#and probably other things that are sensitive to just bright colors but these are what i have | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lets-try-some-writing · 8 months

Note

since i know you like your alien worldbuilding and i’m not really sure if you’ve answered an ask related to this yet, at least for tfp, i’d just be really interested in hearing some of your ideas (if you have any) on what cybertronian beauty standards are, and how most of the main cast would be seen in regards to those standards. do they even have an understandable concept of beauty? i mean obviously shiny paint and buffed finishes would probably be the norm, and different branches of the transformers race would definitely value certain traits over others (velocitron comes to mind) but what other features do you think would be cybertronian society’s general ideals?

Heck yeah, worldbuilding time. Lets gooooooo-

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Cybertronian Beauty Standards

There are a few universals when it comes to beauty standards across Cybertron. Namely well done paint, buffed plating, and unbroken armor. However across regions and castes, there are a few preferences that are rather prevalent.

Amidst high castes, the favored form is flamboyancy and keeping up the latest trends. If one wishes to keep up to standard, they will be required to constantly change their frame, usually in irreversible ways in order to ensure they are up to snuff. The trends always change, so it is near impossible to pinpoint what is seen as beautiful at any given moment amongst the high caste, but a few constants are brighter colors, accessories in abundance, and expressive optics. Its all a way to show off authority and wealth.

Middle caste mecha tend to be more reserved, and as a general rule, a more composed and sophisticated look is the most attractive. A firm frame without any serious kibble, hardy and built to last but still with enough unique accessories to stand out. Duller versions of their high caste counterparts paint selections are often the preferred choice, but often brighter colors are still appreciated most. For the middle caste its all about showing off one's ability to take care of themselves while still standing out in a way that is not obnoxious.

Low caste mecha look for survivability in those around them to determine beauty. A sturdy frame with no serious signs of deterioration, an appealing collection of scars to tell of battles won, and bright but often cold colors are preferred. Shining silver and multiple layers of armor are seen as most beautiful due to the story such things tell. A mech who can withstand everything and still manage to buff out their plating is one who is well regarded amongst the low castes.

Across different city states, these standards largely remained the same but were adapted to the preferences of each area. In the case of Iacon and its similarly wealthy sister cities, all mecha regardless of caste were expected to maintain their frame. Bright colors, slim waists with bulky shoulders and chevrons were seen as the most appealing. Thick pedes were also seen as an expression of grace when combined with thin legs and the overall bulk of the upper body. Additional kibble was not seen as particularly appealing and often a more minimalist appearance was most well regarded since it showed a mech could go without any notable modifications. If one had modifications, they were to be hidden if the mech in question wanted to keep up appearances. Any sort of markings to the frame were looked down upon, especially scarring. Clean plating without blemish was always seen as far superior to any sort of marking in wealthy cities. With that in mind, face preference tended to lean more toward those with polished and flat faces with their most interesting feature being their optics.

Less wealthy but more productive cities like Polyhex and Vos had a whole different set of preferences. Extra kibble was seen as appealing with a particular preference toward doorwings and wings in general. To have such a sensitive piece of additional kibble was put on a pedestal as it spoke of increadible self control to not be hitting everything and everyone or responding to stimuli poorly. Visors were held in high regard partially for the protective factor they offered, but largely due to how they obscured the face, a trait that was in high demand due to the various careers seen in the more bustling cities. Identity was everything, so having a frame with a slim midsection but with kibble almost everywhere else was seen as quite beautiful. Markings were tolerated and even seen as appealing to a degree so long as they were either artistically placed, or in the case of scarring, very minimal. The preference for facial structure was not really present as most instead preferred to focus on their visors as their most notable frame addition.

In poorer cities with a higher concentration of low caste mecha, such as Kaon and Helex, preferences differed yet again. Thick armor, heavily armed, and larger frames were seen as superior in every regard. The larger and sturdier a mech was, the better. A degree of curvage was seen as appealing, but largely the beauty was found in armor structure and useful kibble. Mecha in poorer cities resented any sort of ridiculous flamboyancy and much preferred quieter methods of showing off their grace. Polished but scarred armor was a mark of wisdom and prowess. Cooler colors showed an ability to go into battle without regard for faction or affiliation. Open weaponry showed bravery and honor since they quite clearly knew when and when not to fight. Usefulness was the most appealing, along with more aggressive plating structure. Unlike other cities, smooth and simple plating was not the most beautiful and instead most mecha agreed that spikes or at least extra boxy armor was better. With that in mind, sharper faces were also in higher demand.

Excluding cities, beauty standards fell into an interesting gray area that depended entirely on region. In small settlements, everything depending on environment. Those that lived near the sea were fond of the bulkier mecha since they could withstand the storms. They cared for them even more if their colors were various shades or orange and rust. Mecha from the spire forests were far fonder of tall and spindly frames, those with dark colors of the earth capable of rushing between obstacles without regard for the difficulties of a larger body. Those from the open plains and wastes fancied those more capable of speed so that they could get from point A to B without need for days of travel. Everything depended on region when not in the cities.

While there were outliers and small subcultures with different preferences, this is the overview.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #cybertronian worldbuilding #cybertronian cities #cybertronian culture #pre war cybertron #orion pax is a super model by rich city standards and I will die on that hill #megs is the same in kaon #jazz is the pinnacle of gorgeousness in mid ranked cities #obviously ratchet is an angel given form for the small town folk #soundwave fits no where but everywhere all at once

170 notes · View notes

bloodcasket · 1 year

Text

A BEGINNING, AND AN END

PAIRING: Vergil Sparda x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: Not proof-read, angst, mentions of readers death, depression, loss, loneliness, a relationship that is crumbling.

WC: 1,650

DESCRIPTION: Vergil wonders what exactly he did that made him lose you. He breaks as he realizes his mistakes, and that he will never be able to hold you again.

A/N: This work was rushed!!!!!!!!!! I literally just had a vomit post of all my sad little ideas. Currently hyper-fixated on Vergil! Probably will write more for him. I imagined this concept last night, and I kid you not, I cried.

Marriage was a concept created for foolish beings who wished to bind themselves to one another. When Vergil lived through his life, blinded by a pursuit of power, such things like marriage were nothing but a stupid scheme.

Why would he wish to be controlled by someone? Tied down to them? Love was nothing. Love was idiocy. That is what he thought, after all.

Then you came.

A human, young and kind. You placed your hand in his, pressed your silken lips along his bruised knuckles, and kissed his ruined skin. You promised him love. You showed him peace. You introduced him to light and laughter and mirth.

It was then, after the many days of holding you and growing to love you, that he realized why people did such “foolish” traditions. He grew weak with you. Became sensitive. Was not embarrassed to be genuine with you. He had finally decided.

He would propose.

You had tears swelling up along your waterline, slipping down your upturned cheeks as you smiled, you sobbed the words “Of course I will marry you”.

He married you.

The marriage was simple, no one but you two to promise yourselves to each other. He had found an old church to hold the ceremony, the ceilings tall and pointing to the sky. The tinted glass waned bright colors over your bashful face, your eyes glittering with devotion before you leaned in to kiss him. A kiss to ensure eternity.

Your fingers trembled against his as he slipped the wedding band on, he had not realized his cool façade has cracked along with yours. He was crying with you, so ecstatic to finally have someone who can understand him.

Someone who won’t judge him, someone who will tell him it will be okay. To hold him close in the night when he had nightmares. To lay their head in his lap as he read out his favorite poems.

“Vergil, stand over by the tree! I want to take a picture of you!” you giggled happily, face contorting into an expression that can only be described as glee. You held up your camera, adjusting the device to be suited for the brightened, summer day.

“And what for?” your husband seemed annoyed, looking at you with a nonchalant grimace. “Because I want to capture memories, now go, go!”. You shooed him away, begging him to find purchase near the weeping willow tree. It’s arms swaying in the gentle breeze, faded green leaves swooping overhead, tangled moss falling to the soil.

He obeys, acting as if this was something pointless, but internally, he was blissful, full of pride at the acknowledgement of your adoration. He stands, watching as you snap the picture, and then returns to your side gracefully.

“Well? Was that to your liking?” he asks, leaning down to see the picture, and you nod with a grin, telling him “thank you”.

This was something that became quite frequent. You had recently started to indulge in art, and had brought up to him that you would paint his portraits.

And paint you did.

Your works were wonderful. Your art room his secret sanctuary. A gallery of only him, painted with oils and acrylics, colors that portray him to be a god amongst this tiny Earth.

Inspired by a simple, small photo of him. A photo that is always captured by you.

You enjoyed comparing his white hair to the color of a rich magnolia. Consistently painting him alongside the elegant flowers. You had told him once that they reminded you of him. They were sensitive to the human touch, turning brown from the oils of a selfish finger caressing it. They were independent, and were beautiful while they kept to themselves.

Just like him.

Relationships are hard. He understands this. He knows that if he does not give enough, the ones he finds dear will crumble away. Loyalty, honesty, generosity, quality time, devotion….. so much he must do to keep you satisfied.

He tries, he’s a perfectionist, but when you two wander in public, see the other couples mold into one another, he feels ashamed. He does not like to hold your hand in public, and he feels tense when you initiate certain intimacy. You would get bored of him, wouldn’t you?

He admires how easy you make it look, how you strip him of his clothes, settle him in the tub, speak reassuring words of praise as you scrub the grime off his beaten skin. He relaxes under your touch, wonders why of all people, you chose to be with him. How you don’t hesitate to bend to his will, run miles to retrieve whatever he wants. Speak honeyed words, just enough to make him melt.

You’ve helped rid his nightmares, you’ve made him feel alive. He only dreams of bliss, of divine moments shared with you.

Moments like you and him, taking pictures under the willow tree.

But yet, he cannot even find the courage to move forward. To give you the smallest things you desire.

He grows sour. For once, he feels powerless. Inferior.

He can never give you what you want.

Recently he has grown colder to your touch. Shallow and incoherent with any simple notion.

You will try to reach for him, your pinkie grazing the side of his firm hand. He only tugs away, resisting your affection. You will plead to bathe him, massage the ache in his shoulder blades. He only denies your wishes to care for him.

Your paintings become more erratic than before, a sense of gloom in their glistening wake. A sheen of desolation hidden amongst the thick lines of paint. You have lost inspiration. His divinity and blue aura that was once captured by the bristles of your paintbrush are now fading into a melancholic art piece.

You are afraid you have lost him.

You two seem to get in an argument one night. It is after an awkward vent of your feelings to him in the library.

“I miss when you loved me”, is what you confess.

Vergil shouts selfish comments, says he prefers to be alone. Says you bother him too much. Says that maybe marriage was the wrong decision. He does not mean these things. But you have taken them to heart.

You start to cry, the whites of your eyes now bloodshot. Hiccups erupting from your lips. Sobs that beg him to take all his words back.

He doesn’t.

“Fine” you sniff, “I will let you be “.

A sickening feeling blooms in him when you leave, your bag tossed over your shoulder.

When you pass it is like no other.

He felt it burn through him. Regret. Guilt. Loneliness. He knew something had went wrong.

Your body had been found on the streets, bloodied, bones shattered, arms disfigured. You had tried to put up a fight, that was for sure. It made him sick. He felt numb. Practically in denial of your death. Of your murder.

He could have saved you…..he promised you. You have given him everything he wanted, and yet this…he couldn’t even prevent this from happening.

Your face, swollen and bruised. Eyes blackened and cheeks cut open. Your soft lips, never to kiss his again.

If only he hadn’t been selfish, you wouldn’t have went out that night. You could have been here, with him, embracing him. Telling him that you loved him for all eternity.

The wedding band was still firm on your finger, your blood thick over Vergil’s name engraved on the ring.

Vergil kisses you one last time before your body is sealed in it’s coffin, a wooden box that shall keep your remains concealed forever. Your lips are so cold now, lifeless and chapped. Lacking it’s warmth and tenderness that you usually carried.

A part of him regrets kissing you. Your frozen face and your icy touch will now haunt him for the rest of his life. Terrorize his dreams.

Just a couple of months ago you two had stood in the old Victorian chapel, the stained glass casting an array of colors over your gentle smile. The beginning.

The last image of you is an image of death. They are lowering you into the Earth, shovels tossing dirt over the wooden case. An end.

Dante has offered that Vergil should stay with him, get away from the home that he once shared with you. His brother figured it would be best, a solution to rid him of his sorrow. The elder refuses every time.

Your presence…your glow. It still is fresh, and alive in the walls of the home. He must stay. He must stay for you. Sometimes he swears he hears your voice in the halls, your sweet tone making him panic and get up, just to realize he is only imagining it. He is only imagining that you are not gone. That you are still here with him.

He still visits your grave, as often as he possibly can. In the meantime, he tends to the tree he has planted in your garden, a magnolia tree that is fresh and desperately trying to grow. He wished he could show you.

There had been one night where he had a nightmare, images of you screaming and crying his name, pleading for help as you died, crimson leaking from your lips as you sputter blood.

“Vergil! Help me!”.

He wakes in a cold sweat, so terrified that it genuinely shakes him. This vision had stayed clinging in his dreams ever since your death, never sparing him mercy.

On nights like this, he rushes to enter your art room, sitting amongst your wooden work chair, now too restless and shaken to attempt to sleep again. He knew if he tried, he would only be met with the image of your lifeless form again.

He sits there, your painting of him underneath the willow tree sitting proudly amongst your art desk. You had told him it was your most prized possession. Your best work. He thought so too.

He cries your name under the glum luminescence of the moon.

He decides this time, he will paint you. No matter how bad he does it, your beauty will always bleed through.

#vergil x you #vergil sparda x you #vergil x reader #dmc x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil angst #dmc5 x reader

312 notes · View notes

sammyche · 6 days

Text

rosquez fic: bikefuckers

a little thing i had in my head for a while after learning about the bike Vale keeps in his room.

« Don’t move », a voice cutting through the silence. He is answered by a whimper and a small Please.

It had probably been more than 30 minutes of this game. Stay in position. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t come. The last order being the hardest to follow. In other circumstances keeping that position would have been so easy. I mean it was like second nature. He had done it more than a thousand times, since he was just a child. He knew how to stay on a bike. It was second nature to him. But usually he wasn’t naked and with a goddamn vibrator inside him.

It had started with just an idea. « Why not try it on the bike, I’ve seen you look at it many times. » Vale had said. And of course he looked at it. He had it on the walls of his bedroom when he was a child. And now that bike had seen him do things that still, to this day, made him blush. Of course Marc had said yes. Like he could ever say no to Vale. He was absolutely powerless in front of that man. He had already defiled his own morals many times for him.

The little game was easy enough. They had kissed as soon as they entered the room. Vale had undressed Marc with hurry, that’s where you could see through the nonchalant facade. He wasn’t the only one who needed it. Bad. The Italian had pushed Marc on the bed. Covering his body with his own, still dressed. Marc was already so close to coming. They made out for a few minutes. God he could never get enough of this. Vale had kissed his body, making his way slowly from his sensitive neck, taking a long detour by his nipples, to the plane of his stomach then down. Marc had been writing, biting his lower lip, sweat starting to form on his hairline. Vale knew how to play his body.

With a small peck on the lips, the Italian had gotten up to go search for the lube. He had come back with a smirk on his face and in this right hand a bright yellow toy. He had laughed when he had bought it a few months ago. « My colors in you » he had said.

« Let’s try this to warm you up a bit. I know you like it ». He did. Valentino had then prepped him, thoroughly. Taking his time at taking him apart. One finger after another. Watching his face intently, trying to gauge a reaction. The spaniard was blushing under the attention. Valentino’s face so close to his own, breathing him in. Their noses bumping, their mouths brushing. It felt so intimate that even after all these years he still felt embarrassed. Feeling so vulnerable.

He felt the toy inserted in him, centimeters by centimeters. His thighs trembling until he got to the hilt. Taking a deep breath in, trying so hard not to come. « Good boy », Vale whispered against his cheek. He then took him by the hand, lifting him up then guided him in front of his bike. Like who even has a bike in his bedroom. Then the game had started.

He had to stay on the bike, not come of course until Vale was fed up of seeing him grind against the leather of the seat. Which honestly could take maybe hours by the look of it. The man was sat on the bed, back against his pillows, still mostly dressed, slowly touching himself. Marc didn’t know what he was watching, him or the bike. Or maybe both, that freak.

He had tried everything to appeal to him. Moaning his name, pleading, giving him a show, bouncing slowly on the vibrator, but it had only made it more difficult. Right now he was just a mess, tears streaming down his face, sweaty hair stuck on his forehead. He had wet the entire leather seat, it was probably gonna be a bitch to clean up but it was truly the least of his problem right now. He knew Vale had a thing for edging him to insanity but this was torture. More than he could handle. He was going to come soon, he knew it. Nothing he could do about it. His hands were starting to slip on the handles. His bent legs were cramping, thighs clenching the bike. « Vale, I’m….I’m gonna come……I can’t ». He closed his eyes. His moans starting to get louder and louder. The vibration inside him had not changed since they started. A medium thrum running through his body. But after that long he could barely handle it. The deepest part of him trembling under the constant assault.

Then a cold hand landed on his lower back, just above his ass, where sweat had started to pool. Maybe the hand wasn’t that cold, his own body was just a furnace at this point. The hand glided slowly along his back to make his way to his neck, then grabbed his hair in a fist. Vale closing the distance between their faces. « Are you now….? » he said with amusement in his voice. « But I was enjoying myself ». He took a pause. Looking Marc in the eyes. He tilted his head to the side, looking like he was thinking about it. Like Marc coming was his choice and not like something that was inevitably going to happen. « You have behaved well for me. So I guess you earned it. ». Suddenly Vale’s other hand took his penis firmly, starting to stroke it. Marc had barely time to gasp before his body started to quiver. His moans faltering, interrupted by his heavy breathing. « Vale », he wailed. He felt lips on his and it’s all it took for him to explode. He blacked out for a second. Stars dancing in front of his eyes, his ears ringing.

When he came back to him he was on the bed, cleaned and empty. Vale had his arms around him, kissing his temple gently, shushing him. « You did so good for me » he pressed against the crown of his head, « So good ».

#my attempt to write smut #motogp #marc marquez #valentino rossi #rosquez #fic

38 notes · View notes

i3utterflyeffect · 2 months

Text

the slugs are done cooking!

anyway here's yellow, blue, and red!

Blue

Blue has the ability to store more than one thing, including extra food, in cheek pouches!

They also can make baits for other creatures if given the correct resources. This can be great for them to lay out to attract an eggbug or something, but isn't a sure-fire way of getting food before the cycle ends. Admittedly, Beckon's cycles are much longer than Pebbles', so they get a solid amount of time outside before the rain.

Can and will eat anything! This includes things that are not digestible by slugcats. Probably has eaten a spore puff and immediately thrown up. Also sometimes will die spontaneously and be the one to discover that something is poisonous. If they were playable you could probably eat certain things that'd take your pips instead lol

instead of netherwart, they eat bubbleweed! similarly exotic and not found in Beckon's surroundings, and probably grows more around Abberant Creation/Crafter of Connection. actually did i mention that alexcrafter/CoC and AC are the same person. i don't think i did. that's unrelated tho

instead of getting scars from lava, it's instead from toxic waste like you might find in the Garbage Wastes. They can walk okay still, miraculously, but the skin has become extremely sensitive and any injuries in that area would hurt a LOTTTTT. They learn this after trying to pluck a paincone and getting swarmed.

Also related to the scarring, has a very high scav reputation due to saving a baby scav.

Yellow (there's no yellow text so it's orange. oops)

Expert with explosives and can craft grenades on the go. Grenades are made with a cherry bomb and a rock. They can also make a spear explode on impact-- different from an explosive spear since it's made with a grenade rather than the red cloth(?)

VERY VERY bright. had a habit of eating beckon's neurons when he wasn't looking and by the time they learned not to they were already glowing like a flashlight

probably started wailing upon learning they were eating beckon's brain on accident also

can basically craft anything like gourmand. has made VERY dangerous things before by complete accident. such as previously mentioned nuke.

Has probably broken a karma gate by trying to figure out how it works. probably the karma gate to the void if beckons even has one. no ascension for the kids. not that i think they'd ever WANT to

Has some degree of electric resistance. you'd be surprised at the centipedes they can survive

can and will fix things for beckons with only the motivator of love and sheer willpower

Red (imo the most interesting)

can and will befriend anything.

for comedic value these creatures are included in the pool of things red can and will befriend. i mean maybe not the centipede but also it'd be very very funny

is differently colored because their niche is in mimicry! their tail has eye spots to scare off vultures and if they slap their tail it may look like it's about to bite! it's used to scare off predators, which red deals with more often than you'd probably guess.

looks like something else on first glance but don't worry about that

high lizard reputation! just more likely to survive beasts in general actually

i was initially going to say the monster school is an interspecies lizard pack but then i thought of what monster school would be like in rain world and that's the funniest fucking thing ever so i'll leave it up to y'all. dropwigs learning how to dropwig from a giant fucking miros? maybe a guardian if you're feeling extra silly? or train lizard who has taken in a ton of stray lizards. who knows...

gets gifted a yellow bandana by Abberant Creation or scavs maybe

surprisingly low scavenger reputation. they're not kill-on-sight but definitely 'oh shit troublemaker incoming. watch out' (they get better reputation after blue helped the scavs out tho)

their pig friend (reuben) is a yeek btw. if you don't know what a yeek they're the best critters in rain world

anyway i thought of some interesting things that might be able to happen but i want them to be surprises in case i end up writing slugpup shenanigans :3 if you want to write a fic you can ask me though

i'm working on green but they suffer a chronic lack of significant abilities i can work off of :pensive:

#pitch's art #tommy's stickmen tag #stick world au #ava #rain world #ava/m #ava blue #ava yellow #ava red #i love green but can we please get more of them so i can study them like a bug

24 notes · View notes

little-red-fool · 3 months

Note

OMG YOU'RE SEVENTEEN?? (I've been following you for months and I didn't once read the pinned message beyond the line about no AI and NFTs lmao) YOUR ART IS SO CRISPY I THOUGHT YOU WERE A PRO ARTIST AROUND 30 WTF

(sorry for the yelling via text)

HOW DID YOU GET SO GOOD!! (Tips on lineart please?) WE'RE THE SAME AGE, BUT HALF OF MY ART IS SHIT AND THE OTHER HALF IS FART

ALL HAIL LITTLE RED FOOL, BESTOW THY GREATNESS UPON THOU MERE MORTAL SERVANTS

But in all seriousness, any tips on, like I said, lineart or just digital art in general? (I just started digital, and... Ten hours of work and I'm just on base colors 😎🕶️🤏🥲) I love, LOVE your style and especially COLOR! How do you tie it all together? Like, I'm 17 too, but I'm not even close to your stuff?? I'm scared as fuck from ever trying color traditionally because I spend SO MUCH TIME ON A SKETCH, so I just picked up digital and HOURS LATER IT'S STILL AWFUL

Sorry for the rambling and repeating, man, it's been a long day and it's late in the Balkans... Don't let the rambling force you into answering tho

Have a good one. ->excited fellow artist

(tip of the day: did you know that in Romanian, moon and month are the same word, with the same pronunciation, spelling and plural? It's called: lună [loonuh] and I think it comes from latin, since Romanian is a heavily latin language, with bits of french and turkish (HEAVY bits), dacian, slavic, italian)

OUAHFSHD THANK YOU SO MUCH I’M REALLY HAPPY YOU LIKE MY ART!! Also I’m sure your art is better than you think it is (we generally tend to view our own creations as worse than others because we’re the ones that made them, don’t worry I’m the same as well ajdbsjd) but yeah I’ll be happy to give you some tips and stuff! (and yeah I never colour traditionally either I just leave everything in plain biro because I don’t want to mess it up lol)

(I haven’t seen your art so these will probably be more general tips but hopefully they’ll help a bit, also keep in mind that I’m not a professional so this will be more about what has worked for me but I hope it might help you a bit)

So for stuff like lineart, avoid using chicken-scratches—it might seem easier or less daunting to do shorter overlapping lines like that but it will give your sketches and drawings that overall fuzzy look, the trick is to have longer confident strokes. It might seem a bit tricky at first if you haven’t done it before so don’t worry it happens but if you keep practicing they’ll eventually look smoother and less shaky. For the longer lines it better to draw from either your elbow or shoulder, and by that I mean keeping your wrist still and letting the larger parts of your arm do most of the work—this will also help your wrist in the long run. For things like shorter lines and smaller details then absolutely use your hand to move the pen, but generally try to use your elbow and shoulder as it will help you get those longer smoother lines. Also this is just a personal preference of mine but I generally use brushes that have a bit of pressure sensitivity which helps add some line weight. If you don’t have pressure sensitivity another way you can get line weight is by taking an eraser to some of the edges and narrowing some parts.

For colours it mainly depends on the lighting—lighting is everything and will affect how the rest of the colours will look, so it’s important to have an idea of the brightness and colour of your lighting. The background also plays an important role in picking colours for me as well as it helps provide colour context and makes it easier to pick colours by eye if you want a certain mood. If you want a more dependable way on getting colours to match up then I’d recommend having a layer that’s just colour on top of the rest of your piece—you can play around with the blending modes and opacity, I mainly use either an overlay layer with a medium colour that’s slightly desaturated or a colour burn layer with a light saturated colour; most of the time I use colour burn because if you put it over your lineart then it will also tint the parts of your lineart or sketch that’s at a lower opacity too. But with figuring out colours I’d highly recommend researching some stuff about colour theory, there are a lot of good and easy to understand explanations and art tutorials on YouTube so I would recommend starting there (unfortunately I can’t link recommend specific videos because my playlists are a mess ajdbsjdbsj but some good channels to learn from are Sinix Design, Marc Brunet and Marco Bucci).

In terms of general digital art tips, ALWAYS FLIP YOUR CANVAS. You will not believe the amount of times I’ve looked at a drawing and thought it looked pretty good, flipped the canvas and found that everything’s wonky. In cases like these the liquify tool is your best friend, as well as the lasso tool and transform tools, as well as just manually fixing them by redrawing some parts. Also use as many layers as you need, and by this I mean if you’re working on your sketch, lineart or colouring or whatever and you want to do something you’re not sure you’ll like, duplicate the layers so you have a backup in case it goes wrong and you want to go back. When I say use as many layers as you need I mean use as many as you need, these are some of mine and they’re all from just one sketch because I get really anxious about messing stuff up lol, also don’t be afraid of drawing separate parts on separate layers and merging them afterwards if you want.

Also take your time, unless you have a deadline don’t feel like you have to complete a drawing within a certain timeframe, if you want to get faster at drawing then that’s great but don’t feel like you need to push yourself, especially if you’re just starting. Practice takes time and patience is your best friend, and you probably hear lots of other artists saying this but trust the process. You might get to a bit you’re struggling with and not like it and want to abandon the drawing, but I found that rather than saying “this is bad” or “this is wrong” start asking “how can I make this work” because a change in mindset can help you a lot with art. Also don’t feel like you have to reach certain milestones with your art by certain points either, like with the age thing and comparing your progress with other artists of either the same or different ages, because it can make you feel worse about your art. Trust me there are some artists younger than me who are like 14 or 15 who’s art I envy and—again with the mindset thing—instead of getting down that your art isn’t similar to their’s or worrying that you’re “behind” in your artistic development (there is no such thing btw everyone learns at different ages and speeds so don’t feel bad if you haven’t progressed as much as you would have liked to) it helps to ask what you like about their art and what you would like to incorporate into your own—this has helped me learn and improve a lot faster.

I don’t know if I have any more tips at the moment, but I hope that answered some of your questions! (also sorry it’s a bit long or some bits don’t make a lot of sense I like to ramble a bit lol) (also also thank you for the little fact as well!)

Have a nice day anon 🧡

#asks #art tips

19 notes · View notes

squid-ink-symphony · 4 months

Note

f1sh and chips headcanons?

IVE BEEN PREPARING FOR THIS MOMENT MY WHOLE LIFE

HARMONY:

Nonbinary and kinda indifferent on their gender. Goes by She/They. Doesn't really care if you use other pronouns for them tho.

Aromantic and a lesbian. Is still ok with labeling a relationship as dating even if she doesn't experience romantic love the same way as other people.

Autistic, and doesn't always function super well as an adult on her own. But she's doing her best.

Collects stuffed animals and small toys.

Likes cute things, but some people would label their definition of cute as weird.

Loves bright colors. Crank that saturation up!

Very blunt.

Gets along pretty well with her bandmates. They aren't SUPER close but they are friends.

Knows she is different. Doesn't care. It probably used to bother them more when they were younger, but now she has come to terms with it.

House is very messy.

People are just drawn to her, she doesn't particularly like it.

A lot of people think that because she is blunt and speaks her mind that she doesn't ever lie and take everything she says at face value. He is very capable of lying and will do so for various reasons if needed. Or sometimes just cuz spreading misinformation is funny. Will tell you the sky is bright green with no hesitation and a deadpan expression.

Depressed. Is on medication for it and handles it ok ish...

Video game addict. You can usually find her at home in her pajamas playing some new game surrounded by empty instant ramen cups.

Mostly enjoys creative or cute games like pokemon, animal crossing, or minecraft. Doesn't play them often, but she is the absolute best at fighting games. Could beat anyone blindfolded. Is good at a lot of hard games, but doesn't really like that kind of stuff.

Plays a lot of things as they come out and probably has a blog where she reviews them.

Knows every skip and speedrun strat ever.

Likes platformers, especially 2d ones.

Collects old nintendo consoles/games.

Stims a lot with any object nearby. Likes to play with her bracelets a lot. Will just pick up random things and fidget with them.

Seems to be tired a lot, has bags under her eyes. Stays up late a lot but doesn't mind the lack of energy.

Very clumsy and has poor motor controls for a lot of things. Has to take frequent breaks when playing games or music. Gets hurt a lot bumping into random objects.

Issues with her wrists have been a problem for most of her life due to her hobbies, and she is surprisingly good at taking care of them nowadays. Used to not care but then some serious injuries happened and she realized she couldn't afford to do that.

DEDF1SH:

Bigender! He/She/They probably. Would maybe be open to neos if he found the right ones.

Demiromantic, Bi, and Asexual. Both Acht and Harmony are aspec(not for any reason what no i'm not biased as an aroace person noooo-)

When first getting out of the metro he was VERY malnourished and had a hard time eating food. He has a lot of texture issues and finds most foods unbearable to put in her mouth.

Has since gained her weight back and is looking more healthy.

Is very sensitive to sunlight, and burns very easily even in normal weather with minimal exposure. This is part of the reason she spends so much time alone indoors.

Eyes are also very sensitive to light after being sanitized and living in the deep for so long. This is why he wears sunglasses everywhere.

Is also autistic like harmony. (again, as an autistic person i am in no way biased towards headcanoning characters as autistic ok?) Is sensitive to sounds and wears noise canceling headphones a lot.

Goes nonverbal if overstimulated.

Doesn't talk that much, is more the type to say as few words as possible to get their sentence across.

Likes eating cereal with no milk. It's one of their favorite snacks.

LOVES fruit. They are that meme of the person covered in mango juice.

Just like harmony, his face isn't very expressive. But while harmony always looks like she's daydreaming, Acht often looks angry. This is especially true when she has her glasses on since you can't see her eyes.

Really likes fashion. Likes very femme alternative stuff specifically.

Is already naturally tall, and wears heels everywhere. Towers over most other octolings/inklings.

There are many lasting effects from the sanitization. Including physical and mental symptoms. Acht is slowly recovering tho!

Can play piano, just doesn't. Doesn't remember where they learned to, but it makes them feel slightly sad to play it.

Has amnesia due to the sanitization. Can remember things like skills, but not where they learned them or from who. Doesn't remember much of her past. Doesn't remember much family or friends either. Can picture some blurry faces, but not names or how they knew each other.

Tartar told her about her decision to be sanitized, and she has no choice but to have taken his word for why she decided to due so as she has no memory of it.

Has a hard time adjusting to life on the surface.

Has some trauma surrounding medical equipment, and doesn't like to go to doctors.

I've always Acht having known Marina before coming to the surface, but with Side Order confirming they know each other somehow i will wait to flesh that out until we get more info.

Is confident and somewhat social(especially compared to Harmony) but needs a lot of time to recharge their batteries after being around others.

ParuF1sh:

They both like to make music, and often make silly little songs together. Acht likes to take whatever Harmony hums and turn it into short songs.

Both of them don't sleep much. Harmony doesn't like to because she prefers to spend her time on hobbies n such instead. She also has insomnia, but since she doesn't like sleeping it doesn't really bother her TOO much. Acht on the other hand has issues sleeping due to frequent nightmares. She ends up having terrifying nightmares of her time with tartar or things she can't fully remember from before she was sanitized. Harmony is always there to comfort him when he wakes up sweating and frightened.

Both of them are very picky about food and so their pantries end up being stuffed with lots of their prefered safe foods.

Acht tries to push himself to leave his apartment in splatsville from time to time to avoid being totally disconnected from the world because that's what she did when she first got to the surface and it made her very depressed. On one of those trips Acht ended up visiting Hotlantis because he was just exploring various shops. He really liked the vibes of the shop and the wide variety of items that rotated frequently had him coming back. This is where the two of them first met.

At first Harmony and Acht didn't even notice each other despite Acht becoming a regular to come buy and look at weird little items. But eventually after having to check Acht out so many times she finally started to pay attention to what Acht was buying and noticed they had similar tastes. Then one day Harmony struck up a conversation with Acht and they became friends from there.

I think they are both poly and wouldn't mind if their partner dated someone else. But neither of them have another partner right now.

While they both may struggle with a lot of things they help each other out and manage to get through life ok.

It took a bit for Acht to get back to making music after getting out of the metro.

They like to watch ghibli movies while cuddling for a lot of their dates. They will watch all of them and then just start over with the first one again. I think the movies are comfort media for them. Harmony's favorite movie is Spirited Away and Acht's favorite is Kiki's Delivery Service.

Acht chills with Harmony's fish a lot i think.

Neither of them know how to cook.

Harmony leaves her work spaces very messy, but Acht keeps hers VERY neat.

Acht and Harmony both take surprisingly long to get ready and pick out outfits, but Acht takes much longer than Harmony.

They do a lot of parallel play where they just sit in silence and do their own thing.

Acht hangs out at Hotlantis with Harmony a lot and just keeps their headphones on and chills.

Acht also runs the store when Harmony isn't there.

They both listen to a lot of video game osts and it's probably what Harmony keeps playing in the store as well.

Acht has asked why Harmony doesn't stream playing games, and Harmony just doesn't wanna. She would rather just post reviews.

They swap whos the little spoon depending on the day.

Both of them have terrible sleep schedules.

The first time Acht ever saw a splatfest she was enamored, and now she makes sure to always attend the concerts. Harmony insists on keeping the store open since people are everywhere during splatfests and love to shop. But the floats come through the same streets as the shop, so Acht makes sure to pull her away to watch them at least once. And Harmony loves seeing the music as well.

Neither of them really participate in turf wars. Acht is older than most players and finds it awkward to team up with random teenagers but isn't willing to put together an official team of players her age. But she still likes to take her trusty squiffer out to the practice range to keep her skills sharp. Harmony LOVES to watch her practice.

I was about to go into a whole thing of which team they would pick for each splatfest and why, but i think thats gonna have to be later/if anyone asks for it cuz it may be too long for this post lol

so yeah ill end it there for now. they are my beloveds and i could talk about them forever so feel free to ask questions/send in suggestions/talk about how you view them

here is a goofy doodle i did in 5 mins on my laptop for compensation for reading this far:

#splatoon #paruf1sh #dedf1sh #paruko #harmony #f1sh and chips

20 notes · View notes

wreckingtickles · 1 month

Text

The Auction - Pre-Finale Coda

In which the author stalls for time.

The Auction Masterlist

Words: 1,080

"So, when is the next chapter due?" asked Mx Tech, their vizor looking up from the victim currently writhing under the touches of their devices, affording Awase no respite. "I haven't gotten to go yet."

The seven auction winners stood pretty much side by side, if such a thing could be said for undefined essences, in front of an equal number of metallic contraptions shaped like an X. At the intersection of each was a naked hero, arms from the elbow up fully encased in the padded protrusions of the upper portion of their X, mirroring, for most of them, their situation from the knees down. A monitor above each of the heroes' heads displayed their most sensitive spots and recommended methods of torment.

At the farthest left of the line, Yosetsu Awase endured his tickling with an expression that resembled shock, though his wide-open mouth and the laughter pouring out of it betrayed the hysteria that Mx Tech was successfully extracting. Under their influence, the lower half of the contraption had spawned several insect-like appendages that ran up and down his legs, focusing on his thighs, which would have been hard to bear even if it hadn't been combined with the stimulation unleashed by the upper portion, prodding appendages sharing the coveted space of his armpits and ribs with furiously spinning brushes.

Though leaking from the tongue-like devices applied to his nipples, Awase's manhood was unattended, clear droplets painting a modernist piece on the ground as he twisted uselessly. And he was possibly the least ticklish of the bunch.

Next to him was well-endowed Natsuo Todoroki, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth and his eyes rolled back as eight of the limbs of the squat shadow that was Mx Berry vibrated into his abs, pits, ribs, and, worst of all, the sides of his chest.

"My dear worryberry, do not fret," remarked Mx Berry without looking up from the white-haired beauty he was in the process of demolishing. "Do you hear Mx Fluff complaining?"

No, Mx Fluff was definitely not complaining. The only whine that could be heard came from the drooling mouth of one Mirio Toogata, claws being slooooowly and liiiightly gliding up and down his trunk-like thighs and deep armpits while the monstrous cat's two tails rubbed against his oversized, painful erection, one from under and between his legs, the other also rubbing against his chest, their bright purple, agonizing fuzz adding to the teasing as his most sensitive spot was being quite literally milked for all it was worth.

"Oh, how I love meaty hunks," chanted the mascotte-like, contorting abomination, their bright colors strongly contrasting with the shadowy nature of many of their associates. "Meaty, meaty. They deserve all the tickles. I want to reward them, oh yes. Do you want your reward? You know what happens after you get it... but if you don't, I'll feel snubbed, and I get really mean when I feel snubbed..."

Their murmured purrs barely registered at all in Mirio's addled brain, overtaken by arousal and the tickling which, while light in terms of intensity, was nonetheless unbearable due to the spots being targeted and the number of them, in addition to how it intermingled with the fire surging between his legs...

"I heard he's writing a gift for a certain worm," claimed Mx Pastry as he squeezed Sen Kaibara's V-line for possibly the thousandth time. The floating brushes stroking his sides, ribs, pits, abs, and feet (through hatches in the lower half of the contraption), Kaibara could almost ignore, but not the ones painting his neck, nipples, and nether regions with oil... though they were almost pleasant compared to those hellish thumbs digging for gold just below his waist. "Mx Mob is probably up to date."

Mx Tech glanced at Mx Mob, who had shapeshifted into a certain explosive blond to thoroughly break down another blond with something to prove. "Not now," hissed Mx Mob as Bakugo's hands scratched at Monoma's inner thighs just before blowing yet another raspberry into the bellybutton of the defeated, humiliated hero, all protests tickled out of him by Mx Mob with sadistic expertise.

"You are broken? Already?" they teased as if they hadn't honed in on the blond's worst spots right away. "Even he lasted longer," lied Mx Mob, referring to their current disguise, "and he's even more ticklish. How ticklish, you ask?"

A hidden hatch in the top half of the restraints whirred open to bare Monoma's palm, which Mx Mob leapt to touch.

"This ticklish," they declared before finally giving the blond's thighs a break... only to savagely attack his ribs, now several times more ticklish as Monoma's Quirk replaced his sensitivity with Bakugo's; and Monoma, who thought he'd hit his ceiling, shrieked once again, and with even more vigor.

"The end is nigh," proclaimed Mx Rake, their long, clawed fingers finding every ticklish nook and cranny of Tsuburaba's and Shinso's stomachs, the former leaner and even more sensitive, the latter less toned and slightly less sensitive; but if the guffawing hero's midriff was more conducive to laughter, the long feet of the slumped, hiccuping hero matched it, with both sets being worked over by Mx Glove's kitty-like appendages.

"Forsooth," confirmed the behemoth from behind the two heroes. "A sequel is also in the works."

As they were often wont to do, the two tall figures shared their spoils, so they could each focus on their favorite spots on two auctionees at once. "Mine old friend, I fear the airy monkey's knees are longing for your attention; after all they are his second Achilles' heel, while his soles are but his third."

"All in good time," reassured Mx Glove as they focused on Tsuburaba's arches and Shinso's heels, relishing in the simultaneous gasp torn out of both, which overlapped with Mirio's choked one; moments later, Lemillion's booming laughter resounded above all others once again as the two tails focused exclusively on extracting every ounce of ticklish agony from his spent cock, the claws also resuming their cruelest motions to make the most of the post-climax sensitivity.

"They are nearly done," chimed Mx Fluff from next to Mirio's ear. "The truth is, even though he really likes our three auctionees, he's stuck, and he doesn't understand why."

"He says he has every intention of finishing those stories, however," said Mx Mob, Monoma's laughter having gone silent. "In the meanwhile... I'm sure these other lovely heroes don't mind waiting with us."

#mha tickle #bnha tickle #tickle content #tickletorture #tickle fic #spicy content #lee!awase #lee!natsuo #lee!kaibara #lee!mirio #lee!monoma #lee!tsuburaba #lee!shinso #lee!shinsou

12 notes · View notes

unidentifiedmammal · 1 year

Text

I've been meaning to make more posts about this, but there's so much i have to say/images to show that this will be a part 1 out of ??? and this one focuses mainly on the first batch of Purple Iris watercolors and the pH mystery they made me unravel through chaotically-organized researching.

Basically, I've been messing around with anthocyanins, a common class of plant pigments that are pH sensitive/can be used as a pH indicator. The first source I've tried has been purple irises, which i've only vaguely been familiar with in the past. The ones I picked were the ones that had begun to shrivel slightly, to the point where they were still a deep purple but picking them they would almost be leaking a purple liquid that stained my hands. I put them in a thing of hot tap water (not boiled, just the hot setting on the faucet), enough to cover the flowers, and let them steep. they began changing the color of the water almost immediately, with the fresher ones not losing their color as quickly as the ones that had begun to wilt on the plant. within 30 minutes i decided it was extracted enough.

This left a strong purple in the water, which i then poured off into three other containers, two of which i would alter the pH of.

The purple is due to delphinidin, a type of anthocyanidin that forms the building blocks of anthocyanins. Note i italicize the word anthocyanidin just so it's easier to tell apart the two.

there are anywhere from 16-31 anthocyanidins depending on what source you find, but they are basically the backbone structure of anthocyanins, of which there are over 600 something. The main thing that turns an anthocyanidin (aglycon) into an anthocyanin (glycoside form) is a sugar attached to it.

Realistically, that distinction isn't useful when simply extracting things from flowers in hot water, but i thought it was a fun fact to note. Anthocyanidins also come in handy for knowing what builds the anthocyanins in your flowers/plant part;

cyanidin (30%), delphinidin (22%), and pelargonidin (18%) make up the base for a good majority of all the anthocyanins in plants (~60% collectively),

peonidin, malvidin, and petunidin being runnerups (20% collectively)

the 20-something remaining anthocyanidins make up the rest

So basically, they all have slightly different colors that are pH reactive, and can provide anything from red to pink to orange to purple to blue. But, for our purposes, if you have a blue/purple flower, that likely means it has some amount of delphinidin-based anthocyanins in it! there can also be more than one anthocyanidin type present in the same plant.

Other well-known sources of anthocyanins are grape skins, red cabbage, red onions, butterfly pea tea, and purple violets. However, they're also very abundant in many many other plants, these are just the common ones i can think of that lots of people are probably familiar with to some degree.

Fun fact, grape skins are actually really well-studied as far as anthocyanins go (i believe they mainly have malvidin-based ones) because they're so important for the coloration of wine! Anthocyanins as a whole are also studied as a natural source of food dyes, along with other flavonoids such as carotenoids.

As for why it turns colors, this is because of the way the anthocyanin changes structure in different pHs. The short answer is it turns red/pink in low pH (acidic) conditions, purple in slightly acidic/neutral conditions, and blue/green in slightly high pH conditions.

The long answer is something I'll explain in a moment, but for now here's the acid/base colors:

(on the left, i altered it with vinegar and it became a bright magenta color; on the right, i altered it with baking soda and it became a sea green/blue cyan that refused to show up accurately on camera). That's one thing I've noticed, and others have too, is that when working with pigments (especially natural ones) the color accuracy of the camera often just completely fails. there's only so many colors a digital camera can capture!

Here's a slightly more accurate color due to different lighting, note how it's more a malachite green than a pure blue. off the bat this was interesting becuase I wasn't expecting as green of a liquid as i got.

Anyways, the first thing i did with them was use them as-is, no alterations past the addition of the respective vinegar and baking soda. I painted with them just as one would paint with watercolors, and interestingly enough, when i put them onto paper, they began to change from their pink/purple/malachite colors to a teal/indigo/emerald set instead.

This seems to be the result of something in the paper itself, likely calcium carbonate (which i only recently learned is added to "buffer" paper against acidic substances; the cellulose in paper is more stable long term when there's no acid present, and the calcium carbonate neutralizes any acids applied to a degree).

It's still interesting that even though the acids are neutralized, they give a unique color when compared to the basic paint.

I also tried soaking some of the same paper in vinegar water, which got rid of that buffer and let me paint with the pinks intact, but that's for another post.

Also, note that i said "neutral" for the middle, this is just what i wrote down for the tap water sample; in actuality the tap water is actually a bit closer to pH 6 instead of a true neutral 7, which i only found out after i had gotten this far. So whenever i say "neutral," i mean "tap water that's slightly acidic"

Here's something interesting that happened, though. Overnight i left the jars on my desk, and while the acid and neutral colors were the same when I came back ~24 hours later, the basic had degraded into a murky brown. this was interesting since that meant the instability was pH-dependent.

So, i made another color swatch with the acid/neutral/base, and used that as a comparison to look at how it had changed. Surprisingly, it painted out a yellowy-green instead of a murky gray-brown

here's the murky water that the once-malachite-green turned into:

I also poured off a bit into another container, and shifted it back into a low pH with a bit of vinegar to see if it would still change color. Surprisingly, it turned a slight pink, like pink lemonade, which means there were still anthocyanins in there but they were likely a lot less concentrated than they used to be.

Here's the pink, with a few leftover bubbles from the baking soda/vinegar reaction:

Here's the results of painting with these:

the acid was basically unchanged after sitting in a jar for 24 hours, the neutral had lost a bit of its purple color but was still about the same, and the base was now a lot yellower/tanner with a bit of green still showing through. The shifted sample was a pale stormy gray that ended up taking on a green color as it dried, as though following the trend of pink shifting to a bluer color but on a much more muted scale.

Now obviously, i wanted to figure out what caused this, so i dug around both on wikipedia and other sites but found myself eventually reading into scientific papers on the topic, at which point it became very clear that i would need to learn like, organic chemistry and such to be able to say for sure what was happening.

I did eventually manage to figure out a few things despite the dense terminology; for one thing, anthocyanins are more unstable than other plant pigments such as carotenoids. there are plenty of things that can affect their stability, including the pH of the substance they're stored in. Any higher than pH 7 (basic pHs) and theyll begin to degrade. This explains why the high pH sample lost its blue/green color, and why there was very little left to be shifted back to a pink color.

I also found out that the pH color shift isn't as simple as it seemed. Rather, there are multiple chemical forms of anthocyanins.

At the lowest pHs, basically all of them are in the "flavylium cation" state, which basically means it's positively charged and this is what gives a red color

still at a low pH (2-4), there's anothe chemical form that appears, the "quinoidal" structure that gives a blue color. Note that the red cation is still present, just no longer the only form

the more the pH rises, the more forms start to coexist, with some of those forms being colorless (one of which is a "colorless carbinol"

so, between 4 and 6 there are the cations (red) quinoidal (blue) carbinol (colorless) and something called a chalcone that gives a pale yellow

and then past that, I'm unsure, but of course that's around when the anthocyanins begin to degrade

There are also a lot more than these that i've encountered in various contexts but these seem to be the basic ones.

Do note that i do not fully understand these terms (flavylium, quinoidal, carbinol, chalcone, etc.) and have only recently begun to actually try to learn what they mean and the context surrounding them as i only had a class of basic high school chemistry under my belt prior to this. The main paper i combed over to try to find info on it seems to be behind a paywall but the DOI is:

doi.org/10.1016/j.foodchem.2008.09.001

for anyone curious and able to access it, whether through legit means or what have you.

That being said, to me, the takeaway here seems to be that there's a yellow form that appears around the time that other color forms begin to disappear, and as those degrade it makes sense that the resulting degraded forms also contribute to a murky color. This helps explain why it changed color in the jar and also retained a bit of yellow and green.

This also explains why the blue form seems to also be slightly green, it's got the blue quinoidal chemical form as well as the yellow chalcones.

There are also interesting things of note that I will get into at a later date, such as the texture/reflectivity of the way it dries, the differences in extraction ease between this and purple violets, the addition of a genuinely neutral/pH 7 sample later, a sample from a plant that doesnt seem to have delphinidins, and sample the seems to genuinely sparkle??? Much more of interest to come soon!

#art #traditional art #anthocyanins #watercolors #purple irises #painting #science #natural dyes #pigments #dyes #pH indicators

64 notes · View notes

frankiistein · 8 months

Text

come on look at this drawing. this is exactly what being in aba feels like. anyway...

bien and sar as a portrayal of a "troubled teen" with autism/adhd/aspd and an aba therapist: a breadavota analysis

finally blogging about the ending of intermission 1 of @breadavota

gui on the bbs has already noticed most of the stuff from the new update so tbh not much else left to say. thank u once again for the loyal breadposting

not related but i just noticed the bbs has the homestuck colors naur

instead of analyzing every part of the new update im just going to focus on the depiction of sar as being a (pseudo) aba therapist, along with my "bien is so autismcoded" hc

bien as an autistic character (+ adhd and conduct disorder/oppositional defiant disorder/aspd)

first of all altho afaik none of the characters are written intentionally to be autistic and adhd but both sc and bien have traits of it, altho i will just focus on bien here who i feel is autistic, adhd and has cd/odd (which could be aspd now bcuz hes already an adult). i think the aspd hc has more credence bcuz the author has aspd

seen as "stupid" by others, especially because he has issues with working memory and attention, altho i dont think hes particularly "stupid" but more that he has trouble w/ abstract thinking and memories, he takes things literally (like when he messes w/ sars pens after being told not to touch only his books)

inexpressive facial expressions, he usually has a neutral face no matter the situation

seems to get bored easily and needs to do extreme things to stimulate himself, particularly his violent tendencies towards animals

special interests/hyperfixations. he doesnt show an interest in anything except things related to violence (murder, weapons, wars) or sc, and to a lesser extent playing the piano

on top of that some level of social inappropriate behavior, altho its harder to say w/ so few interactions between him and other characters. the one chapter where he talks to the other soldiers he wasnt very friendly towards them, and based on how he talks to ava (hard to tell if he talks like this to everyone tho) he has the tendency to bring up his relationship to sc even in situations where its not appropriate or relevant

"awkwardness" aside he has a disregard for other ppl as a whole and seems unable to emphatize with hurting others

struggles with "basic" tasks and is anxious abt leaving sc and having to live on his own

wants to have "explanations" for everything he does before doing it, seen in how he is frustrated with avas vagueness

some sensory sensitivies since he looks to be bothered by "loud noises", altho its a bit vague bcuz the demons seem to have a synthesia like (?) way of perceiving the world. bon at least has been implied to lash out from these sensitivities which 2 me is similar to meltdowns, and sar shows concern that the brightness outside might bother bien

anyway moving on to sar, this is probably noticed by some ppl from the older updates already but the premack principle (explaining more later) is what made it noticed for me, that sar acts similar to an aba therapist, or at least uses some of the same principles in aba to manipulate bien

focus on eye contact

first of all i agree w/ gui the decision to write only in sars pov and to never directly show what biens dialogue at all is great! i think it highlights that feeling of bien not being allowed his autonomy and makes it feel rly more like some therapy session where ur not allowed to make ur own decisions, it also forces us to rely on sars narration of events even tho hes not a trustworthy person

bcuz we cant see bien we also dont know if anything in the place is distracting or bothering him. the last updates established he finds the way the house "sounds" to be rly disturbing (again poiting to sensory sensitivity), and the way the story focuses not on why he might not be looking at sar and instead only looks at his "problem behavior" reminds me of my own experiences with aba before

sar commands eye contact from bien with the simple repetition of the phrase "look at me". this very first one stands out because of how its inserted right in the middle of his dialogue, showing sars intention to make sure bien "focuses" on what hes currently saying, like he needs bien to be looking at him to "prove" he is listening. reading it in real time the first "look at me" is almost unnoticable until the next ones

i noticed the first one is also early on in the update, and he doesnt say it again until later on where all the "look at mes" are closer together. this happens when bien reads the research paper with the "blocks". i think it implies bien is more uncomfortable or stressed out from this activity and being overwhelmed by it, he looks away more frequently, its a subtle detail that i cant help but noticed!

premack principle/first, then

this is what stood out to me the most, sar pretends to "offer" autonomy to bien sometimes by letting him decide some minor things like what to eat for the break, or to let him make minor adjustments to the overall "daily schedule" but i noticed the entire "lesson" is decided by sar, who makes bien do a "harder" task first before moving on to something bien might want to do (eat cake/listen to the piano) or to "something easier"

some standing out parts:

reading this, especially "of course, i believe you can do it" its clear that bien doesnt necessarily want to move to the "easier" tasks and he wants to keep trying the current task even if hes not doing "well". the desire to move to "something easier" is always something sar decides because of his estimation of biens incompetence, and not out of biens own unwillingness to keep trying.

speaking of the schedule, its interesting, sar doesnt simply say he will make time in biens daily schedule to let him play the piano, he says bien will be allowed to have piano lessons, meaning hes still planning to use even biens hobbies/interests as a opportunity to "educate" him or as "reinforcerment" for him to do "good" behaviors first. i can imagine in the future biens desire to play the piano is going to be used against him, so that hes only allowed to do it if he "studies" first

reinforcements and "safe foods"

in the premack principle/"token economy" a reward is used to motivate the "good behavior" and here we see sar using food as that reinforcement. also sar doesnt punish bien here (also hello bien and his super literal thinking, autistic king), he tells bien to keep reading while sar cleans up.

the idea of not using punishment to be more "humane" is indeed a part of modern aba (traditional aba utilized punishments before this was dropped) but that doesnt account for all the other issues with aba, and again with the lack of autonomy he assumes bien "messing with the pens" is an "accident" (instead of explaining more literally not to touch the pens - its possible bien did it on purpose but is unaware why this is a "big deal" and wouldnt understand why sar is pointing it out to begin with), and he also doesnt ask bien if he wants to help clean up, or why he touched the pens to begin with.

for all we know bien got bored and started stimming with the pens (esp bcuz chewing or clicking pens is a common stim, we dont know what sar means with "messed with" here), sar could of at least asked first why bien did that anyway and like?? let him borrow a pen??? lmao???

anyway, back to the cake, in a previous updates its shown bien likes cake and i think this establishes cake as a sort of "safe food" for bien

this is something gui pointed out that i didnt notice at first, but notably bien asks for just a chocolate cake, and sar gives him a devils food cake that has vanilla in it. its something so "small" that bien will look bad if he complains abt it, but sar ignoring a very specific request bien had is a common autistic experience when it comes to safe foods and being told just to be "picky eater"

assumptions of biens incompetence/struggles

its no secret bien seems to struggle with "intelligent" matters but notably nobody ever stops to ask what he stuggles with, its always assumed for him. while ava is more obviously dismissive, sar also does the exact same thing and just sounds "nicer" about it

lack of proper explanations

despite being an expository character sar notably doesnt explain things in a way that would be useful to bien. my personal observation of bien and why i dont think hes "stupid" (not in the way the others sy he is) is that he asks a lot of logical questions! whenever ava tells him a story abt the history of angels/marginals, or asks him to do a new task, bien makes a lot of sensible observations ("if angels marginals and demons are the immortals and youre not an angel then what are you?")

the things he questions the most are information that comes out of nowhere (the recursive panopticon, sars first appearance, the margibird that came out of his radio etc), and other people treat him like an idiot for just not automatically knowing these "obvious" things that would make sense for him to know!

honestly viewing bien in this lens it suddenly makes alot more sense why the story jumps around so much and introduces "weird" lore seemingly at random, i think it rly helps simulate the feeling of confusion bien (and also bread) are meant to have

and of course where would we be w/o sars insistence that bien always say thank you even tho he never explains what bien should even be thanking him for.

general infantilization

as a whole sars tone is very infantilizing w/ how he always gives reassurances and goes "do you understand?" "___, okay?"

also he decides to give bien storybooks (probably for kids) and plushies to help with sleeping lmao??? we dont even know yet if hes going to have sleeping problems in anselir.

ofc nothing is inherently wrong with needing things considered "childish" with accomodations, lots of autistic people benefit from simpler talking to them or from sensory aids and similar in their daily life. but again its bad here because bien gives no indication these are the specific accomodations he even needs, sar simply assumes them for him. i think especially knowing bien seems insecure over his incompetence and his ability to "grow up" and be an independent adult living away from his father, it makes treating him like a dependent child even worse in that contexts.

disrespect for personal boundaries/touching

this is definitely the creepiest part and again the lack of biens side of things makes it vague what sar is doing

the way its immersed in the dialogue again is a good choice, just shows sar talking and acting "normally" even when things are decidedly not normal

the comment abt the hair makes it obvious that sar is touching bien, altho to what extent the "touching" goes is obviously deliberately vague. honestly it almost looks like sa :") regardless the pressure to do "affectionate" gestures is so relatable, especially as an autistic kid where adults always pressure you to hug them or show some other form of physical affection, and the way ppl touching u w/o permission is so common.

(i did ask the author abt this, to which they said its supposed to be vague so its not sexual but its also not not sexual. but that they personally wrote it to be them sitting next to each other with sar just condescendingly petting him on the head at some point like he did the last updates, and the "try not to squirm" comment was abt sitting properly, but that this was just how they imagined it and isnt "canon" bcuz its supposed to be open-ended)

bonus:

a subtle thing i almost dont noticed but the last "what blocks" is slightly bigger as if to show a slight raise in voice, rly feels like sitting in a suffocating room with this guy. ily sar but u suck

that is the end of my breadposting thank u and goodbye. ^_^

#breadavota #long post #tagging ooo #actuallyautistic #actually autistic #aspd #antisocial personality disorder #conduct disorder #oppositional defiant disorder #autism #adhd #comic review #aba #applied behavior analysis #applied behavioral analysis #aba therapy #aba tw

25 notes · View notes

hpdselfshipper · 2 years

Text

My little headcanons for the Batter.

When you talk to him he stares right into your eyeballs almost without blinking or moving. You can feel unsettling but in reality he just tries to show his attention. Without that he wouldn't show any sign of listening while he actually listen to you really carefully.

He has amazing memory. He can remember stuff in great detail almost like it's printed in his head. The problem goes with the fact it's just a bunch of information and it's not really processed correctly. This is why he not really good at solving puzzles. He can process and analyze information but it takes more time.

He is not afraid of many stuff. The only thing that truly terrifies him is feel of uncertainty. He needs clear goal and path he can follow. Actually making major choices on his own makes him really anxious. Plus he's not really good at deciding what to do if there's no clear choices he can choose from. This is why being controlled brings hin only feel of security. He knows what to do and can rely on someone else who knows better.

He doesn't make any sound while he's walking because he doesn't like feeling of his feet touching ground hardly. He doesn't know why but it's quite helpful in his sacred mission so he doesn't bother to do something with this.

He doesn't like the Judge but likes his fur. It's not silky soft but still pleasant.

He blushing a lot and doesn't know how to recive any positive attention. He pretty good at keeping neutral face but red color always makes it obvious.

He ignoring his body needs a lot. He won't rest if he definitely needs this. He's not so sensitive to pain so serious injuries are also often missed. You just constantly have to take care of him because he will do his job until he falls on the floor.

He like white color. Probably he would like the snow a lot.

He's confident all the time but if he gets separated from his puppeteer he can't keep this anymore. He becomes easily irritated, fidgety, he paces back and forth really fast. He will either goes completely irrational and go search for them ignoring any danger and damage possible or he just goes half burnt and just stays in the place crying without moving or doing anything. And any them can occur one after another.

He values the trust a lot. He gives himself fully without a doubt and expects the same from the other side.

He will definitely respect your boundaries. First of all it's a clear rule he can follow and second because of good memory he won't forget about that. He likes when he knows what to do. Just tell him about what you like and he'll bring this to you. And again and again. He can take these rules to literally so don't be surprised if he gives you a ten boxes of chocolate because you said it helps you bright up your day a little. If it does it a little when a lot of chocolate will be effective if something bad happened, won't it?

He's not good with word so instead he just do things he thinks make you happy.

He has two pairs of eyes so when he uses both of them he can do the mega stare.

292 notes · View notes

brumeraven · 3 months

Text

🪫: The Chains That Bind || angels, burnout, commoditization, dehumanization, exhaustion, I know that SCRAM is probably a backronym but it's so stupid I love it

"So, uhh..."

Shit, only three days. Knew I shouldn't have picked four in the pool... At least I didn't go with "Never," like Gloria from HR. Bitch should know better; they always, always ask. Might be a day, might be a week, but they always bring it up.

"You ever, uh, think about what exactly we're doing here?"

There it was. The million dollar question. Suppose that number should be revised well-upwards, honestly, power prices being what they were these days, but I couldn't be arsed to keep up with the current budget...

"Like, with that thing in there, ya know?" He gestured vaguely past the consoles before us towards the observation slit, as if there could be any doubt what he meant. Wasn't anything else to talk about around here, least of all the drab beige plastic that comprised every surface.

"Notice you haven't taken a peek yet, rookie. Superstitious much?" I kept my voice light, despite the lance of hot rage that pierced my breast. Close to a decade of experience meant I'd had practice enough at controlling Extrinsics.

"No! Just, I mean..." With a sigh, he stood and leaned forward to look, pressing forward with a near-reverent hesitance. I'd have to keep an eye on that. That spoke of assumptions, and assumptions lead to sloppy work.

I didn't need to look. Already knew what he was staring at.

And if I hadn't, well, it was painted on his face, plain as daylight. 4 solid inches of recycled cathedral glass lessened the intensity to something just-shy of blinding, but compared to the anemic fluorescence of the control room, he might as well have been staring at the sun.

"....hm." It was a disappointed sort of non-committal noise.

"Not what you expected?" Of course it wasn't, not on this side of the shielding. Anyone too sensitive would never have been allowed this close.

"It's...bright?" Disappointment, and the desire for confirmation.

"It's a toroidal cloud of plasma. What the hell did you expect?" Part of the ritual, this was. Debase, demean, lessen. Pinion its wings with the materialistic, the rational, the objective, the familiar.

I knew what he meant, but that part...that part was buried just out sight.

If a few hundred tons of concrete, ten of graphite, and a cell of industrial diamond could be called "just out of sight." Only been down there once; creeped me out when my clothes changed color. Tiny changes, but you never knew what tiny change in your genes would become cancer.

"Yeah, I, uh, can see. I guess I expected-"

"Arms, legs, wings? Some white robes? Maybe a harp or trumpet?" The first bit was true, at least sometimes. Music was a bad idea though. "It's not a person. It's a machine. A thing that was made to do a job. A car, not a yoked horse."

"Aren't you ...afraid though?"

"Afraid? Hell yes I am." That much was no lie. "I'm afraid my coffee is gonna become decaf in between sips, or my bra won't match my shirt, or some other Slip is gonna fuck up my perfectly good day answering your stupid questions." Easy, steady...

Woof. That was a pained look if I'd ever seen one. Fine, he needed more reassurance than that... "Look, of course I worry. Even without hypocertainty effects, there are ten thousand things that could go wrong here. And our job is to make sure they don't, okay?"

"Okay...but-"

"Look, keep your eyes on the gauges and the protocols in mind. Long as shit's all green, s'all good, yeah? Been here 11 years; most of the time when the alarms go off, it's just brumeraven buildup. We wet vent it out through the filters and someone gets a flat tire or something."

He nodded, if not with much conviction. "What's, uh, what's the worst that could happen?"

Fuck, where in the hell did they even find this guy?

Fine, if he wanted it... "Worst case, the Void coefficient inverts and goes positive. We end up with a criticality incursion, have to cut the outflows and you..." I leaned over to prod his arm for emphasis. "...you get to take ice cream and stuffed animals downstairs for it."

Well, that got a nervous giggle and a minute of silence. Probably for the best he thought it a joke for the moment. I waited, then, waited for the question he still hadn't asked, the one I knew was coming.

"But what...what if it breaks loose? What if it gets out?"

Bingo. It wouldn't. It couldn't. "It won't. It can't. Besides, that's my job." I tapped the badge clipped to my shirt, right on the crisp, serifed capital letters: SCRMNT. Safety Containment Responsibility Manager/Neutralization Technician. Corporate did love their acronyms...

"I mean, sure, no offense, but what exactly are you gonna do against that thing in there, if it breaks the control bonds?"

Ahhh, and there it was, the root of the misunderstanding. He still thought this was a prison of concrete and rebar, copper and steel.

"You don't understand. All this concrete and shit? That's all just shielding for our benefit. And for the power converters and all that. It's free to leave; not like we could stop it. But if she goes, whole power grid goes down."

It. Fuck.

"I don't understand. Why...?"

"Please, with all the hospitals and homes and hotels that depend on us?"

"..."

"You want to know how you keep an angel bound?"

The question hung in the air as I felt the hairs on my arm prick, and a fleeting sense of sorrow not my own slunk into my heart.

He nodded, waiting.

I smiled slowly.

"Responsibilities."

~🪫

#empty spaces #microfiction #fiction #angelposting #angels #burnout #commoditization #dehumanization #exhaustion #I know that SCRAM is probably a backronym but it's so stupid I love it

11 notes · View notes

b0njourbeach · 10 days

Note

Could I ask ur thoughts on cater? Rants or HCs are fine. (Coconuts are the ambrosia of the gods).

There's something unique about Cater: He's one of the very few people where I can use a single word to express my feelings about said person:

Masquerade.

He's a Masquerade on his own, so many faces, so many hidden masks, so many personalities, so many thoughts - Only to hide the shallow being underneath. I'm not saying that he has no personality but I'm quite convinced of one thing:

He has lost himself in the roles he pretended to be - To the point where not even he knows who he really is. The masks he was wearing on a daily, the ones he kept changing to suit whoever he was talking to, they became of what he is now, layers over layers. Even if you were to take some of them away, you'd be faced with more layers. What would be left if you'd peel them all away? Not even Cater knows and I believe he's afraid of getting to know whatever lies underneath it all. There's also another thing I genuinely believe he's terrified of:

To be confronted with his inner child. To "look" at little Cater, to see his wounds, his tears, the pain in this child. And hell knows how hard he's fighting to silence the young him. He knows it's wrong but he's convinced that if he tries to heal, it would just go horrendously wrong. So he ignores it, bottles it up and locks it away for no one to see. And what is most effective to hide all the pain?

A bright smile and a bubbly personality.

Yet, he can't stop longing for the positive attention, for the support, for the praise, for the feeling of being *wanted*. He knows that his connection to his phone is far beyond unhealthy but the simple serotonin created by positive reactions about his posts keeps the depression at bay (Though it has its negative impact as well: If a post doesn't hit the hoped attention, it can quickly mess with his mind.)

He's a boy who wants to be loved and cherished, who wants to be *wanted* - But he's also a boy who has trust issues, who has commitment issues. (Honestly, the best proof about this is literally Caters Wish during the 'Wish Upon a Star' Event.)

I have noticed something to "prove" my statement of Cater being a Masquerade on his own and I'd like to point out something about the Heartslabyul Unique Magics (Not Riddle and, obviously, Ace):

Deuce: "Beat the Limit", After taking damage, he can cause the exact amount of damage to the other person. Nothing too wild, right? Wrong. We know about Deuce's Delinquent Past - A person who would often get in fights. Deuce still gets paid back with the things he has done in the past to others even though he tries his hardest to become an honor student. You see what I'm trying to point out?

Moving on to Trey: "Paint the Roses"/"Doodle Suit", giving him the ability to change the characteristics of things (Scent, color, taste, etc). 'Why would you point it out? It's just some changes', is it, though? Trey, the oldest brother AND vice Housewarden. Both positions where you take quite the responsibility (whether you want or not) and you've gotta cover up quite some messes - Especially if you're supposed to be in charge of your younger siblings but they refuse to listen to you. Can you follow me on here?

Now to the person we were talking about: Cater.

"Split Card", magic that gives him the possibility to create copies of himself. Multiple Caters, multiple people yet the same face. The same body, the same hair, the same eyes, the same voice - But just a tad bit different after all. Do I have to say more?

I'm tired of people only seeing his social media addiction. Yes, he's concerningly good at hiding pretty much anything behind Silence or lies (I mean, if you remember Book 1: He didn't even have the courage to admit that he despises sweets. If Trey hadn't noticed the "coincidences" of Caters' helpless attempts to avoid sweets, probably no one would've done so). I can also see him have quite the rejection sensitivity which pairs up "nicely" (<- meant in a sarcastic way) with his inner insecurities to the point of severe overthinking. An endless circle that keeps on going in his mind.

Have I said everything about my boy? I think so. Moving on to certain HCs!

He definitely has ADHD (medicated). Idk how to explain it, I saw someone having that HC and it just made sense, so I adopted it.

(Mention of SH/Scars, skip this paragraph if it triggers you.)

I can't explain this either, but I feel like he has definitely played some.. offline fruit ninja iykyk. Not on noticeable spots (I could imagine him going for thighs or hips). He'd also get "accidentally" injured (dropping a glass "on accident" and "accidentally" cuts himself on the pieces as he tries to pick them up etc).

He has a specific playlist that breaks him mentally whenever he listens to it (Songs such as "Daddy Issues", "Mama's boy", "Stressed out", to give a few examples) - He plays it when he's 100% sure he's alone, so he can have a mental breakdown on his own. In a way, it's his way to make sure he'd never have a breakdown in public or in front of anyone at all. A means to keep up the happy face, in a way.

His "loss of individuality" started when he first entered elementary school bc he wanted to have many friends. It just got worse the older he got until he fully lost himself during puberty.

Ever since Trey found out that Cater dislikes sweets, he always made sure to not give him any sweets (and if he had no choice but to give him a tart, for example, he'd secretly use his UM on the slice).

Jamils favorite white person to cook for because he doesn't have to hold back on the spices (In fact, I wholeheartedly believe that Jamil is actually concerned whenever Cater adds more spice than there already is).

He talks a lot that makes him seem very opened up but in reality, he talks a lot to hide even more. (This is an actual psychological phenomenon btw.)

Cater never/barely makes decisions on his own. He always asks his friends or even just his classmates (this one seems almost Canon, given Book- 6? Was it Book 6 when the third years had to fill out their orientation stuff?)

Co-dependency with his family. He wants to leave them all behind for good but guilt would be his daily friend.

After facing two overblots (Riddles and Leonas), he did some digging on what can cause said OB - Cater is full aware of his high possibility of OBing himself and has caught himself day"dreaming" about it.

(He was also definitely a child that would wish ill upon himself - Having an injury so bad that he has to stay at the hospital just to get genuine attention for once.)

#twisted wonderland #twst #cater diamond #🥀 answers #🥀 twst

9 notes · View notes

cloudyswritings · 4 months

Text

Lights of Hallownest

This is just some head canons of mine about how lights and the bright gods of Hallownest work. I suppose I should probably start with listing the bright gods from canon.

Bright Gods of Hallownest:

Unn, the fading light, the green light

PK, lord of the buzzsaws, king of Hallownest

White Lady, horny plant lady, kinda mean

Grimm, the wandering nightmare, the nightmare king, the heart of terror

The lifeblood entity, the thematic partner to the void possibly? Strange little fella.

Flukemarm, oddly enough I think she counts as a bright god, albeit a weak one. Her children and her have a washed out pink light. She might just be a particularly powerful higher being. Definitely a lesser god.

Vespa, queen of the hive, the golden light. Weaker than Grimm but still stronger than lesser gods and higher beings.

Hornet: she’s a fledgling light, and is unknowingly a pale being by birth, like all of her siblings would be without the void tarnishing them.

Dark gods of Hallownest:

The void, night incarnate, lord of shades

THK, god of nothingness. Has trace amount of lights left from their parentage

Mister mushroom, the herald/The mycelial network. Keeper of records and passer of ages. The god of decay.

The qualities of light:

The light of a god has several specific qualities which determine its impact and general uses.

Temperature: this is essentially how hot the light burns to mortals stood before it. The pale king has a cold light, physically chilling beings in contact with it and causing frost buildup. The radiance one the other hand has an extremely hot light, although it used to be far milder, coming so close to death and her change in affinity caused her light to burn far brighter and hotter.

Affinity: This is best thought of as the elements lights are most sensitive to, this is determined mostly by temperature and color in combination with depth. This is generally the last quality to develop for most gods.

Range: This is how far a light spreads from its origin point before it becomes so diluted that it doesn’t have a tangible effect on the world. The Pale king and has immense range on his light as befitting a wyrm who traditionally used his light to mark the edges of his vast territory. The radiance has a light that reaches roughly to the midpoint of the ancient basin, although in the part her light had far less range. Unns range is currently about the size of greenpath and queens gardens but could spread much, much farther. She at her peak had a light that ranged farther than any other god native to Hallownest.

Depth: Depth is effectively the staying power of a light, ie how long it lasts after an owner dies or leaves an area. It also determines how deeply impacted those exposed to the light will be, and how many physical changes and side effects they undergo. PK and Radiance have lights with increadible depth, though his has less of a physical effect than hers. His light is deeper overall, but like most things since the infection the Radiances light has gotten deeper.

Color: This one is pretty self explanatory, it’s just the color a light takes on as a god grows or ascends. The color of a light can be shifted via prisming, which is generally the act of either consuming higher beings or other gods and taking elements of their light to shift the color of your own. Additionally staying in areas with higher elemental affinities of different types can shift this. The lifeblood entity did this via exposure to water and the void. The Radiance also did this by staying in areas with higher exposure to natural daylight and the warm energies of the crystals. The Pale king is a pale being and thus underwent a different style of prisming to become what he is, while the white lady was born a pale being.

Brightness: How bright a light burns, it also tends to correlate(but not always closely) with the longevity of a light. The Pale king was a blinding light for the vast majority of his light, outstripping even the radiance at her peak. Unn on the other hand is a very dull light but an extremely long lived one, she’s older than Hallownest and will outlive each and every one of its other bright gods. Possibly even Grimm with luck. Interestingly Grimm is an another dull light, but a very hot one, on par with the radiance in heat. This combination has served him well.

The Star connection: The gods of Hallownest can also be correlated to different stars, though it’s not necessarily my favorite way to categorize them.

PK and The White Lady: These guys can be compared to white dwarf stars and have according longevity, baring outside interference they would be among the longest lived gods in the world along with other Pale Beings.

Radiance: She’s a main sequence star, burning bright yellow like our sun and its relatives. Her being forgotten and nearly dying before springing anew is best compared to a Nova, this action is responsible for the change in the qualities of her light. If she had managed to win and control Hallownest completely via her plague her natural lifespan would be dramatically reduced.

Grimm: Grimm is a red dwarf star and has the accompanying lifespan. In the same way red dwarves might harbor life far into the cosmic future so will Grimm once the age of bright gods nears its end.

Lifeblood: This god is correlated to a blue supergiant star, and accordingly is essentially dead by the time of canon with only its “stellar remains” scattered across Hallownest in the form of lifeblood cocoons. It was an extremely bright light in its heyday, and being near it would’ve imparted a palpable sense of moisture, like stepping into a greenhouse. it’s temperature was actually mild though.

Unn: She’s a strange star, which is a stellar body made of super dense and stable quarkmatter. It’s theorized these stars could effectively change other stars into them. They’d be essentially immortal. In a similar vein Unn could(and did in her youth) subsume other lights by applying her affinity conceptually and over growing them.

Pale Prisming:

This is the version of Prisming the pale king underwent. It involves eating a truly titanic amount of other lights, to the point that they all blend together into a white light. That’s only the first stage however, because containing so many different lights with conflicting qualities quickly becomes deadly and even explosive, in order to avoid dying dramatically the god attempting to become a pale being needs to winnow down and weed out errant qualities and aspects. The goal is to eventually achieve a state of a frighteningly bright, cold and colorless light, with no inherent leaning towards elemental affinities and extreme stability. Once a being becomes a Pale being/Pale light they can’t deviate or shift the color of their light towards anything else, they can however dim. The main motivator for becoming a pale being is being functionally unkillable, even by the standards of gods. So long as a shred of your light survives you do as well

There’s more to this whole deal in my mind but I’ll post it later if you’re interested!

#hollow knight #Gods #hk pale king #hk radiance #Hk Grimm #Hk Unn #hk headcanons #headcanon #worldbuilding #speculative biology #maybe?

18 notes · View notes

f1tyreslightmyfyre · 2 months

Text

We Go Together - Ch. 6

Series Main List

A Jedi!Charles x TIE Fighter Pilot!Max Star Wars AU

Ch. 6 Warnings: Explicit language; Charles tries his hand at teaching and probably needs help; lightsaber violence; minor wound description; explosion and death

A/N: Thank you everyone for reading!! ❤😊

The knife lands with a dull thud against the cutting board and another vegetable slice joins the others. Of all the root vegetables that this planet has to offer, the bright yellow one is Charles' favorite for a fish stew. The earthy flavor compliments the salty, oily fish, and with a heavy sprinkling of herbs, it’s one of the more pleasant dishes that he can make.

Fortunately, Max doesn’t make a fuss about anything that Charles cooks. In fact, the last couple of weeks have shown a drastic improvement in Max’s own cooking skills, but he’s far more adept with the spear gun. The thought teases a smile to Charles’ face as he continues chopping vegetables. And maybe Max’s past as a hunter will never truly leave him, but at least it can now serve a more useful purpose - and help keep their bellies fuller.

Just another thing that Charles loves about -

The realization clenches his heart and his grip on the knife falters. It falls against the cutting board with a clank as he drowns in the truth that he hasn’t wanted to admit.

Because he hates it. He hates to admit how much he loves not being alone. He hates how much Max has forged his way into Charles’ being, a perfect antithesis and balance and… partner in every sense of the word.

Even worse is how quickly Charles has allowed himself to give Max everything. It hasn’t been that long since Max crashed into the sea. It hasn’t been that long since Charles has had him in his life - in his bed - and Charles hates the growing realization that he never wants to live his life without Max.

He should know better - in fact, he does know better. There’s a reason that he hasn’t been close with anyone since his Master fled to save his life. With the Empire’s suffocating rule, any Force-sensitive soul is at risk, let alone a former-almost-Jedi. Especially one who lives with someone so prodigious in the Force as Max. Nearly every day, he continues to amaze with the sheer raw power of his ability to wield the Force in his surroundings.

What could they accomplish together if Charles stopped hiding? Would the manipulated, mindless soldiers of the Empire even stand a chance against them?

He brushes the heady thought away, trying to dislodge his heart from his throat as the door to his dwelling opens. Max steps inside, hair askew from the wind and clothes damp with sea spray. He holds a bucket in one hand and the spear gun in the other. “It feels like cheating, somehow.” Max says by way of greeting as he closes the door. “The sea just teems with life. I can just isolate each fish as it swims past… and I’m accurate every time.”

Charles turns from the cutting board with a mischievous smirk. “Welcome to the secret of why I never starved even without credits.”

Max braces the spear gun by the door and pulls off his boots. With the bucket still in hand, he pads over to Charles. “I didn’t do the best job cleaning them.” He looks down at the butchered fish meat. “That’s not a skill that the Force helps with.”

Charles steps away from the counter, unconcerned about the bucket’s contents when Max’s eyes are so lovely in the firelight. “It just takes practice. I don’t even know that I’m good at it - so long as I can get enough meat to eat without too much waste….”

Max’s face softens as he meets Charles’ warm smile. It feels like the most natural thing in the world as they lean in and their lips meet. The kiss lingers with tender sweetness and heartfelt affection. Charles’ toes curl with the promise of later, once they’re both tucked in bed together.

Max’s cheeks hold a ruddy pink color as they part, and Charles can feel the arousal that simmers along the other man’s skin. He drowns in the glacial fire that burns in Max’s eyes and doesn’t stop the words that crawl up his throat. “I’m so glad that you’re here - that… you’ve stayed for so long.”

Max dips his head in a tell of embarrassment. “I… well, now that I…” He pauses, shaking his head gently. “I don’t know what to do if I don’t stay.”

“Then, stay.” Charles breathes as anxious desire sparks in his chest. “Let my home be your home… be our ho-” Charles words’ cut off abruptly as a noise swells in the air.

A bone-chilling, fear-inducing ionic scream that makes his blood run cold. Max’s face hardens as his head snaps up, listening to the distinctive sound overhead.

Only one ship in the galaxy makes that noise.

The roar of a second TIE fighter follows the first as Charles and Max stare upwards.

“That’s a low, slow pass.” Max’s words hold a cold, clinical tone. “A scouting mission.”

“A scouting mission…” Charles echoes on a heavy sigh. “What could they possibly be doing here?”

“There’s nothing in my fighter to alert them.” Max says, lowering his gaze.

Charles nods, remembering Max’s early words about the lack of a homing beacon. “That’s what concerns me. This… this feels different.”

Max’s eyes narrow with immediate suspicion. “You think… did someone report us?”

Charles gives a quick shake of his head. “It wouldn’t be us, specifically. But is it possible the Empire has Force-sensitive spies who report on disturbances in the Force? Yes, I think it is quite possible.” He glances back at Max with a shy smile. “And you… we haven’t exactly been subtle recently.”

“Why should we?” Max whispers, his voice suddenly tight. “Why should we have to hide? With all this power at our fingertips…"

Charles blinks back at him, brow furrowing. “And what’s happened to the man who called me a traitor for using the Force…?”

“I guess it’s like you said,” Max says, stepping close and nuzzling Charles’ nose. “I’m waking up.”

Charles’ heart swells, and he leans in for another kiss. The Force hums around them, warming from their physical connection. The whining scream of a TIE fighter engine on approach fills the dwelling again, followed by another. Charles steals another kiss before sighing with the heavy weight of resignation. “I can’t let these people suffer anymore, Max.”

“The garrison that you told me about,” Max whispers against his lips. “They were trying to find you, weren’t they?”

Charles gently shakes his head. “Not me. They wanted my Master. But she fled to save these people and left me here, to save my life, too.”

“But you’re a Jedi?”

“Not officially. I was days away from The Trials when the Temple fell… but I have kept the Force by my side and have only continued to grow with it, despite never earning the title of Jedi Master.”

“But don’t you see, Charles? You don’t have to earn anything.” Max presses another gentle kiss. “You already are a Jedi.”

The TIE fighters pass overhead, rattling the crockery on the counter and the knife on the cutting board. Charles leans into Max’s embrace, basking in the man’s steadying presence. “That’s why it’s my turn, now.” Charles says, forcing a hard swallow. “Just as my Master did - I cannot let these people suffer the Empire’s presence again.”

He withdraws from Max’s embrace, abandoning the vegetables and raw fish. Crouching in front of a far cabinet, he digs to the back of the dark shelf.

Max steps up behind him. “What are you going to do?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago.” Charles withdraws a roll of crude cloth. He unties the leather strap and unfurls the frayed fabric. The long, metal hilt of a lightsaber gleams in the firelight.

Max’s eyes widen. “Fuck, Charles. I thought… lightsabers aren’t real.”

“They’re as real as the Jedi, mon cher.” The pet name in his native language rolls off his tongue as he takes the weapon in hand. His fingers warm from the familiar feel of the grip and muscle memory surges through him. While he’s kept his body in decent physical shape, it’s been a long time since he wielded his weapon. The energy from the crystals runs along his skin, fusing with his own - and he feels more focused than he has in years.

The throaty roar of approaching TIE fighters again grows in the air, and Charles doesn’t look back.

Sunlight warms his skin as he steps outside and sights the dark spacecraft on the horizon. Max’s presence follows him out into the swaying grass as he takes position on the hillside. If these TIE fighters are indeed on a scouting mission - looking for signs of suspicious activity - then, Charles intends to give them no cause to suspect anyone else on the planet’s surface.

The lightsaber hums to life in his hand, vibrating with static as he adopts a defensive position. Even at this distance, the pilots would have to be completely blind to miss the green glowing blade. And while they may be overly confident in their firepower, they don’t know Charles’ strength in the Force.

“Charles, don’t be stupid!” Max’s words sound distant in Charles’ ears as the TIE fighters accelerate into steep attack dives on a trajectory straight for him. “Their firepower is too much!”

“Have faith, Max.” Charles calls out, centering his focus and calming his voice. “Use the Force. Trust in it - and you’ll do wonders.”

Twin blasts fire from each TIE, and Charles lets the Force guide him. His body moves, and the lightsaber flies as an extension of his arms. The blasts crash against his blade, threatening his balance as he deflects and repels with rapid accuracy. Grass scorches around him and a stray blast shoots up towards the sky as the TIEs fly past. They curve in banking turns, coming back around for another run.

Charles’ heart pounds as he gasps for breath. His arms ache with long-forgotten exertion as adrenaline sings in his veins and the Force energizes him. He’s felt more alive in the last weeks than he’s felt in years - and as the fighters line up for another attack run, he realizes that Max has been the catalyst missing from his life. Without Max… how many more years would he have hidden away and denied himself?

He grips his lightsaber tighter and squares his shoulders for another volley. This one comes just as powerful as the first, and he acts without thinking. The Force sharpens his instincts and the smell of burning grass fills his nose as the blasts deflect off his blade. He watches the fighters swoop low and pass away from him, but they’re hardly finished. They curve around in sharp arcs, on a direct trajectory for him yet again.

They show no mercy, unleashing a relentless barrage. The energy blasts sizzle and burn around Charles as he moves to deflect and defend. A searing line cuts across his shoulder and distracts his focus just long enough. The scorching heat closes in around him, and the flash of the ion blasts blinds him. He loses his balance, dropping to his knees as the firepower overwhelms him and a scream deafens him.

“CHAAARLES!”

The raw cry burns Max’s throat as his heart stops and his arms extend out. He doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice as he watches Charles disappear in a torrent of fire and smoke. Panic paralyzes him as he stares at what surely must be Charles’ lifeless body.

But as the smoke drifts away, a new scene takes shape. Charles crouches low, lightsaber forgotten on the ground as he holds his hands up. A light-blue, translucent bubble surrounds him, shielding him from the worst of the blast and the smoke. Blood oozes from a mostly cauterized wound on his upper arm and dirt from the chewed up ground splatters his face - but he’s alive.

Charles is alive .

He fixes Max with an incredulous stare, eyes wide as the last curls of smoke disappear on the breeze. The Force shield around him winks out as he stands to his full height, turning his gaze from Max’s outstretched hands up to the sky.

Slowly, Max registers the cold metal of the TIE fighters stinging his skin, the power of the stalled ion engines thrumming in his veins. He follows Charles’ gaze, looking beyond his extended fingers at the two TIE fighters suspended in midair. Each machine shakes in its invisible hold, the engines at full throttle working to break free - but Max holds them completely in his control.

The Force surges through him, and Max can feel everything. The vibrations of the engines, the sharpness of the controls, the static ozone in the air. He closes his eyes, drawing a trembling breath at the heady, powerful sensation that surrounds him. When he reopens them, he’s never had a more singular focus or conviction of purpose.

“There’s five more ships inbound.” Charles’ voice carries on the breeze. “And a Star Destroyer lurking just beyond them.”

Keeping a firm hold on the ships, Max turns towards Charles. “How do you know?”

Charles lifts the corner of his mouth with a self-confident edge. “You’re not the only one who’s powerful, mon cher.” He glances back up at the two TIEs still frozen and motionless in the sky. “Can you fly them?”

Max extends himself into the pilot’s mind, cutting through the angry confusion to feel the tight grip of the stick. His fingers twitch in familiarity, and fuck … he would swear he’s back in the cockpit. “Yes,” Max answers, breathless at the revelation. “Yes… I can feel it - them. Everything .”

“Then, we go together. Where you lead,” Charles takes a deep breath, “I will follow.”

Max turns his attention back to the sky. “I can’t fly all seven of them.”

“You just focus on the two that you have,” Charles reassures him. “I don’t know how to fly, but the weak-minded are vulnerable to the power of suggestion - and I want them to follow your TIEs.”

Max nods, adrenaline surging in his blood as his heart soars. With Charles at his side, what won’t they accomplish? “A Star Destroyer’s reactor is poorly shielded - that’s our target.” He wets his top lip, drawing a deep breath. “Are you with me?”

Charles nods, taking a deep breath as he extends an arm forward, stretching his fingers out. “I’m with you.”

“We go together.” Max breathes, pulling back on the stick and shooting up towards the edge of the planet’s atmosphere. The force of acceleration pushes him against the bench as he leads the charge and flies the ship as an extension of himself. Each image comes to him so clearly - the Star Destroyer set against the starry black of space, the other TIEs lining up behind him, the glow of the ship’s exhaust ports. The hangar bay doors stand open for their arrival, but he doesn’t slow down.

None of them do. He squeezes the trigger and ion blasts light up the hangar bay. The fire’s heat scorches his skin as he flies forward, ever onward and continues the attack. His shots land true - so, do Charles’ - and the reactor ignites in spectacular fashion. The conflagration blinds him and skin vaporizes off his bones as the ship disintegrates around him.

His knees buckle as the connection burns out, and Max collapses to the grass. His head throbs and his muscles tremble from overuse. He heaves for breath as he comes back to himself inside his own body once again.

Charles’ warmth wraps around him, supporting him, and Max slumps to his embrace.

“Easy, easy…” Charles soothes, brushing a kiss to his sweat-soaked brow. “I have never seen anyone do something like that… you - you’re incredible, mon cher.” His hold on Max tightens and it’s all Max can do to cling to him.

“We… we did it together.” Max’s voice comes strained and exhausted. “Without you, I never would have known it was possible.” He basks in Charles’ close presence, in the strength and love that radiates from the leaner man. It speaks to every emotion overflowing in Max’s chest.

“Well, we’re certainly in it together now.” Charles says softly with a sigh. “The Empire won’t let that attack stand unanswered for long.”

“No, they won’t.” Max agrees. “We’ll need to leave - but I think you already knew that when you first stepped out with your lightsaber. Fuck, Charles… I’ve never seen anyone be so reckless, yet so sure of what they were doing.”

Charles hums gently, brushing another kiss to Max’s brow as he cradles him close. “Trust in the Force, and you’ll never need to doubt.”

“With you at my side,” Max corrects, “I’ll never need to doubt.”

“Same for me, too, mon cher.”

The pet name warms Max’s heart even though he has no idea what it means. He makes a mental note to ask sometime, but right now, they need to get moving. Tilting his head up, he meets’ Charles’ lovely eyes. “We need to move. The Empire could already have ground support converging towards us.”

“I don’t disagree with you, but you should really recover your strength first.”

The concern in Charles’ voice tugs a smirk to Max’s lips. “I’m alright, Charles - you… you were the one I thought I’d lost.”

Charles shakes his head slowly. “It will take more than that for you to lose me.”

Max clings tighter to him in a moment of vulnerable desperation and draws a deep breath. Whatever he has to do to hold Charles this close for the rest of his days, he will. Nothing else in the galaxy matters. “Come on.” He forces himself to say, working his exhausted muscles back into action. He draws back from Charles’ embrace, glancing around at the scorched earth, at the roiling sea beyond, and the humble dwelling that has sheltered him these past weeks. “I’m almost sad to leave this place… but maybe we'll be able to return one day.”

“One day…” Charles says wistfully. “Hopefully when the galaxy is free… when we are free.”

Max shakes his head gently. “One step at a time, mijn snoepje.” He doesn’t know where the words in his native tongue come from, but he can’t think of anything else to call Charles as he pushes unsteadily to his feet.

Charles moves with him and together they stand, exhausted and satisfied and unified. Charles’ face brightens with a fond smile. “The first of many, I hope.”

Max’s hand finds Charles’, squeezing it tight as Charles’ words resound in his mind and his heart. “Together," he says. "We go together.”

Fin

#f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x max verstappen #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #lestappen #star wars au #jedi #tie fighter #f1 fandom

11 notes · View notes

negative-speedforce · 1 month

Note

1, 3, 4, 11, 13, 15, 26, and 30 for Onnie and Laila please?

YESSSS I FREAKING LOVE GETTING ASKS FOR LAILA SHE IS MY BLORBO-

1. Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

Onnie hasn't had any stuffed animals in years. Eobard made her get rid of them all as soon as she was like, 12, because he thought they were developmentally inappropriate for her age. She had a frog named Tedward (some weird amalgamation of Ted and Edward) and that was her favorite as a kid.

I... don't think Laila is even aware of what a stuffed animal is, considering that she was raised from infancy to be the Empire's weapon. Athena's probably not much help with that one, since she grew up on the streets and having toys falls to the wayside when compared to things like food and shelter.

3. Ask them to describe their love interest.

"Pippa is... an idiot. I can't stand her, she drives me insane, but I can't help but be strangely drawn to her. She's obnoxious, and I really wish she'd back off, but something about her is just so endearing. Maybe it's that she manages to bring back to life the part of me I thought died a long time ago. Or maybe she's just kinda hot."

"Athena's ruthless, reckless, and I never lose the feeling that she's going to backstab me. But she's the only person who's ever given more than two shits about me in my life, so hey, what the heck? Not like I have much else to lose anyway. I'm pretty sure I care a lot more about her than she does about me, but even if this is a short ride, it's a good ride, and I'm not getting off."

4. Do they look good in red?

Onnie looks fantastic in red, so long as the shade's not too orangey. Shades closer to orange (and orange itself) tend to bring out the olive undertones in their skin in a bad way, making them look kinda yellow and sickly.

Laila doesn't look good in most shades of red, except the darker ones, like burgundy and maroon. Bright colors tend to clash with her already near-translucent pale skin, making her look even more pale than she already is.

11. They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?

Onnie: Save it all. She's already rich, there's not much else she wants or needs.

Laila: Spend some, save some. Her and Athena aren't exactly poor, but there are some things they'd like that are a little out of budget.

13. Name one thing their parents taught them.

Onnie learned how to be a killer from Eobard. He taught her everything- where the best places to stab someone are, how to rip out someone's heart with your bare hands, how to snap people's necks. Insert Onnie having the sudden "Holy shit I had a bad childhood" realization here.

Laila doesn't have parents. Being a clone, I guess you could technically say that either the parents of her donor are her parents, who she's never met, or the woman who raised her, but anyone calling Nyx a mother would be absolutely insane to say that, since the relationship that Laila (and Pyrrha, later on) had with her was one-sided, conditional, and both emotionally and physically abusive.

15. What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

Onnie considers friendships and other relationships a waste of time. Since they (in very rapid succession) lost their girlfriend, accidentally killed their best friend, and then Jessi faked her own death (which was believed to have been a suicide), Onnie is kinda afraid to open up, but through a lot of mental gymnastics, she thinks it's because she's better than everyone rather than just plain trauma.

Laila considers training non-Force Sensitives in the Jedi arts to be a complete waste of time. Athena's asked her multiple times to try teaching her to do some of the things that Laila can do, like the gymnastics and meditation and stuff, but the most Laila will show her is how to use a lightsaber- weapons are pretty universal, after all.

26. Talent or effort?

Onnie: Talent

Laila: Effort

30. What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?

Onnie would probably cry. They've been repressing a lot of emotions for a very long time, and any show of weakness could get her in trouble with Eobard, so if she knew it would be excused, I think Onnie would finally let go and feel those emotions.

Laila would tell Athena that she loves her. She'd never say it to Athena's face, especially since Athena kinda scares her and let's be real, she's not even sure if Athena even is capable of caring about a person other than herself. However, if she knew that it wouldn't ruin their relationship completely, Laila would tell Athena how she felt.

#ask revan #oc shit #practically-an-x-man #laila salibun #onnie thawne

5 notes · View notes