#differentiable rendering

[negativemind]

3D Gaussian Splatting：リアルタイム描画できるRadiance Fields

2020年にNeRF (Neural Radiance Fields)が登場して以降、多数視点画像からRadiance Fieldsを復元して自由視点映像を作成するNovel View Synthesisタスクの研究が���ん。 https://blog.negativemind.com/2023/08/29/neural-radiance-fields/ NeRFの欠点 Novel View…

[snoozyfruit]

🌙🪽✨✨

[jun1ebu6]

Feeling out how I draw roxas post kh3 (I’m still brainstorming his outfit)

[fraternum-momentum]

fraternum-momentum lore goes crazy,

like wdym you have to crack your neck to properly draw without glasses, and now you watch those baby sensory videos while you draw?? whats next, you feed a family of six during sketching???? (/j)

BULLY BULLYYYYYY DONT MAKE FUN OF MEEEEE its not like i do those all the timee its only under specific circumstances 😭😭😭😭😭

[lyqiche]

kaeko on call 😼

[vgvs]

mini references (all volumes) for the main crew ^w^

and the canon heights bc it's so funny to me. they're standing on boxes in the first one idk lol.

[kozachenko]

Shortly after that Zanmu drawing, I went on an art spree and made small little drawings of a majority of the current playable characters in Touhou (I've been procrastinating on drawing Aya and Ran) and finally gave myself refernce points for how to draw all these characters going forward! Also, don't mind the change in background colour, that's just me changing the background so the values are actually visible lol.

Artist's Notes;

So the first one I started with was Reimu, and the inspiration for her pose came from this pose reference on Pinterest of a girl doing ribbon dancing, and I thought "Damn, that's very Reimu-coded" and did a quick little Reimu drawing from that.

This was also the drawing where I finally learned what makes a Reimu drawing feel like Reimu. It's the shirt, it's literally just the shirt. I decided to try making Reimu's shirt have a stronger square shape and oh my god it's like I discovered some kind of secret sauce because it just feels so much more like Reimu. I also gave Reimu a tabard and loose pants because I felt like that also fit her very well and also tied in some element's of Yukari's design into hers. I also made her bow look more like a very geometric butterfly as a bit of a tie in to "Diochromatic Lotus Butterfly" and also because I think butterfly symbolism fits her a lot. I also left the hands unfinished because they are not the focus of this piece, Reimu is, I don't wanna cry over how I can't get the hands right and then never get to the actually fun parts of the drawing. Previously, I did some design experimentation with Reimu where I added a little ornament on her obi that was inspired by Yuna's design from Final Fantasy 10 (I can't remember if I ever posted that one lol, also FFX is so good you guys I love it so much) and I like it, I think it adds some fun assymetry to her design that I think makes it look neat. I also gave her some more traditional Japanese shoes (I don't know the name of them so please correct me if you know) since I've seen other artists doing it and I love that look so I added that to this drawing as well.

I also really like how Marisa turned out, I experimented a bit with her body type and outfit, though I didn't really go too off-model with her compared to Reimu. I liked the longer sleeves on her and I gave her a big bow on the back of her apron since I thought it looked cute. I couldn't find a spot for the bow on her hat that looked good so sadly that isn't present in this version of her :( I do like how her face turned out though, since I've also been experimenting with how differently stylized I can make faces in my art. I will always love mangas like Hunter X Hunter that can put two extremely differently stylized characters on the same panel and make it look cohesive, it's why I love the style so much.

I think the crulest irony is not being able to draw your favourite character well while you're hyperfixating on them, but then only being able to draw them how you picture them once they're no longer your favourite, and that happened with Sakuya here. I was initially gonna give her the flashiest eyeshadow known to man but when I removed the layer wih the eyeshadow rendering on it I ended up liking it more without it, so now she's just got some nice bottom lashes. I tried giving her more of an hourglass shape for her body type, mainly to differentiate her more from Reimu and Marisa, and I focused on making as many points in her drawing as sharp as I can. I also gave her some white gloves because I like the idea of Sakuya having fancy gloves, it fits her. To me, Sakuya has always been the most high femme of the main Touhou characters. Maybe this is just because she was my gay awakening, maybe it's just influence from the fandom, but it just kind of makes sense to me. Much like Marisa, I also emphasized the bow ribbons for extra oomph with the silhouette and when I added the red bows and looked at the overall design, I fixed the lack of red anywhere else by just... covering her in blood... I mean she does work for two vampires and she's exactly the sanest person in Gensokyo so please pardon my indulgence in edginess it couldn't be helped.

Youmu was really fun to do but also kinda challenging. In my mind I wanted to make her feel different compared to everyone else I've drawn so far, short enough to be somewhat accurate to canon, but not too childish looking since she never really acts all that childish in cannon and it wouldn't make sense for her to look like a child. I also had to make her look fast and speedy without her looking like Sakuya and potentially avoiding same body syndrome with Aya, who's whole gimmick is speed. In the end, I think her drawing is my favourite, mainly because of the shapes and silhouette. I also really like how I golden-ratioed myon. I also took a few liberties with her outfit and decided to give it some layers to add visual interest. I also like how the cuts in the clothing add more triangles, which adds to the shape language. For her face, I was wondering what to do with her eyes until I decided to just go for the simple, glowing, circular eyes she has in the final product. I was also listening to a bunch of Gorrilaz albums while drawing these (Demon Days is my favourite album btw, idk how basic of a take that is though) and my brain 100% was subconsciously influenced by some elements of the art style (it's so good omg). I also like the shade of green I gave her, though I am a certified green lover so I am 100% biased.

Reisen is where I let myself get a little weird with it, because as you can see, I turned her into an anthropomorphic bunny because she is a weird moon rabbit god dammit, why should she look normal? I was more excited about drawing her IN design than her modern design so that's why she's dressed like that, but I do have a sketch of her in my sketchbook of her modern design. I also had fun rendering her velvet suit jacket. This also helped me tie in some of the reds in her eye and ear, which is also a nice bonus. I also gave her pure white fur to create more visual contrast. Overall, I'm pretty happy with how she turned out, though I wish I didn't shade the legs too much because it's kinda blending with the skirt colour....welp, ya win some ya lose some I guess.

Sanae is also relatively on-model compared to everyone else here, though I did try to make some changes to her outfit to make her feel different from Reimu. First of all, I made her big sleeves (IDK the proper Japanese term for them, if there is one, so again if you know please correct me on this) more open than Reimu's, as well as making them more pointy to give her a different silhouette. I also tried out a new rendering style on her eyes that I also applied to Cirno (we'll get to her in a moment) to also make her face feel different from Reimu's. I'll be honest, I didn't really know what to do with her body type so she just kinda got the "basic slim girl" look in her drawing. I'm not too big a fan of the frills I added to her skirt though, I don't really think she needs them. I'm glad I gave Reimu pants and a tabard instead of a normal skirt because that does help to make the two of them feel different. I also kept her little frog hair clip the same shade of blue as her dress, mainly to economize my colour usage and limit the palette into something a little more tight-nit. I do like how her little hair snake looks though, it's cute lol.

And finally, we have Cirno. I have been a firm believer of "long sleeve Cirno is best Cirno" ever since I saw the art of her in PMiSS because she's an ice fairy, I think it would make sense for her to want to keep herself warm, same reason she has little socks too. Now that I look at it more, her colours are pretty similar to her design in Great Fairy Wars, and honestly I like that, I think keeping her colour palette simple is a good idea so I'm happy about that. I mainly wanted to focus on rendering her wings though, mainly because rendering ice and crystals is fun even though I have done zero studies of them! I also wanted to experiment with rendering her eyes in a similar way to Sanae's, and I like how they turned out! I don't know if I'll continue with this style in the future but it will probably stick around because to me, any stylistically different way of doing eyes is another facial feature I can use to bend the rules of same face syndrome.

While I'm on the topic, I want to mention that the reason Hunter X Hunter's art works so well is because everything is kinda rendered the same. It showed me that if you do everything else consistently in your style (i.e. rendering, lineart, shading), stylizing each character's faces differently will be a lot easier, at least that's how I see it. IDK if I'm ever gonna do drawings of Aya and Ran in this style since I gotta think about them more as well as stop procrastinating lol.

[sivsii]

I haven’t really posted anything about my vi felt despite having been working on it since october, but here’s a WIP of pants + torso.

anyone who needlefelts or works with natural fiber will know how shitty dark wool is about light absorption. to make sure you can actually *see* any of the form of the sculpt or the details I’ve added, let alone differentiate between different elements of her completely chromatic design, I’ve had to try and manually add the look of digital rendering with hand-mixed colors. insanely time consuming but I think it’s so so worth it

[ilium-ilia]

you're an angel // i'm a dog

kyle "gaz" garrick x fem!reader | omegaverse | alpha!gaz, omega!reader | masterlist

Chapter Five: fever

tw: minor smut

The office is quiet today. 

Every particle in the air vibrates at a frequency that sends a buzz barreling through the base of your skull. White bone jittering into enamel, teeth aching with each tick of the clock nailed into the wall above your head. Your co-worker types away on her phone, and the sound of her nails tapping against the screen only makes your jaw tighten. 

Something is off. An atom out of place. Molecules rearranged until the base source is unrecognizable. Wood turned to stone. Food turned to rot. 

It isn’t until John MacTavish enters your office that you realize what’s wrong. 

He’s a kind man. Everyone calls him Soap, and it’s a name you’ve picked up on too as a way to differentiate between the two John’s within the same team, though no one’s been brave enough to tell you how the nickname came around. Bright eyes glistening with an uncanny blue, his fingers tap against a thin stack of papers with your name written all over it. Something to file away and process. He greets you before holding it out for you to take, letting the silage of John Price wash over you, and though you take it with a smile, something stirs within your chest. 

“Fresh off the printing press,” Soap teases. 

“Hmm. Still warm,” you play. Pausing, you look at the heading as you allow yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. “Is Kyle doing alright?” 

Soap’s lips press together in a tight smile at your question. “What do you mean?” 

Momentarily forgetting about your work, you put the new report to the side as your shoulders tense with a shrug. “Well, it’s just that he’s usually the one to bring me Captain Price’s reports, and I realize I haven’t really seen him at all the last few days.” You attempt to shrug off your tension and brush it aside with a taut laugh. “Guess I’m just worried about him is all.” 

He nods along with your words as you speak, attentive to every syllable. Soap leans back on his heels, hands shooting up towards his chest. Though he’s been back from deployment for a week or so now, his brain must still be in combat mode with fingers attempting to reach for straps that aren’t there. 

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout him, he’s fine,” Soap assures you. “Just caught a wee bug. Price sent him home for a little while until it’s run its course.” 

There’s something hollow about his words—something you can sniff out but can’t pin. “Oh. That’s unfortunate.” 

“Aye. He’s tough though,” he humors. 

There’s a lull in the conversation. A doldrum that leaves your ears ringing. For a long moment, neither of you make a move to speak, but you’re not ignorant to the way Soap’s eyes scour you. Surveying every nook and cranny, pupils dilating at the clean crook of your neck. 

“Though, he’s been alone for a couple of days. I’ve hardly had the time to drop by and check on him,” Soap adds flippantly. “Been meaning to, but thing’s ‘ve been so busy lately since we got back, especially with him being down for the time being and—”

“I can check on him.” 

A grin. Bright teeth closed by thin lips—Soap leans forward. “Aye, really? That’d be real sweet of you.” 

“Yeah, sure. Just give me his address. I’ll drop off some stuff for him. Do you know what he’s sick with? What his symptoms are?”

There’s a glint in Soap’s eyes. Something that shines so bright it momentarily blinds you, rendering your gaze useless to his smirk. “Ah, just a bad fever is all, pet.” 

The moment the clock strikes five, you’re rushing off base and to the pharmacy. These walls and shelves are familiar to you—this is not your first time helping someone sick. When you were a kid, your mother always told you that you should be a nurse. Always ready and eager to help others; more so than the average omega. You’re not sure why the urge overwhelms you as much as it does, this desire to aid others. Bandaging the bent wing of a bird. Cooing to kittens as you feed them with bottles hardly larger than the size of their own bodies.

Maybe you just like being useful. 

You scrape off several cold medicines from the shelves before approaching the counter with your arms full. Cough medicine with a sleep aid, acetaminophen, pseudoephedrine—the pharmacy tech looks at you with raised brows. There’s enough here to cure a small battalion. Certainly enough to raise suspicions within the system. You set aside the pseudoephedrine with a breathy chuckle before snatching the other items and booking it to the grocery store. 

Canned soup. Something with high salt. Electrolytes. Then, something of substance. Plain crackers, bread—you think of things that used to comfort you when you were sick as a child and add those to your trolly. A side of hard candies. Animal crackers. 

You think of your mother. Her arm around your side, your face buried against her with a cold rag on your forehead, small body hidden beneath swathes of blankets that could have suffocated you. You swear, each time she planted a kiss on your face everything felt lighter, as if your sickness was siphoned out of you with her touch alone. Though you might not be able to offer Kyle that, you’ll do the best you can with a replacement. 

Kyle’s home comes into view just before the sun kisses the horizon. His off base housing is more accommodating than you ever would have expected—a quaint townhouse standing tall with faded bricks and obscured windows. Not a single morsel of light bleeds through the panes, and if it wasn’t for Soap’s word, you’d be convinced that he isn’t even home at all. 

It takes several minutes for him to answer the door at your beckoning. Knuckles tapping against solid wood, free hand clutching the bags of groceries—he’s shirtless when he undoes the lock. Padded muscles glow dimly in the porch light as he peeks through the open crack soaked in sweat. He’s panting as if he’s just run a marathon, chest heaving with each inhale, eyes widening as they lock onto you. 

“Oh no. No, no, no,” he murmurs. 

Kyle stumbles away from the door, not even closing it all the way before he vanishes into his den. Blinking, you follow after him, groceries long forgotten by his work boots as your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness that consumes you. 

“Kyle, is everything alright? I brought you—” 

It hits you. A tidal wave of redolence crashes down around your body, weakening your knees to the point they nearly give way beneath you. It’s thick with musk and desire, and it envelopes you with saccharine whispers just as you make sense of the sight before you. Kyle, sitting on his haunches, spine curved forward, fingers curling against the hardwood floor as if he’s ready to rip the building apart from the ground up. 

The realization knocks the air from your lungs—this sweet beta isn’t a beta at all, and he’s in rut. 

“Please leave.” He’s begging through gritted teeth, tongue hardly kept in check behind his incisors, eyes refusing to look up at you. “You don’t wanna be here for this, pet.” 

Your heart can hardly stand the sight of him—Kyle Garrick, always so kind and sweet with his playful banter. Now, he looks scared. Terrified that something will spring forth—something he can’t stop. Ignoring his warning, you step forward, hands already reaching for him. 

“I was on suppressants,” he heaves. Though he’s shirtless, he still has trousers on; a pair of joggers that can hardly hold anything back. Even with his torso curled forward, you can still see the want growing below his navel; how it pulses and screams for something—someone. “Been on them for a long time, love. But you… your scent… It drives me mad. Cuts through me like a knife.” 

Another step, you’re lowering yourself so you’re closer to his level—a skittish creature attempting to snuggle up to a predator for warmth. “When was the last time you were in rut?” 

“Too fucking long,” he snaps. “Please go. I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do. I’ll be fine on my own.” 

“Oh, Kyle.” You’re on your knees now, hands resting on your thighs for only a split moment before you decide to reach for him. His metacarpals flex beneath your palm, as his nails dig into the wood—you swear you see scratch marks left in their wake. “You’re always working so hard to take care of everyone. I see it. How you fuss over the others. How you’re always wanting to be there for everything. Let me help you.” 

He finally garners the bravery to look you in the eyes now, even though he’s certain it’ll destroy him. “You dunno what you’re asking for, pet. You shouldn’t have to do this.”

“Kyle, I want to do this,” you assure. 

Your hands wander up over his arm. Crossing his wrist, his elbow, along his shoulder and the side of his neck, all the way until you’re cupping his cheek. When you add your other hand, it’s all over. He falls apart like wet tissue paper caught in a storm. He leans forward, honey-gaze darkening as his hands yank on your shirt, dragging your bodies together. 

Needy canines graze against your bottom lip as he kisses you, taut fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt to the point you swear you hear it tear. Everything swirls so quickly you can’t comprehend it. His hands over your body, tongue in your mouth, brine on your lips—then it’s your back colliding with the ground, his knees slotting between your thighs, a whirlwind of desire culminating between your bodies. 

His mouth trails lower, kissing over the valley between your breasts, tracing a line to your stomach and hips. “You’re too good to me, pet. You… are you sure?” 

His tongue questions but his actions have already made up their mind. Fingers curling into your hips, torso sliding along yours—his nose nudges at your fly before his head completely slots between your legs, face pushed up against your sex. You gasp as he breathes in, mind spiraling as his scent overwhelms you into submission. 

“I’m yours for tonight, Kyle,” you assure.  But he’s already lost in you. Mouth against the inside of your thigh, nipping at you through the fabric, he growls when you wiggle, skin too sensitive. “All mine,” he says, and it sounds dangerously close to a promise.

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | early access to chapters here

[sickeninglyshoujo]

a/n: i saw the renders (you know the ones) and became feral with need for dad!ghost, other cod dads coming soon, sorry to my friends for being forced to read me word vomit this in chat over four hours. ao3 link coming soon warnings: pregnancy talk word count: 1.8k

Simon doesn’t like when the baby wears the skulls but you do because it reminds you of him

When he grew up he equated the skull mask to terror, the baby only has positive thoughts about it and gets excited seeing it yelling out “daddy!” if she sees the motif in public, mortifying Simon and delighting you. Onlookers growing even more concerned when you coo back, “Yes, that is daddy!” pointing to the Halloween display of a grim reaper statue.

I can tell you that Simon is a master at baby rearing

Simon would absolutely carry the baby under his arm like a football once her neck is strong enough even if you don’t like it because it’s more comfortable like that

It’s second nature to him somehow

Even when you’re stressed about the baby and can’t get her to stop crying somehow Simon just comes over and says the one thing you haven’t tried because he can differentiate between her cries

You were afraid about introducing the baby to Riley, but Simon wasn’t. “They live in the same flipping house, he has t’ get used to her!”

“But not when she’s newborn! Let her get a little bigger first!”

“No better time than now! She’ll never be afraid of him then and he’ll protect her!”

“They call them malingators for a reason!”

“Riley is a well-trained retired soldier. He’s not going to hurt the baby.”

The first meeting had Simon holding the baby in his arms and stooping down to Riley’s level, Riley nosing at the baby’s sock-covered feet hanging from Simon’s arms, sniffing excitedly. You stood above Simon, wringing your hands together, ready to jump in between the two at a moment's notice.

“This is your baby sister, Riley,” Simon instructed the dog whose ears moved, listening to his master’s voice, “She’s your new assignment, boy.”

“Bloodthirsty, isn’ he?” Simon asked you with a grin as the dog yawned and stayed calmly seated, beginning to lick at the baby's booties.

“Shut it, Si.”

Riley is the baby’s shadow. If she so much as sniffles he’s darting across the house trying to find out what’s wrong. It’s like Simon’s watching over her even when on missions 

Simon hates that the dog is named Riley because he thinks it’s stupid and is constantly begging to rename the dog. You refuse because you like the constant reminder of your husband. It doesn't matter that he shares the family name.

When you first bring the baby home from the hospital Simon is in constant awe at how tiny she is. Like a little doll he keeps telling you to the point he sounds like a broken record

Simon constantly worried about baby being cold 2k24 and always has a blankie in the diaper bag or draped over the baby carrier.

After missions he would look for you first when he came home before stripping off the dirt and grime of missions and now it’s the baby. He used to think you were his reason to keep trying to save the world and now it’s her. It only stings a little but that is soothed when you see the awe in his face when she coos at him from her crib

It isn’t long before Simon is trying to get you to agree to try for another “Jus’ one more love,” he'll mutter into your neck after the baby is put down for the night and you two have retired to your bedroom only to be batted away weakly

“Oh no, Si! No more babies and no more sex! Not if you’re going to talk like that!”

“But yer such a good mum. We should have a houseful.”

Simon would petition you to quit your job because it’s bad enough the baby has to deal with him being gone on missions they shouldn’t have their mum gone too

“I make more ‘an enough for you to stay home with her!”

“The money isn’t the point, Si,” You coo at the baby on your lap, “I don’t need to be a housewife and I like working!”

You giggle whenever the other 141 men are over because they will carry the diaper bag slung over their shoulder and completely at odds with their uniforms.

It heats your cheeks to watch your burley husband in full military uniform when you greet him on base, bouncing your baby on his hips, playfully pulling her hands away when she gets too close to a switch or something she shouldn't touch, particularly when other women notice him too

It would swell your chest with pride when you and Si were out with the baby and he’d get longing looks from women when he was doing dadly things like pushing the stroller or rifling through the diaper bag for her bottle or burp cloth. 

“You have to have seen the way women look at you when you’re carrying the baby.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You’re practically tormenting them, Si! And me too! You’re all big and tough! You’re in uniform or in a compression shirt and then you’re holding onto her in just your arm while she can’t even wrap a hand around one of your fingers!”

Simon doesn’t understand your point, “I’m tormenting you?”

Heat flushes your cheeks, “I like watching you be a dad to our daughter.”

The baby has essentially four dads as all of 141 takes care of the baby when they come to visit on leave

You worry about them spoiling her, “She’ll get too used to being held Si!”

“Then damn well let ‘er!”

“What about when they leave!”

“You think they’re leaving?! Soaps brought a bloody duffel!”

Because when you have the baby Captain Price, Soap, and Gaz are all going to visit. Moving into your cramped guest room for easily the first month after the baby’s born, Gaz and Soap fighting over who gets the futon and who has to share the bed with the Captain.

They need to see the baby!

They never thought Si would settle down but that was before you and your endless patience with the grumpy military man set in his ways.

You didn’t miss when Price clapped him on the shoulder after Simon showed off the baby for the first time, “You did well, Son.”

“Thank god she got the missus’ looks!” Soap crowed, “I was worried she’d get L.t.’s ugly mug!”

“I was hoping she would Johnny,” you peer down at the baby in Simon’s arms and trace a finger down her cheek, “She did get his eyes though. You know those were the first thing I noticed when we started talking, Si? How sad your eyes were.”

“Don’ have “sad eyes”.”

“I thought you did. And you were wearing that silly skull balaclava too, so I couldn’t very well fall in love with your chiseled jaw or the cute scar on your lip,” Soap and Gaz howled in laughter, missing the dirty looks from Ghost (You did too, eyes entirely on your daughter swaddled in a soft terry blanket in her father’s arms)

“Hey L.t. let me give you a few more scars for the missus to kiss!” Gaz ribbed

You never minded patching Simon up after missions. It gave you an excuse to ogle your husband in detail. Even before you were married, he’d tried to wave you off when you’d dab at the blood encrusted cuts and then flush when after taking care of the ones on his arms, much less when he stretched and took off his shirt for you to do the ones on his chest too. Thankfully he didn’t notice your brain shorting as you forgot how to breathe when you saw how heavily muscled and tattooed he was, culminating in an audible gasp as your eyes took in his happy trail and Adonis belt. 

“You ok?”

“Y-yeah just banged my foot on the tub.”

He’d later recount this to Soap who nearly banged his head on the wall at how dense Ghost was being

“An’ you wen’ home after that!”

“Yes Johnny, I had PT the next morning and had to ship out that night.”

He let out a string of curses, “The lass likes you and probably was hoping you’d stay the night wi’ her!”

“MacTavish,” Simon warned.

“She let you take off your clothes in her bathroom and then cleaned you up! Lasses don’t do that for cheeky cunts they don’ like!”

You miss him when he’s on missions of course, but it’s easier once you have Riley and then the baby. It’s like you have piece’s of him with you

Si is a beige mom but instead of beige it’s gray. You try and explain the importance of the bright colors in developing the baby’s eyesight but Si just mutters something about no baby of his is going to look like a muppet

Riley used to sleep at the foot of your bed but now he sleeps by the crib. You don’t know when he learned how to work door knobs but it happened somewhere between the third trimester and birth. Now you have to coax him into your room if you miss Si and want to cuddle Riley

You’ve given up on trying to keep Riley out of the nursery and instead just tut when you find dog hairs on the baby. 

Riley is the ever-patient soldier with the baby, letting her pull on his tail and ears, tugging on (and sometimes removing) his fur, all while happily wagging his tail at being used as a jungle gym

When the baby starts toddling and skins her knees, Si can’t help but scoop her up before the first tear leaves her eye “Si you’re spoiling her!” “She hurt herself, I can’ just let her cry” “She hadn't even cried yet!” “She was abou’ to”

Simon is an over attentive dad because he doesn’t want his baby to suffer the same way he did 

Si rolls his eyes whenever you  tell him not to throw the baby in the air because he’ll drop her but he knows his reflexes are superhuman and he’d catch her

SI doesn’t baby talk and will discuss the finer parts of gun mechanics and maintenance with your infant as she gums on a teether.

When she’s older, Si buys her a pellet gun for Christmas and hides it from you until unwrapped on Christmas morning

By the time it’s in her hands you know you’ve lost

He ignores your dirty glance that says “We’ll talk about this later”

As she grows up she starts talking about joining the SAS like her daddy and you’re filled with fear while Si encourages it. Starts taking her training with him much to your horror, first on short jogs around the neighborhood, then to the gym proper to teach her how to throw a punch. She quickly becomes the star of the base, with all the men calling her “Recruit”

“Nothing dangerous yet Si I mean it!”

“She asks for it!”

“She is a child and you are her father! You’re supposed to be the voice of reason!”

“The voice of reason says she might as well be trained right if she wants it!”

a/n: likes/reblogs/comments appreciated please talk to me about dad!ghost i cant contain myself

[negativemind]

NeRF (Neural Radiance Fields)：機械学習による3D自由視点映像

今や機械学習と言えばほぼディープラーニング、つまり多層のニューラルネットワークを指すようになった。ニューラルネットワークによる識別手法や生成手法で溢れる昨今だが、それらとは別の用途にニューラルネットワークを活用する例も増えてきている。 NeRF: Neural Radiance Fields NeRFはECCV 2020で発表された論文 NeRF: Representing Scenes as Neural Radiance Fields for View Synthesisで提案されたNovel View Image…

[kon-igi]

OGGI HO AVUTO UNA DISCUSSIONE MOLTO INTERESSANTE

così interessante che mi dovete aiutare a trovare un termine che definisca il mio modo di interagire con la realtà circostante.

Oggi un'infermiera - che evidentemente non ha ancora capito nulla di me, sia come professionista che come essere umano - mi ha detto che 'Bisogna legare la Sig.ra Maria quando è seduta a tavola sennò mangia poco e poi si alza per andarsene in giro'.

E il sottoscritto, a cui i coglioni stavano girando come le ventole del sistema di raffreddamento della centrale nucleare di Fukushima e parevano dover fare la stessa fine di lì a poco, ha risposto in modo sintetico e candido

E ALLORA LASCIAMOLA MORIRE DI FAME IN SANTA PACE!

Potete immaginare la reazione di tutte le altre infermiere e OSS, reazione che per l'ennesima volta mi ha costretto a dover spiegare.

CURA e ACCUDIMENTO sono due cose differenti.

Sono due cose MOLTO differenti e che si fanno per due condizioni distinte che possono affliggere una persona fragile.

La CURA riguarda la risoluzione di un problema sanitario e quindi mira alla guarigione con restituzione delle piene capacità psico-fisiche.

L'ACCUDIMENTO, invece, riguarda il PRENDERSI CURA (non il curare!) di una persona in una condizione irreversibile di fragilità e che, quindi, può solo peggiorare.

Quando la Piramide di Maslow viene erosa a partire dall'alto e anche le sue stesse fondamenta cominciano a vacillare, allora il professionista del sanitario si deve rendere conto che la cura non è più possibile ma bisogna passare al solo accudimento.

E il modo migliore per prendersi cura di una persona è evitarle la sofferenza fisica e psicologica.

Ovviamente non sto parlando di eutanasia (quella è una scelta personale che farò non come professionista ma come essere umano nei riguardi delle persone a cui voglio bene) ma di abbandonare il concetto di esistenza 'normale' a cui tendere in modo forzoso.

Se una persona ha fame, viene nutrita, anche con l'aiuto di un'operatrice che la imbocca... se una persona ha sete idem ma pensare di costringerla a mangiare e bere 'sennò muore' significa ucciderle la dignità e imporle sofferenza per soddisfare un nostro desiderio di 'curare' l'anormalità.

La persona anziana che smette di mangiare e di bere ha avviato un proprio percorso personale verso la conclusione della sua esistenza ed esclusa ogni possibilità di cura, dobbiamo solo fare tutto quello che è in nostro potere per ACCOMPAGNARLA alla fine senza dolore fisico o malessere psicologico.

Per cortesia, torniamo a parlare della morte come un qualcosa di naturale e ad abbracciarla come parte della vita, perché come ho già detto mille volte e non mi stancherò mai di ripetere

QUANDO VIVI NELLA PAURA DELLA MORTE, LA MORTE SI È GIÀ PRESA LA PARTE MIGLIORE DELLA TUA VITA

E ora che ho finito di scrivere, la ventola di raffreddamento ha rallentato e quindi Fukushima là sotto è salva. Grazie.

[a-whispering-echo]

...Human?

hehe, if i say this is fanart for a fic, do you think it'd get more reads? lol

No, this is art for my OWN fic! hehe. this of for The Forgotten City on AO3, my current fic! :) and this is, of course, Dust! or as i call him to differentiate him from other Dust's, Spore!

hes just a baby <3 *squishes his cheeks*

you'll notice if i tell you; i pixilated the skin hand here, because i was drawing it nd realised it looked TOO Trypo un-safe. so, pixilated the straight up version, and ill post the version WITH the clear hand just below the cut, if you want to see the HOLE Drawing, hehe, get it?

this took AGES btw. at the very least, upwards of 9 hours. ive done most of it just today too, lmao. my wrist hurts :( lmao

here the fic! :)

and heres the Holes :) <3

hands are hard to render, okay? i tried

[e-on-edge]

Avalanche Part 2

You can read Part 1 here!

Sexual themes and language - minors do not interact.

Tags: threesome, blowjobs, sharing *ahem* fluids, anal, edging, dirty talk, praise kink, fun sex (laughing and general sex positivity) - 🤷‍♀️

Enjoy ;p

“It's my turn,” Caleb mumbled into the crook of your neck, unable or unwilling to pull himself from the warm, sweet scent of your skin.

Zayne’s tall legs caged both of you in on the sofa, his touch wandering politely over your hips while Caleb’s suckling threatened to render you powerless.

“Truth or dare?” Zayne breathed, one cool hand brazenly wandering up your shirt.

“Dare,” Caleb answered between hickies.

“Take this off of her.” Zayne’s tone darkened with his request, his fingers tugging helplessly at the thin fabric over your breasts.

Caleb looked at Zayne, then his gaze shifted to you. His purple eyes scrutinized your face, searching for any signs of refusal or discomfort. His gaze was intense, filled with concern and a silent question, seeking your approval before proceeding.

“Do it.” You nod, lifting off Zayne’s chest to sit upright between them, raising your arms to assist.

Caleb tore the top over your head, tossing it onto the coffee table before diving between your exposed breasts. He bit and tugged at your black bra with his teeth, a playful smile dancing on his lips.

“Truth or dare baby?” he asks through the fabric.

You hesitate, twitching with a soft gasp as Zayne’s tongue finds your earlobe, his hands now sliding into the waistband of your jeans.

“D-Dare.” You shudder, hardly able to get the word out without moaning as Caleb pulls one of your breasts from its sheath and wraps his warm lips around your nipple.

Then he stops. The absence of his warmth is startling, and you instinctively follow it forward until Zayne's cold grip halts you.

Caleb sits back on his heels, observing the scene with a grin. His dark eyes study your flushed face, your rosy lips parted in longing, your hair tangled in a nest with Zayne's dark locks. His gaze wanders to Zayne's hands on your breasts and belly, and his fists clench. A tumult of emotions courses through him, a heady cocktail of arousal and jealousy swirling together. He struggles to differentiate between the two, the line between desire and possessiveness becoming increasingly blurred.

And then, there's Zayne. His friend. His rival. The man whose body is now intimately entwined with yours. It stirred something unfamiliar within Caleb. It's a new fascination, a sudden and unexpected attraction that he wasn't quite sure how to handle. Seeing Zayne's strong hands on your skin, his lips on your neck, Caleb can't deny the stirring deep within him or the quickening of his pulse. It's a confusing mix of desire, envy, and something else he can't quite name. All he knows for sure is, he wants you both.

He considered your dare for a long moment, watching Zayne caress and nuzzle you from behind, his arousal steadily growing. He took a final sip of whiskey, then stood from the couch, his arm outstretched, his palm awaiting yours. You took his hand, and together, both men helped you to your feet.

Caleb tipped your face up toward his with a pinch of your chin to kiss you. It started soft, his lips brushing once, twice, a whisper of warmth that makes your breath catch—before his mouth crashed into yours with hungry precision. Fingers threaded through your hair, angling your face steeper as his tongue swept in, tasting you like something sacred and starved for, the push-pull of tenderness and desperation blurring until you’re clinging to his shoulders, lightheaded from the sweetness of how he lingers, nipping your lower lip. He held you firm in his arms until he was satisfied, stroking the saliva from your lips after he’d pulled away for air.

“I dare you,” he murmured, his voice sensually low, “to go get ready in the bedroom - and don't come out unless I say.”

He kissed you again and sent you off with a pat on the ass, waiting till you were out of view and earshot before he sat back on the couch next to Zayne. “We need to chat,” he said seriously, making stern eye contact with his friend.

Zayne shifted a little uncomfortably but set his glass down to give Caleb his full attention.

“I’m listening.”

“How far are we willing to take this?” He asked, unsure of his own answer to that question. This was all new territory after all.

“I’ll go as far as you’ll let me.” Zayne replied, “You know how I feel about her.”

“Yeah, okay…” Caleb took a moment to rub his face, groaning into his hands before re-emerging more confident in his desires, “As long as she's mine, I think… I'm okay with anything that she's okay with.”

“And…us?” Zayne asked, hesitantly gesturing between them.

A silent moment of contemplation passed before Caleb shrugged.

“I'm game if you are, but let's keep the focus on her to start.”

Zayne nodded in agreement, picking up his drink for one more shot of courage.

“Hey!”

Both men turned toward the bedroom, seeing only the darkened threshold waiting for them. “What kind of party is this? I’m all alone!”

Both men smiled. Any leftover reluctance or uncertainty melted away at the sound of your voice. Their minds were made up. The path forward was clear. Nothing would ever be the same after tonight.

You meanwhile, had been biding your time cleaning…frantically. You gathered up every stray article of clothing, every mid-term paper and textbook still strewn on the floor from your late-night cram sessions, your walkman, and cassettes. Every obstacle that might potentially interrupt the evening's events had to go. You didn't want a single distraction or trip hazard to ruin this.

You could hardly wrap your mind around what was about to happen. Your heart raced with nervous excitement—but then you spotted your reflection in the mirror, and froze.

Your hand reaches for the messy knot hanging on the side of your head like a pom-pom, and a small noise of panic squeaks past your lips. You race to the attached bathroom and fix your hair, touching up your makeup while you're there - why not? Then you look at your clothes. How many days have you been wearing this t-shirt? Is that a ramen stain? God, you hoped that was all it was. You needed to change.

You strip quickly, being sure to stay out of the doorway for modesty's sake—which seemed silly afterward. Within your shared dresser, you dig into the bottom drawer—Caleb's toy box. Just as you had hoped, your lingerie was washed and folded, tucked neatly between playthings, a bundle of pink satin and lace. Caleb bought it for your birthday last year, after you told him wearing it would make you feel like Olivia Newton-John, and you weren't wrong. You slipped into the bodice and threw the shawl around your shoulders, before settling on the bed to wait.

Leaning back on your elbows you strike a seductive pose as the men ducked under the doorframe.

Caleb's eyes lit up when he saw you, his smile brimming with pride and affection.

Zayne was equally mesmerized, actually stock still at the sight of you.

“Whose turn is it?” you ask, sliding one smooth leg across the other.

“Mine, I believe.” Zayne blinked as if breaking from a trance.

You get up on your knees, inching toward him on the spring mattress.

“Truth or dare?” you ask.

“Does it matter?” he shuddered, looking down as you pulled him to the edge of the bed by his belt.

You shake your head no, smiling as you liberate the leather from its steel buckle.

“Not so fast, pipsqueak.” Caleb playfully tackled you around the waist, flipping you over his hips to the other side of the mattress. You giggled but didn't resist. “I’ll take my turn first, if its all the same you you.”

You snuggle into his embrace as he folds you up in his arms and kisses you deeply, one hand firm against the side of your face. He lifts your leg over his hip and rolls you on top of him, keeping you balanced on his pelvis.

Before you realize it, Zayne is behind you. His hand finds yours on the covers, an icy touch that startles you initially but quickly transitions to be soothing and serene. He gently pulls you away from Caleb's kiss and into one of his own. You can feel Caleb moving underneath you, but you're lost in Zayne's tender touch. His bare arms close around you, pulling you back against his cool chest, as pristine as marble.

“A-h,” Your breath catches as Caleb's clothed erection presses into you, hot and firm. His calloused fingers slide the straps of your bodice down your shoulders, the top folding to rest upon your waist, leaving your bare breasts exposed to the air.

Zayne's lips caress your shoulder while Caleb's hands slide up your thighs. The touches of both men become a blur of stimulation as you lose yourself in between them. Your arousal pools between your legs, making you squirm with desire.

“Not yet baby,” Caleb coos, pulling you off of Zayne. He cradles your neck, the other arm lifting your hips in the air before he lays you down on the comforter. “We gotta make sure you’re ready first.”

“Have you ever done this before?” Zayne breathed, kneeling to your right, while Caleb settled on your left.

“N-no!” You gasp, arching in response to Zayne's cold touch descending under the satin to tease your folds. His fingers warm in your heat.

A soft sound of amusement echoed.

“I wasn’t asking you, darling.”

After some deep exploration beyond your walls, Zayne withdrew. You crane your neck to look over your breasts and see him raise two glistening fingers to Caleb's tight lips.

Caleb hesitated, looking from Zayne to your juices dripping like honey from his fingertips.

“Have I ever done what before?” he asked raggedly, trying to resist the urge to taste you.

“This.” Zayne leaned further forward to force your slick into Caleb's mouth.

Your boyfriend scoffed, about to pull away, but then your intoxicating essence hit his tongue, and all resistance crumbled. Caleb grabbed Zayne's wrist to hold him steady, while he savored every trace of you. The veins on both men's arms bulged and pulsed as their strengths clashed in a silent battle for dominance. Once finished, Caleb released Zayne, only his expression wasn't one of satisfaction, it was one of insatiable hunger.

“Keep her busy,” Caleb ordered, vanishing from your sight.

“Where are you-”

Zayne interrupted you with a slip of his tongue past your teeth, making you smile. It was a familiar dance between you two, these battles of will and wit. Whenever you fought, he quickly overpowered you, always wearing that superior smirk of his that you found utterly irresistible. You were on the verge of starting a verbal fight, ready to parry and spar with words, when you felt Caleb's heavy hands wrapping around your thighs. The touch was assertive, a raw claim for attention.

“Hold her, she squirms.” Came your boyfriend’s stern voice from between your knees.

“Caleb! Ah!” You giggle and writhe playfully as Zayne wrestles your limbs into submission, sitting on your ribs with his knees on your shoulders, your wrists pinned above your head in his hand.

“I have my orders, darling, it’s better if you don’t struggle.”

“Zayne!” You strain once more in defiance before dropping, limp from exhaustion.

“There’e go,”

You can scarcely hear Caleb now, his words muffled and low. As you're trying to decipher his message, a hot wet shock shoots pleasure up your spine, making you arch and moan, fighting Zayne’s restraints with the strength of pure ecstasy.

Caleb knew all your favorite tricks, hell he’d taught you most of them. He kept his hands firmly on your thighs, spreading you like a book so that he could lick your pages one by one. He nuzzled at your clit until it peeked from its hide, then he sucked it between his teeth before sliding the full length of his tongue into your sopping pussy.

You groan, fighting Caleb with your knees, and Zayne with your arms. You failed at both, but you did manage to slip a single hand free from Zayne in the struggle.

“Christ you're strong,” Zayne chuckles, all his muscles flexed and he snatched your hand back, putting it in its place above your head.

“I call her the sex-hulk” Caleb chimed in, taking a break from bullying your folds. “She broke two sets of my handcuffs - one of them was real!”

“Sex-hulk,” Zayne laughs louder, his grip on you weakening.

“Fuckkk” you roll your hips with a desperate whine, “Can we f-focus please - Ah!”

Caleb’s face smashed against your cunt, nuzzling your entirety with vigorous speed and pressure. You couldn't hold back your noises any longer, it was too much. “Ooo” you whine softly, trying to keep composure, “hah, C-Caleb…”

“I'm here babygirl, you're doing so good,” he kissed your open pussy in between every word “getting so wet for us.”

Zayne sinks low, kissing your neck down to your collarbone, and eventually your breast. He sucked your nipple till it was throbbing, then he shifted and did the same to your other. One of his hands even found its way into your hair, keeping your head from tensing up as the pleasure increased.

Your moans grew louder, your pleasured contortions more extreme and involuntary. Caleb edged you to the pinnacle of bliss…then stopped.

Sweaty and tired from your first almost orgasm, you are helpless when the men make up their minds to move you.

Like a rag doll, they maneuver you further up the mattress, adjusting your limbs as they contemplate different positions. You hardly care. All the manhandling was worth it if they fucked you silly.

“On your hands and knees, pipsqueak,” Caleb issued his command in a gentle murmur.

You smile up at them both, their faces beaming down at you from the sky. You use all your strength to roll over and position yourself between them as directed.

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” Zayne’s chest heaved, stroking your jaw from where he stood beside the mattress. A cold thumb slipped past your lips, and he pulled your gaze up to meet his, green eyes narrow and lidded, staring right through you. “You’re so beautiful.”

His other hand had been working swiftly in the shadows, releasing his belt to drop his trousers. By the time your head returned to a normal position, Zayne’s lean refined cock was there waiting for you.

You felt Caleb’s hands on your ass, pulling the satin aside to slip two fingers slowly into your quivering hole. As you whimpered, Zayne’s cock teased past your parted lips and entered on the slide of your tongue.

You let him fuck your gaping mouth for a few pumps before wrapping your lips around his girth, keeping suction as you took him deeper with each stroke. The taste was distinct, captivating, and subtly bitter. It lingered on your tongue, a blend of musk and an undertone you couldn't quite place. All three of your movements became synchronized. Every time you pulled back on Zayne’s dribbling dick, Caleb’s fingers plunged deeper inside you.

You wriggled against your boyfriend’s hand, moaning and whining for more.

“You think you’re ready?” Caleb growled, his voice washing over you like a warm blanket, cozy and comforting.

Zayne smiles down at you with empathy, then thrusts deeper down your throat. So far that you’re forced to grunt your reply around his cock, spit and cum bubbling in the corners of your mouth. He tucks your hair out of the way, meeting your sweet eyes as you gaze up at him for guidance and approval.

“She’s ready.” He answers for you.

Your eyes go wide at the feel of something thick and hard pressing against your entrance through the satin.

Caleb slides his swollen head up and down your slit until your pussy is drooling and your hips are shaking with need.

Every whine is met by another thrust from Zayne. He had your hair in a fistful as he lost himself in the rhythm, fucking your face at an even speed.

You moan, elbows buckling, as Caleb’s thick member teases you relentlessly. You wriggle back onto him, desperate and craving his cock.

Sliding the satin aside, he gently widens your vaginal opening with two fingers, preparing you by easing you apart before fully immersing himself.

You arch your head back in ecstasy, allowing Zayne's dick to slip from your lips, a trail of slick desire trickling down your jaw. You couldn't care less. You were utterly captivated by Caleb's rhythmic movements, his firm grip on your hips both intense and purposeful as he drew you more forcefully against him with each powerful thrust.

“A-ah! F-fuck!” You gasp weakly, each breath hitching as you're caught between the lewd slaps of skin against skin.

"Here," Zayne says as he gets onto the mattress and adjusts himself until he is underneath you, "lay your weight on me."

You whimper, and while Caleb doesn't stop, he does adjust to accommodate your movements, shifting with you over the covers before you collapse onto Zayne's chest. The change in angle finally causes his cock to pop free from your pussy.

Both men's groans trigger an involuntary shiver along your spine.

“No, wait,” Caleb pants, crawling over your back until his hair curtains you. Zayne meets his gaze. “Switch me.”

Zayne’s eyebrows raised in a moment of understanding.

“Right.” he agreed.

They both departed from around you in a flurry of motion, leaving you sitting cross-legged atop the covers with your breasts exposed, a confused frown tugging at your brows.

Caleb took the spot on the bed, lying on his back. He slapped his pecs to summon you, a smile plastered across his face.

“Come’ere baby,” he said with glee.

You smile, narrowing your gaze in mock suspicion.

“Just what exactly are you two planning?” you ask as you settle over his hips again, this time with nothing but a slick layer of arousal between you.

Caleb grinned, one large arm reaching around your chest to lower you onto him. Once your head was nestled against his collarbone, he placed a heavy hand over your ear, fingers splayed, muscles taut. You attempt to move, but his strength keeps you firmly in place.

“Caleb?” you wriggle.

“Hold still baby.” he breathed intensely, his words scattered between gasps.

Something was happening, but all you could see was the twitch of his Adam's apple, the rise and fall of his chest, and the hardness of his nipple. You tried to sneak your fingers up to tease the rosy mound, but he caught your wrist before you could reach. “Don't,” he growled, “not yet”.

“Ah!” You gasp as you feel the delightful squish of two cum-soaked tips probing at your entrance.

“Ugh, fuck,” Caleb groaned, his eyes rolling back as his dick rubbed on Zaynes, both members twitching against your sex.

“Here,” Zayne offered, guiding Caleb's dick into your slit. “Hold her still.”

Caleb grunted as he reached down to steady your wriggling hips, his laugh tickling your ear.

Zayne cradled Caleb's dick in his hand, poised to sink it into your hole, but then he paused. After a moment of deliberation, he took his other hand and plunged three curved fingers deep inside you, wringing and scooping all your juices into his palm before employing them to lubricate your boyfriend's cock.

“Huh!” Caleb twitched, covering his eyes as if he was embarrassed to witness this pleasure.

You whimper into his sweetly perspiring neck, your hips grinding in the air with needy desire while Zayne uses his hands to prepare you both with meticulous precision. His fingers inside you beckon you closer to the edge of orgasm, and judging by Caleb's ragged breaths tickling your hair, he was precariously close as well.

You jerk forward, free of his surgeon's grip.

“I'm sorry,” Zayne’s touch grazed your thigh in concern, “was I hurting you?”

“No,” You let Caleb pull both your breasts down into his mouth as you catch your breath, trying to find the words. The sensation of your boyfriend's warm, wet mouth on your skin is a soothing balm, allowing you a moment of respite as you attempt to gather your scattered thoughts. The words, however, seem to be just out of reach, the intensity of the experience leaving you momentarily speechless. “I just can't take any more foreplay.” You manage to utter at last.

“Oh," Zayne hummed thoughtfully, and in the silence, you could hear the delicate slip-slaps indicative of the medical student fervently masturbating your boyfriend. His hand on your hip gently directed you down. "Sit," he commanded, his tone growing ragged as he watched you lower your pussy onto Caleb's thick, throbbing dick still held in his hand.

Zayne carefully guides you onto Caleb's engorged member, gradually using both of his hands to grind your hips against Caleb's pelvis until your clit was throbbing.

“Uhn,” you moan loudly, letting Zayne catch you as you fall backward, your core weak.

“Lay forward,” He whispers in your ear, a cool hand flat on your tailbone, steering you into submission as he pushes you onto Caleb once again. You bite your lip as Zayne positions himself behind you.

Caleb began to thrust his hips off the mattress, in small strokes at first, teasing you into a state of delirium.

A sharp stab of pain shot up your backside making you gasp, your body tensing and halting on instinct.

“Relax, Pip,” Caleb's soothing voice lulled you back into a state of calm, as the pressure around your rear entrance gradually increased. “Deep breaths. You're doing so well. Such a good girl.”

“Uhnn!” you cried out, grabbing Caleb’s hand for support as Zayne’s smooth cock breached your asshole.

“Oh fuck,” Zaynes whisper of pleasure was faint, but primal, eliciting a quiver down your spine.

“Go deeper, she can take it,” Caleb said, spreading your asscheeks for Zayne before re-starting his subtle thrusts into your cunt.

You shake your head, eyes misty.

“I d-don’t…ah! K-know…” You squeal as Zayne slides deeper, until you can practically feel both cocks kissing through your walls. The pain subsided, and your hole even relaxed, pulling Zayne deeper in welcome.

“Mhm,” he chuckled, “What were you saying?”

“I told you.” Caleb boasted through a grunt, thrusting a little harder into your fluttering pussy.

You were stretched so wide you wanted to scream, but god it felt so good.

Zayne leaned over your back, locking an arm around you like a seatbelt. Then, slowly, he guided your movements to match his, sliding you up and down Caleb's shaft.

“Just like that,” he hummed in your ear, suckling on your earlobe until you moaned. “Should we make him cum together?”

“You fucker,” Caleb laughed through moans and gasps, his face contouring with pleasure as you and Zayne rode him like a saddle.

The three of you coiled tighter as a unit. Caleb's fist in Zayne's hair, Zayne's fingers in your mouth, your nipples alternating between Caleb's teeth. Your thighs clenched, your muscles spasmed, your body spiraling out of your control.

“Oh…guys…” You say through heavy breaths putting a hand down on Caleb's firm chest to steady yourself, “Uhnn, fuck-”

“You wanna cum first honey?” Caleb asked, kissing your parted, drooling lips with a smile. “I think we can allow that, don't you?”

“I suppose.” The man behind you sighed through a grin, his thrusts growing deeper and harder.

“No,” Caleb put a hand on Zaynes shoulder to stop him, “just sink it in deep. Trust me.”

You could hear Zayne's chuckle, but he followed the suggestion to a tee. Sinking as deep into your rear as he could get himself, his hot balls squished tightly to your ass, resting there atop Caleb's dense sack as both of them soaked you into oblivion.

You wriggled, you writhed, the lack of movement was electrifying and excruciating. Your pussy throbbed, twitched, grabbed, any desperate attempt to get a reaction from them. Slick started to drip down your thighs as your cunt shook and spasmed around their girths. Your abdomen coiled, your womb knotting as your body shuddered in climax. You cried out, but Caleb's strong arms muffled you into his chest. Zayne embraced you from the top, both of them holding you through the tremors of ecstasy, encouraging you with little kisses until your screams and your spasms had subsided.

You went limp, your arms and legs depleted, your pussy bullied numb, your ass throbbing. Even the stars in your eyes pulsated in synch with your thrumming heartbeat, your blood stampeding through your veins as it tried desperately to replenish you.

“Mh-hn” You whimper as Zayne slips out of you, collapsing with a bounce to your left. He pulls you into a sweet kiss, savoring the taste of your languid tongue on his. He wraps you in his arms as Caleb slides himself out of you and snuggles against your back.

Their kisses coat your skin, from your neck, to your arms, your breasts, your hips, covering you completely in tenderness.

“What about you two?” You question, softly tucking back Zayne's hair as he leans in to kiss you once more. His lips are soft and persistent, his breath warm against your skin. The silk of his hair slips through your fingers, his scent enveloping you as you lose yourself momentarily.

Caleb is back to biting your shoulder, rough hands wandering your body, still hungry.

“Awe, she thinks we're done with her.” he snickered, kissing your cheek before whispering into your ear, “Uh-uh.”

“Think of this more as an…intermission.” Zayne grinned deviously, bending to nibble your neck.

Zayne’s teeth grazed your pulse as Caleb’s fingers dug into your hips, dragging you back against the hardened line of his body. Zayne purred, trailing his tongue up your throat to suck at your ear while Caleb’s palm slid lower, fingertips skimming over where you still ached.

"We'll let you catch your breath pipsqueak..." Caleb's voice deepened, his lips brushing against your shoulder as Zayne's hand descended to meet his between your legs. The men intertwined their fingers and began to stimulate your clit in unison. Their harmonized rhythm—Zayne's gentle kisses, Caleb's firm grip—left no doubt in your mind: if this was intermission, the encore was set to destroy you. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself before hearing Caleb's lustful warning; "But then, it's game on."

[darthstitch]

Random Filo Vincent Benitez Headcanons

(Yung mabawi ko lang ang Langit Points ko pls lang juskolowrd 😭😭😭)

1. One of the turtles in the pond is named Pong Pagong. The only other person who can differentiate little Pong from all the other turtles who now bear Renaissance artist names, aside from His Holiness, is Dean Cardinal Lawrence.

2. Sister Agnes is the one who first referred to the poor Dean as a "perpetually exhausted pigeon." That being said, all the Sisters keep an eye on him and there is a Not So Secret Conspiracy, led by His Holiness himself, to make sure the Dean eats enough.

(Obviously, it is Cardinal Bellini who notices that said Dean is putting on a healthy bit of weight.)

3. The Pinoy Mafia, obviously, was absolutely THRILLED to have a Pinoy Pope at last. Notable Pinoy dishes start apppearing in the Vatican kitchen menu. Sister Maria Lourdes who got "Papa Enteng" to beam with delight after trying her Bicol Express, was walking on air for days.

4. Sister Agnes would have normally been horrified to see the Holy Father puttering about in her kitchens but as the arroz caldo he was cooking was for a sick Dean Lawrence, she let it go.

Also, that was very good arroz caldo. Instant addition to the kitchen menu.

5. OBVIOUSLY His Holiness was delighted to bless the opening of a Jollibee near Vatican City. The video and pic of Jollibee himself doing a respectful "mano po" to Santo Papa Enteng broke Pinoy socmed.

6. Arroz caldo was not the last thing His Holiness cooked in the Vatican kitchens. His mischievous rendering of a Pinoy "carbonara" gave the Italian Curia collective apoplexy.

The Dean was amused but he actually liked the bacon and mushrooms.

Cardinal Bellini was in despair over his friend's hopeless "English palate." But Bellini himself did ask for seconds.

("Sinasabi ko nga sa inyo masarap eh," was His Holiness' amused comment. None of the Pinoy clergy wanted to explain what he meant to the non Tagalog speakers.)

7. No one wants to come forward and admit WHO filmed Cardinal Tedesco's reaction to Pinoy spaghetti, as cooked by the Holy Father, and uploaded it to Tiktok.

(It is widely suspected that it was the cheery, talkative, mischief-loving Cardinal from Manila who was responsible but no one wants to give him up anyway. Plus, he was a solid Papa Enteng supporter since Day 1 of the Conclave. He also famously did not get on with the Patriarch of Venice.)

8. Look, Pope Innocent was only going to get away with speaking Tagalog and not being understood by his polyglot Dean for so long. The first time he was surprised by his Dean showing off his newfound fluency was during the Holy Father's first visit to the Philippines.

(There was absolutely NO CRIME or other forms of violence in that country for the entire two weeks His Holiness was there. Filipino Catholics adored their Papa Enteng, no question. The mass attendance at Luneta alone broke the records set by the previous Popes.)

9. One favorite moment was when the Pope quietly slipped away to visit a shelter for street children and spent a precious couple of hours with them. There was a storytelling session too.

When the news media was able to interview one of the adorable little babbus who had sat on Santo Papa Enteng's lap during storytime, the little one blurted out that Papa Enteng told them all about the good Pong Pagong and his adventures in the Vatican, along with his good friend Kiko Matsing.

10. Papa Enteng, like about 95% of his countrymen, had a good singing voice. He made the country proud by singing a verse from "Bayan Ko" - and sent certain highly placed government officials sweating nervously.

[elwenyere]

This season of Andor - and the conversations about it - have had me reflecting on the show's approach to race and racialization. One level on which to examine a text's approach to race is representation: what stories does the show tell about characters of color, and what kinds of storylines does it offer to actors of color? Figuring out how to ask that first question about Andor is complicated, I think - for reasons I'll get into below. In terms of how much interesting, meaty work Andor offers its actors of color: I think this is probably the level on which Andor is most ordinary/least compelling, especially when it comes to the show's Black actors. Characters like Birnok, Jezzi, Gorn, Taramyn, Nurchi, and even Blevin disappear from the action sooner and with less ceremony than other supporting roles. And while Forest Whitaker knocks every Saw scene out of the park, the narrative places his position on revolution at the literal margins of the plot structure. In terms of direct representation I would say that, at best, Andor is par for the dubious Star Wars course, and, at worst, it reinforces some troubling dynamics of functionalization and abjection.

I mentioned, though, that I think it's complicated to determine how and when race shapes life possibilities for the characters in the show. That's because I think the area where Andor has much, much more interesting and useful things to say is in its interrogation of racialization as an ongoing process intrinsic to imperialism; and part of what makes this work complex is that it doesn't always align with the way audiences might understand the race of the actors. To explain what I mean by that, I'm going to unpack some things I've noticed about two principal areas in which Andor explores how imperialism constructs race as a system for producing and exploiting group-differentiated vulnerability (to follow Ruth Wilson Gilmore).

First, the engines of resource extraction and the way settler seizure requires the removal, extermination, or forced assimilation of indigenous populations. We see this first through Kenari, where the pits left behind by extensive mining are connected to the disappearance of the adult members of Kassa's community, and where Kassa himself will end up being abducted and eventually assimilated into the social structures of a foreign place. The Imperial plan to extract a likely-catastrophic amount of kalkite from Ghorman is in some ways very different, as Ghorman is presented as a planet with a history of wealth, status, and elite cultural production. But we see from the Imperial propaganda plot that the process for rendering the people of the planet expendable involves racializing mechanics. In order to make Ghorman kalkite seizable, the Empire sets about a campaign to Other the Ghormans. Through both rhetoric and material practice (the curfews, the blockades, the reorganization of their public space), the Ghorman campaign transforms the Ghor from Imperial subjects into insurgent terrorists, rendering them exterior to the freedom and protection the Empire promises (all agitators can/will become outside agitators, as Syril learns), and thus making them disposable and ungrievable (unlike the "martyrs"). In this way I think the show helpfully insists that the operations of race are social and political, not biological. The Empire differentiates the Ghormans as a group and renders them more vulnerable to violence so that it can exploit their resources, and the parallel between the opening pit on Kenari and the mining equipment being landed all over Ghorman invites us to think about how race works as a social force, rather than as a quality that belongs immutably to some people and not others.

Second, the carceral system that disciplines Imperial subjects by creating a criminal class that has been stripped of legal personhood. We see this very explicitly in the PORD and the Narkina 5 arc of season one, where the incarcerated men have been effectively disappeared beyond the reach of appeal or accountability ("nobody's listening"). Cassian's longer history of statelessness and fugitivity highlights the way arrest and imprisonment are operations that continue to produce heightened vulnerability even outside of the formal prison. Saw highlights this truth for Wilmon when he links his own forced labor on Onderon with the Imperial forces that continue to make those hunted by the state liable to be used as cannon fodder. And Wilmon has reasons to identify with that speech, because when the Ferrix crew fled probable arrest, they ended up undocumented and thus newly racialized on Mina-Rau. "Toolie" labor (and it's hard for me to believe the rhyme with "coolie" labor is accidental) is racialized not because a particular group of ethnic subjects do it but because it's a labor form more vulnerable to exploitation, detention, deportation, and legal/extra-legal violence. As I wrote in an earlier post, it's clear from Krole's treatment of Bix, for example, that he doesn't see her as someone who can be married in any meaningful way: she lacks the legal personhood that would make marriage a binding social contract. This points to the way race has operated through the forced separation of families/the weakening of family rights for some (under chattel slavery and through contemporary incarceration and deportation). And one thing I found striking (and a little squishy/muddy) about the Mina-Rau plot was the decision to cast very fair actors for Beela, her mother, and Talia, thus highlighting the darker features of Cassian, Bix, Brasso, and Wil in a way that hadn't been as apparent on Ferrix. One way to read this, I think, is as another visualization of the show's insistence that race is not a set of inherent, inborn qualities but a set of political categories mobilized through social and material geographies - a way of ordering space and distributing subjects within that space.

All in all, then, I think Andor does very interesting, occasionally incoherent work on racialization, and also that representation for actors of color is where it has the least thoughtful or original things to say. (And to be clear, I think it's totally fair to demand better in that area from a show that has such explicitly political ambitions.)