peculiarbeetle

[peculiarbeetle]

StowAways Masterlist

If you've been around my page for a bit you'll notice I keep mentioning this little Au :o I hope this post helps keep things a little more organized on what it is HEHEHEHE

Comics

The comic that started it all

The 2nd chapter

The storyboard

New paint comic

New paint (nightmare)

Illustrations

Planning an adventure

They did not adapt well at first

How they travel the surface

Bellow are asks

Asks

When does it take place?

Why so small?

High guard's impressions and Frenzy and Rumble

Frenzy and Rumble's impressions on High Guard

Where were they durring the movie?

Other cassetes?

Other cassetes pt 2

Alot modes?

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Ghost: We have to be quiet for this

Gaz, turning and pointing at Soap: He has to stay behind

Soap: BITCH??

Gaz: See?

Ghost: Point made. MacTavish, stay with the captain

Price: And why am I, the CAPTAIN of this team, not going?

Ghost, grinning under his mask: Your knees will give you away

Gaz: oh-

Price:

Soap: ... You two better go before he starts friendly fire

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Soap: Tans but not easily. He's consistently the same color no matter what he does and loses any color he gets as soon as the winter months roll around.

Gaz: Tans beautifully, he longs for summer days so he can take naps in the sun like a cat. Occasional sunburn because he gets eager to sunbathe and forgets.

Ghost: Tans easily but never gets enough sun to prove it. Acts like he's allergic to the sun. He has freckles that come out and he hates them.

Price: Burns. Roasting. No color is worth how easily he burns. Uses sunblock religiously, he always has some on him. Also always smells nice because of the sunblock he uses.

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Jason loves fucking with press members

Reporter outside Tim’s school: *holding mic* MISTER DRAKE WHAT CAN YOU TELL ME ABOUT YOUR RECENT INDUCTION INTO THE WAYNE— Jason: *pops into frame* uh hey there reporter: Wha—who are you? Jason: *pouting* what, you don’t remember me, Sharon? We had a lovely conversation about how Batman is actually a robotic AI built by the government in order to deal with their bastard of a fuck up, Gotham city, under the table instead of the legal and long way Sharon: *memory swirly effect* *six years ago* baby Jason: and THATS why he’s got all the fucking sick-ass tech. It’s like, the fuckin’ CIA in his earpiece, and Lex Luthor himself is building his tech. Maybe that’s why Lex goes so hard on Superman but not Batman, you know? *snicker* maybe he and bats have a bit of a . . . workplace situation-ship, y’know what I mean? A horrified Sharon: sir, I just asked your thoughts on the Bat Jason: yeah, do I get a penny now? You know, “penny for your thoughts”? ‘Cause those were mine *present day* Jason: so how about that penny? Sharon: aren’t you fucking dead??? The cameraman five feet away: *sweatdrop*

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the girls that get it

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Some Ted Lasso text post memes!

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Hello! I first I want to say "I LOVE JOHNNY CAGE X SHY! READER!" Those requests made fangirl and scream (in good way)! So, if the requests are open, can I ask Johnny Cage (mk1 ver) x shy! artist! reader? Reader paints and draws in half realistic and half manga/anime style. Yeah it's bit of self indulgent since I'm also an artist and shy. 😅 Also I BET Johnny will say and tease if I want to draw him like "the French girl". 😂 My brain will seriously into brain error if he ask that. And that's it, take your time.

weee im glad you liked it! Things like these make me all warm inside. I'll do my best, I hope you like it anon <3 (sorry it took so long, im in a bit of a writers crash and wanted it to be good!)

TW: gn reader, no use of y/n, artist reader, shy reader, fluff, flirty johnny

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul, yet the mind lay hidden away by skull and skin. Events, emotions — meaning, cannot be captured simply by the lens of a camera. The mind takes in the scene, twisting and turning it to form a story and ultimately breeds true human understanding. Artists create those images. Those memories and imaginations that some cannot even comprehend unless shown a physical example. "I won't believe it unless I see it," to which the artists show them a physical representation of what they feel, see, hear. Emotion is imbedded in the lines, trickled into every stroke of a pen or brush. All of this, proven by the effortless swipe of the brush gripped firmly between your paint-stained fingers. Your completed work of you, a person you wish to be, beside a faceless man. The scene depicts two lovers in a sea of flowers, bathing in the sunlight of a blissful spring day. The man beside you, was faceless, nothing but a blur of identity. How would you put a face to it if no man was beside you right now, watching you express your inner desires in the best way you know how. Leaning back, you admired the completed work on the canvas. All those years of practice finally paying off, allowing you to physically manifest what you visualize in your mind.

“Hey bunny, what are you up to?” Bunny, a nickname you had long since gotten used to. Your shy and skittish nature attracted Johnny in an obnoxious sort of way, constantly jumping on any opportunity to make you flustered, thus earning you the title of bunny. Feeling the weight of his arm resting on your shoulder had already gained a reaction, your heart thumping against your ribcage with every breath of his cologne. “Just painting,” you replied, giving him a raised brow as if asking ‘don’t you have eyes?’ He chuckled, “right, what are you painting then?” For months now, you’ve had the biggest secret crush on Johnny, to the point where you contemplated filling that empty space with his face. His beautifully chiseled features would do wonders on a canvas, a walking work of art already. You’d tell him about the painting, but you could already feel your cheeks heat up at the very statement you know he’s going to make. “U-um..it’s just a random idea I had,” a lie, but there’s no rush in telling him the truth. He hummed in response, clearly unconvinced by your stuttered answer. Johnny eyed the painting for a moment, keen brown pools glued to the faceless man on the canvas. “Where’s my face?” He asked, with a voice laced with..hurt? There it was, the question you knew he was bound to ask. Surprisingly, you managed to play it off with a smack to his shoulder and a roll of your eyes. You felt it was your queue to leave, to avoid the embarrassment of being caught with flushed cheeks. Yet, something kept you there, almost hoping he'd notice and somehow force the feelings out of you and undue that mental zipper you've placed on your lips long ago. "Paint me," he said suddenly, earning a wide eyed glance in his direction. Johnny was already looking at you, a smirk on his face and brown eyes dazzling with enthusiasm. "Y- what? Y-you want me to paint you?" "that's what I said didn't I?" Almost immediately, you paled, eyes wide and mouth agape at a loss for words. How could you paint him, a literal god in human skin, and up to the standard he surely expects; without some how leaking your heart into it. You could feel his hand graze your cheek as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, "C'mon princess, it'll be fun!" The featherlight touch of his finger almost made you itch from the tickle, but you were too afraid to brush him off and lose this fleeting contact. Disappointed with a lack of a response, he poked your rib with his index finger and leaned closer to you, "paint me like one of your French girls." He whispered. "Fine! Fine, I will paint you, but on one condition," a grin tugged at the corner of his lips, "hmm?" Flustered, you once again turned away to avoid revealing the bright red hue on your face, "N-no judgement on the finished product, I don't want to hear it from you.." "pssh not a word, I promise." The two of you locked pinkies, solidifying the deal.

Had you sketched him a few times when he wasn't looking? Sure, but those were locked in a journal hidden away from prying eyes. Now here you were, canvas and easel propped up in the center of the temples garden, with a phone in hand displaying an image of Johnny with his usual movie star pose. Johnny had insisted on doing a small photoshoot, and using the results to paint instead of being a live reference. He was far too jittery, and died of boredom, to sit still long enough to even get an outline. Plus, in his words, he wanted to see first hand the work of a talented artist. All of this was already overwhelming, having a crowd was not something you were used to, let alone someone you were madly crushing on. It didn't help at all that Johnny decided to place himself behind you, practically breathing down your neck with his head hovering over your shoulder, acutely attuned to every movement of your sketching pencil. The slight tremor of your hands made it difficult to get the lines right, bits of eraser littering the base of the canvas. “Are you always this nervous?” He cut in suddenly, making you jump from the close proximity of his lips to your ear, “n-no, I’m not nervous!” Johnny snorted beside you, thankfully keeping his mouth shut long enough for you to finish the sketch of his face.

“You really think I look like that?” He asked, pointing to the obviously unfinished base sketch. He almost seemed offended, has he really never seen an art process before? “It’s just the base sketch Johnny, I’m not even done yet.” You replied with a soft roll of your eyes. As soon as you pulled out the paint, the brush just about to touch the canvas, you became painfully aware of his breath fanning your shoulder. Gathering enough courage, your gaze turned to glance at him from the side. His eyes were focused on your hand holding the brush, his jaw locked as if the anticipation was killing him. You hadn’t realized just how long you were side eyeing him until he spoke up, “see something you like, doll?” The smirk following further stoking the fire within you. Clearing your throat, you finally pressed the brush to the canvas, your face now a hue that rivals your brightest red paint.

What felt like a couple of minutes, was actually 2 hours of painting. Johnny had long since gone to grab snacks and drinks to make the experience more bearable for the both of you. Your arm nearly ached from the constant process of outstretching and retracting. Nonetheless, the painting was just about finished, just one more stroke and...

"So you do draw me often."

Your head jerked over in pure startled surprise at Johnny's sudden return. His hands were empty, aside from the open leatherback journal several pages in. On the page, was a sketch of Johnny, his pecks flexed where his left arm curled towards his chest with a coiled bicep; the other arm extended out in a brute force punch to a training yard dummy. His skin glistened with sweat, signature shades on both for show and to keep the afternoon sun from hindering his movie star attacks. A small knowing smirk played across his lips, as if he knew you were watching, and knew you were drawing. Slowly, your face began to heat up in multiple shades of red. It had taken you a second to realize what he was holding, what he was showing you. The world felt as though it had slowed down for this moment, letting your brain catch up to reality and the embarrassment bubbling up in your stomach. In the fray of emotions, you jerked your arm that held the paintbrush steady, and accidentally smeared a large black line across the side of the canvas, flicking bits of paint across the stone below you. "J-Johnny!?! Where-" you rose to your feet, darting towards him and grabbing the journal out of his hands with lightening speed. You held it to your chest, as if doing so would take back the sheer audacity he had to look through it. "I- Yo-" you huffed, your cheeks betraying your pitiful attempt to seem angry. "How did you even find that??" Johnny smirked, holding his hands up in surrender, the movement accentuating the lean muscle beneath his tight gray top, nearly making your face redder from it. "Hey, it was just sitting open," he replied with a grin across his face, his perfect teeth flashing with mischief. "Come on princess, it looks great!" Despite his compliment, you felt an overwhelming sense of dread, of fear, that you just seemed like an obsessed freak. Or worse, a fan. "Hey," his voice softened a fraction, a surprising change compared to his usually arrogant bravado. Johnny took a step towards you, slow, as if afraid to spook you, and lifted a hand to rest along your burning cheek. His calloused fingers were gentle, almost reverent in their caress. "I mean it, it really is good," he murmured, his head lowering slightly to meet your downcast gaze. Mesmerizing light brown irises captured your own, a sigh slipping from your lips without you even meaning to. You wanted to stay there, feel the warmth of his hand against your face, but your eyes broke the contact to trail over to the painting behind you. You felt your bottom lip quiver slightly, "I ruined it." Johnny looked past you at the painting, his hand never leaving your cheek. Though, to your surprise, he chuckled wholeheartedly. His hand finally fell to his side, and he stepped passed you to sit in front of the painting. For a moment, he simply admired the art, a small smile on his face. A sincere one, not the usual sarcastic one he wore like armor.

Johnny turned his head towards you, eyes shimmering with admiration and awe. He pants one hand on his thigh, and waves you over, "come here." The action had you slightly shocked, and you felt vulnerable, though you didn't protest. With steps so quiet it rivaled a mouse, you took a seat on his lap. You felt stiff, awkward, hovering as if afraid you'd make him uncomfortable with the contact he asked for. It wasn't until he settled his large palms on the dip of your waist that you relaxed, not without jumping in surprise first of course. "I've had more fan art than I can count from fans back home," he finally spoke. His voice was low, private, as if only you were allowed to hear his words. "This is by far," he paused, taking in a breath, "the best I have ever seen." A small squeeze of his hand on your waist startled you slightly, and you met his eyes with your own. "Thank you," he murmured, "sweetheart, don't ever hide your art from me again." Your heart thumped hard against your ribs, as if it were fighting to burst straight from your chest. "O-okay," you managed to choke out. His signature smirk returned to his lips, "and put my face back in that other painting will you?" You found yourself nodding without even thinking, a blush creeping back onto the apples of your cheeks. At this point, you couldn't even bring yourself to deny it, your brain fighting against your lips that parted to speak only to close again. "Yup," he suddenly cut in again, "this is definitely going on the fridge." You slapped his shoulder, both of you bursting into laughter.

One thing was for sure, you fully intended to put his face in that painting, and let him watch the whole thing.

(hey all, this has been in my drafts for ages! I'm back to write a little more, though I can't promise I will be consistent. I am still learning to write, to pace better and what not. Please be patient, and sorry again anon for hogging this from you. I hope you like it at least, if you're still out there at least.)

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Superman desperately scanning the street during a fight to find the most morally acceptable car to throw at his opponent, knowing that not everybody has insurance, and loss of transportation can ruin a life -

A wave of incredible relief washes over him as he spots the hard geometric lines and silver paintless sheen of a Cybertruck.

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bassist jason + jaybin heheh

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Previous part

Actually Perceptor is the protagonist so he can't die

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some absolute flash drawings jejeje

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cowboy jason 🤠 i finished yaaay

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*over zoom*

Gaz: Nice hoodie

Ghost: *wearing the darkest green hoodie imaginable*

Gaz: That your spring hoodie?

Price: Ha

Ghost: Oh you wanna see the spring colors? Okay- *stands aggressive and marches off camera*

Ghost: MOVE

Soap, off camera: FUCK-

*THUD*

Gaz: *snorts*

Price: Hope he didn't hurt his knee again

Ghost: *marches back in view of the camera wearing a bright, neon pink hoodie*

Gaz: fucking christ-

Ghost: SPRING TIME BITCH! I'M GAY

Price: *overs his face and leans back laughing*

Gaz: *cackles*

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Graves: Ya know, in my sexual fantasies that hat- *points* -is not present

Price: Well, in my fantasies you're fucking mute!

Nik: Oh that's a lie

Price, turning to him: SHUT UP

Graves: Admit it- You think my accent is sexy

Price: I would rather go skinny dipping in the bloody North Sea

Nik: *gasps*

Graves: Hmm... is the hat also there?

Nik: *cackles*

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Poly!141 where Nik is only into Price and dating him, and the boys just refer to him as Price's side piece. They think it's funny, Nik thinks it's hilarious, Price hates it.

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[at a sleepover]

Damian and Jon: *playing video games*

Clark: You guys woke up at 5:30 in the morning just to play games?

Damian and Jon: ...

Clark: You two never went to sleep, did you?

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bassist jason + jaybin heheh