heya! I did a fem!xyx scene redraw for a friend, and I wanted to post it but I saw you mentioned that xyx's design (or original design I think?) was done when you were working through some dysphoria, and I got worried it might cross a boundary or make you uncomfortable, so I wanted to ask first if I could post it? ofc I will not if you'd rather I not, your comfort level comes first
dw, post away! how xyx is now is very separated from that initial vent drawing, so it's all good. if anything, things that make me dysphoric involve drawings of me hyper-femmed. beyond that, u can go crazy
no stress about getting to prompts super quickly, you take care of yourself first! but once you have time, pls consider: Rita with heelys
If there’s anyone I can picture wearing heelies, it’s Rita.
——-
Being on the ship is… nice, actually. Nicer than Juno would have thought when he made that call all those months ago.
Sure, the personal quarters are tight, but he’s got enough room for himself and his stuff, and he’s seen enough of penthouses and parks and the Martian desert that he’s got no attachment to big open spaces.
Sometimes there are arguments and hurt feelings, but there’s something weirdly comforting about sharing space with people who know him well and like him anyway– it feels almost like a family, complete with all the bickering and teasing and stupid chaos that can only happen around people you love.
And then there’s the hallways.
Jet could probably tell him the more official, fancier term for them, but that’s what they are: long, narrow hallways that stretch down the ship from nose to tail, connecting all the chambers that hold engines and cargo and beds and kitchens. And aside from a few regularly-spaced rivets, the floor is flat and smooth in a way that you just don’t get in Hyperion City.
See, back on Mars, there are potholes and cracked sidewalks and grimy carpeting and floorboards that fit together like jigsaw pieces from separate puzzles. You can find a few decent places indoors that have flat enough floors to be worth caring about, but those spaces are small and full of sharp corners that practically invite trouble, and the ones that aren’t have security guards on patrol to stop any chaos before it starts.
But there are surprisingly few corners on the ship, and the closest thing they have to a security guard is watching the scene unfold with a stony, neutral face that Juno know recognizes as warm amusement.
Rita zips down the hall toward him in a pose that makes Juno’s calves hurt just looking at it, but she looks like she’s having the time of her life.
“Mista Steel!” she cries as she whizzes past him. “Look at what I can do!” She twists in place, and suddenly she’s moving backwards, the whole of her weight precariously balanced over the little wheels on the soles of her shoes. “Are ya loo– oh!” She’s so busy making sure he sees her that she doesn’t notice the rivet before she rolls over it, and suddenly she she goes flying.
Suddenly Jet’s muscles tense, and he reaches out with a speed that you wouldn’t expect from a guy his size. When he unfolds again, Rita is cackling in his arms. Her hair is squashed down by the helmet Jet insisted he wear, her face is flushed with glee, and she’s vibrating like she’s just had a gallon of coffee.
“OhmyGAWSH didja see that?” she squeals. “That was amazing!”
“Nice catch, big guy,” Juno calls, and Jet thanks him with a nod before he sets Rita down.
“How far didja think I flew just then?” Rita asks.
“At least five feet,” Juno says. “Maybe even seven.”
Her grin widens. “Think I can go ten?”
“It’s certainly possible,” Jet says, though he doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Rita is racing down the hallway again to build up speed.
Vespa pokes her head out from the mechanical closet behind Juno. She’s silent as a cat, but he doesn’t even jump when she speaks. “What are they going on about?”
“Rita’s seeing how far she can jump in those heelies of hers,” Juno says.
“Hm.” She grunts in affirmation. “How long?”
“Seven feet so far, we think.”
“You think?”
“Hard to guess exactly.”
She grunts again, and disappears back into the closet. When she comes out again, she emerges with a tape measure. “My money says thirteen.”
“Fifteen,” Juno counters. “Winner picks the menu for a week.”
“You’re on.” And as Vespa starts sliding the tape measure down the hallway, Rita takes another flying leap into Jet’s arms.
happy STS! do you have any nostalgic/comfort stories that you go back to a lot?
hiya! happy sts!
i'm actually really glad i got asked this bc now i can recommend some of my favorite movies and shows that i've seen a million times bc they make me so happy. this is what i meant when i said (here) most stories that have had big impacts on my life came from movies & tv shows lmao
movies:
--the book thief! i love the book as well but i don't have my own copy so i can't reread it as often as i would like. and the soundtrack in the movie is just,, *chef's kiss* wonderful
--ferris bueller's day off! one of my dad's favorites as well. gives me this weird sense of longing for experiences i haven't had yet.
--pirates of the caribbean, but only the original trilogy. i don't know what the heck is going on with 4 and 5. these feel like vacation movies to me for some reason. like, i'll only ever rewatch them when i have a lot of free time to binge them all in a row, which usually only happens on vacation. if that makes sense.
shows:
--supernatural! we all saw this one coming. this is my current quarantine rewatch. i’m slowly working my way up to season 15 bc i'm scared to see it end.
--godless! the trailer is linked bc literally nobody i know has seen it and all my friends have refused to watch it, which is annoying. surprisingly enough i haven't gotten back to this one in quarantine yet.
--wayne! another trailer link for the same reasons listed above. tragic, i know. it's literally just a solid five-hour binge, so why nobody will watch it is beyond me. i know they all have five hours they can spare. anyway. this was youtube premium's only good show (of course i didn't watch it on youtube premium but whatever) so it's sad that they cancelled it. also i would absolutely die for del ok
happy MGM! what accessories/colour schemes would your characters have if they were magical girls?
happy magm!! :))
[the first thing i thought after reading this was "lmao bash is basically already a magical girl"]
they all dress in their author-assigned aesthetic mood colors (here :3) and carry their weapons of choice (that post is coming soon perhaps), except everything is decked out in gold and silver glitter.
[asdfghjk i don't know very much about magical girls :( rip]
"Listen, I dunno how magic works for y'all, but fortune telling is just a way to make a quick buck. You can't actually predict-" Idalia sighs as Phoebe jabs an elbow into her side. "'kay, just, lemme talk!" Phoebe grins as she leaves Idalia alone in the room. Idalia sighs. "She's concerningly keen on this, so just, I dunno, tell me about my future if you want." She rubs where Phoebe jabbed her and fights a blush. "Yeah. My future." (congrats again! your story is so cool!) :D
Tybee arches an eyebrow. “I see broken ribs in your future if your friend keeps on like that.”
He reaches out and takes the cards from Gil, shuffling them back and forth with practiced ease. The card tricks come quick and familiar to his dexterous hands, and he never breaks eye contact with you as they fly back and forth.
“The Future is not fixed as people would like to believe. Fate can be dodged. Swapped. Rearranged. Bamboozled.”
The cards fly as he speaks, each word bringing a new twist to the shuffling.
“She doesn’t care who takes up the burden. She doesn’t care which mortal life bends to the suffering, so long as it is done.”
He plucked one card out of the flying deck, the rest coming to sit neatly in his open hand once more. He turns it between his fingers, showing many faces: The Fool, The Lovers, The Hanged Man, The Tower.
“Your Future is your to make. If you’re brave enough to take the reigns.”
happy meet and greet Monday! what would your OCs do if they came across a stray cat on their walk home?
Gil: Tybee, no. You know Lia doesn’t like cats.
Tybee: But, Kitty....
Gil: Tybee....
Tybee, already scooping up the cat and taking it to the nearest house: This is yours now, home owner, whoever you are. Love this cat, or get it to someone who can if forever reason you cannot *forms a complicated glyph with his hands then pats the kitty*
