#instead of just black lines on blank background

[that-g3-artist]

2 types of big brothers, plus dad

bonus featuring uncle wars:

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #i am a very serious artist who takes my art very seriously #anyway i'm trying a new style for my shitposts #instead of just black lines on blank background #i like the messy colored look but i need to find something else for the bgs #idk i'm just experimenting we'll see if it sticks #anyways now to tag all these fuckers #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu wild #lu time #lu legend #lu wind #lu warriors #lu chain #lu memes #also whoops i forgot to tag #lu four

[nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma]

Team Green: Sorry your faves are boring 😊🤷‍♂️ Sure you're supposed to root for the Blacks but the Greens are just more fun. Jace is boring I'm here for my angsty disaster mess 💚

You realise that's bad writing, right? This is a family civil war drama. One side of that family civil war shouldn't be populated with blank slates. If no effort is made into making Rhaenyra and Daemon's children as fleshed out as Alicent's children then that is bad writing.

Some people find the Lannisters more fun than the Starks, but the Starks are still fleshed out characters (and considering in the books Jace is 14/15, Luke is 13, Joffrey, Baela & Rhaena are 12, Aegon the younger is 9 and Viserys is 7 - these kids ages almost map straight onto the Starklings so they were so meant to be our Targlings). It didn't have to be a zero sum "you can only have ONE side that's interesting". The show is poorer for it. Game of Thrones was a disaster in many ways, but at least the different sides of the conflict had equal screen time and attention.

How hard would it have been to flesh out Jace, or at least give him a half-decent haircut? He could have been a mirror to Jon Snow (they technically have the same initials). One is a bastard who does not know he's a targaryen prince, the other is a targaryen prince who discovers he is a bastard. In a world that hates bastards, that insists they are 'wanton and treacherous by nature', there was plenty of potential to explore some complicated emotions, to give weight to how he feels about being a bastard. The whispers that would have followed him, the scrutiny he would have felt, the internalised guilt and shame, his protectiveness over his little brothers and wish to spare them the truth. Maybe after Alicent confronted Aegon over the pig there could have been a shift where Aegon turns his bullying away from Aemond and towards Jace (more in keeping with book canon). Maybe Jace could feel anxious about lessons with Criston Cole due to his open hatred of him. Maybe he could be equal parts devoted to and resentful of his mother over his parentage, maybe he could be driven to perfectionism to prove himself worthy.

The show made Jace more violent in the fight with Aemond than in the book, by changing who started the fight (from Aemond to Rhaena and co.), by narrowing the age gap to make Jace more of a match for Aemond, and by having him draw a knife instead of a wooden toy sword. But they didn't earn that moment. How much more satisfying would it have been if both Aemond and Jace were given equal emotional weight in the build-up to the fight? If the hurt and anxiety at discovering he was a bastard had been building and building until it burst out. The entire reason the show changed the age dynamic between Rhaenyra and Alicent to make them peers and best friends was supposedly to make their conflict more dramatic - why would you then drop that approach with their kids? How does it make the civil war story better if one half of the next generation of characters aren't really characters?

They didn't even have to put much effort into Baela, as GRRM already had her brimming with personality on the page, but they just... ignored that and made her a non-entity. Oh she gets one punch in, and there's a blink and you'll miss it background shot of her trying to hit Aegon (at this point I don't think the actors were even directed to do that I think they just took it upon themselves). Meanwhile Baela in the books is wild and fearless and deliberately provocative and quick to anger and fiercely defensive of her loved ones and wrestles squires in the training yard and has a pet monkey and sneaks out in search of adventure and brings home 'unsuitable' friends. Including a legless beggar, a blacksmith's apprentice whose muscles she admired, a street conjurer, twin prostitutes and an entire troupe of mummers. And she alarms everyone due to being 'overly fond of boys' and gets epic lines like this when it is suggested she marry Lord Rowan:

“I’ve bedded two of his sons. The eldest and thirdborn, I think it was. Not both at once, that would have been improper.”

She could have been an absolutely chaotic presence onscreen. Rhaena meanwhile is a little more like Sansa to Baela's Arya, but would have needed more work to flesh her out onscreen. Her insecurities and wish for a dragon seemed promising at first, but they were dropped as soon as Aemond lost his eye. Because that was ultimately the narrative purpose she served - to provide a new reason for the fight to start that wasn't Aemond hitting and pushing a toddler into a pile of dragon poo. She helps Aemond's image by being the one to start the fight instead of him, and from then on she becomes a voiceless non-entity. We watch Aemond fly away victoriously on Vhagar, we don't see Rhaena tearfully watching the last link to her mother vanish over the horizon.

Considering the prominent role of bastards during the dance (especially the dragonseeds), the uninterest in exploring bastardy in Jace makes little sense. Considering the centrality of gender to the story (and considering a certain event involving key players during the dance), the lack of effort into Baela and Rhaena makes zero sense (the show doesn't even bring up their right to Driftmark in an episode dedicated to discussing the rightful heir to Driftmark).

Considering especially that in fantasy black women are so often consigned to minor Missandei roles, the fact that we were robbed of Baela and Rhaena as main characters particularly stings. Baela in particular was an easy fan favourite in the book, and its a role that black women and girls so rarely get to play. If you had told me before the show that Helaena would be a fan favourite over Baela, I wouldn't have believed it. And don't get me wrong, I like that they fleshed out Helaena in the show, like Rhaena she didn't have much of a presence in the book. But it is so typical that the relative non-entity that they kept white gets to be fleshed out, while the more fleshed out character that they made black becomes a non-entity. And Helaena is skinny now, of course (all love to Phia Saban, but I am mourning plump Helaena).

And don't get me started on Kylo Raemond.

#hotd critical #house of the dragon #team black #team green #pro team black #jacaerys velaryon #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #kylo ren #jace #jon snow #valyrianscrolls #f&b

[snaillock]

demotivated artist!reader x bllk boys

(bachira, kaiser)

tags: gn!reader, kaisers gratuitous stripping of course, bachira being a silly little guy, kaiser being an attention whore

bachira

you sat at your desk, mindlessly watching a youtube video that was supposed to be your background noise as you did your art. instead your sketchbook was left on the fresh blank page as you were completely engrossed in the video.

“aren’t you supposed to be doing something” you snapped out of your focus from the distraction and turned to see bachira cheekily smiling at you with an eyebrow raised and hands on his hips

“ugh fine you caught me,” you said as you turned back to look at your computer and felt bachira wrap his arms around you and his head rest on his shoulder.

“i just… don’t know how to start. i’ve been on an art block for weeks now and it’s starting to wear me down.” you let out a deep sigh as you rambled and tapped your pencil on the desk, “it’s just so hard to find any ideas now”

as bachira listened to your rant, he unwrapped one of his arms from your shoulder and silently reached out for your colored pens and markers with his tongue out in absolute concentration, none of which you noticed.

your ramble got interrupted the second you heard marker scratching on paper. you look down to see bachira doodling on your sketchbook

“bachira?! what the hell are you doing!?” when you said that, he quickly snatched up your sketchbook and a couple of markers and ran out the room giggling, too fast for you to catch up. ‘god why did i date a football player’ you sighed and ran out to find him

you spotted him on the couch, comfortably laying on his stomach as he continued doodling on your stolen sketchbook with your stolen markers. you immediately snatched the book out of his hands.

“i cannot believe you would take my things like that! not only did you take my sketchbook, you also drew in it without my permiss- oh wait…” your scolding trailed off as you took a look at the page he drew. you saw the vibrant squiggles and lines he did along with some star shapes and hearts.

“wow this is actually really pretty,” you said, sitting down right next to him. you took one of your pens that bachira stole from your desk and started to draw on that page, using the art bachira did as a colorful background to bring out the black ink of the figures you drew in front of it. bachira rested his head on your shoulder and watched the entire time.

“hehe looks like i once again saved the day,” bachira laughed as he looked at your ‘collaborated’ work.

you rolled your eyes at his comment. “ok fine i guess you did help with my art block,” you smiled and kissed his cheek, “i appreciate it and i appreciate you”

bachira grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist, “you are so so welcome!”

“is this something you did with your mom every time she couldn’t paint?” “oh yeah constantly” “ah should’ve guessed”

kaiser

you sat at your desk while scrolling through different photos on your laptop, trying to find something to draw since your brain was completely dried out of ideas

“babe~” you sighed as you heard a whiny voice from behind you. uh oh kaiser needs attention. you turned your head to look at him

“what do you need kaiser”

“how much longer are you gonna be in here for? you’ve already been here all day…” it’s only been an hour.

you rolled your eyes as his whining got more desperate and you spoke, “who knows at this point. i’ve been stuck for a while so you might have to wait for the rest of the day.” you glanced at him, knowing that would get to him.

“no darling! you cant stay here all day”

“well if you have any ideas for me, i’ll love to hear them”

he closed your laptop, pushing all your things aside, and sat on your desk right in front of you with his leg crossed over his knee, “how about this… you should just draw me.” he smirked as he looked down at your unimpressed face

you thought about it for a second before nodding, “you know what… that’s not too bad of an idea! i’ll do it.”

“ok great!” he said as he started taking his shirt off.

“kaiser no! i don’t need a nude model so please leave your shirt on!”

“fine…” he groaned, hesitantly removing his hands from his shirt and smoothed it out. he mumbled, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before anyway”

you playfully rolled your eyes and got your stuff ready. you started drawing him as he did various poses while basking in all your attention. every now and then he would try to convince you that him stripping off his clothes would help more but you kept shooting that idea down. you had to deal with him constantly walking naked around the house already.

once you finished, you showed him the sketches. he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you multiple times, each one on a different spot on your face. “wow you did such a good job! you captured my beauty so well”

he took photos of your sketches while gushing about how good of an artist you are and how blessed he is for having you (and also how blessed you are for having a great and attractive model like him)

the next day while he was out at practice, he showed off your drawings to his teammates, bragging about how beautiful and talented his partner is

a/n: haha hai so like i was planning on only sticking to hcs format for this blog but i really wanted to do like a drabble/hc thingy and i also have very little writing experience so sorry if this sucks ass. hope you enjoyed it!

this was supposed to be a three character post but i struggled to

think of another so if anyone wants a part 2 with diff characters, feel free to request so with the characters you want!

#blue lock #bachira x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x gender neutral reader #blue lock x you #★ snail.writes ★ #bachira #kaiser #wrote this while watching various reaction videos

[sinning-23]

Mona Lisa

Warnings; none(yet)

Updates: Introduction found here

Chapter 2 found here

Chapter 1

The house was alive with guests and music. Of course, you were on the clock, taking time to paint the scene in front of you. Natalie was sweet enough to offer you some wine but you declined, needing the utmost attention in order to paint. So instead you were graced with a glass of water that rested beside you. The pleasant and savory aroma of spices filled the air. You felt at ease as the smells ignited nostalgic Memories of home.

You’d been painting for hours now, the once blank faces now taking shape as your background was completed. Needing to place your focus elsewhere for a minute, you looked out the window. The sky was a gorgeous purple and the lush clouds scattered around it was breathtaking. The trees outside were darkening as shadows cast over the house and a breeze gently shook the leaves. It’d make a beautiful landscape. 

You sigh, finally placing your brush down on your canvas after holding it for so long. Despite your work taking form in a culmination of calculated paint strokes and colors, your wrist was ready to betray you, the cramp beginning to form and your arm beginning to give out. Reluctantly leaving your station, you stand and stretch, deciding that you most definitely needed a break. 

Squeezing past partygoers, you find your way to the kitchen, hoping it’d be empty. But like always, your hopes were crushed when you spotted someone. A man with curled blonde locks falling over his face stood in front of a stove. His eyebrows lowered and knit together with a scowl on his lips.

He was just as into his craft as you were.

What was he cooking? That must’ve been what you were smelling when you were painting before. Maybe you shouldn’t hover over him. You take a step back, silently backing against the countertop, watching how his eyes darted from bowl to bowl of mixed ingredients but never to your figure standing across the room. Every movement made the muscles in his arms flex.

“I didn't know Nat had a personal chef.” You murmur, the rings on your fingers feeling uncomfortable with how tightly you were squeezing the countertop.

Damn Nerves. 

You must have startled him because he flinched at your voice and was just now taking the time to make quick eye contact with you.

“She uh- she doesn’t, just watching this for her…but she has a personal painter?” His icy blue eyes scan you. He’s analyzing and his focus lingers on your frame.

 What was he looking at? You averted your gaze, the coldness of his baby blue’s clashing with the warmth of your chocolate brown eyes. Since he decided to stare you took it upon yourself to return the favor. His arms are flexed, and the fabric of his simple long sleeve is rolled up enough to have them exposed. Black ink contrasts with his porcelain skin and his face has noticeable splotches of red, most likely from the heat of the stove. You allowed your eyes to trail down the middle of his face. His lips remained pressed into a line still awaiting your answer with his head tilted to the side. 

He’s pretty, really pretty. But you’d be a fool to say it aloud. 

“I wouldn't say personal. It's a favor for a friend.” You finally answer, turning to wash your hands and break the seemingly awkward stare-off you were having. His attention returns to the food. 

—-

The party had died down quite a bit. Your station clean up went better than you expected, the only thing left of your area was the canvas was on display. You return to the kitchen for the second time this evening to clean your brushes hoping to run into the ‘personal chef again’. Unfortunately, the blonde from before was nowhere to be seen.  The smell of spices was almost nonexistent now, every few minutes you’d turn around expecting to see him appear, even if it was just for a second. Judging on how spotless the kitchen looked, he must have cleaned up for Nat and left after he was done ‘watching’ whatever food for her. Speaking of which-

“The painting looks amazing.” She compliments with a smile.

You smile back, taking time to get between the bristles with your fingers, the clear water mixing in a sea of browns when your brushes made contact. 

“Thanks, I was starting to panic though, I got a cramp halfway through.” You chuckle, setting the brushes into your apron once they are rinsed. 

The two of you joke back and forth for a bit, discussing whatever subject came to mind. You’d gotten close enough to her for that type of thing now. She insists on paying you but you decline and reassure her this is simply a favor amongst friends. Of course, you just had to open your mouth and mention the stranger. 

“Who was that by the way? He said he was watching your food for you but I saw him add some stuff. He was kind of… I don't know. Anyway, who was he?” You question, clearing your throat a bit.

“Who, Carmy?” She questions, voice raising an octave as her brows raise. 

“So that's his name. I was kind of disappointed that I didn't see him again. He moves quickly. Whatever he was helping cook it smelled great.” You grin, the memory making you giddy. 

“Y/n, he’s my brother.” She explains making your eyes widen. 

“Really? Huh, he’s not much of a talker is he? I mean I was just- we just- I didn't want to interrupt him. I came in for a sec to take a break and…Well he was here but..” You try to explain, but Nat sees right through you. 

“Mhm, Well here’s his number. Give him a call sometime, he never talks to me anyway. Maybe he’ll talk if he has some extra company like you around.” She explains, handing you a freshly written Post-it note. 

—

The sun had long set, stars sprinkling the sky here and there while the cold nips at wherever it can get a hold on. Early spring still felt like winter. You decided to leave your paint supplies in your car and draw a few landscapes in your sketchbook. Maybe you'd even pull the stuff out in the park if you were feeling spontaneous. 

The apartment is warm and the whirr of your appliances is the first thing you hear upon entry. Bubbles, your fish is inside the castle of his own little fishbowl apartment and your lights are dim. To anyone else, this would be messy. But your studio was calculated chaos in your eyes. There was a system and in your mind, you knew where everything was and where it should be. 

Hot water runs from the shower head and onto your skin, soaking off the day's dirt with ease. You're sure not to wet your braids, the humidity from the steam already doing enough damage to make them fuzzy. It was time for fresh ones anyway. Your mind trails thoughtlessly over to-do lists and possibilities for tomorrow, but the person you’d least expect to cross your mind was the stranger you knew as, Carmen.

Natalie did say they were siblings and the more you think about the two of them the easier it gets to see the resemblance. Speaking of which, you knew of her older brother. Michael? Yeah, Michael. That's who you did the portrait for that day she requested…well it was a portrait for her of course. It's been months since you touched it but she was so understanding.

You lower your sleep mask and tuck into the warmth of your comforters, turning off your phone for the night after drafting your message.

To: ***-***-****

Personal painter to personal chef. What are the odds of us meeting again?

#the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction #the bear series #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #x black reader #reader is black #reader is black coded #slowburn #strangers to lovers #sugar berzatto #friend of a friend

[apompkwrites]

Hi hi! Remember the school au I made for the Lil Sheep and never mentioned again? Lmao, I have been working on it, but most of it is me screaming

The school does have dorms, and I wanted to base it on something like how Noble Bell College, Night Raven, and Royal Sword are, however, I'm not 100% sure if I wanted to base it off of other stories or keep it generally centered around the Seven.

I have some ideas for other stories that the dorm could be based on and some ideas for it being based on the Seven. If it's based on the Seven, then the dorms would be centered around the background characters, after all the Lil sheep in the game would be background characters who the main character probably wouldn't interact with much, and their whole arc in their school would be all of the Sheepies learning to accept that they are their own person and have their own lives, they don't need to revolve around their parents, siblings, or other's around them to survive and they aren't just background or one-off characters, they're their own people independent of whatever story they're tied(this is a newer idea, so it isn't that fleshed out)

Meanwhile, if it was based on other stories, I thought of basing it on ballet and opera stories. I have been flirting with this idea a lot, and I like it since it separates the Lil Sheep and gives them their own story, not just their brother's story. While I am pretty set on this idea, it's not 100%; I do have some possible stories to base the dorms off of, though, and even some ideas for some very silly events that would happen and I even have a few tidbits for it before the background character idea came about and here it is

I honestly have no name for any of these dorms all I know is that Shroud's dorm is based on Giselle by Adolphe Adam and Jean Coralli and I put Data recording for talent because I can totally see Lil Flame blanking when writing that down because they never considered themselves talented at something and since data recording is something that they do a lot of they just put it down and I put Piano down for hobbies because of my previous hobby headcanons

I made it so that all the dorms have been split into two sections and these two sections have two different leaders, just to make it easier for the house wardens to manage and because I don't want to make another school for the "good guys" of the stories and thought it would just be easier and they have two vice dorm leaders to assist the two dorm leaders

also, I did a very silly thing when deciding their student id number

The headmistress handpicked all of the black sheep which everyone considers odd since she normally gets her butterflies to do her and the school doesn't have a magic mirror however the dorms seem to quite literally have a mind of their own, I mean the dorm picks the dorm leaders.

It's unknown on what basis the dorms pick their leaders on, as it just happens randomly the first week back at school after the previous leader graduates. The choice can be found in a painting with all the dorm leaders in the main hall and in the dorms there is a line of portraits of the previous leaders stopping only at the current two. No one has ever witnessed the process of the paintings being made they just appear overnight with a letter accompanying it announcing their choice, and there is a ceremony acknowledging the choice so that the whole school knows, this same process happens with vice-wardens too.

The dorm assigning process is actually also done by the dorms, the Headmistress puts on the main building walls the names of all of the new students and on the first day of school, the freshmen are told to go find their name and dorm placement.

the two sections were actually a choice made by the dorms itself as the day that the dorms picked it's chosen leaders the Headmistress found that instead of it picking just one it picked two, and the Headmistress figured out what it was trying to say rather quickly.

also an interesting thing about Shrouds dorm, it was the first dorm in 50 years give or take to have only one dorm leader when the choice was made. This was because the dorm didn't see anyone fit for the position of second dorm leader. That was before they got a transfer student who midyear appeared in the painting in the main hall, sitting next to Shroud with their head on Shroud's shoulder with the other dorm leaders surrounding them. it was a shock to the whole school since this had never happened before, but was a massive relief to Shroud and the two vice-house wardens who were taking most of the work for the missing leader.

at this point, I've just decided that might as well use the other stories instead of the background characters idea lmao

also as a side note, the Headmistress hand picks all the students but does so in the form of her butterflies, she very specifically instructs them however for whatever reason when she chose the Lil Lambs she appeared in person, everyone is under the impression that she leaves it up to her butterflies when she really just micromanages the shit out of it

anyways enjoy these crumbs of a idea from me lmao

hi hi! ofc i remember the lovely school au :DD

glad to see you bestow another crumb unto us <33 love that lil shroud is our main focus (my lil baby :DD).

and is that a doc i see :O is. is there more :OO

we love the lil sheepies getting their own school where they can grow without being in the shadows of their brothers :)

#a pompk answers #black sheep #a randomeroacher's rambles

[ipsen]

Blank Canvas, Chapter 5

Read on AO3. Summary: Kaneki is teased, and Takatsuki plans a special outing. Word Count: 3368 CW: Brief history lesson on comfort women in Japan during WW2 Chapter 6 Chapter 4 Master Post

Unbelievable.

From across the table, she glared at the man that was supposed to be her father. Tall, old, and dressed in all black. Like a mafia figure in stories. If this were like those stories though, they wouldn’t even be here.

But instead, she was being given away to someone else. Again.

Her eyes, thin as snakes, followed the paper that was slid over to him: despite not being there for her for fourteen years, his consent was still required for someone else to adopt her. She watched him pick up the pen without any trace of hesitation and sign off on it.

How.

It was his fault that Papa died. If he’d just done the bottom line job of being a parent, or even just being there for her and Papa, then maybe they wouldn’t have been attacked by that weirdo, and Papa wouldn’t have been stabbed in the neck eight times, and she wouldn’t have had to slice that guy’s belly open before she suffered the same fate. If it weren’t for the man in front of her, neither of them would be here. It was his fault.

He seemed indifferent to her curses on him— that, or he was oblivious to them, and both were equally infuriating— as he passed the paper to her new foster father: some middle-aged guy with beady eyes and a tall face— Shouji? Shinji? It didn’t matter, even as he signed the paper as well and attached her to his hip. Who cared about him.

She scowled again at her ‘father’. Papa— the one that actually raised her— had told her about the organization. Some weirdo adults with god complexes who thought they could just walk all over anyone outside their circle. An organization that acted like the world belonged to them.

What a joke. And her ‘father’ was a part of them? Was power so intoxicating to the human mind that nothing could serve as an antidote?

“Well, Mr. Shiono, thank you for this.” Her ‘father’ stood up and held out his hand. “Take good care of *^~ for me.”

She hated that name. It was so cruel and unusual given the circumstances.

“Er, of course, Mr. Yoshimura,” Shiono replied nervously, shaking it. “You can count on me…”

And her ‘father’ turned his back on her once more.

She swore she would ruin him. Somehow, she’d do it. Him and his precious organization both.

———

It was now the middle of August, meaning summer was in full swing.

During the past three months, Kaneki drew concepts, backgrounds, and characters. He paneled key scenes and showed the sketches to Takatsuki, upon which her eyes would glow with approval. In return, she would show him her draft for future chapters, explaining her thought process, and he would give a thumbs up and a smile.

All in all, they worked surprisingly well together.

Where she was too angry, his empathy cooled the flames, and where he was too hesitant, she happily crossed the line. It was a dynamic that served to balance the story on a tightrope as it pedaled down the path to the end.

And between the outlining and the storyboarding, whatever image he had of Sen Takatsuki, the author, happily faded into the background in favor of Sen Takatsuki, the person.

Whenever they grabbed food together (which was often; she seemed to like dragging Kaneki to new restaurants he’d never heard of), she usually cleaned her plate. She liked her vegetables steamed and fresh— otherwise, Kaneki found himself with a fuller plate— and her favorite foods were meats and seafood. She especially liked takoyaki, and ordered a plate every time they went somewhere new.

She was also always quick to pay for both of them, even after Kaneki’s paychecks started rolling in. “You should spend that on more important stuff,” she told him, taking his wallet and shoving the bills he’d handed her back in. “Leave the monotony to me.”

(Even though there was nothing monotonous about it.)

Another thing he learned about her was that she didn’t care for her birthday. When June 19th hit, and he couldn’t find a suitable gift in time, Shiono assured him that she didn’t want anything. It was probably obvious based on how she didn’t call off their session that day, but Kaneki couldn’t help but be curious. He wondered why.

When they traveled for inspiration, research, or both, Takatsuki liked to spout trivia about the location. However, it wasn’t inconsequential stuff like the year something was built, but rather the bloody history behind it. The types of things that weren’t in childhood textbooks, even adult textbooks. The shameful things. The darker things.

While they were investigating a certain building, she pointed at it and said, “This is actually a repurposed brothel from World War II. They plucked women straight from their homes and brought them here to be raped by Japanese soldiers.” She then glared. “Not that the government wants you to know that; they still haven’t apologized for it.”

Most people would be uncomfortable with such knowledge, Kaneki imagined, but the fact that Takatsuki trusted him to bear the burden softened the blow. In fact, learning about the suffering of the world made him a little bit more confident in himself. If others could experience worse and still live to an old age, then why couldn’t he? At least, maybe he could.

Plus, it was those moments that the simmering layer just beneath Takatsuki’s friendly demeanor poked its head out. A creature whose jagged edges occasionally cut the cloth that hid it— a hint of the angry thing that inserted itself between the lines of her books.

It was those fascinating glimpses that Kaneki drew. In secret, of course. When he wasn’t storyboarding. For himself. In a separate sketchbook. That he locked in his drawer. Where the key was tucked in his copy of Frankenstein. Not the special edition that he usually brought around when he was feeling the itch for a reread, but the paperback cover with missing pages that he had bought in middle school.

Point being, only he would ever see those drawings.

———

“Ken,” Kaya spoke gently, but Kaneki could tell by her smile she was ecstatic, “Touka tells me you’re dating again.”

Kaneki groaned. “Why does everyone think that I’m—”

“You can fall in love with a coworker. It’s not illegal.” She chuckled. “It won’t always work out, as we both know, but it’s perfectly normal.”

The two of them were at Apes & Dobers, the nonprofit charity co-owned by Kaya and Enji. The members— mostly remnants of the old Devil Apes and Black Dobers gangs— offered shelter and food to those who could not yet afford it. Located in the 20th ward, it (secretly) took unused food from Anteiku and gave it away for free; Mr. Yoshimura, as Anteiku’s owner, simply looked the other way.

In fact, Kaneki and Kaya were working on organizing that food right now, along with donations from the latest food drive, in one of the many storage rooms.

“Th-That’s not what’s happening!” Kaneki protested, lifting up a box full of soup cans. “I just— I just admire her, that’s all! She’s my favorite author, and now I’m working with her. E-End of story…”

“Mhm.” Kaya shrugged in such a way that was so unbelievably fake. “Ken, you miss every single shot you don’t take; you know that, right?”

“Of course I do, but—!”

The door flew open, and in stepped Hide and Touka, bringing a cart full of new foods between them. “Yo!” Hide said, hand raised in greeting. “Work’s finally slowed down a bit, so I figured I’d come help!”

“Hey, Hide! Hi, Touka!” Kaneki said a little loudly, grateful for the chance to change the subject. “Great to have you!”

“Yo.” Touka made the same greeting as Hide. “Just dropping by to help.”

Kaya checked her watch, then raised an eyebrow. “On your lunch break?”

“Yeah.” Touka shrugged. “Why?”

Kaneki watched as Kaya circled around him, approached Touka, and promptly shoved her out the door. “Excuse me,” she looked at him and Hide, “but I have to make sure someone eats. Can you take care of the rest for me?”

“Sure thing, boss!” Hide saluted with a laugh. “Have fun, Touka!”

Touka protested the entire way out, but it was mostly inane phrases, and she was clearly smiling. Kaneki, chuckling, couldn’t help but think she lied to get Kaya to eat instead; it was one of her worst habits, and part of why he got along so well with her. That, and she was the only one who could understand how he felt when Rize disappeared.

Hide glanced about as he unloaded the rest of the cart. “No Enji again, huh?”

Kaneki shook his head. “No…” It went unsaid that Enji was taking care of Mr. Yoshimura. The decline was getting steeper.

“That’s too bad.”

A beat of silence. Food was organized. At least Kaneki got to spend time with Hide, which was surprisingly rare. Hide’s work kept him so busy during the day, and that didn’t change with Kaneki’s new job. So hearing that Hide would be around more often eased the invisible tension in his shoulders.

“Sooo… How’s Takatsuki?” Hide asked, grinning.

“Not you too…” Kaneki groaned, fighting a blush. “But she’s… fine, I guess?”

Hide cackled. “Just ‘fine’? Doesn’t sound ‘fine’ to me.”

Of course Takatsuki wasn’t fine. She was great. More than great. But calling her ‘great’ would just earn Kaneki some heavy teasing, and he’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

But he couldn’t let Hide’s opinion of her get sullied. “She’s… Uh, a really good coworker.” It was safe, and it was apt. It didn’t encompass everything about Takatsuki, but it was a good start. “She doesn’t wear any business clothes like everyone else at Shoeisha, which is nice, so I’m not pressured to be fancy all the time.”

“Oh, wow. That’s cool.” Hide grinned, counting some canned fish and recording the number on a nearby clipboard. “Pretty casual environment, then? Actually, what’s it like working on a story?”

“Well, we go to a lot of different places to study the area. We also study some of the local people to inspire character mannerisms. When we’re not doing that, it’s just me and her in her office.” As soon as Kaneki said it (plus Hide’s lack of interjecting), he knew he slipped up.

Hide gasped like a true gossiper. “No shot! Just you two, alone, in an office space?! Scandalous!” He cackled at his own joke.

Kaneki palmed his face, then crossed the room to double check Kaya’s work on a previous stack.

“But seriously man, be honest with me.” Now that he’d had his fun, Hide went into serious mode. “What do you think of her?”

Kaneki paused mid-count, then looked at Hide and smiled gently. At the end of the day, he knew he could always count on Hide to look out for him. “She’s amazing,” he confessed comfortably. “I think we can make something great together. And we will.”

Hide smiled back at that. “Sounds like a dream come true.”

Kaneki chuckled. “I guess so.”

“I’m serious!” He trotted over to pat Kaneki’s back. “I know what they say about meeting your heroes or whatever, but you seemed to have lucked out!”

“You think so?”

“I know so! Think about it: despite having zero experience, she thinks you have the chops and personality to make her work shine!” Hide wrapped his arm around Kaneki and pulled him close. “I mean, that’s, like, a one-in-a-million chance of happening! You, sir, are the luckiest rabbit of them all.”

Kaneki laughed, and Hide laughed back. As they did, crouched on the floor in front of a stack of canned beans, footsteps rounded the corner and stopped at the doorway.

“Kaya, you in here—? Oh shit,” a new voice sounded from the doorway.

The pair turned to see a young woman with straight black hair and beige eyes, dressed in dark clothing.

“Kurona!” Kaneki exclaimed, shooting to his feet. “I didn’t realize you were here!”

The (younger) Yasuhisa twin was actually a member of Taiwa Act, one of the sister organizations of Apes and Dobers, after her family fell out of public favor and her father was murdered. However, she and her (older) sister, Nashiro, went over to offer their services when work wasn’t holding them up. Nashiro was an independent investigative journalist while Kurona worked closely with Kimi, head of Taiwa, on organizing events.

“Hey, Tree Branch,” Kurona greeted back. It was her stupid nickname for him using the kanji of his family name. “Hide.”

“Yo, Kuro.” Hide waved, and serious mode was over. “I was just trying to figure out if our dear mutual friend here has a—”

“A great time at his, uh, his job!” Kaneki interrupted, scratching his chin. “A-And I am, Hide, thanks so much for asking!”

“Oh, you got a job? Well, shit, I thought— Never mind.” Kurona shook her head and sighed. “I guess making you the butt of the joke is just that easy.”

“Okay, yeah, it’s a job, but he totally has a crush on his coworker,” Hide said, cackling.

“Hide!” Kaneki hissed.

Kurona, dead serious, walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “You have my pity.”

That was a new one. “W-What?”

She raised a brow. “You’re kidding, right? Imagine if you had to work with your ex. Sounds like a shitty deal to me.”

In response, he glanced down at his shoes, which were suddenly very interesting. He hadn’t even thought about that. If he was considering dating Takatsuki— which he wasn’t— then the risk was way higher than the reward. He wouldn’t just lose a relationship— he’d probably lose his job, as well as all future hope for a career as a comic artist. Not that he’d ever commit career suicide this early on (even for someone as amazing as Takatsuki stop it), but it was certainly an angle to keep in mind.

“Oh, Kuro, where’s Shiro?” Hide glanced behind her. “She outta town again?”

Kuro backed off and shrugged. “Sorta. Said she’s pursuing something more local this time, somewhere in the 13th, but won’t say a peep more. I’m sure she’s fine, though.”

“What about that Torso guy, though?” Hide stuffed his hands into his pockets. “They’ve been really active lately; should she really be alone like that?”

“The Torso only targets women with visible scars.” Kurona traced lines on her arms. “Nashiro doesn’t have anything, so she’s not their type.”

Hide went quiet, but the strange moment passed as quickly as it came. “That makes sense. Phew!” He stretched then. “Well, the food won’t sort itself!”

Kaneki swallowed. Women with visible scars… Now that he thought about it, he’d never seen Takatsuki without her tights or in short sleeve attire. She was always covering up her whole body, and he’d never thought to ask until now. What if…?

He tried to ignore the new sense of dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

———

“‘Cruelty is permanent, but it can be tempered’,” Takatsuki recited aloud.

Kaneki, on the couch, didn’t respond, idly drawing scars in his sketchbook. Cuts, bruises, burns— marks that interrupted the smoothness of skin like nothing else. Flesh crumpled and darkened and changed under the weight of such things, never to return to the halcyon days of normalcy. And when the Torso saw such things, he—

“Haise.”

Kaneki jolted up. “H-Huh?”

Takatsuki shot him a rare look of irritation and repeated the line. The story itself was split up into chapters, and each chapter had a poem that she wrote; she must have been working on the chapter after Fushimi, the protagonist, learns about the lobbyist organization’s connection to the antagonistic serial killer.

Serial killers… He cleared his throat, trying to laugh it off. “O-Oh, it’s, um… I-It’s good!”

It was clear it wasn’t the response she desired, and returned to scrawling in her notebook. “Okay.”

A wave of shame washed over him. He shouldn’t be thinking about this; Takatsuki was smart. She wouldn’t get caught like a deer in headlights like him. Right? Right. She probably had way more experience dealing with crazed fans too; a stalker killer was probably not too fundamentally far off from an unhealthy fan. But what if she was caught and subsequently froze up? He couldn’t know until it happened, and if it happened, it’d be too late; she’d already be doomed and he’d be powerless to help her.

He had to ask. But what if she suspected him? No one had ever seen the Torso’s face; Kaneki could be him, for all she knew. An unsociable artist with an eye for anatomy— he wouldn’t have much ground to stand on if he started asking about Sen Takatsuki’s body scars. He shouldn’t risk his reputation this early into his career, but…

He looked at Takatsuki as she crossed out a few lines. She was using her left hand today, he noticed. She liked to switch it up every now and then, much like her hair. Today was two buns instead of one, the bunches of hair gathered up in a messy style on either side of her head. She rested the end of her pen on her mouth, gently parting her lower lip from her upper. Kaneki didn’t realize that he ran his tongue over his own lips as he stared.

What he did realize was that he was drawing her again. A focused expression, representing a mind trying to pry apart the future and ignorant to the present. The sunlight through the window worked with the shadows to glint off the rim of her glasses, lightly obscuring part of her face and creating an air of comfortable mystery. A dash of indescribable weight to her irises to top it off.

He looked between the finished product and his muse, then smiled in defeat. He still could only capture a fragment of the real deal. He closed the sketchbook and sighed.

“I-I’m sorry, Takatsuki,” he said, getting her attention. “I’ve been… worried about something. It’s been distracting me for a while.”

She glanced up. “Oh?”

“The serial killer… A real one. The Torso. I learned that he targets women with scars.” If he was going to do this, he had to be honest with her. “And… I was just worried about you. B-because you, um… you cover up a lot.”

He hoped his question was implied. He watched her expression dip deeper into the shadows, obscuring itself from his vision.

“I-It was just a passing thought,” he hastily explained. “Stupid, really, in hindsight. I let it get the best of me, so I’ll, uh—”

“You want to know if I have scars, then?” Takatsuki had stood up and crossed the room, and now she stood before him.

“W-Well, I, um—” Kaneki scratched his cheek, looking everywhere except at her— “I-I don’t have to, but—”

“Tell you what.” She was smiling, and he immediately knew there was some sick enjoyment coming out of watching him squirm. “You show me one, I’ll show you one.”

He froze.

“Deal?”

“U-Uh… Sure… D-Deal…” What was he supposed to do, say no? If he didn’t show any scars, then the deal was basically invalid, anyway! Now he could just move the conversation along to—

“Great! If I remember correctly, I owe you for the park, don’t I?”

Oh, no. She meant metaphorical scars.

Takatsuki giggled. “Kidding, kidding! Your face was just too funny.”

Kaneki let out the biggest sigh of relief in his life. “You almost gave me a heart attack…”

“And I loved every second of it.” She tapped his arm with the back of her hand.

He gave a hesitant laugh. Well, at least he wasn’t distracted by the Torso anymore. Now he could focus on… another serial killer. A fake one, but a serial killer nonetheless. The Torso was terrible for becoming active again.

“Oh, but before the topic grows cold— Haise,” she turned to him now, “have you ever met a serial killer?”

His brow furrowed. “No…”

She tilted her head and gave him a toothy grin. “Would you like to?”

#blank canvas #writing #fanfic #kaya and kurona are today’s cameos #next chapter will be a very special guest :]

[ath1a]

Espressos and Almond Lattes

I work in a cafe as a barista. My job isn’t particularly hard, I go through the days serving customers and cleaning tables. I find enjoyment in making drinks for people though, the cafe being a microcosm of everyone’s lives, put together in an amalgamation of different personalities, backgrounds and experiences. There is one customer in particular who caught my eye.

A man, who comes occasionally, entering for the first time after ‘noticing the signboard outside’. It was hard to understand him at first, his likes, dislikes and if he had any preferences for any drinks.

Usually he orders the first thing he sees on the menu boards, barely making eye contact, paying and walking away after getting his drink. But occasionally he orders one specific drink; a double espresso, no sugar. He orders the drink for small periods at a time, before going back to choosing random drinks.

A lot can be said about a customer, from the drink they choose, to the way they enter and leave, and even their reaction to a drink. You can tell whether they’re happy at their current point in their lives or if they’re experiencing a major event.

The man in particular is an interesting case. When he orders the double espresso for the first time in a while he seems to really crave the caffeine, understandably when you work long hours like I suspect he does - the bags under his eyes somewhat visible. But during these - espresso periods let’s call them - over the short time he’ll order them he starts to enjoy them less, sometimes commenting that its too bitter for him, and the caffeine is taking a toll on his body. Sometimes I mildly suggest he choose another drink instead, or maybe adding something extra for a change. The man insists he wants the espresso, but then a few days later he’ll order the triple shot mocha with cherry syrup or the pistachio cold brew with whipped cream. It’ll go on for a few weeks before he’s back to ordering the double espresso, no sugar.

And the cycle continues.

Until one day a few months down the line he comes in, leaving his bag at his usual chair before coming to me. Huh, that’s strange, he usually takes his drink first. I pay no attention until I realise he’s making direct eye contact with me, and not just for a few seconds. I wait expectantly for him to tell me his order, only for him to look at the menu board, falter and clear his throat, looking me in the eyes again.

He asks me to make something for him, a drink of my own choosing. Oh.

Oh.

Right, yes I need to make him…

An Almond Latte, I tell him. That’s what I’ll make for him.

You see almond lattes are my favourite drink. They’re very warm and inviting, the mildly bitter notes mixed with the subtle sweetness of the milk and the coffee blend. But they’re also the furthest thing from an espresso, not only in taste but also in appearance. almond lattes are a warm brown, compared to the dark almost inky black liquid of espressos.

They’re so different I doubt he would even like it.

I don’t usually make them for others, as a general rule for myself. The last time that happened it resulted in the customer never returning… I guess they really hated it, huh? Yet, somehow I’m now standing by the coffee maker, and the small jug of milk is in my hands, about to be frothed. I keep blanking out while somehow assembling the drink well enough to serve to the man, his sudden behaviour change at the forefront of my mind. By the time I’m done making it, he’s still there at the counter, ready to take the drink. I dust some cocoa powder on top and I gingerly place the drink on the counter, steadily awaiting his reaction.

Until I realise he’s smiling. He’s actually smiling - the corners of his mouth have tugged up into a faint smile, an expression I realise I’ve never actually seen before on him.

I want to see it more often.

The man tells me that next time I can bar the cocoa powder, but he wouldn’t mind any variation in the drink next time. Next time. He wants to order it again.

And he does, again and again, until it becomes his usual order. Over time I make slight changes, until I find the best combination for him. Over time his expressionless exterior breaks, the both of us sharing smiles from the cafe, even an inside joke or two about the other customers. Over time I realise my heart swells whenever I see him come through the door. Over time he starts leaving his coat with his bag, and his stays in the cafe get longer. Over time I see his gradual change through the months of ordering the almond lattes as he becomes less aloof, and more open.

I feel as if we have gotten incredibly close over time.

Until one day, he comes through the door, the winter chill cutting through the steamy warmth in the air and I can tell something’s up. He doesn’t meet my eye as he comes in, putting his bag down but not his coat, and for some reason I feel sick. Understandably I make mental excuses, maybe he’s in a rush, and can’t sit down for long today. Even though he’s made himself late for meetings by staying here before, he’s told me that himself. He doesn’t make eye contact with me as he comes up to the counter, and there’s a sinking feeling in my chest when I ask him for the usual-

No. He says. He still refuses to meet my eyes, the space around me apparently more compelling than I am. I ask him what he wants instead as I try and swallow the lump forming in my throat. I feel like I’m having to silently beg him to look at me. Why won’t he look at me?

He awkwardly clears his throat and asks for a double espresso, no sugar. Oh. Wait what?

I have to stop myself from asking him to repeat his request, I know I heard him loud and clear. I feel empty inside, but still, I go through the motions, making the drink for him. At one point I blankly stand by the coffee machine, the large mechanical box being the only visual barrier between me and him, while multiple questions cloud my mind.

Why the sudden change, what prompted it, did he not like the almond lattes? And if he didn’t, why did I keep making them for him?

I pour the dark liquid into a to-go cup, since he doesn’t seem to be sticking around today. I place it on the counter, and he gives a hard look at the cup, before looking back at me for the first time today. His eyes soften, and there’s almost a look of regret, but I blankly look back at him, my unwavering gaze showing no sign of any emotion. He looks back at the cup for a split second and grabs it, taking the cup. I nearly don’t hear the muttered apology as he leaves, taking his bag from his usual table and exiting.

The man’s trips suddenly become less frequent, only for a few minutes to grab his drink and leave. I’ve been sitting in the break room a lot these days, while I drink my almond lattes by myself. I prefer the solitude, that way I can enjoy them in peace, without the input of others.

Sometimes when the man comes in, he looks like he might order an almond latte, but the words double espresso, no sugar come out his mouth.

Anyways, I don’t think he’ll order an Almond Latte anytime soon, he likes Espressos too much to stop drinking them. It’s not my job as a barista to make him change his preferences either.

That’s up to him.

Funny how he made me think I could, though.

All works belong to @ath1a. Please do not repost without permission.

#short story #original post #original story #deepdownweknowthisisntaboutdrinks #Melancholy story #alegorical story #crush #romance #strangerstoloverstostrangers #sad stories

[snek-panini]

I guess this is a bookbinding blog now, because I finished a very long-term project yesterday and I desperately want to share it with someone because I'm so proud of it omg. It's another Good Omens fan bind, this time of no love like your love, a long Human!AU fic that was orphaned a while back. I'm incredibly grateful that the author orphaned it instead of deleting, because it's one of my favorite fics of this type. I usually ask permission for binding but wasn't able to do that this time, so I dearly hope the author doesn't mind, wherever they may be.

This one was a long time coming; I started it around this time last year and just...stalled out on the entire hobby for most of the year for reasons. But I think it was worth the wait, because look:

The cover! Black part is textured card stock, gray part is book cloth. I did the feather with silver embossing powder and a stamp. There was originally supposed to be another, different feather on the back, but that stamp had too many fine details to show up well in powder, especially on a textured background, so the back is blank. I might go back and add something on the back if I can find another feather stamp that works.

Inside the cover! I bought the paper for this at an art supply place. I usually use thicker paper here, so I made some mistakes with this. You can see the book tape (part of the reinforcing on the spine) and it rippled when I glued it. The thicker, more card stock-like paper hides this and doesn't ripple as much, but it isn't as pretty. I still like how it looks, flaws and all.

Top view, with ribbon bookmark. Spine is not quite square. I need more practice there. This is the 6th book I've made and the thickest. I think it's pushing the limits of what I can do without learning to round and back spines, but I don't have the equipment for that. Also for some reason the end bands on this one fought me tooth and nail. I've used the same glue on all my projects (literally, the same bottle) and never had an issue before, but these just. Wouldn't stick. Top or bottom. And I never figured out why.

Ok so it doesn't completely line up but look at those smooth edges. Book plow was so very worth the money, I like this so much better than the ragged edges.

Interior shot, with ribbon bookmark. I typeset this one in MS Word, like I always do, but I did make some mistakes and accidental omissions. I set type on this before I did God Below and forgot to go back and fix the errors before I printed, but it doesn't bother me that much. I picked the ribbon for its color but it's a different texture from the other ribbons I've used and it was awful to work with. Slippery, stiff, did not take glue well, did not take fraycheck well. Looks good now but would not use it for this purpose again.

And that's that! The encouragement I got over posting God Below gave me the momentum I needed to finally get this one done and I couldn't be happier with how it came out, flaws be damned.

#bookbinding #personal #long post #good omens #snek makes books

[countlessrealities]

{ @mcltiples || To Evil Rick from Weird Rick // someone decided to skip the science and go straight for the romantic route xD }

Inside of the lab, Rick decides to sneak up on his partner. He stood behind him, curling his arms around the other's waist, pulling closer to his own body. His chin rested on a shoulder. Comfortable and pleased with the positioning. If it were reminiscent of a romantic embrace, it was mostly due to his own instincts and the fact he could show off the gift easily.

In his hands, that were settled around Evil Rick's stomach, was a black velvety box. The clasp to it shone a silvery grey. It wouldn't stay closed for long. As the top of it opened, showing off a dark blue gem in the middle of a ring. The band itself a metallic black. Dark enough to show one's reflection.

"Do you like it, kitten?"

The feeling of a body, warm and by now beyond familiar, pressing against his back caused Rick to stop mid-gesture, the blade he was about to use freezing mid air. He instinctively tensed, but only for the briefest moment, because that interruption, while unpredictable, wasn't completely unexpected. Between the mistletoe episode of the day before and the obnoxious Christmas jingles that had been playing in the background all day long, he had grasped that his partner was in a festive mood.

Or, more accurately, that the other was in the mood to mock all the holiday clichés he could think of. From the decorations to the music to the traditions.

What Rick hadn't anticipated was to be faced with a present. Maybe, if it had been a mock one, meant to be yet another joke, he wouldn't have felt so caught off guard. It would have been in theme with everything else his alternate had done so far. Yet, even just looking at the box, he could tell that this was no prank. What he was looking at was a genuine, thoughtful gift.

Gray blue eyes flew sideways, catching a glimpse of the face set right next to his own, but then quickly dropped down once again when the lid was lifted, revealing the beautifully crafted ring.

Silence stretched between them as he momentarily ignored the other's question, choosing to take the box out of his partner's hand instead. His fingers plucked the jewel out of it, lifting it so that he could examine it more closely. The gem caught the whiteness of the artificial lights, shining as if it had been shining on its own, while his own blank stare looked back at him from the perfectly smooth black band.

His cybernetic eye measure the inner diameter of the ring in a split second, showing that it was the exact same of the fourth fingers of his own left hand. The spot usually reserved for wedding rings, with the exception that he would be the only one to wear it, in line with the imbalanced nature of their relationship.

The symbolism, while not overly open, wasn't lost to him. It was yet another way to mark him as taken, owned. A mark that would be there for everyone to see and understand. He briefly wondered why a ring, of all things, when there were stronger ways to remind the universe whom he belonged to, but he quickly discarded the question. He would take what he was given, as per usual.

The jewel slid easily along his finger, until it came to rest in the spot where it was supposed to be, hugging his flesh and bone with the exact amount of pressure that told him that it had found the spot where it was supposed to be. Yet another piece of the leash he had willingly put on himself and then handed to his alternate.

The corner of lips twitched upwards, in the shadow of a more than rare smile. Not a crazed smirk, not a sadistic grin. The closest thing to an actual smile his features were capable of.

"Yes," came the quiet answer, as he turned his head to be able to look at his partner once again. "Y-You have an oddly good eyes for aesthetics, Rick."

Perhaps the statement held a little jab, but there was no sharpness in it, especially as he let himself relax, even if imperceptibly, against the body embracing him. His hands covered his partner's fingers sliding between the other's. Not really intertwined by close enough.

"Thank you."

From where it was strapped on the operating table set in front of them, paralysed by an agent that left it completely conscious and able to experience every sensation, Rick's latest test subject let out a muffled sound of confused distress. It was quiet, but not quiet enough. Quicker than a heartbeat, the hand with the ring picked up the blade that had been set aside and slashed the creature's throat open in one smooth movement.

Splatters of dark purple sprayed his skin and the front of his clothes, painting his fingers and staining the gem. It was a little of a waste, but it didn't matter. He could still harvest what he had meant to extract and he could find another live specimen easily enough. He would deal with it later in any case.

Rick nestled his head in the crook of his alternate's neck. "...T-Turn off that irking music or I will cut your head off."

#[ ic :: Evil Rick ] #&& Prime/Weird Rick #[ v. Are you sick like me? ; canon div :: Evil Rick ] #[ You're my obsession. I'm your possession :: Evil Rick & Weird Rick ] #mcltiples #[[ I think Evil Rick got caught off guard for a moment by THAT ]] #[[ it's not the kind of present he was expecting ]] #[[ I'm crying because he was about to ask 'why not a collar' but he didn't xD ]] #[[ I guess this is their version of sappy -shrug emoji- ]]

[stormneedle]

Signature Blocks

Once again, the powers above want to dissuade the IT folks from personalization of their emails. From what I've seen on the hospital side, I kind of get it.

All acronyms must be spelled out

Font style: Arial, Calibri, or Times New Roman

Font size: 11 pt. or 12 pt.

Font color: Black

Standard education credentials such as MD, PhD, MBA, etc. are approved for use, as are standard, industry or government-recognized professional/technical certifications (but without the graphics).

Do not include SES or SL designations, quotes, graphics, pictures or hyperlinks. For anything that is not clearly within those boundaries, please submit to YYY YYY YYYYYY YYYYYYY for review.

Pronouns (Optional): Correctly using pronouns is one of the most basic ways we show respect and cultivate an inclusive culture at XXX. Pronouns include, but are not limited to:

he/him/his (masculine pronouns)

she/her/hers (feminine pronouns)

they/them/theirs (neutral pronouns)

Let's ignore that they violated style rules with the periods at the end of 5 and 6. Or not.

I'm really getting tired of writing out "information" all the time, can I just use "info" instead? Yeah, the signature block is something I edit once a year or so, but let's push the use case up the line to see what happens.

I kind of get the font-style rule - some people use Windows, others use Macs, or Linux. But really - not one monospaced font? Remember those folks that used OpenVMS, Warp OS/2 or Windows before 3.1? We're still in the system. And I'm judging you.

With all the required lines you want 11 or 12 point? Lots of wasted space.

Why one color? I guess we're supposed to also wear white shirts with black slacks and ties? I'm not saying I'd do a color gradient (which I definitely would), but now I'm tempted to make my background color black too (and that's not disallowed).

Every certification I've had required the name of the certification and either a graphic and/or a hyperlink to the certifying authority. Fine. Nobody needs to know what I know. And nobody definitely needs to know anything about me as a person.

Pronouns... I kind of want to use it/its/its, because I'm feeling part of a machine with these and other communication rules. But since I can't explain, there's a risk of hurting somebody and that definitely isn't correct. So I'll leave mine blank.

[thevindicativevordan]

Thoughts on the ongoing Cates Hulk run

Since an issue came out this week (I totally forgot until someone reminded me) let's make this the weekly review post. Huge week for me:

Batman: One Bad Day - Riddler - Disappointing. Riddler is on god mode for most of the story and I couldn't suspend my disbelief. The big moment that took me completely out of the book was when an Arkham guard tries to shoot Riddler, misses at point blank range and hits another guard, and then all the other guards decide to shoot each other instead of Riddler. Way too stupid for me to take seriously, especially in a story that is demanding you take it seriously. I guess King using the Morrison interpretation of TKJ's ending here for how Batman deals with Riddler was cool at least. King hadn't found a Riddler origin he loved and he tried to write one to his taste here. I agree with him that most Riddler origins are lame, but this one is hardly better. His dad spanked him because he was an abusive asshole and that drove him to the point of brutally murdering his teacher (who put riddles in his tests) and becoming the Riddler because he couldn't handle his teacher reporting his cheating on a test to his father. Not a sympathetic enough story for me to feel bad for Eddie, nor petty enough to make me despise him, it's trying to be tragic and ends up being meh.

Nightwing #95 - Hey the pacing has finally improved and progression finally happens! Blockbuster learning Dick's identity is the first time this run has even gestured in the direction of actual stakes. Given how heavily this book guest stars the Titans, why not just give the next Titans relaunch to Taylor? His focus on fanservice and character moments would serve that team well.

Batman/Superman #6 - Enjoyable little epilogue that puts the focus on Dick as a detective.

Flash #785 - I fell off of this run after a while, had to cut back and while this was good it didn't feel essential so I dropped it. Picked it back up for Dark Crisis - good thing too because this is definitely essential to the overall plot - and I really enjoy how Adams juggles the Flash Family. Think I might keep reading if finances allow.

Batman: The Knight #8 - Bruce and Anton driving off into the sunset huh?

Black Adam #3 - Great book, after the first issue's weird dialogue for Malik, he's been fine since. I like him and I really hope he doesn't die, but all the signs make me believe he's a dead man walking. Of course Priest's version of a journey through hell is never what it seems. Hallucinations or fact? Not clear and given it's Priest they might not ever be.

DC vs. Vampires: All Out War #2 - Didn't Lex die? Guess we'll find out if that's a fakeout with regard to him being teased as Baron Cinder.

Aquaman & The Flash: Voidsong #3 - Give the next Aquaman relaunch to Kelly and Lanzig because this was by far the most enjoyable Aquaman story I've read since KSD's run ended. Really this book had a more interesting "event" type foe than boring old Pariah, I thought the concept of a Lovecraftian entity that eats motion/the Speed Force was inspired. Loved Vasco's art too, very Jorge Jimenez reminiscent. Wouldn't have thought a movie cash-in book starring two characters that barely interact usually could be this enjoyable, but even though the differences were played up to make the two better contrasts with each other this was an entertaining read all the same.

Dark Crisis: Young Justice #3 - Continues to suck. I'm only buying this trash because I feel like I'm obligated too on account of it might be affecting Conner's status quo. Minute I learn that's not the case this is getting dropped. If you're going to deconstruct an era at least have the decency to know the details of what it is you're deconstructing. Fitzmartin just gets basic continuity wrong, Cassie was the last leader of PAD YJ not Conner, Conner already knew and made peace with the Cassie/Tim kiss, etc. This is CW tier drama in line with her background as a CW writer and I don't enjoy it. Porter's Superboy mini and PKJ's Superfamily team up can't come soon enough.

X-Men #13 - It's an ok superhero book but that's it. If the Children of the Vault coming out doesn't spice things up I may drop it and stick to Immortal and Red.

A.X.E: Death to the Mutants #1 - I am very interested in where this is going. Could this end with the Celestial modifying how Eternal resurrections works?

Hulk #8 - Guess Hulk won the fight? Pretty underwhelming victory however. Cates run has been basic as expected, but I found myself warming up to it more over time. Knew we weren't getting a run with Ewing's brains but long as I got something entertaining enough I could keep reading Hulk. Thus far, while uninspired, I have been entertained. Let's see if that continues once we get Cates Planet Hulk rehash.

Strange #5 - God Clea rules. I love her, I think I love her more than Strange, which is a testament to MacKay's skill because I didn't know squat about Clea until this run. We all saw that reveal coming but it's a good one and changes the direction of the series. If at the end of this there's a proper Dr. Strange relaunch coming they better keep MacKay on it and have him write the Strange/Clea relationship because he's got me invested in it.

#weekly reviews

[roseaesynstylae]

I have some thoughts about Caribou's cover story.

You know, if I ignore Caribou's... everything... during the Fish-Man Island Arc, I can almost tolerate him in this. That said, the main reason I want to talk about this cover story is Jimbei's cameo at the beginning and another character who shows up near the end.

I guess that giving Caribou a few redeeming traits is a good thing. I like him going back to help the old woman and his implied affection for his grandmother.

Jimbei punching Caribou is very satisfying. One thing I do like about him (design-wise) is that his Devil Fruit allows his face to contort even more than the average One Piece character.

Okay, enough about Caribou!

I want to know more about Gaburu's grandmother. What has her life been like?

I love the whiplash between the Caribou Pirates celebrating and Drake coming in out of nowhere. He's pretty stealthy for a dinosaur. I also like that the scene is drawn in solid black against an empty white background, with the only visible eyes being Drake's as a white dot. It makes him look downright feral and enraged, and I have to wonder what he's feeling in this scene.

I like the cover of Drake dragging Caribou. It gets across how strong he is, given that Caribou has absorbed Scotch (a man who seems to be made of metal) and is probably really heavy as a result. Drake just has him by the ankle and doesn't seem bothered at all. I like his post-time-skip design, with black leather, that weird sash thing across his face, and that bolero jacket/cape. It's just me, but I'm glad he got rid of the hat. (Also, I initially thought that the X on his chest was a scar instead of a tattoo.) I get the impression he isn't in a good mood during this mini-arc. Look at his face when he's captured Caribou. Granted, he usually frowns, but the lines on the eyes that Oda adds whenever a character is furious are present.

I wonder what's going on in Drake's head when Caribou is protecting the old lady. He's stoic as usual, and the scene is presented as a flashback on a cover, so it's hard to tell what he's thinking. Would he have hurt her if Caribou hadn't interceded? On his own, I don't think so. He can be hard to figure out, but I think he tries to do the right thing. Unfortunately, the situations he keeps getting into don't make it easy to be moral. Also, I wonder if he was thinking about his own biological family. We know about his relationship with his father (justifiably awful), but the rest of his family is a complete blank. Maybe he had a good relationship with his grandparents. I also must note that he leaves Graburu's grandmother alone.

#one piece #caribou one piece #x drake

[usergif]

Hii, your blog is amazing!! Could I request a tutorial on how to make that text effect in the first gif of your pinned gifset (the one that says “welcome to” ft kanthony in the background)? And also (if it isn’t too much to ask) a tutorial on how to make the purple/black and white effect in the second gif of the same post (the three Spider-Mans)?

hi, thank you so much! I'd be happy to help! the effects from our welcome post are super easy, so this will (hopefully) be very straightforward. tutorials under the cut!

HOW TO CREATE: fade-animated text & color-blocked layouts

for both effects, you'll need to understand the basics of gif-making! check out our resource directory for some helpful tutorials :)

🪄 FADE-ANIMATED TEXT

1. after you finish arranging and coloring your base gif, add a text layer and style it however you like (my font/style details at the end of the tutorial)

2. add a blank (white) layer mask to your text layer and then erase your text using a soft black brush (I just used the default brush with hardness set to 0%!) like so:

(I also did another pass with my brush set to around 30% opacity. that’s the light grey bit on the left. this was just so it looked super smooth and seamless)

3. be sure to toggle off the chain icon shown above ^ this will unlink the mask layer from the text layer. if you leave this on, your animation effect will shift the entire layer, instead of the mask only.

4. with the text now fully erased, create two keyframes (diamond icon) on the line called "layer mask position" (shown below). put one at the start of your gif and wherever you want to end your animation, like this:

5. don't make any changes to the first keyframe. click on the second keyframe (where the animation will end) so we can move the layer mask position.

6. while the second keyframe is selected, go back to the layers panel and click on your layer mask. simply move the layer mask all the way to the right so your text is fully visible again. here's how mine looked:

7. and voila! when you play back the timeline, you should see the magic in action! if you think it's moving too fast or slow, simply move the second keyframe to another spot on the timeline. it'll keep your layer mask settings.

8. the last thing you MUST do is convert your timeline back to frame animation and delete the duplicate frames. when animating with keyframes, photoshop tends to put extra frames (I think as a buffer). if you don't remove these frames, your gif will not look smooth. here's the gif before deleting extra frames:

↳ you’ll notice it’s a little choppy as the animation plays. the base gif looks like it lags a bit or moves slower at the start.

here's the gif after deleting extra frames, ✨nice and smooth✨:

and lastly, here are more details about my typography:

font: lust script

warp transform: "wave" > bend = 50.0

blending mode: difference

gradient overlay: blend mode = hard light; gradient colors = #815dd3 -> #6549df -> #7e39c5; style = linear; angle = 137; scale = 150%

drop shadow: blend mode = multiply; color = #000; opacity = 20%; angle = 145; distance = 2; spread = 100; size = 1

🪄 COLOR-BLOCKED LAYOUT

1. start with your base gif, without coloring. unlike other multi-gif layouts, we’ll be using one gif and simply splitting up the canvas. for an overview, here are my dimensions and my layers panel:

* don’t ask me why it’s 154-225-153 instead of something balanced 🤦🏻‍♀️  i only just noticed that while doing this tutorial lmao

2. put your base gif in a group (command+G on mac) and add a layer mask. you could start with a blank mask or you can do what I do:

i like to map out my layout first. so I like to use the shapes tool to create rectangles in a new layer and see each section blocked off like this:

with this map in place, I just command+shift+click all the rectangle layers, select my group, and click add layer mask on that group! you should see black filling the spaces that you want to be transparent (see the group in the overview image titled “full gif”)

3. to block off your coloring, we’ll use groups and layer masks again! put your color layer adjustments (my group is called “center coloring”) and black and white layer adjustments (my group is called “outer coloring”) in separate groups 

4. add your layer masks! you can use the same guide as your “full gif” mask. but this time, we won’t use all 3 rectangles at the same time. select the center rectangle only (command+click) and add a mask to your color group. your mask should look like a white vertical rectangle with two thinner black rectangles on either side

5. select the outer two rectangles (command+shift+click) and add a mask to your black and white group. (you could also just select the color group’s mask, add that to your bw group, and hit command+i to invert the mask!)

6. that’s it! make sure you have no background layer on your canvas, so your gutter lines stay transparent. 

re: my coloring process — i have a process that i haven’t deviated from for years but mainly, i use a lot of levels, curves, selective color, and my fav for vibrant sets: hue/saturation <3 here’s a before and after:

also, the usergif team is filled with creators who are MAGIC with coloring. here are some extra coloring resources from our talented members:

elio’s coloring tutorial by spacedjarin

giffing and coloring tutorial by sashafierce

gradient coloring tutorial by sashafierce

isolating colors by sashafierce

the beginner’s guide to channel mixer by selinakyle

coloring yellow tinted shots by nobodynocrime

I hope this helps! if anything isn’t clear, feel free to send another ask! :) — nik

#ask #anonymous #completeresources #allresources #onlyresources #resourcemarket #gif tutorial #photoshop help #photoshop tutorial #resource #tutorial #animated #layout #typography #request #*usergif #*tutorial #by nik

[navegandoaciegas]

1-2-3 Way

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader x Steve Rogers

Warnings: smut, bed sharing, there was only one bed???, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, dom!Steve, sub!reader, switch!Bucky, unprotected sex, praise, slight degradation, overstimulation, face fucking, fingering, slight spanking, edging, doggy style, aftercare.

Summary: There’s only one bed and you have to share it with your childhood friends Steve and Bucky.

A/N: Listen… there was only one bed is my favorite cheesy trope, I’m sorry. Thank you for the commission, @maryfloat , I hope you like this!!

It’s so clichè, the way that the receptionist offers you a tight lipped smile and an apology. There must have been an error with the reservation, maybe the server crashed or something, she says, you’ve booked one room, and that room has one bed only. Coincidentally, everyone’s in town at the same time as you, and the only hotel in the area is fully booked.

How unfortunate.

She hands you the keys whilst Bucky hauls your suitcase and his up the stairs, and Steve follows behind him. She eyes them warily and whispers to you, asks if you’re safe and comfortable, and apologises again for the inconvenience.

When Steve, ever the gentleman, proposes they sleep on the floor, you’re almost tempted to accept and thank him. They’re big and strong, and one night on the cold, hard floor won’t kill them.

You hate sharing beds anyways. It gets too warm with more than one body rolling around, and then someone hogs all the blankets, or kicks you in the shins, or elbows you in the ribs, and you can’t catch a break.

Instead you scoff and wave him dismissively. ‘I trust you guys more than I trust myself.’

And you do, really. You’ve known them since those awkward middle school days, where Bucky was chubby and covered in painful acne, and Steve was dangerously skinny and a foot shorter than you. You’ve fallen asleep on their shoulders on long road trips, occasionally napped on their legs in their dorm rooms, fallen asleep on Steve’s hospital bed when he was a frail kid and you and Bucky took turns visiting him.

You trust them, you really do, but still, sharing a tiny bed with them seems more intimate, definitely more wrong, than anything you’ve ever done.

It sends a weird signal down your stomach that your brain can’t quite interpret. You’re not anxious, but as you sit sandwiched between them, you can’t say you’re relaxed either.

Bucky sits to your right, computer perched on his lap, open on the Netflix account he pays for and Steve and you leech off of. He makes the most money with his waitressing job, the old ladies love tipping him for his flirty remarks and bright smiles, so it’s only fair.

Steve munches on a chalky protein bar to your right, a frown on his forehead as he chews with his mouth open and judges Bucky’s recommended section.

“You’re not making me watch another sci-fi, Barnes.”

“And you’re not forcing me through another Studio Ghibli movie, Rogers.”

“C’mon, at least those are relaxing-,”, “and cute,” you quip, intercepting Steve’s snack and taking a bite out of it just to spite him. He side eyes you, pinching your side as hard as he can.

“Oh? I forgot you were the ones paying for the account.”

“This is literal blackmail, holding the damn Netflix over our heads like that.”

“Not sure that blackmail is the word you’re looking for, but go off, bud.”

“Don’t smartmouth me.”

“Or what?”

They bicker like they’ve always done, and you’ve been friends with them long enough to have learnt how to drown out their voices when they fight.

Sometimes your friendship feels like it’s always been, playful, sibling like. They roughhouse you, you make fun of them. It’s familiar, warm, comforting.

No matter how bad school gets, no matter how uncertain your future seems, no matter how many times you get your heart broken, you know that Bucky, Steve and you will always be there to pick yourselves back up.

Some other times the lines get blurred, and it’s scary. But the scarier it gets, the more rewarding it becomes to look for signs, finding them in the smallest of things, like how Steve gets all sulky when you go out on dates, or how Bucky constantly seeks your approval for whatever he does.

You space out as they pick a movie, your mind eerily quiet, your body weirdly warm.

There’s a pit in your stomach that you can’t understand fully. It’s been there a while, ever since your friendship has started to shift, and your stares have been lingering as much as their affectionate touch.

Your eyes travel from Bucky’s black t-shirt to his side profile, tracing the gentle slope of his nose and his pouty lips. Lately, you’ve been looking at him a lot more, catching yourself in the act and shaking yourself out of your thoughts.

What thoughts, you don’t know. Your mind is blank more often than not when you’re set on him. When you’re with them.

You’re doing it again, unconsciously, until Steve elbows you in the side, and you’re rudely snapped out of your reverie.

“You’re too quiet,” he mumbles, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Which is weird since you never shut the fuck up,” quips Bucky, hitting you with his shoulder, effectively bringing you back to reality.

You resist laughing because you’ll never give him the satisfaction, and just swing back at him.

“I’m just tired, ‘s all. My neck hurts a lot, guess we’re getting old, huh.”

Bucky just shrugs and presses play on the movie they’ve chosen. You smile at Steve as convincingly as you can to get him off your case.

He nods at you, not quite sold, but leaves it at that, knowing better than to prod you.

“Want me to give you a massage?” he asks, wiggling his fingers in front of your face.

“Please?” you pout, turning your back to him.

Your thought process was that you can never refuse Steve’s healing hands. You didn’t think it through so much, clearly, as he kneads the knots in your neck and you feel your lower body coming alive, a warmth pooling awkwardly in your belly.

Bucky gives you the most offended, betrayed look you’ve ever seen, frowning and pouting like a petulant child.

“S’ not fair. I want a massage too,” he whines, shimmying his shoulders in your direction, offering you the best puppy eyes he can muster.

Cute, you think. “Gross,” you say, “I’ll give you one if you stop with the face.”

He just sticks his tongue out, wiggling between your legs.

The movie plays in the background, your mind too focused on Steve’s warm hands on your bare skin and Bucky’s back muscles flexing under your touch.

The hot feeling in your chest is back when his eyes move from the screen to yours, a goofy smile on his lips, features relaxed.

You bury your hands in his silky hair, scratching his scalp. He almost moans, butting your palm like a kitten.

He’s so effortlessly sweet that it hurts.

It’s silent in a comfortable way, with the sound effect of the movie lulling you all, except your traitorous brain, in a serene state.

It’s a kids movie, and you’re just giving yourselves a massage like you’ve done hundreds of times before, but something feels different about it, in the way that Steve’s warm breath tickles your neck, or the way that Bucky turns around every few minutes just to smile at you.

At some point your hands stop moving, and your back is flush to Steve’s front as he holds you in his arms, Bucky’s head on your lap as he hugs your thighs to his body, fingers absentmindedly caressing your skin, hiking up your legs, higher and higher-, goosebumps erupting all over you. He stops just before the hem of your shorts, making his way down to your knee, just to do it all over again.

You can no longer deny the fluttering in your core, nor the slick gathering in your panties at the thought of what would happen if he just crept higher.

By the time that the end credits roll around, you're cocooned in their warmth, Bucky asleep on your stomach, your own eyes droopy. You’re drowsy, pliant in Steve’s hold as he adjusts you both comfortably on the pillows.

The last thing you feel, as darkness envelops the room, is his lips on your forehead as he whispers to you good night.

-

You hate sharing beds, but when you wake up in the middle of the night between them, you think you may not hate it as much as you thought.

Bucky is a messy sleeper, arm swung over your hips, legs sprawled over half the mattress, face buried in the pillow next to yours, back gently rising with every breath he takes.

Steve is more put together. He sleeps on his side, lips parted, one arm under the pillow, the other close to your side, his fingers intertwined with yours.

You don’t know how long you spend staring at the ceiling, heart hammering in your chest, wondering if this shift in your friendship will bring you closer or break you apart in the long run. You don’t want to entertain the chances of them breaking your heart, or you breaking theirs.

Even the possibility of having to choose between one of the two seems absurd to you.

The bed creaks under Bucky’s weight as he turns to you, tightening his hold on your hips. You’re paralized as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck, a breathy whine escaping his lips. All your blood travels to your face when you feel his hard on rub against your legs, his hips uncounsciously rutting on you.

“So soft,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering open.

You’re staring at each other, almost in a daze, and maybe it’s because it’s pitch black outside and you’re in your own little dimension, or maybe it’s the adoration in his bleary eyes, but you don’t turn away when he closes the distance between you.

The kiss you share is soft, lazy, tentative.

You prod his mouth open with yours, tongues swirling together with no rush and no shame. You’d imagined kissing your best friend would feel more awkward than this, and instead his warmth, his taste, his hungry kisses, everything about it seems natural to you, like it’s what you’re supposed to have been doing all this time, a chance you were too scared to take.

You’re so lost in the moment that you barely register the lips on your neck and another set of hands making its way under your t-shirt, settling on your stomach, fingers barely grazing the underside of your boobs.

As soon as his mouth detaches from your own, Steve is pouncing on you, his kiss more rough and demanding than Bucky’s, tongue less hesitant as it explores you, wiping any remnant of sleep out of your mind.

You’re breathless as he invades all your senses, barely wrapping your head around the fact that your shy friend is eating you whole and the flirty, outgoing one is just looking with hunger and rubbing himself on your leg.

Steve breaks away from you, a string of drool connecting you, his eyes dark with desire. He pecks your lips again, smirking at you as he lowers his face, leaving a trail of kisses on your jaw, to the column of your neck, down your collarbones, settling between your tits.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, grasping the hem of your t-shirt, “Can I touch you? I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You nod fervently, growing needy with each passing second, “Please Steve, just touch me.”

Bucky gets bolder, kissing you with more conviction this time. Your clothes are shedded, his bare skin heated against yours, your hands in his hair.

Steve takes his sweet time making his way downwards, leaving a trail of bruises on your chest, stomach, hips, kneading your ass. He settles between your legs, looking up at you as he closes his mouth on your clothed pussy, sucking through your panties and leaving a wet mark on them.

You’re embarrassingly horny, arousal dripping out of you, nipples stiff as Bucky plays with them. You want him to rip your panties to shreds and take you right there and then, but Steve has other plans, enjoying the way you’re so pliant underneath him.

He grabs you by the hips, turning you around with your face down and your ass up in the air. The string of your underwear is almost swallowed between your puffy folds, stained with your slick.

Steve takes a deep breath before tugging the string up, teasing your swollen clit with the material, raptured by the way you’re so open and ready for them, glistening with desire.

Bucky sits back on the headboard, eyes half lidded, legs spread before your face. You trace the outline of his hard cock through his boxers, mouth watering at the idea of him inside you, filling you up.

Steve doesn’t give you the time to touch him before he’s tugging you upwards by the hair, flush to his chest. His breath tickles your neck as he teases you through your panties.

“Are you gonna be good for me? For us?”

You don’t have to think about it, strings of ‘yes’, ‘please, ‘touch me’, leaving your lips as if having a mind of their own. It would be embarrassing to be this wanton with anyone else, but with them, everything is like it’s meant to be.

“Then be a good girl, okay? Show Bucky how good you can be with that pretty mouth of yours,” he grunts in your ear, pressing his hard on against your ass cheeks, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

You nod, grind yourself on his cock, so pent up and desperate for release that you rub your legs together just to feel the string of your panties digging in your folds, hoping it would help soothe the ache in your cunt.

“Of course you have, you little slut,” he grunts, pushing your head down on the mattress as Bucky tugs his underwear down.

Yours is ripped by Steve, thrown somewhere in the room, exposing your quivering hole to the cold air. Arching your back, you silently beg for something, anything, which comes in the form of a sting and a loud smack reverberating in the stuffy room.

Steve smacks your pussy again, and again, and again, until the sharp pain in your clit becomes so pleasant that you could come just from that. Bucky wastes no time yanking your head towards his crotch, slapping his heavy cock on your cheek, until your face burns with humiliation and need.

Your hands tremble as you reach for him, hesitating before licking a stripe from the base to the tip, savoring his musky pre cum. You swirl your tongue around the head, teasing his sensitive slit with kitten licks, hands fondling with his balls.

Steve’s thick finger prodding at your entrance makes you gasp, giving Bucky the perfect opportunity to shove your face down his cock until you’re coughing, lungs burning, clawing at his things as he holds you down.

“Calm down, Bucky. Stop bein’ so desperate,” Steve’s voice is muffled in your ears as you struggle for air, feeling light headed.

He plunges a finger inside your pussy, then another, eased by the embarrassing amount of wetness dripping out of you.

Bucky whines something in return, yanking you up. Tears blur your vision as you heave, barely getting enough air in your lungs before he pushes you down again, using your head as a flashlight.

He keeps you still, nose buried in the dark hair of his pelvis, as he stands on his haunches. Grabbing your face with both hands, he starts relentlessly pummelling inside you, fucking your mouth with abandon.

With a broken moan he thrusts all the way down, his balls slapping your chin, fingers clamping around your nose when you start gagging.

“Oh, she likes that. She’s squeezing my fingers,” Steve says, scissoring his fingers between your gummy walls, “Do it again.”

Bucky pinches your nose one more time, depriving you of all air. Dark spots start appearing at the sides of your vision, mind hazy. He lets up before you faint, barely giving you time before he’s stuffing your mouth with his cock once more.

Steve lays down between your legs, face up. From his perspective he can see your glistening pussy, your tits bouncing with the force of Bucky’s thrusts, and his cock disappear between your abused lips. You’re being so good to them that he feels like rewarding you.

His hands guide you to sit down on his face, your moans muffled as he latches onto your swollen clit. He sucks on it until you’re on the edge of your orgasm, walls quivering with the need to release.

He stops just before you can reach your peak, and spanks your clit again.

“You’re not coming on my mouth now.”

Your throat vibrates around Bucky’s cock with moans of pleasure, spurring him on to hold you down longer, chasing his own orgasm with a string of curses.

“She’s gonna faint, idiot,” Steve scolds him, tearing you away from Bucky’s cock, drool dripping down your sore jaw.

“She can handle it,” rasps Bucky, rolling his eyes.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” you frown, slapping Bucky’s hands away when he reaches for you.

“Brats, both of you,” Steve sighs condescendingly, “Be more gentle. And you,” he warns, pinching your inner thigh, “don’t talk unless it’s to beg for more, ‘kay?”

There’s a pause, an awkward moment when you don’t know where to look, what to do with your hands, waiting for Steve to take control again, like he always does.

“So-” Bucky starts, looking up at Steve for guidance, “What now?”

“You’re both- y’know, it’s your first time actually doing it, right?” he asks after pondering for a second, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Yes,” you both respond, and he hums.

“Then you two should go first, be each other’s first times. It makes more sense. I got her ready, so it shouldn’t hurt.”

The idea of Bucky’s cock inside you makes you a bit anxious, considering how much you struggled taking him in your mouth, jaw still sore from his abuse, but it also fills you with warmth.

You trust them blindly, and you want this, you want him to be the first one inside you for whatever reason.

There’s no need for words between you, a tiny nod and a reassuring smile all you need to settle on the pillows, spreading your legs for Bucky to settle in between.

He’s always so sure of himself, but in the moment he looks like a lost puppy. He pumps himself a few times, and braces his weight on one arm as he lines his cock with your entrance.

He gives you one more kiss, tasting himself on your lips, before pushing past your entrance. The tip is barely in by the time that you screech, the pain sharper than you imagined, and Bucky halts immediately despite looking like he’s about to bust on the spot.

Your pussy feels like it’s burning, and no amount of fingers inside you could have prepared you for the stretch of your walls.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers in your ear, a hand rubbing your shoulder to comfort you, “You’re doing so good, being such a good girl, you’re so perfect. It will go away before you realize, promise.”

“Okay, okay, I can do this,” you pant, digging your nails in Bucky’s back.

“Let’s switch, it will hurt less if you’re on top,” Steve suggests, and you and Bucky comply.

He lays down on the pillows as you straddle his hips, propping yourself up on his toned abs. Steve kneels at your side, holding you up as you hover over him.

Your heart’s beating out of your chest as you grasp Bucky’s cock, taking a deep breath to steel yourself before inching down on him, whimpering with every centimeter that gets swallowed by your gummy walls.

The stretch feels like it’s splitting you open, and if it weren’t for Steve’s strong arms, you’d collapse and cry on Bucky’s chest.

Steve whispers praises and reassuring words in your ear and kisses your tears away, swirling his fingers around your clit to help you out, and Bucky caresses the sides of your waist, mumbling broken apologies to you, kissing your neck.

Once you finally bottom out, you still and slump on Bucky’s shoulder, burying your nose in his hair, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent.

The pain is throbbing, burning, but it becomes more subtle and bearable the longer Bucky stays inside you.

“Okay, it’s getting better” you wheeze in an attempt to encourage yourself, “But I can’t feel my legs now.”

They break in a fit of laughter, easing the tension in the room.

“Let’s switch again,” Bucky proposes, slightly out of breath with the way that your pussy is squeezing him in a vice, “I can move.”

You nod, clinging to his neck as he lifts you up, careful not to let his cock slip out of you.

“I want to feel you close,” Steve says, slightly out of breath, “Lay her on me.”

They help you lay on his chest, Bucky’s cock still buried inside you, the pain fading away in a dull sting.

You’re sandwiched between their bodies, enveloped by their warmth and affection, coated in your slick and their sweat, and despite the discomfort, you’ve never felt as full of love as now.

Bucky seeks permission with his eyes, then reassurance from Steve, and starts rocking his hips tentatively, biting hard on his lips to keep himself from cumming embarrassingly fast.

His cock drags against your walls, a ring of white cream slowly accumulating around the base.

It’s not painful anymore, slightly uncomfortable at times when he’s accidentally too rough, but the burn is now a simmering heat that grows in your core with every thrust.

Steve sings praises in your ear, “Look how good you’re doin’, taking Bucky’s cock so well, you’re such a good girl,” whilst Bucky rutts needily on you.

He’s sloppy in his movements, and his hips don’t have a rhythm to them. He takes you high, close to a release, just to fuck it up again when he stutters, involountarily edging you over and over again.

“I’m close, I’m so close, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he moans.

In a blur you’re on your stomach. Bucky positions you on your knees and pummels inside you again, thrusting more forcefully as he loses himself in the pleasure.

You whimper between Steve’s tender kisses before Bucky tears you away from him, yanking you flush against his chest.

“I love you, I love you, love you so much, love you,” he keeps mumbling, tightly clutching his arms around your stomach and tits, slamming you hard on him.

At that angle Bucky’s cock pushes against a sensitive spot inside you that makes the coils in your stomach tighter, your clit throbbing and your walls clamping down on him.

Steve, never one to be outdone, sits back on his haunches and manhandles your head down again until you’re faced with his hard, leaking cock.

He’s trimmed more neatly than Bucky, but he’s just as big and intimidating.

He slaps his cock on your lips, smearing his precum on you. You’re a moaning mess, automatically taking him in your mouth, savoring his musk on your tongue.

Your jaw is still sore but you do your best to accommodate Steve, eager to please. You relax your muscles and let Bucky’s thrusts do the work for you, already lightheaded with the lack of air.

They keep stuffing you with their cocks, bouncing you between each other, the lewd sounds of your squelching pussy and the bed creaking filling the room.

Bucky’s fingers teasing your clit, your lungs burning, your vision going spotty, it’s all too much for you.

Just as you think you’re about to reach your peak, you feel Bucky pause and stutter, a choked moan escaping his throat as he comes, stuffing you full of his warm cum. Steve comes at the same time, and you almost choke on his release as he spills his load down your throat.

It feels good, you’re fuller than you’ve ever been, but it’s still not enough to push you over the edge.

You both collapse on Steve, exhausted, cum pouring out of your hole and onto the sheets. You expect him to take you immediately after, instead he snakes a hand between your bodies, finding your sensitive clit, overstimulated with all the touching.

“You did so well, baby, you were so good for Bucky. Now cum on my fingers, cum for us,” he moans, twirling your bud between his fingers.

Pent up as you are, it doesn’t take long for you to finally come, almost blacking out with the intensity of your orgasm, your limbs shaking and quivering between theirs.

When you come down from your high, you’re tired out, your whole body is sore, your hips and legs hurt, and the cum seeping out of your entrance reminds you of the burning pain there, now back with a vengeance.

When morning comes, you’ll have to remind Steve to buy you Plan B.

The exhaustion catches up to you as soon as your head hits the pillow, a loud ring in your ears as you barely register your surroundings, Bucky already asleep by your side in true Bucky fashion while Steve takes care of you both, cleaning you up and tucking you in bed.

He whispers ‘I love you’ and kisses the tip of your nose.

Maybe one day you’ll say it back.

For now, you let yourself rest in their embrace, always the three of you like it’s meant to be.

—

Damn, 4k words of porn. This felt like giving birth or something sksjshj

Please, share and leave a comment if you can 🥰

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #steve x bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you

[falllpoutboy]

What went wrong with Zendaya's MJ: How pandering to racist fans and lazy writing contributed to a travesty of a character

Before this post even begins, I just want to preface by stating that making up original characters for comic book movies is absolutely okay. Michelle Jones absolutely could’ve been a strong, fully fleshed out supporting character and love interest had they actually taken the time within the films to develop her character and her relationship with Peter. But did that actually happen???

When Zendaya, a young biracial black woman, was reportedly cast as Mary Jane Watson in 2016, racist fans went into an immediate uproar and decried it immediately (and are still mad about it). However after Homecoming was released and Zendaya’s MJ was nothing more than just a background character who only spoke quippy lines and never shared dialogue with her future love interest, it was clear to see this was not the MJW comic fans know and love. Kevin Fiege went on to confirm that when Zendaya was cast, they never planned for her to play Mary-Jane Watson, only Michelle, who was supposed to be a homage to her…?

So not only has this new generation of spiderman adaptation movies erased his most iconic love interest but they also created an OC who resembles nothing like MJW? Okay fine, thats fair (not really) but with an oc like Michelle, there’s flexibility and room in crafting stories for her. Who is Michelle Jones, what does she want, what does she need without realizing it, what’s her family like, does she actually like Peter, etc etc etc. Homecoming and Far From Home answered absolutely none of these questions (and when they do film the littlest scene to add to her character, its a deleted scene), and I sincerely doubt that No Way Home will either. (EDIT Post No way Home release: it did not)

Let’s be clear here, Zendaya’s MJ doesn’t exist outside of being Peters girlfriend. She is a part of his support system, a steady companion and a rock for him to lean on. It’s a cute and devoted relationship on paper but the narrative completely ignores who MJ is outside of him. Michelle Jones isn’t a character, she’s Peters shoulder to cry on, the object of his desire and his support blanket. MCU MJ is a blank slate outside of the vicinity of Peter Parker. It’s an incredibly unbalanced relationship and while Tom and Z have great chemistry, that's all there is holding them together. Their characters didn’t interact in Homecoming beyond her speaking at him in the last 10 minutes, she wasn’t in or mentioned in Infinity War or Endgame and then all of a sudden, Peter is now head over heels in love with MJ in FFH and wants to spend time with her on their European school trip and wants to be in a relationship with her. What the actual fuck just happened??

(It’s worth mentioning that pretty much almost every heterosexual relationship in the MCU is under developed and is overly beneficial to the male in its scenario, so at least MCU petermj isn’t that much of an outlier 🤷🏾‍♀️. )

Mary-Jane Watson is a beautiful, feisty, witty and smart girl who outwardly portrays an outgoing personality because of the abuse she suffers in her household so that people won’t see how sad she really is on the inside. More importantly, she isn’t solely defined as being a white redhead love interest as many racist spiderman fans think she is. MJW is a complex female character that isn’t a stereotypical female archetype and one I personally think Emmy award winner Zendaya has the acting chops to eat up if she were given the chance to. Instead of Mary-Janes feistiness, we got Michelle’s dry and awkward wit. Instead of beautiful fashionista Mary-Jane, we got frumpy Michelle. Instead of Mary-Jane’s tragic, character building backstory, we got Error 404 Page not Found Michelle. It’s safe to say which character I’d rather see on screen and which character I’d have preferred Zendaya portray. I place the blame solely on Jon Watts, The writers for Homecoming, FFH AND NWH, Kevin Fiege and Amy Pascal.

#mcu critical #anti mcu spiderman #nwh spoilers #michelle jones #mary jane watson #zendaya #im so over this shit #this is the last rant i’ll be making about this. ever

[sonjalikestodraw]

“To Nearly Know”, an UNDERTALE fancomic

SPOILERS for all UNDERTALE endings.

Happy 5th anniversary, Undertale. Here’s a snapshot of something I think the characters go through...

Image description under the cut:

Page 1:

During the True Lab/friendship dates portion of the True Pacifist run, Sans sits in the judgement corridor, waiting for the human to show up. We see him from above, sitting on a window sill, brooding. Back against the window. The comic is drawn in nearly only black lines on warm yellow backdrop, 

Now the camera is next to Sans’s profile in the foreground, the Corridor stretching out in the background. His silhouette is black, his eyes dark.

Now the huge figure of the King enters the room, the door gives a “creak”. Sans looks up, away from the audience. He says: ”boss?”

King Asgore paces up to him, carrying a tray with cups, one short blue, one tall purple. Beaming, he greets: ”Howdy, Sans. Would you like a break?”

Camera from Asgore’s general direction. As Sans turns his head toward the King, we see his face in actual detail for the first time. He wears a tired grin, eyelids heavy, both eyes with white glowing pinlights for pupil.

Sans responds: ”heh. sure.”

Page 2:

Closeup on one of the two cups on the tray. This cup is blue, shaped like a cartoony, grinning skull with a bent bone for a handle.

Sans lights up a little, says: ”oh, hey, it’s my cup.”

Asgore, or the King, seen from behind his shoulder shrouded in shadows: ”Now, I would have made you tea, but I know you prefer coffee, so…”

Sans is mildly surprised. He looks small and young from above, as he reaches for the skull cup.

Sans, soft smile, slouching, cradling his cup: ”aw, you didn't have to.”

Asgore, with a satisfied, humble smile, sits down with his legs crossed. Since the King is on the floor and Sans sits on the window sill, they’re on a much more equal level. Asgore says: ”Nonsense, I was glad to. Especially since you are waiting so patiently.”

They raise their cups together. Sans holds his with less strength and steadiness than the King. We se that Asgore’s cup is purple with a golden crown-shaped band around the top, and a curly handle.

Sans: ”thanks, boss. cheers.”

Asgore: ”Cheers.”

Page 3:

Sans hangs his head as he drinks. Under heavy eyelids, he notices Asgore’s armour underneath Asgore’s cloak, glinting in the light.

In a series of mirrored closeups:

Sans, rueful, says: ”geared up, huh.”

Asgore, looking at the floor with a tired frown: ”Yes.”

Sans, eyes closed, passive-aggressive smile: ”you ready?”

Asgore, with a sad smile, turned towards Sans: ”I never am.”

Sans gives a sympathetic/worried look of surprise at Asgore’s words.

Asgore doesn’t notice: instead he looks up, his expression a mixture of worry and relief.

Page 4:

Camera angle from the ceiling, looking down at them. A hint of blue-gray ceiling beams, high above.

Asgore: ”I see you have not prepared... those.”

The camera is now level with the ceiling. Upon the ceiling beams, drenched in shadow, covered in scratches and spotted with some dark liquid, dozens of Sans’ Gaster Blasters lie. Their eyes are dark and blank. Dormant. The area is overlaid with an eerie blue glow, free from the rest of the corridor’s warm golds and yellows.

Back down on the floor, Sans drinks with eyes closed, neutral.

Sans says: ”no need. kid’s been pacifist so far. they’ll be here soon. should’a passed the core a while ago.”

Asgore looks down in his tea with a mournful expression.

Asgore says: Then make sure they do not take you for a true obstacle. That burden falls on my shoulders.

With dark eyes, Sans looks skeptical or frustrated.

Page 5:

Sans looks out the window with a suspecting expression, eyebrow cocked. ”hey. is it just me, or is the kid… late?”

Asgore, with a soft, worried face, responds: ”I know what you mean. It is strange, but it feels as if…”

Asgore frowns like he’s thinking hard, now looking stern and cold. ”They are taking too long.”

Sans grudgingly mutters ”longer than usual.” with his one blue attack eye lit up, the other half of his face in shadow. the word “usual” is written in the font 8bitoperator rather than his usual comic sans.

They look each other in the eye, in a moment of utter clarity. Seen from outside, they are lit up fully, no shadows. Outside the window’s sides, several yellow save point stars from the game loom and shine.

This moment passes. Camera from within again, now from the opposite wall, so that they’re completely black silhouettes.

Asgore says: “But of course, how can they be late if they have never set foot here before?”

Sans, with his standard grin, says: “…yeah.”

Page 6:

Still in darkness, Asgore says: “So how are things in Snowdin?”

They drink and small talk, as the right side of the panel fades into thinning black stripes, to signify time passing.

Then Asgore gets up to leave, tray with his purple cup in hand, and says: “Well, Sans. I shall leave you to it.”

A lays his hand on S’ shoulder. He smiles brightly and wide-eyed in a closeup from Sans’ PoV, similar to his first appearance in the comic. Asgore says: “You have been an excellent Judge thus far. I am very happy with your work.”

Sans, in a mirrored closeup from Asgore’s PoV, is mildly surprised, with a soft face, responds: “oh… thanks, boss.”

Asgore turns and begins walking away. Sans realises he’s still holding his own empty cup, which is shaded so that only its left blue eye is visible.

Page 7:

Wide shot of the corridor, Asgore has almost reached the end: Sans, eyes alight, says: “wait.”

Sans holds up his cup with a questioning grin: “aren’t ya gonna bring my cup back to your place? i mean, we agreed i’d prolly forget it at home—”

With a sad smile, Asgore says: “Ah, no. Please, keep it.”

Asgore turns his face away, his profile hidden in shadows: “I worry that you might not find it.”

Sans stares after him. Asgore exits: the door creaks and shuts with an echoing ”crreak-thoommm” sound.

Same shot, zoom out. Sans is shrouded in darkness, his eyes dark again. He says: ”asgore?”

The End. 

#asgore dreemurr #sans the skeleton #undertale #undertale 5th anniversary #comic #ut #sans #asgore #king of the underground #finished #art