Isaac demonstrating why boys and girls take their shirts off differently
Isaac demonstrating why boys and girls take their shirts off differently
My friend Dev (she’s not in the tw fandom) found this fucking coke
WITH WHAT’S OBVIOUSLY STILES’ NAME ON IT:
STILES IS UPSET HE DIDN’T FIND IT FIRST
where derek gets a coke and is like, contemplating how he can share it and like stiles is like
OMG MY NAME
and tries to steal it or buy it off derek
who misconstrues and thinks stiles is soliciting him for sex
DEREK IS LIKE
NO THANK YOU
BUT YOU ARE HOT
Derek should be offended. He really really should, but he can’t help feel a little bit smug for…
"How much? Seriously, if it’s reasonable, I’ll pay it," the cute guy repeats and he just looks at Derek excitedly.
He knows it’s not the guy’s fault. Derek was turning on a corner, coming back from the grocery shopping, and ended up bumping into someone - his things ended up everywhere. And then the guy - cute moles, whiskey eyes even under the bad light, messy blowjob hair, lean muscles - grabs one of Derek’s just bought cokes and snaps his head up just looking at Derek with want, saying “how much?”
Derek gets it. He does. He was in a corner and he’s only wearing skinny jeans and a tight black shirt with a lot of holes on it and it’s freaking midnight. He probably does look like a hooker who stopped for a dinner break, considering that his groceries most included sodas and snacks. (And not to be cocky or anything, Derek works out. He knows what he looks like, alright. He might be shy, but he doesn’t lack on self-confidence.)
"Uh," Derek is able to form, when his brain starts working again, because cute guy wants to bone him "I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t be able to do that for money.”
Derek decides to ignore his blush. He is not blushing. And he’s most definitely not thinking that the guy’s frown is cute. Nop.
"Couldn’t you just give it to me, then?" Cute guy says teasing, but he sounds so hopeful and Derek wants to yell hell yeah, I would love to give it to you right here right now, but that would probably go bad; the guy is picking up hookers at a Wednesday night - Derek gets attached and cute guy just wants to fuck around.
"I think you’re really cute, but I can’t. Sorry."
"Why not?" Oh man, cute guy has a really nice confused face. "You have no idea how long I’ve been looking for this, dude!" He even shakes Derek’s coke for emphasis "It has been months and I tried emailing an order for one, ya know, but apparently the minimum is a hundred of them at once and I’m thirsty for it, but not that thirsty! I mean, I thought about throwing a party and just sharing them all, but I thought it might be awkward later? Like, I’ve drank your…”
"I got it!" Derek hurries to interrupt and he’s blushing and ohmygod, he doesn’t know if he’s grossed out or turned on (since when Derek finds orgies hot? This guy is doing things to him!),because apparently cute guy almost paid for a thousand hookers and now is just begging for Derek. “I… I’m flattered that you’re asking it for me, really, but I…”
"I’ll give you a hundred bucks!" Cute guys just cuts him, like he wasn’t even listening. "Just, please…”
Suddenly, Derek doesn’t feel so flattered anymore, because—-
"Only a hundred bucks? Seriously?”
"I think that’s way more than fair!"
"If it was the opposite, how much you think I’d charge you?"
"I don’t know!" Derek yells, "I already said I find you cute! I wouldn’t… But if I would, you’re worth at least a thousand!"
Cute opens his mouth, but abruptly shuts it. ”Did you just say I’m worth a thousand?”
"Not you," he sighs, because he’s already completely red again, "a night with you, like… you know what I mean."
"Uh," cute guy is looking at him like Derek’s completely insane "I don’t think I do. Sooo, let’s make this clear: I was trying to buy your coke, because it has my name on it and you have no idea how hard it is to find a can that says Przemyslaw.”
Derek looks at the coke on cute guy’s - Przemyslaw - hands and…
Oh holy fuckin—-This is awkward.
"Now, please enlighten me with your version of the facts," he continues, because apparently he’s putting things together and enjoying Derek’s embarrassment.
"I… I thought you thought I was a hooker." Przemyslaw just burst out laughing and Derek wants to die. He does. Please bury him. Now. He doesn’t need to go through this shit, he… "Have the can. I’ll just…" kill myself somewhere else.
"Oh no. I get why you thought that… Now that I am replying our conversation, I can see my mistake. How much. Geez, I’m sorry to harass you. Not that it was my intention.”
"It’s fine. I was the one who got everything wrong." Because of course cute guy doesn’t want to sleep with him. Derek has no luck with his love life. "Look, Przemyslaw, I…"
"My name. Stiles. Well, everyone I know call me Stiles. Actually, only three people even know my real name. Well, four now.” Prz… Stiles said smiling. Derek only nodded. “And I know you just said I could have it, but wouldn’t you want to share a coke with me, like it says right here?”
"I thought you were offering me a hundred bucks for sex." Derek blurts out.
"And that’s hilarious. You’re the only person I ever heard saying my name properly. I can’t let you go now." Derek huffs, feeling himself blush again. "Besides, word is on the streets you find me cute."
"I thought you weren’t paying attention to what I was saying."
"Pfff, please. You think I’m worth at least a thousand bucks. I’m keeping you."
Derek rolls his eyes. “Don’t get too excited. Let’s share that coke first, shall we?”
They share the coke. And, in the end, Stiles does keep him.
Lydia Martin: done with
teenageboys (because that’s totally what she meant, right)
same Lydia, same
Sterek AU: Now Derek thinks about it, his boss might have mentioned that his son was in a band. Whoops.
"What are you looking at?" Stiles scoffs, feeling himself blush under the werewolf’s intense stare. He knows he can’t hide the way it makes his heart skip a beat.
Derek only tilts his head to the side, a soft smile playing on his lips.
Nope. But the real story is better. Bolding mine:
The late Ruth Thompson, a cell painter on “Snow White” who later became a multiplane scene planner, recalled: “We tried everything - airbrush, drybrush, even lipstick and rouge, which is perhaps the basis for the legend because we did, in fact, try it. But nothing worked.”
The airbrush was difficult to control on such a small area; drybrush was too harsh; lipstick and rouge unwieldy and messy. Everything proved to be impractical and all hope seemed lost to give Snow White her little bit of color when the idea of using a dye was proposed.
Again Ms. Thompson: “Someone suggested a red dye because the blue day we added to give Donald Duck his distinctive sailor-blue never really could be washed off the cell without leaving a bluish stain where the paint had been applied.”
Ever since the mid 30’s when color became the norm for all the cartoons, not just the “Silly Symphonies,” all paints and inks were made at the studio. During this period as well cells were routinely reused for economic reasons, thus the need to wash them off. Apparently Donald’s special blue color was made with a dye added to the usual powdered pigments. “So we tried that.” As the women gathered around in what must have seemed just another dead-end effort, all eyes became fixed on the red dot which soon became a small glow with no perceptible edge. The hushed silence soon gave way to sighs of relief. The method had finally been found. Now the application.
Among the studio’s many inkers (an extremely demanding profession), was one young lady whose training and skill was unique: Helen Ogger. Just being an inker placed one within the elite confines of this most “holy of holies” area of the Nunnery, as the Ink and Paint Department was so called (Walt had strict and quite Victorian views that the sexes not mingle at the workplace, allowing no male personnel save the “gofer” boy and the paymaster “Mr.” Keener to enter this domain of mostly unmarried women ). But Helen was in addition a very fine cartoonist and one of the few women at Disney’s or anywhere else, who could animate.
Such a seemingly insignificant detail (as the cheek colors) might be thought not worthy of special mention (she, as well as the other inkers and painters, was given no screen credit). But when one adds up the number of footage required to be tinted freehand on each individual cell, the hours suddenly turn into weeks and months. In fact, such a treatment was never attempted again on such a scale and even today, the publicity stills from “Snow White,” most of which do not have the added blush, bear witness to how that little touch of extra care adds to the vitality we see on the screen.
The work was done on all close-ups, most medium shots, and even on some long shots. The Queen was also similarly tinted. Hundreds of hours were needed to complete this task, arduous, repetitive and, of course, hard on the eyes. Ultimately a handful of other girls were needed to assist Helen as the clocked ticked toward the deadline.
Helen had to place several cells together on an animation board, one atop the other, just like in the process of animation, in order to get the ‘registration’ right (the spot of red just right in relation to the preceding and following ones) - all of this without any guide. She would work out her own extremes and then ‘animate’ the blush in inbetweens. Her work deserves admiration and gratitude and it is unfortunate that her contribution has remained unknown and her anonymity unaltered during her lifetime. She was paid, as were the rest of the Inkers, $18 a week, which included a half-day on Saturday and the many, many hours of unpaid overtime “Snow White” would require - all given unstintingly, (by everyone involved, it should be added), to a project whose joy in participating was its own reward.
She eventually became head of Inking and Special Effects and even taught classes in animation at the studio. She left in 1941 (apparently part of the terrible strike that would leave the Disney Studio changed forever), taking her skills with her. She died in Glendale in February of 1980. Perhaps it is safe to say that her departure was critical to the abrupt demise of this now unique effect (it was also used, though on a much smaller scale in both “Pinocchio” and “Fantasia”). None of the other inkers or painters were animators and it is this fact, not just the factor of economy nor the changing tastes, which surely must be considered a reason why such details were never attempted again. The golden age was over.
Also, here’s an interesting article about female cel painters at Disney. I am now fascinated by the idea of writing something with a Depression-era cel painter as a protagonist.
hi this is your official Welcome to Beacon Hills locker room visit from Derek Hale