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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 7 months

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A Dark Love

Summary: Two murders on the run in the 70’s fall in love.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, murder, death obvi, gore, smut, knife kink, blood kink, mentions of cannibalism, lots of angst,just a warning this is kind of heavy! So if you don’t feel comfy don’t read ❤️‍🔥

Wc:3.8k

Y/n is sure that man is watching her every move. Either that, or it’s her paranoia building up after being on the run for ten days.

Ten whole days without a single cop glancing her way, after murdering two men at a bar she thought they would at least have a lead on her, but nothing. Nothing for a whole year. Since the news broke of several different men carelessly slashing women, Y/n has decided if men can kill women for no good reason, she can kill men for no reason. It’s better to have no men on the planet than only a few good ones.

Her first was Tommy. Thirty two, blue eyes, brown hair, two hundred and three pounds, born January fourth nineteen forty two. He lives alone in a two bedroom apartment, his room filled with porno mags and disgusting memorabilia of past girls he obsessed over until his last moment.

Y/n met him behind a bar just ten hours after the news about Lynda Ann Healy broke. Y/n was so disgusted and horrified that she fell into a spell once he tried pulling her back into his busted Red Ford pinto that she killed him right then and there, pulling the sharp buckle from her belt and stabbing him, walking all the way back home will bright crimson blood dripping from her face.

That night she discovered her new love. She had always adored taking care of herself, taking it slow and appreciating the simple things in life, like a hot bath or a new rose scented face cream- but nothing made her feel quite better than seeing her plump young skin masked in a coat of blood. She felt like she was reborn, branded into a new woman with a new fresh hungry need to kill.

Since that night she’s been slashing into any man she can, the more bloody the better for her, bathing in the thick blood like it is a luxurious skin cream. Now she’s up to fifteen bodies.

“Have a problem?” Y/n calls over, feeling the cool metal of her dagger press into the plump skin of her thigh to make sure it was still right where she wanted it. There was nothing she loved more than leading a man down onto his knees for his last sight to be her uncovering her sharp blade.

The man is handsome, standing tall with a slim but sturdy build, Tattoos, silky hair piled on top of his head- he obviously hasn’t gotten a haircut in a few months, big green eyes, a mustache dusted above his lip, dressed in some button up shirt with all too tight pants.

She can have a little fun with him before she kills him.

“Not at all, sweet thing.” He shoots her a wink before lighting a joint, taking a drag from it then passing it off to her. She pushes it back toward him but takes her place leaning next to him against his shiny blue car. “No thanks.” He lets out a tiny laugh, pulling it back to his mouth instead. “Your loss.” He breathes out, smoke falling from his mouth.

“I don’t smoke strangers' pot.” Y/n says, glancing up at the man. He smiles, “Then let me introduce myself. I’m Harry. Now we know each other, babe.” She rolls her eyes, stepping back. “I can already tell you’re an asshole.” He tosses his arms out, “c’mon, I don’t bite.” A large smile spreads on his lips, but she ignores it and walks back to the car.

Y/n isn’t quite sure why the man’s stupid words bothered her so much, but she had a feeling about him and something was off. She walks a few feet back to her car before getting inside and starting it up. Shoving the key in and twisting it she realizes the old car finally bit the dust, merely taunting her with a cough but no roar to start.

Her head turns at the noise, seeing Harry roll up next to her. “Looks like you need a ride.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing her couple of bags and stuffing them in his car before flopping into his passenger seat. The car was stolen so she wouldn’t miss it.

What’s the worst that could happen? If he tried something she would just plunge her dagger straight into his heart… but she would lose her cool if her favorite corduroy skirt happened to get blood splatter on it.

“Where are you going?” He asks, glancing over her tight and reserved body language. “Anywhere.” The

“Seriously, where are you going? I thought we were over that stranger danger shit.” Y/ns rolls her eyes at the man, picking at her manicured nails to avoid his gaze. “I’m just going.” it's his turn to roll his eyes, scoffing at her. “Seriously,”

“Get off my case, asshole. You need to take a chill pill.”

“I need to chill?! You need to stop being so fucking up tight!” The second he raises his voice at her she spreads her legs and pulls her dagger from the inside of her thigh, gripping it tight in her hand while he throws his up in surrender.``Hey, Hey, Hey” he rushes out, getting her to back off. “Either fuck off or ill slit your throat. It’s up to you Harry.” She says with a sweet smile, her heart racing from the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the excitement of possibly getting a small taste of the pretty boy's blood.

“Jesus, sorry.” She gives a tiny nod at his apology and backs down, but not before he starts chuckling. “But you wouldnt of stabbed me.'' He raises her hand again, carelessly aiming to just teach him a lesson instead of actually killing him.

“Fuck!” He shouts, blood pouring from his hand. “Dont get it on my fucking skirt!” she shouts back, groaning at a little drop of blood soaking into her skirt. Harry quickly pulls the silky wrap she had tied around her hair and wraps it around his hand to stop the bleeding.

After their panic settled they both let out a shaky breath before Harry pulled her in, grabbing her knife and pressing his lips to hers. “That was so fucking hot but if you ever do that again I will kill you.”

The car is stopped in the middle of the road but that doesn’t stop them from tearing off each other's clothes. She yanks Harry’s button up shirt open while he peels her panties down her legs. She takes her turn and unbuckles his belt, shoving her hand down his pants and pulling his cock out.

Hushed words are exchanged as she slides his big cock deep inside of her pussy, licking the fresh blood that drips down his wrists as he thrusts in and out of her from under her.

Harry holds her dagger against her neck, the sharp blade scraping against her delicate skin. She lets out a moan, her mouth and chin covered in his blood. He kisses her, his tongue slipping inside of her mouth to taste her.

“I can’t believe you stabbed me.” He laughs on her lips, softly dragging the knife down her throat before pressing it between her breasts. He kisses her one last time before pulling away breathlessly, “if you ever try that again, I promise, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” He presses the tip of the dagger into her chest enough to draw a bit of blood then pulls it away.

To be clear, Harry has never killed a woman. Really just killing random men, slitting their throats or strangling them when he notices they are following a young girl home, or slipping a pill in someone’s drink, only for good reason. He’s not a psychopath, he’s only murdered 12 people!

“I’m cumming, fuck.” Y/n cums, letting out a moan and pulling herself away from the man.

After they dress themselves, Harry returns to driving, stepping on the gas and riding down the old country road. It was an absolute ghost town, corn fields, boarded up farm houses, and abandoned shops are the only things left in the old town. Y/n loved this. This was the kind of place she could stay in forever, a town where there are little people and no one cares to get to know the tiny population.

She might consider settling down here, there’s only a gas station and a tiny grocery store, but even those are smaller than the average small town shops. This looked like a lowkey spot to hide out in, or maybe it is something straight out of a horror film- but so is she.

“Pull over” Y/n finally speaks up after about twenty minutes of driving in silence. There was a tiny yellow motel, paint chipping and graffiti covered all along the exterior. “What?” Y/n rolls her eyes at his questioning she grabs the wheel from him and drives through the grass and into the parking lot of the rundown motel. “What the fuck?!” Harry yells, quickly putting the car in park. Y/n jumps out before she can hear any of his bitching and walks through the motel and into a check out counter.

Behind the counter there is a man, a short but sturdy build man with clown makeup on. Any normal person passing through this town and stopping at the motel for a safe place to lay their head for a night would be startled to see such a man behind the counter but this comforted Y/n. If the tall man was anything like her, she knew there wasn’t a chance the cops could bust her here.

“Howdy… Gus. I’m going to need a room for tonight.” She glances at the big wooden sign that reads “HOWDY” with a large cowboy hat burned into it. She isn’t sure where she is, but wherever she was she knew it was just a bunch of homicidal fucked up hicks.

“Single bed or two beds?” The man grumbles, a low deep voice coming out of such a short man. “Single bed.” Harry comes behind her, scoffing. “I’m going to need a room too.”

“Bad news, there’s only one room.”

“How many beds?” Y/n shoots up, hoping she doesn’t have to deal with this man for god knows how long. Yeah, he was just inside of her thirty minutes ago, but that doesn’t mean she wants anything to do with him.

“Only one.” Fucking classic.

“Well you can just keep on steppin’.” Harry shakes his head at her words. “No way, not after you drug me with this hell hole.” Y/n pulls a tight lipped smile, shoving her hand into her pocket aggressively and pulling out some bills and change to slam on the counter before snatching the key from Gus’ hand and stomping off.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The door flies open while Y/n storms into it, almost hitting Harry with the heavy wooden door. When she takes a quick look-see around the room she is instantly disgusted with the orange shag carpet, the stiff avocado green bedspread and the brightly cartoonish art bolted to the wall. “Well isn’t this just fucking nifty.” She lets out a huff then throws herself back on the bed.

“You act like I’m not bummed out about this too! But we both need a place to crash and it might as well be with each other since we’re in the same boat. So, if you could stop your whining I’m going to clean up my hand.”

She looks away, rolling her eyes. “I won’t hesitate to whip out my blade on you again.” He tossed a hand out to her before locking himself in the bathroom.

Y/n takes this time to unpack her bags, which is really just unzipping them and then tossing them onto the floor.

She’s not sure why she was drawn to this place, but she had a good feeling about it. Sometimes she regrets hurting all those men, having to live such a quiet life, always being on the move and never stable. But she’s hoping soon enough the investigation will be closed. They have been working to figure out who is behind this string of murders for far too long and she knows if she just sticks it out a little while longer they will give up. She’s sad for the families grieving, but not sad that there is a couple less useless fucks in this already shitty world.

Hopefully she and Harry will get along. They got off to a rough start, and are still in a rough stop, but she thinks with a little work they could be partners in crime- no that she’s planning on killing any men while she’s in hiding, but if need be.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Where did you run off to?”

Y/n pushes open the motel door, kicking it shut with her heel and pulling her glass bottle of big red up to her lips for a swig. She dumps the big paper bag onto the entertainment center of the motel room, tossing a bag of chips at the man, then pulling her carton of cigs out and lighting one up. “Convenience store.” She mumbles through her exhale of smoke, flopping back on the squeaky bed where Harry sits up straight.

“If we’re going to be staying together we need to learn a little bit more about each other.” Y/n rolls her eyes, taking another drag off of her Marlboro. “Why are you suddenly Mister moral? Don’t you like…kill people?” Harry rolls his eyes, he’s grown increasingly agitated with her and if she wasn't such a pretty girl maybe he would kill her.

“Yeah, bad people. But that’s irrelevant. I hardly know you.”

“That didn’t stop you from fucking me in your car twenty minutes after we met, even after I stabbed you.” Harry stands up, shaking his head, leaning back and growing out of frustration. “You’ve got a smart fucking mouth.” She gives him a breathy chuckle. “Yeah?” She slowly rises to her feet, ashing her cigarette on the shag carpet and taking another drag from it. “What are you going to do about it?” He takes that as a challenge, grabbing her jaw with his bandaged band, four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other.

They lock eye contact for a couple of beats before Harry pushes his lips onto her, pushing her down onto the bed and unbuckling his belt. It was already three in the morning, and they both know people are sleeping but no one staying in this hell hole is resting well. She slides down the silky sleep shorts she had slid on along with a tattered graphic tee before heading off to the store. Y/n keeps her eyes on his hands as he pulls his belt off and pushes his trousers down.

Hushed words are exchanged and before either of them know it Harry is deep inside of her, lifting one leg to get deeper.

Y/n smiles blissfully, reaching for her dagger she had tossed on the bed and sliding it against his hip bone, making sure not to nick his sensitive skin with her piercing sharp knife. Harry grabs it from her hand, trailing it up her hot body and slowly makes his way up to her neck. He traces the blade around her ear, taking his time before he slides it against the side of her neck, making sure to be soft with her. She annoys the fuck out of him, she has a smart mouth and was too reserved for someone so mouthy, but he cant help but kind of adore her.

He quickly pulls out of her, cumming all over her pussy. “Oh fuck” she whispers, flopping her head back and relaxing into the bed.

Harry pushes her shirt up, kissing over her bare chest and trailing it down her stomach. She feels a fluttery feeling in her belly. Similar to how she feels after she comes home prior to slashing into a man, blood spraying all over her face. She gets to stand under the warm spray of her shower, watching the water go from crimson to clear and drain down, giving her skin a good scrub before sitting bare in front of her vanity and pampering herself with rich creams. She feels like she's being taken care of, such a light delicate feeling.

He sinks to his knees, spreading her legs wide and burying his face between them.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Rise ‘n shine.” Harry sings, shaking Y/n awake.

Y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning and getting in a good stretch so she's not so stiff. “What's on your face?” Harry's hand comes up to wipe at his face, examining the splatter he wipes off. “Oh, i'm not sure.” he walks into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up before stepping back into her vision.

“I've been thinking a lot this morning.”

“It’s seven in the morning, how much thinking can you do?” Harry shrugs at her questions, pushing his frankly, fabulous hair back and starting to gather his things together to pack in his hefty leather bag. “Like I was saying, I’ve kind of been thinking… let's leave. Let’s go find some other place to stay.”

Y/n whips her head back to him whilst she strips naked and starts the water in the pink tiled bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? I thought we decided that this was the perfect place to hide out! It’s a fucking ghost town here.”

Harry rocks back and forth then turns on his heel to start pacing back and forth in front of the messy bed from Y/n tossing and turning all night. “Not to get all weird but I can't talk to you when you're bare naked. it's tripping me out.” She scoffs, “Prude.” then steps into the shower.

“If you dont mind, make this shower lickety split. I'm itching to get out of this place!” Y/n groans at his nagging, quickly rinsing the shampoo out of her hair and squirting a rather large pile of cream white conditioner into her palm and working it into her hair. “Why are you so impatient? Why cant you take a fucking chill pill.”

“This place is just creeping me out, man. I gotta get out of here.” She groans again, feeling the irritation bubble up and begin to boil over. “We agreed that this is the perfect spot to stay. I'm already settled in. Why leave now?”

“Enough with all the questions, please.”

“Why?!”

“Cause I fucking killed Gus! Okay?! Now please, can you speed this the fuck up so we can get into my goddamn car so we can find some other place to stay?!” Y/n calming but quickly rinses her body off and steps out of the shower, drying herself off much too quickly, basically still dripping wet and she throws the towel into a tiny laundry basket. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Harry throws both of his hands out.

“Again! Jesus christ can you just put something on?”

“Oh my god!” She throws a shirt at him, sliding panties up her legs and quickly getting dressed, deciding to go simple with a pair of yellow corduroy flares and a black rolling stones tee shirt tucked into it. “I guess lets fucking go since you decided to murder someone.” She grabs her back and Harry trails right behind her, walking down the long dark hallway. “We're literally on the run to try to get out of murder charges and you decided to kill the dude behind the check-in counter. What the fuck was that for?” Harry grumbles, obviously growing more and more agitated by her never ending questions and attitude. “I dont want to talk about it.”

They hop in the car, and take off once again.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

They've been driving for a while.

If Y/n is honest, She’s kind of bummed that they had to leave that motel. At first she was just worried that they would catch wind of another murder and have her and Harry’s name tied to it, but thankfully their records are clean and Gus never took record of their stay. But now, she just misses it. It was a little spooky and there were other sketchy weirdos staying there but that comforted her more than anything.

Y/n thinks she's feeling a touch homesick, after moving into her previous apartment she finally had a place of her own to call home with no roommate, it was all to herself. Having no sense of stability, only being on the road was kind of messing with her, but as much as she doesnt want to admit it to herself- and especially to him, having Harry as a partner in crime has been really great.

“So, do you think youll ever go back to wherever you ran from?” Y/n shakes her head, her feet hung out of the window and a cigarette perched between her two fingers. “Nope. kind of starting fresh. Finding a whole new job and shit, a new place to stay. Maybe I’ll be an avon lady.” They both laugh at her joke. “Me too. Now that I've left there's no way I'm going back.”

“Can I ask you a question and get an honest answer this time?” Harry quickly glances at Y/n, “Sure.” There is a beat of silence before she speaks again. “Why did you kill Gus? I can tell it wasn’t just because he pissed you off. We stayed up talking all last night and you dont kill unless you've got a good reason.”

“So you want the honest answer?”

“Yeah”

“It was because of you.”

“Me?!” Y/n shouts, she hardly spoke a word to Gus.

“Yeah, he was telling me how hot he thought you were and for some reason I just kind of… lashed out.”

Y/n takes a moment to process it, ashing her cigarette and taking one last drag on it before putting it out in the car's ashtray. She clears her throat, “So what, do you think i'm your girlfriend or something now?”

“Well, if you want. I'm not uptight about shit like that or anything. We can just vibe it out.” Y/n softly laughs. “Okay, lover boy.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Y/n and Harry finally found a place to stay. Thankfully, Harry and Y/n both had good money saved up prior to them being on the run so they splurged at a nice hotel and decided to stay in the suite.

This time, Y/n didn't throw a fit when she had to stay in the same room and same bed as Harry. She lets him be a gentleman and he carries her bag up to their room. This time, its going to be different. This time they are going to stay put,find a spot for them to settle down together- not just in a hotel room. Maybe they will put their lives of crime behind them and stick together as one happy couple.

Maybe.

Hiiiii!!!! If you liked this PLEASE reblog!! I’ll love you forever and I doubt a lot of people are going to read this due to sensitive subject matter but hoping this will hit my target audience 😭 im really scared that this got boring towards the middle but it was inspired by house of 1000 corpses! hope you liked it !

Tag list: @harrysddtittys @hopeyoustaythenight @harrysdimple05 @damnasstyles @harrysfolklore @msolbesg @thismaydestroyme @stallrry @ayeshathestyles @michellekstyles @lhharrylilpumpkin @kissmyaxe140 @buckymydarlingangel @cherrycolas-things @luvonstyles @victoria-styles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

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how-serene · 10 days

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Devil I know - Ch. 1

Pairing - Obsessive!Jack Delroy x Fem!Reader

Summary - A bad string of luck leads you right to his feet.

Word count - 4.1 k

Warnings - dark!jack delroy, 18+, nsfw, dubious consent, smut, masturbation, stalker tendencies, possessive behavior, jealousy, mention of death, mention of cancer, invasion of privacy, mention of smoking, fem reader, fem pronouns, set in the 70s so expect sexism, abuse of power, jack is not a good person in this, overall creepy behavior from jack, cults, rituals, mention of religion, no use of y/n, implied age gap, personal assistant!reader

A/N - first series so a lil nervous. here we go.

series masterlist (coming soon) | main masterlist

March, 1977

You were starting to believe you were cursed.

Perhaps you were hexed, or a malevolent god set its sights on you for no reason other than for you to suffer. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath, til your lungs felt like they would burst. Los Angeles cool night breeze tickled the back of your neck. When you re-opened them, the words on the wrinkled piece of paper in your hand remained the same.

RENT INCREASE BEGINNING NEXT MONTH

An inexplicable rage burned through your bones as you unlocked the front door. The harsh sound of the door slamming behind you shook the curtains as you stepped inside the apartment.

“Have you seen this?” you asked, slamming the piece of paper onto the kitchen counter. Your roommate (and long-time friend) Lisa jumped, balancing a cup of tea in her hands. She peered down at it, brushing back her feathered brown hair. You could see her shoulders sag as she quietly read to herself.

“Great.” she muttered, taking a sip from her mug. “They haven’t even fixed our leaking sink yet.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the counter.

“That’s not even the worst of it.”

Lisa watched as you tossed the bright work shirt on the counter, along with an unopened bottle of wine. A tacky red bow was sloppily glued to the front of it, already falling off. The mere sight of the ‘parting gift’ made your stomach clench.

“The store is closing at the end of the week.” you explained, pushing the bottle towards her. “So they decided to let a bunch of their staff go early.”

The familiar bitter feeling of disappointment swarmed you again, as you bit back tears.

“It's a store brand.” you mentioned, watching Lisa look down at it with disdain.

“How nice of them.”

She looked back at you, with a mixture of pity and visible concern.

You groaned, rubbing your face as you glared down at the letter. The black bold lettering on the paper stared up at you, mocking the situation.

“Alright.” Lisa started, placing her mug on the counter. “It’s going to work out, you’ll find another job.” She faintly smiled, dimples poking out from her sweet round face.

You tried to return the smile, but it felt too tight and stretched on you.

“Yeah, It’ll be that easy.” you muttered, the day's events threatening to anchor you to the floor. Lisa tapped at the side of her cup, a nervous habit of hers. You wordlessly grabbed the bottle off of the counter and made your way over to the couch. The ribbon was completely off now, showcasing the store’s label printed on the front.

“What are you doing?”

“Choosing not to have a single sober thought.” You explained, wiggling the bottle at her. “Care to join?”

Lisa was sprawled out on the couch, balancing an empty glass on her stomach. Some mindless sitcom aired on the tv, the grating sound of the laugh track filling the cramped living room. The half empty bottle of wine sat on the coffee table.

You were currently chewing on your second piece of Bubble Yum, the artificial sweet treat masking the bitter drink that lingered on your breath. A character in the show made a joke, causing the audience to erupt into a boisterous fit of laughter. Behind you, from your place on the floor, Lisa giggled at the screen.

“I think I’m going to have to drink a bottle of mouthwash.” you said, slumping against the couch. Lisa flipped around on her stomach, her hazel eyes glancing down at you. From the lamp's dim glow, you could make out the constellation of freckles that painted her face.

“It could have been worse.”

You snorted, “Other than me losing my job.”

Lisa’s round green eyes widened, frowning at your words. She rested her cheek against her palm, her long acrylic nails tapping against the glass she still held onto.

You two fell into a long silence, Lisa slowly finishing off the bottle of wine. The outro to the show played across the screen, a generic upbeat tune that fueled a headache. Your body felt heavy, as you rested the back of your head against the edge of the couch cushion. The outro song felt unnecessarily long, as if it was being played on loop. Lisa must have also been dozing off, as her arm fell against your shoulder, soft snores emitting from her lips. Your head felt fuzzy from the alcohol, as you closed your eyes and drifted off.

Sunlight peeked through the curtain, stabbing you directly in the eyes. The shaggy beige carpet itched against your cheek, as you were curled up on the floor. You stretched your limbs, wincing as your lower back pinched. A migrain was working its way into the corners of your brain. Your mouth tasted like rotting fruit left out too long.

“Jesus christ.” you groaned, pushing your tired body up off the floor. A pair of sandal cladded feet approached you, bending down to help your struggling form.

“Did you really let me sleep on the floor?” you asked, looking up at Lisa who sheepishly shrugged. Her hair was curled, and a peachy blush coated her cheeks. She smelled like cinnamon sticks, it comforted the nauseating ball forming in your stomach. You sank down into the couch, the cushions offering some release to your stiff bones.

The wall clock read 8:30 a.m.

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“My back is screaming at me.” You complained, massaging your fingers into your shoulder.

Lisa rolled her eyes, straightening the edges of her cream colored blouse. Chunky silver bracelets covered her forearms, jingling with every movement.

“I have errands to run today.” She explained, walking over to the front door where a multicolored crochet purse rested on a hook.

Lisa fiddled with her purse, brushing back her hair that fell perfectly around her face. Her brows were pinched forward, as her hands skimmed over her outfit.

“You look nice, stop worrying.”

A shy smile rose from her lips, heat rising to her already blushed cheeks. It struck you, just how pretty she really was. The sudden blare of a car horn outside caused her to flinch.

“Good luck!” She said, before racing out the door.

You collapsed against the couch, welcoming the silence that followed.

The lady apologetically smiled at you, with teeth too yellow and lipstick too bright.

“I’m sorry, we filled in the position yesterday.”

The greasy burger joint smelled of onions and smoke, wafting out into the open streets. Incoherent shouting could be heard behind her, from her stance by the cashier. The line of people behind you grumbled to themselves, trying to get through the lunch rush. You nodded, stepping back from the line as a couple sideyed you and approached the counter.

Three Days. Five applications. You weren’t sure if it was you, or the world at fault.

“I must be doing something wrong.” You muttered, sliding into the hot leather booth. The sun spilled through the window beside you, its rays warming the side of your face.

“You could smile more.” Thomas said, sitting across from you. His arm was securely around Lisa’s shoulder, pulling her into his side. She elbowed him, throwing a glance his way before focusing her attention back on you.

You sarcastically grinned, stretching your mouth so wide your cheeks began to hurt.

The light caught on Thomas’s golden curly locks that went down to his shoulders. His wide set brown eyes shone with amusement at your gloomy expression. You ignored him, and chose to stare out the window, at the herds of people walking past.

“Tom actually has some news,” Lisa said, motioning for him to speak.

He remained quiet, toying with the straw wrapper in front of him. You sat back, clenching your jaw with impatience. The usual bitterness you held for the man continued to grow, causing you to sink further into your seat. LA’s summer sun beamed down on you, adding to the stuffy heat locked inside the restaurant.

“Well,” he finally spoke, in a slow manner. “A friend of mine, Jersey, works with a film crew for some late night tv show.”

“And?” You stretched out, waving for him to continue.

Thomas reached for his drink, his pink lips drawing a long and agonizingly slow sip from the plastic straw.

Asshole, you thought, suppressing the urge to groan.

“And the host for said tv show is apparently looking for a personal assistant.” Lisa continued, before glaring over at Thomas. Her shoulders were tense, yet a sunny smile broke out on her face towards you.

“Your friend told you this?” you asked, disbelief across your features. Thomas dressed like your average hippie, and was unemployed most of the time. As much as Lisa loved him, you had a hard time finding the information reliable.

Thomas just nodded, providing no other information.

“He can get you an interview.” Lisa said.

You sighed, wanting to rest your head against the cool tabletop. Lisa bit at her bottom lip, eagerly awaiting your answer. Thomas nonchalantly chewed on the end of his straw, seemingly not caring either way.

“How are you going to get me an interview?”

“I’ll talk to Jersey, he’ll set it up.” Thomas said, tossing the straw back in the cup.

“How do you even know him?”

“I introduced them a few years ago,” Lisa chimed in. “Jersey and I used to attend the same university.”

“The one you dropped out of.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, dismissing your words with a wave of her hand.

“I don’t even qualify for an assistant position.” You argued, crossing your arms.

Lisa leaned across the table, taking your hand in hers. The rings from her fingers were warm against your skin.

“Just go for the interview.” She pleaded, fingers lacing with yours. You tried to avoid her gaze, yet found it impossible as her viridescent eyes were locked on yours.

“Lisa-

You contemplated it, rolling the idea back and forth in your mind like a marble. You hadn’t received a single phone call back, or even been scheduled for an interview. If Thomas could manage this, maybe you had a genuine shot of securing a job before April. The thought of having to dip into your savings account just to pay your portion of rent made your stomach drop.

“What’s the show called?”

“Night something.” Thomas replied, struggling to recall the name.

You raised your brow, “Night something, gee that’s very helpful.”

He brushed your comment off, ignoring the snark in your voice.

“Do you at least know the name of the host?” You asked, staring him down from across the table.

He bit the corner of his cheek, giving you a tight lipped smile.

“His name’s Jack Delroy.”

Two Days. That’s how long it took for Thomas to call. You were practically breathing down Lisa’s neck when she had the phone cradled to her ear. She scribbled down an address, her sloppy handwriting barely eligible.

You peered down at the same note now, squinting as you re-read the address. It led to a towering office building, surrounded by green shrubbery that was recently trimmed. The entirety of it was glass, the windows reflecting cars and people walking down the street. Your stomach clenched, threatening to throw up this morning’s cup of coffee.

Breathe, girl, you could practically hear Lisa say.

The beige blazer you adorned was suffocating in another day of Los Angeles heat. A bead of sweat rolled down the curve of your back, making you grimace. You clutched onto the paper, stilling your shaking hands before walking through the double doors.

The entryway led to a spacious waiting area, with brown leather chairs lined in a row. Only one other person occupied the area, sitting at the far end. The flooring was a warm beige tile, with a long dull green rug in front of the chairs. An older lady at the front desk, silver hair fastened in a bun, was hunched over a stack of files.

She glanced up at you from behind her glasses, which sat perched on the edge of her nose.

You cleared your throat, “I’m here for an interview with Mrs. Davenson.”

The lady let out a heavy sigh, and plucked the front desk phone from its receiver. She spoke into it, her eyes scanning you up and down for a moment.

“Down the hall, third door to your left.” is all she said, before continuing her paperwork.

You walked down the hall, heels clicking against the recently waxed floor. You smoothed out your top, hyper aware of the cotton fabric pressed up against your skin. As you approached the door, you drew in a deep breath, forcing down the building nausea.

“Please let this go right.” you prayed, before knocking.

The office was stuffy, and had an overwhelming odor of tangerines. Mrs. Davenson sat across from you, behind her thick oak desk. She was a stout lady, with tan skin and thinning black hair. You shifted around in the seat, nervously digging at your nail bed. She peered down at your resume, silently glossing over it. The interview had been going on for 15 minutes now, each second chipping away at your relaxed composure.

“You were an assistant manager at your most recent job?” She asked, glancing up at you.

“Yes, for nearly a year.”

“Have you worked as a personal assistant before?”

“No, I have not.”

“What encouraged you to apply for this job, then?” She questioned, gently placing the paper back on her desk.

You fell silent, racking your brain for all the bullshit reasons you gave during past interviews. Somehow, it felt as if none of them applied here.

“Well-

Behind you, the wall clock steadily ticked away at your nerves.

The sun was beginning to set, bathing your bedroom in a golden light. A warm breeze rustled the sheer embroidered curtains. Soft melodic music played from the record player on your dresser, filling the room. The hustle and bustle of people on the street was drowned out by the crooning of The Everly Brothers.

Lisa sat beside you, analyzing an album cover. You were currently laying on your stomach, cheek squished against the pillow. The blue and yellow floral comforter itched against your skin, causing you to shift around.

“I think you’re being dramatic.” She said, smacking on a piece of Bubble Yum.

You groaned, “I fucking bombed it.”

She sighed, shaking her head at you like a disappointed mother. “I kept freezing up.” You explained, rolling onto your back.

“I bet it went a lot better than you think.”

Lisa’s infectious positivity was beginning to give you a headache, as you brushed off her words.

You scoffed, “I bet it didn’t.”

Suddenly, you fell back against the mattress as Lisa smacked you with a pillow. Giggles fell from her lips like chimes as you scrambled to sit upright.

“Would it kill you to be a little more optimistic?”

You stared at her, watching as her smile fell to one of concern. Since you’ve known Lisa, she always tried to have a better outlook on things. Whether she truly believed in them or not, you weren’t sure. You never had the heart to ask her, either.

Lisa shied away from your lingering gaze, choosing to pick at the lint on your bedding.

Her face was bare, and dewy from the face cream she applied. The sun spilling in through your bedroom window washed over her features.

“Yes, it would kill me.” You said, holding back a smile.

Lisa rolled her eyes, smacking you on the shoulder. You two soon doubled over laughing, nearly falling on top of each other. Her fluffy hair tickled your skin, as the sweet smell of her hairspray filled your nose.

The abrupt shrill sound of the phone ringing startled you.

You looked over at your bedside clock, it was 7:15 p.m.

Lisa groaned, begrudgingly climbing off the bed and heading to the living room. You trailed after her, watching as she picked up and answered. She exchanged a few quiet words, before holding the phone out to you.

“Someone named Mrs. Dave-

You snatched the phone from her before she could finish.

Lisa stepped to the side, to sit on the couch.

“Hello?” You said, toying with the long beige cord.

“We spoke earlier ma’am, regarding the personal assistant position.”

You nodded, “Yes, yes I remember.”

Lisa peered up at you, a knowing look on her face.

“I wanted to briefly go over your schedule since you’ll be starting tomorrow.”

It felt as if the air had escaped your lungs, leaving you too breathless to speak. You flinched as Lisa pinched your forearm, her nails leaving a mark in the skin.

“O-Of course.” You stuttered, grasping onto the phone cord.

Mrs. Davenson did in fact briefly go over your schedule, not even pausing to breathe. You scribbled her words down, trembling fingers barely holding onto the pen. It felt like some strange dream, as you stared down at the address of the studio she gave you. You half expected the paper to burst into flames, as you fell through the floor into total nothingness, before waking.

“Of course, when you come in you’ll be asked to sign some documents.” Mrs. Davenson informed. “Afterwards, you’ll be introduced to Mr. Delroy, and his team.”

“Sounds great!” You said, nervously chuckling. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

The lady hummed, before promptly hanging up. You still held onto the phone, as if it might jump out of your hand.

“I should have bet money.” Lisa said, laughing at the look of disbelief on your face.

“Oh, shut up.”

Tomorrow came faster than you would have liked. It felt as if you had no time to prepare, as you were being thrown directly into the deep end. You stared in the mirror, smoothing out the creases in your skirt that came above the knee. The snug turtleneck felt warm against your skin, causing you to tug at the fabric. Lisa had lent you a pair of black tights, that thankfully weren’t riddled with holes or lines. The sleek black pumps pinched your feet.

Your stomach churned, bile rising up in your throat before you promptly swallowed it down. The turtleneck now felt constricting, as if gently squeezing at your neck. You braced yourself against the ceramic sink, sucking in shallow breaths. Here you were, hiding in the studio’s bathroom, wanting to throw your inside up. Your hands trembled, curling around the edges of the sink.

Oh god, what am I doing here? You thought. I’ve been laid off from my last two jobs, as if it was some inside joke between the companies. Even Lisa has better luck with stability, she’s worked at the same botanical garden for the past three years.

“Stop it.” you scolded, rubbing at the sides of your temples. The overwhelming nausea made you feel faint, like someone spun you around too fast.

The sharp sound of the bathroom stall door unlatching forced you to stand upright.

Finally, you pulled your hands away from their tight grip on the sink. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out the creases in your foundation.

With a sigh, you left the bathroom, clenching your fists.

Nearly an hour had passed of signing documents and going over general contracts. The fine printed words somehow became warped by the end, overlapping one another with terms and phrases you didn’t understand. The lawyer across from you nodded, and smiled when you signed the NDA.

You now patiently waited for your tour guide, to help you become acquainted with the studio set.

The hallway walls were gray, with a saturated patterned carpet that strained your eyes to look at. Few women passed by, not even sparing a glance towards you as they strode forward, with purpose and importance. You tugged at your skirt, somehow feeling underdressed now.

A soft tap to your shoulder made you flinch. You snapped your head, meeting a pair of warm brown eyes. He was a dark skinned man, with a short afro and goatee.

“Whoa, sorry.” He apologized, chuckling at your reaction. “Didn’t mean to set you off.”

You shook your head, softly smiling at him. “It’s my bad, I was a little distracted I guess.”

“You’re Lisa Carter’s friend, right?”

“Yeah, how did you-

You squinted, taking in his slim tall figure. He wore flared jeans, and an all green flannel. Suddenly, it clicked.

“Are you Jersey?”

“That’s just a nickname.” He explained, waving his hand. “My name is actually Jacob Miller.”

Jacob stuck his hand out, you politely shook it and introduced yourself.

“So, why Jersey then?”

He let out an airy laugh, rubbing at his neck. “It’s not the most creative of reasons. I just happen to be from New Jersey, and the name sort of stuck when I came out to Los Angeles.”

You nodded, somewhat disappointed by the obvious reason.

“I’ll stick with Jacob, then.”

He smiled at your answer, and moved aside. The long stretch of hallway behind him seemed to go on for miles, of just the same wall and carpeting.

“Don’t worry, after a while you’ll be able to navigate this place blindfolded.” Jacob said, urging you to follow him. You had to take long strides, to match his pace. The overhead fluorescent lighting buzzed, reflecting off of Jacob’s leather brown loafers.

“So, what is he like?”

“Who?” Jacob said, glancing over at you.

“Mr. Delroy, I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet.”

He shrugged. “I’ve only been working here a couple years now. Haven’t really spoken to him much during that time.”

You stayed silent, hoping for a better answer.

“He’s a nice guy, from what I know.” He continued. “Doesn’t treat his employees like shit.”

You snorted. “The bar is in hell if that’s all.”

“In this line of work, you’ll find out the bar can go much lower.”

You tried to brush off his words, shoving them into the dark corners of your mind. But they left behind an echo, as you two approached the set door. Jacob opened the door, politely allowing you to step inside first.

The door led to a dark corner of the set, cut off from the audience’s view. Jacob promptly shut the door, leading you further backstage. Multiple sets of chairs, and tables were left out, cluttered with props and food. A vanity was to your right, the massive dark bulbs outlining the mirror. Makeup brushes and pallets were strewn about on the table.

Then there were the people.

They milled around the set, hanging over by the snack table or mingling by the cameras. The overhead lights were turned on, showcasing an empty audience. A hazy fog of smoke filtered the air, itching your throat.

So this is where the magic happens.” You said, looking back at Jacob.

He nodded, rubbing his ring cladded fingers over his angled jaw.

“It’s usually more chaotic, but we don’t shoot till tomorrow night.” He explained, surveying the scene.

A couple of people milling around the cameras waved towards him. You noticed their stares lingered on you, the only unfamiliar face. The tight knot in your stomach threatened to come undone.

Jacob tapped your arm in reassurance. “You’ll find your way around here, just give it time.”

“You sound like Lisa.” You blurted out.

A warm smile bloomed on his face at the comparison, lighting up his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You went to respond, when Jacob’s eyes shifted to look behind you. Something in the air moved, as the few people hanging around also diverted their attention. The sound of multiple footsteps approaching forced you to swiftly turn around.

A lady was walking towards you, closely followed by a man who towered over her. He wore a dark navy suit, adorning a striped red and black tie. His black dress shoes shined, just recently polished.

“Here comes the man of the hour.” Jacob whispered, leaning his head towards you.

The man stuck out his hand when he approached, his black eyes boring into yours as he politely smiled at you. His dark hair was brushed back, exposing his forehead.

“Jack Delroy.” He introduced, warm palm against yours. “I understand you're my new assistant.”

“Yes, I am.” You beamed, firmly shaking his hand. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Delroy.”

The studio lights glared down at you, getting caught in your eye.

You allowed yourself to believe, for a second, that things would work out this time around.

Maybe Lisa is right, you thought.

Maybe.

#david dastmalchian #jack delroy #jack delroy x reader #dark!jack delroy #obsessive!jack delroy #late night with the devil #yandere #fem!reader

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horsefigureoftheday · 4 months

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What are composition figures?

If you're a longtime toy collector, you've no doubt stumbled upon these things! You may know them better as Elastolin or Lineol figures, but you probably don't know much more than that. Are they ceramic? Wood? Some kind of old-timey plastic? Where did they come from? And why are they always broken?

Composition figures are antique toys, produced from the late 1800s, up until the 1960s - though their heyday was around WWII, where the Elastolin and Lineol companies really ramped up production. In fact, these companies produced so many figures of such high quality, that their names have since become synonymous with "composition figures" even though dozens of other companies all over the world produced similar figures. Figures produced by Elastolin are always marked with he brand name, while Lineol figures either have the brand name, a "Germany" mark, or both. If it doesn't have either of those brands, it's (usually) not technically a Lineol/Elastolin figure - which is why I stick to calling them "composition figures."

So, what are they made of?? For starters, all larger figures have a metal skeleton - sometimes the entire head/tail may be made out of metal! In my own collection I have a yak with a metal head and a bison with a metal tail. But usually, the skeleton is a simple support structure for the body, as shown on these xrays:

As for the body itself, the main component is sawdust, but the rest of it is kinda unknown. We know that the other major component was a binding agent, but no recipe has been preserved, as far as I can find. We do know that some recipes have included ﬂour, dextrin, casein, bone glue, water, linseed oil, natural resins, and kaolin. However, some recipes are believed to have had too much moisture, which leads us to the next question...

Why are the legs always broken?? Part of it is time and rough handling, but most of it is that the material expands and contracts in response to heat/humidity. Composition figures are stupidly sensitive to environmental changes, and become very brittle over time - eventually, simply moving them around may be enough to cause fractures! Unfortunately, these cracks expose the skeleton and, since they were made of simple iron, the skeleton can oxidize and eventually break completely.

Most composition figures are about the same scale as modern toyline brands (Schleich, Safari, CollectA, etc.) so displaying them is pretty straightforward. Storing them, however, is another matter. It is imperative that they stay out of direct sunlight and away from heat sources. They should also be kept in as air-tight conditions as possible. And, of course, don't get them wet.

Cleaning them is not easy. I have had moderate success with a damp (not wet!) cotton swab. It didn't damage the figure, but it also can't completely get rid of 70+ years of accumulated dust, smoke, and sweat. I'm wary of using soap, as the pH change might affect them. Right side has been cleaned, left side is still dirty:

If anyone has any tips on cleaning, I'd be happy to hear it!

Thanks for reading! :D

#composition figures #elastolin #lineol #not horse of the day #my collection #collecting 101

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wildestheart4ever · 11 months

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@stealingyourbones @ashfly

In this AU, Danny is Jason’s paternal grandfather. [Does DP take place in like the 70s if I'm making Danny this old in the current time? Idk, but the idea of changing the era in which it takes place is always an interesting concept]

It takes place in an "Ultimate Enemy" AU, everyone dies and Danny is left a sad bitter drifter [Destroying all Fenton equipment and research, and avoiding Vlad like the plague, every encounter growing more hostile]. To add to the general angst, he’s also basically on a one-man mission to burn down the GIW.

He did not take the GIW into that much account, so Danny spends years being hunted and equally destroying GIW bases. Unbeknownst to him, the GIW had been keeping a very keen eye on the Fentons and their work [not to mention unearthing Vlad's brand of work], and thus Danny seethes at his failure

At some point, he tries to lead some semblance of a human life after sticking to the Ghost Zone and learning the ways of the ghosts for a while [He finally destroys the portals after learning to make portals on his own - if the destruction of Vlad's portal leads to Vlad sustaining a fatal injury, well whatever].

He meets someone, someone he feels he can trust with his secrets, and pursues a life with them. Cue marriage in the courthouse, cue bun in the oven. Cue nice shit for a while that has him thinking everything will be okay

Cue GIW being generally awful [Police investigating, worried neighbors, ransacked apartment, and a missing wife. Cold rage and unsettled officers, his eyes turn red for the first time.]

Dead wifey on a metal table, bun in the oven missing, and cue Danny’s faith in humanity taking a severe blow.

He loses his shit.

Growing older, growing bitter, and his moral compass turning all the more grayer [at some point wondering why he's been letting these people live]. He hunts GIW bases with a bloody vengeance and any stragglers that might've escaped? Well, he's got plenty of hounds and shadows to send on the hunt.

He turns anti-ish humans, bitter and angry.

Years continue to pass and the staggering numbers of agents loyal to the anti-ghost organization grow smaller, enough for Danny to pull back and leave only a few shades to keep a lookout. With that, he keeps mostly to the Infinite Realms, dead and resentful but taking great care of his people.

Why did he never find Willis or Jason? Well, I say it's because Gotham is a pretty strong city spirit, so her ecto signature kinda masks the ghostly residents living there.

Baby grows up to be Willis, but more on the weirder ghostly nonsense side. I like the idea of him being a good dad before things went to shit, teaching Jason about all the ways of the ghost [Not that either of them knew that. They’re not as ghostly as Danny, it’s just subtle things like cores communication and sneakiness]

Jason goes through his tragic events before his and B’s fateful meeting. Cue Jason being noticeably weird and ghostly in the Manor halls [his and Dick’s first meeting is Jason scaring the shit of Dick. One minute Dick is angry and looking to pick a bone with Bruce, the next, there's a child standing behind him staring at him - where'd he come from? Cause he sure as shit didn't hear anyone walk into the room.]

Danny is part of JL, only as a member that they call for hopeless scenarios. He is pretty unapproachable and JL is just relieved he’s willing to help at all.

He's a somber man by the time that first meeting comes around, bitter, unapproachable, and carries a distinct dislike for humans. The JL are only grateful that he's willing to give his help at all. Do they know about his quiet war with the GIW? No, Phantom keeps measures in keeping it all hush hush, he doesn't let agents get the chance to report incidents or call for outside help, in fact, he makes it all look like an accident when he's feeling particularly vicious.

Jason meets Phantom in an apocalyptic mission he wasn’t supposed to be in. Shrinks under the man’s intense gaze and quietly thinks Dick’s opinion of the man is spot on, he’s an overwhelming force and it feels like he’s being stared down by a predator.

He thinks the old man looks kinda sad.

But strangely enough, he also feels familiar.

[I like to think that there’s such a thing as familial cores, that can communicate impressions and feelings, that resonate deeper than a core would with a stranger. Like beacons.] Their cores are the source of purring. Jason's embarrassed to say the thrum [The one he's known and taken comfort in all his life] within him sounds almost like a kitten's purr, questioning, and yearning. The man's? It sounds almost like Willis' used to: Like a crocodile, deep and guttural, a sound so chilling yet feels warm and tentative. Hopeful and just as strangely yearning as his.

I also just get the image of Bambi meeting his dad for the first time lol

Batman swoops in like an over protective parent. Phantom is demanding where did he find Jason, he’s agitated and asking all sorts of questions B doesn’t have all the answers to.

Batman asks for the reason for Phantom’s desperate interest in Jason.

“Our cores share resonance, a factor only found in familial relationships”

Now B knows about Jason’s oddities, has a year getting used to them - but it’s never occurred to him the source or read for them.

The age difference hides a lot, but B can see a lot of the family resemblance. It’s in their bro, the shape of their jaw, the shape of their eyes

The burning green Jason’s eyes turn to when overwhelmed.

Cue Danny finding maybe not the child he thought he lost, but a grandchild and he makes it abundantly clear he wants some involvement in the boy’s life.

And a health check. Gotham may have been able to sustain Jason but she is still a cursed city, god knows how that affected the ghostling’s health.

[If Batman tries to search up every possible thing about the Ghost Kings from his human life, well, it's not like Gotham will tell - heck, she probably helps nudge him along. Gotta make sure Jaylad's last living(???) biological relative would be a good thing in his life]

Jason’s life proceeds as normal, even as he tries to forget the fact he has a grandfather who’s the king of another dimension and that there are now shadows dogging his steps. That's not mentioning the trips he gets to make to the Infinite Realms.

If he grows impish and generally more creepy? Batman nor Batgirl mention it. A far cry from the mischievous demeanor Dick built Robin on. They don't mention how his giggle now feels chilling or foreboding, or how their adrenaline pumps when he exercises his invisibility, Batman refuses the thought of it feeling like a predator stalking prey - he's sure the goons already think that enough as is.

Then you know what happens: Joker has been keeping a keen eye on Batman and his lot, he knows about Batman’s little birdy’s weirdness and……well, he is eager to play with the new toys he got from that decrepit little organization he found.

Cue the tragedy, cue an angry grieving Bat and an even angrier king.

Phantom is there at the funeral, disguised as a human [He doesn't have a human form, not anymore.]. Making it clear to Bruce he blames him just as much for this tragedy.]

Phantom spent weeks searching in the deepest corners of the Infinite Realms hoping to find the forming remains of his grandson. Phantom is only left with the knowledge that the boy passed over to the beyond.

Anything left of his patience for humans snaps like a frayed thread.

The king is furious, demanding why the boy felt the need to find family elsewhere, demanding why he was left alone

He wants blood

[I suppose he turns into a different flavor of Dan, he’s not targeting just everyone, he’s just targeting those involved down from the Joker to what remains of everyone involved with that damned organization]

He basically declared war on them.

Superman in a typical fashion when faced with Batman’s first attempt on the Joker’s life, tries to reason with the ghost.

Phantom isn’t having it.

“I’m going to make this very clear to you, Kal El. The prince of the Infinite Realms, my beloved grandson, the last of my family, has been murdered by a retched human, using weapons designed against my kind. If you think I’m going to sit idle or let you and anyone else get in my way? Don’t expect mercy from me and mine.

Try to get in my way Kryptonian, I dare you.”

Ghouls and shades swarm everywhere, particularly in Gotham [She is facing the punishment of being unable to protect her bird, even if he’s left her reach], the ghost in the cursed city become visible to the human eye as they help search for the Joker.

He’s found, by the king’s knight. Dragged kicking and giggling as he’s thrown at the king’s feet.

The king grabs the retched clown’s head with a large clawed hand and stares the Joker in the eye as he slowly freezes his insides

While many silently rejoice over the monster finally meeting his end, they cannot stand to look as bloody icicles stab through the man from within.

The beheading seems pointless, but watching this man rip off the Joker’s head, they get the feeling the Ghost King could not help the display of violence

He was stating a point.

Danny loses all faith in humanity and makes it known. He's pissed.

Basically, Batman had one job and he blew it, so there goes whatever relationship the JL had with Phantom.

JL is now missing one of their heavy hitters.

Tim watches Batman spiral and Gotham grow more obviously haunted.

It's like a war zone

Jason returns from the dead and Danny instantly knows about it [he had shades guarding his grave, he knows]. Cue him following his catatonic grandbaby and basically becoming a helicopter parent - Ras is kept in line at the threat of his corrupted bath water being taken from him, and Danny vaguely threatens Talia as he discerns her intentions towards Jason.

The Prince returns to Gotham and the shades are supporting his violent hobbies.

Jason's a little thrown off to find that the Joker had been publicly murdered execution-style.

He goes back to his apartment to think and finds Grandpa waiting for him. He's a little shocked and ill at ease at the massive grudge the old man holds for Batman.

Phantom offers Lady Gotham an apology, citing her inability to interfere. But Batman is a different matter.

That’s all I got for now. Lol, this got very long and I wasn’t expecting to be hit with the inspiration, might think of more soon.

I’ll add what I imagine old King Danny looks like in a minute. Is it necessary? No, but I have to share it with you.

How Danny looks:

I know everyone is a fan of twink!Danny but I'm leaning more on Jack's side of the gene pool in this case. The dude is huge, broad, and towers over everyone by several inches [Jason's epic growth spurt makes more sense when you look at his family lineage lol]. You know that thing Walker does where he's normal heights one moment, and looming sky high the other? Yeah, Danny can do that.

His getup? From what comes up at the top of my head: Something between Dan’s suit and lightweight gothic-style armor, spikes, and beady eyed skulls galore. He doesn’t wear gloves so you can see he charred black claws and he doesn't wear a chest plate, so it reveals the tattered remains of the insignia Sam made for him [I’m honestly thinking of Infinity War!Steve, with how roughened up he looks].

He's like Alfred's age, maybe older. He always has a severe frown on his face. Generally looks like he's one step away from losing his patience

Corpse pale skin, almost bluish

Wispy hair. Some say it looks like it's moving like it's underwater, others think it's wispy and foggy lookin' like dry ice. Along with the crown, it looks like his hair is flaming, which he tries not to think about.

Three eye colors: The general acid green - default, pale ice blue - when using his powers, red - when he's really pissed off. There used to be a fourth, the soft sky blues of when he was human. Jason had his eyes, Danny's sad those were gone too.

He has fangys, he will use them. In fact, he can stretch his jaws wide open horror style to reveal rows of sharp teeth.

Claws, he'll use those too. Long black claws up to his second knuckles, cold blue up to the center of his palms.

#Danny Phantom #DPxDC #DCxDP #Danny Fenton #Jason Todd #DPxDC crossover #DCxDP crossover #Making this a separate post cause the original wasn't getting seen

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themakeupbrush · 1 year

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Met Gala Info Post

I’m seeing a lot of people fundamentally misunderstanding the Met Gala so here we go:

The Met Gala is held the first Monday in May every year and serves as both the primary fundraiser for the Met’s Costume Institute and the opening of an exhibit, which runs for months after the Gala. The Gala raises millions of dollars for the Costume Institute every year, and completely funds it. The Costume Institute used to be separate from the Met, so they have separate budgets.

It started in 1948, Diane Vreeland made it a society event in the 70′s and added themes, and it became a more elaborate costume-y event in the early 2000′s.

Anna Wintour has co-hosted it since 1995, and Conde Nast (Vogue’s parent company) is a sponsor, though there’s usually an additional corporate sponsor and additional famous co-chairs selected by Wintour. She has a hand in everything including the exhibit, guest list, seating arrangements, décor, performers, menu, and even what people wear.

Work on next year’s Met Gala starts on the first Tuesday in May, with the theme being one of the first issues decided on, since it needs to be coordinated with the exhibit.

Tickets are invite-only, and cost $40,000 each. Designers, brands, and companies will often buy out tables and invite or “sponsor” attendees themselves, which often leads to celebrities being contractually obligated to wear the designer that invited them. The guest list is usually around 650-700 people total.

Guests aren’t required to follow the theme. It’s technically not a costume ball.

If you want to learn more, there’s a documentary called “The First Monday in May” about the history of the Met Gala and follows the planning of the 2015 “China: Through the Looking Glass” Gala

#met gala #info post #it's not just an over the top fashion event #it's a fundraiser and exhibit #do you know how much work goes into a costume exhibit #let me know if you have questions or i missed something

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gabessquishytum · 7 months

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This has been haunting my head forever, but as we all know Robert Smith was the leading inspiration for Dream in the comics with more than a bit of Neil sprinkled in there (and a few other goth rock bands like Bauhaus' Peter Murphy) and I just can't get over the image of a goth rockstar Dream.

It's the late 70s, and our boy Dream is riding a creative high of LSD and pedal effects to the top of the pops. They're calling the band he fronts, name and members are up to you or whoever takes this idea on, Goth bc they're too dark for New Wave but are just upbeat enough to steer clear of Televison's particular brand of Post-Punk. It's a newer label but a fitting one considering how dour and moody the genre has gotten since Ian Curtis's death. One he despises as he claims he's very happy with his current success and how his life is going.

But he's not happy. He hates playing to the newly forming stereotype of his fans, but he isn't. Celebrity Marriages hardly ever last and his relationship with his novelist wife is crumbling around him. He loves his son but the touring schedule is killing all of his free time. He's also pretty deep into substance abuse but he wouldn't admit it to his big sister let alone the random journo who has a camera in his face while he's trying to catch a 5:30 am flight to start his newest tour. He's just burnt out and creatively stuck as the label tries to pigeonhole him into this new subgenre, which he doesn't want anymore. Life, his life, can't be doom and gloom forever even though that's where it looks like it's heading. Forever being hailed as the Nightmare King.

Meanwhile, three radio stations over, Hob Gadling is desperately trying to hang onto life. He's a bit older now than when he first broke out onto the music scene as a rambunctious coat rider of the Sex Pistols, but he's still going strong. Punk has always been his outlet. Life sucks and you keep on living despite it. It tried to kill him not long after he debuted with substance use, but he powered through it and got clean. His wife died in childbirth, but he stuck around to raise his son. He even took a three-year hiatus and completely missed how much the sound had changed from his younger years. Even as post-punk has risen in popularity and the friends he knew have either died or changed their sound completely, he won't give up hope! Punk's not dead and neither is he. No matter how long his hair gets or if he grows out of his leather jacket.

The two meet rather coincidentally. Hob just happens to be opening for Dream on the Europe leg of his tour. Unsurprisingly the tension around Dream's band has become a powder keg and when he finally snaps and fires his guitarist, his bassist also leaves. With half the band gone, Dream considers calling it quits right then and there. Fuck the new album, fuck the last fifteen or so dates. He wants to go home. But Hob sees how close they are to finishing the tour and puts his foot down. They will finish the tour! So he offers up his services to Dream. He's not bad with a guitar and if Dream can cover the bass, then he'll play all night if he has to. Because out there on stage? That's life and he wants to keep making people happy and give them something that might transcend time and space. To never die bc his name is there among the annuls of rock history.

And in time, Dream will come around to his new friend. He will learn to appreciate the zest for performing and living his new friend has. He will also think he has the greatest body known to man and will forever laugh at the terribly done anarchy A Hob has tattooed on his ass, but that's neither for here or there. For now, Dream pulls himself together and gets his bass out from the dark pits of hell the roadies call gear storage. For the show must go on.

Oh god I want an entire novel length story around this. It’s fantastic! I have so many thoughts about these two!!

Hob is falling in love with all the new sounds that he’s hearing. He spent his time on his hiatus being a suburban dad, and now he’s back on the scene is just feels amazing. He can’t get enough of Roxy Music and David Bowie and Elvis Costello. And he’s determined to drag himself back up among those names! He’s got so many ideas of where punk can go! And he’s fascinated by Dream and his band. The lyrics are a little dark and wallowy, but Hob understands that actually people need to hear that. Life in the UK isn’t easy, particularly for young people. They need something loud and desperate and real. Little does he know, Dream feels like what he’s doing is so far away from being real. He feels likes such a fraud. He can’t get off the hamster wheel except by shooting up and passing out.

Hob recognises all of this in approximately 0.5 seconds after meeting Dream. It makes him pretty sad, but he’s determined that he’ll lift Dream out of his funk. If nothing else, he’ll make him love music again.

So when Hob said he was OK with a guitar, he was lying - he's actually a bit of a genius, and it's fair to say that Dream falls a little bit in love with him about half way through the sound check. Instead of hiding in the dressing room and licking his wounds over the band breaking up, he actually watches as Hob opens for him. Hob is very classic punk, it's all very "fuck the government, fuck me up the arse" kind of stuff, but Dream doesn't get bored for a single second. Hob is just that entertaining, and his riffs are insane. Dream itches to write a song for him. And when Hob ends the set with a jokey little song that his five year old son allegedy wrote the lyrics for (lil Robyn is very punk, just like his daddy) Dream’s eyes actually get a bit misty. It's probably all the smoke.

And there's really no time to get emotional! Dream’s drummer, Constantine, thankfully didn't walk out with the rest of them. So somehow, with Hob’s virtuosic guitar skills and sheer determination, plus Dream’s refusal to fail yet again, they actually make a really decent show. Dream feels a tingle of the old spark that he used to get when he first started out - it probably has something to do with the way Hob upends a bottle of water all over his head half way through the show and grins like a maniac.

After the show they crash in a local hotel. Hob calls his kid from the payphone and Dream wishes that he had the courage to do the same. Instead he takes some pills so he doesn't have to feel the high from the show gradually wearing off into nothingness. He doesn't know why Hob comes and sits next to him in the dark, pressing against him from thigh to shoulder. He stays for the whole of Dream’s trip, in fact, humming something quiet and classic. Dream feels quite ashamed of himself, and for the first time he thinks that maybe he'd feel better without the drugs. Maybe.

As the tour gets off to a slow start, Dream starts to notice that Hob is having some kind of positive effect on him. Just little thing. They get breakfast together, so Dream actually eats something, which is unusual. Their little arguments don't get out of hand, because Hob never lets them escalate. When Dream is angry and spitting at the world, Hob is sure to point of something positive. Not that Hob doesn't get sad, too - he just deals with it differently. He goes for long walks, and turns off the news when it gets bad. He gets himself a snack when he's irritable, and laughs about it afterwards.

Dream writes him a near impossible guitar solo and it feels like a "thank you".

They have a sweet, unexpected first kiss. It's 2am and they're standing at the edge of the road, waiting for a mechanic to come out to their broken down tour bus. There's no one around to see, so Dream rests his head on Hob’s shoulder. He's sore, and weary. Hob turns his head slightly and tucks an arm around him, and it just happens. They kiss. It is, of course, the first of many.

And you can bet that Dream kisses that anarchy tattoo a million time, too.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw drugs #cw substance use

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normal-horoscopes · 2 years

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On Christmas of 1979, Linda Barry died of a brain aneurysm on national television. Notable for being the first female host of the Home Shopping Channel, Barry was a little known but well-liked presence in the 70s media landscape. Her boisterous yet professional persona played on nostalgia, half old hollywood diva, half Lucille Ball. When asked about her time with the network, producer Robert Carter reminisced, “You know what it was? It was her voice. Clear and strong. It was a voice you remembered. That voice sold the dickens out of vacuums.”

Her death was the center of a short-lived national controversy. Alongside the flood of articles and news segments mourning her passing were articles delving into Barry’s troubled home life. The cause of death was revealed to be the experimental stimulants that Barry relied on to keep up with the HSC’s rigorous production schedule. Barry was also a heavy drinker, and most scandalously of all, a divorcee who openly questioned her faith.

The circumstances of her life and death were swept into the larger current of anti-drug propaganda, being relegated to a footnote in the ongoing debate about violence in media.The actual footage of Barry’s death fell into obscurity. Few recordings exist, most are still held by research staff. While the footage itself has not been released, project Clover documentation describes the footage thus:

“Subject holds a Vitamax brand blender in her hands, and places it on a nearby desk. Camera zooms out to reveal a display with several Carilux brand vacuum cleaners. Subject moves to the new display and begins introducing the product. Subject descends the first of three small stairs, and abruptly collapses. Camera crew attempts to cut away, but accidentally cuts to the camera used for closeups of products. Subject is facedown on red carpet, all features are obscured by the subject’s hair, aside from her left ear, from which a small trickle of blood falls. Footage holds for nine seconds. Footage ends.”

Linda Barry’s connection to Theoretical Market Hyperconsciousness M3 is unknown. Recently declassified documents reveal significant internal discourse as to the nature of TMH-M3. Early theoretical hypnoeconomists working under project clover made several forays into attempted contact with TMH-M3, though their efforts were universally unsuccessful. Many blame this on the direction of department lead David Lampert, described by Dr. Erwin “Tex” Smith as “a [expletive redacted] upward-failing pencil-pusher” who “wasted taxpayer money kidnapping poor [expletive removed] schizophrenics rambling about his Angel in the Wires.”

Modern research into the theoretical existence of TMH-M3 has come to the conclusion that the “entity” in question was simply a collection of roughly six unrelated sub-financial background phenomena that were themselves inflamed by the traumatic and public death of Linda Barry. The only element of her death confirmed to be anomalous is that when viewed on a magnuvox model 5056 television, the stream of blood from Linda’s ear assumes the multicolored distortion associated with contemporary color television sets.

Study is ongoing.

#unreality #fiction #study is ongoing

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haveyouseenthishorrormovie · 2 months

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SUMMARY: The mid-70's: a timid young New Yorker leads an uneventful life until he is fatefully exposed to the pulsating rhythms of a brand-new genre of music: disco. Unable to control his murderous impulses that stem from a traumatic childhood experience, Duane Lewis transforms into a dangerous serial killer exiled to Montreal.

#discopathe (2013)#slasher #2010s #canada #north american movie #horror #movies #poll

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robsheridan · 11 months

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No film defined the late-70s “McSplatter” wave of grindhouse horror like DRIVE-THRU OF DEATH (1977). Writer/director Ron Sharleton's (Cannibal Quarterback, Garfield: First Blood, CoacHELLa) unapologetically manic debut gore-fest wrote the blueprint for the fast-food sub-genre that would be followed by many more films such as Wiener of Blood (1978), Ice Scream Truck (1978), and Sharleton’s own pizza-themed follow-up Slice of Hell (1979).

Drive-Thru of Death opens with old-fashioned circus clowns in a shadowy ritual with a cult of evil cows (the film does not explain why the cows can speak, nor are they seen again after the opening scene). The groups are angry at the giant fast food chain “McDungles” (an obvious reference to McDonald’s leading to extensive litigation) for their aggressive factory-farming and their clown-themed branding that “cheapens the sacred art of clowning.” The cow priest puts an ancient black magic curse on the blood of all cattle in the region destined for McDungles beef plants.

As the cursed beef makes its way into McDungles’ restaurants, burger patties begin coming alive as ferocious man-eating beef demons. Meanwhile, the curse has a special effect on the restaurant’s birthday clowns, who become gradually more psychotic as they mutate into grotesque homicidal monstrosities whose flesh drips like melted cheese. The clowns kill the staff and turn McDungles into madhouses of relentless zany violence. The clown working the drive-through window asks unsuspecting patrons the film’s much-quoted catchphrase, “would you like TO DIE with that??”

The infamous third-act birthday party scene is an off-the-rails escalation of horror where the demon clowns infect children with the curse, which their turns their flesh into french fries before possessing them to become demonic murderous clown children.

Eventually, townspeople are able to kill the beef demons and the clowns by burning them alive with deep-frier grease. But the damage is done, and the McDungles chain has to shut down permanently.

The film’s final shot of a child who survived the birthday party massacre warns ominously, “the children were never the same.”

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NOTE: This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

#rob sheridan #nightmAIres #ai horror #alternate history #ai art #70s horror #ron sharleton #drive-thru of death #mcsplatter #synthography #synthography horror #horror #horror art #horror stories #writing #fake movies

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shit-enmu-says · 3 months

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Enmu Headcanons

I don’t think Enmu is a brand new demon. It’s mentioned he worked his way up through the Lower Ranks which would take even a sufficiently powerful demon years

At the same time I don’t think he’s old as fuck like Akaza or Douma both of whom are over a century old. The Lower Ranks get cycled out pretty quickly, which leads me to think he’s chronologically old by human standards but under 100, which places him in the awkward position of “young” immortal

My estimate is hes (chronologically) between 50 and 70-something, made into a demon in his mid to late 20s

Something leads me to think that much like Muzan himself he spends a lot of time dabbling in the human realm, most likely keeping up the whole fake doctor-conman shtick for the $$$

He may have dozens of aliases and go out of his way to seem like a normal guy. I think he wears gloves a lot to hide the mouth on his hand, and perhaps wears make up to cover the marks on his cheeks and make himself appear less deathly pale

Around his clients, he never smiles showing his teeth, lest they see his fangs. The only exception are the human recruits he replaces frequently who know what he is, or someone he’s decided to eat. Either way, you’re screwed.

Of course, he’s trying to pass himself off as a fairly young doctor or businessman. Looking the part isn’t that hard, acting the part is the real challenge. To do so I think he likes to try and adopt the customs of younger people

And sometimes he freaks people out because he carries himself with the sophistication and calmness of one much older. At times, he slips up and says or does something that seems a bit old fashioned. His face shows no signs of age or that he’s anything other than human but sometimes people just know in their gut something’s off about him

Of course with people like his recruits I think he drops the pretense entirely, which can be quite unsettling for them.

Once Enmu knows he doesn’t need to keep up the pretense anymore he delights in being as horrifically unsettling as possible because their reactions of horror and confusion entertain him

#mun posts #headcanons #crack headcanons #enmu tamio #lower moon one #kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny enmu

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lcvedior · 2 months

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𖤐 ʾ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ NATALIA HWANG ⠀ ╲ ⠀A DISCOGRAPHY DEEP DIVE

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ TALIA (2015): THE GRAND DEBUT … Fresh out of filming for her supporting role in the 2016 film ‘The Handmaiden,’ Natalia would make her musical debut on her 18th birthday, releasing her first full studio album, featuring three lead singles: ONLY YOU, FULL MOON, and FLY. Each of these tracks would get their own individual promotional periods. This release would debut to much critical acclaim, the lead singles peaking at #1, #5, and #1 on charts respectively and the album selling over 683,000 units. Only You rose to popularity with a surprising quickness, racking in 7 music show wins. Full Moon was also a hit, recognized as one of the most iconic songs as well as choreography in the industry, being covered by large range of idols and notable celebrities. Then Fly did surprisingly well with the general public, taking the industry by storm with it’s vocal prowess and earning several PAKS and RAKS, and staying in the top of charts for a total of 70 weeks.

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ 24 HOURS (2016): THE FIRST COMEBACK … Riding off the success of Natalia’s debut, her acting projects, and modeling work, Zephyr thought it’d be best to release her first comeback in the earlier part of 2016. 24 Hours is her second studio album, consisting of 8 tracks with 24 Hours serving as the title track. 24 Hours debuted at #15 on charts but progressively worked itself up to #1 throughout the promotional period. Alongside the title track, the b-side MAGIC which unexpectedly peaked within the top 10 on music charts. Due to popular demand, Natalia also promoted the track very briefly on music shows. Although the public’s reception of her work was seemingly positive, it was evident that she was still exploring her artistry. Even though she was never truly given credit for anything on this album or the album prior, she was heavily involved in the writing and concept for all tracks. On the contrary, both Zephyr Entertainment and Henri Kwon (especially) were very adamant on not straying away from the sexier image she’d been portraying already.

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ WHY (2016): THE SUMMER RENAISSANCE … Natalia came back just in time for the summer with her single Why. The tropical house track was met with immediate acclaim upon release, peaking at #1 on all charts, taking home 10 music show wins, and seeing several PAKS. This song was everywhere that year. When people think of summer 2016, Why is destined to come to mind. It also trumped her previous reign of 70 weeks on charts by staying for 90 weeks. It also revisits the charts frequently, usually around summertime of every year. This year she was able to take home BEST NEW ARTIST and SONG OF THE YEAR with this single alone. This is what marked the official solidification of her status in the music industry.

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ VARIATIONS ON THE WORLD LOVE (2017): A LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIP … Natalia Hwang released yet another studio album titled Variations on the Word Love, which is a darker piece of work exploring themes of toxic relationships and what love can look and feel like. Never Ever, the title track, debuted at #1 on charts and stayed there for weeks. Other b-sides on the album also charted well, like the #5 peaking track MOONLIGHT. The album sold over 2 million copies, marking her first 2 million seller in her career. Aside from the success, though, fans were worried that Natalia was being overworked. From booking luxury brand deals, Mon Cheri’s new season, and gearing up for her first world tour, it was safe to say there wasn’t a time where Natalia wasn’t working. Everything she did was selling like hot cakes, Zephyr and Henri felt like they could slap her name onto anything and make bank. On the contrary, while she was apparently loved by the public, she was also hated a great deal. People slapped the names ‘diva’ and ‘airheaded’ on her, embroiling her in attitude controversies and slandering her for her interviews where Henri accompanied her.

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ FANTASY (2017): A LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIP PART 2 … Following the promotional period for VOTWL, Natalia would release her first mini album only a few months later, selling 2 million copies once again. It’s title track Fantasy would garner 9 music show wins and peak at #1 on charts. Of course, this release wouldn’t come without backlash, many netizens criticizing the attire she wore in her music video, calling it skimpy and inappropriate. Although she wouldn’t promote this release much as she was preparing for her first world tour, other tracks on the mini would gain popularity, such as DON’T SAY NO (which would later get its own music video) and WHATEVER. Those tracks would both get added to the Setlist for the tour. She would walk away from this year with the ARTIST OF THE YEAR award, much to a lot of people’s dismay. Regardless, this year was still a success even with the boycotts and nasty, intrusive comments from interviewers and netizens alike.

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ NATIONAL EMBARRASSMENT (2018): THE EERIE CALM BEFORE THE STORM … Natalia released her second mini album right in time for spring of this year, a reference to netizens titling her a ‘national embarrassment.’ While the album sold less copies than her previous releases, it would still chart exceedingly well. She didn’t promote this album much, never performing it and oftentimes barely acknowledging it after its release.

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ TIMELESS (2018): THE HATE TRAIN (WHEN THINGS FALL APART) … Around winter of 2018, Natalia released her fourth studio album, featuring the title track #LADY and the promotional b-side ALTERLIFE. Things seemed to be looking up before its release, the albums presales already hitting incredible milestones and the anticipation for the release umpteenth. The first few hours of the release were peaceful, both tracks debuting at #1 and #10 respectively. However, things came crumbling down when Henri Kwon released an exposé regarding Natalia, officially announcing their parting from one another and dumping on her mental health and extremely personal issues. This sent the media into a frenzy, everyone talking about it and a plethora of headlines coming out everyday. Some people sided with Natalia, saying that Henri was wrong for speaking on her and airing out her mental state and sexuality like that, while most used this as an opportunity to bag on her all that they wanted. This was an extremely rough period for Natalia, as she was being asked very rude and inappropriate questions every interview and being harassed by paparazzi and fans on the internet everyday. This was an all-time low for her, emotionally and in her career. She’d always received hate but never to the extent of this year. Due to this, her promotions were cut short and she canceled many schedules. She would then be placed on an indefinite and unofficial hiatus where she wouldn’t release music or make any public appearances for the next nearly three years.

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ MY OBSESSION (2021): THE LONG AWAITED COMEBACK … After nearly three years and many half-assed, vague updates from Zephyr Entertainment about Natalia’s whereabouts, Hwang finally made her comeback in 2021, releasing her first studio album in years titled My Obsession. My Obsession would prove to be her best-selling album, selling over 4 million units with its title track MIDNIGHT winning 12 music show wins and SONG OF THE YEAR, while other tracks such as TOUCH, SELFISH, and SECRETS charted exceptionally and were promoted due to popular demand.

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ DESSERT [FEAT. MICKEY MOON & KYRIE HAN] (2021): COLLAB OF THE YEAR … A little later this same year, Natalia would unveil another release, which would be a chart topping single featuring Mickey Moon of DREAMCHIC and Kyrie Han of RAVANA. The collaboration would go viral, peaking at #1 and staying within the top 15 weeks after its release. The single would even be nominated alongside Midnight for awards such as BEST DANCE PERFORMANCE and SONG OF THE YEAR. Although, it would win BEST COLLABORATION.

∬ ˚ ⋆ ࣪ BAD OMENS (2022): CREATIVE FREEDOM AND ARTISTIC AUTHENTICITY … After taking yet another year off from music, Natalia came back with her studio album titled Bad Omens, featuring the title track Fever. This ‘hiatus’ was much different from the previous one—in length and reason. It was obvious that she was working on projects behind the scenes, such as new modeling projects, preparing for comebacks and (possible) tours, and making business moves. In this album, fans were able to see a different, deeper side of Natalia and her music. She was vulnerable with the concepts for music videos and album art, and talked about past experiences in her tracks which raised quite a few brows to listeners. Many people would speculate about the lyrics but when questioned about them, she would only answer with vague responses. Some tracks that were talked about in particular were: I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND, PWIC, and LIQUID SMOOTH. The album is often regarded as her best piece of work sonically, conceptually, and artistically.

As of early 2024, Natalia has taken more time off from music to focus on her new record label COUNTESSA RECORDINGS, which she revealed and bought her first artist in the later part of 2023.

#⠀⠀· ⠀⠀𔓘 ⠀⠀／ ⠀⠀I ADORE YOU ⠀⠀ › ⠀⠀ discography.#fake idol community #fake idol oc #fake idol soloist #fake kpop idol #fictional idol community #kpop oc #fictional kpop idol #fictional kpop company #fake kpop soloist #fake kpop oc #fictional idol oc #idolverse #idol au #idol oc

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historicrad39a · 8 months

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3. Frontier Rescue Rangers

Unnamed system - 135ly from Earth

Frontier Rescue Rangers Carrier Zuikaku after action report: July 13th 2538

It had been a month since the Human-Tathrax alliance had been attacked by an unknown alien civilization (henceforth known as the “Theta Aliens”). Whilst there was an initial panic about possible follow up attacks, it wasn’t until yesterday that we had any further contact. A small exploration vessel surveying systems just outside of Alliance space had been ambushed and captured by the Theta Aliens. Due to the proximity to frontier space, and the fact that this was a rescue mission, the Frontier Rescue Rangers were dispatched.

Two months ago, had you told me I would make history by being the first half-human half-Tathrax to command of one of the admiralty’s newest and largest carriers, with two brand new Kongō-class Fast Battleships (specifically modified for Frontier Defense fleet use) in tow as the head of a squadron with more firepower than the entire Frontier Defense Fleet up until that point - especially for a rescue mission of all things - I would have called you crazy. In fact, once the FDS Frontier’s captain, Zack, told me he was planning to request the admiralty’s newest toys, I called him an idiot. He had asked me if, assuming he succeeded, I would want to command one of the new ships - and if so, which type. I told him, somewhat jokingly, that I wanted to be in command of a massive voidcraft carrier. Come two weeks later and the Shōkaku-class carrier Zuikaku has been delivered to us direct from Akatsuki Shipyards, with myself named as her captain.

Unlike most people in the Frontier Defense fleet, I was here willingly. My parents were explorers, and when I was a young girl I frequently accompanied them on their journeys. On one such journey, we were in the AR Scorpii system preparing to return home when one of the relativistic beams from the system’s White Dwarf just barely skimmed by our ship. The hyperdrive went haywire and within a matter of seconds we ended up at the outer edge of the MilkyWay - having just travelled some 26,300ly in under 20 seconds. Hyperspace has a maximum speed limit of ~1 light year per second, most ships can only manage a light year per ten seconds at most. Yet somehow we managed to move at some 1,000 light years per second.

We were stranded for around a week in a near functionless ship slowly starving to death before we heard the distinct roar of a large vessel approaching in hyperspace. The Rescue Rangers had successfully requisitioned the Casablanca-class carrier ship Gambier Bay and made the week-long trip out here non-stop. Needless to say I was greatly inspired by their bravery and decided I would become a Rescue Ranger when I grew up.

By the time I was of eligible age to join the Rescue Rangers, things had rapidly deteriorated. When I was a child, the hyperdrive was just barely 50 years old. But by the time I had joined it was nearing 70 years old. Consequently, random failures, mis-jumps, and fuel exhaustion due to unpredictable fuel usage were all but things of the past. The Rescue Rangers weren’t nearly as crucial anymore, and as a result in my 2nd year the Rescue Rangers were disbanded as an independent branch and the remnants were folded into the Frontier Defense Fleet. Along with our independence, almost all of our ships were taken - including the carrier Gambier Bay I so desperately wanted to serve on.

Eight years later and the Frontier Rescue Rangers did little more than refuel stranded ships that had misjudged their remaining fuel. That is, until a month ago, when the Frontier Rescue Rangers were suddenly given 30 modified Fletcher class destroyers along with the promises of several capital ships and a massive budget increase. In addition to our normal duties, we were to combat the alien threat and rescue any individuals captured by them.

My first mission in command of the FDCV Zuikaku was to lead a task force of 18 vessels to rescue some captured explorers. As it would turn out, this was overkill. In addition to the Zuikaku we had the FDBB Hiei and Haruna - two modified Kongō-class battle cruisers which had been re-designated as Fast Battleships - and fifteen Ted Fujita-class Destroyers (modified Fletcher-class). While the main armament on the Kongōs and the torpedo launchers on the Ted Fujitas were of Alliance design, the 23cm double-barreled turrets were created using borrowed technology from the Theta Aliens.

The aliens, on the other hand, had a mere five cruisers guarding the transport vessel holding the captured explorers. The 40cm guns on the Hiei and Haruna and the Samuel B. Robert’s four 720mm torpedos practically atomized the cruisers. The Hiei’s 76cm “crew incapacitation” rounds also proved to be complete overkill. Of the three rounds fired at the transport, one hit the engines, one atomized the fuel tanker behind the transport, and the third round penetrated into the reactor room before detonating. We had included extra oxidizer in the bursting charge in case the ship’s atmosphere limited the spread of fires.

This turned out not to be the case, as the third shell set almost the entire ship’s insides on fire - killing 60% of the crew instantly. Frankly, we got lucky. Via neural implants on one of the explorers we knew they were locked inside a holding cell of sorts, but it’s very likely that had the “crew incapacitation” round been any more powerful there may have been no explorers left to rescue. Needless to say I’m prohibiting the use of these rounds until they can be fixed.

The boarding action was also very successful - there was not a single Alliance casualty during the firefight. One of the commandos transferred from the Anti-piracy force was quite amused at the 600 year old M2 Browning machine guns the Frontier Defense Force had been issued, and apparently thought it would be hilarious to bring it as his primary weapon. As it turns out, despite being 600 years old at this point, the M2 Browning was extremely effective - so much so that we have received no fewer than twenty requests to make the M2 Browning part of the standard loadout.

In terms of our primary objective, we were a bit too successful. Our orders were “to rescue as many of the five captured individuals as possible from the Theta Aliens.” When all was said and done, we had achieved a 1700% success rate - having rescued 85 of the 5 individuals captured. In addition to this, we had made first contact with three additional alien species aside from those comprising the Alliance. As it had turned out, the explorers we were sent to rescue had made friends - and upon being rescued, they demanded that we take on all 80 of the other individuals onboard the vessel. Leave it to the humans to make friends wherever they go…

Naturally, I was opposed to this request - we had nowhere near the resources necessary to care for 80 additional people, let alone 80 individuals from a variety of species we knew nothing about. It wasn’t until the explorers’ captain, Hanako, threatened to refuse rescue that I finally relented. Such is the stubbornness of humans. This is the same species that, upon seeing my Mother’s (recent) ancestors in person for the first time - a species known for being an apex predator - said “Awww, they look like kitties!” Before attempting to pet their heads, followed by sulking when my mother’s ancestors refused to allow it. I suppose it’s the human blood that flows through my veins that makes it hard to be too mad at them.

In any case, one individual was of particular interest to us due to Hanako’s claims that she had communicated with them. Naturally, we were skeptical. We had barely made any progress on decoding the Theta Aliens’ language after a month, it seemed impossible that a human could communicate with a completely different alien species after less than a day. Imagine our surprise when the alien spoke (admittedly limited, and broken) English.

I quickly discovered the secret behind their supernatural ability to learn languages, it was quite literally “supernatural” in nature. They are capable of communicating telepathically, and on rare occasions they can communicate with individuals from different species. This ability is extremely limited however, as there are many complications associated with communicating with an individual who does not share a language, and most individuals are not compatible. We had the individual attempt to communicate with everyone on the Zuikaku, and of the Human and Tathrax crew, only Hanako could hear them.

Despite this limitation, this individual would likely be very useful. According to Hanako, the individual served as a diplomat for some time, and knew many languages as a result. In addition to this, they knew a lot about the Theta Aliens (who they referred to as something like K’Lagreth). This would no doubt be extremely useful, both for information gathering, and for deciphering the Theta Aliens’ language. Given how none of the 1,500 some crew on the Zuikaku were compatible with the individual’s ability, it’s nothing short of a miracle that any of the five captured explorers were compatible.

Before returning to the Frontier to refuel and rearm, we decided to ask the individual for their name, as referring to them as “the/that alien,” or “the/that individual” was quite tiresome. Unfortunately, neither human nor tathrax vocal chords could actually pronounce their name, and I’m not certain that letters exist in any alliance language that could accurately transcribe it. In addition, their name was long, very long. Assuming that any of us could even pronounce it, most would struggle to remember. However, humans will do as humans will do, and upon hearing a part of their name that sounded vaguely like “Gregg,” the humans immediately took to calling them by that name. I suppose referring to them as “Gregg” is easier than referring to them in the 3rd person all the time…

After (slowly) providing basic accommodations for the numerous species onboard, we prepared to depart on the return journey to the Frontier. Due to the limited bandwidth for FTL communications, our transmission to the Frontier was extremely limited (speeds capped out at around 12 bits per second). This meant that most of the details regarding our new guests could not be included. I’m sure that Zack will be happy to hear that he’ll need to fill his precious space station with a wide variety of flammable gases, toxic gases, and strong oxidizers in order to provide for our unexpected rescuees.

Moving forward, the admiralty will need to make a decision on how to proceed from here. Clearly, the Alliance aren’t the only ones threatened by the Theta aliens. If Gregg’s reports are to be believed, the Theta Aliens have subjected no fewer than ten different civilizations, possibly more. They also noted that the exact location of the Theta Aliens’ homeworld is unknown to most, if not all outsiders. Originally our goal was to protect Alliance interests from the Alien threat, and negotiate a ceasefire as soon as possible. However, I now feel this is unlikely to work. The Mylr’s (Gregg’s species) were supposedly able to fend off the Theta Aliens for some time, but eventually, they too fell.

I feel a military campaign is necessary. There is much we could learn from these captured civilizations, and depriving the Theta Aliens of their resources, both living and non-living, would make it very unlikely that they could continue to attack us. In addition, it would ultimately be beneficial for us to free those countless individuals who are suffering at the hands of the Theta Aliens… Y’know, from a objective standpoint of course. Definitely nothing as ambiguous or illogical as feeling moral obligation to help them just because they’re in need. Nothing like that at all.

In any case, the sooner we can get the individuals we rescued back to their homeworlds, the better. While it’s true they were no longer in what could only be described as slavery, they hadn’t exactly returned to a normal life either. It would be best for them to return to their homeworlds. But as those homeworlds were supposedly under occupation, it would be hard to just bring them back and expect things to turn out fine.

I’ll chat with Zack about this once we return. I’m unwilling to just abandon the individuals we rescued today, and I’m sure Zack will feel the same (once he’s done complaining about having to fill the Frontier with a variety of dangerous gases). I don’t care how long or what it takes, but I swear on my ancestors that we will wage total war against the Theta Aliens - and we will free those unduly oppressed by them. Even if the admiralty refuses my plan, I will not allow the Theta Aliens to exploit any civilization any longer. The Theta Aliens’ empire’s collapse begins today.

Log end

Hey y’all. So as it turns out I’m physically incapable of sticking to schedules, so here’s this entry a day or so early. The next entry will probably be from Gregg’s perspective and may end up being a bit shorter (although I’ve thought this about literally every chapter so far) as it won’t be as focused on the larger plot. It will be a little more in the spirit of “humans are fucking weird” as it deals with Gregg adapting to the *ahem* oddities of living with humans.

Depending on how long it is, the next chapter/intermission may come out as early as next week. Like I said, apparently I’m incapable of sticking to a schedule. In the meantime, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. See y’all in anywhere from a few days to two weeks!

~Rad

#writing #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #reddit refugee #writers on tumblr #sci fi writing #hfy #humanity fuck yeah #humans and aliens #humans are space capybaras

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