slick surfaces

10

One(?) gifset per episode || 21 Trial of the Take: Part 4

(…) the rakshasa fled through a tunnel underneath its room into a long subterranean tunnel fraught with traps that were set to protect it. The party managed to avoid these rather deftly until the steady decline of the hallway, combined with the increasing moisture and scent of refuse, caused a slick surface and our fantastic cleric, (…) Kashaw, slipped and fell down. Two party members (…) joined him at the bottom of the tunnel (…). Upon splashing down (…) the party pulled themselves up [and] began to hear skittering and screeching sounds throughout the room, hundreds of small ones, while two large thorny tentacles jettisoned out of this dung heap and pulled itself to the surface with its central body full of teeth, one giant toothy maw.

Inspiring Confidence (Part II)

Peter Parker x Reader

This hilarity was originally posted by @tomhstories so go like/reblog this from them, please.


So I wrote something for this, because as soon as I saw these all I could think of was Peter, and how he would totally do something like this, but immediately regret it and panic.

I suggest you read Part I first, this will be much funnier if you do.

Summary: “Did you – did you actually just send me nudes?” Looking at yourself in the mirror as you spoke, at the white of your teeth as lips stretched tight across them and eyes crinkled as you smiled…’

Words: 1.2k
Warnings:
Awkward adorable Peter thinking he has text game, but is really just a dork. Mentions of nudity/intimacy.

(I really cannot believe that I wrote this. I’m so sorry.)


A contented sigh pushed past moistened lips as hot water pounded away at tense shoulders, muscle fibers tangled with all of the hours spent finishing up that paper you’d ended up putting off until late the next evening; laptop and scholarly words pushed aside for toffee curls, fluttering eyelashes, and words that were much more recreational.

There had been more giggling and clanging teeth than there normally was; lips too busy stretched across each other in smiles to even bother avoiding clumsiness.

A rosy blush had stained his face, his sculpted cheeks and sandy freckles a soft, flowery purple in the hazy blue lighting for most of the night. Petal pink color following the two of you back to your room as you’d quickly forgotten about black, white, blue, and jazz and moved on to mixing your colors and making music of your own kind.

He’d left in the early hours of the morning, a colored shadow escaping out of the window and into the purpling sky. You hadn’t heard from him since; it wasn’t often that Spider-Man truly got a night off.

Through the harsh pattering sound of droplets hitting the plastic of the shower curtain, you heard the tell-tale ping of your phone, accompanying vibration rattling against the marbled surface of the sink. The fact that it was 3 A.M. on a Sunday leaving you with no doubt: it was Peter.

But then it was almost always Peter.

Rinsing the last of the conditioner from your hair, humid air full of flowers and rain, you cut the water off and grabbed for your towel just in time for Peter’s ringtone to echo off the tiles in the steamed bathroom; drying off pruned hands and wrapping fluffed fabric around yourself before grabbing at the phone that was bouncing across the slicked surface of the counter; a lazy smile on your face.

“Peter, Isn’t it a little lat-” in a repeat of the night before, his nervous voice was cutting you off, vibrating, not unlike the way your phone had been seconds earlier.

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would mind and that was a terrible idea,” chuckles uneasy, deep and bubbling past lips, “and, um, I - I’m not really sure exactly what I was thinking or – actually, again, I do, that’s a lie – ohmygod, um – I was impatient and now I just feel like it was gross, and - ”

“Peter?” You interrupted, deciding on words rather than the laughter that was begging to release as you connected the dots.

“Hmm?” Squeak of a sound from a tight, nervous throat.

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satisfied (m.) | jungkook

jeon jungkook + incubus au

genre: smut | kidnapping | oral sex | bondage | blindfolded | filth basically

word count: 2.6k


When you wake, it’s because your arm twists in an unnatural fashion and you have to maneuver it around as far as your bound wrist will allow you to. It’s dark in this room that you do not recognize, the only light source the pale moonlight that peeks from between thin curtains.

In the corner of the room, displayed on a lone chair, you see your dress neatly folded with your cell phone sitting on top of it and your heels leaning against one of the wooden legs. It was obvious that someone had undressed you, panic setting in as you quickly rub your legs together, the material of your panties moving between them reassuring you.

You’re freezing, and, when you look down, you understand why. You’re dressed in nothing but a large black T-shirt. In big white block letters you read- BONJOUR BITCHES -and fight off a round of hysterical laughter. Not because the shirt is funny. The shirt is fucking stupid and isn’t yours. You just don’t know how to process your situation. You glance over at a digital clock on the bedside table to see that it’s two am and presumably the same night that you remember going out for drinks with some girls from your school.

The taste of old alcohol is still on your tongue and when you swallow your throat is scratchy and dry. Your memories are fuzzy, images of sweaty bodies pressing against each other and your friends encouraging you to talk to any man you showed the slightest interest in appearing in your mind. If you didn’t know any better, you would say this was a prank done by the idiotic college girls you decide to hang out with, but with the way your wrist and ankles are tied expertly to the bed and the slight rawness on your skin that suggests you’ve been tied up for a great amount of time - the chances are low. You tug on what you think are ribbons, wince when the material digs into your skin yet again. No matter how hard you tuck your knees in and pull you are moved back into place each time, legs wide and spread out.

The realization that you aren’t strong enough to break free brings tears to your eyes. No matter how much you struggle it only brings on more pain, and who knew when your captor would back? You blink away the tears and sigh, trying to catch your bearings. If you could just remember how you had gotten there and who had taken you, then maybe you could calm down. Think, you say to yourself, memories of drunken coin fumbling and laughter repeating themselves over and over again until your head starts to pound.

You were alone at one point, overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol and hormones on the crowded dance floor. You were sitting at the bar, manicured nails tapping against the slick cold surface that felt like glass but not quite. A man sat next to you (some would consider him more of a boy, but the small smirk on his lips told you otherwise.) He was tall and unmistakenly handsome with large glossy eyes that were barely covered by the fringe of his dark hair.

Your interaction wasn’t brief, and at one point your “friends” came over to drag you away but you were too immersed in the conversation to notice and they were too inebriated to care. The man bought you drinks and your false sense of security prompted you to take them all down without question. “Have you ever been touched by a man before?” He asked suddenly, alcohol catching in your throat as you tried your best to swallow it the rest of the way down despite your body’s protest.

“Yes,” you reply with slight nervousness. The man smiles, and in this memory, you’re almost certain he told you his name but it’s gone now, in the back of your mind tucked into one of the spaces that were too full of names and faces.

“A woman perhaps?” His smile got even bigger when your eyes widened and you shook your head no.

“Only one person and it wasn’t very good… I haven’t been with anyone since. That’s why my friends tried to get me to talk to so many people tonight.” It wasn’t a lie, unfortunately. When you slept with Chanyeol he had been so nervous that you ended up guiding him the entire time with shaky hands and awkward touches.

The man considered this and leaned in a bit closer to you. His cologne was strong but not overwhelming, something soft and alluring that made you lean in so close that when his hand pressed against the bare skin of your knee, you jumped. His lips brushed against your cheek. “How about,” he murmured as he moved over to your ear and pressed soft kisses against it that make you shiver, “I show you how a real man takes care of a woman?” You suck in a breath, the liquid courage and obvious attraction between the two of you enough to cloud your judgment.

The last thing you remember is his soft touch and oh so intoxicating smell as you whisper a soft, “yes, please.” And everything afterward fades into a blur.

A hand gently touches your cheek and your eyes shoot open to see the man from your memory sitting next to you on the bed. For some reason, you aren’t scared anymore and your body instantly relaxes under the warmth of his touch. His eyes aren’t the same glossy brown color that you remember and are now completely black with markings covering his neck in intricate sharp lines. When he smiles at you you can see fangs peeking out where his previous bunny teeth had been and you almost ask him if they’re fake when his tongue gently runs over the points and they don’t move out of place.

“Did you rest well, (y/n),” the man asks, his hand still caressing your cheek. You don’t understand why you’re so calm, why you aren’t kicking and screaming for him to get away from you and why you find yourself leaning into his touch.

You don’t speak and simply give him a look of confusion, one that he lets out an almost maniacal laugh at. He seems to be enjoying your distress and you wonder where the man that you had met at the bar had gone, or if he had truly existed at all.

“I see you aren’t in the speaking mood so I’ll just get to the point. These restraints are just a precaution in case you decide to run away. I did say I would make you feel good and I intend on keeping that promise. Now, relax and don’t do anything rash, okay, sweetheart?”

You nod automatically and without thinking your legs begin to spread themselves even wider than they already were. You decide to stop questioning why you’re letting him touch you, why you’re about to let him do whatever he wanted to you. It felt right, so maybe that meant that it was.

Jungkook - yes that was his name, you remembered now - hadn’t hurt you from what you could see. Your friends told you to be more adventurous and something about the man who was now situated between your legs, hands gently running up your thighs, made your heart pump faster than any adrenaline rush could.

You watch as Jungkook continues to run his hands over your skin until he gets to the hem of the large shirt and gently tugs it over your head, stopping when the black material covers your face in a makeshift blindfold. You almost say something in protest but he leans in and kisses your lips, tongue slipping in your mouth and caressing against your own until you feel dizzy. He trails down from your mouth, a small trail of saliva between the two of you breaking when he presses open mouthed kisses against your jawline and down to your neck. When his clothed chest presses against yours you realize that you aren’t wearing a bra and whine as the material rubs against your sensitive nipples.

Jungkook hums and bites down roughly against your neck, a gasp coming from your throat in surprise. You can’t see him and every one of your senses is heightened, a bit of fear mixed with lust causing your panties to become wetter by the second. You wanted him, no you needed him to fuck you, but Jungkook was taking his time in leaving as many marks on your body as possible. He fondles your breast now, a whimper leaving your lips as his tongue unexpectedly runs over your sensitive bud. He takes it into his mouth, biting down and sucking it while his other hand pinches the second with his thumb and index finger. He trails his lips over your chest to your second nipple and gave it an equal amount of attention, your whimpers slowly turning into pants as he continues to bite and lick and tease. When he’s done making you squirm, Jungkook pulls away and you feel his fingertips lightly trail down your sternum to your torso. When he gets to your panties you let out a squeal of surprise, his face suddenly burying deep in your clothed heat and taking in a deep breath of your arousal.

“You smell so good, darling,” he cooed, “And your little cunt is trembling… Do you want me to eat your pussy?” You nod and his hand comes down sharply against your thigh, making you jump against the bed sheets. “I would appreciate an answer, sweetheart. I want you to beg for me. Say ‘Please, sir, eat my pussy. Taste my trembling little cunt.’”

You blush and bite down on your lip, you’ve never had someone speak to you this way before and couldn’t imagine the words coming out of your own mouth, but you were so needy that you would do almost anything to have his tongue inside you. “P-Please, sir, eat my pussy, Taste my trembling little c-cunt.”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Good girl.”

Your panties are discarded and you have no idea where he has them, but when he puts his mouth on your clit you quickly forget about it, a moan leaving you as you feel your body sink into the bed. Jungkook has his hands on your thighs, slowly dragging his tongue up your slit in a way that makes you jerk upward into his face before he pins you down again. You hear your wetness as he slowly lets his tongue enter you, a chuckle leaving his mouth when you tug on the restraints in an attempt to grab hold of his hair. The pain around your wrists is barely noticeable now as you whimper and struggle against the ribbons. You wanted to touch him, to run your hands over his chest and let your tongue trace the dark markings on his neck. “Sir, please,” you moan as his fingers start to stimulate your clit, his mouth forming into a smile against your pussy, “please fuck me.”

Jungkook hums, the vibration causing shivers to dart up your spine. “I suppose you deserve it… But first, open your mouth for me, darling.” He presses a final kiss against you and you hear him sit up against the bed, still situated between your thighs. You hear a belt buckle being undone and the sound of him tugging off his clothing. You’re nervous, but your desire is too high for such timidity.

Your mouth opens and you feel Jungkook’s fingers run over your lips, wet and plump. He leans down and you return his kiss, moaning when you feel his erection run over your folds. Suddenly, he pulls away, and you feel cold again as the bed creaks. Right when you try to protest, a complaint on the tip of your tongue, your mouth is filled with his cock and you have to refrain from gagging.

His hands grasp onto the sides of your head and position it at a more comfortable angle before his starts to thrust into your mouth, his groans filling the room as your whimpers drown in your mouth. He doesn’t go easy on you, his fingers digging into your hair as he goes deeper and deeper into your throat. You take it all, ignoring the pain as your saliva dribbles out the sides of your mouth and tears start to fall down your cheeks. Jungkook holds you against his pelvis, your nose pressing into his small amount of pubic hair before you gag and his releases you. You pull away with a gasp, breathing heavily as his hand caresses your hair. “You’ve been such a good girl for me, {y/n},” he cooed, watching as you still try to catch your breath. Jungkook’s fingers gently rub your lips and you let out a whimper as you hear him suck on the two digits. “Look how wet sucking my cock made you, darling. I think you’re ready for me to be inside you.”

“Yes,” you gasp in desperation, “I want it so bad. I need you to fuck me, please. Please, I promise I’ll be good, I’ll be good for you.”

Your companion doesn’t respond for a moment and you think it’s because he just wants to torture you, but your thoughts quickly dissipate when you feel the tip of him run over your folds again before he thrusts inside of you and your head throws back as you let out a scream. He was so big, and you hadn’t been with anyone in so long that his girth is practically suffocated by your walls. Jungkook lets out a moan, his hands gripping your hips before he pulls out of you and slams into your cunt again and again, the headboard banging against the wall with every thrust. You suspected that Jungkook wasn’t human, that his stamina and frightening strength were unnatural for a human man, but no human man had ever made you feel the way he was now, so you welcomed him with open arms and legs and mouth.

His thrusts are powerful and merciless and you can feel his hands leaving bruises on your skin. You cry out at the welcomed pain and your wrists are sore from how long you’ve been tugging at them. It doesn’t take you long to feel the pressure begin to build and you’re squirming makes Jungkook grunt and grab onto your knees before he pushes them upward against your chest as far as he could with you being restrained.

Scooting in closer to you, he leans his weight against your legs and pounds into your entrance, both of your wetness mixing together in a lewd song. At this angle, he’s impossibly deep and with another cry, you cum against him, hard and without warning. Jungkook lets you ride out orgasm before he uses your fucked out body to get his release. When he pulls out of you, your legs fall back down roughly against the bed and he cums onto your breast and stomach, the liquid warming up your already heated skin.

You’re shaking so badly that you don’t realize that Jungkook is untying your ankles and wrist - pulling the t-shirt over your head as your spent body completely collapses against the bed. With a final kiss to your sweaty temple, Jungkook murmurs something illegible into your ear and you black out.

When you open your eyes again, you’re in your apartment bathed and dressed in a warm set of pajamas. The only proof of the night happening being your bruised body and the ache between your legs. On your nightstand, you see a note and you blush as you read the cursive writing.

Satisfied? - jk

Want it? | Draco Malfoy x Trans!Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, Dom!Draco, Masturbation, Choking, NSFW gifs

Words: 1954


(Y/N) POV:

To say I was a hot topic around Hogwarts was quite the understatement. Ever since my second year when word got around that the guy from the muggle family actually had a vagina! Apparently the pure-bloods had never had any experience with such a thing. Most called it muggle magic and they all practically tripped over themselves to ask me questions. Eventually they died down as all things do, until I returned my fifth year having gone through top surgery. That brought on its own wave of questions.

Draco Malfoy was no different. At first, when he discovered my identity he called it ‘revolting’ and 'unnatural.’ Although, he too came around in our fifth year and we dove into a friendship neither of us expected. Nothing had prepared me for him as the same could be said from him about me. Being hormonal teenagers, there was always a tension between us. It wasn’t until the middle of our sixth year that he relieve it.

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Save Me A Dance

SAVE ME A DANCE — in which ( Y/N ) has had a crush on peter parker since freshman year, though he’s never seemed to notice having been too preoccupied with her best friend liz allan. with homecoming around the corner ( Y/N ) is determined to make her feelings known, even though telling peter the truth may just result in absolute heartbreak

WARNINGS — none !!

WORD COUNT — 2.8k

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this is my first peter parker imagine, and i’m really excited to post it but also super nervous ? this is also my first time posting any writing for a year now so truthfully i’m super surprised that this imagine is actually going to see the light of day. but anyways, with that being said i hope you guys enjoy it and requests are officially opened again so please feel free to send me some !!

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Blind Side - Chapter 3

Intro | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

You stood alone in your closet, wearing nothing but a silk dressing robe, surrounded by outfits and accessories for every occasion. Flowing gowns, skin-tight workout gear, mix-and-match business attire, and a ski suit you wore for all of five minutes – you’d honestly rather freeze than look like a walking marshmallow. You never thought this day would come, but here you are. Hundreds of options, and nothing to wear.

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anonymous asked:

What do you think are the most important women architect in the history of architecture, and your fav?

OK, here is MY list. Everyone is free to agree or disagree or to comment on who was left out but I limited the list to 10 spots and focused on the last century.

You are invited to post about any of those that were not included and tag me, if I agree with your suggestion I will add a list of runner ups and link it to your post.

Lina Bo Bardi

Lina Bo Bardi, was an Italian-born Brazilian modernist architect. A prolific architect and designer, Lina Bo Bardi devoted her working life, most of it spent in Brazil, to promoting the social and cultural potential of architecture and design. Source Image

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Save Me [Part 1]

Originally posted by jengkook

hi! can i please request a kind of angsty vampire!au scenario with jungkook where he’s a vampire who has an interest in you and you have feelings for him, but he sleeps around with other human girls as well and when you start to get tired of it you cut off communication with him and avoid him so he tries to get you back through sweet gestures and staying with you instead of going around? sorry this is like one run on sentence omg. thank you, and i love your writing~ 

Warnings: Graphic violence, blood mention, death mention

You flitted through the stack of papers on your desk, fingers carding through them in a panic as the ringing of your phone blared through the silence of the office.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You muttered in a frustrated mantra, needing to find that contract before your boss lifted her lazy ass out of her cushioned chair and came to rip your head off.

”What’s going on, beautiful?” A familiar voice spoke directly into your ear and you jumped with a high squeal, your hands slipping over the file you’d been flipping through. You hissed as you felt the edge of the thick paper slice the tip of your index finger, your face puckering in pain as you sucked it into your mouth, the metallic taste of blood hitting your tongue.

“I don’t have time to talk right now, Jungkook.” You mumbled around the digit, soothing the throbbing cut by suckling fervently.

Normally, you’d rather punch yourself in the head than pass up an opportunity to chat up your boss’ newly hired head assistant, but now was not the time. You had about five minutes before you risked losing your job. Jungkook cleared his throat, straightening up into a standing position and taking a couple of steps back from you.

“What, uh–What are you looking for?” He asked in a voice that seemed an octave or two deeper than his normal tone.

“Sunyoung needs the contract from the Hyatae deal.” You spoke in a rush, yanking your finger out of your mouth with a wet ‘pop’ once the frustration of sorting through papers with only one hand got the best of you.

“Mm,” He hummed and through your peripheral vision you could see him shift. “This one?”

Jungkook held the paper out in front of you, blocking your vision with bold black print. Your eyes moved over the underlined words on the very top of the page, and when you realized it was in fact the paper you were looking for, you snatched it out of his hand and bounced excitedly from foot to foot.

“Thank you!” You squealed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh my God, I could kiss you right now, Jungkook. You’re amazing!”

He laughed at your excitement, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks and lifting his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “It’s nothing. I wouldn’t object to a kiss, though.”

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(Note: This is the part 2 of the interview. To read part 1, click here.)

Stephen Anderson began his career at Disney as a storyboard artist on Tarzan. He then served as Head of Story on The Emperor’s New Groove and Brother Bear, before making the leap to director on Meet the Robinsons.

So how did Stephen first hook up with Disney, and how many Meet the Robinsons-related anecdotes can I squeeze from his brain? Let’s find out in the second part of our EXCLUSIVE three-part interview…


Part 2: Working at Disney


The Disney Elite: You started your career at Disney as a storyboard artist on Tarzan. How did that come about?


Stephen Anderson: I got to Disney through a colleague at Hyperion. I became friends with Kevin Lima, who came to Hyperion to direct a feature adaptation of Thumbalina. His co-director was Chris Buck, who had been my animation teacher at CalArts. I helped out on that film as much I could because I loved the idea and I loved working with those two. Eventually the project got shelved and those guys left. Kevin went to Disney and directed A Goofy Movie and after that, Disney wanted him to direct Tarzan. He chose Chris Buck as his co-director and so, because of those connections, I was able to become a part of their story team on Tarzan. We’ve all heard that cliche about how so much of success is who you know? This was a perfect example of that.





The Disney Elite: After working in Story on Tarzan, The Emperor’s New Groove and Brother Bear, you made the leap to director on Meet the Robinsons. Would you explain how you made that huge transition?


Stephen Anderson: First off, the only thing I wanted to do more than be an animator was to be a director. In fact, directing (and screenwriting/filmmaking in general) really took over the older I got. As a teenager, I started seeing more diverse kinds of movies, learning about filmmakers, reading about how movies are made, about screenplay structure, about what a director is, and I grew to love the idea of moviemaking. It was really the films of Steven Spielberg that changed my path and made me want to be a director. First off, the level of emotion and audience reaction that I saw and felt when I watched his films was something I wanted to be able to give to an audience someday. Loving his films then made me want to learn more about him so through reading articles and interviews and watching ‘making of’ specials, I decided that that’s what I wanted to do. So this was always the goal beyond the goal.


After Tarzan, I became interested in pursuing the Head of Story role and was fortunate to be asked to fill that role on Groove and on Brother Bear. I had asked, before Brother Bear, if I could be considered for a directing position in the future so we were already having that conversation. Since I’d been performing leadership roles, they were open to the idea. I helped develop a project for the studio on the side, during the last year of Brother Bear, with the thought that if it continued, I’d be the director. It did NOT continue. I finished Brother Bear, moved back to California (because we had to relocate to Orlando for that project), and was then handed a script for A Day with Wilbur Robinson





The Disney Elite:Meet the Robinsons was one of Disney’s early entries into CG animated features. While Pixar had already released such brilliant films as Toy Story, Toy Story 2 and The Incredibles, over at Disney there was just Dinosaur and Chicken Little. Was Meet the Robinsons always intended as a CG film, and were you at all nervous and/or hesitant about making it one?



Stephen Anderson: Boy, the memory is getting hazy but, as far as I can remember, MtR was always intended to be a CG feature. Yes, in fact I remember that while I was still on Brother Bear, the announcement was made that the studio was transitioning out of hand drawn. I was slightly anxious about doing CG just because it was something new I had to learn on top of already trying to learn how to be a good director. But to me, the creative stuff is always the biggest challenge and the thing that occupies my mind most of the time. Disney has the best people in the world so I’m always confident that the movie will look good, sound good, etc. And I was lucky to have such great artistic and technical leadership surrounding me. I trusted them to help me out if I was confused or uncertain about the technology. They all gave me a boot camp in computer animation at the beginning so I felt like I had a pretty good foundation starting out and I felt safe asking about anything I didn’t know.





The Disney Elite: Meet the Robinsons was the first of Disney’s CG films that made me think, “Now THIS is the perfect pairing of film and format!” The slick, shiny surfaces of the CG at that time really served to complement the futuristic, retro/moderne look of your film. Not only that, but while Pixar was aiming more and more for a photorealistic approach to their animation, your cartoon was, well, CARTOONY! And not just the backgrounds and characters, but also the animation itself. For a relatively early CG film, you got some gorgeously goofy character animation in there! If you wouldn’t mind, would you make a list of the films – animated or otherwise – that you used as inspiration for Meet the Robinsons?


Stephen Anderson: Well story-wise, we looked at the movie You Can’t Take It With You. It’s also about an eccentric family with quirky personalities and passions. Bill Joyce, the author/illustrator of the book that MtR is based on, told me that You Can’t Take It With You was a huge influence on him when he was creating the Robinson family. With our art director, Robh Ruppel, we talked a lot about The Wizard of Oz and how that movie goes from a sepia palette to a Technicolor palette and that influenced the look of the distant past (when we see Lewis’ mother giving him up it’s sepia) and the future (bright, bold and Technicolor). With the animators, we looked at scenes of Jim Carrey as inspiration for both Wilbur and Bowler Hat Guy. Also a lot of Looney Tunes. We used to say that Lewis is a Disney character and Wilbur and the Robinsons are Warner Looney Tunes characters. Lewis moves in more of a solid, natural, Disney-type of animation and the Robinsons are zippier and invade your personal space more like Looney Tunes characters. Those are some of the main influences I can think of.





The Disney Elite: Another wonderfully cartoony element of the film is your choice of voice-actors. The voice-work often reminds me more of 1960s Hanna-Barbera cartoons than anything Disney was doing at the time. I mean, there are some really unexpected picks in there (Batman’s Adam West, Roseanne’s Laurie Metcalf, There’s Something About Mary’s Harland Williams), all of whom do an AMAZING job. Oh, and then there’s YOU – voicing not one, not two, but THREE characters, including the mustache-twirling Bowler Hat Guy! Care to share the story behind that bit of kismet casting?


Stephen Anderson: Thank you for saying that about our voice actor choices. I’ve always been such a fan of those classic voice actors and I liked approaching our casting that way. We thought it best to not go with big names, but just solid character performers. To me, actors who have experience in theater, sketch comedy and improv are really best for animation because they know how to create strong and clear characters.


As far as my involvement goes, it’s pretty simple. I’m sure you know about the work-in-progress reels that we create, where we take our story boards and cut them to temp vocals, music and sound fx. Well, I did the temp voices for those characters and, after several screenings with my voice in there, folks just got used to it and eventually I became the voice of those characters. It was the same with other members of the team. Frankie the Frog, Uncle Gaston and Lewis’ coach, Lefty the butler, the t-rex that BHG unleashes - those were all voiced by members of the story crew.





The Disney Elite: Meet the Robinsons is one of those rare movies that makes me tear up every time I watch it. This is all the more rare seeing as how for most of the film, it’s funny, funny, FUNNY. It seems to me like this kind of emotional punch can only be created when a writer/director is willing to put their own emotions and experiences into their work. Was this true for you? And if so, would you mind sharing a bit of your personal story that effected the story being told in Meet the Robinsons?


Stephen Anderson: The adoption part of the story was not in Bill Joyce’s original book. That was something that two development executives and a writer had built in to the first draft of the script, long before I’d come on to the project. When the studio handed me that script, I couldn’t believe what I was reading. While my story differs from Lewis’, I still totally identified with his quest to know who his mother is and to find out why she gave him up. And the studio had no idea that I was adopted so it was a complete coincidence. Because I understood Lewis so well, I was able to bring out that emotional side much more. It was there in the original draft, but I felt we could strengthen it.


The theme of 'Keep Moving Forward’ evolved out of early discussions about adoption and my personal feelings about it. My parents were very open with me about it and told me I was adopted at a very early age. They used to tell me that when I became 18, I could access my records and find out who my birth parents were and that they would support me in that. So for many years, I looked towards that age as a big milestone and I was determined to find out where I came from. Then one day, I realized my 18th birthday had come and gone and I’d totally forgotten about starting this search. I’d gotten distracted by life, CalArts, starting a career, getting married, etc. And I was so lucky to have been adopted by such a loving family. What would finding my birth parents change? Nothing really. In fact, I’ve heard stories about people having very negative experiences reconnecting with birth parents and that sometimes it makes things worse for them. So the important thing was to not focus on the past but on the positive present and the promising future. And that helped us all realize that that’s exactly what Lewis is going through too.


The Disney Elite. Wow. I’m damned near speechless. That right there made my day, my week, my YEAR. That was incredibly moving and inspiring, Stephen. Thanks so much for sharing that.





Thursday: In Part 3 of our interview, Stephen Anderson tells us about his life at Disney post-Meet the Robinsons. There’s his work as director on Winnie the Pooh, his place in Disney’s famed ‘Story Trust’…oh, and his upcoming, TOP SECRET animated feature film project! He’ll also offer some GREAT advice for folks hoping to make art their life. If this sounds like YOU, make sure to come back and check it out. I hope you’ll join us!


All art via Stephen Anderson’s Instagram

NOTE: This interview would not have been possible without the kindness and assistance of tumblr user Morgan – a.k.a. that-guy-in-the-bowler-hat. Morgan runs the internet’s PREMIER Meet the Robinsons archive and fansite. If you are a fan of MtR, you MUST check out his tumblr a.s.a.p.!

Something Worth Fighting For- 1

Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice.

Words: 1303

Masterlist

Originally posted by i-alwayslikedstrangecharacters

People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can’t rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right. -The Crow, 1994

Brooklyn. 1946.

The cemetery was a snow globe. Someone had wrapped it in their hands, blocking out all traces of sunlight behind the deep grey clouds, and shaken it. Snow swirled through the air, between the slender claws of the dead trees, and dragged across the faces of black, slick stones. The wind hissed in your ear, stung the exposed flesh between your hat and the collar of your jacket. Kissed the places that had not been touched by warm hands in nearly a year.

There was nothing special about the dull, grey rock in front of you. There was a name, etched into its face, that had been filled with snow which only served to make the letters stand out more. It was a formality more than anything, the headstone. There was no body to be buried, no casket to lower into the ground.

Keep reading

A Day at the Waterpark

A shitfic by myself and the lovely @2d-imagines

Word count: 2,757

Takes place sometime during Phase 1


“When are we going in the water?” Noodle asked as she shielded her eyes from the sun. Her pink Barbie sunglasses were outstanding in appearance, however in performance, they did nothing to protect her eyes from the harmful UV rays.

Russel, Noodle, 2D, and Murdoc stood behind the large entrance line to their local waterpark, earning a few concerning glances from waiting families due to the fact that they looked completely out of place. Noodle couldn’t decide at the store as to which bathing suit she wanted, so she sported an odd pair of a Little Mermaid bathing suit top and Lilo and Stitch bottoms; her little scuba diving flippers were probably her favorite part of the look. 2D looked pastier than usual because he slathered on too much sun screen. He sported a fine professional speedo along with racing goggles and a white pool cap. The only thing that looked out of place were his SpongeBob armbands; he had to get the kids size because his arms were too thin. Murdoc looked the oddest out of them all. He was decked out in a floral print mankini, his cape did the public a favor because it hid his assne from the large amounts of young impressionable children. He also wore a pair of camo Crocs™. The only person that looked normal was Russel, as he wore a baseball cap and a simple pair of swim trunks; the best dad out of the three.

The line moved faster than expected, Noodle awkwardly hobbling like a penguin in front of them as she made her way to the kiddie pool. Russel sat on a lounge chair under the shade and reminded her to come out every half hour for a new coat of sunscreen. Murdoc sat next to a couple of good looking moms and began striking up a conversation, “Lovely weather we’re having, yeah?”

“We’re in the middle of a heat wave…” One of the mothers says before laughing a bit. They turn to look at their children playing in front of them. 

Noodle’s loud laughter could be heard as she splashed water in another kids face before pushing him down underneath the water. 

“Dear lord,” another mother says as she watches Noodle steal the other child’s armbands before dunking his head underneath the water.

“She’s fantastic, isn’t she?” Murdoc says before he leans forward and shouts, “You’re doing great, sweetie!” 

“Is that your daughter?” 

“Nah, we just found her in a Fedex box on our doorstep a few months ago.” Murdoc says, flashing the woman a shark-like smile before leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms behind his head.


Meanwhile, 2D was sat next to Russel reapplying air into his already deflated SpongeBob arm floaties. One of the single mothers notices as she approaches him, sitting on the unoccupied lounge chair to his right, “Aww, are those for your daughter?” she asks, smiling and nodding towards where Noodle seems to have commandeered a small army of sun cream slathered children.

2D looks at the mother in confusion, “Nah, they’re for me.”

The mother, clearly a little weirded out, gets up and leaves quickly. Noodle spends a decent amount of time in the kiddie pool, 2D eventually joins her once his SpongeBob armbands are overinflated. He earns the attention of the other children in the kiddie pool and they begin to climb his lanky legs and arms, as if he were nothing more than a tree. One of them accidentally pulls down his speedo a bit in the process, exposing himself for the entire pool to see. The children break out into hysterics, screaming and scattering the kiddie pool as 2D tucks himself back in to the skimpy swimwear. The band of four are escorted out of the kiddie pool by a lifeguard and asked to stay at least 50 feet from the area.


Noodle spots an ice cream truck and lets out a piercing scream, the other three barely flinch having gotten well used to her loud noises. 2D seems equally enthusiastic, hoisting Noodle up to look at the selection of ice creams and ice lollies. The two dither and take their time.

“Can I get a 99 with a flake?” 2D asks, just as Murdoc decides he’s had enough.

“For fucks sake, move,” Murdoc shoves 2D to the side, “Is there alcohol in the cider ice lolly?”

“Uh…” the poor man in the truck pauses, “No, sorry mate.“

“False fuckin’ advertising. Fine, I’ll have one anyway.”

Russel orders the biggest ice cream available, and Noodle waves, drawing attention to herself. 

“Me too, me too!”

“Noodle, no, it’s too big, you won’t finish it,” Russel says. 

“Me too!” she screeches insistently, and Russel sighs, “Fine.”


Ice cream in hand and pockets considerably lighter from the cold dairy behemoths that both Russel and Noodle hold, the happy family of four make their way over to an unoccupied table. Once seated, 2D licks his ice cream a little too enthusiastically and it ends up falling onto his thighs. He tries to scoop it up with the cone, but Russel stops him so he doesn’t embarrass them any further.

“Russ, what should I do?” 2D asks as he tries to wipe it off with the few napkins they grabbed.

“Go wash it off in the pool over there,” Russel points to the nearest pool and 2D heads over, squatting awkwardly as he washes the remaining ice cream from his thighs. Murdoc laughs at 2D as he licks his lolly with his abnormally long tongue, it wraps around the treat twice. He sees a few women watching him, and he winks. He laughs harder when 2D gets yelled at by one of the lifeguards for contaminating the water. His laughter is cut short when a seagull swoops down and steals his lolly.

“Oi, give that back you stupid feathery git!” he shouts as he sprints after the bird. Noodle, Russel and 2D sit quietly as they watch Murdoc chase after the bird. 2D sneaks bits of Noodle’s ice cream whenever she looks the other way.

“Those next!” Noodle says, pointing to a collection of face paced water slides. Screams of terror can be heard all the way from their small table down below.

“Are you sure about that one?” Russel asks cautiously. 2D eyes the slides fearfully.

“Please please please please—”

“Alright. Finish your ice cream first,” Russel says before they collect Murdoc and head off. Noodle eagerly climbs the stairs as they approach the line for Pirate’s Drop. 2D holds onto the side railing for dear life as they climb higher and higher above the ground. Murdoc chats up a few girls, making up some random bizarre crap about the ride, even though he’s never actually been on it before. Soon enough, they’re next up to go down the slides. 2D sits awkwardly at the top of one, Noodle on the one to his left. “Tell me when to go,” he says as he looks into down into the pitch black slide skeptically.

“Yeah, alright mate,” Murdoc says, beginning to count down from 10 before he kicks 2D’s back on 6, sending him spiraling wildly down the abyss. His screams fade out the further he travels down. Noodle cautiously stands up again, backing away from the mouth of the slide, clinging onto the railing with white knuckles. “I don’t wanna anymore…”

“Hey, Noodle, look over there!” Murdoc yells insincerely while pointing at the sky to his right. She looks up at nothing before Murdoc lunges forward and shoves her down into the slide. She screams piercingly, fading as she gets further down. Murdoc cackles triumphantly at the top of the slide, hands on his hips, feeling very proud of himself. “A+ parenting, eh Russ?”

Russel glares at the bassist. “Hey, Muds, look over there,” he says in a deadly straight voice.

“Nice try, Russ but—” his scream cuts him off as Russel picks him roughly and throws him into the slide, head first. He smirks to himself as he takes his seat and peacefully makes his way down the slide, as it should be.

When Murdoc, Russel and Noodle reunite in the small pool of water at the end of the slides, Noodle karate chops Murdoc in the dick, his mankini protecting his genitals very little as the pain surges throughout his entire body, his entire soul. Russel, Noodle, and Murdoc all stand outside the pool and wait patiently for 2D to emerge from one of the slides. Russel narrows his eyes as he scans the crowd of people emerging from the slides, “I don’t seem him.”

“Aren’t those his?” Murdoc asks as 2D’s speedos flop into the water from the second nearest slide. Murdoc wades through the water towards it, sticking his head in. “Oi faceache! You stuck or something?” Russel and Noodle watch Murdoc, and then look up to where loud, piercing, high pitched screams leak through the slide. “Three, two, one,” they count down together, and suddenly 2D slams into Murdoc, naked as the day he was born, sending them both sprawling through the pool, almost knocking down a crowd of girls.

“My speedos!” 2D hollers as he surfaces, hair slicked down over his eyes, “I’ve lost my flippin’ speedos!” The girls scatter with shrieks of terror and Murdoc grabs 2D’s speedos gingerly, throwing them in 2D’s face. “Here you go, blue pubes,” he mutters.


“Alright, what next?” Murdoc asks as he and 2D join the rest of the band.

“Those!” Noodle yells, pointing to the various diving boards over to their right. Her finger falls as the person standing from the highest board leaps, falling and landing heavily on the surface.

“I think I’m gonna sit this one out,” Russel says as they approach the attraction. He sits underneath the shade of a beach umbrella below while the rest of the band makes their way over to the stairs leading to the diving boards.

“After this, can we go to the wave pool?” 2D asks as the three of them head up the stairs.

“Yeah, sure whatever,” Murdoc says, distracted by the skimpy bikini clad arses of 3 girls climbing just ahead of them. The line for the boards moved particularly fast and soon enough, they found themselves standing upon the highest board, glancing down at the water with wide eyes. “Uh, why don’t you go first D, old buddy, old pal?” Murdoc steps aside and gestures his hands for the singer to step in front.

“What? Have you got cold feet or something?”

“In your dreams, mate!” Murdoc snaps, almost cutting 2D off as he steps in front, his ego getting the better of him. Noodle stands in front of 2D as they watch the bassist slowly make his way to the edge of the board. Murdoc looks down and swallows the lump in his throat, “It’s just a few meters above the water, that’s all. You’ve got this, Murdoc. You’ve go—”

His pep talk is cut short when a pair of small hands push him forward, over the edge of the board. He screams loudly the entire way down until he lands, belly first, on the water. He floats face down on the surface until a lifeguard grabs a pool hook and tows him to the edge.

Noodle’s jump is much more graceful. She leaps off of the board with confidence and her head high, arms positioned to her sides as she falls into the water with elegance and poise; she puts the competitive divers to shame.

2D’s jump; he just fucking falls. His arms and legs move out of sync with his body, and his screams echo throughout the entire water park. He lands head first and emerges coughing and hacking, his eyes completely covered by his wet hair. One of his armbands had come loose and floated away, and he thrashes the water, yelling hoarsely for help.

“Just stand up, mate!” yells one of the lifeguards.

2D stops yelling just long enough to extend his legs and find that he’s thrashed himself into the shallows before racing out of the water to where Russel sits, looking disappointed in all of them except Noodle. “Now can we go to the wave pool, please?” 2D begs, teeth chattering.

Murdoc hobbles over, his entire front bright red and sore, gnashing his teeth and very pissed off. “Whatever,” he growls, softening only slightly when Noodle takes his hand and sticks her tongue out at him.

They find a nice place to put their belongings underneath a large pool umbrella. 2D looks at his arms and notices that they appear less pasty, “Oi, Murdoc, can you put some more sun cream on me?” 2D asks as he fishes the sunscreen bottle out from Russel’s bag.

“Not on your fucking-,” Murdoc snaps, then stops halfway through, a sinister smile forming upon his already repulsive face, “Yeah, yeah alright, sure thing, buddy,” He squeezes the bottle and pours out a considerable amount onto this hands before he slaps it forcefully onto 2D’s bare back. 2D lets out a yelp of slight pain before Murdoc aggressively paints his back with the sunscreen. “Stop wriggling,” he growls, and 2D mutters under his breath. Murdoc takes one of his grimy fingers and draws a penis into the sun cream, topping it off with a pair of hairy balls. “Bob’s your uncle,” Murdoc says, sniggering and patting 2D’s shoulder with surprising gentleness before trotting off after Russel and Noodle. 2D lumbers after them, grinning unknowingly at the groups of giggling people who get a glimpse of his back.

Noodle sprints into the water until her chin is just above the water and doggy paddles forward, giggling loudly. Russel trails after her and hoists her up on his shoulders and swims further into the waves. Noodle hollers excitedly as she points forward, directing Russel like an ocean faring captain as he swims, digging her heels into his sides like a horse.

2D splashes about as he tries to lopsidedly paddle forward his way through the wave pool. He floats at an angle, due to the fact that one of his arm bands had gone missing as he struggles to catch up to Russel and Noodle. Unknown to him, Murdoc swims a few feet below him, grinning evilly, ascending slowly until he’s level with 2D’s giant duck feet.

In one swift moment, he grabs hold of his ankles and yanks him down. 2D disappears beneath the water, and then bursts up, gasping, arms flailing about as he struggles to hold himself above the water, “Shark! theres a fucking shark in the pool!” he screeches, looking around desperately, “RUS! RUS! SAVE NOODLE! SAVE YOURSELF! DON’T WORRY ABOUT MURDOC, TAKE NOODLE AND RUN!”

Nearby strangers shoot him questioning glances as they slowly swim away from him. He flails his arms like a madman, his remaining armband flying off and hitting a small child in the face. A lifeguard whistle sounds, drawing everyone’s attention and 2D stops struggling all at once.

Murdoc emerges from the water behind him, shaking with laughter, clutching his sides. “You shoulda seen your fucking face!” he splutters, pushing his hair out of his face, “Fucking hell!”

“Sirs, we’re going to have to ask you and your daughter to leave the park,” one of the lifeguards says, gesturing at where Russel has his face buried in his hands and Noodle is laughing loudly and kicking the water.

“My daughter?” 2D questions, and Murdoc sniggers. “Yeah, alright, my daughter and I will leave the park,” Russel apologizes profusely as the lifeguard escorts them to the exit. He turns to Murdoc and 2D, Noodle still on his shoulders, looking equally serious. Russell glares at them both. “Wow, a record, two whole hours!” he exclaims sarcastically.

“It would have be MORE if SOMEONE didn’t try to DROWN me,” 2D complains loudly as the four head towards the exit of the water park.

“Shut your trap, dickback” Murdoc mutters. Murdoc glances at the nice red penis shape burnt onto 2D’s back.

“Dickback?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,”

“I had fun,” Noodle pipes up, earning the attention of all three. The faintest trace of a smile appears on Murdoc’s face as Russel and 2D grin fondly at the young guitarist.

“Why don’t we finish the day off with some pizza?” 2D suggests.

“We would, if every pizza place hadn’t put us on a no-serve list,” Russel reminds him.

“Oh yeah…”

“Oh fuck it, let’s just get McDonalds,” Murdoc growls, “I’m too old for this shit.”

amortentia [young!tom riddle x reader] pt.4

premise:  En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie. [In her beauty rests (both) my death and my life]
Tom Marvolo Riddle never fancied anyone - to be fair, he did not think he could. Though, an encounter on his first train to Hogwarts had left a deep impression that he very much could love someone, though if that someone could love him with all of his secrets was a different question, one that he was eager to find out yet was awfully curious of. You always intrigued him. From the very first day the two of you met, to the very last…

tagging: @cheshirecatbyul @junieyes ( if anyone else wants to be tagged, please let me know!)

warnings: angst, disturbing themes, fluff, blood

amortentia masterpost | MASTERLIST.

4. a lesson in language

En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie.

The trip is long and tedious; puddles lay waste on the road, small rocks sticking to your black robe, its edges already dotted with small patches of mud as are your shoes. The rest of the students face a similar problem – girls yelp and giggle and grasp the hems of their coats and skirts tighter, the few teachers that accompany are quick to discipline them for showing too much leg. The weather is harsh, no sun, just dark grey clouds and a breeze that curls the glossed locks of your hair and pinches your cool cheeks and nose red.

You and Tom walk together, a bit further back, watching the excited hoard of students as they seem in an unruly rush to Hogsmede. You pull your scarf closer, letting the wool scratch your face and tickle your neck. Some girls glance back at the two of you, narrow their eyes at you and look away again; the two of you stand at a distance, enough for all to understand that you are merely two friends enjoying a conversation about the weather. Tom is missing his usual group of friends and you are happier than you are willing to admit – he looks livelier without them, rather than being a simple addition he stands out perfectly as his own person. His focus on you varies – at times he watches closely, mapping your face, the cupid’s bow of your lips and the wink of your lashes…Other’s he is completely immersed in Ruth’s flaring skirt or the teacher’s nagging voice.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, and you almost don’t catch him. Tilting your head softly to the side, you trace his paled face with striking precision; perhaps he notices, since the corner of his lips curls into a knowing smile, “What does it mean?” A spurge of pride heats your chest and you take your next step with a light jump, fighting the grin that is about to pull on your rosy lips. You look away from him, pretending to think, to let the silence stretch, to leave just a pinch of mystery.

“Maurice Scève, a famous French poet once wrote so about his mistress…” You start, “And it is also considered to be one of the most romantic sayings in the world.” At this your gazes lock. A breath catches in the back of your throat as your heart makes a sudden, uncoordinated leap forward. His eyes are enchanting, stunningly accurate in detail and brighter than anything you have yet seen today. It is more than distracting, strangely it makes everything around him blur – the scenery, the chatter, even the strands of his hair…

A whistle blows. Your shoulders jerk and you glance away. Tom smiles. Ruth is yelled at again. Two kids bump your shoulder lightly as they rush forward.

“…I just like the way it’s pronounced…” You mumble, “En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie. In her beauty rests both my death and my life.” You smile shyly, “See, it’s the ma mort…My death, and ma vie…My life. Such profound devotion…”

“Are you well versed in French?”

You are quiet for a moment, “I suppose, yes. My mother… made me learn it when I was younger.”

“What else did she make you learn?”

“Nothing of real interest.” You say, “I was an avid reader, though. She insists it was because she used to read me La Belle et la Bête.” You smile at the memory, “It was my absolute favourite…Do you know of it?”

“I’m afraid I do not.”

“It’s a fairy-tale. About a girl trapped in a castle by a terrible beast. Each night he comes to her as asks her to marry him…And each night she says no, until finally she says yes…” You trail off, “Then he turns into a prince. My mother said it was based on a true story.”

“And all this, in French?”

“Of course.” He narrows his eyes at you, though subtly, you barely notice the change, “It’s in my family, you see. I was supposed to attend Beauxbatons.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You turn away. You fingertips numb from the cold and you curse the leather gloves that you wear. You hook your hands together and bring them to your lips; he watches in silence and wonders what exactly are you thinking. Nothing of real interest, is what you chant in your mind. It is unnerving. You feel like he can see right through you, to the very core of your being and read each and every little snippet of your life, but most of all, the life you want no one to know of. So you smile, like any proper lady should. You feel something dark and icky pool in your stomach. It weighs you down and your shoulders slump lightly. The expression you wear is plastic, but you doubt he can tell.

“It doesn’t matter, really.” You reply, upbeat. “What about you? Do you speak a different tongue?”

He thinks; his eyes shift to the front again into the upcoming contours of the small village. A drop of rain kisses your cheek. Soon more dot the surface of your face. You glance down, see the ripples in muddy puddles and avoid a few by carefully stepping to the right and brushing your shoulder to his. You murmur an apology and don’t keep close. A second whistle pierces the air and it seems to catch Tom off-guard. He blinks owlishly, finally returning his attention back to you.

He leans closer, “Promise not to tell?”

“Mister Riddle and Miss (Lastname)! Do hurry up! And, respectful distance, mind you!”

You are to obey the order, but something about the way he looks at you makes you freeze and ignore it; he doesn’t show any signs of hearing it either. You gulp, your throat itches from the sudden dry-spell and you feel an overwhelming wave of curiosity soak you to the very bone. It shows on your face. You see small versions of familiar doe eyes reflect in his iris. A smile picks at the corner of his lip and you fail to catch any ill intent, even if there was any. Is it a secret? You wonder, For such a look it must be…

The rain hits harsher.

“I promise.”

|||

You must take shelter when the scenery becomes a blur, the houses distort and even the whistle of the teachers falls flat and quiet in comparison to the humming of rain. Cold water leaks down your lashes and your hair sticks to your skin. You close your eyes when they start to sting and shudder. A warm touch on leather; someone grabs your hand and blinded you follow quickly. A chirp of a bell and warm dry air caress your cheeks and you are promptly pushed into one of the few shops. Cracking. Clanking. A few barks.

Pet shop?

You open your eyes and the warmth leaves you. Tom runs his fingers through his hair and moves forward to the empty counter. You briefly glance back through the small window of the door – it looks like a painting, a mixture of dull grey colours and clear blue. You take off your gloves and shove them into your pockets. You quiver. You are drenched, and he is too you realize, noting the trail of water he leaves in his steps and the one that leaks from your own robe.

The floorboards creak under you, either from your weight or they are simply too rotten to stand anything anymore. A twinge of fear grasps your heart and you stride forward onto the carpet. Fire dances in the stone fireplace, sparkling and glimmering like a small dragon, its light reflecting in glasses and glass trinkets alike. An unusual place to take shelter in, normally you would assume one would run straight to The Three Broomsticks and have a drink of Butterbeer. You shiver, frost glossing over your skin and you move closer to the fireplace as if a moth drawn to its warm flame. Your shoulders jerk once some creature swinging its legs above your head knocks on the ceiling. Letting your hands heat you peak at the various animals lurking in cages – some are proudly displayed by the windows, some are tucked away in the shadows. Perhaps they fear daylight, or perhaps they are too dangerous to see. Tom searches for the owner, and once he is sure he is nowhere near, he turns to you with a grin.

“Do you really want to know?” He asks, already knowing the answer. You nod without second thought, “See, much like you, I could speak it ever since I was little…” He moves further back and it is your cue to follow. You feel less eager than normal to pull away from the pleasant licking flames, but do so anyway, carefully tracing any squeak and jolt if the old floorboards under your feet,  “Except no one taught me.” He stops next to a porcelain glass cage with a small serpent inside – its scales shimmer in the fire light and dot with mellow blue colours of rain. The amber surface is slick; small beady eyes watch your approach curiously and with more hostility than it looks at Tom. Or maybe it is just a trick shadows play. He crouches to it. You refrain from raising a skeptical brow and take a seat next to him, sticking so close that he can feel your shivering. Tom eyes the snake for a moment before turning to you, almost expectantly, like to ask for permission. Unsure, you give a simple nod.

It sounds odd. Slick. Even unnerving perhaps. Unlike most languages it has a feeling. It is odd. That is the only way you can describe it in words: odd. Unruly. Unsafe. Uncomfortable, like something in stuck in your head and you cannot, for the life of you, get it out. Perhaps if it wasn’t Tom, speaking so fluently and clearly, you would have been scared out of your wits. But you are not.

Odd. You feel odd. Like you don’t know how to feel or to react. Surprise? That is one way to put it. Your mind skews with warnings and omens and other historical prophesies, melting into his figure as if he had just absorbed everything you knew about the language of snakes and its bad reputation. How does one react? Quiver in fear? Scream and run away? You were not brought up to do either of those things, and also…You didn’t feel like doing those things either.

He stops, all this time he was watching you closely for any shift in your clear expression but you look no different than just hearing someone read off a line in French. Your focus falls from him to the amber snake, a soft gasp escaping your lips and you lean forward just a bit – the snake spins, going in a circle to catch its own tail. The room goes in vertigo when you stare at it for too long, your mind trying to keep up with your eyes, ears, the erratic beating of your heart.

“You said…” You take a pause to catch your breath, “You can speak Parseltongue ever since you were little.” It isn’t really a question, more like a statement, and Tom nods. You pull away from the snake, awe falling into curiosity once more, “What else can you do?


tbc

Make ‘em Blush (NSFW)

@mirthaculous‘ and my fill for day 3 of mlnsfweek, make ‘em blush :

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE YOU HAVE N O I D E A

summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir are on patrol for the first time since consummating their relationship as their alter egos, and the tension is getting to them.

(more nsfw in fantasies and makeouts but still)

It was a beautiful day.

The November Parisian sky was heavy and cold, clouds the colour of slate weighing down the autumn air. Every city surface was slick with a drizzle that had started early in the morning and hadn’t stopped since. Citizens scurried from shelter to shelter, huddled beneath umbrellas or in the collars of their coats.

Ladybug swung through the dreary skies above them with a laugh that was breathless and free, veins thrumming with an exhilaration that lent wings to her already weightless feet. An akuma had fallen to that excitement with astounding speed earlier that afternoon, and now she flew through her patrol with the same enthusiasm, showing no sign of tiring. Gravity had nothing on her today.

Everything was wonderful. Everything was fantastic.

Keep reading

Mugs and Sippy Cups

Words: 2,776

Summary: Dan and Phil are in a dd/lb relationship, in which Dan is the little. Early mornings combined with accidents cause Dan to believe he’s going to be punished, sending him straight into his headspace and filled with worry. Luckily, Phil is there to sort things out for him.

Warnings: swearing, small blood mentions, minor injury

a/n: shame me if u want tbh,,, i just wanted some nonsexual little!dan and daddy!phil fight me

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xf fanfic

proximity - chapter 1
wc: 1350 / tw: alcohol / msr, ust, season 6 (or so)
i love constructive criticism, or just comments in general ! feel free to message me here or find me (and my other fic) on ao3 here and leave me a comment. this was written quick and dirty, no editing. more chapters to come xxx


They don’t do this.

They’re in a bar. The tabletop of their booth is worn and sticky, like the coins beneath the floor mat of your car that you forgot you dropped. Rings of condensation slick the marred surface, mix with the peanut shells that litter the table (and the floor). Neon signs and stale cigarette smoke create a haze that covers the room like a thin fog, lends a drunken feel to the air, mirrors their state of mind.

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we live by the sea where mist hangs heavy above the water, barely permeated by thin streaks of sun. your skin is ivoried and always soft, like a pebble at the bottom of a tumbling ocean.

the waves thrash against the vines that grow on our brick walls. i find a piece of sea glass in them one day, a shade of golden amberina, and i know you will like the honeyed transition from dark to light. they sit on the bedside table, sunlight glistering against their sea-slicked surfaces.

at night, you trace patterns into my palm, absentmindedly, and i splay my fingers open as if accepting them. the room is washed with the light of thousands of stars coruscating down upon us.

the starlight feels like kisses. the moonlight silvers your skin.

ML/PJO: The Sea and The Sun

Chapter 2—->

So I did the thing I definitely shouldn’t have done. I saw this post by @gittana and things spiraled out of control from there. It’s much too long and still I haven’t finished writing up to the point where my muse has stopped speaking to me.

Also because The Lightning Thief was written in the first person I decided to start writing in in the first person from Marinette’s P.O.V beginning at Chapter 1 however the prologue is still in 3rd person. Bear with me on this.


Prologue

Just a little farther!! I’m almost there! Please please, whoever’s up there, please let me make it! Marinette thought to herself as she dashed up the hillside where a large pine tree signified a place of safety.

“Come here child!” The woman behind her screeched sounding much closer now.

Marinette dared to glance over her shoulder where the creature was fast approaching. The top half of the monster was that of a woman with wild unblinking eyes and razor sharp teeth. The lower half of her body was that of a serpent. Her tail slithered up the hill as her arms propelled her forward in an unnatural way. Marinette’s lungs burned as she pushed herself to run faster up the hill. She swallowed hard, tasting blood. Hands clasped around her ankle sharp nails digging into her skin. Marinette screamed as she was pulled down to the grassy earth and was dragged backwards. Marinette grabbed fistfuls of the soft wet grass in an attempt to slow her pull towards certain death. She was pulled through the grass with fumbling hands searching for anything to catch hold of. A clumsy hand wrapped around a stick. A stick was hardly a weapon but Marinette was grateful for anything at this point. I’m going to go down fighting with a stick! This is so embarrassing, Marinette thought to herself tightening her hold on the only thing she had to protect herself. Clawed hands ripped as her back. She could feel hot breath blow against her neck. Now was her chance. Marinette whimpered as she turned beneath the monster’s grasp to come face to face with it. The serpentine woman smiled wickedly at the young girl showing all her pointy teeth.

“I’m sure you taste as sweet as you look child,” The monster cooed her breath smelling metallic, like blood. Marinette’s stomach churned uneasily.

The woman opened her mouth inhumanly wide preparing to take a bite of Marinette. With shaking hands Marinette swiftly plunged the stick into one of the woman’s unblinking eyes. The woman shrieked in pain releasing Marinette from her grasp. Marinette scrambled to her feet charging towards the hill. The monster quickly recovered, leaping towards Marinette. Marinette dove to the side barely missing the woman’s claws. The monster turned to face her with her one good eye, the other was missing leaving a bloodied black hole behind. Marinette grimaced as the creature hissed. She began to slowly back up towards the tree while keeping her eyes trained on the woman. The monster flicked her tail out knocking Marinette to the ground and letting the woman slither on top of her once move. Marinette struggled beneath her pushing her face away with her hands and trying her best not to let the nails burying themselves into the flesh of her arms bother her. In the scramble to avoid the creatures teeth and keep from losing a hand one of Marinette’s thumbs found it’s way to the creatures lone eye. Without any other weapon in her arsenal Marinette began to press against the eye’s slick surface with as much force as she could muster. The creature yowled in pain her head reeling back but where she went Marinette followed pressing harder into the woman’s eye. The creature’s claws raked down her arms. Marinette stifled a scream as she kept pressing down. Her stomach lurched when she finally heard that sickening pop. The woman’s body stilled a smile spreading across her features looking strangely out of place as she slumped to the ground with a contented sigh. Breathing heavy Marinette, hands slick with- well she didn’t really want to think about that- staggered up the hill. As her feet drug themselves past the borders of the pine tree Marinette fell to her knees a lump forming in her throat. Finally! After all this time she was safe. Marinette breathed a sigh of relief tears filing her eyes as she heard the startled shouts of campers. Safe. Exhaustion swept through her. Without the threat of death hanging over her head she could finally let herself rest. Slumping against the soft bed of grass beneath her she let the darkness overtake her.


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Love Feels Like Loneliness - Thomas (Prologue) [Smut]

Author: @writing-obrien

Character(S): Thomas/Reader

Word Count: 1088

Notes: Masturbation, Fingering, Oral (male receiving), memory loss, bondage, marking, jealousy, biting. Thank you to @stilinski-jpeg for her support in this new series and also for proofreading this part for me, like an angel.



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#TipTuesday Non-Skid Pads

If you’re making a sock-style boot cover out of spandex, *please* remember to add a non-skid pad to the bottom!  Unless you have some mad “Risky Business” skills, these will help keep you from slipping on most slick surfaces (tile, wood, laminate, etc).  Having seen some really awful falls (and wrenched my own back while trying to recover my own balance once), I can’t recommend these enough.

You can usually find them in the shoe-care section in major retailer super-stores, at actual shoe stores, on Amazon, etc.  In a pinch, I’ve also used those non-stick strips you use in bathtubs, cut to size.