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faeriekit · 6 months

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Health and Hybrids (XV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here and this is part fifteen...somehow...

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Author regrets both use of Roman numerals and Old English but you know what? We ballin'. Also Danny woke up! With only some complications! woohoo! 🎉

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny comes in and out of consciousness in bursts.

Wherever he is, it’s not the Guys in White. He rules that out very, very quickly.

For one. The Guys in White would not hire a lady to sit around and mind him constantly. He has— The same few doctors come in and out of green-tinged vision consistently. Their tags are different de-saturated colors, but he can recognize most of them.

And, somehow, the lady is there. If not at his side immediately, at his side quickly enough.

With his space shuttle.

With a grip toy.

With…oatmeal.

The oatmeal is what really clues Danny in that this can’t be the GIW.

The GIW would never waste human food on him. Never. It creates too much of a logistical mess: a paper trail of payments, feeding people that don’t exist; the need for cleanup of bio-waste that no one wants to deal with; the cleaning and sanitizing of utensils, which could easily contaminate a living person.

And yet. There is oatmeal.

Mushy, unappetizing oatmeal.

The lady feeds it to him when she’s around. She spoons it into his mouth, quietly chatting all the while. She could be telling him how she’s going to cut out his organs to be chopped up and mounted on glass slides for investigation for all that Danny knows, but still, very patiently, she spoonfeeds him little mouthfuls of oatmeal.

She waits for him to swallow every time. If he stops eating, she lets him stop.

It’s kind. It’s gentle.

It’s…it’s the nicest thing Danny’s had in a long time.

It’s so nice that he stops being overtly weird when the doctors come in. He knows it’s a bad idea. He knows he’s shooting himself in the foot probably.

But…but no one is being mean to him. Everyone is being careful. Gentle.

Quiet. Slow. Obvious.

One of the doctors drops a meal tray once and everyone rushes to quiet it, to check that he’s settled, to…comfort? Him?

The oatmeal tastes bad, by the way. It’s also how he finds out part of his tongue is numb.

Or maybe it tastes bad because some of his tongue is numb.

Either way. Ew. It’s bland and it tastes bad and Danny has to finish all of it, even though he has an IV in him that puts food into him.

His IV itches. He’s sad that he can’t move and can’t protect himself. He’s tired and he’s bored of sitting here. He doesn’t know where he is and no one can tell him because he can’t understand them.

There’s no TV.

There are other concerns to be worried about, but Danny would like a television, please. Something with news on it. Something that could ground him in a location, or a place, or…

The air hisses. For a moment, breathing is going to be easier as the air cycles. It hurts, still, to breathe—the GIW hadn’t thought Danny needed to breathe, so they hadn’t put him back together right. He breathes through cobbled-together organs and raw pink seams, but yet. He breathes.

Danny lays there, and he breathes. He clutches his space shuttle toy between his wrist and his thigh, because he can.

There’s a whisper against the door. The heavy mechanisms of the door clank out of place.

Danny’s eyelids flutter as they fail to either open or close. The green in his vision bunches and falls as they try. The lady must be back.

Surely, enough, she is. Her paper gown is a mint blue today. It matches her mask and her gloves, but not her pinkish-grey shoes. She comes through the door, and—

—there’s something behind her.

It’s. They’re. Humanoid? They’re…green?

Danny stares, his head against the pillow, his eyes wide. They’re. They’re floating.

He can’t stop staring. His eyelids don’t even twitch. The lady walks to his bedside, and the…the other one follows him.

“Wel mette,” the lady greets him again, her fingers on the very corner of his mattress and no further. “Eom hebbjan ure freond.”

Danny has no idea what that means. He stares; he stares at the…their… Is that a ghost? Is a ghost just…walking around??

The—the being has—their head isn’t super. Humanoid. It’s more oval and angular, to be honest. But the rest of them is; their outfit is certainly out of the world Danny has grown up in, and is mostly constructed of straps crossing around the larger shapes of their body. And a…cloak…?

Is this a ghost?? It has to be, right? But a ghost of what??

There’s a sensation. Danny doesn’t have control over his body in the way that he’s used to, but this sensation isn’t aimed at his—it doesn’t—it’s not physical. It’s just a touch. A feeling.

Like he thought. A sensation. But still. Its presence is…Danny’s pretty sure it’s a greeting.

He…he doesn’t greet back. He doesn’t know if this is a friend.

…Lots of ghosts pretend to be something they’re not. He doesn’t know who this ghost is. He doesn’t know who this lady is. His head hurts and it’s hard to think and he knows everyone just wants to hurt him even when they pretend not to. Or they don’t even know it yet.

So he turns his head and pretends he’s dead. (Or. Uh. Dead-er.) Dead things don’t have thoughts, duh. You can’t read mine if I don’t have any!

The ghost drifts closer. Danny can’t move—he can’t run, can barely flinch—but he can feel how taut he gets the closer they get, the further they get into his personal bubble.

The greeting comes again. It’s quieter on the second round. Gentler. The ghost is trying not to scare him, is trying not to hurt him. Just careful, gentle contact.

Danny squeezes his eyes closed. It doesn’t work (whoops) because his eyes don’t close right (he forgot about that) and then his head hurts a lot because he’s working a whole lot of muscles who were not prepared to put in so much effort at the drop of a hat.

The greeting turns a little…melancholy. It matches the tone that the lady takes on when Danny’s breathing stutters and his body screams with exhaustion he can’t shake.

He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want to be poked and prodded and then attacked when the ghost realizes Danny’s not Fun the way the ghosts want him to be—willing to play around when people get hurt or ignore the pain around them. Danny just wants to be left alone.

The greeting is gently let go. From the ghost comes a question—something soft. Something celestial. Danny can’t tell the specifics, but there are moons and stars in the question.

…His fingers flex around the plastic shell of his model shuttle. There’s. He’s. Space?

The green ghost turns to the lady. “Læt uns ga an wealc”, they say, in that English Danny doesn’t know and doesn’t understand.

The lady says something back to them. They say something back to the lady. The lady goes to the wall, where there is a phone, and says something.

Danny tenses. This is it. She’s calling in for backup. More people are coming and it’s going to hurt.

The phone call ends. The lady comes back and Danny tenses—

But there’s nowhere to run and his physical body is too weak to hide properly. She reaches his bedside, reaches out her arms, and Danny flinches away.

He can’t shut his eyes. He can’t stop seeing her outstretched arms because he can’t shut his eyes.

“Mæg eom ahebbe eow?”

Danny doesn’t know what that means!!!

The ghost brushes their fingers up against the steel rail of Danny’s cot. There’s an image—of the lady, clear as day, in a red and blue and gold outfit, bridal-carrying someone from building rubble. There’s a prodding at his core that says you, there, in particular.

He’s dumbfounded. Like, to lift? To lift him?

There’s a sense of agreement, and then the image of a cot with wheels. The wheels are the focus of the message.

…They’re asking Danny permission? To go somewhere?

On one hand, no, Danny doesn’t want to be any further complicit into whatever horrible kidnapping scheme this probably is. This place sucks. He doesn’t want to see more of it. This is the second worst kidnapping he’s ever had and he wants no part in it.

On the other hand, however, this place sucks, and getting out of here, even if only temporarily…

Danny licks his lips. There’s craters in the soft tissue. He tastes orange pixie sticks and the sour tang of battery acid.

If Danny is very, very smart. And very, very careful. And very, very quiet… Well. What are the chances they wheel him past the exit on this excursion?

Sure, they’re pretty low. But there’s hope.

Danny hasn’t had hope in ages.

He nods. He hates that he does—his neck jerks upwards, and then he’s sore and tired everywhere and in his head and neck and shoulders, and he’s not going to be able to move much more than that for literal hours (sorry, oatmeal mush), and he’s said yes.

“Þancie eow!” the lady says, and the ghost translates that for him as thank you and then she lifts Danny up off the bed cot he lives on like he’s still a ghost, and not made of heavy, teenage flesh. Wow is she strong. Danny hopes her job isn’t to hurt him. Otherwise he’s going to be a smear of green on the wall and then what would the point of inspecting his insides be??

Danny gets lifted. Danny gets carried.

(It’s not an amazing experience on his aching body. He thinks some of his bruises start to leak ectoplasm in self defense. Her arms are as stiff as rocks.)

Being lifted is also how Danny finds out there’s something caging his legs. They don’t seem to be caged together—they hang individually—but they keep them taut and aligned so that all the pressure of being lifted is on his hips, and not his legs. Considering that Danny’s received pretty medium care for his troubles…that doesn’t bode well for whatever state his legs are in.

Danny gets gently, gently placed down onto a new cot. The side bars are metal, but thinner than on the bed he woke up on.

The world starts to move.

Oh. They’re moving. Danny’s moving.

It’s kind of startling. The world’s been so static and fuzzy for so long, and now he’s bedridden but moving.

The ghost opens the door, and Danny’s still body and the bed follow with it. The lady has to be pushing, then. They go through it and—

—Danny blearily squints. Ow. Bright.

Bright, LED light follows Danny down steel hallways and past strangers in bright outfits, their colors pale and washed out by Danny’s attempts to squeeze green eyelids together and stop seeing everything.

He wants to stop. This is too much. He bites his lip—jaw aching—and grunts—throat tearing—and—

The ghost that keeps trying to talk to him sends some other emotion, and Danny purposefully ignores them. It’s easy enough to block things you don’t want to feel. The green wall of a body floats out in front of him to open another door, and Danny is pushed inside.

The lights are off in here. The tension in Danny’s forehead gets a little quieter. That’s…nice. It makes the window in the room seem bigger and brighter, and—

Danny jerks. His whole body screams at him as he claws against the cot, trying to get closer, closer—

He hurts something in his back. He can tell. There’s something in his hips that’s strained, or possibly fractured, as he climbs across a horizontal surface. The beings around him make worried, scared noises, and that doesn’t matter right up until the bed moves so Danny can push his face right up against the glass.

Because that’s space out there. The stars are out there. And Danny is so, so close to them.

It’s so…

…Danny doesn’t know how much time he loses to starlight before he falls asleep.

“Did you see!” Diana gushes, the windows going by. The cot (and the alien in it) she pushes through the hall, the occasional curious eye turning to them as they go past. “J’onn, did you see, he had glowed! I know we had hoped that he would be receptive, but—“

“Diana,” J’onn murmurs, his voice low. Wonder Woman’s head tilts to find him behind her, and she only slows just enough to not run the cot or its occupant into any unsuspecting superheroes.

The first fear is for the worst scenario. “Did the excursion hurt him?”

The Martian hesitates. “…No,” he says, and nothing more. He drifts forward to the metaphorical prow of their vehicle, and Diana sets her shoulders into generating momentum. J’onn opens doors for them as they pass.

The alien child isn’t awake to consent to be returned to his newly cleaned bed, but Diana feels secure enough returning him to his usual haunt that she proceeds to do so.

Even when physical, he is frighteningly limp in her arms.

She takes care to support his head as she pulls him up to her chest. He is so fragile. When the light comes across his face as he moves, parts of his face are still ominously transparent. Ominously liquid. Ominously green.

Diana should not be able to see the inner airways of his nose, nor the thin, still-healing holes in his skull, or his irises while his eyes try in vain to shut with skin they do not have.

She lays him down. Gently, she tucks him under thin sheets with gloved hands.

J’onn drifts over to her side. His feet haven’t touched the ground—not since he was reminded that visible signs of non-human life might be reassuring to a non-human. “He doesn’t remember us,” he says. Diana hears him.

And then she hears him.

“He what?”

“He has no memory of his time on the base. He has no memory yourself, of our previous communication, of the junior heroes… He has no understanding of the layout of the base, nor of things we had already established: my status as an alien lifeform to Earth and the base’s lunar occupancy. As far as he knows, he woke up here a week and a half ago to strangers having taking up a caretaker’s role, and he doesn’t know why and if we will harm him.”

Diana stills. She…takes a deep breath.

“Alright,” she whispers. And then, louder: “Alright. We can fix this.”

And they will, although it will take time, because even if he doesn’t remember them, Diana knows him—a child with too much fear, who likes to be around others, who occasionally plays around but likes his boundaries respected. A child who put glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

“Oh,” Diana realizes at last, reaching a point J’onn had already understood: “Impulse is going to be so disappointed.”

#Bart guarding his friend's stuff in the other room: I sense something Not Cool :(#Kon: whoah are you psychic?? Can I get a reading??#*they proceed to distract themselves for an hour before remembering the Not Cool Vibe Bart felt*#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dcu crossover

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catsfor2 · 1 year

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out west (ellie x reader)

warnings: guns/firearms

a/n: howdy guys. not sure if this is what everyone was picturing but this was SO MUCH FUN to write ☺️😋☺️. i definitely do not think they used the word “daddy” in the wild west but i wanted to use it soooo😩😩😩😩also here are the random bits of western slang i used (taradiddles - lies, rumours. sage hen - woman, lady. ‘at sea’ - scared/confused. bellyache - worry. flannel mouth - shithead politician basically) im sorry if i effed this up 0_0 -j

His oversized poncho was black. So was the bandanna covering his mouth, and the large hat hiding his eyes. His revolver, resting like a small child in his gloved hand, stares you down mercilessly.

The figure looked of a ghost. A silent, lifeless bundle of fabrics, rippling in the wind. No face. No skin. No humanity.

And he matched the description of the poster exactly.

“No—no, please, my—my Daddy, he’s the sheriff! It’s more trouble than I’m worth, I’m tellin’ you, please!” You beg, eyes beginning to water and voice already panicked.

He says nothing, boot-clad feet pounding the wood floor carelessly as he walks towards you.

“If you do this he’ll find you! He won’t stop until he finds you! Please don’t!”

It was like talking to a pile of bricks.

The outlaw continues to charge ahead, wordlessly, and you find yourself desperately trying to see where his eyes would land under his hat. He approaches, big and brooding, until you’re face to face with that soulless bandana and downright trembling.

“I—I’d make a real good wife, really, I’ve learned all the—the sewin’, the cookin’ and—and ranchin’! I know it all I promise! It’d be a waste!” You plea, knowing it’s a last resort, knowing this man does not care.

In an instant, his hands clutch your shoulders and forcibly shove you to the side and out of his way, sending you stumbling. His attention lands and focuses on the wall that was behind you.

The poster?

Suddenly, his arm thrusts out and snatches it, like the crack of a whip, before frantically tearing the paper into tiny little pieces.

You watch as they all float down to the floor, feathery and weightless.

You see the brim of his hat turn to you first, and then his head, slowly, like he’s noticing your presence for the first time.

The hand not holding his revolver rises calmly, loosening the edges of his bandanna just a touch. He clears his throat.

“Girl like you knows how to ranch?”

Your eyes almost pop out of your head.

“You’re—”

“Sorry, these damn posters—always…writin’ up taradiddles. Got people thinkin’ I’m some madman, when really,” a finger flicks the rim of the hat, flipping it off of his head and into his grasp. “I’m no man at all.”

You feel yourself reeling, barely able to understand his words, or, her words. The hat had covered up her blue eyes, almost oceanic in color. The bandanna, hiding her soft thin lips. Basically criminal, all the fabric denying you sight of her face.

She went against almost everything Daddy had taught you. It was as terrifying as it was alluring.

“Well you look a bit at sea, darlin’. Why so scared?” She asks, placing her revolver in its holster and walking a bit closer to you.

“I—I don’t get how,”

“How? How what? How a sage hen can shoot? I can tell you right now I cut a cleaner whistle than your Daddy.” She grins, palm now itching closer to her weapon.

“No I—I believe you, it’s alright. Please don’t bring that back out.” You rush, the fear starting to sink back into you.

“Oh, honey, I don’t hunt the good ones. You’ve nothin’ to be scared of,” She assures you, her hand reaching out and feeling some of your hair. “now that sheriff Daddy of yours? Can’t say the same for him.”

You pause, hands balling into fists.

“You know what? My Daddy told me all about you and what you’ve done. I wouldn’t be speakin' so kindly of yourself.” You bite, slightly catching the gunslinger off guard with your tone.

“Oh, did he? Well your Daddy clearly don’t know me too well,” she rebukes, gesturing to the torn pieces of poster under her boots. “do you always believe everythin’ Daddy says?”

“Of course not—”

“I bet Daddy told you that storks bring the babies, right? Did he tell you that?”

“When I was young, but—”

“I bet he also told you about marriage then? One man and one woman?”

You stop talking.

What was wrong about that? Isn’t that how marriage is?

“Most of all, I bet he done told you all about the perfect husband you’re gonna get. Some flannel mouth he works with. Daddy’s girl only gets the best, right? That what he say?”

“I—” You turn your head, a little defeated. “I ain’t marryin’ no flannel mouth,”

“Oh yeah? That’s what’ll happen if you keep listenin’ to Daddy.”

“You don’t know jack. Just a crazy woman with a shootin’ iron. You won’t ever find a husband, I know it.” You spit, not even really believing your own words.

She laughs, rather abruptly, hands rested in the loops of her gun holster.

“Got no bellyaches about that, darlin’. I promise you.” She says knowingly, eyes unwilling to break their gaze from you.

You don’t quite understand what she means by it, especially the way she’s grinning, so you say nothing. Her eyes watch you darkly, following your movements and sending messages you can't translate.

Before she can speak, you remember.

“Oh—my Daddy’s gonna be back soon. I don’t want you to be here when he does.” You tell her, glancing at the doorway behind the both of you.

“I won’t be.”

“Alright—will…will I see you again?”

“Oh sweetheart, you want to?” She questions, starting to re-tie the black bandanna around her mouth.

You blush, sweetly, and the outlaw basks in it. She takes her hat back off, kisses it gently, and places it in your hands.

Her head moves to your neck, barely getting close enough to your ear and whispering faintly.

“Tell Daddy it’s from a suitor, yeah?”

Your cheeks heat, sheerly from how close she is, but also at her words, which feel so much dirtier than they should be to you.

Following that, her leather-covered hands grab your face, and she places a warm kiss on your cheek through the bandanna.

Only lightly could you feel the outline of her lips in the fabric, and it sets you on fire nonetheless.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unsure of how to respond and dizzy with excitement.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warns, voice a bit muffled. She pulls down the bandanna one last time, and with a wink, tells you,

“I’ll be back for my hat.”

#ellie fic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #lesbian #ellie williams #tlou part 2 #ellie williams fic #tlou fic #tlou #catsfor2

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sopiao · 8 months

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hello! can i please request König with a femreader that’s just the embodiment of a cotton ball, a white bunny, a dandelion :))) like she dresses super coquette or semi lolita with cute ruffle skirts and bright colors, loves small critters and spring, gets distracted and excited super easily. and König is just so in love with her x)

don’t feel pressured to write this, ignore if it’s too much or if you’re too busy. make sure to drink water

-☁️

I LOVE LOVE LOVE DESCRIPTIVE REQS LIKE THIS OMG!!! dw bbgs i’ll write anything for y’all :3

ANYWAYS I HOPE I WROTE IT OUT GOOD T-T

I just know that König is one to spoil you, knowing what you like and what you’ve been wanting. And when he sees it, he’ll take no longer than half a second to make up his decision to buy it for you.

Coming back early from deployment he wanted to surprise you, he hadn’t told you that he got out yet. He knocks on the door, waiting for you to answer with a bouquet of your favorite combination of flowers and a gift behind his back.

Smiling at how you excitedly squeal and immediately just jump into his arms. Using both arms to hug and pick you up off your feet, feeling something soft and plush against your back, you step back as he holds up his gift for you.

It’s a huge Rilakkuma plushie that’s holding a small strawberry in it’s hands. Jumping up excitedly you engulf him and the plush animal in a tight hug. Showing both of your bears love.

—

It’s so funny to think about him letting you decorate the bedroom with your own little trinkets, plushies, posters and bedsheets. So every night he shuts off the pastel purple bed light and snuggles up into you under the white ruffled comforter with little cheesy accents on it.

—

Almost every three months you get a new interest into a new hobby. First it was with painting, he dedicated an empty room in the house just for you and your little studio. He picked out the biggest spare room with a big window for you to look at while you painted. König made sure to frame your favorite one in the living room and his favorite in his office.

Then it was sewing and tailoring you’re own clothes, which helped a lot with fitting König’s shirts since double xl shirts are long enough but too loose. And you got to make and tailor your own clothes for cute little dates, flowery sundresses with ruffles, adding a white lace trim to your clothes. (omg i’m rambling)

Which turned into embroidery, where you patched every little hole in you and König’s clothes and bedsheets with small flowers.

So when you trot up into his office and show him a picture of a crocheted bunny plush he’s more than happy to take you down to your favorite craft store and watch you pick out different colored yarns and different size hooks for other projects. His heart is just too soft for you to say no.

—

König loves taking you out to the city during events he knows you’ll love. Walking around with you, more like trying to keep track of you. You have the attention span of a goldfish so whenever you see something you like you drop everything and go look at it.

It won’t so far that he had ti tie a balloon to your wrist to make sure he won’t lose you. He just paid for a trinket you were so fascinated with. When he looked back you were already out if the store and into the busy streets, something catching you’re eye again.

It really was a sight to see a small lady wandering through the streets with such an adorable look and fashion with you’re 6’10 fiancé holding all your new things for you.

—

Now that he’s a colonel he’s more stern with when and how long he gets deployed for. So when spring rolls around, he’s sure that no one from work will bother him and his schedule is cleared. He knows how much you love the spring, how perfect the weather is, how it’s the perfect time for flowers.

König makes sure whatever you wanna do, it’ll happen right when you want it. His favorite thing to do with you is going apple picking, it’s when you have the most motivation to bake apple everything.

Cinnamon apple pie that has beautiful dough decorations, caramel apple cookies, apple cobbler, apple cider donuts, apple fritters, and apple cinnamon oatmeal cookies. König just loves seeing you covered in flower and frosting with your gingham blue apron wrapped around you.

He loves how he gains a little weight during this time of the year with how much you bake and feed him. It’s how you show your love. Either way you love the little bit of his chubbyness, who doesn’t?

—

The first time he let his comrades come over for dinner to meet you, it really was something to see their colonel just melt in your arms when he greets you at the door, introducing his team to you as they take in the warm and cozy atmosphere of your home.

The lighting was soft and comforting, accents and decorations that you picked out was littered all over the house. They didn’t even know he was engaged, let alone a home with you, they all thought he lived in an apartment by himself.

For as long as they’ve known him they would’ve never thought that his home would look like this or give off this type of feeling. They were amazed with how contrasted your and his personality was.

—

König believes that in every relationship everything should be 50/50. So, while you enjoy resting out new recipes for dinner tonight, or making something you saw on instagram, and just overall coating the house and his life in your own little charm.

He does the more controlled and routine stuff. Cleaning and dishes. And sometimes you two clean the house together and listen to music on the speakers. What he loves the most is the laundry.

He loves seeing the mix of his clothes with yours, his boxers getting mixed with your pair of white thigh length socks with a small bow and at the top. He loves separating and folding the clean laundry, folding your pleated blue skirt, and matching white and blue top. He always remembers what outfit you made with each piece of clothing.

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respectthepetty · 4 months

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With My Dear Bro Day Two & Three

Love Tractor's leads got sent to El Nido in the Philippines by the production company and recorded it for With My Dear Bro. I got nothing but time, so I'm binging it and writing it up in three posts: One, Two, Three.

This place is gorgeous! Yoon Do Jin says hi to everyone including the dogs on their walk along the beach, but Do Won is tired and focused. He gets them to where they need to go.

Yoon Do Jin pulls an Unintentional Love Story and speaks one Spanish word.

They have a tiff on the boat in front of God and the driver BECAUSE Yoon Do Jin starts with the dad jokes (baby sharks!), and, per usual, Do Won does not respond.

This is Thailand's Tay and New traveling together but the Korean version.

Yoon Do Jin is dangerous, so thank goodness his sense of humor is whack to balance out his beauty.

Because Do Won hates him. In fact, he puts on his sunglasses, so he can ignore that beautiful man properly.

Do Won was in the military, so he knows a thing or two about the water. Pretty Boy Do Jin apparently was a Marine, but he doesn't even help paddle at times because he is teasing Do Won AGAIN! They rock, paper, scissors to see who rows, and Pretty Boy Do Jin LIES his way into not rowing.

And in their normal fashion, Do Won tells Yoon Di Jin to rest (even though homeboy has been chillin' the entire time!).

This man plays too much.

They are hungry from all the playing. Yoon Do Jin wants Do Won's pasta again (ahhh!), but Do Won is too tired, so since he knows Yoon Do Jin LOVES bread, he suggests a bakery. Yoon Do Jin goes all out and gets everything. Then, they get coffee, but Yoon Do Jin, who is the extrovert and always speaks while Do Won handles the money tells Do Won he has to order instead. This is him practicing! And Yoon Do Jin pats him on the back!

Now it makes sense why the production company sent them on this trip because their banter is amazing! Yoon Do Jin compliments Do Won on his "shy glasses" (a joke from earlier when Do Won put on the sunglasses to ignore Yoon Do Jin). Do Won tells him the glasses are for counting the money Yoon Do Jin spent on bread. Yoon Do Jin eats a cookie with a fork. Do Won serves Yoon Do Jin more bread. It's amazing!

Episode three wins! Do Won wants to stay in the next day. Yoon Do Jin wants to go out. They decide to do their own thing BUT Yoon Do Jin needs money to go out, and he wants 1,000 pesos, so he has to haggle with Do Won who isn't budging. But just like the ladies at the market on day one, Yoon Do Jin is a dangerous man when he wants something.

Another bug appears, and Yoon Do Jin earns his paycheck after Do Won asks in English to "help me, please." They are wearing blue and green and I have no comment.

Episode 4 and THEY ARE COLOR CODED in the opening credits like they were in Love Tractor! Oh, they got me! I'm obsessed now.

Yoon Do Jin wakes up first and has to maneuver off the one bed to not wake up Do Won. He makes them breakfast, but it's very I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing-but-I'm-gonna-do-it-anyway breakfast.

He leaves a note telling Do Won to eat well and to meet him at 2 at a place, then heads out in the rain. Do Won thinks the food is sus. But he approves of it after numerous offensive faces.

Do Won draws. The posters behind him are his and the dog one says: "Without Love There is No Life" and "I Just Love You. Do I Need A Reason?" so he stayed in to recharge

and to finish drawing Yoon Do Jin a poster that is about being loved since everyone loves Yoon Do Jin so much.

Yoon Do Jin is out making a bracelet at a bar, and just like the hairdryer, he is taking it very seriously. If this is a friendship bracelet, I'm gonna lose it.

IT IS FOR DO WON!

They meet on the beach to go to SUNSET YOGA, my beloved, but Everyone's Best Friend Do Jin is getting loved by all the locals as he plays sand volleyball, so Do Won waits patently for him. Do Won tells him that breakfast was good.

Do Won wants to swim. Yoon Do Jin tells him to swim. Do Won says he can't because of the scheduled yoga. They get in another tiff with the yoga instructor as a witness. As everything they do, it's adorable.

Do Won, per usual, wants to carry all the mats and won't accept Yoon Do Jin's help.

They do sun salutations. The boys are not finding the peace they seek.

They look pissed, actually. Well, Do Won does. Yoon Do Jin looks amused that Do Won is so upset.

They go to a Spanish restaurant for dinner and order paella, croquettes, y gambas with sangria. Essential Spanish food, but Do Won gets upset that Yoon Do Jin starts drinking without saying cheers first, then refuses to drink. A tiff is had.

At the house, Yoon Do Jin notices the posters, but touches the other one that doesn't have the sentimental note from Do Won written on the back.

Yoon Do Jin notices that his breakfast note is still on the counter, so he writes something else as he screams "Hyung" eighty times as he has done each and every episode (which is why this show is called With My Dear Bro)

And CAMPING IS NEXT!

#with my dear bro #love tractor #Yoon Do Jin #Do Won #I got time today #episode 3 and 4

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sagesolsticewrites · 2 years

Text

The Wonder of You | Austin Butler x reader

Austin needs some assistance when it comes to dyeing his hair 🖤

Warnings: fluff, just so much fluff, also I know next to nothing about dyeing hair so I apologize for any inaccuracies!

Shoutout to the EFC for their help with this 🥰

(@butlersluvbot I saw you wanted this one first, so here ya go darling!)

“Hey, baby?” Austin’s voice rang down the hall towards where you could almost always be found on a Saturday afternoon - curled up on the sofa with a copy of Pride and Prejudice. “Um… could you come give me a hand with something?”

You closed your book and made your way to the bathroom where Austin had shut himself in about 20 minutes ago with the goal of re-dyeing his hair after his blond roots had started to show. He had decided that he wanted to re-dye his hair himself while filming had shut down due to the lockdown and you were about to be witness to his process.

“What’s u-“ you were cut off at the sight of a mess of paper towels covering the bathroom counter, black hair dye covering a large portion of them as well as your boyfriend’s hands. You stifled a laugh at the embarrassed smile spread across his face.

“This is… a little harder than it looks, I guess.” he said sheepishly, his Elvis drawl bleeding through as he carefully held his hands in the air, the bowl of dye abandoned on the counter.

“Alright Mr. Big Shot Actor, want me to show you how it’s done?” you teased, sweeping the paper towels into the trash and replacing them with an old bath towel.

Austin rolled his eyes playfully, but his tone was genuine as he replied “Yes, please, that would be much appreciated.”

You hummed as you got him situated in a chair pulled from the kitchen table and began to cover the blond that was beginning to peek through with jet-black dye. A giggle escaped him as you brushed along his hairline.

You shot him an amused look as he looked up with a smile. “It wasn’t this ticklish when I tried it myself,” he explained through his laughter. “Wait, wait hold on-“ He pulled his phone out of his pocket, holding it up at an angle where he could get a selfie that included his dye-stained hand holding up a peace sign and you brushing dye onto his hair, giving the camera a mock-unamused look. “For posterity.” He explained, returning the phone to his pocket, “When future generations ask us what it was like to film a movie during all of this,” he gestured vaguely, “I can say that I got my amazing, gorgeous, wonderful girlfriend to help me dye my hair much better than I ever could.”

“Whatever you say, babe” you laughed, blushing at the compliment. You stepped back to admire your handiwork as you set the timer on your phone. “Okay, you’ve got about 15 minutes of sitting here while this processes. Anything you wanna do?”

He shrugged, thinking. “Could you read to me? I know you’ve still got your book out there.” He nodded out towards the living room.

“Sure thing,” you said, smiling, and moments later you were regaling your boyfriend with the tale of Lady Catherine’s visit to Longbourn, with him hanging on to every word.

You had just finished the chapter when the alarm went off on your phone, signaling that it was time to rinse out the dye. You set your book aside and began to carefully run warm water over Austin’s hair, running your fingers along his scalp to ensure all of the excess was rinsed out. Austin let out a relaxed hum as you continued to massage color-protecting shampoo, then conditioner through his hair, sleepily opening his eyes once you announced he was done as the water ran clear.

“That was… very nice,” he drawled sleepily, slowly sitting up and stretching to get any kinks out of his neck, “Thank you, darlin’.” He leaned over and pecked your lips.

“You’re very welcome.” You smiled, “Always happy to help, honey.”

Austin busied himself with drying his hair as you cleaned up some of the dye stains from earlier, and soon enough the two of you were cuddling on the couch.

Austin’s head found its way onto your lap as you read out loud to him, stroking his hair as you made your way through the chapters. Several minutes later you heard soft snoring and looked down to see your boyfriend fully asleep in your lap, effectively preventing you from doing anything but admire the view as the orange and purple glow of the setting sun streamed in through the window.

You laughed softly to yourself, continuing to comb your fingers through his hair and tracing the path of his freckles across his cheeks. Oh well, you thought, there are definitely worse places to be trapped.

#*cue suspicious minds dhjshdj*#also just my own lil headcanon:#even after filming resumes Austin still wants you to be the one to help him with the dye #because ‘you just do it better baby I can’t explain it 🥺’#austin butler #elvis (2022)#austin butler fic #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #elvis biopic #elvis baz luhrmann #austin butler fanfiction

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evita-shelby · 9 months

Text

National Anthem

Chapter 2

Cw: mentions of injuries, death, sex and scars

Gif by @softavasilva

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @cljordan-imperium @zablife

“I thought you were a nurse during your war.” He said tracing idle circles around a spot on her shoulder where a bullet grazed her and left its mark on her.

They had ended up at his place, tearing each other’s clothes off and fucking again in his magnificent four poster bed.

She’d never been with a man, done things that had him question her uncle’s claim until he learned it for himself.

Eva had wanted him to take her in the confessional, and he had, against the wooden walls that were supposed to be holy.

A religious experience in many ways.

You are the first woman I fuck here; he had said out of breath after.

The only woman you will ever fuck here and there and everywhere, she had corrected, and he agreed only to humor her.

I’m gonna return you to your uncle with a limp, Mrs. Nelson, he had promised as he carried her over the threshold of his house like a bride.

He had no driver, thank God, it had been so long Eva had ridden in the front seat of a car.

They had decided on the flowers, the colors and the name of their first child by the time they got to his place, a lovely townhouse he shared with his sister-in-law who mercifully was visiting family in the country.

Didn’t help he was calling her Mrs. Nelson and introduced her as such to the housekeeper, a middle-aged woman with an Irish accent strong enough to remind her of her grandfather.

“Nurses are in the line of fire too, you know.” She responded, keeping her secrets to herself.

The witch isn’t sure if she trusts him enough to tell her what she really did during the war.

Would he look at her the same way when she tells him she killed Americans by the dozen to avenge her parents, neighbors, and friends?

It is better if we forget it happened, her aunt had said as they wiped her records clean.

But she cannot simply shut the door behind her.

It comes and goes as it pleases, sure her sobriety has helped quiet the screams and the grief that led her to try and take her life several times, but it will never be over.

Jack was lucky that his post as the newly minted General Manager exempted him from military service.

There was a part of him that hated he was seen as less manly for not having fought in France like his brother had, though, but Laurance Nelson had died in his first real battle and left little Gina and her mother in his brother’s care with his kid brother resenting him for leaving them all behind.

Jack had lived and risen to great heights his brother never got to see. Would live to see his children have grandchildren of their own.

Still, Jack has his own set of scars, scars she kissed and caressed as they come to know each other here.

Eva kissed a faded stab wound near his clavicle and kissed every inch of skin down his sternum.

Marked him as hers to the next lady he fucks, then he’ll know she meant what she said that she is the only woman he’ll have from now on.

He had another one in his abdomen, had found him to be ticklish there as she ventured lower until she reached that wondrous thing that made her see God several times that morning.

Jack was an open book, with the right person.

His past he keeps guarded under lock and key and yet she knows it.

Grown up being an errand boy to a gangster and eventually Party Boss of South Boston, who had taken him and his brother under his wing once they were old enough.

His mom had been his whore for a while, needing to keep her children clothed and fed by any means necessary when his father up and left her with four little ones.

By the time Jack and his brother, Laurence, had become men, they’d seen so much death.

After their little brother and sister died, their mother followed shortly after.

Asked PJ Kennedy to watch over them for her on her deathbed and good old Pat had sworn on Saint Patrick himself to honor her last wishes.

The man had done more than that, he’d left him and his brother everything, including the steel factory that Jack eventually became General Manger of in 1914.

She wasn’t supposed to know that. Eva had learned it when she had seen him from her window when he came to meet her uncle on business.

He hadn’t seen her, but she had gotten a good look at the tall American man who came looking for a wife.

Saw his intentions and past laid out bare before her as he came into the house.

“Frank Wallace, Gutin Gang tried to hijack me thinking I’d gone soft when PJ gave me Bethlehem Steel. Last time they every thought of fucking with me.” He says before she asks.

They have been doing this for a while, worshiping each other’s scars and learning the context for them.

“Zacatecas, artillery felt like it was raining from heaven. Didn’t notice I was hit until we got my brother, Alan, to the only hospital left with an operation theater.” The witch supplies feeling more comfortable as she returns her head to his chest. “He died of sepsis a week later.”

“Laurence died in his first battle. Went in ‘because he wanted to die, and God granted him his fucking wish. They gave him a fucking medal for bravery and called him a hero.” Jack says not bothering to hide his bitterness at having his big brother abandon him and his daughter and have only a fucking medal and a folded-up flag to mourn him.

“I’m sorry for your loss, it must have been terrible for you to lose your brother that way.” She says because she understands his pain. “And I’m sorry for making the both of us dredge up the past, Jack.”

Gabriel could have chosen to accept the deal with Carranza and wait out the war in the safety of America with their uncles.

But when he refused to stop fighting, Eva stayed by his side because she didn’t want him to die alone.

In the end he did, everyone dies as alone as they came into the world.

Such a dark turn this wonderful moment took.

“Got to admit for first dates, it sure as hell it’s gonna be one to remember, Mrs. Nelson.” He said, tilting her chin up and kissing her.

“It sure is, Mr. Nelson.”

#eva smith nelson #jack nelson x eva smith #jack nelson x oc #national anthem fic

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shiningwonderland · 4 months

Text

Camus (All Star) Memorial

Translator: Mimi (twitter: _mimisaurora)

Memorial 1 - Loves Japanese Sweets

The Carrot Club November Issue: Join Myu-sama! Visit Kyoto in autumn, and enjoy enchanting Japanese sweets

Camus-sama, the noble idol recognized among his fans as Myu-sama, will be the guide for this edition.

He will show us some of the Japanese confectionery shops he has recently been into while strolling through the ancient capital in autumn.

By the time our journalist arrives on location half an hour before the meeting, she realizes the Earl was already there!

“I could not allow myself to be late for our appointment, madam.”

Myu-sama smiles at our journalist, who is a little flattered.

“M-My apologies. We’ll be conducting an interview today….”

“Regardless of the interview, you are a lady first and foremost, madam. I, Camus, would be honored to escort you to the very best of my ability. Now, this way, please.”

Following Myu-sama's pace, the first stop is a long-established Zenzai shop named "Konoha", located along a side road off the main street.

The shop’s poster dog, Tanusuke, appears to be well acquainted with Myu-sama.

Their tail whips about happily.

“Do you come here often?”

“In all honesty, I would love to come every day. However, my schedule is quite busy... It's actually for this reason that I was really looking forward to today's interview (laughs).”

Myu-sama reveals a cuter side of himself; a complete departure from his typical perfect butler persona.

His first order was their most popular chilled Zenzai.

“I must say, the refined sweetness of the red bean paste is delightful. It's so delicious that I usually find myself eating more than I should. There was a time I had up to four cups, much to my kouhai’s dismay.”

“Four cups! That many!?”

“How embarrassing… I couldn't help bringing it up. I shouldn't have. May I ask you to keep this between you and I?”

“I apologize, but because this is an interview, I cannot omit any details.”

“As you wish. I fear I may be scolded once again by my kouhai, but I shall persevere.”

“The kouhai you’re referring to is Cecil Aijima, whom you co-starred in a musical* with, correct?”

*Note 1: This August, the musical "Phantom Thief Nyan Nyaan" held its final performance to critical acclaim. There surely were many ladies thrilled to watch Myu-sama play the role of a super sadistic police dog, a complete 180 from his usual kind personality.

“Yes. You’re right.”

“It was also featured in the June issue of Carrot Club. The long dog ears and tail were so cute and a hot topic at the time.”

“Were they cute?...(laughs) This is something I'm not used to being told, it makes me a little shy. That being said, nothing makes me happier than to know that you ladies enjoyed it.”

“You say your kouhai will scold you, but could it be that nothing you do will ever be good enough for him?”

“How about putting it as… I consider us to have a positive, mutually respectful relationship, regardless of positions.”

After picking up a souvenir for Cecil Aijima, we head south of town along a riverside road where Meiji-era structures remain intact.

This is Myu-sama’s favorite path.

“Despite it bearing no resemblance to the streets of my hometown, it brings me a curious sense of nostalgia. It may be a bit of a detour, but please bear with me for a while.”

“It does have a very pleasant atmosphere, making you feel as if you've been sent back through time to the Meiji Era.”

“It would have been even better if the leaves had begun to redden…. I hope to show you around again next time during the height of the season.”

The road is lined with ginkgo and maple trees, making it a popular spot among insiders.

“Speaking of, were you surprised when you first saw the autumn leaves in Japan?”

“Very much so. I was impressed by the sight of the mountains dyed in five different colors. I had wished to show it to Her Majesty, the Queen of my homeland.”

The next stop was a Western-style café named "Moonlight".

“The sign shows an advertisement for a cake set, but do they serve Japanese sweets here?”

“Yes. Surprising, isn't it? Allow me to show you what's in store.”

“Is this a coffee jelly parfait on the table?

It's covered in a yellow powder….”

“Madam, please have a bite first.”

“Then, if you'll excuse me…

It’s… brown sugar jelly!”

“You’re right. The yellow powder is soybean flour. I've been enjoying its delicate sweet taste lately. It pairs amazingly with soft-serve ice cream, too.”

“Do you also like brown sugar?”

“It’s a favorite of mine. It’s wonderfully rich.”

“I was surprised at the variety of sugars available in Japan. You have not only your traditional white sugar, but also brown sugar and sugarcane… I was especially amazed by the elegance of Wasanbon.”

Since coming to Japan, sweet-toothed Myu-sama apparently carries some Wasanbon on him every day.

“You're well known for always keeping sugar on you, but where exactly do you put it?”

“Heh. That’s a secret, even for you, madam.”

Myu-sama simply smiles and avoids the question.

“Could it be that you don't really have any?”

“Is that what you believe?”

With a snap of his fingers, he suddenly reveals a snow-shaped Wasanbon in the palm of his hand...!

“The beauty of Wasanbon is its ability to take on a multitude of shapes, like this. Of course, coarse sugars like granulated or icing sugar are great too.”

“Surely white sugar is common in Silk Palace?”

“It is very cold where I am from, so before, sugar itself was a rarity. That’s why for me, Japan seemed like a dream destination (laughs).”

“Then are the sweets in Silk Palace not… well, sweet?”

“No, on the contrary, because of how precious it is, they're made very sweet. It may even be too strong for some ladies to eat. In moments like those, we brew a strong cup of tea together.”

“It’s similar to… matcha tea in Japan. Though not as formal as the Japanese tea ceremony, Silk Palace also has a custom of hosting guests with tea.”

Myu-sama smiles with a cup of tea in his hand.

“I would be happy to brew you a pot of tea whenever you desire.”

In the end, Myu-sama personally picks out a souvenir for the Carrot Club editorial staff.

“Hatsushimo" is a long-established Japanese confectionery shop that has been in business since the Genroku era.

Upon passing through the shop’s traditional noren curtain, one is immediately hit by a brilliant shade of red.

“The wonderful thing about this place is their Nerikiri. Many of them have autumn leaf motifs** this time of year.”

**Note 2:

The selection of Jo-namagashi changes with the season.

Please inquire with the store for more details.

With a twinkle in his eye, Myu-sama began to select Namagashi from the display case.

“These, for instance, are works of art. They’re designed to resemble autumn leaves in the process of changing their color from green to red. It’s beautiful… It would be a pity to eat them.”

A sweet shaped in the form of a bird was the next one to catch our attention.

“This one here must be inspired by the Hyakunin Isshu. Long is the mountain pheasant’s tail that curves down in its flight; but longer still, it seems to me, left in my lonely plight, is this unending night. It’s a love poem about an autumn night that feels as painfully long as the tail of a mountain bird, when one sleeps alone and apart from the person they love.”

“I see… that explains why the bird is atop a backdrop made of black bean paste.”

“To even understand the Hyakunin Isshu… you are indeed well-informed on Japan, Myu-sama.

Not many Japanese people are as knowledgeable in this subject as you are.

It’s fantastic.”

“No. One can acquire all the knowledge they want later in life. The existence of this historic restaurant is proof in itself that the people of this country have long had a love of beauty and culinary delights. I believe that their passion is far more remarkable than their knowledge.”

Yokan, Higashi. The amount of souvenirs for the editorial staff quickly grew.

“By the way, what is your top pick?”

“It would be Botamochi. Only recently did I learn that the name changes from Ohagi in the fall to Botamochi in the spring.”

He speaks with a smile and buys three pieces of Ohagi for himself.

We ended the interview greatly satisfied.

“Thank you for your cooperation today.”

The December issue will feature “Join Ren-ren! Explore Hama's authentic Italian cuisine”.

- - - - - - - - - -

“So Camus-senpai loves… Japanese sweets.”

I jotted down the gist of the magazine article and then looked up.

“I wonder if he would cooperate with creating the unit song if I brought him some delicious Japanese sweets…”

I genuinely considered it, but shook my head.

No, it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Camus-senpai is someone who keeps his private and public life separate. He wouldn't help us out so easily.

“Then… A song inspired by Japanese sweets…?”

That’s just as bad. It’s not that simple.

If I don't get to know Senpai even better and write a song that only he can sing, and would want to sing, he will never come to acknowledge me.

“In any case, I just have to keep researching.”

I drew in a small breath to get myself in the mood, and turned back toward the stacks of magazines.

#utapri #all star #all star camus #camus utapri #camus memorial

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jimothy-hopkins · 1 year

Text

Meddling Kids X

WARNING! This series contains mentions of violence, swearing, gore, EDs, SH, attempted/mentioned SA, drug use and many other things that and trigger or cause discomfort to some readers. Please do not indulge in this work if you are sensitive to any of those topics. Also, to clarify, I do NOT in ANY way work to support/romanticize/glamorize any of these tropics in this story. That is not what I stand for and that is not who I am as a person.

Have fun y’all.

The moment the bell rang, Jimmy was out of his seat and tailing the punk.

He was fuming. This guy was in for it. Who did he think he was breaking into his school, stealing his mascot, and hitting him with bolt cutters? Jimmy was going to wring him by his necktie and send him back to the chicken scratch-doodled paper he came from.

“Hey Lady Liberty! Turn around, will ya?” Jimmy hollered as he stormed from behind.

“Woah, Lucky Charms, chill out,” The punk laughed once he came to face Jimmy.

Jimmy gritted his teeth and reeled back a fist to swing.

“What’s got you trippin’, little man?” He asked with his head tilted like a German Shepherd.

Just as Jimmy opened his mouth to argue back, Pete pulled him aside.

“I’m sorry! He thought you were someone else!” Pete chuckled awkwardly.

“Ah, no problem. Judd Jones, by the way. You rock that pink,” the punk complimented as he patted Pete’s shoulder and walked away to join his colorful clique.

Pete would then drag Jimmy off, wandering the halls until they found a bathroom to hide in. They managed to find one down the hallway. Pete looked inside, seeing that it was vacant. He quickly dragged Jimmy into a stall and locked the door behind them. Then, Pete came menacingly close, his dark doe eyes squinting with a rage Jimmy had never seen in him.

“Are you stupid?” He asked.

Jimmy blinked in response.

“If you said anything about the mascot, you would’ve been flattened!” Pete rattled Jimmy by the shoulders.

“Pete, chill! I can handle myself!”

“Not alone against an entire student body you can’t,” Pete argued.

Jimmy rolled his eyes.

Pete’s nervousness began to return. “L-look man, we’re already playing with fire. This is seriously dangerous,” he stammered.

“Fine, but we’re gonna get my shit back. And then figure out the fuck’s going on with Alice,” the short boy unlocked the stall.

Pete nodded hesitantly, joining Jimmy in his mission.

“Mr. Joiner,” Gary called, catching the teacher as he moved to the lounge.

“Yes?” The man turned, his big blue eyes trailing down to the teenager.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He asked.

“Of course, just let me heat my lunch up quick, then meet me in my classroom,” Mr. Joiner smiled as he continued his route to the teacher’s lounge.

Gary slowly trailed his way back to the now-empty human anatomy classroom. He kept himself busy, gazing up at posters depicting different body systems. The nervous, cardiac, integumentary, skeletal, and digestive. To his right was a shelf full of jars that held all types of organs and animals. Everything from a human heart to a preserved embryo of some kind. This classroom was morbidly fascinating and much more interesting than Dr. Slawter’s.

He turned his attention to the door as Mr. Joiner slipped back in and kicked it shut.

As he made his way back to his desk, he spoke. “So, what were you wanting to talk about?”

Gary paused. “Well, I guess I just had a few more questions about the integumentary system.”

“I see. What were you wondering about?” Mr. Joiner leaned back as he blew on some piping hot spaghetti.

“I was wondering how the skin can take a tattoo,” Gary asked, gauging his questions carefully.

“Oh, well, you see, that’s where the layers of skin come into play,” the man started as he sat up.

Gary listened intently, trying to catch any slip-ups. Mr. Joiner ranted about the dermis, the nerves, the needles, how certain inks could cause allergic reactions, and the transfer of skin infections through unsanitized equipment. Gary widened his eyes at the sudden idea.

“Do some places hurt more than others?” He cocked his head.

“Yes, they do,” Mr. Joiner chuckled, color in his cheeks.

“How do you know? Do you have a tattoo?”

Mr. Joiner sighed, almost ashamed.

“Yes, not very proud of it. I don’t remember getting it at all. It’s an angel wing tramp stamp with a halo,” the man explained.

Gary was caught off guard by the sinking in his gut. He felt sick like he was going to throw up. Gary got his answer. And, apparently, he wasn’t as ready for it as he thought he was. He slowly stood, nausea expanding in his throat like a pufferfish.

“Are you alright?” Mr. Joiner asked.

“I forgot my phone in the bathroom-“ Gart lied before he ran out of the class and down the hallway.

On the other side of campus, Jimmy and Pete hadn’t even come close to finding the mascot. They’d tried more obvious places like the weight room, gym, locker room, and even a few janitor’s closets. The only thing they found was two kids making out, gross. This journey was a total bummer.

“Wait,” Pete halted.

Jimmy turned. “What is it?”

“Where’s Gary?”

“I thought he was behind us.”

“Shit.”

“You search outside, and I’ll go in,” Jimmy said.

Pete nodded and quickly turned to hunt for his estranged cousin.

Jimmy sighed, catching up to a back entrance and pushing his way in. The main building was primarily empty. The only students that remained were those who sought trouble or academic assistance. Jimmy checked through the window of the classroom they’d been in, but it was void of any students, just Mr. Joiner passed out asleep on some test paper he had to grade.

He let out a heavy breath and turned to walk further down the hall. Jimmy casually waltzed by other classrooms and peeked in. No Gary. How hard was it to lose a sickly-looking, scraggly teenage boy with a massive scar on his face? Not hard at all. It was like Gary had just said, “screw you guys, I’m going home,” then vanished into thin air.

Jimmy looked at the boy’s bathroom. He ought to try looking in. Jimmy entered, and the smell of cheap cologne and urine permanently stained the air. He turned his head to stare at himself in the mirror. He looked weird in red. Jimmy couldn’t wait to get out of this stupid vest.

He heard a muffled cry.

Slowly, Jimmy looked to the row of stalls, glancing at the closed one. A pair of black combat boots were visible underneath.

Gary.

Jimmy quietly sighed before he knelt down, sliding under the stall door.

“Get the fuck out, moron!” Gary yelled at him.

“Gary, what’s wrong?’ Jimmy asked with furrowed brows as he stood.

“I said get out!”

“And I asked you what’s wrong.”

Gary caught his breath, teeth clenched down into his tongue.

Jimmy stared, watching Gary gather his thoughts. He’d never been a good comforter. He was the type to take vengeance on what had caused the wailing in the first place. Gary’s eyes were red and puffy. The tears made his cheeks glisten. Gary’s nose turned a tormented red from constant sniffling and blowing with dry single-ply toilet paper. He didn’t like this. It felt too heavy. You’d think that being so-called best friends, Jimmy and Gary would have no issue with seeing each other cry, but Jimmy hated it. He hated every moment he had to sit and watch Gary choke on tears and catch his breath.

“I know him,” was all Gary managed to belt out.

“Mr. Joiner?” Jimmy asked.

Gary nodded as he shielded his face, further irritating his raw skin with the material of the Heartland cardigan.

“Daniel Lamb,” he breathed, finally able to take a deep breath.

“Who’s he?”

“A guy my brother liked since high school. He cheated on his wife with him. He got institutionalized after he went psycho and decapitated his wife when their divorce was about to be finalized,” Gary explained, his eyes pinned to the ceiling.

Jimmy stood. He was at a loss for words as he processed what Gary had just said.

“How’d you figure it out?’ Jimmy asked.

“Told me he had an angel wing tramp stamp. Daniel and my brother got matching ones when they went to Mardi Gras in Cottonmouth, Louisiana, and got too drunk,” the brunette explained bitterly.

“I’ll text Pete that I found you,” Jimmy trailed off as he pulled out his flip phone.

With one slow-sending text, Pete was alerted and quickly made his way to the bathroom.

Gary stood over the sink and splashed his face with cold water while Jimmy patted him on the back.

Pete walked up, out of breath.

“Boy’s dorms. Found it,” he smiled.

“Sweet,” Jimmy grinned as Gary dried his face.

The trio then exited the bathroom, on their way outside and down south to where the dorms were. It did take some time, as they had zero memorization of the campus layout, but they eventually made it to the two-story dormitory.

Slipping inside, Jimmy was mad.

These kids lived almost like college students. The floors were dark shiny hardwood, and the lights weren’t constantly flickering. The walls were void of graffiti, an air hockey table in the lounge. The hallways didn't smell like cigarettes and weed either.

“Not gonna lie, stepping in here made me even madder,” Jimmy huffed.

“You can kick ass later, moron. Lead the way, Pete,” Gary said.

Pete confidently strutted down the hall and up a set of stairs to the second floor, bypassing a few students as they made their way down another hallway to a dead end. There was an open room, and the mascot was laid out on one of the beds.

JImmhy ran in and snatched the suit into his arms.

“Hey! Fuck are you in my dorm for?” A deep voice hollered.

The trio looked over, seeing a boy even shorted than Jimm across the room with his fists balled up. He sported a clean cut and a varsity jacket.

It was the fucker who tried him. Maverick.

“GO!” Jimmy yelled as he scrambled out of the dorm.

They almost fell down the stairs from the way they fell and tripped over each other’s feet. Frantic breathing escaped the three as they blasted it out of the dormitories. Now they had at least seven guys tailing them from behind, out for blood and bruises. Pete yelped as he pushed himself to go even faster. Maverick was practically breathing down his neck.

Jimmy skidded around the wall to the front gate, and from a distance, he could see a city bus. He began to call out and screamed for the driver to wait. Gary had been quick enough to grab their original vests, his tall strides keeping him out of reach from Maverick and his posse.

Pete was the first to get on, and Gary hauled ass not too far behind. Jimmy wheezed hard. His lungs burned, but he was almost there. Just a few more paces and Jimmy would be on. With one last sprint, he leaped onto the bus steps. He was safe. Jimmy fished a ten from his pocket and shoved it in the driver’s hands. The man grumbled in thanks as he hit the has.

When Jimmy found his seat beside Gary at the window, he leaned and looked at the vicious jock. He seemed to be screaming a stream of profanities and slurs, language far too colorful for even Ms. Philips to visualize. Jimmy slumped back down and tenderly held his mascot. Next time he’d lock it up better.

Gary turned to face Jimmy. “We need to get in Happy Volts. They have a bunch of records we can look at.”

“You think he killed her?”

“It’s a possibility,” he shrugged.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jimmy leaned his head on Gary’s shoulder.

“Sleepy?” Gary raised his scarred brow.

Jimmy nodded and closed his eyes, slowly drifting off on Gary.

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secretly-a-catamount · 3 months

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The Carpenter and Tightrope Walker

(Did somebody say Rowaysa Circus AU? It was me. I said it.)

I wrote this on Ao3 under the account Beatty_About_Books, if you want to read my other works you can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatty_About_Books/pseuds/Beatty_About_Books

CONTENT WARNING: This work has implied/referenced child abuse and a murder of a major character. If either of these things are upsetting to you, please don't read this.

Waysa was eleven when he first saw the tightrope walker. The hoards of circus-goers around him kept remarking on her glorious red hair - so bright that it could easily be seen even from where Waysa was sitting, which was the penny-cheap area of the stands - but he thought that it was her confidence with which she crossed the thin cable that made her beautiful. She was strong and grateful.

Waysa was thirteen when he caught Lady Rowena Fox-Pemberton after a show and presented her with a bouquet of wildflowers. Wildflowers, inexpensive and dull in their coloring, but meant with an emotion he dared not examine. Her face was surprised as she took them, their fingers brushing. Rowena softly confided in him that no one had ever given her a gift before, he said that he always would, and that soon became their routine (a friendship built on soft words and small gifts) until the Circus moved, as it always did, Rowena moving with it, as she always did, too.

Waysa was fifteen when she first kissed him in response to a comment he could never quite remember later. He was in love, although he did not yet know the name of the feeling he had tucked away in a secret compartment of his heart - a secret because he was a carpenter's boy and she was The Mistress of the High Wire.

Waysa was seventeen when he first told Rowena he loved her and placed a ring on her hand, something he couldn't really afford but had bought for her anyway. He knew what, or rather who, he wanted now, who drove him, who he waited for every year until her posters graced the town and he ran into her arms, kisses abound, her name always, always, always on his lips.

Waysa was nineteen when they ran off together. They fled both Rowena’s father, the Ringmaster of the Circus, an physically abusive and cruel man, and the illness that had taken Waysa’s family.

Waysa was twenty-one when they settled in a town by the sea. He built them a shop where they could both practice their trades (carpentry and apothecary respectively) and a house where they both could live.

Waysa was twenty-three when they married in second-hand clothing (Rowena looking more like an angel or a goddess than a mere woman).

Waysa was twenty-five when they had a daughter. A daughter they named Lorraine, who had inherited Waysa’s looks but Rowena’s spirit.

Waysa was twenty-seven when he disappeared.

Waysa would have been twenty-nine when his body was dredged from the cove. Weights lashed around his ankles and wrists, a single name carved into his skin, a warning and a threat.

Waysa would have been thirty-one when his wife killed her father, took control of the Circus as its new Ringmaster, and began training their daughter for the high-wire.

Waysa would have been thirty-six when Lorraine fell in love with a clockmaker’s son who had brought her a bouquet of wildflowers and a watch he really couldn't afford.

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pyj-12 · 11 months

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You know what? Fuck it,, I'll give a presentation to my Kuroiro with his headcannons,,,

Alert:emo, cringe and shady content. Please don't kill me-

Ps:(I'm usying google translator bcs my english is horrible-)

Where to start? I really like the character to the point that I filled him with hdcs- let's start with his appearence

My design of Shihai Kuroiro is different from the anime but it is similar to the design he has in the Team Up Mission.

Shihai Kuroiro has diamond-shaped pupils with light-gray blue eyes.

His front teeth are normal but he has large, sharp fangs.

Its gums and mouth (and inside of its body) are dark gray and can be slightly lighter or darker depending on the part of its body.

Kuroiro's body is pure darkness with no trace of light, and he can use his quirk throughout his body for whatever he wants.

Kuroiro with his quirk can deform his body to his liking but cannot transform into living beings or add more parts to the body. (He usually deforms his body with his quirk to scare people)

Kuroiro at the end of the fingers of his hands has sharp claws of pure darkness.

Now let's go with his personality, alert: this is going to be very edgy and emo and horrible-

Kuroiro is someone manipulative and perverse, if necessary he gets his hands dirty but he always has a reason for his actions, even if they are selfish or horrible.

He usually draws in class when no one is watching or when he gets bored, he sometimes scratches the sheets, makes simple drawings with lines or makes incredibly graphic drawings (for better and for worse).

He likes everything that is black.

He likes rock and depressing or dark rhythm songs, his favorite band is Ghost but he secretly likes Lady Gaga songs a lot.

He has very few friends, including Juzo, Togaru, Romero, and Tokoyami. But he also gets along with Kinoko, Kendo and Reiko.

Kuroiro hates Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki to death.

Kuroiro likes black cats, bats, and tarantulas.

Kuroiro is capable of feeling love for many people, he is willing to go out with multiple people at the same time because for him, love is something very important.

Kuroiro is somewhat embarrassed to admit it but he really likes big boys who are related to the dark, among them Kamakiri Togaru, Romero Fujimi and he is certainly attracted and interested in Shoji but out of respect for Tokoyami he does not approach him.

Kuroiro's room is deep purple in color with many black things and dark and gloomy decoration.

Kuroiro is attracted to the dark arts and practices rituals with his friends (not all accept)

Kuroiro has many strange and perverse manias, too many, but he keeps them hidden.

Kuroiro is very close to Juzo seeing him as his younger brother as the two grew up together in childhood plus Kuroiro lives across the street from Juzo's home.

Kuroiro collects many strange things in his room, books on dark arts, bones, posters related to the dark and thanks to Togaru he has a painting with stuffed insects.

Kuroiro loves horror and tragedy movies, especially the most graphic ones, your favorite? Cannibal holocaust.

Well, I think that was it, someday I'll continue it, maybe I'll edit it later, I don't know. If this is poorly written or something is not understood, I will let you know that it is my first time doing this and I also wrote it with the Google translator. I don't speak English but I know a lot, maybe later I'll read the blog in detail- sooo... goodbye

#bnha #bnha class 1b #class 1b #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #mha class 1b #kuroiro shihai #shihai kuroiro

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3ofpents · 9 months

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100 Palette Challenge // Palette #10 // Lady Dahlia

I know I'm late again this week. I'm in the midst of a lot of school stuff. I've mentioned, I think, but I've gone back to school to get a graphic design certification. I started last Fall and it was my hope to be done by this summer because the certification programs are designed for adults with careers who want to expand their skill sets and so are pared down to only the classes that are directly relevant to the subject matter. In my case that's only 9 classes, so 3 per semester. But unfortunately I had to withdraw in the Spring because of some health issues. So now I'm trying to pick up where I left off after the school went and changed a bunch of their online systems. So now I get to try and recover my old accounts on their new system and deal with class requirements that don't exist for my program, but apparently exist now for individual classes that are required.

And on top of that we're prepping our toddler to go to daycare, which comes with A LOT of paperwork and supplies lists and doctor signatures and also EMOTIONS.

Anyway.

Today's palette comes from a poster that appears to have been an activist piece of art. I've tried not to go into too much detail here about the posters since the bulk of this book is the palettes and the pieces they were picked from. I'm already posting every single palette in the book, so I'd rather not include the posters also. But I just love this one so much, I have to at least share the information so you can look it up yourselves. It's called "Dig" by Sadie Wendell Mitchell, it's part of a series she did called "Girls Will Be Girls". It depicts a young woman perched on a chair engrossed in a book, and also surrounded by stacks of books. Only a few of the books have visible titles, "The Study of Bugology", "The Psychology of the Male Human", and "Economy" (the one she's reading). And on the wall you can see part of a poster that says "DO IT NOW".

It feels like a very pointed protestation as a poster designed in 1909.

I struggled with this palette a lot. It's not only very similar to a lot of the previous palettes, the values are just so similar, particular with the green and teal. It works fine in the original poster because Mitchell used a heavy black outline, but the author of the book chose not to include that in the palette.

I actually started a completely different piece that going to be a face study, but I just didn't like the way the colors were playing together. So I ended up scrapping it.

So I pulled back a bit. Our dahlias have started blooming and the first ones to pop were these gorgeous red and yellow blooms, and I've wanted to draw a fairy for one of these for several palettes so far, so I did it.

The dahlias were SO much easier and more fun to draw than the peony was. They're so geometric, I really just enjoyed layering the petals and the colors.

I attempted to give the fairy some petal clothes, but it just wasn't doing what I wanted it to do. And I think the form is distinct enough to make her out. I do really like the effect of the teal on the green; the heavy similarities of them both make the fairy and flowers pop more. I do wish I'd filled in some more greenery in the background, but honestly I'd spent so much time on this palette already I didn't have it in me.

I'm really pleased with the final result, though, and I doubt this will be the last fairy piece in this series.

I want to shout out Fat Photo Ref again. I used them for the pose and the hair for the fairy and I remain exceptionally pleased with the range of references available and the easy navigation.

#artists on tumblr #art #fairy #dahlias #art challenge #100 palettes challenge

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darkmatter-nebula · 10 months

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Get ready for a freshly baked "Lost But Now Found" AU One-Shot, my sweet fellas. It takes place during the events of Eclipse Lake, where Hunter meets Colli for the first time. Let's go! 😃

One-Shot: The Starboy And The Golden Guard

It was a quiet day on the Boiling Isles. Unfortunately, Luz got sick. She got infected with the common mold. Colli was clearly concerned about his beloved big sister. He didn't know how the human body would react to a disease from the Demon Realm.

Amity, Willow and Gus helped to take care of Luz. "Colli, look! My arms are snakes!" Luz spoke up, her speech was slurring a bit. Suddenly, the Echo Mouse showed another entry in Philip's diary. It was about a substance called Titan's Blood.

"The Eclipse Lake? I know where it is!" Colli chimed in. The small starboy with otherworldly fluffy lavender hair and a heart of gold, along with his mother, big brother and, of course, Amity, was on his way to The Knee.

It didn't take long for the four of them to arrive at The Knee. What Colli didn't know yet was, that he was about to meet someone special. Then, Colli was concerned about a Scout. Kikimora ordered to throw him off a cliff! The kindhearted eternal little boy immediately levitated him to safety.

At the same time, Hunter disguised himself as a Scout, since he wasn't allowed to leave the Castle. Flapjack listened to him as he was talking about his plans to get Titan's Blood. Unfortunately, the blonde boy slipped and fell in front of Colli, King, Eda and Amity.

"Are you ok?" Colli asked softly. Hunter turned to him. 'Could it be...? Is that... The Collector?' The young Golden Guard thought as he put his eyes on Colli's adorable multi-colored face. 'If he is, his wanted posters are VERY exaggerated!'

Eda didn't fail to notice Hunter staring at her precious Little Star. "Is something wrong with my son, or why are you looking at him like that?" The Owl Lady spoke up. "No. It's... it's nothing." Hunter murmered while Amity tied him up with her Abomination goo.

"Amity, is it really necessary to tie him up?" Colli's sweet voice was filled with sympathy and concern for Hunter. Hunter couldn't believe his ears! The most wanted person, with the highest bounty, seemed to be an absolute sweetheart!

'He is so sweet... why does he even have a bounty? He doesn't seem like a criminal...' Hunter thought as Colli gave him a kind smile. Colli was floating next to Hunter.

The group arrived at a room with a drill. Eda was about to use it to awaken her Harpy form, but she decided against it as she noticed Colli's concerned expression. "I'm sorry, Little Star. I didn't mean to scare you." Eda said as she kissed softly Colli's freckled cheek.

Not that much later, everyone was in a room with very weird looking things. "Don't touch that! This is Fool's Blood! It's dangerous!" Unfortunately, Eda didn't listen to Hunter's warning. She accidentally caused a earthquake, which opened a big hole in the ground.

Before anyone could fall into it, Colli levitated everyone to safety. "Is everyone alright?" He asked. "We're fine. Thanks to you, Colli." King was grateful for his beloved little brother's help. The immortal celestial boy turned to Hunter.

"I don't think that you're going to hurt us." With this words, Colli used his magic to untie Hunter. "Colli, he is dangerous!" Amity spoke up. "But Amity, he tried to warn us about the Fool's Blood. If he really wanted to hurt us, he wouldn't have said anything." Colli said.

Hunter was speechless! Soon, the group arrived at the Eclipse Lake. Unfortunately, there wasn't any Titan's Blood left. Hunter began to act very... concerning. The blonde boy, who didn't want to be replaced, began to dig his own grave.

Colli's heart broke for him. He and Amity approached him. Both reached out their hands. Hunter noticed the key around the youngest Blight's neck... he began to fight her! "Please, stop!" Colli, who was a pacifist through and through, didn't like conflicts.

Hunter stopped his fight with Amity and turned his attention to Colli instead. "When I capture you, Belos will not replace me!" Hunter charged at Colli and tied him up with a rope. "Please don't! The Emporer will hurt me again..." Colli whispered as he teared up.

《Don't do that! I can see that you don't really want to hurt him!》 Flapjack chirped. "Of course I don't want to hurt him! But I don't have a choice!" Hunter's voice was filled with desperation. 《Please, let him go.》 Hunter listened to Flapjack and untied Colli.

"Threatening my son was a very big mistake!" Eda, who managed to turn into her Harpy form, was very angry! "Mom, I'm fine!" Colli's sweet voice was enough to calm his mother's fury.

Amity charged at Hunter and continued to fight him. After some time, both were exhausted. Unfortunately, one attack let Amity's Abomination blade fly out of her hand! It was about to impale Colli! "NO!" Hunter ran up to him and carried him to safety.

Hunter felt something awakening inside of him as Colli cuddled close to his chest. Hunter immediately tightened the embrace. As for Colli, the little boy felt a massive power boost! His weakened magic just was fully restored! But he also felt something else awakening inside of him as well.

It was love! An unbreakable and unconditional brotherly love! "I'm sorry for scaring you ealier, Collector." Hunter apologized. "My name is Colli. And it's fine. You're actually a good person, Hunter." Colli pressed with infinite tenderness his forehead against Hunter's.

Flapjack, Eda, King and Amity watched in awe as Hunter intertwined his fingers with Colli's. His magenta eyes were filled to the brim with love and adoration for him. In a very strong brotherly sense, Colli and Hunter fell in love with each other.

The kindhearted starboy cupped tenderly Hunter's face with his small hands. Speaking of Hunter, he never felt such a love and protectiveness for someone. 'I think I love him.' The young Golden Guard thought as he caressed Colli's freckled cheek.

Amity noticed that the key was gone! It fell off as she fought Hunter. "I have to go now." The blonde boy said as Amity was about to speak up. "I can't wait to see you again, Colli." Hunter whispered softly into Colli's ear.

Not that much later, he and Flapjack were gone. Amity didn't fail to notice the tiny amount of Titan's Blood on her glove.

"I never thought that his wanted posters are THIS exaggerated! Colli isn't a bloodthirsty monster at all! He is so incredible beautiful and cute! And his heart is as pure as freshly fallen snow!" Hunter definitely loved Colli already more than anything.

Flapjack was relieved that his boy spared Colli. The red cardinal didn't fail to notice that the eternal little boy loved Hunter just as much as the sixteen years old boy already loved him. 《I'm sure we're going to see him again very soon!》 Flapjack chirped happily. "I think so too." Hunter agreed with him.

The End

#lost but now found au #the collector #king clawthorne #hunter #clawthorne brothers #clawthorne-noceda-deamonne-whispers brothers #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #gus porter #willow park #amity blight #flapjack #kikimora #fanfic

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asimperingswannsong · 1 year

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Torbi’s Journey

Author’s Note: IDK it’s just a protest over the amount of Star Wars and Marvel content Disney is spewing out without giving me Phasma’s backstory. Delilah Dawson was kind enough to provide source material but instead Disney gives us Star Wars: Andor? She Hulk?

I’m sure this timeline is muddled and I’m no great expert of Star Wars history so please be gentle.

Summary: Captain Phasma/Torbi

- reading Delilah Dawson’s novel ‘Phasma’ is a helpful prereq. An unhinged person like Phasma deserves an equally unhinged love interest. That’s the working theory here. There’s a non-con riptide swirling under the surface so mind yourself.

———————————————————————————————————

The tall blonde stood, drink in hand, and watched the glint of the lights from the chandeliers bouncing off Captain Phasma’s armor as she wove her way through the crowd. General Hux droned on at her elbow about weapons shipments and other boring bureaucratic niceties. The man was all work, even at what purported to be a party.

She’d spent the last eight years scheming, cheating, and killing her way through anyone who tried to dismiss her or undermine her in anyway. She’d eliminated anyone who tried to question her legitimacy. She’d learned well from a thief and scavenger who’d rescued her from the surface of her home planet in what came to be a sort of apprenticeship (from her failed attempt to steal from him), but his only intention was to swindle and grow his fortune by pirating equipment shipments from hyperlanes and profiting from other’s misfortunes. Her ambitions were larger in scope, and it wasn’t long before he became an obstacle.

Naturally, she’d removed that obstacle, and the next one, and the next. She wanted more than money. Her goal was crystal clear. She’d maintained the contacts her rescuer helped her make, but she also assumed new roles with contacts of different sorts.

Slowly, she’d established an identity as a legitimate supplier to the First Order. She purchased supply lines and ships, then factories. She employed workers to make the things she’d previously only stolen. Overtime, Lady Ruth Deimos emerged as someone who could be relied on to provide weapons and other supplies on strict deadlines.

Her reliability had finally gotten her here. In regular and direct contact with General Hux, and so close to her goal, so close.

“Why is her armor chrome colored?” “What, oh…” she’d caught General Hux off guard. He’d been completely oblivious during his interminable rambling. “Uh, she created it herself. At first I thought it was presumptuous but my father had an image in mind for promotional purposes. I now see her use as a figurehead for the fleet. Our troops have come far under her leadership, and she inspires them admirably.”

“Could you introduce us?”

He guided her through the crowd over to where Phasma had taken up position on the perimeter. She was, no doubt, bored; standing and watching First Order officers schmoozing with politicians and suppliers.

“Captain Phasma.” “General.” “This is Lady Deimos. She’s supplying us with new blasters for the recruits.” “Hello.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen the footage of you in battle, very impressive.” “Thank you Lady Deimos,” Captain Phasma observed the woman. She was beautiful; creamy skin, dark blue eyes, light blonde hair; tall - 5’10”? Phasma detected something in her attentive gaze that she couldn’t quite place. She was used to flattery. Since agreeing to be the face of their promotional campaign, with posters and footage of her plastered everywhere, she’d attracted a sort of fan base. But, this seemed like something else, almost a sense of familiarity.

“General Hux.” His comm interrupting. “Yes, trooper?” “Sir, we’ve detected activity outside the banquet, there appear to be two people trying to gain access not on the guest list. We suspect they may be rebels.”

General Hux nodded to Captain Phasma who immediately turned to collect her guards before exiting to investigate.

Lady Deimos sighed in frustration inwardly. Every time she tried to move in, her efforts were thwarted in one way or another. She tried again and again over the next few weeks to gain direct contact with the captain, but Phasma maintained only a passing interest in the ordering and supply of weapons. As long as they were there when needed, she wasn’t overly concerned with where the weapons came from. After a few weeks of failed attempts at gaining direct access to the captain, Lady Deimos fell back and decided to switch gears entirely.

——————————————————————————————————

She left her operations manager in charge of luncheons and other tedious interactions with the General. She put away her gowns and finery, donned a leather jacket and some canvas work pants, and began to frequent very different sorts of gatherings; a series of dives on backwater planets; some of them she owned or at least owned a stake in. They were places frequented by scavengers, bounty hunters, rebels, anyone who wanted to drink, eat, gamble, or meet up outside the gaze of the First Order. A few evenings spent next to a few drunk and extra friendly patrons along with some well placed bribes and she came away with a name.

He was going by Gavin, but his actual designation was trooper TS4067. She intercepted him on his way to provide his rebel contact with the latest intel he’d gathered. After a few drinks, the promise of greater riches than the rebels could comfortably provide, and a light sprinkling of the threat of bodily harm, she’d received a promise to be advised of troop movements.

After a few months, the opportunity she’d waited for finally presented itself. A few scavengers had inflicted enough damage to a shipping hyperlane to attract the notice of the First Order; like a fly biting the hind end of an ass enough that it finally swings around to scratch it on a tree and squash the fly in the process.

She knew from TS4067’s report that the order knew virtually nothing about the encampment where the scavengers where hiding. She gathered as much information as possible from a few of her sources and arrived in advance for additional reconnaissance.

She was safely stowed away in a rocky outcropping with a good view of the village through a set of quadnocs when Captain Phasma, TS4067, and a small group of other storm troopers arrived.

The settlement was not large. It contained several low dome-shaped structures designed to withstand sand storms. There were village elders dotted around the perimeter playing large harp like stringed instruments.

The music emanating from them was a high pitched sort of whiny sound that couldn’t be described as pleasant. At first, she’d thought maybe it was a primitive religious practice designed to remind the citizenry to remain penitent? That was the only reason she could think for why they would tolerate such a caterwauling. Of course, when she discovered the actual purpose, she knew immediately that she could use it to her advantage.

Predictably, the order did not waste a great deal of time considering the anthropological origins of the harpists. They executed them almost immediately, unknowingly, sealing their own fate in the process. She could only hope that Phasma would live up to her reputation when the time came.

The silence caused the people to begin exiting their homes to investigate the sudden change.

The troopers wasted no time in rounding up the inhabitants. The scavengers were pulled from the crowd and executed in front of the others as an example. The soldiers continued by killing people at random, ransacking their possessions, and sitting a few of their dwellings ablaze before the consequences of their actions arrived. It started with intense ground tremors. Suddenly, three very large and angry Tr’chasian dragons emerged from underground burrows.

TS4067 was devoured whole pretty quickly; a loose end nicely tied up with no effort on her part. Now she grew tense as she saw Phasma engage with one of the creatures while her troops continued to be decimated around her. Phasma discovered quickly that her blaster was no match for the thick armor like scales on the exterior of the beast. She was attempting to maneuver herself underneath it to look for weak points when she was caught by the swipe of its back foot and sent flying. She impacted with the side of one of the dwellings. That was her cue to intervene. She activated the beacons she’d placed earlier throughout the settlement. A reproduction of the harpists song flooded the village and sent the beasts retreating back into their underground burrows.

———————————————————————————————————-

She waited as Phasma recovered. The medical droids had stopped her bleeding. Her ribs were healing, and she expected her to regain consciousness at any moment. While she waited she admired the Captain with her helmet removed.

She was quite beautiful in repose, pale skin, blonde eyelashes and eyebrows that almost blended into her skin, close cropped blonde hair, longer in the front where it hung in messy waves from humidity maybe. She had surprisingly delicate pink lips with a scar above the right side that Hetaera was resisting the urge to trace with her fingertips.

She began to consider the potential outcomes for this iteration of her plan. This site she’d brought Phasma to was a relatively new acquisition of hers. A watering hole that had recently begun to turn a decent profit. The hidden medical bay which she’d designed for this specific purpose was also doing a decent trade in providing care to wounded rebels and others who’d had unfortunate encounters with the order. She’d hate to see it go but she was prepared for the possibility that Phasma would lash out in anger.

She mentally snipped the thread tying her to this place and let it go in her mind. Next she considered the possibility that Phasma would report back to Hux and compromise the entirety of the business she’d created under Lady Deimos. She was by far the most lucrative of the half dozen identities she’d cultivated over time. But riches were not her goal. If this identity and all of its holdings collapsed, so be it. She only needed to retain enough wealth for the next phase of her plan and she’d more than made that sum over and over again.

Phasma awoke suddenly and began to test the restraints on her arms and legs. She struggled for a bit, found them unyielding, and dropped her head back in a huff. She turned to find Lady Deimos regarding her. She was standing, watching her, and holding one of her old blades.

“Did you save me for the satisfaction of killing me with my own blade?” “Do I looked dressed to kill?” Phasma took in the flowing blue gown that accentuated her figure and matched the blue of her eyes. It was an incongruous pairing with the makeshift weapon in her hand.

“Then what does Lady Deimos, the First Order’s arms supplier, want with me?” Lady Deimos smiled, “I brought the blade as a clue to my identity. Lady Deimos is just another fiction I invented while scheming of ways to be here with you. She was just a means to an end.”

“The only thing the blade tells me is that you’ve been scavenging on my home planet.” “I didn’t scavenge it. It was given to me by my mother. She pulled it from the sand after you’d dropped it in battle.”

The only hint of recognition was a brief widening of her eyes before Phasma re-schooled her expression to mask any emotion. She regarded Ruth intently a few moments. “There were no survivors. You cannot…” “Siv was behind the blast doors of the medical facility before Brendol Hux bombed the planet’s surface. She survived, as did I.” “That’s imposs…” “Is it?”

“Where is Siv now?” “Dead, I assume. She went out hunting when I was twelve years old and never returned. I was not able to locate her remains.” “And what is your name? Your actual name?” “Torbi.” “And what is it you want? Toture or some other revenge?”

Torbi smiled and took a seat on the ledge of Phasma’s medical bed. “No, none of that.” “My mother regarded you as a blood traitor and a savage who couldn’t be trusted.” “I don’t necessarily believe that to be inaccurate, but I think she failed to consider a motivation behind your actions that all the other Scyre failed to consider as well.” “Oh? Care to enlighten me as to the insights you’ve drawn about me without ever having met me before?”

Torbi reached out to delicately rearrange a strand of hair that’d fallen into Phasma’s eye. Phasma roughly shook her head to remove Torbi’s hand. “With pleasure dear, I think they all failed to notice that they were a doomed race that refused to lift a finger to try and change their fate. They failed to see that the brutal disregard you showed for your parents, your brother, and the rest of your people was born of necessity. That you were the only one with the will and the determination to survive and now their bones are buried in the sand and here you are, surviving. Thriving. I can’t pass a screen or a wall without seeing your face or hearing a summary of your latest act of valor.”

“What is this? You have some sort of crush on me?” Phasma asked with disgust in her voice. Torbi laughed. “Maybe it started as something like that a long time ago. It was fairly lonely on the planet’s surface with just my mother to keep me company. But I think it may have evolved slightly from there.”

Phasma grew annoyed with the restraints holding her down. “What do you want?” she scowled, furrowing her brow together. Torbi reached out, placing both thumbs on the scowl lines in between Phasma’s eyes. She gently smoothed the lines with her thumbs, lightly running them out and along Phasma’s eye brows, before gently drawing a few circles at her temples in a soothing manner.

“What I want is to broaden your perspective out past the end of your nose. I too survived and escaped the planet’s surface. I too had to act in callous disregard for those around me in order to survive and to thrive in my own way.” Phasma drew her brows together again as she waited for Torbi to continue.

“My point is, it would be a great shame if you and I went through all that trouble and all that effort just for the Scyre to come to an end when we perish.” “My childhood crush had at one time pictured a future in which I was able to tame your animalistic instincts and form you into a partner that I could love. But you are thoroughly entrenched in your new role with the order and I’m not so certain I could ever really trust you.” “I’ve grown inpatient with waiting just as you have with being restrained in this manner. Only I’ve waited far longer. So I can only apologize and tell you that I’ve taken the liberty of drawing a few blood samples from you while you recovered and I plan to use those samples to isolate your DNA. I will then recode donor sperm with your DNA and I will continue the Scyre race beyond us. I want to thank you for your role in starting our family Phasma.” With that Torbi leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Phasma’s lips.

“I’m sure you’ll destroy this place but I want to encourage you not to hurt yourself trying to escape. The droids who treated you have been programmed to wipe their circuits and deactivate and the restraints holding you in place will release you shortly.”

“I hope to see you again sometime. And I hope to do so without being disemboweled for my troubles. Goodbye, Captain.”

#Star Wars: The Last Jedi #Captain Phasma #Phasma/Torbi #my fic #gwendoline christie

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dreamsy990 · 2 years

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started playing tales of symphonia and the brainrot is real so take kris as emil and ralsei as tenembre

please no spoilers!!! i just started chapter 2 and know nothing about it besides what ive played!!!

okay so me and my sister were having a chat about deltarune and she said “oh yeah kris’s whole ripping out their heart thing gives me huge emil vibes” and she convinced me to play tales of symphonia and. holy shit she was so right. i cant help but imagine kris in a ton of these games things like??? tenembre asking emil to make a pact with ragno whatever the fuck??? just replace tenembre with ralsei, emil with kris, and fucking demon lord guy with idk gaster or the angel and there u go thats the au

also theres the switches hid behind moss in the first area and you have to burn the moss. i like the idea of ralsei being like “uh what are you doing you’re supposed to burn those” and kris just chomping the moss like “why burn perfectly good food”

anyways i probably wont make any more stuff for this au idea. i just thought it sounded fun enough to draw

i couldnt decide on a color palette for this so i did one with light world kris and hatless ralsei and for the outfit i just color picked emil. and the other is roughly based off kris’s dark world palette but the internet was down so i had to just hope i remembered what they looked like lmao. i was also going to throw in susie as marta but i dont feel like coming up with a new outfit for her, i dont want her to just be normal dark world susie, and martas outfit doesnt really fit her. plus i dont really know how she’d fit into the au as like a monster since thats kind of weird unless marta is secretly a monster in some epic twist or something idk.

the game is pretty fun in that ps2 era way. its also just,,, genuinely kinda funny sometimes??? it has these optional bonus convos and theyre so cute like UGH MARTA SIMPING FOR EMIL AND TENEMBRE BEING LIKE “wishful thinking”???? YES PLEASE. theres also a part where marta sees this poster of lloyd and shes like “ew thats disgusting lets set him on fire” and tenembres like “YOU HEARD THE LADY EMIL BURN IT”. tenembre has a favorite and honestly kind as he should.

Theres another guy i think his name starts with r and he looks like axel but me and my sister just called him michael the whole time. hes the worst. like i was like “oh hes gonna get a character arc where he learns to be a good person” and my sister was like “oh no quite the opposite” and now im scared lmao

anyways yeah!!!! oh also at one point i accidentally messed it up and gave ralsei demon eyes but i dont have the screenshot on this rn as im posting so i gotta look for it later and edit it when i find it.

#fanart #deltarune #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #ralsei deltarune #ralsei #ralsei dr #utdr #utdr fanart #utdr au #deltarune au #tales of symphonia #tales of symphonia au #art #art.png #kris #deltarune fanart #look at the kiddos

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fereldanwench · 2 years

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Wench's Cyberpunk 2077 Mod Recs

Since I get asked fairly often what mods I use for Cyberpunk, I've wanted to put together a full list for easy reference. I'll do my best to update this as I find and use new mods. ♥

Just a few disclaimers/caveats:

Unless otherwise noted, I did not make these. I just use them and bask in the talent and creativity of this incredible modding community.

I play exclusively as a female V, so most cosmetic and clothing mods are for fem Vs. However, quite a few will still work for male Vs or have male V-specific options.

Goro is the only NPC I've given his own section, but I know there are a lot of mods for Judy, Panam, Kerry, Oda, etc. If you're looking for something character-specific, check the general links below.

I don't use any mods that significantly alter gameplay mechanics/performance. I also don't use any mods that require ArchiveXL or RED4ext as dependencies. (Everyone's experience is different, but these seem to cause the most issues when the game updates, and I try to minimize the need to do big overhauls, like fresh game installations, because I ain't got time for that.)

There are a handful of mods I found "loose" in various Discord servers, but I either 1) can't remember where I found them or 2) don't think they're intended to be widely distributed. I have omitted those from this list.

General Links to Find CP77 Mods

Cyberpunk 2077 on Nexus

Cyberpunk 2077 Modding Discord

Cyberpunk 2077 Appearance Mod Discord

My Cyberpunk 2077 Mods Rec Tag

Last update: 9 Dec 22

As of 20 May 2023, this list is no longer being updated! Please refer to the shiny new list over at Google Docs for the most recent updates and recommendations.

General Tips & Tricks

Installation for all of these is really easy. Most will go in one of two places: → .archive files go under Cyberpunk 2077 > archive > pc > mod (if you don't have a mod folder there, you can create it yourself) → CET goes under Cyberpunk 2077 > bin > x64 > plugins → CET add-ons (like AMM) go under Cyberpunk 2077 > bin > x64 > plugins > cyber_engine_tweaks > mods

If an .archive file isn't working, check to see if you have a conflicting file. All the clothing items I recommend here will override an existing item rather than add a new one to the game, and most pose and animation files can only be used one at a time.

If you're sure there are no conflicts and an .archive file still isn't working for you, try renaming it to have 0_ in front of the file; e.g. renaming gorobrowneyes.archive to 0_gorobrowneyes.archive.

Essentials

Cyber Engine Tweaks (CET)

Appearance Mod Menu (AMM) (If you're overwhelmed by AMM, check out my guide here!)

Object Spawner

Save Editor/Project CyberCAT

Digital Couture

Wardrobe - Outfit Manager

Texture Override

Clothing

spawn0 - BETTER NEW CLOTHES (I only use this for the feet adjustment as it's needed for some other mods.)

Underwear Remover (I use this because I'm a h*rny idiot but also some clothes will clip with underwear--This will prevent that.)

Washing Saloon (Gets rid of stains on clothes)

Clothing Set and Recolor Catalogue

Outfit and Accessory Catalogue

Valerie Underwear Color Variants

Clothing Color Variants

Bunny Outfit - 10 Colors

Cyberpunk Fashion

Panam's Pants for V

Corporate Heels

Corpocore Clothing Swaps

Backless Dress

(CLOTHES) Mateo's Shirt and Necklace

Custom Clothing Colors

Jinguji Custom Atelier

FemV Clothing Ports

Clothes for FemV

Custom Monk Skirt

Dress Layered Leather

Monk Outfit

Goro's Coat for V

Ladybella's Collection of Clothes Mods - Tops

Edgerunner Jacket Recolors

Breezy's Thrift Shop

Nomadcore Clothing Swap

Badlands Accessories

Wraith's Hood with Hair

High Heels for Fem V

Lady Discord's Clothes

Hair

I'm All Tied Up

Hair Swap 01-08

Hair Imports - Female V (looks like the creator removed it for personal reasons; leaving it listed for posterity)

Long Wooshy Hair for V

Hairstyle Collection

Custom Hairstyle - Femme Fatale

Alvarix Hair Collection

Wingdeer Hair Collection

Makeup

Koralina's New Eye Makeup

Egirl Makeup Edits

Eyeshadow Overhaul

Goro Takemura

Goro Takemura Appearances (AMM Add-On)

AMM Appearances for Takemura Goro

Goro Takemura New Clothes

Clothes for Goro

Goro of Rivia - Cyber Witcher [a wench mod!]

Goro in the Badlands - Nomad Clothes Set 1 [a wench mod!]

Alternate Clothes - Goro Takemura

Long Hair for Goro

Goro's Brown Eyes

Goro Body Hair (I use type 3) (No longer available; leaving it listed for posterity)

Custom Poses - Takemura and Saul (Works with Goro's base locomotion)

Photomode Poses/Animations for V

No Cigarette in Poses (This removes the cigarette that appears in some photomode poses as of 1.5. Useful if you use a lot of custom PM sets.)

femV Photomode Pose Sets

femV Photomode Animations

Nim's Animation Things (also includes expression packs)

If It Fits - V Sits

Fem V Photomode Pose Animations

MM Poses

Desk Jockey + Corpo Rat FemV Photomode Set [a wench mod!]

Merc Life FemV Photomode Set [a wench mod!]

Female V Photomode - Netrunner

Night Out in Night City Fem V Photomode

Photomode Pose Packs - Fem V

Spawnable Poses/Animations for NPCs

Locomotion for NPCs (Locomotion files are sometimes needed to get certain poses to work on certain characters.)

(POSES) Male NPC - Average Civilian

Male NPC Animation Poses

Custom Poses - Braindance Konpeki

Custom Poses - Rogue's Cinema Date Scene

Custom Poses - Judy's Romance Scene

Animation Poses for Generic Anim Females

Expressions for V & NPCs

Custom Facial Expressions

Custom Photomode Expressions

FemV Photomode Facial Animations

AMM Locations

Japantown Luxury Suite

Marquess Eden Luxury Suite

Night City Island/Beach

🆕 Holiday Specials

Christmas Outfits

(PROPS) Merry Christmas

Christmas Cozy Outfits

Autumn Collection - Decor Props and Clothing

Other Relevant Resources

The Great Big (Vaguely Overwhelming) Pose & Animation List

List of Reference Images/Vids for Poses

Wench’s Beginner CP77 Photomode + Posing Tutorial

#mine: resources #g: cyberpunk 2077 #res: mods #mods: cyberpunk 2077

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