#its not only about the lenght itself

[kawaiiers]

when a tv show looks kool but the episodes are an hour long

[katyahina]

The 'haired' helmets are strange..

It IS odd how we get to wear the characters' hairstyles, as it is just really unlikely they're scalps! I suppose the explanation is the same as why we are able to completely change upon looking into a mirror at Roundtable's Hold; as long as the Tarnished is guided by Greater Will, they'll have its aid and be transformed into whatever they see fit to keep carrying on! So I think the implication here is that we do, physically, grow the hair of the demigods (or champions) upon trying to tap on their power! I think if GW abandons a Tarnished, or if they abandon it, they lose this 'ability', which our playable character never does, so..

I am not sure whether it is Maliketh's own long mane or also a decoration! I'd like to think the former, in which case, same logic as with hair of Malenia, Godfrey and Radahn applies! Vargram's "hair" definitely is a decoration, and specifically for the purpose of imitating shadowbeasts:

Ensha's armour goes even further and not only gives us a hairdo, but makes us a skeleton:

We even get his power of slight regeneration, similar to Erdtree's normal powers:

All implications considered, I really doubt that this is just how armour looks, especially considering no change in size. We are not 'wearing' the skull, we ARE the skull now fhhsfd And this time the NPC data inside simply exists because Ensha does use NPC code and mechanics. So, we turn into a corpse! Again, should not matter much since as long as we're carried by GW we don't need to eat or sleep or... anything, really. (I'll also die on the hill of the theory that Ensha was one of the deceased Marika's offspring whose Mausoleum crashed and what was left from him crawled out but that's another story fdhfhds)

Here are other instances of hair simply decorating a helm:

Niall is that one guy we fight in Castle Sol, so similarity in this case ALSO checks out! Also cute idea: what if decoration for the helmets of Godrick's Knights IS his own hair? ;-;

That could also be speculated about Redmane Knights, but I feel like it'd be more appropriate for Godrick's. Radahn would be stingy about his amazing lion mane whereas Godrick can not only take body parts but also give them XDDDD yeah yeah terrible whatever

The black hair on Night Cavalry's helmet can be removed, also confirming that in this case it is a decoration. This hair does have interesting flowing animation though! Maybe it IS the hair of Night Cavalry themselves, still having their shadowy energy, but cut and attached again to their own helmets (kind of like Ciaran from DS1 decorated her helmet with her own braid!)

Another case of hair not being actual hair but part of the mask; the way hair is placed, it'd had to grow from like, eyebrows level and face itself or something fdhfdsdfh Maybe this style with braids and grey hair was intended to refer at Godfrey's? Alternatively, what IF their faces are actually furry/animalistic despite otherwise human build, so the hair doubles as fur? We don't see them behind the mask, after all? A food for a thought lol

^ More of 100% 'mask' types of these

The water dancer in blue gave the sword to Malenia's teacher, the blind guy that once sealed the God of Rot himself, and these warriors in blue appear to be following the same philosophy of "ever running water preventing stagnation, so, rot itself" as him! Although this head piece imitates just a follower and not the man himself (as far as we are aware....), perhaps the sentiment is strong enough to give us the hairdo too x) Again, funny enough, it seems to resemble the Lady of the Lake fairy herself!

I suspected the case of 'sharing hair' with Cleanrot Knights too, but upon closer look I can tell it is supposed to be some fabric/rags, rather than hair or hairlike accessory! Probably more efficient to imitate the look with rags rather than something hairlike tbh, considering the lenght of the thing! So I think the design is more meant to represent Malenia's own unhappy fate, with short tuft being the "hair" and the longer tails being the "wings" :

_______________

In conclusion, it is kind of easy to deduce which hair become our actual hair for the time being because of golden grace 'reshaping' us and which hair is just decor! But it is really interesting stuff to think about all the way!

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl-- Part 2

A Homelander x F! Reader fanfic

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to post this and hope the lenght is enough of an apology, yeah this is gonna be liek 4 parts i got too engrossed btw. hope yall like it here's the previous chapter:

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

word count: 3.4K

Part 2– Calf

As he’d mentioned before the house was an escape proof cage– every window had its hinges super glued or welded shut, glass panels thick enough to prevent shattering but thin enough to allow sound in. That night as he’d left you for the first time you kept your composure, perturbed more by the earlier events that nothing had time to sink in, you venture across the 3 bedroom home, each room old taken straight out from a vintage furniture catalog, the master bedroom smelled just like your grandmother’s, the bathroom walls covered in tacky pink tiles that you told yourself will never get used to.

By the time you explored the whole building you understood the following: The size felt deceiving, without a way to see the outside this building could’ve been 35 floors high and you wouldn’t know, the east-wing of the building at the opposite direction where you’d emerged was cut off from you by a thick metal door, an eye-scan request made its unpickable lock, looking at how it cut on the hardwood floors you’d guess this is where in the kitchen and perhaps the garage and entry hall could be found, this overall felt like an architectural nightmare, the only other oddity of this was the piles and piles of bottled water– Vought branded water… you much rather drink Dasani than this crap… It was by far the worst one in the supermarket.

There were indeed no phones or even ethernet ports on the wall, the TV was bolted in its place and so was the VHS player (and all the furniture too), there were at least 350 titles on the walls (something you bothered to count on day 5), an extremely old vinyl player your only other company... whoever had supposedly lived here was a big fan of Cab Calloway, ABBA and Bruce Springsteen, here you and Bruce could become intimate friends it seems after all you had all his vinyls, alongside an expansive jazz assortment, nothing in this selection went past 1989.

You also learned a very useful fact on day 3 you stared at one of the 18 cameras that you’d found.

“I really want some Mcnuggets! Like just a 12-pack and a large Sprite! Maybe an Oreo Mcflurry too!” You yelled into the camera waving your arms as if the circular lense would reply somehow.

Barely few minutes later the air was filled with the roaring sounds of a bike burning tires seemed the forbidden end faced some road which made you giddy, about 50 minutes later a small door at the door itself opened smoothly where the first strange hand you’ve seen in the last 3 days popped-out leaving a bag with a familiar logo… it wasn’t maccas tho, it was Vought-a-burger which was okay but that wasn’t the point, you picked your meal and your oversize ice-cream and drink and begun connecting lines– Your prison was in Pennsylvania, based on the area code on the phone number on that old pizza box, located close enough from both a pizza chain and on a 15 to 20 minutes drive from a Vought-a-Burger, the library held no maps for you to try to find your location but give or take about an hour or two by foot from any civilization… Yet as you drank the mostly melted caramel churro sundae you smiled thinking of how to steal a bike.

That Night you picked two tapes from the wall not caring one bit about what you were going to see, you stared at the camera.

“Hey can one of you check like an underrated 80s movie list from IMDb ‘cuz I seen a few of these already… at least bring me something new!” 

As always no response was ever given, you dragged your feet towards that ornate bedroom of yours, pink walls, flowery quits, a matching chaise lounge, a hardwood coffee table bolted to the ground and your private TV and VHS player, it took you an hour to remember how to use these thing that second day here. You put on a movie, curling in your bed in the dark, smelling the sweet flowery smell of fabric softener, this didn’t smell like home, pillows too soft, mattress too soft everything here was made to bring you comfort but it was making you feel like a squatter.

The cold light of the screen enveloped every surface and you slowly faded away as ‘Lady in White’ began to wrap up, eyes glued to the screen so firmly you screamed when the faint red light peeked from the corner, clutching the quilt across your body as the red faded away and all you saw was a vaguely illuminated shape.

Blurry colors with no clean shapes, standing facelessly enough blue to let you see it was humanoid, Homelander creeped closer, his body blocking the light and like a shadow he devours everything, he turned around to pause the player, draping his gloves on the dumb box as he turned around once more, your heart caught in your throat, each breath quick and sharp as he took another step closer, hushing softly and he’s there swallowing you whole he kneeled into the bed the mattress squeaked and chimed sinking under his weight pulling you in, only the faint outline of gold eagles and soft blonde locks told you with absolute certainty that he was here… that 3 days ago you indeed met The Homelander, far from the pretty blue-eyed hunk from the movies more ghoul.

You swallowed as his head rested on the pillow next to your hips, his nose burying in the cushioned pillowcase.

“I was busy with work” He mumbles softly, staring at you with the same playfulness of a guilty pet owner who’d ran out of their cat's churu treats– "I promise to visit, I got you something… left it downstairs for you.” 

He stared at your white knuckled hands and without uttering a word you understood his demands, fingers moved by psychic force alone, you welcomed him into your lap as you came undone, burying your digits into his hair, soft like cotton, so smooth you dreamt of cat’s bellies as you scratched him, he took the remote from under you lifting you with so much ease your brain struggled to compute it at first, the movie played and all he wanted was petting.

“Security told me you’ve been good… nothing crazy… am glad, "he said with a tired tone.

“What good would that do me…?” You replied with your eyes focused on the screen.

If you wanted to survive I had to get on his good side, no? you though

“I like it when you people understand your place” He chuckles softly.

‘You people’? You could easily discern the meaning behind his words by tone alone, your finger stopped suddenly, his eyes flaring up immediately.

“I think this would be more productive if you told me exactly what’s going on… I won’t try to run or scream… am just confused and scared…” you spoke bluntly as his gaze met yours in the dark.

“This is my private speakeasy and you’re the bartender… tap too… is hard being on top… and I want some relief… and a sanctum–

“To express your socially unacceptable inclinations/interests? Fair enough I can imagine the press would eat you alive if they found out you liked breastmilk.”

“You’re cute and smart too.” He pushed himself into your stomach, your body sinking to the shape he wanted, holding you tight– I’ll be a good owner and let you asks me absolutely anything you want”

“Why me?”

“Dunno.” His lips tightened into a flat line– the doctors picked you, I asked for a good provider… but all the women downstairs and you did have one thing in common” He sounded awkward as he spoke listening to your increasing heartbeat– you kept producing… I asked to have easy access to my treat but somebody downstairs came out with all of this” his hand lazily gestures around– bit extra I know.”

How simple, he didn’t even care about this to begin with, glaring at him gave you no answers or comfort.

“My family…?”

“They think you killed yourself, I've been told… your ex-hubby been on twitter acting holier than the virgin mary, absolutely devastated for likes” You bit your lips, face scrunching up ready to shout and cry– everybody suspects he murdered you even the cops”

“I'm going to kill him!!” Your tears flowed regardless – god fucking dammit!”

Your whole body rejected the news, twisting your stomach and filling you with needles

“How would you do it?”

“Bash his head in with a hammer…?? I don’t know but fuck him! I wasted 5 years of my life with that bastard!” You cried.

Homelander buried his face into your stomach, hiding the smile on his face. as you cursed outloud for a little bit, he paid no attention to your words.

“Sorry…” You cleaned your tears trying to stop this embarrassing display, the mere thought of him acting like he cared made you sick when he wouldn’t even come to his own son’s funeral– are you gonna hurt me?” you cleaned your nose against the pillow.

He moved so quickly before you knew it he’s face to face and even in this dark room only lit by rolling credits he appeared serene as a painting… It makes your blood run cold.

“Why would I hurt my comforter?”

That night he only slept for a couple hours, never moving from your stomach, holding you regardless, he snored softly, mumbling half-spoken words, lips twitching and brows furrowing, you petted him gently watching his hardened frown melt.

Some days he’d come once, others he’d come five times and then there were the days were you didn’t see him at all, leaving you awkwardly aware about how odd these exchanges felt… for it never felt truly sexual, your fears of molestation and ‘real’ assault dissuaded as you accepted that all this man was doing was come here to whine and bitch about work and suck on your titty– like right now, Homelander has been shouting, talkign so much shit about his coworkers you started to wonder if it was made up for nobody could certainly be that allegedly incompetent, about how stressful it was to do 20 plus media interviews all day, about hoq\w his latest film “Justice Serve” was a fucking nightmare already despite being only half-way thru pre-production.

“Do you even know what it's like to deal with idiots who think they’re better than you because they have an award!?” He put your nipple back in his mouth with a frown– who does Villeneuve think he is” He mumbled into your skin.

Yet he didn’t only bring petty grievances and thirsty lips– he showered you with gifts, perfumes you couldn’t pronounce filled with soft fragrances: sweet but not sugary, warm tones without too much spice. Brought you beauty products to pamper you… to watch you play with from the many cameras in the house, and dressed you like a doll in clothes you honestly wouldn't have bought in the first place, too flowery and tradwifey.

You did so with a fake smile, you’d be pretty for him if you must, keep your tongue in-check and swallow the ever increasing knot in your throat for he at least wasn’t loud towards you, he didn’t yell, he didn’t make scenes… you were just living like his newest pet.

His miniature cow standing in the living room instead of the evergreen pastures outside, VHS tapes and steel food trays made your fence.

You keep busy cleaning this house making stories of who had lived there, Bruce the only one who spoke to you.

Analysing the house inch by inch, there had to have been a spot they’ve missed you kept thinking, you figured that somehow they monitored your sleep cycle, only entering to remove dirty clothes and trash in the death of night, they knew if you were obviously awake, on day 14 you stayed up till around 5 am and not a peep was heard accross the house but as you woke past noon all your trash had been cleaned up, on day 16 you stayed awake all day felt sick passed out and same thing, you would find a way out, you would force them to take you out, all the furniture was glued in its post but if you had to cause a fire you fucking would… as you stared at your clean bedsheets you figure you could force them to come in and drag you outside but as you postulated the possibility of a faux-suicide attempt Homelander’s face flashed accross closed eyes– dare dissapointing him and lose all the goodwill you’d been building, trust, even presents more extravagant than anything your ex ever did.

Had he not kidnapped you, hold you against your will in an underground bunker, used you as a milk fountain and terrified the fuck out of you with his invisible steps in the middle of the night you would had found him charming… endearing even… at least he was still handsome… frightening but handsome.

Day 18-19-20 were the worse so far, days went by and your isolation only grew he had not come by, your meals delivered so quietly you missed them and found them cold, birds either too loud or gone but Homelander never came, every hour the anxiety only grew as you found your throat aching to speak with somebody other than a non-present 80s musician.

You made a stack of the movies you’ve seen yelling to the camera demanding more to watch, abandoning the cause to focus on the obscene collection of Danielle Steel books in the library… at least 30 books, at least it was a distraction as you woke up for the third day in a row without hearing from Homelander. 

You talked to yourself, prettier views didn’t make up for human interaction, you had isolated yourselves before… you didn’t eat, shower, answer calls, simply left yourself to rot in your bed, sinking deeper and deeper into your mattress, the calm heartbeat of the machine keeping you alive until the phone battery died, now here you were curling in the couch feeling that endless void inside you screaming back at you, nothing to distract you from it any longer.

How ironic that those days locked in the basement had been the firsts since the funeral that you’d hadn’t thought about it.

Now every sleep came with dreams of distant cries, empty halls that cooed back, and a sense of urgency as time slipped from underneath you, nothing here smelled like him, yet in your sleep you held your pillow as you once held him, swearing it smelled like him, in the silence the singing birds sound like babies, but there’s nothing but creaking floorboards, old pipes and foreign ghosts in this place.

In this endless silence your mind told you this was limbo, jazz solos disguised the pandemonium of a silent afterlife, but as your heart anguished once again you buried yourself in paltry distractions, reading out loud as to keep your vocal chords warm and delude yourself that there was some company in here, mostly to hide the nonexistent crying.

It took you by surprise when half way thru ‘The Ghost’ you heard the buzzing of the steel door, your ears perked up stretching your neck before falling into the floor, shaky knees picked you up once more with a brave kick, quick steeping into the living room– Homelander stood staring at the messy pile talking to the camera to have this sorted and for the first time since you’d been here you sawn another human, who answered his call almost immediately, a man in kevlar rushed in his gun bouncing on his back alongside a young man dragging an ikea bag.

“Homelander!” Your voice was hoarse but he still turned to smile at you.

“We got you some new movies Ms. L/N” The young man spoke dropping the bag with a heavy thud.

“Watch it!” Homelander growled and you saw a slight stain dribble down his pants– just go wait in the library kitten while these ones sort this out for you.” 

Your feet moved anyways, too excited by the presence of new faces, had he not cleared his throat you would’ve said anything just to make sure this wasn’t a dream, you looked away and that big steel door was wide open, an armed guard by the exit tho… it was an office, painted white with cool fluorescent lights. 

Run, the voices scream.

Run.

For fucks sake run!!\

but...

You stay still.

It’s a test. Run and die, run and he’d snap your spine in thirds before you understand what happened your brain would be separated from your cranium no doubt, you swallow and take a step back, slow heavy agonizing steps lead you to the library.

Homelander’s gaze softens as he watches you sit by the unlit fireplace, he follows you soon after leaving the staff to work behind, you lift your head with a stiff neck, your tongue swollen inside your mouth, he smiles gently dropping to your level, carrying a small box.

The pretty bow doesn’t catch your attention in the least.

Not that dashing smile and ever so blue eyes either.

He tickles your nose without touching.

Chamomile and oat, a pale scent, subtle and clean…

As he scoot closer to you urging you to take the meaningless box held by nude hands, he pets your chin, leaving you to catch nutty tones… his hands smell of almond oil and cream.

He’s talking as he guides your hand into opening the present but you aren’t hearing a single word spoken… all you care about is his aroma…it invides you carving an aching hollow chest, making you dizzy and the world is squeezing your whole body with a thousands of pounds of violent force but you’re still held in one piece, wrapping your neck with the necklace he’d got you, touching every exposed inch leaving traces of sweet almond on you, resting his chin on your stiff shoulder so close whispering sweet nothings to you… hair smells so creamy… milky coconut, it makes you ill– You could name every brand he wore if asked.

“You like it?” He asks into your neck.

‘Like’ what? You guessed he meant the necklace.

“Where have you been?” You asked, wanting to think of anything but that bitter scent.

He pushes you down into the carpet, your hair drapes everywhere so he moves it to give himself no chance to pull it, you can’t even argue but your surprise and discomfort still paints your face, before you can say anything he drops his head on your stomach, nuzzling your dress and pulling your hand towards his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it” his muffle words sound angry, he whined into your stomach a quiet order demanding affection.

Obeying orders before he could whined even more for now you wanted silence again.

Staying like this for as long as he needed, leaving you to speculate what brought him such distress that caused him to abandon you as a result, a part of you stared in awe as you realized you how long this man could stay still without making a sound for.

How long did you lay there in a shared repose that your eyes shut? you wondered as the orange glow of afternoon sun warmed your cheeks, his hand cleaned a falling tear off your face as you woke up with a headache.

“Had a nightmare?”

Your hand unconsciously pulled him close to you, burying his face under your chin he’d awkwardly smiled as he adjusted to your demands, talking to you but it was white noise, your kept him still bridging an arm across his neck locking him in position, your other hand buried in blond, closing your eyes as you got high on shampoo.

In your mind much like your dream you hold him so close, he was plump and giddy, his hair more than a thin tuff, you laughed with him, as you dried his back, you swore to never love the scent of coconut, you held back your pain as you held him with all your might.

“I don’t want to talk about it…”

[whole-circus]

Cozy night

Jeff the Killer x afab reader NSWF??

➥ TW. dunno sex or somethin? reader being shy pussy and a virgin (kidding love you!)? jeff itself? fake, a bit pornish like idea of sex? Remember about safe sex and stuff!

Wanna him so much..(im a virgin) (i have never ever hold hands romantically)

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

You and Jeff were sitting on his bed, cozy night quickly turned into make out session. His rough hands were all over your body, caressing and gripping soft flesh of yours skin. Jeff know very well about your purity, about your innocence..he loved how you get shy and blush at the smallest touch of his. He loved the idea of him being your first and last, the only one who can make you feel this good, and the only one to take your virginity. One of his palm grasping your hair, controlling the movement of your head, keeping you all good and obdient for him. His other one grasping your hips roughly as his mouth exploring your neck. His tongue licking your sensitive area, as his hand move closer and closer to your panties, caressing your thighs. Your neck now with marks and hickeys, as all you can do is moan and make sweet, desperate sounds. Jeff loves that. Jeff loves seeing his pretty, obdient girl under his influence, all needy and wet just for him. „What is it bunny?” - he chuckles in his husky and deep voice, almost mocking you.

He sees how shy and embarassed you are, that why he pushes you even more, wanting to break you. He continue to kiss and bite your neck, his hand now slipping into your panties. As you seat on his lap, you can feel him, his throbbing bulge. At the thought of him being soon inside your sensitive place, you blush and try to hide your face into his chest. All Jeff can do is chuckle again. „My eyes are up here sweetheart..” - he whispers right into your ear, gently biting it and forcing your jaw to the position, when you can look at him. His warm hand now pushing your underwear aside, exposing your swollen clit and leaking hole. He licks his lips and gently kiss your neck. After a moment you feel his touch, as Jeff start softly rubbing your clit. He still has you on his lap, holding your head on his chest as he watches your reaction. He can see your arousal, he can see how you try to hold back your moans. „You are such a sensitive mess, arent you? Whats wrong? Have you never touched yourself there..?” - he ask teasingly, continuing his movement, gently caressing your hair. His hand now speeding up a bit, as he sees how shy you still are. Suddenly you can feel something inside you, and as you look down you see Jeff's finger gently moving in and out, as he keep rubbing your clit with his thumb.

After a moment he pulls out, smirks and throws you to bed. You didn't have enough time to complain about feeling empty, because Jeff is already taking off his tshirt and move his pants on the lenght of his knees, staying only in boxers. His underwear shows his already hard member, creating a bulge and small stain from his precum. He gets on top of you, looking down and smirking. „I cant wait to fucking ruin you..” - he whisper to your ear, pinning you down with his much bigger and stronger body. You can feel his heat on you, desperatly moving your hips to touch his crotch. Jeff start kissing you roughly, your tongues dancing as your savilia mixes. He forcefully take off your underwear and his, giving his cock a few strokes. He looks at you with gaze of predator, looking at its prey. He keeps kissing you, and once again touching your wet pussy. Jeff stop what he is doing and start teasing your entrance with his tip, chuckling darkly. You can feel his and yours sexual tension and arousment. With one, strong thrust Jeff slides in you, giving you a moment to get used to new feeling, to feeling of feeling completely full and under his control. As he starts moving, you shyly turn your gaze away and moan softly. Noticing that, he grab your hair and make you look down. „Shh..look how deep I am hun..You see that?” he whispers and keep forcing his big cock, stretching your warm hole. You can feel how much he abuse your virgin pussy, geting more and more needy from his every thrust. You moan his name and keep whimpering into his chest, as he moves. You can feel his strong hands moving all around your body, during him pounding into your gummy walls. The rooms fills with your sweet sounds mixed with male whimpering and growling. His peace gaining on speed, as he looks down at you, his long hair covering his face. Movement of his hips thrusting into you make your eyes roll,you are clenching on him, squezing him so hard. „Fuck..m gonna breed you slut..gonna ruin you bunny..” You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, with him pounding into you, whimpering into your ear and touching your breasts you feel one final wave of pleasure and reach your climax. Not soon after, you can feel your walls being filled with his hot and sticky seed with final moan. Now its just you both on bed, trying to gain your breath.

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

[jaydenforest]

RANT!

Never thought that i would ever rant on here but someone has to say something.

See these Comments here?

They honestly disgust me, people glorifying Starscream's abuse or romanticizing his Relationship to Megatron are honestly the nastiest people i know.

Just imagine if they were real people for a moment, would People still ship and find it "hot" when Megatron beats Starscream to near death? If yes then wtf is wrong with you.

The People who romantizice them being together is just as bad if not worse. Megatron is litteraly a crazy Warlord seeking only revenge against Optimus no matter the cost, he mostly just beats Starscream to set an asample to not disobey him, everyone else in the Show (TFP) also thinks that its "funny" that Starscream gets beaten to near Death.

And honestly? Wtf do these Writers think while creating those scenes?? People litteraly glorify abuse and have no sense of Empathy. Yet if anyother Characters os wronged or dies people are sad and say they didnt deserve it. As a Person who has been through similar stuff in the Past this is Sickeing.

And the Fact that "Megastar or MegaOP" are one of the most popular ships in this whole Fandom is another thing of itself.

I'm honestly mad, since Starscream is one of the most loved and hated Characters in this whole Community, but i feel like some people only like him because of his supposed "cute/hot" realtionship to Megatron. Or how they sexualize him in general, he isnt this "cutsie uwu bottom femboy"...

Or people from the ES Community raging at Starscream to just "forgive" Megatron and not be a drama queen, or that he doesnt deserve Peace. I already hate ES as it is but this continues Starscream hate and or sexualizing is honestly disgusting.

And i dont know why people never speak up about it, and IF they say something then they are mostly the biggest Megastar Defenders to exist, i honestly dont know how any sane person can think this is "Hot".

People do anything to make their Ships ok, and once you notice the lenghts they go to make it ok you notice just how fucked up they really are.

I cant even scroll my for you page on here anymore because i mostly have these supposed "Adults" here glorifying the sexualizing or Abuse.

Might get hate for this Rant but honestly, i couldnt give less of a fuck. Someone had to say something eventually.

[immediatebreakfast]

The relationship between Dracula the novel, and its telling of ableism around the characters is a rather complex issue that stems from both the narrative itself, and the framing of said ableism when applied to a character.

The book has gone on lenght to describe, and establish the power dynamic, the tension, and the interactions between Seward and Renfield in way that is clearly uncomfortable.

The illusions of Seward clinging to Renfield's status as a patient to defend a treatment that clearly puts the old man in the category of test subject. Renfield's performative words and actions towards Seward (that he knows will work) are painted as unsettling not only thanks to the internal ableism of the novel, but also to put Seward in a spot of morality in his profession at the cost of Renfield's treatment as a human being.

Remember that regarding Renfield's motives for his actions, Seward is at best drawing the wrong conclusions from them, and at worst turning into an unrealiable narrator to fit the version of Renfield that he has in his head. This gets worse when you add Seward's problems with sleeping, and depression.

The difference is that Renfield, despite his plans and his manipulations, at the end of the day is a mentality ill old man who is vulnerable. Even if Seward's unethical treatment si something that Renfield has known from the beginning, and sadly knows the exact consequences of it. He is human, and there is a point where we can't take it anymore.

"Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape with it."

Narrative wise, it seems that Seward has dropped the pretense of convincing himself about how Renfield is a patient that he must treat, and instead Renfield is a test subject that he needs to observe.

Even if Jack said before how he wouldn't cross the line of feeding into Renfield's dellusions to study him, it was more to convince himself to not do it. That was also a time when Renfield was actively performing, and keeping afloat the power dynamic between to get a few pieces of freedom. So maybe Seward felt more comfortable in keeping that "line" when he perceived Renfield as a more (ugh) illogical madman that at least knew his "place" in their dynamic.

If Renfield now "sees" him as an equal, as a mere person entrusted with his care, then Seward has to admit to himself that his diagnosis, and theory about Renfield is wrong. That he observed, but did not process anything.

But now that Renfield has been "acting out" of the established dynamic, along with Seward's own depression taking a hold on his biases within the system of doctor-patient? If the constant use of restraining jackets, and a padded room says something, it's something that is not pretty.

[huginn-on-the-loose]

Naturally, much like all others, I have my thoughts about Apology Tour.

Looking at it from production value, writing and all that jazz- it's just so fucking good. I saw plenty of Media Illiterates harping on it for 'not making sense', having 'plot holes', 'retconning characters'- and honestly there is no reason to entertain any of these supposed 'critiques', since all of them either pick and choose what to harp on or their ability to see nuance and story clues is so low it practically hit the bottom of Mariana Trench.

To briefly touch on Full Moon, both Stolas and Blitz messed that one up- but honestly, it was long coming, and I dont think there was any possible way both of them could prevent that, especially as that would require something neither were able to do- and that is talk and listen.

The Book Deal was obviously yikes, and to have any healthy relationship, it had to go- that was a step in right direction for Stolas, who realized that this was wrong, and I applaud him for that. But in his well meaning way, he forgot one important thing- to actually talk to Blitz about it.

Blitz, sadly, has a very unhealthy view of his own person. I would argue, actually, that his hypersexuality is not unlike that of an Angel Dust, because one needs to hit the lowest of low to be able to disregard and be indifferent to their own body like that. It could be its own separate post, but from Blitz's past, we know only of two loves he had- his crush on Fizz, which most likely never came to fruition, and his relationship with Verosika.

From the newest episode, we know it got pretty serious- and that Verosika considered it to be extremelly humiliating to open like that emotionally and have it blow up in her face. Seeing their 'photo' together- the illustration done- where she has a large fat 'NO' over her skirt, it really makes me wonder how comfortable young Verosika was with the fact she was seen as piece of meat- a desirable plaything, good only for one thing, and that's sex.

Blitz, obviously, is a well travelled imp; looking through the 'exes' at the party, there is fair amount of succubi/incubi, shark demons from greed, and some of the goat demons from sloth. Sprinkling of imps, yes- but it wouldnt be a far reach to expect that Blitz had to spend a fair amount in both Lust and Greed ring, to meet those specific people.

People like to talk about how naive and inexperienced Stolas is, while the party is a tapestry of Blitz' own experiences- but like, everyone conveniently forgets that Blitz was once naive and inexperienced as well. Verosika called him a 'selfish imp in the sheets'- partly out of spite probably- but we know the lenghts he went to have Stolas enjoy himself on full moons, and it makes me wonder how much of his 'selfishness' was him being selfish, and how much of it was, I don't know, dealing with another trauma? His vehemence of accusing Stolas of being just like all the other royals, and how he has an imp fetish, felt pretty personal.

25 years is a long time- we know the start of Blitz's major trauma, but there is no telling he had gained many other along the way. Him curled in fetal position after sleeping with Chaz really speaks for itself- there could have been a time where Blitz had nothing to offer to the table but himself, and it happened again and again until sex really became nothing but just another way to pay for something he needs, until making it part of his personality felt like the easier path to take instead of letting it devour him from the inside.

When he attempted to steal the book from Stolas, and then resigned himself to a pity sex because part of him didnt want to hurt Stolas' feelings even as they didnt havent seen each other for so long, his goal was to do it fast- probably his usual way of doing things- but he stayed the whole night instead.

That speaks of him enjoying the night, and when Stolas called about the deal offer, his irration was only about the timing, not the offer itself. I would go so far as say he welcomed it- what a perfect excuse to do something he enjoys without all the unnecessary emotional attachments. Only, Harvest Moon happened, with Striker (who at first was clearly a kindred spirit) managing to unsettle him by insulting his ability to be succesful, telling him he could be great but instead he is whoring himself out for a royal, and then Stolas unknowingly finishing the job. With Truth seekers following the Harvest Moon, where Stolas showed himself to be this all powerful demon while simultaneously demeaning Blitz again, he was already wavering- and then Ozzie's club did the rest.

Blitz, much like Striker, has a very poor opinion of the high class- only he is more quiet about it. With the doubts seeded, he started jerking away in the metaphorical chains he now thinks that Stolas put around him, and started paying closer attention to Stolas' actions, and clocking him as just another royal messing with him- thus taking the break offered from the Deal when he could, as a way to prove to himself he was no-one's pet.

Stolas, of course, in the meantime was grappling with his own issues. His daughter, the divorce, his own depression, his growing feelings for Blitz and the realization just how abhorrent the Book Deal was. Correctly, he realized that this needs to change, and - also somewhat correctly- realized his actions were hurting Blitz. His desire for something genuine and his doubt of getting it while the book was between them peaked when he got kidnapped and Blitz didnt even visit him while in the hospital- trouble is, he never even considered that Blitz might have deeper issues that would act as an obstacle between the two of them having a relationship.

Neither of them knows the other- not really. Stolas has guessed that Blitz put walls around himself to survive, and that the book didnt help the matters; he mentions he is aware Blitz is of a lower station but he doesnt trully know what it entails. To him, those are just two different responsibilities- he doesnt see the discrimination or bias, not yet. He doesnt know about the life Blitz lived, being hated by everyone he loved, causing pain to those he loved, and hurtling through life leaving destruction behind.

Similarly, Blitz sees the surface level of Stolas- the rich, all powerful prince, who cheated on his wife to get a fix. He sees all the power and oppoturnities he never had, wnd while at the beginning it was easy to bury himself in the sex, since Striker and Truth Seekers, he became only more sensitive to all the difference between their two lives. Sees the money, the splendour, sees the way Stolas treats his servant imps and it eats at him. He doesnt know about the abuse Stolas experienced from Stella, about the lack of parental love, doesnt know about his drinking problem or that he is so deep in depression he takes medicine for it. Doesn't know that Stolas is risking a lot in his life to be with Blitz.

And this is why they both blow up at each other as both lack context for each other's point. And they are both hurt for it more because they do, genuinelly, like each other and gravitate towards each other.

We can argue Blitz is being Blitz with his usual self-destructive tendencies- and he is, what's new?- but his frustration with Stolas is understandable, he was completely unprepared for the whole deal suddenly ending, and Stolas then dismissing him without any further explanation must have stung. That frustration continued when Stolas still refused to talk or even to turn to face him as Blitz was getting more and more agitated, finally culminated with getting thrown out the palace.

That is not to say that Stolas' own reactions were not justified. As an abuse survivor, heck, as a person, he is within every right to cut out people from his life if they cause him pain. There is a limit to how much one is able to take, and Blitz not only stamped all over his tentativelly offered heart, but then started screaming and insulting him, and he had enough of that from Stella. Stolas is done being someone's punching bag, and no matter how much he cares for Blitz, he refuses to let that continue- and then, of course, Blitz lets it slip that Striker had tried to kill him before and the sheer pain of that knowledge staggers him.

(Side note, I really think that Blitz genuinelly forgot- that whole expression was him realizing he never told Stolas about it and that the way he told him now was a major fuck up)

Before that confession, Stolas bringing up Striker was pure pettiness- as a father, he no doubt understood that Loona took preference, no matter how much it stung not to be saved personally, but at least he believed that Blitz cared, if not romantically. Now, he was not sure- and suddenly he feels hurt all over again, only this time it's worse, because what if Blitz never cared, not even a little?

Before he had no desire to go to Verosika's party, but after that, honestly, he just wanted to come to different thoughts.

Speaking of Verosika and her party, boy, she is so petty XD; I mentioned this in my other post, but while I understand her hurt and anger, her view of Blitz and any of his actions is very black and white. She villainized him, essentially stripped him of everything that made him a person in her eyes- and that automatically meant that every social interaction Blitz had that ended in a break up had a clear victim in her eyes, and Blitz was always at fault.

Considering the ensemble at the party (really, Dennis? A guy he french kissed like once?), Verosika is all to quick to shit on Blitz and doesnt bother getting the whole story out. Oh you know Blitz and he pushed you away? Welcome to the club, have a cake!

Seems to me, she only snapped out of that mentality after she overheard him talking to Stolas, as her mentioning that he made her feel guilty for being angry at him. Both of them seemed to have a bit of a wake up call- Blitz with his shitty ways and Verosika realising that maybe she was overdoing it (I sure hope so, I mean, burning effigies and violently murdering cake shaped like Blitz really makes her seem like the unhinged ex, not him- and I think Stolas agrees, if his horrified reaction means anything)

All in all, I see this episode as cathartic. Yes, the Stolitz ship is in shambles, but as it was, it could not continue; both because of the book, but also because both Blitz and Stolas are fundamentally broken people that need to take good long hard look at themselves and do better.

Stolas took a necessary step back from the mess that was their relationship and is not letting himself breath- start introspection of his own person because he has his own set of faults he needs to address, and Blitz's accusation about looking down on imps still rattles in his brain.

Blitz, for his part, already knew he was treating people shitty- but now he is finally acknowledging it, and admitting to himself he doesnt want to be like that. Hopefully he will work on being better- even if it means letting Stolas go because Blitz realize he himself is not in the state to be a good partner for him.

I think where Blitz's character is tragic is the fact that the circumstances of his life were better, he would be such a good person. He is loyal, fiercelly protective and sappy romantic at heart. He would move mountains for those he cares about, and is genuinelly happy when he sees them happy. He is still all those things- but sometimes burried so deep it's barely getting unearthed at times- we are lucky to only see slivers.

Going forward, I think we can expect Blitz opening more to others like Millie and Moxie- willingly or not. I doubt ever since the accident, he even had a chance to have a cathartic breakdown over that, instead bottling it all up.

[raul-volp2]

Dnd and their colonial heritage

This is a thread post I made on Twitter, so it's not very well written. I put some thoughts that its not ground breaking, im sure lot of people thought about this too, but why the classic ttrpg idea is centered about heroes and why this heroes act as reckless psychopaths most time than not, so let's talk about it. =) Usually the main idea of a ttrpg, at least dnd and the ones that mirror its ideas of themes and explorations the most is that the game itself is a sandbox of ideas, not of gameplay, but you have this world, cultures and land to explore at your will with some story hooks that you can follow or make your own, which is very different from what we see from other ttrpgs, specially the modern wave where the players are a very specialized group that even when they have some freedom to choose what to do, it's a lot more focuesd (being crminals in Blades, Freedom Fighters in Spire, Monster healers in Monster Care Squad), so in a way the classic ttrpg needs that the players characters have enough freedom to be part of this big gigantic world that are the main drive of those ttrpg, so their option was to turn players into adventurers, but it's clear the model they have of adventurers and explorers are based on pulp stories and (even if unknowingly) the colonial model of explorers, that was romancized by pulp stories, and with this they carry all the problems of colonization that plagues a lot of those classic fantasy ttrpg and the ones based on that, that sells the players with the idea of romantic explorers that easy enough turn them into killing machines and looters, not differnt than spanish conquistadors, portuguese bandeirantes, jesuits and belgian ivory hunters, and what worries me is that how little we see to change this image, dnd goes a lot of lenghts to show better representation and friendliness towards minorities but the core of the game still is western colonization butchering disguised as killing orcs and exploring ancients, misterious places, which is very on the nose. Fortunately in the indie scene this ideas is changing, specially because there we see a lot more of designers from nations that suffered this oppression leading the development of new games, not only used as bonus point for inclusivity. It's strange the effect that have on me personally, that seeing the game that dominates 90% of the market acting as a colonial power fantasy, which we need to always reminds that was a career path for psychopaths, always makes me want to games that goes against this vision, that challenge it, that even if still drink from the same source that acts as a deconstruction, a new vision that gives a different and better context of it, because Im sure a powerful capitalistic company that owns almost all the ttrpg market will not move anything to change this view, specially with the army of fanboys they have on their side that will always defend their fantasy killing as a fun game making funny goblin voices.

[clock-onyx]

VEXENEER SPECIES SHEET!!!

Ok im like posting this now for my last few 2023 drawings 💔💔💔

(!! SECOND PICTURE HAS DOLL ANATOMY !! ITS JUST TO SHOW THE TATTOOS)

OK so like... say hi to my species giggle gaggle, theyre my most silly one i have... common looking vexeneers like these guys are open so like go nuts ig but please tell me if you make one!!! Ill write some addittional info about them

• There are nonbinary traditional clothing, its practically a combination of the already existing clothing or they can simply wear a traditional robe. Any vexeneer can wear both male and female clothing without judgement and theyre very open about it

• Theyre one of the only species able to fuse with eachother and other species, including their subspecies. Basically like steven universe, but it takes a lot of their energy, so they dont do it as often

• They can be born with wings, tipically males are more likely to be winged (40% more likely)

• Their head wisps work both as hair, horns AND tipically wisps. It purely depends on the vexeneer's genes itself, and depending on that too can determen the thickness and lenght of the wisp

• Max height for both genders is 10", min 5'5"

• Theyre an extremly physically strong species, very agile too! They have extremly thick skin, so it helps them prevent any serious injuries esspecially since they usually stay awake at night

• They used to have regenative powers on their limbs, but after the Stars landed on the planet, they evolved to slowly not have that advantige anymore

• They do not have any sort of visible pupils, the only time they can be seen is if you flash a light into their eyes or scare them as theyre very easy to scare, and it usually is seen as a very faint white pupil. Any other cases are either due to a disorder or medical injury.

• Their traditional music is very folk tale-ish, based on romanian folk music specifically! (Shhhh yeah im romanian i like my music leave me alone!11!!!)

Just a snippet of how they are, I will do a toyhouse all about them eventually of course and ill make a new post about it! They have a lot more going on theyre very silly <|:3

I WAS GONNA LIKE ALSO DOODLE MORE STUFF ABOUT THEM TOO BUT I GOT LAZY IM SORRY 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

[digisurvive]

Children’s problems

Or why Shuuji makes Survive what it is.

cw: child abuse, self-harm, abuse

Spoilers for the Truthful route

[Image ID: Screenshot of one of Ryo’s dialogue line that reads “What? Like anyone’s listening to what you have to say. Heheh, yeah, nobody’s listening.”]

One of the standout qualities to the writing of Digimon Adventure (1999) was the honest and nuanced yet still optimistic portrayal of the problems children face and the ways they dealt with them. From Koushiro’s alienation from his family due finding out about his adoption to Yamato and Takeru’s awkward bond, abandonment issues and stunted growth stemming from their broken family, and everything in-between, Adventure’s writing managed to shine an empathetic light to the stress responses originating from these difficulties while still showing the possibility of growth and healing.

As a game purposefully advertised as a more mature version of Adventure, Digimon Survive takes upon itself to tackle the depiction of children’s problems with a philosophical core that delivers a well-rounded thesis to this thematic thread.

To say Survive portrays the stress responses the kids carry from home to intense extremes in their life-and-death adventure is probably an understatement. Shuuji is a specially good example of deplorable and difficult-to-deal-with behavior — constantly belittling his own partner as well as relentlessly nagging and snapping at the other kids. Shuuji mirrors the way his own father treated him growing up; his treatment of Lopmon serving to showcase the way the verbal abuse he endured has taken root in his own inner monologue and self-perception and sprouted a really visceral self-hatred that spills out and corrodes his relationships with others. Through re-enacting his abuse on Lopmon, whom he recognizes as the same as him, he’s essentially self-harming and fueling his inferiority complex and suicidal ideation. 

The way the game makes the player witness his behavior as it unravels and slowly spirals until it reaches its most vicious expression in part 5 makes for a striking and effective portrayal of his household problems. The fact the only way to kickstart any positive character growth from him hinges on saving Ryo, shines a light on Survive’s ideals of communal care: after being forced to face what happens when the people who are deemed as lost cases are abandoned to their demise, the importance of making sure everyone is care for is evident.

Furthermore, the manner in which Ryo saves Shuuji heavily involves calling him out for his deplorable behavior, going as far as punching him in reliatation for bashing Lopmon. By addressing the harm Shuuji is causing his partner and the others, Ryo stops him just before he does something he can’t take back. It doesn’t stop there, as Ryo forces him to get out of his head and acknowledge the others are there, going to lenghts to support him when he’s at his lowest.

This enables Shuuji to begin to mend his relationship with Lopmon — and himself, by extension. To be able to get back up after hitting rock bottom and not to give up in the uphill battle towards self-improvement: to know there’s people around him who both will help him weather his inner turmoil and shoulder his responsabilities; but will also confront him without antagonizing him and won’t allow him to hurt himself or others any further.

[Image ID: Conversation log between Shuuji and Lopmon during their perfect evolution cutscene.

Lopmon: Don’t throw the towel, Shuuji! Didn’t you want your own approval?!

Shuuji: It’s no good... No one’s going to approve me the way I am now...

Lopmon: That’s not true! You’ve at least got me believing in you! No matter how down in the dumps you get, I believe you’ll get back up, so...

Shuuji: Lopmon...]

Shuuji’s growth is further nurtured by his relationship with The Professor, which brings in a literal game-changer reveal that changes the end-stretch of the game. The Professor as the kids’ only adult figure available to guide them is by design, given The Professor himself had to grow up to be the kind of adult who could understand and help the scared, dismissed child he himself once was. He exists in opposition to the largely absent, neglectful or downright harmful adult figures that failed to support the kids back home.

In this way, Survive goes a step further from simply portraying the maladptive stress responses the kids display to posit that for the group’s growth and continual efforts for healing to be possible at all, it’s absolutely essential to foster a caring community for them. One that is capable of both calling them out for their negative behaviors but also supports and encourages them to improve. This goes hand-in-hand with the game’s response to the duties of leadership, survival and making an impact in the world — for any of that to be achievable, both internal and external burdens must be shared responsability within the group. 

[anglerflsh]

re: your poetry post, can you give some pointers as to where to learn the rhyming patterns in poetry and the like? i only ever see poetry from the ideas/feelings perspective, but ive never learned the logic and structure behind it lol

I've learned most of it from my literature and grammar classes, it's taught in our school since elementary, so I wouldn't know of any books or manuals that talk specifially about it - but I can give you a rundown of how I do it, anon, if it counts for anything lol

Prefacing that this will be starting from italian poetica because that's what I know best: any poem, but specifically the pre-futurism/1910s ones (A Lot) will have some kind of structure aside from just the ryming scheme; The structure I am most familiar with is accentual-sillabic, so for example any single verso will have its stressed syllable in a fixed potision and occasionally a set number of sillables (eg. an endecasillablic metre means a stress on the tenth syllable, usually penultimate, equally to 11 total syllables), but there are also only accentual, or only sillabic verses, common in French poetry (?), all of which count as types of qualitative metre - as well as quantitative metre, which was more widley used in Latin and Greek poetry and which rather based itself on patterns of syllable weight (something that I know little about tbh; I think it's based on the lenght of pronunciation of the actual syllable).

this, of course, goes without even mentioning free-verse structure and less well-known ones.

Going back to the rhyming scheme, that also comes into play with structure in the sense that ... there are just a lot of them to pick from. The classic is the repeated AABB one, where each verse will rhyme with the one underneath (''kissing rhyme'' in italian), or the alterning ABAB, the crossed ABBA, the 'chained' or third rhyme ABA BCB CDC used for terzine, and plenty more! That's not all the ways to classify rhymes of course: you have plain rhyme between words accented on the penultimate syllable, cut rhyme between words accented on the last, sdrucciola with accents on the third-to-last, bisdrucciola on the fourth-to-last... etc etc

Then, of course, come the classifications in stanza lenghts! Groups of three verses are a terzina, well known for being Dante's favourite number (joke inserted to lighten this infodump), groups of four a quatrina, etc -

and depending on the number of single groups and on the type of verses in them, you have further classification as canzone, ode, madrigale, carme, filastrocca, ballata, sonetto... the latter for example is made of fourteen endecasyllabic verses grouped in two quartine, one in the beginning and one in the end, in crossed or alternate rhyme, and two terzine with any kind of rhyme structre.

this of course doesn't touch on the inner things and games of poem structure like the falling rhyme, spaces in between groups, enjambement, alliteration, allegorical figures, anafore, onomatopee, and all that fun stuff! Essentially when you see a poem look for the number of syllables in each verse, where the stressed syllable falls, how the rhymes are put, how many verses are in each stanza and strofa...

[whorediaries-09]

make confessions 🤍- send in a request and i'll ship you with a character.

Hi love! I'm so excited for this valentine's day event <3

I´m a 5'3, a slythering and infj, my pronouns are she/they, i have mid lenght black hair and brown eyes, i would say i´m pretty slim and have a light pale skin tone. I have some piercings, but my favorite one has to be the medusa or nipple piercing (even tho it´s the most painful one).

I love listening tu music, i play the bass and i enjoy reading a lot, specifically novels and mysterys. I love fashion and making clothes too!

I´m more of an introvert, its weird for me to start a conversation with a stranger, that's why i don't have many friends. I love being in love, i would consider myself a hopless romantic, my love lenguage is physical touch and quality time. Also everytime i´m with a friend i read their tarot cards, i guess its also part of my love language lol.

I'm from Latin America, but when i'm done with college i plan on moving to Europe!!

I love old films, one of my favorite movies has to be Before Sunrise, it´'s a perfect romantic indiefilm! (you should totally watch it if you haven't lol). My favorite director is Wes Anderson, my favorite music genres are alternative rock, glam rock, and jazz. So far i only have a tattoo of a Mazzy Star´s album but i plan on getting more tattoos in the future!

I hope this wasn't too long! Anyways, thank you for this event, have a great day <3

hi gorgeous, thank you for sending this in!

i ship you with marlene mckinnon!

you literally scream marlene's other half. tattoos, piercings, personality and everything about you screams that mckinnon would be down on her knees for you.

to begin with, the both of you have matching tattoos that you got together. AND you play the bass. she's good with the drums, so she's absolutely smitten of course, because what's not to love.

also she will never admit it, but she secretly loves your taste in movies. maybe not the movies itself, but she loves how your brown eyes twinkle when you watch the movies with so much glee.

marlene is a natural blonde, and she's absolutely in awe of your pretty hair. she absolutely braids them for you, and sometimes she puts little flowers between the strands.

marlene adores how you can cut and sew up new clothes with old fabric. she pesters you to tell her how to make them, but all she gets is her tops getting cut up and new clothes that she absolutely rocks everywhere.

and even though she never was into books, she loves it when you talk about the books you read. she thinks you're influencing her when she stops by the bookstore, for the first time in her life. she's thinking solely of you when she walks in, hoping to pick up a good mystery novel and surprise you.

mckinnon never admits but she loves your hugs. she loves how you wrap your arms around her waist, pull her close to you and kiss her all over her face. because to say the least, she's absolutely smitten. you also teach her how to read tarot cards, but she doesn't really register anything because again, she's too enamored by you to concentrate.

all in all, the both of you are extremely in love, it's disgusting sometimes, but neither of you care.

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

my apologies for the slight length of this (ok maybe its not too long and im just self conscious) but-

i chewed through, devoured your fic cyanide narwhal from start to the current chapter within a 24 hour time period a day or so ago (including a sleeping break) during all my awake free time moments and was then so immersed in it mentally it was hard to tear myself away just to do my genshin dailies when i remembered they existed, at that time undone for that day? what-

and… although i am not confident about it (only bc of my own doubts about art, really, i have zero consistency outside of Brainrot itself) i really want to make fanart for it…? so yes, i am sticking to anonymous for this, but i may well be, uh. yelling less anonymously if that does occur. if you don't mind. (and if the art braincell cooperates. if i can stop getting distracted rereading 15+ chapters before i can even open krita. yeah, that… that happened already and may well happen again, at this rate. not that i truly consider it a bad thing. but it does somewhat make actually doing any art slightly challenging if im distracted before i can even open the program-) either way, really wanted to thank you for the amazing fic!!! 100/10 one of the best if not the best i have had the pleasure to find so far and i appreciate it so much. kudos to you. i actually tried giving kudos twice (from two different devices). dunno if it worked or not though, since i don't know what it works off of and my memory was too clouded with excitement to actually, well, tell me anything useful about that.

btw you have no idea how glad i was to see you were on tumblr bc i hardly exist anywhere else and don't really intend to in future either and also i loved to see your art designs!! they're so good i want to hold them,,

aaa thank you so much! please don't worry about the lenght of the ask, i love it all the more!

i get the struggle of wanting to draw but being to distracted;; if you do end up making some fanart please don't hesitate to send it through or tag me! i'd love nothing more than to see it! i could keep it private even if you don't want me to answer to the ask/post the submission ^^

i'm happy to hear you've been enjoying the fic <3

[dcndrohime]

Dragon AU.

Origin.

Forkinam is an independent Dendro dragon, that like many other dragons, capitulated after the slaying of the Sovereigns after 40 years of fighting (in time of yore) between dragon-kind and the Primordial One that descended from the heavens to establish the Human Realm.

She is a pure elemental dragon whomst has long since aided humanity, creating land, forests, all sources of life connected to Nature. Forkinam has gone as far as creating islands (as they are today, alongside some lesser Geo dragons) at sea that is now known as Inazuma, the Nation of Eternity.

Though the majority of dragons wants nothing to do with human affairs, Forkinam is a mixed bag.

She guards over the land as per a promise with the Electro Archon (originally it was promised towards Makoto, up until Ei had to take over), not the humans so most of her time is spent underneath the depths of mountain holding the Narukami Shrine since its the only place where a behemoth like her (in lenght) can fit in accordingly.

However, she is not without a human guise herself and would often wander about like a regular Inazuman citizen.

General Information.

Identity: Forkinam

Other Titles: Healer of Forests, Protector of the Land, Dragoness of Dreams

Nicknames: Forki, Hina

Human guise name: Hinamori

Faceclaim: Green Dragon - Apotheosis

Headcanons.

Forkinam may not be like the Sovereigns in term of power but to have created all natural landscapes and the isles of Inazuma, makes her strong in her own rights.

She is much familiar with other dragons roaming the lands, including Toornirkaal (a muse of mine)

Unless close to them, either by default or after a while, she doesn't like having her nicknames being uttered.

Though she generally stay away from human-like affairs, if it involve the land itself, then she will interfere. That said, she also has grown a fondness to mingle amongst them. Better that than always staying cooped up inside the mountain, the home she made for herself.

Despite her initial appearance and towering presence, she is surprisingly gentlehearted, much more calming to be around than what her size gives away.

Has the same default abilities like in main verse.

[michaelcosio]

Jun 24, 2021

The world's first Rocket Engine mounted into a RC Messerschmitt Me-163B It's a DIY ECU-controlled re-ignitable rocket engine.

Model Data: Maßstab / Scale: 1/10 Spw. / Span:  950 mm Länge / Lenght:  585 mm Gewicht / Weight:  970 g (voll betankt ), 830 g leer / 1.98 pounds (with fuel) and 1.83 pounds empty Antrieb: ECU-gesteuertes, jederzeit abschaltbares und wiederzündbares Hybrid-Raketentriebwerk mit 9 N (900 g) Schub Powerplant: ECU-controlled hybrid rocket engine with 79.66 lbf·in (1.98 pound) thrust that can be switched off and re-ignited at any time.

Kai has developed the engine including the ECU for over 20 years (electronics technician) and over the last 4 years, Jo was responsible for converting it into a model and slimming down the engine mass, including manufacturing the engine components for use in the model.

Our motivation was the dream of a Me-163 with an „original engine“ over many years. In comparison to the original Me-163 this engine should be absolutely safe and reliable at model scale operation. Another huge challenge was to start and re-start this engine without any pyrotechnics. Already available of-the-shelf rocket-motors can only run once after ignition and cannot be stopped. This engine is fully controlled by an own developed ECU which controls first ignition, safe-stop and re-ignition during flight. It even enables thrust control within certain limits. Next to the challenge of the engine development itself, the operation and integration into the RC-model in regards to center of gravity, changes of center of gravity due to fuel consumption and especially intensive lightweight construction was mandatory. The maximum runtime of the engine is almost 30 seconds which could not be reached completely at the first test flight due to several start attempts which consumed some fuel.

The inventors of this engine performed intensive research and could not find any report or documentation about a technology and its realization like that at model scale. For this reason this development could be worldwide absolutely new and unique.

from RCScaleAirplanes 

[youryanderedaddy]

Every breath you take

You heard of Corpse husband, now get ready for corpse wife--

tw: female reader, necrophilia so non - con, murder, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, dirty talk, overall nasty shit that i needed to get out of my system, pls don't read if such stuff makes u uncomfortable

Jack couldn’t bear to look at you without feeling his stomach crumble and twist sharply and violently. You looked almost normal. Besides the empty stare in your now dark lightless eyes and the dead weight of your arms stilled tightly by your side. Besides the necklace of pretty sky - coloured bruises and purple bite marks around your delicate neck. If your boyfriend was to simply press his lips against yours in a desperate attempt to savour your final cries, he might just be able to feel their silky softness - the smooth edges of your tiny side smile against his cheek, the pure scarlet warmth of your slightly open mouth and the millions pained whispers falling out with each heartbeat of your very soul. And If the man was to hold your hand he could pretend it wasn’t colder than ice itself.

It was an accident. It had to be, otherwise Jack wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Just minutes ago you were safe and sound in his embrace, screaming, thrashing and fighting at every turn, but still safe none the less. Then you had told him you hated him. That you could never love someone as cruel and sick as him. He didn’t remember much from the resulting argument, other than him on top of you with his hand around your throat, your lips turning blue and your eyes closing slowly as you lost consciousness completely. Your boyfriend was ready to give everything for you to shout at him again, for you to squirm around like a battered animal like you used to, insead of watching you lay on the ground, motionless and still, peaceful like an angel. He wanted the old you back, the you who wasn’t quite living (since you always went on about how Jack had stolen your life away from you), but breathing and alive. You were quiet and obedient just like your captor had always wanted, such a good girl for him now that you were dead and unable to protest any of his sick, twisted desires. 

A single tear ran down the man’s black charcoal eyes as he lowered his head and kissed you softly, careful and wary, like you would wake up any moment and push him away in horror. The graze was airy and almost sweet, so different from all the other rough invasive kisses he had forced upon you in the past as a reminder of your place beneath him. Yet this one tasted of nothing, but blood and ice. Your lips were cold, but your body was still warm somewhere under that flimsy blue sundress your boyfriend had helped you put on in the morning. It made you look so innocent, so childlike in your eternal sleep. Jack stared at you for what felt like an infinity, unable to look away, hypnotized. He ran a finger through your exposed collarbone, then laid his head on your chest, listening to the silence. You were dead, but your breasts were still so soft and squishy, the man decided. Jack’s hands were glued to your waist, admiring your curves as he dug his nails deep into the loose fabric, ripping it away from your figure, causing shivers down the delicate skin. Your back hit the ground, sinking into the soil and the mud, a couple of daisies forming a crown above your head. You were so beautiful all vulnerable like that, his sweet Persephone, queen of the underworld and of his heart, too. 

“You’re so lovely, dear.“ The man spoke out as he positioned himself above you, his eyes hungry and sharp as he stroked your cheek, devoid of any colour. “No panties, huh?“ Jack whispered lustfully, his voice raspy and deranged, and cupped your sex. If you were still alive you would have turned red, stuttering as you explained that it was him who ordered you to go bare under the dress, but now you remained quiet like a blushing bride on her wedding day. The lack of protest only managed to stir the maniac up further, and he unbuckled his jeans to free his half - hard member. “LIttle minx.“ He cooed at you and ruffled your hair, fisting your locks to pull your head down, thus arching your back and exposing your neck to his sharp teeth. “I am going to use you, precious. You want to be useful to me, don’t you?“ Your boyfriend muttered against your throat as he covered it in harsh lovebites and hickeys, only growing satisfied when there wasn’t even an inch unmarked. “Because you are mine, baby. You are my good girl.“ He kept going, stroking himself in the process until his cock was practically oozing with pre - cum. Jack smirked when he didn’t hear the typical whimpers and cries of disgust you usually showered him in when he let himself act possessive of you. The man wasn’t sure why you always denied the truth - you were his and his alone, even after death did you part.

Your tormentor spent the next ten minutes squeezing and kneading your breasts, pinching the nipples, covering them in sticky white semen. Jack almost missed the way your chest would rise and fall with each soft breath escaping your rosy lips. When he was done playing with your body like you were nothing more than a rag doll your boyfriend spread your legs wide open, and his mouth watered at the godly sight. “You have such a pretty cunt, dear.” He commented lovingly, his fingers pushing and poking at your pink slit, abusing the nerve ending still functional despite its owner not being able to. “I am doing to force my cock deep inside your pussy, and there is nothing you can do about it, baby.” The man laughed manically, high off this new found power and control over your lifeless body. When you were alive you would beg him to stop by this point, crying and whimpering helplessly. Now he could pretend that you actually wanted him to ruin you. That you needed him as much as he needed you. 

Your boyfriend entered your tight hole with a sharp deep thrust, his lenght reaching your cervix with each and every brutal move. In and out, in and out again and again. The man felt like he could fuck into you forever - there was no pressure to stop and your muscles were completely relaxed now so it was up to him to take his own pleasure from your unwilling uncooperative body. “You’re so loose, honey.” He growled, biting your earlobe and moaning into your ear. “Guess I really wore you out the past few months.” Jack suggested playfully, a hint of pride apparent in his thick voice. Soon enough he was groaning loudly and ruthlessly pounding into you, covering your whole body in mud and grass. The pale moonlight lit up your sweaty face, making you look lively and vibrant once again. Your captor claimed your lips hungrily, licking and biting them into a swollen bloody mess. “Fuck, take it, my love.” He commanded as he lifted your body in order to go even deeped into you. “Take all of me inside.” The man added quickly, thrusting one last time before the pleasure overtook his senses and he arched his back in delight. He inhaled deeply as he pulled out of your used up hole, dripping with his seed. 

In that moment the man knew that he had to let go of you eventually. It wouldn’t be too long before your perfect little body decomposed and your beauty faded in the face of death, but there was some time between now and then. And he intended to make good use of it.