopped short, scampering to the side of the clearing and messing with a big rock, then giving up when he wasn’t strong enough to push it and finding a smaller one to roll onto the shore, though not without a great struggle. On top of the rock he began to sculpt something out of wet sand, a square kind of shape? Whatever Grian was building he was very focused on it. The human collected gunk and seaweed from the shallows to place on top, then with a frightening amount of aggression, began to carve marks into the rock below, blocky and deliberate before scoring random cuts with wide slashes. Finally, Grian stood back, admiring his work. He pointed.

“Scar.” Then, after a moment, ‘Scars.’

Ohhhhhhhh. Okay. Mumbo kinda got it. There was the head, the hair, the rough (rough) approximation of Scar’s chest..? Were the random marks meant to be scars? Either way, Mumbo was familiar enough with art to recognize it. He gave Grian a thumbs up.

Grian looked pleased, nodding. “Alright. I’m me. That’s Scar.” Grian picked up the helmet, holding it close to his chest. “I want to give Scar a gift. ‘Gift.’ This is a gift.” Grian tapped the shell. Mumbo cocked his head.

“Helmet.”

“Yeah. Yes. It’s also a gift. For Scar.” Grian stopped, pursing his lips before walking purposefully over to the Scar statue and holding out the helmet. “Gift. Gift.” Grian placed the helmet on the head of the Scar then stepped back. “Gift.”

…Alright. Gift. Grian wanted to give him something. A helmet, apparently. Well, it didn’t look too spectacular or anything. It was completely flat, no ridges or decoration at all. Mumbo would probably be offended if given something like that in the deep. Hm. Maybe that’s why Grian had come here with it in the first place. He was in desperate need of assistance with his horrible helmet. It was a very good thing Mumbo was here!

“Gift,” Mumbo said, then pointed to himself. Give that to me. Grian looked a little alarmed, shaking his head ‘no.’

“It’s not for you! It’s for Scar.”

Mumbo flicked his fins with a small huff. Communication like this was such a chore. He gave Grian a thumbs down, to which the human bristled, repeating once again that it was for Scar. Well. If they couldn’t figure this out, then Mumbo would have to save Grian from himself.

Mumbo launched out of the water, Grian yelping as he scrambled in the other direction, trying and failing to grab the helmet without decapitating the Scar. All in vain. Humans were slow, and without a bulky tree branch in Mumbo’s way, it wasn’t difficult to get close enough that Grian was spooked into dropping his prize, Mumbo snatching it up and hobbling back to the shallows.

“Mumbo! Mumbo no! You can not have that!” Grian made all sorts of noise as he stumbled into the water, but he knew better than to follow too far. Mumbo was going deep anyway. This helmet needed a lot of work.

It could use some engraving in Mumbo’s humble opinion, but he wasn’t sure he could actually carve something deep enough to sense without damaging the integrity of the object. But that was fine, he could build onto it instead. Out of all the things he brought up from the deep, an abundance of his typical tinkering materials was not among them, but he probably had enough to make this work.

He brought what he had back to the surface, met with more yelling from Grian, but with enough hissing and mermaid scolding, Grian actually gave him space to work on the beach. Mumbo guessed he started to get curious when it was clear there was no stealing going on, Mumbo laying out his supplies to see exactly what he had to work with here. The bits of human garbage he’d collected would do well here; thematic. He could cut some of the cans into scale-like pieces, and maybe line them with all that vine he had collected in the previous days? Might be a waste when he could make rope instead, but he didn’t have the time to gather more materials with a human as impatient as Grian.

Mumbo pulled on his gloves and got to work. Gloves, because glue was strong and it was dangerous, and while Mumbo valued it as a tool, he had ripped far too much skin to mess around with the substance (and this precaution was NOT only because one of said accidents happened recently, Mumbo took utmost care in his safety for every project he worked on).

Grian was utterly enamored.

It occurred to Mumbo that he hadn’t done much work like this around the humans before, most of his time while they were present being spent interacting with them or resting from his injury. Grian asked questions (“What.” “What.” “What.”) and Mumbo explained, though to Grian the whistles and clicks only served to fill noise. Grian wasn’t bothered; most human blabbering served little practical purpose in the first place. As long as Grian kept his distance, Mumbo didn’t mind his presence. If glue ravaged mermaid skin, he did not want to find out what it would do to a fragile human body.

The result was.. something. A little basic, a little rough around the edges, but Mumbo never claimed to be a fashion designer. He was only trying to prevent a friendship ruining nuclear event that such a passive aggressive gesture would surely result in, especially among humans whose relations could be so fragile. The design was simple, symmetrical, but appealing. A row of human-trash scales up the middle flanked vertically with glue-preserved vine (likely to brown, but not to lose its integrity). On either side two more rows of scales, though Mumbo had started to run out of trash at this point so it felt a little bit unfinished but.. better than nothing. At least the dangly bits off the sides served as something interesting, however, if every ‘helmet’ had them, Mumbo doubted they would feel very special to human ears.

…

Wait a minute. Humans used light to see. Mumbo had never heard Grian or Scar make any sort of sound remotely close to the rhythmic click click click of the deep. Not even on the rare occasions they’d been here after dark.

………

Did humans echo locate at all?

[latoyalestrange]

THE FOOL

p. pascal x f!oc

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: Naela is finally back in Los Angeles. She hoped to get a peaceful evening with her long-term boyfriend and family, but the chaos of stardom is already in full effect the moment she steps off the plane.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Not edited, jealousy, mutual pining, mentions of cheating

Taglist: @marvel-sw-lover , @lokislittle , @red-red-rogue , @babukat , @joels-darlin , @lmariephoto37 , @violac0la

comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

CHAPTER SEVEN — MEET THE PARENTS

The airplane ride home was, thankfully, mostly silent. Due in part to Naela’s headphones that were glued to her ears, but also the lack of Pedro’s company. Apparently there weren’t enough seats grouped together for the entire cast to sit next to eachother, so they spread everyone out. The pair was sat on opposite sides of the business class portion of the plane, forcing them into awkward eye contact every time they got up to use the bathroom.

Once the flight was over, Naela was so eager to get off that she didn’t bother waiting for Pedro. She felt badly about it, but it was probably best she didn’t walk out with Pedro, knowing her boyfriend would be waiting for her. It took a moment to spot him, but once she saw his tall frame holding flowers and a “welcome home” sign, her face lit up with excitement. Naela didn’t realize that as she was rushing to Josh, a man with a blocky camera bypassed the entrance to her right and was b-lining toward her. The man jumped in front of her, completely catching her off guard with the loud clicking coming from his camera and his invasive questions.

“Naela Rivera! How does it feet to be back in LA after shooting for Narcos?” She craned her neck around the bulky figure in front of her to see Josh’s confused and frustrated expression. Another paparazzi joined him, once again blinding her with the flashes of their cameras.

“Is it true that you and Pedro Pascal are dating?” Then it clicked. She couldn’t retreat to her boyfriend like she so desperately wanted to do. In fact, either one of their managers could’ve orchestrated this on purpose. Soon, more gathered around, until she was almost entirely surrounded. She had no idea what to do. If she were mean or pushed out of the way, she would certainly be scrutinized in the media. She stood helpessly, covering her eyes from the blinding flashes, until she felt a familiar pair of hands pull her away and rush her toward the entrance. One wrapped around her shoulders and the other held her hand as they weaves through what was becoming a crowd. All of their questions and demands had become a dull, jumbled mess that neither of them could understand. A few moments of this and they finally reached the automatic doors, but the mass of people only continued outside.

“You okay?” Pedro asked gently as he continued to hold her tight to his side. She nodded, trying her best to catch her breath.

“Okay, good…here’s our ride.” With his arm wrapped around her shoulders protectively, he ushered her inside of the black SUV once he saw his manager’s face in the window. He quickly shut the door behind them, sealing them in their only form of protection. The crowd formed around the side of the vehicle, yelling muffled comments to the blacked-out windows. Before they could warm the car, the driver sped off, the wheels squealing as they drove away.

“That was Mike, wasn’t it?” Naela huffed, putting her bag in her lap and strapping herself in.

Pedro’s manager turned to her, “You really need to fire him. It’s good publicity, but he’s definitely not on your side.”

“Did you get our luggage already?” Pedro interjected, getting comfortable next to Naela. He let his knees drift apart casually as his hand rested on his thigh.

“Yeah, in the trunk,” the man replied before facing the front again. “Where to, Naela?”

“Oh, um— I was supposed to go with Josh to my mom’s house for dinner.” She answered, feeling the tension from last night set back in at the mention of her boyfriend.

“Great, we’ll take you there. Do you need to stop by your place first?”

“No, that’s okay. Thank you.” She responded politely. An awkward silence fell on them for the first time since they’d met. She relaxed into her seat, crossing one leg over the other and mindlessly swiping on her phone for some comfort. The downtown traffic made a 30 minute drive last close to an hour, but eventually they were pulling into a quaint suburb. Naela craned her neck to direct the driver to the house at the very end of the culdesac, painted a pale shade of yellow. Before Naela could gather her things, her mother was already bounding out of the front door, her arms outstretched as she advanced.

“Oh, gosh,” Naela chuckled, beaming at her mother. Pedro smiled adoringly at them before preparing to exit as well.

“I’ll help with your bags.” Before she could respond, he was already rounding the side of the car. She sighed and pulled herself out as well, just as her mother approached. She quickly pulled her daughter into a tight hug, swaying her side to side. Naela giggled, trying her best to hug her mother back with her arms trapped beneath hers.

“Oh, mija, I missed you so much!” Naela’s brother, sebastian, could be seen closing the front door behind him, which their mother had left open.

“I missed you too, mama,” she replied sweetly before her mother finally released her. At this point, Pedro had both of her suitcases in either hand and her duffel slung over his shoulder.

“Oh, this must be Pedrito!” Her mother gasped and hugged Pedro as well.

“Naela has told me so much about you,” she added pointedly as they separated, making him chuckle.

“Good things I hope. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Rivera.” He glanced over at Naela quickly, his lips lifting into an understanding smirk.

“Oh, please, it’s Esperanza to you,” her mother responded bashfully.

“Please don’t flirt with my coworker, Mom.” Naela interejected, half-joking. Her mother scoffed, slapping her shoulder playfully. Naela rolled her eyes and reached out for her duffle as she noticed Sebastian joining them.

“Thank you, but my brother can help me—“

“Oh, Pedro, you should stay for dinner!” Her mother chimed in excitedly. “I made plenty of food.”

“He probably wants to go home and rest, mom. We’ve been away for close to six months,” Naela shot back, retracting her hand.

“I don’t mind,” Pedro added innocently. “I’m sure it’s better than the takeout I was going to order.”

“See, Mija, he wants to stay,” her mother pushed. Naela sighed, looking to her brother who just smiled.

“Okay, sure, as long as you don’t mind,” Naela finally agreed to avoid being impolite. Ugh. This should be interesting once Josh shows up.

“Of course not.” Pedro winked sneakily at her, making her have to play off the red in her cheeks.

“Amazing. Sebastian, help Pedro with her things,” the woman instructed her son, who oblidged without question.

“Sorry,” Naela mouthed to Pedro as her mother retreated to her house. He just smiled back at her as her brother outstretched his hand to introduce himself to him.

“Sebastian. Nice to meet you.” Pedro shook his hand firmly, then handed him one of Naela’s suitcases.

“I figured. Naela has told me many stories,” he mused, making her brother laugh.

“I bet, there’s tons of ‘em. Did she tell you about the time she sang ‘Waterfalls’ for her fifth grade talent show?” Her brother asked teasingly. Pedro raised his eyebrows with surprise as he turned to Naela, who only covered her face with her hands.

“You know what, I think she left that out,” he joked.

“Of course she did. We have it on tape—“

“No, no, no, that’s enough chatting, we’re going inside,” Naela interrupted, getting between them to direct them inside. Why did her family have to be so embarrassing?

“Don’t you wanna look back on what made you switch your career fromm singer to actress?” Sebastian continued as he began dragging her luggage up the stone steps, Pedro following close behind after telling his manager to take his bags to his place.

“No one wants to watch a ten year old rap badly, Sebastian,” she retorted with an annoyed tone as they stepped through the doorway.

“It’s better because it’s you!” He called to her as she bypassed the living room to join her mother in the kitchen, raising her middle finger to him. Pedro followed Sebastian’s lead and left her belongings by the door, a smile lingering on his lips. A few moments of small talk passed before Sebastian invited him to sit on the sectional that faced the TV as he rummaged through a storage cube of VHS tapes.

“You and Naela seem close,” Sebastian pointed out as he picked the correct tape from the basket.

“Yeah, the entire cast got pretty close being stuck together for that long,” Pedro reasoned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat on the couch.

“Well I’m glad,” her brother began, gently inserting the tape into the VHS player hooked up to the television. “Naela needs someone other than her boyfriend to hang out with,” he continued, this time under his breath. After a few seconds of focused button-pushing, he got the tape running, and the image of little Naela standing on a stage in front of a gym full of kids. Her outfit of choice? A matching pink track suit to tie the 90s vibe together. An undeniable, genuine grin spread across Pedro’s face as he watched her single enthusiastically along to the words. It was clear she was meant to be a performer, even at that age.

“Wow,” was all Pedro could say. He didn’t have the heart to poke fun at the video. All he could think about was how fucking adorable she was then. He took a moment to peer into the kitchen, seeing her laughing with her mom as they put the final touches on dinner. He simply couldn’t look away as his thoughts turned to how things would be if the circumstances were different. He should be meeting her family and introduced as her boyfriend, he should be laughing with his future brother in law, he should be teasing, not his friend, but his girlfriend.

At the same time, Pedro knew he couldn’t force it. He knew their feelings were there, and their chemistry was off the charts, but he needed their relationship to start off the right way to give them a good fighting chance. He wanted all of her attention, pure and undiluted. If he was going to get that, though, he would have to wait, and Pedro was just fine with that. He was certain she was worth waiting for. Just as the thought popped into his head, the problem entered the room on que.

"Hey, Sebastian," he said casually as he shut the door behind him. Pedro had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes.

"'Sup," he replied coldly, his face even less inviting than his tone. Deciding to poke the bear, Pedro jumped to his feet and outstretched his hand, a smug smirk on his face.

"Pedro Pascal. You must be John." He almost laughed, seeing the expression on the man's face as he reluctantly took his hand.

"Josh." He corrected him sternly. Sebastian could be seen hiding a smile behind his hand as he leaned back into the couch.

"Oh, that's right." He raised his eyebrows with illegitimate surprise and his tone to match. The look in his eye told Pedro to back off, but he ignored it. He stood his ground, his lips formed in a sly, knowing smile. Luckily, Naela stepped into the room at just the right time to diffuse the tension.

"Oh! Hi, Josh!" She panickily looked between the two men, her eyes wide. Her boyfriend took the opportunity to assert his dominance by planting himself on her side, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her in to kiss the top of her head. His eye contact with Pedro was unwavering, but he didn't bat an eye.

"Hey, baby," he murmured into her hair. She tightened her lips into an awkward smile.

"Um, dinners ready," she announced quietly, sensing the animosity in the air. The three men followed her into the kitchen, where Mrs. Rivera was just starting to set the table. Out of instinct, Pedro instantly began helping her and Naela, whereas Josh retreated to the dinner table.

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying the wonderful tamales Mrs. Rivera had made, chatting, laughing, and telling stories. Josh was mostly quiet, like every other family dinner he was present for, except when he wanted to brag about himself or Naela. It was something Naela had consistently expressed bothered her, but at some point, she gave up trying to change. That night, however, she seemed not to notice. She was far too caught up in watching Pedro bond with her brother over films, and with her mother over Naela. At one point, she almost forgot Josh was there. She didn't feel bad, though. Apparently, he forgot too since he was sat silently on his phone.

Once it was time to clean up, he followed Sebastian into the living room and joined him on the couch, much to his annoyance. He was too polite and loved his sister too much to say so. Pedro and Naela stayed in the kitchen to help her mother clean up, which she was very appreciative of. At some point, Mrs. Rivera left to use the restroom, leaving the two alone for a few brief moments.

They were silent at first, before Pedro spoke up, saying, "I'm sorry if I overstepped at the airport. I didn't mean to--" She stopped drying the plate in her hand to interrupt him.

"No, no... you're fine. I should thank you." They made prolonged eye contact for the first time since the night before, a sweet smile on her face. He mirrored her, adoring the dimples in her cheeks. "So, thank you," she added, chuckling. She put the plate away and took the next one from him.

There was another beat of quiet before she continued, "We can take you home, if you want."

"Oh! Um, are you sure it's okay?" He decided not to add "with Josh" at the end because he truly didn't care, but he wanted to make sure it wouldn't cause problems for her. She turned to look at him as he sat on the edge of the couch, shoes tied and keys in hand.

"Yeah, yeah it's no problem. It my mom's fault you're out so late anyway," she joked. Once Mrs. Rivera returned, they quickly finished cleaning and met Josh near the door to get ready to leave. Once again, Pedro volunteered to carry her things, which Josh didn't seem to mind. Less work for him, right?

The drive to Pedro's house was mostly quiet, unless he was giving them directions. Naela let the music flow to conceal the awkwardness. Once they pulled up to Pedro's complex, which was a modern-looking townhouse community, he jumped out of the back to lean into Naela's window and say goodbye. He folded his arms beneath him, his toned muscles making an appearance beneath the sleaves of his t-shirt.

"I think the next time I'll see you, it'll be the premiere," he said with a bittersweet tone. Josh stared off into the road, his jaw clenching tightly shut.

"I think so. Only four weeks to go!" she said cheerfully, smiling up at him.

"It'll be here before we know it,' he sighed, leaning down to look in at Josh. "You guys have a good night. Nice meeting you, John--I mean Josh." He waved politely at the man who only nodded as an acknowledgement.

"Yep. See you," Josh replied coldly.

"Bye, Pedro," his girlfriend replied sweetly, waving innocently at him as he backed away toward his front door. Josh waited no time pulling out of his drive and beginning the dead silent drive home. Naela didn't bother to break it, she knew what he was going to say, and that it'd be a fight, and she'd rather argue in the safety of her apartment than on the road, which was exactly what they did.

"I just don't like the way he talks to you."

"He's just being nice, babe. I promise." Naela could hardly recognize the words coming out of her mouth. She told herself her moment with Pedro the night before was only a whim. Josh was forever. At least that was the plan for the last three years.

“I just…it’s not that I don’t trust you,” He shouldn’t. “I don’t trust him,” he continued, an exasperated expression on his face as he paced around her living room. He ran his fingers through his soft, ashy blonde hair, a nervous habit he always had.

Naela joined him on her feet, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “This is temporary. The last time I spoke to them, they said it probably wouldn’t need to last all six months.”

He sighed, letting his ocean blue eyes fall on hers, “Okay.” He cupped her cheek with his warm hand. She leaned into the feeling. “I’m sorry. You know it’s ‘cause I love you.”

Naela had to conceal her recoil as he said it. She hated how he used his love for her as an excuse, or a reason to be overly possessive. While this technically wasn’t the case, it had been on multiple occasions with truly innocent relationships with other men.

He leaned in and connected their lips for a quick peck before sauntering off to the bedroom. Naela stood in her living room, arms crossed and eyes glossed over as her mind raced. More than anything, Naela craved stability. She needed someone to love her, and she needed a guarantee. Josh was good enough to her and he was definitely sticking around. With Pedro, he could have anyone he wanted. What happens when his PR team says he should date someone else for the next show?

The way she saw it, Pedro was bound to one day wake up and realize he could have so much better.

reblog if you read to the end!

[softboynick]

forged by fire and crafted with care

firstprince | Henry holds the high expectations of the Crown on his shoulders, and it crushes him to the point of self-doubt and self-sabotage. That is, until he finally chooses a life for himself and chooses to live truthfully. He refuses to hide among the shadows no longer. He is Henry Fox, and no one will take that away from him.

OR The story of Henry's bravery and journey towards happiness as told through different pieces of jewelry.

5.5k words, rwrb-compliant, henry-centric, based on this beautiful piece of artwork by @artofobsession

Also read on AO3

--

Bea makes him a bracelet of beads and thread when he is six years old. It’s pink and sparkly and fits loosely on his small wrist when she puts it on for him. He can spell his name out just fine—he tells his Papa he’s a big boy almost everyday—so he can see that his sister added beads to spell out his name. 

H-E-N-R-Y. 

He traces his fingers over the letters and the sparkly pink beads around his wrist. It’s very pretty. 

“What’s this for?”

“It’s a friendship bracelet, Henry. All my friends at school were making one, so I thought I could make one for you, too.”

“But you’re my sister.”

“Sisters can be your friend, too, silly.” 

“Oh. Well. But I don’t want you to be my friend. I want you to be my best friend, Bea.” 

His sister laughs, and it’s the best thing he’s ever heard—well, second best, next to his Papa’s voices when he tells him his bedtime stories.

“Okay, okay, fine! I’ll be your best friend, Hen. As long as you’re mine.” 

That night, when he is all tucked in under the covers and in his warm pajamas, he traces the black, blocky letters of his name and smiles, big, unrestrained, and most importantly, happy. He doesn’t have to wonder what his grandmother truly thinks about boys who play with their sister’s dolls and wear pink, sparkly bracelets. That will happen another day. 

For now, as he falls asleep with Bea’s friendship bracelet secured around his tiny wrist, he doesn’t have to worry about the entire world’s burdens bearing down on his shoulders just yet.  

****

His grandmother gifts him a watch that sits heavy on his wrist. It is a present fit for a man—fit for a king (even though he is only the spare)—and at thirteen years of age, he is already expected to act like one. She tells him that the watch will build character. That it will finally make him focus on playing the part of the dutiful Prince of England. 

“A prince’s wardrobe will not be complete without a solid timepiece,” she tells Henry as she passes the box to him on the evening of his thirteenth birthday, and her voice has yet to adopt the tinge of disappointment that always seemed to be reserved for her two youngest grandchildren. That will come at a later time. 

While the craftsmanship is objectively beautiful, the watch is rather bulky, interlaced silver brackets for the wristband with a deep blue face, gold accented numbers, and sturdy hands fixed meticulously to its center. It is the kind of accessory a boy his age is expected to wear. If it is quiet enough, he can hear the solid ticks and tocks of the watch’s inner machinations, a foreboding countdown to something further down the line.

But the line doesn’t seem far enough, and he is sent to Eton that following fall. He is terrified.

He is a sensitive soul, or that is what he overhears his family, but mostly his grandmother, says about him. He doesn’t know what it means, but he guesses it has something to do with why he’s so poor at making friends, even if he is a prince. During the first few months at school, he struggles to open up to the other boys in his year, choosing instead to hide away in the library or in his dormitory and bury his nose in a book when he isn’t in his classes. 

The extra-curriculars he is expected to accomplish break open his shell, but only just. It isn’t until Percy Okonjo forcibly inserts himself into his life that he starts to feel the armor around his heart begin to crack. 

****

Pez is a whirlwind, a summer storm, a rogue wave violently crashing into a wall of stone. He barrels into his life and never leaves, taking him by the hand and showing him a new world beyond the palace walls. He chips away at his armored heart with relative ease, and Henry has no idea how he is able to let his sensitive soul be placated by this boy of ultimate exuberance. He is gregarious where he is not. He is the extrovert that somehow has given one look at Henry and decided to keep an introvert like him forever.

And somewhere along the line, he decides he wants to keep him, too. 

Their later years at Eton are spent hopping between dormitories, with the other uppercrust boys in their year and above, who are one day going to run England to the ground. They sneak in liquor from their father’s cabinets, the head boys pointedly looking the other way so they can join in on the merriment. They do ridiculous, stupid things, and drink themselves even stupider. 

For the first time in a while, he feels free. 

Henry is absolutely sloshed from stolen vodka and sambuca shots when Pez suggests he stick a needle through his earlobes. At least he has the wits about him to ask him why.

“Because! It’s what the cool kids do, Hazza.” 

“You are fucking mental. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Just live a little, darling! Look, I’ve done this before, so you just need to hold still, sit pretty, and let Auntie Pezza do all the work. And besides, don’t you just want to absolutely piss off your old Gran?” 

He opens his mouth to protest, but the rebellious part of him takes over, and he decides that yes, he does want to piss off the Queen of England . He doesn’t need much convincing, piss drunk and all, and against his better judgment, he takes another huge swig from the vodka bottle right before Pez pushes the needle into the fleshy part of his ear. He chases down another mouthful when Pez has to the other one, and all he’s thinking about is how horrified his Gran will be if she sees the right state he’s in now.

The alcohol does enough to mask the stinging pain, and everything becomes a right blur after that. When he wakes up hours later, head pounding and mouth dry as sandpaper, his ears are throbbing, the skin pink and angry, and there is a silver stud in each of his earlobes. 

“Oh, bloody hell.”

 ****

His father leaves and the only thing left of him is his memories and the signet ring on his little finger, the one he had presented to him when he’d just turned eighteen. He presses his thumb hard against the ‘H’ engraved into the face of it, feeling the grooves etched into the metal and thinking about his father all the while. He can almost feel his warmth embedded in the metal, but he knows it is only his grief blinding him with wishful thinking and a vibrant imagination. 

He twists the ring round and round, mimicking the downward spiral he feels himself succumbing to as he watches his father’s coffin being lowered into the ground. 

Then, he loses a mother, a brother, and a sister not long after. Mama loses her heart. Pip loses his love. Bea loses herself. And he is all alone with nothing but the memories of his loving father to remind him of what he has lost.

The world is heavy on his shoulders, and he doesn’t know what else to do. 

****

It’s his birthday, and he feels a little less like the world’s closing in on itself now that his psychiatrist has re-adjusted his medication. He still doesn’t sleep all that well at night, but it is still a start. 

He doesn’t hear from his mother, but he does receive a message via Shaan to “buy himself something special” along with an envelope full of banknotes. He understands why she travels so much, but one can only do so much to distract themselves from the pain of losing a loved one. He tried. Bea tried. Even Philip tried. It’s been years, and his mother is not the same person he used to know. 

He asks Bea to accompany him for lunch, their PPOs trailing a few paces behind them. He hopes he can use his birthday to establish some kind of normalcy since it is just the two of them. Twenty-two, after all, is just a number. There isn’t anything significant about the age. No extravagant milestones attached to its connotation. But still, there are only two things worth noting on the day he turns twenty-two years old: Bea is sober, and he is gay. 

After lunch, Bea takes him shopping to make use of the money their mother sent to him to spend, but nothing catches his eye. That is, until they’re in an antique shop, and he sees a pearl necklace sitting in the display case. 

The string of pearls is delicate, reminiscent of the friendship bracelet Bea made him all those years ago. It looks as if it is glowing, like tiny moons held together by a gossamer of stars, and he wonders, wistfully, how it would feel on his skin.  

“Oh, Hen. It’s so beautiful. I think you should get it.”

Bea is the only one who knows who he truly is. She is the first one he tells, after all. She hadn’t judged him then, and she still doesn’t judge him now. In fact, she openly encourages him to explore the part of himself that he keeps hidden away because of the watchful eye of the Crown. 

“I- I don’t know. It’s just- It isn’t fitting for a prince, is it.” 

Even he can hear how defeated he sounds in his own ears. An echo of his grandmother’s biting tongue, tutting at his behavior like an ever-present devil. A prince like him would have never been allowed to wear, let alone have, a piece of jewelry so…feminine, so insinuating of a life he isn’t meant to lead, a life his own grandmother would never approve of. Heavy is the Crown he wears, and it is suffocating. 

He leaves the shop empty-handed and heavy-hearted. 

Days later, he finds a box addressed to him sitting on his bed. He lifts the lid and what rests inside it knocks the air right out of his chest. 

“I know it’s a few days late, but…do you like it?”

“Bea…you didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t. I wanted to. You’re my best friend, Hen. I like seeing you happy.” 

He looks down at the pearl necklace, delicate in his hands, and his gaze becomes blurry with tears. 

“Can you…can you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Hen.” 

They stand in front of the mirror as she helps him close the clasp around his neck, the pearls sitting perfectly, gently, against his collarbone, and the boy staring back at him looks inexplicably…happy. 

****

The constant appearances and camera-ready smiles have slowly begun to whittle him down to a shell of himself. The engagements have only seemed to ramp up since his father’s death marked the beginning of the Fox family’s detriment. The Crown has a reputation to uphold, and so under the orders from the Queen herself, Henry is carted off around the world, as the family’s sole representative, to make sure everyone sees how normal and happy the royal family is, when truly, they are anything but.

But it all becomes too much eventually, and he sneaks off needing a moment alone, a moment to be Henry Fox and not Prince Henry of England. To breathe and not have the heavy weight of the Crown looming over him.  

He buys the earrings on a whim. He tells the jeweler they are a gift for his mother as he watches her pack them into a small velvet box. She gushes to him about the pearls, telling him how they’re ethically farmed from their supplier in Japan. She explains how the cooler waters in which they’re farmed cause the pearls to grow more slowly, making them more compact and giving them more luster than the average pearl. 

He simply smiles and nods, half-listening. He glances over his shoulder and sees the lone PPO he wrangled onto this impromptu journey and his equerry still stationed at the door. 

He takes the bag, cream and discreet, and turns to leave immediately. 

“Finished, Your Royal Highness?” 

He wordlessly nods at Shaan and disappears out the door and into the black car waiting for him at the curb. When they arrive back at Kensington Palace, he goes to his room, feigning exhaustion as an excuse. Shaan fortunately leaves him be, letting him know that he does not have any more engagements for the rest of the day. 

Henry sits on the edge of the bed, pulls out the small felt box containing the earrings and sets it down. He then reaches into his bedside table and pulls out the box that holds the necklace Bea had gotten for him on his twenty-second birthday and places it down next to the earrings. 

He releases an unsteady breath and waits a beat, before getting up to check that the door is locked. He knows no one will bother him at this time of day—Shaan will make sure of it—but he still goes to check anyway. He takes both boxes to the dresser, the mirror sitting right above it. He takes the necklace out first and caresses the pearls with his fingertips. He doesn’t have Bea’s help this time, so it takes some moments of fumbling before he manages to clasp it around his neck. He runs his fingers along the smooth surface of the pearls once it’s secured, cool against his skin, and lets out another breath. 

Then, he opens the second, smaller box. The hinges are smooth as he lifts the lid and reveals the pearl earrings sitting prettily on a bed of felt. He lifts one to examine it. The silver hoop is cool between his fingertips, and a droplet of pearl hangs from it with a chain of delicate filigree. 

He takes extra care to put them on. The left ear goes on first, and then, the right. They slip right through the holes that have miraculously not closed up after years of not wearing any earrings. 

He stares at himself in the mirror for a long moment and watches as his eyes turn bright with tears. They spark with a newfound confidence that had laid dormant for years, beaten out of him by his grandmother’s incessant rules and expectations. But he sees now, as he stands there adorned in pearlescent jewelry, that she was not successful. 

This is Henry Fox. Not the Prince. Not the grandson of Queen Mary. And absolutely no one is allowed to take this away from him.

Continue on AO3

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

DOOM Prompt 10

A writing prompt from my doom discord, tied into the Garnets story. This takes place early in the story, before Valen comes. Making John feel old is oddly fun to write

.

10: “Lily becomes interested in that old box computer on doom dad's desk”

There were far, far too many things to explore in the Fortress with a clear head. Or mostly clear, Lily was still groggy as she just got a shot from one of the little hover drones from medical not long ago. Lily was walking to stay awake, and was not sure how but ended up in the half living, half workshop area. 

Lily stared, but Vega had let her in, and she looked around. Just trying to take in what she was seeing. The young woman took a step towards the books, before getting distracted at seeing a familiar plasma rifle on the display wall to her left. Reaching out, having to be careful even with her good left hand, Lily fingered the scar in the grip of her dad’s trusted rifle.

John found it somehow, Lily had not even known where it was on the Platform. It was cleaned and repaired, with the grips shifted just a bit. Likely so he could hold it comfortably instead of her dad’s settings. That was alright though. Lily hoped it could get some good use again in what seemed like the right set of hands. 

Being alone for the last few days had Lily used to just (very slowly) wandering around it seemed. Sure talking with Vega and Riggs helped, but it was not quite the same. Lily could not help but think her dad would like it up here. Some views outside the ‘windows’ aside.

She missed her dad, and mom, but the sheer difference of her location both helped a lot, and made her a bit homesick. So Lily distracted herself again by poking around where she was. Finding she had to be a bit careful where she stepped. 

The rug on the upper level with her was familiar. Lily had found what seemed like a cleaner one like that was placed in her room down in the gardens. She wondered if there was something like a vacuum on the Fortress. The little horseshoe crab like drones did not seem able to clean carpet. 

“How do they…?” Lily started to wonder aloud, the woman puzzling how the little drones cleaned the wide floors on a whole, not spot cleaning.

“What's wrong, Miss Lily?” Vega asked, keeping a close optic on his human charge.

“Nothing wrong,” Lily sat down on the stairs to the lower section. “How do the drones clean the bigger floor space?” 

“They spot clean, but for keeping the flooring clean is a different type of drone.” Vega explained, happy that Lily was talking again as it had been a few hours. “There should be two in that room, though they need some repairs that the Slayer has not gotten to.” 

“There's a lot of stuff that needs to be done here.” Lily mused, it really was like the platform, but in space. She blinked seeing what might be the mentioned drone, bulky having stopped mid cleaning. 

 Lily got up to investigate as best she could with her right arm still firmly tucked in the sling. 

That's when she noticed the weirdest thing. It looked like a monitor, but clunky and like those blocky computers in the old movies her dad would make Lily and her mom watch with him. Lily blinked, looking confused as she stood up “Where did this come from Vega?” 

“I believe it belongs to the Slayer. It was here before I activated into the Fortress’ systems.” Vega explained partly. He had all of the small amount of clearly precious data inside it triple backed up for the Slayer.

“Weird.” Lily noted running her fingers over the shell of the old, if not ancient computer. Lily shifted to look over at the desk area that had the Argenta tech, then looked back to the old computer. “It's like, ancient and out of history class…?”

“It is, though modified from the standard of the time, and not just the power source.” Vega sounded amused, as he saw the Slayer stop short in the still open doorway. Looking startled as if having forgotten that Lily was in the fortress, then frowned at hearing his favored old computer being called ancient.

He was not that old-!

The Slayer made a face as he grunted, remembering at least several, many centuries spent on Argent D'nur before the Divinity Machine. 

The Demigod groaned, feeling old again as he walked into the room. Wasn't it enough to make him feel like that on the platform? He caught the scent of oatmeal soap before finding where Lily was looking up at him. It was…

Oddly cute, wide hazel eyes staring up at his bulk from the beside the right side of his work area. What was it that she said… 

Rude. John signed and pointed at the girl as he came down the stairs, getting a guilty look back. Before she could say anything he stopped and hooked his right arm around Lily, careful of her right shoulder. Smirking at the startled squeak and half formed protests at being held like a wiggly bag of potatoes. 

John reached over to turn on and set a record on the player. Again feeling old but hell with it, it was something new to him in this world.

“Help?” Lily called from under his arm. Squeaking as she was, gently, squished against the solid wall of muscle on his side as the demigod huffed back.

[minotaursauce]

Hate to be That Guy but I honestly think that Bumblebee is another win for Mainline as the SS toy just does not look as good to me, especially in vehicle mode. Mon dieu.

No, the Mainline toy is not amazing, particularly when it comes to those hollow legs, but I honestly think the SS toy looks much less refined - Too blocky and bulky.

[midnight-scugs]

Just a little height chart reference thing here for the hell of it + some basic design stuff + heavy iterator generation lore. Warning; this gets LONG, so the rest after the height chart is under the cut. Massive lore dump inside, be prepared.

The height order of the main iterators mentioned in this AU, from tallest to shortest, is Wind > Suns > Moon > Pebbles > Sig > UI.

UI is pretty much around as short as iterators get, Suns is around as tall as normal iterators get. For comparison; UI pretty much comes up to around mid chest height on Suns.

Wind is a special case and is one of the tallest select few because they're a patriarch. For another comparison, Suns comes up to their shoulder at best. The tallest patriarch however, and iterator as a whole, is Omen; they're at least a solid head taller than Wind.

Patriarchs, who mark the beginning of the first generation and the creation of iterators as a whole, are absolutely massive and are just generally quite bulky due to technological limitations so early in, making the progress towards a more streamlined design a later trait. They're built to last over to look good. There's more dramatic head shape variation in patriarchs than in other iterators. They tend to have dull main colors, often shades of gray, with bright markings.

Patriarchs are the centers of regional groups (multiple clusters of local groups forming a broader region), in charge of keeping watch of and keeping order in their regions. They're the ones who big issues are brought to, and their cities can pass laws that effect the entire region, although this level of involvement is rare.

Patriarch examples include:

Wandering Omen; they have a light gray puppet with green markings, a more blocky/squarish head shape, and short, straight gray antennae.

Chasing Wind/Grey Wind; they have a medium gray puppet with orange markings, a longer face (think that common Pebbles design trope type of head design), and long, mostly straight gray antennae.

Epoch of Clouds; they have a dark gray/nearly black puppet with light blue/cyan markings, a very round head shape, and gray antennae with a curled/curved shape starting about halfway to the tips.

First generation iterators are generally on the taller side and are rarely below where falls Pebbles in height, most being around the same height as Moon give or take a bit. After the time of creating the patriarchs, the rest of the iterators in this generation were generally designed with a very friendly appearance in mind, to help further increase public favor towards iterators. They often have a more rounded/"soft" looking build, although there are a few rare exceptions, and they typically have softer features and friendly looking design traits such as rounded or circular heads, vibrant or pastel color schemes, and big antennae. Not a lot of points and edges, lots of curves.

First generation iterators typically hold important roles in their local groups, and are usually the first sources younger iterators go to for guidance. Quite a few are group seniors; the heads of local group who act as leads of sorts, ranking directly below their patriarchs and reporting to them any issues that need greater interference than what they themselves have authority over. They are as vital to the functions of their local groups as patriarchs are to their regional groups.

First generation examples include:

Secluded Instinct; they have a light dusty blue puppet with yellow markings, a head shape similar to Moon (but a bit more tapered at the chin), and short, rounded dark gray antennae. They have a slightly slimmer build than a lot of first generation iterators, but still a bit rounded/"soft" looking. They're a local group senior under Omen.

Sliver of Straw; she has a dull cream puppet with darker cream markings, a round/circular head shape, and long, thin, straight antennae shaped similarly to thin rods. Her rather muted color scheme is notably somewhat rare for this stage in the generation. She has a similar build to Instinct. She's a local group senior under Epoch.

Looks to the Moon (we all know more or less how she looks); she has a turquoise(?) puppet with red markings, a rounded face shape, and somewhat rectangular light gray antennae. She has a more rounded/"soft" build that's typical of her generation. She's a local group senior under Wind.

Second generation iterators vary heavily in design overall, from height to build to colors to common traits. This was by far the longest generation, spanning at least 1000 kilocycles, and it shows in the sheer number and variety of iterators created during this time period. Quite a few of them have more unusual physical traits, as during this time the Ancients experimented with just about anything at least once. Technology was improving and changed heavily over the duration of this generation.

While iterators of this generation are typically no longer group seniors, early second generation iterators are also common sources of advice to turn to, and they may temporarily fill in for their seniors for certain tasks in the case of said senior being away, incapacitated, or otherwise temporarily occupied.

Second generation examples include:

No Significant Harassment; he has a green puppet with lighter green markings, a rounded face shape, and light gray antennae bases with no "proper" antennae. He has a very rounded, stocky build, more so than even a lot of first generator iterators such as Moon. He has a screen/LED type display for a face in order to make him more expressive; looking too closely or when his display is off can get creepy however, as what resembles pupils in the display are actually typical iterator eye cameras that are more visible due to the screen. He at one point filled in for Moon and acted as her replacement for a rather important project she couldn't supervise at the time.

Pleading Intellect; they have a pale gray puppet with orange markings, a slightly tapered head shaped (sort of a heart shaped face look), and long, mostly straight dark gray antennae. They have a medium to somewhat thin build.

Seven Red Suns; they have a light yellow puppet with red markings, a tapered head shape (their face more resembling a mask in a way than anything), and long, outwards pointing triangular dark gray antennae. They have a very thin, almost lanky build. They have quite a few odd traits. They have expressive antennae that are mobile sideways, unlike normal iterator antennae. They have very unusual eyes with colored "iris" lights in the usual black eye; the right is red and has an actual camera capable of zooming and taking pictures, the left is gold/yellow and actually has fairly poor vision due to only being intended to give them a proper field of vision and depth perception when not using their camera eye. They're also the last or one of the last few iterators in their generation, and they have some third generation level technology as a result.

Third generation iterators are usually on the shorter side, with most ranging in height from as short as Unparalleled Innocence to around as tall as No Significant Harassment. They're typically very slender, being quite sleek and streamlined in build, with a few sporadic models with a slightly bulkier build mixed in. Their colors vary heavily varied in range, with everything from muted monochromes to bright vibrant hues and anything in between. In a more canon leaning timeline this would be a very short generation, not even 100 kilocycles before ending in mass ascension, but mass ascension didn't happen here so it could theoretically last at least a good bit longer than that.

Third generation iterators have no real notable positions in the chain of command; they're simply made to iterate and get their tasks done while doing so. Unintentional built in flaws or outright oversights and careless design traits aren't uncommon in this generation, having started to pop up at the tail end of the second generation and becoming more common at this point.

Third generation examples include:

Five Pebbles (we know more or less how he's gonna look too); he has a pink puppet with yellow/gold markings, a longer face shape, and long, mostly straight gray antennae antennae. He has a thin, almost too skinny looking build. His appearance, especially head shape, is notably odd among iterators of his generation; this is this is because he was modeled after Wind, with intent to directly resemble them, and as a result he heavily looks like a smaller, more streamlined version of them with different colors, down to having the same forehead markings. This is also why he's the tallest in his generation.

Unparalleled Innocence; they have a white puppet with light teal markings, a rounded face shape, and two small to medium sized, gray inwards pointing triangular antennae on each antennae base. They have a sleek/slender build that's typical for their generation.

[moonlight-tmd]

Okay, i know i’ll explore more of this but i want to hear your thoughts on this too.

Femme frame bumblebee? He’s still a mech but he’s definitely built with the aft and curves of a femme and even has heel struts instead of regular pedes. He knows he’s built and his frame compliments his doorwings.

He usually wears a bulky over armor but it gets damaged in battle and breaks off revealing him in the heat of a battle that just stops?

His teams reaction?

Blitzwings reaction?

Before or after they start dating. If after blitzwing didn’t know b/c bee has trauma.

oooh i get it, like @toxxicpill design. I always imagined him a little feminine, just more blocky instead of smooth curves.

hmm, i mean, sure he would be a bit curvy, the doorwings are a nice touch for him cough happy flutters cough cough. I am a little disappointed that they decided to gender the robots but eh, 2000's cartoons i guess.

He is a bit curvy on top of the blocky frame, the heeled pedes are not uncommon, i mean Prowl has these- he kinda looks like Elita overall, his subspace is moved down to cover his aft in this since he has doorwings (yes it does look like earth bumblebee's abdonmen). Yes, he does wear additional armor to apprear more bulky over his chassis and shoulders, he doesn't like how everyone kept staring at his chassis. I always imagine Bee and Prowl are almost the same height, only that Prowl is few inches taller and way slimmer than Bee (I mean, he is a motorbike. They are rather small, even when compared to tiny cars). So without the top armor, Bee is almost half the width he was.

I imagine the only one who'll know is Ratchet. I mean, he fixes Bee all the time and there is no way he wouldn't know that the upper part of Bee's armor is not his original frame. Ratchet is a medic, he's not gonna judge anyone- well, unless you say or do something stupid. Then he's gonna judge you all he wants.

So yeh, bots and cons fight over Allspark shard- idk, maybe some stray blaster shot hits him on the chassis and the thing breaks, it's not completely broken but heavily damaged. Now, this is a battlefield. I don't think anyone would stop to look at Bee's badongahonkas, especially when there's such an important item involved.

After that, sure the team is surprised that Bee's frame is actually different from what they see so often but nobody hates him for it. They're not homo/trans/any lgbt+-phobic. And they don't have genders in the first place, everyone chooses how they want to portray themselves.

When his additional armor is being fixed, there's not much of a change. Sure, others throw glances at him more often but nothing else- the only one to have a visible reaction would be Optimus. Bee already reminded him of Elita when he met him, and seeing Bee look even more like Elita is weird, if it isn't raising some questions... he almost slips and calls him Elita.

Sari thinks Bee looks pretty, and may or may not be trying to get him more armor pieces like that so he can be a full-blown knight.

The repair was quick so no Elite Guard reaction- but if they were to witness this, Sentinel would be the first afthole to stare at Bee's chassis as if to take that armor off with his processor power. Jettwins and Jazz would have respect and try to keep SP away from the young bot- as they always do, just this time the reason is different. They all have no idea how Sentinel can be so awful and still keep his job...

Now you want Blitzy's reaction, alright.

That stray blaster shot might have been his and he struck Bee on accident. He does catch a quick look at Bee's slim frame before his team calls on retreat. If they weren't dating then he would be a little bit pervy in his mind, he wouldn't bring it up with the scout tho, he's not sexist.

If they were dating, he would wonder why Bee didn't tell him. He asks about it the next meeting they have- Bee's armor has been fixed by then. Sure enough, Bee confesses that he was forged a femme but decided to be a He. He wears additional armor because he didn't have credits for changing his frame type and had enough of other bots calling him and grabbing him rudely. Wasp was one of those bots, he harrased Bee with no mercy until Longarm saved him.

Blitz feels both sorry and hella ANGY. How could anyone treat his precious hummel like that?! And they say Decepticons are evil- if anyone is racist, sexist and disrespectful about such basic things as appearance and behavior, it's the Autobots. The 'cons murder everyone equally, not just the "freaks".

Once Bee gains enough confidence then he'd show Blitzwing his real frame. And Blitzwing will have some pervy thoughts he'd keep to himself only. He loves Bee, and seeing him even smaller than how he was already is adorable. Blitz is the only one that Bee lets grab him like that. And Blitzwing can't help but admit his hummel's chassis is a great pillow.

[doberbutts]

Tomorrow I talk to my doctor about top surgery and starting the process for scheduling, as well as my regular T checkin, and it's Pride so here's a list of things 8 months in:

Recently I have been Noticing The Fuzz quite a lot- my arms my legs my stomach my ass. Nothing on my chest and patchy on my face still. Can't grow hair on my cheeks but sure can between em 🙄 every once in a while I feel a tickle and look down and oh. That's MY hair.

Last actual cycle was in March, and even that was a piddley sad spotting that didn't even need a pad. Ideal really.

I have. Gained a lot of weight 😅 I'm more okay with it than I was but I do grumble still about the fat padding around my hips. I think it makes me look solid and blocky and I'm loving it.

I've also gained a lot of muscle. Without going to the gym, just doing my everyday stuff, I've gained a lot of arms and shoulders and back muscle on top of the belly fat. Lifting heavy things is way easier. And my joints and bones don't ache as much anymore.

My first fainting episode since I started T happened a couple weeks ago while I was positioning a dog on the xray table- he's long and low and uncooperative and I was bent double trying to wrangle him while the doctor was doing her thing when suddenly my body went 🤷‍♂️ floor time 🤷‍♂️ and I only stayed upright because I was able to sag into a chair while keeping my position. One in 8 months is a new record for me, but a good reminder that "better" isn't "cured". But also good to know that I have to ignore pretty much every rule my body has enforced the ladt three decades before it decides to punish me for my hubris.

Surprisingly this month the constant horniness sort of wore off. Whereas before it was "if I don't orgasm at minimum twice per day I Will Die", now it's "huh, that'd be nice right now". The constant hunger is starting to abate too, it's "food is delicious and hits pleasure centers in my brain" instead of "I AM STARVING FEED ME PLEASE".

Oh god The Stankening. It's hot now and I take Phoebe for a daily walk and by the time I get home 😱😱😱 it's bad. I sweat a lot more than I used to so I've got it under control for my mostly sedate job but definitely not when adding exercise.

I was afraid I'd lose my heat tolerance because initially I was getting a lot of hot flashes but if anything I'm still fine in the heat AND I'm more hardy in the cold. Take that, metabolism.

Historically I've always fit a men's medium and I might actually be toeing the line to a large now. Not because of my stomach but because of my arms and shoulders. My scrubs are pretty restrictive across the shoulderblades. At 30 I didn't really expect my shoulders to widen but they sure did. My arms, too, are beginning to chafe at the sleeves, too bulky for the tighter sleeve cuff I'm used to wearing. I don't really want to re-buy my wardrobe *again* but I may have to.

Stamina continues to be noticably higher than it used to be. I can be outside gardening and weeding and tending my lawn all day and nothing will happen except that I will be incredibly stinky and my back somewhat sore.

Still about 80/20 passing vs not. Significant improvement if that person has never met me prior to this point in my transition. Still called "lady" and "she" and "woman" to my face at the front desk by returning clients or folks on the phone. It's not deliberate but it is annoying.

My cholesterol is fine but my blood pressure did raise from its usual- benefit is that it makes me feel better than ever but drawback is that it's something to keep an eye on with my history of heart problems.

Voice still cracks and bounces around everywhere but I do like my singing voice now when I can get it to cooperate.

Way more in control of my emotions.

Also way more attention on various dating apps. Where were all these guys in my dms before??? Not a day goes by that I don't have several new "hey cutie"s sliding up into my dms. Hello??? Sir??? I know I'm hot now but god damn.

[helenewate]

please stop making movies/tv shows in ULTRA-HD-IKR-USA-TBFR ass clarity. it’s horrifying. if i wanted to see someone that clearly, i’d go step outside and look. i don’t want to be bombarded with blinding colors and realism, folks! when i sit down to watch something, i want the picture to be fuzzy and glowy and full of static. i do not want to see the unplucked eyebrow hairs on the main character or the loose thread in a sweater. i want to see the warm glow of light and stutter of film! give. me. peace!

in other words i really hate that everything is so clear and perfect now and it all looks so real that it actually just ends up looking fake and like AI. i miss the haloed glow of VHS tapes.

don’t even get me started on how animation has gone in the shitter because of how blocky and bulky and vibrant everything is now. animation is attacking your child’s brain in 2023!

[2d-dreams]

unwilling gods, forgotten gods

[Context for the images (character design description):]

These are black ink drawings in lined notebook paper. There are two characters: Providence (they/them) and Nature (she/any), humanized Spacelander and Flatlander.

Providence is a bulky person with a spherical head with one singular eye with two eyelashes and a thick eyebrow. They are wearing an olive wreath on their head.

They are also wearing a sleeveless turtle-necked shirt and short wide/baggy pants. A long piece of cloth that looks like a banner falls from their rope belt with a symbol that is a straight line with a small circle near its bottom endpoint.

They wear sandals with parts that wrap around their legs, and also have bandages covering their forearms and hands.

The second character is Nature, a very thin humanoid with only an eye as their head and a tall and thin sharp spike ontop of it. She is wearing a shawl with a sun symbol on it. Her arms are covered in tattoos and bracelets and her hands are claw-like.

She is also wearing a cloth wrapped around her hips like a skirt, falling all the way down to where her knees should be. The ends of this cloth have a blocky zig-zag pattern. The skirt is fastened with a belt with a sun symbol with strings hanging from it.

Instead of legs, her lower body is very long and snake like with similar tattoos to her arms in the upper part near her 'skirt' and at the tip. The tip also has a pincer-like mouth.

[Description of first image: Providence is standing with an arm outstretched and the other on their side, looking at Nature. Nature is sitting on their arm looking to the side with a bored expression, with an elbow on Providence's shoulder and holding up her head. Her long body is curled up as if her legs were bent and her other hand is on where her knees should be. The rest of her tail curls around Providence's hand and falls to the ground, curling around their feet with the mouth tip pointed up. /End ID 1]

[Description of second image: Nature is standing up, one hand on her hip and the other holding up her tail. She has a neutral expression and her tail is wrapped around her arm and falling from her hand. There are a few doodles surrounding her. One is a drawing of Nature in another form. She is a very long and curved line, curling in several spots to fit in the page. There are many lines along her thin body. The top endpoint of the line holds an eye with a short sharp point emerging from what seems to be the pupil with four whiskers surrounding it, becoming shorter the closer they are to the point-tip. The other end has an open mouth with three pairs of whiskers and a long forked tongue. Beside this drawing there is a closeup of the line's face in her literal form. Above is a small doodle of a circle with an eye and a surprised expression, looking like a cross-section of a sphere. /End ID 2]

[Description of third image: Several drawings in one page. The first drawing at the far top is of Pollux, a hexagon with legs and arms floating in the air. He has three pairs of angel wings, each with a crescent moon. He has a crescent moon on his face instead of an eye, with the moon connected to each of his angles by a line. Under him is a drawing of Providence with their arms crossed, giving their back to the viewer. Their eye is closed and some tattoos on their upper arm can be seen. There is a similar drawing beside it, but only up to Providence's shoulders. This one has their eye open, looking over their shoulder. Beside the drawings of Providence is one of Nature, with her tail stretched and its mouth open. She is looking up and her arms are both stretched up with the hands open as if calling to someone above. Beneath it there is a small fullbody drawing of Nature, with her tail wrapped around one arm and its mouth closed around her eye as a reference to Ouroboros. Beside it is one drawing of Providence holding Nature (with the mouth covering her eye) close. Nature has one hand around their waist and the other on their arm. /End ID 3.]

[Description of fourth image: Nature is standing with her tail stretched all the way off screen, a hand on her hip and the other raised, elbow bent and hand open. She is looking at what would be the viewer. /End ID 4]

[dragimalsdaydreams]

Dragon Booster Notes: Classes

first, a note on terminology: canon Dragon Booster interchangeably uses "class" as both a descriptor of body type and of Draconium color. this would be fine if body type was locked to certain colors, but it often isn't, and I'm p sure the showrunners even stated at one point that this wasn't the case.

instead, I'll use "class" to refer specifically to body types, while color refers to a separate system of classification. thus, a combination of Class + Color would give a full impression of the dragon and their abilities (classpecting for dragons! /gets bonked by cartoon mallet/).

on that note, I've also revamped my take on the colors themselves! though I haven't changed the colors referenced in this post yet, since I'm not fully settled on my color types, but we shall see...

also, do not mistake racing "class" with the evolutionary clade "class". while body type classes are locked to certain clades in my lore, these clades are, at most, genus or family-level clades.

that out of the way, "narrator" voice starts under the cut!

Standard Classes

the Racing Association recognizes the following four classes as race-worthy dragons. though specialized breeding has produced more variety, none have been recognized as specialized classes by the Association.

note that none of these broad classes can interbreed. genetic and morphological differences have long separated these lineages, past the point of interbreeding. however, this does not mean that different colors cannot interbreed. any number of Draconium colors can exist within each class, and all these colors can freely interbreed within classes. although Draconium colors often gravitate towards compatible class types, a developing dragon's Draconium color is far more influenced by direct parentage and environmental factors.

Bull Class:

[image ID: a semi-cartoony drawing of a Bull-type dragon. the dragon is quadrupedal and bulky, with a thick, round ribcage leading down to somewhat thinner hips. a tall hump at the shoulders gives them an even bulkier appearance, with thick neck muscles leading down to a short, blocky head held at torso-height. thick, digitigrade legs end in wide, rounded "hooves" with three short toes with flat, rounded nails, much like a rhino. a short, thick tail sticks straight out from the hips. the neck, shoulders, and hips have several layers of heavy, folded skin layered over various joints and bends. end ID]

physical traits: these quadrupedal dragons are thick and bulky, with wide, round torsos, sturdy legs, and short tails. Bulls have a tall shoulder crest, where thick neck and front leg muscles attach, leading down to short, thick skulls. Bull skulls are much shorter and thicker than other classes, giving them a flattened, snubby look. irresponsible breeding has pushed many Bull snouts into brachycephaly and underbites, which reputable breeders are working to address. since Bull heads hang so low, Bull saddles are uniquely designed to Mag-lock on the crest of the shoulder rather than the back of the skull. Bull claws are wide and thick, with blunted tips and flat edges.

racing compatibility: Bulls are best suited to heavy lifting and feats of strength. though powerful, this power can easily drain their stamina, and they require far more food and rest than other classes of dragon. a Bull can easily eat a racer out of house and home, if they aren't prepared for the Bull appetite.

most common Draconium types: Green and Brown. Bulls are a particularly finicky breed, and are rarely seen in any other color than Green or Brown; the rare exceptions are usually Red, Turquoise, or Purple. just as well, since Green and Brown are rarely seen outside of the Bull class.

Canid Class:

[image ID: a semi-cartoony drawing of a Canid-type dragon. the dragon is quadrupedal and lean, with a comparatively barrel-chested ribcage leading deeply down to much thinner hips. a long, thin, pointed head sits on a short, lean neck, held above and forward of the torso. thin, digitigrade legs with knobby joints end in dog-like paws with four toes and short claws. a long, thin tail sticks straight out from the hips. end ID]

physical traits: these quadrupedal dragons are lean and energetic, with a barrel-chested ribcage and stiffer spine made to quickly snap into action. their lean legs usually have proportionally wider paws and more pronounced joints than other classes, giving Canids a knobby, coltish appearance. Canids also have longer, smoother skulls than other classes.

racing compatibility: Canids are best suited to long-distance races-- though they may take some time to accelerate, Canids can keep pace for hours without flagging. rookie racers may find themselves overwhelmed by a Canid's deep well of stamina-- if you aren't prepared to spend a few hours every day running out a Canid's energy on the track or trail, then this may not be the Class for you.

most common Draconium types: Blue, Purple, Light Blue, Turquoise, and White. though these are the most common, Canids are a flexible breed, and can be found in practically every color of Draconium.

Felid Class:

[image ID: a semi-cartoony drawing of a Felid-type dragon. the dragon is quadrupedal and long, with a curving spine and relatively even torso. a somewhat blocky head sits on a long neck, held above and forward of the torso, though lower than the Canid head. the digitgrade legs are thicker and smoother-looking than the Canid's, though they have similar dog-like paws with four toes and short claws. a long, thin tail sticks straight out from the hips, though it has some curvature implying more flexibility. end ID]

physical traits: these quadrupedal dragons are lithe and flexible, with long, curving spines and smooth, even torsos. Felid tails are usually longer and a bit more flexible than other classes. Felids tend to have short, square skulls, sometimes giving them a snubby appearance. Felid legs tend to be shorter and thicker than their Canid cousins, and some breeders have bred this to dubious extremes (these breeders have suggested a new "Ferret Class" in these cases, but the Racing Association has rejected these suggestions).

racing compatibility: Felids are best suited to short-burst sprints, and feats of maneuverability and agility. Felids can twist, leap, and climb their way through the most complex obstacle courses, but they have trouble pacing their energy, and their stamina can quickly flag after just a few quick maneuvers. many rookie Felid racers complain that their 'lazy' dragons just lay out in the sun all day, failing to realize that a Felid's well of energy is best replenished by these long bouts of rest.

most common Draconium types: Black, Blue, Light Green, and Light Blue. much like Canids, Felids are a very flexible breed, and can be found in Colors across the spectrum. however, due to their low stamina/energy, they don't usually function well when bred into high-energy colors like White or Turquoise.

Raptor Class:

[image ID: a semi-cartoony drawing of a Raptor-type dragon. the dragon is bipedal and somewhat bird-shaped, with a short, stiff torso without much distinction between ribcage and hips. a pointed, wedge-shaped head sits on long, thin, curving neck, holding the head high above and a bit forward of the torso. the digitigrade hind legs are long and thin, with three long toes with long talons. the front limbs are short and arm-like, with a small hand, two fingers, and one thumb with curved talons. small bits of webbing extend from the inner elbow, between the elbow and the torso, and between some of the fingers. a small diagram to the side shows the arms folding against the body when at rest. a long tail with a thick base sticks straight out from the hips. end ID]

physical traits: these bipedal dragons have short, stout torsos with long, thin legs. though their torsos are stiff and inflexible, their long necks and lithe limbs more than make up for any lack in torso flexibility. Raptor heads tend to be sharp and wedge-shaped, but not always. Raptor toes are much longer than those of other classes, lending to greater gripping ability, particularly in their front limbs. though Raptors' diminutive front limbs are small and weak compared to their hind legs, these limbs are highly dexterous with high a grip strength. these limbs also retains vestigial webbing from their flighted ancestry, though modern Raptors can't glide without assistive flight gear.

racing compatibility: Raptors are rather adaptable, but especially excel in flight-based obstacle courses. their stiff, light torsos make them the perfect match for white flight gear, with near-perfect balance, stability, and maneuverability in-flight. however, Raptors are much less stable on-land than their quadrupedal cousins, and can easily be tripped by a false step or a tricky competitor. rookie Raptor racers are injured far more often than other rookies due to this instability.

most common Draconium types: Purple, Light Green, White, Blue, and Red. though Raptors are adaptable, they do not function well with high-power Colors (Brown and Green) due to their instability, and certain kinds of maneuverability (namely the aquatic nature of Light Blue).

Notable Non-classes:

niche breeding efforts have led to some extreme lineages of dragons, typically used for tools or entertainment purposes.

[image ID: a screenshot of some small, hand-sized dragons from show Dragon Booster. the overall CGI art style is blocky, angular, and cartoony. the first image shows a gangly, emaciated purple dragon with neon green highlights. the head is capped by a metal helmet with green lens, and more gear sits on the back. green, dragonfly-like wings also sprout from the back. the second image shows several tiny orange/red, raptor-like dragons leaping across the screen. they look blocky and juvenile. end ID]

pictured: a Purple Felid "tracker" with attached flight gear, and an Orange Raptor "teacup" pet.

most of these breeding efforts result in extreme health defects in their dragons, and the Racing Association does not condone these practices. please contact the Association with any information if you encounter these types dragons-- we all must hold racing to higher standards and hold the responsible parties accountable for their actions.

[adobe-outdesign]

Thoughts on Dondozo and Tatsugiri? It's law that you review them together.

I like Tatsugiri a lot. A fish (dragon/water, probably as a pun on dragon rolls) that looks like sushi is already a fun concept. But then you turn around and have it function like a tongue-eating louse? Absolutely love everything about that. (I won't post pictures of said louse here in case anyone's squeamish, but basically it's a parasite that replaces the tongue of its host fish for free food.) Not to mention that it looks adorable, but is actually a carnivore that eats birds:

In terms of design, I like how it obviously looks like sushi but in a way that's believable for a real animal. The throat sac is a really good way of implying rice in a way that makes biological sense, and the markings are reminiscent of sauce without being overly literal. The overall look is also pleasantly simple, free of unnecessary details.

It also comes in few forms—Curly, Droopy, and Stretchy—representing shrimp, tuna, and egg/urchin sushi, respectively. Between the three, I like the Curly form the best; I think the color and curled look makes it look the most like sushi out of the three. I also feel like the markings add some much-needed detail to the design that breaks up the solid colors; Stretchy, for example, looks far too solid to me. Regardless, all three are enjoyable.

The tongue-louse Pokemon wouldn't be complete without a fish to reside in the mouth of, and Dondozo handles that job pretty well. While it's a shame that the gimmick can really only be seen in doubles (you know, that thing you almost never use in SV), the idea of Dondozo both being the one "eating" the sushi, the sushi chef, and the brawn of the operation all come together very nicely and greatly enhance Tatsugiri's concept.

I also always appreciate a bit of interaction between Pokemon. In this case, it's a mutualistic relationship—Dondozo gets food in exchange for Tatsugiri getting protection and hunting strength.

While it doesn't have the most memorable design in and of itself, it has enough there to add flavor. In particular, the head fins are reminiscent of a sushi chef's hat, and the white underbelly arguably looks a bit like a uniform. It also looks huge, strong, and bulky, which is an important contrast to how small and meek Tatsugiri looks in comparison.

My only real nitpick with this design is that I'm not fond of the weird angular, hexagonal markings on it. I don't think that having the light blue spots inside of the dark blue areas was necessary, and the whole thing just feels too blocky. I would've loved to see it with more wave-like markings (maybe ones that mimic the pattern on Curly Tatsugiri to tie the two together visually). It's not a huge deal, just something that bugs me a bit.

Anyway, overall, I love these two. The biological aspect is fleshed-out and well-explored, the concepts play off of each other well and are fun and memorable, and the designs work great. Definitely one of the most clever Pokemon of this gen.

[sedehaven]

Bulky

blocky wood-armed couches, patterned in pussywillow and ducks, shin-eating

coffee table in sticky, nicotine-stained orange wood, a comforter washed until the cotton

pills and the batting congeals into a string of bubblegum wads of fluff that warms no one

sometimes

it's not the weight of memory, but the bulk-- nostalgia as big as a wooden television

teetering on its spindle- legged table, threatening to topple every time you change the channel

-- S. E. De Haven