#also believe it or not i actually do have a system for which size i use for what set even if it looks chaotic like this lmao

[neverevan]

• before & after coloring challenge •

I saw this post by the very talented @raiderlucy and it seemed so fun, I decided — ever so rudely — to jump on that open tag and do my own version of it!✨ (this has also just turned into somewhat of a "resident queers of the 118" gifset oops)

and let me just totally no pressure tag some of my lovely gifmaker friends: @jeeyuns @cowgirleddiediaz @xofemeraldstars @lengthofropes @bichimney and anyone else who wants to do it, please consider yourself tagged~

#i would've tagged more people but 5 in a row and all that in this silly app... but please go ahead and do it if you want to!! #also believe it or not i actually do have a system for which size i use for what set even if it looks chaotic like this lmao #911 #911 abc #bucktommy #henren #evan buckley #henrietta wilson #karen wilson #taylor kelly #bucktaylor #abby clark #babby #my gif #my stuff #gif challenge #tag games #usernolan #<< consider this your tag!! please don't think i forgot about you 😭💛 #911edit

[lisafication]

For those who might happen across this, I'm an administrator for the forum 'Sufficient Velocity', a large old-school forum oriented around Creative Writing. I originally posted this on there (and any reference to 'here' will mean the forum), but I felt I might as well throw it up here, as well, even if I don't actually have any followers.

This week, I've been reading fanfiction on Archive of Our Own (AO3), a site run by the Organisation for Transformative Works (OTW), a non-profit. This isn't particularly exceptional, in and of itself — like many others on the site, I read a lot of fanfiction, both on Sufficient Velocity (SV) and elsewhere — however what was bizarre to me was encountering a new prefix on certain works, that of 'End OTW Racism'. While I'm sure a number of people were already familiar with this, I was not, so I looked into it.

What I found... wasn't great. And I don't think anyone involved realises that.

To summarise the details, the #EndOTWRacism campaign, of which you may find their manifesto here, is a campaign oriented towards seeing hateful or discriminatory works removed from AO3 — and believe me, there is a lot of it. To whit, they want the OTW to moderate them. A laudable goal, on the face of it — certainly, we do something similar on Sufficient Velocity with Rule 2 and, to be clear, nothing I say here is a critique of Rule 2 (or, indeed, Rule 6) on SV.

But it's not that simple, not when you're the size of Archive of Our Own. So, let's talk about the vagaries and little-known pitfalls of content moderation, particularly as it applies to digital fiction and at scale. Let's dig into some of the details — as far as credentials go, I have, unfortunately, been in moderation and/or administration on SV for about six years and this is something we have to grapple with regularly, so I would like to say I can speak with some degree of expertise on the subject.

So, what are the problems with moderating bad works from a site? Let's start with discovery— that is to say, how you find rule-breaching works in the first place. There are more-or-less two different ways to approach manual content moderation of open submissions on a digital platform: review-based and report-based (you could also call them curation-based and flag-based), with various combinations of the two. Automated content moderation isn't something I'm going to cover here — I feel I can safely assume I'm preaching to the choir when I say it's a bad idea, and if I'm not, I'll just note that the least absurd outcome we had when simulating AI moderation (mostly for the sake of an academic exercise) on SV was banning all the staff.

In a review-based system, you check someone's work and approve it to the site upon verifying that it doesn't breach your content rules. Generally pretty simple, we used to do something like it on request. Unfortunately, if you do that, it can void your safe harbour protections in the US per Myeress vs. Buzzfeed Inc. This case, if you weren't aware, is why we stopped offering content review on SV. Suffice to say, it's not really a realistic option for anyone large enough for the courts to notice, and extremely clunky and unpleasant for the users, to boot.

Report-based systems, on the other hand, are something we use today — users find works they think are in breach and alert the moderation team to their presence with a report. On SV, this works pretty well — a user or users flag a work as potentially troublesome, moderation investigate it and either action it or reject the report. Unfortunately, AO3 is not SV. I'll get into the details of that dreadful beast known as scaling later, but thankfully we do have a much better comparison point — fanfiction.net (FFN).

FFN has had two great purges over the years, with a... mixed amount of content moderation applied in between: one in 2002 when the NC-17 rating was removed, and one in 2012. Both, ostensibly, were targeted at adult content. In practice, many fics that wouldn't raise an eye on Spacebattles today or Sufficient Velocity prior to 2018 were also removed; a number of reports suggest that something as simple as having a swearword in your title or summary was enough to get you hit, even if you were a 'T' rated work. Most disturbingly of all, there are a number of — impossible to substantiate — accounts of groups such as the infamous Critics United 'mass reporting' works to trigger a strike to get them removed. I would suggest reading further on places like Fanlore if you are unfamiliar and want to know more.

Despite its flaws however, report-based moderation is more-or-less the only option, and this segues neatly into the next piece of the puzzle that is content moderation, that is to say, the rubric. How do you decide what is, and what isn't against the rules of your site?

Anyone who's complained to the staff about how vague the rules are on SV may have had this explained to them, but as that is likely not many of you, I'll summarise: the more precise and clear-cut your chosen rubric is, the more it will inevitably need to resemble a legal document — and the less readable it is to the layman. We'll return to SV for an example here: many newer users will not be aware of this, but SV used to have a much more 'line by line, clearly delineated' set of rules and... people kind of hated it! An infraction would reference 'Community Compact III.15.5' rather than Rule 3, because it was more or less written in the same manner as the Terms of Service (sans the legal terms of art). While it was a more legible rubric from a certain perspective, from the perspective of communicating expectations to the users it was inferior to our current set of rules  — even less of them read it,  and we don't have great uptake right now.

And it still wasn't really an improvement over our current set-up when it comes to 'moderation consistency'. Even without getting into the nuts and bolts of "how do you define a racist work in a way that does not, at any point, say words to the effect of 'I know it when I see it'" — which is itself very, very difficult don't get me wrong I'm not dismissing this — you are stuck with finding an appropriate footing between a spectrum of 'the US penal code' and 'don't be a dick' as your rubric. Going for the penal code side doesn't help nearly as much as you might expect with moderation consistency, either — no matter what, you will never have a 100% correct call rate. You have the impossible task of writing a rubric that is easy for users to comprehend, extremely clear for moderation and capable of cleanly defining what is and what isn't racist without relying on moderator judgement, something which you cannot trust when operating at scale.

Speaking of scale, it's time to move on to the third prong — and the last covered in this ramble, which is more of a brief overview than anything truly in-depth — which is resources. Moderation is not a magic wand, you can't conjure it out of nowhere: you need to spend an enormous amount of time, effort and money on building, training and equipping a moderation staff, even a volunteer one, and it is far, far from an instant process. Our most recent tranche of moderators spent several months in training and it will likely be some months more before they're fully comfortable in the role — and that's with a relatively robust bureaucracy and a number of highly experienced mentors supporting them, something that is not going to be available to a new moderation branch with little to no experience. Beyond that, there's the matter of sheer numbers.

Combining both moderation and arbitration — because for volunteer staff, pure moderation is in actuality less efficient in my eyes, for a variety of reasons beyond the scope of this post, but we'll treat it as if they're both just 'moderators' — SV presently has 34 dedicated moderation volunteers. SV hosts ~785 million words of creative writing.

AO3 hosts ~32 billion.

These are some very rough and simplified figures, but if you completely ignore all the usual problems of scaling manpower in a business (or pseudo-business), such as (but not limited to) geometrically increasing bureaucratic complexity and administrative burden, along with all the particular issues of volunteer moderation... AO3 would still need well over one thousand volunteer moderators to be able to match SV's moderator-to-creative-wordcount ratio.

Paid moderation, of course, you can get away with less — my estimate is that you could fully moderate SV with, at best, ~8 full-time moderators, still ignoring administrative burden above the level of team leader. This leaves AO3 only needing a much more modest ~350 moderators. At the US minimum wage of ~$15k p.a. — which is, in my eyes, deeply unethical to pay moderators as full-time moderation is an intensely gruelling role with extremely high rates of PTSD and other stress-related conditions — that is approximately ~$5.25m p.a. costs on moderator wages. Their average annual budget is a bit over $500k.

So, that's obviously not on the table, and we return to volunteer staffing. Which... let's examine that scenario and the questions it leaves us with, as our conclusion.

Let's say, through some miracle, AO3 succeeds in finding those hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of volunteer moderators. We'll even say none of them are malicious actors or sufficiently incompetent as to be indistinguishable, and that they manage to replicate something on the level of or superior to our moderation tooling near-instantly at no cost. We still have several questions to be answered:

How are you maintaining consistency? Have you managed to define racism to the point that moderator judgment no longer enters the equation? And to be clear, you cannot allow moderator judgment to be a significant decision maker at this scale, or you will end with absurd results.

How are you handling staff mental health? Some reading on the matter, to save me a lengthy and unrelated explanation of some of the steps involved in ensuring mental health for commercial-scale content moderators.

How are you handling your failures? No moderation in the world has ever succeeded in a 100% accuracy rate, what are you doing about that?

Using report-based discovery, how are you preventing 'report brigading', such as the theories surrounding Critics United mentioned above? It is a natural human response to take into account the amount and severity of feedback. While SV moderators are well trained on the matter, the rare times something is receiving enough reports to potentially be classified as a 'brigade' on that scale will nearly always be escalated to administration, something completely infeasible at (you're learning to hate this word, I'm sure) scale.

How are you communicating expectations to your user base? If you're relying on a flag-based system, your users' understanding of the rules is a critical facet of your moderation system — how have you managed to make them legible to a layman while still managing to somehow 'truly' define racism?

How are you managing over one thousand moderators? Like even beyond all the concerns with consistency, how are you keeping track of that many moving parts as a volunteer organisation without dozens or even hundreds of professional managers? I've ignored the scaling administrative burden up until now, but it has to be addressed in reality.

What are you doing to sweep through your archives? SV is more-or-less on-top of 'old' works as far as rule-breaking goes, with the occasional forgotten tidbit popping up every 18 months or so — and that's what we're extrapolating from. These thousand-plus moderators are mostly going to be addressing current or near-current content, are you going to spin up that many again to comb through the 32 billion words already posted?

I could go on for a fair bit here, but this has already stretched out to over two thousand words.

I think the people behind this movement have their hearts in the right place and the sentiment is laudable, but in practice it is simply 'won't someone think of the children' in a funny hat. It cannot be done.

Even if you could somehow meet the bare minimum thresholds, you are simply not going to manage a ruleset of sufficient clarity so as to prevent a much-worse repeat of the 2012 FF.net massacre, you are not going to be able to manage a moderation staff of that size and you are not going to be able to ensure a coherent understanding among all your users (we haven't managed that after nearly ten years and a much smaller and more engaged userbase). There's a serious number of other issues I haven't covered here as well, as this really is just an attempt at giving some insight into the sheer number of moving parts behind content moderation:  the movement wants off-site content to be policed which isn't so much its own barrel of fish as it is its own barrel of Cthulhu; AO3 is far from English-only and would in actuality need moderators for almost every language it supports — and most damning of all,  if Section 230 is wiped out by the Supreme Court  it is not unlikely that engaging in content moderation at all could simply see AO3 shut down.

As sucky as it seems, the current status quo really is the best situation possible. Sorry about that.

#archive of our own #endotwracism #end otw racism #content moderation #sufficient velocity #i hate how much i know about this topic

[dandylovesturtles]

I should be in bed lol but I wanted to write a turtle tot sick fic so here

I went into this with no plan and it ended up uh. way sadder than I intended. whoops.

cw: mentions of vomit

...

Blue slept through naptime. That should have been Splinter's first clue.

In the moment, he'd just been so happy to actually have four sleeping children that he'd taken the opportunity for his own nap, the old, tattered storybook he'd been reading them draped over his face. He never managed to get Blue to wind down enough to sleep, so he usually had to quietly entertain him with books or the tv on low until the others woke up. But his Baby Blue had conked out almost immediately today, and soon Splinter was snoozing right along with them.

Blue was also the last to wake up. That should have been the second clue.

Splinter was woken up by Orange, talking in loud, disjointed sentences with plenty of nonsense words as he played with an old plastic telephone Splinter had found them. Red was racing his toy cars, making his own sound effects as they skid across the floor and crashed into the wall. Only Purple was quiet, industriously sorting his legos by color and size.

Splinter sat up, letting the book slide off his face, and took stock. It was surprising to see Blue still curled up against his leg even in the midst of all the racket his brothers were making. "Blue?" he said softly, giving the little turtle a nudge. Blue blinked his eyes open, groggily looking around. "Naptime is over."

Blue pushed himself up into a sitting position, then rubbed clumsily at his eyes. He looked so tired still that Splinter debated telling him he could keep sleeping, even if it might make putting him to bed later more difficult.

But once Blue was up, he saw Red racing his cars and pushed quickly to his feet, hurrying over to join in the game. Almost immediately he was demanding Red hand over one of the cars and setting up an elaborate make-believe track for their race, so Splinter let it go.

Thirty minutes later, Blue tugged on Splinter's old sweatpants and said, "Daddy, my tummy hurts." In hindsight, this is exactly when Splinter should have put it together.

But the kids rarely got sick - a benefit of whatever Draxum had put in the gunk that turned them into this, Splinter assumed. Which was a blessing, because he was pretty limited in what medicine he could get in his condition. The boys having a hearty immune system was one of the few things Splinter had going for him.

So he hadn't moved to that conclusion. Instead he said, "Do you need to go potty?" and Blue had considered that very seriously for a few seconds before nodding and rushing off to the bathroom.

Orange threw the plastic phone into Purple's meticulously organized lego piles and Splinter moved on to the next crisis without another thought.

It was at dinner, when he caught Blue pushing his food (mac'n'cheese!) around without interest, that it finally clicked that maybe he should be worried.

"Blue, what's wrong?"

Blue didn't so much as look up. He shrugged, swirling his noodles around and around.

Splinter would be embarrassed to admit how long it took him to remember their earlier conversation, but it eventually came back to him. "Ah... Is your stomach still hurting?"

Blue's face scrunched up in misery, and he nodded.

Splinter groaned in exasperation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did!"

"I mean after you went potty."

Blue grimaced. Instead of answering, he scooped up some mac'n'cheese and stuffed it in his mouth. He looked like he regretted it as soon as he'd done it.

"Do not spit that out," said Splinter immediately, because mac'n'cheese was one of the few things Purple would eat and if Blue spat it out in front of him it would go on his Bad Foods list for at least a month. And Orange had a habit of mimicking anything Blue did, which would only compound the problem.

Blue chewed and swallowed the mouthful agonizingly slowly. He looked so miserable afterward that Splinter felt bad about it.

"Are you going to throw up, Blue?" he asked, and got a furious head shake in response. "Are you just telling me that?" Another shake. "Do you want to keep eating?" A third shake. Splinter sighed and took his bowl from him. "Alright. I'll put this in the fridge, if you want it later."

Their mini-fridge was already stuffed full, but Splinter would simply have to make space, or throw all this mac'n'cheese out. He wished they had a bigger fridge, but just getting this back to the juncture in the sewers he called a home had been difficult enough.

He wished he had a bigger fridge. He wished he had a house. He wished he had a pediatrician to take Blue to. He wished he wasn't a rat man. He wished he and his kids were... normal.

It was a bad thought. He knew that as soon as he thought it, and he tried to push it down. The kids didn't need to know they weren't normal. That none of this was normal. He knew that, but...

"Throw up?" he heard Purple say, and then the telltale sound of him pushing his bowl away. Mac'n'cheese was on the Bad Foods list. Splinter groaned.

...

He found their old thermometer after the boys were finished eating. Getting a temperature from Blue was near impossible because he moved it around too much or spat it out before time was up, but Splinter would have to do his best.

After three tries, he got a reading that seemed accurate enough. Blue's body ran colder than a human child's, and it had taken observation and trial and error for Splinter to learn what constituted as a fever. As it was, Blue was only two degrees above his normal. So at least that wasn't too worrying.

He was still complaining that his stomach hurt, though. A stomach bug, then? Or just something he ate? Usually Red was the one who would put random things in his mouth unless Splinter kept a careful watch, but Blue and Orange were... adventurous eaters, too. It was possible.

They continued with their normal bedtime routine. Another thing Splinter had going for him was that his boys loved baths; getting them into their makeshift tub, even with lukewarm water, was always easy. From his research, Red, Blue, and Purple were all aquatic turtles, and Orange was not one to be left out of his brothers’ games no matter his biology.

Blue wasn't excited for bath time tonight, though. He sat quietly in the tub, making grumpy noises anytime he got splashed and playing only with his favorite blue shark toy, ignoring everything else. He definitely felt bad. Splinter was feeling increasingly terrible that he hadn't noticed.

He got them all toweled off and into their pajamas. Then into the pallet beds he had for them, all in one big shared alcove, a tattered curtain strung up for a semblance of privacy. They would need something more as they got older, but for now the boys seemed content to share space.

He tucked Red, Purple, and Orange in, then turned his attention to Blue. He had found an old bucket earlier that he (theoretically) used for mopping, and this he presented to Blue.

"If you are going to throw up, please do it in this," he told Blue. "We don't have any spare sheets."

"Not gonna," said Blue grumpily, pushing the bucket away.

"Ewww," whined Purple. "I don't want to share with Leo if he throws up."

"Not gonna!" Blue insisted, glaring at Purple, who glared back. Splinter sighed and pushed the bucket at Blue again.

"I am serious, Leonardo," he said, and that got Blue's attention. "If you throw up, do it in this bucket."

Instead of answering, Blue rolled over and scrunched himself up in a ball. That was the best Splinter was going to get, he supposed, so he just sighed and put the bucket next to Blue's bed.

"Good night, boys," he said as he got to his feet, ignoring the crackles from his back and knees.

"Good niiiight," came three echoes. Blue was giving him the silent treatment. Alright.

He went back to his own bed, sectioned off by an old divider screen he'd managed to find. Hopefully they could at least get through the night without disaster striking.

...

According to his beat up alarm clock, it was only two hours later when Red showed up by his bedside, shaking him awake urgently.

Splinter groaned his way into consciousness, blinking groggy eyes until his eldest son came into focus.

"Leo threw up," came Red's predictable report.

Splinter sighed, pushing his sheets aside and rising from his futon. "Did he make it in the bucket?"

Red's expression was not encouraging.

...

He had not made it in the bucket.

Blue sat stock still in the puddle of his own sick, eyes teary and expression a mix between stunned and embarrassed. Purple was pressed as close to the opposite wall as he could get, hands pressed tight over his nose and mouth. Orange was at Blue's side, patting his arm with his chubby little hand.

"Blue," Splinter snapped as soon as he saw the mess. "Why didn't you throw up in the bucket!?"

"Didn't think I was gonna," Blue croaked.

"Well, you did. All over your sheets." Splinter ran his hands over his tired eyes. "Now you have nothing for tonight. And who knows if I'll even be able to get the stain out. I may have to go all the way to the surface to get new ones, and do you know what a hassle that is!? The bucket was right here, Blue!"

"I'm sorry."

The miserable hiccup in Blue's voice effectively stopped Splinter's tirade, and he refocused on his son. Blue's tears had spilled over, streaking down his miserable face. He was shivering, hands clutching the fabric of his ruined sheets, wringing them tight. He looked terrified.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," he repeated. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Something inside Splinter cracked.

Leo was only four, by his best guess. He was a baby, still. A sick baby, and Splinter was yelling at him about... about bed sheets?

Blue didn't know that Splinter would have to steal him new sheets. He didn't know that Splinter feared every time he did something so risky, that it might expose their tiny family to hostile forces - the human authorities, Big Mama's goons, Draxum's gargoyles. He didn't know that Splinter should be taking him to a doctor right now. He didn't know that sleeping on a pallet bed in the sewers wasn't normal.

He just knew that he had thrown up, and his dad was mad about it.

Immediately, Splinter stooped and scooped the still-apologizing Blue into his arms. He was getting bigger all the time, and, somehow, Splinter was getting smaller, but he could still hold his boys in his arms, still cradle them against his chest.

"Blue... Leo, listen to me."

"I'm sorry," Blue mumbled again, followed by a sad, wet hiccup.

"Shh, shh, no, my son, please listen." He waited until teary eyes were turned on him to continue. "You don't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong."

"Missed the bucket," said Blue, and Splinter shook his head.

"That's alright. You're sick. It is my job to take care of these things." He scratched at the back of Blue's shell with the arm holding him, something he knew always calmed Blue down. Sure enough, he felt his boy begin to relax. "Do not worry about the sheets. If Daddy needs to get more, he will. For now we will all share."

Blue sniffed, and buried his face in Splinter's chest. That was a good sign. Splinter kept up the scraching.

"I'm sorry I yelled. You aren't in trouble, Blue. You're alright."

Blue sniffled again. Hiccupped one last time. His tears were drying up, and his little voice said, "S'okay, Daddy."

"Oh, my Baby Blue... Thank you."

He still felt terrible as he lowered Leo back to his bed and started to strip away the soiled sheets, but Leo had calmed down considerably. He kept the bucket close, though, even as he laid back down again on his pillow.

"Leo can have my blanket," said Red, already pulling the old thing over. Splinter smiled gratefully at him.

"Thank you, Red. Blue, do you think you will throw up again?"

Blue shrugged. "Dunno."

"That's alright. It's okay if you do." Splinter smoothed the blanket over Blue, not tucking him in so he could move if he needed to. "I'll get this sheet washed out and be back, alright?"

Blue nodded. He was still gripping the bucket with one hand. Splinter rubbed his head, then stood up with his bundle of soiled sheets.

When he returned, with water for Blue, he'd thrown up again - in the bucket, this time. Orange was still by him, rubbing his arm, while Red sat behind him, supporting his back. Even Purple had come close, awkwardly patting at Blue's leg while pointedly avoiding looking at the bucket.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Blue," he told them, getting three beaming smiles in return.

They were all going to have the bug by tomorrow. Splinter would need to find more buckets.

#rottmnt #rise splinter #rise leo #dandy fanfiction #idk what this is lol #thinking about the early years gets me ok

[heartfullofleeches]

Remy I miss you I love you also. Titus. I love him and miss him. And also Nightlight reader. Babies. Beloved.

[I had am old blurbo with Nightlight and Titus I scrapped. Here's one for him and Remmy too]

Remmy finding Nightlight Reader at a thrift store while looking for more dolls to add to his collection of antiques. They're the most beautiful "doll" he's never seen- (anything that has a humanoid form and is made of plastic, wood, cotton is a doll to Remmy- even androids). He takes the android home - planning to clean them up and give them a comfortable spot in his room. When Remmy touches the heart on their chest-

"Powering on.......backup battery at 12% percent....Accessing memory...No memories found... error...error...err-"

"Ah!.. That was scary. Hm, where did I end up now? Oh! Hello, tiny person - are you my new owner?"

Remmy instantly falls in love seeing this robot pick up on the dolls on his bed and speaking to it as a normal person. "Um, actually..I think that's me."

"Whoa! Where did you come from? My apologies, owner - what should I call you?

Remmy falls more in love with Nightlight by the second. They're so caring, and warm, and they love to play with his dolls as much as he does. They would follow his every command as part of their programming, but Remmy hardly feels the need to order them around because he knows they'll never leave him and for that he'd do anything from them. Stays awake all night until nightlight carries him to bed making new clothes for them. Buys all the books he needs to repair any minor damages they might have - and completely erase any trace of their memories of the past.

All Remmy needs is Nightlight. All Nightlight needs is Remmy.

-

Titus is given Nightlight Reader as a present from his guards after finding the android in a landfill on earth and repairing them to working order- The emperor has been more irritable than usual- if he dislikes this bot, his guards pray that smashing them to bits will be enough to quell his anger at least for a time. The guards present the android to their king and wait-

"What have you brought to bore me with now?'

"We believe it is an earth made machine designed to relieve stress for humans-"

The emperor chuckles. "Is that so?~ I have been rather pent up recently, and it isn't a complete eyesore, but you are aware of our difference in size, yes? Are you certain it won't break on first use?"

"Er, not in that exact way, your highness. You see, they-"

Titus huffs. "Then what good is it?"

"Just....allow me to turn them on. Please place your finger on their heart, your highness."

"This is ridiculous...."

The emperor does as instructed

"Powering on....Battery at 100%...System rebooting."

"Mm....Huh? What a strange place... Are you my new own..er? Oh, owner- your stress levels are dangerously high - they're increasing by the second! Why won't I sing you a lullaby while you relax with your favorite drink? I know lots, but I can always make up new ones - maybe one about your pretty eyes."

"That..... actually sounds wonderful. I haven't had a decent night of rest in ages. It's humorous to me how you were able to figure that out in seconds when these fools have been with me for centuries. I think I'm going to enjoy your company more than I thought."

Titus cannot go or sleep anywhere which his little nightlight. Feeling their heated, smaller form is all thats needed to knock him out like a light. Nightlight Reader is restricted from joining Titus in meetings for that sole reason. This whole ass tyrant sits in his chair pouting like a child until he can reunite with his little love. Decorates them like the doll they are with jewelry and adorable outfits. Whenever Titus is in one of his rages, guards quickly run off to retrieve nightlight from wherever they're exploring in the palace

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #male yandere #Remmy my oc #Titus my oc #Yan

[griffonsgrove]

General Dating Headcanons | Dr. Flug

Dr. Flug X GN!Reader

fandom: Villainous/Villainos words: 1457 cw: none!! just cute tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: aaa!! following the theme with villainous, I HAD to do our favorite scientist!! Also I'm open for requests!! I'd love to see what yall would send in!!

(Platonic): 

Dr. Flug was the one initially responsible for hiring a new employee for the organization after he had groveled at Black Hat’s feet, begging for an assistant to help lighten his workload.

Reluctantly, Black Hat agreed, but not without scaring the daylights out of the poor doctor first.

Flug thanked the high heavens.

And thus began the search for a new assistant, he sent out multiple ads and flyers, and in little to no time, there was a flood of applicants. Having to sift through each applicant only added even more stress to his ever-growing mountain of work. Most of them didn't really seem to stick out.

That was until he got to yours.

He wasn't quite sure what drew him to your application, maybe it was your astounding track record, accomplishments, and references, or maybe it was because he thought your appearance was pleasing to the eye, something about the gleam in your eyes told him that you were a reasonable, logical and pleasant person to be around.

Which is exactly how you ended up at the front gates of the manor, ready for an interview.

Of course, the first person you met was the doctor himself, he had to disable the alarm system to the manor before letting you in. It’s there that he gives a very brief, albeit awkward introduction.

He unfortunately doesn’t socialize much. 

Everything about his energy, to his stature just screamed nervous wreck. It's from there that he leads you to the Lord’s Office. Surprisingly the interview went well!! If getting demeaned and thrown insults was a norm. But! You got the job!

Now you’re in Flug’s hands, you follow alongside him as he leads you to his lab, listing off all the responsibilities he wanted you to be in charge of some of them being: Organizing files and client paperwork, taking calls from new clients and scheduling appointments, also taking customer reviews, and some minor tidying and organization.

And based on the state of his lab you had a LOT of work to do…

I know some people think Flug is an anxious mess 24/7 but that could not be further from the truth. He’s actually quite egotistical and snarky from time to time, and of course a know-it-all.

He's like the “erm actually ☝️ 🤓” guy in physical form.

IS NOT afraid to correct you over minor errors. He’s very particular about how his things are organized in his lab. He likes to call it his organized chaos. So, if anything gets misplaced, he will get snippy or irritable. 

SO..as long as you inform him of how you do things and WHERE you put them, then all is good!

Overtime as you work alongside him though, he genuinely does start to appreciate the work that you do, he's pleasantly surprised when he finds that all his files and blue prints have been organized alphabetically and by color, or that his tools had been rearranged neatly on his workbench by size and shape, and overall his lab was so much cleaner and tidy than he ever could imagine it to be.

No surprise here but, the doctor is AWFUL at taking care of himself.

Which is why you step in to do small little gestures to help him out.

Whether it be bringing him another cup of coffee or making up a small snack for him to eat throughout the day, he even noticed you had draped his lab coat over him when he fell asleep at his desk one night.

He had to admit he wasn't quite used such small acts of kindness; it was a foreign feeling to him.

Did I also mention he’s tired like 24/7. Let this poor man sleep!! 😭

Believe it or not, he’s grown to quite enjoy your company, maybe it was your relaxed nature, but he felt somewhat at ease whenever you were around.

You’ve both actually held some decent conversations from time to time, both sharing your interests that lead into a ramble about his favorite airplane models.

(Romantic):

His confession was actually quite a funny story, and he wasn't even the one to do it! It was 5.0.5 surprisingly. The sweet blue bear wasn't blind, he began to notice that his papa would longingly stare at you, that he would mumble to himself in his sleep, secret confessions he would never dare say consciously. So, the bear came up with a little plan.

5.0.5 loves to draw, Flug practically keeps every drawing he’s ever given him. He decided that he’d make a love note, from Flug to You. He spends a generous amount of time on it, putting such care into the cute little card, and when he’s deemed it perfect enough, he drops it off to you, happily growling.

You're taken by surprise at first, but then you open up the heart shaped card covered in glitter and are pleased to find an adorable childlike drawing of you and Flug, surrounded by a bunch of pink and red hearts. How sweet!

When you confront the doctor in his lab, showing him the card, he flushes, and at first denies such feelings, slightly embarrassed that his fuzzy son was the one to do it instead of him. It’s then that he decides there's no going back and spills out everything to you.

Which is why he’s shocked when you tell him you reciprocate his feelings. What?? Him?? Really????

Things start if really awkward btw, the doctor has been without physical contact for so long that WASNT being beaten down by his boss, that he honestly forgot what it was like to experience affection, aside from the crushing hugs that 5.0.5 would give him.

He’s very fidgety, doesn't quite know what to do with his hands, where to put them or how you’ll respond to his touch.

Please give him a hug :(

He’s also very respectful of your boundaries, as you are with him, he’s not quite comfortable taking the bag off his head, which you don't mind in the slightest.

Things seem to continue almost as normally, but the two of you spend more and more time with each other, taking your breaks together, having lunch and spending your evening time hanging out when neither one of you are slammed with work. He quite enjoyed having movie nights with you, the sci-fi films are always his favorite btw. He heavily critiques the machines and inventions.

You both try to keep your relationship on the down low, Black Hat would blow a gasket if he found out. Demencia on the other hand was a huge tease. She frequently mocked the two of you, mostly Flug, however. You’d stick up for him of course and tease her right back, much to the doctor's surprise.

Queue the heart eyes.

Dr. Flug expresses his affection through small, thoughtful gestures, like leaving little notes of encouragement or surprising you with inventions tailored to your interests.

Speaking of gift giving, he prefers to hand make your gifts. His ideology is that there's no point in getting you a meaningless gift that you’ll throw out in a couple of weeks, so why not make you a meaningful one that you can make your life easier???

Which btw he's VERY observant, it's actually quite endearing from time to time, and he takes note of all your special interests, favorite foods, etc.

Mans is touch-starved. Sorry I don't make the rules. 

PLEASE HOLD HIM. 

He’s pretty hesitant to touch at first, but the second he gets a feel for physical affection he's latching onto you like a koala-bear. He likes holding your hand, his hands are surprisingly soft underneath his gloves. 

When you’re both hidden away in the evening from prying eyes, is when you can finally cuddle and be more affectionate with each other. SPOIL HIM PLEASE.

You become one of his biggest supporters, encouraging him and giving him the long-deserved praise, he aches for. When he’s with you, he’ll admit that you have substantially helped boost his ego and confidence which really pays off in his work. Not that Black Hat would ever give him the satisfaction.

Overall, Dr. Flug really is a sweetheart on the inside, especially with those he's grown to love and care about and getting him to open up to you about his insecurities is one of your best accomplishments, he feels like he can be vulnerable with you and that really says a lot. The man has a lot of inner demons and has willingly put his life down the path of villainy, but he feels with you by his side, that things will be a little bit better...

#villainous #villainos #dr flug #dr flug x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #villainousheadcanons #black hat organization #black hat villainous #demencia #dating head canons #pls protect dr flug at all costs #villainous x reader

[tornrose24]

More drawings featuring human!Scratch/Todd, with a few bonuses. I am having fun having the freedom of drawing Scratch as a living person with his canon appearance like you wouldn't believe.

-Some of the drawings are screenshot re-draws, or were in reference to certain moments. Can you figure out which ones? I will give you guys a freebie and say that the first hug drawing is from 'Home is where the haunt is.'

-I figured Jinx needed a human re-draw too, and I had her share the same ethnicity as her VA. I had trouble thinking of the right outfit for her, but the 'casual business suit' seemed to work.

-My 'what if' for a season 3 involved Scratch coming back to life, and someone mistaking him as Molly's dad during one of the times they needed to be together. I wanted to get that out of my system. (Also, the next time I ever draw Adia, she will look better).

-So about the random Wraith!Molly and Scratch drawing.... I just had this mental image of her wraith form appearing a bit more human-shapped. I've noticed that most ghosts in the show seem to be more than just a 'floating head with arms' compared to Scratch and I wanted to play with that. Like the more you lose your memories, the more your ghost body loses the shape and features you once had as a human. (I was actually TEMPTED to do a version of Scratch where his ghost form resembles his human form a little more, but it felt too weird, and the size difference was too cute to pass up.)

#the ghost and molly mcgee #the ghost and molly mcgee spoilers #molly mcgee #scratch the ghost #todd mortenson #jinx tgamm #libby stein torres #leah stein torres #geoff tgamm #adia williams

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

Metalhead!König at a festival

Tis the season – Festival season – SFW and NSFW

More Stuff in the Masterlist

(cw: alcohol/drugs, semi-public sex, smut, MDNI 18+)

On the way to the festival, I’m living the best passenger princess life, sitting beside him, navigating the GPS, feeding him snackies (he loves little brezels and gummyworms) and most importantly DJing the whole time while driving to the festival. Songs of all the bands we want to go see live are blasting from the speakers and when I start to sing along, König chimes in.

He has an old VW van T4 that he rebuilt himself, so that the back of it actually transforms into a quite comfy bed, one that even accommodates his size.

The trunk of the van is filled with gear and gadgets, there's nothing that he didn't think about.

A plastic pavilion to get a little bit of shade in the blistering summer sun. A camping table and two chairs (even though I don't know why he bothered to get me my own because he always coaxes me to sit in his lap) ((maybe that's why we have a second one because I don't think the small thing can withstand our combined weight for long)). A portable sound system. A bunch of hardware tools, a camping cooker and some equipment for it. Like for example the little espresso can because even at a festival the big guy needs his proper coffee (and not some kind of "instant crap" – his words).

At least I could hold him off from bringing our own beer tap because that would've been ridiculous.

And of course, he brought a grill, he would've even brought one if it weren't allowed.

I mean, he's Austrian and even though the neighbors from Germany are much more known for their fondness for grilling as soon as the temperatures rise over 10 degrees celsius, he still loves it.

I'm just rolling my eyes and laughing when he starts to light the coals pretty early in the morning. But I'm not complaining because he chooses to do so shirtless, showing off his broad muscled chest and the plethora of tattoos on his torso.

The black cargo shorts are hanging low on his hips, the belt holding them in place, the waistband of his boxershorts showing a little bit which accentuates the V of his hips. And don't even get me started on the happy trail leading down.

I'm ogling him shamelessly, sitting in my chair and making some coffee on the burner for us.

(He's also wearing some of his old combat boots, and he reassured me that the weird looking stains on them aren't actually blood. (I still don't believe him))

He looks like such a metalhead dad as he's standing at the grill, a beer in hand and just happily humming along to the melodies blasting from the speaker.

It makes me happy to see him like this because I don't know much about his work, he rarely talks to me about it and it has to be a burden, but right now he seems like he doesn't have a care in the world.

I catch him grinning at me, shaking the almost empty beer can and downing the last bit. I giggle, jump up and go get him a new one from the little freezer box.

With two fresh cans of beer, I stroll over to him, handing him one. His arm wraps around me and I can already see the mischief sparkling in his eyes as he's looking down on me. "Ex oder Franzos.", he tells me, taunting me. (He told me once what this means ‘either down your beer or you're french’ which apparently is an insult?? I don't know what the Austrians are on either)

"Nooo, I’m not gonna shotgun with you right now.", I wail.

"Oh, come on, it's just one beer.", he grins at me.

I put my hands on my hips, looking up at him all scolding. "Well, maybe one beer isn't a big deal for you, big guy." He just laughs and nonetheless drinks half his beer with one big gulp, the little show-off. Ever since he knows what a lightweight I am, he likes to tease me about it. Stupid big tall man.

The sun shines down like crazy which gives me the opportunity to apply sunscreen too him as often as I can.

"I get the feeling you're not doing this for the well-being of my skin.", he tells me, sideeyeing me while my hands move over his shoulders and pecs, making sure every inch is covered.

"I don't know what you mean.", I answer innocently, making him pull his hair out of the way with a nod, and moving on to his tattooed back, skimming over the smooth skin with my fingertips, massaging over the tense muscles.

When I'm finished, finally having applied enough sunscreen on the huge man, he snatches up the bottle, puts a little dollop on his hands and goes straight for my boobs.

"We can't have you getting a sunburn either!", he explains with a serious expression on his face while he shamelessly kneads my bikini-clothed breasts, in the name of sun protection.

Food in the stage area is expensive but that doesn't stop him from buying me everything I think looks good. I need to actually hold him off from getting another portion of the little pancakes because I'm so full, I feel like bursting and I still wanna be able to mosh.

"But what about some ice cream?", he suggests, pointing at a little cart in the vicinity. "It might help us cool a bit down."

I tilt my head to the side, thinking about it, but only for a moment. "Okay, I think there still is room for some ice cream.", I agree and we make our way in the direction of the ice cream vendor.

“Oh, wait, we need to get more water!”, I yell out as I see the water station. I pull him with me by his hand, filling our water bottles and then taking off my shirt to wet it.

“Now, what is this? Wet t-shirt contest?”, he asks with a dirty smile on his face, his eyes travelling down my body.

“Yeah, you wanna join?”, I ask him wiggling my brows, which makes him laugh and shed his shirt in a second. He lets water run over it as well and then wrings the shirt out over his body, the water dripping down his pecs and abs, and I can’t help but stare with a slack jaw. He laughs again when he sees the expression on my face, but he puts the shirt back on.

He pulls me into him, pressing a little kiss to my temple, our wet clothes sticking together. “Come on, let’s get you that ice cream, sweet cheeks.”, he says, giving my ass a few loving pats.

We try and go to as many bands as possible which is becoming quite the workout for me. By midnight my feet are already hurting like crazy and I make the mistake of mentioning it to König because he demands to carry me now. After some discussion, we come to the agreement that a piggyback ride would suffice.

So now I'm clinging to König's back, my muddy shoes dirtying his pants with the way my legs are hugging his hips. His arms are reaching back, the hands crossed under my ass supporting my weight.

Festivals can get pretty filthy but that doesn't stop him from trying to get into my pants. The solution to the filthyness? Going showering.

Most of the festivals I've ever been to don't actually separate between men's and women's shower, so that's not an issue when we slip into one of the cabins together. Still, some people around gave us funny looks.

It gets crowded in there even for two people, especially if one of the two is König. I press my body against his and squeal as he turns on the shower and we get doused with an icecold spray.

He just laughs, not fazed by it at all – duh, but I am someone who german-speaking would call a 'Warmduscher' (someone who likes to shower warm, which is meant as an insult).

His mouth finding mine shuts me up and wandering hands get rid of the dirt and grime on our bodies. I'm still washing away soapy suds while König's caresses drop lower and lower until his fingertips stroke over my pussy, finding my clit. I shoot him a look like "Seriously?! Right here and now?", but the corners of my mouth curl up. The knowing expression on his face doesn't waiver while he draws circles on the sensitive spot, getting me wet and needy for his fingers to slip inside me.

I hold onto him, my hands digging into his shoulders, as he pulls up one of my legs and finger-fucks me. The cold water is forgotten by now.

The palm of his hand pressing against the soft mound, stroking over the clit with every push inside me. His fingertips reaching that certain spot, brushing over it repeatedly, which has me gasping for air in no time. “Ja, fuck, come for me.”, he whispers against my lips. My thighs start to tremble, and moans escape my throat.

“You need to shut up, Liebes, or the people around us will know.”, he grunts, letting go of my leg and clasping the hand over my mouth to muffle my sounds. The realization that there’s other people in the cabins beside us, that the stalls aren’t anywhere near a soundproof barrier, that someone will probably hear the lewd sounds, the realization sends a zap of tingly arousal down my spine. His fingers move faster, hitting me deep inside, and I come around them screaming into his palm.

When my orgasm fades, I snuggle into him, and he holds me up pressing soft kisses to the top of my head and my face. He takes the camping bath towel he brought (you know, the ones that are microfiber and dry really fast? Of course, he has stuff like that) and starts to wrap me in it.

“Wait, what about you?”, I ask, still panting a bit, aware of his hard dick pressing against my belly.

“You’re already shivering wia a Lampe Schwoaf (like a lamb’s tail), we need to get you into the warmth again.”, he says, rubbing me down with the towel, the strokes of his big hands and the fabric tickling me a bit, which is making me giggle.

He leans down a bit, getting to my legs as well, still drying me off, and his eyes find mine, arousal and need glinting in them, a smirky grin forming on his face. “And don’t worry, I’m gonna get my fill of you later.”

In between bands, we’re sitting on the lawn, a little bit away from the stages. The sky is tinted in a rosy-orange blush, blending into the dark of the night that’s about to come. Even when I’m sitting on his thigh, I almost have to tilt my head back to look at him. He sees my little stare and smiles. “What?”, he asks.

I don’t break eye contact as I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”, he asks, seeming a little loopy.

I shrug, the smile on my face only getting wider. “I’m just happy to be here.” My hand reaches up to boop his nose, and the look on his face when he goes cross-eyed makes me laugh. “With you.”, I add, still giggling, feeling silly and honestly – a little lovey-dovey.

His smile matches mine as he grabs my face with his hand and plants a big kiss on my lips. “Me too, du Scherzkeks.”, he mumbles against my lips. (literally 'joking cookie', meaning jokester)

Straightening back up again, he eyes the joint in my other hand. “You still smoking that?”, he asks.

I shake my head and hand him the roach. He takes it and puffs the last bit of weed, inhaling deeply, holding in the breath. Before he can exhale, I grab his face with both my hands, pressing my lips to his. He chuckles, deepening the kiss, letting out the smoke as his tongue brushes against mine, and I taste him and the grassy fume.

We’re still sitting in the same spot an hour later, giggling with each other, sharing the biggest portion of fries we could find, while we listen to the music blasting from the stage speakers.

When we're back at the van, I fall into the mattress, bury my head into the pillow and groan as my body relaxes into the softness. My god, I will never be able to sleep on anything less comfortable when at a festival.

König's chuckle behind me makes me aware before his hands grasp my hips and pull them upwards. He pushes my pants down and his mouth into my pussy. I gasp into the sheets gripping them, squirming against his tongue, when he sloppily licks me, lapping at my wetness, dipping into my ass as well, until I’m making a total mess on his face.

He gets greedier, pulling out his dick and fucking me from behind, his fingers digging into my hips. The pace he’s going at makes the whole car shake, and somebody passing by could notice, but I'm counting on the darkness to conceal us, to hide what we're doing in the back of the van, especially when he flips us, and I’m on top now.

He's splayed out on the mattress looking up at me, satisfied smirk and hooded lids, as he grabs my wrists, securing them behind my back, and tells me to ride him. I whine and moan a little while I start moving up and down his length because the muscles in my legs are already aching from all the dancing, jumping and moshing, but his dirty ramblings spur me on: "Fuck, you feel so good, just like that." and "Harder, ride me harder." and “Ah, scheiße, i- that’s it, good fucking girl.”

He lifts up my shirt with the other hand and brings the fabric up to my mouth, gesturing me to bite into it. He pulls down the bikini top I’m still wearing underneath, freeing my boobs.

"Hm, such a little slut, getting fucked in the back of a van.", he murmurs, his eyes glued to my bouncing titties, while he fucks up into me, hitting spots deep inside me that pull obscene sounds from my throat. The little bit of fabric between my teeth can't damp them down. I try to hold onto the last bit of sanity, but then he pinches my nipple, hard, the sensations flowing over me, and I come on his dick, straining against his hold on me, shuddering while the orgasm wrecks through me.

My thighs are pressing together and König’s hands are the only thing that’s holding me up. While I’m still coming down, he pulls me against him. I sigh snuggling against his chest when he rolls us over.

“Oh no, Liebes, we’re not done yet.”, he chuckles, pushing into me again, his lips finding the sensitive spots on my neck.

A little ray of sunshine falls on my face through the window of the van, the early morning light making me open my eyes. I try to move to escape the brightness, but I can’t move my body. I turn my head and open my eyes, seeing König’s arm and legs draped over me, the big hand splayed out over my belly. Well, that explains it. The big guy is still sleeping, the soft sounds of his breathing filling the space around us. He’s facing me, a relaxed expression on his face, his brows that always seem to be furrowed turned up a little bit. I don’t think I have seen him this peaceful yet.

My lips curl up into a smile and I reach out, cupping his cheek, softly stroking over his jaw, because I can’t help myself. Normally he shaves pretty often, a habit he picked up at the military, but somehow, he’s still always wearing a 5 o’clock shadow. Right now, the beard has developed into more of a longer stubble, a few grey hairs in between. And it looks good on him.

Suddenly he’s stirring in his sleep, his lids fluttering as he groans, the big hand moving up to his face to rub the eyes. A little huff escapes my nose and I greet him with a “Good morning, sleepy head”. He groans again because he can be a little ‘Morgenmuffel’ (a little grumpy in the mornings), but opens his eyes to look at me.

“Why are you so cheery this morning, hm?”, he asks me, still blinking the sleep away while a sly smirk is forming on his face. “Oh yeah, that’s right because I fucked you seven ways to Sunday on this mattress.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the little grin on my face. “Yeah, yeah… If I can’t walk to the stages today, it’s your fault, old man.”, I taunt him.

His eyes light up with playful threat and he grabs me, rolling onto me. I yelp and giggle as his full body weight presses me into the mattress. “Keep running that mouth, Fräulein, and I’m gonna make sure of that.”, he says, his words a dirty promise.

a/n: this should have been a quick little fun drabble, but I got carried away - ah well, it happens <3

#metalhead!könig #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

[ladydiaries]

hihi! i dunno if requests are open rn but if they are, can i request nsfw or sfw hcs of vox x (preferably AMAB! reader, but gn's fine too!) a socially awkward reader?? tysm!! take care of yourself and take your time! :3

Sparks ✧˚ ༘ ⊹ .ᐟ .ᐟ

CW; minors do not interact, 18+ content, praise, vox electrocutes you like twice, AMAB, biting , edging , breeding, oral (giving). Rambles + hcs under the cut!

SUMMARY; general SFW &&. NSFW hcs of vox x socially awkward AMAB! Reader

HCS + RAMBLES

AUTHORS NOTE; TYSMMM for requesting!! I'm excited to write an AMAB reader. There is a serious drought of them, Going to use he/him pronouns for this one.

Of course, if this relationship is established I believe he would treat you like you're the only man in the world. His bitchy exterior is totally a front and inside he's a bit more lax, corny, and to your surprise, charming. Taking you on dates, presenting you with flowers.

Even better if he had intentions of manipulating you first, spiralling into the embarrassing realisation that he's in love with you. Ranting to Valentino and Velvet about his dilemma. Sure to tease him about it whenever you're around. Fast forward into the actual relationship, at the beginning he would have trouble not seeing you as some sort of possession.

Something to hide and keep, which due to your introverted nature, you didn't particularly mind not going out often, overtime he would loosen up, taking you on dates, more focused on showing you off then gatekeeping you, confused as to why you were so much more shy in the public then in private.

hogs the bed, face (screen) down, limbs everywhere.

An AWFUL cook. Could imagine a baking date and if you are good, wonderful. You can teach him, and if you too are also awful, you can feed your shit cookies to Valentino.

Insists on doing small things for you to boost his ego, will speak for you at restaurants and public settings

Will make you learn how to repair and upgrade his systems. Thinks it's romantic

If you work for him, he will purposely give you jobs that don't require public speaking, will never admit to it though.

NSFW.

This man FUCKS. You are a lucky boy because he has stamina. Will fuck you for hours on end, clawed hands running loosely against your cock as he pistoned into you from behind. Barely touching you enough to make you cum, you've been here for hours. Bringing you so, so, close to your sweet release before daggered fingers plunge into your soft skin.

He's the type of man to use praises while you suck him off. Unyielding grip on your hair. Hips rutting up slowly into your mouth. The intrusion making you struggle to swallow your gag reflex.

Whiny. He's the epitome of whiny men. Screen scrolling in between different levels of brightness, furrowed brows as you place open mouthed kisses against his body. Fingers mingling around the back panel of his screen.

very experimental, will try pretty much everything

If he overheats, he will pass out. Had to install a better cooling system due to shutting down too much.

Cock is ridged. A steel navy blue colour, leading towards a blue tip. Detachable, can change sizes, widths or not have one at all.

Cums a lot, a thick substance. Likes to watch it drip out of you, tastes like pennies.

Thrives to see your embarrassment while teasing you in public. Hand wandering too far down your waist or foot pressing against your groin while sitting across from him during a meeting.

Depending on his schedule, he can either be the best or the worst at aftercare. On a busy day he could probably care less but on day's off or weekends he's all for it. Bathing you, gathering treats, snuggling neatly in bed to watch whatever show peaks your interest in the moment.

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #vox x reader #hazbin vox #vox smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin #ladysheadcanons #vox x male reader

[bethanythebogwitch]

I haven't talked reptiles in Wet Beast Wednesday in a while (and the first time I did it got like 9 notes) so I'll do it again with marine iguanas. Admittedly they're more amphibious than aquatic, but there's no Moist Beast Monday and I think they're cool so it'll have to do.

(Image: Doug Jones in The Shape of Water a marine iguana basking on a rock)

Marine iguanas (Amblyrhynchus cristatus) are large lizards native to the Galapagos Islands. They are unique for being the only extant lizards that spend time in the ocean. As of 2017, there are 11 distinct subspecies that are isolated from each other by the islands they live on. Occasionally a member of one subspecies will end up on the wrong island and produce hybrid offspring. Marine iguanas also can but very rarely do hybridize with the land iguanas of the Galapagos, with whom they are believed to share a common ancestor.

(Image: an iguana perched on a rock

Marine iguanas vary in size based on subspecies, with those from smaller islands reaching a smaller adult size. In general, they race from 12 to 56 cm (4.7 - 22 in) from snout to rear, with a tail ranging from 17 to 84 cm (6.7 - 33.1 in). Males are significantly larger than females, up to twice the weight and noticeably longer. Marine iguanas are robust, with relatively short limbs. Their leg bones are heavy, to provide ballast while swimming. Their tails are laterally flattened and provide propulsion for swimming. They have a row of spines down their backs that provide stability while swimming, similar to a fish's dorsal fin. Their feet have powerful claws and can be used to cling onto and push off of undersea rocks. Marine iguanas were noted by many explorers for their dark color, including Charles Darwin (who referred to them as "clumsy" and "disgusting"). This dark color helps them warm up quickly after diving in the sea.

(image: an iguana going for a swim)

A major feature of the marine iguana is its diet, which is a huge factor in their semiaquatic lifestyle. They feed almost exclusively on green and red algae that grown underwater. To reach the algae, females and smaller males browse the intertidal zone during low tide, while larger males and abnormally large females can swim out to the deeper subtidal zone to forage. They can spend an hour underwater one one breath and dive to 30 m (98 ft), but most dives are much shallower and shorter. Only the largest males swim offshore and dive to significant depths for their food. Because they are positively buoyant, divers must actively swim or cling onto rocks to stay underwater. Most individuals will return to the same spot for feeding and competition over feeding spots have been known to happen. Larger males that swim out for their food have the advantage of less competition for their feeding spots. The species has adapted to be able to fast or subsist on reduced for long periods. During El Nińo, where food supplies can be reduced for years, they will actually shrink, with even their bones getting shorter, then return to full size once the food supply is restored. Because they consume excess salt with their food, marine iguanas have developed the ability to filter the salt out of their blood and expel it through glands in their nostrils. The secreted salt can then be sneezed away. Juveliles spend the first few months of their life feeding on (WARNING: GROSS) the feces of older iguanas. This helps them develop the culture of symbiotic gut bacteria that helps them digest algae. In fact, their digestive systems are so specialized to algae that they can't switch diets.

(image: a marine iguana grazing on algae underwater)

As ectotherms (cold-blooded animals), marine iguanas need to keep themselves warm to survive. The water around the Galapagos is typically around 11-23 degrees C (52-75 F) while their preferred body temp is 35-39 C (95-102 F). This high preferred temperature helps with their digestion. To keep themselves warm, the iguanas spend a lot of their time basking in the sun, especially after swimming. They can also reduce their heart beats while cold to help prevent heat loss. Basking iguanas can cover large beaches. They live in colonies that usually range between 20 and 500 individuals but can sometimes get up to 1000 members. Their biomass to area ratio can be the highest of any reptile. While they are considered gregarious, they display no social behavior such a grooming. The closest they get to a group activity is sleeping next to each other to conserve heat at night. They also get along with other species, such as Darwin's finches, mockingbirds, and crabs who will pick parasites off their skin. Divers may allow cleaner fish to pick off bits of dead skin. Another lizard, the lava lizard, likes to visit colonies to hunt flies attracted to the iguanas. The iguanas allow the much smaller lizards to climb all over them. Marine iguanas often share beaches with Galapagos sea lions, who will occasionally allow the iguanas to climb over them.

(image: a group of iguanas basking together)

(image: a male marine iguana, identifiable by the rough scales on his head, with a lava lizard climbing on him)

During mating season, male iguanas stop being as chill with their neighbors, attempting to establish a territory and push other males out. They also change from their normal dark appearance to a much brighter coloration. Territories are usually bordered by rocks or crevasses and can be found next to each other in groups. Males will attempt to attract females to their territories while fighting other males to get access to their females. This behavior is called lekking. Females show a distinct preference for larger males and it is the largest males that are most successful at maintaining territories. Medium males are forced to patrol the edges of territories to try to pick up mates while small males often pretend to be female to sneak into another's territory and attempt to mate. Males with territories defend them with special displays where they will raise their dorsal spines and open their mouths while bobbing their heads around. If another male challenges the dominant, they will display at each other. If neither submits, a fight will start. Males fight by headbutting and trying to push each other around. These fights can last for hours and the participants will occasionally take breaks. In most cases, one will eventually display a submissive posture and retreat, though in a few cases the fight has escalated to biting and scratching. When courting a female, a male will nod at her and approach in a sideways walk. Smaller males without territories may also try mating forcibly. Females only mate once per year and will signal rejection to additional suitors by nodding at them.

(image: a male performing a territorial display)

(image: two males headbutting each other in a territorial battle)

Mating season usually lasts between December and March. Females will lay eggs about a month after mating. The eggs (usually 2 to 3 but sometimes up to 6) can collectively weigh up to a quarter of the mother's weight, which is very large for an iguana. They are laid well above the tide line and buried in sand or soil. In places with few good nesting sites, mothers will guard their eggs after hatching to make sure other females don't dig therm up to steal the spot. When females fight over nesting spots they are less disciplined than males and will quickly resort to biting. The eggs hatch after 3-4 months. Females reach sexual maturity after 3-5 years while males do so after 6-8 years. They live an average lifespan of 12 years, but can live up to 60.

(image: a female iguana digging her nest)

(image: a group of juveniles climbing on each other)

Marine iguanas are classified as vulnerable by the IUCN, while a few populations are instead considered endangered. A major threat to them is warming seas, which can reduce the red and green algae populations and replace them with inedible brown algae, leading to starvation. Marine iguanas only have a few predators and most of them target juveniles or small adults. As a result, the adults demonstrate island tameness, a lack of wariness to potential predators. This has left them vulnerable to predators introduced by humans, such as dogs, cats, rats, and pigs. Despite these invasive predators being present for ver 100 years, they have not developed any anti-predator defenses against them, a phenomenon called ecological naïveté. They also do not fear humans and will allow tourists to approach them, which has led to injuries and the spread of human-introduced diseases. They are protected by laws of Ecuador and most of their range is in protected areas. Efforts to remove invasive predators have seen some benefit. They are difficult to keep in captivity due to their specialized diets, and they have never been bred in captivity.

(image: a male with his bright mating season coloration)

#wet beast wednesday #marine iguana #biology #zoology #ecology #marine biology #galapagos #animal facts #iguana #lizard #reptile #long post

[stardewremixed]

Pierre gets so much flak...

...for being a bad shopkeeper

...for taking credit for your produce

...for being a bad husband.

BUT...

He really doesn't deserve all of it.

Let's break this down.

He is a small businessowner in a small community, struggling to compete against the BIG CORPORATE store, Joja. He has to get his products from somewhere and he is proud to be locally sourced (and you willing participate in this system as the Farmer unless you chose another route). Keep in mind. The man goes around to collect things from bins between when you go to bed and 6am. And he still gets up and runs his business the next day. I want to know when he sleeps, poor dude. (EDIT: My bad... I skipped the intro on my last few playthroughs and forgot it is Lewis who collects your stuff. Then again, Lewis could be getting a cut of whatever he "sells" to Pierre or he could be stealing from your profits, which just further proves the Mayor's shady side). Also, I think it's completely normal/natural to be proud of his little shop. He's worked hard unlike... *cough cough* Mayor Lewis, I'm looking at you.

I'm not a small business owner, but I am friends with a few. Running a business is hard, especially when you don't have much help. Abigail is pretty focused on her own stuff, and Caroline hosts fitness classes, but otherwise, she is a stay-at-home mom/housewife and takes long walks (to stare at nothing, mind you). They could be a bit more grateful or pitch in a little more. He seems to have an exclusive contract (except for the Grange Day event/Night Market) to sell at festivals, outside his normal hours, which is a good way for him to make extra cash. He probably needs it to keep up on his property taxes (home/business) and all the other business expenses, and let's be honest, keep Abigail/Caroline comfortable.

He doesn't have other employees, which is actually semi-believable in a town this size. This means that Pierre has to do all the work: find the merchandise, write up contracts, collect the merch, display the merch, ring up sales, pay taxes, manage the books, maintenance/ repairs, and the marketing (via the mail, what little he can, and direct mailings aren't cheap; this I know from working at a small company IRL). I'm probably forgetting an overhead expense. Small businessowners/people who work for themselves often do end up putting in more time/more effort than other types of workers... because they HAVE to. There's no one else to do it. It's long grueling hours, often a thankless job, and when you're competing against a bigger business, it is that much harder. No wonder the guy closes on Wednesdays. He deserves a day off, people.

And at least he is working to provide for his family and a service to the community.

(What are you doing, Mayor? Making statues of yourself???)

#stardew valley rant #sdv pierre #stardewremixed #sdv abigail #sdv caroline #sdv lewis

[petitprincess1]

What critiques do you have of Hazbin? I'm wondering because I keep seeing a lot of criticism and hate towards it and I don't Wana get into something that's possible waste of time. Srry if thats rude

Dude, you're perfectly fine. I'm gonna keep it to like five points bc some things that I have problems with are mainly nitpicks. None of this, imo, is a dealbreaker for me. However, if it is for you, fair.

This is one that everyone has talked about and I fully agree with. The pacing is whiplash-inducing. I still do believe it's better than HB S1, but there is just so much information being thrown around that it's mind-boggling. The songs definitely help to slow things down a bit and introduce more info in an engaging, catchy way. However, I feel like there were some eps that either needed to come sooner or later in the series. I get they were fighting the clock, but still.

Lucifer and Charlie's relationship needed better explaining. Without going into spoilers, from what it felt like in the Pilot, it seemed like they were building up to something a bit more confrontational. I always figured Charlie possibly embellished Lucifer's words, but now it makes it feel like Charlie was talking to a completely different man. Someone that isn't even her father. Lu acts so much like Charlie, or vice versa, that it seems almost impossible to misinterpret his words.

NO FILLERS! The closest episode to a filler is the 3 ep, but even that brings up information and moves the plot along with key points. Now, that's not a bad thing entirely. It keeps you engaged. But this show very much lacks any breathing room. There's so much being thrown your way. Either things get overly talked about or not talked about enough. Which brings me to my next point-

The world-building is both fulfilling and empty. You do get a good sense of Heaven and Hell in this universe, especially Hell. You get an idea of the hierarchy and even some hypocrisy. However, we also don't really know how Heaven nor Hell operates. Like Lucifer appeared to be a shut-in. Yes, Lilith was the one inspiring demonkind, but what about when she disappeared? Is that why everything is garbage now? How much does Lucifer influence Hell? Where are the archangels? Was this conflict not important? Is there a "God" even in this show? What is Heaven's hierarchal system? There's so much being said, while also nothing being explained.

This one is the lowest for me bc I'm a bit torn on it. I've seen a few people complain about how the main characters are introduced as if you're supposed to know them. I didn't get this feeling, but I'm also a fan of Hazbin. I try to go in with a fairly "empty mind" so that I can view the material without rose-tinted glasses. However, it felt like some of the characters were given decent introductions at times. Idk. I'd like to know other's opinions on that.

Another one that I want to add is probably more diversity in the body sizes in the show. I'm not too worried about it bc Helluva Boss does a great job with body diversity, but Hazbin seems to be fairly stick and slender. But, again, I'm not too worried about it.

All in all, those are my biggest issues with the show. Like I said, none of these are dealbreakers, especially since we'll be getting a S2. Vivzie seems to listen to criticism, judging by the differences with HB S1 vs S2. So, I'm really hoping that we finally get to relax and actually get to know the characters more. Like, Adam shows the 7 Deadly Sins, while Charlie shows the 7 Virtues. I hope Adam isn't permanently dead bc I feel like this would be a good wake-up for him. He'll become the being that they were exterminating. But only time will tell.

Majority of this can be blamed on Prime and A24 for only giving them 8 episodes. I feel like either a longer run-time or more eps would've helped the show. Hopefully, they'll have learned from their mistakes in the next season.

#hazbin hotel #long post #hazbin hotel analysis #media criticism #vivziepop #ask answered #ok 2 rb

[sunofpandora]

So I watched avatar 1 with my native mother.

As goofy as this sounded it really was a heart warming experience…

Because it's really amazing go watch someone fall in love with Pandora for the first time.

And she was very skeptical, claiming she “didn’t like sci-fi”

But, she ended up loving it.

Here were some of the things she thought:

1. She said that Na’vi culture has many parallels to actual native and ancient culture, including the belief that our hair actually is an extension of our body and nervous system, (which is why my mother, who believes that her hair is a symbol of her strength, and spirit, doesn't ever cut her hair)

2. She kept calling Mo’at the “alpha female”

3. Was IN LOVE with Eytukan’s design and and outfit.

4. Called Jake Sully “the white boy who didn’t get enough love from his grandma”

5. Was APPALLED at the way they held a bow and arrow.

6. Was super happy when Jake finally learned how to ride a dire horse.

7. Was also laughing when he fell off the direhorse.

8. Every time Jake and Tsu’tey came on screen she said “those two are always having a pissing race”

9. Called Quaritch, and Selfridge “colonizer 1, and colonizer 2”

10. Thought Jake looked “cute” with his little braids he had for the movie before the final battle.

11. Gasped and started squealing happily when she saw an Ikran for the first time

12. Everytime Quaritch came on screen it was “can someone shoot this guy already?”

13. Cried when hometree was destroyed.

14. Kept asking me “do they win?”

15. Said “he's so elegant” when he was falling to his death after claiming his I ran on the first flight.

16. I thought it was interesting when she said “RDA is less or a reflection of the military, and more of corporate America”

17. When Jake got captured in the beginning where we first see Tsu’tey, when the warriors arrive on their horses, she said “oh shit. He brought the whole fam with him”

18. Was a but freaked out by the 4 fingers.

19. Was screaming when Trudy was fighting alongside the na’vi

20. Cried when Trudy died

21. They entire concept of the RDA using guns on the na’vi and forcing them out of their home made her say “Now, where have we seen this before?”

22. Was freaked out by the size difference.

23. When jake got lost in the forest, she said,

“It's like loosing a kid on a field trip.”

24:

All in all, rated it a 12/10 and I'm watching the second one with her on Thursday ❤️

#neteyam x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar fanfiction #neteyam x you #jake avatar #neteyam sully #lo’ak x reader #kiri sully #neytiri #neteyam #my tags are still stuck help

[bottlesandbarricades]

Here’s the thing Rishi you fucking private school cunt, people who struggle with maths are already embarrassed because they get shamed constantly for being shit at maths in the British Education system.

The so-called “anti maths mindset” comes from various things such as:

Not getting support due to massive class sizes (you wouldn't know about that at boarding school)

Teachers not having time to help students individually because they're overworked and overstretched (national shortage of maths teachers)

An inflexible and outdated method of teaching (not everyone learns the same way)

A syllabus that is crammed full to the point where there is no time to revisit topics in class due to again, a lack of time.

A focus on passing exams rather than actually learning useful maths skills (now you want more exams)

No one picking up kids with learning difficulties

As someone, who was in “bottom set maths” at school and barely scraped a C at GCSE, I can tell you that shaming people for not being gifted in a subject doesn't make them learn better.

Trust me, I cried enough tears about it. I knew I was falling behind and I worked my arse off going to revision/extra study. Guess what? it still didn't stick.

I used to feel sick and panicky with anxiety in maths lessons because if the teacher called on me I wouldn't be able to answer the question. I sat there dreading being made to look stupid in front of everyone (I was already being bullied, people didn’t need more ammunition) Surprise, surprise that shame and embarrassment didn't make me better at maths.

Turns out, I was dyslexic, but no one diagnosed that till I was 18 at University. I sat my fucking GSCEs and A Levels barely able to read the fucking papers. I just thought I was thick as that is what I was led to believe my whole school career.

Those of us who aren't good at fucking maths aren't “damaging the economy” you and the Tories seem to manage to do that all by yourselves (the Kwasi mini budget). Also, If memory serves didn't the bankers (who are supposed to be good at maths) cause the crash in 2008? That seemed pretty fucking damaging idk.

In conclusion, get fucked you privileged out of touch twat. Stop blaming people for having a subpar education, when you aren't willing to tackle the real issues, which leads to it being subpar.

#fuck the tories #british politics #uk politics #rishi sunak #the tories #anti tory #tory britain

[ask-annamary]

Do you make your tuna sandwiches correctly? As in, devoid of those dreadful pieces of celery, properly salted, and with the right mayo-to-tuna ratio?

I have an inkling as to who you are, Anonymouse... but I will not make any assumptions.

To be completely honest, it is actually quite easy to keep tabs on what you consume and how your perchases impact the world around you. If you wish to have a tool around to help be more mindful of your food, I highly recommend https://www.seafoodwatch.org/ , it is an immensely helpful resource and I even used it to formulate this response. You can even contact them for printed guides on what you should and should not eat. I personally carry around a few cards for myself and to share with-

Ah... I have noticed a good number of you expressing interest in hearing more about my "infodumps", so I surpose it wouldn't hurt to indulge every now and again. Many of my coworkers have commented about how verbose I can be, so I try to scale down my words from time to time. This will not be one of those times.

Ah yes... the world of industrial fishing. To be as clear as water, I am fully aware of how flawed that system is as a whole. Certain practices are downright devastating to oceans, but alas it is what these companies do to "make ends meet." If you asked me I'd believe the only end they're meeting is the deep end.

Now, where should I begin... ah, let's tackle Bluefin Tuna as a whole. The reason behind this strict avoidance is shrimple: it's overfising. The rate at which these fish are being collected far exceeds the rate at which they can reproduce, meaning that if current practices continue on these fish will not be able to make up for all the numbers lost to fishing.

The method of which these fish are caught can also be quite problematic. Methods such as FADs and drifting longlines can be detrimental not only to tuna, but to many other ocean going creatures. Drifting longlines for example, have a dire habit of getting other creatures ensnared by their hooks, such as various sea birds and sea turtles. FADs, fish aggregating devices, are floating structures created to attract the attention of Tuna, but they bring along other fish that are not intended to be caught like various species of sharks. The phenomena of animals other than the target species being caught is called bycatch, and many of these animals needlessly perish in this process.

Now, one may think farming these fish will be the shorefire solution to this conundrum. Many fish can be sustainably farmed, but one must keep in mind that tuna are gargantuan predators with appetites to match their size. It can take up to FIFTEEN TONS of fish caught from the wild to just produce one ton of tuna meat, meaning more fish are hunted for a mere fraction in return. On top of that, these farms produce a great amount of... er... effluent into the surrounding waters, which then throws the local ecosystem off its balance.

Truly the best way to avoid these issues in fishery is to focus on Tuna whose species are not threatened by over fishing, and more importantly to make sure the fisheries you are purchasing them from are not practicing harmful methods of fishing. One more thing to keep in mind is which ocean they hail from. While species such as Skipjacks and Yellowtails are by no means threatened in the Indian Ocean, many fisheries do not follow rules put into place to prevent over fishing.

Did I cover everything? Or... most of everything? That must be a lot to take in at once, but I am not quizzing any of you on anything. Again, if you are feeling unshore about what youre buying, whether it be tuna, trout, tilapia, or really any seafood, don't hesitate to consult a Seafood Watch guide.

The Deep Diver's excitement slowed to a stop as he remained silent for a moment, realizing how long he had gone on and on and on about... what, something that had initially begun as a debate on tuna sandwiches? Lights within the dark of his helmet began to glow dimly... as if she were... blushing!

... Thank you for listening. I have work to dive back into. Goodbye.

#deep diver #toonblr #toontown #toontown corporate clash #ttcc #prob art #corporate clash #RRAGHHHH AUTISM ATTACK GO🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

[qiutls]

TNGDH 009

Life is a series of burglaries.

At first, my life was stolen and I somehow survived, but then my human rights were stolen, then my wheel was also stolen. Now, even the shirt which I had hidden so well, has also been stolen. I don't have anything now to be robbed off of!

Is there a thief in my life. If there is, please go away.

It was clearly well hidden, I checked the way to it multiple times, even when I was in Sen's hand, I checked it again in order not to lose the way to it next time. I trusted the system's words, and hoped it could save the shirt, because it's a location I could use "Summon" in.

[ (・・= ・・) ]

Yeah, I know, it's not your fault. It's not like you tricked me into becoming a hamster, because you wanted me to take off the shirt.

The ones who found my clothes were none other than the magicians. As they searched for me at Kyle's request, they followed the flow of mana, and said they had found the clothes I had hidden in a place where traces of magic remained, albeit slightly.

I think the skill given by the system seems to be some kind of magic in this world, and the residue of it remained on the clothes I was wearing as the "Summon" was lifted.

Of course, those who would never dream of the existence of the system, seemed to believe that a deranged clothes thief entered the master's bedroom, but in actuality…

"I wish you could speak."

Kyle looked at me with a friendly look and soon sighed deeply. He continued to say.

"That's right. There's no way that you, who is as calm and kind as an angel, would've went out without a reason. Why did he try to steal you? Or was it a crazy thief, who took everything that he wanted, and you were just smart enough to find the shirt on your way back."

― Eek. [ What in the world are you saying? ]

I do know how to talk, you punk. And besides, I'm that crazy thief you're talking about.

Anyways, why is it even when you're cursing out a thief, you're still able to dish out silly praises like this. Can a hamster really be that smart?

"As expected, the thieves I first met were…"

No! No, calm down. Sit down. Are you going to beat them up? All they'll do is scream out of pain, they know nothing.

Anyways, my life hasn't improved one bit. Today, if I use the "Summon" skill, I'll still be naked. Thinking about it, the taste of rice, no, the taste of almonds is decreasing…

I smashed the walnut as hard as I could. Tuk. The walnut rolled down the slide and got stuck between the sawdust.

"Cashew Nut?"

Kyle who was about to run to the prison and hang the three thieves who had stormed into the study yesterday, quickly turned back to approach me.

He put me on his palm and began to stroke my forehead.

"Do they taste bad? Or do you not like walnuts? Should I change it to macadamias?"

Kyle rummaged through his drawer with his other hand, took out a macadamia and gave it to me.

I took a few bites out of courtesy, then he smiled brightly as if he had found a gold mine. But when I whose appetite disappeared again, stopped eating and pushed the macadamia away, he looked at me desperately with an expression of carrying all the burdens in the world.

"What's wrong with you? Why don't you have an appetite?"

Hey, who would be able to eat in this situation? I said I wanted to become human, I never said I wanted to walk around naked. I'm not Adam.

"What can I do to make you happy? If I knew how, I would spare nothing for it."

Ugh. That dedication. Such a gentle voice and eyes dripping with honey. If I weren't a mouse with a size smaller than a palm right now, I would be 100 times more romantic than you are now.

But actually, this fate is not as bad as I thought it would be.

I quite like how Duke Blake, who was said to be as cold as an ice field, petted me with a melting hand, and called my name in a warm voice. It's been a while since I received so much love for no reason.

Unlike me who was easygoing, Kyle seemed to be more worried than I thought.

"I don't want to lose you…"

He said with a deep sigh, I glanced at the book on his desk while winding myself around his palm.

< A magical beast's mana stone >

'When did you even get that.'

It seemed it took a great toll on him when the magicians said they couldn't feel any mana from me.

[ Magical beasts usually grow a heart during the growth process, and this heart is called a mana stone. Mana stones that finished forming are called 'nucleus.' When these stones are not able to form properly, the magical beasts are unable to live a long life. In severe cases, they die during the growth stage. ]

'Death… Was it that important?'

[ X_X ]

'Was there originally something like this?'

Of course, I'm just an ordinary hamster… Actually, I'm normal in a sense that I don't have a mana stone, I'm still a little unusual by the fact that I can turn into a human. But for Kyle, it was natural for him to think that my situation is a lot more serious than it looks like.

"Don't worry. It says that if you periodically inject magical power until the end of growth period, not only will it be able to live a bit longer, it will also become less feral."

Come on. Don't inject anything. I won't become feral, and I won't die. What if you inject something in me and side effects come out?

"I will do my best to take care of you. It is already too late to send you back to the wild…"

What are you talking about! If you throw me back to the fields, I'll spend 23 hours and 30 minutes in the body the size of a mouse poop and I'll become a snack for other demons for the next 30 minutes.

"What a strange thing. I've conquered the North with thousands of beasts, yet I'm worried to death by a child of those beasts."

I know, thanks to you, I can't get used to it either. Who takes care of a hamster like this.

But seeing that I don't hate him that much, it means that I seem to have some affection for him.

All my life, I've lived and done everything alone and it made me sick and tired. How can I not like someone who appeared so suddenly and treated me kindly for no reason at all.

"I don't think you've drank water all night, and you don't even have an appetite… Hmm?"

Kyle tapped me on the nose, and looked as if he wanted to shower me with kisses but afraid of causing me more stress, he resisted the temptation.

That's right, don't kiss me more than 10 times a day okay? 10 times is too much.

By the way, it's a misunderstanding that I'm not thirsty. I just chose not to drink from the water bowl because, I ran around so much yesterday and as soon as I came back to the house, I washed my feet in it. The truth is, I'm actually quite thirsty.

But I can't drink the water which I used to wash my feet in! It feels like licking the floor.

Forced to remain silent, I couldn't do anything but look up at him. Seeing me staring, he contemplated for a moment, then called the knight to bring up Sen.

"Starting from today, I want to feed it other snacks aside from nuts, do you know what food other rodents eat?"

A new diet? Sounds good. I'm looking forward to Serena's excellent answer. Serena, please be nice to me.

Can you say beef? Ah, or is that too much? Then how about, pork? Duck meat? Even chicken is fine? What else is there huh? Sheep, lamb? Maybe shrimp or fish… Whatever it is, I like it. Give me lots of delicious food!

It's about time that we change my diet. I was just thinking how I'm still as small as I am because of malnutrition.

So, protein.

Give me protein, okay?

*

"I think mealworm would do, Your Highness."

… Wait no! That's not true!

"Or crickets? If you want to train it, it would be better to feed it a barely alive cricket so it can try to hunt. That's the best meal for hamsters, so wouldn't it be the same for Cashew Nut?"

"All right."

Don't listen to it so seriously, you crazy man!

Sen fixed her glasses with a serious face and gave Kyle a menu or something. He listened to the report with an impressive face as if he had seen the discovery of the century.

What are you two doing…

"Nuts alone are not enough. You should also think about giving it fruits, and since its currently at growth period, it's best to give it protein."

"That makes sense. I'll entrust this matter to you with full authority, so prepare everything with the highest quality, okay?"

No, it's not okay!

You crazy people, what do you mean crickets. No! I hate it! I won't even touch it with my mouth. If you feed it to me, I'll scream and faint.

"We are officially starting the festival this evening, so I might be a little busy… I'll be going now, so I can come back early in the evening."

Kyle held out a pocket full of money without hesitation.

"You don't have to be thrifty, buy everything and what's left is yours."

Sen answered one more time.

"I understand, Your Highness, I'll buy everything to the point where it feels that the money might be insufficient. Although it's a bit hard to buy everything in the North, I think I may be able to get everything because of the festival!"

"All right, that's good. I'll ask the chef to prepare as well."

You two play really well huh. I'd rather go out and leave the room than see you two go at it.

[ Miracle value has risen! ]

[ Current miracle value: 7% ]

The miracle value suddenly increased, it seems that the relationship of the two in the original book which was stuck in abyss had suddenly improved.

That's right, I can only live if Kyle lives, and to make that happen, we need to prevent Serena from holding a knife towards Kyle, just like the original novel.

Whatever it is, continue to be on good terms, okay?

Just don't buy me a mealworm!

*

― Squeak! [ Put it away! ]

Do you have wheels on your feet? How could you buy hamster food so quickly! You said you'd only buy the best! Shouldn't that take you around a few days!

I jumped up and down at the sight of worms in the bowl.

"Look at this, Your Highness, does it not seem like he likes it a lot?"

Kyle's face brightened at Sen's words.

It's the opposite, you punks! Aren't you going to clean it up right now? Do you want to get hit with a mealworm? Don't look at me with anticipation, I'm not gonna eat this!

I ran away in hurry, and when I got stuck in the slide, I looked back and saw Kyle picking up crickets with tongs and placing them close to me.

Hey, you bastard! Don't put them close to me! Ack! They're alive! Please stop!

Do you want to die? Aren't you gonna put them away!

Please, help and save this hamster!

You punks, you'll see.

When I turn human, I'll make sure to get revenge.

novel ⠀✿⠀ next

#tngdh

[anika-ann]

Cookies and Spark(le)s

Type: one-shot, prequel, canon-ish (see A/N)

Pairining: (pre) Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4000

Summary: In which you thank the Captain for saving your life on your first mission together by baking cookies, a revelation or two is made and most importantly, you bring a smile to his face – and vice versa.

And so your nickname, Sparkles, is born.

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of canon-typical violence, Tony being Tony (affectionate), ... I think that’s it? 

A/N: Standalone or a one-shot set so-so TWO YEARS before Love on the Brain series; reader is called “Agent Jones”; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

“Let us always meet each other with a smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.” - Mother Teresa

- 

There was a small smile playing in the corner of Steve’s lips, a quiet but intense feeling of job well-done humming in his chest.

After almost four hours in a gym, a company of ten – and then another ten – agents of various ranks, him and Rollins leading the training and overseeing agents’ drills, Steve was beyond content. There was a reason why they encouraged all agents to sign up for whichever training session available and it didn’t only go down to unregular schedules – it served as a valuable learning experience. The senior agents teaching newbies; the newbies humbling the experienced ones who would have thought they had seen it all, but were proven wrong by a fresh graduate knocking them down; mock opponents of all sizes and strength and tactics, testing each other, some days more than others. And today had felt good, a testimony to the advantages of mixed classes.

Had Steve been a little more spiteful, he’d spend a little more time revelling in the expression on Vale’s face – a senior agent who was sporting attitude issues at times – when she ended up on her back. And as virtuous as people believed Steve to be, he actually did enjoy seeing her fall from her high horse; but the shy smile and the damn helping hand her opponent offered her, right after she had got her on her back, quickly made for a different emotion. Warmer and brining just as much satisfaction.

He wanted to smile at you at your gesture, catching the pleased spark in your eye, but you quickly averted his gaze and returned to your drills. Steve didn’t press; while you were kind and friendly, you also took training – and self-growth, apparently – very seriously. And he had a feeling you were a little unsure about how to act in front of him ever since the last mission.

The fact was that the gentle hum in his heart you had started by kicking Vale’s ass and then helping her up remained until the end of the session, only strengthened by other great moments you and other agents made for.

It truly had been a good afternoon and Steve knew he would sleep well tonight, knowing their system worked – and that they were good people working under the Avengers’ Initiative.

He was just slipping into the sleeves on his hoodie, catching a glimpse of Rollins patting Agent Finnegan on his back as they were leaving, when he heard your voice, instantly attracting his attention despite the slightly awkward note to it.  

“Captain Rogers? Can I have a second?”

A brief smile passing over your lips made the corners of his own rise higher on instinct. Your hair was messy, some sticking to your forehead, some flying around as you had had to just pull a hoodie over your head, your stance speaking of both determination and hesitance.

“Sure,” he said, gaze involuntary flickering to the Tupperware box in your hands. “How can I help you, Agent Jones?”

A flicker of surprise caught on your face as if you hadn’t thought he’d remembered your name – a pleasant surprise, Steve hoped. He hardly ever forgot names and faces, a blessing and a curse of his eidetic memory; but he had a feeling that even without his gift, he wouldn’t forget yours. You stood out subtly, but firmly, at least to Steve; and it had little to do with the fact he had covered you and probably saved your life on your first mission together just a few days ago.

“I, uhm… I know you probably get this all the time, because… well, because you save someone’s life all the time, but. I wanted to thank you,” you explained, a mixture of emotions difficult to decipher sinking into your voice, embarrassment at the forefront as if you were already questioning your decisions.

And you should – there was no reason to thank him further. You expressed your gratitude before, thanking him with shock right at the site of the shooting and then again on the plane when he made rounds, checking on all the agents. You owed him nothing.

But he had to admit you were being rather… sweet, looking up at him like that, sure and unsure at the same time, clearly hesitant about how to handle the situation and desperately trying to get a read on his reaction.

So, Steve took a deep breath, gaze flickering all over your face and minding to sound sincere – as he was – when he spoke again.

“You already have,” he pointed out gently.

“I know. But. It’s my life and just saying thank you doesn’t really seem like enough for something of that magnitude so. Here. A bit more of a thank you,” you said, standing your ground as you held out the box. Your smile grew, a little playful note in your voice as you shrugged. “You strike me like more of an apple pie kind of a man, but I don’t think anyone ever gets offended with cookies.”

Busted. You clearly weren’t a former FBI profiler for nothing. His hands twitched as he almost reached for the box, slightly embarrassed himself now.

“That’s really not necessary, Agent Jones.”

“I promise they’re not poisoned,” you hummed with an attempt at humour, instantly having Steve’s eyebrow rise up, along with a corner of his lips.

“That… didn’t even cross my mind until you mentioned it.”

“…oh.”

Your mouth opened and closed, no real sound coming out.

One silly sentence and it was obvious you pulled back, growing more embarrassed by the second; Steve felt a little guilty for teasing you. You seemed like a confident enough kind of woman, especially when a situation called for it, but he mustn’t forget you barely had just finished your first mission under him (his command, under his command), one where he had to – and wanted to – tackle you down so you wouldn’t catch a bullet for your trouble. Not to mention he was not only your superior, but also a potentially imposing figure known from overexaggerated urban legends which he didn’t try to but fed into anyway. Approaching him would have been nerve-wrecking for anyone, let alone in your circumstance.

But here you were, doing your best to stand with your head held high, offering him cookies, to highlight your gratitude for something Steve believed was his duty. And to show you regretted getting yourself into a situation where he had to intervene, a situation which could make you appear incompetent in the eyes of your direct supervisor – Steve himself.

So yes, he felt a little guilty for the gentle jab when all he had intended to do was to reassure you it was all in day’s work – and maybe to make you smile a little wider. Because from the little he had seen of you and he had read up on you – he liked to know his team, he liked to know what he could work with on his missions, sue him – you seemed to be quite a capable, dedicated and kind person. Not to mention rather beautiful too.

No matter how much time he had spent out of the ice in his new role, his interaction skills with beautiful women, even if those under his command, clearly needed a lot of polishing.

Putting you out of your misery, he slowly raised his hands as not to startle you and carefully took the box from your fingers, gently flipping the lid open for a slit. The sweet aroma of butter and chocolate tickled his nostrils, his quick metabolism letting itself known, his body whispering that he could definitely devour these after two training sessions, even if they weren’t that taxing on him.

You offered a weak smile which Steve reciprocated.

“If they are poisoned, you covered it well. They smell delicious. And look that way too,” he added for a good measure, hoping to erase the last remnants of awkwardness between the two of you.

He did not expect your reaction; nor he anticipated the effect it would have on him.

Upon his light tease and praise, your face lit up. Truly lit up. You might as well glow – and Steve felt his heart stutter, resisting the urge to squint against the gentle light, tempted all the same to keep his eyes wide open to appreciate the sight. It might be ridiculous, but he felt blessed to earn such smile; a perfect beautiful smile, irises sparkling with gratitude and humour, as if you suddenly appreciated him poking a bit of fun.

“Well, the recipe is from the times where no one truly cared about sugar and cholesterol,” you shrugged, smile subtler now, but no less blinding. “And the secret ingredient is gratitude.”

Steve couldn’t but chuckle, no matter how much as he wanted to disapprove of that sentiment.

“Hey. Like I said. Not necessary, but who am I to say no to this,” he mused as he closed the lid. “Thank you, Agent Jones.”

It was the title, Steve realized regretfully the moment the words left his mouth, that had the alluring sparkle in your eye dim and turn your smile from brilliant to polite; it was the reminder that despite the teasing, you were his subordinate and you were still basically strangers. Steve mourned the loss of your glow; and made himself a promise to bring it back soon as you rocked at the balls of your feet, embarrassment returning, even if considerably more subtle than when you had first approached him.

“Enjoy then. …I, uhm, I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you again, Captain Rogers. Have a good day,” you said, genuine warmth behind your words.

Yet, you kept your word and spun on your heels, heading out of the room.

And Steve couldn’t help it. He could tell it was back, that something weighting on your conscience, probably the worry about how you had introduced yourself to him as the agent who needed saving – and tried to, presumably lamely, soften the terrible impression with baking, no matter how excellent. The urge to have you know that was not at all what he as thinking of you was too acute to ignore, a tightness in his chest that needed to be released. Because you seemed a wonderful agent and a better person and he couldn’t let you leave thinking he considered you anything less.

It didn’t matter he barely knew you or you barely knew him; because you simply didn’t deserve to doubt yourself. Because there was more than one reason for why he didn’t really feel entirely comfortable accepting your gratitude; because it wasn’t fair.

“Did you get any cookies?” he called out, voice low despite the now empty training room.

You stopped in your tracks in an instant, turning to him with confusion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry?” you asked politely, frown turning into a brief smile when you realized what he meant – or thought so, apparently. “Oh, well, I sampled. I had to make sure I’d give you quality goods, after all.”

For a profiler, now you were being completely clueless. Steve shook his head, lips a thin line even as he tried to smile, slowly taking the three steps to make up for the distance you had walked. His gaze flicker over your face, still contorted in mild confusion, before he bored his eyes into yours, mindful to sound gentle despite the urgency humming in his ribcage.

“From Agent Thomas, I mean,” he clarified. The effect on you was immediate; your breath hitched, body going rigid with shock. Good. Then you’d hear what he was saying. “Perhaps some thank you for saving my life cookies too?”

Your lips parted in surprise, eyes widening. Your shock at the revelation that he had noticed the situation was almost adorable. He tried not to let it insult him – he could hardly blame anyone for not believing he’d pay attention to them on the mission.

The truth was, Steve probably would have been slightly annoyed had the situation been different. If, upon first time under his command in particular, he would have had to sweep in to save an agent because they were reckless, defying orders or showing off – but that wasn’t the reason you had missed the danger posed to you.

The only reason you missed the enemy shooter was because you were shooting another, right before Steve could. And you did it because Agent Hillary Thomas, on her very first mission of this sort, failed to notice she had left an opening. Because you had exchanged a few words with her on the jet, learning it was her first, and you probably had kept an eye on her ever since. Just like Steve had kept an eye on her and you.

The only reason he had to save you was because you got too busy protecting your fellow agent. It wasn’t your explicit order to have her six, but you had done it anyway, because that was what teammates did for each other. Steve could respect that. Hell, Steve appreciated that – and he was glad that people like you were on his team. This kind of people were his favourite and he would take a bullet for them at any day, so truly, tackling you was the least he could do and would do in the future should the need arise.

“No, Sir. Captain. I didn’t,” you said, a little quiet; clearly torn between standing behind your actions and knowing it had technically been a mistake to look out for someone else more than for yourself. A mistake which your Captain was now pointing out, you perhaps thought.

Imposing figure, Steve reminded himself with a mental sigh, a superior; you must have thought that you were being reprimanded further, which was not at all Steve’s intention. Realizing his shoulders had turned tense upon remembering the mission, he forced his body to relax and willed the corners of his lips to lift softly.

“At ease, Agent Jones. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to let you know that the circumstance has been taken into account. It was a compliment,” he assured you.

Much to his satisfaction, you let him. You stuck your chin up, standing straighter as a brief pleased smile passed your lips.

“Thank you, Captain. I realize that the practice might be different here at the AI than at my last place of employment, but-“

“You were looking out for a colleague, as have I,” he interjected, earning a nod from you, along with a barely-there smile. “And I’m pretty sure having your friends’ and fellow agents’ six is a universal rule. So… I’m glad I had you on the team for the mission. …And I would have been even without the cookies,” he added with a small smirk.

But oh, he should not have sweetened the compliment with a joke if he wasn’t ready to face the consequences. You chuckled, surprised at the teasing – your smile grew large and genuine, eyes shining again, the playful spark making its return. Steve felt his heart stumble in his chest once more, falling straight into the trap of your charm.

He was in trouble. He had been intrigued by you, half-way in trouble already, ankles deep at least, but now you not only smiled – at him, with him – but you smiled at something he said and he could not deny that at heart, he was a simple man with appreciation with the most incredible simple things; like how your smile lit up the training room like the brightest star. And now he was knees deep. No, waist deep, if not more.

If there was one person who should be smirking, it should be you. But you weren’t, because you probably had no idea that the gorgeous smile of yours just made breathing seem like a task worth only of titans among whom Steve did not belong, not with his chest feeling so full – full of delight and pride. He did that. And he wanted to do it again.

He was in so much trouble.

“Well, you got them this time, so enjoy them. I’ll try my best so there’s no reason for them next time,” you declared, unwittingly offering Steve a helping hand by reminding him of the reality of him being your boss – and therefore of inappropriateness of where the train of his thoughts was heading.

“As great as I think these are and as glad as I am you are looking out for our teammates, I like that plan,” he said with a grin, clutching the box only in his left hand in order to outstretch the other, an offer to shake it. You tilted your head to side slightly, but set his hand into his with a soft smile. Trouble. Beautiful, beautiful trouble. “Looking forward to working with you again, Agent Jones.”

You squeezed his hand, an honest grip – firm but gentle, not too strong to show off or try to assert dominance, nor too weak for you were not. Your voice carried the same sentiment as you parted.

“Same, Captain Rogers. Have a good day.”

Perhaps it would sound absurd if said out loud, but the box of homemade cookies only solidified Steve’s conviction that he had made the right choice to decide to move out of the Tower. His first apartment given to him by SHILED after he came out of the ice never felt like home for multiple reasons and so when Tony had been kind enough to offer to all the Avengers a place to stay, no matter how often, Steve had been grateful – if for nothing more than for the convenience of not having to commute. But as time passed and he felt the ground under his feet grow more and more solid, slowly coming to terms to the fact that this century had to be his home now, Steve was finding it hard to balance work and life outside of work with the majority of his life outside of work still happening at the place of employment. At a place where his colleagues – even as he could call a few of them his friends – could stride in literally whenever they pleased. He found himself longing for a true home again.

And yes; something as simple as sweet taste of chocolate chip with peanut butter edge played straight into his yearning for domesticity, painting an image of a woman to hug as she stands by the stove, him sneakily stealing one of the still-cooling cookies he had helped to prepare from a plate, earning a playful smack over the back of his hand and a chuckle. The woman carried your face at the moment, inevitably associated with these particular cookies; Steve had to scold himself for thinking about one of the agents under his command this way.

Then again, the way your eyes sparkled, delighted and a little playful stirred something deep within him, automatically coaxing his lips into a smile even two hours later.

That smile only grew as he spied an unread e-mail at the screen of his computer. From Tony Stark himself, sent this morning, the subject hinting the location of his possible future home. Steve had requested an apartment in one of the Avengers Initiative buildings, which were offered for rent to all agents under the AI for more than a reasonable price. Conveniently located, far enough from the Tower, but not too far; carrying a much better potential to be turned into a home.

Opening the e-mail, Steve couldn’t but chuckle at Tony’s – at least partly pretended – pretentiousness oozing from the first two sentences.  

Hey big guy, you sure you wanna live with the common folks? One apartment’s freshly empty, but can you actually handle living next to a newbie-ish girl? Had J run a like a triple background check on her, she should be okay. I mean. Besides being former FBI, bleh. Check for yourself. She could be good neighbour I guess, you could always ask her to lend you some sugar. Or pour some all over you, cause she has good looks. Lemme know if this’ okay. Peace out.

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony’s inability to not add a dirty joke – but his heart skipped a funny beat at the mention of the FBI, allowing himself a brief hope of seeing you more often. As if you were the only ever newbie coming from that particular agency. However, that simple skip turned into a thunder in his chest when he noticed the file attached with your name indeed.

He was being ridiculous, he was aware. But he found himself excited at the prospect. The first win was that from what he understood you were more intimidated by your circumstance than starstruck when you had interacted with him, so he wouldn’t have to deal with some hero worship that could quickly get awkward and annoying, despite what some people thought. And the second win, well… Even if nothing more than a smile and hellos should be exchanged a few times a week, a friendly face who might light up at least a bit upon talking to him sounded all sorts of pleasant; let alone a kind one.

Maybe he would ask for a cup of coffee after a few days, in a very neighbourly fashion of course, and get to know you in person rather than from the extensive background check he might have received but refused to read because Tony was probably able to dig out things like the name of your first pet and that was just wrong. He’d rather learn these things from you, if you’d be willing. You certainly didn’t seem uninterested in talking to him when giving him a completely unnecessary thank you, so perhaps you’d say yes – to the coffee, at least.

And perhaps he was getting quite ahead of himself. He shook his head.

Briefly checking the address, knowing the quality of the living space would not be an issue, Steve caught himself smiling as he wrote Tony back.

Looks perfect. I’ll take it. Thank you, Tony. S

He groaned when he realized his mistake, quickly sending another e-mail, even as he himself hated when people sent out e-mails as short as a text message in quick succession.

When I said ‘looks perfect’ I meant the apartment. Just to be clear. S

Naturally, with a nice neighbour like yourself, you were a part of that perfection and maybe he did mean you on your own as well, but he would never confess to that, let alone to Tony. Had he said it to anyone else, they would probably look at him funny, slyly even, but Tony… he’d make a huge deal out of it and would probably meddle.

Sadly, this was Tony who he was dealing with. The man could leave important e-mails concerning battle strategy or economic matters untouched for two weeks – but now, he replied instantly. Naturally. Steve could practically hear his friend saying the words. He groaned again.

‘Tis all yours, Cap. And I’m sure you did. Enjoy your cookies, btw, could have shared, you know.

The cookies, not her. Suuuuugar-

Steve felt his face being set aflame; but he rolled his eyes, shutting the tag closed with a grin on his face and warm hum in his chest. Tony’s teasing couldn’t taint the fact Steve was about to move into an apartment with a fresh opportunity to build a home. You living next door – even if it meant a lot of teasing from Tony (and Natasha, and Clint if he caught on) in the future – was just a very pleasant bonus.

He was a simple kind of man – an apple pie kind of a guy as you had guessed, in all senses of the words. Maybe he could try to bake a pie once he moved in and share with you; return your Tupperware with a piece of it in it, as a sort-of a reversed ‘welcome in the building, neighbour’ gesture.

Yeah, he should do that. He had a feeling that it just might make you smile; maybe just enough for him to see a sparkle light up your eyes again. He'd like that. Very, very much.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Thank you for reading my short trip from writing hiatus 😇🥰 Feedback always appreciated 💕

I have several things for TWO possible sequels to Love on the Brain written down, but I don’t have the time or mental energy to really write, let alone detail up a mystery right now. So, I thought you might like a fluffy prequel at least 😊 Thank you for your support 💕

P.S. I have a headcanon now that Tony knew the post boxes in the wall were a mess and he was perfectly happy with the knowledge Steve and Sparkles had to interact whenever something landed in the wrong box. He was probably deliberately stalling having it fixed.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #former bau agent reader #agent reader #love on the brain #cookies and sparks #anika ann