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#will I draw the actual mechanisms themselves?
shuttershocky · 2 months
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So on Monday (January 22), China will be seeking public comments on a proposal for new online game rules that includes limiting rewards for consecutive spending and daily logins, and even more critically, banning luck-based draw mechanics, which would include everything from lootboxes to every single gacha game in existence.
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While there's been pushback to this because of the massive loss to Tencent and Netease and the sheer size of China's gacha playerbase, I genuinely hope this causes real change, especially when some of the biggest gacha games in the world are Chinese themselves and can't simply pull out of the country.
What's probably going to happen is you simply need to verify age before you can make an account for a gacha game now, but imagine a world where gachas are instead forced to rework themselves into honest video games reliant on being actually well designed and of high quality without the crutch of FOMO and gacha keeping them afloat lol
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Finally got around to finishing this houugh... it was a lot of work but I really like the end result!! Naturally, I'll try my best to list some of the thoughts I have in mind for these guys below. Long post ahead!
These lizards are intended to be ALMOST fully arthropod-like but due to my lack of understanding of bug anatomy and creative liberties, they are in that gray spec bio area so don't take any inconsistencies too seriously (or rather, fuck logic, and accept them how I describe them regardless)
Inspirations: - my lesser detailed lizard design - my friend's slugcats - wasps for the head contours, various insects for the exoskeleton guidelines, caterpillars, various stylistic slugcats across the #rainworld tag - the burning need for something more detailed and cool in my drawing vocabulary
The actual meat of the post; extra facts: - Lizards are related to slugcats (in my au, if you wanna call it that?) or at least the very early version of them. This idea is borrowed from this post and in my au, lizards evolve a similar tail to a slugcat's to aid in propelling themselves through tight spaces, acting as a 5th limb. - Similar to my old vulture post, lizards share a similar lifecycle. The majority of the larval stage is spent underground and in tight spots, far from their main predator. Lizard larva will undergo pupation similar to how beetles do, leaving behind broken cavities in pipes where carnivorous plants favor to take root. Additionally to the vulture's terrible parental drive, they often mistake their own larva for lizard hatchlings. - A lizard's skin is leathery and retains moisture for quite a while. Some lizards have a thicker layered mantle than others, allowing them to take punctures to the abdomen and still recover. - Not pictured, but will be described, are a few outliers to the standard lizard body plan. Caramels have muscular hind legs akin to a grasshopper but this means their legs cannot slot together and thus they have a wider leg splay than other species. Eels and salamanders are not lizards but lizard mimics. Yellow lizards' antennae attach to a hump on the snout rather than the rear of the head as seen here. Cyan lizards' mantles are more square shaped due to their leap drums on either side of their bodies and have a 3rd mantle that runs the length of their tail and caps the tailtip. - Cyan lizard's organs are called leap drums and act similarly to our lungs. They are a ring of muscle which contracts and acts as a spring loaded mechanism to propel the creature via combustion through a mysterious chemical process. Because the color of debris left behind during a leap share the same color as the lizard, perhaps they are discarded scales, formerly in place to protect the cavities housing the explosion. - They have similar organs to vertebrates within their abdomen, probably surrounded by cartilage. (not that important, I haven't thought that much about this) - (More may be added later as I remember)
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ultralightpoe · 3 months
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Full House - Eddie Munson
Authors Note: Wow. I think I went too far with these, lmao.
Word Count: 5,258
Warnings: Dad!Eddie. That's it.
Description: Stepdad!Eddie and his girls that gives nothing but Uncle Jesse Vibes.
Part ll HERE
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(Thank you for the gif @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal )
Enjoy!
(Eddie is not the step dad, he is the dad that stepped up)
Eddie Munson was many things in life. 
Triple senior, Satanic Freak, Dungeon Master, High School Graduate, Vecna survivor, Waynes son, and now Mechanic shop owner. But his favorite title came by accident, a truly brilliant accident of course. 
Nancy and Steve had planned a vacation for themselves, the first vacation they had since the birth of their adorable son Edward…..okay they named their kid Vince but Eddie thought that name was ugly and had spent the past 5 years continuously mocking them over it. So, in everything Eddie, he had named him Edward Jr. this week. 
Anyways, Nancy and Steve were having a very lovely trip at Niagara Falls while the rest of the group watched little man. While Eddie was at work Joyce Byers took him, and when Eddie had gigs Dustin took him and they ‘studied’ together which meant Dustin used him as an excuse to play games rather than study for his senior year. 
It was all going splendidly, until Eddie got a call in the middle of his work shift telling him that he would have to go down to the school immediately since Edward Jr -Vincent, had gotten into a little bit of a fight. 
So Eddie booked it, still in his greased out mechanic suit, a bandana on his head and the biggest concern that Steve’s kid would be kicked out of his school while he was away. What had he done to the kids? Had he broken their noses? Made them bleed?
Here was the problem, Eddie forgot that he was talking about Steve Harrington's kid, so when he arrived at the school to see his nephew bleeding and whimpering he realized the mistake. Vinny had gotten beat up, not the other way. 
“What happened, bud? Who did this to you?” Eddie was gonna fuck a kid up, he was gonna scalp someones son. He was going to absolutely annihilate some random ass boy. 
His nephew whimpers, using the back of his hand to wipe away a fresh tear as Eddie takes a gentle hand to assess the damage. “L/n….” 
Eddie was gonna kill this L/n punk. “What’d he do? He been bullying you?”
“You must be Mr. Harrington.” A saccharine voice fills the air, drawing his attention up to an older woman with narrowed eyes. 
“No, I’m Vinny’s uncle actually. Eddie Munson.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand which the woman glares at, and he realizes then that he was still covered in grease. So he pulls his hand back, embarrassed and nervous. “Sorry about that, rushed from work-”
“Never mind that. Let’s go.” The teacher nods her head. “You too Vincent.”
Eddie, now partially annoyed by the use of his nephews full name in such a tone, grabs his hand into his own and follows the old bat into the office where two more three more figures sit. The sight before him makes him stop, blinking slowly as a heat crosses his skin. 
Was he blushing? Shit, he was. 
Sat in the chair is the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with a small baby in her lap and a small girl softly crying sitting on the edge of the chair, hiding half her face in the womans shoulder. 
“Have a seat Mr. Minson.” The old bat snaps, moving around the desk to sit in the cushioned chair. 
“Munson.” Eddie corrects, sitting in the chair beside yours while trying to keep it cool. Vinny takes the arm of the chair, holding onto some of the fabric of Eddie’s jumpsuit tightly. The woman blatantly ignores him as she shuffles around some of the papers on her desk. So Eddie turns to you slowly, holding out his hand again. “Eddie Munson.”
“Y/n L/n.” You smile, taking his hand in your own. “I am so sorry about your son-”
“I prefer the parents not to talk until I explain.” Old bat snaps out making Eddie sit up straighter. “I brought you both in here because it seems that Motley has violently assaulted Vinn-”
“ASSAULTED?! They are 5!” You snap out as the girl, Motley, begins crying which leads the little baby in your lap to start crying as well. And right on cue Vinny himself starts crying. 
“Woah woah woah.” Eddie starts, pulling his nephew closer. “Bud, why don’t you explain what happened here?”
“She hit me!”
“He pushed me!”
“And then she bit me!”
“He pulled my hair!”
“Okay, ease it up.” You sigh, rubbing Motley’s back in soothing circles. “I am so sorry about your son, and I will totally get if you’re upset but they are 5 and I don’t really know about the assault word-”
“Miss. L/n.” Old bat interrupts but Eddie shakes his head. He will just handle this just as Nancy liked to parent. 
“What can make this better, huh Vinny? Like your dad always says, an apology?”
“Y-yeah….” Vinny whimpers which makes Eddie smile and imitate the whimper voice. “Yeah?”
“Do you think you can apologize, Motley?” You ask and Motley sticks out her tongue to Vinny.  Eddie tries to hold in his laugh at this, the little metal head was not backing down. “Motley.”
“Fine. I’m sorry Vincent.” She snaps out. “But the next time you pull my hair-”
“I think we got it.” Eddie laughs, picking his nephew up. “Let’s go get some ice cream and forget all about it.”
He smiles at the principal before tearing out of the room, keeping Vinny held above the ground as he rushes out of the school. He is rushing too fast to hear you calling behind him, until they make it out of the school. 
“Wait! Sir-” He turns, blushing wildly as he attempts a smile. You smile back, still holding the little baby in your arms and Motleys hand. “I am so sorry about all of that. Motley has been a bit…. Aggressive since her dad left. How about we all go get ice cream and it’ll be on me today?”
And then Eddie, as terrible as it is, gets excited. That meant your single, single and very pretty. So he smiles. “Sounds metal to me.”
The giggle that escaped Motley makes him happy. 
Soon enough Eddie found his entire world wrapped around his three ladies. You, the little 5 year old named Motley and the little baby Ziggy. (Both named after rock music. You don’t like it then name em something else.) 
His life did an entire tilt and he found himself going from the freak to being ‘Daddy Eddie’ as his girls liked to call him. 
“Lemme get the straight.” Eddie starts, holding up one finger and leaning back as he takes in the scene before him, Motley covered head to toe in flour and smiling from ear to ear. “The bag of flour just happened to knock down from the shelf and fall on you?”
“Yup.” The girl nods, still smiling. 
“And you don’t know how the step stool got there?”
“It was there when I walked by.” She shrugs. 
“I see. And you didn’t know that we hid the cookies on that shelf?”
“You do?!” She feigns shock, bringing both hands up to slap her cheeks. “What a coincidently.”
“Yeahhhhh. What a coincidently.” He imitates, bringing his own hands up to slap his cheeks in shock, trying very hard not to laugh at this entire thing. From her covered in flour, or her grammar and especially not the innocent act. Do not laugh. Do not laugh.
  “Motley! What did you do?!” You cry, coming into the kitchen in the pajama shorts Eddie loved so much, to see your daughter covered in your flour. 
You had both been in bed…..snuggling….. When you heard the sound of bowls falling. 
“I am innocent!” Motley cries, waving her hands like she truly could not believe you would think it was her. 
“She’s innocent!” Eddie follows, doing the same as her. “Tell her you want a lawyer, Mot.”
“Motley, do not-”
“I want a lawn mower!” She snaps out before you could warn her away from it. The room falls silent for a second after her words slip out and both you and Eddie try to control yourselves, but before you know it you are cracking up. 
Tears springing from your eyes as you cackle, Eddie finds himself using one arm to lean against the wall as his other arm holds his ribs, pained to be laughing so hard. 
“What’s so funny?” Motley asks, a puff of flour blowing out as she giggles herself which just sends you and Eddie into yet another laughing fit.  “Mama! Daddy Eddie!” 
“What Mot?” You laugh, swiping the tears from your eyes. 
“You’re being mean!” “Aww, we’re sorry Motty.” Eddie coos, moving closer as you do as well. Before she knows it you are both launching to hug and kiss at her, covering both of you with flour as she giggles and screams to escape. 
Eddie steals her another cookie before you take her to the bathroom to shower her off, you both lay with her to read for bed before you lead him back to your room, taking a shower together before going to bed yourselves. 
Eddie was completely at peace, laying on the couch after a long day at work, with Ziggy laying on his chest slobbering all over his shirt. Motley laid on his legs, her head shoved between his hip and the couch as she snored away. 
They were sick, and you were in the kitchen making some chicken soup. Eddie had been in charge of getting them showered and ready for dinner, the only problem was the steam from the shower had cleared their noses which meant about 10 minutes of getting them both to blow into a tissue. And by the time that was done all their energy was gone, so he led them to the couch to lay with them and try to ease their whimpers. 
They passed out soon after and he was trapped in a pile of heat from their fevers and their slobbering snores. But he was at ease right here, their warmth making him just as tired. One hand rubbing Ziggy’s back while making sure she didn’t roll off his chest while the other hand slowly rubbed Motley's scalp. 
Before he knew it he slowly began falling asleep himself, and by the time he woke up he felt your fingers rubbing his forehead very very softly, a small smile playing on your lips. 
“Do you want me to grab them?” You whisper, which makes him shake his head. 
“Let em sleep, they don’t feel good.” He whispers back, turning bleary eyes to Ziggy who was currently crawling her way up his chest, she whimpers and whines until she is able to put her mouth around his nose. The gums touch his skin as she sucks on his nose, and he laughs slowly. “Apparently she is teething too.”
“I’ll go grab her ice pack.” You laugh, moving to the kitchen to grab it as Motley wakes up. 
“Daddy…. I hurt.” She whines and he nods, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the couch to give her room to get up, she does and quickly crawls until her head is in his lap. 
“You want some soup? Huh pretty girl? Maybe we can listen to Elvis before bed.” He offers, watching a small smile break out on her face that she tries to hide. Eddie teases her by leaning to see it and laughing when she covers her mouth. Then he pulls out the big guns, taking up the Elvis voice as he stares at her. “Let’s go eat some soup sweetie pie.”
“Hunka hunka burning love!” She giggles, jumping up to dash to the kitchen, when she passes you she nearly knocks you over but you manage to lean out of the way just in time. 
“What’s the rush?”
“Promised her Elvis after dinner.” Elvis was the king of rock, which albeit wasn’t the rock that Eddie liked, but Motley had grown overly obsessed with him lately and he was cool with that. Anything his girl wanted. 
Blurb song inspo hereeeee . 
The opening of King Creole began, Motley stood on yours and Eddie's bed wearing his sunglasses and his leather jacket. She held a ukulele he had found from a garage sale, and thought it was the perfect size for her to play guitar. 
Ziggy stood on the ground, using his nightstand to help herself stand as she swung her butt up and down to the music. 
Eddie stood by the bed, with his guitar in both hands as Elvis Presley's song blasted through the speaker, wearing his newer leather jacket and a random pair of shades he found on the dresser that he was sure belonged to you.  Motley giggles loudly as Eddie sings the lyrics, playing his guitar to it as Motley pretends to play guitar as well. 
You were at the store and Eddie was supposed to be practicing for his gig coming up, and when you left he had Ziggy set up in her little play crib before Motley came in with the leather jacket on. One thing led to another and they all were playing along. 
“There’s a man in New Orleans who plays rock n roll!” Eddie sings, leaning in at the same time Motley does so their noses press together and then leaning back as she does and shimmying their shoulders. 
They sing and scream, dancing along as you pull back into the driveway. When you come in to get his help to carry in the groceries you are surprised by the loud music, even more surprised by the Elvis playing with the Metal twist to it. 
“Eds?” You call from the door, watching both him and your daughter shimmy their butts to you as they sing before you lean and stop the music which makes them both twist quickly to find you. 
“MAMA!” Motley cries, excitement crossing her face as she whips his glasses off, dropping the ukelele on the bed and launching into your arms. “Daddy Eddie was teaching me guitar!”
“I see that.” You laugh, keeping a hold of her as you lean to kiss Eddie, laughing when you see him in a pair of overly feminine glasses. “Nice look baby.”
“I thought they were very metal.” He laughs, kissing your lips softly, holding your jaw before Motley groans out a ‘ewwwww’.
“Did you like the music?” You laugh, looking down at her. “Even Daddy’s guitar.”
“He made the song better!” She laughs before you set her down. 
“Go get ready. We are having Vinny and his parents over.” At your words she groans, rolling her eyes which makes Eddie laugh out and reach a ringed hand to pull one of her pigtails lightly. 
“What’s with the attitude, pretty girl? Your rock n’ roll career is already getting to you?” He laughs, leaning to kiss her cheek before sliding off his jacket, moving to pick Ziggy up and make his way down the hall as his baby girl giggles happily. 
“I hateeeee Vinny.” Motley groans, following behind and snatching the chain that hangs from his pants to slow him down. “Daddy Eddie, pweaseeee.”
“Ohhhh, not the puppy eyes!” He whines, looking up to the ceiling. 
“No!” You call, covering her eyes. “Not this time.”
Eddie sat on the floor of the living room with his back to the couch, water dripping from his hair onto his exposed chest as Motley sat behind him taking a brush through his hair over and over. He wore a towel around his hips, keeping him covered waist down but all his tattoos exposed as rubbed lotion on them, allowing Motley to have fun playing makeover with his hair. 
You sat near him, your feet in his lap as you read through a book you have promised yourself you would finish for months now.. Ziggy played with her toy blocks near as well, babbling along to the movie that played on the tv. 
Nights like this were perfect, no hustle and bustle and he got to spend time with his favorite girls. 
He rubbed some lotion on the bat tattoos, not really paying attention to what was happening around him only to be interrupted by a sharp gasp falling from your lips. Instantly he is sitting up grunting a bit when the brush Motley was holding puls his hair. 
“What? What’s wrong?” “Ziggy is-” But he already sees her, wobbling as she tries to stand without using anything to help her, blabbering quickly. Excitement courses through him as he sits up, Motley giggling behind him. 
It takes her a moment but she stands, turning to you and Eddie with a tiny smile. “Come here. Come of Stardust.”
Eddie coos gently and Ziggy wobbles, moving to take a step before landing on her butt. 
“It’s okay. It’s okay baby. Try again.” You coo, reaching your arms out. Ziggy giggles and picks herself up again, and once again she tries to take a step. Then, still giggling, she walks. 
Clumsy and heavy, she takes step after step until she falls into Eddie’s arms while everyone coos around her. 
“Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles and Eddie’s heart stops. Oh my god. 
“Did she just….” He gasps out as you tear up beside him. 
“Mix your name and daddy as her first word. Indeed she did.” You laugh, moving forward to kiss his cheek as he pulls Ziggy in to kiss her face all over.  
“THAT’S MY GIRL!”
Eddie was beginning to get a little pissed off, his body thrumming with it as he watches his girls very closely. He keeps a firm hold on the neck of his guitar to fight the urge to punch someone in the face. 
That someone was Gareth. 
His band hadn’t had much exposure to kids, he knew this. The closest any of them had been to a kid was Jeff’s sister and she was only 2 years younger than her brother. So when Eddie had introduced his girls to them they hadn’t really known what to do. But he assumed they would get used to it by now. 
But his friends hadn’t. In Fact they did nothing but complain when Eddie showed up to band rehearsal with Ziggy on his arm and Motley's hand held within his own. She twisted his rings around, smiling from ear to ear when they walked up to the boys. 
Motley had been worried and had taken far too long to pick an outfit since she wanted to look as cool as Daddy Eddie and his friends. She ended up choosing the Hellfire shirt Dustin had made for her 6th birthday and his older jacket, she even let him braid her hair. And when they walked up she gave them a well rehearsed devil look, even sticking her tongue out just like Eddie does whenever she is throwing a fit. 
The only problem was Gareth and Paul both groaned outwardly, Jeff was the only one that seemed to try and smile, shaking his hand in an awkward wave. Eddie, now irritated and tense simply explains “Y/n had to go and help Nancy with something, I offered to take the angels.”
“Of course you did.” Paul scoffs, turning to grab a beer from the fridge with Gareth and Jeff in tow. Eddie bends down so he was level with Motley, rubbing her arm. 
“Don’t take those geeks to heart, yeah? They’re just nervous. You scare them.” He smiles which makes her smile. 
“It’s okay Daddy Eddie. Papa never liked when I bothered him either. We’ll stay out of the way.” She shrugs, kissing his cheek and taking her chalk set to the sidewalk before he places Ziggy on the couch. 
The papa comment unnerved him and he was already defensive. He didn’t like that they were in a situation that they could remotely compare to their deadbeat dad. It made him sad. 
They start practicing, but soon enough Motley is running up and dancing around in the garage as they play. “PLAY TIFFANY!” 
“Whose that?” Jeff asks, covered in sweat. 
“Please tell me it’s not that teenager that sings ‘I think we’re-’” Just as Gareth starts groaning, Motley begins singing and dancing to it. 
‘Ithinkwe’realonenow. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around!”
“Stop stop stop!” Paul snaps. “This is band practice. You can’t just-”
“I think we should play it.” Jeff smiles. “You have the tape Eddie?”
Of course he had the tape, it was Motley's favorite song at the moment. So, with a deep sigh since he already knew he would get shit for it he pulls the tape from his pocket, holding it in the air between two fingers. 
Gareth sighs, snatching it from him and taking it to the stereo system. 
An hour later and many snide comments, Eddie was about to lose it.  Motley had, at some point, gotten a little upset and chose to sit on the couch with Ziggy who was beginning to get whiny and sad. She hadn’t napped all day and Eddie knew it was time to call it a day before he punched one of his friends. 
“I think I’m gonna get the little ones home.” He mumbles, grabbing the tape from the speaker and putting it in the case as he looks over to where his girls were. Ziggy had her pre-cry face on and Motley was half asleep in the cushions. Eddie shuddered at the thought of how many times Gareth had sex on that thing. 
“Next time don’t bring the rugrats and we can practice actual music.” Gareth scoffs and that tight string in Eddie finally snapped. He pushes closer to his friend, getting in his face as one hand snatches itself in his shirt tightly and in a threatening way, his other hand holding the tape up to his friend's face. 
“THIS IS MUSIC!” He screams, eyes wild before he shoves his friend back and takes a deep breath, turning to where his daughters sit. “Come on, pretty babies. Let’s go make dinner.”
He scoops Ziggy up, then Motley, casting one more glare to his friends before walking off. 
“I cannot believe they would be such assholes. To MY nieces.” Steve scoffs, hands on his hips as he stands next to Eddie. Tonight was the school recital, so both of them were dressed up to attend. 
Steve had dressed himself in a button up with a nice sweater, making sure to match Nancy who was carrying their 3rd kid, the blue of the dress making her light up. Meanwhile Eddie chose a button up with his leather jacket, or well Motley had demanded he wear the leather jacket because it was a part of the look. 
 You, as per usual, looked truly stunning. He made sure to keep a hand on your hip or the small of your back to make sure everyone knew you were with him, that’s right. Eddie the freak munson had the hottest woman around and two of the prettiest and most talented daughters in the world. 
“That’s what I’m saying!” Eddie sighs. “Talking to my girls like that?”
“They are just jackasses who can’t even play guitar.” Steve scoffs once more, looking past Eddie to check the door. “Ah, there they are. DUSTIN! ERICA!”
Dustin spots them, smiling as he holds Erica’s hand and shuffles closer to them. “Is Mike coming?”
“No. He has a date to make El jealous.” Nancy laughs. 
“Where is El tonight?”
“Going out with Max.” Nancy explains, and Eddie feels you tense under his hand. He casts you a quick look to make sure you’re okay, watching Ziggy lay her head on your chest as she plays with your necklace. 
“You good?” 
“Yup.” Your answer is clipped, and Ziggy lifts her head up to copy you with a ‘yupyup.’
“Where’s Lucas?” Steve asks Erica, leaning to kiss her forehead. 
“He had an away game. Asked us to film it.”
“Then asked me to stop dating his sister.” Dustin laughs which makes Steve and Eddie break out in their own fit of laughter. 
“Da-Ed-ay.” Ziggy giggles, reaching for him so he grabs her quickly, kissing her lips to make her happy. 
“I’m sorry? Did she just mix daddy and Eddie?” Steve gasps and Eddie shrugs. 
“I’m telling ya, my girls are geniuses.” He smiles, leading you into the auditorium so watch Motley's recital. 
He sits with Ziggy on his lap, holding your hand tightly in his own as Steve pulls out a camera and squats in the aisle to film everything. 
Motley and Vinny come up to do their dance, the audience laughing loudly when Motley steps on Vinnys foot after he tries to trip her. They both blush, Vinny takes a bow and Motley holds up a rock sign, which makes Eddie cheer loudly and stand up to yell for her. 
Song Inspo for this blurb hereeeeee 
“Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take her.” Eddie sings, holding Ziggy on his shoulders easily as he dances with you. The Hawaiian shirt you picked out for him is light on his skin as the sun beats down on you both, the sweat from the day sticking to him. 
This was the fourth of July celebration, everyone in the group met at the beach to enjoy the day…… which meant Steve had shown up at 4 am to save the spot. Eddie had already applied sunscreen onto Motley and Ziggy twice, you had done it three times and you both were still scared that the girls would burn. 
You had gotten Ziggy the cutest toddler beach outfit, that included a purple swimsuit; hat; and sunglasses. And his baby girl looked absolutely rocking. 
Then Motley got her very own swimsuit, inspired by her favorite artist of the time Tiffany, and Eddie (who had been practicing braiding hair for weeks, your scalp was sore.) had put her hair into two pleats that she had proudly shown to her Aunt Robin who had spent the next 30 minutes complimenting her favorite niece. 
“Daddy Eddie! Come swim!” She yells out, running up to him. “Puh-lease!”
Now here was the problem, Eddie hated showing his abdomen in front of his friends. It was easy for Steve, who liked to say the scarring was Tom Cruise's amount of cool. Eddie however had never shown them how disgusting his scars were. 
“Daddy daddy daddy.” She calls, jumping up and down as Vinny dashes past to get to Dustin. “We’re gonna play chicken and I need my daddy.”
“Maybe Uncle Lucas can help you.” He mumbles, squatting down with Ziggy still on his shoulders, the toddler pulling at his hair sharply as she blubbers. 
“I don’t want Uncle Lucas. I want my daddy! Only you can help me!” She cries, grabbing his arms. His heart melts, and he tries to smile. 
“Okay pretty girl. Let me get Ziggy settled.” He sighs and she lights up, dashing to go tell Vinny as Eddie moves to hand you Ziggy. 
“I’m gonna help El set out the food. Be careful.” You mumble, leaning to kiss his lips before moving to the table as Ziggy waves over your shoulder. Eddie takes his shirt off, rubbing his abdomen in worry as he makes his way to the water where Motley now stood. 
“See?! My daddy has cool ass scars because he’s awesome and he’s gonna kick your slimy little ass.” Motley brags to Dustin, who stares at her with wide eyes that make Eddie laugh. 
“Language, pretty girl.”
“Sorry.” She blushes, turning back to Dustin. “My daddy has sick scars and he’s gonna beat your toothless ass.”
“Woah.”
And suddenly Eddie felt a little better about his scars, smiling from ear to ear as he lifted Motley up, dashing into the water to help her win a game of chicken.
Thanksgiving was spent at yours and Eddies house, after hours in the kitchen and a quick fit from Motley you had fully prepped the table. 
Now everyone sat around it, trying not to laugh as Dustin tries to convince you to eat the mac n cheese he made, practically shoving the spoon in your mouth. 
“No! I eat that and I die!” You laugh, slapping the spoon away. 
“Who would take care of the kids?” Jonathan gasps in fake astonishment. “Me right?”
“You’d only get the kids if Lucas died.” You shrug which makes Lucas smile in triumph.
“I knew it-”
“And you only get my girls if Erica dies.” Eddie interrupts. “And that’s if Dustin is dead.”
A laugh tears from your throat as Dustin claps, but you’re quick to stop him. “And that’s if Steve is dead.”
“And if Steve has them then Nancy is dead.” Eddie laughs. 
“Who has to die for me to get them?!” Mike asks, face red and puffy. El laughs and Max rolls her eyes. 
“Let me guess, if Nancy has them then I am dead?” Max scoffs, and you go a bit tense. 
“Well in this entire hypothesis that means I am dead, so that’s a bit mean.” Eddie giggles. “Because if my girl is dead then they go to me.”
“No they wouldn’t.” Max laughs, which makes the table go a little quiet. “They’d go to their dad.”
“What?” Eddie asks as Motley giggles out a “PAPA!”
He turns to you, eyes wide. “That true?”
“Technically yes.” You mumble out, looking extremely guilty. “But only because-”
Eddie doesn’t want to hear anymore, he slams his silverware down and storms down the hall, slamming the door loudly. 
“Y/n, I’m so sorry-” Max starts, only to have you glare at her and move to grab Ziggy. 
It had been a week since Eddie talked to you, he slept on the couch and only talked to the girls. The only communication he had with you was through the girls, and that was it. 
He made them pancakes, and took them to school and daycare. 
Right now he sat in Ziggys nursery as he tried to get her ready for the day, her only in a diaper as he sat in front of her. 
“Aw, come on. Gimme a smile, little baby.” He coos, wiggling his shoulders. “It’s such a cute dress and you know you want to wear it. Huh?”
“No, Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles. “Wuv yu.”
“Aww. I wuv yu too.” He laughs. “In fact I love you THIS MUCH!”
He opens his arms out wide which makes her giggle. “How much do you love me?”
“Dis Muck.” She giggles, opening her own arms wide. 
“Our arms are open, we gotta hug.” He laughs, pulling her in quickly which makes her scream and giggle, pushing him away as he kisses her stomach over and over. 
“PAPA IS HERE!” Motley screams from the living room which makes Eddie whip his head around to the door that had been closed. 
What? “MOMMY! MOMMY MOMMY! IT’S PAPA!” 
Eddie stands up quickly, Ziggy in his arms as he swings the door open, meeting your shocked face as you come up the stairs. 
“Did she say-?” He starts.
“I’m hoping not.” But as you are saying it there is a knock on the front door. So Eddie makes his way to the living room with Ziggy in his arms as you run to catch Motley before she answers the door. 
Choosing to do it yourself, Eddie watches with his heart in his stomach as the door swings open and he is met with-
No.Fucking. Way.
Part ll HERE
(Would y'all want a part 2? If you send in requests for blurbs or scenarios of Eddie and the girls I will 100% write them. Send em in.)
Taglist:: (let me know if you want to be removed)
@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel
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dustytufts · 7 months
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Leafkit and Squirrelkit make "travelling herbs" for Sandstorm before she goes for a walk. They're delicious, she assures the kits, through tears in her eyes. They run away proudly, she rushes out of camp for the nearest creek to wash her mouth in. Nasty, she mouths, but she'll eat whatever they make. The kits' smiles make it worth a wet face.
~~~
Had a ton of fun with this one but don't wanna bog down the main post. A lot of unrelated-to-wc process talk below the cut!
So this was a bit of experimentation with a new brush which turned into exploration into gradient maps.
The original idea was simply to modify csp's mechanical pencil brush into something that felt a bit more natural. It started with simply turning on a bit of tilt-controlled thickness and setting my colour to about 80% grey, rather than black. It didn't quite feel right, but setting the brush to blend with the subcolour on each tip, setting the subcolour to the 80% grey and the main colour to the canvas' colour, then setting the brush's blend mode to darken gave me a brush that felt like it had FAR finer line control.
The lines themselves look like this (on a more saturated bg to show how the values layer/fade in and out with pressure and tilt):
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(edit to pic: completely unnoticeable when on the intended base colour*)
This is where the gradient maps come in. The way I usually change my linearts' colours is to make a new layer, mask over it, and manually paint. It gives a lot of control to your end result, but it's time consuming and often takes many adjustments to make it feel like it has enough contrast to make the drawing actually *readable.* If I wanted to add a gradient map to the lineart, it would be unable to read the transparency and would pick from the single value that the lineart is (usually black), then the transparency would take over. This gives me a dull result.
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With the "transparency" being an actual colour, that gives it an actual value for the gradient map to read. So instead of having your lines fade from black to the colour behind it (often desaturating as it goes), it'll go from something like dark blue -> reddish-grey -> orange -> yellow. It adds a little something i think, and while I absolutely don't have this down pat, it could be something interesting to explore!
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I also wanted to go further with this piece, namely painting it rather than a shading layer set on overlay with the aforementioned gradient maps all over it but ... it wasnt happening. The art skills clocked out for the day. That said, I definitely want to explore how this would look if I coloured everything for realsies rather than doing the fallback method. Could be where they really shine!
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laurfilijames · 5 months
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Flat To Filled
Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader
Words: 3.9k
Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Tig being a bit of a perv. Oral sex (M receiving). Unprotected intercourse. Sex in exchange for a service.
Summary: Your flat tire turns out to be a very happy nuisance, and a scene right out of a porno.
A/N: I got a flat tire a couple of months ago and came up with this idea while waiting for it to be repaired, though sadly not by Jax Teller.
---
"You've got to be fucking kidding," you mumbled under your breath, seeing the low tire pressure light illuminate on your dash.
It didn't seem like that long ago you had finished paying off the loan used to purchase the new set of tires, and as you put your car in park and climbed out of the driver's seat, you prayed it just needed some air and wasn't completely flat.
"Fuck."
The tire was smooshed right against the hot asphalt, and crouching down to run your hand along the circumference of the wheel, your fingers caught on a screw buried into the rubber.
At least you weren't rushing anywhere in particular, you thought, having only been on your way to grab yourself a coffee from the cafe in downtown Charming, laughing in realizing the irony in the situation that you were meant to be saving money anyway. The silver lining was that your flat just so happened to take place about two minutes down the road from Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair, and with the sun shining and feeling pleasantly warm on your skin, you didn't necessarily mind going for a walk.
The gates of the entrance were open as you approached, the yard full of Harley's and various members of the nefarious motorcycle club along with some vehicles actually being repaired by mechanics, your presence quickly being noticed by everyone in the vicinity.
"And how can I help you, sweetheart?" a man with black, curly hair and soul-piercing blue eyes drawled, his pervy tone making you grin and tilt your head in amusement as he stood straight from leaning over his bike and puffed his chest out, his hands securing themselves on his belt to help draw your attention to his crotch.
"I have a flat," you began to explain, hooking your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of where your car sat abandoned on the road. "I was hoping someone could take a look and hopefully patch it."
"Yeah, probably, but there's something else I can definitely help you with."
"Jesus Christ, Tig," another man's voice sounded from inside the garage. "Stop preying on innocent people."
The sight of the man defending you made your heart leap into your throat, and suddenly the mid-afternoon sun wasn't the cause of the sheen of sweat growing on your skin.
Messy, blond hair that rested at his shoulders surrounded his gorgeous face like a halo, and if the blue eyes on the first man were anything to admire, his were like looking into an abyss that would swallow you whole.
He didn't shy away from looking you over up and down, a crooked smile dressing his lips that were surrounded by scruffy, bleached stubble, his smile only spreading more to create lines around his mouth when his friend walked past him and slapped his shoulder.
"See, told ya."
He strutted into the garage while still looking back at you obviously, nearly tripping over his own feet, leaving you and the living incarnation of Helios standing somewhat awkwardly.
He nodded his head behind you, "So, what's wrong?"
"Just a flat. There's a screw in it. I was hoping someone would have time to patch it for me."
"Yeah, let me take a look," he grinned again, squinting slightly from the bright sunlight as he wiped his oily hands on a rag he held.
You took note of his slender fingers and how rough and worked yet soft the skin on his hands looked, curious as to what else they were capable of, and how the way the large rings that adorned them enhanced the appeal to feel them on your body even more.
"Is it just down the road?" he asked, beginning to walk over to the wall where a bunch of keys were hung on hooks.
"Yeah, about two minutes," you confirmed, remaining in place.
He held a set of keys up and tossed them up in the air before catching them, "I'll go give it a lift, then. You can wait here if you want. Despite your first impressions they're all pretty harmless."
His smile had you nearly bursting into flames, and holding out your own keys for him to take, your fingers brushed each other, igniting even more heat within your body.
He winked at you as he walked confidently over to the tow truck parked on the far side of the row of bikes, allowing you the opportunity to eye-fuck him just as he had you minutes ago.
Even with how baggy his jeans sat on his lower half, you could tell he had a perfectly plump ass that would no doubt power some hammering thrusts, and his back and arms were shaped nicely by strong muscles that showed through his t-shirt and mechanic's shirt that had the sleeves torn off, making you bite your lip as you thought how this unfortunate event was proving to be anything but.
It didn't take long for him to return with your car being pulled behind the tow truck, flashing you another smile as he hung his left arm out the window, a cigarette hanging from his inviting lips.
You watched the production as a few other mechanics went over and began helping him, the assistance he received allowing opportunities for glances your way, his silent flirting making you flush and shift on your feet.
Within minutes the tire was off and being carried into the bay of the garage, and as he got closer to you, you were able to see the name embroidered in black thread on the right side of his chest.
Jax.
You mouthed it, the whisper of those three letters feeling like silk on your tongue, and you wondered how saying it out loud and on repeat in the throes of pleasure would make him react; all smiles and that boyish confidence shining brightly as he basked in your praise, or a brutal and claiming side coming to reveal itself after being encouraged by your mantra.
He slammed your tire down on the workbench closest to the door and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing dirt and grime across it, and gave you a smile and a nod as he parted those luscious lips and started talking.
"So, you from around here?"
"Yup," you confirmed, placing your hands in the back pockets of your shorts to force your chest out a little further.
He hummed as he started to work, "I would've remembered a pretty face like yours."
"Do you say that to all the girls you help?"
Jax shook his head, his eyebrows rising on his forehead to crease it. "Nope."
He looked completely innocent despite it being a blatant lie that he could barely get away with, and you knew that was exactly how a man like him was likely to get everything he wanted.
"Well, I really appreciate you dropping whatever else you were in the middle of to sort me out," you thanked. "Jax…" you added, his name sounding sinful from how lusty your voice suddenly became.
He tucked his bottom lip in his teeth, smiling big even with the restriction, his eyes dancing and alight with mischief as his hands paused what he was doing.
"My pleasure."
His words were spoken with such conviction, as well as what you hoped was a promise or at least a hint at a request, and for whatever reason, the more you were in his presence and talking to him, the more daring and confident you felt yourself becoming.
"Is it?" you asked, watching as he leaned against the workbench, his forearms flexing and showing off the tattoo decorating his right one, his glare serious and almost threatening while his lips continued to feign innocence.
"I think it's going to be."
Time passed too quickly for your liking, your very effortless and charged conversations with Jax tempting you into driving the pocket knife that you kept tucked away in your purse into one of your other tires just so you could spend more time with him; his efficient handy-work resulting in your tire being back on your car and good as new in the fastest forty-two minutes of your life.
“You're all set there, darlin’,” he drawled, squinting at you in the beaming sun with a crooked grin as he wiped his hands on the rag he pulled back out of his jeans.
“Looks like it. Thank you.”
“You have somewhere you need to be?” he asked, leaning against your car comfortably.
“Not necessarily,” you answered, part of you praying he would extend an invitation to something that involved you staying longer and having those lips that were still curled into a smile pressed against yours. They were perfectly shaped and full and impossible to stop admiring, and the fantasy of learning how good they would feel refused to quit playing in your mind, deeming him a talented kisser without even knowing.
"How much do I owe you?" you asked, the assumption that this repair would cost the equivalent of at least twenty of those speciality coffees you were on your way to getting making a pit settle in your stomach.
His bottom lip tucked between his teeth and he chewed on it while still managing to grin mischievously, the brightness of it reaching his eyes.
"I think we can work something out."
You swore you had to be dreaming, finding yourself being led through Samcro's clubhouse and down a hallway where you were continuously stopped to be pressed against the wall and kissed until you were breathless, the sound of your bodies slamming against the wood panels and your shared laughs drowning out the loud music coming from the common area.
It always felt good to be right, you thought, your speculations that Jax knew how to kiss exceptionally well turning out to be more than correct, the way his tongue claimed your mouth and his lips sealed against yours making you quickly abandon all morals and sense of reality.
Your fingers tangled in his hair as he walked backwards with you into a room, the scent of stale smoke mixed with a bit of weed overpowering the hint of cologne that lingered, and once inside, Jax pushed the door shut and shoved you up against it.
He slowly peeled his face away from yours, taking a deep, steadying breath, his eyes trailing from your chest up to your lust-drunk eyes while his arms braced on either side of you to cage you between him and the door.
"We do accept cash, too," he smirked, his smile growing when you laughed and shook your head.
"I'm afraid I don't have any on me…"
"See that's too bad," he said, his tone falsely serious. "Non-paying customers tend to get fucked in a situation like this…"
The emphasis and double-meaning he put on that one sinful word made you ache and visibly squirm, and you did your best to keep your hands to yourself while you waited for him to move first, only to fail miserably.
You gripped at the edges of his gray mechanics shirt at the same time your mouth crashed against his, peeling it off his arms with his help as you walked forward, forcing him backward into the middle of the room where he ran into a chair, causing both of you to laugh between kisses.
Next came his somehow still freshly white t-shirt, the pure glee that overcame you when you whisked it over his head and laid eyes on his smooth skin and impressively ripped torso making you feel dizzy, and trying to get to the rest of him as quickly as you could, you hurried to unbuckle his belt and send his jeans that were already half-way down his ass to the floor.
You glared at him hungrily as you reached out for his hard cock that strained against his loose boxers that managed to be an even brighter white than his shirt, and stroked it through the cotton appreciatively, watching his head tip slightly back and his eyes close as he succumbed to your touch.
"Fuck," he chuckled, his abs contracting as he did, hooking his thumbs in the waist of his trunks to get rid of them.
"May I?" you asked, the innocence in your request contrasting heavily to how impurely you were looking at him.
"Since you asked nicely," he drawled, holding his hands up away from his body to allow you to do whatever you wanted.
With an excited and satisfied grin, you tugged on his shorts, your mouth instantly watering as his cock sprung free from them and bounced wildly before you, his size and girth and perfectly veiny shaft confirming that the man standing proudly naked before you was utterly perfect.
"Like what you see, darlin'?"
Rather than answering, you wrapped one hand behind his neck and pulled him into you, kissing him madly and desperately while your other hand took hold of his silky flesh and pumped him slowly from tip to base, feeling him flex in your palm.
You basked in this for a couple of minutes until Jax regained control and guided you somewhat forcefully over to lean against the edge of the desk that sat against the wall, his thigh wedging between yours as he gathered your wrists in his one hand and held them up over your head, his other one left to trail up your side, pulling your shirt up along with it.
His mouth attacked your neck while he teased you, the sensation making you roll your hips on his thigh to get some friction on your needy pussy, and when he growled as he got to your breasts that you hadn't bothered to restrict in a bra today, you nearly came undone.
"Fuck, you're hot," he muttered, roughly tearing up your shirt to remove it from you, and he took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him before diving to your mouth again, his hand squeezing at the fullness of your chest and pinching your nipple between his fingers.
You whined into his mouth and arched your back in order to get closer to his touch, your body begging to be used by him in any way possible, this self-made porno you were suddenly living out making you hornier than you've ever been before.
"Are you gonna fuck me, or what?" you asked, his keen attention making you feel bold and powerful.
He chuckled and shook his head, his blond locks moving with the action.
"Patience, darlin'. You need to remember who's paying who here."
You nodded and smirked, pushing off the edge of the desk to take hold of his cock again while you slowly sank to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes to see a very satisfied and eager look on his face.
Pressing your lips against his smooth tip, you spread the precum that leaked from it across them and stuck your tongue out, that first delectably salty taste of him making you swallow thickly as your mouth watered, your thirst for him skyrocketing. You gripped the base of his shaft as you eased him inside your mouth, taking him slowly inch by inch until you reached your hand and your nose was tickled by his flaxen hairs.
Bobbing on and off of his length and swirling your tongue around his head each time you passed it, you worked him steadily with your hand, the sound of his appreciative curses and groans making you squirm and shift on your knees and moan as well, taking him deep into your throat so he could feel the vibrations on your windpipe.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he hissed. "That's it, baby."
His praise sent a shiver down your spine, making your nipples harden even more in addition to you gagging on him each time he pounded the back of your throat, the way he bucked his hips and lightly held your head in place encouraging you to want to be wrecked by him in whatever way he saw fit.
He laughed in disbelief as he gently held your chin and told you to stop, mad at himself for doing it, but not ready to end this with you yet.
"Fuck, you're good. That pretty little mouth of yours sure has some talent," he purred, using his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth.
"Then you should've let me finish…"
Jax chuckled again as he helped you up off the floor, a sound that made you melt each time, his eyes shining with a playfulness that matched his cheeky smile.
"Oh, no," he said, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. "Your debt isn't going to be repaid that easily."
Your breathing became shallow as the way he looked at you turned from kind and light-hearted to intense and almost dark, and he grabbed your face and kissed you roughly, stealing your breath from you as he leaned into you in an overpowering way, his cock poking you and reminding you of its impressive size that you were about to have to try to handle.
He snuck a hand between your heaving bodies, cupping between your legs where an intense heat radiated, and began to rub your pussy through your shorts with a taunting pressure.
"This pussy's gonna feel good, isn't it?" he asked, dragging his hand harder over the material that kept you from him, the whole act and his question driving you mad. "I bet it's nice and tight…"
"Fuck, yes…" you whined, grinding against his hand even more, your head tipping to the side in an offering for him to kiss your neck.
He did, granting you one of your many wishes, sucking and nipping at the tender skin where your pulse hammered frantically.
After another minute or two of torture, you raked your nails up along his back, feeling desperate for him to give you what you so badly needed.
"Please, Jax," you begged. "I'm so wet."
He pulled away from your neck, kissing your swollen lips sloppily as he removed his hand from between your legs.
"Yeah? Lemme see, sweetheart…"
With deft fingers he ripped open the button on your shorts and tugged them down your thighs aggressively, his pupils blown wide when he noticed how your slick had darkened your panties and soaked them through completely, the corner of his lips curling upward menacingly.
He leaned in and kissed you again, a little sweeter this time, a display of his appreciation for how ready you were for him and how much he was enjoying this game with you.
That only lasted for so long though, the more he danced his tongue with yours the more he felt completely out of control, the need to drive his cock into you coming to the forefront of his mind once again just as it had since the minute he met you.
He released your cheeks from his gentle hold and used both of them to grab onto the side of your thong, tearing them off of you barbarically, the sound of ripping cotton making both of you more feral than before.
You sat up on the desk, holding his head to keep him kissing you as he settled between your legs, his cock nudging your inner thigh dangerously close to your center. It was all heavy, panting breaths and the sound of teeth clashing together as you went at each other furiously, your fingers making a tangled mess out of those gorgeous blond tresses, your nails no doubt leaving red scratches all over his pale skin.
With a sharp inhale to catch his breath, Jax broke the messy seal of your lips enough to look down at you naked and spread beneath him, slipping his fingers slowly through your wet folds to gather your slick on his fingertips, admiring you before slamming them inside you deep enough that his rings prevented him from going any further, pumping in and out before hooking them to massage your g-spot.
Your cries filled the room, the build-up to this making everything feel more intense than you could bear, your hips moving to meet the tempo of his hand enthusiastically and instinctively.
"You want that dick?" Jax asked breathlessly, his cock throbbing and ready to explode if he held off any longer, the sensation of your pussy clenching his fingers and coating them with your juices making it worse.
He was always diligent about wrapping up when it came to sleeping with new chicks, but something about you made him want to bury his bare cock deep inside you and drive into you again and again, the thought of seeing your cunt leaking with his load sending him into a fury.
"Yes…fuckkkk!" you screamed, your consent barely past your lips as he pushed into you, stretching you out over his thick girth.
A shuddered breath escaped your lips as you sought to adjust to his size, Jax giving you no mercy as he immediately started hammering into you with ruthless force.
By the time he had rammed himself into the deepest part of you, you were both so close to falling apart, not taking long to get each other right back to the edge where you had been left hanging, the rhythm chosen by him and matched by you one that was sure to put this desk through the wall in no time.
It shook precariously beneath you, and it seemed the threat of breaking the damn thing only spurred Jax on more, his brutal thrusts increasing as he worked even harder to ruin you.
His skin became slippery as he began to work up a sweat, your hands gliding over his shoulders and up the column of his neck as you tried to hold on to him as best you could.
His praise at how good you felt was broken up by a variety of curses, the way he sounded as he got so lost in you making the pressure in your core erupt rapidly, and you strangled his cock through your release, soaking him enough for you to hear the lewd squelching through your mind-numbing euphoria.
"Fuck!" he roared, his last thrusts slowing in pace as you coaxed out his end, his cock pulsing inside your choking walls and filling you up with his hot cum in vicious spurts.
His sweaty hair was stuck to his forehead as he leaned it against yours, chuckling while he fought to catch his breath.
"That was…"
"Yeah…" you panted, hardly able to believe just how incredible it was, your whole body tingling and alive with pleasure.
He smiled against your lips before kissing you sweetly, humming into your mouth while he remained inside you, wanting to relish in the after effects for as long as he could.
You made out until he eventually slipped from you, the loss making you whine and you both to slowly cease your kisses.
“I've never done anything like this before,” you admitted, feeling totally liberated in your behaviour as you watched his sweaty, naked, and absolutely perfect form step away from you, his smile beaming at you once again.
He winked at you, “Me neither," and ran a hand through his hair to try to fix the mess you had made of it.
“For some reason I don't believe that," you chided, tilting your head as you remained in your spot, his cum starting to drip out of you.
“You shouldn't," he purred, strutting back over to you, his eyes fixed between your legs where you could tell by his expression that he enjoyed what he saw.
He held your waist, his head tipping to the side as he looked down at you, his voice low and lusty when he spoke.
"Still have nowhere to be?"
---
Taglist:
@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @theesirenteller
I went ahead and tagged everyone I have written down for my Charlie/Will Miller taglist so my apologies if you're not interested in being tagged in Jax fics and I will happily add or remove anyone as they wish!
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dailyadventureprompts · 4 months
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Homebrew Mechanic: Meaningful Research
Being careful about when you deliver information to your party is one of the most difficult challenges a dungeonmaster may face, a balancing act that we constantly have to tweak as it affects the pacing of our campaigns.
That said, unlike a novel or movie or videogame where the writers can carefully mete out exposition at just the right time, we dungeonmasters have to deal with the fact that at any time (though usually not without prompting) our players are going to want answers about what's ACTUALLY going on, and they're going to take steps to find out.
To that end I'm going to offer up a few solutions to a problem I've seen pop up time and time again, where the heroes have gone to all the trouble to get themselves into a great repository of knowledge and end up rolling what seems like endless knowledge checks to find out what they probably already know. This has been largely inspired by my own experience but may have been influenced by watching what felt like several episodes worth of the critical role gang hitting the books and getting nothing in return.
I've got a whole write up on loredumps, and the best way to dripfeed information to the party, but this post is specifically for the point where a party has gained access to a supposed repository of lore and are then left twiddling their thumbs while the dm decides how much of the metaplot they're going to parcel out.
When the party gets to the library you need to ask yourself: Is the information there to be found?
No, I don't want them to know yet: Welcome them into the library and then save everyone some time by saying that after a few days of searching it’s become obvious the answers they seek aren’t here. Most vitally, you then either need to give them a new lead on where the information might be found, or present the development of another plot thread (new or old) so they can jump on something else without losing momentum.
No, I want them to have to work for it:  your players have suddenly given you a free “insert plothook here” opportunity. Send them in whichever direction you like, so long as they have to overcome great challenge to get there. This is technically just kicking the can down the road, but you can use that time to have important plot/character beats happen.
Yes, but I don’t want to give away the whole picture just yet:  The great thing about libraries is that they’re full of books, which are written by people,  who are famously bad at keeping their facts straight. Today we live in a world of objective or at least peer reviewed information but the facts in any texts your party are going to stumble across are going to be distorted by bias. This gives you the chance to give them the awnsers they want mixed in with a bunch of red herrings and misdirections. ( See the section below for ideas)
Yes, they just need to dig for it:  This is the option to pick if you're willing to give your party information upfront while at the same time making it SEEM like they're overcoming the odds . Consider having an encounter, or using my minigame system to represent their efforts at looking for needles in the lithographic haystack. Failure at this system results in one of the previous two options ( mixed information, or the need to go elsewhere), where as success gets them the info dump they so clearly crave.
The Art of obscuring knowledge AKA Plato’s allegory of the cave, but in reverse
One of the handiest tools in learning to deliver the right information at the right time is a sort of “slow release exposition” where you wrap a fragment lore the party vitally needs to know in a coating of irrelevant information,  which forces them to conjecture on possibilities and draw their own conclusions.  Once they have two or more pieces on the same subject they can begin to compare and contrast, forming an understanding that is merely the shadow of the truth but strong enough to operate off of. 
As someone who majored in history let me share some of my favourite ways I’ve had to dig for information, in the hopes that you’ll be able to use it to function your players.
A highly personal record in the relevant information is interpreted through a personal lens to the point where they can only see the information in question 
Important information cameos in the background of an unrelated historical account
The information can only be inferred from dry as hell accounts or census information. Cross reference with accounts of major historical events to get a better picture, but everything we need to know has been flattened into datapoints useful to the bureaucracy and needs to be re-extrapolated.
The original work was lost, and we only have this work alluding to it. Bonus points if the existent work is notably parodying the original, or is an attempt to discredit it.
Part of a larger chain of correspondence, referring to something the writers both experienced first hand and so had no reason to describe in detail. 
The storage medium (scroll, tablet, arcane data crystal) is damaged in some way, leading to only bits of information being known. 
Original witnesses Didn’t have the words to describe the thing or events in question and so used references from their own environment and culture. Alternatively, they had specific words but those have been bastardized by rough translations. 
Tremendously based towards a historical figure/ideology/religion to the point that all facts in the piece are questionable.  Bonus points if its part of a treatise on an observably untrue fact IE the flatness of earth
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familyabolisher · 6 months
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If it seems odd, by contrast, to take the time to define what a child is, there is good reason to be equally critical and careful. Rather than taking for granted the existence of children as a demographic group defined somehow by age, this book takes a fairly simple approach to defining who is a trans child. Anyone under the medical age of consent during the twentieth century—typically twenty-one, but sometimes eighteen—is a child in the pages that follows. I draw on the medical age of consent not because it refers to a meaningful distinction but precisely because its arbitrariness and obvious construction illuminate how the figure of “the child” and actual living “children” are entangled products of historical processes of Western subjectification, rather than representing a natural category of human life. While there are infants, toddlers, five-year-olds, teenagers, and even twenty-year-olds throughout this book, I refer to all of them as children because they were subject to a specifically infantilizing form of governance (this is also why the category “adolescent” did not meaningfully come into play in trans medicine during this period). The medical age of consent, which deprived children of the ability to make medical decisions for themselves, proved to be a deciding factor in shaping their experiences and limiting their ability to act. Drawing on Paul Amar’s critical reading of the field of childhood studies, I agree that the child is a dehumanized social form, the product of historical and political processes of infantilization “designed to control various populations” through sexual and racial difference, rather than to index meaningful age differences. As Amar points out, one of the most pernicious effects of the production of children through infantilization is “a failure to recognize children as agents,” to render their lives politically informal—effectively unintelligible to adults. The Western form of the child and childhood is a powerful obstacle to seeing “the mechanism and practices by which social actors branded as children challenge the regime of infantilization,” whether through collective organization or individual itineraries that stray from developmentalism. For that reason, this book names the trans child not as a distinct subgroup within the trans community but as a politically disenfranchised person subject to a regime of racially and gender normative governance by medicine and other social institutions, including the family.
Jules Gill-Peterson, Histories of the Transgender Child
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prokopetz · 1 year
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The thing that annoys me about the received wisdom of "tabletop RPGs are descended from fantasy wargames, and that's why Dungeons & Dragons is Like That" is that most of the time, when people bring it out they're drawing conclusions by comparing D&D to modern fantasy wargames, and consequently getting cause and effect precisely backwards.
The fact of the matter is that tabletop RPGs aren't descended from fantasy wargames – at least, not in the way that this claim is usually meant. When D&D and its contemporaries came on the scene, fantasy and sci-fi elements were a relatively new (and often controversial) entry to the wargaming hobby; the 900-pound gorilla of the tabletop wargaming scene at the time wasn't fantasy wargaming, but historical wargaming; i.e., re-creations of historical campaigns and such.
Fantasy wargaming and tabletop RPGs are less a linear progression, and more two parallel branches of the same evolutionary tree; they both split off from historical wargaming at roughly the same time, and for much of their shared history there wasn't a bright line between them; many early titles that are classified as fantasy wargames due to their publication history would probably be considered tabletop RPGs by modern standards, and vice versa.
Bringing this back around to my grump about getting cause and effect backwards, one of the consequences of this shared history is that many of the features of contemporary tabletop roleplaying culture that are often cited as reactions against the hobby's wargaming roots are actually directly descended from those roots.
The frequent preoccupation with separating player knowledge from character knowledge, for example? That's straight up an historical wargaming thing. When you're gaming out an historical battle, it makes a big difference whether the players' tactics are informed by contemporary knowledge about the situation, or whether they restrict themselves to acting only upon information which the commander of the side they're playing could plausibly have possessed at the time. Whether there existed an obligation to remain "in character" as your side's commander – and exactly what constituted breaching this obligation – is something people literally got into fights over.
Or the whole "rules versus rulings" nonsense? Arguing about whether it's more appropriate to resolve uncertainty with recourse to game mechanics or by deferring to the judgment of subject matter experts is so deeply embedded in the DNA of historical wargaming that it goes all the way back to the Prussian Kriegsspiel.
Like, I'm not saying that these things aren't worth discussing, but I think we've gotta recognise that when we talk about player knowledge versus character knowledge or rulings versus rules, we're not "evolving beyond" the hobby's wargaming roots; we're rehashing arguments that tabletop wargame designers were having two hundred years ago, in some cases practically verbatim.
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kindledrose · 3 months
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LIFESTUCK ?!?! (pt 2 here!) (pt 3)
i was sick a couple days ago and spent like 12 hours straight doing nothing but classpecting life series characters and then was like Yeah i have to draw this now. so here's some sillies 👍 (super long classpect ramble under cut because i spent far too long on it not to share hfshjf)
quick note: i really really love @/classpect-navelgazing's theories and used them for a lot of the ideas here. go check their blog out it rules :]
ok you guys flower ranchers (scott tango jimmy) are making me so insane for this au specifically because of this idea i had about doom/life players. doom in true canon is related to inevitability, fate, and knowledge of the specific rules that keep the characters trapped within their story, right. and life is sort of related to healing, physically and mentally, within the confines of the game. so within this au, the aspect of life refers to the rules within the game that the players can see and are aware of (last life’s trading lives system + boogeyman, third life’s soulmate mechanic, secret life’s tasks, etc.). life players have some amount of dominion over these elements (depending on their class, of course). doom on the other hand refers to everything surrounding the games (stuff like admin powers, the world barrier, and whatever happens to the players after they die). 
as a mage of doom, scot (his name is so funny to me. like yeah he sure is) has a bunch of intrinsic knowledge about the way the games function on a logistical level. he’s like a guy who read the script a while ago and forgot all the characters’ names but knows the basic plot and how it’s going to end. or who knows all the ins and outs of tech crew and for whom the apparent magic of the show for the audience is lost on, since he knows how it’s being done. the thing is, scot isn't especially able to act on this knowledge during the game. what director wants someone in the audience — or one of the actors — taking all the magic out of the show, spoiling how it works and how it ends? no, it’s best if they keep that knowledge to themselves — and so scot’s narratively unable to affect the stories of those around him, even his close friends who he’d want to help. he’s aware of this, of course, which makes him more than a little depressed, as he can see the futility of it all and can’t even explain to anyone what’s going on and how the game works. (the only story he’s able to affect, of course, is his own. which. depressed doom player + mage martyr complex + guy who Really cares about his friends is not necessarily a good combination.)
the amount of stock i put in the idea of gendered classes is close to zero so tangoe gets to be a maid of life because ohh my goodness. i like the theory (thanks classpect-navelgazing) of life as “the aspect of affluence,” where life players usually enter the game with some kind of material wealth or status that helps their position in some way. i also like the idea that maid players start the game with a surplus of their aspect but often end up feeling as if they’re only seen as a provider of that specific thing as a result of this, and so end up longing for something else instead. this primarily applies to last life tango because that’s the season i’m most familiar with lol, but i thought the way he started out with so many lives there and quickly dwindled as a result of everyone taking from him and only him was Really interesting. mans has all the luck of the game he could need, but only wants friends to actually be able to live with. being a life player also ties into his little gambling games and things (again, dominion over stuff within the overarching game/story, but nothing beyond that).
then we get to jimi (again fantastic name). the basic premise of an heir is that they’re played by their aspect, right and Oh Boy is jimmy played by life in the life series. i don’t personally know much about anything he’s done other than heehoo canary guy but along with the previously stated points it’s So fun to see him as a life player because it allows for some really clearly contrast between the way he interacts with tangoe and scot based on their aspects. i really like the idea of scot being like “you’re a life player jimi. it's in your name. the game is not going to let you die” and jimi like “you really think so? aw thanks man” neither of them knowing that dying as a life player in this game is literally like in the job description. (ok. i kind of feel like i’m letting jimi down by basing his story so far around other people.. but this is just for fun and i can always change it later)
(also i could easily have put tangoe and jimi as doom players too but for the fact that i don’t think they necessarily see through the game as much as scot does (or at all). and so life it is.)
feel free to ask me questions abt them!!! i have so many thoughts about this bro 
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petday · 1 month
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whats little magic?
It is a puzzle game for the Super Famicom and Game Boy Color video game systems. I like the Game Boy Color game much more for its art direction, and it's also just more fun for me to play with the 'bubble magic' mechanic in that version. I wrote more about my enjoyment below, in case anyone is curious.
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The game’s box art is very beautiful, right? It caught my eye right away. The in-game 'cutscene' artwork appears to be carefully-made pixel art versions of the same artist's illustrations and they are similarly beautiful. (Sorry in advance if my photograph quality is not great.)
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But the actual levels themselves look very haphazard. Clashing colors and tiles. It's easy enough to guess that a blue tile next to a white tile represents water and snow, respectively, but what does the yellow cluster-of-boxes tile represent? Yellow bricks of a tower…? How about the spike-y objects in the snow-water levels? I guessed they were underwater mines, but then there's the same tile in a later level too, just palette-swapped to be red… The two monochrome tiles in the third picture above teleports your character, but it has a two-frame animation that made me think of an ‘industrial grinder’ and ‘static noise’, so I assumed it was dangerous at first. Was it intended to be nondescript ‘sparkly magic’? Where are all of these levels taking place, anyway? No other humans are in these areas, just various animals and vague environmental indicators. There are cute snakes in some ‘yellow brick’ levels that end your life upon touching them. Seems irresponsible for a teacher to allow her student into perilous areas, no matter how eager she is to pass her final exam at magic school and become a magician.
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Oh, I should explain the story. (None of the above photos are in sequence, just wanted to show more of the game.) The story is about a girl who attends magic school, and aims to pass a series of tests to become a full-fledged magician. Her teacher encourages her. The lack of explanation in the story is another fun point for me. Her magic teacher doesn't explain why 'learning magic' consists of pushing a heart into a heart-shaped hole that triggers a staircase to appear, which is what you need to do to complete each level. (It’s a beating heart – is it alive?) No explanation as to why snakes end your life instantly upon touching them. The context of 'because you want to pass your exams, a teacher is putting you through trials to help you become a master of magic’ isn’t an adequate explanation, because the teacher also tells you that she has not passed the final exam - why is a teacher putting a student through something that is too difficult even for herself? Who is in control of all of the strange areas you need to ‘complete’ in order to become a real magician, then? (After you complete the game with the student, you can play a different set of levels as the teacher, but even the usual sparse context-giving ‘cutscenes’ are not there… Mysterious…)
So, all of that is why my drawing about ‘Little Magic’ is about ‘confusion’, ‘going along with something that makes sense at first, but quickly unravels to not make sense any longer’, ‘growing distrust of authoritative figures’, and ‘frustration from stagnation.’ https://petday.tumblr.com/post/730315736066768896
Maybe the instruction booklet explains everything; I did not have access to that while playing, and I like that feeling. ‘Renting a game from a video game rental store that did not come with an instruction booklet, and being perplexed by it, forced to create your own context because you have nothing else’ feeling. Randomly selecting games to play that do not have much documentation online is enjoyable to me, because of that feeling.
A fan translation group translated the Game Boy Color game from Japanese to English in 2018. There wasn't a lot of dialogue in the first place, though. I like games where there is little to no dialogue because one can imagine a story/context besides what is shown. Up until 2022, I could not find a solution for the teacher’s final puzzle, so I interpreted the ending of the game’s story as, ‘The magic teacher thought she could harness a type of magic far stronger than what she could handle, accidentally designed an impossible puzzle for herself and is trapped for eternity.’ Of course, the puzzle has a solution, but I wanted to honour my strange interpretation regardless. When I play games and have weird interpretations of them, I am definitely not saying, 'I bet this is what the people who worked on this game were thinking!' I dislike that attitude. It's just imaginative interpretation, and working with the odd way I interact with things in order to maximize fun for myself…
A part about old games that I also love, is that they can never be updated; they had one chance to release a finished game, and maybe another chance to fix glitches in a re-release if they sold very many copies the first time. I greatly enjoyed the ‘imperfect’ tilesets and abrupt feeling of this game, which might have been ‘improved’ in a patch if it had been released in recent years instead of 1999.
(I wasn’t sure where to include this point, but I must also say, my favourite YouTube comments are about someone’s unusual interpretations of a game, when they did not have access to a guide at the time. I read one recently – the comment author and their brother rented ‘Final Fantasy IV’ from a rental store, and they did not know about the ‘Poison’ status effect that depletes the characters health. There is a strange pixelation effect and a ringing sound when you walk around the overworld while poisoned. Because the save file they were playing from was during a point of the game where you visit the moon, and because of the unfamiliar visual and sound effect, they interpreted the ‘Poison’ status effect as, “The moon must be running out of air.” Things like that are beautiful to me.)
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(I also wasn’t sure where to put this point, but the main character, May, from ‘Little Magic’, is stylized differently in some ‘cutscenes’. She resembles a dragon to me. It’s cute.)
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asterias-record-shop · 11 months
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𓆩[in our next life]𓆪
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𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the main taglist!]𓆪
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𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader
𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst
𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 23K
𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.
𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - Use of Y/N || i promise I do not write like this in the fic- || reader was also forced into prostitution, but Finnick forced Snow to make them a pair || reader is definitely bi but has no (sexual) relations with women in the story || Finnick’s hand around your throat can be seen as sexual but it’s mainly just a comfort thing at this point || a lot of mixed timelines, sorry want it to play in my favor || mainly based on the movies bc I haven’t read the books in forever || Reader and Finnick are titled the Princess and Prince of the Capitol || you basically replace Annie || inspiration of your story from other characters || weird baby names inspired by the sea (cuz District 4, sea fishing etc) || This is so going to be a series- || smoking, smoking opium || This actually takes place in several different times, first the drawing for the Quarter Quell to the carriage rides where you meet Katniss and Peeta to the interviews to the literal Quarter Quell, being rescued, then skipping to after the rebellion is won (my darling doesn’t die, he didn’t deserve it <3). || Cinna isn't dead and he’s your stylist, and you and Finnick get married twice (once before the Quarter Quell, another after the rebellion) and of course he designs your wedding dress. || Finnick pulls a stunt like Peeta, turns out to be true later on || first marriage is televised a few days before the games, second of course is private || marriage ceremonies inspired by cultures, yes I’m giving District 4 marriage ceremonies and no I’m not basing this off the wedding in the movie, and this is my own little spin on the fic - I didn’t want the wedding to be boring || the party Peeta and Katniss go to in the second movie is your wedding || ngl, with these plans, I’m hoping this is long- || slight rift between you and Katniss at first, but you end up being best friends quickly || you make Katniss question her sexuality bc you top her for a minute- || CPR & mouth to mouth || Classic warning such as cursing, fighting, blood, death, and more to be wary of. || mentions of Finnick’s forced prostitution (brief, my baby has suffered enough) || smut is included in this; mentions of voyeurism and exhibitionism (explained in the story), breeding kink, size kink, oral (♀ & ♂), fingering, spit, slight choking, slight dom-sub dynamics, sex is definitely a coping mechanism, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, cumslut, maybe more?), probably dirty talk if you think about it that way, praise, mentions of a hazy mindset that could be seen as a subspace, definitely a soft dom turned pleasure dom turned rough dom Finnick, and more- just be wary.
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—𓆩[CHAPTERS]𓆪—
𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER I 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER II 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER III 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER IV 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER V 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER VI 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER VII 𓆩♡𓆪 EPILOGUE
ALL CHAPTERS ARE UP!!!
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—𓆩[DRABBLES]𓆪—
𓆩♡𓆪 N/A
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—𓆩[EXTRA FICS]𓆪—
𓆩♡𓆪 N/A
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© asterias-record-shop
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ewingstan · 1 month
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Going into Ward, one of the things that interested me is that pretty much everyone who read it, no matter what the felt about it as a whole, seemed to like what it did with Tattletale and incorporate it into their understanding of the character. To a certain extent this makes sense, outside of Amy people's problems with Worm usually aren't that characterization had been changed. But few other aspects of Ward have been talked about with so much relative positivity, or influenced so much retroactive analysis of Worm.
After reading her interlude, I'm starting to understand why.
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From the bat we're given blunt and effective portrayals of how alone Lisa feels. Half of her descriptions of other characters focused on how they reminded her of people she's lost. The Heartbroken are primarily described by the ways they do and don't resemble Alec. Aiden by how he does and doesn't resemble Taylor. Imp and Rachel get mentioned but don't get to make an appearance at all, furthering the effect—reminders of her closest connections are everywhere, but the connections themselves are nowhere. She's left with the "expanded Undersiders," and is painfully aware of how they either dislike her or will never form a close connection with her.
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There's a lot more emphasis here on how her power is a separate entity than there was in Lisa's Worm interlude. She's snarking at it, talking about it as something that interjects, drawing a clear divide in her head between what it figures out and what she figures out. Is that her knowledge of its nature developing, or simply a new way of looking at how it always worked?
The framing in the passage above seems to suggest that its encouraging her to distance herself from others, pushing her to interact but specifically feeding her information that will prevent close connections. Questions of agency and identity aside, I do like this as an aspect of powers-as-coping-mechanisms: she was triggered by failing to save someone she was close to, not recognizing the signs that he was unwell. Her power helps her see the signs she couldn't before, but it also seems to try to prevent those close connections from forming so she can't be hurt the same way. Not that its successful. Can't stop betting on losing dogs and all.
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What she calls people internally is interesting. I figured she had been calling Sveta "Garotte" earlier to needle her, but she continues to call her that in her own thoughts, as does her power. Valkyrie gets to be "Valkyrie," and Vicky isn't called a cape name at all. There's a few ways to interpret this; I'm tempted to say that Lisa sees Victoria as a relic of pre-Gold Morning days, and sees Sveta largely in that context. Though I also feel like there's some refusal to see her or Rain as people who are separate from what they've done in the past. A lot of the comments I've read while reading the last few chapters are people debating whether she should've gone "white-hat," and I get the sense that she sees something dishonest in that. Leaving behind the things you've done isn't something she can do—even Lisa Wilbourn can't leave behind the failures of Sarah Livsey.
That might be something to think about in the context of Victoria claiming Tattletale is awful because she represents "giving up on something better." Its kind of baffling in that context; many people have pointed out that cutting the number of overdoses in half was way better than anything the heroes ever did, but Victoria resents that TT saw merely halving it as acceptable. She prefers methods that highlight a certain attitude towards a problem over methods that are effective at dealing with a problem. Having zero tolerance for overdoses and being able to do fuck-all about it becomes preferable to halving it, because not giving up on an ideal world is better than actually making the world better. As little regard as I have for Victoria's position, it seems that the text is giving it some credence by positioning Lisa not just as pursuing the methods that will make an actual difference, but also as rejecting the idea of "something better." Sveta can't be more than Garotte, overdose rates can be halved but not lowered further. Its weirdly reifying of Victoria's position, making Lisa a foil to it rather than a reflection of an entirely unrelated worldview.
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There's a few team leaders in the parahumans-verse who get characterized as encouraging and benefiting from chaos within their ranks. Jack Slash had a self-image of himself as a master manipulator who knew just how to keep the Nine at each others throats to keep them in line, though of course his power was pulling heavy duty there. Trickster exulted in sowing chaos, but while he could use it to his advantage when working alone it explicitly got in the way of the Travellers as a whole during their operations. Lisa incorporates aspects of both; she seems to be cultivating a "this chaos is all part of my design" air for Faultline and Victoria while actually always being on the cusp of losing control of her own team. It seems less like something she's doing deliberately and more like something she has to deal with, even if she later frames it as part of preparing Aiden or something similar.
Man, her relationship with Aiden. First explicit mention of Taylor we've had since the beginning and its for a blunt confirmation that she sees herself as failing Taylor in the same way she failed Rex, and is terrified of doing with Aiden. It feels both like she's holding him at arms length and that she's desperate for a close connection with him.
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kawaiisadoglu · 9 days
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Heyy!!! I was wondering can you write a one with Lewis c black reader Toto? Like Toto and reader are married and poly and they have a secret relationship with Lewis and one day Lewis gets injured in a race so she goes to check on him and they assume she’s cheating on Toto until he confesses that there all in a relationship with each other! I don’t know it’s up to you!
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The fun part of being in a polyamorous relationship with two of the most popular men in the United Kingdom, is the fact that it was kept a secret from the world as we snuck around; playing hide and seek.
Today is the second to last race of the season as both of my partners prepare themselves for the hectic race ahead. The cars were checked over and both drivers were inspected as to be sure they were fit to drive out in the sun today before everyone started getting dressed and heading to their cars.
I for one always stayed by my husband's side as to not draw suspicion with Lewis; I had a bad feeling about thus race and so I kinda just sticked myself to his side, leaving my husband with George and the computers with analysis that I will never understand.
Walking along the corridors, Lewis and laced ourselves together in a tight hug as he swayed me from left to right. "Promise me you'll be careful?" I asked low but loud enough for him to hear. "I'm always careful sweetheart. I would never be careless when I have you to return to" he said softly as he kissed my forehead.
Time passed and all the drivers were now line up on the grid waiting for the green light that came sooner than I wanted. The race went on with me being extremely anxious, feeling the need to puke everything Lewis had to take a sharp turn in the narrow corners.
TOTO'S POV
Lewis had been going good for the most part, George looks to be a bit struggling and honestly this has been our reality for a while. Y/n has been jerking anxiously beside me as she had made her concern about the race earlier and I'm honestly concerned with her state.
Turning in my seat to speak to Bono, after a minute I heard shouting. Spinning around, I realised that my wife is being held back by some mechanics as she begged them to allow her go out. Swiftly running over and taking her from them, she broke down in my arms crying. "He crashed Torger, I told you we should've had the reserve driver go in today." She referred to Lewis who was just getting out of the car.
Allowing her to go out, she walked straight to the entrance where the safety car would arrive with Lewis, as I went to check on George.
LEWIS' POV
The safety car stopping at the entrance and allowing me to exit, I spotted Y/n running straight for me as she landed in my arms. Hearing her sniffles, I ran my hand over her curls instead of risking to knot my hand into her hair.
Whispering calming words into her ears, I kissed all over her face, stopping at her lips. Unbeknownst to us, camera had actually followed her 6here and the moment was spread live.
Upon returning to the garage, everyone stared as Toto engulfed us into a hug. The post race interviews came with everyone questioning what happen, and for a while I said nothing so everyone's best guess was that Y/n wad having an affair with me and Toto was allowing it.
Fans started trashing her online within seconds and Toto and I could not have that happening so we went to the last inter view together, finally responding to the question "My wife is not having an affair, the three of us are in a polygamous relationship- not that it's any of your business but I would like for y'all to stop slandering my innocent wife's name" Toto answered, stunning everyone as I just stood back and smiled at Y/n who I could see had fallen asleep on the couch at the garage's entrance. Overtime the fans came to term with it and eventually loved seeing all three of us together; there were no more problems.
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theswordwizard · 6 months
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ai art: both sides
I think a lot of non-artists are also just really and truly not understanding the big picture. I personally could not care less about that cat image, it was fun, whatever, but you are only producing those kinds of images in the sense that an art director "produces" whatever art they are in charge of. They are telling another artist what to do, even guiding them, but they are not considered the artist themselves. Artists who are creating their own art, who are trying to survive off of their work (many of whom have some form of disability, as art is easy to do while sitting down, etc), who are already in the middle of fighting to not just be tossed aside for a product which doesn't even produce the results it claims, are reacting negatively because they are seeing that in parallel with tabling spaces taken up with people presenting generated art as their own illustration, and game devs/producers using it as a way to explicitly avoid paying people for work, while using something that was trained on their work.
"Why do people react so strongly to things possibly being AI art?" If you want to keep it out of the courts, then public opinion matters all the more. It's about a party line that is easily communicable. Most artists are going to be strongly anti-AI because that's the best way to protect themselves than trying to "open a discussion" about it. It's like nurse scabs. We can argue back and forth all day about the intricacies of scabbing for important jobs, but at the end of the day the party line will generally be "scabbing is bad," "we don't like scabs," "scabbing harms workers."
People are trying to compare people getting mad about it to people getting mad about Duchamp's fountain, which just lets me know about their level of art education, and the level of which they like to talk out their ass.
Duchamp's fountain isn't a major point in art history because of the object itself, its because of the STATEMENT. It is because of the placement of the object IN THE GALLERY. It is the equivalent of a political pamphlet, but summed up in a single object that incites discussion around his political statement. It isn't about the object it is about the CONCEPT. We can literally call anything we want "art" if we dedicate ourselves to reframing it and treating it as such, it's just that most non-artists don't even care. They want the label of being an artist without even putting in an effort to. It's like if I wanted to be called a photographer and I wanted people to treat me as such, and so I just made a portfolio of pictures I took off of Pinterest or even a stock photo site, because I've decided that it's the photos I would WANT to take, and thus I can just act like they have anything to do with me.
There have been arguments over much more "similar" things for a long time too. Since the 90s Richard Prince has been taking people's instagram photos, making slight tweaks to avoid copyright, and then printing them large scale and selling them for tens of thousands of dollars. Technically legal, kinda shitty, as he does it without even contacting the (plenty of times, women) original posters. And that's just with selfies people have taken! But I don't see people mentioning that because a lot of people don't like him, and most people arguing to legitimize AI art to be uncontested don't actually care that much about contemporary art. They have zero real interest in being an artist and talking about art to that degree, to have those discussions in a way that isn't validating themselves. Duchamp's fountain in a gallery incites discussion because galleries are places of art discussion. If someone brought a crate of mechanically woven baskets (that they bought from amazon) to a craft fair, people are going to be rightly pissed off. It's about context.
It's also, in my opinion, a similar discussion to the one that was big on twitter not too long ago, where people argued that artists weren't obligated to be able to draw non-white and/or disabled people. Which, sure, but you probably aren't that good of an artist if you don't know how to. And someone going through a portfolio of exclusively white people might go "huh, only white people. interesting." (I even want to include a gotcha here! If an artist has a portfolio of white people, and they have a section talking about their focus being painting their family tree in like, northern Ireland, it's gonna be a totally different story. why, you ask? because there is an underlying concept other than "wow this artist really only likes white people." this is part of the reading comprehension test that will follow.)
And you know what, I'm going to be honest - and this is likely a result of me not being a photographer - but I'm not even really talking all that much about AI photo edits, outside of the large scale implications of what it means that anyone can create a highly realistic image of anything they want (including political figures, female celebrities, you see my pattern here) with zero effort, on a mass scale we've never seen previously. I think they should only be used with stock, and I even think that photographers who upload their works should get additional payments from it. I actually had used a generator back in 2019 for a project, well before this even became a discussion, and it was even featured in a gallery show for a bit! The overall theme was "fake news," so it was a conceptual piece with fake landscape photography that I made with some beta tool. The point was the tool in combination with the tool's result, not how pretty the fake pictures were. I also want to say it was trained a lot more ethically than a lot of the generators that are so popular today.
And this isn't to say that you have to have a gallery or be so fully integrated in a physical art scene or whatever to be able to make conceptual art or talk about it - honestly I think zines that could actually combine whatever your concept is with having room to talk about it, and they're easy to create both physically and digitally and share. maybe just don't have it be around "look at all these pretty pictures that I made with AI." similar to how people at the art book fair aren't going to be impressed with me being like "look at all these pretty pictures I found on Unsplash."
Sure, AI art is "real art," but it's not illustration or photography or whatever, it's conceptual art. Which means it's main goal is to incite thought and discussion about it. Like the D&D book's release that suddenly turned to being about the AI art they used. So if you want to be an artist using primarily AI, go ahead, no one can stop you, but the topic is culturally significant with the current fight between the entertainment unions to protect their livelihoods, so the discussion will be heated.
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moodyseal · 2 months
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I got too deep into the Schema Theory while writing the paper for one of my exams and it got me thinking about Apollo's coping mechanisms yk
Basically the gist of this theory is that, in the eventuality that their primary needs are not satisfied during their formative years, a child might develop a bunch of different behavioural schemes in their adult life (which are too many to be listed here oh my god) that are a direct reflection of how the parent failed them during childhood
For example, one of these schemes is emotional deprivation, which is a person's tendency to emotionally distance themselves from other people due to the fact that they believe they won't be able to comfort them, and it's a scheme that's formed due to the guardian not satisfying the child's emotional needs. Basically it's formed through a "If my parent couldn't do it, then how could others?" sort of mentality
Another one, which I believe is very relevant here, is the sense of failure, which originates due to the guardian's immensely overbearing nature and the continuous dissatisfaction with the child's efforts. As an adult, the child in question believes that they're inept at everything, even if evidence points to the contrary, because of the fundamental belief that they hold that they're a failure
(Does it remind you of anyone?)
Now, these schemes tend to go hand in hand with modes, which are essentially coping mechanisms that the person uses to deal with whatever life throws at them and whatever negative emotion these schemes bring on. One of these modes is the *squints* scheme overcompensation? Anyway what it says on the article I got the info from is that basically people who use this coping mechanism tend to do the opposite of what their behavioural scheme tells them to do. If they're ashamed, they put down others. If they feel like a failure, they boast. (Again. Who does this sound like.)
AT FIRST it seems like a good coping mechanism but it's actually not, because the overcompensation leads to this vicious cycle where the more a person overcompensates, the more the scheme worsens. In Apollo's case, the scheme we're examining here is his sense of failure; in his overcompensation mode, to avoid feeling incompetent he tries to constantly put himself in the spotlight, drawing attention to his talents. However, he does it in such a ridiculous way (perhaps actually in some form of self-sabotage?) that the people around him insult those talents, call him a failure, and thus worsen his feeling of worthlessness.
(This might be tied to the punitive scheme as well, maybe? Considering how keen Zeus was on punishment, Apollo might've developed this scheme as a result, though over the centuries it could've shifted its focus from everyone to just him idk. The change between "I'm punishing everything and everyone for being so stupid, even my own son + this Ptolemaic god who breathed wrong in my direction" to "Actually I'm chill" seems pretty suspicious to me tbh)
ANYWAY all of this is to say that everything he does is so intrinsically tied to the damage Zeus did to him that it hurts. All his behaviours all his coping mechanisms. Everything
The arrogance is not just a façade he built over the years to hide his feeling of unhappiness and guilt!! It's quite literally an abuse response!!!!
And yeah maybe Leto was the one who spent the most time with him and Artemis and who took the most care of them so technically she should be considered his figure of attachment instead of Zeus but then again. How much time did Apollo spend beside her compared to the time he spent at Zeus' side, after the twins became Olympians? What do a few moments with her in a year do against entire centuries with him?
Leto's influence never really mattered. He was doomed since the beginning
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queen0fm0nsterz · 7 months
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Also guys, about the locations of the podcasts: they are real places. 100%. They are real places somewhere in the Nowhere - most importantely, somewhen.
Prophetic dreams are very real in Little Nightmares and they are things that often happen: however, I do not believe this is yet the case for Noone. She describes feeling sensations and smells multiple times, something that can only happen if the plane of reality one is in is... well. Real. She also describes feeling Jester's presence as she does with Otto's, who is a real person in the real world alongside her. The fact that Noone isn't currently fully there yet doesn't necessarely mean the places aren't real.
Now, whether she's visiting the past versions of some already existing locations is up to debate (COUGH THE BATHHOUSE COUGH), and that locations and habitants of said locations can be parallels to some already existing ones, but the only certainty we have at this point is that these other places that are being described and witnessed by Noone are real places somewhere. After all, the Nowhere is an incredibly vast place of which we have explored incredibly little.
Would it be so surprising if the places Noone visits are separate from the, like, 3 ones we have visited?
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(map is from LN II, the school, and is supposedly rappresenting a region of which we only see a single city.)
And another thing, actually: I have seen many compare the Lady to the Woman in Chains, but honestly, after reading through the transcript of the first episode of TSON made by @softichill... the two sound like the complete opposite of each other, appearence and behaviour wise.
The Woman in Chains is described as having a "stretched back face", therefore causing her to have wrinkles due to how her face is structured, which explains Noone talking about her as being "both old and young". There is no concealing, no mask, nothing to hide her face. She doesn't live in secrecy like the Lady does -- quite the contrary, infact.
And about features: in both her forms, the Lady's face looks the opposite of hers. Either completely relaxed, or... nearly like it's melting.
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I have also seen some people try to claim that the "familiar outfit" as a reference to the Lady's kimono, but you must remember who the narrator is. The outfit is familiar to Noone. Not us. It is likely that the Woman is wearing either a nun's dress (Noone mentions seeing three laying on a bed in the Prisoner's bedroom) or something Noone might have seen from the institution she's kept in.
While the Lady does thrive in her occupation, she doesn't necessarely take joy in it like the Woman in Chains (Prison Ward, atp) does. For the Lady, it's much more a matter of survival. She is on the Maw because it's convenient, see as she's in a powerful position. The Woman in Chains is instead happily preparing torture devices to haunt the Prisoners with.
Some parallels are certainly there. Referring to them as being, even metaphorically, the same person... it would mean that the team wrote a very bad analogy. They are nothing alike in any other aspect BUT their occupation. Funnily enough, you could say the Thin Man and the Signal Tower operate in a near identical manner to both these places. He's also the living center/battery of his own mechanism.
Noone also mentions that the Workers seem to be made of shadows, similarly to the Shadow Children. However, it is also evident that these beings are different, as they work and can hold objects much like the nomes. Later, when she meets a living child, she notes that they have black goo in their hair that moves like shadows. If that's the same material the Workers are made of, then this would make them some sort of liquid entities.
Lastly, about the inhabitants themselves: no one else in this Prison is here because they want to be. The Prisoners are not like the Guests, who come on the Maw willingly. The Workers are mindless beings, unlike the Nomes who draw and the Shadow Kids who play just like children. The child and Noone want to leave... and that's understandable.
My friend @chorusofkhonshu smartly pointed this out, so I'm just gonna copy and paste what he said word for word.
"So I thought, if these creatures are made of liquid, it has to come from somewhere. So my mind wandered to the prisoners, their purpose. Perhaps like the Maw and Signal Tower need to absorb people. The Signal Towers thru TVs and the Maw thru the Lady. What if those prisoners are only alive to be bled dry so long as they live. Noone smells the prisoner rotting. All those prisoners have to share some purpose, they might be tortured. Some device that the lady there has. She uses straps and cranks. Masks with spikes in the mouth. It runs on tortured souls."
And just as Noone mentions later on:
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Swelling.
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If anything... rather than paralleling Six's journey, Noone seems to be living it backwards. Completely backwards.
... Mh.
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