#silhouette analysis

[averlym]

" just...come here. just sit here with me" (...that one scene from princess momonoke, click for better resolution)

[floralcavern]

Rambling about character design

I could talk hours about this topic

This will include examples of my own characters and characters from media!

I personally love when people take the concept for their character and incorporate things like: Backstory Personality Etc into their design

For example! I have a character who’s a spider monster. And you can still incorporate spider like details into her without making it to obvious. Liiiike, the sides of her bangs cut down and curve inward, resembling spider pinchers

Also, clothes help a lot with this as well if you want things like subtle character design

Shape language is also great. I have a character whose main shape is hearts. I gave her high pigtails to resemble the shape of a heart. But she’s also a villainous character, so if she’s in the middle of battle and the wind is in her hair, her pigtails fly up and resemble the shape of horns

(ALSO WEAPONS OMG!!! So, i gave her two weapons. A bow and a staff. I gave her the bow for two reasons. One, to represent Cupid (not the heart themes). But also to represent her personality. In her regular civilian form, she’s very distant and reserved, always keeping people at an arms length. That’s what the bow represents. But for her staff, which is used for violent bludgeoning, it represents her villainous persona, where she’s extremely violent and forward. The reason why in this story i wrote for her, she’s the only one to get two weapons is because every other character who is a hero uses their personas to amplify and be the person they want to be. But with this character, neither her civilian nor her villainous character are who she really is. Weapons can do so much to tell you about the character)

This guy explains it better than I can

One of my favorite character designs is of Ahiru from Princess Tutu. She is heavily based on Swan Lake, The Swan Princess, and The Ugly Duckling. In her regular form, her hair puffs up at the front in order to represent bird plumage.

But in her transformed appearance, her underpart of her hair is white to represent feathers and a transformation, her tiara looks like a broken egg shell

Small details like that can go a long way with telling people who your character is and can indirectly take someone’s brain to a certain idea or image.

And silhouettes are hugely important as well!! Recognizable silhouettes can do so much to get both you as an artist and your characters to be so iconic. Even for basic human designs, you can do so much. An absolutely iconic example of this is Sailor Moon. Her whole silhouette is basic and normal,

but one simple aspect of her, her hair, can tell the viewer immediately who the character is

Colors too are huge! An example of a good and recognizable color scheme is what I call the pixel rule

When you see these pixel, does a certain character come to your mind? Are those colors in the order making you think of someone?

If you said Mabel Pines, you’d be correct!

Ok, let’s get a bit trickier.

What about this one? It’s a bit longer, meaning there’s more complexities to her design. But do the colors in that order make you think of anything?

Recognizable color patterns can do so, SO much. And that’s not even talking about color theory!!

I’m not nearly skilled enough to talk about color theory, but I’ll do the basics. Warm colors can make a person think of comfort, safety, and kindness. An example is Anna!

Her colors are heavily summer based to contrast:

Elsa, who has cool colors. Cool colors can make a person think distant, cold, and reserved.

But warm colors don’t always automatically mean a safe and comfort feeling. An example is Toilet Bound Hanako. This series is known for prioritizing warm colors 24/7

It makes the environment seem cozy and comforting, but the series knows how to use this safe feeing of colors to its advantage.

This image is still warm, but with the dark colors and eery shades of red-pink, it no longer feels comforting or safe.

At the moment I can’t think of anything cool colored that manages to subvert expectations as well, but it definitely is possible.

Anyways, thank you for listening to my rambles ❤️

[tahopo]

what'd you think about the veilguard warrior combat they just revealed :o

10 minutes of gameplay and all i could retain was the 0.5 second of davrin serving jawline

[green-like-pine-trees]

Alyx wasn't alone.

And she likely didn't leave.

Here me out: The first thing we learn about Alyx is she feels loneliness upon returning from the EverAfter. However, up until this point, she's been described as fairly estranged from everyone. No-one mentions her by name, humans are pretty hated by those who know what humans are.

So, why is she lonely?

Because Alyx didn't fall alone. She fell with someone else.

This person is the likely culprit, seeing as in the beginning we see two dashes across the sky.

Considering a good dose of RWBY fairytales feature Ozma in some capacity, people making stories based on their own adventures isn't too far-fetched.

I'm thinking they both entered, but only one was able to leave. Maybe one person had to stay behind, maybe one of them died. Nonetheless, they wrote the story by erasing the second person or merging their interactions into one person.

How likely is it that Alyx had to give up both her happiest and saddest memory? Doesn't it make more sense if only one of them had to give up their happiest, and the other, their saddest?

We've already seen some revision. The Red King died! Likely killed by a human! We don't know for sure that was Alyx – it wasn't in her story. But how much can we trust her narrative, if there's possibly some heavy revisionism going on?

Listen to the Curious Cat. When Ruby says they're humans, they answer: "You're not nearly as interesting as the others I've met." That's otherS. Plural. Could be referring to Neo, Jaune, or maybe there's a whole village! But equally likely Alyx wasn't prancing around alone.

There's even more evidence in the song, Inside. During the instrumental break, I posit we get a conversation between Alyx and the mysterious companion:

"Okay, I'm almost certain that last time WE went to the left." "So, no way, WE should not turn back, WE need to go in that direction."

That only begs the question: why were they erased from the narrative?

[collieii]

back on my wolfwood bullshit! i'm using a lot of the same ideas from my other post so i'll try not to repeat myself, but as i said, a major theme of wolfwood's arc is autonomy and freedom, and the idea that having freedom to choose also comes with the responsibility to act and make good choices.

throughout trimax, wolfwood is in a strange position. he's beholden to higher powers - the eye of michael, knives, even vash in a way, while also simultaneously having a lot of freedom to act, particularly in the moment. the things that control him are more like swords of damocles - present, inevitable, but not immediate. he's constantly struggling to figure out what he should do - take knives out, kill vash, and more generally, things like his profession as assassin. he's very torn about the choices he makes (or doesn't make) and the life he lives because he's dissatisfied with his position, and there isn't an easy way out.

there are a lot of parallels between midvalley and wolfwood. midvalley, similar to wolfwood, was forced into a place he really didn't want to be in. he's hyperaware of the danger of his situation, knows he's expendable to knives, and that knives has so much power - how can anyone escape it? so he has to ask himself - how is he going to spend the time that he has? should he risk his life or play it safe? we know what he decides - he's likely to die either way, so he might as well try to get his way, release himself from knives' control.

midvalley pretty easily identifies wolfwood as someone who is allied with vash, who has no true loyalty to knives. he says they have no reason to fight - midvalley and hoppered have officially moved against knives and made their choice. is wolfwood going to resolve himself, follow what he truly believes - in vash, against knives? or will he keep playing the game of someone who doesn't have their mind made up, still working under knives thumb? (midvalley has always called wolfwood chapel, right up until this moment - he's breaking through the pretenses, acknowledging that he knows what wolfwood really is).

(using the overhaul translation here bc it's much clearer!) midvalley basically says that wolfwood does have power, but at that point in the story, he's mostly just going along with what's safe, as opposed to midvalley and hoppered. midvalley is aware that wolfwood might have similar goals to him. as someone who, like wolfwood, fears knives and what he can do, midvalley criticizes wolfwood's passivity or inability to fight for what he wants.

still, we see that when midvalley does act against knives he dies. immediately. both him and hoppered made their choice, and it didn't end well for them. maybe they knew it'd be that way. still, it's a poignant reminder to wolfwood about the power of choice, and the risks that come with it. he has to confront what other people are willing to risk and ask himself if he can do the same.

then we get to volume 8. wolfwood, who spends so much of the story agonizing over his choices, is finally resolved. he goes against knives and frees vash. he chooses not to kill unless absolutely necessary. his autonomy is realized at the price of his life. and that's the equation he has to figure - save myself, and damn everyone i care about? be dissatisfied with myself, my life? or save what he loves, do what he wants, and risk himself? wolfwood is keenly aware of his own morality. he has so much he wants to protect, and he can't do that if he's dead. i think one of the reasons he's able to take a stand against knives is because of his relationship with vash - he knows that there's someone with similar goals and values who will fight to protect humanity after he's gone. he goes out having taken care of chapel and livio, and trusting that vash will handle knives. he can die peacefully knowing he's assured the safety of his family.

by volume 10, wolfwood is showing everyone who he is and what he stands for, for better or worse. he was willing to fight - and willing to die - to do what he believed was right. trimax shows, again, and again, that there's often no easy answer, no easy way to live, no easy choice to make. that's sort of the idea that's communicated with the bird imagery - a life of freedom is a life of struggle. it's not a new idea, ofc. but we see with wolfwood - the right thing and the safe thing are often not the same. what are we willing to do? how far will we go? what will we sacrifice? and what will leave us most satisfied at the end?

[eviltext]

yknow what i talked real big about wanting to write long reviews for movies (keeping in mind that i would watch pearl 2022 sooner or later) but you know what. it baffles me quite a lot how pearl was marketed as a prequel to x, promising to explain how the main character got to where she was. but the fact of the matter is, she was already quite messed up at the beginning of the movie! killing farm animals and such. the woman was severely ill already and her environment only made it worse. rather than provide a solid backstory, i think the movie ended up delivering more on ti west's idea of exploring the film industry and how it affects people.

in pearl's case, not having a support system for her mental health issues caused the stage to seem to be an enticing escape. i think it just clearly showcased how a character's needs often don't match up with their wants.

[joesportscards]

Sports themed greeting cards for all occasions

Shop here

[josephkravis]

Interwoven Just Like A Tapestry Of Souls

In hues of flame and ocean deep, Our stories intertwine and leap. Each thread a life, each knot a tale, Woven tight, beyond the veil.

Tapestry of Souls In hues of flame and ocean deep, Our stories intertwine and leap. Each thread a life, each knot a tale, Woven tight, beyond the veil. Golden light breaks through the weave, Illuminating what we perceive. In every face, a world unfolds, A universe of dreams untold. Patterns shift from soft to bold, Ancient wisdom with the new and old. Life’s grand design, both yours and mine,…

[potato-lord-but-not]

it’s who we are

mhm yeah just wanted to post em all together because look at themmmm I’m gonna yap about this under the cut don’t mind me

having them all lined up is giving real triptych vibes, which honestly opens up a whole new level of symbolism I’m too lazy to explore rn.

And didn’t even realize Oscar and Arthur were basically in the same pose until after I finished them all. LIKE ?? ok what was my subconscious brain on… the position of the star… the little sun in Kayne’s knife in the same spot as the sun in the celestial water in Oscar’s piece.

Arthur having a light silhouette and dark background, and Oscar having a dark silhouette and light background… THE BLOODY ROSARY WITH A MOON ON IT !! ARTHUR COVERED IN BLOOD !!!! THE HALOS IN THE BACKGROUND THAT MATCH JOHN’S SUN !!!!

John holding the moon…. his little star earring… the overwhelming background that the sun entirely envelops…

Here’s a much better analysis for each one @absoluteocellibehavior did bc they go CRAZZYYY— Oscar, Arthur, andd John !!

and also their interpretations of the cards in general <3

ough now I wanna do more characters…. I’m ill

[ho3smadd]

Don't take it personal...

Parings... Theodore Nott x slytherin!reader

Trope... academic rivals to lovers

Warnings... swearing

Summary... Theodore Nott and Y/n have had rivalry to gain the highest grade in Potions for years but when someone gets hurt maybe it's gone too far...

Y/n L/n prided herself on two things: her impeccable grades and her unflappable demeanor. As a Slytherin, she knew the importance of maintaining a composed and strategic front, and she had mastered it to perfection. Except, of course, when it came to Theodore Nott.

Theodore was an enigma, a quiet presence that somehow always managed to get under her skin. He was brilliant, annoyingly so, and the only one who could rival her in Potions. Professor Slughorn often praised their concoctions, hinting at an unspoken rivalry that everyone in Slytherin House was aware of.

Y/n’s competitive spirit was fueled by Theodore’s relentless determination to outdo her. It wasn’t just about the grades; it was about proving herself, about being the best. Every potion she brewed was meticulously crafted, every essay on potion-making filled with insightful analysis and innovative ideas. Yet, no matter how hard she worked, Theodore was always there, a step ahead or right beside her, matching her effort for effort.

One evening, the common room was unusually quiet. Y/n was hunched over her Potions textbook, quill scratching furiously across the parchment. She hadn’t noticed the hours slipping away, the candles burning lower and lower. She hadn’t even noticed her own body’s protests, the gnawing hunger in her stomach because she just had to skip lunch and dinner and the dizzying exhaustion that clouded her vision as her body practically begged for rest.

It was Theodore who noticed. He had been watching her from a distance, his own books spread out in front of him but his attention clearly divided. He saw the way her hands trembled slightly, the way her head dipped closer to the table with each passing minute.

“Y/n” he called softly, but she didn’t respond. She was too engrossed in her work, too caught up in the need to perfect her latest potion theory.

“Y/n!” His voice was sharper this time, cutting through the haze of her concentration. She looked up, eyes glassy with fatigue.

“What, Nott?” she snapped, the sharpness in her voice a stark contrast to her usual calm demeanor.

“You need to eat something. You’ve been at this for hours,” he said, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her vision swam as she tried to focus on him.

“No, you’re not,” he argued, standing up and crossing the room to her side. “You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep this up.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but the words didn’t come. Instead, the room tilted violently, and before she knew it, she was falling, darkness closing in around her.

The next thing Y/n knew, she was lying on a couch in the common room, a soft blanket draped over her. She blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. The room was dimly lit, and she could make out Theodore’s silhouette sitting nearby, a worried expression etched on his face.

“What happened?” she mumbled, her voice weak.

“You passed out,” Theodore said bluntly. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, Y/n. This fucked up competition that we have… it’s not worth your health.”

Y/n tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced her back down. She closed her eyes, frustration boiling inside her. “I can’t just give up, Theodore. I have to be the best.”

“Why?” he asked, his tone softer now. “Why is it so important to you?”

“Because…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because it’s who I am. It’s all I have. We are both well aware of the customs that purebloods have and the expectations my parents have for me to secure a suitable match. This is for me because nothing ever is.”

Theodore sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Y/n, I never saw you as competition.”

His words took a moment to register. She stared at him, confusion mingling with exhaustion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve always admired you, respected you. But I didn’t push myself to outdo you because I saw you as an obstacle. I did it because…” He trailed off, looking almost embarrassed. “Because it was the only way I could get your attention.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/n,” Theodore admitted, his cheeks tinged with color. “But you were always so focused, so distant. Competing with you was the only way I could think of to get you to notice me and prove myself to you.”

She was silent, processing his words. The idea that Theodore had been trying to impress her, to earn her attention, was both shocking and oddly touching. She had always seen their rivalry as a battle, it had never occurred to her that it was his way of reaching out to her.

“Theodore, I…” She paused, uncertain of what to say. “I never knew.”

“Of course not,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t exactly make it obvious.”

She managed a weak smile in return. “You certainly have a unique way of showing it.”

He chuckled, the tension in the room easing slightly. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. I never wanted to see you hurt. And if it means you’ll take better care of yourself, I’ll back off. I don’t need to compete with you to care about you.”

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. For the first time, she saw him not as her rival, but as someone who genuinely cared about her. It was a strange, yet comforting realization.

“You don’t have to back off,” she said softly. “Just… maybe we can find a better way to do this. A way that doesn’t involve me collapsing from exhaustion.”

Theodore’s expression brightened. “I’d like that.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the competitive edge between them replaced by something warmer, something more understanding. Y/n knew it wouldn’t be easy to change the dynamic that had defined their relationship for so long, but she was willing to try. For Theodore, and for herself.

As the days passed, their rivalry transformed into a partnership. They studied together, sharing insights and helping each other improve. Their mutual respect grew, and so did their affection. Theodore’s confession had opened a door that Y/n hadn’t even realized was there, and she was grateful for it.

One evening, as they sat together in the common room, Y/n looked over at Theodore, a smile playing on her lips. “You know, I think we make a pretty good team.”

He smiled back, his eyes warm. “I think so too.”

And in that moment, Y/n realized that she didn’t need to be the best to be happy. She just needed to be with someone who understood her, who cared about her, and who made her feel like she was enough, just as she was. Theodore had given her that, and she was determined to never take it for granted.

A/n... Please let me know what you think because I crave validation 😭

Also requests are openn

[daddykinkkinard]

! crossposting from my twitter !

bucktommy costume analysis 👔

hi ! i'm a fashion student and am really interested in costume design so i wanted to do a (long) post on tommy's style and how i think buck might be influenced by it in s8 as seen in "buck's britches." :))

[about tommy]

tommy's wardrobe is entirely functional and indicative of his dedication to his work. it's practical, useful, and speaks of his can-do attitude.

all his signature clothes (henleys, shackets, canvas jackets) have historical traces to being used as workwear.

(1) henleys - this one, ironically in the philippines it has its own term in our local language. it's called a camisa de chino and is used by laborers. although i live in a different country, i'm sure its use case is still the same for other countries as it's historically deemed the workman's undergarment.

also: yes. tommy is technically right. there were henleys in the 80s. even in the 1880s. so what we're learning here now folks, is that he's a smartass little shit.

(2) shackets - historically, also an item used by the working class. they were mostly worn to prevent any possible stains on inner clothes from their work (i.e. dirt, grease, grime, etc.)

(3) canvas jacket - although this was only seen in 7x04, it's more likely that he still owns a lot more. (waxed) canvas jackets are traditional workwear often used as weatherproof outerwear or heavy duty rainwear.

as a form of fun speculation, i'd like to think some of these items are also in his closet:

contrast collar canvas jacket

an authentic flight jacket

overalls, but only for when he fixes up the car

denim trucker jacket

if anything, who better to listen to when talking about tommy's clothes than tommy himself !

here's lou's cameo for me describing tommy's closet as rugged, practical and useful :))

[about "buck's britches"]

now to the "buck's britches" post. two notable items of clothing:

the famous flight jacket

baker pants.

now here's the thing about buck:

buck doesn't wear utilitarian clothing. in fact, he doesn't wear woven clothing all that much. he wears knit. knit polos. sweaters. hoodies. he is not a workwear person. in fact: he's a comfort person.

that's his primary reason for style that's a testament to his own character. buck is widely recognized as the more radiant and funny character. he has charisma and is very inviting, which is accompanied by his choice in clothing.

soft, warm, comfortable.

which goes back to the photo ostark posted on his instagram story.

(1) flight jacket - here's where i have to go and burst everyone's bubble for a bit. this is only a flight jacket because it's labelled as such. but categorically, it isn't. flight jackets are the classic term for bomber jackets.

bomber jackets (and flight jackets) were workwear used by the military, characterized by garterized cuffs and hems and short bodices. for pilots, they were interchangeable. but modernly, they have some more definable features.

characteristically, flight (or aviator) jackets are leather with shearling or sherpa collars. bomber jackets are the modernized version taking the silhouette and cuff designs and making them more accessible through material choice (linen—like buck—nylon, silk)

(2) baker pants - as the name suggests, it's a piece of kitchen workwear often in twill (which i'd assume is what oliver is wearing), denim, cotton or linen. it's characterized by the topstitching to outline the pockets and diagonal pocket openings (vs. the usual curve).

so very evidently: buck has been influenced by tommy's style. he's wearing woven material versus knit for one. if i were hopeful, i'd say they're exploring one another's style because they're sharing a closet.

[character analysis]

woven fabric as a material is sturdy. it's more structured and does not stretch. think: cotton, linen, rayon, wool, denim. what this means for buck is that, by virtue of being tommy's boyfriend he is introduced to structure, groundedness and maturity.

tommy's closet is filled with utilitarian clothing and workwear. he, as a character, is known to be emotionally grounded and mature and it translates to his clothing.

buck adapting the defining features of his wardrobe shows how much tommy has helped him get off his hamster wheel.

in fact, even the inverse can be noted. when buck asks for a second chance and practices communication towards tommy. he's wearing a woven buttondown. and in emphasizing tommy's desire to make buck comfortable, he's in a hoodie. neither of which are common for one another.

buck and tommy, even through subtle clothing choices are becoming part of one another's world and that makes me so soft as someone whose love language is fashion.

[wishful thinking]

perhaps maybe we could see tommy in a fully casual sweat set? i know that they might be protecting lfjr but man. if i see a hoodie on him. (nqueso, if you can sneak me a photo of him in knitwear ill love you forever i just want to prove my theory right i wont even post it)

if they are putting buck in this sort of attire, my guess (or hope) is that they have tommy ease up too.

it would be nice to show buck's effect on tommy as much as tommy's effect on buck because tommy's an established character and has a backstory that the writers could explore.

so if the 9-1-1 costume designers ever see this:

please put tommy in a sweat set. or a hoodie. (not a zip-up one, im talking real hoodie). i'm willing to compromise with overalls. i see what you're doing with buck's wardrobe, and love it. maybe tommy's could soften up too :))

thanks for reading ! 🫶

[pascals-doll]

B.A.S

⋆ ˚ . * ·analysis— In which you were bound to a man you don’t desire or love by your parents. An entire relationship built on resentment and treaty-like. Abby Anderson, you’re neighbor whom lived happily with her girlfriend next door. Unruly cravings and wreckful thoughts take over between the both of you, assuring a succulent dalliance. Guess you Both Aint Shit.

abby anderson x reader

₊˚ପ MEGANS NEW ALBUM GOT ME ON MY TOESS 💋

˚ପ i cant believe ive had this lil plot thought out written somewhat since march and i never had time to finish it and im happy i finally did!

₊˚ପ description: MODERN AU! READER IS FEMININE PRESENTING (only desc of reader), MUTUAL CHEATING!, reader is kinda in the closet because of prejudice parents, mentions of heavy religious parents, reader is in arranged marriage with a man!, mutal jealousy, homewrecking, SMUT NAAASTYSMUT, dom!abby, sub!reader, oral sex (r receiving), reader is unexpirenced!, brief size kink, praise kink, heavy making out, fingering (r receiving), lots of pussyeating, no use of y/n,( ___) is blank for partners names, use of pet names (doll, beautiful, baby)

A lavish life was the experience of finding love on your own, letting it grow on you, and completing whelm your entire being. It was the process of getting to know each other to first kiss, to the ask out, to the relationship, and if your lucky; you build life together.

The stage of growth and love; where you plan as you’re just overfilled with emotion. That trigger to jump with joy at the fact that you’re building a whole life path with your special someone.

Years spent learning about each other, sharing parts of yourselves, and taking that time to progress hand in hand; harmoniously. Something, everyone should have the unlawful pleasure of doing.

It something you’ve always dreamed off, feeling it so close as you watch through your curtains. A secret craven in peeking into the silhouettes of the house next door.

You had seen them together for the past year since they moved in. Their happiness almost tangible as they enjoyed each other's company in the pool or on the patio, sipping cocktails and laughing.

You were hardly ever envious in the years you’ve been on earth—but it’s almost taunting like, the way they have so much to give. Truly in paradise with their passion for each other. Although, something didn’t always seem quite right.

Your life never stopped being stifling. You were bound to a man you could never love. An unfair business arrangement orchestrated by your parents alongside constant trips-pointless trips; taken by your close to nonexistent husband.

Abby's girlfriend was also often away on business, and you suspected that she was lonely. Going throughout your day and then coming home to see her in all alone, all day, in that big house.

The entire marriage was a sham, a rule-set of convenience. You couldn’t help yourself any longer once Abby moved in.

Often finding your eyes drifting to her, imagining what it would be like to kiss her peached lips, engulfed within those muscular arms. Such thoughts made you blush, and ignite a feeling in your stomach.

You couldn’t do anything except push your own crawling agenda away, only to have them return with greater intensity.

Abby Anderson was a phenomenal women. She was lead cordinator at a business with the pleasure to provide and work from home. She deserves someone who can take care of all that hard work.

Her girlfriend clearly couldn’t.

‘If you live a life you don’t love, make best of what you want.’

You had never been with a women before. Only close you’ve ever gotten to exploring was dabbling in lesbian porn when your husband wasn’t around. It didn’t take long to dawn on you—that you had never orgasmed, especially not in the way these women in adult videos do and definitely not with your husband.

It was pitiful, really. The fact you couldn’t enjoy such a liberty. Your own sexuality.

A faraway dream of self-discovery and not the norms fed to you by religious beliefs that you couldn’t claim as yours. Dragged on by your parents whom taught you, it was ‘all in good faith’ and ‘Lord knows whats best’.

The only explaination for your abomination of life. Merely neglectful to your candied desires. Wrong, yet right in every way. You were loosing sleep as nights pass, tossing, and turning restless.

Rolling out of your silk sheets groggily. You stepped into your house slippers before walking down your stairs to your living room where your pack of cigarettes are. You grabbed the pack of your dining table, heading out to your front porch.

It was midnight, blurred gray clouds into the black-violet sky as you lit your cigarette and dazing away. You could feel the stagnant air surround your exposed skin, your lacy satin nightgown—a slip of fabric only covering you.

Unbothered and insomatic, taking drags from your malboro as you sat next to your ashtray that displayed on your side table. If you were to turn your head; facing towards and into all your temptations.

From just the corner of your eye, you could see the lights were still on at such an hour. Impulsively giving into your curiosity, turning your chair; peering into her window across the street.

Puffing till your ash thins into the orange-tip. Your attention drowned out until you heard rustling coming from the bushes at the corner of the street and your home. You whip your head around, blunting your cigarette out onto your ashtray and walking towards the barricade of your porch.

Abby was taking out the trash. She dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. She looked relaxed, her long golden hair falling casually around her face. Eventually catching you, offering a friendly wave and came closer to the fence of your porch.

"Hey there!" Abby greets, cool-toned and intrigued. "Can't sleep either, huh?"

Your heart hammered in your chest. "Sure is, just came out for a smoke…uh-hm! How have you been?" You stammered your question, unsure of what to say.

Abby couldn’t help her gaze drop to your nightgown, her eyes glinting under the streetlights. "Just been cooped up alone, taking care of Bear and ____ is away on another business trip.” She exudes, smiling at the mention of her precious furry friend.

You listened intently, a small smile tugged on your lips “____ been gone since the week before. Preoccupying myself by enjoying my magazines alongside my tea,” You let out a small giggle which was returned.

Abby’s presence tensed you, goosebumping your skin as if you were cold all of a sudden.

A small moment of silence was a momentum of chance.

“Would you like to come in for a glass of wine or water? I’d be a horrible neighbor if i left you hangin’” You offer, stepping aside with a soft smile.

She took you in once more, head to toe and an adrenaline pumped throughout her body before spreaking, “It’d be my pleasure”.

4 words 1 sentence. A saying so simple is all it took, to have you clawing at your sanity.

Two cups of Wine turned into more and lighthearted conversations transformed sentimentally with each cup.

You bonded over the fact your partners often left for work, leaving you both lonely in such a big house. Eventually divulging your marital fraud, your desolation worn on your sleeve like an accessory.

“That’s truly not necessary—” you were cut off.

“Accept nothing but the truth, he doesn’t recognize how lucky he’s got it.” You picked up on how her voice turned stern, straightening up as she reassured you. You just stood there frozen.

You gulped, wrapping your arms around yourself as you suddenly felt exposed. You scrambled to think of something to say, your delusions wanting to take this in every way it wasn’t.

Abby suddenly closes the gap between the both of you, leaning onto your counter and into you. You could smell her perfume, the scent of fresh orcid and essential oils tickling your nostrils.

Maybe It was.

“Do you love him?” A very solidifying question.

“I dont know what love is and I definitely don’t love him, more like my parents did.” You grimaced, sarcastic and plainly disinterested in such a discussion. You truly have nothing to compare your marriage too.

“I hate fucking him too. Don’t feel a thing.”

Abby’s eyes widened, her hand reaching over to grasp yours. “Have you—do you like women?” She quirked, a soft giggle falling from her lips.

“Again. Wouldn’t know, sweetheart.” The nickname seemed so naturally. Like, you had been calling her that forever. Your eyes met with Abby’s; face to face with only so much space.

Then suddenly, she settles her strong hands upon both of your arms “And If i showed you?” She was so gentle with your demeanor, treading lightly.

She wanted it just as bad, just like you.

Her breath fanning your lips causing you to hitch. A trembling hand reached out, your hand brushing Abby's cheek, her hands pulling you from your waist. A passionate kiss spun.

It was electric, your lips molding together, tongues dancing in a frantic exploration. Abby moaned into your mouth, your hands roaming loosely down to grip your neighbor's slender hips. You responded by pressing yourself against Abby, feeling the firmness of her breasts through both your clothes.

Kissing desperately, hungrily, as if starved for each other's touch. Breaking the kiss, Abby nibbled on your ear, a weak whisper falls from your lips, “I need you….” Muttering in between kisses.

“Bedroom’s upstairs.” You finish. Abby taps on the cheek of your ass, signaling you to jump into her embrace.

Stumbles and giggles to make your way upstairs and down the hall to your master bedroom. Abby pulled away from you, looking around the room, seeing the mixture of objects from your husband and your own.

In some way, the infidelity. It made it rapturous.

"Lie down," she ordered you, her voice suddenly husky and full of authority.

you obliged to her command happily, body thrumming with excitement. You watch her climb onto the bed, hovering above you and eyes pouring into your own; a mixture of lust and tenderness.

"You're so beautiful," Abby’s voice was low as her eyes ran up and down, running her hands down your body. Each streak feathered on from her fingers tickled your skin, squirming as you legs lock together.

You felt a fluttering in you stomach at the compliment. "So are you," You meeked shyly, a pink hue on your flustered in face. You were breathless as Abby began to kiss at your neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin.

Abby continued her slow exploration, trailing kisses down your body, pausing to nuzzle your breasts through your top. "I want to see all of you," she whispered, her hot breath fanning over your tempered skin.

Heart was pounding in your chest as you nodded. The feeling of her gentle but eager hands as she threw off your clothes, baring you inch by delicious inch.

She paused to appreciate each reveal. The swell of your perked breasts, the curves that dipped your body, and to the drag of your soaked panty down your legs.

Completely naked and to her taking, Abby took a moment to admire you. Her eyes ran down over every inch of your exposed-self, salivating at your glistening arousal. "Better than my dreams," she murmured, voice full of wonder.

Insatiably on the same side of a coin. You reached for Abby's top, eager to return the favor. You peeled the fabric away, revealing her lush breasts, nipples eager with the cool breeze with excitement. She metled into your touch as she kicked off her shorts.

It was your turn to admire everything you’ve awaited. Her body glistened under the dim lighting of your room. The way eyes smoldered with desire tranced you as she positioned herself between your thighs. Your needy slick center coarsed Abby’s head; hovering above and planting pecks on your thighs.

Abby leaned into you. The feeling of her mouth searing kisses on your delicate pussy and her thumb teasing the taut peak of your tits. Your back arched arched into her touch, moaning softly as you reveled in the sensation of finally being touched by another woman. By her.

You notice the way she took her time with you. She was observant with each twig and jolt that came from your body, savoring you. She sweetly elicited a series of delighted gasps and whimpers from you as she continued her descent, twirling her tongue around your clit and teasing you down to your folds.

You choked out a cry of shock, “Fuck-ah!" you seethed, your hands gripping your bed sheets. You could feel Abby chuckle softly as she relishing sucked on your puffy clit. You felt like you were on a cloud, feeling completely elevated.

“Gaah! Ab—Abby!” Your thighs tremble in her grasp, feet kicking into her back slightly at the new found pleasure. The jolt that coursed through you felt ferious with the feeling of her moist tongue. She made her way inside your folds, teasing your whet entrance.

Suddenly, you feel the tip of her tongue plunge inside you, “Abby! fuckk Abby!” You let out a throat-curling shriek. Each lick inside you was a push of boundaries.

Legs trembling, mouth fully-agape, back arched, tits begging to be touched, nails clawing into your sheets, and grinding into her face completely high off ecstasy. Everything was new to you. The sex, passion, and connection. A seventh heaven.

Just as quick as the erotic came; it left. She pulled away from your eager pussy and anticipated body causing your back to drop and pant breathlessly.

"Patience," she murmured, her breath tickling your sensitive folds.

She continued her slow exploration, indulging her tongue as her fingers dance along the skin of your blimped thighs. Your breath hitched as you were dying of anticipation for her touch, her tongue.

Finally, fucking two fingers into you as she paid attention to your clit. Your deplore was sensuous, another train of cries and whines falling from your drooled lips.

Everything Abby did made you feel absolutely desired. Another thing, your husband could never do.

"You're so wet," Abby praises through her slurps and swallows of your leaking lithe. Abby’s fingers thrust forward, pushing in every inch of herself.

Her eyes darken as they watch themselves get squeezed in by your soppy fuzzed beneath. "So beautiful," she marvels, not getting enough of you.

"Don’t stop! please!”

Her thick fingers curl upward, she stroked your walls with her tips. She enjoys every moment of your writhing. Abby could live in this moment forever.

She smiled as your hips bucked up, chasing after every sensation. "So responsive," she purred, before adding a third thick finger inside you. she stretched you out completely, feeling every bit as your hands tugged onto her blonde hair.

She pulled her fingers out alight from so deep, dragging her tongue down once more your slick folds and lapping up your essence.

"Oh god!" Your moan gutteral and body thrashing against her and your bed. The tip of her fingers swirled inside softly, pressing onto your soft sex-gush.

An electrifying chilled jostled down to cramped hips as your stomach twisted blissfully. "Cum for me," she praises, working through your overwhelming orgasm.

Lewd spewls and ravenous chill flowed out and through you. Completely mind-fucked as you cream all over the tip of her fingers and tongue. Your body tightened like a coil, coating her with your sticky release with a final cry, "Oh, Abby!" As she cupped your leaking cum around her three fingers.

She brought them up to her lips, sucking them clean, releasing with a pop, and groan in delight. “You’re so fucking heavenly, taste it too.” She coos, crawling her way to meet your glowed and fucked out-self.

“Don’t tap out now, doll, I’m only getting started.”

Both of your integrity’s thrown out the door.

“This isn’t….” A pointless mumble left your lips, somewhat dawning the fact; You just cheated on your husband.

“They aren’t even here, right baby?”

a/n: ugh my slut ass probably gonna make another part 🤞🏼🐇

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[ficcerspam]

Kitten Kisses

DCxDP : Dead Tired, Stray!Danny Phantom, love square identity shenanigans (sort of)

Week 1: Indirect Kiss

===

There is a security camera set up at Tim’s desk. 

It’s mostly to ensure that Tim actually leaves his desk, nowadays, but the genuine concern was something nobody really thought could qualify as a necessity. 

Tim is young, but it’s undeniable that he’s a genius. Sadly, that did not mean certain visitors or members of the board didn’t take his age as carte blanche to just rummage around in his desk for no reason. 

After the 5th time Tim noticed his things had been moved (they would have found nothing, Tim was very meticulous regarding Wayne Enterprises documents) something had to give. 

So. Security camera. 

After the first month of its implementation, nobody was fool enough to get caught over some useless files and a surprisingly thoroughly encrypted computer system. Nobody important, at least. 

Babs likes to hack into it, sometimes, to make sure Tim is home on time and not working late. Bruce sometimes hacks in just to check in, watch him work or eat because he was a creep, but Tim can hardly throw such large rocks from his glass house. For the most part, it’s more decoration than anything. 

Until tonight, that is. Tim gets a little ping! signaling movement at his WE desk. He’s just gotten home from patrol, mask already off and cape halfway unclipped with hastily ungloved hands.

Perplexed by the midnight alert, Tim pulls up the feed onto his set up at home. There’s hardly anything worth hacking into, considering the computer there is more of a remote in type of system, rather than an actual computer to be used like the one at the Nest.

And yet still. There they are. Tim would recognize that silhouette anywhere: Stray. 

He watches as, at first, only that skin tight black suit with white accents entered the screen, the rogue thief’s toned torso curved alluringly, signature white clawed gloves lightly scraping along the desk as he travels from one end to the other—not hard enough to leave any trace, but enough for the skrrrrch rasp out. 

There’s a tap of a claw, before the screen fills as Stray bends over, and gods, what a sight that is to see. Stray has an almost prehensile cat’s tail, and it swayed and curled over itself in a way that seemed hypnotic. Long glowing white hair that falls over his shoulder with two black tufted cat ears that seems to actually move, eyes barely visible behind bright neon green goggles—but most importantly a new addition: blood red lipstick. 

Tim stares as those red, red lips curve into a smile, whispering a soft “Hey, Red. Miss me?”

Tim can feel his pulse jump, because he did. He really did. 

They’ve been dancing around each other, ever since the vigilante figured out Stray’s M.O. 

The rogue was only stealing paranormal artifacts, or objects that were stolen via grave robbing. None of the other Bats had figured it out until Tim had told them, considering Stray’s first few hits were on a handful of Rich People. The items were so scattered, and had nothing of real importance that could connect them. 

But the Rich were angry, and though that was hardly anything to be alerted by, it made for an ornery work environment. The Bats hadn’t stepped up, hadn’t felt the need to, until certain museums were getting hit too. A couple civilians even, here or there, until finally something was stolen from Batman himself—something they had kept at Wayne Enterprises to be handed over to Constantine for analysis.

Selina was no help either, simply stating that every cat’s got to have their secrets—all but confirming that the new rogue on the scene was Selina’s. 

Red Robin had cornered Stray, or rather, Stray had let him, and they almost—there was a moment…But then Catwoman had come, urgent, saying something about a sister. 

And then Stray hadn’t been seen in weeks.

Tim shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts from the fog those cherry red lips cast over him. Still, he can’t help but say yes. Even if only in his mind. 

“I missed you, dolled myself up and everything,” those sinful red lips do a little pout as a delicate claw twirls a strand of that silky hair, conjuring up so many images that Tim involuntarily stands up, as if to immediately leave. “Doesn’t red look so good on me?”

Fuck, but it does. And then it clicks. Hastily, Tim taps a couple buttons, reclipping his cape and putting his mask back on. Once his gloves are back on he pulls up the feed onto his phone, grappling his way over to his office as if being chased.

Because if Stray was at Tim Wayne’s desk, calling him Red through the feed, that meant—that meant he knew.

“Sadly, I can’t stay.” Red Robin vaults out the Nest, keeping half an eye on the feed as those pouty lips talk to him, watching as Stray perches himself delicately on the desk. There’s a sly smile now, though Tim can’t help but follow the long lines of the rogue’s body instead, with his legs crossed, leaning on one delicately clawed hand, head tilted coquettishly.

“But I’ve got a present for you, loverboy.” Red is almost there, just a couple blocks away, as Stray pulls out what looked like a business card with the hand he isn’t leaning on, bringing it up to those distracting red lips. 

“I heard you like games!” Stray bares his teeth in a fanged smile, “Find me, and it’s a date.”

Red Robin is on the WE building now, scaling down to break into the usual window, silently prowling his way quickly through the halls. He watches as Stray winks, giving the card a little kiss. When he grins Red could see the rouge was smeared a little, and somehow that made it so much more enticing. Stray places the card back on the desk before smoothly getting up and exiting stage left just as the vigilante skids to an arrival in front of his office door. 

He burst into the office, only to find it empty. He immediately went to the nearest window, trying to spot the rogue, but as always Stray is quick to disappear without a trace. RR suspects that Stray is some kind of meta, but hasn't gathered enough evidence yet. 

Out of leads, he swiftly makes his way to his desk, where the business card lay innocently, face down. On the back of it, a tantalizing red lip mark. 

Red picks it up, turning it over to see a time and place typed onto it—an invitation, then, not a business card at all. He stares for a second, feeling a smile grow on his face, before he flips the card over again to stare at the kiss mark. 

He brings the card to his lips, softly kissing it, eyes closed and content. He can almost feel the warmth left over, feel a hand caress his neck along his spine. Soon. 

He tucks the card into one of the pockets on his belt, feeling excited and suddenly rejuvenated. 

Maybe he could do another loop—maybe a couple, he doesn’t care—before getting back to the Nest to research. 

He has a date to score, and research is so much easier when he doesn’t have to deal with euphoria. 

follow here or on AO3!

[nullified-space]

The over-analysis of Orbo (and the little screen time we have of him)

Welcome to my over analysis of Orbo as a character because I love him dearly, I need to see more of him in season 2, and I’m tired of the evil Orbo trope. This is 7 pages long and reached 2k words yikes. UMM. I don't know how to do introduction so lets jut get right to it:

When we are first introduced to Orbo he falls from above and onto a pedestal. If the audience doesn’t already realize it from the symbolism of putting someone up on a pedestal- where he is angled ABOVE Scarab, the symbol thats etched into it which related to the wings on the phone they use to talk to the Boss we see later can explain to them that Orbo is in an authoritative position over Scarab. Even before mentioning it we can assume that Orbos his boss.

But before we get into their interaction let’s take a moment to observe Orbos design. It's a very simple and obvious silhouette- a circle with purple shades on his face. Usually in character designs to accentuate specific traits in a character, artists would choose one body shape over the other to express that to the viewer. So Orbo being a LITERAL circle, with no sharp pointed edges should already communicate to the audience that he’s not inherently evil or malicious. And often, circles are associated with unity, security, and divinity. In other words, he’s friend shaped.

If the artists wanted to paint Orbo to be a villain/ villain-leaning- wouldn’t they try to express that through his design by adding sharper edges? Giving him more striking colors like red, darker purples, or just a darker color palette in general?

Compared to Scarb who’s all sharp angles and consists of many triangles in his design, even being fully BRIGHT red to showcase that he’s dangerous (a walking red flag if you will)- it just doesn’t make sense for Orbo to be painted as a villain or immoral boss when his design doesn’t match up to that in the slightest.

Anyways. Moving onto the interactions that the two have.

Earlier when Scarab is waiting to have a meeting with Orbo I do want to note that he’s seen being agitated and fidgeting to himself. In the next scene the room Orbo brings him to is full of calming and colorful lights. It feels less intimidating and more casual. It almost seems like a place you would be meditating in.

The scene starts with Orbo spinning around Scarab while growing bigger. While he’s doing this he’s listing off the reasons why he was called into a meeting with him in the first place.

“Ignoring our calls, giving yourself missions, pursuing your own monomanias. I tell ya you’re really whiffing that ball lately.”

And yet despite listing off Scarabs transgression he says this all in a lighthearted tone and expression, if anything it’s barely the kind of scold a boss would give to a coworker who keeps going against orders. He still keeps a very lenient attitude that you wouldn’t normally expect a boss to give to a self-serving co worker like Scarab. He says it almost like he’s asking why Scarab is doing all this, giving him the floor to speak on it.

However, Scarab just completely dismisses what Orbo says so he can request for more time. This to which Orbo scoffs in return- being dismissive to Scarabs dismissiveness.

(analysis has been finished check qrts)

[follows-the-bees]

Thinking about this classic western shot of introducing the antagonist by zooming in to them in the background. They are in silhouette, their intentions as covered in shadows as their faces.

This show is amazing at the Western filmmaking imagery, setting up exactly how the audience is supposed to feel about the characters using these classic tropes and camera techniques.

Izzy and crew are introduced as the bad guys in western style. There is a 60s-style music cue when the trio are first in frame. They are also small, center-shot in the frame, in the distance, and slightly zoomed on, showing them as the antagonists of the story.

My previous analysis of the western techniques used and their meaning. 1 | 2 | 3

[nemuro-incinerator]

I decided to rewatch Episode 26 (Miki’s Nest Box (The Sunlit Garden - Arranged)) which was a bit of a horrible decision to watch at this hour but also made me realize something. This is the definition of dude trust me analysis. There is one scene in the entire show that features both Kozue and Nanami. Within that scene, there are only a few angles that show both of them

This wide shot places the camera at an angle and position in which Kozue and Nanami are both visible, but pillars are placed between them. While there is no physical blockade between them, the view visually separates them, creating an artificial barrier. While they are capable of coming together, the narrative as presented to us prevents it. Not to mention that their conversation after this point is focused on Akio, or “Daddy Long Legs” *retching noises* as Kozue refers to him.

In the second, while Nanami is approaching Kozue, Kozue is walking away and out of frame to Akio. There is no barrier separating them - real, imagined, only perceived at a certain angle - but it’s too late. They are on different paths now thanks to Akio’s influence. After a shot of Kozue and Akio in silhouette walking into the night, the scene ends. Their moment is taken from them. In conclusion Akio is clearly actively trying to separate Kozue and Nanami and I have never overanalyzed anything in my life