#but sometimes i just wonder if some of these artists have ever seen a single skeleton in their entire life

[vodika-vibes]

The Seer

Summary: With the Fall of the Republic, and the destruction of the Jedi, your specific talents have made you a target. Luckily for you, with the right ambience, you can make even the most determined Inquisitor think that you’re a fraud. Unluckily for you, your fraud has caught the attention of some very dangerous spirits, and they will stop at nothing to see you punished.

Pairing: Future TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 1743

Warnings: Mentions of Order 66, Reader is literally haunted

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @clonethirstingisreal (since you like hunter ^-^)

A/N: I had an idea, so I decided to run with it. (My husband and friends are making onigiri for dinner with pork and I'm already sick so I'm not having dinner, I guess)

One year ago today, you were a Jedi.

Well, okay, you were a Jedi Padawan who had been sentenced to a year in the EduCorps due to something that you may, or may not, have done.

It had been a slog. So many books, so many papers, so many people lording their intelligence over you simply because they were assigned to the “smart” corps.

You hated it at the time, and even now, a year later, the memory is still enough to make you grumbly. Just, not as much as you used to be.

It’s hard to hate people who were wiped out to the last, after all.  

Sometimes, late at night, you wonder how different things would have been if your nightmares and visions had been taken seriously. Would the Order have survived the Purge? Would the Clones have not turned on them? Would the Council have foreseen the betrayal?

And, like, sure. You know that visions don’t always come true. And you know that sometimes, in the process of trying to make something not come true you can make it happen faster. But! You’d been having the same nightmare since the start of the war.

Surely that had to have meant something?!

Your Master…disagreed.

He disagreed with you about a lot of things.

Not that he’s around to disagree with you on things anymore. He died in the purge…just like everyone else.

You only survived because the night before the purge, the Force practically screamed a warning for you to move, to go, and to never look back. And so you did.

You heard about the Purge 16 hours after it happened. And ever since that moment, you’ve been running.

Bouncing from planet to planet, jumping from job to job, trying to stay one step ahead of the Inquisitors and the Imperial soldiers who would absolutely execute you if they caught you.

That was until you, while working an odd job for a pirate, stumbled across a woman being harassed by Imperial Soldiers. She was an odd looking woman, draped in long skirts and long shawls, with large earrings and intricate paint decorating her pale blue skin. 

The woman claimed to be a seer blessed by the spirits, and could foresee the future and allow the Imperials to speak with their deceased family. She waxed poetic about lucky charms and tarot readings, and, to your genuine shock, they left, calling her a lunatic.

You stare at the woman, your jaw dropped, and she winked at you, before she went back to hawking her lucky charms.

It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Foolishness.

Ridiculous.

And yet…

And yet, if it’s stupid and it works, then is it really stupid?

Two months later, you open a little shop on Pabu, selling lucky charms, tarot readings, and love readings to anyone who wants to pay you. And a lot of people want to pay you.

You clad yourself in long skirts and loose shawls, and you let your hair hang freely around your head, tied out of your eyes by a ribbon that matches your outfit.

And not a single person pegs you as an actual Jedi.

Con-artist and miracle worker, but not Jedi.

It’s not really how you foresaw your life going, but really, being called a  con-artist is better than being a Jedi any day of the week. Especially since Jedi means dead.

And that is how your days go…right up until Phee brought clones to your shop.

You love Phee, absolutely adore her, but the moment you see clones standing in your shop you are wondering how quickly you can kill her and dispose of her body without anyone missing her.

Still, you’re no fool. So you plaster your most vapid smile on your face and swish around them offering free tarot readings since they are friends of Phee.

You are almost offended when the one in glasses tells you that your tarot readings are a load of hogwash.

Almost.

After all, it’s not like you actually believe this nonsense either.

But, since Phee is a friend and she considers the clones her friends, you decide to tolerate them. After all, they seem very reasonable, not at all like the men you had nightmares of for three years.

And slowly, over time, you end up becoming friends with them.

Wrecker is always good for laughs, and he is more than happy to come around and help you move heavy objects. Tech takes one look at your electrical panel and nearly has a heart attack on the spot. In fact, aside from Omega, who thinks you’re a little weird and likes to keep her distance, the only one you don’t spend a large amount of time with is Hunter.

Echo quietly tells you that the incense that you use around your shop, incense you use to keep force spirits from harassing you, gives him a migraine, and you feel guilty enough that you put them away and air out the shop.

Which brings you to today.

Today you’re wearing shorts and a tank top, and you’ve abandoned your mystical look in favor of more practical ‘running for your life’ attire. 

The Empire didn’t find you. No. That would have been easy.

You can kill Imperial Soldiers.

You can’t kill Force Ghosts.

In your defense, you don’t mean to get Hunter involved.

And you definitely don’t mean to crash into him at full speed. 

Hunter catches you before you hit the ground, which is probably a good thing because running into plastoid armor at full speed is not something that you recommend.

He looks…surprised as he sets you back on your feet.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not wearing miles of fabric.” He says slowly, and then his eyes narrow, “What are you running from?”

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!” You blurt, your eyes darting one way and then the other. 

He opens his mouth to say something and then he stills, his nostrils flaring, “What is that?”

“What?” you ask, alarmed.

And then the sensation washes over you. Cold, like ice nipping at your fingers and the tip of your nose. Followed by the whispers, barely words, yet radiating malice.

“I…have to go. Now. I have to go now.” You blurt as you try to twist out of his grip, only for Hunter to grab your shoulders and jerk you to the side.

A sensation, like that of a hand grabbing for you, brushes passed your arm, causing an immediate bruise to form on your arm.

Hunter stares at the red bruise on your arm, “Time to go.”

“Yep.” You agree immediately, “Away from people, preferably.”

Hunter takes your hand and starts pulling you away from the spirits…things…that are hunting you. 

Luckily he seems to be able to sense them better than you can.

Half an hour later, you’re on the outskirts of the city and you, who haven't worked out properly since well before the Purge, are panting for air as you run after him.

“What did you do to make invisible enemies? And what are they?” Hunter demands as he jerks you to one side and then twists you so that two different spirits aren’t able to touch you.

“Um…no comment, and I think they’re spirits.”

“Please tell me that’s a joke?”

“Uh…no.”

“You’re telling me that ghosts are real?” Hunter demands as he jumps down into a stream and then lifts you up onto the other ledge.

“Well-”

Hunter just sighs, and drops the subject. He stops for a moment, his hand on your shoulder, and he listens. “Okay, I think we’re safe for now. I can’t hear them.”

You collapse onto a rock with a sigh of relief, “I haven’t run so much in ages,” You mumble. And then you straighten and glance at him, “You know, the spirits are very displeased with you.” You say, “They’re mad that you’re helping me.”

“Yeah?” Hunter scowls, “Feeling’s mutual. Little shits.”

You release a slightly hysterical little laugh, and you clamp your hand over your mouth when Hunter looks at you in concern. “Sorry.” You whisper, and you’re surprised to feel tears on your cheeks. 

He looks deeply, deeply uncomfortable but he still kneels in front of you and places his hand on your shoulder, “You’re doing a great job.” He says, “There’s no need for tears.”

“I don’t even know why I’m crying-”

“It’s a lot, being hunted by things. Especially invisible things.” Hunter says, trying so hard to be gentle with you, and it’s obvious it doesn’t come naturally to him, “Do you have any idea why they’re coming after you?”

“I don’t know if you noticed this,” You say dryly, “But, like, all of the Jedi were killed.”

“...o…kay?”

You sigh and pick up a stick and draw some stick figures on the ground, “Jedi.” You say, and then you draw some more, “Sith.” You draw little angry lines around the sith. “When the Jedi died, the Force made a sharp turn towards the Dark.”

“Meaning-”

“Meaning the galaxy’s gone to shit.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Hunter agrees, and then he looks at you, “Follow up question.”

“Hm?”

“How do you know anything about the force?” Hunter asks.

“Uh…”

“Are you a Jedi?”

“...ummm…”

“You are. Why the kriff is a Jedi pretending to be a fake psychic?”

“Oh, come on. Because everyone knows that I’m a fake psychic.” You roll your eyes, “You know,” You adopt the wispy voice you use when you’re working, “If you make a healthy change then your soulmate will appear-”

“...you’re conning the Empire.” He says slowly.

“Better a con-artist than dead.” You point out logically.

“You’re not wrong, but I can’t believe that that works.”

“They’re not very smart, and they have a specific mental image as to what Jedi look like, so-”

“Huh…You know, I thought Jedi were supposed to be in better shape.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I have been pretending to be a fake psychic for the last year and the year before that I was…not at the temple.”

“Where were you?”

“I was at the EdiCorps Campus. As punishment. For punching a racist senator.”

Hunter smirks, “That right?”

You open your mouth to reply but then both of your heads snap to the side, “They found us.” You say as you scramble to your feet.

“So it seems.” He grabs your hand and tugs you, “Time to run.”

#star wars #tbb #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

[ghuleh-recs]

In honor of @anamelessfool’s birthday I have made us all a mixtape of my personal must-reads from her incredible arsenal of fanfiction. You are not ready for how brilliant her writing is. There is truly something for everyone. Whether you’re a reader-insert enjoyer, a terzomega enjoyer, or even a late-1970s noir mystery enjoyer—Fool’s got you covered. Tight plotting, satisfying characterizations, and lovingly constructed lore can be found in every single one of her creations. Her world building is unmatched and never fails to blow my mind. Don’t even get me started on her young papa portrayals. I frequently have to kick my feet and scream into my pillow over how wonderful (and sometimes heartbreaking) they are.

To top it off, Fool is a terrific artist and such an interesting and lovely person. Have you seen @resin-popia?! What can’t she do?

Please do yourself a favor and check out the recs below. Be sure and leave some bday comments and kudos if you do! Like I said, there is something for everyone.

Recs under the cut.

Violence & Gentleness - Primo x OC

You made me forget myself...I thought I was someone else, someone good... LATE OCTOBER 1979 Primo has his work cut out for him as the bodyguard of the beautiful and fearsome Mater Emerita Jocasta. As mystery after mystery unfolds, it becomes harder to remain a honest man in this den of thieves called the Ministry.

For One Creature's Sake - Primo and Copia

"Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it."- Frankenstein's Monster Moments in Primo's and Copia's lives.

Ribbons & Ties - Terzo x Omega

For reasons beyond Terzo's understanding, he wants to give Omega a present for the ghoul's "birthday". It proves to be a lot more complicated than Terzo realizes.

Reciprocity - Terzo x Omega

Terzo and Omega spend a tender afternoon together. Nothing bad ever happens to them ever again.

No Deal - Nihil x F!Reader

1970Nihil was one of these friends of friends of friends. Some forty-something cat who lived further up in the mountains, in what you suspected was some sort of commune. Shit like that was pretty common around here. The higher up in the mountains, the weirder folks got. Could be the altitude. You've decided to live a quiet bohemian life, but one of your clients Nihil has plans for you that afternoon other than just chatting about the latest albums.

Sweeter Red - Copia x OC

Your kiss so sweet, your sweat so sour…sometimes I’m thinking that I love you... but I know it’s only lust. Copia is a scrungly little nerd and this totally happened to him. There's something about Cardinal Marian. Maybe it's the way she infuriates him with her laissez-faire attitude, or ingnites his soul with envy of her free spirit. Rage and love, at a certain point they merge together into an overwhelming burning in the heart and mind: passion.

VIII Strength - Copia x GN!Reader

VIII STRENGTH Strength (Physical and Will), courage, persuasion, influence, compassion Copia is a pent up sort of man, he always has been. He enjoys being Papa but on his worst days the title has a near physical weight pressed across his shoulders. He comes home to you, and you can tell when it's been one of those days. Luckily, he has you to guide him.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

#hbd fool!! #my fic recs #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #papa emeritus i #terzomega #papa emeritus iv #papa nihil #birthday mixtape

[i-like-anything-water]

Hello I-Like-Anything-Water! I'm respecting your privacy by knocking, but am too impatient to wait for permission and am coming in anyway! (Breaks door down with a battering ram)

Glad to see from you again! Hope school's treating you well. I have returned with more CHLOENETTE!!

I posted this a few other places, but was curious about your thoughts on it: The Scene starts with Rose inspecting a present someone left on her desk, wondering what's inside... only for it to blast open and smash a pie into her face, the sound of cruel laughter coming from behind her. She turns her head to see Marinette and Chloe, both decked out in gold, and asks why Marinette became so mean. Marinette's answer? "Because someone needs to keep little losers like you in their place!" Before moving in to kiss her girlfriend... and then Marinette wakes up screaming, wondering why she dreamed of dating Chloe of all people... and why the thought of being so cruel felt so right.

Meanwhile, across town, Chloe is experiencing a dream of her own. One in which she's no longer rich, and isn't particularly famous. One where she spends most of her days either keeping the house in good condition or helping her in-laws run the bakery. A simple life with a loving family, when her wife, Marinette walks through the door... carrying their daughter in her arms. She moves in to pull her wife into a kiss... and wakes up, blushing bright enough to be seen from space, and instantly going into denial that she would EVER want to be with Dupain-Cheng OR give up her wealth and influence... no matter how at home she felt in that little shop in her dreams.

To make a long story short, my thought is that both Marinette and Chloe are crushing hard on each other, in denial, and would gladly throw away their current lives if it meant being with the other. What do you think?

Hello! School is still a pain and my toothache isn't helping but it's alright, ask as much as you want. My doors are pretty much open at this point xD

I think that's what makes Chloenette my favorite ship in the series. They won't throw away all the life they built away (technically) but they would want to do everything that hey can to build a future for them.

Marinette growing a more firm and decisive backbone due to Chloé's influence is pretty much accepted within the chloenette fandom and I personally think it's great. Despite her growth (canonically...there still is) I don't see why she can't be a bit more aggressive in situations. Plus it's funny when Mari's being mean but also feeling kinda bad but satisfied later and Chloé's just proud and smug. 'That's my girl.'

Chloé Bourgeois, former heiress turned commoner found strolling Paris's park with up and coming fashion designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

I don't know if y'all have read the fics, but Tacomuerte's stories 'Best Frenemies' and 'Divided Loyalties' are one of the best portrayal of Chloé slowly settling down with Mari's lifestyle and Mari with Chloé's. Chloé is artistic (a bit perfectionist in a way as well) and I can definitely see her fussing and making sure all of the pastries are decorated to the tiniest of details and that every box doesn't have a single speck of dirt or crumpled. Baking also requires physical exertion especially in large orders so that's one way for her to let out some steam without causing an akuma xD.

They grew up with different backgrounds but I can see them having multiple common grounds aside from Fashion. One of them is their devotion and loyalty to people they like (in Chloé's case, people she genuinely respects and looks up to) which can get pretty aggressive and sometimes obsessive (obsessive chloenette is a fave).

Basically, yeah, I can see them doing a lot of unexpected things just to be together and to build a future they both want and need.

#asks #chloenette #I have made essays on their dynamics but they're in my notes and idk if they're accurate or it's just the writer in me lol

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Three (Part 3)

When Marnie takes me back to the booth, there are even more people there than before. A crowd of hipsters have joined us, all looking like members of Vampire Weekend, and I scoot in next to one of them; a mousy haired boy with glasses called Stephen, who asks me what I want to drink, and then has no issue with ordering one of the lewdly named cocktails for me. 

“So you’re also an artist?” He wants to know. 

“Yeah I’m doing art and design. Hoping to get a bachelors in Illustration.”

“Illustration like books?”

“Yeah kinda. Sometimes.” My drink arrives with a flourish, the waiter making a big show of presenting it to me by lifting a glass dome from the top of it, letting a cloud of dry ice waft onto the table. It’s all very over dramatic and frankly embarrassing, and everyone makes noises like they’re dead impressed, but I just snatch it up and take a mouthful. I’m still feeling so rattled from seeing Jen that even my eyes are having a hard time focusing. 

Stephen is talking about the illustrations in some book from his childhood, but as he’s talking to me I kind of zone out and chew on the end of my straw, trying to decide whether or not there’s actually something wrong with me. I make a mental note to anxiety-google my symptoms later, wondering whether a churning stomach and palpitating heart are normal responses to talking to someone you used to know. Jen and I can’t be friends again, I decide. Being around her would up my chances of colliding with Jude Turner tenfold, and I don’t think my body could physically handle the stress of that encounter. 

I realise Stephen is waiting for me to say something, and I shake myself back to life. “What?”

“Oh, sorry, I know it’s loud in here. I was just asking what music you’ve been into lately.”

“Oh, like Sufjan Stevens.” I say immediately, surprising myself, “And I’m getting really into Alabama Shakes”

“You know Alabama Shakes?” He says, impressed, not knowing that I only said that because Shane left his iPod on the coffee table a few days before and when I scrolled through, theirs was one of the names that stuck in my memory. 

“Yes.” I say. “The sound is super unique. I’m drawn to the lyrics, actually I think I’ll try to get tickets to the next gig if they ever come to Dublin.” I sit back and take another drink, watching his face and wondering when on earth I became someone who could bullshit. I’m sure that someone who knew all about the who’s who of music would be able to see right through me, but Stephen doesn’t. He tells me that I seem like a pretty cool girl, and I smile, wishing it was true. 

He tells me that he’s in second year, studying social sciences in some small technology institute outside of town, and then we spend some time discussing that, and him, and where he lives and where he comes from, all things that kind of shape him into a person, rather than some hipster who buys me drinks. Stephen is nice, I decide, in an everyman kind of way. Nothing to get excited about, but there’s nothing especially off-putting about him, save his skinny jeans that are just a tiny bit too skinny. We share three drinks together, and then he asks me if i’ll go out to the smoking area, because he needs a cigarette. 

I’m usually not someone who smokes very much, and even when I do I try to limit it to just one, because I hate just about everything about it except for the social element of continuing the conversation outside with everyone else who’s smoking too. I never understood the appeal of the actual cigarettes though. Especially in a day and age where we know everything there is to know about the harm they do, the myriad of painful, excruciating ways that they’re killing us. Even now, after its ban indoors, the hikes in prices and the horrible, gruesome images on the sides of the packets, it feels like every single college student in this city has a cigarette between their lips as a fashion accessory. I’ve seen people put stickers over the warning labels, and even listened to them have in depth discussions about their favourite ones, Marnie was saying recently that hers is the picture of the man with the hole in his neck. 

I try very hard not to think about the man with the hole in his neck when Stephen is handing me my second cigarette of the night. He’s not smoking what Jen was smoking, and it’s much stronger and much more unpleasant, so much so that I have to stifle a wince while he tells me a story about the time he went to New York on a J1 visa. 

When I stand next to him and look up into his face, I think again about how alright he is. He’s friendly, he’s tall, his outfit is mostly nice, and now that I’ve had three strong cocktails and all of those awful, anxious feelings I had earlier have floated away with the breeze, I start thinking that maybe I could try out some light flirtation on him. 

“Have you got a girlfriend?” Is what comes spilling out of me though, and I wish I could stuff it right back into me. It must be the least graceful or subtle attempt at flirting there ever was. My face immediately burns up. 

“Um. No.” He says with bewilderment. I realise I have cut him off mid sentence. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering.” I’m so embarrassed of myself that I can’t meet his eyes anymore.

“Ehm. Well, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” I laugh too loudly and then cover up my mouth. 

When my eyes drift back to him, he’s giving me an amused smile. “Is it funny? Like, the idea of you having a boyfriend or something?”

“Maybe.” I say. “Kind of. Yes.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, like, I dunno I just don’t really have boyfriends.”

“You’re exploring your options.” He says with a conclusive nod, even though that’s not at all what it is. In fact, I’ve been doing whatever exactly the opposite of exploring my options is; Avoiding all romantic prospects. Wallowing in my room. Fleeing in terror from any and all single men who might want my phone number.

“That’s what college is for anyway.” He goes on. “Like, just seeing who’s available and having fun.” He gives me a suggestive little smile that makes my stomach coil nervously even through my tipsy haze, because he seems to think I’m the queen of sex now. 

“Yeah completely.” Is all I manage. 

“You have lovely eyes.” He says. “They’re a real emerald kind of colour.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, let me have a closer look at them.” He leans down until we’re eyeball to eyeball and he gazes right at me. I can see my own silhouette reflected in his glasses, and think that I look kind of messy, and not in a purposeful, Alexa Chung kind of way at all. More in a three-cocktails, two cigarettes and a resurfacing of a past trauma kind of way.  I smooth down my hair with sweaty palms. 

“You’re extremely pretty.” He tells me.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He surges suddenly towards me and pecks me on the lips. It startles me and I jolt backwards. 

“Sorry.” He says with wide panicked eyes. 

“It’s okay.”

“Maybe I was misreading the signals.”

“No it’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to be one of those weird men.”

“You’re not.” I feel tetchy for some reason. “You can just… you can do it if you want. You can kiss me, I don’t care.”

“That’s romantic.” He says, dripping with sarcasm. 

“Sorry, I just don’t know how to be.”

“It’s fine, we can um… we can just chill out if you want.”

I don’t know why he’s insisting on prolonging the awkwardness when it’s clear to me that neither of us is going to leave the smoking area until we kiss. 

“Kiss me, please.” I say flatly, and his mouth does that porny quirk again. “You’re a woman who knows what she wants.” He says in a voice that makes my hands clench, just as he comes at me and puts his mouth over mine. 

It’s a strange sensation, kissing another person after so much time, and I’ve completely forgotten what it felt like to do it. It’s more real than I remember it being, I’m more aware than I used to be of the way his tongue feels and the sounds our mouths are making. It’s a little bit visceral, but not totally unpleasant. Despite the strong taste of cigarettes on his breath, Stephen’s kissing is fine, there’s nothing wrong with it, but still, it makes me feel almost nothing inside. I hold onto the front of his jumper anyway and I kiss him back, because it feels like he’s helping me to sever the very last connection I have with Jude. He no longer gets to be the last boy who kissed me. Now it’s Stephen. Just plain old Stephen, the social studies student whose surname I don’t even know, and it’s like all in that moment I’m freed. 

“You’re pretty.” He tells me again, gently as he pulls away from me. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“I dunno.” I say vaguely. Men are obsessed with being the very first ones to tell women that they’re attractive, like it’s some gift that they are privileged to bestow upon us. We’re floundering, lost in the world, completely blind to ourselves until some man comes along and lets us know what he thinks about us. I can’t agree with him, say that I know, or I’ve heard it all before, because then he’ll think I’m up myself. It always feels like a trap. And besides, he’s not really saying it because he believes it, it’s just a device to get into my knickers. 

“What are you up to later on?” He wants to know.

“I suppose I’ll just go home.” I say, my heart jumping a little in my chest. 

“Where’s home?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I say, and he grins at me like he thinks I’m just being coy. “I would.” Maybe he really isn’t that bad looking at all. 

“If I tell you where I live then you might show up at my front door.”

“I might, who knows. And would you invite me in?”

I laugh awkwardly, feeling the vibe shifting rapidly into a realm I’m not comfortable with. “Probably not, no.”

“Ah, you art school girls, sure you’re always playing hard to get.”

“I like to stay mysterious.” I step away from him and make moves towards the door. “I’m pretty cold.” I tell him. “Maybe we can go back inside?” 

“Yeah, okay.” He stubs out the butt of the cigarette that he was holding onto the whole time, and we head through the doors. I’m just thinking about how maybe he’s not so bad, and maybe if we spent some time together I could get to like him, when the hot air from the bar hits his glasses and they immediately fog up, and the effect on me is so immediate that I almost have to flinch away from him. The sight of him with fogged up specs is so dorky that I’m instantly repulsed. I watch in horror as he takes them off and wipes them on his jumper. There’s nothing at all attractive about him. What was I thinking?

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” I say robotically. “But I actually have to leave now.”

“Oh, right now?”

“Yeah. I didn’t realise how late it was, my housemate wanted me to come back and help her with something.” I start walking away immediately, the thought of his kissing me causing a shudder through my entire being.

“Wait, uh, can I have your phone number?”

“Um. I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“I don’t really give it out to people.”

His face falls. “Oh.”

“I’m just really not in the place for… this right now. It’s not personal.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” He doesn’t get it. He looks downtrodden, and I feel horrible, but I can’t stand there looking at him anymore, so I turn towards the cloakroom and try to collect my things. 

“Hang on.” He calls after me. “Will I ever see you again?” 

Does he think we’re in a romcom? That I’m the Meg Ryan to his Billy Crystal? I have to try really hard not to roll my eyes in front of him as I pass my token over to the cloakroom attendant, my breath shuddering. “No.” I say over my shoulder. “You probably won’t, sorry.” I don’t add the bit about how I was just using him to get over the memory of another person, because that’d make me the bad guy here. 

“Damn. Okay Ellie. Nice to meet you.”

“Right. See you.”

I pull my coat on and walk right out the door into the freezing cold night.

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #fiction #writing #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

[amywhereyouwant]

Some TOH HCs I wanted to share

There are a LOT of them, so They're under the read more for your scrolling convenience

Luz

-Uses She/They pronouns

-Would watch the entirety of Sword Art Online just to be able to shit on it properly

-Eats way too much Shredded Cheese even though she’s Lactose Intolerant

-Has made a Your mom joke to Willow only to remember she doesn’t have one

-Mains King in Tekken and made a custom attire trying to make it look like the other King

-Screenpeeks religiously in Split Screen Multiplayer

-Predicted Hecazura 2 books into the series, still won’t shut up about it

-Relatively known Digital Artist, her blog probably took off when she started making art of the Demon Realm 

-Hates baking

-Helps Amity bake out of the kindness of her heart(Also seeing Amity enjoying herself is really nice)

-Had a cold once, hasn’t had a Human Realm illness since

-Has SH scars from her depressed period back in the human realm(S3E1), still ashamed over them

-Quotes Memes constantly, only Hunter understands what she’s talking about

-Cracked a rib tripping on a rug on her way to bed

Amity

-Absolutely hates Bugs, like, genuinely despises them

-Does not know how computers work, but still tries to use Luz’s laptop to look up date ideas

-Can and will dress as the most stereotypical Witch ever

-Adopted(All 3 Blight Kids are in my HC)

-Likes to bake

-Does not know how to bake

-Gets sick constantly

-Works out a lot so she can help out with rebuilding the Isles(and also a little bit for Luz)

-Used to apologise a lot for minor things(Pre-timeskip)

-REALLY Bummed she didn’t get to see Titan Luz

-Watched the barbie movie the same day Gus watched Oppenheimer

Gus

-Goes nonverbal when stressed out, uses Illusions and his palisman to communicate

-Cried for hours when he finished the last Cosmic Frontier book, even though it was a happy ending

-Likes the idea of Professional Wrestling, but wishes the fights were to the death

-Quotes Cosmic Frontier as a Vocal Stim

-Dramatically perishes in Matt’s arms on the regular

-Headcanons O'Bayley to look exactly like Hunter just for the memes

-Thinks Human 2D Animation is the most beautiful thing to have ever been created

-Watched Across the Spider-Verse and Begged for Luz to draw a Spider-Suit for him, she did one for everyone

-Got really jealous when everyone else got flapjack tattoos, then he realised he could just make one of his own with an Illusion

-Got insanely mad when he learned about Human Discrimination(“How can you hate someone for something they can’t change? That’s ridiculous!”)

-Watched Oppenheimer the same day Amity and Hunter watched the Barbie Movie

Hunter

-LOVES Dino Nuggies

-Didn’t know Dinosaurs were real for a while until Luz showed them to him, Velociraptors are his favourite because “They’re like Wolves but Lizards!” (They’re not)

-Has a tumblr account where he posts about Wolves, Luz is his only follower

-Definitely has a Fursona

-Kicks Luz’s ass at most video games, except for Halo 2 specifically(I wonder why)

-”Will you go out with me?” “Hunter we’ve been dating for a year” “Oh.”

-Thinks Huggbees’ How it’s actually made videos are 100% Legit and honest

-Made Willow a Flower Shirt to match his Wolf Shirt

-Wears Willow’s Flower Shirt he made

-Imagine Dragons is his favourite band

-Has Epilepsy

-Steals Willow’s dresses sometimes

-Found Nicole Coenen on YouTube, showed her to luz “She looks kinda like Amity!”(Nobody else sees the resemblance)

-Probably plays a LOT of Roblox

-Watched the Barbie Movie with Amity(Luz forced him to)

-Has seen every single vine there is(Thank the Titan for Vine Compilations on YouTube)

-Any kind of facial hair he grows is really patchy so he just goes clean shaven for convenience

-Snuck food during TtT even though he was 100% allowed to eat normally

-Bananas do exist in the Demon Realm, Hunter has just never learned that they do

-Gets visits from the Spirits of the other Golden Guards in his dreams

Willow

-Tackled someone to the ground when they only slightly bumped into Hunter(We stan a protective queen)

-Feeds her palisman doggie treats, nobody knows why

-Filled Camila’s entire back garden with way too many plants during TtT, they’re still there despite not being watered for a while

-Made a Garland made of both Demon and Human Realm plants for Hunter on their anniversary

-Has no real idol/role model

-Happily Listens to everyone else ramble about their interests

-Wears Hunter’s Wolf Shirt

-Calls Hunter “Hun” as a short for his name, started doing it even more after she figured out what it actually meant

-Pranks people she doesn’t like by putting giant Grape Vines around their house

-Held a presentation about plant care for the Gravesfield Gardener Society

-Thinks most Human Sports are boring(Except for Hockey and Roller Derby)

Vee

-Pulls off some crazy ass cosplays

-Knows how to drive Camila’s car perfectly, still has no idea how it actually works though

-Laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe first time she heard Metal Pipe Fall Sound Effect

-Considers Luz to be her Sister, Camila burst into tears and hugged her when she called Luz “Big Sis” in front of her for the first time

-Plays Minecraft on Camila’s home PC, has spent tons of time on Hypixel and built a little shrine for the other basilisks on a private world

-Takes after Luz in a lot of ways

-Is way better at Spanish than Luz, flexes about it constantly(Nobody really cares)

-Had no idea how to tell Masha she was a Basilisk when they confessed to her(Masha knew long before she told them)

-Is really cuddly in Basilisk form, not so much when shapeshifted(“I don’t really feel like it’s myself”)

-Her first kiss with Masha was really awkward, she apologised like 45 times and cried because it wasn’t good

-Steven Universe is a canon IP in the universe, so she got really confused when Amethyst sounded EXACTLY like her

I have no idea why I made this

#the owl house #toh headcanon #the owl house headcanon #toh community #toh #amity blight #hunter noceda #vee noceda #willow park #gus porter #luz noceda

[fawnandshadows]

How You Get The Girl

Chapter 12

Chapter 11

AO3

Warnings: Language

“Do they give you any jewelry to keep?” Mor asked excitedly, her brown eyes taking in her surroundings excitedly. 

It was really the first time Mor was on her detail since they’ve been back from the tour, and her approach was vastly different from Lucien’s. Lucien was more stand-quietly and observe — glowering at anyone who approached her, and Mor was as friendly as could be. Always making conversation with Elain and disarming anyone that approached them with a smile, but Elain knew what Mor was capable of. She was just as lethal as any other bodyguard, and a threat at ease was easier to neutralize. 

“Sometimes,” Elain said, careful not to move her lips as her makeup artist applied her lipstick with a brush. “As a gift.” 

Mor nodded as if understanding Elain perfectly. 

It was a closed set, and security had already vetted everyone prior to the shoot, but by the way Mor kept looking around Elain could tell she was amping up her excitement to hide the way she surveyed her surroundings. Nothing had ever happened on set before, but Elain still appreciated the effort. 

Mor made conversation with the girl applying Elain’s makeup, and Elain stared straight ahead in the mirror. Her silk robe covering the champagne slip dress she was wearing and her hair was done in romantic, voluptuous curls that were coated in layers upon layers of hairspray but still managed to have bounce and movement. And her makeup was light, natural, ethereal. 

She was so happy — Elain hated the more avant garde looks that so many favored. And some models looked great with them, but they looked so jarring on her. 

“Just about done,” Her make-up artist said, applying one last swipe of the rosy colored lipstick. “And there! Perfection, you’re good to go.” 

People started swarming her, taking her robe and talking to her all at one. Elain simply nodded along, not absorbing a single word they said, and let herself be guided to the set. 

“Darling!” Elain heard the director's voice call out to her, accompanied by the rapid clicking of heels. “You’re even more stunning than usual.” 

Elain turned to see the blonde head of Aelin heading her way and let a smile form on her face. 

“It’s great to see you, Aelin,” Elain held out her hands and the pair gave each other air kisses on the cheek. “How was Venice?” 

“Everytime I’m there I wonder why the fuck I’m living in the states,” Aelin shrugged dramatically. “And then I remember that people like you are here and I have bills to pay.” 

“One day we can do a shoot in Italy. Maybe along the riviera?” Elain leaned in conspiratorially. 

“Don’t tease me,” Aelin squeezed her hands. “But I do have some exciting news. Word on the street is that Cartier is looking for a new brand ambassador, so if this goes well…” She trailed off, waggling her eyebrows slightly. “And I may or may not, but definitely did, have thought of something absolutely brilliant for today’s shoot and called in reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements? That’s how you refer to me?” A deep, amused voice interrupted them. 

She watched as Aelin rolled her bright blue eyes and took a step away, exposing a body Elain had only seen on magazines and television. 

“Fenrys,” Elain said gently, giving him a friendly smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.” 

He flashed an unnervingly sensual smile at her. 

“So you’ve heard of me.”

— — 

“Did you know he was going to be there?” Elain asked, settling into the passenger seat as Mor started the car. 

“No fucking clue,” Mor huffed, furrowing her brows. “I can’t believe Aelin would do this to us, after all the times you’ve worked with her.” 

Elain sighed, “Yeah, I’ll tell her not to do it again, even though she already knows. But how do you think the pictures will turn out?”

Mor gave her a mischievous look before pulling out. 

“You’re two of the hottest people on the planet, even if Fenrys gives me the ick, and you were drowning in fine jewelry while looking hopelessly devoted to each other. It’s a guaranteed success. Beauty. Sex. Romance. And Diamonds.”

“Sex?” Elain squealed, her cheeks blushing, especially since Mor caught Azriel’s head between her thighs just a few days ago. “In what world? We held hands and looked into each others eyes.” 

“Eye-fucking is a thing,” Mor replied. “And you should know. You and Azriel do it all the damn time.” Her tone was carefully neutral, but Elain was smart enough to recognize it as a trap. 

“Azriel’s hot,” Elain said simply, her fingers digging into her leather seat. “I’m sure lots of people eye-fuck him. And I’m sure security knows exactly how people objectify me,” Elain’s face screwed as she thought of all the disturbing letters she’s gotten over the years, and she didn’t envy security for having to dig through all of them. “So I can only imagine that people eye-fuck me when they see me” 

“Please,” Mor said incredulously and flipped her blonde curls over her shoulder. “First of all, I saw the vigor with which he ate you out,” She quickly glanced at Elain with a scolding look. “Second of all, even after you promised me it was a one time thing, every time you are in the same room together it looks like you’re one second away from ripping each other's clothes off and going at it like animals. Fuck,” Mor slapped her hands against the steering wheel. “All I did was make it hotter for you. Everyone knows that forbidden sex is the hottest sex.” 

Elain couldn’t help the amusement dancing on her lips and causing them to upturn. 

“Nothing has happened.” Elain reassured her. 

And it was the truth. 

There was copious amounts of texting, and if it was anyone else, then Elain would have been freaking out thinking that she was bothering them. The filter between her brain and fingers seemed nonexistent because she couldn’t resist texting Azriel every little thought that popped into her mind, but he always responded in a way that was thoughtful. Like he cared about what she was thinking. And he texted her as often as he could. Whenever he was quiet for an extended amount of time Elain knew he was on duty. 

It was absurdly nice, having someone to talk to. To look at her phone with anticipation and have a little zip of lightning flutter through her when she sees his name on her screen. 

It was just so nice. 

Having something to look forward to. And having that something be Azriel…well…oxygen felt thinner when she thought about that for too long. 

And their flirting had become significantly tamer. Neither of them brought up the fact that Azriel went down on her, or that Elain told him she wanted to see his dick, piercing and all.

“Yet,” Mor said, casting her one more look. “Nothing else has happened yet. And you’re lucky I found him and not Rhys.” 

Elain sighed. 

“Cassian wouldn’t have cared if he walked in on us.” Elain said,  crossing her arms and noting that Mor turned into their street. 

An amused choke lodged in Mor’s throat. 

“Cassian would have asked to join in.”

“That’s not true,” Elain said as Mor entered their parking garage. “He’s hung up on Nesta.” 

Mor tilted her head in agreement. 

“True,” She said, finding their assigned spot. “But the three of them all shared in the past.” 

“Excuse me?” Elain asked, blinking as she stared at Mor, feeling like she had just been struck by thunder. And not in a good way. 

Mor stilled for a second before turning the car off and pivoting to Elain. 

“Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand,” Mor said carefully, her face cringing at the thought. “Believe me I wish I didn’t know, and as soon as Feyre and Rhysand got together my cousin never even looked at another woman. Um, I can’t say the same for Cassian and Azriel though.” 

Elain stared at her bodyguard. 

“And Azriel and Cassian, do they — do they still — share?” 

“Every once in a while, but nothing recently. I think. I try to ignore their bedroom habits, honestly, but it’s a bit hard since we all live together.” 

Elain nodded. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Mor agreed, taking a deep breath. “Don’t get me wrong, Azriel could totally do the long-term, monogamous thing with the right girl. But he comes with a hefty amount of baggage.” 

“So do I.” Elain said, gripping her seat. 

“It’s not the same, sweetie,” Mor looked at her, tilting her head in sympathy. “And Azriel is the type of guy to choose the woman he loves over the woman he’s supposed to protect, and that would kill him because he loves Feyre. You don’t want that for him, do you? Look, I already promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, and even if you guys do choose to be together I want you to know what you’re agreeing to. And we haven’t even touched on his family yet,” Mor cut herself off with a deep breath. “Look, Azriel will love you and love you good, but if you guys are together, then I don’t want to know about it.” 

Elain just gave a small nod in response. 

Mor shook her head, as if erasing the last few minutes from existence and smiled. 

“Now, are you ready for family movie night?” 

-------

tagging: @123moiaussi @fuckmelifesucks @thefangirlofhp@sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq@duskwhisperer @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower@captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes  @magnolia-blossom87 @sheenabeene @nivem565  @casuallivi @rhysiedarling@elain99-blog @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita@shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing

[silverdune]

panoramic ink | j.ww

"it was not just his art, however, it was also him as a person."

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

genre: slice of life

character(s): jeon wonwoo

tags: tattoo artist!wonwoo, character study, wonwoo owns his own parlour, references to self-doubt and self-esteem

summary: wonwoo is the acclaimed owner of panoramic ink; he never quite knows how to feel about the attention, though he takes much pride in his work;

a/n: (long sigh third time's the charm!) basically i imagined wonwoo with a tattoo pen in his hand and got an urge to write tattoo artist!wonwoo.. forgive me i might be insane. (this has taken three tries to upload pls work 😭)

There is a certain majesty to the way Wonwoo casts off each work of art.

Whenever he is done with a client, he allows himself just a few seconds to sit back and admire what he has done in the hour, half-hour, half-day on some occasions, before giving them a swift nod of the head and thanking them for their patience. Often it is the clients themselves bending over backwards to thank Wonwoo for the beautiful creation now adorning their skin, but one could say he is a humble man.

Maybe too humble.

His portfolio has seen the attention of the most acclaimed artists. Although he is not one for spotlights, he modestly appreciates the compliments and kind gestures his customers have given him, be it thank you cards, an odd gift here and there he insisted should not have been bought for him, or even the one or two dinner invitations he ultimately declined due to busy work schedules. In reality, he had become incredibly overwhelmed with the response his work had received.

It is not just his art, however, it is also him as a person.

Wonwoo has a reserved personality, though many of his close friends would say that beneath it all is someone with the wackiest sense of humour anyone had come across. When not engrossed in his work, he could crack a joke out of nowhere that would send everyone reeling, but to most, even the more loyal customers, he is a stoic individual with a meticulous mindset and a fixed pensive expression. That is the way he prefers to present himself, and nobody questions him or makes him feel less because of it. In fact, sometimes, the quiet is welcomed, and it is that kind of atmosphere Wonwoo always promises in his shop.

The music is low, and it is always the same playlist. Consistency is key in Wonwoo's mind - that playlist is just as much for him as it is intended to be a calming presence for the client. If anything different were to be played, it would throw him off course. He knows it like the back of his hand, and it helps maintain the right ebb and flow of such an environment.

He always welcomes the customers with an amicable smile and a quick back and forth over how their week has been before he gets down to work. Formalities are important, and light conversation is nice, but small talk is a concentration killer for Wonwoo. The second his eyes are on the design and the pen is in his hand, he is taking the marathon to the end without a single word spoken. The commitment is admirable to anyone who sits in his chair, and they would never complain if it meant he could focus.

But Wonwoo believes himself too detached. There are times, more often than not, that he would like to be able to engage in the odd chat during a session.

During the long days, when the clients would be taking a break from a sleeve, he would use that as an opportunity to talk to them more. A surprise but a pleasant one nonetheless. It makes him wonder if he ever painted himself as an unapproachable person, one that not even a regular would want to talk to. But with each moment that the thought passes through his head, it is effectively quashed by his naturally easy going nature, and the odd times he does smile through the trance-like state that zaps all emotion from his face.

Panoramic Ink is his pride and joy. Between the sound of the bell above the door whenever it opens and closes, the patrons whose eyes constantly light up at the sight of their completed tattoo, and the friends who surround him and support in any way, shape or form they can, Wonwoo could not dream of being anywhere else.

And though he would not ever admit it, the majesty of his masterful work puts him at the centre.

The beating heart of Panoramic Ink.

× tristeetconfus (ave). do not repost. ×

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #words.(ave) #fic: panoramic ink

[plantinghobbies]

Growing Pains

Two: Sure I’d Never Be Found

Author’s Note: Back from some traveling and finally had dedicated time to write. I’ve been overwhelmed by the support for the first chapter. Thank you so much, revisiting your notes kept me motivated when I struggled to focus or hit a block. The incredible @solipsisticno1 also helped keep my ass in gear. This’ll be a fast and slow burn (I’m a Gemini so cannot escape my love for duality). Welcome all constructive critique, favorite parts, questions, etc - so grateful for any and all feedback. Ok, here’s more of Tess and Matty.

It’s the longest he’s spent near mountains since he left home. Growing up, the idea of vastness had scared him; he doesn’t like to be reminded of how small and microscopic his existence is in the very grand scheme of things. Sometimes, he’ll lie awake at night fixated on just how tenuous life is, how quickly something outside of his control could end it. He wonders what he’d be remembered for – his art or his infamy? On particularly bad days, he wonders if he’d be remembered for long at all.

But the panoramic views of the peaks from the house the label rented him have the opposite effect. After years of touring in cramped bunks and living in packed cities, he feels the space around him palpably, like he’s been curled into a ball for too long and is finally able to stretch out.

When he’d announced his plans to spend the band’s hiatus working on some solo material with Jack in the States, he’d been most nervous about telling his band mates. Even though they’d always been supportive of each other branching out in various ways, this felt different somehow. It was one thing for George to work on remixing the odd single or producing with other artists, it was quite another to put out a whole solo record as Matty was planning, with a potential tour as well. But, as they had for the last twenty years, the guys had his back one hundred percent.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the call from his mum that came in the night before he left. She’d seemed antsy when he’d seen her for a bon voyage dinner two nights ago, but he chalked it up to her not wanting to say goodbye.

“Matthew, I’m still not sure if I should even be telling you this, had to really talk myself up to it. But I know I’d be kicking myself later if something happened.” There’s a tremor in her voice that he hasn’t heard in years.

Oh God, he thinks, she’s sick. Worse, she’s dying. His mind already flashing to her funeral, him attempting to perform a song for her before he breaks down in tears, failing her in this final act.

“You know I am so proud of you, and I wouldn’t ever dream of questioning your sobriety. But you’ve never been on your own like this without your support system – and lord knows neither have I – but it’s not easy. So I just need to say be careful, be vigilant, ask for help when you need it. I’m a plane ride away.”

The indignation that reared up at him was visceral. 34 years old, several years in recovery, and she still didn’t trust him. Looking back, he knows he could have handled it better. He’s proud of himself for not blowing up at her, something a younger version of him would have absolutely done. But he knows he was curt, wanting to punish her, inflict hurt like what had welled up in him at the thought that his own mum doubted him.

After the first few days of wandering his house, un-showered and aimless, he’d begun to see what his mother meant. The process of writing and recording is inherently unstructured, at least for him, filled with days where he does nothing and nights of manic activity. It’s him, sitting around with his own thoughts, picking at the scabs and scar tissue of his past. He didn’t realize how much he relied on the rhythm of others - the band, the tour - to provide structure for him. For the first time in his life, he is without those things, and the space that it creates feels like a blessing and a curse.

In the couple of weeks since, he’s settled in a bit more, has found a gym and can now navigate to Jack’s studio and back without relying on his phone. The word routine has always rubbed him the wrong way, evoking images and associations that make him uneasy. Boring. Pedestrian. Old. When he left rehab, they’d armed him with a written routine to help ease his transition back to his “everyday life.” It was cookie cutter shit that he hadn’t even done in rehab, let alone out of it – daily meditation, making his bed, a gratitude journal. One glance at the word and the list of to-dos had him pulling up his dealer’s number before the plane had even landed.

When he finally got clean for good, a new therapist suggested he develop a structure in lieu of a routine. At first, Matty didn’t understand the difference, and he’d worried that he’d once again sunk a ton of time into bettering himself only for the system to fail him.

“What do you like to do for fun?” His therapist, David, asked. The question caught him off guard, he was expecting the beginnings of a diatribe on the benefits of eating healthy.

“You mean, besides heroin?” Matty often tried to get a rise out of David but had yet to succeed, his shit-eating grin met with nothing more than a stoic quiet. Sometimes, when he was bored or couldn’t focus during their session, he’d imagine what David’s home life was like. What does this guy do for fun? Is he a Saturday golfer and Sunday churchgoer like he looks? Or does David leave the prim façade at work, shedding his tweed jacket on his way to a BDSM club or an after-hours rave?

Finally, David indulges him. “Yes, besides heroin.”

That was easy. “Music.”

“Ok, but music is also your job, which can be a source of stress. What do you like to do besides making music?”

He’s embarrassed to admit he’s a bit stumped. Over the years, he’s amassed a laundry list of abandoned hobbies – some lasting for a few days, others a few months. But only one has ever lasted long-term. Well, social media but that’s more of a habit he’s adopted to avoid other, worse vices.

“Umm, honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t really ever been able to keep up with one long-term besides writing songs.”

“Ok” David smiled “let’s start there.”

In the end, he was glad that he stuck with it. Nowadays, Matty had a simple list of things that he liked to do that help him feel his best – he isn’t regimented about doing them, which he thinks is how he’s been able to stick with it for so long. They didn’t cure his addictive cravings but they kept them at bay. He still resented the amount of effort that was required for him to have a “normal” day - but it was better than the alternative.

Given how late he got in from the studio the night before, he should still be in bed. He and Jack had been holed up for almost two days straight, capitalizing on a burst of creative energy that had them laying down the rough cuts of three songs and the outlines of a fourth. When Jack had finally gone home to Margaret, he’d kicked Matty out of the studio as well, demanding that he shower, eat and sleep – in that order. He’d caught a few hours of shut eye but the chord progression he’s stuck on has him unable to quiet his mind enough to rest. What’s new? Unable to even muster the focus needed to make tea, he settles for coffee instead. The expensive coffee machine gurgles next to him as he stares out the window, realizing that he can’t remember the last time he’d been outside. Maybe “touching grass” (he refuses to admit that he might be too old for certain phrases) would help unstick it?

It’s the first time the front porch has seen any action since his arrival and he takes a minute to get situated, shifting his chair this way and that. Finally satisfied, he looks up just in time to catch the vaguely familiar side profile of a woman walking by with her dog. Before the image registers in his brain, she’s gone. He finishes his coffee then heads out to jui jitsui before meeting Jack.

That afternoon is one of the most productive days in the studio so far, he feels like they’re getting somewhere. He’s desperate to sustain the momentum, to try to quell the intrusive, insecure thoughts that he can’t do this on his own. No amount of encouragement from Jack has helped, he needs to see it for himself.

He’s not above relying on superstition and decides to do everything the same the next day, including watching the sunrise on the porch, staring at the coffee as he swirls his mug. The jingling of a leash has him tilting his head up, eyes journeying up long legs, tracing an hourglass figure that had been hidden by the bar, meeting her piercing eyes – yep, that’s her. He leans forward in his seat, casting about for a witty comment to put her on her heels the way she had put him on his with that story the other night. But he doesn’t get a chance, her eyes seeming to look right through him as she passes by.

At first, he convinces himself that she just didn’t see him, unable to accept that he hadn’t left any impression on this woman. The next few days find him inching his chair closer and closer to the sidewalk each morning, but her and her dog just sail past without a second glance, seemingly immune to his presence. And listen, he’s not a dickhead - it’s not like she owes him any acknowledgement. He understands more than most how rare uninterrupted time to yourself can be in this day and age. But he hears her daily greeting to the older man who sits on his porch reading the paper a few doors down! So, it feels like she’s ignoring him specifically and intentionally – and the question of why is driving him mad. It scratches at sensitive scar tissue where his admittedly oversized ego meets a more fragile self-esteem, seizes on feelings of being unremarkable and weaponizes them. Has his overactive mind casting about for various reasons for her silence, most of them bad. She doesn’t recognize him, not even from the other night. Or worse, she does.

The rest of the week in the studio is a bit of a wash.

Saturday finds him bored and antsy, with little to do and even less motivation. Trying to occupy himself, he sets his sights more firmly on getting a rise out of her, any acknowledgement really. Just to get her to crack once, he tells himself, and then he’ll leave it be. He doesn’t dwell on why he gets so bothered by apathy, physically shakes away memories that surface uninvited in his mind - his mother’s glazed expressions, his exhaustive attempts to garner her attention. Getting a reaction from people was his coping mechanism long before it was his job.

Pulling the Adirondack chair - so cliche but also so bloody comfortable – right up to the fence, he positions it at an angle in clear view of the sidewalk. Sure enough, as she approaches, her eyes land on him from behind her sunglasses. He only knows this because her step falters slightly, head dipping into the barest of nods as she passes. The thrill that Matty gets from even this subtlest reaction is a welcome change from the monotony of the last few weeks. He can imagine what George would say if he saw this “Christ mate, you’ve got to get out more.” But George isn’t here, none of them are – and that’s the problem isn’t it?

The next day, it becomes clear that she is, in fact, fucking with him. She’s walking toward him, her mouth opens to speak – Matty slides forward in his chair at the sight, ready to declare victory – and then curls it into a smirk at his earnest reaction. It’s obvious enough that it had to be intentional. Oh, game on.

His tendency to hyper-fixate is a blessing and a curse, making him a better artist but an occasionally insufferable human. He’s determined to not let her get the best of him this time around, spending downtime in the studio brainstorming how to get her to break first. The answer comes to him as he’s standing outside, having a cigarette between writing sessions. The sign hanging in the window across the street is just too cringe, too cliche, too absolutely perfect to ignore and Matty strolls out of the store with it not two minutes later.

The next morning, he’s giddy with anticipation. As she turns the corner her head is down, almost as if she’s determined not to see or been seen. At the last second though, she glances up and clocks the sign leaning against the outside of the fence right, him seated next to it with a sly smirk on his face. She stops, stares, and then - right as he’s certain she’s going to maintain their silent standoff - she barks out a laugh. It is loud and raucous and feels like a well-won prize after two weeks of continuous effort.

“Oh my god, where did you get that?” She seems surprised to hear the sound of her own voice. If she’s disappointed that she’s “lost,” it doesn’t show. He begins to tell her, in his trademark roundabout way, a winding story about the fucking writing block that him and Jack ran into which led to him being outside, to seeing the store but then back around to the song that he was working on. She is nodding along but glances at her watch twice, the dog trying to pull her to keep moving, bored of him. She opens her mouth to interrupt him, a split-second pause where she huffs and seems to question herself, before rushing out with “Listen, I gotta get this guy to the park or he’ll have a meltdown, you can tell me the rest as we walk.”

She walks on, not giving him a chance to respond as he hustles to catch up with them. He meets her on the sidewalk the next morning, not giving her a chance to pass him by again.

#Matty Healy fanfiction #Matty Healy fanfic #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic

[denimini]

Jk has been pushing the heterosexual fuck boy narrative since chapter 2 started. He's been seen out with women or possibly just 1 particular woman in his personal time since last year. People tried to write it off as a staff member but he wouldn't be with staff in his personal time when he's not working which he obviously wasn't. Jk didn't start working until bh sent him to the states after Like Crazy charted #1 on hot100 bc they wanted that for him and not jm. I wonder will jk use this video to his advantage to further push the heterosexual fuck boy narrative or will he do some grand gesture towards jm to try to soothe things over. If they were broken up at the time it wouldn't be cheating but it's only natural for jm to get upset about the situation if he is. Jm had to deal with the exact situation with jk and the tattoo artist back in 2019 and I would assume he's not happy about dealing with it yet again.

Let's not assume too much, dear. Neither of us are Jimin nor JK. We don't know if they ever were together, let alone at the time of 2019 issue, moreover right now. Jimin is a strong, smart individual and I trust he knows what he's doing. If he supports JK going forward , just as he's always done, and assume always will, then your theory goes to to the bin.

I don't think JK being possibly filmed in his home is a PR move and I seriously doubt it will be used as one if it wasn't, because JK really hates his privacy being invaded. I don't know who he's been seen with in his private time, since, well it's his private time and I don't follow sasaengs, and I suggest you stop doing too. Other than the main reason that stalking someone is illegal and immoral, they are also very often very unreliable and complete liars, sometimes craving attention and other times wanting to "punish" the people they stalk. Even if JK was filmed with girls, it isn't a crime to have people from the opposite genger in your life. For sure, JM has women in his life too , we just don't know it. Context matters. And if JK had girlfriends in the least year, so be it. He said he's a grown man and he is. Even if some people don't like it, he doesn't care.

Lastly, yeah he did start working after JM's promotion ended. Both of his singles were offered to him and he took them, that's no secret. I do believe the company wanted him to the most successful member of BTS , hence why they maybe rushed his release and the extensive promotions, but I think he also wants to be super famous and as big as possible, as well, so their goals align.

As I said, I have some mixed feelings about JK right now, mainly the direction he's taking his career in and the means he uses. It seems to me his main focus right now is to be "a global pop star" (which he already is being a part of BTS, but I guess he wants his OWN name to be as known as possible). More than global, it looks like the company and Scooter are focused on making him the next "American pop star" which JK seems to want as well. He's always admired JB and the likes, so it's no surprise if you've been paying attention to what JK's been saying all those years.

Another aspect in JK's career so far is his desire to be more "mature". The whole fuckboy thing is partly him trying to break the mold of the Maknae, the company using the oldest trick for creating pop stars (using sex) and maybe his own life experiences, who knows. I'm not sure why he automatically equates maturity to just having lots of sex, when maturity is so much more, but let's just wait for his album and see. As of right now, he isn't trying to make meaningful art , he's just doing songs that he feels like in the moment and trying to become as famous as possible. That's all there really all is to his solo music so far, but there's still time for me to be wrong.

His whole approach to the solo career is definitely different than what I thought, but who am I to judge. He doesn't really care for people disliking his music, so clearly there's no point in mulling over it. Strangely, I thought Chapter 2 will be about getting to know the members better and becoming closer to them, yet for me it's been the opposite when it comes to him.

#jungkook #he doesnt really care about negative opions so is there any point in this post #jimin #jikook #kookmin

[patron-minette]

An exhaustive timeline of the Patron-Minette and their appearances in Les Misérables

Have you ever wanted to know the movements and actions of every single Patron-Minette character (including all affiliates?), throughout the narrative of Les Misérables and beyond? Well, this is the post for you!

This information is either collected from scenes that we as readers witness directly in Les Misérables, or pieced together (as best as I have been able to piece things together) from indirect snippets that Hugo gives us about these characters in passing. I haven’t listed the chapters where this information is located, but if you are curious feel free to message me and I can provide information!

P.S: There are many other wonderful Les Misérables timelines out there, which I urge you to check out! Please note that this timeline only contains information relating to the Patron-Minette, and that whilst Thénardier is featured multiple times in this timeline, he is not actually officially associated with the gang as an affiliate, but is rather a standalone crook that just happens to engage with the group in multiple scenes.

c.1793-1797;

Gueulemer likely born at some point in this period. In 1832 he is described as having ‘a mass of crow’s feet, though not yet forty years old’, and in 1815 he is working as a porter— so must have been an adult, or at least close to adulthood, in that year. Taken together, this information suggests that Gueulemer was probably born around within these years.

1811;

At La Force, Brujon’s father, who is also called Brujon, is locked up. He carves ‘BRUJON, 1811’ into the courtyard wall in the “Lion’s Den” at La Force.

[SPECULATIVE] Brujon is born. I suggest this only because of the line, ‘the Brujon or 1811 was the father of the Brujon of 1832’, which I feel implies Brujon must have been born around this time. Brujon is also described in 1832 as a ‘lad’, so must have been fairly young. If he was born in 1811, he would be 21 in 1832, which seems to align with the ‘lad’ description too.

c.1813-1814;

Montparnasse is born.

1815;

Gueulemer works as a porter in Avignon.

August 2nd

Gueulemer likely involved in the assassination of Marshal Brune.

Sometime before November, 1823;

Boulatruelle had been arrested and imprisoned for a crime we are not privy to, and likely was locked up on the Orion ship (since it is implied he recognised Valjean later in the novel).

He is released from prison and tries to find work in Montfermeil, but is unsuccessful. The only job he can get is for the administration, who hire him as a reduced-rate road mender. He is treated as an outcast by the people of Montfermeil.

1823;

‘Several days’ after November 16th

In Montfermeil, Boulatruelle continues his work as a road mender, but leaves his post early constantly to creep about in the forest. Thénardier, who still owned the inn at this time, gets Boulatruelle drunk in order to get him to reveal what he does in the forest. Boulatruelle reveals that he is trying to look for and dig up some treasure that he had seen an ex-convict whom he recognised (aka Valjean) hide in the woods. He is unsuccessful in finding this treasure.

Sometime before 1830;

Babet works a variety of jobs, including as a clown at Bobinos, and showing ‘freaks’ at fairs. During this time, he owns a booth with an advertisement that reads ‘Babet, dental artist, member of the academies, conducts physical experiments on metals and metalloids, extracts teeth, tackles stumps abandoned by his colleagues. Price: one tooth, one franc, fifty centimes; two teeth, two francs; three teeth, two francs, fifty. Take advantage of this opportunity.’

Babet gets married. He has children (it is not disclosed how many, but from the plural usage of ‘children’ rather than ‘a child’, we can assume he has more than one). The family travel together in his ‘booth-on-wheels’.

Babet’s wife and children disappear one day: ‘he had lost them the way you lose your hankie’. Soon after he decides to go and “tackle” Paris.

1830;

Patron-Minette begin ‘ruling’ the dregs of Paris.

Sometime between 1830-1832;

When out together one time, Courfeyrac points out Panchaud to Marius, seemingly aware of his reputation as a ‘dangerous night rambler’.

Montparnasse likely begins murdering people in this period as, by 1832, he already has ‘several corpses to his name’.

[SPECULATIVE] In this period Brujon had ‘done over’ a police station, out of sheer bravado. This information is revealed in a passing comment in the rue Plumet scene, which would mean that Brujon’s feat would have occured before June 1832, and, with Brujon being a fairly young ‘lad’, I am assuming that he would have only managed this feat in the last couple of years, after the Patron-Minette had begun to ‘rule’ the dregs of Paris.

1832;

We know that in 1832 the Patron-Minette has four heads, Babet, Gueulemer, Claquesous, and Montparnasse. We also know they have a vast network of associates - we learn 18 of their names; Panchaud*, Brujon*, Boulatruelle*, Laveuve, Homère Hugu, Mardisoir, Dépêche, Fauntleroy, Glorieux*, Barrecarrosse*, Lesplanade-du-Sud, Poussagrive, Carmagnolet, Kruideniers*, Mangedentelle, Les-pieds-en-l’air, and Demi-Liard*. [the affiliates who have an asterisk next to their name appear in the novel. The others sadly do not appear in any scenes].

February 2nd, evening

Brujon and Demi-Liard watch a melodrama at the Gaîté Theatre.

February 3rd, in the day

Thénardier converses with Panchaud near the rue de la Barrière-des-Gobelins, likely informing him of his plans for the Gorbeau ambush that evening. Marius sees them (and recognises Panchaud).

Later in the day, Brujon and Demi-Liard meet on the rue du Petit-Banquier, and Brujon convinces Demi-Liard to partake in the Gorbeau ambush that evening.

February 3rd, 6pm; the Gorbeau ambush

Babet, Claquesous and Gueulemer are present at the ambush. 

Panchaud, Demi-Liard, Brujon, and Boulatruelle are present at the ambush.

Montparnasse is not present at the ambush. He shows up but stops on the boulevard outside the building to talk to Éponine, before they go off and ‘play Némorin’ together instead of help out on the job.

When Javert interrupts the ambush, all of the Patron-Minette characters present are arrested and taken to La Force. Azelma, Mme Thénardier, and Thénardier are also arrested. Thénardier is also sent to La Force along with the Patron-Minette, Mme Thénardier is sent to Saint Lazare, Azelma is sent to Les Madelonettes.

Night of February 3rd / morning of February 4th

Claquesous is ‘lost’ and manages to escape from the police’s clutches whilst being transported to La Force. He is free.

Éponine is found and ‘nabbed’, being sent to Les Madelonettes alongside her sister.

The Patron-Minette characters are all put into solitary at La Force.

Mid-February

Brujon released from solitary confinement and into Charlemagne yard, with the police hoping that he might reveal something whilst chatting. He spends his days in the yard staring at the canteen’s price list and complaining of being ill, shivering and trying to get sent to the infirmary. Secretly, he is plotting an escape.

The other arrested Patron-Minette characters remain in solitary.

‘Towards the end of February’

All captured Patron-Minette members remain in prison.

Brujon sends out notes to three previously unmentioned Patron-Minette associates, Kruideniers, Glorieux, and Barrecarosse [confirmed by the line ‘these men were somehow affiliated with the Patron-Minette gang], who patrol the areas of the Panthéon, the Val-de-Grâce’ and the barrière de la Grenelle respectively. These men are arrested by the police, who suspect that Brujon is planning a scheme from prison.

Brujon writes his note to Babet, informing him of rue Plumet. He is caught and sent to solitary for a month, but the note still gets to Babet.

Babet, using his mistress (locked up at La Salpêtrière) is able to transfer this note to Magnon, who delivers the note to Éponine as soon as she is released from Les Madelonettes.

Azelma and Éponine released from Les Madelonettes.

‘A few days later’; c. end of February / early March 1832

Éponine delivers a biscuit, meaning that there is nothing worth doing at rue Plumet, to Magnon, who transfers it to Babet’s mistress, who transfers it back to Babet.

‘Less than a week after that’; c. early March 1832

Babet and Brujon bump into each other, as one heads into the ‘preliminary’ and the other returns from it. Babet informs Brujon that there is nothing worthwhile at rue Plumet and the scheme is aborted.

March

Brujon is still spending his time in the correctional chamber, after being caught writing his note, and distributing notes outside of prison. Whilst there, he plans his escape, and makes a rope.

After being released from the correctional chamber, he is transported to the New Building. Here he finds Gueulemer and a nail.

One evening in early April

Beyond the Salpêtrière - in the Austerlitz area, Montparnasse follows Valjean with a rose in his mouth. He tries to attack the old man but is overpowered, and instead treated to a long lecture. Valjean hands Montparnasse his purse. Gavroche, who witnessed the whole thing whilst hiding in some shrubbery, then steals it from Montparnasse’s pocket and leaves it for Mabeuf.

The following day

Babet escapes prison in the morning, as he was being transported from La Force to La Conciergerie.

Gavroche bumps into Montparnasse at the corner of rue des Ballets, near La Force. Montparnasse tells Gavroche that he is off to find Babet and informs him that Babet has escaped (it is not clear how Montparnasse found out this information, or if he had seen Babet earlier that day, but regardless he still is aware of what happened). Montparnasse puts two quill pieces wrapped in cotton up his nose, disguising himself and making his voice sound different. He also carries his cane that contains a concealed knife within.

In the early hours of the next morning, ‘towards one o’clock’

Babet and Montparnasse meet up and prowl around La Force, waiting on Gueulemer and Brujon to escape. It is a windy, rainy night.

Brujon and Gueulemer get up in the middle of the night and start using the nail that Brujon had found before to break the chimney which their beds stood against. They scale the chimney, force the iron grating apart, and end up on the roof. They secure the rope that Brujon made to the iron railing and descent down the eighty foot drop down to the bathhouse, and exit onto the street, and regroup with Babet and Montparnasse. Brujon pulls the rope down, some of it tears and is left on the roof. This escape only takes 45 minutes.

Thénardier sees Brujon and Gueulemer escape on the roof from his cell.

One hour later, at around two o’clock

Thénardier drugs the conscript watching his cell with stupefying wine and steals his bayonet. He makes his way up to the roof (no further detail about how he made it onto the roof is given)

The remnants of Brujon’s rope left on the rood are far too short for Thénardier to use to escape. He is stranded there until 4am.

Two hours later, at four o’clock

The police are alerted of Thénardier’s escape. Babet, Montparnasse, Gueulemer, and Brujon congregate beneath the roof that Thénardier has been stuck above for the last couple of hours, arguing about whether they should leave him, or wait a little longer. They spot him once he throws down the remainder of the rope left on the roof at their feet. Montparnasse tells Brujon to tie the rope together again and throw it up, that way Thénardier can climb down. However, Thénardier is too cold to move. They determine they need a ‘nipper’. Montparnasse runs towards the Bastille.

‘Seven or eight minutes later’

Montparnasse returns with Gavroche, who helps Thénardier escape. Gavroche recognises him as his father, but Thénardier does not recognise Gavroche as his son, not even when Babet pulls him aside and informs him that the boy who saved him was his son.

June 3rd, in the morning

Brujon sees some sparrows fighting.

June 3rd, in the evening

Brujon encounters a woman arguing.

June 3rd, 1 hour after nightfall; rue Plumet attack

Babet, Gueulemer, Claquesous, Brujon, Montparnasse, (and Thénardier) show up to rue Plumet, carrying an array of various horrible weapons. Gueulemer is specified to be carrying a pair of fanchons. They encounter Éponine, who had not seen her father in four months.

Montparnasse and Éponine exchange awkwardly flirtatious dialogue, and she does not address him as Monsieur. She grabs his hand and he warns her that she’ll cut herself on his knife.

After failing to convince them that rue Plumet is a biscuit, Éponine leans against the gate and threatens to scream, before making her powerful (and devastatingly tragic) speech.

Babet reasons that there is something the matter with Éponine, and remains keen on doing the job. Montparnasse threatens her with a knife. Brujon however, who is described as a bit of an ‘oracle’, reveals that he is against entering the house now. He is superstitious, and recollects the fighting birds and woman he saw earlier in the day as a sign that the job was bad.

The gang resolves to clear out. As they leave, Montparnasse declares that he would have slit Éponine’s throat, if they would have wanted him to. Babet responds with ‘not me, I don’t touch women’.

June 5th, at night, but before ten o’clock

Le Cabuc**, a mysterious stranger, is at the barricades and drinking. He decides to try and get into one of the large houses along rue Saint-Denis, banging at the door. When he is denied entry, he shoots the porter. He is executed by Enjolras, and his body tossed into rue Mondétour.

**Early June, a short while after the barricades fell

In the morgue, Le Cabuc’s body is searched and a police agent’s card is found on his person. Victor Hugo (practically) confirms that Le Cabuc was Claquesous.

A special report on this subject is written for the Prefect of Police. Hugo claims that in 1848 he held this exact report. 

‘Some little time’ after June 7th

Boulatruelle is released from prison, as there is not enough evidence to charge him for the Gorbeau ambush, since he was so drunk. He goes back to the road between Gagny and Lagny, where he used to work as a road mender before. His alcoholism becomes worse.

Soon after; ‘one morning, shortly before daybreak’

Boulatruelle spots a man walking in Montfermeil’s forests. He tries to follow him, but keeps losing sight. He eventually stumbles upon the location of the treasure he had so long dreamed of finding. But, the hole had been dug up, and it was empty.

c.1833;

Panchaud and Demi-Liard are sentenced to ten years in the galleys for their crimes during the Gorbeau ambush.

1835;

Patron-Minette stop ‘ruling’ the dregs of Paris. It is not clear whether that means the group disbanded or if they had simply become too weak and slipped from their position of power.

1843;

Panchaud makes a famous prison escape at La Force [unclear if the escape is successful]. We are informed that this escape happened in broad daylight, and involved thirty prisoners.

As Panchaud makes his escape, he writes his name above the culvert at the entrance to the sewer.

c.1848;

Panchaud has become a ‘celebrity crook’, and is spoken of as a legend by prisoners in La Force. (Hugo writes in 1862 that ‘he had a real following towards the close of the last reign’, which I believe is making reference to the reign of Louis Philippe - as the Second Republic did not have a king, but rather Presidents... but, I could most certainly be wrong!)

#patron minette #patron-minette #patron minette affiliates #babet #gueulemer #claquesous #montparnasse #brujon #panchaud #demi-liard #boulatruelle #glorieux #barrecarosse #kruideniers #les miserables #les mis #meta #timeline

[netherfeildren]

this might be cliche... but who are your favorite authors/artists?? influences in general? aside from donna tartt?? your writing and the network of little references sprinkled in them literally make me want to tear out my wallpaper and eat it it's so good wtf do you put in it dear author?????

gosh so many things. if it's not glaringly obvious I am a huge media person so books/film/tv are all things I love and consume voraciously. I've always been a big big reader. I've made a list of some of my favorite book recs here as well as some of my favorite films here

I'm also a big lover of the ballet and the city I live in has a large company which I go to watch every chance I get, the last one I saw was swan lake and it was wonderful :) I've found it's a great source of inspiration when it comes to choreography on the page. when writing large amounts of physical scenes ie. sex or action or what have you physical descriptors and body placements become tedious and repetitive and I like looking to dance as a source for differentiation in my own written choreography. If you're a writer I'd definitely recommend for physical aspects!

I also obviously really love art and although I wouldn't say I'm very well studied or deeply knowledgeable on the subject I know what I like and have a clear grasp on my tastes. I'm endlessly scrolling Pinterest for visuals that inspire me, and I'm also a big museum person and as I travel a fair amount, whenever I'm traveling I go to lots of museums.

not to sound cliche as well but music is also obviously and of course a big influence in my work. when I was writing greener memories of better men I'd initially gotten the idea from this random Facebook post I'd seen but the true tone of the story came from the song The Weight by The Band. After writing several different versions of Joel's so in depth I've found now I'm worried about becoming repetitive in my characterization of him which is tricky because it's extremely extremely important to me that my iterations of him be true to his canon personality. I'm not a big fan of an OOC Joel and it's important to me to always stay true to who I think he really is in his original story personality wise, u know? but at the same time it becomes difficult navigating the inevitability of monotony when writing the same character over and over again. so I suppose what I try to do each time is provide a different view of the same man. for some reason that song brought that version of him I was trying to write very into focus for me at that moment. I don't know if that makes a lot of sense lol but sometimes inspiration or direction arises from strange places.

I feel like I've talked too much about Nabokov this year but I've been very slowly studying his work this year and I feel he's been a huge influence on my tone and cadence as I've progressed. I feel like he switches between having a very complicated way of saying very simple things and then saying very complicated things in very simple ways. he's also a master at sentence structure - again when trying to avoid monotony - I like studying the way he crafts these truly complicated sentences into a single monolith without ever actually breaking any rules of grammar or if he does it's in a way that doesn't seem wrong, if u know what I mean. he also comes up with he strangest metaphors for the smallest things. the last thing I read he describes a man's face as a "wet galosh" to tell us he was morose or sad or what have you and it's just soooo funny and interesting to me. I need my own mind to work in strange and creative ways like that, I'm trying to train it into doing so

if you're eating your wallpaper please make sure it isn't yellow, we don't want you getting trapped!

#vic replies #vic's recs

[br1ghtestlight]

Rewatching alot of episodes with Jimmy pesto and I was just wondering if you have any hc for him or Trev (I love trev so much💕)

hmm i haven't thought abt them as much as i want to?? jimmy and trev's relationship is weirdly sweet and you can tell they care about each other a lot :)

jimmy pesto is not straight and he has a weird sexual relationship with trev (and he secretly goes out and has sex with male prostitutes) but he has VERY bad internalized homophobia and like 1000 layers of toxic masculinity to work through before he's ready to have a healthy relationship with literally anyone, he would be a lot happier if he wasnt so scared of being seen as weak or feminine

also he is A LOT more affectionate with his kids in private and he really does love them, he's scared of being seen as weak so he's kinda mean to them in public but he always goes to their performances and plays and he says i love you to them but jimmy jr has a complicated relationship with him bcuz he doesn't understand why his dad cant be openly affectionate and loving towards him, andy and ollie are younger and just happy to be around their dad regardless but its definitely not healthy for any of them and it makes his kids feel like he's ashamed of them

he really REALLY does love trev and its probably his only emotionally honest and open relationship with anyone, he's actually a lot more vunerable with trev than he ever was with his wife (mostly when he's drunk)

he and his wife divorced not long after the twins were before bcuz having three young kids did NOT help their relationship actually!!!! but even before then his wife was a stay at home mom and generally didnt come around the resturant very often so most people wouldnt have really known her, she was never introduced to the belchers or anything. the kids have a very complicated relationship with their mom too

jimmy pesto opened his resturant before he had kids!!!! we can see it was already open when bob and linda moved in and they were pregnant with tina, i like to think that his resturant was a family business that his father opened :) it makes sense that he would be opposite to bob in that sense and have a better working relationship with his father

trev loves jimmy and believes that he can be a better person and he KNOWS that jimmy doesn't want to be shitty all the time he's just stupid and insecure, thats why he doesnt leave even when jimmy treats him kinda terribly bcuz they have had a lot of intimate moments together. maybe not the healthiest relationship though

jimmy will invite trev over to his apartment to play with his toys when he doesnt have his kids :) they race cars and play golf together and actually have a lot of fun, when the kids are at his apartment theyre allowed to play with the toys as long as they're careful and dont break them (mostly when he's supervising them and jimmy jr is there)

trev has a bad relationship with his family and doesnt talk to them really at all so he sees the pesto family as kinda like his weird surrogate family??? he's known the kids since they were babies and they call him uncle trev and he usually is invited to their thanksgiving dinner :D if its a year where the kids mom has them for thanksgiving/christmas jimmy will invite trev over and they'll generally get drunk and complain about their shitty lives and families but sometimes they'll do a secret santa thing and buy each other gifts

jimmy remembers trev's birthday every single year and buys him a small present bcuz he knows trev doesnt really have anyone else celebrating his birthday, he doesnt make a big deal out of it but trev gets very emotional bcuz he for some reason assumes jimmy won't remember this year (but he always does)

trev likes babysitting the twins and he'll play with them and draw crayon pictures while theyre at the resturant :) andy and ollie will request he draws things and even though he is NOT an artist he tries and they absolutely love it and keep the drawings in their bedroom, jimmy jr also used to be involved with this when he was younger but he's too cool to hang around trev now *eyeroll*

#ask #bob's burgers #headcanons

[terraliensvent]

good gpd im so frustrated with stuff in terras rn. idont care anymore if they know who i am im jyst. so so frustrayed. its so hard to get stuff u want without spending money and im really lucky i have 3 terras. but oh god its so frustrating seeing people ask for. what even was it. asking for 14 myos. for 1 terra. it makes me so unvelievably angry!!

not tomention the way terra staff picked all the people who werent that active in chats. but just because they knew eachother well and were friends. it makes me lose hope for ever being a syaff and helping make this cs a little better :(

also how terra gas are always peopel with super detailled "pop" styles. like yeah youre picking smaller artists but.. yhey all have very similar styles and. its discouraging to someone with a chibi style who just really likes designing terras. it makes me wanna leave so bad.

and i. i cannot handle some of the members sometimes. some members will talk about how they dony have much money, like someone said they didnt have money for something. then immediately after bought a terra??? i mean i get that it can be addicting n stuff but. its so so frustrating oh god.

especially when people like. are talking about stuff and someone mentions something cpmpletely off topic. i could understanf if!!! maybe !! they asked nicely for a topic change and left it at tht but. ive seen people spam their own topics in the middle of another convo.

also i dont even wanna mention the trading scene. its insane. man i. ive been condidering leaving for sonlong mostly from members and specific staff. but. aughhhgg i love terras so much i just. wish i could make it better. i genuinely cry over it bc . i love terras so so much but its all going to shit . :C

im mostly just frustrated with dtaff constantly taking customs because if the staff customs channel and their new godly role. it sucks. it makes people feel like their artvisnt worth it, seeinh bids surpass thr hundreds while some camnot sell a fullbody for $5 just bc bias.

if staff see this, im sorry. i wish i didnt have yo go on a vent blog to say this. but i know saying it in the server would just get me silenced. please try to help with these issues seen here. and im genuinely so sorry, i really want to help, but this is the only way i can help now: giving criticism. i hope things change and i can enjoy terras again. i also hope staff are okay, i do not eant this to be mean or stressing in any way. :C [sorry for the typos mod i am very shaky rn and in a bus and carsick so im trying to fix them as mucj as i can. and ty for dealing witg all the drama.]

im sorry youre having such a bad time anon, it can be difficult once you realize all the deep cracks within the foundation of something you like

youre right in saying the trading scene is absolutely insane rn, people have decided that myos arent as powerful of a trading chip anymore but theyre still just as difficult to get, what the FUCK would someone even need 14 myos for

the staff has always been cliquey, if youre not in their little friend group you might as well be dirt, and theyre so biased toward pop artists, thats why kiwi rot was allowed to make a feral terra custom even while the hammer was coming down hard on them.

members are so rude and im tired of people pretending theyre not. at some point you gotta wonder how many times someone will breach social contract again and again regardless of every single time theyre politely told to wait their turn, just say you want to butt in and be done with it. ive never seen so many people absolutely unable to actually pay attention to the conversation at hand and it really seems like they just want to hear themselves talk

staff as a role is just a pretty little modifier to say “im elite, now drop $100s on my customs so you can immediately trade it off and say ‘looking for staff swaps ONLY if you offer me anything else u r getting blocked xoxox’”, none of them actually really use the new role to bring new viewpoints to the species or to make systems move faster, if they were then youd think we would actually have implemented more site functionality than one single fucking forage button and people wouldnt have to wait upwards of 2 weeks to get a myo design approved

terras biggest downfall is that every single person in the server is too sensitive for criticism and take it way too personally, that way everything gets silenced and nothing gets better.

personally anon, i suggest distancing yourself a bit. when i started moving away from the species and focusing on irl self improvement, i felt so much better (and started saving a lot of money)

#closed species vent #terralien #closed species #terraliens #vent

[starfolk7]

1 for Lies of P and your other fandoms (how yould you forget Pino and friends? xD)

Omg you're right I blanked and forgot to list that in the tags MY BAD JFHDHD

1. List 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

I guess I'm gonna organize these by fandom lol

Pokemon:

- Diversity! Since it's been around for so long, there's tons of fics to read. If you can think of it, someone has probably written it. There's a Mewtwo fic I found in college that's basically a retelling of the events of the first movie, but holy shit it's written so beautifully it made me cry in front of my friends rjrhdgde. It's a dense read, but still one of my absolute favorite fics to this day. That's just an example of things you can find!

- Sub-fan bases. Basically, if you're a big fan of a certain Pokémon, a type of Pokémon, one of the games, etc., you're going to find your people very easily. Kind of falls under the first one a bit but ya know lol.

- Some of the cutest and also the most badass fanart comes out of this fandom. I have both art of a Sylveon with a lollipop and art of Mewtwo breaking out of their armor from the first movie. The duality of man djrhdgs

SoulsBorne

-Maybe I've gotten lucky and just found really nice people, but so far my experiences in the community have been largely positive! I've met some of the loveliest people by posting my Dark Souls and Bloodborne fics, and it really got me back into writing OCs again (you know that's my lifeblood lol)

-Character and lore analyses. Not that I agree with all of them, of course I don't, but if you want an analyses of anything in these games, there's some mad lad out there that's done it, whether it's a post or through an entire fic. Gives you tons to think about!

-ART!! Holy shit there's so many amazing artists in this community. We don't talk about how much SoulsBorne art I've snagged at conventions (I got more of it and Elden Ring stuff at Magfest don't look at me fjfhdhd)

Lies of P

-I haven't been in this fandom for long, but so far everyone I've met has been very sweet! They're also super OC-friendly. I can't tell you how many Stalker and Puppet OCs I've seen, among others, it's really amazing!

-Probably gonna say this for all of my fandoms but the ART OMG. There's so much gorgeous fanart floating around for this game it's insane. Still on the hunt for more Romeo pieces tho rjrhehe

-Headcanon diversity. Do you want a totally mute P? One that talks sometimes? One that's Had Enough? What I'm getting at is there's a P out there for everyone! People have been exploring all the different character angles on him and it's wonderful to see.

Ultrakill

-THE HYPE. Since this is an early access game still in development, the hype that cranks up every time an update is announced is INSANE. I don't think I've ever seen this level of it for an indie game. I got in just in time to witness this for the Violence update and the rush it gives you seeing everyone so excited is amazing!! It helps that every single update has just been an absolute banger. We have reason to be super excited, the devs do stellar work!!

-LORE. Do you wanna feel like Charlie at the corkboard in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia? Because that's where I'm definitely at right now. Since we're in the last act of the game, there's so much speculation and so many theories about how the game will end. On top of that, people have been playing in the lore sandbox ever since this game started. I know I've def been up at night wondering how the hierarchy of Heaven works and what certain layers of Hell were like before Certain Events TM (I'm being vague because I know at least one person wants to play this bear with me lol). Basically there's tons to explore and the community collectively goes insane about different bits, we have fun here lmao

-I'm bundling art and memes into this one because oh my GOD. The tonal whiplash is a rollercoaster ride. You can go from the most heart-wrenching art of Gabriel you've ever seen to a piece that goes "V1 is a shrimp now" and sometimes you just need that snap back to some levity. The memes are absolutely top-tier. It helps that the voice actor for Gabriel already does memes and shitposts on his YouTube channel, so he just carries that over for Ultrakill stuff sometimes and y'know what? This game is dark, I'm gonna need these memes for when the ending makes me bawl like a baby. The Violence layer already has me feeling the creeping sense of dread (if you know you KNOW).

#chris's ramblings #ask game #dark souls #bloodborne #ultrakill #lies of p #pokemon #thanks for the ask! this was a lot of fun!

[accidentalslayer]

💗 Comfort Shows 💗

Thank you @elegantsplendour for inviting me to join in on the fun! Plus, it kind of helps me break the ice of my deep lurking/rabid reblogging LOL. I don't actually know 10 people on Tumblr yet so I'll just tag the people I do know~

@rosecentury @closetedwh0r3 @ren-drake @brandyovereager @leonorasbabygirl @catmikaelson20 @green-eyedshooter-blog @margueritetheduchess05

Rules are as follows: post 10 of your favorite comfort TV series and then tag 10 people. ♡

1. Once Upon a Time. (I used to be super heavy into watching/interacting with the fandom. Tbh, it was mostly because I simp for Rumplestiltskin and Belle/Lacy. Oh, to be a single piece of straw that Rumple spins into gold...)

2. Versailles. (I am a HUGE fan of period pieces & disaster brothers. The chaotic dynamic between Louis the 8th, the Sun King, and his brother, the Duke du New Orleans really had me hooked! Plus the cool polycule that the Duke, the Chevalier, & the Princess Palatine was 🤌🧂👩‍🍳)

3. Bridgerton. (Do I even need to expound the joy and excellence of Bridgerton? They recently dropped some teaser pics of Season 3 with Penelope and Colin and I am literally frothing at the mouth. It exists now to torment me in the back of my conscious mind. 🙃 😭)

4. The Originals. (Around the same time I got into OUAT, I was also addicted to the Originals! Klaus was my immediate favorite because of his BIG YANDERE energy but also because we're both artists. I also paint and create visions that I'd like to see in the world. Recently re-watching it again so I can write Dawn Misplaced, I began to switch allegiances to Elijah. I love his classy, polished "business man" vibe. I wonder how he'd fair against Rumplestiltskin...?)

5. The Vampire Diaries. (I realized that I had never seen this show before I watched the Originals and I'm currently blazing through Season 2. I love Damon and Stefan. More so Damon. I have a bad boys thing, I know. Tbh, I don't trust Stefan for some reason. I also think I'd enjoy sitting and writing in the same room as Elena. And I would Homer Simpson fade into the bushes whenever Katherine is around.)

6. Shadow and Bone. (Ngl, I was only in it for The Darkling and no one else. I do not care about the Sun Summoner or her whole entire character arc and would have happily watched the series if it'd centered around Kaz and Kirigan fighting for the destruction or expansion of the Fold. I also found the main protagonist super annoying. But she is a light magic user and the common trope or dark side of the light is righteousness and hypocrisy.)

7. Hotel Del Luna. (I LOVE K-dramas! This series is an amazing, quirky story that tackles themes like death, trauma, and shedding the past in a way that makes you laugh & and feel vindicated. Plus, the female lead is super confident, cool, & empowered throughout the narrative and has a lot of yandere traits without being too ridiculous. Also, I just love the concept of a hotel for ghosts in the afterlife. There's so much potential in that trope.) 8. Mr. Queen (Another quirky K-drama about time travel that takes place in the austere land of Joseon. There's time travel, sarcastic and witty banter. Gender swapping through crazy awesome Korean magic. And a clever, irreverent protagonist who slowly redeems himself over the process of the whole series from asshole to best boy. At least imo. Also, the outfits, and the background of the whole show is just really well-done. I can tell a lot of love went into those hanboks.) 9. Hannibal. (Okay so not exactly a comfort show as much as it is a "Yandere Crave". When I'm writing villain or misunderstood characters I sometimes just start binging on this show. I love Mads Mikkelsen. I guess I just have a thing for the last name "Mikael's son" and variants of it. The dynamic between Hannibal and Will was maddening and intense and I love how obsession and finding yourself reflected in another person plays a part of it.) 10. The Untamed (Have you ever watched a TV series that moved you to tears both in it's narrative, setting, outfit, and actors? Have you ever burned with longing for two characters to embrace each other while they both fought on opposite sides of philosophy and politics? Have you ever burst out in tears crying ugly sloppy happy and sad tears at the end of it and felt an emptiness so profound in your soul upon completion of it? Number 10 wears the crown in my list. It has no equal.)

#tagging game #10 favorite tv shows #accidental'sbig10 #accidental speaks

[oceansssblue]

[THE BAD BATCH]— "CANVAS"

ECHO/OFC 💖

OMEGA HAS THE BEST IDEA. SHE HAS BEEN EYING THE ARTIST ACROSS CID'S SALON FOR OVER A WEEK NOW; AND SHE'S FINALLY GOING TO ORDER THE BEST PRESENT EVER FOR ECHO.

WARNINGS: FLEETING MENTIONS OF ECHO'S BODY ISSUES&EXPERIENCE (NOTHING EXPLICIT). 99% FLUFF.

ONE-SHOT INSPIRED BY THIS WONDERFUL @cloned-eyes ART PIECE OF TATTOED ECHO! 💙✨

Omega counts the credits in her hands. She has been saving them for months, now; no more unnecessary mantel mix or cool accesories for her bow even if they make her momentarily happy. She's sure Echo's reaction will top all of that; and she has finally collected enough to buy the present she has being eying since she discovered the small tattoo parlour across Cid's salon. It's a cool place; full of bright neon lights and colourful images and shapes painted all over the walls. She has never actually entered the parlour; but she has seen enough through the displays of the window. She wasn't actively looking for a place like that at all, to start with; but once discovered, Omega couldn't think about anything else.

It's not just tattoos that the artist makes; but she draws and paints on every single surface imaginable too. Omega has seen a long line of clients bringing her all sort of pieces for her to decorate, to give some life to; house accesories, jewelry, books, speeders... Everything is a canvas for her. Omega's favourite one was probably a landscape design painted in a beautiful modern style on the back of a datapad.

She's got talent, the young woman that works with his collague in the shop. While she does the main art, her co-worker seems to take care of supplies and management. He helps with purely ink-on-skin jobs too. They're both not human, though they're not too far off anatomically speaking. They're definitely on the humanoid range; just small variations to their features and a whole different set of colour palette. Omega wonders if they came to Ord Mantell together from their native planet or if their encounter here was a mere coincidence. She's always curious; even about strangers that have nothing to do with her.

Their skin has a natural faint purplish tint, and they have big eyes with a pronounced double circled iris –the inner layer a darker lilac colour, the outer one a vibrant gold– and washed-out white marks on their neck and face. She has short purple hair, barely grazing her chin, and always wears six or more small braids that sometimes join together in beautiful ways. A bunch of earings hang of each of her slightly pointed ears; and tattoos roam all over her arms and the sides of her neck. She has two small ones on one cheek as well; black figures and dots Omega's not sure if they hold meaning or not. His co-worker looks and dresses in a similar way; comfortable cargo pants with military-like boots, a red T-shirt and black vest. They both look so cool Omega hasn't grown tired of staring at them yet.

The young teenager half skips happily to the parlour; a replica of Echo's prosthetics inside the bag hanging heavily on her shoulder. She had asked Tech to build them a week and a half ago; explaining her idea to the goggled clone and inmediately achieving his aproval. Tech had told her it was a very considerate and original gift. He had jumped at the challenge of building a copy of Echo's three main prosthetics –his scomp, and both of his cybernetic legs– in record time and without any of the others noticing it. Well, except Hunter, who had obviously heard his quiet screwing in the middle of the night and had quickly been informed of the plan.

Omega radiated energy when she opened the door to the parlour. Her big eyes quickly found their way to the artist that would make her idea come true, and she walked towards the front desk with a spring to her step.

"Hi! I love your work, and I'd like you to draw a bunch of stuff for me, please" she blurted out, her enthusiastic innocent voice inmediately catching the attention of the humanoid.

The artist tilted her head to the side, examining the young girl up and down. The new comer looked to be around thirteen or so; a shock of beautiful blond hair complementing her tanned skin. Her purplish-golden eyes sparkled with curiosity and humour.

"You're a bit young to get your skin inked, kid" she answered with a small chuckle. "Luckyly for you I don't really have an age minimum 'round here. Don't come crying next week when you change your mind, though. Erasing is always a torture, and a loss of my time. You sure?"

Omega's eyes widenned comically. She laughed while shaking her head vigorously to the sides, one hand coming up in a clear sign of rejection.

"Oh, no! No. I don't want to get a tattoo!" she frowned, the posibility passing through her head a second later before she nochalantly shrugged it away. "At least not now. I actually brought you some pieces for you to customize? Like you did with some of your other clients?"

The woman chuckles at Omega's lively personality. She points at the heavy bag hanging of her shoulder.

"I'm assuming they're in there?" She guesses, and Omega quickly nods and carefully places the bag in the floor, opening it up for the artist to see.

The woman crouches down and curiously peers into it. She frowns in confussion, and one hand cautiously hovers over one of the pieces while she tries to make the shape of the pile of cramped metal in her head. She realises what the girl is carrying and tilts her head up to her with clear surprise in her face.

"Are these prosthetics?"

Omega nod's proudly.

"Yeah! My brother Tech managed to make an extra improved pair for Echo –he's my other brother– in no time and I wanted you to decorate them before I give them to him. He's had his own for a while now, but I know he's not fully comfortable with them yet, even if he tries not to show it. So I thought personalizing them a bit would make him feel like they're more him, you know?"

Omega waits for the womans aproval. Tech said it was a good idea, so it must be, right? Anyhow, she kinda wants the opinion of the artist herself too. She makes a living of this; of giving soul and personality to pieces that form a part of others lifes.

To her relief, the woman seems gladly surprised. She slowly takes out one of the leg prosthetics and turns it carefully in her hand, examining the surface and caressing it here and there in an almost distracted way.

"It sounds like a cool idea, kid" she hesitates, not wanting to be the one to break the young girl's heart. "But customizing such large complex pieces is pretty expensive, specially if you want to add specific details yourself. Do you have the money?"

Omega nods proudly and takes the credits out of her pocket. She shows them to her with a smile.

"Yup! I have been saving for weeks now. It's enough, right?"

Omega sees the expression on the artist face fall, and her eyes widen. She looks back and forth between the credits on her hands and the artist; knowing what's going on.

"Is it that much more expensive?" She asks, worried, nibbling on her lower lip, trying to think of a solution to it. "I-maybe I can ask Tech and Hunter for more, uh maybe Wrecker, or I can sell some stuff around and..."

The artist interrumpts her rumbling with a hand on her shoulder, standing up besides her.

"Look, sweetheart... I can't use all my current materials in this pieces for this price, but I must have some old stock somewhere in the back. Outdated stuff is much cheaper, and we can forget about my personal fee as well, so you won't have to pay the extra. Or my time of work. Just the pure old raw materials, that should cut the price drastically" she eyes her expectant expression and the hope in her big eyes and sighs, pulling up a smile. "You can give me what you want and we'll call it a deal, alright?"

"Really?" the blonde nearly squeals, knees bouncing up and down, and the artist's smile widens.

"Yeah. Take the pieces to the front desk and lay them out. Do you have a clear idea of what you want to do with them?"

Omega quickly follows and she inmediately grabs her datapad –one of Tech's old ones– and starts pulling up photos and ideas of designs she had been investigating these last few days. She turns the datapad to the woman and grins.

"I've got loads!"

The artist smiles in amusement and pats the chair next to her. Omega hops on it and tilts her face to her, expectantly. The humanoid nods and points at the datapad with a vague gesture.

"Okay. Let's hear it, then".

(•••)

Viana didn't make a habit of being underpayed. Every inch of the fee for her job was perfectly detailed and taken into consideration; materials, time, number of details, backgrounds, how large was the piece, if it required a special varnish to seal the art, colours, layers... It wasn't the same customizing a watch with barely more than the first letter of someone's name than to decorate someone's speeder; so her prices really varied depending on each request.

The girl's –Omega, she had after learned– story had moved her enough to do a little favor for her. Just an exception to her usual strict rules. The blonde had showed her several images on her datapad –pointing out his brother Tech had runned a check up on her and decided she could be trusted with said information– and the woman had quickly put two plus two together. Those guys were clones, and not the ones that followed the laws of the Empire. These were guys that still remember what was honour, respect, doing the right thing. Viana still remembered how Rak and her had been able to escape their home planet with their help.

Truth is the saasra has always admired them. They were great soldiers, great men; and she had come from a tribe of warriors herself. She had long left those years behind; but she still payed attention to the same things. Plus, Echo's particular story was something else. Omega hadn't really gotten into details; just quickly passing of a coment on how he had been gravely injured in battle and how his body looked like now. Viana had read into the images shown before said change; the proud posture of the ARC trooper surrounded by his brothers and friends. She couldn't imagine what he had been forced to push through; not only accepting his own new body, but coping with the loss of so many dear people too.

She hand't been able to think on anything else after Omega left her workshop. The feeling of a new exciting project surged within her, ideas and splashes of colours and shapes constantly popping in her mind. Viana knew she wouldn't be able to sleep that night unless she started with this unusual project; so she had begun with the initial designs.

She always follows the same process. She draws a lazy sketch; absolutely everything she thinks could go well with the piece. Then she picks them out; re-doing them in better shapes and lines on a new datapad canvas. Once that is done, she meassures the original piece and replicates the dimensions on her app; moving her figures and details and overlapping them in layers so everything is taken to it's destined spot. She plays with colours and details –nothing too specific– in her datapad too; and then she moves onto the real piece. She draws the final selected sketch on it and then it's all a matter of colours and definition; swirls and micro-details. It's her favourite part; watching her ideas finally take life. Making dull pieces stand out.

Three days after Omega's arrival on her parlour, Viana has already drawn the main sketches out. She wanted to personalize everything to the detail, like Omega had requested; every inch of the former soldier's cybernetics was perfectly planned out. Though Omega would probably like something vibrant and jazzy best, the saasra knew it had to be something discreet enough so it wouldn't interfere with Echo's posible future misions. Viana didn't exactly knew what they did for a living, or what the future held for them; but she could get an idea. Times were difficult now, dangerous. She couldn't make the prosthetics striking enough to catch people's attention. It had to be somewhat subtle.

With that main reason in mind, she had designed a background of greys, blacks and reds for all of the three pieces in her hands. The lines parted separetly on the top of the scomp prosthetic before travelling down and crossing each other and swirling at the end; joining together in a splash of dark red. The same went for the legs; full opalascent black for were the top part attached to real skin and slowly switching to a gradient grey as they went down to the feet. Small streaks of dark red also swirled around each other as they went; almost following the shapes of human muscles in soft and precises curves. Not wanting them to look too perfectly made –he was a soldier, after all, not an inmaculate coruscanti model– she added some groundge details too; smearing some black and grey paint together here and there without any particular shape, and with her metalic sharp brushes, simulating scratches and dips on the surface.

Once that was out of the way –she had chosen those reds, greys and blacks to match the rest of the clone's armour by Omega's pictures– she followed with the small details. Viana had given it much thought. She wanted the prosthetics to really feel part of Echo, as Omega had in mind too. She wanted to give him something with which he could feel like himself. That right after he tried them on, he'd feel more confident and reassured. And not just because it was a –poorly– payed comissioned job.

Viana decided on a mix of what seemed to be the clone's most important aspects of his life. Omega had more or less explained parts of his life to her, so she could understand what to work with. Viana knew she needed to include five main pieces of Echo's life in these; the Jedi, Clone Force 99 –Omega's brothers, herself included now–, Captain Rex, the Domino Squad, and his twin Fives.

For the Jedi, Viana drew tiny light-sabers on the edges of each prothesis that at first glance looked like a line of simple stiches. She couldn't plant something on the surfaced that screamed "hey, Empire, right here, i'm your enemy" after all, so it was an unasumming little thing. No-one would find out unless they specifically looked for it. Hell, Echo might not even realise it himself.

For Clone Force 99, she designs four washed-out white skulls to compliment the one already etched on the top left of his chest plate. She adds a very carefully hand-drawn detail for each one, so it represents the rest of the members of the squad; one skull crossed by a delicate black bow, another with a stripe across the head for the long-haired clone's bandana, one with the crosshair on the right eye and the last one with a myriad of scars coming from the left side of the skull and ending on the left.

She adds a splash of a hand print for Captain Rex around the prothesis holding the scomp. The blue sticks up too much with the rest of the colour pattern, though, even if its a dark shade with some black in between; so Viana adds some minor swirls and slashes of the same tone here and there.

Following Omega's idea, she draws five small domino's in black and grey around one of the cybernetic's ankles; tying them up to each other with a thin line of scarlet red. A black five is a perfect replica of one of Omega's pictures on the other ankle; red and greys and blues swirling around the number as if trying to cling to it.

Viana gives a few extra last touches and examines the three pieces in front of her. Satisfied and proud, she gives them a final varnish so they hold all kind of atmospheric adversities; and two weeks after Omega's request, the woman has her art ready to be send on it's way.

(•••)

Viana makes her way to where Omega told her their ship would be docked with her request carefully placed inside a box with the parlour's purple logo. It's heavy, but not as much as she first imagine the prothesis would be; she's able to carry them without much effort til she's standing right in front of the Marauder –Omega's home–.

She examines the external appearence of the ship with intrigue. Omega's a bubbly thing, and she couldn't stop talking in excitement when she visited her workplace. Viana had half-listened distractedly while she pulled out basic designs and drew quick sketches for the blonde to sway in one direction or the other. By the way her eyes filled with warmth and her smile widened while talking of this ship, the saarsa knew it wasn't just a ship for them at all.

There's two men standing on the outside, one crouched down while examining something with a pack of wrenchers and tools by his side; the other observing with his arms crossed. After spending a few hours of the last two weeks staring at Omega's pics, they're easily recognizable; the one with the long hair and red bandana is obviously Hunter, while the one doing the repairs is Tech. She can't see the other two –Wrecker and Echo himself– so she asumes they're either inside or somewhere else in Ord Mantell.

Hunter's eyes flicker around his surroudings before they land on her. It's like he noticed someone staring; she wondered if she had been doing that with too much intensity. To show she's not a threat –this guy is clearly ready and alert– she shows a small gentle smile and hesitantly takes a step towards them.

"Can we help you?" Hunter asks, frowning unconsciously, his stance widening slightly while turning towards her.

Tech glances up and his eyes quickly roams over the newcomer's appearance, quickly drawing the right conclusions by the expresion on his face.

"Oh! You must be the artist from Omega's most recent quest" he nods as a way of hello, standing up and adjusting the right lense of his goggles before continuing talking with her. "I asume that you bring the final results?"

Viana nods and brings the box in her hands up as a demonstration. Hunter relaxes and Tech nods, curiously walking towards her.

"May I have a look?"

They're really polite, and really handsome too. Most clones are, of course. It's no wonder people used to like going to clone's pubs before.

"Sure" Viana answers, her mere observation not making her shy away in the slightest.

She patiently waits while Tech lifts the lid of the box up and takes a peak inside. Hunter can't hold back his curiosity either and follows him. They both stay silent for so long that Viana starts to feel a bit nervous and hesitant about her work.

"Is it... Is it what Omega hoped for?"

She's usually very confident about herself; but Echo's situation is delicate, and the details she has added in the cybernetics, albeit by Omega's request, are too personal for a stranger to play with. She hopes she hasn't overstepped.

"It exceeds my expectations, in fact" points out Tech, to her inmediate relief. "And I am sure Omega's as well. I'm particularly surprised at how detailed and lively this are without drawing too much attention to it, nothing too vibrant or extravagant. It should work perfectly well with our kind of lifestyle. Congratulations are in order, I believe".

Tech has a weird way of speaking; Viana's lips almost tugging upwards in another smile. She feels proud and happy at his observarions, though; and Hunter thinks the same as well by his firm grateful nod.

"Thank you for doing this" the latest says, his voice slightly rougher than the average clone but equally gentle. "I know for a fact Omega doesn't have enough credits to pay for this. She can be very persuasive, I should know. We can pay you a bit extra ourselves".

The offer is tempting, and Viana has spent a lof of her free time doing this; but she wouldn't feel good if she took the credits in. She feels this project has been made personal –there's always one of those once in a while– and she just feels lucky and proud to have produced such an important piece. It's obvious these guys don't have much themselves considering they don't even have a proper house; and she's sure they've already been through a lot. A bit of generosity and genuine compassion wouldn't hurt them.

"Save it for your family" she answers, then. "It has been a fun experience for me. Plus, I'm glad I'm able to do something for you lot".

Hunter watches her in surprise. They're different enough from the original clone templates that people don't usually associate them with clones, specially with a kid by their side; furthermore, they don't usually find people grateful for their service anymore.

Viana smiles.

"I'm native from Saar" she explains, and Hunter inmediately recognises the planet's name. "I remember".

A heavy silence falls between the three of them. Saar was completely destroyed by the Separatists back then; the army of warriors ruled by King Jarelan refusing to lay down their weapons after their monarch's death. They had called for the Republic's help; and two battalions of clones had been sent to them. They hand't been enough to save the planet form the separatist wrath; but they had saved uncountable lives, and the saarsa's had been able to relocate in another planet with the help of the Senate.

In that moment, someone walks down the Marauder towards them. Viana's attention is quickly snapped to the new presence; inmediately recognising the soldier in front of her. He frowns in confussion at the stranger talking with his brothers; but Echo quickly asumes she's just another woman swayed by Hunter's –or maybe Tech's– appeal and doesn't pay her too much attention while he turns to him.

"Hey, Sarge, I'm gonna go replenish our suplies now" he notifies, feeling a bit restless under the stranger's attentive purple and gold eyes. "Com's open, if you need something. Be back in a few".

Hunter nods, gives a small worded agreement and Echo's eyes glance one last time at the woman before walking away. Viana is sure he has some body issues like Omega explained; but right now he looks so confident and handsome –every bit of the perfect soldier– that the saarsa can't help but feel intrigued and attracted to him.

"Always this interested in your clients?" Hunter quietly asks, amused.

Viana tears his eyes from Echo's retreating figure and laughs.

"Not usually, no" she answers calmly, unashamed of being caught by them. "But you can learn a lot about a person from customising their things. And I had a lot of pics and details from him from that blonde girl of yours."

"So you are interested in him, then?" Tech pops in, and Viana shrugs while a telling smile makes her way on her face.

"He's hot, isn't he?" she places the box in Tech's hands, and decides it's time to return to her shop. "Tell Omega I said hi."

Hunter hums thoughtfully while watching her leave.

(•••)

Echo makes his way to the tattoo parlour with a mess of emotions twirling inside his mind. He couldn't even describe what he first felt when he opened Omega's present and his eyes landed on a new customized set of prosthetics; couldn't explain how it felt trying them on. Every swirl of paint, every line and detail... It was all him, the batch's reds and greys and Legion's 501 blue's; the brave people he had sworn to serve and his two families etched on his second skin now, both Force Clone 99 with each of their distinctives, and his Domino brothers. And Fives. Oh, Fives. He would have thought his prosthetics to be the coolest shit ever if he had been there to see him.

Echo had always had a tough time getting used to his cybernetics. He had been forced to accept them pretty quickly, mind you –inmediately jumping back to the fight in Anaxes and after that–; but there had always been a residual disgust and sense of inedequancy in the silence of his mind, after all was set and done. Suddenly half droid, it had been difficult to adjust; even if his new abilities were actually valuable to the team now. This prosthetics, on the other hand... They carried so much meaning. They hold little parts of his story, of his people; and he had felt inmediately conected to them. Echo opened the doors of the shop with a mess on his mind but feeling confident in his steps like never before.

His eyes inmediately found the stranger from the day before and he aproached her in contemplative silence. She was working on something, eyes stuck to her datapad and one of those tech-pencils on her right hand; brow furrowed and lips pursed in concentration.

"We're not taking any more clients for today" she barely mumbled, without taking a glance at the newcomer. "Come back tomorrow, please".

Echo studied her. She resembled a human, but she was undeniably different; her skin a faint purple and her eyes shining brightly even when pointed down at her datapad. His eyes wondered over each mark on her face.

"I just wanted to personally thank you" he voiced, patiently. "You did a great job with these".

She took a fleeting glance at him, nodding distractedly; inmediately abandoning her current sketch when she recognised who he was and straightening in her chair.

"Echo!" she exclaimed, surprised. He gave her a small nod and smile, and tried to stay still while her bright eyes roamed over him.

She hummed appreciately and showed him a wonderfull grin.

"You make a good-looking canvas, soldier".

Echo chuckles, left hand shyly travelling to the back of his neck, and pulls a smile as well.

Gathering up his courage, he tilts his head.

"Fancy going out for a drink, now that your closing the shop?"

Viana is momentarily stunned; but she melts and quickly nods, eager. Hunter and Tech must have pointed out her interest to him; but she doesn't really care. Echo is hot –undeniably so wearing her work–and she hasn't got any other plans for tonight.

"Give me five to close this up and we'll go" she asks.

Echo is surprised –and at the same time, relieved– at how easily all of this is; and waits patiently for Viana to finish her sketch and lock the doors. They walk to none other than Cid's salon chatting with each other and stealing glances along the way.

Maybe he can have some luck after all.

THE END.

---------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

DAMN, THAT WAS A LONG ONE! I FELT SO INSPIREEEED. I'M HAPPY WITH WHAT CAME OUT. DID YOU LIKE IT TOO? LET ME KNOW! HELPS ME STAY MOTIVATED TO CONTINUE WRITING : )

REBLOG IF YOU CAN!

REQUEST/PROMPTS OPENED. WHAT WOULD U LIKE TO READ NEXT?

MORE CLONE WARS & ARCANE CONTENT COMING!

Xx,

Sky.

#echo tbb #tbb echo #arc trooper echo #echo #hunter tbb #star wars tbb #tbb omega #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #sw tbb #the bad batch crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #fanfic #tech tbb #star wars #clones #tbb #wrecker tbb #clone wars #hunter bad batch #echo x oc #echo x reader #echo x you #fics #the bad batch #bad batch #the clone wars #clone force 99