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lovebugism · 4 months

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Heyo!

Can you pretty please with sugar on top do something with Steve and shy!reader and then passing notes?

Feel free to skip if you want, and thank you in advance! Your writing skills are so good!

ty angel! hope you like it xoxo — after a scolding from keith for talking to you on the job, steve takes matters into his own hands (shy!fem!r, fluff, established relationship, 1.3k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Grieving, grieving, grieving.

Steve goes into his fourth hour on the clock mourning the lack of you. You’re sitting just beside him, click-clacking away at the chunky computer, but he misses you anyway. He hasn’t said a word to you in an hour. He’s pretty sure it has to be a record by now, especially with you close enough to kiss.

Keith got mad at the two of you for ‘fonduing on the job.’ Whatever that means. Now, the two of you are silent and unsure of what to do with yourselves. This job was only tolerable because he could spend eight hours with you. What’s he supposed to do now? Work?

“Have a good day,” he says, a bit robotically but with a smile, as he hands a customer their bag of movies. Killer Klowns, Poltergeist, and Basketcase — for what must be a horror movie marathon for a holiday season cleanse.

The customer service grin washes away the second the door dings open and shut again. The store is quiet and mostly empty, eerily so without you to fill the void.

A funny joke pops into his head then, and his first instinct is to tell you about it — just to see you smile ‘cause he knows you’ll laugh even if it’s not funny. He looks over his shoulder to make sure Keith isn’t looking, then finds the weirdo watching him like a hawk, only his beady eyes visible over the aisle of tapes.

Steve cowers beneath the ice-cold glare and turns away again. He reaches for a sticky note instead, bright yellow and with the Family Video logo printed in green at the top. The jotting of his pen against the pad fills the mostly silent store.

He yawns and fakes a stretch to stick the thing on the counter next to you.

You don’t notice it at first — because inventory has drained your awareness so much that it’s all you can focus on — but you’re smiling the second you do. It schlicks when you un-stick it from the laminate to find a sloppy drawing of a cartoon pig.

“Missing you pig time” is written in something close to chicken scratch just beside it.

You get all giddy, like a schoolgirl in the back of the classroom getting a note from their crush. Being with Steve feels exactly like that, all the time. On the legal pad next to you, you write a cheesy pun of your own — a plump hippo in a neater cursive that reads “I hippopota-miss you.”

You rip it from the notebook slowly and with a palm spread flat to avoid making too much noise. You crumble it up to pretend like it’s trash, then intentionally miss the bin beside you. The thing bounces by Steve’s sneakers before he bends down to pick it up with a golden hand.

He smooths out the paper as best he can on the counter. Then leans on his elbow and props his scruffy chin in his palm, using his fingers to hide the beam on his face. With his free hand, he draws you a hedgehog adjacent to the cartoonish animal you’d created — only he doesn’t really remember what a hedgehog looks like, so it’s more of a circle with spikes.

“Could really use a hedge-hug right now,” he writes.

He crushes the paper between his palms and tosses it into your lap.

You shoot him a glare, accompanied with a small smile, but he looks away too quickly to see it.

You begin to beam as your eyes dart over the crumbled paper, an expression so wide Steve can see it in his own head. He’s grieved to miss it, but he doesn’t want Keith to see him and think he’s distracted again. Besides, he knows if he looks at you too long, he’ll have no choice but to kiss you stupid.

Now all you are is unkissed and grieving, more so than you were just five minutes ago. You grow empty with the feeling. It makes the spark of bravery and sudden longing burn brighter behind your ribcage.

You rise from your squeaking swivel chair and walk the very short distance to Steve. Three steps. Five, maybe. Six at the very most. You don’t count them, too overwhelmed by your love for the boy who doesn’t see you coming.

You wrap him up in your arms, wedging yourself between him and the countertop. Your arms clasp behind his lower back as your cheek squishes into his sternum. He smells like home, cologne, and something warmer.

Steve tenses beneath your embrace. Not because he doesn’t welcome it, but because you’re not usually so affectionate this way. It took you months to kiss him first — longer to stop asking to kiss him before you did it.

And you’re a delicate little thing, too. You hate getting in trouble. Hate the thought that someone, somewhere in the world, was at some point unhappy with you. And even though you don’t particularly care for your boss, you’d think you’d probably cry if Keith ever scolded you.

Steve knows this, too. So he doesn’t give in to you so easily.

“Whatcha doing?” he croons lowly to you.

“Give you a hedge-hug,” you mumble into his chest.

He scoffs a faint laugh that fans across your forehead. “You’ll get in trouble,” he teases in a gentle whisper, slowly melting into your embrace. His wide hands smooth warm along your spine. He doesn’t press you anything closer with his touch, just cradles you softly against him.

“Don’t care. I just miss you.”

“Hippopota-miss me?” he jokes and noses into your hair. You smell like home, in both the figurative and literal sense of the word. Equal parts because you spent the night at his place and because your scent strikes something short of nostalgia inside his chest.

You laugh. He can feel the golden sound of it in his ribcage. “Pig time,” you answer.

“How’d you like that one, huh?” he asks, muffled against you.

“It was genius.”

“Right!” he chuckles. “Thought of it outta nowhere and had to tell someone about it.”

Your head shakes against him as a grin blossoms on your lips. He can’t see it from this angle, but he can feel it — in the way your cheek squishes harder against his sternum. “Your brain is so amusing, you know that?”

Steve, knowing that would be an insult coming from Robin, decides to take it as a compliment from you. He presses his petaled mouth to your forehead and lingers there for several moments. “Thank you,” he murmurs after.

The Robin in question turns out to be his savior, neither intentionally nor ungrudgingly.

She’s stacking VHS tapes on the shelves with Keith, both of them crouched to restock the bottom rows. She rises first, bones creaking in protest. “God, I feel like an eighty-year-old, man,” she groans and stretches her aching knees.

Back to full height again, she sees the two of you wrapped in an embrace behind the counter. She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Not because she’s jealous — she’s definitely not jealous — but because the two of you couldn’t last a whole hour not talking. It’s deplorable.

But despite her internalized complaints, she refuses to let Keith catch you fonduing a second time. Right before he stands beside her, she swipes a hand over the top row of tapes. Adventure movies titled L through M tumbled to the ground, a few of them knocking the older boy on his mulleted head.

“Ow!” he winces, nasally and whiny. He cradles the top of his deep brown, only slightly greasy hair and stares daggers at the girl above him. “What the heck was that for?”

Robin shoots him a shaking smile, freckled face blotched pink. “Sorry,” she lilts, voice trembling. “Spasm.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: bug turns one

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ghostflowerhotpotch · 7 months

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THE most obvious animation mistake in ATSV

We went from 3 spikes to 2 spikes.

Want to know something funny? I notice this in my first viewing.

(OP related an anecdote under the cut, nothing really important.)

Okay so fun story, I notice this the first time I watched this movie, like IMMEDIATELY.

I remember vividly about it because when I saw that three spikes I thought "Oof, that should be looking very awkward on the front."

I don't really draw often, but when I was a kid I had a bit of interest in fantasy outfits and such. I still have the most barebones knowledge on clothing and such, yet when I saw those spikes I thought it would dwarf Prowler's head and look awkward.

And just a few frames later- no third spike, it wasn't dwarfing his head anymore.

Full disclosure, I was stupid high when I saw the movie. Don't ask me why I thought it would be a good idea to see this movie high as fuck (let alone in my first viewing,) so I deadass thought I had somehow imagine it.

The fact that when I came out of the theatre and I saw NO ONE saying anything about it (not friends of mine or the internet,) also made me think this.

[Small addendum, because I imagine I may have minors looking at my blog: 1) Don't do anything until you are on whatever age is legal in your country, 2) I am in Canada so everything I consume is regulated and ergo, a lot safer than you can find on the street. 3) If you aren't 100% lucid in a public place, make sure you have people you trust and are sober around you, so nobody can take advantage of your situation.]

Eventually I saw the movie enough times to realize that no, I didn't imagine anything, it was indeed a mistake.

So why I never said anything?

Well...I was kind of protective about the movie.

At the beginning was me seeing on twitter and a bit of tiktok people being assholes about the diversity in the movie, and the idea that someone would look at the mistake I caught and try to be like "See?! The movie isn't that good! Look at this obvious mistake!" made me enraged.

Then, not so long after I started this blog, the truth about how overworked were the animators came to the light, and the idea of bringing up this mistake made me feel even worse because after all these people had been through, trying to be an smart ass to point out a mistake felt wrong. Specially because as I had said before, regardless of how many things I may or not Spot, this movie is amazing and I love it with all my heart; I didn't want to bring unnecessary grief to anyone.

So, why say anything now?

It has been a few months since it came out, I am starting to notice the fandom growing quieter (maybe it will pick up once this movie is out for free in a streaming service, no idea when or which one would be.) And I feel with all these talks about strikes (which the animators would probably do next year, wishing the best of luck for them,) fair pay and such, I think people may be more open to think "this wouldn't had happened if the movie hasn't been as rushed as it is" rather than "this is movie is bad because it has mistakes."

As I said it in other posts, this is a small mistake at the end of the day. Regardless of how you may or may not feel about these inconsistencies, people in general don't notice nor does interrupt their viewing experience.

This is a movie that juggles layers upon layers of themes, plot lines and deep, complicated characters; it does all the important bits than a lot of other movies out there. Which is what matters at the end.

#atsv #atsv viles #random spiderverse fact #miles g morales #earth 42 #miles morales #prowler miles

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itsthesinbin · 9 months

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Petplay kins hc/scenario with tfa Optimus that stem from Sentinel implying/assuming reader is Optimus's human pet and reader is *very* into that idea? I hope this makes sense 😭

BOY YOU HIT ONE OF MY KINKS!!!! I'm gonna do headcanons for now bc I can't figure out how to start an actual scenario for it LMAO. maybe in the future I'll do a one shot

Reblog if you enjoy my content! (comments/tags are also encouraged :3)

Optimus Prime (Transformers: Animated)

You two were used to looks and comments from the anti-bot crowd to begin with. Sentinel being a piece of shit about your relationship wasn't unexpected.

Of course, being called Optimus' weird pet really... struck a nerve with you both, in different ways. Optimus was pissed. You... were instantly thinking of Things.

"You know.... Sentinel is a bitch, but being your pet.... that's a fun idea." "Huh whuh"

Optimus didn't know what to think of the idea... Until you arrived at the base wearing a red and blue collar.

He instantly excused himself from whatever he was doing and led you off to talk. Everyone just assumed you two wanted to spend some time together.

I mean... they were right.

Optimus asked you what was with the collar, and all you did in response was pull out the matching leash. You clipped it on, and handed the other end to him with a grin.

It took him all of 2 minutes to pull you toward him by said leash.

His favorite position is you in his lap, riding him while he has a grip on your leash.

YOUR favorite position is doggy style for the roleplay.

You already had a 'nest' of sorts in his room- a mattress with a lot of blankets and pillows- so sometimes you'll go ahead and strip and wait for him to come in, just lounging on your bed while wearing the collar and leash.

He isn't too into the animalistic aspects of it- ie if you brought in fake ears and a tail plug and actually act like a dog/cat/etc. He more likes the idea of you just being a pretty little thing to dote on and look at.

He does end up getting some clothing for you to wear that he think you'd look nice in. Including underwear and lingerie. You don't ask how he got it, because he looked like he was about to explode handing it to you the first time.

Taken to calling you "human" when out and about, to indicate he's in a Mood. You'll call him "sir" in return. No one's caught on why you two do that. Except Ratchet. He makes a face every time the word "human" comes out of Optimus' mouth.

He prefers the pampering part of this whole petplay scenario to making you service him. Sure, he'll have you suck his spike or do a lot of the work on some days. Mostly, though, he has you lay there and take whatever he wants to give- it's good stress relief to fuck you stupid, after all.

As is getting his mouth between your legs until you're begging for him to get on with it.

He can't help himself. His pet's real cute when they're begging.

Eventually, you end up seeing Sentinel again. You can't help but thank him. He's very confused as to why you're thanking him.

"For some great ideas" is all you'll say, flicking the little heart-shaped tog tag attached to the collar you wear every day.

Sentinel didn't get it til later that night, as he was about to recharge.

He was horrified.

#maccadam #valveplug #transformers #transfomers animated #tfa #optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #headcanons #nsft

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hostilemuppet · 2 months

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Brozone & Acquaintances: Fame and Blunders (The Rise And Fall, The Epic Highs And Lows Of Trolltwt) Part Six

split into a new post bc the last one (parts 1-5, crossposted on ao3 (including intermission)) got too long. as always, cowritten by the evil genius @squirrelpatties

cloud guy: infamous leaktwt contributor, with a specific fixation on branch (and to a lesser extent anyone close to branch, but branch is his #1). he got his hands on several embarrassing baby photos of branch, which even jd was concerned about, because "we never published those ones, they were just for grandmas wallet". some of his most well known leaks were "barb was admitted to rehab" "creek got a BBL" and "smidge had a miscarriage" (the latter overshadowing the other two by a significant margin)

sky toronto: egotistical millionaire who bought twitter and changed the logo into a tie. whenever creek posts a new off-the-wall conspiracy theory to his impressionable audience, sky replies that hes "Looking into this..." (theyre oomfs). many of his experimental party supplies have killed a disgusting amount of animal test subjects but that doesnt mean hes not willing to test on trolls. branch almost dies when hes hit by someones neuro-mind-link party popper.

smidge vs barbtwt: several influential barbtwt members with a tie to a certain infamous leaker who shall not be named (they paid him. he didnt need the money he just likes messing with people) get their hands on smidges medical records, initially to prove shes trans (shes not) but they instead learn about her miscarriage. instead of backing off, showing her sympathy and feeling guilty about this disgusting breach of privacy, they coordinate to make this public knowledge the next time smidges name trends. twitter is divided into "smidgetwt supporting her wholeheartedly through this horrible situation" "smidge antis who think 'she had it coming'" and "barbtwt happy that smidge is suffering". this sparks a debate on the ethics of trolls smoking while with eggs, with pro-egg-smokers saying its their body their choice and anti-egg-smokers saying "are you out of your damn mind". this is how smidge reveals she is simultaneously pro-egg-smoking and pro-life. its a bloodbath. she drops off the face of the internet never to be seen again........ unless 🤔

cloud guy (part 2): after years of providing the public service of "making branchs life miserable", cloud guys twitter account (and IP) is sadly permabanned when poppy demands sky toronto take action the third time branch is doxxed. sky toronto originally didnt care but after a solid week of her pestering him, he gave up, but only because he forgot to take "no doxxing" out of troll twitters TOS, and the backlash would be worse than hes willing to deal with right now. sleep well, soldier 🫡.

dante vs poppy: dante is branchs stalker. routinely stakes out by branchs pod to take photos of him for his shrine. its not a sex thing but whatever it is is way weirder than a sex thing. branch has moved pods 3 times but dante always manages to find him. perhaps he has friends in high places? regardless of the "how", the "what" is poppy wants him fucking Gonezo. unfortunately dante, as an ambassador for classical trolls, is not under poppys jurisdiction of pop trolls. she decides the only way to deal with the "rando stalking my partner" situation is to catch him with one of branchs traps. except, dante can fly, so rope traps arent effective and poppy needs to get creative and potentially very violent. she asks branch if he still has those spikes she begged him to take down. he does but he repurposed them as hat racks. now he needs to find somewhere else to put his hats!

gus tumbleweed: lowtiergod-esque fighting game streamer whos known for yelling and screaming at his opponents when he loses. he goes into long, drawn out, nonsensical similes and metaphors to describe how much he wants the player who beat him to kill themself or otherwise die painfully

tiny (in game chat): git rekt f4gg0t gus (on mic): someone outta hog tie ya and hang ya up in the middle o town like a pinata caught sleezin with the mayors daughter tiny (in game chat): bro

is invited to take part in a tournament for charity during pride month. when beaten by a gay guy he regresses to violently homophobic hatespeach. youd think thisd be a career ender but its amazing what "pretending to be attracted to your fellow straight male friends" can fix! he makes a halfhearted comment about thinking one of his streamer friends is handsome and/or has a nice ass and everything is back to normal, and he faces zero consequences for his actions.

holly darlin: fellow twitch streamer, although in different circles to gus tumbleweed. she is undefeated at chess but otherwise unremarkable, yet because shes a woman everyone hates her. after a year or two or constant hate she decides "fuck it" and commits to selling snake oil. the hell are they gonna do? call her a whore? shes already got every variation and misspelling caught in autofilter, buddy. she peddles for the same company that supplies the diet pills satin and chenille hype up on their podcast. its how she and satin meet. theyre lesbians now. it makes the hate holly gets SOOOOOO much worse but satins used to it so shes unaffected. chenille gets no say in the matter

synth: third and final twitch streamer (...so far). the gay guy who beat gus in a tournament for charity and was met with violent hatespeach. beforehand was one of the smaller creators in the tournament but afterward he blew up a lot more. he does a lot of charity streams, mostly for the benefit of disabled children, out of the goodness of his heart and NOT the glory like some OTHER trolls mentioned two paragraphs previous. hes just a good guy! also almost had a thing with branch when they were both confused about each others identities.

synth: today marks a year since i almost kissed a very attractive twunk in pop village and then found out he was a lesbian who thought i was a lesbian minuet: gay culture

broppy: theyre doing great! absolutely NO problems whatsoever! im sure it will last forever!

#text #twitter drama au

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an-autistic-with-personhood · 5 months

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PLEASE tell me about your littlest pet shop town that you made with your sister omg i’m on the edge of my seat

Oh my god oh my god ok

So we used to play with them with a semi-normal town setup, with the animals as pretty normal modern townsfolk. Our town had a king (as you do when you're eight years old), most of the animals had families, and the many, many children left over stayed in an orphanage run by a Miss Hannigan from Annie-esque cat. I'll just list the ways it devolved from there. Relevant quotes attached.

The dog king got divorced every time we found a prettier dog wife for him (his first wife Daisy was an absolute bitch)

Jessica the orphanage caretaker hates kids and only works there because she's serving community service. We never explored what got her there.

Whenever we got new animals, we'd welcome them to town with a hazing-but-not-really-hazing ceremony (They'd very menacingly tell them they'd give them a "Nice. Warm. Welcome." But then it'd be the most wholesome cutesy song)

During our NCIS phase, we killed off a cat so we could do a murder investigation episode. She dangled from a makeshift noose in the corner for a few years before we brought her back

Some of the children from the orphanage ran away to live in the dump. They sell spiked lemonade. "The feral trash children spiked the lemonade!"

Somewhere down the line, a campsite went up with a pair of manipulative elephants hoarding the biggest campfire for themselves

The cat that ran the orphanage (Jessica) divorced her husband, and he got a redemption arc (and a bad haircut) out of it. I think one of the things that solidified his decision was when she spent the children's food money on a spa day. "Chad, I NEED this!!"

Accidental Krampus Christmas Special. "Saaanta's waaatching..."

Horror Christmas Special with children-eating snow bunnies. "🎵Frosty the Snow Bunny🎵 is gonna eat you now!"

Strained marriage between a husky and her idiot golden retriever husband (he loved her so much but he was just such a himbo that she sometimes couldn't take it)

Several character deaths after our family dogs chewed on the toys

I came home once to find my sister and cousin had been basically playing Survivor. Yet another cat was hanging from the bannister by a noose

Himbo golden retriever saw a lady bug (Carlos) for the first time and dubbed him the "chosen one", essentially starting a cult. Carlos was just the adopted son of the local cat polycule, but ce la vie

We have an au fanfiction somewhere of the himbo entering the town for the first time. au town was named Larpeville, pronounced "larpay villay". He met a vegan lion named Leoche (the "che" was silent) and nearly crashed a scooter into the town's new leaders. "*Sister making 'putputput' motor noises* *screaming*"

Triplet horse sisters (Sandy, Brownie, and Snowy) fell in love with a zebra, but all took different strategies to win his heart. Sandy took a pretty normal "get to know you" route. Snowy was the blondest of blondes and just blurted whatever. Brownie went full stalker. "My name is Snowy, but my friends call me Tanya"

The zebra befriended the orphans and talked to them on his morning runs. Pretty normal, but I had to mention my sister's genius improv when she blurted out Carlos's line, "I don't live here!!!"

The last time we played was exactly a year ago. My sister was 25, I was 24, and our cousin was 21. We made a playboy kink mansion. The himbo and his wife were trying out a sex therapist and she suggested they explore said playboy mansion.

Co-signed by my sister and my cousin - they just read the post and added some ridiculousness I'd forgotten

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k8aclysm · 5 months

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I'm mad about Jynx again (The Pokémon)

Okay so most people who have even been residually exposed to the Pokémon franchise are familiar with Jynx, the Psychic/Ice type Pokémon introduced in the first generation. Either for the controversies early on, or just because it's a good example of a strange looking design. Due to the reasons I just stated, and/or due to the fact that it's an ice type - a type typically seldom seen until very late game in most entries - I'm willing to bet most of you have never bothered to use one, either. To be fair to it, It's no as awful as it looks! It's got paper-thin physical defense, but decent speed and pretty good special attack that pair perfectly with it's typing! It's an interesting pick if you're looking for a run with mons you've never used before... But this isn't a post about convincing you to use Jynx, I'm here to rant about an aspect of it's design that has driven me completely fucking nuts for the past decade or more.

Looking at the sprites for Jynx in the first three generations, everything looks as you'd expect. Exactly how it looks in the anime, as well as in the manga and other spinoff media.

The problem begins to show itself when we reach the sprites from generation 4.

You see that? You see those strange.... tendrils coming off the dress? Just below the arms? If you wanted to argue in good faith, you could say that this is simply a sprite that poorly communicates depth in the skirt... But then we arrive at generation 5 - where the sprites now have animations and more inherent depth. Generation 5 is where many believe gamefreak had mastered the spriting game and are considered the final sendoff for the sprite style in the franchise.

It's those GOD DAMN TENDRILS. This time, it's very clear that they're not just miscommunicated depth on the skirt and are now actual, un-questionably, tendrils of some sort that jut out of the skirt or create some sort of odd "spike". This sprite is what I consider to be the beginning of what I like to call the "Jynx miscommunication", where -someone, somewhere down the production line - completely misunderstood the sprite and somehow managed to canonize one of the most bizarre design choices I've ever seen. Yeah, I said "Canonize", and I'm not joking. Because it actually happened. Every appearance of Jynx in the 3d games have featured this interpretation of Jynx's dress. ALL OF THEM. Here's an example; pictured below is the model rip from generation 6 and 7; the 3DS games.

Somehow it's become even MORE spikey; as if it's body underneath the skirt has MASSIVE spikes jutting out on each side; the dress isn't draped over it like something implied to be cloth-like in behavior should; it almost reminds me of what the barbs on Corsola look like.

Anyway, my point is mostly made now, but just to drive it home once more... To really just illustrate how deeply ingrained this design "choice" is... I need to explain that every Pokemon in existence was given brand new artwork for the Pokemon transfer service - Pokemon Home. In pretty much every medium outside of the games, Jynx was never depicted to have these weird spikes, so surely they'd refer to previous artwork of Jynx when making the illustration for it in pokemon home, right...? RIGHT...?

WRONG. Jynx officially has the spikes in it's most recent artwork, it's models, AND it's Gen 4 remake menu "sprite". The most infuriating part about this for me, though is that the Sword/Shield menu sprite Doesn't include the spikes at all. Like holy shit it's model in sword and shield even HAVE the spikes like all the others do! RAAAAAHGHGHGnfjnv....

This situation is just so uniquely fascinating to me because Pokemon is a franchise that - at least contemporarily - is known for it's extremely particular design guidelines and squeaky clean, on-model consistency when it comes to the Pokémon designs. I refuse to believe this was ever an intended design choice for Jynx and that gamefreak just don't think anyone gives enough of a fuck about Jynx to ever notice this. Hell, maybe they didn't notice it themselves. Why this happened is likely never going to be brought to light, but at the very least, Jynx isn't in gen 9 so I don't have to look at it at all! ... for now...

Anyway, I hope this post has enlightened you and made you privy to something that makes an already unpopular Pokémon even more unpopular. I'm usually never one to make elaborate posts like this but this piece of bizarre trivia pisses me off so much I just HAD to make a post about it. Send all of your complaints to gamefreak, thanks.

#pokemon #jynx #my posts

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zoestorm · 1 year

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I honestly wonder if the doctors and nurses in the city where the Animorphs live ever ask themselves what's up with the sudden spike in animal attacks.

Seriously like, "Wait, another guy who's got his eyes scratched out by a hawk? That's like the fifth one this week! And what's with all the dudes mauled by tigers or savaged by a bear or bitten by a wolf or punched by a gorilla?"

And what about other services? Are they selling Punched By A Gorilla insurance in that city now?

#animorphs #2 PM questions #this is how my brain works #unfortunately

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whump-me · 6 months

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Conquest, Chapter 13: Serving the Enemy

Chapter 13 of Conquest, a novel-length fantasy whump story about a timid royal clerk captured by the disgraced prince who needs their help to rule their newly conquered country. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: fantasy setting, nonbinary whumpee, male whumper, fearful whumpee, cooperative whumpee, royal whumper, emotional whump, fantasy politics

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Miranelis

Miranelis had little occasion to travel outside the capital—or, indeed, outside the palace itself. Except for those clerks specifically trained for foreign work, the palace clerks were frequently needed within the walls of the palace, and very infrequently outside them.

That had always suited Miranelis well enough. They had always been a homebody at heart. It had taken the bribe of a gold coin from their father—and the promise of a night out in the barn without supper if they lost their nerve—for them to take the palace service exam in the first place. Coming to the palace had been terrifying at first, but once they had settled in, it had quickly become their home. And once it was their home, they saw little reason to ever leave it. Long days and longer nights spent working in the same cramped office, hunched over a small desk, suited their temperament extraordinarily well.

But it did mean that they often forgot just how breathtaking the countryside was. The palace courtyard was a beautiful taste of nature, with each tree chosen not only for the taste of its fruit but also the aesthetics of its blossoms, and every bit of vegetation placed for maximum visual appeal. But it was nothing compared to the unplanned natural beauty of the rolling hills beyond the streets of the capital. The mountains rose like iron spikes in the distance, but in the foreground, the hills were soft and green, their curves as gentle as the touch of a friendly hand. Patches of wild flowers sprang up in unexpected places, small bursts of color that drew the eye and brought an inevitable smile to Miranelis’s face. At all times of day, the sun shone off the softly waving grass, turning its green stalks gold. Here and there, trees rustled their soft music as they spread their leaves to welcome the touch of the light.

Those patches of wildflowers managed to bring a smile to Miranelis’s face even now.

Miranelis rode beside Kezul in a grand contraption pulled by four courses. Like a merchant’s cart, it was built of wood, but this was a dark, fragrant wood that Miranelis had never seen—or smelled—before. And it bore as little resemblance to the merchants’ carts that used to roll through their old village as their childhood home did to the palace. The wood was polished to a smooth shine, and somehow infused with some dark and fruity scent that mingled with the smell of the wood itself. It was hung with lush furs of pure white, which were tied back from the sides like curtains to afford them a glimpse of the view. The wooden benches under them were draped with still more fur, soft and smooth and as long as his little finger. It came from no animal they had ever encountered in their lifetime.

Two Wolves sat ahead, and two behind. In the hours since they had left the ruins of the capital, the Wolves’ hands had never once drifted from their weapons. Miranelis didn’t know if they meant to defend Kezul against a rebellious populace, or against Miranelis themselves. If the former, they had nothing to worry about. In all the time they had been riding, Miranelis hadn’t seen a sign of a single other soul. Either everyone had disappeared into the nearest hiding place when they had heard the clatter of the wheels approach, or… well, Miranelis was just going to hope it was that first explanation.

And if the Wolves were worried about Miranelis trying something, they had nothing to worry about on that front, either. Miranelis had had their chance. They had even taken it at the last moment. They had failed. They knew, somehow, that they would never work up the courage to try again.

“The one problem with being the son of the Unmaker,” Kezul grumbled—to Miranelis or to himself, Miranelis wasn’t sure which—”is that I’m never allowed to ride. Ride properly, I mean—on horseback. Not unless speed is a priority.”

It seemed an odd thing to complain about, when they had just passed through the burn-out husk of Danelor’s capital only a couple of hours previous. Surely even Kezul was aware of the pettiness of his complaint. But then, if he cared that much for Danelor’s people, they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place, would they? Miranelis supposed they should be grateful that Kezul cared enough—whatever his reasons—to listen to Miranelis’s advice at all.

So they swallowed back what they wanted to say, and instead only asked, “Can’t you do anything you want?”

Kezul let out a sharp laugh at that. “Children ride. But after they’re grown, they’re carried in contraptions like this one, if they have the money and status to have someone drive them. It’s impractical, if you ask me—something large and unwieldy like this is a death trap on the steep mountain passes. But that’s how it’s done. Only warriors ride. And I…” He paused, his face twisting strangely. “I’m no warrior. Not anymore.”

There was a story there, Miranelis assumed, but they weren’t sure how to ask for it, or even if they wanted to. What did they care about whatever pain had brought that expression to Kezul’s face? Whatever it was, it was less pain than their new ruler deserved.

Then they rose to the top of a hill and went around a slight curve, and the questions fled Miranelis’s mind.

The countryside in front of was no longer beautiful. Once, there had been a small village here. Miranelis couldn’t have said what it had been called, or who had lived here. If they had ever passed this way, the place had been unremarkable enough that it hadn’t lodged in their memory. In any case, it didn’t matter now. The village was gone. Nothing was left but charred grass, the skeletons of houses, a blackened and half-melted skull lying beside the road. The smell of burning still hung over the place, even though the fire was long past. The dead grass crunched lightly under the carriage wheels.

Miranelis tried not to gag on the smell—or choke too hard on the clarity it brought them. For a little while there, they had allowed themselves a small escape from their situation. They had stared through the fur curtains and looked out at the sight of their home, as beautiful as it ever was. They had allowed themselves to pretend they were on some sort of pleasure journey, as absurd as that thought seemed.

It had felt harmless.

But now the reality closed in on them once again. The smell of the furs and the heat they trapped in the carriage turned to a weight pressing in on Miranelis’s face, suffocating them.

This was no pleasure journey, and although the hills looked the same as they ever had, Danelor was not the same. Danelor was in ruins, its people were dead or starving, and what was Miranelis doing? Riding in luxury with the enemy conqueror, discussing the man’s childhood and his petty grievances. Considering asking him about his painful past, as if the present didn’t hold more than enough pain to go around.

Miranelis made the rest of the trip in silence, even after they left the burned village behind and passed into pure green countryside once again. The flowers no longer brought a smile to their face. Kezul must have sensed a shift in their mood, because he didn’t try to strike up a conversation again.

It was past noon when they emerged onto a wide gravel road. The few houses that lined the road were untouched. If anyone remained alive inside, they had the good sense to keep their doors shut and their curtains drawn as Kezul rode by.

The house was built of cream-colored stone, with windows everywhere the builders had been able to fit them. It sprawled across the green expanse like a lazy animal lying down in safety to dream. Turrets and balconies jutted out everywhere like unnecessary calligraphic flourishes.

A sea of pink and white flowers lined the gravel path that led up to the front door. A sweet scent wafted up from the flowers, strong enough to smell even from the carriage. A stand of white-leafed trees near the front door offered a patch of shade. Amidst the greenery, a small fountain burbled.

As the carriage came to a halt in front of the lavish estate, Kezul at last turned to Miranelis. His movements held enough urgency to pull Miranelis’s attention to him despite himself. “For your sake,” he said in a low voice, “I hope your advice holds up.”

At that, one of the Wolves up front made a wordless noise—of skepticism or contempt, perhaps some mix between the two. He nudged the Wolf next to him.

Kezul went rigid. “Do you have something to say?” he asked, the danger in his voice making Miranelis cringe back out of reflex, even though it they knew it wasn’t directed at them.

The Wolves said nothing. Miranelis heard the first one swallow.

“Good,” Kezul said after a moment, his voice still vibrating with nerves. “Keep it that way.”

Miranelis studied the lines of Kezul’s face. Even though they hated the thought that they were getting to know this man, they couldn’t deny that his moods were getting easier to read. And right now, Kezul was… he was nervous. Perhaps more than nervous. Possibly closer to terrified—if that were a word one could plausibly apply to a man like this one, one more suited to causing terror than feeling it.

Kezul watched Miranelis through narrowed eyes, clearly waiting for an answer. As if there was anything Miranelis could say beyond the advice they had already given. “I can’t promise you’ll get a good reception,” they said at last, “but it’s certainly worth taking the chance.”

“There are a lot of doors that could open to you with the noble houses on your side,” said Miranelis. “And if one comes around to your side, the others may follow.”

“May follow,” Kezul echoed, his scorn doing nothing to cover his nerves. “And that’s assuming we get one on our side in the first place.”

“It’s worth it to try,” said Miranelis. “They have diplomatic ties you won’t find anywhere else, as well as access to resources.”

“And why shouldn’t we simply take their resources?”

“Social resources,” Miranelis clarified. “Which is what you need right now.”

“What we need is food.”

“What you need is alliances,” Miranelis said, falling into the comfortable rhythm of their now-familiar talk. It was almost enough to drive the scent of the burned village from their nose—almost. “Both inside Danelor and outside it. The noble houses can give you both.”

“You haven’t yet given me an adequate explanation as to why they’ll be willing to listen to me.”

Actually, Miranelis had done just that, and several times. They settled in to explain again. “They’ve heard stories about the fearsome Vorhullin the Unmaker and his army of Wolves,” Miranelis said. “And so far, your Wolves have done more than enough to prove the stories true. The noble houses will loathe you and fear you in equal measure. Now is the time to show them something different, and as soon as possible. Express regrets for what your father’s army has done—your father’s, not yours. That’s a very real distinction, from what I understand, and it’s one you can use to your advantage. You see? Technicalities matter.”

They offered Kezul a tentative, appeasing smile

Kezul did not return the expression. “I will not debase myself by apologizing for conquering them,” he said, not for the first time.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Miranelis said, also not for the first time. “Show that you’re willing to work with them. Express commitment to a different form of rule than your father prefers. The fact that you’re willing to come yourself, instead of sending your Wolves, will send a powerful message. The more humility you can show, the stronger that message will be.” They watched Kezul as they spoke, wondering if humility was something the other man was remotely capable of.

Possibly not, since this was hardly the first time they’d had this conversation. These ideas were proving extraordinarily difficult to get through Kezul’s head. Miranelis wasn’t even sure why they were here, when Kezul seemed to have difficulty understanding the purpose of this visit in the first place.

A second later, of course, they answered their own question. They were here because Miranelis’s choices were to provide advice or be abandoned to the mercy of Kezul’s Wolves again, and this was the advice they had to offer. Of course, if it went badly, Kezul would surely not blame his own lack of understanding. But Miranelis preferred not to think that far ahead.

Miranelis swallowed and continued. “There’s no way to know whether they’ll be receptive to your overtures, of course.” Privately, Miranelis thought the answer was probably not, but a slight chance was better than none. Especially when Miranelis’s own survival was attached to that success. “No matter how much you may dislike this form of diplomacy, I would urge you to remember that you need what they have to offer.”

“And if this… Parjon… is not receptive, there are twelve other noble houses to try,” Kezul said with a nod.

“Fourteen,” Miranelis explained patiently, as the now-common nervous knot returned to their stomach. “And if Perajeon doesn’t like what you have to say, it will be considerably harder to win over the others. His opinion holds a lot of sway. But yes, there are still other options.”

“If he isn’t receptive,” said Kezul, “I’ll simply use him as an example to show the others the consequences of not working with me.”

The knots in Miranelis’s stomach grew. “That is, perhaps, not the most useful form of diplomacy in this situation,” they said, as delicately as they could. “Let’s me handle the introductions when we go inside. I’ll know what to say.” Perhaps they could stop these negotiations from starting on the wrong foot from the first word.

Kezul tensed at that, and shot a look at his Wolves for reasons Miranelis didn’t understand. “You do not speak for me,” he said, his voice suddenly harsh enough to make Miranelis’s hands clench at their sides. “You are a prisoner, advising me at my pleasure. I have no desire to give these people the wrong impression.”

What impression? That Kezul was listening to someone who knew what they were doing? Someone with connections to the royal palace? Someone who knew something about Danelor aside from how to set it ablaze? But from Kezul’s sudden tension, he had the perception that this would be a terrible time to voice those thoughts aloud.

The door to the house opened, and a servant stepped out. No doubt he had been drawn by the sound of the wheels, or the inpatient snorts and clumps of the horses waiting in the drive. He stopped short at the sight of the carriage, and squinted at it. Miranelis could see the moment when he figured out its origin—or guessed it, at least. Maybe he saw the Wolves up front, in their distinctive furs. Maybe he only took in the foreign design and made an astute guess. Either way, his face turned white as purest mountain snow.

“Let me handle this,” Miranelis said, quietly but urgently. “The sight of me will reassure him.” They were wearing the proper clothes of a royal clerk again. Not their own—these were cut too long, and too loose around the middle, and Miranelis didn’t want to think too hard about whose they might have been before. But the fit didn’t matter; what mattered was that they were a signifier of a royal clerk, and would confer an air of legitimacy to this endeavor. Especially if theirs was the first face the servant saw.

If, on the other hand, his first sight was of the Wolves…

The two Wolves in front sprang out of the carriage, one to either side. In the back, Miranelis heard a rustling as the two remaining Wolves readied their weapons.

“Please, Kezul,” Miranelis whispered, seeing the two Wolves reach for their swords as they advanced on the servant, whose eyes had gone as wide as an owl’s. “Please, you know what’s at stake.” If this began with violence, there would be no salvaging it. Miranelis could already see the scene as it would play out: the death of the servant, and perhaps retaliation from the household—they were bound to have at least a handful of guards to protect against theft. Then the flames, the smell of smoke in Miranelis’s lungs. More dry brown grass where lush green had been. The lavish estate transformed into another charred skeleton stretching toward the sky. More blackened skulls littering the ground.

And almost no chance of winning over the remainder of the noble houses, once they heard what had happened here. Their resources would remain closed to Kezul forever—and thus to Miranelis. Danelor would stay in its isolation, and it would starve.

For an endless moment, Kezul stared out at the house, refusing to so much as look Miranelis in the eye. Then he gave a short, sharp nod. “Go,” he said, although he sounded furious at the prospect. “But if you try to take this as an opportunity to escape, I’ll burn this place to the ground.”

The anger in Kezul’s voice made Miranelis quail, especially since they didn’t know precisely what they had done to cause it. But there was no time to linger on the mystery of the conqueror’s feelings. Miranelis jumped from the carriage, adjusted their shawl to hang smoothly over their tunic, then hurried toward the door and the waiting servant. They walked as fast as their legs would carry them. They knew running was a breach of propriety that would signal they were too emotional for a proper negotiation—although a small, distant corner of their mind marveled that they were concerned about such things now. But they were also aware of what would happen if the Wolves reached the door before they did. Or if the Wolves saw them coming, and mistook their haste for an escape attempt.

It turned out they didn’t need to have bothered about the latter. Kezul called out for the Wolves to stop. For a long moment, it looked as if they were considering not listening. Especially when they caught sight of Miranelis, and eyed them like they were a fat rabbit and the Wolves were a pair of hungry foxes. But in the end, they turned and went back the way they came, where they positioned themselves in front of the carriage in a guarding position.

The servant’s face had gone a shade paler at the sound of Kezul’s voice. If the servant didn’t know Kezul’s face, he at least knew what the conquerors’ language sounded like. Miranelis increased their pace still further, coming to a panting halt in front of the servant.

Their breath raced out of them in a sound altogether too close to a sob to be proper for the start of a delicate negotiation. When they had helped to plan this, they had been too preoccupied with the potential success or failure of the endeavor to give much thought to their personal feelings—beyond, of course, the will to survive. But now, looking at the servant’s hair, which wasn’t tangled around his face but trimmed short around his hairline… at his clothing, not heavy and dismal but light and colorful drapes of fabric… at his face, not twisted in hostility, but full of simple confusion and an undertone of panic as he looked at Miranelis with the beginnings of a question on his lips…

Miranelis had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of their own people. To stand before someone who wouldn’t have the, killed as soon as it suited their needs.

They wallowed hard and schooled their face into the practiced mask of neutrality. They had gotten out of the habit lately. It was difficult to keep their emotions off their face when so often they were in the grip of blind terror. And the Wolves wore their feelings so plainly that Miranelis had almost begun to forget it wasn’t normal. Now, though… now they couldn’t afford to forget. Any sign that they could not be trusted to handle such a sensitive matter as this one, and this would end before it began, no matter how well Kezul restrained himself and his Wolves. And showing one’s feelings on one’s face made one a child—and no one would trust a child with any sort of diplomacy.

Let alone diplomacy as fraught as this.

As they smoothed the emotion from their face, the servant followed suit, although the servant’s eyes were still noticeably wide as they tracked the movements of the Wolves. Miranelis had to resist the urge to look over their shoulder toward the Wolves, to see what they were doing, how close they were to storming in and ruining everything.

In Miranelis’s mind, they saw flames.

Miranelis took a steadying breath. “I am grateful for the hospitality of Perajeon na Edel-Nys, head of the noble house of Edel-Nys, friend to all who grace his threshold,” they said, and marveled at the fact that their voice didn’t shake the slightest bit. Perhaps their time in captivity had not reduced them to a fully childlike state after all. “As one sworn to the service of the throne of Danelor, I require an hour of my gracious host’s time.” They paused. “Most urgently require.”

It felt strange, invoking the throne as if the queen had sent them, when there was no queen to send them anywhere anymore. But that wording would let the servant and his master know he wasn’t here on his own business, but that of the throne. And… well, it wasn’t exactly a lie, was it? This was the throne’s business. As with the agreement with Faraille, the only difference was who sat on that throne.

Right. A small difference, that. Miranelis swallowed down a burst of hysterical laughter that would have ruined this as surely as a Wolf’s sword. They might forgive a show of emotion from Kezul—at least once Miranelis prepared the way properly—but not from someone who knew better.

The servant glanced over Miranelis’s shoulder once again at the carriage. But he nodded. Without the proper words of response, he turned and hurried away into the house, as quickly as he could go without betraying his fear by the quickness of his steps.

Miranelis spent a long moment standing alone on the steps, wondering if the servant would ever come back with his master, or whether the entire household was fleeing out the back as Miranelis waited. Both options seemed equally likely. A moment later, though, the door opened again. The servant came back, more composed this time. Behind him came a corpulent man, his skin sun-bronzed, his face creased with the ghosts of laugh lines. He wasn’t laughing now. His expression was impassive, but the skin around his eyes creased in telltale worry as he looked at Miranelis.

No—as he looked past Miranelis.

At first, Miranelis thought he was just studying the carriage. Then Miranelis heard the footsteps. They looked over their shoulder to see Kezul striding toward them.

---

Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @halloiambored @whump-in-the-closet @whump-cravings @sunshiline-writes @annablogsposts @whither-wander-whump @seaweed-is-cool @bloodinkandashes @sonder35 @cakeinthevoid

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#whump #whump writing #whump story #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Conquest #fantasy whump #royal whump #nonbinary whumpee

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welcome-to-roomba-fazbender · 5 months

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Happy December, once more!

"You know the damn deal by now, it's December so I've got holiday themed food items untill, eh let's say about January 10th that will be the final day you can order these items!"

1: A Holiday Chatter Phone Christmas Themed Cup (45.50$)

Just as described it's an exact replica of a chatter phone but it has see-through eyes and it's Christmas themed simply stick a straw into the Santa hat and enjoy 20$ worth of drinks at roomba fazbender's completely free after purchase!

2: Bedlam's Christmas Pudding (10$)

Stolen from the fridge of bedlam the chaos god, Charlie's good old friend, he just keeps making more and is confused why it keeps going missing having no idea charlie has put it on his menu.

He dosen't even think it's Charlie cause Charlie won't eat real food.

3: Piurish (300$)

It's a pig stuffed with two turkey's and the two turkey's are stuffed with two largemouth bass perfect for a large family to enjoy their Christmas dinner! or lonely people who want enough food to last them a few weeks.

4: Robert's Steak Fries (15.35$)

It's a recipe for fries made of acutal steak, aka it's just raw piece's of steak cut up into the shape of fries ... no we won't cook it you can feed it to your pets or service animals if you want it's unseasoned too.

5: Chuck's Toy-tastic Bubble Pot Pie (6$ per slice)

It's a rhubarb cream pie made by chuck with supervision by Roomba Renaldo, Chuck wanted to help make something himself this year Charlie begrudgingly said yes.

Half the money from each purchase will go back to Chuck. (it will likely be eaten by him too)

6: Peppermint Tea (3.00$)

It's litearly just a 2 liter bottle of tea.

7: Roomba Fazbenders™ Sugar Cookies (12.00$)

It's a container of sugar cookies designed after the roombas, the walrus and charlie also his friends.

8: Smalahove (25.50$)

Smalahove is a Western Norwegian traditional dish it's basically a cooked sheep's head.

9: Christmas Eggs (6.99$)

A dozen deviled eggs with either green or red yolks.

(The green ones are the vegetarian option filled with string beans.)

(The red ones are filled with shrimp chunks.)

10: Chocolate Lava Candy Cane Infused Cake (15$)

Just as advertised it's a chocolate lava cake but with candy cane chunks inside it.

11: Chaos Tacos ($3.99)

It's a plate of 4 tacos, all four have different types of meat every order of this will always have different meats and they also each come with different cheese too.

12: Glass Replica of Abel Brannigan's Phone Head. (10.25$)

All phone guys get a 5$ discount on this item, feel the pleasure of breaking this stupid bastard's head, throw it against the wall, smash it with a hammer, stomp it with your feet do whatever! Get out your anger who's the reason phone guys exist.

Bonus Items!

Due to poplar demand a few items from the previous Christmas menu's!

13: Hot Walrus Chocolate (2.00$)

It’s hot chocolate but made with walrus milk! (Now Sliverjack Free!)

14: Spiked Cranberry Sause (6:25$)

It’s cranberry sause made with cranberry’s and Smirnoff Ice Raspberry Flavored Vodka

15: Blood Nog (1.99$)

It’s Eggnog with Pigs Blood! Charlie watched the original Carrie movie and decided why not make a holiday drink based on it?

16: Christmas Water (10.00$)

It’s water imported from the north poll with a sticker saying “Santa's Bath Water.” With a tiny floating Santa toy inside.

#charlie the phone guy #charlie the cursed phone guy #dsaf #dayshift at freddy's #classic verse #happy holidays #christmas menu items #only for a limited time!#christmas 2023

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adobe-outdesign · 1 year

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Thoughts on Brute Bonnet and Iron Hands?

On a scale of "bland, boring Violet paradox" (Virizion, Hydreigon, etc.) to "actually creative Violet paradox" (Iron Valiant, Miraidon, etc.), I'd say Iron Hands is right in the middle. It's different enough from Hariyama to have some flair to it, but ultimately is still somewhat underwhelming.

Visually, I like the detached hands a lot. It makes sense for Hariyama's design and adds a cool bit of functionality that, unlike some other future paradoxes, is actually visible in the design itself and not just the animations. Adding the LED "pads" on the underside helps draw attention to them with the bright color, and the connecting spots are a nice touch.

In addition, it has a few other changes from Hariyama. The colors have been reduced down from orange, yellow, cream, and blue to just grey, yellow, and blue, which simplifies the palette a bit. The marking on the stomach goes down onto the legs, and the blue on the head is now a solid diamond shape instead a V shape like the original. The ears are also now a tube shape.

None of these changes are bad, but I do think many of them are arbitrary: the grey extending onto the legs is too low-contrast and makes the middle bar mostly pointless, and the blue on the head causes it to lose Hariyama's chonmage (sumo) hairstyle. I'd rather have arbitrary changes than it being too similar, granted, but I do wonder if there was more room to explore here beyond just the hands.

For example, sumo is an ancient form of wrestling—things like Hariyama's belt reference the sumo tradition of wearing traditional Japanese clothing, for example. Rather than just making elements like the belt robotic, I feel like the traditional sumo elements could have been lost (similar to how the topknot is now gone) to reflect more modern forms of wrestling. As is, the hands and design changes make it different enough; it just could've been pushed a little more.

Brute Bonnet is described as a "dinosaur crossed with a mushroom", though honestly, I barely see any dinosaur elements in it save for the four legs and tail. Regardless, it does have one main thematic element; the addition of prehistoric plant matter around its cap to reflect its grass typing. This doesn't have a lot to do with Amoonguss' original Pokeball theme, but it does at least give it something that immediately differentiates it from the original.

It also has a few other changes; the cap on the head is flatter and has spikes, the "beak" is now jagged, and it has colored rings under its eyes. All of this serves to further distance it from Amoonguss, and works to give it a more feral look.

Visually, I don't have any real issues with it; only that I feel like two legs might've made more sense than four, given that the extra pair doesn't add much to the design.

However, similar to Iron Hands, I do wonder if the concept could've been pushed more. Foongus' Scarlet 'dex entry implies pokeballs were based on it instead of the other way around, but I still wonder if the mimicry idea could've been pushed more. Patterns and colors that are appealing to other Pokemon could take hundreds of thousands of years to evolve; maybe you could see the start of the pattern on Brute Bonnet, but it's not as perfect as it is in the modern day. Or perhaps it resembles an older kind of Pokeball, like how the Hisuian Voltorb line works. Not a big deal as the design we got is still perfectly good; just something to think about.

Overall, both of these Pokemon are decent, though I wouldn't call either of them top of their class. Iron Hands is different enough from Hariyama, but could've been pushed even further; Brute Bonnet is serviceable but could've explored its theme more. Between the two, Brute Bonnet is better, but both are perfectly fine.

#iron hands #brute bonnet #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon reviews

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galactigoos · 1 year

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What Happened Last Night Pt.3 - Jack Russell x Reader

Summary: Lycanthropy, much like periods, turn out to be a multi-day monthly annoyance.

Warnings: Some injury, being grumpy, retail jobs (the horror!), and only a little bit of Jack. :( Sorry. You both need space after you called him a monster. You did, not me, don’t blame me.

Word Count: ~1.7k

A/N: lol hi. its been months and idk if anyone cares about this anymore other than the sweet souls who pushed me to publish another chapter. I would like to write more. I’m fairly certain this is going to be less than ten parts total, and that seems like something I can finish.

In other news im fucking obsessed with Red Dead Redemption II so lowkey might write something for that once this is over.

Oh also I changed my url from @ / ABitGryffindorky to @galactigoos. I wanted to make my AO3 and tumblr match, make them different than my other socials so fanfic doesn’t come up when a job searches me, and JKRowling is a terf bitch. Oh and I had a stalker so thats really what prompted the change lol.

Cross-posted on AO3, as always.

Part 1, Part 2

Perhaps you hadn’t really thought through this whole running away thing. It only took about two minutes for your broken ankle to really catch up to you. Pain radiated through your ankle, spiking with every step, no matter how light it was.

But you wouldn’t go back. Not to him. So you soldiered on, picking up a large stick to serve as a cane along the way. By sheer luck, you successfully wandered back to your house.

Your poor house. The one-story little shack had its back door ripped off the hinges. A few of your dining chairs had given their lives in service of your moon-induced freakout last night. Your bedroom door had slammed against the wall so forcefully the knob was stuck in the drywall.

Leaving most of the carnage for a better day, you placed the back door into its rightful place so no animals would get in. Well, no other animal besides yourself. The thought brought a humorless laugh forward. The absurdity of the situation, the sheer isolation you now faced, piled onto you, forcing you to the floor in a fit of delirious laughter.

You kept laughing. Past when your lungs tired, past when your laugh became more of a shaking wheeze, past the tears that had accompanied your anguish. You couldn’t stop. You laughed until your tired, broken body could no longer handle the strain, and you succumbed to the gentle relief of unconsciousness.

…

At least this time when you woke up naked in the forest, you weren’t caught in any traps. You were alone and relatively unharmed aside from a long gash ripping up your torso.

You groaned as you hauled yourself to your feet. When you stood, your ankle made its presence known. But it was not the scream for attention you faced yesterday, but more of a soft yell. It felt much, much better, but still carried enough pain to force you to limp.

Was this going to happen every fucking night?

…

After calling into work and once again resetting your back door (thankfully your only damage this time), you decided you needed a plan. If this was going to keep happening, you could not keep running into the woods stark naked. You were out of sick days at work and were already well past your skill level in home repairs.

So you spent the day modifying the leaky, cold cellar beneath your house. It couldn’t be called a basement. The cottage you had inherited was old. Like so old, the best way to deal with flooding was to build a cobblestone wall under your house with a space for water to run through. The cellar had now been reinforced with concrete, but the drain structure remained the same. The space was unused by you, given the room was designed to flood. So you didn’t have to clear anything out; what you did have to do was secure it.

The cellar was entered through a door in your kitchen. Down a short flight of stairs, there was another door, this one metal, to keep out a draft. You dug through junk drawers and your shed to find every lock you could, and set to work securing them all to the door from the stairs. You even hauled your mattress to be propped up against the door for some added weight. After triple checking the locks, you grabbed a bottle of NyQuil and went outside.

There, you were able to remove the mesh that normally protected your cellar from debris, and squeezed yourself through the drain opening. Thank god the old motherfuckers that built this shack left a big enough hole.

By now, it was the middle of the afternoon. You did everything you could to stay awake, despite the exhaustion of the previous two days threatening to pull you under. You talked to yourself, you sang, you worked out. Anything.

And when it started to get darker, you paced anxiously. You removed your clothes (no point in destroying another outfit) and prayed that the werewolf would not be able to fit through the gap to the outside world. At the last second you could bear to wait, you chugged the NyQuil. Hopefully, a tired werewolf was a less destructive one. And hopefully you didn’t just overdose on NyQuil.

…

You’ve never been so happy to wake up on a cold slab of concrete. Apparently, a tired werewolf was unable to claw through your defenses. There were scratches along the cellar walls and the doorknob had been bitten into a shape resembling a crumbled wad of paper, but you were still in your house. You redressed and crawled out of your night’s sanctuary.

You had sustained a rather ugly cut across your face, going over the bridge of your nose, narrowly missing your eyes. You pictured the wolf trying to rub the sleep from its tired, drugged eyes, which was… slightly endearing? As you were otherwise unharmed, you went about your normal morning routine, with about ten times your regularly required caffeine.

It wasn’t until you were stumbling off your bike in the parking lot of the tavern that you realized your ankle didn’t hurt. You were limping still, but there was no pain. And addressing the rest of your body quickly, you noticed that most of your wounds had healed. The gash on your stomach was still tender, but even your ear had repaired itself, leaving just an angry scar and a knick on the outside edge of your cartilage where you must’ve taken a chunk clean off. All things considered, you weren’t doing too bad.

Your boss ignored your haggard state, not that you had expected him to give a shit. Mr. Glendon was always too caught up in tending to the lush garden beside the pub to notice much about his employees. As long as you did your job well enough that he didn’t have to do his, he was happy.

In a zombified state you went through the motions of customer service, serving coffee, pancakes, and toast with a smile. Internally, you were cursing this stupid fucking establishment for being open from 6AM-2AM and requiring you to drag yourself to a goddamn pub for a breakfast shift. You were so tired you hadn’t read the name on the DoorDash order you packaged. You could not as easily ignore the man who walked in to pick it up.

When the bell above the door rang, you smiled and automatically started a welcoming comment, but froze mid-sentence when your eyes met Jack’s. He froze too, halfway through the door, glancing behind him like he was ready to forget the mediocre waffles sitting behind the counter.

“Come on,” you grumbled, gesturing him inside.

“Lo siento. I was just grabbing us breakfast before we leave town. You won’t have to see me again. I had no clue you work-”

“Waffles, Jack,” you said, cutting him off and shoving the bag at him.

“Right, waffles,” he replied, grabbing the bag and getting out his wallet, and shoving five dollars into the tip jar before you could stop him. “Okay. I’m sorry. Goodbye, y/n.”

He spun to leave. You wanted to let him. He was dangerous and had likely gotten you into this mess. But at the same time, he was the only one who could help you through it. So you had to stop him. He was almost out the door when you called his name. Well, more accurately you whispered it, as part of you was hoping he wouldn’t hear you and you wouldn’t have to keep him in your life. His werewolf senses threw a wrench in your plan, and he spun on his heel and came back to you. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you. His eyebrows were knit with worry, and he tilted his head slightly like the stupid fucking dog he was.

“How much longer? I can’t keep,” you looked around and lowered your voice, “transforming every night.”

Jack let out a breath he was holding, apparently relieved you weren’t about to continue your name-calling of your previous encounter.

“You’re done for this month, cariño. Three days a month. It’s manageable,” he said with a reassuring smile. He looked tired, even more so than you did. You wondered what he had been doing while you were having a meltdown and playing Doomsday Preppers: Werewolf Edition.

You nodded, relieved in the knowledge that you would have a reprieve now.

Jack cleared his throat. “I know you do not want me around, but perhaps I could put you in contact with some others like us? It’s tough to figure out all on your own.”

“You want me to tell more people? Absolutely not!”

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I wanted to offer. Best of luck, y/n. I won’t bother you again. If you need anything,” he said, ripping the receipt from his bag and snatching a pen from a cup on the hostess station, “Here’s my number.”

You stared at the scrap of paper offered to you, and hesitated before taking it.

“I’m not trying to impose on your life. I just want you to have help if you need it. No strings attached,” Jack said, filling the silence. You took the paper and shoved it into your back pocket. Jack gave you a tight smile and a nod, and left.

You weren’t given much time to ponder the interaction as the demands of your job quickly stole your focus away from Jack.

…

After work, after your commute home, and after your door fell out of its frame when you tried to enter your own home (you had forgotten it was no longer on its hinges), you were staring dumbly at your mattress-less bed frame. It took you a full minute to remember that your mattress was shoved against your basement door. You huffed, making your way to your couch, as there was no way you were going to bother with lugging your mattress up a flight of stairs after an 8 hour shift.

This was unsustainable. Your house was in shambles, your body scarred, and you were alone and ill equipped to handle any of this. You texted Jack before you could think better of it.

*Cue werewolf training montage*

Also cue Jack jumping up in down at excitement at getting a text.

“See, Ted? I knew she would text! I’m glad we stayed an extra night :D”

Feedback, criticism, comments, reblogs, and likes are all always appreciated. Please tell me what you think! I apparently forget about fics unless you guys hound (pun intended) me about them.

Tags: @starfirette, @nicolewithanee, @fangurldayandnight, @zakizigekwe, @for-bebbanburg, @missdragon-1, @howlingco, @arvalee-knight, @emiemiemiii, @spicydonut25, @sparkythefallen1, @girlymusiclover09, @pxl8ed, @littlenosoul, @lemmons1998, @may4ri, @i-am-iron-man-3000, @maxppt

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist lmk!

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choicesmc · 1 month

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For Rin, Rams, and Fiona:

13 for Appearance

17 for Objects

3 for Food

19 for Weather and Nature

18 for Community and Relationships

13 for Mind, Body, and Soul

4 for Hobbies and Activities

thank you for including rams and rin!! really fun answering asks for them!!

13. What is something your character would refuse to wear?

RAMS - Dark academia. Just looking at it makes him tired. All the plaids and browns and blacks and beiges —it’s just sad. If this makes sense: dark academia comes with a certain personality accessory, you know the insular academic with niche interests in literature etc. The way Rams sees it, if he wears dark academia then he’s gotta adopt the dark academia personality and it’ll drag down his regular personality.

FIONA - Fiona’s pretty open to everything… just as long as he can put he bought it. No offense to his friends but Gigi is the only person he really trusts to pick out clothes for him. As in, anyone can recommend clothes to him (since that leaves the final choosing up to Fiona)but actually buying and gifting him clothes gets under his skin especially if it’s something he wouldn’t wear.

RIN - Beige khaki shorts and cheetah print/animal print. It makes her look tacky, at least in her opinion. She does not have the charisma or the confidence to pull off those looks at all. Not that she’s interested in it in the first place but it’d be a limitation even if she wanted to.

17. What is most important to your character when shopping?

RAMS - Comfort+Aesthetic, hands down. Co wants to enjoy using whatever co’s buying. Plus, cos room has a very inviting cozy feel so co wouldn’t want to contradict those vibes (assuming whatever co’s buying is for cos room).

RIN - Price/Quality ratio. She’s pretty budget conscious with her money but still wants all the best stuff. Which results in her being a really great shopper, she does her research beforehand so she knows exactly what she’s getting and at what price and if the quality’s alright. She’s the type of person who knows the price of stuff at all the nearby stores off the top of her head.

FIONA - The Vibes. Money isn’t really a problem anymore so everything is on a vibes-with-it-basis. Sure, actual use is important but vibes trump that.

9. Is there a food or drink your character is unwilling to try?

No. For all of ‘em. Anything and everything is worth ONE try minimum.

19. What animal would your character say best represents them?

Will not lie, I haven’t really thought about this. So this is subject to change but for now this is what I think!

RIN: “Something pretty dangerous, but doesn’t just attack without reason. Probably a hippo.” (Accurate)

RAMS: “A ferret? Maybe? Friendly and slippery? I think?” (inaccurate: rams is more like an alpine ibex)

FIONA: “Oh, easy. A swan. Striking, elegant, and looks pretty in most colors.” (accurate enough)

18. What is your character's favorite form of affection?

FIONA - Gifts + Words of Affection

RAMS - Physical touch + Quality Time

RIN - Acts of Service + Quality Time

13. How does your character relax?

RIN - ultimate relaxation technique? Amusement park rides! But that’s not something she can do everyday or easily so… bungee jumping, horror movies, anything that makes her adrenaline spike

FIONA - If he needs to relax right after work then he’s heading to the roller rink! If he’s at home, then toss on a podcast and knit some sweaters!

RAMS - 1) Music + 2) Friends + 3) Quietly Spending Time together = A happy and relaxed Rams. Rams can very much be the ‘cat’ of the group. Literally just lounging around on everyone. It’s great, it’s fun.

4. Is there an activity your character used to enjoy that they now dislike?

RAMS - Academics in general? He used to be super into school, doing assignments, and talking to to teachers/making friends at school. But crashed and burned during high school and he still loves learning just... not school.

RIN -Not really? She didn’t do much as a kid so most of the stuff she did she still enjoys in mostly unchanged form.

FIONA - Speeches… He is a pretty good orator and used to take huge pride in it because it made his parents super happy. They took any chance to have him speak in front of people especially through church service youth days when he’d pastor 😬 Now it’s… a thing he can do.

#asks answered #rin #fiona lightwood #rams erndheart #tiny tidbits

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chrisredfield73 · 4 months

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Can I get some Wolf headcanans? Any kind will do (maybe or maybe not hoping for an angst or smut one), please.

A/N: I love Wolf tbh, he's so scrunkle.. Thank you for the request!

------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, so starting off with general headcanons before we get to the fluff, angst and smut!

I feel like Wolf is definitely one of the more emotional guys out of the gang.

He gets angry, nervous, sad and happy really easily.

He misses his old life but he feels bad at the thought of leaving everyone else behind/stopping contact with the others.

He prefers being around Dallas and Chains, they've been his buddies for a long long while.

I think he'd like to read a lot, be it small poems or long book series, I think he just like to take time to read something every now and then.

He also definitely loves celebrating holidays. I won't take no for an answer. He begs everyone to let him put up Christmas decorations every year.

I feel like he's either pan or bi. He doesn't care what gender someone is, if he likes them he likes them.

Fluff!!

He's definitely a gentle and caring lover.

He's a sucker for cuddles. He just likes to be held and he loves the feeling of holding someone else, it makes him feel so giddy.

His love language is definitely gifting. He'd buy steal his s/o so many gifts. Jewelry, stuffed animals, clothes.. You name it.

You could be like, "Hey, that looks familiar.. Didn't we steal that back in..." and he'd immediately deny it, looking both ashamed and embarrassed.

He really wants to find someone to settle down with and have a more domestic life with, like he did back at home. His s/o, a couple kids and a big house is his dream..

He loves it when his s/o does small things for him, whether it's small tasks on heists, give him gifts, cuddle him.. He loves all of it.

Angst!

When he gets emotional, he likes to sulk. He'll hide away in his room and cry.

He's also definitely not the most trusting at first, since his line of work requires him to be very wary and suspicious of those around him.

Sometimes he lashes out, but all he needs is someone patient and some comfort and he'll be okay.

He feels bad, leaving his wife and kids behind in the past, the guilt eats away at him a lot.

He just needs a lot of reassurance and comfort, despite not letting people in at first.

He does go from one mood to another super quickly, so he's difficult to handle.

Smut!

He's got an average libido. Sometimes it can spike and get a little higher than usual sometimes but it's usually just average.

He's very giving, a service switch.

He's okay with being on top or on bottom, he just wants to give his partner as much as he can.

He gets the most pleasure from helping his partner, not minding if he doesn't get much in return.

He can be a little rough sometimes, due to his frequent angry mood swings, but he makes sure to check on his partner afterwards and give them aftercare.

He definitely prefers his partner being on top due to how rough he can get when he's the one on top.

He finishes quickly, but he's up for multiple rounds if his partner is.

#payday 2 #wolf payday 2 #payday 2 wolf #payday 2 headcanons #requests open #i love this himbo #i have brainrot #thank you for reading #im very tired #im also very normal #(your tags here)

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grave-trolls · 6 days

Text

🔪 Azaphr Kratom

Appearance Azaphr is a 5'2" scrawny, underweight Burgundy. He usually wears a red hoodie with his sign on it in black, black shorts and black combat boots. His expression usually expression is described as neutral, apathetic, or uninterested. He has plenty self-inflicted scars that he claims he doesn't have at all. He has freckles covering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. One ear has a 10" gauge and the other ear has a barbel earring and two studs, all are black. He usually wears black eyeshadow, eyeliner and black lipstick. He keeps his hair in a bun, otherwise he keeps it down, making him appear like an emo with hair in his face. He's also missing his pinky finger on his right hand and there is a massive scar on his torso and outer thigh as a result from knowingly opening a pipe bomb. He also paints his nails black and sometimes wears a spiked collar. He also has fang implants styled after a typical Jadeblood's fangs. However, it's just as blunt as the rest of his teeth. His sign is Arsces, which is the sign of the pilgrim, meaning that he is a Derse Dreamer and a life player.

General Information Name: Azaphr Kratom Blood: Burgundy Nickname: Aza, Azzy Gender: Male (he/him) Orientation: Omniromantic, Demiromantic, Asexual Age: 11 Sweeps (24 years) Height: 5'2" (~157.5 cm) Lusus: Valais Blackneck Goat Headcanon Voice: Izzy Deluxe, Brendan Lukens Interests: solitaire, herbalism, yoga, knives, bones, ritual magic Trollian: antagonisticApothecarist [AA] Quirk: the qvick brown fox jvmpz over the lazy dog

Quadrants Matesprit ♥️ - Vivian (?) Moirail ♦️ - Arivon (?) Kismesis ♠️ - incompatible Auspistice ♣️ - incompatible

Other Information His lusus still lives with him and acts like a service animal, especially if he tries to harm himself. He now lives in an old hive in the woods. He prefers to be left alone, that's when he's most relaxed His diet mostly consists of carbs, fruits and vegetables Hes suicidal and cuts himself He believes he should be dead He is unfit to have a kismesis He collects bones and knives He doesn't want talk often and rather would be left alone than interacting with others. He will attack people if they keep pushing him, especially if they tease or bully him. He has a fear of Purple bloods, thanks to an ex-moirail.

Azaphr is rather calm and apathetic towards many things and will rather be left alone. He's very quiet and rude to the people he meets and tolerates the ones he's closer to. If he's a target of teasing or being bothering, he doesn't take to kindly to that very well as he is rather temperamental, easily becoming aggressive towards the one who started it all, as well as the others around them.

#Azaphr Kratom #fantroll #burgundyblood #homestuck oc #homestuck fantroll

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sammiethelattie · 4 months

Text

Tom and Jerry (Singapore) Series Review

So a few hours back, I watched all seven episodes (pilot included) of the Singapore-based Tom and Jerry cartoon released so far. I won't go into details for each episode, but I will voice out my general thoughts on the series overall.

STORY AND SETTING

As the title suggests, this take on the titular team of troublemakers is set in the state of Singapore. As a result, various references to Singapore's history, culture and national landmarks and locations are sprinkled throughout this mini-series. These settings serve as set pieces for with the cat and mouse carnage is carried out. While I am not Singaporean myself (far from it), I do know for sure that Singapore is represented quite well. However, while prevalent, the references are not overbearing and share centre stage with the stars of the show quite effectively, giving Tom and Jerry both fresh and familiar settings, situations and props to play with.

As for the stories, while not exactly far removed from the Tom and Jerry formula (some episodes even bringing to mind scenarios from the classic era), there's enough of a fresh spin on it to keep it from just being a retread of said classic scenarios. And while the 3 minute of runtime does mean that the pacing is a bit more frantic than in most other versions of the series, this also means that the episodes don't outstay their welcome. Think the earlier episodes of Paul Rudish's Mickey Mouse shorts.

ART AND ANIMATION

Okay, now for the aspect that will most likely draw the most ire of the fanbase, as well as perhaps slight confusion from the average casual viewer. Let's start with the Elephant in the Room: The character designs. They're fine. Sure, they are markedly different from what one normally associates with the franchise, but it's far from bad. The titular characters, as well as Spike who appears in about two episodes in minor roles, are rounder and cuter looking, but also highly expressive and with enough of a wacky edge that can play into the comedy aspect of the show; AND they're still recognizable as who they are supposed to be. As silhouettes together, you can tell the art-style is different, but it's still Tom and Jerry (less so with Spike, who is proportioned a bit more like an actual bulldog). Their colors are also brighter and more saturated; Tom has never looked bluer (and Jerry has never looked more orange. Spike is still gray though.) The characters are also (almost) consistently shaded, unless the situation or setting permits otherwise, which isn't often.

The backgrounds in this series are rich and vibrant, much like everything else in this series, but they somehow find a way not to overpower or compete with the characters that inhabit them. And now the animation: which is most likely the best thing about the show from a visual standpoint. It is definitely not cheap looking at all, and is consistently fluid and snappy when it needs to be. Clearly, a lot of love was poured into this aspect of the show. As for the actual slapstick being animated, it's serviceable. There are points where I actually found myself audibly giggling or laughing, or at least quietly acknowledging how well put together some of it is. Clearly, whoever choreographed the slapstick at least understood Tom and Jerry enough that this aspect was done so serviceably.

SOUND AND MUSIC

Ah, now for the more mixed aspect of the show: the audio.

I'm not sure if it's the print I watched that had a compromised mix, but well... that was just it. The audio mixing was 60% of the time good and 40% of the time kind of iffy. While previous versions of Tom and Jerry have grappled with this hurdle to some extent (what with combining archived audio from William Hanna and Mel Blanc with more modern sounds), this is probably the worst it's gotten. It's not unbearable, but it is distracting enough when certain sounds and vocals either don't fit, stand out too much, or are simply missing. And it's like that for almost all seven episodes. And as for the character's yelps, laughs, screams and gasps, mostly original, new clips are used. But as the episodes go on, more and more classic screams are heard in the episodes. Normally I don't mind this, especially if it's handled masterfully, but this is one of those instances where I wish they stuck to a lane, and I note that the lane more suited for this cartoon's presentation is the lane of new screams and yells. Though they can have one or two classic "̷̢̦̩̋̔̌Ạ̴̉̽Ă̸̧̜̬͑̏Ä̸̯̥́̅̓ͅÀ̶̪̺͝ͅĀ̴̝͌̂A̴͕̅A̴̝̺̒̈́Ȃ̸̼Ą̶̤̠̏͛A̸̢͓̿̃̅A̶̛̯͂̌Ă̵̰̥͠A̸̰̳͆̎Ạ̸̥͖̀A̶̞̦̩͌̾́H̴̛̻̬̿̏Ḥ̸̟̙̀H̵̛̛̠̙͌"̴̠̲̓̂'s. Just as a treat.

Now, the music on the other hand is pleasant to listen to. Some instances and phrases of it are even evocative, or even outright reference certain notable stings and melodies from the classic Tom and Jerry series; even down to the tempo becoming more frantic to match the actions of the characters. That aspect, I admired. Unfortunately, sometimes that too falls victim to some of the questionable mixing that runs through this series.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Nothing beats the classics, that much is true. In fact, this wouldn't be here if not for it. But you cannot go wrong with giving this mini-series a try. It is a well made, well put together (for the most part) labor of love, or at least respect, for both Tom and Jerry and the world they inhabit. So if you're a fan of Tom and Jerry, or at least just want something well made for the kids, or you always asked yourself "What if Tom and Jerry lived in Singapore?", then this series will do you no wrong.

FAVORITE EPISODES (SO FAR)

Sky's the Limit - A fun little romp with kites and drones.

Count on Merli - Features a cute iteration of Merli, Singapore's Mascot, who just wants Tom and Jerry to get along. But they don't seem to wanna listen. Poor Merli.

Colorful Chase - Simple for the plot point that they used, while they could have done more with the concept, it was only three minutes. And for three minutes, they did good.

LEAST FAVORITE EPISODE

What's that Smell? - The pilot. Passable on its own, but isn't as Tom and Jerry as the other episodes. Also it's the pilot. Things are bound to be weird.

#tom and jerry #cartoon #tv review #cartoon review #tom and jerry 2023 #tom and jerry singapore

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