replicator head


Prompt: Omg, cuddling With Spock and him telling you that you’re really soft and easy to hold? Please? Preferably TOS? ^////^ For: Anon

Warning: nah

Pairing: Spock/reader

A/N: So I do kinda have different writing for TOS vs AOS, but I also combine traits to make one ultimate character. But Spock is such a constant I have trouble differentiating. So To make it TOS, I used a TOS gif…

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So I’ve been obsessing over Octane a lot lately, but then I remembered I have other lovely object heads that really need to be updated themselves. Mainly this guy OVNI

I just want to make absolutely clear with everyone, his original design was just a place holder until I could figure out what I really wanted him to look like, it was never intended to be his final design. In fact I never even liked his old design to begin with, it just seemed too…human? OVNI is freaking alien duh!
That being said though, I may have screwed myself over, he’s not easy to draw anymore, but whatever, I love him anyway and it’s just a matter of getting the hang of drawing him!

Anyway, I will be making him a character sheet for him just like I did for Octane for now this is his updated design.

I saw an anti post today that essentially said “That 13 Reasons Why copycat suicide means that fiction affects reality [so abusive ships cause rape and abuse].”

Someone who styles their suicide after a TV show was already suicidal before they watched it, or has been in the past and ignored that it might trigger them. The “push” from fictional content is only enough if they’re in crisis. If they hadn’t been already suicidal, the worst that could have happened would be them getting an inaccurate idea about what causes suicide—and only if they weren’t previously informed on the topic. The miscommunication could easily be corrected by a few internet articles.

99.99% of people who read a fictional depiction of rape, even an inaccurate, victim-blaming one, are not already planning to rape someone. The vast majority of people who read a fictional depiction of abuse, even an inaccurate, victim-blaming one, are not already planning to abuse someone. They’re not in any sort of crisis. It’s not going to vastly increase their risk of doing so.

There are dozens, if not hundreds of accurate resources out there, and Google exists; it is not the personal responsibility of every single author to replicate them. A quick “heads up this work contains X"—which, by the way, serves to label the X for what it is and all the negative associations that come with it and forces the reader to realize that what is depicted is indeed X (remember that survey where people were more likely to self report having committed sexual assault if the words rape or sexual assault weren’t used)—is the only responsibility the author has. It is the responsibility of the reader or viewer to take it from there.

splitscreen  asked:

okay so i know the game is supposed to be lines of fic for a prompt but instead i'm gonna use emojis: 👓🤓👪

“Come on, baby, we gotta go,” Sara instructs her son, her hand coming to run through his brown, auburn locks.

He sits mesmerized on the couch, his video game discarded next to him in favor of the baseball game playing on TV, his dad lounging beside him.

She’s met with silence, the lack of response not even irritating her as she watches them both, sitting in the exact same position, unconsciously mimicking each other, both of them squinting at the tv with such concentration.

This was the kind of image she’d never let herself think about. The what-if moments, casual days spent doing nothing but spending time together. A reality that up until recently had been nothing more than a fantasy she’d cooked up in her head, teasing, haunting, until she pushed it down, buried it deep, knowing that it was an impossibility.

Until now.

She dips down, her head hovering in the space between her two Michaels. 

“As much as I hate to break this up, we gotta go,” she says again, placing a soft kiss on her son’s cheek.

“No,“ he utters, her usually well behaved boy obstinately refusing to go. “I don’t need glasses,” he assures her.  “I’m fine,” he huffs out, not unlike his dad who will never admit when a problem arises with him, instead insisting he’s fine until he is physically incapable of functioning, and then still stubbornly convinced he could continue.

“Don’t you want to be able to see the ball when you play?“ She jokes, but the stubborn look on his face tells her it didn’t go over well. His quiet stare telling her he’s dug in with his stance, and not willing to budge.

“I’ll take him,” Michael offers, his whispery voice floating through the air to meet a smile on Mike’s face.

“Really?“ The boy asks excitedly, everything exponentially more exciting when his dad did anything with him. The newness of their situation having not lost its shine yet, and the prospect of an outing with Dad warranting a bright smile, and a look of affection towards him.

“Okay, well…” Sara rattles off directions, a slight tinge of nerves coloring her voice, but the same affection hinted in her smile, liking the idea that shared responsibility was a thing she could have now, only paired with the constant fear that she hoped would eventually ebb its way out of her system as time passed and they settled into a routine, one in which they were safe.

Mike grabs a baseball cap to throw on, never leaving without one since finding out what a big fan his dad was of the Cubs, and adopting it into his DNA as well.

“Bye, be safe,” Sara says to them, her hand coming to her lips, as they move to leave the house. Michael turning at the door with a soft smile, his blue eyes glistening, assuring her they’d be fine, before closing the door behind him.

She wanders the house, the silence an unaccustomed lack of sound stilling her in her thoughts, before finding herself at the dining room table, a stack of pictures she’d had printed recently.

Settling in the chair, she pushes her long hair out of her eyes, before her long fingers skim the shiny images staring up at her.  She’d planned to have them framed and hung throughout the house soon, having momentarily abandoned the project in blissful contentment of every day life sneaking up on her.

They’d had a sort of backyard gathering the other week, all their friends in one place, including Michael, for the first time in forever, smiles contagiously passing between them all.  He’d been dressed smartly, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, beer in hand.  Her eyes had tracked him the whole night, not wanting him out of her sight.  The one moment she’d taken a seat, crossing her legs in her long skirt, her arms dangling over her knees, glancing over at her son tossing the ball around with Lincoln, Michael had taken the opportunity to perch on the arm of her chair, wrapping his arm around her.  She’d leaned in without thinking, placing her head squarely on his chest, her eyes closing, a feeling of security washing over her.

The feel of him against her was one that she could never seem to replicate, even in her head.  The cadence of his voice, the soft whisper it created, the exact shade of blue that seemed to border on green in the right light, the slight stubble he let grow out when his mind was preoccupied, the freckle on his temple that her thumb always seemed to find when her hand came to his face.  The soft tickling of his short hair underneath the palm of her hand with a gentle sweeping motion before placing her lips upon him.  

But more than the physical feeling of him, the emotional one he seemed to wrap her up in was one that she dared to hope would remain permanent.  The wound of the past seven years a gaping hole that only seemed to heal with every morning she woke to find his penetrating gaze staring at her, as if remembering an old puzzle he once knew how to put together so easily, but was now challenged to remember the pieces as they were and memorize the new way in which they fit, no better, no worse, just different.

It’s there, at the table, staring at the pictures her friends had taken of them that day, wrapped up in each other, like the rest of the world had dissipated around them, that the footsteps of her boys echo through until they’re standing in front of her.

She can’t help the laugh at the pair of them, both with glasses adorning their faces, cute smiles peeking out.

“Well don’t you two look handsome,” she says, taking Mike’s face in her hands and examining him closely.

“Dad needed a pair too,” he states, her big brown eyes staring back at a matching set.

“He did, did he?”

Michael shrugs behind him, adjusting the frames with his fingers in a gesture that has Sara biting her lip.

“Turns out I squint for a reason,” he says with a raise of his eyebrow.

Sara laughs, standing from her seat, her hand resting on her son’s head.

“Is that so?” She teases.  “Why don’t you go wash up, and we’ll start dinner, hmm?” She directs towards Mike, who nods.  Sara turns around to straighten the photos, only to see an M&M being passed between Michael to Mike in a sly move, before he trudges off to his room, a conspiratorial smile passing between father and son.

“I don’t need glasses to see that,” she warns, a grin appearing on her face as she turns back, walking up to him, her hands coming to rest on his stomach.

“You sure?” His whispery voice rising at the end, signifying he was joking.  “We could all match,” he says, bringing his fingers to brush the hair out of her face.

“Don’t tempt me, Scofield,” she warns, dipping her head, staring at her hands playing the fabric of his shirt.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he pauses, his thumb stroking her cheek, “Scofield.”

She knows he can feel her smile against his hand, as he bends to bring his forehead against her own.

They stand there for a moment, just breathing each other in, their hands refusing to move even as Mike comes bounding down the stairs.

“So what’s for dinner?” He asks them, completely unbothered by them as they glance down at him.

“Not M&M’s,” Sara says, a squinted look of her own, turning to eye Michael, before letting go, and turning to the kitchen.

“Shhh,” Michael whispers at his son, his finger coming vertically to his lips, before sneaking another one to him, and popping one into his own mouth, walking behind Sara.

“Let’s have tacos!” Mike declares, munching on his candy.

Sara laughs at the counter.

“Like father, like son,” she says with a roll of her eyes.  The past colliding with her future, staring back at her with matching glasses, her M&M.

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my ask box and I will write the next five sentences.

Purrfect Pals

Imagine a pocket-sized you rubbing gel in between your hands as you rest on top of Hoseok’s head. He places the gel container he was once holding up to your figure back onto the table and watches you work your magic through the mirror. Pushing yourself up, you tug at the strands of hair on one side of Hoseok’s head, forming a pointed mountain with the gel. Prodding your way to the other side of his head, you replicate the masterpiece that Hoseok created on your own head previously. As you finish, Hoseok takes a good look at his new hairdo and can’t help but let out a “meow,” deciding to adopt a new persona with fit his new look. You giggle a bit and pretend to lick your “paw,” not forgetting to purr as you snuggle into the fluff resting on Hoseok’s crown.

anonymous asked:

Do you have any tips for someone wanting to break away from an "anime-ish" art style?

I spent some time earlier being a grumpy fuss to some friends about art progression, tracing, and anime. I think it’s helpful to know why we do certain things when we learn to draw, and why drawing anime to start will be a thorn in your side for years to come. 

So the basis is that art is symbols. We draw a table with four legs you can see, and the top of the table at the same time as wee children because we’re explaining that this table does indeed have four legs, and even a top to it. We show all parts of the object when we start so we can convey to others that this is indeed a table. You draw a circle with a leaf coming out the top for an apple or orange, you draw a stick figure to represent yourself, etc. Symbols. We’re conveying a message.

When you do a still life, you are forcing yourself to draw the object as it is. If you have a shoe to draw, and you draw a very cartoony shoe, I mean, there’s going to be obvious differences. Doing simple objects like that circle-shading etc test we all start out with helps us to understand how light and shadows affect a simple shape. That’s something we can apply to a number of things- a head, an eye, a cheek, etc. It’s the crappy part of starting out that everyone hates. 

Did I become an artist to draw shoes? I sure as hell didn’t. You wanna draw crazy cool shit, you want to draw stuff that interests you. We hate going down this lame ass road of drawing what we see, because it’s boring and it sucks. Enter WONDERFUL SHORTCUTS. 

We start drawing anime (myself included, just watch Fridgeart) because it’s a quick, easy way for us to learn some simple shapes and repetition and get an image that looks …sorta like we want it to. We tend to start out with replicating poses, tracing heads from manga, re-drawing a scene, etc. Screw learning how to draw circles! I’ve got ANIME, pal! 

 This is a comfortable cul-de-sac to squat in. Draw the same triangle chins, draw the same dagger hair, maybe throw in some animal ears if you’re feeling adventurous, but you’ll reach a point that without learning basics, without learning to construct new heads and turn things in a 3D space on your own, you can’t go much farther. I’ve seen more people than I can count that hit this point and stop drawing altogether, because stagnation bites.

So the answer is unfortunately to start working from basics again, even if you feel you’re above it/ you’ve progressed farther than that. Attend some life drawing studies, draw things you see, draw objects around you, and I promise that when things click into place, you can go back to drawing anime better than ever before.  I promise I’m trying to help, harsh as it might sound. 

One of three papier-mache heads used in the infamous 1962 Alcatraz prison escape. Frank Morris and brothers Clarence and John Anglin used sacks of clothes and these creepy heads to replicate their sleeping bodies in bed. They then crawled through a vent and escaped the prison on a make-shift raft. The guards didn’t suspect a thing when they were performing their nightly checks, and the gang got away successfully.

im sitting in a death row cell with two toilet paper rolls glued to my head to replicate horns and the word “HOMESTUCK” carved into my bare chest using a nail filer.

the guards are afraid of me. the inmates are afraid of me. this is the way of the world.

Head of Achilles

Copy after Skopas (Greek, active about 370 - 330 B.C.), 20th century, Doliana marble.

When this head, broken from a larger sculpture, appeared on the market in the late 1970s, scholars thought it was an original work by Skopas, the great Greek sculptor of the 300s B.C. Although he was one of the most famous sculptors in antiquity, the only sculpture securely attributed to him was the fragmentary sculptural decoration of the Temple of Athena at Tegea in southern Greece, now in the National Museum in Athens. Scholars believed this newly discovered head probably came from the same temple and represented the hero Achilles.

Yet, from the moment of its appearance, there were doubts about the head’s authenticity. While the sculpture fragments from the temple were worn and battered, the Getty Museum’s head was remarkably well preserved. The Museum’s head also closely resembled a head in Athens from the temple. Ancient sculptors often carved replicas of other sculptures, but when the two heads were measured, the Museum’s head and the head in Athens were shown to have exactly the same dimensions, a degree of exactitude not expected from an ancient sculptor. Moreover, the forger was fooled by restorations on the Athens head. Although, the Museum’s head precisely replicates the helmet worn by the Athens head, part of the helmet on the Athens head is itself a modern restoration.

Source: The Paul J. Getty Museum

strange-lace  asked:

Just kind of curious, what do you guys think about an AU where some (or maybe all) akuma victims have retained their powers to some degree even after being purified? Am I the only one who thinks an AU like that would be pretty awesome? By the way, I really love this blog and all the stuff you guys post. Keep up the good work!~

Aw, that’s so sweet of you to say! At the moment, it’s only me who’s running this blog. And yes. Totally. I saw a post like this a while ago (I can’t find it) and it was really cute and I really want to do my own take on it and stuff.

Honestly, I think that how much power remains in them is relative to how long they were akumatized. Stormy Weather wasn’t akumatized that long - maybe fifteen-twenty minutes, whereas Robocop and the Evillustrator were akumatized for several hours.

Okay I’m only going to do a few, if that’s oka.y

  • Stormy Weather - She is more in tune with the weather. She can tell when the weather is about to change and can accurately predict what is coming. She feels more at home in the cold.
  • Copycat - Imitating people is easy for him. He can do voices and expressions so well that it’s actually kind of scary.
  • Time Breaker - after being akumatized, Alix’s already astounding reflexes got even better. Time seems to slow down around her when she wants it to, and the seconds tick by even more slowly for her than for the average person. You know how they say that time flies when you’re having fun? That doesn’t really apply to Alix anymore. She can savor every moment that she chooses, and she can let time speed right by her if she wants it to.
  • Mr. Pigeon - Xavier Ramier was able to communicate with his pigeons pretty well before, but now he can practically tell what they are thinking. He can understand his pigeon pals perfectly.
  • Pharaoh - Nothing really changed for him. He was already immersed in the history of Egypt, so when he started to understand hieroglyphs as well as he could read French, he honestly didn’t notice until he happened to look at an “untranslatable scroll” and told his father what it said.
  • Robocop - He becomes, I don’t know, more commanding I guess. People end up doing what he tells them to do, regardless of whether they want to or not. Generally they want to, because he radiates a type of energy that just makes people want to listen to him. But he never takes advantage of that.
  • Evillustrator - He gets a better understanding of how 3D models work. His drawing skills rapidly improve and it’s easier for him to visualize images in his head and replicate them on paper