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donnerpartyofone · 10 months

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This has been a really hard one to talk about. I'm always very ambivalent about mourning celebrities. I try to remember that I don't know these people, that what is really mourned by most of us is the person's ongoing work, which in the best cases has helped us understand ourselves and the world in which we live. Unavoidably, though, you can start to develop the sense that you know these people personally, which isn't true or even appropriate necessarily, I mean you have no idea whether you would even like someone you've only seen on a screen or received an autograph from; but at the same time, I don't know if you can really force yourself not to feel like the deceased celebrity is a dear friend you will never get to talk to again (the last time I tried and failed was the passing of Lux Interior). Maybe this is more forgivable, and also more inevitable, if you feel like you grew up with the person.

Of course this is all about ME now, but my mother (who also died from cancer) was an extremely hip, brilliant, funny individual who for whatever reason refused to form a relationship with me. This was pretty strange, because we liked a lot of the same things--B movies, old comics, all types of camp and kitsch--but when I liked those things, it was in poor taste and punishable by exile, whereas when she liked those things, it was evidence of her cultural genius. Before I make anybody too mad I should say that I'm being a little bit unfairly reductive just so I can get to the point, which is that one of the few things we could share was Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I didn't know anything about the show's more adult origins or the fact that Paul Reubens was sort of a performance artist, but I didn't have to. Pee-Wee's Playhouse was a feast for any child's senses: stylish, hilarious, and on some subliminal level, really sophisticated. I was clued into some of what was going on just because I watched it with my mom, who always laughed at Pee-Wee's winks and nudges to the hep parents in the audience. The show might have been my first encounter with the kind of anthropological humor favored by people like David Byrne and Laurie Anderson, artists who engage subversively with cliches, stereotypes, and other memetic parts of popular culture. In Pee-Wee's Playhouse, with its sharp, edgy cast and crew, kids like me were getting into fine art without even knowing it--which is possibly the best way to learn about art anyway.

In fact, on the other side of our house, I became obsessed with Gary Panter's incredible punk opus Jimbo In Paradise, a Dantesque comic book about an innocent young guy living in a dystopian future, where he is occasionally joined by guest stars such as Nancy and Hedorah. I was about 7 when I started reading Jimbo over and over again even though I could barely understand it, and I had no idea that Gary had pretty much designed Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I'm speaking about him so familiarly because I got to know him a little bit as a grownup. I remember Gary talking about how private Paul Reubens could be. He used to do this thing where he would accept a dinner invitation from anybody who asked, as sort of a stunt, but he had to stop doing it because people became so intrusive and entitled with him. Gary said that they'd be walking around in New York and when they saw an obvious Pee-Wee fan gearing up for an offensive, Paul Reubens would sort of transform into this totally different person, putting out an aura that let you know not to fuck with him. It's crazy-making to think that someone who was so protective of the boundary between his private and public selves had to suffer that ridiculous arrest, but it's heartening that most of society eventually grew the fuck up and forgot about it. It's also helpful to remember when he turned up later on the MTV Music Video Awards and started off by asking the audience, "HEARD ANY GOOD JOKES LATELY??"

I'm glad we got one more Pee-Wee special in the past several years, but I always wished that we would see Paul Reubens in more movies. He was such a cool actor, funny, convincing, and naturally charismatic. While people are cycling through their favorite roles of his, I want to point out that he had a great role on a recent HBO miniseries called Mosaic, an intense, engrossing crime drama that I definitely recommend if you have access. Maybe I'll rewatch it, too. In closing, here's a great story that I grabbed from Facebook that should warm everybody's heart, along with the heartbreaking statement (inappropriately cropped by Instagram of course) released upon the death of the very private Pee-Wee Herman. It makes you wish you could thank him in person, for everything. The best we can do is just remember him.

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goosetheluce · 9 months

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WAIT OKAY gwen stacy/fem!r smth smth seeing her band and like developing the BIGGEST crush on her from just watching her and bumping into her after the show and her asking u out 🤭🤭

Do I Know You? (Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader)

requested by @meredarling

warnings: mentions of underage drinking and drug use, crowded show, use of y/n, pet names, non-sexual flirting, fem reader

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Wherever the crowd went, you went. The mass of punks and curious outsiders swayed and undulated, creating one hive-minded motion that flowed into you. Your ears were under a constant assault of missed guitar notes and strangled screaming that was probably wrecking the vocalist's throat. You didn't care, though; the point of coming to these shitty basement shows filled with late teens and early 20s was to ignore everything outside.

So you stayed there, taking in the combo of sweat, sour fermentation of beer, and the sharp scent of weed.

Not my favorite.

Truthfully, you didn't care about any of these bands except for the final act.

"The Mary Janes," you read off the poster to your friend, Amy. It had been laying on the concrete sidewalk leading up to the academy. Your brain put together the familiar name. "Wait, like, Mary Jane Watson? From school?"

Amy shrugged. "Guess so. I had no idea she had a band." She sipped her coffee, the chilled air nipping at both of your fingertips. You raised your eyebrows and folded the poster, slipping it into your backpack.

"We gotta see this! Especially you, Ames," you teased, elbowing her gently in the arm. She pulled into herself a bit more.

"I can't tonight, but I think if I saw MJ Watson live, I'd faint and die happily on the ground," she whispered dramatically, a smile creeping across her face. "I wish she'd dump that douchebag guy, I'm literally sending out radio-clear signal that I'm into her."

"Lending her a pen and staring at her when she's not looking isn't radio-clear, but whatever you say," you sighed. Amy was hopeless.

"What? I think it's a great tactic. Anyway, we should get to class. We're gonna be late."

You nodded and zipped up your bag. You were buzzing with excitement when you hopped off the bus later that afternoon. You had a show to catch.

And here you were, taking a swig of your bottled cherry Pepsi, sweat beading on your hairline. Outside, the sky had bled into a deep indigo ink. The music stopped, and the vocalist's thrashed voice cracked into the mic, reiterating the band's name and stumbled off.

The lights dimmed a bit more. The house had been modified to have more resemblance to an actual venue. Impressive, you remarked to yourself.

It was silent for a few moments, the crowd whispering excitedly. You caught MJ's name here and there. You wondered to yourself how you never knew she had a band, because she was clearly popular in the scene. You recognized another name.

"MJ's vocals are great, but I'm telling you, the drummer is fucking amazing. Gwen Stacy or something. She goes to our school, too. I think she's a senior."

"Huh," you muttered out loud.

A line of girls suddenly streamed out from the other room where the bands got ready. MJ's flaming locks of hair bounced over her shoulders and she ran up onto the stage, grabbing the mic and breathing heavily into it. The other girls ran out behind her and settled into their positions. The lights fully dimmed this time.

"Give it up for Glory Grant!" MJ yelled into the microphone, pointing to a dark-skinned girl with locs on keys. She dragged her fingers across the board to produce a bright shriek of notes. The crowd hollered.

"Give it up for Betty Brant!" This time it was a pale brunette on bass. She plucked the thick strings with her pointer and middle fingers with a jazzy melody. You nodded to the beat. The crowd celebrated.

"Give it up for my best friend, Gwen Stacy, on drums!" This time MJ trotted to the back where the drumset was, putting her arm around the blonde.

"Play something, Gwen!" someone in the crowd suggested.

Gwen laughed into her microphone. "Sure, random stranger." You noted her smooth, relaxed voice.

As quick as lightning, she began pounding on the drums, the cymbals crashing deafeningly. The sequence was immaculate, filling the house with energizing ruckus. Her arms moved impossibly fast, and your heart began to beat faster. Was it the tempo, or was it the way Gwen smiled with adoration for her instrument?

The crowd began to jump around, and MJ sprinted back to the mic. "I would give it up for myself, but the band is literally called The Mary Janes."

"So, face it, Tiger, you're not leaving this fuckin' show till we burn the fuckin' place down!" She played a riff on her guitar to match the drums and the show started with a bang.

Amy would have loved the show, and so did you, but your eyes were trained on Gwen the whole time. The way you could tell she was panting and screaming along with the lyrics despite not technically being a backup vocalist; it was powerful. Her bleach-blonde hair danced along with her vigorous movement as her body sang with passion. Your eyes were wide with awe. You pushed your way to the front to watch.

Her eyebrow was pierced and the side of her head was shaved, adding more to her bold presentation. Her nails were cut all the way short, but still painted maroon. Her leather jacket framed her thinner hourglass figure wonderfully, and her somewhat worn turquoise converse stomped on the bass drum. She was a beautiful force of nature.

Disappointment coursed through you when you realized that the long pause at the end of the song actually just the end of the show.

"The place didn't burn down, but I don't have the money to pay for rebuilding anyway. Have a good fuckin' night, Queens, New York!"

The crowd whooped and started talking loudly at each other when the lights came back on. The girls left the stage, yet you felt unfulfilled. You wished desperately that you'd recognize Gwen in school the next Monday as you bought another cherry Pepsi.

As the rest of the concertgoers filtered out of the house, you looked around to find an excuse to stay. Without looking in front of yourself, you took a few steps forward and crashed into someone.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry-" you quickly apologized only to be cut short.

Holy shit. Gwen motherfucking Stacy is right in front of me.

The drummer smirked. "Careful there. What if I was some drunk asshole? Could've started a fight for yourself, there, babe."

Your cheeks lit on fire. "Yeah, no kidding," you laughed nervously. She's just a person, calm down. "That show was amazing, by the way. I'm (Y/N)."

Gwen tilted her head to the side, crossing her arms and smiling at you.

"Wait, do I know you? You're from school, right? I've seen you in the halls."

"Yup. I'm a senior," you confirmed. "That's actually why I came. Didn't know that Mary Jane had a band, never would have guessed." You took a second to think before making a move. "But I think I found someone even better."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to your earlobe while whispering.

"You know, if it weren't for 97% of the population being straight or whatever, I think I'd ask you out right now," Gwen rasped into your ear. You felt her lips pull into a grin over your skin. "...(Y/N)," she finished, clearly trying to fluster you. It worked.

You let out a breath of air, pulling back to look at her. She was taller than you by a good half foot, and her fingers would probably be longer than yours by an inch. You found your words.

"Lucky for you, you don't have to worry about that. And definitely not after that performance," you assured charmingly. "So, are you gonna ask me?"

"I have to go help the band get their shit in the van, but..."

Gwen grabbed your palm and flipped it over to the top side. She pulled out a sharpie.

"Will this work, sweetheart?"

You nodded, pulse racing.

She went to work and wrote her number down on your hand. She left a message at the bottom.

call me xx -Gwen

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

thanks for reading!

#lucy writes #lucy's inbox #mere 🌷#itsv #atsv #gwen stacy #gwen spiderverse #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x fem!reader #gwen stacy x you #atsv x reader #ghost spider #ghost spider x reader #spider gwen #spider gwen x reader #spiderwoman #wlw #sapphic

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 10 months

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Hcs off modern Castlevania chars? Like jobs/friends & stuff

Ask: Hcs off modern Castlevania chars? Like jobs/friends & stuff

A/N: In this, most people are living sort of happily ever after. Does that make them OOC, yes it does. Do I care? No, I don’t.

👷‍♂️ Modern-Day Castlevania Headcanons: Jobs 👩‍⚕️

I see Trevor as something of a detective/cop, but I don’t think he’d be down with working for the system. Being a P.I. or an independent security contractor of some sort would probably suit his personality better. He’s the cool kinda punk that strikes fear into the hearts of violent bigots but is also somehow seen as a safe adult to little kids. Which he doesn’t mind. He finds it useful that only those hiding something or guilty of something see him as a threat. He’s not the best with kids, but he’s nice enough to them. He was on his own a lot from a very young age- definitely a latch-key kid- so he feels a fair share of protectiveness when it comes to them.

Sypha strikes me as a natural protector/nurturer, so maybe a preschool/grade-school teacher or physical therapist? She loves learning and sharing that knowledge with others. I can absolutely see her leading workshops related to whatever it is she’s chosen to have a career in. And she’s great with everyone- adults, kids, seniors, animals- you name it, they love Sypha. (Except for assholes and Karens of course.)

Alucard is introverted by nature, and also a lifelong student like Sypha. He’s also the inheritor/keeper of his father’s money and his mother’s wisdom. For that reason, I see him as a History or Anthropology Professor- at the college level and above. Maybe even an eventual department head. He’s very serious, and doesn’t have the demeanor for working with children or amateurs; he wants to teach people who are just as committed as he is to what they’re learning. His whole life he feels like his purpose is greater than what it currently is, and because of that, he’s never quite content with the life he’s living. He feels like something or someone is missing from his journey.

I think the three of them would become friends eventually, but one like one of those friend groups that makes absolutely no sense to people outside it. Like, you wouldn’t expect a rough and tumble cop-hating anarchist, a feisty, yet kind-hearted physical therapist, and a tall skinny history academic to be besties, yet there they are.

Maybe they’d meet at a conference somewhere. Like a wellness convention/conference is taking place at Alucard’s college, Sypha’s a prominent speaker (ah! pun not intended) there, and Trevor’s company is providing extra security.

Maybe there’s some kind of snafu, and there’s like an assailant loose on campus or something. Trevor’s chasing the guy, but Alucard sees him coming and decides he’ll help out and head the bad guy off. But in the end, the two men are beaten to the quick by Sypha, who stops the guy in the most impressively timed frisbee toss they’ve ever seen. The two men insist on talking Sypha out for coffee- and getting to know her, because, let’s be honest, who wouldn't want to be friends with Sypha? The three of them get to talking and the rest is history.

Dracula is someone who just has power- he doesn’t have to amass it, it just naturally comes to him. He’s the type to gather fortune and invest it in a bunch of different properties and revolutionary pharmaceutical investment opportunities. He’s the Big Guy in the Chair. And then he just sort of, fucks off to his mansion to do whatever he wants. He’s a recluse- he deems human interaction pointless and unnecessary as a man of his stature. Who needs to leave the house when you can just pay people to do everything for you? He’d much rather be alone anyway. Of course that all changes when he meets Lisa.

Lisa, similar to her nature in the show, would be a physician of some sort. I could see her being especially interested in women’s medicine or infectious disease as it disproportionately affects those in need, and she has a very strong internal sense of justice. Maybe she seeks out Vlad because he’s the big cheese CEO of a pharmaceutical company that’s publicly refusing to lower the cost of a specific drug that would revolutionize her patients’ care. She’d find out where he lived, bang on his door, and demand he lower his profit margins right now. Of course, no one has ever had the balls to say such a thing to his face before, and Drac falls in love pretty much instantly.

The two of them are a power couple: he still maintains so much fortune and sway, but his partnership with Lisa makes him see ways to use it for good. He starts charities and fundraisers- he shocks the wealthy world by going rogue- and gives away most of what he earns instead of hoarding it. And it’s no secret it’s thanks to Lisa.

Now Hector: I know everyone headcanons Hector as being a veterinarian, but for me, I think it makes more sense for him to be a mortuary or a medical examiner. He’s lovely with his pets, but at the same time, I don’t think he has the stomach to do what vets have to do. Vets have to talk to owners and their families and be personable and bright. He sees his pets as possessions, not family members. So a job where it’s just him and no one else- no crying kid or elderly companion to reassure would be better suited for him.

Hector is naturally inquisitive- a trait we saw even when he was imprisoned, so I think being a medical examiner would be very rewarding to him. He’d find it invigorating, to get down the truth of a mysterious death or shocking murder. And because he’s not squeamish, he’d be very clear and articulate presenting information on the stand.

Issac’s big thing throughout the series is loyalty and personal growth. S2 Isacc and S4 Issac are very different people. So I’m basing this more on S4 Isaac. I think he’d benefit in a position of some power, but also of some charity. Maybe as a politician or a professional lobbyist. He advocates for causes he believes are just and does not shy away from verbal confrontation when it comes to hashing out right vs. wrong.

I could see this being the way he meets Vlad and Hector. If some sort of tragedy or panic happened, and a large emergency medical response was involved, I could see Isacc propositioning Dracula for donations, in exchange for dinner and a chance to sway his mind about a certain political vote. Hector would be on the other end of that tragedy, dealing with those who lost their lives. Perhaps Issac seeks out Hector as a form of outreach, to prove he is committed to what he says he stands for. He connects Hector with Dracula, and the three of them find they’re all rather pleasant company compared to the majority of the unremarkable humans out there. They can all look death in the face and feel no fear. They don’t do bullshit, and they get along well because of it.

#castlevania headcanons #castlevania imagine #modern!au #castlevania modern!au #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania #alucard castlevania #trevor belmont #alucard tepes #sypha belnades #castlevania hector #hector castlevania #isaac laforeze #isaac castlevania #vlad dracula tepes #dracula castlevania #lisa tepes #lisa tepes castlevania #hc

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jewish-vents · 2 months

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its so bad to the point that i cant talk to goyim anymore, i just cant trust them whatsoever. but my therapist is a goy and a few weeks ago i tried to say that i was scared to go to more punk shows because of rampant antisemitism and she basically said that i was just paranoid and that it doesnt matter anyways. so obviously i walked out. but since then i cant talk to her i cant forget about everything that goyim have done to break me these past few months and i cant trust her to talk even about normal stuff. i still go i just sit there in silence while she talks at me for an hour. last week she asked me if someone did something to make me shut down like this and i was just thinking "yeah, my friend was murdered in october and i lost all my irl friends after i saw them cheering on the people who murdered him and i get people telling me almost everyday that hitler shouldve finished the job" but i just stayed silent because i know she'll probably agree with them. when my mum woke me up to take me today i started crying and hyperventilating because im so scared. its really bad because i need her to help get on the diability benefit, i cant work because im disabled and i cant get the benefit alone because my disabilities stop me from going to the meetings and making the phone calls and my brother said im a waste of resources and contribute nothing to society and i cant leave my house because im scared i'll get killed for being jewish

I'm sorry but your therapist sounds like a crappy therapist. It sucks that you need her. You're not a waste of resources and you can contribute to society, but one way or another you have inherent worth that is completely independent from what you can give others. And you have experienced quite a significant bit of trauma, and maybe more things you haven't even mentioned here. You're allowed to feel sad and upset and even angry.

When you need it, you can always come here scream and cry and talk and whatever you want (within the rules, of course). We're not going to judge you and you don't even need to make sense. Just let it out.

Best of luck and I hope it gets better for you

#jewish vents #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #trauma #mental health #mentions of violence

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badkarmaa1313 · 1 year

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Steve stands at the front door to his childhood home. It has been ten years since he last set foot in Hawkens, and even longer since he ventured to the large home that once belonged to his parents. Perhaps calling it his home was too much. It was never home, just a place where he would sleep at night. Home was being with his friends, hunting monsters and taking care of the kids. Kids who were now grown, living their own lives without him.

He has felt so lonely since he and Robin moved out of Hawkens. It was nice at first but Robin eventually found a nice girl to settle down with, and Steve found himself once again struggling with the inevitably of being alone.

He found himself getting heavily into the punk scene. His hair is currently shaved on both sides, his hair curly in the middle, and dyed a vibrant blue. He had a nose ring, two lip rings and many different earrings. He wears a jean vest that reminds him a lot of his first same sex crush, the man who sent him into a Bisexual spiraling panic, Eddie Munson. If it wasn’t for Eddie he may have never realized he was into men. Part of the reason why he came back to Hawkens was to see him, show Eddie the impact he had on him. He hopes Eddie approves. Even now he feels his stomach turning at the thought of seeing those stunning brown eyes.

Steve shakes his head, he cannot bring himself to go inside the house. He walks back to his car and drives down the road. Maybe he should just run to the store, get some booze and walk around. Its not like anyone would recognize him anyways. So it’ll keep him from any awkward conversations with old friends from high school.

Hawkens is as empty as always, barely any cars on main street as he pulls up to the general store. He wishes Joyce still worked there, it would be nice to see her. Maybe he’ll pay her and Hopper a visit.

He walks into the store, pushing the collar of his vest up, purposefully showing off his patches. He has several band patches. Iron Maiden, ACDC, as well as a few pride patches he’s gathered from gay bars he goes to every once in a while. He is daring someone to say something to him. Not like he could win the fight but, something in him feels like he deserves whatever might be said. After the torture he forced others to endure during high school, he feels as if it would be recompense for his actions.

“Yo dude, nice hair.” Steve stops in his tracks when he hears that voice. Its him. It has to be. He turns on his heels, those brown eyes looking into his soul.

“Thanks Munson.” Steve cannot help but smirk down to the shorter man, Eddie being even smaller now that Steve is wearing platform combat boots.

“Do I know you?” Eddie studies his face, and Steve feels himself blush as his eyes scan his face.

“Sure do. Though i gotta say, I miss ya calling me King Steve and bowing to me.”

“Harrington? No fucking way!” Eddie’s eyes widen and pulls Steve into a tight hug. Everything suddenly feels right as Steve wraps his arms around the other man.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #punk!steve #short ficlet

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historia-vitae-magistras · 6 months

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Do the baby rats ever return to the bilges? And by that do they spend much time with the old man? Are they free to drop in and make themselves at home?

I think it varies between them and over time.

Alfred drops in a lot. God knows there's hardly a spot in the world he hasn't made himself known but I still couldn't quite believe how many statues and memorials. The eagle squadron, the Eisenhower statue, the Reagan statue, the 9/11 memorial garden. Mark Twain, James McNeil Whistler, Harry Selfridge, FDR, Abraham Lincoln. Like goddamn I'm not sure why I was surprised but whoo. So many statues of Yanks paid for by the British.

Anyway: In the 19th century he'd actually spent time in England indulging his need for the latest technology and satiating whatever advances François or Gilbert wouldn't keep him abreast of. Nowadays, especially since the age of flight, he travels a lot and has no shame in rolling up, insulting the food but savoring the whiskey, crashing wherever he likes and drunkenly asking his father's advice. He's very free in how much space he takes up and how much time he feels entitled too. If he's jet lagged he'll just conk out on the old man's spare room and complain it smells like sheep but very much appreciate a night's sleep in a place he once called home.

Matt... He should be very comfortable in that space but he's a dipshit so imposing feels illegal. He kind of knows he can but he's also not willing to test his luck the vast majority of the time. If he's invited he'll show up on time, clean up after himself and promptly leave without causing a fuss. At least the cat's happy he's back to visit lmao. He got permission to pay for a wee fountain in the green park memorial. There was a gate we bought when Victoria locked it and we were still first dominion (Australia was still in the process of confederating.) But yeah he's welcome? Arthur doesn't mind him around if he's not underfoot. But it really was kind of a sign Jan had no idea what Matt's life was like anymore when he asked him to go stay at his dad's in the aftermath of their break up.

Jack lmao he's shameless when he wants some of the old man's attention. I don't think it's all the time, but there are a lot of links there. I swear to God I met so many Australians in England. I tumbled out of a test pit off a corner off a Hadrian's wall fortlet and there were like 6 Australians in every pub in fricken Yorkshire. He will just kind of show up with a very casual but somehow kind of prickly invitation to go to a cultural event of his artists or bands in England and the old fart isn't objecting. It took Arthur a minute to figure out that "Accadacca" meant they were going to go see AC/DC but he wasn't mad about it! Two manic fucks can have a lot of fun. They party quite hard sometimes. Jack was also very responsible for the old man's cooking improving by a metric and imperial fuck tonne. The espresso machine under the cabinet is his baby.

Zee I think is the easiest. She's as independent as Jack but that not quite dead idea that daughters are kind of allowed to be more in and out of the house makes it slightly easier for them. She rolls up and flops on the sofa demanding to be fed and watered. A full fifth of the NZ population lives overseas with Australia and the UK topping the list and if there's things she can't really do in New Zealand or she just doesn't want to live alone she'll just hop over. I feel like she goes in cycles of how independent and revolutionary she's feeling and will just kind of make herself at home if she wants another degree or something similar. She spent time in London without the old man too especially during the peak punk years and they ran into each other at a sex pistols concert. She had a full set of tattoos, an undercut and half a blunt in her system, Arthur had green hair and absolutely ripped on god knows what. She's never seen him so panicked. They stumbled home together having a hoot and throwing beer bottles at cops. Grade a hooligans, those two.

#the ask box || probis pateo #Arthur and the children || bilge rat and his bouncing baby bilge rats

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cbkeats · 2 years

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⋆˙ Eddie Munson Headcannons!!!

summary: I love my dark, curly haired, nerd punks as much as the next idiot, but let me tell you exactly why; between sharing interests and personal space, here's a few things I think would come included with your Eddie Munson Boyfriend Pack™ :)

wc: 645 words, short n' sweet !

warnings/tags: sexual behavior implied but not explicit, gn!reader, fluff

⚘᠂ strong attempts on his part to clean / tidy up a bit before someone important to him comes over. things like gathering up any old dishes, bottles, or cans, emptying ashtrays and throwing dirty laundry into a more discreet spot to be dealt with later. maybe he makes his bed and makes sure all his drawers are closed, picks shit off the floors and makes sure whatever needs to be put back, is.

⚘᠂ it's a show that isn't actually all that necessary considering how long and how well he's been know, but it's sweet and welcome nonetheless.

⚘᠂ You’ll be carrying hair ties on your wrist if you don't already do so. Maybe you can even teach him how to take care of it lmao

⚘᠂ sitting on his lap (or vice versa?) for physical contact and also to provide a familiar weight that can keep him still. his fingers will still tap, and fiddle with things like the hem of your shirt or your own hands, but be careful because he will get handsy very quickly (it's the understimulated/bored ADHD needing instant gratification for me)

⚘᠂ sometimes you can sus out his more suggestive motivations by what rings are on which fingers (or more like which ones they're specifically Not on)

⚘᠂ it means enduring the sudden bursts of dancing and movement that possess him during the music he's listening to, fully jumping up and giving in, putting that hair to such good use

⚘᠂ mutually strong hugs!!!! hold him tight he'll hug you tighter! in good times it's more like a challenge or a joke; a "see how far we can get before someone injured their ribs" kind of thing, but in times of panic it can be grounding for both of you, a reminder that you're both still kickin’.

⚘᠂ He can’t rollerskate worth a shit. doesn't really matter because it's not his scene nor his music - but you can drag him into a rink anyway.

- (take it as you will: either u make him, and he manages to pick it up, or you circle around as he watches from the wall- all holding hands and smiles with sudden cocky bursts of competitiveness or showboating, and nervous near-falling when transitioning on and off of the rink

⚘᠂ but speaking of music: sitting in on his rehearsals, he might sound terrible, it's his house shows and small gigs that matter tho and you make yourself loud and known, biggest fan #1

⚘᠂ he's the type to crowd you randomly before backing up after surprising you to gauge ur reaction. it just doesn't occur to him to be conscious of it, but he'll continue his theatrics when he can tell you're caught up.

- he's the type to go for back hugs and resting his chin on your shoulder (whileee rocking back and forth just to be annoying)

⚘᠂ i wish so hard that lord of the rings came out at this time so i can say: please watch lord of the rings with him he would love it it would be great. but i can't, you can't - im gonna cry real

⚘᠂ him skipping school or leaving early or during lunch to go find you at work or at home (also didn't fully communicate)- leaving campus

⚘᠂ that handkerchief isn't in his pocket for no reason, babe. check the tapes, there's cuffs on his wall. he's been outcast he's a little fucked up is a little high-chasing and he's got his painful skin markings - he likes it! let's do it

⚘᠂ chances are he's never seen the ocean, the biggest body of water would have been a lake, but i think as someone who's lived on a coast their whole life i'd love to see him see it. he might now how to swim.. even if he doesn't, he'd have fun getting goofy on the beach, playing with the sand, throwing water, droplets off his curls

a/n: first post!! it's not my branding and a little bit short, but i wanted to start somewhere - big things are cooking up! hope you enjoy and your time is really appreciated!! written with the help of @somnichron ⋆˙⊹ .

#kit writes #eddie my beloved #eddie munson x reader #x gn!reader #x gender neutral reader #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things 4 x reader #x reader headcanons #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x male y/n

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thewillofdeez · 1 year

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The Warlord and the Revolutionary: A Dracule Mihawk/OC Romance - Chapter 1: Unexpected Visitors

Summary: Mihawk has never been big on surprises, but when Zoro and Perona showed up on Kuraigana, Mihawk took it in stride. He learned how to adjust and even slowly began to enjoy their company. Just under a year later, another surprise showed up on his island - his ex-girlfriend, on the verge of death. The one he hasn't seen in fifteen years. And he might still love her.

Slice of life goth family cuteness headcanons mixed with OC romance.

Chapter 1 word count: 3360

Dawn broke over Kuraigana Island on an early December morning, and the rays of the sun snuck through the fog which lingered over the island, brighter than one might expect, particularly after the storm that had ravaged the island for the past two days. Dracule Mihawk rolled over in his large, plush bed, one literally fit for a king. He covered his eyes with his arm and groaned softly. Another day, it seemed.

Throwing back the covers and sitting on the edge of the bed, he stretched deeply and yawned, feeling the muscles in his back release from their taut, sleepy state. Making his way to the ensuite bathroom, he leaned over the sink and ran a hand through his hair, which hung in strands over his forehead. Not nine months ago, Mihawk would have awoken at a leisurely pace, started his day when he was ready, and gone about his business just as he always had - exactly when he intended to, and not a second sooner. But nine months ago, his life changed drastically when two young morons arrived at his doorstep, thanks to his fellow Warlord Batholomew Kuma. Mihawk had always been somewhat fond of Kuma - he believed him to be a good man, whatever that meant when it came to pirates - and held a certain level of respect for him, a feeling he believed was mutual. Perhaps that’s why the former King of the Sorbet Kingdom sent these two pastel punks his way - he knew they’d be in good, if begrudging, hands. Kuma’s true motive was still unknown to Mihawk, and given the devastating state of the man the last time he saw him, probably always would be. But, as his crimson-haired friend always liked to say with a shrug and a crooked smile, “It is what it is.”

Mihawk prepared himself for the day and made his way down the exceptionally long staircase from the main bedroom, allowing his mind to wander over the events of the last nine months since the War of the Best. The circling stairs easily took ten minutes or more to descend at a leisurely pace. There was a time not long before his unexpected guests arrived that he considered moving to one of the numerous, more accessible bedrooms housed within the ancient castle, but then they showed up, and well, suddenly he had a full house to be the master of - well, more full than it had ever been in his stay there anyway.

They were the “ghost princess” Perona, formerly of the Thriller Bark Pirates, and Roronoa Zoro of the Straw Hat Pirates. Mihawk had never met Perona before, though he vaguely recalled his fellow (former) Warlord Gecko Moria occasionally mentioning in casual conversation a pink-haired upstart working on his crew. The man, for all his faults (and really, who was Mihawk to talk about faults?), had clearly thought of her like something of a daughter. Young, displaced, and with no deep roots to speak of, Perona had joined Moria’s crew as barely a pre-teen. Such was often the case for those who became pirates - abandoned, cruelly neglected, or left behind by deceased parents, finding a crew to care for you and take you in was often the best way of survival for children who had few or no other options, and there was hardly a successful pirate captain alive who didn’t also bear the title of “adoptive parent.” Mihawk himself recalled being one of those children once.

Roronoa Zoro had made a lasting impression on Mihawk about a year and a half ago, when the consequences of a disrupted nap brought devastation to hundreds of Marines, and brought the two swordsmen face to face for the first time in the East Blue. Even before he could really claim he knew the man in the way living together allows one to know another, Mihawk had seen some of his younger self in Zoro - stupid and arrogant, sure, but also driven and full of potential. Even Mihawk could admit that with age comes wisdom, and he was also decidedly unwise at Zoro’s age, though he’d certainly be loath to admit that to anyone today.

Whereas Perona found great joy in the domesticity of castle life, filling her days with baking experimental sweets, sewing new fashions from the old bolts of fabric she found locked away in an unused room, and dusting the hundreds of ancient bookshelves (a feat made much easier by the ability to fly), Mihawk could tell that Zoro was often restless. Whether it was because he had never stayed in one place for so long or because he deeply missed his crew, Mihawk wasn’t sure and certainly wouldn’t ask. Mihawk could relate to how Zoro felt - despite making a permanent home for himself, he often felt the call of the sea, and appreciated the ability to set sail whenever the urge hit him. But now he had dependents, and a promise to fulfill, and sometimes the sea had to wait.

Zoro proved himself to be an adequate guest, after he adjusted to his new home. He cleaned up after himself, if at his own pace, and made himself useful where needed. Surprisingly, the young man had developed a penchant for working in Mihawk’s farm, specifically when planting season arose shortly after Zoro and Perona’s arrival. Mihawk was keenly aware that Zoro and Perona knew how quickly Mihawk could end their stay on the island if he so desired - by the sword or otherwise - and appreciated that the young people at least tried to be decent houseguests.

Nine months before, about a week since Mihawk’s return from Marineford, Zoro’s wounds had been healing nicely after his numerous encounters with the Humandrills, and his training with Mihawk had been off to a solid start.

After breakfast one morning, a decidedly awkward meal with the company of three still becoming accustomed to each other’s presence, Mihawk asked the two young people to join him outside. Zoro and Perona followed him down the sweeping stone stairs and across the bridge over the lake, towards a series of land plots filled with budding weeds and old, brambly vines.

“I’m fine with you living here,” Mihawk announced to the duo, facing the empty fields. “If I’m being honest, it’s a rather…” Mihawk considered his words carefully, looking up to the fog-covered sky. “...Interesting change of pace for me.”

He turned around, hands in his pockets. “But I’m not running a bed and breakfast here. If you’re going to live on my island, you need to pull your weight. I’ve spent the last seven years making this place work by myself, and I’m going to take advantage of any help I can get.”

What could Zoro or Perona possibly say to that? Any snarky comments they might have held on the tips of their tongues were swallowed, knowing the older man was right. They were guests, unexpected and only begrudgingly accepted, and this was no leisurely vacation. Perona may not have had a set end goal in mind, but from the moment Mihawk accepted Zoro as a student, with his forehead to the cold stone floor of the castle, he knew this was going to be work. As for Perona…well, what else was she to do, with Moria presumed dead and her home only the place she once knew in name?

Mihawk handed them each a pair of gloves and they set to work. Neither Zoro nor Perona knew the first thing about gardening. The learning curve was steep to say the least. But Mihawk proved to be a decent teacher in more than just swordsmanship, instructing them on the overall plan, how to pull the old plants from the ground, break up the soil, lay the seeds, and what the expected results would be. It wasn’t a task to be taught in a week, or even two. Hell, it had taken Mihawk two seasons on Kuraigana to make a moderately successful harvest by himself, and that was after countless hours in the castle’s library reading up on agricultural practices, soil types, and irrigation. But Zoro and Perona proved to be quick enough learners, and by the time the first sprouts were peeking from the ground in early April, he could find both of them out there of their own volition, only needing to speak to him occasionally for guidance.

In the early days of their time together, as the three of them worked on their own tasks in the field, Mihawk couldn’t help but observe Zoro and he moved down along the planting lines with a hand cultivator, whistling a tune Mihawk recognized but couldn’t quite place. The hat Zoro wore covered his eyes in shadow, but a soft smile stuck out where the sun hit the lower half of his face as the song ended.

“You seem to be quite comfortable in the garden, Roronoa,” Mihawk offered as he yanked some of the previous year’s dry, stringy growth from the ground, tossing it in the wheelbarrow to be composted later.

Zoro chuckled. “Kinda reminds me of the dojo where I grew up, back in the East Blue.” He stayed silent for a moment, then continued. “I was sort of an obnoxious kid, had more energy than I knew what to do with even after training all day. Wound up getting myself in trouble a lot.” Mihawk held in a snort of his own. Obviously.

“So my sensei helped me build a zen garden. It’s not the same thing, of course, but…when I was eight and full of energy I didn’t know how to dispose of and had a brain that wouldn’t shut the hell up, sitting in the sand and moving it around with no real goal in mind…it helped me. I learned how to meditate that way. Working the soil….kind of brings me back to that same headspace, ya know?” Zoro lifted his head to meet Mihawk’s golden eyes, and was met with only a knowing smirk before Mihawk returned to his task. The silence after was slightly less strained.

The sound of a sizzling pan broke Mihawk from his thoughts as he walked into the castle’s open kitchen. “Morning, Mihawk!” smiled Perona as she looked up from the skillet.

Mihawk nodded in acknowledgement. “Ghost girl.”

“Eggs?” She asked.

“Over easy,” he replied, making his way to the counter where Zoro was pouring coffee into three mugs, a self-assigned task he had taken on over time. Mihawk grasped one and took a deep sip, feeling the warmth circulate through his chest. Perona plated the men’s preferred eggs as well as her own, along with sausage and toast and sat them on the counter, where they were grabbed by their respective person and brought to the long dining table. Mihawk, as always, sat at the head of the table in his plush, oversized chair, while Zoro sat to his right and Perona to his left. Mihawk opened up the paper, which Zoro had earlier brought in from the news coo. Before settling in he separated the paper into his housemates’ preferred sections and handed them over. Each of them ate their breakfast and drank their coffee, occasionally commenting on a story of interest. At this point, it was a comfortable routine.

As Zoro flipped through his section, he came across a picture of the man sitting to his left. The article was a retrospective of the careers of the current Warlords, likely triggered by the addition of the most recent one, Trafalgar Law. Mostly, Zoro thought, it was probably just a way to take up page space on an otherwise slow news day. While reading about his mentor, something caught Zoro’s eye:

Name: Dracule Mihawk

Origin: Grand Line

Bounty: 3.59 Billion

Also Known As: Hawk-eyes, Marine Hunter, Naked Hawk

Naked Hawk, huh? That was one he’d never seen before, or perhaps had just never paid attention to. The other two nicknames were obvious in origin, but that third one…

“Hey Mihawk,” Zoro said, “What’s with the name Naked Hawk?”

Mihawk choked slightly on the coffee that slid down his throat, his eyes widening. “Let me see that,” he said, grabbing the paper from the younger man’s hands. Mihawk’s eyes scanned the page. He then sighed and handed it back. “Twenty years I’ve been trying to bury that infernal nickname, and yet every so often it pops up. Must be Shanks’s doing.”

“Sooo…I’m guessing there’s a story there?” Perona offered with a grin.

“Oh there is,” Mihawk replied, “And you’ll hear it over my dead body.”

After breakfast was typically when training started for Mihawk and Zoro. While the storm had kept them working in the dungeon for the past few days, today was proving to be nice, if a bit chilly, and so they’d take their sword work outside.

“Hey Perona, I know it’s my turn but d’ya mind handling the dishes from breakfast? I’m itching to get started.” Zoro’s hands were already ghosting over the hilts of the three swords at his side, flexing and eager to pull them from their sheaths.

Perona puffed her cheeks in anger. “So I’m cooking AND doing dishes? Nuh-uh, Mihawk, tell him, we have a rotation for a reason!”

Mihawk sighed. It was going to be another one of those days, where the two couldn’t go ten minutes without finding something to bicker over. While he knew the young adults regarded each other fondly, hardly a week could pass without them butting heads over something inconsequential, and he of course, being an unwilling referee, would have to hear about it.

“Zoro, do the dishes, it won’t kill you to wait another fifteen minutes.” Mihawk rose from his seat and moved to the sink, finishing the last sip of his coffee and placing it and his empty plate in the sink. “I’ll meet you outside.” Zoro grumbled but turned his attention to the pile of dishes as Mihawk grabbed Yoru from its resting place and walked out onto the front steps.

Making his way to the paved area in front of the castle, Mihawk let out a few practice swings with Yoru, loosening up and preparing for the first round of the day with his student. Zoro’s progress over the last nine months had been impressive, if Mihawk could say so. While the green-haired swordsman still had a long way to go if he planned on killing his teacher and claiming the title of World’s Greatest Swordsman, Mihawk had to admit Zoro was doing well.

Even though Mihawk found himself looking forward to their usual practice rounds, he'd personally had a lot to learn about how to be a good teacher in the one field he was truly an expert in, something he’d slowly improved upon over time. He recalled a time in the early days of their training when they were sparring together.

Mihawk unleashed a projected attack at Zoro, sending blue crescent blades flying through the air at him. Zoro had been caught off guard, and while he hadn’t acted quickly enough to deflect the attack, he had just barely been able to roll out of the way, and onto the ground.

Zoro panted, rising from the stone. “The hell, you trying to kill me?”

Mihawk scoffed. “Not my fault your defenses are sloppy, at best. That was pathetic. Makes me wonder what I saw in you in the first place”

Zoro had risen to his feet. “Ya know you’re great at the criticism, but not so good with the constructive part. Got anything useful to tell me? Anything I can work with?”

Mihawk let out a small chuckle, resuming a fighting stance. “Well…you’re great at dodging. Unfortunately, that won’t be enough to defeat me!” He leapt towards Zoro, swinging Yoru in punctuation of his statement.

Finished with the dishes, Zoro made his way down the stairs to meet Mihawk, and pulled the Wado Ichimoji from its sheath.

“Ready?” Zoro asked, smirking. Mihawk responded with a clash of his steel against Zoro’s own. The two swordsmen carried on in battle for the next few hours, Mihawk occasionally stopping to provide guidance.

The sun was reaching its apex in the sky, signaling that it was almost time to break up their battle when Perona’s voice cut through the sound of clashing metal.

“MIHAWK! MIHAWK!” The sharp-eyed man and his student turned at the sound, to see Perona floating rapidly towards them, parasol in hand.

“Mihawk there’s someone on the beach! A ship ran aground during the storm I guess? There’s someone there, she’s not moving.”

Mihawk panted, catching his breath from the exercise with Zoro. “Where? Show me.”

Leaning Yoru against a crumbling wall, Mihawk and Zoro followed Perona to the north side of the island, just behind the castle. Coming over a hill they could make out a small craft with torn sails, leaning slightly to the side, its hull driven up along the beach. A few yards upshore was an unmoving figure.

Mihawk could feel his blood pressure rising at the thought of another random stranger to take in, disturbing the peace he’d found and with whom he’d have to start the accommodation process over again if they needed to stay. He wasn’t a fucking charity. As he walked down the beach, he let out his frustration. “I swear to God if I have to take in one more stray….” A few feet from the unmoving figure, Mihawk came to a sudden halt, the expression on his face changing from anger to shocked recognition. The small frame, the pale skin, the deep purple hair… Perona and Zoro stopped behind him, bumping into each other.

“Olivia?” Mihawk said silently. Swiftly, he moved around the person and knelt at her side, flipping her onto her back. Her skin was freezing. Mihawk’s breath caught in his throat. He took in the woman before him, damp, bedraggled, breathing shallowly, and partially covered in a rash that reminded him of the way frost settled on glass. Lifting her shirt slightly, he saw it covered much of her torso and arms and was making its way up her neck and onto her jawline. With every shaky breath she exhaled, it was visible like a breath in freezing temperatures. While the island was chilly, it wasn’t that cold. Something was horribly wrong. “Shit. Olivia? Olivia??” He cradled her face in his hands, trying to get a response, but none came. Zoro and Perona rushed to his side. Mihawk bolted into action.

“Perona, I need you to go to the town on the next island, the one we visit for supply runs. A doctor lives there, her name is Dr. Takahashi. Tell her we have a woman in her late 30’s with a snowflake-like rash, cold skin, and when she exhales it’s like breathing on a cold day. Get her here as fast as possible, even if you have to drag her by the neck.” Perona nodded, her face set in determination, and without a word she took the order and fled over the water towards the nearest island.

Mihawk reached down and began to scoop the unmoving woman into his arms. She let out a small groan with the movement, her eyes fluttering open slightly.

“M-Mihawk?” she whimpered, the image of the man holding her fuzzy, but familiar, his golden eyes unmistakeable even in her delirious state. Mihawk smiled softly - the first genuine smile Zoro had seen him make in all his time on the island. Well I’ll be goddamned , he thought.

“Hey,” Mihawk said, cradling her with his left arm and pushing a strand of wet hair from her face with his free hand. “Don’t worry, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

The woman smiled slightly before losing consciousness again. Mihawk lifted her into his arms and stepped quickly towards the castle, with Zoro in tow.

“Hey, you know her?” the younger man said, struggling to keep pace with the other man’s longer legs.

Mihawk’s golden eyes hadn’t left the woman’s face yet, his feet carrying him towards the castle with hardly a thought. But with Zoro’s question he looked up.

“I do,” Mihawk said. “She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

Next - Chapter 2: The Longest Night

#dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #op x reader #mihawk x ofc #hawkeye mihawk #goth family

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miseria-fortes-viros · 9 months

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(brings microphone to your face) tell us abt ur au!!!! whatever you're willing to share, i love hearing abt wips.

OOHOOHOO OK!! so i have talked abt this before but i don’t think i have a tag for it however im going to go back thru and tag ALL of it bc well. i like all of my things in one place. ANYWAY. i’m going to put this under a cut bc it will be LONG because i cannot help myself ever. so, i present: trc rival bands au!

this is the pinterest board i’ve made for the au that i cannot stop adding to. i’m refraining from sharing my spotify playlists because uh. those are a major part of the story and i don’t want to take that away from it 😭 BUT trust me they are SO good. im obsessed.

anyway. rival bands au LETS GO!!

gansey, ronan, henry, and noah make up the (pop punk?/alt rock?) band Kings of Henrietta.

ronan plays lead guitar. he’s the son of legendary irish rockstar niall lynch and also ex lead guitarist of the boyband the lynch brothers. he plays a seven-string ibanez xiphos in black flat (VERY sexy guitar VERY difficult). its name is chainsaw. he has perfect pitch. he’s also very, very irish

gansey’s lead vocals and rhythm guitar. he grew up hollywood royalty but was never really interested in acting, just did it because it was expected of him. his exodus from the film industry in order to be in a band was originally widely considered a long shot but now. well. one of the most famous bands in the world and all that. he plays an obnoxiously orange gretsch jet that fans have dubbed “the pig”.

henry’s bass and backup vocals. he’s the heir to two tech fortunes but ran off to be a musician and was a solo artist for a few years before the formation of KOH (think yungblud). he has a classic rocker haircut, he’s openly queer, he’s a weirdgirl fashion icon. he plays a custom made electric blue fender precision with lightning detailing. he calls it “madonna” but this name has yet to catch on

noah plays drums (and also provides vocals on occasion if the occasion is screaming). his parents are music producers, his sister adele is also in the industry. he breaks at least one drum stick per show and tosses it into the pit. hardcore fans can and will fight for it.

they are SO fucking famous. like taylor swift 95m monthly spotify listeners famous. like people recognize ronan just from his hair like eminem famous. about to leave on one of the longest world tours ever famous. it is INSANE how famous they are.

they all met at aglionby and often played together but didn’t form a band until after niall lynch’s murder and the disbanding of the lynch brothers. there’s a few years gap between graduating aglionby and the formation of KOH

some circles still believe ronan killed his own father however they are very few and far between. WHATEVER

blue grew up in a house full of musicians. she can play pretty much anything under the sun but prefers drums and guitar. she went to juilliard on scholarship, which is where she met adam

adam did not grow up playing music with his family. he grew up learning it in secret. he cannot play everything however he is a VERY quick learner out of sheer willpower. he graduated high school as valedictorian and immediately got the fuck out of there to go to juilliard (also on scholarship). he and blue were inseparable almost immediately

they moved in together after graduation and blue took him home to henrietta when the rent started to get a little too high. they officially formed their band page of wands in blue’s room at 300 fox way

“page of wands” merges both of their symbolic tarot cards together (page of cups + magician). did i mention blue was raised pagan? she was. as to be expected. anyways.

virtually unknown indie rock band page of wands posts a cover of a KOH song. they do not expect KOH to see it. they also do not expect KOH to return the favor in front of tens of thousands of people. KOH does it anyways. because gansey is ENAMORED. he is SO FAR GONE.

blue hates this. she hates it so much. unfortunately POW’s sudden success is now irreversibly tied to KOH and there’s nothing she can do about it. or is there

their record labels agree to a rivalry. success! this is what she wanted

except it’s not. but she doesn’t know why

cue enemies to lovers. and long distance pining. mutual destruction. the entire music industry watching this all unfold. bluesey. pynch. way too many spotify links. you get the picture

guys i literally CANNOT stop thinking about this i don’t know what to do. what do i do. i am so lost. please help me

#the raven cycle #helenaposting #asks #trium #trc band au #barbi.trc #barbi.wip

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theoddcatlady · 5 months

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Daddy's Little Girl

The thing is, it doesn’t matter how much you know your daughter is a competent young lady who can take care of herself. You’re always going to be nervous for that very first date.

“And you do know you’re gonna have to be back by nine, right? If you’re late, I’m going to probably call Rick at the police department and have him start searching the ponds for a body.”

“Dad! Dad, chill!”

Diana rolled her eyes as she came down the stairs. She seemed just like her mom did so many years ago. It tugged my heartstrings that she wasn’t here to see her girl right now. She spun around, showing off her dark blue dress. “How do I look?”

I developed a mocking expression, judging her. “Well, it’s a little short-” I gacked as she slapped my arm, “Because it’s winter and you’re going to be cold!”

“Well, then Marcus can loan me his jacket,” Diana grinned mischievously.

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think a jacket will keep your legs warm, but you look great. I bet you’re not done getting ready though?”

“Gimme five more minutes!”

Five minutes turned to ten and I heard a knock at the door. Preparing for whatever Marcus would be, I opened the door.

Well, I certainly didn’t expect this shrimp of a kid. He was probably shorter than my daughter by a good three inches and looked even smaller in that jacket that was at least two sizes too big, with tousled red hair and thick rimmed glasses. He swallowed nervously before extending his free hand, the other holding a rose. “H… hello, Mr. McDowell! Is Diana ready?”

“It’ll be a few more minutes,” I grinned as I gestured him inside, “Come on in, you look cold.”

Marcus hurried inside and took a seat on the couch. “So, um, Diana said you worked at Anderson Equipment?” He said, swallowing nervously.

I nodded. “Yup. Enjoy it, but I’ll probably have to switch to a sales position soon. Getting too old for all that heavy lifting,” I jokingly flexed, “But I can still handle any punk who comes for my daughter’s hand.”

Marcus nearly pissed himself in fear judging by his expression. I couldn’t hold back my laughter, clapping the kid on the shoulder. “I’m kidding! Diana told me you share a math class and you sound like a great guy. I’m not the one you should be afraid of if you screw with her, anyway.” I paused as I heard heels clack down the stairs. “There comes Diana.”

Marcus scrambled to his feet, presenting the rose to Diana as she came around the corner. “Uh, hey Diana! Your dad’s been uh… keeping me company,” He laughed nervously, “You ready to go?”

Diana took the rose and smiled. “This is so sweet, Marcus, you didn’t have to go all out for our first date. Come on, let’s go get some dinner,” She looped his arm in with hers and practically bounced to the door. She turned and mouthed, ‘see you at nine’ before the door closed behind them.

With the house to myself, I just turned on the TV and settled down to watch some crime shows while waiting for my precious daughter to return.

I must’ve dozed off because I jolted awake to the door slamming and someone hurrying up the stairs. I grabbed my phone and my heart sank as I realized it was now 12:31 AM.

I dropped my phone and bolted up the stairs. I pounded on her door, trying not to knock off any of the cutesy drawings she’d hung on there over the years. It looked more like an art board than a door. I could hear the sink running and a quiet sobbing.

“Diana? Diana, please, open the door.”

The tap turned to quiet the stream of water.

“… It’s not locked…”

I turned the knob and walked in. Her bathroom door was open and I stopped dead in my tracks.

My daughter was soaked head to toe in blood. Her once dark blue dress looked black and was ripped down the sides. I saw that her right eye was swollen, blacked out. My worst fears were confirmed.

“You showed him, didn’t you?”

She sniffled before she nodded. Her appearance flickered before she showed her true form. Three sets of arms were wrapped around herself, I could see the eyes on her palms were leaking tears. Her bottom lip quivered, her right tusk chipped as she wiped blood off her pale blue cheeks.

“I thought… I thought he’d understand.”

I sighed and walked inside. “Get the dress off so I can burn it. Where’s Marcus?”

“In the trunk of his car. Most of him, anyway… I couldn’t scrape all of him off the seats.” She couldn’t look me in the face as she handed me her keys. “I’m so sorry daddy.”

“I can wait for the story until I get this mess cleaned up,” I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, careful to avoid the spikes protruding from her hairline, “Don’t worry. I’m not mad. Get cleaned up and into some pajamas, okay?”

It was a long drive out to the forest. Thankfully the streets were dead, giving me plenty of time to think about my daughter… and my wife.

I stopped at the treeline and there she was. I don’t think you’d see what I saw in her, you’d see this hulking creature with three pairs of arms and blue crystalline skin and you’d freak out. To be fair, I did too when we first met. Ciern is different.

But I wasn’t exactly normal when we met either.

“I felt you approach,” Ciern said, her layered voice echoing in my ears. I nodded and gestured her to the trunk.

I grimaced when I saw the scene in the trunk. That scrawny teenager I’d just seen hours ago was in pieces, his decapitated head twisted in an expression of pure horror. “Oh boy. She went full crazy on this poor guy.”

“She showed him?”

I nodded.

“Then it’s best that he’s dead. Those who don’t understand pose a risk. You understand.”

“I know.” I started throwing body parts on the ground. “Can you please help me hide the body? I’d have Diana do what you do, but uh…

Ciern hummed as she gathered up the parts. “Best hose it off tonight, when there’s few witnesses. I’ll make sure the body’s never found,” She said. The arm she held slowly frosted over, turning into crystal before she crushed it, the pieces shattering and melting on the ground.

I sighed and leaned against the car. “She’s not gonna have it easy, dating like she is.”

“I found you though, didn’t I?”

“I’m not exactly your only husband.”

“You are right now. And you’re my favorite.”

I sighed as I felt Ciern’s arms wrap around me. “You’re too good for me,” I said as she gave me a tight squeeze.

“I know. Now go home and talk with our daughter.”

I got home when it was closing in on dawn. I had to leave the car behind and ended up walking until I could get an Uber.

Diana was wearing her favorite pink bunny pajamas, but it was clear she hadn’t slept all night. She looked up at me, sniffling. “… He said he loved me and wanted to show it… so I wanted to show how much I loved him by showing him what I’m really like. Then he punched me and started screaming. I didn’t really mean to blow him up,” She said.

I shushed her and sat next to her. “There will be other guys, I promise,” I said.

“Thanks, daddy.”

#my stories

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wardsbackpoet · 4 months

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THE MUSIC YOU HAVE IN TWEEKS PLAYLIST IS SO 🤭🤭🤭 LIKE IVE NEVER MET ANYONE THAT KNEW BLOOD FOR BLOOD

I honestly don't remember when I discovered Blood for Blood, but I think I might have my former boss (he'd get annoyed and say he wasn't my 'boss' 'cause he doesn't like 'bosses and never wanted to have nor be one; For context, he wasn't really my boss, I was self-employed, but working at his tattoo shop) / fill-in father-figure for a bit, a longtime friend of mine, to thank for that. That man is honestly 100% self-made and has an ethic and ethos I can really look up to and respect. We're also both into Madball, and I recently went to one of their shows. He couldn't go, due to ongoing cancer treatments.

Me and another friend of my former boss (actually, the co-owner of that shop I was working at), spoke with the band, got them all to sign a shirt for him and we brought it to his house the next day. He was super touched. Great group. We'd only asked one band member to sign as the rest were busy packing up gear, and he suggested he could go and get the rest to add their autographs, we were super grateful.

Also, I 100% get that frustration of never meeting anyone who likes/knows what you like and know. When I was a teen, the definition of 'hardcore' had slipped, and to me, it was still bands like Blood for Blood, Madball, Biohazard, Agnostic Front, Fugazi originating from the movement started by 7 Seeconds, Minor Threat, Black Flag, Sick of it All, etc. I saw Terror (which I like) as like, the band bridging how I defined hardcore to how kids of my generation defined it.

To the kids around me, it was this stuf with like, a lot of 'Woah-oh-oohs', in the midst of screaming. My whole view of it was 'it's a'ight, but that's not my scene', and I was often disappointed (and eventually disillusioned) when kids were like, "oh, I like hardcore too!". Over the years, my follow-up question changed from an enthusiastic "Oh awesome! Wanna go to a show? Wanna obsess about this Bad Brains album with me" to a bored, "Oh yeah? So like, what bands?" To which I'd hear Stick to your guns, Underoath, Silverstein or whatever else was popular at that time.

I ran into the same problem with kids saying they liked punk too. They weren't talking about Discharge or Subhumans, or Thulsa Doom, or Conflict, Descendants or NOFX. They meant The Used and Blink182, Rise Against and whatnot. I was utterly confused and felt born 20 years too late for real.

I was just...well, I longed for a more precise vocabulary to become more widely-used so I'd stop getting my hopes up/getting frustrated about the fact we really weren't talking about the same thing. I was a teenaged musical elitist, yup. A real fuckin' snob. I'm more open-minded today but it was disappointing and disheartening, only really finding like-minded musical peers among people at least a decade older than I was.

So, in contrast, meeting people who actually liked what I liked was always so exciting and felt really validating at a time when I felt as though there was always a barrier to being understood by my peers, and to connecting with them on a less than superficial level.

You didn't ask for that full analysis and I regret having overthought and rambled, but I typed it so you're getting it, I guess. Sorry?

& Thanks for reading the fic & I promise to update soon. Life's just been kicking my ass recently but it's okay, 'cause I just remembered I can kick back.

Also, I just realized maybe I rambled so much because the upcoming chapter explores some of those themes with Tweek finding it hard to find common ground with kids his age as well. So, maybe?

Anyways. THANKS FOR READING IT AND BEING PATIENT ON UPDATES.

& HMU if ever you wanna chat music or whatever else.

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characteroulette · 1 year

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Apollo Justice is such a game.

Welcome to a seven year time gap!! Your client is actually disgraced (disgraced???) former Ace Attorney Phoenix Wright!! Your tutorial mentor man is a condescending bitch!! Apollo has zero control over any of the proceedings and in the end has to present falsified evidence to prove his mentor was the true murderer for reasons that won't become apparent until much, much later!!!

wanted to think more about what the fuck just happened?? Too bad!! Time for shenanigans to ensue in proper Ace Attorney fashion!!

Here's your assistant, the girl who gave you that forged evidence!! She's Phoenix Wright's daughter. Adopted. Here's a mystery man who looks nearly exactly like the man you just sent to prison for murder!!! Also Ema is back and she's PISSED! Klavier gets a proper intro and he's bitter as fuck!! Time to present panties twice in a row and turn this courthouse into a circus!! Your assistant holds herself at ransom just to explain the main mechanic of the game to you, despite having done this mechanic in the previous case. Your client is a lil punk and his fianceé is actually both way worse and more sympathetic than you first thought!! Hope you enjoyed having your hand held during the second trial day by this Klavier guy it will happen again.

Also, Klavier sent you tickets to his concert. Which Apollo had to pay for. What a weird series of events to get us to this concert. Lamiroir sure is pretty I hope nothing happens later to ruin her character!! Despite the murder weapon being a hand canon and the victim being a man who looks like a brick house, everyone stalwartly believes a tiny 14-year-old child performed this crime without so much as an injury to his name. Apollo watches a man die and is haunted by his final words. Surprise Lamiroir is acrually blind and accused the penis hair shark man to be the actual killer!! He hated your guts from moment one for some reason well now you know it's because he was the villain here. Have fun watching Klavier get lit on fire again and again at least 7 times. The most convoluted and unsatisfying breakdown and way to acquit your client yet.

Well, whatever. Final cases are supposed to be the best!! This Mason system seems weird but surely it has to explain some things. Phoenix Wright is our main narrator and all. Apollo actually gets his shit together enough to understand something is weird about all of this but he's got no other choice than to charge into it all headfirst. The most horrifying Ace Attorney character design with the most annoying tell to spot. Klavier fucking loses it and wuh-oh seven years ago time. Explain yourself, Phoenix Wright.

Upstart Klavier!! Zak spouting ominous bullshit that makes you realise he was planning to run no matter what!! BABY TRUCY!!! The last time we'll ever see Gumshoe in a mainline game... And, of course, as if you didn't already feel cornered by this game's lack of agency, it makes you present the forged evidence yourself. You helped get Phoenix disbarred. You had no other choice but to do so.

Anyway really fucking annoying investigation time!! Have fun figuring out which very specific order in which to do these snapshots!! Apollo and Trucy are siblings??? Whaaaaat?? BLACK PSYCHELOCKS??? What does it mean??? Phoenix has fully taken over the case it is no longer Apollo's show.

Back to the trial, your client could die but more importantly, Kristoph is back, baby!!! We're never going to learn what those psychelocks meant, you have to first stare at the scar on his hand making a face lol. Misham said he never met his client but Vera obviously met Kristoph in person so Drew either left her in a room with a questionable adult alone or was straight up lying on the stand about that. I mean Zak had the evidence that could clear his name in his pocket the whole time and chose to fucking dip instead of clearing himself of a murder charge so like same hat, but I digress. Klavier is having a TIME, Apollo doesn't get to say a damn thing as we close on the court, and wheeee that's it that's the game!! You get to choose the Not Guilty verdict yourself don't you just feel so included???

I want to make it clear that I love this game dearly, but woof it is. Such a ride.

#Ace Attorney #Apollo Justice #Phoenix Wright #AA4 #aa4 spoilers #Spoilers #Momo talks games #It is. SUCH a game #AJ is honestly my fave game in the series #It and the first #But boy howdy does it have. Some issues.#Anyway sorry I am full of Opinions and y'all gonna hear about it

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kirarafelis · 6 months

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Lindsay swap au!

And now got to Lindsay, funny thing, her design has actually been done the longest I just wanted to do some practice draws of her before getting to the real deal. Oh, and if you’re noticing a pattern with who I release in what order yeah, it’s intentional. Like to try to do things in an organized way. Anyways, onto character biography and much like Tyler’s it’s subject to slight change.

Name: Lindsay Likes: Primping, preening, plucking and posing in any nearby mirror. Dislikes: The decor of the juvenile detention center, ugly and dirty things. Known For: Being the super rich blonde who gets into trouble a lot. Why TDI?: To show off her cool looks, and to try and stay away from behind bars. Lindsay has always been ready to get the most out of life and always goes out for a day, no matter what she’s going to do, looking awesomely gorgeous. She's also Daddy's girl, and Daddy makes a lot of money. When he's not spending time taking care of his vintage Ferrari, he lavishes his "little chipmunk" with whatever her heart desires. Lindsay's Sweet Sixteen party cost more than your house. Lindsay, having been pampered most of her life, however, made it hard for her to understand rules and regulations, leading to her sleeping behind bars with basic meals more often than in a luxurious bedroom with top-quality breakfast and dinner. All her juvie trips have led to her doing an overall style she likes to call “prisoncore” (even if it’s just punk style). She has also made a lot of new friends now who she does things with! like tripping a statue or doing art (graffiti) on buildings, to name a few out of the many activities she does with them. Lindsay’s family does still love her this and all, of course, but worries for her now. Lindsay’s mother is happy she’s a bit more assertive for herself than before, but is still concerned; While Lindsay’s dad is trying to slightly restrict her more as much as it pains him. (Though it isn’t really working.) Lindsay is all set and ready for Total Drama, though. With a new set of clothes and new makeup, she’s going to rock the game.

#swap au #total drama #Total drama island #Au #total drama swap au #lindsay td #Lindsay swapped with Duncan #artwork #outfit design #design #tags are fun to put down #lindsay total drama

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mytragedyperson · 1 year

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yamaguchi, yachi and kageyama platonic headcanons

- ok so first i feel like all of these would be quite artistic so in these headcanons they are all artists

- so how did these three becomefriends? yachi became friends with kageyama during their tutoring sessions in first year. she was a little scared of him at first but quickly realised he wasn’t actually that scary. yamaguchi and yachi also became friends in first year after bonding over the fact they both had anxiety and sharing like tips on how they handle anxiety but also i love the idea of yachi loving punk music and yamaguchi liking punk music so they bonded over that as well.

- yamaguchi and kageyama became friends in second year when they struck a deal that kageyama would help yamaguchi with a new jump serve if yamaguchi tutored yamaguchi. yamaguchi realised that, when outside of volleyball and away from hinata (and maybe tsukishima) kageyama is actually rather calm.

- cue tutoring sessions where yachi and yamaguchi both tutor kageyama while tsukishima tutors hinata at his house

- yachi also helps kageyama and yamaguch with yamaguchi’s serving practice occassionally

- also yachi and yamaguchi are both quite patient with kageyama. like i feel like a big problem kageyama has is he knows what he wants to say but he doesn’t know how to phrase it so he gets frustrated and ends up yelling at them instead. however, yamaguchi and yachi encourage him to think through what he’s saying

- also if kageyama does snap at them he does apologise

- also i feel like kageyama would have anxiety too but would be undiagnosed.

- anyway all this to say that this training with yamaguchi and yachi actually helps him figure out how to communicate with the team better

- so kageyama doesn’t listen to much music and, if he does, it’s usually whatever hiss grandad used to listen to

- so naturally yamaguchi and yachi (and tsukishima later when he finds out) give him loads of music to listen to and also they watch tv shows with him and movies

- they find out that, despite not knowing much modern music, he can play the piano (another thing his grandad taught him), and sometimes they’ll sit and he’ll play the piano and they’ll sing. i feel like they’d all be good singers but would make sure no one knows because they all think they’re bad singers. also i feel like yamaguchi and yachi could play instruments but i can’t decide what. i could see yachi playing the violin or something like that. like her mum forced her to at first, but then yachi started doing some research and taught herself to play rock and punk songs on the violin and really grew to love it. yamaguchi i like the idea of playing guitar but also love the idea of him playing the drums

- also i feel like all of them would be quite, like, sassy and sarcastic when they’re close to people, and yamaguchi definitely has blackmail on people (no one suspects that sweet innocent tadashi has more blackmail than tsukishima but he does and it’s terrifying. he could destroy you in secods if he had to.)

- so they learn that they all like art ( yachi prefers painting, kageyama prefers drawing and i don’t know what yamaguchi prefers because i know nothing about art) and sometimes after tutoring sessions they’ll just sit n the room kageyama’s grandad made him specifically so he could do art, and they’ll just listen to music and do art. it’s nice it’s peaceful.

- also all the karasuno first years have sleepovers at kageyama’s a lot because he lives alone and they secretly worry about their youngest first year (yes, even tsukishima, only he can insult the king dammit

- also these three are protective of each other and are also more confident over text than in real life

- they secretly gossip about everyone around them because kageyama is actually really observant and people assume that because he gets bad grades and can be impulsive that he’s completely dumb but he’s not, and yamaguchi just kinda knows everything, and yachi’s scared of everyone so she tries to make herself invisible but in doing so, she overhears a lot of things without people realising.

- through their friendship all three of them actually start to become more confident, their senpais are so proud of them. so are hinata and tsukishima though the latter would never admit it

- in third year yamaguchi and kageyama are captain and vice captain. they command a lot of respect while still being good senpais.

- also these three going to get piercings and buying punk style clothes, yes.

- secretly punk yachi gaining confidence and finally buying all the pretty punk clothes she wants as yamaguchi and kageyama hype her up

- they get piercings too. idk what piercings specifically though kageyama with a tongue piercing is something i’ve witnessed and enjoyed.

- they also maybe get tattoos when they’re old enough.

- they’re always so supportive of each other

- they meet up whenever they get the chance to just hang out together and i feel like they’d just have a very chill friendship

ok that’s all for now, if you have any suggestions, feel free to comment them or request them using asks. this will be posted to my AO3 account venomousangelofdarkness16 . i might add to this later

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #kageyama tobio #yamaguchi tadashi #yachi hitoka #Karasuno #karasuno first years #tsukishima kei #hinata shoyo

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cosmic-hoboandthehighlander · 4 months

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🎢 ❌️ 🤲 pretty please <333

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

If I need to settle on a published work, I think Love, Your Sailor feels sort of like roller coaster in a way. I mean, Teddy and Mort meet over one week and feel this connection and now they have to figure out to navigate their feelings while Teddy is on active duty. I mean it feels very up in the air, a very unsure time for both of them as they’re trying to figure out if they’re meant to be. Just as a side note, this still is one of my favorites and I do hope to go back to it someday and write more.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

I’m a sucker for tropes, they’re like my favorite thing and there are few that I wont write but one thing I don’t read and will never write is A/B/O. It’s just…really confusing and I never really understand how it works? Not to say I don’t enjoy dominate/submissive behaviors in my writing but the whole werewolf/shapeshifting pack dynamic whatever you wanna call it is just really not for me. I don’t enjoy it, it makes me personally uncomfortable, so I mostly just avoid it. Of course no disrespect to anybody else who writes or enjoys this; it is just not for me.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Since you love Abbey so much, here’s a portion of a scene I’ve been sitting on for a long time waiting until I can incorporate it into my main divorced dad AU, Dance One More With Me. (Soon, I promise! It will be posted this year!)

Maybe I’m feeling a little too generous or I just really want to show off this scene so I don’t know where to cut it off, but here you go!

“Don’t even think about it, missy. I can come home at any time,” Teddy threatened, looking at her sternly. He didn’t want boys in the house when he wasn’t home; Mort agreed with him. Surely she understood they trusted Abbey but not Bryce.

“Yeah, because you’re never working,” she sneered at him, crossing her arms. The argument had been going on for a while, tempers gradually climbing. Not even a few months prior she had been complaining that Teddy seemed to always be at work, now she acted like she couldn’t get rid of him.

Teddy’s skin prickled with embarrassment and anger, “You little—“

“A-alright, that’s enough,” Mort stepped between them, putting an arm around Abbey and giving Teddy a look he knew well enough to know he should shut up and fast. “Abbey, all we’re trying to say is we trust you until you give us a reason not to.”

“But Teddy already doesn’t trust me!” She protested, huffing out an angry breath through her nose.

“Damn right! I don’t trust this Bryce character,” Teddy cut his hand through the air, a finality to his words. He didn’t like this kid, not even a little bit. Though, nobody would be good enough for Abbey, not now anyway. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t even know him!” She stomped her foot and Teddy saw Mort pressed his lips together to keep himself calm. He was better at that than Teddy, who was struggling to keep himself together. Not for the first time, Teddy wished he could figure out how to meditate like Mort did; he just could never quite figure out how to keep his focus.

“Abigail, that’s enough—“

Teddy hadn’t meant to interrupt Mort, but the words just seemed to burst out of him, the volume of his voice raising as if he couldn’t control it, “I know he’s a teenage boy and you know what those are like. Of course you don’t, not yet!”

Teddy was so frustrated and he just wanted his little girl to stay just that: little. Thirteen? God, this was awful and it would only get worse. First it would be little punks like Bryce and then it’d be alcohol and sneaking out; worse arguments than this one.

Abbey stomped her foot again, wrenching out of Mort’s grasp, stalking across the room, “Why do you have to be such a-a boob punch! You never let me do anything; god, it’s like you think you’re my dad or something!”

Teddy’s heart felt like it dropped into his stomach.

“Do not talk to Teddy that way, Abigail. That is enough. Out of both of you,” Mort’s voice was dangerously low and threatening something Teddy hardly ever heard out of him. Feeling attacked, and slightly more confident with Mort defending him, Teddy argued back.

“We aren’t done with this conversation! I’m not a—Where’d you even learn a word like that?” Teddy demanded, hands on his hips. “Whether you like it or not, I’m still—you’re my daughter! My house, my rules!”

“Teddy!” Mort looked between them, clearly distressed. He gave Teddy a sharp glare, which went ignored.

Abbey, who crossed her arms over her chest, ignored her dad and fixed Teddy with a hard glare. “None of your beeswax, Theodore!” She cried from across the room.

“Don’t you talk to me that way!” Teddy pressed his lips together, trying to hold on his anger, but ultimately, he couldn’t. “You don’t get to talk to me that way! If this is how you’re gonna act, you can’t come with me anymore on jobs! In fact, I don’t want to hang out with you anymore at all! Is that what you want?”

“Teddy,” Mort said sharply, reaching over to grab his wrist. “Stop.” He did stop, but he wasn’t happy about it. Teddy seethed, biting his lip so hard it drew blood and stared hard at the little girl across the room. He hated the yelling, he hated feeling this way. Mort’s grip tightened, thumb stroking over his inner wrist. He focused on his breathing and Mort’s soothing touch, trying his best to calm down.

“I hate you!” Abbey screamed, stomping out of the room and up the stairs.

#tedmort #caboose writes #caboose answers #asks #ask game #I probably shared too much but I love it so much I couldn’t possibly cut everything out #this scene probably won’t even make an appearance for a long time anyway

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