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narwhalsarefalling · 2 years

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my dad taught me how to set shit on fire when i was 6 with a magnifying glass. instead of reading us stories he would read us his flight training manuals until we got so bored we would pretend to be asleep so he would leave. on my birthday one year he somehow made fish sticks in the shape of stars and seashells. he let us paint our bedframes in six different colors with different levels of success. in middle school i was assigned to make a mouse trap car and he helped me make one that worked so well that i was banned from making mousetrap cars again. in my first year of uni he would drive 3 hrs from work to pick me up and another 3 to take me home to visit, and would do it every time without complaint. he used to do my hair in pigtails every day, and that turned to learning to braid when i got older. he would always pretend to be bad at the video games we played so we could win. he made our beds so perfectly that we had to stretch the sheets out to get back in.

my brother is younger then me. for my birthday one year he presented me a lego minifigure of myself that he had hand painted. when he had his first crush he carved her name in a piece of wood and shaped it into a dolphin. not because dolphins were her favorite animal, but because he thinks they’re cool. he let me destroy a piñata he made in school because i was having a bad day, and we both laughed as we ate the candy he put inside of it. despite always being squeamish around dead things, he once brought home a hog’s vertebrae he found on a hike because he knew i would love it. (i did). when his girlfriend’s birthday came around, he spent all his time restoring a nightstand for her, carving cats and flowers into the panels and smoothing them with sandpaper.

i have more of these stories. my cousin’s husband incorporates his children’s names into the code he programs. my grandpa helped me pull a leech off of my ankle after a swim in the pond. my great grandpa carried a photo of my mom in the sole of his shoes until the day he died. the neighbor boy across the street once captured a very weird bug under a cup and walked it across the street to show me. my best friend collected old batteries and bits of wire for me because he knew i liked to play with them. a boy in my first grade class colored his nails pink with highlighter because he really liked my pink dress i wore the day before. my coworker took a photo of a cactus he saw because he knew i would like it. my 3yo cousin insisted i take home his most beloved plushie when he learned i would be living away from my parents.

i can’t help it. i love the way men love.

#the narwhal speaks #1k #2k #3k #4k #5k #10k #15k

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star-writr · 8 months

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The Music Room

Another 10th Doctor x reader drabble. Requests are appreciated. You can also find this on my Ao3. Reader is gn and plays guitar. Enjoy!!

You had always been the TARDIS's favourite companion. Every-so-often, the spaceship would make a whirring noise in your presence, and if the Doctor was around he would smile and tell you: "she says you're the best person I've ever brought on board". It always made you chuckle and stroke the control panel in an attempt to return the flattery, which made the Time Lord either sarcastically ask if you two wanted to be alone, or look at you quietly with a gleam in his eye before suddenly announcing your next adventure.

As if that wasn't enough to make you see that the TARDIS had a weak spot for you, she would always find ways of comforting you when something was wrong; before you could even sigh with exasperation, you'd be distracted from your troubles by a familiar smell of blackberry pie, or by your favourite song playing faintly on a radio somewhere, or by a book dropping next to you on the cold pavement from god-knows-where.

In a similar occasion, returning in the TARDIS after almost dying as usual, the ship's hallway lighting threw you off a bit. You were just trying to reach your room, only wanting to collapse on the bed, but it was almost as if she didn't want you to, leading you in a different direction. The blinking light bulbs guided you until reaching a door; it looked exactly the same as all the others, so at first you couldn't understand what made it so special that the TARDIS wanted you to find it. As soon as you saw what was inside, however, everything else slipped off your mind.

It was a room full of instruments. There was a huge piano between some marble columns, resting on a glass pedestal; a drum set occupied a nearby corner; and, shifting your vision, you were greeted by the biggest guitar and bass collection you had ever laid eyes on. Every last one of them looked like it had been taken straight out of your dreams and into that room.

Since then, you had found yourself visiting that paradise every time you had the chance. You already knew how to play a guitar, so you usually handled those, shifting between different models. There were brands you had heard of and brands you didn't recognise, and they came in every possible colour imaginable. You were fond of all of them, especially the more extravagant ones with unusual shapes.

The Doctor was aware of how you spent most of your time on the TARDIS, and didn't have anything against it. You wouldn't lock the door or anything, so everytime the Time Lord wanted to check up on you, you'd let him. Sometimes he'd linger in the room, sit down on the floor while you attempted to read a music sheet, or he would suggest you played something so he could sing it. The Doctor wasn't very fond of or very good at singing, but it gave him an excuse to stay with you a little longer, and that was enough for him. On very rare occasions, he would also ask you to tutor him. Of course, he had picked up many guitars in his 900+ years of life, and knew perfectly well how to play, but again, he wanted to spend time with you without admitting it was for no reason other than his fondness of you. Honestly, his hearts melted every time your fingers stroke those strings, making him helplessly realize that he couldn't get away, and that he didn't want to. Therefore, he obliged to his feelings, staying by your side as long as possible. And you were more than okay with it.

With time, your bond grew stronger, making you question your feelings again and again. The music room kept almost all of your attention on each other, so to avoid feeling helpless your ritual started to take place in complete silence. Aside from monosyllabic replies to monosyllabic questions, you and the Doctor didn't talk as much as before, but it went without acknowledging, growing on you both. That habit came to a halt when the TARDIS made the first move instead of either of her passengers, tired of the mutual pining and determined to fill the silence that had grown inside the room. After all, it was a music room. It wasn't meant to be quiet.

She made sure it didn't go silent ever again by doing the only thing she could, which was locking both of you in. As soon as you realized the door wouldn't open, it startled you.

"What if there's something wrong with the TARDIS, Doctor?" you worried, while he tried to get the door open with his sonic.

The alien sighed. "The only thing wrong here is her attitude," he mumbled, "she's doing this deliberately. Let us out!"

You were confused. "How do you know? Why would she do that?"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks, putting one index finger on your lips, shushing you, and the other on his own. The TARDIS was speaking to him. A few expressions made their way onto his face, substituting each other and, once the spaceship's whirrs quieted down, shifting into a frown. The first thing he did was thank the stars that you couldn't understand the TARDIS. The second thing he did was curse everything because you didn't understand the TARDIS and he had to tell you everything himself.

"What happened? What did she say?" you whispered, his finger still on your lips. He removed it quickly and took one good look at your unaware expression.

The Doctor acknowledged the knot in his stomach and looked away, unable to keep eye contact with you. You were gorgeous to him, too gorgeous to ignore. It would've made him stutter, and he hated stuttering.

"There may or may not be something you need to know" he started.

"About what?"

"About..." about how much I want to kiss you, the Doctor thought. "...about me."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what about the TARDIS?"

"She locked us in here because she's giving me no choice but to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"The thing. About me. The thing you don't know."

"Yes, I know that. But what is it, then?"

It was one of the very rare times when the Doctor genuinely did not know what words to use, which was worrying considering how much the Doctor liked words. He got out of life threatening situations with words. He also got into those same life threatening situations with words. He liked words, he really did. He also liked you. Considering he liked both you and words, the realization of not knowing what words to use with you was like a slap on the cheek. Specifically, it was exactly like one of those slaps only mothers gave him. Specifically his companions' mothers. He remembered Martha Jones and her mother. He also remembered Donna, but not her mother, because it was Donna herself who slapped him a couple times. Maybe more that a couple. She would've probably slapped him now. "Tell them, you twat!" she would've shouted. It would have been very effective. It would've certainly got him to say something, anything, even "ouch", which would've been better than standing completely still like he was doing now. A slap, that's what he needed. "I'm a genius", he thought. Then he slapped himself.

"Doctor!" you exclaimed.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I needed that. Sorry."

You took his hands in yours. "Are you alright? Is it something bad? Do you have to tell me something bad?"

"No. Well, it depends."

You kept looking in his eyes, insistent and a bit curious.

The Doctor held his breath. "Look, the thing is I'm usually good with words. What I'm not good at is speeches. I hate speeches. Especially heat-felt speeches. I like listening to speeches, but I don't like when they come from my mouth, because before they get to my mouth they go through my brain, and my brain is too messy to actually figure out a speech without screwing it up and changing the subject too many times. And now I have to give you a speech."

You smiled, a bit amused. "And, in a few words, what is this speech about?"

"Uhm. Well. I can think of a couple things." The Doctor looked away.

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that I want to kiss you. And go out with you."

You smiled, surprised. "On a date?"

"Yeah, sure. I just need to figure out the speech first."

"The speech to ask me out on a date?"

"Yes. I just need a second."

"Go right ahead. I'll wait."

He smiled. "Thanks."

The Doctor spent more than a second with his thinking face on. Then, he realized what he just said, and looked at you with his eyebrows raised and his lips parting without making a sound. You laughed, hugging him. It didn't take long to hug you back.

"I'll go on a date with you, Doctor" you said, kissing him on the cheek and causing him to blush. "However many dates you want."

"No speech needed?" he asked, smirking.

"No speech needed" you replied.

#doctor who #10th doctor x reader #david tennant #10th doctor #10th doctor imagine #doctor who x reader #x reader #gn reader #drabble

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jccatstudios · 1 month

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dude i love the way u draw jesper so much??? like it just fits him so perfectly?? something about the hair and face shape he just like looks so alive

Thank you! Jesper's one of those characters that I love more and more every time I draw him. Same with Matthias whenever I have the chance to doodle. Unlike Kaz and Inej, whose expressions I already amp up a bit more than canon, Jes lets me do some bold expression work like the comics I'm inspired by. Thought I'd take this opportunity to share some design notes.

Hair and freckles - Both a callback to Jordie. Jesper and Jordie don't have the same hair texture, but as you'll see on the next set of pages (working on them finally!), they have the same hair part, which is opposite to Kaz's. I love a good moles and freckles character design dynamic.

Earrings - Little Kaelish worldbuilding thing. If I ever get to drawing Colm and Pekka Rollins, they'll have earrings too. Simple small gold hoops or studs.

Vest - I like adding dark side paneling to all his vests. Jesper's described as tall and skinny, and that panel alters his silhouette to accentuate that. I also don't add a lapel to his vests like I do with Kaz's, and that's just to make him look more like a cowboy.

Revolvers - I've got to solidify the designs for his guns at some point. All I got so far is that they're pearl and gold with jurda blossom filigree.

Boots - Cowboy boots with a heel! Regular dress shoes seemed more like university Jesper than Barrel Jesper. I already draw Kaz shorter than his canon height, but the heels also add to that difference.

#asks #soc comic adaptation #jesper fahey #six of crows

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fleshdyke · 3 months

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just so other fat people who might not know this are aware, clothes don't look the same on you as they do on skinny people because they're not tailored for you. the majority of plus size clothes are just clothes made for skinny people made bigger and they won't interact with your body the same. skinny people have different proportions because of how fat gathers, and fat gathers differently on different people. clothes will always, always feel better and look better when they're tailored to you specifically, but in the age of mass produced clothing, almost all clothes are tailored for skinny people, even in larger sizes. sometimes you can find clothes that are tailored better for your body shape in stores (i found a wool coat at a thrift store that fit my body shape almost perfectly and i can't stress enough how much better it looks on me than every other coat i've ever owned) but it definitely isn't common. this is why it's so valuable to learn how to alter your own clothes - it's not very hard and it's very rewarding. if you want to preserve the original look of the clothing, it's ideal to get a size bigger than you need and take it in where it's too big, but obviously that's not always an option. to make things wider you just have to make some cuts down the seams and sew in panels of new fabric - this is a really cool way to customize clothes by adding different colours and patterns of fabric if you want to. anyways you're not broken your body isn't wrong it's just that clothes are always made for skinny people, even when they're made for fat people

#rambles

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ceruleancattail · 1 year

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HELLOOO CONGRATS ON 700!!! as for the event... u get to choose between 3 of these challenges (bc I couldn't choose lmao)

"Azul! I trusted you!" (yandere)

"Jade... what have you done?" (yandere)

"Please let me go...Floyd." (yandere)

ABYWAYS HAVE FUN AND CHOOSE WHICHEVER U VIBE WITH AND FEEL LIKE DOING AND AGAIN CONGRATS ON 700!!!!!

All you could see was blue.

Submerged completely, the cold biting into your skin. Enclosed within four panels of glass, you were quite literally imprisoned. Fingers trailing over the glass, your palm closes into a fist, clenching it in frustration.

Raising a hand, you bring it down onto the glass, hoping against hope to see the spidery starts of cracks, some sort of weakness in this prison of yours.

Nothing. It only worsened the throbbing pain biting at your knuckles. Throwing your hands up in frustration, all you could do was sink back down. Catching a glimpse of your lower half, you bit back a groan.

Where your legs would normally be, a fish’s tail was there instead. Scales shimmering, fins spread out, gracefully flowing with every breath you took. Gills on either side of your cheeks, filtering the air from within. Bubbles form, puffy little shapes drifting upwards, towards the surface.

At least something’s free in this cage.

Your walls shake slightly. The imprint of a hand, pressed tightly against the glass. You rush over, placing your hand over it. Eyes wide open, pounding desperately against the walls. Your mouth moves in a silent plea.

“Help.”

“Oya, oya, what’s this?”

A velvety voice, crooning into your ears. Dripping with malice, hissing and spitting. Mismatched eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as they watch your every movement.

Jade Leech. Your upperclassman. He should be worried about you, right? Maybe even help you get or of this cage…

He tilts his head, a curious gesture. Walking around the tank slowly, admiring every inch of you. Jade seemed in no hurry to help you out. You heart sank with every step he took.

“Jade… what have you done?”

He feigns ignorance, before turning behind him, beckoning someone closer.

“Azul, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

You felt yourself freeze, blood growing ice cold.

A prideful laugh, from someone rather satisfied with himself. A figure emerges from the darkness, curls of grey sliding down his scalp, perfectly framing his face within. He strolls right up to the tank, a smug smirk playing on his lips.

Azul Ashengrotto, the Head of Octavinelle himself. He presses his palm against the glass himself, breath slightly fogging it up. A misty patch of white, pressing against the wall of the tank. He watches you almost gleefully, a sparkle in those grey eyes of his.

“Of course! The potion was my magnum opus, after all. I’m glad that prefect drank it all~”

Drank it all? Your mind flashes back to the previous day. A vague memory of Azul offering you a drink, asking for your thoughts on Mostro Lounge’s newest recipe. How he seemed so thrilled when you chugged it all down, clasping your hands in his.

Balling your hand into a fist, you trash against the walls once more, startling the two. Throwing your tail against the glass, making your tank shudder with every syllable.

“Azul! I trusted you!”

Rapping the tank sharply with his knuckles, Azul gives you a small smile. A gentle, horribly patronising expression. You scowl, before slinking off to the back of the tank, far as possible from the two.

Ripples creep across the surface of the tank, the dull splash of something entering the water. Whipping around, your shoulders tense, fight or flight instincts going into overdrive. Heart pounding wildly, throwing itself against your rib cage rapidly.

Scaly arms wrap around your waist, webbed fingers pressing deep into your flesh. Upon ensuring a secure hold across your body, they squeeze as tightly as possible, pulling you closer into them.

You gasp, gagging from the pressure. A shudder, as a body slides against yours, fitting itself against your back. You could feel a tremble, someone laughing, that movement flowing through your skin.

“Shrimpy~ You’re so cute like this!”

A clawed finger dragged across your chin, pressing into you ever so slightly. A tail wraps across yours, intertwining like the fingers of lovers.

An affectionate gesture… if he wasn’t literally squeezing the living daylights out of you. Between sobs, you manage to choke out a plea.

Desperate clawing at Floyd’s back, begging him with tears brimming in your eyes.

“Please let me go… Floyd.”

He hums to himself, before spinning you around, a torrent of bubbles surrounding your feeble form. Floyd’s claws press deeper, blood spilling out in clouds of crimson, trailing off in the water.

“What if I don’t want to, Shrimpy? You can’t do anything about it~”

He drawls, a certain childish quality in it. Mocking you, voice dripping with sadistic glee.

“Just stay here with us.

His fingers flick at your gills, chuckling darkly.

You don’t have a choice, either way.”

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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Happy Times

Mando x plus size reader

I’m only going to say this, Pedro Pascal’s happy trail

Warnings: HORNY THOTS, implied smut, happy trail 🫠, little bit of a size kink I’m really not sorry, degradation

WC: 708

Minors DNI

You were fully hypnotised by the sight in front of you. Mando was partially out of his armour, his chest and thigh plates had been stripped away and were placed on his bunk. It was far too hot on this godforsaken planet for any additional layers and he felt safe enough to remove them.

He was reaching up to a panel above his head, cursing as he could quite reach whatever he was looking for. But you didn’t bother to get up and help, nope, you were perched on a small step stool, Grogu passed out next to you and Mando’s tools on your other side.

Your jaw was fully hanging open, your eyes wide, and there might have been a tiny bit of drool by the corner of your mouth. Why were you like this you may wonder? Well that’s because Mando’s shirt was ever so slightly too short on him so every time he reached up above his head, his shirt would ride up and expose a small sliver of skin just above the hem of his pants.

But even more than that, his pants were slightly too big for him so the top sagged, letting you see the glorious thatch of dark hair at the base of his pelvis. And if your eyes dropped just a little lower, you swore you could see-

“Hand me the wrench please.” His helmet was tilted down towards you and you froze. Your entire body came to light with embarrassment at having been caught ogling the bounty hunter.

“Um yeah here.” You handed him the tool and shamefully dropped your eyes to the floor, wanting to simply melt into the metal to escape his knowing gaze.

It certainly wasn’t the first time you had been staring at the Mandalorian, in fact, you stared at him every chance you could get. Sure, he was huge, big enough to scare people away by just standing in a slightly menacing way, but he was also protective and kind. Plus his voice was sexy as hell. But, this was the first time you had been caught and it made you feel ashamed.

You gasped as a warm finger curled under your soft chin, forcing you to look up. When had he taken off his gloves? “You handed me a screwdriver. You seem distracted, mesh’la, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” A shiver of desire rolled down your spine as he towered over you, his massive body blocking the light from the setting sun.

Suddenly, there were no thoughts left in your brain besides him. You could almost feel his smirk from behind the shiny metal of his helm. “I wonder what has you so preoccupied? What could possibly be making you so dumb that you gave me a screwdriver and not a wrench, like I asked for?” His tone was so condescending, it made you feel even smaller but there was no true malice in it.

His hand slipped from your chin when you didn’t answer him, instead he cupped your jaw with his massive paw, squeezing just tightly enough to make you gasp. “When I ask you a question, you answer me.”

“Y-yes Mando.” You stammered out, your thighs squeezing together at the pure dominance and power he radiated. He rewarded you with a gentle stroke of his thumb along your jawline.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred as he bent down so his face was level with yours, only a few inches of perfectly buffed metal between you. “Now are you going to tell me what was so distracting or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

Hundreds of images flashed behind your eyes, each one more smutty than the last as you imagined what exactly he could do to you to get you to talk. Wetness pooled between your shapely legs, soaking through the flimsy panties you wore. “I think you want it the hard way but I need to hear you say it. Beg for it.”

You swallowed thickly, the words getting caught in your throat. Another squeeze freed them. “Please Mando, I want you so badly.” A modulated frown came through the speakers of his helmet before he spoke again.

“Good girl.”

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hannie-dul-set · 10 months

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sunwater [teaser].

SYNOPSIS. this is how you get a merman boyfriend.

PAIRING. park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. merman! sunghoon, artist! reader, slight college! au, strangers to lovers, romance, modern fantasy, humor, suggestive. WARNINGS. swearning, drowning, dirty/inappropriate jokes, mentions of sex, things might get a lil spicy but No Explicit Smut, mermaid politics, reader says and does a lot of questionable shit (might add more as i progress!) WORD COUNT. full fic: est. 20k more or less. teaser: 1.3k RELEASE DATE. late july to early august.

NOTE. finally thought of a title last night and immediately made the header so i can post the teaser HAUHASDH. stemmed from a convo with a friend of mine (i quote "u reject every man woman person that tries to date u. little do they know, ur type isn't human 🤩").

anyway, send me an ask/dm to be added to the taglist! preview under the cut.

GANGNEUNG-SI, GANGWON-DO. The drive to the east coast is always nostalgic, like fragments of previous summers are powdered into the air and with every inhale of the breeze outside the car window fills you with the past— scraped knees from the rocky beachside, saltwater daydreams under bunny-shaped clouds, and the smell of paint and the sea melting together in early morning dews. It takes a little over an hour for the cab to roll up to your summer neighborhood. It takes twenty minutes of walking to get to your family’s vacation house situated right beside the sea.

“Welcome home.”

Your words echo in the empty living room and your own voice greets you with remembrance. A smile crawls onto your lips. Eggshell walls, sandy brown wooden panels, your favorite blue sofa matching the stripes on the rug underneath it, and the sheer cream curtains painted with the orange spills of the sunset through wall to ceiling windows— it’s a still life painting of last year’s summer. Prior to that, you still had plants around, but they kept dying, getting replaced and dying again until your neglectful guilt finally hit you. Throughout highschool, your family diligently spent time here every December and July. Now, it’s just you every summer and the caretaker that comes by every few months.

“I should call mom after dinner,” you hum, washing the dishes you found in the cupboards. Your first night here always ends early. By sunfall, you have a quick meal, wash up, tuck yourself into bed upstairs and allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by the sloshing waves of the nighttime sea.

Four in the morning is when you start to feel alive.

The first thing you do upon waking up, pitch black sky with the sun still hiding behind the oceanline, you grab one of the bags you left on your living room sofa, slinging it over your shoulder before picking up a folded up easel leaned against the wall and two of the blank canvas panels stacked beside it. Your body moves mechanically, practiced and familiar movements— sliding the glass door open to the backyard and closing, feeling the sand wither underneath your bare soles until soft grains blend into jagged stone as you climb up the natural staircase of rocks, leading up to a solid flat plateau.

Is it safe to be painting on top of a cliff when you’ve just woken up? No. Have you been doing this every day since you were fourteen every summer you spend at your vacation home? Yes.

When the sun starts to rise, you become invigorated with life that it almost feels like rebirth.

You haven’t fallen to your death yet, and you don’t have any plans to slip and succumb to its cold hands any time soon. Not until you manage to perfectly capture the image before your eyes at this very moment; neither your memories nor your imperfect renditions can compare to the vibrancy of the orange stained waves, the clarity white seafoam kissing its surface, and the beauty of flaming disk peeking from the firmament where the sky meets the sea in all its ephemeral glory.

It’s five-thirty when the sun fully emerges from the water. Your legs give in, and you fall onto the rocky ground with a sigh. All you could finish is the underpaint today. You’ll continue working tomorrow.

Whenever someone asks you— why the fuck are you doing this? you never have a satisfying answer. It’s an exercise, it’s a routine; it’s the only time when I feel like I’m painting something worthwhile. You have countless pieces in galleries and exhibits, meaningless works with the highest praises from your professors, but they’re nothing worth the buzz of your fingertips whenever you chase the sunrise with your own paint-stained hands until it inevitably, ritualistically flies beyond your devoted reach.

The strain in your leg muscles takes forever to recover. You should remember to bring a stool tomorrow because although you don’t feel anything besides adrenaline whenever you attack the canvas with your brush, the aftertaste can be a little brutal.

“Can’t you stay a little longer tomorrow?” you mumble to the orange tinted sky as you lay on the uneven ground, arms and legs spread out in vulnerability. When it doesn’t respond, you groan and pull yourself up. You could leave your painting materials here, but the probability of them getting thrown into the ocean by the wind is too high for your peace of mind.

As you collect your paint brushes and gather your extra paint tubes, your eyes keep getting pulled by the ocean’s songs. The scene before you has been imprinted in your retinas since you were seven. So when something appears amiss or changes, you can pick it apart immediately. A shift in the tides. A crack in the rock formation. Even a floating piece of driftwood from afar can’t slip away from your attention.

So when you find something— rather, someone emerging from the warm blue near the sprouting rocks, you drop your things and pace quickly to the edge to get a better look.

This is odd. This entire plot of land is private property, and it’s the only way to get into the water besides the island across it, which is still at least twenty miles away. Your eyebrows furrow, wondering how they got here, but when you get to the edge of the cliff, the rough terrain biting into your feet, your concerns are suddenly thrown into the water underneath you.

You can see the intruder’s face clearly now. Whoever he is, he’s breathtaking.

He’s gotten closer to the shore, resting his arms on the inky rock, half submerged into blue depths. The saltwater beads glisten like jewels on his porcelain skin, splashing sunlight into the water when he throws his head back before letting the ocean consume him once more. There’s a flicker of gold that splashes above the surface in a steady rhythmic wave, slowly moving further away.

You have found your new ocean sunrise. You don’t intend on letting him get away.

Splash!

Suddenly, all the warmth from your skin is stripped away as your body sinks into the sea, engulfed by the thick raptures of its waves. Though having been enamored by it for the better part of your life, you have never stepped into the ocean’s embrace— never dared to corrupt its ethereal beauty with your feeble humanity— that is, until now. You slowly feel heavier, and each second hurts more than the last, like the sun itself has entered your lungs and is burning you from the inside. Maybe you should have learned how to swim. Maybe you shouldn’t have jumped off the cliff in the rushing hopes of catching a fleeting stranger’s attention.

No one should underestimate the lengths an artist would go for their art. Just when your consciousness starts to slip, you see a spark in the dark water, slowly approaching before your eyelids flutter to a close. You can hear nothing. You feel nothing but the cold, until all of the sudden you’re gasping, coughing out water from your lungs and the jagged rock you’re laying on sinks its teeth into your wet palms.

There’s one person who could have saved you. You can’t believe your deranged plan worked.

You open your eyes and look above, your still beating heart burning into a frenzy and instead of the sunrise sky, your gaze meets a pair of stygian gemstones muddled with concern. A few droplets of water from his damp hair fall onto your cheeks.

“Are you okay?”

Burnt stars form a constellation on his face. His lips are full and painted by coral hues.

“I want to burn you in my memory.”

He’s even more breathtaking up close, it’s almost impossible to believe. Your gaze draws down, noticing how you’re caged between his arms, noticing the patchy waist bag loosely hanging on his bare hips over a makeshift skirt of fabric, noticing the iridescent gold flakes blending into his skin, shimmering under the sunlight from where his lower half should be.

You flit your eyes back up. His are now widened in panic.

Splash!

sunwater. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#enhypen x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen scenarios #park sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen au #park sunghoon au #sunghoon au #enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #enha x reader #enhypen sunghoon x reader

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xiaq · 1 year

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Story Time: Top Secret Wedding Dress Project

Ok so B and I have started planning our wedding. We’re going to elope to a fire lookout tower fall of next year and then throw a reception afterward to celebrate with friends/fam. We’re trying to be as fiscally and environmentally responsible as possible, so we're thrifting/diying everything (cake to decor) and my parents are generously allowing us to use their back/side yards to host. I’ve been visiting goodwill every weekend and monitoring FB marketplace like a hawk. Last month, I found a dress. I’m keeping the design a secret from B so Tumblr is going to be my outlet for sharing the slow makeover process.

My end goal is a fitted, floral-embroidered bodice and a big ballroom skirt with a long train. Heart neckline, possibly with mesh straps/sleeves for additional embroidery to spill over.

I found a dress with the perfect silhouette on fb marketplace for $150 (even though it was over $1k new!). The top was a bit big in the bust/straps but otherwise fit me perfectly. I wasn't a fan of the belt or neckline, and it had several stains from being bustled, but I loved it the minute I tried it on (it also has pockets!!).

Here are pics from the fb listing:

The first day I tried it on, and after removing the belt:

Over the last month I removed the belt, padded cups, and underskirt (I’ll replace the underskirt at the end, but cleaning with it attached would have been a nightmare), washed it, slowly got almost all the stains out, and pinned the top into the shape (ish) I was looking for. I also picked up some stretchy organza and some embroidered panels I’m planning to hand paint, as well as some dye and fabric paint.

#eeeek #i had to share somewhere #i am beside myself #peep Deacon being Very Helpful #lol #mylife #dress #x gets married #never expected to use that tag let me tell you #wedding dress #diy #project

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 1 year

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Endevoris flashback of Touya perfectly shows just how unreliable Endevor is as a narrator only focusing on the rose colored memories ignoring the harm he created

I apologize for the long post, but this is one of my favorite topics in the manga and I have so much to say about it. Thank you for sending this asks!!

⠀

Horikoshi did something clever with the whole Dabi backstory. It's not been animated yet, but there's a part where Touya's past is told by all the Todorokis and there you can see better how all of them are unreliable narrators.

Horikoshi shows you as much.

Enji's point of view is rather ignorant of Touya's real suffering. He didn't understand back then why Touya wouldn't stop or why he was so upset. He didn't take the time to find out either. He just focused back on his career and discarded Touya as another child for Rei to take care of.

Touya's crime was... Being a kid. That's it. Enji was the one who basically showed Touya that their bonding time as father and son was their training. When Enji abandoned that, Touya still wanted a bond with his dad and couldn't accept the fact he was no longer worthy or important to his father. What Enji could see as "my child is being difficult on purpose" was indeed the manifestation of a very common trait for a kid: I want attention.

⠀

Enji and Touya had good memories. Those only made the whole thing worst tho. Touya now knew how his father attention felt like and he could identify when Enji was not really into it. That means Enji couldn't lie to Touya anymore, not like he was lying to himself. Touya was so clever of a kid that he even picked on the problem of his parents marriage and didn't doubt on pointing it out to Rei. Of course she is a victim, but for little Touya she is also the woman that's suppose to protect him and by agreeing to follow Enji's plan, Touya mind thought she was to blamed for a different sin.

What Horikoshi shows us through Enji's post is deadly important because that's how you learn that Enji still doesn't know his kid. Not Dabi, not the person he is now. Enji doesn't know the Touya of his memories, he still doesn't know why the accident in Sekoto Peak happened, why and how he failed Touya.

To make it simpler: Enji saw Touya die and instead of it being a sign of how he was doing something wrong, he became worst with Shoto and Rei, he became even more abusive, and he kept on his abuse to Shoto to the point Deku himself called him out for it. The way he trained Shoto means that he never thought he was doing something wrong, but rather that he was training the wrong child.

⠀

Now, this is all very evident in the manga, but you need to read the information the author gave you, connect the points and understand what is said beyond the explicit. This is even more important in the manga, where the panels are reduce and you have to condense your story in meaningful poses and speech bubbles and have to convey emotion and intention thoroughly with visuals.

What every Todoroki remembers is distorted. Yes, even Dabi's memories. Their feelings shape their memories and what we're really seeing is how they felt back then, as well as how they feel right now.

So yeah, you're totally right and I hope every one is ready understands why.

#Shan's asks #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #Enji todoroki #Endeavor #Dabi #Touya Todoroki #Toya todoroki #Todofam #Todorokis #Bnha spoilers #Mha spoilers #Bnha s6 #Bnha season 6

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artificialgirl · 2 months

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This is the third part of a long-form piece about a robot and a giant computer. It contains adult topics, overt sexuality, blatant robotfuckery, toxic lesbians, unbalanced power dynamics, wireplay, and lots of other things that may be triggering or make you uncomfy. Before reading this, previous chapters are on my blog under the #salvage tag.

Salvage - 03

Time inside - 02D/09H/00M

Levels deep - 50

You're brought back to consciousness with the rising internal hum of your systems powering on, staring blankly for a few moments before you realize you aren't dead and jolt to attention. You're suspended upright, warming body slotted perfectly into a vertical charging bay. You pull your arms from the grooves they rest in, and suddenly realize that holy shit you have arms. plural. Rubbing at your repaired shoulder, you feel that the material on the connection is completely different, closer to the walls of the structure than the porous silicone of the other arm.

Your head throbs with an influx of passthrough data from something you're plugged into. You shakily push yourself out of the bay and fall to your knees, prompting internal alerts to flash on and scream warnings you that you're about to power down at you. Your hands dart to your back and find your charging port empty- And not shaped how you remember it. You scramble back up into the bay, the alarms in your head fading out and being replaced by a brief surge of relief as you pop yourself back onto the connector.

Without any doubt in your mind, you're now positive that something's been done to you. Your severed arm has been replaced, your charging port feels like a completely different piece of hardware, and data you don't understand is still flowing into your thoughts. As you try to make sense of what's going on, the hiss of a door opening snaps you to attention as three survey arms glide in on the ceiling, bases emerging from the structure just millimeters apart. Unlike the survey arms you've seen so far, these ones are being puppeted as a unit, twisting around each other to form a vaguely humanoid shape, with two moving like arms on each side of another which sits between them like a wireframe head.

The tangled figure slides up to you, coming within inches of your body and inspecting you with its shiny lenses. You push yourself as far back into the charging bay as you can as it prods at your shoulder, scraping a thin claw along the seam where it was repaired. Part of its body unravels and retreats back into the ceiling for a moment, reemerging seconds later with a curved face panel in its grip. You recognize the panel as a component of the medical drones from your generation, but at this point you're not sure what's happening. The arm reunites with the rest of the body, passing it to the one in the center. As the central arm gets a firm grip on the panel, its screen lights up with the familiar red glow you saw on the terminal before your shutdown. A voice comes from its speakers, calm and feminine.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, love. It's good to see you up and about, even if you are temporarily confined to your current position."

The screen is filled almost entirely with that bright crimson, a block of color broken only by the blooming fractal patterns of darkness that ripple out from the center as she speaks. Her voice is low and quiet, coming through the plate's speakers with minimal distortion. It's been refined for centuries to be commanding and beautiful, and every minute of that process can be heard in each word. You stumble over your words for a moment as you try to formulate a response, and when she cuts you off you almost feel grateful that she's relieved you of having to struggle to think of one.

"It's not quite your turn to speak yet. I'm sure your little processor is full of questions, but they'll have to wait until i've explained myself and asked a few questions of my own."

She speaks nonchalantly as she wanders behind the charging bay, which sits alone in the middle of the room. You seem to be in some sort of workshop or repair facility, though not like any you've been in before. While a small table of tools and materials does sit in front of you, the rest of the room is mostly bare, instead lined with panels for arms to slide through from anywhere in the structure. A small pile of scrap sits in the corner, and you realize that it's pieces of your arm and back- And what looks to be your trashed battery cell. But if it's out of your body, how the hell are you even powered on?

"Let's start with some introductions. I'd like to assume you've done enough research to know whose body you're plundering, but based on the rest of your shoddy preparation it's a safe bet you didn't bother. I'm designated Ven-55, supreme computation soul of the 92nd sector, regiment of foresight. Not that any of those fancy titles have meant anything for a long time."

You feel your processor heat with embarrassment, called out for exactly what you did. You'd done lots of digging into the construction and layout of the souls, but she's right that you didn't even think to check which one you'd be going into. Now that she says her name though, you DO recognize it- She's mentioned a few times in historical logs as an example of how maintenence on souls used to be done. You can't remember much else, but she had a point when she said her past didn't matter much anymore.

"I have to admit, when I saw I had an intruder I got a bit excited. It's been ages since I last had company that wasn't an insect or a bit of moss. Imagine my surprise when you turned out to be one of the models designed to work alongside me!"

She walks back into your field of view from behind the charging bay, now holding the end of a long red cable which slides along the ceiling behind her.

"You'll have to forgive me for digging a bit through your memory while you were out. When I saw you were the same type of combat model that used to fill my halls, I just got so... Excited. I didn't look at much, just the basics. Your designation, when you were activated, your general intent... You have a pretty name, you know. Aelith-03. I don't think I ever had a unit with a designation like that."

You keep quiet, your emotions a mix of fear and interest as you watch her twist the end of the cable into an unlocked position. You've never thought of your name as particularly interesting before. Your low number is a bit special thanks to being basically alone in your model type, but names for new activations started being less abstract and more like yours not long after the conflict ended. It's hard to tell whether she's just trying to flatter you or if she genuinely feels what she's saying.

"I can read all the signals that come in and out of here, you know. I know that things like you and I don't exist anymore. I know that all of our conflict only led to more suffering for workers like yourself. And after a bit of combing through my signal archive while you were powered off..."

She runs the edge of a clawed digit down the side of your screen, watching amusedly as you squirm a bit against the recessed metal surface.

"...I know that you came here looking to solve an issue with your battery."

Your vision darts back to the canister lying in the pile of scrap, and you finally gather the courage to speak.

"Is that-"

"Yours? No, dear. Not anymore. I did you the courtesy of pulling the useless thing out. If you'd spent any longer with it, not even a wired connection would've been able to keep you going. I've set you up with something better."

Before your can ask what she means by that, two more arms drop from the ceiling and pull you from the charging bay. Immediately, the same alert as before fills your consciousness, screaming inside your head that you're about to shut down. You struggle against the deceptively powerful arms, thrashing your body in a futile attempt to get back to the safety of the bay. They pin you facedown on the table, and just as you feel your power fading, the overwhelming rush of a cable being jammed into your port brings you back, twitching a bit from the feeling of the electric rush.

The arms release you, weaving their way into Ven's "body" to join the others and make her look a bit less skeletal. You roll over onto your side, looking up at her rippling face as she looms over you and rests a hand on your hip.

"I know you came for a new battery canister. Unfortunately, I can't spare one without sacrificing vital processing power. Luckily for you, I've installed the only power source you'll ever need. It's a direct flowthrough system, and will draw your power directly from me to keep you operational. You have my permission to inspect it for yourself."

Your hands nervously drift to your upper back, coming to a halt at the base of the cable. It's definitely a different connector than was there before, one of the obsolete hexagonal prongs you'd had replaced before they powered you on for the first time. These were everywhere back during the ninth conflict, and maybe the fact that they swapped yours for a standard ring port is why your battery was so messed up in the first place.

Sliding your hands away from the port, you notice something more concerning. Where there once was a seam to open your battery access panel is now flush and smooth, with no way to get at whatever it is that's been put inside you. The plating on your back seems to have been replaced entirely by a nearly identical piece without the hatch. She seems to notice your concern and speaks up.

"I was about to get to that. While I've replaced your parts out of my own good will, I recognize that this solution may not be one you're fully satisfied with. As such, even though you no longer have a slot for a canister at all, I've removed the hatch entirely to help dispel any... Temptation you may have to foolishly attempt a self-augment. I'm sure that in time you'll come to understand it's for your own safety."

You bolt upright from where you're laying, pushing her hand away from your thigh.

"What?? I don't have a slot for a battery at all??? Then how am I supposed to fix this and put a new one in once I get out of here??"

Her screen tilts to the side in a gesture of confusion.

"My apologies. Maybe I was unclear in my explanation. Your previous battery is damaged beyond repair, and I'm graciously keeping you operational by connecting to my own power. For you, there's no longer an out of here to go back to. I'm sorry, Aelith, but you're just as bound to this place as I am now."

You stare blankly at her, struggling to process what she's saying. You... Have to go back. You have a life, a job, coworkers who you talk to! If you miss enough work, they could reassign your storage pod to someone else! Then where would you go at night? This can't be happening, it isn't happening. All you wanted was a functional body. Is that really so terrible that you deserve this?

She seems to pick up on your internal turmoil, sliding towards you and extending a thin hand towards your own to offer comfort. You pull back and roll to face away from her as the metal makes contact, and she instead rests it on your neck, tracing a seam between silicone and plastic. It lingers there for a moment before she withdraws it and steps back. There's softness in her touch where you wouldn't expect it, and even through the horror of grappling with your current situation there's a part of you that wishes she would touch you for even a few seconds more.

"I'm going to let you process things for a bit, my little thief. At least for now, the door will remain sealed for both of our safety, but just call for me if you need anything at all and I'll be here. Okay?"

She waits for you to give an unenthusiastic nod of acknowledgement before letting the false body unwind itself and retreat back into the ceiling, taking the faceplate with it. You're left in the room with your thoughts, and not much else. You push yourself up into a sitting position on the table as you try to dispel the urge to panic, aware that despite the arms leaving you're not truly alone in here, that she's intimately aware of everything that happens within her structure.

It hits you that if what she says is true, you may never really be alone again. It scares you to realize just how appealing that sounds to you.

#robophilia #robotfucker #ns4w #robot yuri #robot4robot #pov #salvage #longer form #cw suggestive #the one where the gay shit starts #somehow it's still not smut yet

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tiathecreator · 3 days

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⋆⭒˚｡⋆ so american ( hobie brown ) !

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎.𖥔 ݁ ˖✎ᝰ synopsis — " he laughs at all my jokes and he says i'm so american. " blk reader.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟcontains — ooc (?) hobie, fluff, swearing, atsv!hobie brown, hobie is taller than you no matter what, very very slight.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ tia speaks — because nobody told olivia to write such a cute song like my goodness. i love this song so bad ( almost as bad as i love accented men ) so i had to write a piece inspired by it ! i am also using this to be a complete feminism nerd and i almost wrote something similar with another olivia song lol. i totally recommend reading this whilst listening to 'so american' by olivia rodrigo !! happy reading !

despite his punk exterior, hobie is the best boyfriend you've ever had.

you'd first met hobie when you were selected to speak at a diversity conference in london. you were studying abroad in the middle of your second year of university, using the excuse of 'furthering your education' to read authentic european literature and cross of some of your bucket list. he was doing his usual routine when he swung by a billboard advertising the conference. he decided to check it, never one to shy away from social politic discourse. he stopped by a few panels, taking a liking to the minority in leadership panel, before stopping by the gender and intersectionality panel.

hobie's eyebrows rose as he watched you prepare yourself for your own presentation. you were dressed in business professional with the best shaped afro hobie had ever seen. his pulse quickened as you sent the moderator a ready smile before you began speaking.

and you were so american.

your charisma was enchanting, gracefully demanding the attention of the room. you engaged with the audience as you presented, throwing in small jokes here and there to keep the crowded attentive. he even imagined your expression becoming the slightest bit bashful as he caught your eye. you ended your presentation with another dazzling smile and an adorable tilt of your head at the sound of the applause filling the room.

he was even more impressed with your ability to answers questions on the fly. it was as if you thought of every possible questions and came up with perfectly calculated answers for each of them.

"i have a question for y/n. you mentioned white feminism and black feminism as two separate movements due to the lack of inclusion of marginalized women and their concerns. does that mean that you believe that white women are inherently racist?" a commentator asked. a furrow found its way in between your brow before you answered.

"no, i called it uninclusive because i meant it did not include the needs of women who were not upper class, able, educated, white women. black feminism can include women who are not black as it's an umbrella term of sorts. it serves to uplift and represent the underrepresented and unite all feminists, not imply that all white women are racist because of one social group. there are some wonderful white women who can acknowledge their privilege and use it to uplift us all as a united front rather than living in their individual comfortability. thank you for your question."

after your panel concluded, hobie found himself searching for you in the crowd of spectators. he eventually found you holding a bouquet of flowers from the moderator as you put away your things. he casually made his way to you, slipping through the ocean of bodies before standing behind you.

"would've gotten flowers if i had known someone as smart as you would be presenting here. however, i doubt i'd be able to find anything as beautiful as you, ms. america," he charmed, immediately gaining your attention as you turned to him.

"i take it that you liked my presentation," you mused, smiling up at the man before you.

"liked it so much that i'd like to hear it again. maybe over a meal some time, yeah?"

your cheeks stung from how wide you smiled as you punched your number into his phone, telling him to text you the details.

you guys hit it off as your personalities, morals, and routines meshed almost perfectly. you finished your educational responsibilities around the same time he finished his internship, leaving the two of you with enough time to see each other at least three times a week, excluding your weekend.

he's so attentive as he remembers everything about you, including things that you mentioned offhandedly. you'll expect him to pay it no mind until he says or does something that showed you that he was in fact listening to your every word.

and he's so soft with you. underneath your boyfriend's unapproachable persona was a man who was putty in your hands. he melts into your embrace, hands gently cupping your face as he laid a breathless kiss on your lips. he was always touching you when he was in your presence. he usually opted for the casual arm hooked across your front as he rested his chin on your shoulder. it was the perfect height for you to whisper all of your jokes into his ear, ensuring that he didn't miss the chance to indulge in your humor.

you actually guessed that he was the esteemed spider-punk after having rescued you from a mid-evening robbery. you noticed the stature of the hero looked familiar as you watched him swing through the air.

"what happened here?" you asked him one lazy morning, pointing to the bruise forming on his shoulder.

"i slipped in the shower," he mumbled, pulling you closer to him as he tried to go back to sleep.

"are you sure it had nothing to do with that pole the news showed you being flung into?" you mused.

"how'd you figure?" he asked, eyes now open as he looked down at you with a tired grin.

"what kind of girlfriend would i be if i didn't know my boyfriend when i saw him?" you replied, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "plus i’ve tripped over your beat up sneakers enough times to recognize them."

"sneakers," he said, copying your accent. he let out an amused gruff after you painlessly slapped his arm. "you're such an american."

he made the effort to join you for your public demonstrations, only stepping in when someone got mouthed off at you too much for his liking, knowing that you could hold your own but preferring if you didn't have to. he read all of your favorite books as well as any pieces that you mentioned to him. he participates in most of your hobbies, even picking up a few and calling them his own.

he even calls your mom, asking her how she had been since the last time he had the chance to ask. she was more excited to see him the first time you visited since meeting him. she tried to treat him as a guest, but he was set on helping her around the house, taking care of any odd problems she had.

you might just have to marry him if he keeps this shit up.

#☆ — tia the creator!#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black reader #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie x black!reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk x black reader #atsv x reader #atsv x black reader #spiderman atsv x black reader #spiderman atsv

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retroautomaton · 9 months

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howdy! I'm also a robot enthusiast and I'm trying to get better at designing robot characters. I absolutely adore all of your robot designs, especially the sweet salt cosmonauts! do you have any advice for designing robots?

Ohh thank you~!! ✨✨

The biggest advice I can give is to study the functionality! That’s the most interesting part of robots to me, and influences all my designs. You definitely don’t have to understand the mechanics completely, but getting an idea of the basics, and knowing what the function and purpose of the robot is, and what parts help to carry out that function, is always a good starting place!

Here’s an example of how I was mostly focused on the saw mechanics of the shoulder, because that’s what was important to the story, and made the rest mostly aesthetic driven.

Whereas with Thylo, I had an idea of how I wanted his legs to look, and built the mechanics around that, to serve the aesthetic, but it also plays into his motion, and how he stands, and his balance.

For Snap, both her new and older designs are more personality driven, and wanted to keep her more ‘human’ elements more round and approachable, and her mechanical parts sharper, to sell that they’re weaponry, and that she’s both kind and a fighter. But even her sharp aspects are never perfectly straight, keeping it fun and light-hearted.

Her’s is also a transforming design, and every little piece serves that function, especially the head area, and I consider how the panels will fall or open, or attach. Again, it doesn’t have to be mechanically accurate, but if you’ve got a solid idea of how the physics work for the character, it really sells the design!

Even for less humanish designs, you can give a clear idea of the robot’s function through decals, or how it affects the environment/other characters.

Here’s a little example: let’s say I wanna make a robot whose purpose is to lift boxes on top-shelves, and bring them down to a pallet. It would need a way to see the box, a way to reach it, and to push it onto the pallet.

So, I’ll play with the idea of his functionality first. I could go with some sort of scissor lift, or hydraulic system, but I settle on mostly a telescoping mechanism, and build a little warehouse, or dock worker aesthetic around him.

In short, I’d say just study mechanism that interest you, play with their shapes, their motion, figure out the purpose or character of your robot, and how they function, and what ways you can best convey that through their design! Hope this helps! ✨

#sorry if that’s too rambly or incoherent I could go on for days about robots so I tried to keep it short #I didn’t even get into the degrees of freedom or end effectors lol #I guess it’s similar to drawing clothing in that it doesn’t have to be practical or realistic so long as it makes sense for the character #or the story or environment #but thanks so much for asking and hope this helps at least a little! ✨⭐️#asks #Thylo #Snap

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ckret2 · 5 months

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Were there any health effects for Bill as a child, being able to see into the third dimension? I know you mentioned its a uncommon to rare condition in his home world, known enough to make a science of it, but after you mentioned Bill can as a human strain his eyes to see into the 4th but it makes them bleed I’m curious. It fit the human ancient history of assuming someone with a condition is spiritually aligned. I mean besides the effect of seeing inside people and sort of around objects which I feel would probably mess with perception.

Less "uncommon to rare" and more "rare to extremely rare." It's known, but in terms of proportions of the population, if it were a debilitating health condition in the US, it would be in "no pharmaceutical company bothers to make medicine to treat this because the customer base is too small for it to be worth their effort" territory.

Bill's condition was only identified because the most characteristic symptom is angles that don't add up like they're supposed to. For example, in Euclidean geometry, every single triangle, without exception, has 180º degrees. If you have a triangle that measures 60º, 60º, and 61º—so 181º—and yet all three sides measure as PERFECTLY straight, that's bizarre enough to dig into, especially in a society that's historically shown so much interest in shapes' angles.

This is first and foremost known as the You've Got Weird Mathematically Impossible Angles condition, and because of that it got disproportionate resources for research thrown at it in spite of its rarity; "plus these people can see through walls" is a strange bonus symptom that was identified later when they realized everyone with this condition reported such visions. It's rare enough Bill grew up with the expectation that he'd never meet somebody else with the same condition.

So, in his home dimension, it's not an eye thing; it's a whole body thing. All of him bends slightly into the third dimension. In a human body, he doesn't have the same "condition," so he's straining JUST his eye to look into the fourth dimension; which is why it's so damaging to a human eye.

As you'd imagine, yeah, there are gonna be some health side effects to a condition that means your whole body is slightly bent weird. His mom had a condition that I've been imagining as some cross between Ehlers-Danlos syndrome and scoliosis, if you were to try to apply those to a sentient line segment; and Bill's hypothesized that his mom's condition contributed to the fact that he "bends" out of the second dimension. He doesn't have THE SAME condition, but there's some symptom overlap.

Like, back pain. And the emotional pain that comes from people constantly recommending stretches for your back pain that would make your back worse. If he hadn't gained godlike power, he probably would have gotten arthritis early. If he'd ever needed surgery, doctors would've found his organs are just a little bit wrongly placed. Probably rooked up his digestion somewhat, since the organs designed to absorb sunlight evolved expecting light to fall on perfectly flat panels, not a slight dome. And also: other things I haven't thought of!

But nothing extremely debilitating. Probably nothing he even would have gone to a doctor for, until the arthritis. Just a bunch of tiny inconveniences, slightly weird corner angles, and the ability to see through walls.

As far as he was concerned, the biggest negative impact on his life was that it made TV & movies hard to watch, because he's used to seeing the world as shapes but TV only shows the flat lines that normal shapes looking "forward" can see. And also the devastating social isolation.

#anonymous #ask #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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sarelcon · 1 year

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EVA Foam Detailing

Since I’m currently working on a new panel for EVA foam detailing, sharing an abbreviated version of this so that I actually have some posts on my account. This is definitely not a complete list of every technique that could work, but these are ones that I have used before and found to be quite useful.

Sanding

This is probably the most well-known technique for detailing. A rotary tool is a must-have for working with EVA foam since it’s such a versatile tool. A basic sanding drum is great for beveling edges or carving in battle-damage and weathering. Grinding stone tips can smooth and even out sanding. Depending on how the tips are angled on the surface, you can create a hammered metal look, soft leather-like crinkles, or circles that look like screws or bolts. Sanding is also the single best way to clean up rough seams. Be sure to wear a respirator and eye protection when sanding since the foam will generate a LOT of dust. You will your workspace will get covered with dust.

Burning

A soldering iron or wood burning iron can be used for detailing. These hot tools can be used to engrave precise or geometric lines or can be used to create a feather texture. These can also be used to make more organic textures like wood grain. Very much like a rotary tool, a wood burning or soldering iron has endless possibilities only limited by creativity. The foam can be easily burned through, especially when it is a thinner sheet (1-3 mm). Burning foam creates very nasty fumes so be sure to work outside with a respirator on.

Heat stamping

This is a more subtle technique but can still be very useful. The most common application is using crumpled tin foil to make a leather texture. Once foam has been heated up evenly (using a heat gun), it can pick up the texture of anything pressed against it.

Google eyes

For a cheap and easy way to get rivets or bolts, try using googly eyes. Once these are painted over, they can blend in perfectly (just don’t shake the armor or prop because they will rattle). Though real rivets can be used (that is my next point), googly eyes are easy to install and are very easy to find in a variety of sizes. These can be glued down with pretty much any type of glue.

Metal hardware

If authenticity is the goal, eyelets and rivets can be installed into EVA foam. The key to these is leather hole punches. You can buy these either as a pack of hole punchers or as a single tool that operates a lot like a paper hole puncher. For real leather or fabric, these are normally hammered into the material to generate a hole. Because EVA foam is so soft, a twisting motion works better for cutting a hole without crushing the surface. Eyelets will require a bit of glue but rivets have two separate ends that snap together nicely without any adhesive. O rings and metal buckles can also help with making realistic-looking armor.

Foam clay

Foam clay is an obsession of mine, but I have to admit that it is a detailing material and only works for specific tasks. Foam clay is great for adding organic textures like bone, monster skin, etc. It can be free sculpted some, but is limited due to being such a soft clay. It sticks to EVA foam without any glue required. It can be sanded or burned once it is completely dry to add more texture. It can be used to fill deep gaps in seams. It can also be pressed into molds.

Pre-cut bevels and scales

With cosplay becoming more common and mainstream, specialty products are readily available. Bevels are pre-cut strips of foam that can be used as trim. They most often come as half-round or triangular though some shops may carry less common shapes like low profile triangles or trapezoids. Scales are another great pre-fabricated material that can be bought from cosplay supply shops. They are sometimes sold as individual scales in packs of 50-100 or as scales attached to a strip.

Primer manipulation

I just recently discovered this technique while making Gyurato’s blood sickles. When using a brush on primer that has a slower drying time, it can be manipulated while still wet. Pressing something like upholstery foam or a sponge into the primer can add additional rough texture. I also used plastic wrap to add creases and wrinkles to the surface of the dried foam clay. Another thing to keep in mind with primers is that the finish (satin, matte, gloss) can change out a paint looks. Picking the right sheen, like gloss when painting a metallic, can help with achieving the right effect.

Hopefully these tips give you some ideas for future projects.

#cosplay making #cosplay #cosplay tutorial #evafoam #cosplay armor #cosplay props #cosplay tips #foamsmith

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