#but even smaller magnets are so interesting

[cyanhexagram]

Exploding magnets

More people should know about the ridiculously large magnetic fields that people make.

I haven't been able to find a video of the largest fields ever produced on earth - which has to happen outside because it creates such a massive explosion (deliberately - it uses large amounts of TNT).

I have found a video of the largest field ever produced indoors:

And now, those are record attempts, sure. But there are facilities where people put actual precious samples in facilities where they deliberately let the magnet explode to get data about how stuff behaves at these high fields (there's a video if you click through):

Like, these facilities are bonkers. They charge up Massive capacitor banks and let them discharge ridiculously quickly in order to get Huge currents which generate magnet fields tens to hundreds of times greater than what you need to levitate a frog! Still nowhere near what you get in a neutron star, but thousands of times bigger than the field on the surface of the sun. And when you put samples into these magnetic fields, you get matter behaving in ways very different to what it does otherwise.

Magnetic fields aren't just about looking at iron filings. You can make fields which are literally astronomically large in the lab using very dramatic equipment, and I think that's very exciting.

[fuctacles]

<<😺😺😺😺

if i didn't respond to your comment it's bc desktop tumblr didn't let me, I still love and appreciate y'all

Maybe tomorrow he'd bring his book here, and keep the cats company while he reads. Would they like it if he read it out loud?

Oh lord, the crazy cat lady energy must be rubbing off on him already.

The cats certainly are. He looks down at his black attire now speckled with cat hair, and sighs. He should have asked Steph where the lint roller was before she left. With great effort, he stands up from the comfy couch, vowing to himself to only do a cursory search with no unnecessary peeking. 

The entrance seems like an obvious start since people like to de-hair themselves before leaving the house. The dresser next to the door is cluttered with typical things - sunglasses, hand lotion, chapstick, some loose change, and jewelry. No roller in sight. So he goes to the kitchen instead, because kitchen is where everything goes. The cats are watching him curiously from their chosen perches around the house.

"Stop it. This is all your fault."

He finally finds what he's looking for on a windowsill next to a dead fly. He starts cleaning his clothes there, next to the fridge, and its colorful display catches his attention. 

There's an Ewok magnet that looks handmade, holding up a birthday card, and a few holiday photos, capturing smiling people in swimming costumes. Some of them look older, like the photo of a kid in a wizard robe, or a pair of bloodied-up teenagers in sailor costumes, which must be a very obscure reference because Eddie hasn't seen it at any costume party before. 

The caption under the photo reads BFF but someone added a circle of smaller F's all around the photo, turning them into a frame. Which, if Eddie's connecting the dots correctly, would imply that it's Robin and Steph. The quality isn't the best, but at first glance, he's assumed it must be a family member, maybe a brother, but he remembers her saying she's an only child. 

He tracks the other photos, but most of them are new, of the Steph he already knows. There might be more around the apartment, though. 

But he's already rolled his shirt and he'll be back tomorrow morning anyway, so he quickly works on his pants' legs, gives the cats a wave, and leaves. 

While walking back, he's apparently so lost in his thoughts, he gets startled by his own uncle.

"The cats still alive?"

"Do you want?! Me?! To die?!" Eddie screeches, eyes wide and a hand on his heart, the other holding him upright against the wall. "Why the fuck are you sitting there in the dark?!"

Wayne looks pointedly at the lamp next to him, then to his nephew. Aside from his reading nook in the corner though, the living room has no other light sources right now, but Eddie just throws his hands in defeat, deciding not to argue. Especially not when his uncle finally folded and was reading Blade Runner. 

"Must have been thinking some guilty thoughts, huh?" 

"Excuse me?" Eddie takes a step back from his course towards the kitchen. His uncle was flipping a page in his book, clearly not reading but not looking up from it either. 

"To get scared like that. Did you do something bad, son?" He finally looks up, and Eddie doesn't like it. He looks exactly like his friends just before teasing him about something. "Saw something you shouldn't have?"

Eddie folds his arms and sticks his nose up, hoping the evening darkness hides his warming cheeks. 

"I don't know what kind of panty raiding you do up there, but I'm not a pervert."

"Panty riding, huh?" Wayne raises his eyebrows in interest. "That what you boys do in college these days?"

"Do you want a sandwich? Some tea maybe?" Eddie has already turned his back to him and is switching the light on in the kitchen. "And the cats are fine, thanks for asking!"

"Yes and yes. Thank you!" 

Eddie prepares them sandwiches and teas and grabs his own book so they can read in silence waiting for the evening news. It's nice to have this, a break from busy and loud college life, just sharing silence and love for books with his uncle. 

That is, of course, until Wayne looks at his watch and puts the book down to exchange it for a remote. Eddie likes to keep his nose in the book until the news become too distracting or he catches something interesting being reported on. His uncle has other plans for him this time. 

"You know it's alright to like her, right?"

Eddie lowers his book, slightly incredulous that Wayne is still talking about it. He looks at him with wide eyes.

"You really want me to fuck your neighbor, huh?"

Finally, his uncle gets a taste of his own medicine, almost choking on the tea that he unfortunately decided to sip on at that moment. Eddie: one, Wayne: zero.

But later, the score evened out again, as all Eddie could think of while trying to sleep were the pictures on the fridge, and plowing his uncle's neighbor into her mattress until she screamed. 

The next morning, with not enough sleep under his belt, Eddie skips two sets at a time, because he totally absolutely royally forgot about the fucking plant. 

He fumbles with the keys, can hear the inquisitive meows on the other side of the door, and once he's in he takes a beeline to the kitchen, ignoring the little creatures following him like they have been starving on the streets and he was a fresh batch of tuna factory waste.

The plant looks normal, the same as it did 24 hours ago, and he waters it as per instructions while trying not to even brush its leaves because he truly believes his touch might kill it. His track record with plants indicates so. Only then does he turn to the meowing bunch at his feet. 

"Hello, little demons. Time to feast."

The cats are fed, their mouths making unpleasant wet noises against the equally wet food, and Eddie has a moment to take a curious walk around the place, in search of more photos.

He finds a wedding photo, with Steph in a pink dress and stunning make up dancing with a man with curly hair. There's one from a barbecue, where Steph is being hugged by a tall man with a mustache. She's wearing jean shorts and a sweater in this one, and somehow, looks a bit off. It looks older than the wedding one. 

But a true treasure chest is the huge frame he finds above a small bookcase.

It's a collage titled 'The fucking journey' that seems to be a collection of Polaroids from a multitude of workplaces, with the same two people present. Year after year, one job after another, until they got where they are today. 

It starts with a 1983 and the sailor costumes he's already seen. They are less bruised and more tired in this one. Knowing where to start, Eddie's eyes track from one photo to another, observing Stephanie's features, her wardrobe, and her hair change until she becomes the woman she is today. 

There was no boy in that photo on the fridge. It's always been her. Growing into herself. 

Is this what his uncle was talking about? Well, not talking, but being annoyingly vague about it, like he wasn't sure what he was talking about himself. 

Fear not, Uncle Wayne. Eddie's going to pick up every pamphlet and every zine he can put his hands on, to educate them both about who their neighbor is, how to navigate the topic and respect her the way she deserves.

[kurogxrix]

Feels Like We’re Oceans Apart ( I. )

Ao’nung x Sully!reader x Sully!family

IN WHICH Ao’nung was dared to date the eldest Sully daughter with vitiligo, while Jake and Neytiri face the hells of parenthood with a child that’s different from others.

WC: 6k

Warnings: bullying, violence, misunderstandings, Jake and Neytiri trying their bests ok.

You were born different, just like your little siblings Lo’ak and Kiri. Though their only peculiar features were their five fingers and hairy eyebrows, given their human genes. You were a little more than that, a little more than what the na’vi could handle. They had no issues welcoming a five-fingered baby into their clan, mainly because they were ruled by one. 

It was a whole different story when Neytiri had announced the birth of an oddly coloured baby. Presented under the curious eyes of the clan, they watched as Jake held a tiny baby clutched to his chest. Your skin was initially dark blue just like theirs, but it was the strangely arranged white spots on your body that troubled them. 

It was nothing like what they had seen before, and so their minds could only jump to conclusions. They weren’t familiar yet foreign to the existence of albino na’vis, but accusing Neytiri of being unfaithful to her mate was far-fetched. Mo’at and Neytiri were scared to death once you were born, face to face with a spotted baby. They both feared that you were born with some incurable diseases, which was not too far from the truth.

At least on this planet. Jake took his time to reassure his crying mate, telling Neytiri that it was not necessarily normal, but you weren’t dying. A trip to the human’s lab and a long series of explanations from Norm had reassured the both of them even more. Vitiligo was what the scientists at the lab had diagnosed you with. For them, upon visual inspection it was obvious of what you were suffering from. 

“Stop moving, you little-“ the 13 year old Neteyam tried to restrain himself from cursing at you as you struggled in his arms. You were about a year younger than Neteyam, and his arms were still lanky and thinner than imaginable at the time, so holding you back was definitely harder than he could’ve imagined. 

You were relentless, aggressive almost as you fought the invading urge to bite your way out of his embrace. But no, you couldn’t. Not again, not when your father stood a few metres in front of you as he stared you down with those unruly eyes of his. He looked at you as though you were some sort of stranger for a second, his eyes filling with an unfamiliar look before snapping out of it definitively. It was like Jake finally realised that it was his own daughter that was standing before him, and his ears dropped at the thought. 

Blood dripped from his aching ear, the sounds of liquid plopping against the floor went unmissed by your heightened hearing. The two puncture holes in your father’s ears were the magnet of attention in the room, all eyes set on his injury like it was the most interesting sight of all year. All before he brought a hand up to rub the dribbling blood away, making his wound more visible before another bead of fresh blood covered the holes once more.  

Neytiri simply stood beside her husband, little care towards his injury for the moment as she stared at her distressed daughter. You looked so out of it, and none of them could understand why. She felt Jake move away from his current spot, their shoulders brushing as the contact brought her back from her thinking. Neytiri watched as Jake walked towards you, inevitably calming you down slightly as he kneeled before Neteyam and you.

Your older brother almost dropped to his knees and started praying to the Great-Mother for the rest, his arms loosening around you just a little. The room was quiet enough for you to properly hear the shuffling of your smaller siblings, cluttered together at this side of your tent. 

You felt your father’s hand come to lay upon your hair, caressing your hair lovingly in an attempt at soothing your nerves. Though you shied away from his touch at first, you allowed him to keep his hand there. 

“You wanna tell me why you did that.” Jake tried again, his left ear fluttering involuntarily as he referred to his new injury. Never would he have thought that today was the day where he’d get physically assaulted by his own daughter, but parenthood is all about surprises. 

His free hand came to rest on Neteyam’s shoulders, still being able to reach it from his kneeling position. Your father pushed your brother gently away from you, freeing you from his light embrace. Under his upclose stare, you couldn’t help but fiddle with your fingers like a little kid after getting caught sneaking candy. Your eyes bounced around the whole room, not once meeting his own. 

You remained silent as you knew that he didn’t specifically want to talk about his injury, but rather why you had done it. It was all a blur of emotions, a rush of feelings that your father had interrupted. To him you were acting like a brat, but it was so much more than that to you. More of a realistic realisation than a childish tantrum. 

Earlier this day, you had been spending time with a certain boy in the clan during an excursion. His name was Rangya, born a soft boy at heart in contrast to his stern father. He was nice and unlike the other kids in the clan, and you found peace in his presence. Eventually one thing led to the other, and the both of you strayed further away from your youth adventuring group.

It was dangerous out here for 2 kids of your age to be wandering around alone, and it didn’t take long for the group leaders to notice your disappearance. It was to your bad luck and stupidity that your father was a warrior, not even to mention the olo’eyktan, so it was his duty to go on the lookout for the both of you. His heart picked up the pace once he had heard your name coming out of the distressed woman’s name, who she was supposed to be keeping an eye on your class.

Surely Jake would give her a good talk later about it, but for now his own daughter and some kid were alone in the ruthless forest. Truth to be told, your adoration towards the boy ran a little further than a stupid childhood crush. No, instead you admired Rangya for his many traits at such a young age. He was undeniably the smartest and nicest person that you had ever met in the Omaticaya clan, and letting go of that could only be a fool’s mistake. 

Though as time strayed and the sun cleared behind the moon, you failed to realise the way that the world was getting darker around you. Instead your new goal was to examine every single plant that surrounded the both of you, your hand clasped tightly into the young boy’s as he reassured you that it was only for your protection. 

Now Jake was just there at the wrong time to catch an image of the wrong thing. It wasn’t like your hand in Rangya’s could be interpreted as anything else, or the fact that your faces were a little too close for comfort. It wasn’t that he was mad at you or the poor boy. Daughters had stupid, young boyfriends that father’s were opposed to, that’s how it usually went. At least that’s what he had thought that your relationship was labelled as. Matter of fact he had not even been visibly upset at you, but when he had demanded that you leave the boy and return back home, you knew that it was the end of it. 

That once you arrived back home, your father would tell you that you had to cut off whatever dumb relationship that there was between Rangya and you. And so you did whatever you could to make the moment last, struggled, kicked and argued with your dad to put you back down as he had picked you up after you had refused to walk back home with him. 

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed with frustration as you reacted in such a way. You’ve always been a calm kid, just like your big brother Neteyam. Though he had always thanked the Great-Mother that you were unlike his youngest son, because Eywa knew how much of a menacing duo you both would be. Now it confused him to no end as you kicked and cried in his arms, desperation thick in your voice as you begged for him to put you down. 

Though he denied you of that right, instead dragging your breaking down frame back to your family tent. Chaos striked before Jake could even reach Bob, his loyal ikran. The sudden throbbing of his ear had caught him totally off guard, a hand unravelling from where he was currently holding you to hold onto his aching ear. It had not one single moment come to his mind that the perpetrator could’ve been you, but a single look at you had sold you out. 

The crimson liquid that ran down the swell of your fangs was a dead giveaway, and the blood that covered Jake’s hand as he pulled it back down was like more evidence. If he hadn’t been angry at you before because of your bratty behaviour, then he sure as hell was now. He was livid, ears flung back painfully as it pressed onto his new injury. The top of his lips were pulled back in some sort of angry expression that he was trying to keep in. 

You would’ve been lying if you said that you weren’t scared shitless on the way back home. The way that your father’s nostrils were flaring, and the fact that he refused to look at you once until you reached your family tent. 

The recollection of earlier memories and the overwhelming feeling of your dad unknowingly pressuring you was too much. Too much for your little mind and frail heart to manage, for you had always been fragile at heart. Just like your mother, you had no fear in expressing your feelings physically rather than verbally. 

Jake can’t help the frustrated sigh that leaves his mouth as he watches your ears fill up with tears, unable to tell him anything that he wishes to hear. He dipped his head all the way down to his chest as his hand dropped from your hair, exhaling once too quickly to regain his senses. You missed it as quickly as it came, the comforting feeling of your father’s touch. Your fingers were intertwined together as you fiddled anxiously with them, afraid once more of what your father thought of you. 

“Fine, cmon lets just go and get checked up with grandma okay?” he asks rhetorically as he stands up, dusting his clean knees as a stress habit. He walked all the way towards the tent’s doors, barely having time to step a foot outside before his wife’s booming voice rang through his ears. 

“Ma Jake, please just calm down for a second! You’re moving too fast and we can’t just leave Tuk here with them, they’re just kids!” Neytiri gritted her teeth as she scolded her husband, his eyebrows furrowed further than he thought they could as he listened to her. She bent down before you to pick you up into her arms, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck as she hoisted you up alongside herself.

What she was saying was true, Jake was truly going overboard and leaving their 5 year old daughter with their other young children was not all the most responsible. Although they all knew that Neteyam was more than able to take care of his family, they wished not to burden him anymore. He was spent from the hectic day of events that he had spent, and it was not fair to bear him of more responsibilities that were not his to care for. 

But Jake was spent as well, he’s had a rough day and the churn of events that he had thought would be a nice and relaxing night with his family had truly roughed him up even more. 

“Maybe we wouldn’t have to if we didn’t have to take such intense care of that child of yours!” he points a finger towards your mother accusingly, asif you were only her child. Asif it hadn’t taken the both of them to conceive you, like you weren’t his daughter. Though as quick as the words are to leave his mouth, he regrets them. He regrets the way Neytiri falls silent under his traitorous words, or the way you try to hide further into her neck in fear of catching a glimpse at your father’s angry expression. 

He sighs again, and your ears cling further to your head at the sound of it. Jake’s expression falls at your body language, ear laid back, tail flat in between your legs and the undeniable sounds of your hushed sobbing. It breaks his heart that you cry because of him, that he had allowed such words to escape him. He’s scared you had mistaken his sigh as a sign of disappointment, and he’s much more scared of the death glare that his wife was giving him.

Though he didn't meet her eyes yet out of fear, he brought a hand back onto your head. As awkward as he always was while expressing himself, it doesn’t even feel like he’s able to mutter any sort of apology to you at the moment, and you feel your heart ache at the fact. 

“Watch your mouth.” Neytiri grits out at Jake, teeth firmly grinding together as she speaks. She spoke out every syllable with a pricised articulation so he could hear every single one of her words right. She was angry, undeniably at her husband but now was no time to dwell on things. The faster that they would get ready to leave, the faster that Mo’at could get you checked up and you could all return back home to a good night's sleep. 

-

The days after your little unexplained temper tantrum had been unexpectedly quiet for you. Unlike your ongoing personality around your parents, and your usual loudmouth that just loved to talk back to your dad, you were as silent as a rock. Your father had not even gotten to apologise yet, because Eywa knew how awkward he would be added to the fact that you refused to speak to any of them. 

It was obvious that you were avoiding them just as you were avoiding the other kids in the clan. You complained each time that your mom forced you to leave the tent, and that was about the only time where you’d be audible. Neytiri was overwhelmed with the undying fear that she played a part in sending you into some sort of mutism. She cried to your father at night, when they were supposed to be enjoying their night between lovers as they laid under the stars. 

She just couldn’t shake the worries away, no matter how much time passed. Until one day she brought up to Jake what she had overheard about you. She had dragged Jake outside of their tent, watching you from the corners of her eyes as you played with your handcrafted dolls. It worried Jake that Neytiri looked so on edge, asif she had heartbreaking news to deliver to him. And that was exactly that. 

It didn’t take long for your mother to catch onto what the other kids in the clan were saying about you. Her ears pinning tightly against her skull as she heard the nasty nickname coming out of a child’s mouth, one that was designated for you. Not to add to the fact that their parents already thought you were the spawn of the devil himself, confused as to why Eywa had blessed you with life. It broke her heart to pieces because she couldn’t do anything about it, no matter how much she reprimanded those kids and their parents, no matter how many times she scolded them. Kids will be kids, and you’d always be the ‘ugliest girl in the clan’. 

No amount of herbal paste would change your disorder and no amount of grovelling would erase what those kids had said about you. Though in Neytiri’s eyes, she’s always believed you were as beautiful as the sun. As every mother thinks of her children, she thought that you were blessed by Eywa with an utter beauty. But not everyone had eyes like your mother, they were cursed with the blindness of judgement. Neytiri would never fail to remind you of how good you looked in her eyes, that you were born special for a reason. That other kids picked on you because they were basic, and you were unique. 

She poured tears as she spoke the same words as those kids to your father, wondering how anyone could be so heartless to her daughter. How anyone had the guts to talk down the child that she had carried for so many months, and birthed under the protection of the Great-Mother. How parents could allow their kids to speak ill of you in such a way, she’d never understand. 

Jake connected the dots in his head, thinking that maybe that’s why you had acted the way that you had on that day. Maybe because you were ‘the ugliest girl in the clan’ or maybe it was because Rangya didn’t think so of you. He didn’t believe that you were what those kids had nicknamed you as, and Jake had selfishly ripped that away from you. 

Though he believed that he was in the right, because no child of 12 years needed a boyfriend anyway. He should’ve just let you be, maybe then you would’ve realised so on your own. You would notice that the only reason why you wanted to be with that boy was because he didn’t treat you like the others. But now it was too late for that, and your father had stripped you from the potential future that awaited you with this boy. 

He let out a grunt of disappointment, moreso towards him than towards the guilty children. He couldn’t help his gaze from flickering from his sobbing mate that he was hugging tightly against his chest, and back towards your innocent frame that was still playing inside of the tent. Kiri was now next to you, brugudly so as her eyerolls said. 

She held one of your wooden dolls in one of her hands, moving it comically as she played around with yours. There was a glint of something else behind those annoyed eyes of hers, some sort of hidden glee. Perhaps not because she was playing with those stupid toys of yours, definitely not that. Maybe it was because she was the first one that you had slightly opened to ever since the incident, and Kiri felt pride in the fact that it was her. 

She was happy to know that you felt safe enough in her presence that you didn’t completely close yourself off whenever you were near her. 

Not long after Jake’s little outburst and a long trip to grandma Mo’at’s tent, she felt disappointment seeping deep within her heart once she couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you. There was nothing wrong in your system that drove you to act in such a way, and it annoyed her to no end that she could not do anything to help her first granddaughter. 

A trip to Norm’s lab was what had been recommended to Neytiri from Jake, and after a long time of overthinking it, she declared that there was no other way. Human technology was definitely more advanced than whatever the na’vi had, and maybe they’d have an answer for what Jake and Neytiri were silently looking for. 

Norm had said that he was no therapist, but it was obvious that the teasing and bullying of kids had affected you in worse ways than they would have imagined. 

And all the while you tried to ignore their sympathetic gazes as Norm explained these things to them. You didn’t want your parents to feel this way for you, you didn’t want to feel this way anymore. You didn’t like becoming an emotional wreck everytime that some stupid kid that you didn’t know made a comment about your different skin. 

Eventually, you grew to accept that the teasing would never cease as long as your vitiligo was part of you. And you also came to terms that your disorder would always be part of you, so what was the point of grieving over something that you couldn’t help? Therefor, you just grew away from it, accepting that maybe this was how you had to live your life. That you'd never experience that wholehearted love that your parents shared.

In the long run, your father and you had managed to come to good terms again. After months of longing silence, you were the first one that had made a move, pleading for his forgiveness because of how you had acted on that day. Though Jake was quick to stop you, putting aside his lack of confidence in the comforting domain as he held you tightly into his arms, apologising on his side. 

Now you stood at 17, arguments and disputes between your father and you now long forgotten. Your vitiligo was still very much there and visible upon your smooth skin, not that you had expected it to lessen in the few years that had passed anyway. You were slightly happier now, despite the kid’s teasing still being present and active, you tried to pay them less attention. 

It didn’t escape you that you were still ‘the ugliest girl in the clan’, but you’d pretend like it didn’t affect you for as long as you had to stay in this clan. You didn’t want for more trouble to rise in your home, so you played it off as though the words didn’t  affect you. When in reality, there were nights where you stayed up to watch the stars all up by yourself, your mind elsewhere as the soothing sound of the river flow calmed your nerves. You’d imagine a potential future with someone that loved you for what you were, with a couple of kids and a big home that would welcome you at the end of the day. 

A future where you’d have someone to kiss and call you pretty at your wake, but they were all just dreams after all. Some alternate reality that your mind had made up to deal with everything that was going on in your life and you had no other option than to just accept that fact. 

-

Upon dismounting your Ikran on the warm beach of Awa’atlu, you could already sense that your family’s presence wasn’t fancied. Your feet had not even had time to brush against the fine grains of sand before thousands of eyes were already turned towards you. Though being the people that you were, it was hard to feel uncomfortable under so many weary stares. However, something about some new sets of eyes ogling you all for the first time felt unsettling.

You stood straight between your two brothers, your rider’s mask still on your face as you tried to keep your posture up to prove that you feared them not.  A quick look around was enough to tell you that this place was beautiful, even though you hadn’t even visited the best parts of it yet. Though it was not home, it would do for now if it meant that staying here kept your family safe. 

The clan leaders were unaccepting at first, well at least Ronal was. It was clear that she didn’t want any of you here, and by her fierce stare, you were no exception. Her eyes visibly widened as she rounded your family, finally falling upon your frame. Her eyes explored your body with no shame, excluded of all crudeness. There was some sort of curiosity and disgust that swirled muddled up in her eyes as she examined you from head to toe. 

Ronal grabbed onto your forearm roughly, shoving you in front of your huddled family group so the whole clan could see you. You couldn’t help but lower your head to your chest in an attempt to hide from their sickening gazes, but their sounds of opposition fell loud to your ears. She pointed out your discoloured patches to the people as though it wasn’t visible upon first look. It made you feel little, the fact that it was people that didn’t even know you, judging you for how you looked. Judging you for the white patches of skin that covered your entire body like an art piece, but to them you were not worthy of that title. 

You could hear the growl of your mother in between all, and the one that Ronal sent her back in hostility. 

An intense feeling of dread was swirling through your chest, what if your family wasn’t given uturu because of you? What would happen then, would you be forced to look for another option of a temporary home? Or was this the only one you could afford from now? Never ending questions ran through your mind as you felt the soft touch of your mother’s hand upon your wrist, slowly pulling you back towards her as Ronal retook her place besides her mate. 

You couldn’t even look your mother in the face after that, too afraid and ashamed of what the Olo’eyktan’s judgement could be because of you. Though you missed the pitiful glances that your family had casted upon you, Tonowari had seemed to have compassion for your family, one that Ronal did not share but had to live within. 

Soon enough, Tonowari had introduced you to his entire family, and a friend of theirs that looked like the sweetest boy that you’ve ever met. He had a mop of curly hair sitting atop of his head, complimenting him well. 

Tsireya was the nicest, a literal guardian angel sent by Eywa herself to watch over your family. Her eyes held no judgement and her words were genuine, so you felt more than comfortable whenever you were with her. It didn’t escape you and your big brother that Lo’ak had already developed a crush on the girl, she was charming and heavenly, you couldn’t really blame him. 

But when an angel’s near, the devil strays not far behind, and he himself was Ao’nung. It was already bad enough sharing the same age and air as this absolute menace, given that he was just like his mother had made everything 10 times worse. He hated your family based on the minimal interaction that you had in those few minutes of introductions. To say that he had some sort of special hatred towards Lo’ak, Kiri and you was an understatement.

He seemed to loathe you even more based on the  fact that his father had picked him to train you, given that you need to adjust to the Metkayina ways. 

Despite everything, the first week in Awa’atlu was literal hell. It was hard to adapt no matter how much you all tried, and the rude eyes of the Metkayina followed you around like a bunch of predators. You were sick and tired of the attention, you just couldn’t escape it. It didn’t matter if it was here or back in the Omaticaya clan, you just wished that you could be invisible to the people.

Now that you’ve hit the 3 weeks mark, too much has happened for you to even recall properly. The amount of fights between Lo’ak and Ao’nung that Neteyam and you had to break apart was uncountable, and facing your father at the end of the day was something that you dreaded more than anything. Added to your mother’s constant nagging at you to stay low, because she feared of how the people would treat you if you did one wrong thing in their eyes. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t fear for her other kids’ safety as well, especially in a clan that she knew little about, with people that didn’t necessarily like you all. She was a little more wary about you, because if you had been treated badly in your previous clan, who knew what this one had in stock for you. She wasn’t blind to the constant staring each time that you’d leave the marui alongside her, she just didn’t like thinking about it. 

Neytiri prays every night for the Great-Mother to lift some burdens off your shoulders. To let you rest at night without having to worry about what other people are saying behind your back, to let you feel normal for just one night. Because she knew that no matter her words, there would always be a longing in your heart to be like them, like everyone else. 

“Do you think this one looks better?” Neytiri snaps her head towards you, watching as you hold a weaved top tightly to your chest. Stretched out across your bust like you were trying to show what it looked like without actually wearing it. Neytiri’s eyes moved towards a second pair that you held loosely by the fingers, before shrugging and choosing the one that was currently sprawled out across your torso. 

You took the unused one, throwing it towards your sister that was looking for a pair of her own. The top hit Kiri in her face, woven beads clanging against her forehead as your attack took her off guard. Quickly recovering, your mother watched with a sigh as the now-angry Kiri tried throwing it back on you, only to miss completely as you laughed hysterically. 

Kiri didn’t seem to have taken your little melee really joyfully, instead she looked like she was ready to murder you. Your laughter died out as you grabbed the top from its discarded position on the floor, walking now calmly towards your little sister. Neytiri couldn’t help the smile that grew upon her face as she watched you open the closed palms of your angry sister, delicately placing your piece of clothing into her hands as you said something to her. 

She knew how close Kiri and you were. She was different just as you were, even if she wasn’t covered with what looked like a bunch of stains. No, instead she was a ‘four fingered freak’ just like you were, quoted by the infamous Ao’nung himself. You both had eyebrows like your father, and Kiri’s biological mother. You were about in the same age category, with you being slightly older. So you both understood and trusted one like no other, and Neytiri knew that behind that grumpy personality of hers, Kiri loved you more than she would ever admit. 

“Mom? You okay?” The sound of her youngest daughter brought Neytiri out of her thinking again, shaking her head as she walked towards Tuk. Later that night there was a big feast that everyone was expected to be present to, and your family was no exception. Though your father was happy to be included, your mother still felt out of place, a little forced. 

-

A group of unruly teenage boys sat in front of a huge bonfire. It sizzled and popped, threatening to burn those who came too near as the wind blew it closer to them. The sound of raucous laughter resounded around the entire zone, but the night was busy and the area was booming with loud voices that engulfed their own. 

Ao’nung sat spaced out between his friends, his legs crossed out before him, a plate of half eaten fish in his hands. He was too busy laughing at whatever joke his friends would crack at every few minutes to even focus on getting his dinner finished. 

From the corner of his eyes, Ao’nung could make out a faint blur of your frame. You were sitting with your family, who they were sitting with…his? Ao’nung’s eyes grew in size as he fully turned his torso around to confirm whatever he had just seen. He watched you sit besides his sister, the both of you talking about something he couldn’t quite make up from afar. You were laughing with Tsireya too, you looked so happy. 

“Aye, brother!” Ao’nung turned his torso back towards his friends, slightly embarrassed of getting caught looking in your direction. Though the smug look on their faces was not what he had expected once he had turned back, and the roll of his eyes was what they had received. He looked back at his plate, raising a piece of fish up in his hands as he brought it to his mouth to eat. He nodded at the boy, signalling  for him to continue his sentence. 

“Aren't ya the one that’s been getting close to that Sully girl?” he nodded his head towards something past Ao’nung’s shoulders, and the boy froze as the laughter picked up again. This time it was louder, more genuine as they all turned their eyes towards you and your family. The boy only shrugged his shoulders at the accusations, nothing he could deny as they had seen it with their own eyes. 

He snarled at his friends once he heard them snigger in return, shutting them up all at once. Way to piss his mood up at the end of a good night, what a bunch of morons. 

“How about a challenge to finish this night right, huh?” Ao’nung ears picked up at the sound of it, visibly raising and turning out towards wherever the voice had came from. He picked his head up, now interested in some good play. Ao’nung had always been known for his big ego and competitive personality, a challenge was not something that he was about to let his friends win. He was going to beat them, no matter what it was. 

His friends exchanged mischievous glances, bumping shoulders together like a bunch of kids as they giggled. Ao’nung couldn’t tell if it was from the one glass of dandelion wine that they had downed earlier or from their sheer stupidity. Nevertheless, they recovered from their childish antics before the boy brushes the dust off of his knees. 

“How about you date that girl for a whole month!” The boy yelled out, a little too loud as a few heads from nearby families turned towards them. Ao’nung’s eyes widened at the demand, not even needing to ask for precisation to know who his friend was talking about. His face contorted in a swift act of disgust before his expression fell again, shaking his head as a ‘no’. 

The noise picked up again as a series of ‘boo’s and ‘awe’s resounded from their group, attracting attention once more. You were unaware of what was currently happening behind your back, instead focusing on hitting your brother’s shoulders playfully as you noticed the longing looks that he would send to Tsireya. 

“What i’m i even getting from this anyways?” Ao’nung quite didn't understand the whole point of this challenge, why would he even participate if he was the only one playing, it was no fun. 

“We haven’t decided yet but…,” he said, outstretching his hand out towards Ao’nung as he spoke. He hesitated before his group of friends, pondering on where really this whole thing would lead him to. It wasn’t like he had feelings for you yet anyways, so there was little to consider when it came to your side of things. “don’t tell me you’re scared of a little challenge?” 

“Looks like she’s already making buddy-buddy with your family,” the booming voice of another boy sent everyone into laughter again as the whole group turned to catch a glimpse of you. “Cmon, look at your future wife!” 

“You don't trust me bro? And here i thought that we were friends.'' The said boy crossed both arms over the area where his heart was, mocking offence as he stared straight into Ao’nung’s similar aqua eyes. There was a sliver of mischief still swirling through his iris, but the boy just shrugged it off. It wasn’t like Ao’nung was altruistic either, he was infamously known for his little shenanigans. 

Though when Ao’nung’s palmed hand met his friend’s under the eyes of Eywa, the dare was sealed and his mind was racing. Surely he didn’t care much about your feelings, he didn’t even seem to appreciate you as a person for that fact. But something about this sounded so, oh so wrong as he released his and his friend’s intertwined hands. But he had done it now, vowed before his group to fulfil his dare, and Ao’nung was never one to back down.

-

this is very fast paced and badly made because i had absolutely no time to write but i tried getting something out for yall🙁

tags: @youcantseem3 @timotheechalametishot @holysaladapricothero

[foone]

i know i could just look this up it's more interesting this way: why are they called *floppy* disks? i can't imagine they've ever been actually floppy.

They were! I’m not sure I can reply with images in an Ask, but the original (released) form of floppy disks was an 8″ vinyl jacket around a plastic disc, so they were quite floppy. That later lead to the 5.25″ version, which worked similarly but was smaller, and then Sony decided to add a hard plastic case to make them more sturdy. 

BUT, and this is the key part, the actual magnetic surface? the circle that the data is stored on? It’s still flexible! 

It’s named in contrast to hard disks, which were metal or glass, so they were quite harder. Even with the plastic shells of 3.5″ disks, hard drives are harder. 

[thetriumphantpanda]

one kiss is all it takes | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Four

Chapter Summary | All of the tension between you & Javi comes to a head when you're gathered at the Peña ranch to celebrate Chucho's birthday.

Chapter Warnings | Consumption of food & alcohol, some angst, heavy on the flirting, discussion of drugs & the drug trade but nothing else.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note |  Well. I am having far too much fun with these guys. I hope you guys are still enjoying this. Just wanted to give a huge shoutout to @undercoverpena for helping me brainstorm this chapter and figure it out when I was struggling and for just being my biggest hype woman. If you're enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

It’s Chucho’s birthday and it feels like the entirety of Laredo has descended on the Peña ranch. He’s currently sitting on one of the chairs that’s been set out on the back porch, beer in hand, talking to some of his friends from the ranch association. You’ve already been over, wished him a happy birthday with a kiss on the cheek, and pressed a small gift bag into his hand from the rest of the family. The bag is sitting between his feet, and you know he’ll take it in with him later to open on his own. Never one for a fuss, was Chucho. 

Other townsfolk are walking around, or standing in smaller groups, drinking or eating from the spread of food everyone had contributed to. You’re currently sat with your mom, who is talking to some of the women she works with. It’s dull conversation, but you try your best to look at least semi-interested when a question is thrown your way. You’re focused on something else though. Your eyes have been searching through the sea of people for one person, and one person only. Javi. And he’s nowhere to be seen. You bring the bottle of beer you’ve been drinking to your lips, tip it up, but find it empty. 

“I’m just going to get another drink.” You mumble to excuse yourself from the group around you. 

They all smile at you but quickly return to their conversations once you start stepping away. The relief from the cool interior of the house is welcome, as you open the fridge and root through it for another drink. You close the fridge door gently, plucking the magnetic bottle opener off the front when you hear muffled voices coming from down the hall. 

“You know,” You can just make out, so you take gentle steps to the edge of the kitchen to hear better, “If you were looking for something else, we could always use you back on the force.” It’s your dad, and you bet you know exactly who he’s talking to. 

“Go back to shining lights into teenagers’ cars whilst they’re making out and busting petty criminals?” That’s definitely Javi, “That’s not really my scene anymore.” 

You can hear your dad sigh a little, “It’s not really like that anymore,” He offers, “You must know by now we’ve got some kind of drug epidemic here, we can’t seem to crack it, I bet you could blow this whole thing wide open for us.” 

Javi scoffs, you press yourself further into the wall, knowing you should walk away, this isn’t your conversation to hear, “Even more reason for me to stay away,” He answers, “I couldn’t crack it down there, and if it’s anything like that here, it’s going to go far deeper than you could ever imagine.” 

Your dad sighs again, louder this time, because he’s clearly fighting a losing battle, “Well, the offer is there, think about, huh?” 

All Javi does is grunt in response, which you think is akin to something like ‘thanks, but no thanks’, then you hear footsteps coming down the hallway. You don’t move quickly enough to dart back through the doors but do manage to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible at the kitchen island as your dad rounds the corner. 

“I didn’t know you were in here.” He speaks, fishing his own new drink out of the fridge.

“Just came to get another drink,” You smile, trying to make your voice loud enough that Javi can hear that you’re inside too, “It’s pretty hot out there.” 

Your dad clinks his bottle with yours as he moves to head back outside, “Cool off, but don’t hide away in here, okay?” 

You nod and smile as he heads back outside, but you don’t make a move to follow him. After last week, when Javi pressed his lips to your cheek, you haven’t been able to think of much else. Surely, if he’d come all the way to fetch you, brought you food and kissed your cheek, that must mean something? You’d felt absolutely crazy trying to explain it to Liv, recounting your conversation, trying to get her advice on what it meant. She’d been entirely unhelpful, telling you that you were reading too much into it, but she had told you Victor was nice, so you weren’t in the habit of trusting her at the moment. 

You stand at the kitchen island for a while, praying that he would come to you, talk to you, even just say hello, anything would do, but he doesn’t. He stays wherever he is, doing whatever he’s doing, leaving you standing there like someone had stood you up. You sigh, pick up your beer and head back outside. 

It’s probably an hour later, you’re back sitting with your mom and her friends, when he emerges from the house, his own drink in hand. He makes eye contact with you, but when you smile at him, he doesn’t return it, just turns and walks over to the first group of people he can find, almost completely ignoring your presence. It hurts, is what you think, makes your heart sink a little. 

You see him a few times over the next couple of hours as people start slowly heading off. It’s still warm outside, but the sun is starting to set, painting the ranch in a soft orange glow. Your mom and dad left about an hour ago, leaving you where you there to help tidy up. The plan had been for all of you to stay, but your mom had indulged in one too many glasses of wine and needed to nap. 

The crowd had thinned out significantly now, so you think it’s a good a time as any to try and tidy up the porch a bit. There’s a rubbish bag hanging from the railing, there’s a few actually, that you think Javi must have set out in order to keep mess to a minimum, so you start picking up the empty bottles and used paper plates, stuffing them in until it’s full. You move some of the furniture around, back to how you know Chucho likes it. 

“You don’t have to help with this.” 

You turn around, and for the first time Javi is looking at you, talking to you, but still won’t quite meet your eyes, choosing to busy himself with gathering the trash from the other side of the porch. 

“I don’t mind,” You shrug, walking over to help him out a little, picking up some more paper plates to shove into the bag, “Doesn’t seem right to leave you to tidy the place on your own after allowing half the town to come over.” 

He doesn’t really respond after that, silently shuffles around, refusing to meet your eyes. It drives you wild, because there’s no way you’d made up the signals he’d been giving in the car. No-one kisses your cheek if they don’t want you. 

Once the porch is clear of clutter, Javi makes a beeline for the trash bag that’s full, leaning down to pick it up. You follow his movements, reaching down to circle his wrist with your hand, trying to be gentle with him. You’re not expecting him to snatch his arm away from you like you’d just branded him with a hot poker. He even steps back away from you, turning his back slightly, although you can see one of his hands come to his mouth, fingers running over his facial hair and down his chin, other hand on his hip. You think you hear him mutter something under his breath that sounds a lot like ‘don’t’. 

You stand there, dumbfounded if anything. Why is he being so different with you? Hot, angry tears are forming across your waterline, because you’re embarrassed, embarrassed that you’d played into him leading you on. To try and hide the fact you’re about to cry, you turn on your heel, stomping, albeit quite dramatically, around the side of the porch when you feel him grab your wrist, pulling you around so you’re facing him. Nowhere to hide now, you think, giving him your face, letting him see the tears he’s caused. 

“What?” You spit, tearing your hand out of his grip, much like he’d done to you just moments before. 

“Just… wait.” He says hands up in defense. 

So you do, you stand there and wait, shifting your weight from foot to foot, watching as he leans back more of his weight on his back leg, hand rest on the top of his jeans, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of what to say. 

“You know what?” You scoff, “I’m so fucking embarrassed, Javi,” You can feel your bottom lip start to wobble, more frustrated tears threatening to fall, “I thought-” You start, running a hand over your cheek to wipe away the tears that are forming, “I thought I was picking up on these signals between us,” You motion your hand between the two of you, “Thought maybe you felt the same way about me, I mean, who kisses someone’s cheek and tells them there’s nothing wrong with them if they don’t mean it, right?” You can hear yourself, sniffling through the tears, voice getting quicker and higher in pitch as he just… stands there, “God,” You chuckle, “I really thought I’d stop embarrassing myself at some point, but clearly fucking not.” 

He's still not saying anything, and you’re sick to death of making yourself feel and look like a fool in front of him, so you turn on your heel again, walking away, when yet again his hand circles your wrist and pulls you back to him, but this time, you don’t stop by just turning around to him, he’s tugging at you, pulling you closer, and then all of a sudden his lips are on yours. It’s quick, almost over before you can even register what’s happened, but there was no mistaking the feel of his lips pressed to yours. The tickle of the hair on his upper lip against the skin under your nose. 

When he pulls away, you’re dumbfounded, mouth open in shock, “You kissed me.” Is all you can say, voice high with shock. 

“I did.” 

“Then what the fuck was all that back there?” You ask, incredulous and confused, head spinning with what’s going on. 

All he does is shrug, seemingly unable to explain himself, which makes you more annoyed. Is he fucking with you? All you wish he would do is tell you what the fuck is going on in his brain, what he’s thinking, why he’s behaving in this way. 

“Tell me,” You demand, “Tell me, or I’m going to get in my car and leave.” 

And he’s standing there, and you think you can see the cogs working behind his eyes. His mouth is doing that thing again where it opens and closes without him saying anything. He brings a hand up to brush over his brow, but he still doesn’t say anything. You’d had enough. If he didn’t have the decency to be frank with you, like you’d been with him, then you guess you had your answer. 

For the third time that evening, you turn around and start walking, heading for the steps at the front of the house. He doesn’t try and grab your wrist this time, doesn’t try and touch you, but you can hear his footsteps behind you. You can see your car in front of you, you reach into the pocket of your shorts, fingers hitting the keys when you finally hear his voice. 

“I’m trying to be good, alright?” He calls out to you, “Better,” he offers then, “I’m trying to be better and I just…. Fuck, I hate this.” 

And really that’s all you needed. You needed him to try. To try and explain his behaviour, to tell you why he was giving you these mixed signals. So you turn, walk the few steps back towards him, take his face in your hands and plant a kiss right on his lips. 

It’s like it breaks the dam that the two of you had been trying to hold back, because his hands are on your back, one resting just above the waistband of your shorts, the other fisting at the material between your shoulder blades as he really kisses you this time. Your hands drop to the collar of his shirt, pulling him in closer as you open your mouth against his, let his tongue finally touch yours, pressing your body as close to his as you can possibly get it. You can feel the tension of your shirt being pulled from behind. It’s like he has to fist the material because he wants to touch you, wants to put his hands on your skin under the material, but knows he can’t. 

When you pull away, both breathless, he leans down, rests his forehead to yours, eyes closed. 

“I don’t want you to be good, Javi,” You whisper, “I want you to want me.” 

He opens his eyes then, big chocolate orbs that are pleading with you, “I do,” He answers honestly, “I want you so much, querida, and that’s the problem.” 

“I know.” You try and soothe, but really, it’s all lost now isn’t it, there’s no going back from here. 

Almost like you both finally realise you’re in the open air at the same time, you both step away from each other. Your hands coming to pull your shirt back into position, Javi doing the same with the collar of his shirt. You run your thumb over your bottom lip where you can feel the wetness from the kiss, wiping it away. 

“I should go,” You say softly, motioning your head to the car, and he doesn’t argue, because he knows you should too, because if you stay here there’s only one thing that can happen, “See you around.” 

Like it’s now his signature move, his hand circles your wrist, turning you back to him, “Call me?” He asks, “Call me tonight?” 

You smile, “Okay, I’ll speak to you later.” 

You weren’t really sure how long you were supposed to wait to call him. You got in and your mom was already in bed out for count, your dad sat in front of the TV, cold beer in hand, watching some kind of sports. 

“You help Javi clean up?” He asks as you throw your keys in the dish on the side table. 

You try not to bite at your lip, try not to focus on the heat rising across your cheek, “I did,” You confirm, walking over to the fridge to pick out your own drink, “Most people had already thrown their stuff away, so it didn’t take long.” 

You sit with him for a while, sipping slowly on the drink, trying to quell the memories of his lips on yours, the way he had tasted and the way his hand had fisted so tightly at the back of your shirt. It was everything you’d wanted it to be, all those years of wondering what it would be like, and now you knew, and all you wanted was to know what else he could do, how else he could make you feel. 

Once your drink is done, you give your dad a chaste kiss on the cheek, bid him goodnight, and spend the next hour pacing, trying to concentrate on reading, before you give up. You reach into your bag and pull out the card. Run your fingers over the name embossed there. You pick up the receiver on your nightstand, punch the number in and press call. 

This time, he answers on the first ring, like he’s been sitting around waiting for you to call, just as much as you have. 

“Hello.” You speak timidly, leaning back onto the pillows of your bed, switching the handset to the other ear so you’ll be able to hear anyone wandering around outside. 

“Evening, hermosa.” He croons back to you, but doesn’t offer anything else. 

You sit there for a moment, listening to him breath down the phone, reveling in the fact that he’s doing the same, until it gets to be a little awkward. You start speaking right at the same time as he does, which makes you both pause to let the other carry on, but it only works to make you both laugh. 

“You go first.” He prompts. 

You take a deep breath, “I’m sorry,” You muse, “For how I was earlier.”

“You don’t need to say sorry,” He replies softly, “I’m sorry for being shit at talking about things.” 

There’s another pause, but it’s more comfortable this time, “So…” You trail off, “You kissed me.” It’s whispered, almost like it’s some terribly sordid secret, which you suppose it is really. 

“I did,” He confirms, and you’d like to think he’s smiling on the other end of the phone, “Wanted to do more than just kiss you.” He admits at the end. 

“Oh,” It comes out a little like a gasp, “Why didn’t you?” 

“I told you,” Javi replies with a little sigh, “I’m trying to be good, trying to be a gentleman.” 

“What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?” You offer. 

“What do you want me to be?” 

You giggle a little, “You sound like I’m paying you to say these things to me,” You hear him scoff at the other end, “I just want to know what you wanted to do to me that didn’t involve kissing me.” 

“Oh, hermosa,” You hear him make a ‘tsk’ sound through the receiver, “I would have kissed you, and then some,” You can hear him shifting around on the other end, “Wanted to put my hands all over you, make you feel good.” 

You bite your bottom lip a little, wanting nothing more than to let your hand wander below the waistband of your shorts, but there’s that little bubble of anxiety that always seems to make itself known to you when you get yourself into conversations like this, your lack of experience, lack of knowledge really, in how any of this is meant to work. 

“I wanted you to do that too,” You admit, “But…” You trail off, not really wanting to admit this to him right now. 

“But what, hermosa?” He coaxes. 

“I’m just-” You sigh, “I don’t have a lot of experience in this stuff, you’ll have to be patient with me.” 

You don’t know what you expect him to say, but it certainly isn’t what he says, “You want me to teach you, huh?” He asks, “Show you what you’ve been missing with those college boys?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, because he’s so right. You want to know what it’s like for someone else to take you apart. You want to know what it’s like when someone sinks into you and really cares about how you feel. You want to know what it’s like to feel someone else’s mouth on you. You want to know what it’s like to curl into someone’s side once all is said and done and fall asleep with someone’s arm wrapped around you, and you want all that with him. 

“I do.” You reply simply. 

“Then say no more,” There’s another silence, “I should let you go,” He says, “But I’ll see you soon, okay?” You hum in response, “And, um, don’t worry okay?” You’re about to ask about what, but you think you know what he’s getting at, “Just… probably best we don’t say anything to anyone, but don’t worry about it, alright?” 

“Okay,” Is your response, because what else is there to really say, “Goodnight Javi.” 

“Goodnight, querida,” He says back, “Sweet dreams.” 

[transformers-synergize]

so is the first chapter just human characters? ):

No, it's not just human characters. Chapter 1 part 2 will be posted tomorrow, and it has robots, please be patient.

If you are a transformers fan who dislikes any humans in transformers media for the fact they are human, then Synergize is probably not going to be your thing, sorry. Synergize focuses a lot on human and cybertronian relationships. Synergize is an ensemble cast with multiple characters who get a decent amount of focus, some of those characters being human, I intend to put just as much care and time into developing the human characters as I do the bots. The human characters are not an afterthought or something I'm adding just because I felt like it, they are important members of the cast, both the human cast and cybertronian cast are essential for each other development/character arcs. cybertronian in Synergize are written to be much more alien than in most Transformers media. Synergize's cybertronains have more alien-like behavior, morals, instincts, social dynamics, social structure, anatomy and society, having human characters to contrast that help better show the alienness of the bots. Along with having a character who can learn about the bots alongside the reader and ask questions a cybertronian character wouldn't. It also creates a lot of interesting human bot dynamics and plot opportunities.

Human characters also have an extreme amount of plot utility, Sure, they can't fist-fight a giant bot, but that is not the only way a character can be useful. They have more knowledge on Earth than the bots, so even an unintelligent human has at least a little useful Earth knowledge a cybertronian wouldn't know. Earth is built to cater to humans, and my bots don't have Haloform, so if they need something done only a human can do, then they gotta rely on a human to do it. Humans are also great for disguise, and my bots are trying to stay hidden, getting pulled over and having a human in the driver's seat is way less suspicious than a car driving itself. Humans are small and quiet even compared to small cybertronian, humans joints and internals usually don't make as much noise, along with humans having a much fainter energy signal, making them perfect for stealth and sneaking around. A human might not be able to fight a robot, but if they are mechanically inclined, they could learn how to fix/repair cybertronians. Once you know how to fix cybertronians, you can usually figure out sneaky little ways to break one without needing to be a giant robot (though you still have to risk getting close to one). Humans are immune to some very common cybertronian security systems and weapon types, magnets, EMP devices, malware, and stasis tech, yes, humans are squishy, but you're not gonna kill one with magnets or EMP blast or by trying to give them malware. Also, humans are also just smaller and can fit in more places. Humans are clever creatures, and even though they aren't as strong as a bot, it doesn't mean they can't contribute a lot. Not every plot features human characters, but most do because of both their utility to the plot and the fun dynamics they have with many of the bot characters.

Synergized as a story, both plot structure-wise and thematically, does not work without human characters.

[j1mmys-darl1ng]

.ೃ࿐cookies.ೃ࿐

Pairing : stoner!tate x first time!reader

Warnings : consumption of weed, possible mischarecterisation

A/n : every blue moon i make a character getting high fic

NOT PROOFREAD!

"How have you never been high before? Your in highschool, theres practically stoners around every corner" ever since you confessed to Tate that you've never tried weed, hell you've never even touched the stuff, hes been constantly teasing you about it.

"I've just never been interested in that typa stuff." You huff at him. He gets up and walks over to a draw, opening it and pulling out a box.

"Uh Tate? Whats in there?"

"well you said you've never gotten high before, so whats better than your first time being with me?" His dumb, smug smirk pressed on his lips. Every time you saw it you could just tell he was up to no good.

He pulls out a small cookie in a clear bag, one that you raise a brow at. How the hell were you gonna get high from just that? You try to see what else is in the box but he locks it and slides it back into the draw.

"Your kidding. How is that meant to get us high?"

"Trust me, it will"

He sits back down besides you, carefully taking the cookie out and breaking it in half, handing you the smaller portion.

"it takes a little while to kick in" he mumbles, his mouth already stuffed with the cookie like a chipmunk. You take small bites, the size increasing ever so slightly with each sheepish bite. Soon you finish it and just sit there while Tate puts some of nirvanas music on.

Within less than two hours, your body starts to feel fuzzy and swooshy, your limbs twitching at random times. Your eyelids are heavy, Tates warm arm around your waist making you want to just fall asleep against him. You let out a sigh as you rest against him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He tilts his head down, giving you a gentle kiss on the bridge of your nose and letting a small giggle escape past your lips. You can't help but tilt your head up, your faces moving closer together like a magnet until eventually your lips are pressed against one anothers.

Tate moves a hand to the back of your head, kissing you deeper as your hands slide up his collarbone so they rest on the back of his neck.

Soon he pulls away.

"Wow" is all that can muster past your lips.

A/n: i wasnt sure what to write so i kinda just came up with things as i was writing

Thanks for reading! <3

[blaiddfailcam]

Thoughts on the Shadow of the Erdtree's first trailer

You know I have to, lol.

I'm going to avoid anything that's likely well-trodden territory, so a lot of this will pertain to past theories of mine, or just general ramblings. It's not going to be all that organized, but here goes.

The "Ring of Miquella"

A loooong long time ago, I settled on a theory that the Great Rune of the Unborn was actually Miquella's rightful Great Rune, but given to Rennala in the form of the Amber Egg by Radagon before he was even born. The Great Rune itself matches the shape of his twin sister, Malenia's, albeit smaller and of pure gold, akin to Miquella's traits as an eternally youthful demigod of Unalloyed Gold. Miquella's role in the base game as a comatose Empyrean who failed to be reborn further relates to the Great Rune of the Unborn, as it is required to perfect the process, otherwise the reborn loses their memory as if to a deepening slumber.

I take this as a damning vindication, lol.

Possible insight into the Cuckoo

Some have pointed out this character's evident relation to Raya Lucaria. Already, many have jumped to the conclusion that she must be a Carian based on the crystals and bird cages strewn about their chamber, but I don't actually think this is certain. These could also pertain to the Cuckoo, the original headmasters of Raya Lucaria. (After all, some of the cages in Raya Lucaria even contain warbling cuckoo birds.)

The Cuckoo are a somewhat overlooked dynasty, but there are slight hints that they may be related to the Nox in some way. It would be very interesting if we got to see some semblence of their former glory, before Rennala descended from the Mountaintops and overtook the academy. Perhaps then we might glean more on the primordial current so coveted by Lusat, Azur, and Sellen?

Messmer the Impaler

Where to even begin with this latest addition to Miyazaki's divine freakshow.

The first thing that jumps out to me is their name, "Messmer." Given the context of Miquella, St. Trina, and the yet underexplored concept of dreams, I'm reminded of 18th century physician Franz Mesmer, the pioneer of hypnotism. Mesmer dabbled in astronomy, and believed all beings were connected to the inanimate world through "animal magnetism." In his practice, he developed the first inklings of hypnotic suggestion, then known as Mesmerism.

The use of serpents in Messmer's designs could relate him to the Eternal Serpent that wished to devour the Erdtree and the world, which later became Rykard's obsession. In fact, the red flame Messmer channels bears a striking chromatic resemblance to the Taker's Flames. Perhaps he could be related to the ancient heretical cult of Mt. Gelmir...? (I still wonder what the hell is going on with the volcano's peak, as it does resemble a gnarled tree.)

The red hair would relate this figure to the Fire Giants and/or the Fire Monks, which is particularly strange. Then again, we do find the Fire Giants impaled on briars, though these supposedly pertain to Radagon himself.

The most enthralling detail to me, however, is Messmer's sealed eye.

Eyes are diegetically symbolic, and thus far we've met two characters with sealed eyes: Melina and Lunar Princess Ranni. It's likely that both of these characters are Empyreans, and as we've never seen any other Empyreans' eyes (Malenia's are covered by rotten scales, and there's no official depiction of Marika with her eyes open or intact), I take it to be a cosmological signifier of their divine status. If so, might Messmer be yet another Empyrean...? Their open eye is golden and draconic, though I'm not sure what this could entail.

I'm sure I'll be mulling it over for a while, lol.

Other random thoughts

The wolf-lion-mage thing is frickin' sweet, but I like that it appears to be a puppet of sorts, and that whatever puppeteers it is relatively human.

HIGH MONK

CRUCIBLE WINGS

SPECIAL DUAL-WIELDED WEAPONS??

BUTTERFLY MAGIC (purple....)

That definitely looks like Deathroot crawling across the landscape

RUNEBEAR INCANT (so probably even crazier runebears lmao)

Just kind of gesturing at everything because what the hell how is this even the same game it looks insane and fuckin JUICY

June isn't all that far off...

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Between Magnet and Mind

X Men Masterlist

It's a quiet afternoon at the villa. The summer is mild, the sun is gently shining through the tall windows, illuminating the magnificent bookshelves that decorate the room. Charles Xavier is seated at a large wooden desk, bent over a stack of papers, while his younger sister, Y/N, sits bored in an armchair nearby. Occasionally, she disappears with a soft "pop" from the room, only to reappear seconds later in another spot within the room.

"Charles, I'm dying of boredom here," Y/N groans dramatically, swinging her legs over the armrest of the chair. "When is something exciting going to happen around here?"

Charles looks up and smiles slightly. "I told you I was expecting a visitor today. A friend is coming. He’s, well, he's someone quite special."

Y/N raises an eyebrow and teleports to the window sill in the blink of an eye to look at the garden outside. "Oh, really? Who is it? Another genius with superpowers?"

Charles laughs softly and stands up. "Yes, in a way. But Erik is different. I think you'll find him interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" Y/N repeats with a mischievous smile. "Well, if you say so." She teleports back to her chair and picks up a pillow, idly twisting it in her hands.

Just as she says this, the front door opens, and footsteps echo through the villa. Charles straightens up and gestures toward the door. "There he is. Behave yourself, Y/N."

Y/N just grins cheekily. "Me? Behave?"

The room is filled with palpable tension as Erik Lehnsherr enters. He exudes confidence, and his piercing eyes survey Charles and Y/N attentively. His sharp profile and intense presence make the room seem instantly smaller.

"Erik, welcome," Charles says warmly, walking towards him. "This is my sister, Y/N."

Erik nods at Charles and then turns his attention to Y/N. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies her. "Y/N," he says calmly. "Charles has spoken highly of you."

Y/N, who has felt the tension the moment Erik entered, teleports directly in front of him without warning. "Has he? I hope it's all good," she says with a spark in her eye that doesn’t bode well.

Erik raises an eyebrow while Charles watches the interaction with a furrowed brow. "Well, he described you as... unconventional."

"unconventional?" Y/N laughs and teleports right beside him, giving him a nearly playful look. "That’s a nice way to put it. But Charles isn’t exactly a master of precise words. What do you think, Erik? Do you also find me unconventional?"

Erik doesn’t even blink. Instead, his mouth curls into a slight smile. "I find you have a... interesting energy."

Y/N teleports behind him and leans slightly against the wall, her eyes sparkling challengingly. "Interesting energy? Is that your way of saying you like me?"

Charles clears his throat loudly and looks between the two. "Y/N, please..."

But Y/N doesn’t listen. She teleports directly in front of Erik and folds her arms. "Oh Charles, relax. It’s just a bit of fun."

Erik, who has remained calm and almost serene so far, tilts his head slightly and then responds surprisingly directly: "Well, if you ask like that... Yes, I do like you."

This momentarily throws Y/N off. She had expected many things, but not for Erik to respond so directly to her provocation. She blinks in surprise before putting her mischievous smile back on.

"Oh, really?" Y/N smirks and teleports so close to Erik that their faces are just a few centimeters apart. "Then maybe we should get to know each other better, Erik. I’m a woman who enjoys... deep conversations."

Erik looks at her unmoved. "So do I."

Charles raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Well, I guess I’ll leave you two alone. Maybe you have more in common than I’d like."

"Oh, Charles," Y/N calls after him, "you know I have a heart of gold."

"Maybe," Charles mutters as he leaves the room, "but your mouth often gets me into trouble."

Erik watches Charles leave before turning his gaze back to Y/N. "You’re brave, I’ll give you that."

Y/N teleports directly in front of him, her eyes sparkling challengingly. "I take what I want, Erik. And what I want, I usually get."

Erik smiles. "I like people who know what they want."

The two stand facing each other for a moment, the air between them crackling with tension. Y/N suddenly teleports behind him, making him turn around.

"So, what do you think, Magneto? Can you keep up with me?"

Erik smiles broadly and also leans forward as she teleports back in front of him. "I’m sure I can."

Erik and Y/N remain close together, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. Y/N watches Erik closely, her eyes sparkling with challenge. She teleports again, this time just a bit further away, so Erik has to tilt his head slightly to look at her.

"So, what now?" Y/N asks with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "You say you can keep up, but I’m not seeing much of that... determination yet, Erik."

Erik looks at her calmly, his eyes gleaming coolly and sharply, but his lips curl into a slight smile. "I’m a man who doesn’t rush things," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. "But when I want something, I take it."

Y/N teleports back directly in front of him, so close that their bodies almost touch. Her eyes fixate on his lips, and a smile crosses her face. "Then take it."

For a moment, Erik is silent, his eyes moving from her eyes to her lips and back again. Then, without warning, he wraps his hands around her waist and pulls her towards him with a sudden, intense jerk. The room seems to close in as he looks at her, and Y/N feels her breathing quicken.

She doesn’t wait a second longer. Before Erik can react, she closes the small distance between them and presses her lips demandingly against his. The kiss is intense, almost electric, as if their powers are momentarily merging and making the air around them crackle.

Erik responds immediately. His hands on her waist pull her even closer as he deepens the kiss. His grip is firm yet gentle, as if he doesn’t want to completely take control of the situation—at least not immediately.

Y/N smiles against his lips, her hands sliding to his neck as she stretches slightly to make the kiss even more intense. It’s a dance of dominance and rebellion, a contest to see who will gain the upper hand.

After a while, Erik slowly pulls away from her, resting his forehead against hers as they both breathe deeply. His eyes, which had seemed cool and calculating before, are now soft but still filled with intense warmth. "You’re really... unpredictable," he murmurs softly, his voice deep and husky.

Y/N laughs softly, her hands still around his neck. "Unpredictable makes life more interesting, don’t you think?"

Erik smiles slightly. "Maybe. But I prefer to keep control."

"Well, I might just mess up your plans," Y/N says, playfully teleporting half a meter back so Erik has to release her hands. "I’m not so easily controlled, Magneto."

Erik laughs softly, genuinely amused. "I wouldn’t expect anything less, Y/N."

She teleports back directly in front of him, this time with her hands casually resting on his chest. "Well," she says softly, her voice a bit softer, "maybe we can find a way for both of us to get what we want."

Erik leans slightly forward, his lips just a hint away from hers. "I believe so."

And with those words, he draws her into another kiss, this time slower, more controlled, but no less intense.

[nethhiri]

Chapter 23: The Feeling Is Mutual

Warnings: sensual situations

The Straw Hats, along with Camie, Hachi, and Papagg, stayed up well after dinner was through, drinking and trading stories. Although you were several drinks in, your tolerance was naturally higher than a human's. You were laid out in the grass on deck, laughing at something that Luffy had said. Nami questioned you about your bath, facetiously wondering if anyone had joined you. You feigned ignorance and said you didn't notice. Even Camie got a few laughs out of you. She really wasn't that bad, only a touch dense. As the hours dragged on, everyone gradually retired to bed. The only ones left were you, the nocturnal being, and Zoro, the insomniac. 

"So... you think you're gonna stick around?"

"No, I'm not sticky. We took a bath, remember? Was it that forgettable?" You still hadn't quite gotten the hang of what things were meant literally and what were just expressions.

"That's not what I meant! I mean, do you think you'll stay with the crew?" 

"Oh! Yeah... I think I like it here." You continued. "You know I could leave at any time. I don't need to wait for an island."

"Well... I guess. Just curious," Zoro mumbled. 

"Aw would you miss me if I left?"

"No!" The faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him.

"You would."

"Shut up, woman! You're worse than the cook!"

You had a smug expression. 

Zoro groaned and stood up. "I'm going to go keep watch." He headed towards the crow's nest.

"Do you want company?"

"NO!" 

"You sure?" You unbuttoned one of the buttons on his shirt you were wearing. 

"YES!"

"Did you ask Little Zoro?"

Zoro let out an exasperated growl and ignored you.

You laughed and headed to the room at the bottom of the ship with ocean access after grabbing your clothes. You had decided this would be your room. The ability to slip into the water if you wanted to made you feel more comfortable and less confined. You had added a hammock for now but wanted to add something cozier later. After all, you were interested in keeping this tryst with Zoro going and a hammock just won't do for that. 

The next morning, Sabaody was in full view. Its giant trees were beautiful on their own, even more so with the cascade of bubbles flowing up from the ground. Their iridescence reminded you of your scales. When the ship approached, you were thoroughly entertained by Luffy playing in the bubbles. Part of the reason you were attracted to this crew was his strange magnetism. He was always so positive and free. The freedom you had as a roaming predator had a dark, pessimistic, energy about it, focused on survival. His freedom was different, lighter, more joyful, focused on living. You wanted to learn how to be more like him. 

The ship docked at one of the tree islands and everyone decided what they were going to do. Finding the ship coater sounded sorta boring to you. You were still deciding what you wanted to do when Zoro started off on his own. You had given him his shirt back earlier. Sanji and Usopp heckled him about finding his way back and he seemed to have it figured out. Still, they turned to you and asked if you would tail him, if only to make sure he didn't find himself walking in circles for hours. You were happy to oblige. It was an excellent excuse to flit around in the trees. Flying across open ocean was boring. There were no obstacles. Dodging tree branches was much more fun. 

In a burst of black feathers, you took to the air. Loosely following Zoro, staying far enough away that he didn't pay any attention to you. It wasn't a secret anyway. You zipped through the trees, swinging around branches and perching on a few to get a good look at the surroundings. That was part of your job as the crew scout, after all. A small ruckus caught your attention. You flitted closer to see what was going on. Landing on a nearby branch, you could see a large man with a pillar-like weapon fighting a smaller man with a helmet and blades. The relatively smaller guy was flipping around and was quite agile for his muscular build. The fight was interrupted by some ginger with an ugly hat. Shame. That little blondie caught your attention. He had a very appealing scent, not near as good as Zoro's, but it would make for a decent substitute. He must have sensed your presence because he looked up towards you. You were far away, but made no attempt to hide your bloodlust, so anyone with observation haki would pick it up fairly easily. You wondered if he was handsome under that mask. Either way, he was tasty. You blew him a kiss and promptly flew off towards your favorite snack. 

When you located him, he was standing in front of some gratuitously hideous man with a fishbowl on his head. While you weren't sure what was going on, it appeared as if the swordsman interrupted something. The fishbowl guy pointed a gun at Zoro. A smug grin sat on your face. This would be good. Almost instantly, you could feel the bloodlust roll off Zoro. It was enough to make you swoon. He was just as bloodthirsty as you. You were simply more literal about it. You had never actually seen him fight for real. You watched with great interest as he made a move to cut the man in half, disappointed when a random pink-haired bystander tackled him. What the fuck did that bitch think she was doing? 

Zoro was on the ground with a red puddle around him and the brat lay across him. You knew full well that he wasn't hit. You saw him dodge, and you didn't smell his blood. A weird feeling came over you, an impulse to throw that pink-haired woman off Zoro. A low growl left your throat. You didn't like seeing someone else that close to him, and his blood, even if it wasn't real. That was yours. You'd claimed it as such. 

You hopped from the branches, flapping your wings once to slow your descent, otherwise hitting the ground with some force, glaring at the pink-haired one. She gave you a weird look and walked off. You swiped a finger across Zoro's forehead and licked it. As you thought, it wasn't his blood. He swatted at your hand as you went for another taste, just to make sure. 

"What's going on here?"

"Dunno. We gotta get that guy to a doctor though." There was a man who had been shot.

"I think I saw one around." 

Zoro picked up the man and you led him in the direction of the hospital you had seen from the air. It was a short walk. When Zoro brought the man in, the doctor seemed hesitant. The doctor said something about collars. Come to think of it, you did see collars on some people. You thought it was some kind of fashion. Apparently it was the mark of a slave. This was not a concept you were familiar with. Zoro had to explain it to you as you left. 

"That seems wrong." Your eyebrows furrowed. 

"It is." 

"Why is it allowed then?" 

"Because some people think they're above others."

"I'm superior to all life forms and you don't see me doing slavery." Sirens were the top of the food chain, or at least right up there with Sea Kings. 

"It's not like that." 

You didn't know what he meant though it seemed like it required a more in depth understanding of the human hierarchy to understand. You didn't want to bother him with more questions.  Zoro wanted to head back to the ship. He was going the wrong way. You nudged him in a different direction as he walked, gently trying to herd him in the correct direction. He shoved you away from him.

"Would you get off me?! What are you doing?" 

"You're going the wrong way."

"I am not."

He was. "Okaaaay. Lead the way then, big boy." 

Your stomach growled as you stared at the back of his muscular neck. Were his traps juicier today? Saliva pooled in your mouth. You were so enticed by Zoro that you failed to notice the group of bounty hunters surrounding the two of you. Zoro wasn't phased in the least and asked for directions to Grove 1. That must have been why he was going the wrong way. He thought the ship was at Grove 1, not 41. The men all seemed fairly weak. At one point, they seemed like they may attack, which was fine with you. You were hungry. However, with one look from Zoro they all backed down. Funny, the same look had you wanting to pounce on him. 

While one of them gave him directions, you picked one out that smelled the most appetizing out of the bunch. You beckoned him towards you. Your power wasn't needed. He willingly came to you. He was a little on the tall side and you couldn't reach his neck. 

"Kneel." There was a dazed look in his eyes as he obeyed. You grabbed his hair and tilted his head to the side, opening your mouth to reveal lengthening, sharpening teeth. As you went to sink your teeth into him, you were pulled away. 

"Don't." Zoro said sternly. 

You whined. "I'm hungry."

He sighed. "I'll feed you. Don't waste your time on this junk food." 

You released the man and were followed by the gazes of several frightened others as you followed Zoro away, looking very much like a dog who was promised a bone. 

Zoro stopped after a while at the roots of one of the enormous mangroves. There weren't any people around and between the roots was somewhat secluded. The two of you tucked into the crevice of the roots for some privacy. Zoro didn't want to be seen, especially by any of the crew. He leaned against one of the roots to bring his height down enough for you to reach his neck, meaning you had to sort of straddle his leg to avoid being right on top of him. Zoro grunted as your canines made a small slit above his collar bone. You decided not to use his neck so he could cover the mark you left with his shirt if he wanted, and you were afraid if you used the vessels in his neck, you might take too much again. You were actually surprised he was up to be fed on so soon. His body must recover faster than normal. 

"Hey. I was thinkin..."

You paused your drink to quip, "Easy. You might hurt yourself."

"Shaddup. Never mind then."

"No. No. Tell me," you murmured into his skin as you drank.

"What if... maybe we could do our own thing tonight." He said it as more of a question. 

You looked at him from your position, prompting him to explain himself.

"You know..." Zoro begrudgingly elaborated, "Like me n' you could go to a bar or somethin."

You grinned as much as you could without spilling a drop. 

He took your silence as an invitation to say more. "N' maybe we could split um... a room? M'kinda broke from owing Nami so much."

The slit on Zoro's collarbone was healed with one lick of your tongue. You stayed leaning against him. "Oh I see. You offer a meal and I have to repay you? With my body?"

"That's not it at all!" Zoro looked away. "Ugh sorry I asked."

"You misunderstand. I insist. I'll repay you." You leaned up to purr in his ear. "With my body." 

Zoro's head snapped back to look at you. He blinked and his entire face and neck flushed. "If- if that's what you want."

You pressed a kiss to his throat. "Listen... I find you incredibly attractive, not just because of your blood, and I like this thing we have going on. I'd like very much for it to continue." You drew a nail over his chest and trailed it upwards to his chin. "When I first saw you, all I wanted to do was devour you, but I couldn't. Something about you has captured my attention. And I don't really care to find out what that is, but I would like to enjoy it... if that's alright with you."

He nodded slowly, bending down to capture your lips with his. 

Tag list: @bbnbhm @zoast32 @chershire23

[ruthlesslistener]

do you have any headcanons for anything you've been holding onto, but haven't had a good chance to post about? I love your fics and I wanna peer into your mind palace

Shhdhchs EXCELLENT bc ive had a lot of thoughts but this quarter + anxiety in general has been killin me

-Okay so I'm still hyperfixated on Destiny 2 bc of a DnDestiny game I'm in, but since Hollow Knight is a special interest and I read a couple of frankly stunning crossover fics (one with the Inheritance Cycle, one with Transformers, both are outstanding and I will recc them wholeheartedly if you ask- the TF one especially blew my tits clean off which is saying something bc I have zero TF knowledge, also its 500k words but I'm rambling), my brain has been essentially locked into the concept of a crossover AU where a couple of my D2 OCs get slingshot into the HK world via a fucked-up warpgate through wish-dragon magic, and it's now got me kind of obsessed with the idea of the world of Hollow Knight taking place on an alien planet that had some convergent evolution re: general insect body plans, but went off the fuckin' rails with everything else. So here's some worldbuilding thoughts on that:

-Their planet would be far from Earth and the origin place of the Ahamkara and precursor race to the Worm Gods, who are distant relatives to each other that took to the stars to opportunistically feed off of rifts in reality. They are in turn sister taxa to the Wyrms and Higher Beings from Hollow Knight, who also feed off of the wants, desires, and gulf between what-is-desired-and-what-is-true, but unlike the worms and wish-dragons, the Higher Beings are essentially 'settled' species. They're the farming civilization to the hunter-gatherers of their Destiny-based kindred, and yes, both branches of the family tree fucking despise each other and look down scornfully on the other's lifestyle. The Higher Beings view the Worms and Ahamkara as little more than scavengers, while the Worms and Ahamkara see the Higher Beings as glorified slavedrivers with sticks up their asses- though it should be noted that since the Ahamkara's whole deal so far has been malignant trickery as a hunting style, this doesn't neccessarily carry the same negative connotations that it would in our society. I also don't know enough about the proto-Worms to say how their race would react, but the Worm Gods as they are now certainly are something that Wyrms would look down on

-(Yes that means I have thought extensively about the Pale King's ghost bristling aggressively at a baby ahamkara barely a few hours old. In my defense, it's funny, and also I almost never remember to write him as the cold, prickly, arrogant ass that he is bc his kids make him Big Sad)

-The planet would likely be smaller than Earth with lighter gravity, though how much smaller I can't say because I'm not a fuckin' physicist. I just want an excuse for making fuckoff-huge animals a thing even beyond the inherent space magic thing going on

-Oh, and most life is underground because the atmosphere is thinner than Earth and so the upper surface gets bombarded with deadly amounts of radiation, which causes the mind-wiping effects of the Wastes (where the angle towards their sun is the greatest and thus the strongest). Ngl I did briefly think about potential magnetic field fluxes also being the cause of that effect but like, I cannot overstate how little I know of things outside biology

-HK being set on an alien planet lets me do wack shit with the species there too bc I'm no longer bound by comparing them to Earthbound species. For example, I can make Quirrel an isopod with cricket legs. Who's going to stop me, God? He doesn't exist here

-That also means I can stop being bothered by Herrah's dubious leg placement bc it would kill me forever otherwise

-Also, them being on an alien planet gives me even more of an excuse to never put traditional vertebrate species in there, which is great. I've said it before, but putting Earth vertebrates in the HK setting totally ruins all the fun for me because I love the concept of all the species diversity being made up of invertebrates, and that the 'advanced' bugs we see have filled the niche that vertebrates would have otherwise taken over. Like the carboniferous period but on steroids

General HK thoughts too:

-been toying with the idea of wyrms having a set of evertable inner jaws like polychaete worms, which would be used for keeping dirt out of the mouth and biting off chunks to eat, while the outer jaws (the ones we see) are used for killing, digging, and sparring with other wyrms. The idea is that the outer ring of mandibles bites big circular chunks out of the substrate, which then breaks off into tiny pieces they filter out in between gaps in their mandibles and pack down into tunnel walls as they move forward

-I've also been toying with the idea of them secreting some kind of mucus as they dig that's almost a calcifying substance, but now that I think about it, I can probs just put those glands in their frontal mouth so if they need to reinforce a tunnel (like, say, one burrowed in sand instead of rock), they can mix their saliva in with the substrate to chemically solidify the tunnel walls

-Which btw is a major thing for ecosystems bc the tunnels are used for lots of different things by lots of different species. Wyrms are terraformers baybee!! Kinda the same way wildfires are, but still

-I've also been thinking about maybe making it so that the row of plates I like to draw on their backs act as a secondary pair of belly scutes, which means that wyrms can slither just as easily upside down as they can on their undersides, which helps underground. It's not as efficient as the super-smooth scales on a blind snake, but that's the tradeoff they get for needing to be so heavily armoured

-I'm also leaning towards making marine/freshwater variants that are just straight-up bobbit worms on even more steroids, but since I already have fuckoff huge marine alien bobbit worms in a scifi setting of mine, I'd need to figure out a way to make them unique

-I learned that there's internalized folds of exoskeleton for muscle attatchment in my invertebrate biology course and got really excited about that being a potential basis for the formation of skeletal elements in the world of Hollow Knight- like, maybe bug bones started off as those lil folds (i forgot their technical name which is embaressing bc i literally just took the final this night) becoming stronger and deeper-set into the body to better support the weight of larger and larger bugs, and then it spiraled into a skeleton analogue from there. Being derived from the exoskeleton probably means that it would be less strong than our bones, but it would likely also be lighter

Misc:

-God I really need to write Hornet in Silksong so bad. Fuck. I need need need to write this mildly autistic unsocialized princess running amok in a civilization that isn't ready for her. Also my interpretation of Lace is basically an oc at this point but I don't want to do anything with her just yet bc that shits a lot of work, I just need to write everything down for her so far (and tbh Lurien probs also counts at this point but thats more filling a niche that TC left unfufilled)

-I've also got gijinka thoughts in that I'm leaning towards making Lurien a trans guy who didn't have any gender-affirming surgeries bc a.) I love love love making a variety of trans characters and b.) Hallownest isn't a society where the concept of being transgender is an issue, so there's no need to do it to pass, only to prioritize your own comfort. And since Lurien never expected to be seen in anything but his formalware, he never saw the point of bothering

-(The aformentioned point also applies to normal bug Lurien but this is more of a personal thing here)

-Need to focus more on how the latent magic of the god of a realm changes your eye colour, with the more intense the shade = the more involved you are with their magic. Using Lurien as an example again: his eyes were brown naturally, but after he became Watcher, they slowly shifted to shades of paler and paler blue. I also like the idea of Quirrel's eyes getting more blue the more memories of Hallownest he unlocks, until they're the same shade as the Blue Lake in his final scene

-This can also happen in reverse; for example, my Lace gijinka starts off with gold eyes to signify the church of Pharloom's hold over her, but then slowly revert back to brown as Hornet gives her more and more hope that the institution can be toppled, until they're eventually their natural deep brown with just the faintest flecks of silver in them (signifying Hornet's importance in her life)

-It just occurred to me the other day when I was at work that Striga and Morgana from Castlevania S3 are almost exactly how I imagined my Vespa and Herrah gijinkas to be and now I can't stop thinking about it. The main difference is that my Herrah is a fat spider-orc with tats and Vespa is a fae queen with bee features shimmering through her human veil, but still. Its uncanny

[wmarximoff]

tear you apart | w. maximoff

summary: sometimes when your morbid interests turn out to be too much to handle, you need Wanda to calm your spirits down.

warnings (18+): serial killer!reader, dark!Wanda, graphic depiction of dead body, somewhat graphic depiction of dismemberment, graphic depiction of blood, praise kink, strap-on sex, somnophilia, degradation, kinda dubcon, slight corruption/innocence kink, manipulation, toxic relationship, bottom!Wanda, top!reader.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 3k

A/N: btw this is my first time dealing with somnophilia so take it easy on me here ok!

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༺ᱬ༻

Faced with the thick, damp, obscure darkness, you saw red. Warm crimson color vivid, flowing concentrated, or coagulated in extensive puddles located at specific points on the rough concrete floor of the low-ceilinged brick-walled basement permeated by a bochohornous climate, a stuffy, compact oxygen, difficult to breathe with the lungs.

You sighed, stagnant in a moment of deep latent esteem, like the artist who jokes about the final product of their masterpiece. Your will grew and sprouted and expanded. There was dark blood under your nails.

The metallic odor of hemoglobin and plasma rose higher and higher from the bowels of the earth like an invisible hand that entered your moist, half-open mouth, descending down your throat, consolidating itself into a single amalgamation of the aroma of lime and the compact smell of damp wood who took possession of the room lacking furniture, except for a small tin locker that could be pointed in one remote corner, or an even smaller scratched wooden table, smeared with heterogeneous streaks of brownish old blood, in another one.

Occasionally, gravity would trickle, from the ceiling straight down to near your left shoulder, particles of water from some probable plumbing that passed right over your head, over that scrawny, funneled yellow lamp that hung solitaryly from a dim and waning coloring that did not do much to brighten up the room that only seemed destined to be dark and excruciating.

Between the screwed-on fingers of both your hands pressed into fists (your knuckles covered in a grated layer of hot blood), your elbows dropped down from your hips like pendulums, stretching your forearms like the magnetism of a lodestone to the center of the earth as your palms pressed against the smooth wooden handle of a sharp-edged axe held just in front of your pelvic region, the metal plate of the tool's face soaked with red, fresh blood from a string of blows delivered voraciously against the hardness of the parietal bone of the human cranium.

Raising and lowering. Raising and lowering. Jets of blood sprayed up and to the sides, painting the walls red as hellfire. Moving your hips, your shoulders, your elbows; your knees bent, almost like a tennis match. Knead the skull. Guaranteed point.

You grunted like a predator tearing apart the carcass of your last prey when something bestial screeched primally in your degenerate core, returning to your untamed roots as you gave up your civilized goodwill to become something more, something beyond that; something beyond the experience of a human feel.

And the red, so clear and vivid and even sinisterly dangerous, was indeed alluring to your vision as it flowed in gulfs from a profuse cut on the back protrusion of the cracked skull, strangely deformed and crumpled, of a young girl with long dark hair lying inert on the dirty floor, locks soaked in that murky liquid that hardened the softness of those curls – her taut forearms drawn back behind her torso, her wrists clung irrefutably unpleasantly before her coccyx bone by a pair of silver handcuffs, face down like she fell there and dragged herself like a fish out of water away from you, like she couldn't get up before her head snapped in half.

The bloodied driver's license laid out on that little table in the corner said the name Jemma Anne Simmons. She was dressed only in a pair of matching underwear (the light lacy fabric splattered with dark blood and brain matter like red raindrops). The pupils of the dilated, brownish iris eyes seemed to want to pop out of their sockets; the forehead and face contorted in a tangle of expressions manifested by that faded stare (you could call it fear, but then also agony, pain, regret) that in the end no longer mean anything more.

A drop of sweat poured from your right temple and dripped to the floor between your feet, where the blood was already pooling. You held the oxygen inside your lungs before raising the blade behind your head once more, bringing it down fiercely against the back of the dead girl's neck. The sound was hollow and watery as the flesh split open, like a blade being driven into a pumpkin. Perhaps that was how Raskolnikov had felt when he hit the old woman in Crime and Punishment.

Taking them apart has always been the most exciting part. Disarticulating the bones from the joints, cutting the sinews, the skin, the flesh, the muscles, that would surely be a therapeutic monthly event for you (it was like quenching the dehydration of the thirsty, or the starvation of the hungry).

Ravenous doses of adrenaline laced your brain chemistry into a rush of emotions, and the compulsive dopamine instilled an ecstatic euphoria inside your chest. After all, cutting them off the limbs meant they were ready to be thrown away. So the job was done. It was the culmination of your actions in an outcome seen right before your eyes. And you got away with it – and that's where the fun lurked, an odd specter of pleasure that loosened your joints and relaxed your muscles.

Less than an hour was needed to do it with your resentful hands equipped with your egregious dexterity regarding the knowledge of the anatomical arrangement of the human body, clean and precise cuts made at the height of the joints – amputated limbs were bagged by rolled up black garbage bags by yards of sticky duct tape as Christmas presents for a homicidal maniac. Something morbidly comic about you has always reveled in the way your anatomy teacher flattered you so dearly in the classroom.

You looked like a Victorian poltergeist wandering the halls of your house after leaving the basement (leaving behind, in that unbreathable cubicle of dim, compressed walls, the pieces of the girl rotting in the dark), whose door opened into a scrawny little space below the red oak staircase, which grew in a diagonal line to the upper floor. It was a warm, sultry summer night.

You felt like a hunter in the woods as you headed towards the last door in the hallway, where the bedroom you shared with Wanda Maximoff, your girlfriend, was located about a year since she had broken into your house. The door opened with a long creak.

Facing the bed were ephemeral shoulders, the color of cold milk, to which the copious summit of a supple, soft back tucked into an old shirt of yours was cramped. Smooth back to the touch of fingertips, accented by long strands of brown hair. Between those expensive sheets there was the sharp look of a still young memory that echoed through your temples, that poured out its appreciation before the sleeping figure of your girlfriend, the nymph tenderness exhaled through her pores, Wanda's ether.

You snorted. Her stomach lying in the middle of the bed strangely reminded you of the body lying on the concrete where you had delivered the axe blows two floors below where Wanda snored so placidly. Something sparked in you.

You were studying her intently in a brief moment of darkness (your girlfriend, sleeping and fragile, had a childish lock of brown hair falling over her forehead and her dark brows furrowed, but her eyes were simple and rested, caught in a deep glint of sleep), drinking from her radiant red beauty as a drug addict does from their favorite drug – the female silhouette splashed by the ghostly bluish light of a streetlight outside and, in a way, even a synoptic veil of purity that accompanied your muse in the world of a utopian dream, like a poor helpless girl.

Covered by the fog of sleep as she was in that lapse of calm in the den of a messy bed, it was as if Wanda had never had her mental health even threatened by the ominous entities that surrounded her all her life since she was then a weeping young girl, like hungry vultures waiting for the death of a little wounded lamb in the pasture. She looked innocent. So, so innocuous. And, therefore, so corruptible.

Icy artificial lighting invaded the amorphous walls of the interior of the room, projected all by three specific points transverse to the serene countenance pierced by the sleeping extension of the pale face that Wanda possessed – from her eyebrows trimmed in their dark strands to the bridge of her nose and the apollonian cheekbones of her bucolic bone structure, clinging, in the moonlight, to the beaded bone of her powerful jaw. A mechanical innocence was imparted to her closed eyelashes.

Your heart fluttered, your pupils dilated with dopamine, when did you step onto the floorboards of the dark room and creeped your way to the bed that was just a puddle of rumpled sheets, where Wanda lay snuggled in the blandishments of the night. For brief seconds that together wouldn't even make up the whole of a minute, you watched her. You just watched her, plotting with yourself what you were going to do with her, how you were going to break her. She was naked down her navel, without any panties to be seen.

“You're so beautiful...” the tip of your right index and middle fingers swept the strand of unruly hair behind the shell of Wanda's ear, “I could just tear you apart.”

And then you fumbled for the strap-on of a long, thick scarlet silicone in an open drawer on a low shelf next to the bed, which you then proceeded to tie around your waistline after you got rid of your bloodstained jeans, your fingers quivering in euphoric anticipation as you did. Your desire to consume her swelled inside your stomach; you wanted to eat her alive, rip her skin, break her bones. You wanted to fuck her raw.

You then positioned yourself on top of Wanda on the bed, the mattress sinking from the unbalanced weight in just a single spot. With your lips parted, your pulps pink and split, you toke long bites to the contour of her milk-white neck, in the region of its junction with the left shoulder, by the hairline located in the gap between her ear and the neck, validating the traces of hickeys seated there, like clumsy strokes of dark paint on a blank canvas; since the bodies were close to the center of the vast bed, legs intertwined and warm hair tangled up in the pillow.

“Fuck, you're so hot, pretty girl,” was a quip breathed in hot breath against Wanda's lobe, your right hand guiding the length of the toy to part her moist pink folds, “So soft… so receptive... so submissive… you're perfect. My perfect girl.”

Wanda purred like a sleepy cat at the intimate sensation, her heavy lids still hooding her emerald eyes, enjoying the feel of your lips spattering bites over her ruffled epidermis. In an unguarded way, perhaps even somewhat needy in her core, she snuggled against your warm body above hers, tucking her tailbone between your hips.

A firm grip of your bloodied hand was strained against Wanda's hip with no explicit intentions of letting go. The silence, sharp and excruciating, came and went in a rather shy and awkward way. Tiny shriveled seconds that, together, took up minutes. One-hundred-fifty-seconds quiet.

Wanda's heart rumbled demeaningly in a sharp grip, for even if she didn't look you straight in the eye, she understood the fact that the woman who held her in her arms was nothing but lust and violence incarnate – even without being awake, Wanda's subconscious was well aware that your irises had taken on profuse and vicious hues, like sea water or a stormy sky. A rueful sigh of your exhaled warm and close to her ear.

And then you crept through her rosy slit, which inferred, from the frail Wanda held hostage to your diligent touch, a loud, strident growl, which dangled the base of her skull against the bone of your shoulder.

“Y-Y/n...?” Wanda's tiny voice resounded in a moan throughout the room that had once been engulfed in intrinsic silence, albeit a little sluggish and husky from her sleepy features, “What... what are you... what are you...?”

She moaned in a high-pitched squeal as you slid the entire length of the toy into her tight walls in one thrust with your taut hips.

“F-fuck-! Oh! Y/n, I- I don't-”

“Shut up and take it, okay?” you gifted her with a tiny deferred kiss on her scalp (artificial strawberry shampoo scent sweetening the sharp metal smell inside your nostrils), “I need to have you right now. I need you, Wanda.”

“I- I—” the shaven brows were, thus, wrinkled by the face as rosy as a peach; she sounded a little giddy in her rambling speech, pressing her fingers against the sheet, “I'm not sure if—”

“Come on, Wanda,” you whispered against her dark hair, “You're my good girl, aren't you?”

Wanda held her breath, “I’ll always be your good girl.”

And then, a smile blossomed on your part, the enamel of your teeth coming into contact with the sensitive skin of her pale neck, where you couldn't help but capture a rosy sliver between your lips and stick a mighty bite there – to remember her that while she was smoldering with pleasure, you were a powerful being who didn't even make an effort to push her buttons and drive her crazy. The insignificance of the human race at the hands of such a monstrous creature as you has never before been so exciting and aphrodisiac.

Your impassive left hand, passing under Wanda's ribs close to the mattress, touched her to the circumvallation of her rosy breast inside the material of the shirt, while your right index and middle fingers fingered her snatched clitoris in impetuous outlines. You moaned like an animal at the taste of blood sliding down the face of your tongue.

“I-it hurts,” Wanda whimpered airily before smiling in the dark, “Do it again. Fuck, do it again!”

The muscles in your abdomen stagnated as your bodily sensitivity acclimated when your hips snatched up Wanda's insides (exploring with the strap, opening and understanding; a new sensation brewed by each touch to ravage her insides), the hollow of your crotch going back and forth hard against Wanda's dripping center. A puddle formed on the sheets beneath her, the liquid running across the inside of her thighs. Wanda found herself reduced to a weeping, writhing, lost, helpless mess, but she couldn't even feel an ounce of shame inside.

“Fuck—” The pale hands, hungry for something to hold on to, screwed the curls of your head behind hers, seeking them just behind them; her head thrown back over your shoulder, a subtle vein popping under the epidermis of her neck, the scar with your initial pulsing on her right collarbone, “Fuck, Y/n, fuck-! S’s-so big-!"

“You're mine,” you kissed a sliver of skin down her clenched jaw, gripping her rosy breast tightly with the shrewd touch, “You're my whore to do with what I want with, Wanda. I’m gonna fucking tear you apart.”

The length inside her was like fire – just as strong and intoxicating. And Wanda felt full of gasoline. Before she could even ask for more, beg your like a believer before her god, you fucked her hard and steady all the way to her cervix, tying yourself to that deep and vulnerable spot inside her, and made to press yourself in her with irascible pumps. Wanda's plea, then, was cut short with a strangled roar, and from her emanated an inhuman shriek, trying and failing to open her legs to more of your touch.

A gulf of heat and wetness slid out of her pussy in response, and the bundle of nerves throbbing between her legs pulsed like a frantic heart against the ribs in her ribcage. And, for a couple of intangible moments, time became an abstract concept for Wanda.

You fucked her fast and primal, thrusting fast and hard into her insides soaked in a sticky liquid as it was - there was a firm intention behind every hard movement, every press of your fingers and every ghostly touch of your folded palm over her smoldering clit, which clamored for more attention with every touch given to it. The head of the bed slammed against the concrete wall.

You'd push Wanda forward and then mark her tight back muscles with bites and licks, pulling the sliding strap off and on from inside her vulva, toward the edge of a state of arousal that bordered on insanity; which, in such a way, ended up metamorphosing into a dance in synchronous partnership, like the symbiotic conception of a work of art by two artists of different styles. You leading and Wanda yielding to the rhythm you sentenced.

And, in such a way, Wanda diffused herself with every progression, even the smallest, so that she could beg, like an animal, for you to take her to a place she's never been before, for you to take her like no soul before had done it before her, so that you would fill her with what only a being such as you were in her eyes, (an inhuman deity) could supply her.

“Fuck, Wanda, I love the way your greedy cunt feel around my cock,” you muttered, dragging your lips down her shoulder, “You're so good to me, did you know that? So, so good...”

“I-I’m good…?”

She snorted, her chest heavy, lids pressed together over dark eyes, clouded with pleasure. Both brows furrowed in a lapse of voluptuousness, forehead buffed with a bead of crystalline sweat. She wanted to be good, and she liked to be recognized as such. She'd love to hear how good she was for you. She liked being flattered. You smiled in a husky voice in her ear.

“So, so good, slut. Good as fuck. You’re my favorite bitch.”

And in such a way you did it, as if only the praise given to her beloved's oratory was all it took to untie the knot of her primordial apex, woven just a hand below her secluded navel. Her body stiffened suddenly, her vision filled with a white thunder that stunned her senses into an electrical charge throughout her thighs.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, Y/n, fuck! Fuck!”

Irises darkened in a veil of smoldering rejoicing dipped to the waterlines of her eyes, and an ethereal mist, showered with sublime delight, crowded within her, pouring from her pulsing center the sweetest honey down the length of your strap wedged between her twitching crotch as it was—a hot, viscous membrane that oozed across the sheets, the height of her release.

Wanda's head dropped to the pillow, gasping, drunk on the intoxicated heat of the climax that rumbled through her muscles and bones. And she screamed against the pillowcase when you sank inside her swollen and abused pussy without circumlocution one more time.

“I still haven't come, you spoiled fucking brat,” you muttered over her, “Now spread your legs the way you know how. This will only end when I want it to end.”

Wanda smiled lethargically against the pillow.

“Alright, Y/n. I love you.”

“Yeah,” you kissed her temple, “I know.”

[drawnaghht]

Neo Edo magnetic "holsters"

so today/yesterday I started thinking....

what a cool detail the magnetic "holsters" - knobs and stripes are. A very unique design idea for the setting they went with (basically energy-punk or a kind of close-futuristic sci-fantasy)

for example, Gen has large magnet strips on his back, but also on the front of his vest?

The back strips are bigger, while the front strips I'm not entirely sure about, but they are slightly smaller and thinner, so it could be that they are something else, like pockets.

Chizu's appears to have dual magnetic strips on both her pants, her jacket lapels at the bottom, as well as a bigger/stronger magnet triangle on her back, assuming for her polearm, then later for her bow. The strips on her pants could also be just re-enforcing

The other Neko Ninja also appear to have magnets on their armor's backs and hip-pieces. (more longer images under cut)

Kitsune does not appear to have any magnets on her body? but she has a belt which she has a small pouch on and her belt goes around enough times that it could be easy to store her first set of tessen on her back.

Usagi's are small magnets on his obi, both the yoyo and sword have space to fit, one on either side. The sword is always on the left side, so that Usagi can draw it fast enough with his right hand without hurting himself by accident (at least, according to how sword-carrying became tradition during the Edo-era, the show is fairly consistent about this way the swords are carried)

From the first episode with Usagi, we see that the magnets appear to be strong enough that they lock onto the metal of the weapon long enough that the user can remove their fingers from holding the weapon.

and with the yoyo:

Overall, it's a super-interesting feature in the city! Other characters also have these magnets on their outfits/armor - you can pause any shot and see that characters have something magnetic/metallic on their body, with (I think) the exception of Karasu-Tengu and auntie, and the regular citizens of Neo Edo. So here for example the Keisatsu and Lord Kogane.

Most notably, one of the keisatsu guarding Usagi in ep 102, a set of keys dangles from it and we later find out it's this keisatsu's apartment keys haha.

Usagi waits and holds to test the magnet on his left side when he is holstering his auntie's sword, and we see that the effect is quite strong. But then in ep 2, he just slaps the yoyo onto his other side un-ceremoniously, even though this one is directly given to him by a magic stone haha xD You'll notice how Usagi's magnets have some sort of inset inlay, and a glowing symbol inside it which appears to be his clan emblem. Perhaps this means that his obi, or the magnet inlays were once commissioned for one of his ancestors? Since auntie does not appear to wear one of these, maybe it was a direct heirloom to Usagi from one of his parents? Or maybe it was something specially made for when Usagi was a bit older? Could even be that Auntie had it made for one of Usagi's birthdays (good source of a fanfic plot hehe). The magnets are also shown to always glow purple, like the Ki-Stone, and so is Usagi's yoyo itself, when activating any of its abilities, but in this case, the lines on the two sides of the yoyo glow just like the inset on Usagi's weapon-holster magnets.

For other fighter groups in the series, the Mogura crew don't seem to use any visible(?) weapons, while the Bat Squadron have switchblades on the top of their wings/fingers(?), while on their backs they have parachute backpacks. The Neko Ninja appear to have no visible magnets, but possibly their entire armor has hidden magnets within? just a theory for now.

Now, while Usagi's obi and its magnets seem to be custom, could the rest of Usagi's outfit be too? possibly. It seems to be a very specifc combination of both samurai, ninja and farmer outfits, as well as practical application of what samurai used to travel lighter while staying protected. First of all, his vest is a kind of deep blue which according to some historic records, is hemophilic? meaning, it can hold in blood if the wearer is struck suddenly, and according to older beliefs, it even had some healing properties. The vest is tied together by the obi, and the shoulder-gaps/edges appear to have either wooden or leather guards attached to the vest, enforced by these peculiar rectangular (i've seen this kind of work before in woodwork workshops but cannot remember the exact name) Under this vest, he appears to have a light leather or wood breastplate for protectin and under this in turn, he has a dark blue/black undershirt. His pants appear to be in two parts. The first part being the dark blue pants he wears, and the second a patterned "pants cover" which attaches to his chest guard or armor under the vest via light blue clasps. [edit: 10.10.2023:] Still looking around for the basis of this, but this appears similar to some pants I've seen irl. This cover and the pants both seem to be either tucked into or covered by the leg guards Usagi wears. [end edit] Whatever 3rd undergarment he has connects with the blue sleeves he has, which are tied with strings similar to his auntie's sleeves, but these strings are only drawn and animated in the 2D sequences (for the sake of simpler animation, it seems, since Usagi appears in so many scenes and has many moving parts) Then he has dark blue arm guards and kneeguards, while the boot part of his shoes seem to be some harder leather or other material. Usagi, because of wanting to follow in the steps of his samurai ancestor, does not have any other magnetic holsters on his body.

Chizu and Gen also seem to have customized magnets, but of a different appearance. First of all obviously, their shape is rectangular longer or shorter strips, without inlays or emblems, and Chizu has her back-triangle magnet.

I've sometimes also wondered if Gen's emblem is also a magnet, tho this is less likely... The rest of his outfit is fashioned to protect his body enough to also be mobile. So his back magnet-strips are way larger and fit nicely there, enough for his kanabo to attach comfortably to it without falling off. He has a lighter and thinner looking metal plate over his chest, which is obviously armor with a dipping neckline which is colored a golden/bronze? while the bottom part is a deep indigo, covered with studs. Traditionally what these kinds of studs do, is that if someone hits you in the stomach area (one of the most vulnerable areas in an armed fight), the metal studs set in the plate should deflect metal weapon blows to the stomach. so that's interesting to see, Gen's outfit is very practical and he is obviously a bounty hunter who has been doing the job for a while, evidenced also by Gen's healed-over facial scars. A purple vest with a higher collar covers this armor partly. The vest is patterned with these outlined hexagons which have a smaller hexagon inside them. The sleeves of this vest are puffed up(?) and either tied to his arms or it's a rubber band inside the fabric of the light magenta strip of his sleeve. I cannot see that he has any magnets on his belt, which is otherwise tied around the latter-bottom part of his armor and pants. The armor near the belt and on the stomach bends upwards in a semi-trapeze shape toward the dipping neckline of the upper part of his armor. His shoulder pads, kneepads and armguards appear to be enforced leather. I can't remember the exact term for this, but you see that the shoulder parts have stronger leather strings going through the inner parts, possibly to strengthen the rest of the pads. His warclubs sit comfortably on his back on the larger magnet strips.

Chizu's outfit is obviously made for blending in as a civilian, while retaining mobility and flexibility as a ninja, so it's not metal/hard armor like the other Neko Ninja - but instead seems to be wooden/light armor made to look like the shapes on the shirts of other (the dipping rectangle), and undergarment (black) + red and black leather vest and pants. The strips blend in nicely with this sort of outfit, while also allowing Chizu to have many weapons besides the hidden ones she has, the ninja stars and the small crossbow in her gauntlets/hand guards. Chizu's back-magnet triangle meanwhile fits her outfit style exactly, with a black inlay and golden-color outer rim, sort of like Usagi's magnet, but with no inset. Perhaps it's not a magnet at all then? But it sorta makse sense to be a magnet still. In ep 2, she brings her collapsible naginata along and sets it on her back. So this is a running design element amont the characters of Neo Edo that they carry their weapons on these magnetic shapes - strips, circlets, triangles, etc

Kitsune has a very straight-forward outfit. She presents herself as an ordinary street performer while also stealing during her performances, skillfully enough that she doesn't need a helping hand in this. Her outfit consists of mostly greens, teals and on the leaf-prints of her kimono vest, we see that she has maple-leaf patterns in beige, orance and yellow tones, in homage to her namesake and inspiration, the Kitsune in the Usagi Yojimbo comics. Her belt goes around her waist 2 times, while the 3rd time sits more loosely around her left hip, carrying her leather pouch, possibly from weight, but also comfort. compared to the previous two, Kitsune's outfit seems less about hiding or being openly her profession and more about her feeling comfortable, being herself. This is also why she has different bracelets and bangles on her writsts. As with Usagi and Chizu, her clothings are closed in the traditional kimono 'y' shape, left over right side, but while Usagi has only his vest over his armor and undershirt, and Chizu's is just her undershirt, for Kitsune she has both a vest and dark green undershirt, meaning that she appears more casual and layered. Possibly, because of living on the streets, she is ready for any weather and these clothes might have more other practical applications. But also likely, she just feels comfortable in these warm clothes. It is spring after all at the start of the series (exactly the same day it aired, April 28th), so possibly the air is more brisk and Kitsune has kept this look for just a while. All this is more observation + fantheory, but otherwise, there seem to be no metal or magnetic parts on her body. She does not focus on fighting as much as the others and her modus operandi in fights seems to more self-defense, which is what her battle fans are meant for, a self-defense weapon. It's possible she could have hiding places on her open-toed boots for smaller weapons, but then again, I do not believe we've seen them used as such in the show.

Now I wonder how these magnet strips are produced and made at all... do they use the Ki-Stone to magnetize strips of metal somehow? There are many methods to make magnets irl, so I wonder which ones were used here to achieve this strong magnet effect together with the rest of the Ki-Stone's effects...

Anyway, this isn't a deep-dive about clothing, I just wanted to shortly write about the interesting element of magnet wepon-holders, because these seem a ki-stone specific magic/science, but I got a bit lengthy about the clothings anyway bc I like this show ^^

[theexclusivestory]

Stellar Evolution: An In-Depth Journey into the Lifecycle of Stars

Stellar evolution tells the fascinating story of how stars are born, change, and eventually die. It's a process that takes billions of years and has a big impact on the universe and even life itself. In this article, we'll explore the journey stars take throughout their lives, looking at the different stages they go through and what causes them. Let's dive into the details of stellar evolution and understand how these celestial objects live and evolve.

Formation of Stars: Birth from Cosmic Clouds

Stars begin their journey in huge clouds of gas and dust called nebulae. These clouds are like giant factories that have all the ingredients needed to make a star. When something like a shockwave or a disturbance happens, parts of the nebula start to get denser. This denser area is where a new star begins to form. It starts as what we call a protostar. As more and more material gets pulled in by gravity, the protostar grows bigger and denser. Eventually, it becomes so dense and hot that nuclear fusion starts happening in its core. This is when the star "turns on" and starts shining.

The Main Sequence Phase: A Star's Brightest Period

When a star begins nuclear fusion, it enters its main phase, which is its brightest time. In this phase, hydrogen atoms in the star's center combine to form helium, releasing a lot of energy. This energy pushes outward, balancing the star's gravity and, keeping it stable. How long this phase lasts depends on how big the star is. Bigger stars go through this phase faster than smaller ones.

Stellar Metamorphosis: Beyond the Main Sequence

Once a star runs out of its hydrogen fuel in the center, it starts changing and moves away from its main form. What happens next depends on how big the star is to begin with. Different-sized stars go through different changes, each with its own special things happening.

Red Giant Phase: The Stellar Expansion

When stars like our Sun start running out of hydrogen, they enter a phase called the red giant phase. At this point, the star gets bigger and expands outward, but its core gets smaller and hotter. This makes the outer layers of the star glow red. Inside the star, helium starts fusing together, creating even more energy. This red giant phase shows that the star is getting closer to the end of its life.

Planetary Nebulae and White Dwarfs

When a star becomes a red giant, it swells up and eventually sheds its outer layers into space. This creates a beautiful cloud called a planetary nebula. What's left behind is the core of the star, which becomes a white dwarf. A white dwarf is a small, dense object about the size of Earth. It's made mostly of a special kind of matter called electron-degenerate matter. Over a very long time, white dwarfs cool down and become less and less bright. Eventually, they become invisible and mark the end of the star's life for smaller stars.

Supernovae and Neutron Stars: The Fate of Massive Stars

When big stars run out of fuel, they collapse suddenly, causing a massive explosion called a supernova. This explosion is so bright that it can outshine entire galaxies. During this explosion, heavy elements made inside the star's core are scattered into space, which later helps in forming new stars.

After a supernova, the core of the big star can shrink even more, forming a neutron star. Neutron stars are very small, like cities, and are made mostly of tightly packed neutrons. They have strong magnetic fields and spin very fast, leading to interesting things like pulsars and magnetars.

Black Holes: The Mysterious End

When really big stars run out of fuel, something incredible happens. They collapse under their own gravity, squeezing down into a tiny, super-dense point. This creates something called a black hole. Black holes are mighty, with gravity so strong that not even light can escape from them. They're like cosmic vacuum cleaners, sucking in everything around them. Black holes are mysterious and fascinating, and they impact how galaxies work, shaping the universe in a really big way.

Conclusion

Stellar evolution is like a never-ending story of how stars are born and eventually fade away. It starts with the peaceful formation of baby stars in cloudy areas of space called stellar nurseries. Then, stars grow and shine brightly during their main life phase. But as they run out of fuel, some stars become red giants, swelling in size. Eventually, smaller stars become white dwarfs, while bigger ones explode into supernovae, scattering elements into space. This process helps shape the universe, showing us how everything in space is connected. By studying stars, we learn more about where we come from and our role in the vast cosmos.

FAQs

Who came up with stellar evolution? In the early 1900s, two astronomers named Ejnar Hertzsprung and Henry Norris Russell found a helpful way to compare different stars. They called it the Hertzsprung-Russell (H-R) Diagram. It's like a big chart where scientists can see how stars compare to each other based on their brightness and temperature. This diagram has been super useful in understanding more about stars and how they work.

What are the elements of stellar evolution? These are some of the building blocks found in space i.e. hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, sulfur, chlorine, sodium, magnesium, potassium, calcium, and iron.

What is the lifetime of a star? Very big stars burn through their fuel fast, so they don't live very long, maybe just a few hundred thousand years. But smaller stars use their fuel more slowly, so they can shine for billions of years. However, no matter how big or small a star is, eventually, it starts running out of hydrogen, which is what keeps it shining.

What is the stellar life cycle? Stars go through a cycle of being born, burning fuel, and spreading out material when they die. This cycle is ongoing and helps create elements that fill the universe. Depending on how much stuff a star has (its mass), it follows a different path in its life.

What are the 7 types of stars? Stars come in different types, and scientists classify them based on how hot they are. There are seven groups, starting with the hottest and ending with the coolest. They are named O, B, A, F, G, K, and M stars. O stars are the hottest and brightest, while M stars are the coolest and dimmest.

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[fluentmoviequoter]

I See You in My Nightmares, or Not At All

Summary: When you dream, you travel to a dark realm. The nightmares are the only place you feel loved, but the boy in the dark tells you to stop visiting. When you argue, he makes you stop.

Warnings: angst, references possible character death, torture, canon divergent descriptions of the Further, takes place after The Red Door (spoilers present!). 1.3k+ words.

If any of these topics bother you, please do not read! I included all of these warnings, even if they are only hinted at, to ensure you know what you're about to read. This fic gets a little dark/intense, so I completely understand if you want to skip this one.

A/N: This is probably the most angst I've ever written, but I was in the mood to hurt my own feelings. The song that this is inspired by is linked at the bottom (bc I couldn't figure out how to make it smaller lol)! I have a few ideas for a continuation of this one if anyone is interested! Please let me know what you think! :)

The darkness is silent and lonely, yet you crave it more than anything. You have wounds that are impossible to heal, but the siren song of the dark leads you to believe otherwise. With a pull like a strong current, the darkness drowns you in your fears, the cost of keeping him alive. If only in your nightmares.

The woman on YouTube called the place in your dreams the Further, an internet psychic called it the astral plane, and some believe it to simply be a bad dream. For you, it’s home.

Some people claim they dream of their soulmate before meeting, but the only time you feel love while sleeping is in your nightmares.

Tonight is no different. You jolt awake, choking on your own tears as your bedroom swallows your strangled scream. Pitch black surrounds you; once the source of your worst nightmares, the dark is now your only comfort.

You try to forget what he said, and the way the sound of the voice pulled you in like a magnet.

“Stop lying to everyone, your heart can’t take much more. It’ll drive you crazy before it kills you,” the boy says, extending a hand toward you.

Reaching out to take his hand, you can nearly feel the spark connecting him to you. Then you wake up, your tears trying to drown you as you panic, wondering what he meant. You haven’t lied to anyone… since your roommate last asked if you were still dreaming of the boy in the dark.

The first few times you managed to get close enough to see and hear him, you told yourself not to. Distancing yourself seemed to be the only way to stay safe, but he is your worst habit; you are unable and unwilling to quit him. If you don't see him in your nightmares, you won't see him at all.

“Are you alright?” Your roommate asks, cracking the door and allowing light into your sanctuary.

“I’m fine,” you answer, wiping your tears before the light reaches you.

“You’re dreaming about him again. Aren’t you?”

You want to say no, but his words haunt you. “Yeah.”

“When you talked about it before, you made it sound like you could stop. Why don’t you?”

No more lies. “It would hurt. He- he makes me feel seen. Loved. And I don’t know how to walk away from that.”

Your roommate nods before sitting at the end of your bed. “But he’s not real.”

“But as soon as I admit that he’ll be gone.”

“I get it. Sort of. It hurts me to see you like this, but I’m here whenever you need me. You know that.”

“I do. Thank you.”

After a tight hug, you are left alone in the dark again. Your pain is more intense than usual, a full-body ache in addition to your heartbreak. With your head on the pillow, you close your eyes, determined to say goodbye.

“You’re back.”

Opening your eyes, you smile when you see him standing over you. He wraps his hand around yours, pulling you to your feet. You’ve never touched him before, and the electricity coursing through your veins makes your mission much harder.

“I know why you’re here; you don’t have to say it.” He strokes his fingers over your cheek, smiling sadly. “You don’t belong here, anyway.”

“Neither do you.”

“You don’t know that things I’ve done,” he says, withdrawing his hands and taking a step back.

“If you didn’t want me here,” you question, “why did you keep reaching out?”

“You were reaching out,” he argues, brows pinched.

“I- I don’t even know how I get here, I couldn’t have. Not voluntarily at least.”

“This place pulls you in. Drags your soul with no regard for what you want. Some people can see it vividly, like us, others just get glimpses.”

“Now what?”

He turns and points. “See that light back there? There is a door under it. I closed it once, but the demon behind it is growing powerful again, that’s why the light is flickering. Pretty soon it will open again, and the fight will start all over.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“Forever.” He laughs humorlessly, his eyes shining as he turns back to you. “My grandfather died fighting it, my dad nearly did too.”

“And you?”

“I’m still fighting it. I don’t know if this will ever end.”

“I can help. If I can see this place, travel here, surely I can do something.”

He grabs your hands again as he shakes his head. “You could have anything you want; this is not the life for you.”

“What if I want to feel you beside me, not just see you sometimes while I’m asleep? Don’t I get a say in how my life goes?”

“You don’t even know my name, let alone what you want. Trust me.”

“Then tell me your name.”

He’s silent, his eyes on your joined hands.

You step closer, angling your head to look into his eyes. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel something too.”

“Please don’t do something you’ll regret,” he begs in a whisper.

“What’s your name?” you ask again.

You hear a yell just before his head turns, and you wake up. You groan as you wake, your body meeting the floor beside your bed. Crawling across the floor, you reach for your phone in the corner of your room. The screen is shattered, a sign that your night in this realm was just as restless as in the other. Opening the first app you see, you begin typing, only saving a few letters before blood drops onto the keyboard from your thumb. Someone yelled it in the Further, so, despite his protests, you learned his name. The letters D-a-l are illuminated before the blinking cursor, your fingers bleeding from the glass of your keyboard.

“Dalton,” you whisper. “Your name is Dalton.”

▪︎

“Make it stop,” you plead.

Your roommate stands in your doorway, frozen. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No! I have to go back,” you pant. “He needs help.”

“Who?”

“Dalton!”

Walking to the side of your bed, your roommate says, “You know his name? You said you went in and said goodbye.”

Gasping for air, you explain that you tried, but something happened and you couldn't. The gurgling noise that escapes your throat startles your roommate, who disappears out your door.

“Ambulance… trouble breathing and dissociation…” You catch bits and pieces of the hushed conversation, willing your mind and body to work together and get you to Dalton.

“Please,” you whisper, “one more time.”

You close your eyes and wait. A tear runs down the side of your face; the only way you can release the emotions no one will ever understand.

“What are you doing here?”

At the sound of his voice, your eyes snap open.

“I told you not to come back!”

“No, you didn’t. You told me not to do something I’d regret.”

“Then why are you here?” Dalton clenches his jaw as he looks at you, his intense stare fixed on your face.

“You need help.” Dalton tilts his head and opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “Don’t lie to me and say you don’t.”

Dalton closes the distance, close enough that you can feel his breath on your face. “If you die in here, you are trapped here forever. I am not letting that happen; not to you.”

Your heart drops as you ask, “Is that what happened to you?”

The light above the door illuminates fully, drawing your attention. The black paint begins to chip away, red showing in the gaps.

“I tried to stop you from coming, but it obviously didn't work. I’m sorry,” Dalton says, turning to you and grasping your shoulders.

“For what?”

“Do it!” He screams, shoving your shoulders away from him.

You don’t hit the floor before your vision grows blurry and your lungs begin burning.

“Dalton,” you gasp weakly.

“Maybe we can meet in your nightmares, if you ever forgive me,” he says distantly as the darkness envelops you.

[thesmokingguns]

Love Language HC

Warning: Mentions of Sex

Love Langauge

Steven

-Head itches: the physical touch makes him feel loved but also safe. The feeling of nails going through his hair and moving down to rub his neck is peak

-Loves going to pick out candy. WIll know your favorite candy, even if it’s super obscure and securing it for you

-Loves to feel seen in a relationship, asking questions about what is going on and sharing interests makes the golden retriever in him come out

-Date night is adventurous for him. He wants to go race cars or try rock climbing or jump out of an airplane. Loves thrill seeking activities

-At parties he doesn’t need to be glued to your side. He loves maintaining friendships and being social but enjoys the ride home where you two reconnect

-Loves holding his love with two arms, their head on his chest. He feels like he’s the protector but also intimate with physical connection

-Enjoys when someone else picks up the tab. Just because he has money doesn’t mean that spending it feels great. He’s not cheap but the way it feels to have someone treat him to dinner is very nice.

-Loves a homemade gift, especially if he can show it off. Things like a handmade jacket or something artistic would make him feel really special.

Slash

-Physical touch matters so much to him. He loves holding hands in public and feeling the connection of someone else

-The importance of silence. Slash likes to be able to sit and just play his guitar or having moments where someone can understand there is more to do than talking

-Loves showering with his partner. It doesn’t have to be sexual but it can be. Morning showers where you wake up together and afternoon showers where you talk about your day are so special

-Visual person. Loves getting sexy pictures and surprises like underwear in his guitar case. When you send him links to porn you’re watching or ask to put on porn so you can act it out that really is something he loves.

-Slash loves to serve. He will hold you bag, take pictures for you and do very basic things like hold the door. He feels like showing up matters

-Loves buying his person jewelry. Spoiling you with things he buys and seeing you wear it really turns him on and makes him feel like the provider

-Will 100% get offended if you try to pay the bill. He is old fashioned and is the provider. Enjoys being in that role and it makes him feel masculine.

-Loves night time intimacy. Loves making love outside under the moon, swimming naked in the pool at night, backseat of the car watching the city lights. He is a moon lover

Axl Rose

-Will send you flowers every week. Flowers every week is just a constant reminder he is keeping your love fresh and thinking about you

-Loves home cooked meals with his person. If they cook he will find the perfect wine to pair with it but he also likes to try things out in the kitchen, even if he is not good at it.

-Loves being the little spoon. Even if you’re smaller he likes the way it feels to be held and loved. Getting the back kisses and feeling your cheek against his shoulder blades.

-Dancing with his partner is life. In a restaurant or in their living room. There doesn’t have to be music, he will make it. One of his favorite memories was walking down the street in Spain and hearing street music. Stopping and dancing with you, holding your back as he moved around to words he didn't know and just feeling connected to you.

-Loves knick knacks from travels together. Some people collect magnets, some people collect postcards, Axl collects junk. Stupid things that clutter the house but he can look at and remember scenes from a day with you

-Words of affirmation make him feel good. He loves how you talk him up and hold eye contact when you explain  to him how you love him.

-Loves having sex standing up. The feeling of your bodies fully pushed together just feels amazing to him.

-Wants you to always sit on his lap. Constantly holding you around the waist and having you sit on his lap, his chin on your shoulder as he talks to whoever as he holds you.

Duff McKagan

-Will facetime you until one of you falls asleep. Will stay on the phone and watch you sleep until he falls asleep.

-Loves sending you dirty videos and dick pics. It turns him on to show himself and he knows you love the physical proof that you turn him on.

-Dirty talk and hair pulling turns him on so much but he also loved love making and soft kissing. Such a versatile lover.

-Kissing your hands when you’re talking, kissing your hands when you’re walking, kissing the tips of  your fingers when you’re asleep

-Loves spoiling you. Spending money on things you wear and how you look is a status symbol to Duff and proof that he can take care of you

-Couples massages, matching outfits, quarterly photoshoots- he is that extra AF lover who wants everyone to know that the two of you are a pair.

-His love language is when you get into things with him. It can be as simple as reading the same book as he is or making him a cup of coffee in a pour over chemex and measuring everything out just like the youtube video he watched. He can get hyper fixated on something so having a partner understand that is cool

-Duff hates fighting so someone who can talk thing sout with him and give him space if he’s mad makes him feel respected and empowered. He wants to be able to communicate and having someone willing to do that with him, even when times are tough is great

Izzy Stradlin

-Not being an overbearing lover is important. Izzy doesn’t want thirty texts when he is out because it takes too long to zoom in on the writing or put his readers on to see it. If he says where he is going and when he will be back he doesn’t need communication. Appreciates being trusted and given space.

-Kisses please. Wants to be kissed constantly. The quick how was your day kiss, the long sensual i’ve missed you kisses, the I want to fuck in bed tongue kisses, the kisses you do down his body to her erection

-Izzy loves missionary sex. He’s not vanilla or boring but the intimacy of your legs around him, teh eye contact, the deep long strokes as he talks to you and tells you that he loves you

-Writes love songs as a way to express his feelings. Will also use lyrics like poems that he will sneak into your purse or gym bag. Small reminders that he is thinking of you during the day

-Vacations and exploring other cultures together builds your bonds. He likes the no fancy travel where you can backpack through europe and stay in hostels together learning about a place more than visiting

-Sunday morning coffee dates where you catch up on the week and plan you next week together are his favorite. That time set aside for each other is the best feeling in the world

-Goes all out on holidays because he knows that sometimes he can struggle with the love language of gift giving. Spends too much money and does lavish things for all holidays. Makes you easter baskets despite your age. First year he hid 100 dollar bills in easter eggs in the backyard.

-Constantly saying I love you and touching places like your shoulders and lower back and points that can hold tension and weight, trying to release any pain you feel.