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allyricas · 10 months

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Moving On pt. 2

part one

3,180k words

The day of the trip to Indy finally arrives and the weather does not reflect the excitement Steve feels as he loads his last bag into the trunk of his car. He knows he overpacked but wants to be ready for anything. He also has a cooler full of drinks and sandwiches along with enough junk food to make anyone sick.

He and Robin had decided to make sure they had plenty of food so they could settle in to their hotel and chill the first night. Robin had an early campus tour and Steve had a meeting with an advisor at the community college he’d be taking his cosmetology courses. They had a packed schedule considering they needed to find an apartment and jobs (together if possible) and the urge to scope out the gay scene. Or find it, at the very least.

Steve pulled into Robin’s driveway and saw that she’d also slightly overpacked. Two halves of the same soul, the two of them. He got out and helped her load up her bags. She was holding a thermos of something and wearing a pair of Steve’s sweatpants. That’s where those went. He’d been looking for them for a week. Robin had a tendency to steal his clothes which mostly just made Steve feel all loved and shit, so he only complained for appearance’s sake.

“Rob, my fucking sweatpants. Come on, I’ve been looking for them.” He whined. He truly didn’t mean it all.

“Shut up, they are my pants now. They look hotter on me.” She laughed, doing a pathetic little shimmy. She was not a morning person. The messy bed head and the large amount of coffee she was inhaling made this apparent. “I am so tired, but really fucking excited. I brought the music. You are banned for the entire drive up and back. I will fucking jump out of this car if you play any sad, pining music. This is fun time not sad boy time.”

“That tape has Whitney and George Michael on it. It’s not a total sad fest.”

“Liar. You cry the most whenever careless whisper comes on.” Robin replied viciously.

“Let’s uh, not talk about that please.” Steve knew he was still whining a bit, but Robbie was mean in the morning.

The drive up went smoothly despite the terrible weather. Fifteen minutes into the drive, it started to torrentially rain. Thunder shook the car and lightning lit up the sky. Robin did in fact have all upbeat music and refused to let Steve play anything remotely sad. This was good as he was feeling rather happy in the moment. At one point it rained so hard, Steve had to pull over and wait for it to slow down as Robin started hyperventilating. What should have been an hour and fifteen-minute drive took three hours, but time spent with his best friend was always good.

Navigating the city was invigorating (for Steve) and anxiety inducing (for Robin), but they both could barely contain their excitement when they finally pulled up to the motel they're staying at. It’s a little mom and pop place that Joyce and Hop had recommended. Why those two have a favorite motel in the city, Steve doesn't want to think to much about.

It’s a cute place, white shutters and soft yellow paint with a rustic looking sign that says The Mosey Inn. The rooms were entered from the outside, with parking all around the place. There were plants everywhere and everything had a well-loved appeal. It’s a rather nice little place. He goes in to check them in and there is an older woman at the desk. She's one of those people who radiates kindness and Steve likes her right away.

“Hello there, dear. Welcome to the Mosey Inn. I’m one-half of Mosey, but you can call me Elise.” She’s smiling softly at him as he walks up to the desk.

“Hi, I have a reservation for Harrington. For a suite with two queens.” He finds he’s nervous which feels silly. He grew up checking into hotels and dealing with reservations. Usually, it was at swanky hotels that his parents would leave him in before he was old enough to be all alone at home.

“Of course, sweetie. Joyce and that sweet Jimmy told me all about you the last time they visited for the weekend. I just adore them. Jimmy did some handy work for me and the missus last time they were here. We’re getting up there in age and my Maggie cannot be climbing ladders anymore. I always give them a discount and I like the look of you, dear. I’ll give you one too.”

She’s beaming at Steve like she is thrilled to meet him which is not something he’s exactly used to. He’s thinking over what she said. The missus, her Maggie. He looks around the room and spots a tiny pink triangle on a bookshelf. Oh. This was a safe place. He owed Hop and Joyce dinner because this was the nicest surprise he’d gotten in a long time. He'd definitely be calling Hopper by the nickname Jimmy though.

“Thank you so much, ma’am. I know my friend Robin and I are going to enjoy this trip even more now knowing this is a safe place for people like us.” That felt as close to telling a stranger he was gay he could manage, but it felt huge to say it. It meant something to find this little piece of community with two women who were old enough to be his grandmothers. He felt like he might cry and for once, there were happy tears brimming in his eyes.

“Please, call me Elise. There’s no ma’am, none of that uppity nonsense. This place is for friends, you understand.” She told him in a voice so genuine that Steve choked back a sob. He handed over his credit card and she handed him two room keys. “We offer breakfast and lunch, usually buffet style unless we say otherwise. There’s a coffee station around the corner and there’s always some sort of snacks next to it. If you need anything just give us a ring. Feel free to come chat anytime. Enjoy your stay.”

“I think I will, Elise. I’ll bring Robin around to meet you once we’re settled, probably for breakfast tomorrow!”

_________________________________________

As soon as Steve got back into the car, he excitedly told Robin all about Elise and her partner and how the Inn was a safe place for them. The fact that Joyce and Hopper stayed here whenever they wanted a night or two away from the chaos of their little blended family filled Steve with joy. He knew that they weren’t hateful people, but this was outright acceptance by the adults he respected most in his life. Robin was rambling on about the décor of the inn as he lugged their many suitcases into their room. She just smiled at him as he struggled.

It was cozy with two queen beds and a little kitchenette and a sitting area off to the side. There was a good size bathroom and closet. It was decorated in soft hues of yellow and green with floral bedding. It was lovely and Steve felt immensely at home in this place.

“This place is so cute!” Steve exclaimed happily, finally collapsing onto his bed. It was comfortable too. “Damn, this is going to be a nice trip. Elise said they offer 2 meals, that there’s a coffee station with snacks and this bed is fucking soft as hell.”

“So basically, we can save a ton of money and try to eat here most of the time is what I'm hearing you say Steven?” This seemed to genuinely thrill Robin.

“Absolutely, we can go visit with them tomorrow during breakfast. It’s from 6:30 to 8:30.” Steve knew this was going to cause some mild stress for Robin. This delighted him.

“Ugh, ugh. For free breakfast and fellow lesbians, I will get up. You might have to drag me though.”

Steve laughed, delighted at the prospect of waking Robin up in the morning. It was early evening, but they decided to munch on the leftover food from the drive in and relax. There was a small tv, so they found something to put on and got comfortable. The day so far had been nearly free of sad thoughts over Eddie, but it seemed inevitable that Steve would start to think about him. For one thing, Eddie would look ridiculous in the Mosey Inn, although he would thoroughly appreciate the pun. Yet, there was a part of Steve wishing that Eddie was a part of all of this.

Before he’d ruined everything, Eddie would have been invited on this trip without a second thought. If only he could go back and not fall in love with stupid Eddie Munson. Steve worries that falling for him would have been inevitable though. Everything about him made Steve crazy.

The moment he knew he was monumentally fucked was a few months after everything with Vecna went down. Eddie had still been in the hospital, thankfully cleared off all charges with Hopper back in charge. He’d been high off his ass on morphine and smiling at Steve. Eddie had looked at Steve and said, “Stevie, sweetheart—you beautiful man. How come you’re always sitting around here taking care of me huh?” and Steve had known several things.

He wanted Eddie to smile at him like that for the rest of his life. He really enjoyed being called sweetheart. And the reason he was always hanging around was because he wanted to be with Eddie. Eddie who always lit up with joy when he saw Steve sitting by his hospital bed. All the time they spent walking that line between friends and more, or at least that’s what Steve thought.

He swore there was so much flirting back and forth. Like the time Steve snuck in cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes from the one diner left open in town and Eddie had told Steve, “All this for little old me?” while literally twirling his hair like a schoolgirl. Or when Steve brought in books for him and Eddie had just clasped Steve’s hand tight and said nothing, just staring intently at him like Steve really meant something to him.

All misread apparently. It wasn’t flirting at all, just Eddie being Eddie. And Steve had ruined it. He tried not to spiral into his bad thoughts too much but he felt like he always ruined everything. Robin might be his best friend, his platonic soulmate and other half, but it’d been so nice to have a close guy friend.

Eddie had barely been out of the hospital when Steve had driven him up to Indy to replace some of his things lost to the earthquakes. There were better record stores and better thrift stores, and Eddie had very little left to his name. The trailer was gone. He’d even lost his beloved guitar. Steve had never planned on telling Eddie how he felt during that trip, but Eddie has a way of needling things out of people. Something Steve usually finds quite adorable, but not so much when it’s his own unrequited feelings.

Sighing to himself, Steve sits down by the phone to call Dustin and tell him they made it to the city safely. This means actually calling Mike’s house since the boys are having their weekly nerd fest. The whole group of them are all a little codependent, but after everything they’ve been through it seems reasonable. Unfortunately, Mike nor Nancy answers the phone. It’s Karen Wheeler and she lets Steve know that the boys are all over at Eddie’s apartment playing their little game. That’s exactly what she calls it which does make him chuckle.

He dreads calling Eddie’s place, but he did promise Dustin he’d call. Dustin is already asking questions about him and Eddie. If he’s weird on the phone it will only fan the flames of Dustin’s incessant need to meddle. He dials the number and tries to psyche himself up for the interaction. Maybe one of the kids will answer.

“Munson Residence, Eddie the Banished speaking?” Eddie’s voice fills Steve’s ear. It’s like a punch to the gut, but Steve takes a deep breath.

“Is that how you really answer the phone all time or am I just lucky?” Steve asks lightly. Do not make this weird. Be cool. “Or is it just because you’re playing dungeons and whatever?”

“Ha, Ha. I knew it was you telepathically, so I of course had to answer the phone accordingly. My liege, what can I do for you on this fine summer evening?”

“You’re lucky it’s cute to be such a fucking nerd.” Shit, shit, shit. Abort flirting. “Kidding, kidding. I called to see if Dustin is still there. I told him I’d call when we got settled.”

“Rude, I am absolutely the cutest nerd. I’d dare say, adorable even. The fairest in the land, perhaps.” Eddie’s voice had gone low and Steve would bet a hundred bucks he was twirling his hair. What the fuck? “You know, you obviously like nerdy shit considering you-”

“Hey stop flirting with Steve and let me talk to him, I've been waiting to hear from him all day. We’re in the middle of a campaign Steve. We need our DM not whatever the fuck he was just doing.” Dustin says this all like he knows for a fact that everything he says is true. It’s not.

“Tone, dusty bun. I’m not gay and I wasn’t flirting with Harrington, just messing with him. He’s just so easy to tease. We’re just buddies like that, right man?” Eddie replied, his voice no longer soft, low and sweet. In fact, Eddie sounded hostile. Steve felt his stomach turn. He couldn't even reply.

“Nothing wrong with being gay, you moron.” Dustin replied firmly. This made Steve smile considering Dustin didn’t even know about Steve yet. He was definitely his favorite kid. Dustin continued on “I mean, we’ve fought literal monsters. Of all things to get worked up over, being gay is not even on the damn list!”

“I didn’t mean it in a rude way, just saying we were not flirting.”

“Whatever you say Eddie.”

“Um, hello guys I am still on the phone.” Steve yelled as the two of them continued to bicker. “I have to go, but I’ll call in a few days Dustin. Bye Eddie.” Steve replied, trying his best not to cry.

“Wait-Harrington. Steve, I didn’t mean anything by that okay.”

“Yeah of course, no worries, man. Talk to you later.” Steve knew his voice was emotionless.

_______________________________

He had to get over Eddie. This confusing back and forth was so painful. Steve didn’t consider himself the brightest, but that felt like flirting. What straight guy calls himself the fairest of the land or adorable to another man? Eddie’s tone of voice was the exact same tone Steve had used so many times to flirt with girls. He knew what flirting looked like. He shouldn’t have started it with the cute comment, but Eddie had most certainly flirted back. He looked over at Robin who was sitting up and waiting patiently for Steve to hang up the phone.

She looked worried. If his face was at all reflecting how he felt right now, he understood why. The way Eddie has sounded when he said he wasn’t flirting. He told Robin the entire conversation verbatim and he watched her face go through a myriad of emotions. Despite the fact that Robin wasn’t the most tactile person, she threw her arms around him and let him cry all over her t-shirt.

“Well, I could just kill him. I swear to fucking God. If he’s not gay, fine. But why flirt back?”

“Maybe he really isn’t flirting. He said he was just messing with me. Maybe we’ve been reading it wrong this whole time!” Steve cried.

“Fuck that, even Dustin called him on it. He flirts with you all the time. If he’s just messing with you at this point, it’s cruel. Especially now that he knows you’re gay and have feelings for him. I won’t be friends with a bigot.”

“No, Robbie. I don’t think he’s a bigot. He’s just trying to deal with all this. It’s not his fault I had to go and fall for him. I always fall for the first person who shows me any attention. I ruined this. He’s just...I think he’s a flirty person and I’m just the idiot who thought it meant something.”

“Shut your whore mouth Steven Elizabeth. That’s absolute nonsense. Eddie is a socially awkward, metalhead D&D playing virgin. You and I both know it. I’ve never seen him so much as look at a girl in a romantic way. He barely talks to anyone he doesn’t know unless it’s to cause a scene. That boy is not a natural flirty person. He flirts with you. He’s either an idiot, a repressed idiot or an asshole. Pick one.”

“He’s not a virgin, no way. Look at him. Some people go for the whole alternative thing. He’s in a band for fuck’s sake. I bet he’s fucked lots of girls. I mean, he is objectively hot.” Steve argued.

“Steve!! You always defend him like some sort of rabid groupie, but if that man has so much as seen a real-life titty, I will eat my shoe. He isn’t ugly, I will grant you that one. But please, Eddie Munson is not banging hot chicks on the regular.”

“I pick that he’s an idiot. I do not think Eddie would purposefully hurt me by flirting just to be all ‘ha-ha, gay boy you fell for it’ when he didn’t even know I was gay until I told him how I felt. I think he just likes to tease me, like he said and he doesn’t know how flirty it comes off maybe?”

“Dingus. You are in love with him. You are no objective source on the situation.”

“Can we just... pretend Eddie Munson doesn’t exist for a few days. I won’t play my mixtape. I will try not to mope... let’s just find an apartment and visit your campus and apply for jobs everywhere we can find. It hurts too much to talk about right now.”

Steve knows he’s lying to Robin. It’s impossible for him to pretend Eddie doesn’t exist. It’d be nice to try though. Instead of trying, he wonders what Eddie’s thinking about back in Hawkins. Is he feeling bad for how he spoke to Steve tonight? Is he also worrying over every little thing he said? Does Eddie even care that what he said felt like a slap to the face? The way he’d said Harrington, instead of Steve. The disgust in his voice when he’d said he wasn’t flirting. At least it was crystal clear that Eddie would never reciprocate his feelings. It feels nearly impossible, but Steve knows he has to let go of Eddie and move on. Two weeks in Indy with Robin should be the perfect way to start trying.

@koyislosinghismind

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring

@dilutedpondwater

@r0binscript

@wheatnoodle

@randomnessbecausewhynot

#somewhat proofread but feel free to point out any glaring errors and i will fix it #steddie #this is as much about steddie as it stobin lets be real #and queer joy and acceptance #angst #eddie is a bit of an ass but he's in a crisis and he will get better worse and then much better okay #steddie fic

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

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Remember where you wrote a fic about reader being the creator of huggy wuggy? What if we have a continuation of that (huggy still being much alive) where we basically save the smaller huggies from mommy long legs? Cause if Huggy Wuggy is my creation then these little critters are my grandbabies :D

YES YES GOD I WAS WAITING FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!! <3

(The other fic is here if yall wanna read it)

....

"Next up..Whack-A-Wuggy. Hm, wonder which toy this one’s about.”

Huggy tilted his head, looking confused as he pointed to himself. You just sighed. “That’s what we call sarcasm, bud.”

He blinked for a moment, before nodding in understanding (despite not fully getting your sarcasm). Then he ducked his head as you both headed down to the next game, which was inspired by whack-a-mole. You wondered how your Grabpack was going to come into play.

Surprisingly, your beloved creation gone rogue remained totally docile, even in the presence of Poppy and Mommy Long Legs. Though he seemed distrustful of the little red-haired doll, and was clearly annoyed that Mommy forced both of you to play these games, with him acting like a “proctor”.

It’s not like you had any choice. But luckily she didn’t try to persuade him into joining her side. So at least you weren’t alone.

“I’ve been thinking..if you’re technically my son, then are these Huggies my grandkids?” You half-joke as you gestured to the Huggy Buddies painted on the walls, seeing Huggy smile and chirp. “Yeah. I thought so. C’mon. Maybe if they see you they’ll calm down.”

Holding your hand, he followed you inside the arena, looking around at the old paint, sandy pit, and giant holes all over the walls. He was incapable of frowning and yet..felt sad.

This place looked so dark and miserable...nothing like it used to be.

His fur became bristled as the shutter suddenly slammed down, locking you both inside. “It’s okay, Hugs.” You hushed, pointing to a corner. “Just observe me from there and I’ll handle this.”

Huggy shuffled to that spot, curling up on the floor while you directed your attention to the television, which played a tape explaining the game’s rules:

“Welcome to Whack-A-Wuggy. This advanced test is designed to assess the extent of your reactionary abilities. A dual-palm Grabpack will be provided to you for this test. Around you are 18 sizeable holes. An adorable Huggy Wuggy toy could appear out of any one of these holes. If one comes out, hit it with your Grabpack. That’s all. Good luck.”

'Thanks..I’m still alive ‘cause of pure luck at this point.’ You huffed, looking up to see Mommy at the observation window.

Right on schedule.

“The toys in this game used to have strings attached to them..so they could be pulled back when they got too close to the children.” She spoke in a dull, monotone voice, still annoyed that you’ve won the last game. “Hmm..”

Your eyes widened as you saw a bundle of white strings in her grasp, dropping them to the floor. “Have fun~”

That bitch. She was cheating again!

“..oh you little-”

The lights dimmed, and you heard movement coming from within the walls, readying yourself. You’ll get your chance to yell at her later on. For now you had to focus on surviving this game.

The Buddies started crawling out one by one, their fur colored blue, red, yellow, and green. They looked filthy, bristled, and feral. You had no idea how many there actually were. Hell, you completely forgot these guys even existed.

You can forgive the company for making Kissy due to your creation’s rising popularity--but you thought these tiny versions were just one big cash grab to bring people into the Game Station by using Huggy’s face. They even had their own merchandise.

You never paid much attention to them before, though now you obviously had to. And if it weren’t for the fact they were likely trying to kill you...they seemed awfully cute.

You felt bad for hitting them back into the holes, especially since their taller counterpart was sitting in the corner watching everything, but you knew they could very well pounce on you if ignored for too long.

You weren’t about to find out if they had sharp jagged teeth like he did.

Fortunately this game went surprisingly better than Musical Memory, and you won as the lights turned back on and you heard slow applause from Mommy.

“Oh, you did it....huh.....hooray! Mommy is soooo proud of you~!”

“Whatever,” You scowled up at the pink toy, not knowing why she bothered keeping up the cheery act. “Just give me the code.”

“Okay, as Mommy promised..here’s another hint.” She snaked her arm through a nearby vent that opened up, holding a piece of paper. You took the code and looked at it as she retracted her arm. “Only one more game left to play. Sad, Mommy was hoping you’d stay here forever. Though..it’s never too late to change your mind. What if he wanted you to stay?”

Huggy blinked at him being mentioned, growling at her.

“Leave him out of this.” You huffed. “See you at the next game.”

“Of course~! It’s going to be so much fun!” She giggled as she left the room.

Finally you were allowed to leave the arena, though Huggy seemed hesitant to go, wanting to check up on the Buddies. But at your insistence, he followed you through the tunnels.

Shortly after that, however, his hearing picked up something that you didn’t quite catch. And suddenly you saw him sprinting back to that area. “Wait! Where are you going?!” Letting go of the grappling bar, you chased after him, confused. “That’s the wrong way, Huggy! We can’t-!!”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the horrific sounds of crashing and terrified screeching you heard. And you both eventually stumbled upon a terrible sight in the middle of Whack-A-Wuggy:

It was Mommy, throwing one of the red Buddies against the wall, before snatching a green one out from a hole, strangling the poor thing. Nearby, a blue and yellow one were ensnared in a cobweb, their fur all bloodied and matted as they struggled.

You were shocked.

Was she..punishing them for failing to get rid of you?

“You disappointed me so much, especially you four!! I EXPECTED BETTER FROM ALL OF YOU!!” She screamed, choking the life out of the green Buddy. “Do you want Mommy to string you up by your NECKS?!! Maybe Mommy will do that and leave you there until you learn to be-!!!”

Suddenly she heard a much louder screech and turned just in time to see Huggy tackle her, catching the green Buddy and scooping up the red one. You realized what he was doing and immediately rescued the other two from the web, cradling them in your arms.

Mommy coughed as sand got into her mouth and eyes, recovering just in time to see you and Huggy fleeing the area. She didn’t follow, though, instead laying there fuming.

She never thought Huggy, of all toys, would stick by you. Poppy was only expected, but him?

Curious, she’ll just watch and wait for the moment he betrayed you. Maybe with the Buddies joining you they’ll turn on you, too, and devour you whole.

That thought made her giggle.

Surely the beast within him will reawaken soon enough.

.............

As soon as you felt like you were far away from the game, you stopped to catch your breath, shrugging off the Grabpack. “God..what the hell was that about?” You knelt down to set the yellow and blue Buddies on the floor.

Was Mommy seriously mad about you winning a game that she rigged? And why would she take it out on the toys?

‘Did she do the same to Bunzo?’ You recalled hearing stuff being thrown around and cymbals clashing as you left Musical Memory, but elected to ignore it.

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

Regardless, you felt better knowing you at least helped these guys despite them trying to kill you minutes ago. You believed Mommy was using them since there was nobody else around.

Sighing, you watched as the two Buddies flocked to Huggy, whimpering and whining as they hugged him alongside the green and red ones. He chirped softly to calm them down, and for a moment...you thought you saw tears in his glossy plastic eyes.

As heartbreaking as the scene was, it also warmed your heart a little to know he wasn’t a mindless monster chasing you through vents anymore. He could still love.

All those scientists who claimed he couldn’t feel such things anymore were wrong about him. Their experiments might have broken his mind, but you came back here to heal his broken heart. And that made you smile.

You were much too tired to get up from the floor at the moment, so you were surprised as all four Buddies ran back to you and hugged you. Their small chirps indicated they were sorry for attacking you before.

"It’s okay, little fellas. You’re safe with us now.” Gathering them into your arms, you squeezed them, feeling like a kid again. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

Huggy simply watched with joy, glad that you’re finally reconnecting with his family.

He hasn’t felt this happy in years.

#clanask #anonymous #poppy playtime x reader #huggy wuggy #huggy wuggy x reader #huggy buddies #mini huggy wuggies

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nerdieforpedro · 11 days

Text

We have two Wavelengths

Din Dajrin x plus size female reader

This blog overall is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2k

Summary: You and Din have grown closer since you’ve joined the Razor Crest. A trip to his coven is rather informative and inspires some new thoughts.

Warnings: Two nervous people, maybe a sort of interrogation, we're still all about the hands, actual good advice?, forehead bumps are scandalous!, so are dreams at times, Nerdie is not serious with these tags

Notes: Paz Vizla and The Armorer make an appearance! ☺️ Are they helpful? Maybe. We’ll see.

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin Masterlist/ Our Journey Across The Star Ocean Series

He told me to call him Din six months ago. Things changed then. For one, I finally knew his name. It’s…fun to say. I’m not sure what that means, I don’t think I say in a weird way, it’s just after calling him ‘Mando’ for so long it’s so good to know his actual name. We’ve been holding hands when sitting in the cockpit together, often without his gloves on. I’m not exactly sure how important that is, but it holds some significance given he’s normally covered head to toe. Even when we make stops to refuel or for different jobs, Din normally has a hand gloved or not on me somewhere. I thought I would be a lot more nervous about the more public display, but I enjoy it. I wonder how I can show him how I feel too, wait how do I feel?

I mean he did buy me a new work apron (I couldn’t stitch my old one back together. The different patches were coming apart.) and a sort of vest he said to wear when we’re going after bounties. He came back with it a month after we visited ‘The Armorer.’ The name sounds ominous, but she was very kind and had a booming laugh. I feel like if there was ever a time I could picture Din’s helmet turning red with embarrassment, it was when she asked him if I was his ‘riduur (wife/partner).’ That’s clearly something else important because he looked at me while answering and said, “we haven’t discussed anything about that yet. She has equal say in it.” Maybe it means like a full partner in bounty hunting endeavors or something. The way she chuckled makes me think she was teasing him a bit. I thought his body language would only be that stiff around Peli. But he eventually loosened back up in calling me over to shake hands with her. Grogu knows The Armorer well as he jumped in her arms and patted her golden helmet. She planned to take measurements of me and told Din to go check in with someone named Paz. He didn’t seem enthused about this at all but did as she asked.

“You know his true name I assume. This denotes a high level of trust in you.” Walking around me, her head tilted back and forth. “You have been traveling with him for a little under a year, yes?” I nodded to her question and held my arms out as she took a measuring tape off the wall of her forge. “You know not what is under his armor, correct?”

“He’s never removed his helmet in front of me. He would never do that.” It’s a slight sting when I say it, but it’s one of the essential tenets of his creed so even if I’d love if he did, I’d never ask him to do something like that. I feel her touch the blaster on my hip before going to scribble something down and returning to take more measurements.

“Djarin gave you this did he not? Has he given you anything else?” The Armorer sounds genuinely curious with this question. I nodded and told her about my new work apron he recently got for me and a dark green scarf to tie my hair back when I’m out and about. But Grogu normally plays with it and likes to sleep with it sometimes, so I have a yellow one he got me as well as a backup. She’s stroking the bottom of her helmet where I assume her chin might be. “I shall create something for you. You are welcome back here anytime. I will let Djarin know of this as well. Oh! Take this.” She hands me a retractable knife that looks just like Din’s armor. I know what material that is.

“Ma’am this is beskar. I’m not…I can’t take this. It’s only for Mandalorians right?” I’m starting to wonder if she’s testing me, like would you accept something you know you’re not supposed to have just because Din was cool with bringing you here? Hmm? Her laugh fills all the space in her forge, and she claps her hand on my shoulder.

“Consider it a welcome gift my dear. The fact that you’re here already means you have been accepted. Not quite the same as us given our different ways, but I can tell you mean no ill will. Most critical - you respect and care for him and his foundling deeply. If you did not, you’d have met my hammer swiftly.” I feel equal parts relieved and frightened. Din returns with a towering Mandalorian in navy blue beskar. The armor varies greatly, and I wonder if the colors are just personal preference or have other meanings. The navy-blue armor nods in my direction and leaves back down the hallway. The Armorer whispers one more thing to me before picking up Grogu who’s been playing with a dome on the ground. It could be a shield, or shoulder pad? No, the right name for it was…pauldron! “When you get back to the ship and before you rest for your next journey, tap your forehead to the top of Djarin’s helmet. You’ll be wishing him to get you all to your destination safely.” I could hear the smile as she instructed me, and she’s gone to meet Din near a wall of weapons he’s looking through. I feel like that holds significance as well, but again I don’t know what. I’m going to need to add all these to the notes I’ve been keeping about Mandalorian culture.

My vest the Armorer made me had a small gold wrench symbol over the left chest where the entirety of the armor was silver like Din’s. It’s so beautiful but heavy so I needed help putting it on and taking it off for a while until I got more used to it. Din still offered to help me put it on sometimes, so I let him, it’s also another time he doesn’t wear his gloves so I feel his hands on my shoulders and arms.

I did as The Armorer told me that day when we got back to the ship. Grogu was in his bassinet near my cot. I told Din to get some rest himself and held his hand like I normally do before I leave. This time, I closed my eyes and leaned down to touch my forehead to his cool beskar. I lingered for a few extra seconds and didn’t realize that I had placed my other hand on his breastplate. “Good night Din. Don’t forget to rest too. You’re going to show me some of the basic controls one of these days so you can sleep too.” I bid him goodnight and went off to sleep, recalling his humming. He normally does that when he’s pleased so it was worth feeling a little silly.

Maker I think I’ve done a bit too much. Not that I didn’t want to, I actually want to do more. I’d like to give her the same type of hug Grogu does after one of his naps, snuggled up against her. But I can’t, well I could, but I might set off all the sensors in my armor if I do that. Things have been going smoothly. Her work apron had seen much better days so I got her a new one that’s much more durable and of better quality. This combined with the blaster and two scarves is quite a bit, I’ve pretty much proposed. I’m investing in her, she’s my…well partner for now. We’ve been together nearly a year, that’s enough time. I’ve seen outside of Mandalorian culture I’m supposed to get a ring for her. Figuring the size will be easy. I’ve decided to take her with me on my next delivery of beskar to the coven.

Every other time, I hate Paz. With the burning passion of The Armorer’s forge when she melts down the beskar I bring, but on this single matter. The mir’sheb (smartass) is right. I told him how our interactions had been so far, exchanges and the like.

“Sounds like you haven’t really told her anything and have just been giving her stuff without context dumbass. She’s not one of us, how is she supposed to know?” I hate that this nerf herder is correct. I need to have an actual conversation with her about everything. “Has she seen your face Din? You aren’t so far gone that you forgot that, did you?”

“No she has not. She respects the creed. She’s never asked me to do anything to dishonor it.” I had gone with Paz to visit some members of the coven whom I hadn’t seen for a while. We weren’t particularly close, but it’s always best to say hello at least. I’m not sure what conversation The Armorer would have wanted to have with her, but it shouldn’t be bad. I think.

“It sounds like you’ve found someone you should keep by your side then. Just talk to the woman. If she’s stuck around you this long, it’s in your favor that she’s not going anywhere. Since you already gave her one weapon, you can give another one that suits her along with one of those rings you see those basic humans wear.” Paz snorts and Din hits him on his shoulder. “Calm down Djarin. I didn’t say she was basic. I was referring to non-Mandalorians. You’ve always been so sensitive.” Rounds around the coven went quickly and we were back in the forge where it seemed they had been discussing something important. After getting a new weapon from The Armorer and her telling me to stop back by in a month, we left. I’d already had her hand in mine on our way out. They should know here too that she’s with me. That’s what the ring would be for, wouldn’t it? We picked up some more supplies and headed for the ship.

Grogu took some rounds of ‘hide the shiny ball’ to settle down to sleep. I was able to sit with cyar’ika (beloved) without interruption. I told her about checking in at the covent and expressed that I’d like her to walk around with me the next time we have beskar to drop off. She expressed that she would and I placed my hand on her knee. A bit forward on my part, but she placed her hand over mine and stood up. I thought she was going to tell me about what her and The Armorer discussed but she told me to get more rest. She’s normally telling me that. I’m used to functioning on less sleep, but I’ve trained myself to wake when I hear odd noises. Until I got used to Grogu’s sounds, I didn’t sleep much the first few months I had him.

I should have pulled her close and held her. I’m not sure if she knows what the touching of foreheads really means in Mandalorian culture, but she wished me to get some sleep and said something about the controls before she left. In the minute (or maybe longer), she held her forehead to the area above my T-visor. One of her hands is in mine and the other is on my chest. This new level of closeness - I’m not going to let it go. I’m finding I'm so greedy when it comes to her, in a way that I haven’t been, even with the care I provide to my foundling Grogu. I’m humming with glee, at least I think that’s my armor. It could be me, I’ll do diagnostics later.

The dream I have later that night when I fold my arms and wrap my cape around myself to doze off.

She’s given me another forehead bump, but I’m bold this time and put my arms around her wide hips, pulling her close to press my T-visor into her soft stomach, easing her to sit on my lap. Just having her lean against me, now her cheek pressed against the side of my helmet. I call her cyar’ika while she calls me Din. I hear her say it repeatedly, while I place my hand on her thigh, keeping her in place.

If she does it again, I’ll definitely pull my mesh’la (beautiful) close like in my dream. We’ll figure out the communication later, I just want to dream right now.

Part Two Part Four

Space Buddies 🚀: @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @bishtrouille

@sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @604to647 @megamindsecretlair

@anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid

@harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @pedroshotwifey @thefrogdalorian

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @jessthebaker @connectioneverywhere @grogusmum

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #din djarin x plus size reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #Our Journey Across the Star Ocean

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redlettermediathings · 1 month

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A wise man once said, “Brevity is the soul of wit.” Well, if that’s the case, judging by the length of this video these are four of the most witless clown-fools on the internet today. Mike, Jay, Jack and Rich Evans are perhaps the dumbest humans that have ever krebbed in my shorts. Hi I’m retired underground illegal casino pit boss Krebs Gorlon, and today I write to you from my home in war-torn Haiti to tell you about this newest episode of Best of the Worst. I'm farting as I type this due to the bacteria ravaging my colon, but I will try to make sense. Boy, it sure has been a long time since we’ve seen the boys watch three feature films, eh? But alas, today they are spinning the Wheel of the Worst™ again... There’s something about old, undiscovered tapes that makes my taint tingle with the titillating excitement of that first time I killed a man. Rich and Jack display a palpable level of non-excitement at this prospect in our video’s opening. Trust me, I get it. Sometimes these tapes can be a nightmare. Sometimes they can be a lot of fun though. It’s about as exciting as being forced to play a game of Russian Roulette with your precious time and sanity. Mike (the ugly fat one) appears to be the most unhinged of them all in this episode. You see Jay (the hippie clown) had haplessly purchased a case of “Hazy IPAs”. Silly little man that he is, he purchased solely on the style of the packaging. A lovely hazy as it is though. Voodoo Ranger’s Tropical Force. A product made by New Belgium brewing. Note: They are a NON-Sponsor. In fact, we’ll probably get sued showing what vile filth comes out of Mike’s mouth after drinking a dozen of these. So essentially what was cut from the video was Mike berating Jay on his foolish purchase. You see, the supply in the RLM booze fridge with thin at best. Jay bought beer cause he liked the green/yellow package design and was thrilled at the sight of a skeleton aviator on the can. What he didn’t check was the ABV, which is at a very healthy 9.5%. Mike’s been around the block a few times more than Jay so that’s the very first thing Mike checks. After our Half in the Bag “What are these super bottles?!” incident when Mike accidentally drank 9 beers that were 12%, he knows to check. ABV stands for alcohol by volume. It also stands for how soon Mike becomes a slurring monster who can’t say the word “apartment” and passes out into a bonfire suffering 2nd degree burns on his wang and dumplings – rendering all his man-parts useless. However, Mike faced a difficult choice: Deal with the unbearable state of sobriety or drink the beers that are 9.5% and hope for the best. He chose the latter. Krebs does not approve. The results will be apparent as the night goes on. In the end though, what we have here is another classic Wheel of the Worst. So settle in for the next 90 minutes with your favorite beverage and snack and prepare to laugh, cry, and soil yourself with laughter that will give you nightmares for the rest of your sad lives.

#youtube #redlettermedia #red letter media #rich evans #jay bauman #gorilla interrupted #half in the bag #mike stoklasa #best of the worst #jack packard

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scribblestatic · 7 months

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I'm on my chubby izu brainrot fr

(tw fat shaming, as usual)

First Trial: 50-Meter Dash

Of course, the buff speedy guy, Iida Tenya (from the Iida Family!!) took the fastest time at 3.04 seconds. However, the other times aren't to be ignored. The girl with the frog quirk, Asui Tsuyu, finished in just over 5.5 seconds.

Some claimed to shave off several seconds of their middle school times, like the flashy boy, Aoyama Yuuga. Others only ran just a few seconds faster, if the times changed at all.

Then, it was his and Kacchan's turn. The two stretched before preparing to shoot off.

"So, you ruined my goal of being the only one from our shitty school to get into U.A.," Kacchan mutters.

Izuku cautiously glances over bent slightly to prepare for running. But Katsuki grins at him, eyes crinkling.

"But you're gonna get kicked out just as quickly. What a fun first you're gonna have, quirkless lard ass!"

"START!" the robot's voice announces.

Katsuki splays his hands and fires off, one of the explosions going off near Izuku's face. Although his eyes burn with the sudden brightness, Izuku shuts them tightly and runs with his eyes closed, waiting for stars to quit bursting in his vision.

Kacchan finishes in 4.13 seconds.

As he looks down at his hands, he mulls over how using both of them reduced his overall output. Curious, he glances back to see how far behind Izuku is.

To his mild surprise, he passes the robot with his eyes squinted open, a slight burn mark on his nose.

"6.69 seconds."

Izuku stumbles to a stop, rubbing at the burn on his nose as nervous sweat seems to come off of him in a nova. Moreover, unlike some of the others, he doesn't appear to be out of breath, simply breathing just a bit heavier than usual from exertion.

"Wow..." A boy with tape dispensers in his elbows knocks one against another boy with yellow hair and a black streak, a grin on his face. "He beat you, man."

"Am...am I really that out of shape?" the boy, Kaminari Denki, mulls, thinking back to his 7.38 second time.

But Ochako reaches over, patting his shoulder. She herself got a 7.15 second time.

"Don't worry about it. He's got crazy stamina!"

Just thinking back to how quickly he recovered after Recovery Girl gave him a kiss still makes her wonder just where he got all that energy from. She was down for almost the entire rest of the day just to sleep!

"Oh. Huh... Is that his quirk?"

"Uhm...I don't actually know," she replies, shrugging sheepishly.

"Hmmh..." Katsuki simply glares at Izuku before moving on, the chubby boy following after to rejoin with the others.

As they approach, Ochako waves at him in greeting. He sees her, his nose still red, but his cheeks soon join, and despite his still nervous demeanor, he waves back quietly.

"I'm so happy to see him here! As soon as we're done, I wanna tell him thanks!"

"Huh, thanks for what?" the tape boy, Sero Hanta, asks.

"Oh, uh... I kinda got in some trouble during the exam and almost got really hurt. But he rescued me from the zero-pointer!"

"Eehh? That huge monster robot? He confronted that thing??" another voice cuts in.

When they look back, it's Eijirou, though he laughs.

"Hah, sorry for being nosy."

"No, no, it's fine. But yeah! My ankle got pinned, and he ran into the dust cloud to rescue me! He was super cool."

"Whoa...that's manly as hell!"

"Yeah, no way I was gonna confront that thing," Denki admits. "I was fizzed out by that point."

The group continue talking about the exam as the next part starts. Izuku doesn't really hear them, going back to the quiet corner of the group with a boy, who, after some silence and sign language, introduces himself as Kouda Koji.

Second Trial: Grip Strength Test

From his constant work lifting and carrying heavy items, he had to strengthen his grip so he wouldn't drop anything. That thankfully translated well into positive results.

Izuku upped his middle school grip from 52 kgw to 95 kgw. Of course, he hears his result get completely overshadowed by two other people.

One is a tall boy with several arms attached with a membrane. Shoji Mezo pumps out a whopping 540 kgw. Another person, Yaoyorozu Momo, creates a mechanized gauntlet, pulling out an astounding 600 kgw.

Izuku looks down at his grip machine, dejected. But it's the best he can do so far. If he manages to not be last, perhaps he can improve his grip even more.

Third Trial: Long Standing Jump

Izuku doesn't even want to think about his results. Unless it's on a diving board, jumping has never really been his strongest suit.

He doesn't realize he surpasses about three or four students in his jump, making them anxious about their own results.

Fourth Trial: Sustained Sideways Jumps

Izuku hates them.

He almost wants to ask to not do them, but he knows better than to do that. After all, it's necessary to see where he is strength-wise.

However, when he'd done them in middle school, his classmates had always laughed at him. His belly and thighs jiggle with his movements, and they would have quite cruel things to say. The teachers wouldn't really do anything about it.

So, when it's his turn, he feels his heart clench, already thinking he hears someone whispering about how entertaining it's going to be. His hands tremble a bit, but he clenches them into fists, going to stand in the middle, waiting to start.

As he does them, he feels their eyes on him. He almost starts crying, but he holds it back, his face scrunched in mild despair the entire time. He manages to finish before the first tears start dotting his lower eyelashes, and he quietly shuffles back to the silent crowd, holding back a sniffle.

"Oh, are you okay?"

Izuku blinks, looking up at the pretty girl he first saw when he entered the class. Yaoyorozu Momo stands there, concern in her eyes. There's nothing cruel there, at least, he doesn't think so.

"Did you hurt something? We can ask sensei to--"

But Izuku shakes his head.

"N-No. I'm fine. Th...Thank you."

He sniffles again, managing a smile for her.

"Oh... Alright. Well, keep it up!" She balls her fists cheerily. "Do your best!"

His smile slightly shifts to something less put-on. It's...not often he gets encouragement from others. It's pretty astounding how instant of a salve it is on his heart.

"I...I will."

Fifth Trial: Pitching

Izuku watches in awe as Ochako's ball floats up past the stratosphere.

Yeah, there's no way anyone else is getting as good of a result as that.

As Izuku heads out to pitch, Ochako and Tenya murmur to each other.

"Midoriya's his name, right? He's not doing too well."

"He's doing okay, I think," Ochako hums. "I heard his grip strength was really good. I'm not so surprised about that."

"That's true. But he's not really done anything super outstanding. Most of his results are average or above average. I'm not sure if that'll be enough for him to stay."

"Hah!"

Katsuki shoves his hands into his pockets, grinning snidely as Izuku stretches his arms.

"He's just a quirkless fatass. You shouldn't expect too much from him."

That catches a few people's attention, the nearby kids perking up.

"Wait, quirkless? For real?" A short purple boy, Mineta Minoru, asks. "I heard the reporters talking about it, but I didn't think it was real."

"Oooh, so he's the kid they were talking about? I didn't even know he was in our class!" Ashido Mina laughs.

"Ehh, but...if I lose to him, I've really got no excuse..."

"That's kind of rude, Kaminari-kun," Asui Tsuyu ribbits.

"Eh...so...he's quirkless," Ochako murmurs, shock dawning in her expression.

He was quirkless during the exam, too. And despite not having a quirk, he was the only one who ran to save her. Tenya seems to come to a similar conclusion, his mouth open in shock.

"...Don't expect much from him, you said?" Momo asks, a slight frown on her face. "You don't know, do you?"

"Hah? Don't know what?" Katsuki grouches back.

"Well... His name is Midoriya Izuku, right?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

She looks over to where Izuku is, the boy glancing nervously at the crowd and sweating. A quick call from their teacher forces him to focus back on the throw at hand.

"I'm sure you've heard your ranking for the Entrance Exam. I'm not in those results as I got in under the recommendation exam instead. But if I recall...yes. I think you got second place, right?"

Being reminded of his failure, Katsuki's expression immediately sours. Shoulders lowered and anger clear on his face, he glared at the girl.

"Yeah, what of it?!"

Momo then points at Izuku, who is doing his throw.

His arm moves quickly, tossing the ball as far as he can. It touches down a bit away, though not as far as some of the other results. Still, for a quirkless person, it's quite far at 106 meters. It beats out several of the others, especially those without physically-enhancing quirks.

"He got first."

They all stare at her, so she clarifies.

"Midoriya Izuku got first place in the regular Entrance Exam."

It's quite as Izuku approaches the group, prepared to go back to the quiet corner again. But when they notice him, all eyes lock on him. Izuku squeaks, freezing up.

"...'You shouldn't expect too much from him.'" Hanta mocks quietly, covering his mouth. "Says the guy who got second place to him."

Beside him, Jirou Kyouka can't help but snicker.

But Katsuki barely hears them. Instead, all he hears is the blood rushing through his body, turning into a torrent of rage.

What the hell?

Who did this quirkless fatass think he was, coming in first? It was already implausible he passed in the first place, but he has the audacity to come in first?!

Katsuki was frustrated that he didn't get first place, coming in second. He vowed then that he would totally destroy whoever actually got the first place mantle to show them who really deserved it. For a minute there, he thought it was maybe Ponytail Girl was the one who beat him out, but she was some Extra Elite who got in through connections.

But he never once would've imagined the one who beat him out was that useless lard bastard!

His hands began to smoke. Then, he swiftly turns away, running full speed at Izuku.

The boy's eyes widen before he shuts them tightly, raising his arms to protect his face. That just irritates him even more.

"You shitrag! Explain yourself, Deku!"

He reaches out, ready to pummel him into the dirt. But pale wrappings suddenly tighten around his body, and his quirk, once thrumming under his skin, is suddenly dissipated, as though it was never there.

Katsuki grunts, the bindings pulling his head back and forcing him to shut an eye.

Izuku stays standing there for a moment, frozen up and waiting to be hit, until an irritated voice echoes over them.

"You."

All of the students look over to their teacher.

Eraser Head's hair floats ominously over his body, the wraps around his neck also hovering. He digs his fingers into the tough material of his capture weapon, eyes gleaming bright red. Indeed, concealed around his neck are the yellow and black goggles indicative of Eraser Head.

"I said you're using your quirks to test your limits, not to use it against each other," he says, his tone low and rumbling. "So what made you think attacking your classmate was a good idea?"

What the hell...

From the time they were four, no one stopped him when he went to whomp on Deku. Katsuki was better than him, so if Deku got in his way, the students and teachers let him do what he wanted. Deku was just a pebble in the road for him, just someone for him to step on and continue forward.

But the little bastard got it up in his head that he could cram himself into the sole of his shoe and carry himself forward with it. Now he's trying to detach from his shoe and fly forward, further ahead, using him as cannon fodder.

No way. No fucking way. He wouldn't allow it.

But his quirk doesn't answer him, Eraser Head glaring as his eyelids lowered.

"Pull this stunt again, and I'll expel you right here and now, saving everyone else the trouble. Understood?"

Katsuki flinches. Then, he stops pulling against the capture weapon, backing up. After a moment, it slips from around him, returning easily to Eraser Head with a light tug. Meanwhile, Izuku stares at the teacher with sparkling eyes, absolutely enamored by being able to see his quirk in action.

"Ughh...don't make me use my quirk unnecessarily," he grumbles, rubbing his eyes as his hair stops floating. He digs into his pocket and takes out eyedrops, putting one in each eye with practiced ease. "...Anyway, on to the next trial."

Izuku immediately goes to follow, though he flinches upon remembering Katsuki's there. He lowers his head and slinks around him, going over to the group. There, he finds himself surprised when a few students approach him.

"Hey, are you okay?! He didn't get you, did he?" an invisible girl, Hagakure Tooru, asks, her body language showing concern.

"That startled me, the way he just jumped out at you... Do you know him?" Ochako asks.

"Oh...uhm..." His face immediately starts turning red, not used to this sort of attention. "I...I'm...okay."

"Sensei was right to stop him," Momo huffs, shooting a glare toward him. "C'mon, we need to go to the next test."

"Yikes...that wasn't cool at all," Denki mutters.

"Jumping at a quirkless person like that is pretty bad, isn't it? I mean, as a hero, for sure," Sato Rikido murmurs, bending down toward a bird-headed student. While he doesn't reply by speaking, Tokoyami Fumikage hums his agreement.

Katsuki remains standing there for a moment before he grits his teeth, following after the others to the next test.

#au post 7 #chubby deku au #static writes #static drabbles #bnha au #mha au #bnha

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chibivesicle · 7 months

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Kekkai Sensen character clothing colors continued

I've been under the weather with epically bad seasonal allergies and a busy few weeks of work on top of deciding to draw and write for fun. Oh, and working on my Daniel Law cosplay for the future. Anyhoo, I'm back to thinking about clothing colors and outfits in KKSS and of course I'm stuck on my man, Daniel. Which might be less about clothing colors and more about the fact that he's got different outfits compared to the rest of the cast.

The most common look and appearance for Daniel Law is from the anime as shown here.

He has his dark brown hair, white dress shirt, red tie, brown suit and tan coat.

In the same episode we later see him kicking back at the office with his messy desk without the coat but still wearing the rest of the drab brown suit. I still want to know how smoking is still allowed in offices and he's got his own ash tray at his desk, where we see the smoke rising up in the entire scene from every angle.

Later on when he appears in season two, he still maintains the same look, tan coat, red tie, white shirt and brown suit.

This is most famously highlighted in the OP where he's on the fire escape here looking at the camera while the rest of the police are not.

He really got the short end of the stick in season two; despite being in the OP and ED (standing near Steven in the ED beyond the yellow police tape) he had one scene in the background looking disgruntled as they arrest the men Steven froze. I'm guessing he's on the phone with Steven or something to that effect.

Of course he shows up in the finale only to yell at Libra that they are finally there still wearing the same outfit.

All of the above scenes except for the Get the Lock Out bit (where he isn't even in the manga chapter) are from the KKSS volumes 1-10. Interestingly, when he's introduced in the manga, Daniel has a light colored tie, both with the policesuits and during his formal introduction through Steven and Klaus.

I guess we are to retroactively interpret this tie to be likely light green since he'll sport one much later in Back 2 Back.

One thing I noticed while reading Back 2 Back was the fact that his suit and tie colors were different depending on the arc.

For the Noctova Smile arc, Daniel sports his most popular look (based on fanart) the pinstripe waistcoat and pants. We first get a look at his pants under his signature coat when he tells Steven to get back to Klaus as he leaves the crime scene.

Later on we get many panels of him at the precinct wearing this waistcoat which save for one page is dark so I'm going to go with red tie. By far this is his best outfit and I refer to it as his outfit upgrade.

The next few stories settle on a mismatched suit pants combination. It is most obvious in the My Life as a Doc chapters.

I guess this is a light brown suit jacket with dark brown pants and a red tie? We also see this in the dead lynx short chapter with Brody & Hummer, as well as Neyka and Patrick's backstory chapter with Guinness.

When the final story of Back 2 Back starts, the Calamity Auction arc, Daniel is back to wearing a light brown suit and red tie. This is likely to contrast with his brother Marcus appearing for the first time with an actual name since his introduction in the background of Bloodline Fever/chapter 5.

Marcus is show back at the precinct wearing a white dress shirt, light green tie and his firearm holster.

This also gets back the the point that I keep thinking about - does Daniel even carry a gun in the story for the most part? Sure he shoots at Nightow in the omake; yet we only see him pull his gun on the auction house manager when he's under arrest with plenty of support. Which makes Daniel's own gun pointless to aim at him.

Adding into the mix was the manga color chapter here after the official introduction of Marcus.

An interesting thing to note is that in the full color page, Daniel is wearing black oxfords which are clear if you have the acrylic stand. Here we have Marcus in a medium grey suit with red tie while Daniel has a purple-grey one with the light green tie. Or perhaps, Marcus is wearing a sort of navy suit which would be the most popular and easiest.

The only signature aspect of Daniel's look are the following; tan coat, white dress shirt and a tendency to wear earth tones, the brown and purple-grey (stone?) sort of color above. He's got a mix of red and green ties just like his brother. Perhaps, the scenes where he's got the darker pants color is when he's wearing this purple-grey suit? There are a few shots of him with dark shoes which may be black instead of brown.

We sort of have to wing it, so I'll go with Daniel either having brown or a possible purple-grey suit.

Brown - this is seen as a classic suit color and one that had the additional vibe of a person being honest, humble, approachable etc. When thinking about Daniel's character, I feel that he's almost honest to a fault - when Luciana Estevez prevents him from entering the hospital to make an arrest he expresses is discontent with a kick to the pipe as well. He's got that scruffy hardworking vibe that he's not trying to impress anyone and instead means business.

Grey-purple - it is hard to determine where this color falls; I'm just putting it under the general darker grey category. It has a warm undertone and would be very practical. Professional but not over the top.

Pinstripes - the Noctova Smile arc was the one time Daniel was sporting pinstripes which are a very formal and power play for menswear. This makes sense since he was the head of the operations to take the object outside of HL via police escort. Additionally, this was a chapter where Daniel was incredibly confident with his plan and back up plans. You couldn't help but feel sorry for him as even his intricate plans did not work out. In his defense he didn't include Curious showing up . . . Return of his pinstripe outfit when Nightow?

White dress shirt - the most classic and practical thing to chose. So, very much Daniel. I could see him rationalizing it based on the fact if it gets dirty, he'll just bleach it. Really, you can't go wrong with white and it works well with brown suits.

Red tie - a clear power color. Shows that he's in charge and fits with his personality to quickly get people to move to action. This is quite obvious across media and styling especially in the States.

Green tie - a confident color. Another example where Daniel is demonstrating that he knows what is happening and competent. I don't think it leans towards the concepts of envy or jealousy. Apparently, much more popular in the UK than the States. Which, now that I think about it, green isn't really a thing in the States. I personally, feel the green is also more youthful; maybe Daniel is trying to compensate for his exhaustion?

Tan coat - classic detective garb in American media. This garment goes back to film noir and detective stories of the early twentieth century. Daniel (and Marcus) are simply more examples of characters who are visually identified by this obvious clothing silhouette. The cigarette adds to his classic detective appearance and the only thing missing is a fedora honestly. However, I don't think that most men have such cinched waists as seen with Daniel. The exact style of his coat also varies from time to time. It could be variability in the artwork (most likely) but I like to think with all of the crazy shit in HL, that's how many coats he goes through in the line of duty.

Anime Daniel is considerably stockier as well as shorter when compared with his appearance in the manga. He is also notoriously slouchy in the manga, making him have posture that is as bad as Steven's. The tight waist is not a part of his character design and they really went with very drab colors besides the red tie. I'd be curious to know what the decision was to change that aspect of his appearance. Hell, I've always been curious why the made Steven's suit charcoal instead of light grey.

Interestingly, the color which is never associated with Daniel is blue - either the classic navy blue or even a more blue-blue. I feel that we might get Marcus wearing navy blue in the future. Hell, it might be sort of what he's wearing in the color panel a navy blue suit with red tie is just classic, lazy, American male power look.

Whatever the color is, it is clear that Daniel does not wear blue. I feel that his color palette is earth tones that are warm. It shows that he's serious, confident and capable but approachable. With a slight issue of getting mouthy or hot-headed when people do things he thinks are really bad ideas. I would guess, Daniel shows that he's somewhat unconventional and doesn't try to default to looking how people expect him to. Instead, he's got a clear retro vibe showing he likely isn't one to follow any sort of trends. He makes his fashion statement with his coat not his suits or ties for the most part. All in all, I think his style choices are deliberate to make sure he looks decent. Yet, at the same time not putting to much effort into it for fear someone would judge him as shallow or vain.

Anyways, that's all I've got on this for now.

#kekkai sensen #kekkai sensen meta #kekksai sensen manga #lieutenant daniel law #daniel law #assistant inspector daniel law #blood blockade battlefront meta #blood blockade battlefront anime #character color choices

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kiwibirdlafayette · 9 months

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Aitheaca: About Flash’s clothes, are they reflective? Is it made to look like gold (with gold embellishments) or is his jacket like actually gold (assuming it’s something similar to gold leaf but for fabric and lightweight)?

If his clothes are reflective, I think combat with him could be really fun, because he just causes blindness on the battlefield on sunny days. It’d also be fun with someone on the crew didn’t realize who they were talking to upon first meeting him because looking directly at him is hard. So, they don’t know the danger they’re in until it’s too late.

Also! What’s crew dynamic looking like? I saw you mentioned Spark was on the crew a while back, but just to confirm, who’s officially on the crew?

Out of all the Aitheaca designs, who’s your favorite?

Thank you so much for the questions!! I appreciate it a ton, it means an absolute lot that you're interested in my sillies :D

With Flash's jacket, hell yeah! I wasn't specifically going for a reflective surface, but I did want his jacket to appear as if it was weaved out of fibered gold (that Im assumin would be like gold leaf in texture), that is yes lightweight man's gotta be able to move fast... like a flash of light haHA-

When light reflects off it in certain ways it could absolutely be used like a flashbang to blind enemies during battle, I'm imagining AND YESSS the crew would have zero idea, like in the plot I have in my head so far, Tom, Sonja and Spark are the first ones to encounter Flash, they just see a shape of a man in the sunbeam ahead, too bright to tell who exactly it was. Initially they think it could be Jordan, but its actually Flash, who was tipped off to their location based on Tom's Mecha-Dianite quintessence (that still puts off a pretty strong signature despite the cloaking sigils Wag had given him). Like you mentioned, he's really hard to look at, because while he's standing in the sun he's not creating a shadow, he's reflecting it. And its in this time they don't notice him pull out his weapons and BANG

Mer and co. end up having to come in to come in to help them out-because they don't exactly have experience fighting someone who is wearing basically a mirror for a jacket in direct sunlight- wearing wearing some kine specialized obsidian sunglasses because yknow this is isn't their first rodeo with this yellow dipshit (Merina's not as affected as Will and Cass but she's gonna wear em anyway for the bit)

I think of the designs, probably either Merina, Cass and Ianite are my favorite! Ia because I just had a lot of fun designing her armor and coming up with a darker color palette costume design that wasn't just dark purple, and working with different armor styles to get the specific celestial warlord look I wanted her to have :D Cass was just a fun design to do overall because his aesthetics have been something I dont get to work with much, a very patchwork vintage kind of thing, which is supposed to be a callback to Inter Amorem et Timorem , a short screenplay I wrote for school where- aside from it being a Tom reference- he was named Cassell because his emotions were spoken through cassette tapes C: But Merina's design might just be my favorite, I am a sucker for nautical designs and trying to figure out what a coraldragon hybrid might look like compared to a typical merling was a ton of fun :D Also trying to work in the color palettes of the Watchers was how I landed on the blueish purple scheme, because initially she was going to be teal and orange to call back a little to Sonja across the multiverse

(I promise I also love William equally but too much of his design was me making jokes about Joel/Pix/Bdubs)

And the crew! Currently as I have it, the peeps that end up in Aitheaca are Jordan, Tom, Capsize, Sonja, Martha, Spark (Tucker I was thinking about including, but I'm not sure how to work him back in, but basically they would find him in a different SMP prior to this; where the reconciliation between him and Sonja starts) Its very interesting to have 3 different Sparklez variants in the same timeline, surely nothing could go wrong /hj, but the dynamic can best be defined as "a group of people who desperately just need to figure their shit out because damn they have not really had a proper chance to rest and feel safe doing so"

While Tom and Jordan had their reconciliation arc during Isles (source: just trust me m8), Capsize, while having gotten a hang on being undead is carrying a lot of resentment and unresolved issues she's not sure about because she can't clearly remember the entirety of (specifically towards Jordan) and Sonja kind of holding a little resentment towards Tom, but more importantly her decision to choose to stay Mianite's champion despite her post-S2 not being sure and owning that choice. no longer even after Tucker he drifts away (and then how that comes into play when Tucker rejoins them, basically the stuff I allude to in the mini animatic) its essentially Embersduo and Zombiecaptains but they have trouble getting along, not because they're sick of each other, but more like damn We all Went Through a Ton of Shit and we're not good at talking about it or working through it together,but goddammit we're still gonna try to get along. That being said I do think they have moments where they can be their silly shenanigan selves :D

Martha's her own ballgame, in the sense that she's very endgoal oriented in trying to problem solve, and her reaction to Aitheaca!Ianite is very drastic as well, it just must be really weird to see a basically evil version of your mother. She and Sonj aren't great friends, but her and Capsize have caught on pretty well, and she doesn't mind Jordan (Tom's iffy, but at least they can connect over being new gods in a way) Spark's just along for the ride, he was supposed to get back home to help out Dia, Mot and the Wizards but the portal fucked up lowkey :] He's not exactly overjoyed to be parading about the multiverse but he's fine with Martha, Sonj and Capsize so he mostly hangs around them. It'll be interesting that's for sure, but this is the main chunk of the post-series stuff I want to do so yeeeee

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the-banana-0verlord · 2 months

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The Ramshackle Prefect

(note:picture can be innacurate on certain appearance details because it's old.) Name: Lilian (no last name, later adopted under the last name Gothel) Dorm:Ramshackle(NRC) Birthday:November 3(Scorpio) Age: 16 (first year) Homeland: The other world/magicless realm Signature spell Special ability:As someone from a world devoid of magic,she has none of her own. That is expected, but what is strange is that magic has no effect on her whatsoever. Once their body adapts to magic, this ability fades (starts about at the beginning of chapter 6), although she can still not do magic. Personnality:At first, she's a shy girl. They're brave, determined and selfless, but to the point where she's naive and reckless. They have no sense of self-preservation and often puts herself in danger for their friends. She's naturally a hard worker who will not complain. They're known to be a people pleaser. She's very oblivious to a lot of social situations(aka she can't tell if someone has a crush on her), but they do have an excellent problem detector. Appearance: 154 cm tall, straight brown hair in a bob with side bangs tied behind her head. Her roots and hair tips are golden yellow. Her eyes are big and round, holding some innocence in them. They're also sky blue. She's very thin with her womanly features not much developped. Their skin is full of scars after battling multiple overblots. She wears golden brown rectangular glasses with no upper frames and rounded edges.

Uncategorized Trivia 🌻Is in the newspaper club. 🌻She's aroace in a queerplatonic relationship with Malleus after chapter seven. Even though they are a cis girl, they use She/Her/They/Them pronouns. 🌻She's amnesic so has no memory of their past world except common knowledge (like what is a pizza). She only recalls their first name. 🌻Because of their origins, they struggle with identity a lot and often finds themselves in crisis because of it. For exemple, sometimes they look in the mirror and they have no face. 🌻Her best friends are Ace and Deuce. They are the closest to them by far, except maybe Grim and Malleus. 🌻After Chapter seven, she becomes the adopted daughter of Andric Gothel, NRC's nurse. 🌻To live more comfortably than with less than the bare minimum, Lilian works part-time at the Mystery Shop and grows vegetables in a small pots scattered across the Ramshackle kitchen. They often ask Ruggie for tips on how to survive with almost nothing. 🌻Is called Shrimpy by Floyd, Mademoiselle Tournesol by Rook, Herbivore by Leona and Child of a Man by Malleus. 🌻Fun fact:During the early stages of her character, she used glyphs to fight like Luz in the Owl House. 🌻Another fun fact: They're amnesic because at the time I was too lazy to make them a backstory. It is now an important of her characterization. 🌻Movie night at Ramshackle with Ace and Deuce every friday is a tradition. 🌻Their glasses are always covered in tape in hopes to repair them after getting broken during fights. 🌻Falls victim to Ace's deez nuts jokes way too often. 🌻As a nervous tic, she bites her nails a lot. Gallery:

This is the baseline for her character, feel free to ask things and I'll post more things later!

#bananawrites #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twst yuusona #yuusona #twisted wonderland oc

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adventures-in-moderating · 1 year

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FAQ

Q: "Where's the next post? / What's taking so long? / Where are you?"

A: I might need to take long breaks sometimes as to not burn myself out. I have other things I do that take priority over this (I mean, unfortunately). AIL is just a hobby and I'm the only one working on it!

Q: "Will [character] appear?"

A: Probably! Maybe! No character is out of the question. It all depends on what use I have for them. DHMIS has a thousand characters, many of which are gag characters that show up for all of three seconds. Whether or not they will ever be relevant to my bad fanfiction is unknown to me.

Q: "Will the main trio (Red, Yellow, Duck) ever show up again?"

A: Probably not. I have no ideas for them at the moment, as Adventures in Clayhill is about who the talking objects are without students to teach. Don't worry, they're probably fine.

Q: "Who is Penny/Tori/Coby/Dandy/May?"

A: My OCs. Penny is the pendulum clock woman, and Tony's amicable ex-girlfriend. Tori is the depressed tape-player. Coby is the old computer teacher who was dead for ten years, but is okay now. Dandy is a dandelion teacher that was deleted for second-degree murder. And May is the talking objects' manager that can manifest into any object, but usually appears as a clipboard, and is basically just Roy's spokesperson. I am sorry they're so integrated in AIL, I didn't mean for this to happen.

Q: "This thing happened that contradicted something that happened before. What's up with that?"

A: Adventures in Lurning has a very loose canon. A lot of it was being written as the web series episodes were still coming out, and much of it turned out to be pretty incompatible with with what I had made. So, stuff gets retconned all the time, either due to new official material, or if I no longer agree with something I wrote 7 years ago. The important things that will stay the same are characters and their relationships, but much of what specifically happened might not add up anymore. The idea of it happened, at the very least. AIL was a supposed to be a fun comedy blog and I'm trying to turn it back into one, so lore and tiny little things that might've happened or were said once aren't always entirely important.

Q: "Is THIS IS IT still canon/does it still matter?"

A: THIS IS IT (the final arc) was a culmination of a bunch of lore stuff I made up and then was obligated to explain and end, and I'm not confident I wrote it well. I also feel it's simply too mean to the characters. But yes, it still matters to an extent, but since I never drew it and probably never will, it doesn't matter too much. If you read it, you have a better understanding of things like Coby being alive, or May, or why Spinach Can is blissfully stupid again, but if you didn't, hopefully I've made it easy enough to just roll with all of that. No, it's not canon anymore. Coby came back to life suddenly when she woke up in the woods. Colin doesn't like her because he's like those cats that don't get along with other cats. Spinach Can went to therapy and that's why she's doing better.

Q: "Are Sketchbook and Tony in love?"

A: No! While I do enjoy the occasional Padlock, AIL's Sketchbook and Tony, as close as they get, will never ever be in love. I could make them kiss each other on the mouth and it would still be platonic.

Q: "Is the Love Cult Tree dead?"

A: Functionally, yes.

#mod log

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cj51 · 1 year

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Ok, I’ve been on the internet way too long, but I had this thought and I can not stay quiet about it. So I’ve been looking at the ‘somethings wrong with Sunny day Jack’ fandom (if your younger than 18 don’t look at it) and now here’s an idea= somethings wrong with Sunny day Jack + don’t hug me I’m scared! Think about it, both have a colorful and fun aesthetic but are pretty messed up. I can see this going 3 different ways!

#1. (Pretty easy concept) Jacks a ‘teacher’ who follows the same formula as the others, maybe the main characters find a tape and try to watch it then he pops out of the tv and starts singing and teaching them a lesson (I’m not sure what it would be, maybe feelings would be an interesting topic) he can be manipulative as the creepy scary stuff arises,(maybe a bit of foreshadowing on Joseph’s death) then he just goes back in his tape prison and everything ends on a funny note. Not a long run concept but an interesting idea. (Or maybe he can be a secret master mind character like Rey or Lesley…nah, 3 is a crowd)

#2. He’s a main character now, like I said before , the characters watch the tape and summon Jack but he’s not a teacher, maybe when he appears he’s confused on why these 3 weird creatures are here and is wondering where the heck he is (so like a character in another world situation) so there’s 4 of them now. If you wanna make it interesting, maybe he gets romantic feelings for red guy, or the duck, heck why not both? Or maybe (platonically!!!) he gets along great with yellow guy (cause let’s be honest, someone needs to protect that kid and Rey ain’t exactly dad of the year) so yeah maybe he gets along great with everyone and tries to protect them, maybe only one particular person who he’ll try to steal away from the others. Or what I think is the most funny, he does not get along with any of them. Cause the characters personalities and emotions are so aloof that even if Jack tries to be happy and friendly the others will either just seem plain out rude to him or maybe their freaked out by him. Then Jack would have to witness the absurd horror of the teachers and their lessons.(and since only the characters can interact with him he doesn’t have to be a part of the lesson, but he’d probably just watch in shock and horror and can’t do anything about it) it probably get to the point where he starts acting like his old identity Joseph, cause witnessing this loop of the characters repeating the same circumstances over and over again but Jack probably being the only person actually acknowledging it just causes him to be done mentally. Although when one of the characters start trying to escape or acknowledges that something’s wrong, he’ll happily help them out, maybe there is something out there better than the lives their living, heck maybe he can return to his reality. But that’s probably never gonna happen.(‘spoiler alert’ unless Jack can some how snatch the book away from yellow guy before he shreds it Jack’ll just yell, so upset all hope lost while everyone else is just laughing and cheering.) wow this was a long one

And finally #3. Jack and his sunshine get trapped in the don’t hug me I’m scared world. Now this could go so many ways, maybe the other Sunny day Jack characters are involved, maybe the DHMIS main characters can be involved, but this idea is much easier and interesting to me so I’m going with it. So, MC (or sunshine) and Jack are somehow transported into this weird kid’s tv show like world,(how? I don’t know! I didn’t think that far…) then suddenly puppet like objects start appearing and singing, MC and Jack are weirded out at first but once the scary stuff starts happening everything just kind goes downhill. I’m not sure if Jack will participate too or not since he’s a ghost and no one else is supposed to see him, but watching his sunshine witnessing and enduring this in shock is enough to upset him.(after all, he too has suffered a fate worse than death)This’ll probably result in a situation where MC is constantly being traumatized and Jack being the only person of comfort they can turn to. While Jack will be sad for his sunshine and furious at those stupid puppets, he’s actually pretty happy with the results, not only is his sunshine totally dependent on him but he’s the only one they can pay attention to now.(well, before the cycle starts all over again.) will he be eager to return home? Yeah but not as much as MC, after all he wants to spend as much alone time with them as possible. This can end one of 3 ways: they stay trapped in the world together forever, MC catches onto Jacks yandere intentions and escapes without him trapping him forever, or they both escape together return to their world and live happily ever after.(unless the yandere manipulation stuff from the game still happens.)

And that’s all I’ve got, let me know if this was a good idea or not.

#don’t hug me i’m scared #dhmis au #somethings wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack #swwsdj #why #dumb stuff

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weneverlearn · 1 year

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My Favorite Record Store

Ah, the things you find on old laptops...

While recently seeing if my previous laptop could still breath, I found some old writings. This one, below, is a piece I did about 10 years ago when asked to write about my favorite records store for a compendium the now defunct Get Bent website was putting together. My particular fave rave store didn't just rest on a good used selection, but ended with an appearance from the FBI!

Then last week, Record Revolution in the Coventry section of Cleveland, closed - I frequented that place a few times over the years; then I tripped across the Other Music documentary last weekend on Night Flight, and that seemed like another cosmic nudge to post this.

So check it out if you care, and go visit your local record store today!

If memory serves, the first album I bought at Wax Stax...

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Wax Stax, Parma, Ohio, 1985 – Eric Davidson

My hometown of Parma, Ohio, was a suburb (the largest in the nation in the later 1970s; not anymore), on the west side, about 15 minutes from Cleveland proper. That’s where the great record stores were, on the far east side of Cleveland specifically; or in Lakewood, the slowly hip-morphing near west side suburb that had cool things like neat old homes, vintage stores, dusty dives, rusting diners, even gay people. But that was still about 15 minutes away from no-drivers license me.

So I made do with the weak mall chain store (yeesh); and a surprisingly worthy shop, Record Revolution, that sat on the far, old, outdoor strip of that mall (my first lesson in learning how most of the things I appreciate in this world will be shoved to the margins). I got my first Velvet Underground record there (White Light, White Heat). There was a huge Peaches Records & Tapes (one of many of the disappearing non-mall, self-standing chain stores, though this one oddly survived under different names until just a few years ago). And then a good used joint, Record Exchange, opened in a small retail strip within walking distance. (It moved a few years later, after adding racks of video games, an ocean of used VHS tapes, and metal tees, and changed its name to “The Exchange,” no doubt to divorce itself from the dying music market.)

And before that even, there was always The Shoppe, a quirky, incense-stunk, flared pants-era cobble of curiosity shops in a big old house in kind of nearby Berea. They always touted that their new vinyl was only $5. Like I wanted a new copy of The Nylon Curtain! It was only worth bothering a friend to drive me there for the selection of “imports,” which at that time in the ‘burbs meant anything not on a major label; or even lame-lier, a German Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 12” single. But I did find some of my early favorites there. I remember, in 1983, sitting in the car outside The Shoppe, the heater on, snowy outside, waiting for my friend to finish his purchase, looking over the Murmur liner notes, thinking “Man, I can’t believe they had a copy of this!”

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So all things considered, I guess I didn’t have it that bad. But the Parma-approachable record stores always had that patina of “west side” to them, which if you lived in Cleveland then, you’d understand. No cool fliers on a board near the door. (“Baby sitter Needed!” doesn’t count.) No piles of weekly newspapers and more fliers flopped around the windowsill near the door. No endless racks of dirty plastic-sleeve 7’ singles. And no crotchety “old” 29-year old at the counter making fun of/informing my purchasing habits. Not that the local stores didn’t have their charms, but let’s put it this way – in 1985, you don’t want Scorpions and Heart posters on the walls of your indie record shop. You want Cramps and Smiths.

So oh the joy when Wax Stax opened! Tucked away in an even more remote, crumbling, and weird little strip, behind another nearly as old strip, next to a barber shop and nothing else, to me it was the Taj Mahal. With Cramps posters. On the way to/from Wax Stax, I had to pass the Catholic church I was weekly hauled to. And pondering the contradictions between the church rooftop cross and the Stooges, Ramones, Prince, and Rodney Dangerfield albums in my hand did more to form my morality than 1,000 confirmation classes. At least it felt like 1,000!

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But back to the real place of worship…Wax Stax was great! Smaller than any of the previously mentioned stores in town, it was packed with a much higher percentage of cool shit. The thing is, there was a Wax Stax on the east side, and this was an attempt to expand into white flight-ville. So when they opened, the place was already packed with lots of great used and new goodies sent over from the other store on the cool east side. They had actual imports, bootlegs, fanzines, and the #1 sign of any great with-it record store of that era – promo copies. Lots and lots of promo copies.

See, back then record labels did not just email out, via publicists, a mp3 to blog writers who won’t even take the time to download them. No, record labels sent out finished copies of their albums. (While I wrote for the Cleveland Scene magazine in the late-80s/early-90s, I probably accumulated 33% of my collection via the “freebie box” in their offices, or trade-ins of said freebies.) And labels sent promo copies to record stores too, often more than one. Made sense, right? You want to make sure the employees can hear the new shit, talk it up to the customers, and hopefully order more. Ha, right! What the hell do the employees care? They would’ve ripped open a new one to hear it. But whatever, it was a wealthier time. (Or is that wasteful-er?)

Bad Moon Rising, Zen Arcade, Tim – probably paid no more than $4 for each of them. Promos all! (Not to mention all their used records rarely rose above $5; new, $8.) The lone female clerk/manager was not only from the east side too – and hence knew what “Pere Ubu” meant – but was not surly and condescending in the traditional indie record shop sense, and pretty cute, too-boot! And she gave great trade. So I was bringing in Bobby Brown and Guadalcanal Diary promos, and a few of these fledgling “CDs” I was getting from the Scene, and trading them in for cheap-ass copies of Death of Samantha, Buzzcocks, and the Volcano Suns. It was as close to mafia accidental back of truck falling off shenanigans as I was likely to get in my life. Or so I thought.

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One day, a little less than two years after Wax Stax opened, I was sifting through the “B” section (“Well, “All That I Wanted” is a good song, but a whole Belfegore album?!” Nah…), and in walked two guys wearing – and I am not embellishing here – long trench coats and fedoras. They flashed a badge at the manager, said a few things to her, then looked over: “Hey buddy, yer gonna have to take off for awhile.”

Yup, fucking FBI guys, I shit you not. It was one of those mini-moments at the end of the ‘80s where major labels decided to throw a bone to “Cracking down on unlawful sale of promotional copies.” Read the stamps on those old things. It says some nonsense about those being the property of the label. (The labels never tell you that they write those promos off on their taxes, right after subtracting them from the artists’ future royalties.) The preponderance of bootlegs might’ve had something to do with the flat-foots storming the gates too, and maybe some grass passing through the back door. But who knows.

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Wax Stax only closed for about two weeks. Once reopened, it didn’t seem much different, though the scare worked, as there were never again as many promos or bootlegs in the racks. But the two new managers were really nice guys – one a tall, skinny, bespectacled collector geek; the other a black guy in tattoos and dreadlocks who was into Ministry – in Parma! Cool. (Yes, for about a month in my life I thought Ministry fans were sort of cool. Especially black ones. Hey, it was 1987!) Then about a year and a half after that, some really odd older drunk guy (or maybe a hop head – my inebriation radar wasn’t as well-calibrated back then) bought the place, added more t-shirts, posters, video games, cassingles, and those expensive CD things, and, well, you can see where this is going. The place sucked…and closed about a year later.

But by then I was going back and forth to school at Ohio State University in Columbus, soon to move there permanently. And for my purposes, Wax Stax had done its job exceptionally well. My standards for a cool used record store had been diamond-cut, and as I toured the world with the New Bomb Turks, stopping first at every town’s indie record store, I could make like General Patton surveying the far hills.

The other day I was scanning down my iTunes list. I didn’t feel like Patton.

Come to think of it, Used Kids Records in Columbus, Ohio was probably the most important record store in my life. But that’s another story…which you can read about in my book, We Never Learn: The Gunk Punk Undergut, 1988-2001 (Backbeat Books).

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#record stores #parma #clepunk #weneverlearn #Youtube

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heroofthreefaces · 2 years

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Fun fact: According to calculations I made in 1975 (with the data available then), September 8 is the anniversary of the day in 1952 when Henry Blake died.

September 8 is also the anniversary of the first airing of Star Trek so here're excerpts from the T*R*E*K version of Abyssinia Henry.

Mr. Spock, you have command Vulcans never bluff and Welcome aboard, captain

In the 70s I mashed up M*A*S*H and Star Trek because it was a way to make new Star Trek when no one else was. Nowadays, of course, …

The title of a T*R*E*K piece is a line of dialog from the source scene that doesn’t appear in the T*R*E*K version.

“All hands, go to yellow alert.” Henry announced to the shipwide intercom. “Radar -”

“Dr. Houlihan to the transporter room,” Radar said on shipwide. “Engineer McIntyre and a damage control party to the transporter room. Communications relief to the bridge.”

“- and call your relief to the bridge,” Henry finished, stepping to the turbolift doors as Radar stood to join him. “We’re going to board her. Pierce, you have the conn.”

“Wow, thanks, Dad!” said Hawkeye. “I’ll fill the tank and everything.”

“Captain!” Srank objected. “I outrank him!”

“I outrank you,” said Henry in a mock whine, stepping onto the lift with Radar as Radar’s relief arrived.

*****

“I told you,” Brighton shouted into the ship-to-ship comm, banging his ring on the opposite arm of the command chair, “I am in command here, according to every rule in the book, Captain. If you have anything at all to say you will say it to me.”

Henry rarely refused to be intimidated by superior rank, but this was a life-and-death situation. “Commodore, that’s my ship and Pierce is my conn officer! Hawkeye, ship’s status.”

Hawkeye stepped to the command comm from the helm just barely after Brighton waved him over. “Warp drive’s out, deflector shields are down, transporter’s under repair, and we’re on emergency impulse power.”

“How long to repair warp drive?”

“At least a day, and the impulse power’ll run out long before then.”

Klinger called from navigation, “It’s gaining on us, sir.”

“Hawkeye,” came the signal from the Constellation, “get the Enterprise out of here.”

“I told you I am in command here and I will give the orders, Captain!” Brighton interrupted. “We are going to turn and attack.”

“Over Pierce’s dead body,” Henry muttered. It carried across the signal.

“Is that an order, Henry?” Hawkeye asked.

“Yeah!”

“Commodore,” Hawkeye said, “by the authority of the captain of this ship you are relieved of command.”

“You can’t do that,” Brighton objected, too taken aback to be angry.

“You can file all the complaints you like,” Hawkeye said, “later. But you are relieved.”

Brighton banged his ring a couple of times. “I don’t recognise your authority to relieve me.” He pivoted away from Hawkeye in the command chair.

Hawkeye leaned on the chair arm, smiling and batting his eyes. “Commodore. I would enjoy placing you under arrest.”

Brighton turned back to him slowly. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re bluffing.”

Hawkeye dropped his grin and snapped his fingers at the security guards posted for red alert at the turbolift doors, who each stepped forward a pace. “Call and raise.”

Brighton eyed Hawkeye a moment, and surrendered the command chair.

*****

“You know, it’s ironic,” said Hawkeye suddenly.

Trapper John looked at him. He still looked as numb as Hawkeye felt. Srank didn’t look up from the science station.

“Back in the twentieth century,” Hawkeye continued, “the atom bomb was thought of as the ultimate weapon. And that’s kind of what we used to destroy this ‘doomsday weapon’.”

“Yeah,” said Trapper John. “Ironic.”

Then silence hung on the bridge again.

Kellye was still at Hawkeye’s post at the helm. He and Trapper John were still over here by Srank’s station after reporting … events to the first officer. Srank had received the report wordlessly, confirmed that the doomsday machine was dead, and started on the red tape. Radar’s relief was still at communications - he’d been sent to his quarters sedated.

The command chair was still empty. Hawkeye couldn’t understand why the command chair was still empty. “Well, Srank,” he said, biting the bullet, finally at a loss for any more small talk, “I guess she’s all yours.”

Srank got very still. Then he turned to face Hawkeye and Trapper John. For once he was displaying all the Vulcan passionlessness he’d ever aspired to. “No one may relieve the conn officer except the captain or his superiors,” he said. Then he turned back to his console.

Hawkeye took several seconds to comprehend this. Then he looked at Trapper John, where he found only helpless sorrow and compassion. He looked back at the command chair; suddenly he seemed to have developed tunnel-vision whereby it was all he could see.

He stepped down to the command module level and toward the chair, Trapper John’s step right behind, certain every eye was on him. He stopped just to starboard of it.

“I never wanted it this way,” he said.

“I know,” said Trapper John, before Hawkeye had finished.

Hawkeye sat in the command chair. “Helm, warp one,” he ordered. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

#t*r*e*k #doomsday machine #m*a*s*h #star trek #september 8

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stormxpadme · 2 years

Text

Whumptober 2022 No. 25 - Duct tape & “You better start talking.”

Thanks to @sneakymystique for the idea for this prompt!

2032

No matter how Scott had managed to piss off one of his enemies this time – in a bad year, it was enough to breathe too loudly certain peoples' way –, this was not how he had imagined his Friday evening to go.

With Ororo and Kurt watching the school, this had been supposed to be the first night off in months, reserved for two far-too-expensive concert tickets and the other half of Katja's and his polycule promising them, they'd be there to get them after the gig for a very special kind of aftershow party in some exclusive kink club. Scott had been fully prepared to wake up from a few hours of fun with the hangover of his life and being sore in all the best places ... But definitely not from a far too high dose of some anesthetic, judging by dull nausea in his stomach, and with whatever damage a too-close enemy encounter would bring this time. For the moment, he was cranky more than anything, opening his eyes to some bright headlight aimed straight at him, silently cursing at a killer headache throbbing behind his forehead. How was this always happening on date night? The odds to make it home anytime soon were frustratingly slim, as became clearer with every second.

Whoever was behind that new kidnapping – with the X-Men's questionable luck lately, it wasn't unlikely, someone up there in that damn ice dune in Alaska had gotten bored of the still so shaky peace between their groups … They seemed mad enough to want to clear this in private.

Scott was pretty sure, had seen this dusty interrogation room between half-collapsed rock walls before, though, with the distorting tint of red gone that had colored decades of his life, he could make out a lot more details this time. The sounds of waves crashing against sharp cliffs behind uncovered windows, somewhere far below him, were a pretty unmistakable hint too. Scott's already lousy mood dropped to another all-time low instantly. Yeah, he could have done without ever setting foot on Genosha again in his life. With that damn battery-operated spot on the ceiling right in front of him, stinging uncomfortably in his eyes, as the only source of lightning in a room that had somehow been far scarier when he'd first met most of the Brotherhood here at the age of 17, there was no telling where his enemy was. But suddenly remembering a glimpse of yellow and brown in some stranger's eyes right next to him at that damn garage counter earlier, right before the ground had suddenly come to meet him, the hated sting of a syringe in his neck faster than even an instinctive response of his powers, chased the last of disorientation from his mind.

It meant, for all he knew, his enemy could be standing right in front of him, her appearance blending in with the wall behind her, or hanging from the ceiling right above him, just waiting for him to do something stupid before trying to run him through with some blade … Only none of this made sense. Not with how comparatively calm and sometimes even mutually fruitful this truce between Westchester and New York III had been so far. Mystique didn't risk her position of power by endangering her city for some petty revenge anymore.

So maybe they could actually try to talk this out for once. Whatever it was. With an unnerved sigh, Scott stopped trying to free himself from where his wrists were bound behind the armrest of his chair, his ankles fixed to its rusty legs. If a conversation wasn't happening, he would be out of this predicament within five seconds anyway, without even the need to conjure his powers.

Mystique had apparently been in a hurry, or maybe she was just looking for a good spar. No hostile was usually careless enough to not slap Scott in heavy chains when they actually managed to get their hands on him for once. Which, thankfully, had become increasingly rare since the last Phoenix crisis. "Duct tape, huh? Kinky."

"If you don't want it on that big mouth of yours next, spare me your perverted fantasies."

Right behind him but out of reach for a headbutt or for crashing that damn chair into her. What a surprise. Scott made a mental note to cancel all appointments and workouts for at least the next two weeks when he got home. It would have bordered on a small miracle to not get out of this situation once more with half the tendons in at least one knee shredded. That his enemy hadn't actually started yet to use some of these cruel toys littering the room on him, or that impressive strength in her body, might mean, she was indeed in a mood to negotiate.

Scott supposed he should be thankful she at least hadn't decided to stop by in the shape of one of his lovers earlier, just to fuck with his head. One memory of that kind was more than enough. "You didn't complain when you shoved your tongue down my throat last time."

"30 years, and you're still hung up on that." A screeching hurt in Scott's ears when Mystique dragged another chair across the uneven, rocky ground to sit down in front of him, still in an angle in the punishing light that made it impossible to make out more than her slender frame, the impatience bounce of her crossed legs. Still no punching though. Something was definitely off.

"Feels like you're the one hung up on something here. Again. We've talked about the whole kidnapping thing, you know. Etiquette in times of truce and all?"

"My people being attacked in times of truce wasn't part of the contract either." Mystique was twirling something in her hand that, judging by the sound of it sanding her already far-too-sharp nails, Scott didn't think he wanted to get any closer to. "You're just lucky I got outvoted on pulverizing your house before we know what the fuck is going on in your damn head this time, Summers. You better start talking. Or I promise, Stryker's little visit back then will look like finance inspection to you when my people are done."

Scott's face hardened immediately, his willingness to settle this without drama rapidly waning, just at the prospect of the students and his family, once more, suffering from one of Mystique's goddamn seasonal depressions. "That settlement paper also said we don't take it out on each other's homes when you and I got a problem with each other."

"Should have remembered that earlier." His enemy leapt at him too suddenly to call upon a reflective blast in time, her strong knee painfully digging into his midsection, the diamond-sharp coldness of her dagger right against his throat. "But don’t worry, I'll take my time with you first before I think about taking over management in Westchester. If you think I was being harsh in New York, brace yourself. I should try taxidermy on some other part of you this time. Let's see how well your enthusiastic in-house healer is doing with re-growing those for you. If he survives my people going all Marie Kondo on your school, that is. Or do you want to try and explain yourself before the fun starts?"

Though it became increasingly harder, with that simmering worry for dozens of children and teenagers, for his lovers and his teammates simmering in his veins, Scott shoved that package of distraction where it belonged for the moment, into the deepest hidden corner of his soul, and forced himself to look his enemy straight in the eye, every mild scorn, every exasperation replaced by honest soberness. Something that at least on good days, with a lot of luck, got even through to this woman's sick mind. "I have not the slightest idea what you're talking about, Raven."

That, she hadn't expected. The blade actually retracted half an inch or so. Not enough to risk an attack of his own yet, sadly, with Mystique's leg only pressing down harder against sensitive body parts, drawing a quiet hiss from his lips. A clear warning to not try and fuck with her – not that he'd ever felt the wish for that on any kind of level. "Is the memory loss of that feral in your house infectious since you guys are fucking? Energy blast to our external main generator mill? Yesterday? Ring any bells? It's the middle of the fucking winter. If I didn't an engineer able to recreate lifeless matter on a cellular level in nanoseconds, you'd have killed half of our population. Do you even realize that?"

Well, that explained a lot and nothing at all. "And you think I'd do that because ...?"

That honestly offended tone in his voice must have been convincing enough since Mystique finally withdrew for good, sitting down again. Which was courageous after what she'd just done, but from experience, Scott knew of course that even on such a short distance, that woman could dodge his blasts when it came to it, especially with his head still feeling like being hit by a truck. "Last time I checked, people on your side of the moral high ground don’t need a reason for killing." But that actually sounded more absent than aggressive now; in her head, Mystique was visibly already busy considering whom she could try to pin this shit on next.

Scott was very much willing to leave her alone with that inspiring task. If he wanted to spend an hour exchanging useless reproaches and bitterness, he'd accept one of his birth family's yearly invitations for Thanksgiving dinner. "Last time I checked, it was the Brotherhood attempting genocide a couple of times, not us."

Yellow eyes and too-white teeth were flashing at him again immediately, the blade still ready in his enemy's hands. Someone wasn't finished yet seeing ghosts. "And we were pardoned every time, in case you forgot, by the highest powers. So you might want to take these pathetic attempts of vengeance of yours and shove it where …"

"Pants. Right side. What? I can't exactly get to it myself right now, can I?" Scott added with a grunt when Mystique just stared at him in a combination of confusion and disgust.

"Fine. Just don't blame me when your wife tries to fry your condescending ass for the whole groping part." She leaned over with tight lips, her dagger held right between them in a warning, making it a point to touch him as little as possible while she pried his phone from his jeans as if she'd not spent the last 50 years or so leaving as much damage as possible on his body in countless close combat duels. "You're gonna unlock it too or do I need to stare at your Spotify playlist for the rest of the night? Jesus, Summers, you have really shitty music preferences."

"I'm not taking taste commentary from someone who spends his life running around naked." Ignoring his enemy's next scathing glance, Scott forced the faint drawl of his hometown in the north that was left in his speech from his voice, to address, in flawless Oxford English and with the necessary deep cadence, the artificial intelligence from his home network that was always lurking on standby in all his electronic devices, exactly for emergencies like this. "LUCY, activate restricted external limited mobile access. Full lockdown on any X-Men network data and entry gateways. Temporary unlock display, two minutes countdown. Photos." The last order was aimed at Mystique, similarly reluctantly as she was taking it. The fantasies for tonight had not included his enemy looking, among others, on compromising pictures of Scott's wife and him stealing away from yesterday's trip for a few much-needed minutes of adrenaline. Those images had the advantage of showing the Leaning tower of Pisa through the hotel room window in the background though. And the rest of the photo documentary of that little history class trip should hopefully even convince a paranoid mind like his enemy's that Scott had spent yesterday literally on the other side of the world.

"I did not need to know that." Mystique dropped his phone on his lap as if it had gotten hot, a little too dramatically for his taste but at least finally with most of her aggression gone.

"Could have fooled me with how often you undressed me in the past," Scott gave back tiredly, more vulnerable for a moment in the middle of a still dicey situation than he'd have liked to admit, mostly from Mystique's so very casual mention a moment ago of what had easily been the worst torture of his life. "Think we can stop the bondage session then? Or are you gonna hit me just out of principle? Hurry up then, I've got somewhere to be."

"Not so fast." Mystique started pacing the room, increasingly restless. Now that she knew she had fucked up, she was surely impatient to get back to a city that wasn't half as safe and protected without her around as its location in the middle of nowhere usually promised. But before, they should probably both try to find out which instrument was giving off the wrong harmony here. "I've seen the damn footage, Summers. Not a face but I know how it looks when someone uses powers like yours. Maybe it was that batshit crazy brother of yours."

"Good luck kidnapping him." Scott showed an honest shrug. He couldn't think of a single reason why Alex of all people should try to start a war with the Brotherhood, but he simply didn't know his birth family well enough to rule anything out. And his interest in pulling his little brother's ass out of trouble once more was extremely low. "Usually takes me a year or so to find him. Besides, Havok always announces his arrivals since the Defenders almost knocked Dad and him out of the sky by accident once."

"Well, if it wasn't any of you ..." Mystique couldn't finish the sentence before a bright glowing energy blast from somewhere by the door hit her entirely unprepared shape, from someone neither of them had even known was on that damn island. The attack sent her flying into a wall so harshly, she blacked out immediately.

"It wasn't, no. It was me."

For the first time in this unfortunate situation, Scott's stomach clenched painfully. That dark, sonorous voice, he wasn't hearing for the first time. Well, there went an evening off duty for good. With that damn headlight still blinding him, he could only vaguely spot that certain, ridiculously tall shape, this unnaturally snow-white skin, a menacing red glint of a diamond-shaped mark, when the next enemy dead set on pissing him off tonight stepped closer. Another bright ray of light flashed through the room before he'd even opened his mouth to speak, hitting him right in his solar plexus, and for a while, he couldn't see anything at all.

*****

He woke up to even worse headaches than before and his whole ribcage hurting. But both of these sensations were paling immediately when Scott startled up, before even being really awake, trying to summon his gift to blast a hole in his enemy if he was anywhere nearby, only to realize it wasn't there. The unforgiving, thick resistance of an inhibitor collar was choking him, making breathing hard for more than one reason.

A second one adorned the neck of the woman standing next to him in a ridiculously tiny prison cell, her skin no longer red and blue, her hair a pale, short-cropped blond. But that look of sheer murder was still the same on that human-shaped version of hers. "Well, finally." Apparently, pissing Scott off for no reason was no longer on her agenda tonight, now that they were both in trouble. "Took your sweet time."

"Didn't realize it was my job to get us out of shit that you people keep on throwing me in," he gave back sarcastically, but too quiet for real bite. Because while they still seemed to be on that damn island, judging by the sight of these disgustingly wet, rotten walls, the lighting was a lot better down here, in what seemed to be a still perfectly good-wired basement. And that meant, Scott had a far better view now than he cared for on Essex standing outside their cell with a broad grin on his lips.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Scott." His enemy stretched out both arms as if wanted to pull him close for an amicable hug through the thick prison bars. "Now that I'm back in the world, you didn’t think I would forget our yearly appointment, did you?"

Right. Must be past midnight by now. Meaning, it was indeed that time of the year again, though thanks to a couple of physical resets, age had started to become a significantly blurry number at this point. Happy birthday to him or something.

"What charming company you keep," Mystique growled as if it was his fault she'd been stupid enough to fall for this whole trap.

He huffed without taking his eyes off Essex for even a moment who had needed only split seconds to turn a nerve-wracking misunderstanding into a real huge fucking problem. This time, Scott needed to defeat the asshole if he didn't want to deal with this kind of shit every year from now on indeed. "He wishes. Didn't you notice my fanbase tends to gets a little crazy? Charles didn’t think the guy important enough for me to remember him so we shouldn't overstay our welcome."

The blood-red color of his enemy's large eyes seemed to glow for a moment, a sight eerily familiar. "One of your old mentor's many questionable decisions, yes. Well, we will have more than enough time to get acquainted this time. Let me thank you for showing me this place, Darkholme. Here, the three of us won't be disturbed for a while."

"What the fuck do I have to do with your private little war?" Mystique was insufferable any other day too but forced into her human shape and bereft of most her powers, Scott doubted Essex had any idea the world of pain he would be in once she would get her hands on him. She was even mad enough for her bluff to sound too shaky, too agitated, too shrill. Essex was one of the few people who could instill respect even in her. Not least because she knew exactly, she was being one of the keys for that asshole possibly regaining all those artificial mutant gifts that Charles and Emma had robbed him of decades ago. "If you two want to deal with your parental issues, leave me out of it and get me to my helicopter."

"Funny you would put it like that …" Essex stopped even closer, the self-satisfied grin on his lips growing. "Unlike your cellmate, you will enjoy my company for a while, Darkholme. Once you have given birth to a child for my studies with ideally a gift at least as powerful as the two of you possess, you can go back to your people. It's entirely up to you how long that will take. As you know best yourself, the far more tasteful and scientific plan I originally had to conduct this experiment will unfortunately not work on an aged body like yours. My first attempt at that, while you were out, has proven, you will have to manipulate your cells into being ready to conceive. I will leave it to the two of you to give me what I am asking for the natural way."

Mystique let out an almost hysterical laugh, maybe for the first time in her life faced with someone whose twisted ideas about how to conquer the world knew even fewer limits or scruples than her own had before the fall of her New York. "If you studied me well enough to be craving an offspring of mine, Essex, you should also know, mind tricks won't work on me. So what exactly makes you think I will comply with anything that is of no use for me?"

"Two dozen of remote bombs in every corner of both your home bases will be motivational enough, I figure." Pointing two fingers in the air, Essex pulled an ancient but still perfectly working monitor close. With the help of his technical mental powers, he drew up digital maps of both Westchester and New York III, both scarily detailed. The marked spots indeed revealed that even small blasts would destroy the whole area, bringing down every wall, every ceiling.

For a moment, neither Mystique nor Scott were in any mood to joke or provoke anymore.

"I will give the two of you the necessary privacy now. You have an hour before I throw a dice about which of your homes to raze to the ground first." Their enemy strolled towards the exit of the dungeon, a cheerful whistle on his lips. "I will keep an eye on you on the camera though. So do yourselves a favor and don't try anything irrational."

Mystique and Scott stared at the heavy door falling close behind that asshole in utter disbelief and cluelessness. At the first initial shock, the worry about an unhinged psycho like Essex easily going through with a threat like that was too massive a burning hot obstacle of hate probably not only in Scott's mind to even keep breathing, not to mention thinking. They had to get out of here, immediately, stop that son of a bitch, get to their respective homes and make them safe again … Warn the others from something they wouldn't even see coming before dozens – or thousands – of innocents would perish from the moods of a madman. Children, untrained teenagers, babies … Scott hardly even felt the movement of his numbed body away from the cell door and towards the far more substantial obstacle of a wall when it came. His racing thoughts were filled with a blinding red heat of panic that needed an outlet, immediately …

Before he could unload all this surging aggression on unforgiving rock, a harsh hand grabbed his wrists and yanked him back against the door's bars. "Cut it out, you imbecile."

Raven had caught herself faster than he'd been able to which was enough reason to do the same, to take a deep breath, and pant out that threatening overload of wrath before it could further hinder his focus. Before it could tempt him into something as stupid as hurting himself and lowering the chances in the upcoming fight when they would both have to function better than ever. Besides, as they'd just been told, they were short on time, so they better got started.

"No audio," Mystique informed him impatiently when Scott's eyes instinctively wandered to a corner of the hallway outside where he could see the faint glistening of a newly polished camera lens indeed aimed straight at them.

Trying to use the two of them for his newest patch of his experiments in what had once used to be one of their own lairs of all places was just one of those mistakes out of pride that even a brilliant mind like Essex' regularly made. And this time, it would hopefully be his last.

Not wasting another second, Scott ripped the mattresses of the two narrow stretchers in the back of the cell out, throwing them on the floor in a gesture of irritation he didn't need to feign for the camera. Let the asshole think they were actually going through with this. Not being on their feet when the bastard came back might cost them a few seconds, but the camera angle wouldn't be worth shit if they were on the ground. And they had stuff to do. "Clothes." Scott had to grimace at his own sober order. No, there was not a single situation he'd ever been able to imagine when he'd want to get naked in front of this woman of all people. But Essex had rid them of all they'd had on them to use, naturally, Scott knew that without checking. At least until they had what they needed, they needed to keep this show running.

Mystique, less compromising and unfazed with all necessary duties to reach her goal, as usual, was already busy stripping out of some loose, wide shirt and a pair of pants their captor must have found for her somewhere in this deserted hideout of hers that had never been emptied completely. Bared in the cell's now half-dimmed lights, she was ridiculously beautiful in this shape too, Scott found without much surprise. Her cheeks didn't even show the slightest hint of blush when she got down on the makeshift bed, her gaze checking his own unclothed shape in a similar detached examination. "What do you got on you?"

The forceful focus on the task ahead became a lot harder when they ended up in each other's arms, on their side, to give their enemy what he needed to see and to be able to lower their voices to almost a whisper at the same time, in case Essex was listening maybe, after all. "Explosive Cyanide, right lower jaw. Uh, no." Scott turned his head away with a grimace when his enemy promptly tried to kiss him, a gleeful grin on her lips, and not only because this was still the woman who would have happily dissected him an hour or so ago. "I'm not trusting you with not causing some accident with that tongue of yours, Darkholme. I'll get it out when he's close enough to make that shot. There's also a titanium lingual wire we can use. I can't use my nails on the screw while he's looking though."

"Leave that to me. And if you don't want him to come to check on us personally, stop acting like a twelve-year-old, Summers." Mystique wrapped her legs around his hips to leave no doubt about what she meant, and pulled him closer, rubbing her just as smooth, cool middle against his hips shallowly enough to ignore the unwanted stimulation. Facts like that the skin of her unnervingly regular, slow heaving chest pressing against his own was entirely, unsettlingly smooth in this hated shape of hers though, not unlike Jean's after her rebirths … Or a faint scent of lilies where Scott had expected copper and gunpowder … That was much harder for someone to ignore who'd been relying for decades on all his senses doing the job for his eyes in far too many situations. But with Mystique's eyes wide open and blazing, showing the same eons of anger as ever, and her wish for revenge, there was no danger of some unwanted body function getting out of control anytime soon. "Wire could work. I've got half a dozen toxic hairpins ..."

"Thanks for the timely warning." Scott quickly pulled away from where he'd just reluctantly brought himself to bury one hand in those soft, short curls while Raven's soft lips were on his ear, hissing threats and plans and hate into it, for once actually not directed at him.

And a chuckle he hadn't expected in a situation like this. "Don't shit your pants, Summers. They're right on my scalp. I have a cartridge too that I'll need for a proper tool, but you'll have to grope a little deeper to get to it." Mystique backed away for a moment, without stopping that firm but entirely soulless, mechanic massage of her hand on his behind though, her brow shooting up in provocation, with even more amusement, when Scott paused once more.

His posture going stiff against hers immediately, his hand stilled where it had only just begun caressing her waist, agitated fingertips tracing those killer abs of hers she had even in this shape, and the three faint but still palpable scars Logan had left on her at Liberty Island. As far as Scott was concerned, that was more than enough effort for a show that was supposed to be over in 10 minutes tops anyway. That he would actually have to touch that woman in a way he'd never wanted to hadn't been in the rulebook. "If this is one of your sick jokes …"

A snort on her lips, his unwilling partner-in-crime leaned in to get her lips back on his ear, only to bury her teeth harshly in his shoulder next, tight enough not only to almost draw blood but also to send a hard twitch of pain through Scott's body that would hopefully at least make things more believable for a fleetingly watching pair of eyes. "Thinking I'd joke about wanting your fingers in me says more about you than me. Don't be a damn infant. We have no time. Lay back and get to work." Not even waiting for an answer, she pushed him down on the mattress and knelt over him in an unambiguous position with her legs wide spread, reaching for his hand impatiently when he tried to get himself together for another moment too long, pulling it downwards. Only when he very reluctantly put it where it needed to go did she bend lower over him with her mouth back on that spot she'd just tortured, sharp-clawed fingertips wandering over his opposite shoulder, over a couple of muscles there that she'd damaged herself more than once in the course of the decades, a slow caress moving past that damn collar to his jaw, finally coming to rest on his lips.

Even with Mystique being so clearly all business, it still took some effort, to force himself to trust this woman even for five minutes. But when Scott finally brought himself to open his lips, closing them around these long, deadly fingers, the tip of his tongue guiding them to the fragile tiny lock in question that Hank had put in place many years back exactly for such cases of captivities, it was surprisingly fast and painless. Maybe his enemy was just also very aware that with him having two fingers of his own in a very vulnerable spot of hers right now, she shouldn't try to fuck with him in an even worse way than it was happening right now anyway. Both pieces of metal came free faster than hoped which was just as well because unlike his reluctant bed partner, Scott took no joy in hurting someone needlessly, and there wasn't exactly anything around to lube the way. He couldn't help but notice, it wasn't only his hand slightly trembling when it met Mystique's on the mattress in a short squeeze of comfort, feeling the sturdy long wire she'd retrieved on her part in her palm before he gave her what she'd asked for.

Just for a nanosecond, there was something like an almost grateful smile on her lips but Scott didn't get a chance to stare at it because Mystique immediately scooted up higher on the mattress to shove her chest into his face next. Her hands where she was bracing herself on her elbows above his head were already busy putting her plan into motion. "Yeah, that should do for the door lock. I could get your collar open too, I think. But for that, I need something more stable than the wire. Something circular, or bent at least, to hook in."

"You're gonna have to grope a little lower for that." It was his turn to grin when Mystique straightened up again to stare down at him with her mouth wide open, clearly keeping herself with a lot of willpower to stare at his loins just as incredulously and far too conspicuously. When she made a move to scoot down on the mattress, Scott stopped her easily enough with his legs around her fragile-looking waist because there were some lines not even worth crossing in a bad play like this. "Not happening. Use those clever nails of yours again. Carefully, unless you wish me to bite through your fucking jugular."

"Relax. I'm not going to castrate you, Summers. I need you to get out of here, remember?" The weak grin was back on her lips, followed by a clear shudder that had nothing to do with pleasure though when she was the one reaching down this time. "But – seriously? You realize I'm gonna have to live with his image in my head for the next few hundred years, right?"

"Near-immortality sucks, I guess," he answered without a lot of compassion but then hissed through his teeth before he could stop himself. Having someone fumble with a modification on a most sensitive spot without them seeing what they were doing was maybe not the brightest idea after all. Not to mention that this certain piece of jewelry had originally not been meant to come off anytime soon. The unexpected soothing caress of Mystique's other hand on his shoulder was a more comforting surprise than it should have been really.

Once his cellmate had got that last part for her little piece of handicraft too, they were as good as out of here at least. While Scott was making dutifully sure with his mouth back on those soft, full curves that their captor thought them busy with producing his newest test object for him, Mystique was cursing under her breath above him, breaking her nails, scratching and banging noises of parts against the floor to bend them the right way accompanying the next few minutes. Then she was finally pushing herself lower over him again, rubbing her hips against his in a rhythm he might have called sensual with a partner he actually wanted to be with, while Mystique pretended to have her head buried against his shoulder, her lips in truth firmly closed around the lock of the hated device around his neck.

As uncaring as Mystique had pretended to be the whole time: When Scott closed his arms around her fragile shape a lot firmer then, she startled and stiffened immediately, trying to move away from where their loins were still moving against each other without hardly even touching. An instinct of flight at even a hint of force so deeply ingrained, that for an absurd moment of anger for far too many damn assholes on this world, Scott wished he could blast into pieces whoever had left that kind of fear behind. "What …?"

"Don't move." More warning, he couldn’t give her because he couldn't be sure Essex didn't have some energy wave tracker on those collars.

If the bastard had maybe already noticed that one of his beloved torture devices had just come apart, he might already be listening again, or standing behind them in a moment ... If it was to be at all, it had to be now.

With his temporary partner's head against his shoulder, safely held there and away from his own face with a strong grip of his hand on her neck, Scott opened his eyes wide and let go.

*********

It took them a while, but in the end, they managed to find a couple of parts of Essex in what was left of the computer laboratory on the ground floor. Surprisingly, a lot of it, actually, given Scott had blasted his way full force through this damn castle, pulverizing any falling debris, all rock, and metal and furniture threatening to crush his cellmate or him, until the last of tremors in the building had subsided. He tagged some of his enemy's rotting flesh for Hank to take a look at, just to be safe, because his team had already been sure last time Essex was no more, and that guy had more lives than a damn cat.

With that, they were done here, actually, but as it turned out, that asshole Essex had of course sabotaged the damned helicopter that he'd come here with along with Mystique's. All their cells and communicators had fallen victim to destruction too. But at least in the computer lab, there was still a single, lonely radio left working with enough juice to contact Westchester.

"I think this is yours." When they were waiting on the unfriendly, sharp-rocked beach outside then, the Blackbird's shape in the distance quickly coming closer, Mystique was already feeling gleeful enough again to throw a certain piece of metal with two barbells on it Scott's way. "Just so you know: I will never. Ever. Let this go. I can't believe you have …"

"You think we can leave that part of the mission report between the two of us?" Scott massaged the bridge of his nose with two fingertips, feeling a certain headache return.

He didn't have much hope that Mystique would keep her mouth shut about this thing forever. For that, she loved fucking with his head far too much.

But since Katja and Scott had only just managed to say goodbye to the subject of jealousy for good, the last thing he needed right now was all three of his polycule members trying to stab someone through the chest without whom he wouldn't be standing here right now, as much as he hated to admit that.

"Fine. Guess I owe you one for that shot." Mystique sighed, clearly disappointed to be robbed of ammo for one of her beloved manipulations. "That guy?" The grin gone, she thrust her jaw forward in honest-looking aggression. The Brotherhood had done their own share of experimenting on mutants for their goals but nothing on that scale. The last time they'd tried that, it had cost Mystique Magneto, and Scott doubted, she would ever be that stupid again. Yes, that woman had more crimes on her back than he could even come up with enough strength to hate her for sometimes, but Essex represented something they both hated with a passion.

"Yeah. That guy." Scott looked back over his shoulder at the ruins of the castle, his throat tighter than from that collar earlier. It would have been too tempting to think of this building as of today, as a grave for two and not only one of his arch-enemies. "Might not have been the last time. He's got a few dirty tricks up his sleeve. And with Charles and Emma both gone, there's not many who can stop him."

"Time to give him a couple of more problems. Send me all you have on him." Mystique just left Scott standing there before he could think of anything to say to that surprising offer. Even in the dark, she'd spotted before he had that two dark blue shapes, almost blurring with the background, had appeared in the distance.

Whoever was piloting apparently didn't want to waste time looking for a landing space and had rather sent Kurt instead, together with Hank, to make sure there wasn't some medical emergency Scott might only have forgotten to tell his teammates on that short call earlier.

Kurt teleported closer to them immediately and looked back and forth between them with an expression of pure confusion on his face, at the way they were standing there close to each other, both with stiffly crossed arms and stained, half-ripped clothes. "Well, this is awkward." A broad smile broke on his lips when Scott rolled his eyes at him and gestured him to shut up, his sharp teeth glistening in the dark like pearls. "You know, when I told you, two you needed to stop fighting for custody over me, that's not what I meant."

"Hey, Elf, think we can postpone jokes about illegal mutant experiments? I would really like to get to my wife right now. I'm already pretty late."

"Sure thing, Boss Man." Kurt still seemed to think this whole thing hilarious. He kept on chuckling to himself when he gave Mystique a brief, amicable hug and wrapped his tail and arm around her then to get her to the Blackbird.

"Sure you two don't want to take a swim in the ocean first?" Hank was the next who just couldn't shut up once he came close enough to smell with his enhanced senses, apparently, what had gone down here not too long ago. "Not that I mind Darkholme having a few holes in her body but if we get you to Logan like this, my young Captain, I fear for the Blackbird's safety in the air with all that fighting going on …"

Scott knew, of course, his friends were mostly trying to make him laugh because he never felt a lot like that after running into Essex … But that couldn't prevent a very healthy color on his cheeks. "If I give you both two weeks off, will you shut up?"

"No holidays anytime soon," Hank gave back, becoming serious again. "When your powers came back on, Jean could locate your mind immediately, and some of what was going on around you. Essex' telepathic signature was gone from there before you blasted him into parts, I'm afraid."

Well, it would have been too good to be true. "He can't hide forever. We'll get him. Someday."

"Leave that to professionals for once, Summers," Mystique repeated, already with enough composure again to be a bitch. "I'll let you know when you can collect his last head for your living room wall. You guys go. I have my own ride." She nodded up towards the sky where there was another vehicle approaching. The X-Men must have sent a message to New York III before coming here. "I'll see you at the Space Council meeting on Monday, Summers. If I can still remember how you look with your clothes on, that is."

Kurt wisely reached out to grab Scott's arm before he could get tempted to shoot Mystique just on principle and teleported him straight into the Blackbird where he was already awaited sorely by three highly distraught lovers.

One of them immediately started complaining about a very peculiar smell on him indeed which brought the last of sorely needed normalcy back this night, and suppress what could easily have become days or weeks at the hands of a lunatic once more.

Given the relief that Scott had luckily escaped that fate this time, not least thanks to a certain enemy leader, he guessed he could live with another stupid rumor on certain mutant influencers' social media channels for a while.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

#no.25 #Duct Tape #“You better start talking.”#x men #fic #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #mystique #mr sinister #i fully blame sneakymystique for this :D #long post #crack taken seriously #uuh slightly nsft?#don't think it's close enough to e to tag #nightcrawler #Scott Summers #Cyclops #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022

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